Part 8/16 "Yeah. I saw him." He didn't want to get any closer. He could still feel the tickle of those fingers on his back, his ribs. Shivering, he turned. "He was in there." Electricity surged up his arm as he was grabbed. Jumping in fright out of all proportion to the threat from a man with a bullet in him, Doggett tried to snatch his hand back. It stayed trapped in the long fingers. "Hello, handsome." The voice was still soft, still cultured. It made Doggett's skin crawl. "Don't," he said, pulling his hand. "You have nice eyes." Club soda and lasagna threatened to make an appearance on the floor at his feet. He pulled a face, swallowing hard. "Shuddup, you freak." The lights hid the blush on his face. He was grateful for that. "I only took him because you wouldn't come, you know." He could practically feel Mulder and Scully exchanging a look, behind him. The rings were digging into his flesh. The perp was stronger than he looked. Doggett didn't want to touch the hand, but he didn't want to be held, more. He pulled at the fingers. "Let go." Panic and pasta, rising. Not professional to blow chunks all over a prisoner. "I would have been better for you. Better than that other one." Shit! Oh shit... not caring what it looked like to the other agents, Doggett tore at the fingers, desperate to get away before anything else came out of that putrid mouth. "Agent Doggett?" Miles away, Scully was speaking to him. He clawed at his hand, hurting himself but not caring. His ears were burning with mortification. "Did he make you hard?" The soft voice sounded as loud as a scream in the blood-red night. Doggett wanted to scream. "You should have chosen me." Enough. He would break every fucking one of these fingers if that was what it took. "Shut the fuck up!" he yelled. "Hold me like you held him." "Shut up!!" "Let me kiss you like..." With a wrench and howl, Doggett pulled his hand free and staggered away. He stumbled a couple of steps away, hands over his ears, trying to block out anything else. Shit! Shit! Shit! "Agent Doggett!" He heard that. Mulder shouting. He wasn't going to turn round. No way. No fucking way. Breathe. Calm down. "Agent Doggett." Scully touched his back. Doggett jumped. Shit. He was a nervous as a... Shit. He was going to think, as a virgin in a prison yard, but all things being equal, his mind shied away from that particular analogy. His hands fell from his head. They felt a bit stupid pinned up there, anyway. Looked as if he was hiding his taxi-door ears, like some kid. "Agent..." she paused. "John." She'd never called him that before. Her hand was moving in little circles on his back. He knew his tee-shirt was wringing wet, and it probably felt horrible under her hand, but she was doing it anyway. Trying to make him feel better. Doggett sighed and looked up. "I'm all sweaty," he apologised. "Doesn't matter." She stared at him Her blue eyes were looking straight at him. daring him to stare back. "Are you going to be okay?" Not are you okay? She could probably guess he wasn't okay. He had to give her points for that. He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. I guess." "Good." They smiled a little at each other. He appreciated her blunt approach. No B.S. "If you need anything..." He shrugged. "Nothin' a damn good shower and sleep won't put right, Agent Scully." He gave her the Doggett-patent grin, hoping she'd believe the lie. He didn't think he could go into any details right now. Actually, most of the details about tonight, but that was another matter. "Right." Scully waved over to Mulder. "Let's get you a ride home. You can write up the report tomorrow and file it on Monday." Mulder jogged over to them. "Yeah?" "Agent Doggett needs a ride home. Can you grab one of the Bureau cars?" Mulder looked from one to the other, the finer points of the evening just oozing from his curiosity-bag. "Okay," he said, turning and striding away, his compliance with Scully amazing Doggett. He waved his hand after the retreating back. "How'd you do that, Agent Scully?" She just smiled one of those Scully-smiles and took her hand from the small of his back.. "Trade secret, Agent Doggett." They moved towards the road. Both ambulances pulled away through the confusion. "Thanks." he said, not elaborating. Scully turned and nodded. "No problem." She glanced sideways. "Did you spot your back up?" Doggett's stomach dropped into a bucket of ice. "Back up?" Scully smiled. "Our unofficial, undercover back up." He had two, maybe three heartbeats to decide what to say. Yes, he saw Skinner. Or no, he didn't see him. Even yes, I saw him and spoke to him. There was even - yes, thank you, I saw him, and he dances like a champ, and kisses even better. No maybe not. He'd hate to see her drop that kid on the alley floor. Decision, decisions. They reached a car with its door open. Mulder was giving the driver instructions. "I saw him." He turned to look at his partner. Was it dark enough to hide his taxi-doors turning red? "Kind of hard to miss, isn't he?" He grinned. "Kinda." Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. He was suddenly so tired he didn't know what to do with himself. It felt as if someone had put him through an industrial wringer. A yawn took him by surprise. Scully chuckled. "Get some rest, Agent Doggett." He nodded. "I intend to sleep for a week, Agent Scully." She laughed. "So, I'll check up on you around lunchtime, then?" He grinned. "That'd be good." He climbed into the back of the car and sagged. Scully slammed the door, and the driver took off. Turning to raise a hand, he watched the other two agents standing in the wet alley, watching him leave. He wondered what they would say about tonight in their reports. And what they would be saying to each other about it. About him. As the car sped through the night towards Falls Church, Doggett decided he was just too damned tired to care much. Maybe he'd care again tomorrow, maybe it wouldn't be so complicated after a good nights' sleep. Oh yeah. And a shower. The car pulling up woke him. Home. He peeled his damp shirt from the leather seats with a face and climbed out. "Thanks," he said to the driver, and reached for his key. God, he needed that shower. The car sped off. Obviously just been on a training course about defensive driving. Doggett smiled to himself, as the car took the corner on two wheels. He turned and slipped the key in the door. Habit forced him to scan the street before opening up. There was a car on the verge across from his house. The detective in him gave it the once-over. Make, model, registra.... Damn. He knew that car. Knew who owned it. He narrowed his eyes and looked through the windshield. The figure raised a hand. Skinner. Swallowing, sudden nervousness chasing away tired thoughts, Doggett held up a hand in return. He watched Skinner climb out of his car. This was nuts. He was acting crazy. He ought to wash up, get into bed and go straight to sleep. That's what he ought to do. He watched Skinner's large body jogging across the road. Shit. What the hell. Maybe it'd be kinda nice to have some company, for a change. His cock jumped in his pants, remembering the kiss on the dance floor. Skinner reached his front step. He hesitated, questioning. Doggett pushed the door open wide. He was intrigued to find he didn't have a problem with inviting this man into his house. "You comin' in?" Skinner grinned. "Sure?" "You bet." As he kicked the door shut behind them, Doggett brought his hand up to the wide chest in front of him, while Skinner put his mouth over his. He licked the warm lips, strangely satisfied to feel the mouth open up to accept his tongue. What d'you know? Seems you can teach an old dog new tricks. Wonders would never cease. You'd be proud of me, Rudy, he thought, as he kissed Skinner with enthusiasm. * Part 9/16 "What d'you want?" he asked, opening the fridge. He peered in. If he remembered, there was a six-pack of Bud stuffed in at the back. "Whatever you got." The reply made Doggett jump. Skinner was standing right behind him. "Must you creep up, like that?" he grouched, smiling. "I still haven't gotten over gettin' my ass grabbed all to hell and back." Skinner laughed. "Occupational hazard of having a tight butt, Agent Doggett," he said, patting said butt. "Yeah, well. It's a bruised butt, tonight, thank you." He grabbed two beers and slammed the fridge. "Here." He wandered through to the lounge. "I need to sit down." Skinner followed, swigging from the neck of his beer. "I thought your ass was painful." "Yeah, well. My feet feel worse." He threw himself down on the couch. With a groan, he leaned forward and pulled at his laces. "Here." Skinner kneeled down in front of him. "Let me." Doggett frowned. "You don't have to do that." Skinner put his beer down and pulled a foot into his lap. "I know." "Really..." He reached for his foot, only to get his hand batted away. "I know." "You say that a lot." Skinner looked up, a grin on his face. "Yeah. I kn..." "Know?" Doggett finished for him, laughing. "You're nuts. You know that?" The boot slid off and Doggett groaned, his head falling back. "Oh man. That is soooo good." The other boot followed, and Doggett lay in utter bliss as his socked feet were rubbed back to life. "Shit, you can do that forever." "You'd get bored." "I could keep you in the closet and drag you out to rub my feet every day." The hands on his feet paused, and Doggett looked up. "The closet?" The two men stared at each other, then burst out laughing. "Oh, God... I'm sorry, Skinner," Doggett gasped. "I didn't mean that like it sounded." "I should hope not." Doggett pulled his feet away from the hands and leaned forward. He rested his chin on his knuckles and quietly regarded the man sitting perfectly at ease on his lounge floor. "I had no idea," he said, when he'd finished mapping every line on the other man's face. Skinner tilted his head, blinking. "About what?" Doggett shrugged. "You know." "You mean about you? Or me?" Pulling in a deep breath, Doggett let it out in a sigh. Talking about stuff' was always a bitch. That was half the reason he imagined men and women clashed. Guys just didn't do the talking about stuff' thing. And here they were. Two guys. Talking. Or at least trying to. He grunted. "Take your pick. You?" He looked the A.D. up and down, smiling. "Most definitely. And me?" He gave a rueful shake of the head. "I'm still not sure." A dry cough of laughter. "Oh, that's reassuring." "No, I'm sorry. I don't know what I mean. I..." Doggett threw up a hand, helplessly. "Look. Up until tonight, I'd never even..." "I can imagine." "Can you?" Skinner nodded. "Ex-Marine, remember?" "Yeah, but..." "No buts'. I know." Doggett's eyebrow lifted in amusement. "You're saying it again." Skinner smiled back. "I know." He looked different when he smiled. Younger. Relaxed. Almost... Could you call another guy handsome, Doggett wondered? He put out a finger to touch the A.D.'s cheek. The finger traced down to a cleft chin, then he sighed and dropped his hand. Shit. He could feel his beard. "What?" Skinner asked. "Nothing." "Don't tell me that sigh was nothing." Skinner put his hand on Doggett's knee. "I'm a trained F.B.I. Agent, you know." Doggett grinned, despite himself. " I know," he replied. Skinner smirked. "You're doing it, now." Doggett snorted. "Seems I'm doing a whole bunch of things, now." "That sounds like regret." "No." "Disgust, then?" Doggett looked up. "God, no." That wasn't it. He wouldn't want Skinner to think that. "Then what?" "How about... Confusion?" Doggett offered. That was as good a description as any. Skinner nodded. "I can deal with that." Getting up off the floor, he moved to sit at the far end of the sofa. Doggett smiled at that. "I won't scream rape, you know. I'm not that confused." He patted the sofa. Skinner grinned and moved up. "Promise?" he said "Cross my heart." He leaned back. Skinner studied his Bud label. The clock ticked in the kitchen. Both men drank their beer. "You think I'm gay?" Skinner said at last. Doggett gagged on a swig of Bud. "What?" he choked out, wiping his chin on his arm. "You heard." "Yeah, I heard." He frowned. "What kinda question's that?" Jesus! Skinner shrugged, looking into the dumb television. "Clear enough, isn't it?" Doggett sucked the foam from his forearm. Fuck. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Yeah, Boss, I think you're a screaming faggot? He wouldn't be saying that to the larger man in this lifetime. "God, Skinner. Whadd'ya want me to say?" "Well, are you gay?" "Jesus Christ, man!" Doggett sat forward again, his beer forgotten. Turning in his seat, Skinner rested his arm on the back of the sofa and smiled. "The point I'm trying to make, Agent Doggett. Is that I don't care what you think I am." He touched the back of Doggett's neck. "And I couldn't give a flying fuck about what you think you are, either. I've been married." He shrugged at the surprised face Doggett tried to cover. "I don't know if the way I am contributed to the end of it, but for most of the 17 years, it was a good marriage." Doggett nodded. He could understand and empathise with that. His own marriage had been good, for all but the last bit. "What I'm trying to say... Is that I think I'm old enough, and ugly enough to be secure in whatever sexuality I care to choose. Therefore I shall do what I like, whenever I like, with whomever I like. And, strangely enough, I like you, John Doggett." He didn't look drunk, Doggett thought. And he didn't think he was on drugs. Ma Doggett's oldest boy wouldn't be winning any beauty contests soon. If Skinner thought he was anything special, he must be crazy. Only a mother could love a face like this. "You're crazy, you know," he said, shaking his head. "More than likely." The hand on Doggett's neck began to stroke sensuously through his short hair. "You say that like you don't care." Another shrug. "I don't." "You're tickling me." Doggett told him, squirming his shoulders. "Tough." Doggett stared. Skinner just stared back. As he watched, Skinner's tongue came out and ran over his bottom lip, hypnotizing Doggett. What had happened, that he couldn't take his eyes off this man? Did touching him qualify to drag his common sense out and stomp it to death? "How bout you should stop," he suggested helplessly, wondering where he was going with this. The fingers carried on tickling his hair. "You could try and make me." A shiver of apprehension ran through Doggett's belly. Ladies and Gentlemen! Here we have it: The Line. The Line will define the rest of his evening, and quite possibly, his life. Stay on this side of it, and they will both drink their beer, until Skinner leaves to go home, no lasting harm done. Cross The Line, and the evening goes someplace he'd never even dreamed of, and he would spend the rest of his life wondering if the whole thing could be excused by alcohol. The Line lay just to Doggett's left, draped across the sofa between the two of them.. His eyes flicked down, half expecting to see a length of yellow and black warning tape lying next to him. He looked up at Skinner. There was nothing on the other man's face to indicate what was going on inside his head. He wasn't naive enough to miss the fact that Skinner was handing the decision over to him. His choice. It was all up to him. At his nape, the stroking in the bristly hair had become unbearable. All his nerves seemed to have run to that one spot, to bask in the attention. He leaned his head back. Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight has been brought to you by the letter O, for... Okay. Wedging his beer down the side of the cushion, Doggett reached across with a hand cold and damp from the bottle, to cup the side of Skinner's face. "Maybe I don't want to stop you," he said, closing the last few inches between them, to put his lips to Skinner's. Doggett felt the word Good', echo in his mouth as he leaned in. He didn't intend to give Skinner the opportunity to say anything else. Line crossed, Ladies and Gentlemen, he told himself, working his tongue between Skinner's lips in a slow, sensual slide that jolted him all the way to his toes. Well and fucking truly crossed. Doggett kissed him for a long time. Getting to know the taste. Learning this other mouth. In time, his other hand came up to join the fun, exploring Skinner's side and back. And Skinner, in turn, used his free hand to slide up and down Doggett's thigh. Finally licking his way out of the embrace, Doggett took a in shaky breath. Skinner did this kissing shit far too well. He was getting hot and bothered again. "I need a shower," he said. The A.D. smiled. "Join you?" "I could live with that." Doggett stood and held out a hand. * Part 10//16 Throwing an extra towel over the warm rail, Doggett reached in and adjusted the faucet. Yep. Hot enough. He peeled the tee- shirt over his head, grimacing at its smoky smell and general dampness. Definitely dead. He threw it into the open hamper. He looked down at his chest. The tape had left a red mark down his sternum. He poked it. Damn stuff. You'd think with all the advances in technology, the F.B.I. could come up with something that didn't take off half your Goddamned flesh. "What's so fascinating?" Skinner came round the door. "Fuckin' tape." Doggett turned to show him the mark. "Itches like hell." Skinner pushed his hand away and looked.. "You big wuss," he said, running a finger over the redness. "There's hardly anything there." Doggett frowned. "Hey! It hurts!" "Yeah, yeah." "It does!" Doggett didn't want to think he was whining, but he wasn't sure. "Poor baby!" ducking his head down, Skinner placed a kiss on the offending spot. Air whistled through Doggett's teeth. Shit. Skinner glanced up at him. "That hurt?" he asked. Doggett shook his head. It hadn't hurt. Quite the opposite. He tried to remember to breathe. "I...er," Shit. He couldn't even breathe properly, let alone talk. Skinner cocked his head on one side as he looked at him. "You having a change of heart?" Doggett sighed and sat on the toilet seat. Rubbing his forehead with his hand, he shook it slowly. "No. Not at all." He looked up to the dark eyes. No. It wasn't that he was changing his mind. His old mind was way back on the floor of a sweaty nightclub. This mind was brand-new and fresh. Positively virginal, in fact. That was the stumbling-block. "Then why have you gone..." Skinner waved a hand at him. Doggett chuckled. "All girlie?" He got a snort in reply. "I wouldn't have put it quite in those terms." The big man leaned back on the wall and folded his arms. "But something like that, maybe." Holding his hands out in front of him, Doggett checked to see how steady they were. Rock- solid, he was pleased to note. "It's just that I..." He stayed staring at the hands, not wanting to look at the other man for a moment. "I think you know, I never..." God. This was so embarrassing. Skinner moved to squat in front of him. He placed his hands on the splayed knees, forcing Doggett to look at him. "Trained F.B.I., remember?" The knees were squeezed. "We'd be on the bathroom floor by now, if I thought you'd ever done this before." Doggett grinned. "Think you're that good, huh?" "Dunno. You'll have to let me know." The teasing words sparked something deep inside Doggett. Not quite panic, but standing very close to it, disguised as excitement. He put a nervous hand over Skinner's. "You still wanna...?" "I want to - if you want to." "I... think so." Skinner huffed. "Flatterer." "Gimme a break, here. I've never even danced with another guy, let alone..." He indicated Skinner's mouth. "It's all kinda new, y'know." "Yeah?" "Yeah." A big hand came up to caress Doggett's face. He leaned into it and closed his eyes. I could get used to this attention, he thought. He turned and placed a kiss in the palm, because a hundred years ago, his wife had told him she liked it. "So..." Skinner leaned forward and nuzzled Doggett's cheek. "You've never kissed another man?" "Well..." Blood and dust on Rudy's lips. "Not exactly." He opened his eyes to clear the rubble away. Didn't want to remember that, now. Skinner grinned. "Not exactly? What does that mean?" Doggett shook his head, not returning the smile. "Not right now." He ran a hand through his spiky hair. "Don't wanna ruin the mood." Skinner barked. "What? This mood?" That got a chuckle. "Yeah. Okay. Sorry." He ran his fingers down Skinner's face in apology. "Tell you another time, okay?" A shrug. "Okay." As if dismissing the whole thing, Skinner gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's hit that shower, Marine. Before all the hot water pisses away." Skinner stood and stripped his tee-shirt off in one smooth movement, dropping it to the floor. He started on his belt with Doggett helplessly staring from the toilet seat. Eyes stapled to the huge, hairy chest, Doggett wondered how the hell the man had managed to pull off any wire-taps without screaming. He also offered up a small apology to Mulder, he could understand him having noticed this body, now. The acres of muscle and bone were kinda hard to avoid staring at. He suddenly felt very skinny indeed. "That's a yes', then?" Skinner asked, pausing on his zipper, lifting an eyebrow at the scrutiny. A tiny blush coloured Doggett's face. He stood up, hoping Skinner wouldn't notice. "Yeah. Let's get cleaned up." He reached for his own pants. * Part 11//16 Actually, considering he hadn't done this with anyone since his divorce, Doggett thought he remembered how to share very well. His stall was just big enough to accommodate the two of them, if they stood close together, that was. Doggett grinned into the spray. Not that that was any hardship. Having a hot wet body pressed up against his back was erotic, bordering on the exquisite. He leaned his head back on to Skinner's shoulders, as the other man soaped his chest and belly for him. Silken hands glided from his underarms to his hips, stroking deliciously, but never once dipping lower. And to Doggett's satisfaction, his dick had woken back up and was straining to see what was going on. The hot water massaged it pleasantly. "Good?" The deep voice rumbled in his ear. Doggett grunted, too blissed out to speak. The chest behind him rumbled in laughter. A hand tweaked a nipple, gently. "Thank you," Doggett muttered, the memory of the club rushing in "What for?" He snorted. "Not hurting me." The soapy hand stroked his chest. "I wouldn't do that." Shit. What did he mean by that, Doggett wondered? Pushing himself away, he turned round and looked at the other man. Water ran in rivulets off the bald skull, dripping off the curiously flat nose. The dark eyes regarded him solemnly. He bigger man hadn't touched him in an overtly sexual manner, at any time. He'd washed Doggett's body and hair with studied matter-of-factness. No groping, grabbing or indeed anything which might startle or bother him. Not quite what Doggett had been expecting, but very comforting all the same. Not that he thought that Skinner would slam him up against the shower wall, and butt-fuck him til he screamed. Well... Not really, anyway. Well okay, one nasty image from a vice-squad video tape had flickered briefly through his mind, but only for a fraction of a second. He'd never have invited Skinner into his house, if he'd taken that thought seriously. But it was nice to get confirmation, all the same. This was a good man. His guts had hinted at it, and the way Skinner conducted himself had re- enforced it. Doggett nodded. Okay. His eyes travelled down the wet statue in front of him. The body hair flattened by the water looked darker, the skin glistening a gold sheen. He looked good, Doggett had to admit that much. Straight or not, he had to admit the man was buff. In amazing shape for... Well shit. However old he was, he was in great shape. Doggett put his hand out and laid it on the wet chest. Another First. Never touched a guy like this. Not with anything like this intent, anyway. He rubbed the skin, marvelling at the feel of the hard muscle under his hand. He could feel the nub of a nipple under his palm. Skinner breathed deeply, not moving an inch. Letting Doggett roam free. His dark eyes slid shut. Relishing the chance to explore, Doggett reached for a handful of liquid soap and rubbed his hands together putting them to Skinner's shoulders. The soap made his hands slide easily over the golden skin. Nice. He was kinda surprised to realise how nice it did feel. He soaped the chest, watching the hairs perk up under the bubbles. Impulsively, he leaned forward and touched his own chest to Skinner's. He rubbed it back and forth. This was a most unusual sensation. Guy hair. It was all crinkly on his smooth chest. Another First. He did it some more, grinning. It tickled. "Having fun?" Skinner asked dryly, cracking open his eyes. Doggett laughed. "Yeah. That okay?" Skinner's arms came out to either side. "Be my guest," he said. Taking the man at his word, Doggett helped himself to more soap and began to work a lather up on the rest of the body. Different from a soft woman's body. He didn't feel he had to be so gentle. This body never shifted as he massaged his hands deep into muscle. As his hands got to waist-level, he glanced down. A sizeable boner was bobbing up between them. Actually, it was more like one and a half boners, as his own dick was seriously putting in an appearance. Water dripped in slow-motion from the end of Doggett's nose and on to Skinner's cock. The sight flared inside Doggett's belly, the urgency of the heat taking him by surprise. Shit. He stared, fascinated by water rolling off hard flesh. "You could always take a picture," suggested Skinner. Doggett laughed, slightly abashed at having been caught staring, there was a quick moment of having breached locker-room etiquette, but he squashed it down. He was allowed to look at this man's body. Shit, he was supposed to look. "Yeah. I could always get one framed up for my desk." "Have to be a real big frame," Skinner dead panned. "Show off." Doggett chuckled. "Can you imagine the reaction at the Bureau?" Skinner grinned. "Agent Scully would probably deliver early." "Got rather a high opinion of yourself, haven't you?" Shrugging, Skinner grinned. "Hey - what can I say? I'm a guy." Yeah, thought Doggett. I kinda noticed that. His eyes dropped down between them again. Skinner's high opinion stared right back. He watched his left hand come up of its own accord and he wondered why. The opinion bobbed as Skinner shifted his weight and Doggett flicked his eyes back up. He wanted to ask a question, but the words were wedged in his throat, stuck behind his masculine pride. Skinner nodded. He obviously understood the strangled expression. "You're allowed to touch." Glancing down, Doggett was surprised to see his hand already on the move. His body seemed to be 2 steps ahead of his brain tonight. Twitching, his cock agreed. The soapy hand glided over hard flesh to the sound of his mind notching up yet another mark on the world's weirdest scoresheet. First Time he'd touched another man's dick. How bout that? These damned Firsts were coming thick and fast. The unintentional pun made him smile. "Something funny, down there?" Doggett looked up, still gripping his handful. "Just thinkin'" he said. Grunting at the pressure Doggett was exerting, Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" "That this is nice." Doggett shrugged and squeezed some more. "Seriously fuckin' weird. But nice, all the same." "Glad you approve, Agent Doggett." His hands came up to hold on to Doggett's biceps. "But if we don't get out of this shower soon, you're gonna have to wait a while for any further approval." "Okay, you're the Boss." Unable to resist sliding his hand a couple of times more before letting go, Doggett laughed at Skinner's pained expression. He took pity on the man and let go, reaching behind to turn off the shower. Skinner flung the curtain back, quickly stepped out, and reached for the towel rail. He grabbed the nearest one, wrapped it around his fist and glared at Doggett. "Want to try that again, Agent?" he asked, snapping the towel back and forth, threateningly. Doggett grinned, not in the least bit intimidated. "Sure." Dropping the threat, Skinner nodded. "Good. Then get out of there and do it properly, soldier." He threw the towel at Doggett and snagged himself another, draping it around his shoulders and walking purposefully out of the bathroom. The thought of where he was headed made Doggett go hot and swallow quickly. He rubbed his head briskly, thanking the barber for the time-saving haircut, and hurried to follow Skinner.