The Continuing Adventures in the WRONG ANSWERS Universe
Episode 2

by Eavesdropper



Krycek heard the front door open. He checked his watch. At this time of the day it could only be Mulder coming home from the case he'd been working on.

He put his coffee down, got up, got Mulder's favourite mug out of the cupboard -- the one with the cast picture of "Pigs in Space". He filled the mug, placed it down on the table. Sat down, picked up the book he was reading. He could hear Mulder hanging up his coat, tossing his suitcase onto the landing as he made his way down the hall.

"How was L.A.?"

"Smoggy." Mulder took a sip of coffee. One thing about Krycek: he made great coffee. Robust with just a hint of cinnamon. "Anything new here?"

"Not really. Skinner found that Beanie Baby he'd been looking for. Paid an arm and a leg for the stupid thing. He is so obses...Jesus Christ! Mulder! What happened to you?"

Mulder smiled a little too innocently not to know what Krycek was reacting to. "What are you...Oh. You mean this?" He passed his hand over his head.

Krycek couldn't believe his eyes. A week ago, his housemate, lover and sharer in the affections of one Walter S. Skinner had left with a perfectly good style of hair. A bit long on the top: the better to thread your fingers through. A nice length of sideburns that led the eye to a just perfect jawline. Now, well...

"Did you shoot the butcher who did that to you?"

"I'll have you know," said Mulder in his most superior tone, "that this style is all the rage on the West Coast. Cost me $200 at the newest IN place"

Krycek stood up, walked around Mulder, trying to see if there was an angle that was actually flattering.

There wasn't.

"Rage is right. You've got to be mad to go for that. Shit! Mulder! Has Skinner seem this?"

Mulder felt a twinge of anxiety. "No. I didn't have to go in to Headquarters, so I didn't. Thought I'd keep it as a surprise."

"Oh, yeah. It will be that. Jesus! Mulder, what possessed you to do something like this to yourself?

Peevedness pushed the anxiety away completely. "It is my hair. And what the hell are you going on about? I can remember a few stupid-ass haircuts that weren't on my head."

Krycek just shook his head. "Yeah, but those were pre- Skinner. Man. You'd better hope finding that stupid Beanie Baby put him in a good mood."

But it hadn't.

Because he had purchased it on the Internet, he hadn't realized that it was coming from Canada. He had paid for the little bear: it had been mailed. But American Customs had confiscated it at the border because of some anti-Beanie Baby importation clause. He'd spent most of the day on the phone to the Department of Commerce, the Post Office, Customs and Immigration. Getting voice mail, phone menus, the run-around until he had to accept that his Beanie Bear was never going to sit in the space he had left for it in his Beanie Cabinet.

He was not a happy camper. To say the least.

So coming home that evening to a slightly giggly Krycek did not soothe his nerves. He eyed the boy and wondered if he'd been drinking.

"Mulder make it back?" Skinner knew he must have: he'd run into Scully in the elevator at the Bureau. She given him a quick report, snickering every time Mulder's name came up in the conversation. Which made him wonder just what the hell that boy had been up to?

Still, Scully didn't have any dire warnings for him, about the L.A. bureau having their nose put out of joint by Mulder, nor the local police. She usually gave him little clues if something like that was forthcoming. Just so he'd be prepared.

"Oh, yes," Krycek tried hard not to grin. "He's back. Umm, ahhh, Walter?"

Skinner gave Krycek the Look. He was not in the mood for any shenanigans. Not tonight.

"Never mind." Krycek decided Mulder was on his own for this one. It was obvious that Skinner was not in a good mood and he certainly wasn't going to do anything to call attention to himself.

Skinner stalked into the living room, found the scotch and poured himself an amount that reflected the frustrations of his day.

Krycek took one look and made himself invisible in a corner.

Mulder had gone upstairs to change, was now unsuspectingly coming down the stairs.

Krycek wondered if he should do something to warn Mulder but decided that would only get him into trouble. And he didn't think he wanted that tonight.

"Walter. Hear you finally found that Beanie thing you were looking for?"

Skinner could feel all the anger and frustrations of his day rear up. He turned to snap at Mulder but those words didn't make it out of his mouth.

His mouth did open.

Stayed open.

He gave his head a little shake as if to readjust the focus of his eyes.

He closed his mouth.

Took a deep breath.

Krycek noticed the knuckles on the hand holding the glass were white. He only hoped the glass was strong enough to withstand the pressure being exerted on it.

Skinner opened his mouth again.

Krycek braced himself for a bellow.

Instead Skinner very visibly got a grip on himself. "Mulder." His voice almost sounded normal.

Almost.

"Mulder. I ran into Scully at Headquarters and she didn't tell me you had been injured."

Mulder smiled nervously. "I didn't get injured."

"Abducted?"

Mulder shook his head. "No."

"You didn't exchange places with someone who was being held hostage by some crazed idiot?"

Krycek had to bit his lip: this was definitely not the time to make any noise.

Mulder fidgeted. "No. The case dealt with industrial espionage, not a hostage situation. Don't you remember?"

"I remember," said Skinner, his voice beginning to take on that familiar roar, "I remember you leaving for L.A. with a perfectly good haircut. Maybe," he wasn't so successful this time controlling himself, "you have a perfectly valid explanation for returning looking as though someone has taken a hedge trimmer to your head?"

Mulder winced.

"Do you?"

Mulder's head bent forward as he sent a 'Help me!' glance out of the side of his eyes to Krycek.

Krycek never saw it: he was too focused on Skinner's face. It had gone from slightly flushed to white, now reddening rapidly.

"Mulder, I asked you a question. I expect the common courtesy of an answer."

Mulder shuffled uncomfortably.

"And stand still!...Well, Fox, I'm still waiting."

"Everyone is getting their hair cut this way in L.A." Even to him it sounded rather lame.

"Everyone?" Skinner made that little gesture with his head that warned both men that he was reaching his limit. "Tell me, Fox," very softly, "if everyone decided to jump off a bridge, would you also," not so softly, "join them?"

"Well, it was getting long. It needed a trim." Mulder's voice was taking on the slight whine it got when he was trying to talk himself out of a situation.

"A trim, yes. A...a scalping, no! Whatever possessed you to...It looks like...And you didn't even ask my permission..."

"It's *my* hair. And I like it."

All three men were taken aback by the audacity of Mulder's statement.

At Skinner's look, Krycek wondered if there was a way he could get the wall to absorb him.

"Mulder," Skinner said when he could, "not only the way you act reflects on the credibility of the Bureau: the way you look also does. And right now, you in no way reflect anything the Bureau would want reflected.

"Not only does it reflect badly on the Bureau, it reflects badly on me. You put yourself in my hands as a way of controlling these impulses that got you, in the past, into so much trouble. The fact," he held up his hand forestalling any comment from Mulder, "that it has developed into a personal relationship is not germane to this situation."

The silence in the room hung heavy.

Skinner placed his drink down. Went to sit in his armchair.

Mulder knew what was coming and shook his head.

"Yes." Skinner looked around the room and found Krycek. "Alex. You know what I want."

Krycek gave Mulder a sorrowful look as he passed him to go to the family room. He was back in less than a minute. He handed the paddle to Skinner who accepted it without looking. He quirked an eyebrow at Mulder.

"I don't think you want to make me wait."

Mulder shuffled across the floor to Skinner, dropped the bottoms of his sweats, placed himself over the big man's knees.

"I still think it's my hair," he muttered under his breath.

Not low enough. Skinner heard.

The paddle swung down before Mulder had time to position himself. The force nearly pitched him onto the floor, head first.

Skinner grabbed him, pulled him back and without further warning began meting out the consequences to Mulder's action.

The paddle swung high, came down with a force generated not only by his repugnance of Mulder's new haircut, but also by the fact that the Beanie Bear that would have completed the first part of his collection had been swallowed up by an unfeeling bureaucracy.

Mulder writhed, wriggled, wiggled, moaned and cried, but still the paddle continued its intimate relationship with his butt.

Finally Skinner realized that Mulder's ass had turned the same red as the little jacket his Beanie Mountie Bear wore. So he stopped.

It wasn't totally fair that he should take out all his frustrations of the day on Mulder. He hadn't been responsible for the Beanie Bear fiasco. By way of apology, he put down the paddle and rubbed Mulder's back through his top until the crying had descended into sniffles.

"Fox," he said, when Mulder had calmed down enough, "how much leave do you have accumulated?"

"Lots," sniffled Mulder, head still hanging down.

"Good. Then you will request the next three weeks. That should give your hair time to grow enough so that you no longer embarrass me or the Bureau. You will also spend all that time in your room. Thinking about the consequences of thoughtless actions."

"What?!" Mulder whined. "I don't want to spend three weeks in my room. Why do I have to spend three weeks in my room? It's not fair."

All of Skinner's remorse -- and there hadn't been much to begin with -- flew out the window. He may have no recourse in dealing with Customs and Immigration, the Post Office, the Department of Commerce, but, here, in his own home, he did have the means of dealing with intractable lovers.

"Alex, get the leash." He pulled Mulder up to his feet and dragged him up the stairs to his bedroom.

Krycek ran into the "playroom" and found the collar/chain combination that Skinner referred to as the leash. He handed it to Skinner who clasped the self-locking collar around Mulder's neck: it clicked shut. He locked the other end to the corner of the four-poster bed. All the while ignoring Mulder's bleatings, entreaties, not just to himself, but to Krycek.

Krycek just slunk off into the hallway, ignoring Mulder's pitiful cries. Three weeks, he thought. Three weeks during which Mulder would be punished every day for his behaviour. Three weeks during which Skinner would, apart from that, ignore Mulder.

Krycek licked his lips in anticipation. Three weeks during which only he would get to share Skinner's bed.

Now then, he thought, just where had they left the scissors?



Note 1: Pigs in Space: from the Muppet Show with Miss Piggy in a silver flight suit. Remember?

Note 2: Beanie Babies and American importation rules. This is a slight exaggeration: but the rule does exist. Due to pressure from the American distributor of Beanie Babies, importation of large quantities is stopped at the point of entry into the USA.