chapter 10. Skinner arrived at his place at 7. Early for a work day, but still far too late for Doggett's taste. As he took his overcoat, briefcase and scarf, Skinner told him how many people had asked after his health, from Kim and the typing pool, to George, the security guard. Doggett was touched, and not a little embarrassed that everyone knew he'd been floored by Agent Mulder. Skinner had been vastly amused at how many of the secretaries had found the excuse to call and check up on him. Wondered if he should be jealous. Doggett had silenced him with a kiss. They sat and ate a large meal, which Doggett had prepared earlier in a seizure of culinary boredom. Talked shop over the meal, drank wine, taking it easy. Sometime during Skinner's request for a second helping of potatoes, it occurred to Doggett that this was so comfortable, it was almost criminal. Eating together. Enjoying each others' company. He found himself wishing this was how it was every single day. That he could sit in a warm kitchen opposite this man, laughing, sharing his meals, watching him eating and enjoying the food And then he sat and wondered in amazement at himself. When the hell did he turn into Martha Stewart? "That was great," Skinner told him, pushing away his plate and sitting back, sighing. "I needed that." "Uh-huh." Doggett passed him the wine. "Re-fill?" Skinner shook his head. "Better not. Or I'll be asleep before the news." Laughing, Doggett slipped the stopper back in. "Fair enough." "Besides." A large hand reached across the table. I have plans." "Oh?" Grinning, Skinner took hold of Doggett's long fingers and pulled him in. "Yeah. I shall be very hurt if you've forgotten what I promised this morning." Doggett grinned, remembering how the conversation in the car had given him goose bumps. "I haven't forgotten." He watched his fingers slip between Skinner's lips, warm and wet. That agile tongue stroked along the side of each finger, letting him know what was in store. Skinner winked, pulling his hand away. "Think you're up to it?" "Well. Why don't you look see?" "Why don't I do just that?" Standing up, Skinner pulled him up, and dragged him across towards the stairs. Happily compliant, Doggett followed, feeling himself harden in anticipation. They got halfway up the stairs and Skinner stopped suddenly, turning round. "I don't believe it." Putting his hand on the other man to keep from bumping into him, Doggett frowned. "What?" "You're not insisting on doing the dishes." "What?" "You always insist on washing up the kitchen before anything else." He stared. "What's wrong?" Open-mouthed, Doggett stared back. "Nothin's wrong..." He punched Skinner lightly. "Bastard." Laughing, Skinner resumed his ascent, dragging an outraged Doggett behind him. "Get in there," Skinner instructed, throwing open the bedroom door. "Bossy." "You got that right." Pushing until Doggett's legs met the mattress, Skinner advanced, a fistful of shirt gripped tight. Trapped against the bed, Doggett swayed slightly as his mouth was claimed and invaded. The kiss was hard and urgent, bringing a flutter in Doggett's legs and a steel rod in his pants. "Good," he gasped out when Skinner finally released him. "Uh-huh." The bigger man cupped the back of his neck, pushing against his chest with the other hand. "On the bed," he instructed, lowering Doggett down. "Gently..." And easing Doggett down with careful hands, Skinner climbed up to straddle him. "Now then, Agent Doggett," he said. "Let's see what's going on down in these pants of yours, shall we?" "Will this be forming part of the new Assistant Directors' policy regarding the health of subordinates, sir?" Skinner laughed softly, unbuttoning tented denim. "I think it might well be, Agent. You have a problem with that?" Doggett grunted as both sides of his fly was peeled back, releasing his dick. "No, sir. No problem at all." He lifted his hips to allow the jeans to be stripped down his legs and off his socked feet. "Just so long as I'm the only agent with whom you're gonna be initiating this particular policy." Skinner flashed him a grin. "Jealous?" Doggett made a low noise in his throat. "Very." Skinner laughed, then distracted, plucked at the waistband of his briefs. "What have we here?" "What?" Doggett lifted his head to look down. "These. Underpants. I brought you boxers, this morning." Shrugging, Doggett scratched at his nose. "Well... I took a shower." "Why would you need to do that?" Skinner scowled. "Did you go running? You know what the doctor said..." "No, I didn't go running, Walt. Relax, okay?" "Then why'd you need a shower?" Embarrassed, Doggett sighed. Damn. "I spilled something on myself, okay? I needed to change." "And the underwear? What d'you do? Bathe in it?" "You might say." "What was it?" Doggett sighed again. "Dr. Pepper." Skinner's eyebrows rose. "Yeah? This some kink I don't know about?" "Shut up and kiss me, Walt." The conversation with his mother was something he didn't want to recount while lying here in his underwear. "Okay. But we're gonna talk about this soft drink fetish of yours, y'hear?" Doggett grunted into the mouth that covered his. Kissing was better than talking about his mother. Actually, cleaning out the gutters in the middle of winter butt-naked was better than talking about his mother. He wanted to push thoughts of her as far away as possible right now, so he shut his eyes and pressed his tongue between Skinner's teeth. By the time their mouths parted, Mrs Doggett Snr. had fled from Doggett's mind in the face of a raging hard-on and a very warm Assistant Director kneeling over him, ripping off both of their shirts. The clothes disappeared across the room. "What about these?" Doggett held up a socked foot, waggling the toes. "Those stay on." "Oh?" Looking curiously, Doggett smiled. "Why?" "I like how they look." Laughing, Doggett dug a foot into Skinner's side. "Now who's got the fetish?" "Leave me alone. It's a perfectly ordinary thing to like." "Oh, please... Woolly socks turn you on? I don't believe it!" Skinner pulled a face. "I didn't say it turned me on - I just like how it looks. Okay? No need to give me a hard time about it." Doggett laughed, and put his foot down. "Okay, big guy. Calm down. The socks can stay." "Yeah, well..." Skinner grumbled. "Do I make fun when you ask me to put my leather jacket on?" "Fair enough. Point taken." Reaching up to put his hand to Skinner's face, he patted gently. He bumped his hips up. "But aren't we forgetting something?" Turning to bite at the hand, Skinner grinned. "No chance of that, Marine. I need to check my property." "Your property?" "Uh huh. Got a problem with that?" No, he didn't. He didn't at all. "Sounds good to me. Help yourself." Bending down with a grin, Skinner slowly peeled down the navy briefs, easing them over Doggett's upright dick, and down his legs. "Looks good, so far." "Think you might need a closer look." Doggett spread his legs apart, Skinner moving so he knelt between them. "Think you might be right." He wriggled himself around until he was lying down, his nose level with Doggett's groin. "This better?" "I think so," Doggett breathed, the air in his lungs going in and out faster in anticipation. "Right then," Skinner reached up and gently touched Doggett's balls. "This hurt?" Doggett shook his head. "Uh uh." He could barely feel it. The fingers whispered across his skin, barely disturbing the hair. "Touch me harder." Skinner shook his head. "Don't want to hurt you." "You won't..." Doggett pushed his hips up again. "Won't let you." Nodding, Skinner stroked along the edge of Doggett's groin, around the root of his cock and back down, avoiding his balls altogether. A thin whine bled out of Doggett. "Don't tease," he pleaded. "You like to be teased," Skinner reminded him, brushing his skin some more. Raising up, Doggett looked down at the other man between his legs. For lots of different reasons that he didn't understand, he needed Walt to touch him the way he usually did. Not the least of those reasons was checking to make sure everything was in working order. He just needed to be touched confidently, like Skinner wanted to be doing what they were doing. No hesitation. And if he cared to stop to analyse himself, he might find that it was more a psychological need than it was a physical one. "Not tonight," he said. "I want you to touch me properly. I want..." He paused, wondering how much of his state of mind he was giving away. "Want you to..." He didn't think of himself as a needy man. Not anything out of the ordinary from the usual insecure male, anyway. But right now, he needed to ask for something. Skinner was staring back, waiting for him to finish. He spoke quietly, just a hair above a whisper. "Just make love to me, Walt." The words were easier than he expected. Not the defeat he thought voicing the need would be. Skinner's face softened as he smiled. "I can do that." Bending his head, he leaned in and kissed both of Doggett's thighs, moving slowly up towards his groin. "With pleasure." Sighing, Doggett placed his head back on the pillow and raised both arms above his head. That was better. That was a touch that felt like it meant every stroke. The kisses and little nuzzles worked their way up the crease of his groin and at last, to his balls. He felt Skinner cup him in his hand. "You're pretty banged up, here, John." "Tell me about it." Mulder's knee was harder than his head. "You sure you want this?" Skinner sounded doubtful. "Uh huh." He pushed his hips up. God, he wanted this. He wanted it like he couldn't believe. Never mind the bruises, the aches, the pains. He needed to be re-assured. No idea why - but he needed it all the same. "You're kind of sore looking." He felt himself being lifted. "I don't know if this is such a good idea." The doubt in Skinner's voice hit him in the guts. Stupid, but it hurt more than his battered balls. "Maybe we should wait a day or two," he said, his voice muffled from where he was inspecting the damage. No. Doggett didn't want to wait a day or two. He didn't even want to wait another minute. He needed this now. "Walt..." Skinner sighed. "Okay." He stroked a thigh. "If you're sure." Doggett bit down on his lip. He was sure. He was so damn sure he couldn't speak. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the sensations below his waist. He felt Skinner let his balls rest back, laying them down with a stroke across skin that Doggett knew was mottled with bruises. He'd spent a fair amount of that morning in the bathroom, with a mirror and a pained expression. Skinner took his cock and ran his fingers up and down, so gently it tickled. Doggett squirmed. The fingers held firmer, moving in long strokes that brought Doggett's hips off the bed. He groaned. "Good?" "Yeah." He breathed the word out, eyes still tightly shut, arms above his head, forearms clasped together. It was good. Skinner knew exactly what to do to him. Knew precisely what he liked. Start with a few little licks before nibbling gives way to an erotically slow decent into a hot mouth. He felt his cock slide in. Shit, he gives great head. The echo of the thought sounded in his head, loud enough to make him bite down on his lip to stop it spilling out. Don't say that out loud! His conscience and his pride held a loud conversation in his head Why not? Wasn't as if it was any secret to Walt - he knew he gave great head. Took pleasure in pleasing him... More to the point, what made him suddenly think of that? Shit! Did he actually say that to his mother? Fuck! No way! She'd have been on the next plane out here. Probably, but then that wasn't really a possibility while he was busy playing hide-and-seek with his private life. That was because it was fuckin' private, he insisted, feeling Skinner take him incredibly deep. You think? Exactly how private do you think this really is? And do you really want it to stay that way? Huh? For the rest of... Doggett ground the back of his head into the pillow, rubbing his arms roughly over his eyes, heedless of the pain. Stop it! He didn't want to hear all this shit. Lying with his cock in Skinner's mouth wasn't the time or the place... Really? And were would the time or place be, his conscience enquired? How about the next visit to your folks? Or maybe you can avoid seeing them until they're safely dead? Or how about next Christmas... Or the Christmas after that... Ooh! Here's a good one! Sal's wedding, whenever that might be. Is Walt still gonna be safely hidden in that closet then? You gonna be the sad lonely man that everyone whispers about: What a shame - never got over that divorce... Unable to breath through his nose, Doggett pulled in a jagged gasp, releasing his abused lip. Jesus! What was the matter with him? He took another breath. This was fuckin' crazy. There was this tight knot inside in that was cranking tighter every second. His eyes were itchy and he couldn't breathe. What the hell was wrong with him? To his shame, he cold feel his boner waning. Oh Christ - no! He wanted to do this... He needed.... His erection wilted and fell from Skinner's mouth. "John?" Oh shit, not now... Doggett gritted his teeth against the wave of humiliation. Skinner would think he didn't want him. For the love of God, he hadn't lost it since his college days. "Please, Walt..." Shit. His voice sounded all funny. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Just..." Nothing else could get past the lump in his throat. Shit, fire and corruption. He dug his arms in on his face, hiding. "John?" Skinner was moving up from between his legs. "What's wrong? Have I hurt you?" The concern in Skinner's voice made Doggett bark out loud with choked laughter. "John?" A big hand smoothed up along one of his arms. "Hey... Talk to me." Yeah, like he could, right now. He shook his head in lieu of answering. Skinner was lying next to him now, he could feel the warmth of the other man's chest against his side. Slowly an arm snaked underneath his shoulders and Doggett felt himself being pulled into a hug. "C'mere." Skinner's mouth was very close to his ear. "Let me hold you." Giving in to the inexorable pull of the strong arms that surrounded him, Doggett rolled onto his side, let his arms drop, and allowed Skinner to cradle him like a child. Well, that was what he felt like. Some big, dumb kid, leakin' round the eyes for no good reason. He was disgusted at himself. He turned his head away. "No you don't." Skinner put a hand on the side of his head and turned it back into the nape of his neck. "You stay right there." The hand held him in place, stroking through his hair. Doggett sighed into the warm neck. "It's okay..." Skinner whispered, dropping a kiss on the top of Doggett's head. "I've got you." The gentle words were the last straw. Doggett felt his breath catch in his throat and then the burn scalded the backs of his eyes, and Skinner held him tightly, muttering soft words as he cried silently into the joint of the warm shoulder. chapter 11. When he woke up the second time that day, Doggett was in no doubt about what it was that had roused him. It wasn't a hint this time, he was surrounded by the scent of Skinner's body. Enveloped and cocooned. Inhaling deeply, he let his eyes creak open. In bed. They were still in bed, but a cover had been pulled up over the two of them, keeping the cool evening air from his naked body. "Hey." Above him, Skinner spoke softly, as if unsure if he was awake. "Hey." Shit, this was going to be embarrassing. He employed delaying tactics by rubbing his face on Skinner's chest. He wasn't in any rush to look the other man in the face. "Feel better?" There was a question. He felt as if he'd been hit from behind by a city cab, and didn't know if he could stand the humiliation of the next few minutes. He shrugged, shoulders still wrapped up in big arms. "Reckon so." Then winced at himself. Damn. Hick-mode again. He tried so hard to lose that. Closing his eyes again, he allowed himself the luxury of nestling in the warm folds of Skinner's body. Maybe if he fell asleep again, he'd avoid the embarrassment of a question and answer session about him bawlin' like a baby. He could live without that. Skinner shifted slightly, so that he could look down. "So you want to tell me what all that was about?" No. He didn't. "I..." He delayed again by scratching his nose and rubbing his tired eyes. "It was nothin'. Honest." "John..." "Really. Musta been over-tired." Skinner moved again, and this time put a hand to Doggett's chin, lifting it up so far as he had no alternative but to look into those dark eyes. "I don't appreciate lies, John." Doggett swallowed. Damn. What was he supposed to say to that? "I'm not." He stared into unconvinced eyes and sighed. "Hell. Skinner. I don't know!" He pulled his head away and rubbed at his eyes. Shit. This was horrible. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. Yes he could. He pushed that memory away. Let's just say he couldn't remember the last time he cried in front of anyone else, let alone in their arms. He pulled away slightly to lie on his back. The ceiling held great fascination right now. He stared at the spider-like cracks, hoping Walt would let it go. "Is it..." Skinner hesitated. "You know... Us?" Damn. Doggett looked across into Skinner's dark eyes. It shocked him to see the expression trying to hide in them. "No, Walt. It's not `us'." He pulled his mouth into a smile. "I promise you." Well, congratulations, John. That's a great start. Lie number one. Skinner nodded slowly, as unconvinced as Doggett felt. "So...?" Doggett shrugged. "Just tired, I guess." Lie number two. "I've seen you tired, John. Doesn't usually make you cry." Doggett blushed. He'd had a vague idea that if no-one mentioned the `c' word, then he could pretend it never happened. So much for that theory. "Tired and bruised," he corrected. "Again, I've seen that." Skinner folded his arms over his chest. "So why don't you try again." Fuck. "If it's not us, then what else is going on in your life that I don't know about. What can make you do this?" Tipping his head back on the pillow, Doggett contemplated the cracks again. Was it worth going for lie number three? Was it worth risking what they had here and now for what might possibly be in the future? Would Skinner freak out if he knew what was going through Doggett's mind? He wondered how far into a relationship queer guys usually got before having one of `these' talks. And did they have much of one left by the time they'd finished? "I was thinking about Sal's wedding," he said at last. "I didn't know..." He waved a hand. "She's not." "Then why..." Doggett stretched his arm up, easing out the creased muscles. "I like weddings. Everyone's in such a great mood. On their best behaviour." He grinned. "Until the drink kicks in, then all hell breaks loose. Pretty good drinkers, my family. Things always gets real interesting after the sun goes down." He put his arm down, the blood had run out of it, leaving it feeling empty. Like the rest of him. "I don't see the connection." "Huh?" "Between Sal's wedding and you..." He paused. "You know." Seemed Skinner wasn't that keen on the `c' word, either. Doggett looked at him. "I saw her, in my head. Standing there." Skinner nodded. "Go on." "I was watching from across the room. In a corner. By myself." He pulled in a shaky breath. "Alone." Skinner made no comment, just rubbed his hand across Doggett's belly. "I know what you're gonna say," Doggett smiled gently. "Do you?" Skinner smiled. "Yeah." He sighed. "You're gonna say `you're not alone', aren't you?" Skinner chuckled. "Maybe. But what's wrong with that?" Nothing at all was wrong with that. Nothing and everything. It might be the most stupid thing he could possibly ask, given their jobs, their personal histories and their age, but Doggett could feel the words rushing up from his gut, bypassing his common-sense and out, regardless of the consequences. "I want you to come to Sal's wedding." "You said she's not..." "When she does." Skinner looked amused. He nodded. "Okay." "No. I mean it." "Okay," he said again. This was far too easy. Doggett didn't know if Skinner understood what he was saying. What the implications were of them going to Sal's wedding together. Hell. Going any place together. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" Skinner shrugged. "I think so." "You sure `bout that?" "Well, as I see it, you're either going to have to pretend you need an FBI bodyguard to attend your sister's wedding, or you're going to have to introduce me as your... Friend. Partner. Whatever." Bringing his hand up from where it rested on Doggett's belly, he ran it across a warm chest. "It'd be like that Robert DeNiro film." Dogget frowned. "Raging Bull?" "No. Meet the Parents." "Oh." Running his finger around a nipple, Skinner smiled. "As long as your father isn't going to wire me up to anything." He laughed. "Or kick my ass." Slowly smiling, Doggett flicked the tickling finger. "Nah. He only does that to blood relations." "That's a relief." Watching the other man playing with his tit, Doggett wondered where the explosion was. There had to be more to this discussion than that. "Walt..." He captured the hand on his chest. "Yes?" Big brown eyes regarded him calmly. He shook his head. "I really don't understand you." Smiling, Skinner shrugged. "What's not to understand?" Doggett pulled a face. "My parents, for starters." "How bad can they be?" Doggett decided now was not the time to answer that question as fully as it deserved. He inspected the hand he held. "You know what people will say." "Probably." "And that doesn't bother you?" Skinner sighed. "Look. I'm not responsible for what other people think or say." He pulled his hand towards his mouth and kissed the back of Doggett's fingers. "All I care about is you, you skinny sack of shit." That brought a smile to Doggett's face. "Yeah?" Skinner rolled his eyes. "Did that kick in the nuts dislodge your insecurity chip?" "Nah. That would be the blow to the head." Skinner grunted and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Hear this, Agent Doggett." He kissed him again. "I have no problem meeting your family." Another kiss. "I have no problem being introduced as your... Whatever you want to call me..." He placed a kiss in the centre of Doggett's lips. "What I will not do, however, is walk hand in hand down the corridors of the Hoover building, singing show tunes. Okay?" Grinning around another kiss, Doggett nodded. "Fair enough." "Besides, I'm betting you haven't the balls to sing in public." Doggett shook his head. "Was in the church choir `til I enlisted." He grinned at the look on the other man's face. "Sorry to disappoint you." "That a fact?" "Yep." Strange, he'd have put money on never admitting that little fact to anyone ten minutes ago. "Maybe I should re-think the corridor-thing, then." "Think of your reputation." He was only half-joking. Skinner just looked calmly at him. "Like I care." He spelt it out. "You could make DD one day." Skinner shook his head. "Too much shit's been thrown around. Won't happen." "Might." "Nah. Anyway. I found something better than a fast-track career." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "And what would that be, Assistant Director?" He really wanted to hear what he hoped Skinner was suggesting. Wanted to watch the words fall out of his mouth. Rolling his eyes, Skinner sighed. "You... You dopy, skinny-assed..." Laughing, Doggett pulled the other man towards him by the ears, to kiss him hard. Shit. He didn't need to hear the rest of it. That was enough. As his mouth was eventually released, Skinner used his thumb to wipe the moisture from Doggett's bottom lip. "So. That okay with you?" Cocking his head one way then the other, Doggett pulled his mouth down in a `so-so' gesture. "Suppose." He nodded. "I could get used to bein' Mrs. Skinner." "Long as don't have to be Mrs. Doggett." That was just horrible. He winced. "Deal." "So. You okay?" Doggett gave that question long consideration. Theoretically, yeah. He was okay with it. Practice might be a whole different ball of wax, but they'd cross that bridge when they stood on his parents' front porch. "Yeah. I am." He bent to kiss the other man. "I'm good." "No more..." He waved a hand at Doggett's face. He nodded, understanding. "Uh-uh." "Good." Heaving himself up from the bed, Skinner stretched. "I feel a cup of coffee coming on. You up for that?" "You bet." Throwing back the covers, he swung his legs around, searching for his discarded clothes. "Hey, Big Dog." Glancing up, his jeans halfway up his thighs, Doggett raised his eyebrows. "What?" Skinner jerked his chin in a southerly direction. "I'm going to finish what I started, later. You hear?" "That a promise?" "That's a warning." Doggett grinned and followed a wide set of shoulders down the stairs. chapter 12 Doggett ended up making the coffee, while Skinner rewound the video he'd watched earlier and sponged out a couple of soda stains he'd missed. Smiling to himself, Doggett carried the mugs through. "What are you grinning at?" Skinner asked, wiping his hands on a square of paper towel. "Just thinkin'" "I don't think you should be allowed to do that by yourself." Putting the mugs down, he flipped Skinner the bird. "I was just thinkin' what my `ex' would make of this. You on your hands and knees cleanin' the furnishings like a good little houseboy." Skinner snorted and threw the towelling at him. "I think she might be more focussed on the fact that her `ex' was fucking the houseboy, don't you?" Doggett laughed. "Maybe. She wasn't big on that, so I don't know. She might be more concerned with what kind of cleaning stuff you're using." "What? You mean she wouldn't be focussed on my gorgeous body?" Skinner puffed up his chest and struck a pose. "Sorry to disillusion you." Lowering himself on to the sofa, he patted the seat next to him. "Come and sit down and let me do the focussin'." Skinner grunted again and flopped down, wriggling around to get comfy. He snatched the remote and jabbed it in the direction of the television. "News is on." "That'll be fun." "Stop bitching." Doggett saluted. "Yes, boss." Skinner gave him a look over his glasses, making Doggett laugh. "Come here, trouble." "What?" Skinner held his arm out. "Here." Scooting closer, Doggett inserted himself under the outstretched arm. "That better?" he asked, grinning. "Closer." Rolling his eyes, he wriggled closer. "Jeez! You're just so needy, Walt." That got him another look. "Shut up and sit still. I'd like to watch the news." Laughing, Doggett tucked one leg under the other, then hooked it over the top of Skinner's, draping himself comfortably. "Comfy?" Skinner asked, not taking his eyes from the television. "Yep," Doggett confirmed, lacing his hand through the one lying in Skinner's lap. "Very." "I'm so glad." Listening with half an ear to the newscaster, Doggett stared up at the other man. He was watching the news intently, his thumb stroking over the top of Doggett's arm, his only movement. Doggett studied Skinner's face, his concentration looking almost stern in the evening light. It was a face that could send agents running for cover and turn ineffective secretaries into quivering heaps. Doggett smiled. He could understand that. He'd been witness to the wrath of AD Skinner more than once on the job - it was an awesome sight. But he was lucky enough to know the other side. He stared some more, studying the curve of jaw, the line of his neck. Never shifting his gaze from CNN, Skinner spoke. "See something green?" he asked, amusement tempering his words. "Just thinkin'." "I've warned you about that." Doggett chuckled. They sat in silence, the chatter of the television filling the room. "Thinking about what?" Skinner asked at last. "Stuff." "Oh yeah? Like what?" "Like how you can never open a carton of juice without swearing..." "Fascinating." Skinner continued to stare at the television, unimpressed. Doggett thought about it a bit more then spoke again. "And like how in the morning, you always shave your neck first, never start with your cheeks." "You need a hobby, Doggett." He smiled, watching the other man blinking at the news. "I'm thinkin' about how you eat an ice cream. How you always bite it like you think it's gonna get away or somethin'." That just got a grunt. The eyes never wavered. Doggett smiled. "And that I love you." That got his attention away from current events. He fixed his gaze on Doggett, a slow smile emerging from the stern expression. "Aren't we the soppy one?" he teased. "Sue me." Skinner shook his head. "I'd rather kiss you." Shrugging, Dogget tried not to grin. "Go for it." As Skinner bent his head, Doggett shut his eyes in anticipation and parted his lips. "Agent Doggett?" The voice from the direction of the kitchen zapped them apart. Doggett looked around wildly. What the fuck? Was he hearing things? "Are you home?" Doggett stared at Skinner in horror. Fuckin' hell! Scully! Never minding his bruised balls, Doggett leaped up off the sofa as if poked with a cattle-prod. "Hello?" She was calling from the kitchen. From the back door. "Anyone home?" Doggett's mouth hung open. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He turned his desperate expression on Skinner, who was also staring, but to his disgust, didn't look as panic-stricken as he felt. "Agent Doggett?" "Er... Hi, Agent Scully," he called out, looking at Skinner, holding his hands out as if to say, what do I do? Skinner jerked his head towards the kitchen. Doggett got the message and dived, stumbling over the coffee table, and staggering towards the kitchen in an unco-ordinated mess. "Ah, so you are home..." Scully's voice trailed off. "Yeah, I'm here," Doggett said, catching his balance and trying to grasp a shred of dignity. "Watchin'the t.v." Scully waved a hand. "I rang the bell. I don't think it works." Whaddya know! He didn't tell lies to his mother after all. Well, perhaps half a lie. "Really?" What was Skinner doing in the lounge? Hiding behind the sofa? "Prob'ly needs a new battery. I'll get on it over the weekend." Glancing the way she indicated, he shoved his hands in his jeans. "Then I remembered that men don't lock their back doors," she said, smiling. "Thought I'd test the theory." "Yeah." He nodded shrugging. "Think I'd know better, wouldn't you? Bein' an officer of the law, `an all." He had to keep her out of the lounge. There was no explanation in the world that would cover their boss being in there, at this time of night. In only half of his clothes. He watched Scully's face wander from puzzled to intrigued as her eyes travelled down his body. What the hell? Following her gaze, he realised with a sinking despair that Skinner wasn't the only one that was shirtless. Shit. Her eyes came back up and met his, one brow rising in that way of hers. Shit. "I was..." He shrugged. Taking a shower? Changin' clothes? Makin' out on the sofa? What to say... What to say... "I wanted to see how you were feeling," Scully said, saving him from his dilemma. "Didn't get a chance to speak with you yesterday. After you were admitted." "Uh-huh." Still standing like an idiot, with his hands in his pockets. "I'm pretty much..." He shrugged, knowing his black eye was just this side of spectacular. "Okay, I guess." "Uh-huh." She stood, studiously not staring at his body, eyes fixed on his face. And all things considered, he'd rather they weren't, as he was sure he could feel a blush starting. Was she wondering why he was spending the evening, sitting round half naked? You bet she was. His manners came to the rescue, saving either of them from commenting on his state of undress. "Can I get you..." He indicated the steaming coffee pot. "A drink, or somethin', Agent Scully?" Please, say no, he prayed to himself. Pleased say no... "You know, I'd love a cup of coffee." She smiled. "I really shouldn't, but what the hell. One can't do any harm." Oh, one cup can do plenty of harm, Doggett thought, moving to get her a mug, debating on how he could get rid of her before she spotted Skinner. "Please sit down, make yourself comfortable." He rummaged in a cupboard, wondering what the hell Walt was up to. Sneaking a glance over his bare shoulder, he saw that Scully had elected to sit facing the doorway, taking with her choice of seat, any hope of Skinner sneaking past her and making it upstairs unseen. "Mulder said he popped in to see you last night." "More like this morning," Doggett grumbled, setting a mug in front of her. "This okay? I haven't got any china." She smiled. "It's great. I don't do silly little cups where coffee's concerned." "Cream?" He pushed the jug towards her, perching on the opposite stool. Nodding, she poured a generous dollop into her mug and stirred. She took a sip and rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's wonderful!" Sipping again, she looked at his face, nodding. "That bruise is coming out nicely." Reaching to touch his cheek, instinctively, he winced. "Yeah. Kinda spoils my looks, don't ya think?" She laughed. "Oh, I don't know. Adds a certain rakish charm." He smiled. Walt had told him the same thing, this morning, when he drove him home. Looking into the depths of her mug, Scully watched the steam rise. "Can I ask you something?" Alarmed by the sudden change of subject, Doggett felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. "I guess." He waited a while, while she frowned, obviously trying to work out how to put whatever it was she wanted to know. "Scully?" She looked up. "Dana," she said. He nodded. First names might be a good start, if this was going where he suspected. And he was sure it was. "Dana. Just ask. Whatever it is." She looked at him, those blue eyes calculating and analysing. "I was talking to Mulder earlier." "Yeah?" She nodded. "After he came to see you." "After he woke me up, you mean." Laughing, she sipped her drink. "Yes. I'm sorry about that. He's never been very good at following the traditional path." She sighed and put the mug down. "Anyway, we were wondering..." Doggett held up his hand. "I know where this is going, Dana. And I'm not sure I know what to tell you." He shrugged. "My personal life and relationships are just that. Personal." She opened her mouth to say something, but he forestalled her. "No. Let me finish. I'm not sure what Muldah's reasons are for knowing my business, but whatever they are, until it interferes with my work, I think I'd prefer not to comment on his suspicions regarding AD Skinner and myself." In the silence that ensued, he looked at Scully and she looked right back at him. "Are you finished?" Frowning, he nodded silently. "Firstly, I told you once before, it wasn't my style to enquire about that kind of thing. It still isn't." He had the manners to look embarrassed. "I just thought..." "I know what you thought." She shook her head. "And secondly, whatever Mulder might or might not imply, isn't necessarily my standpoint, or indeed of any interest." He rubbed his finger over the counter, gathering sugar grains. Shit. "I er..." He absently sucked the sugar from his finger, wondering what to say next. He risked a glance at her. She was sipping her drink again. Calm, serene. Damn. How did she do that all the time? Didn't she ever lose it? "Look, Dana. I'm sorry. I'm just a little touchy, is all." She smiled as enigmatically as any painting. "I seem to recall we've had this conversation before. And in this very kitchen, if I'm not mistaken." He pulled a wry face. "Yeah." "So. Do you want to know what I was going to say? Or should we just skip to the part where you snap my head off?" Her smile took the sting from her words. Doggett smiled back at her. "Okay. I give in." He sat back on the stool and crossed his arms over his chest. "Ask away." "Was about to ask if you would care to come over to my place for a meal, later in the week, when you're feeling a little better, of course." Oh. "Bit of an anti-climax from asking about your personal life, isn't it?" She smiled again. "I'll say," he said, shaking his head. This was unexpected. "Why?" He frowned. "I mean thank you, I'd love to. But..." "What's wrong, Agent Doggett?" He shook his head. "John." Nodding, she sipped her drink. "John. You sound surprised." "I am. I mean... You never asked me to dinner before." Putting her mug down, Scully brushed her hair behind her ear. "I know. And that was wrong of me. There is no reason we shouldn't eat a meal together. After all, we work together." She cocked an eyebrow. "But I should warn you Mulder will be in attendance, if that's a problem for you." The eyebrow gave way to a grin. "I know you two... Shall we say: `react' with each other." Grinning in return, Doggett unfolded his arms. "Yeah, you could say that." "Well, I'll be acting as referee, so you should be safe enough." "You and Muldah go back a long way." "Meaning?" "Two against one. Hardly seems fair." He could get to enjoy this lighter side of Dana Scully. She snorted into her coffee. "You think you need back-up?" "Maybe." "Who'd you have in mind?" she laughed. The kitchen clock scrunched in the silence left behind when Doggett realised where the conversation had gone. Damn. "Me."