RATING: NC-17 for m/m interaction

CATEGORY: SHRRR (very R), slash (Mulder/Skinner)

SPOILERS: none

SUMMARY: Walter gets some TLC

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was written over the Christmas holidays as a gift for two of my dearest friends: Xanthe and Halrloprillalar. They both cheer and inspire me and this is a very inadequate "thank you" for their treasured friendship. The knitting idea came from Xanthe who had read in a magazine article that DD liked to knit. I carried that charming notion over to his alter-ego, Mulder.

FEEDBACK: is always appreciated and answered at: sergeeva@geocities.com

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Skinner was beginning to think he should have been a lot firmer with Fox over this. It was minus 9 degrees, his feet felt like blocks of ice and he was balanced on a less than stable ladder trying to attach Christmas lights to the eaves of the cabin.

The whole thing had been Mulder's idea. His normally fairly weird lover seemed to revert to complete infancy as soon as the first door on his Advent calendar was opened. He'd begun trying to get Walter into the Christmas spirit on December 1^st, with the delivery of a floral "arrangement" in the shape of an igloo, complete with skating penguins. Delivered to his office, with perfect timing, in the midst of a task force review at which the Director himself was present. The only saving grace had been that the accompanying card said only "My igloo or yours? Call me." which his colleagues had thought highly amusing.

Since then, it had got worse and worse: badly sung carols on his voice-mail, glasses of eggnog appearing mysteriously on his desk when he slipped out to the bathroom, and worst of all, a succession of luridly coloured and randomly shaped knitted items left in his in-tray. The scarf was just about wearable: over 10 feet long and striped in red, green and orange. Less easily put to use were the doll-sized stocking cap with three pom-poms on strings, or the gloves with a choice of either 4 or 7 fingers.

Skinner had been embarrassed but touched to think of Mulder concocting all these festive surprises and thought to himself that at least his lover was going to be a cheerful house guest for the holidays.

They had planned the trip up to the cabin a while ago, Mulder declaring that he never saw his mother over Christmas and that in any case his idea of a good Christmas present was Walter naked and helpless in front of a roaring fire! Walter had blushed, but kissed him and let him know that his idea of a perfect Christmas required Fox's presence too. So they had driven up here yesterday, the jeep loaded with supplies and Skinner trying manfully to ignore the huge cardboard carton Mulder wouldn't let him touch. To what new depths of seasonal kitsch would Fox sink, now he was on his holidays?

Depths previously unimagined by Skinner, as it turned out. Knitted Christmas stockings hung in all the cabin windows, Artificial swags of glittery greenery draped from every banister, beam and door-frame, and now he wanted lights hanging on the roof of the wooden structure, a multicoloured abomination that Walter could hardly bear to contemplate. His nearest neighbour up here was old Jake Copland, nearly two miles further along the dirt road, but he did have to come past on his way to town and Walter just knew that the description of his "Santa's Grotto" would be the talk of Moose Neck already.

He slid the hammer into the loop on his tool belt and slung the next length of cable and light bulbs over his shoulder, ready to hitch it onto the bracket he'd just fixed to the carved fretwork of the roof edge. A fox shrieked in the woods behind him, an eerie sound, but Walter smiled to himself, thinking of his own Fox, enjoying himself with the popcorn maker indoors. Stamping his feet to get some feeling back into them, he turned to his task again.

Suddenly the cabin door slammed open and a figure burst out, waving its arms and prattling with excitement:

"Walter, Walter, Martha says leave them to cool before you thread them but..."

Skidding to a halt just too late, Mulder slid into the ladder, toppling it from its slant against the roof, and watched appalled as it tilted backward, depositing Walter with a sickening thud on his back in the deep snow of the front yard. For a moment he stood transfixed, his hand to his open mouth, the words frozen on his lips. The dangling rope of lights clicked back and forth against the cabin wall, the fox howled again.

Able to move at last, Mulder threw himself down at Skinner's side, scooping the soft snow out of the way, almost hiccuping as he tried to breathe calmly and not sob out his worry.

"Walter? Are you dead? Have I killed you?"

He bent over Skinner, who lay unmoving, his eyes closed.

"Oh God, Walter, please don't be dead..."

He brushed a few flakes of snow from Skinner's brow, and flung himself dramatically across the big man's prostrate body.

"Oooff!"

"What? You're not dead at all - you bastard, Walter!"

"I'm not dead, no, but I'm not great either... help me up, you idiot."

Skinner was trying to sit up, but Mulder was kneeling on his coat and he flopped back down again, groaning.

"Where do you hurt? Can't you sit up, is your back broken?"

"Nothing so major, sorry to disappoint you, Fox. I think I've sprained my ankle and wrenched my shoulder, but I only can't get up because you've got me pinned down. Shift your knee and give me a hand up."

"Oh... sorry. Look, I really am sorry... let's get you inside. Easy now..."

All solicitude now, he gently helped Skinner to his feet, and supported his weight while he limped back into the cabin. Leaving Skinner balancing on one leg against the banister, he unbuckled the heavy toolbelt and started plucking off the big man's gloves and unbuttoning his coat as if he were a toddler. Skinner's lips twitched but he kept silent and allowed Mulder to fuss over him.

When he was down to his jeans and T-shirt and saw Mulder's nimble fingers heading for his button fly he thought it was time to make his presence felt again:

"Um, Fox, is that really necessary?"

"What? Oh..." Impish grin. "Well, yes, I'd say so, but you do look a little pale Walter. I shouldn't keep you standing... come to the couch."

As soon as he was seated, Mulder swung Skinner sideways on the cushions, lifting his long legs up onto the seat. Flitting around the room, he snatched up throw pillows from the easy chairs and made a support for Skinner's injured right ankle. Kneeling beside the couch again, he began to unlace Skinner's sturdy workboots.

Despite his best efforts, it was an excruciating process to ease the solid leather boot off the swelling ankle. He kept flicking a glance at Skinner's pale face and grimly set jaw and tried to get the job done as swiftly as possible. When both boots were off Mulder had to sit back on his heels with astonishment. Skinner's feet were revealed to be sporting hand-knitted socks in bold red, green and orange.

"You're wearing them!" He sounded like a delighted five-year-old, even to himself. He grinned up at Skinner.

"I am. They're actually very comfortable. Please don't tell me you've had some poor aged aunt running these things off for me?"

"No... umm... hmmphh, I made them." Blushing furiously now, Mulder had no idea how fetching he looked.

"I didn't know you knitted. Aren't socks really hard to do?"

"Well, yes, but I gave up trying to do proper turned heels and... look, I don't want to chat about knitting, I want to check out your ankle."

"Fine, Fox. But thank you for the socks, I'm touched. Aach!"

Mulder had pulled off the socks and was gingerly prodding at Skinner's distorted ankle. He gently straightened the joint and settled Skinner's bare right foot on the pile of pillows. It was already swollen and beginning to show the ominous purple of a major bruise. Mulder bent and kissed the smooth skin, kissed each toe, slid his hand up inside the narrow leg of the blue jeans. He was making pleasurable sounds to himself, that in a cat would have been purrs. Skinner coughed, quietly. Mulder gave one last caress and looked up, his eyes shining.

"Got carried away there... sorry. You don't know the affect you have on me, Walter... your feet... Oh God, your poor ankle!"

He leapt up and disappeared into the kitchen. Skinner lay back and smiled fondly to himself, feeling desire uncurling itself inside him. Two years together and they could still do this to each other... His warm thoughts were interrupted by Mulder bouncing back into the room with a bag of frozen peas, which he proceeded to drape over Skinner's sprained foot. Skinner flinched a little at the sudden cold, then felt an equal surge of heat as Mulder's fingers, still cool and damp from the improvised compress, pushed up under his T-shirt and slid over his bare chest.

"That'll take care of the swelling. Now about that wrenched shoulder, I'm sure I can do something to help there too..."

Mulder was tugging at the T-shirt now, pulling it up over the muscled torso. Mulder himself was sliding in behind Skinner on the couch, settling the powerful body back against his chest. He ran his hands lingeringly over the taut stomach and up through the soft chest hair. Skinner's skin prickled with arousal and he felt his nipples harden as Mulder's fingers skimmed up over them and came to rest on his shoulders.

"Now, where does it hurt?"

"Right side...mmmnn" Skinner's voice came out as a husky whisper and slid into a groan as he felt Mulder's warm lips touch his shoulder blade. He was pushed gently forward and caught a whiff of something that took him right back to his childhood: wintergreen and cloves. His father used to rub something on his stiff muscles after he'd been chopping logs or hauling potatoes all day, and he remembered his mother putting the same stuff on his own sore back after Telstar had dumped him off into the stream he'd been trying to jump... This was very different to his mother's touch, though...

Mulder had slathered a generous amount of the balm over Skinner's back and was slowly and gently working it into the tanned skin and the solid muscles beneath. His eyes followed the movements of his hands over the beautiful sculpture of interlaced muscles. Working his thumbs deeper into the knotted fibres, loosening, warming, soothing. Mulder drew Skinner back to rest against him once more and began to work the corded column of the long neck, sliding his hands up to the curve of the jaw and down to the bow of the collarbones. Over and over, the hypnotic movement having it's effect on both men now.

Skinner could feel the languorous warmth of the liniment working it's magic on his aching shoulder, and the sensual heat of Mulder's hands working it's magic on his body: a wonderful throb that was drawing the blood away from his brain and focussing it on his groin.

Mulder fought to keep his own breathing steady, as he revelled in the feeling of Skinner's gorgeous solid body against him. The very weight of the other man was turning him on, the scent of the wintergreen mingled with the scent of pure Walter was shooting messages straight to his cock. He slid his gaze down over the sensational landscape of Skinner's body, and then back up to the even more erotic sight of Skinner's handsome face: eyes closed, lips parted. His head tilted back on Mulder's shoulder, his warm smooth scalp brushing lightly against Mulder's neck each time he rolled his head at the pleasure of Mulder's touch.

Realising he should move while he still could, Mulder levered himself out from behind Skinner's drowsy weight and lowered his lover to lie flat on the cushions. His hands worked eagerly on the buttons of Skinner's jeans and after a moment he whispered in Skinner's ear:

"Lift up for me, Walter."

"Mmm?" Sleepy brown eyes opened slowly. The sensations in Mulder's groin intensified dramatically with the impact of that melting, seductive gaze. Words failed him and he could only move his hand reflexively against the open fly of Skinner's blue jeans. The message got through because Skinner grinned lazily and lifted his hips so that Mulder could pull the denim down and off him.

Carefully manoeuvring the pants over Skinner's sensitive ankle, Mulder was captivated again by the sight of the elegant feet. He began to kiss his way along the sole of Skinner's right foot, over the poor injured ankle and up the strong length of his leg. His face buried against the silk of Skinner's inner thigh, he was startled by the sudden sensation of actual silk, rather than the cotton he was expecting. Walter in silk underwear? Just shoot me now, he thought.

Lifting his head from the beautiful curving quads, he took in the vision of Walter Skinner in dark blue silk boxer shorts, adorned with a picture of Santa driving his sleigh across a starry sky. Perfectly appropriate for the season, except that the reindeer looked decidedly mutant and Santa's fur-edged hood revealed the glittering black eyes of a grey alien face. Santa's grey three-fingered hand was spread in a friendly wave, right over the impressive bulge of Walter's erection. Mulder sucked air helplessly for several seconds.

"I was going to give them to you, but then I thought that this might mean even more to you..."

Finding his voice at last, it was cracked with emotion:

"Oh Walter, I do love you!"

He flung himself on top of Walter with a yelp of pure delight and kept the bigger man immobilised with kisses and caresses as he explored every inch of bare honeyed skin. Planting a smacking kiss right on Walter's silk-covered cock, he finally sat back on his heels and contemplated his lover. Skinner's wonderful eyes were wide with passion, his hands reached for Mulder's...

"Fox, I love you too, and I did bring you something for Christmas..."

Mulder shushed him with a finger on his lips.

"I know you did. You brought me exactly what I wanted: Walter Skinner..." He tucked his thumbs inside the waistband of the silk boxers. "...naked..." He whipped the shorts off with a flourish, "and helpless... " He closed his hand tenderly around the shaft of Walter's cock, feeling the hot flesh react. "...in front of a roaring fire..." It was almost dusk by now and both men realised that the only light in the room did indeed come from the flickering flames in the hearth nearby.

Walter cupped his hand against Fox's flushed cheek, drawing him up for a deep kiss. Fox's busy fingers were checking out the state of Walter's arousal, until the kiss and the fondling left them both gasping for air. Fox slid back to sit on the braided rug beside the couch and let his gaze rake over his breath-taking lover in a tantalising scan from head to toes. Grinning evilly, he reached behind him and produced a bowl and spatula. Watching Walter's eyes widen even further, he licked his lips and waved the spatula over Walter's glorious rampant penis.

"Now, my great big snowman, I'm going to show you that I can beat even Martha Stewart when it comes to creative uses for two pints of whipped cream..."

THE END

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