present
by Pares
An extravagant gift. Skinner had been uneasy about it since he'd paid for it. $800 was no run of the mill impulse buy.Chalk it up to mid-life crisis. Or temporary insanity. Or a kind of love that crowded his chest until his shirts felt tight.
A certain numbness had eased, since Mulder had come into his life. And sometimes the tingle of thaw would hurt, and he'd wonder if he had made a mistake. But then he'd have Mulder in his bed, and in the wake of Mulder's heat, he would know he'd never made a better decision in his life than loving this man.
Walter had been looking for a way to show it-- to demonstrate his affection for Mulder in a way that didn't involve horizontal spaces and lengthy periods of abandoned nudity.
Mulder. Mulder. Sometimes he'd catch himself smiling as he read the newspaper, or balanced his checkbook. He'd been grinning at Scully like a lottery winner during meetings lately, as Mulder was careful never to look at him directly, and could easily read her fond look. //She thinks I'm a fool. I *am* a fool.// But he couldn't help it. He was just so... glad.
Such a small, silly word to hold the big clumsy joy that made him catch his breath and consciously frown 8 or 10 times a day.
And then he'd stopped in to check on Mulder, and found him asleep on his couch.
He recognized a T-shirt of his that Mulder had borrowed and never brought back. Mulder had stuffed it with a pillow and had it tucked under his arm, one hand curled in the fabric.
There were mornings when he'd had to unclench Mulder's fists from his T-shirts one finger at a time, smooth the curled hands with the pad of his thumb, and kiss his bedpartner awake.
//The hardest thing I do every day is let you go.// Something in him knew that this was true, too, for Mulder.
Thus, the Seiko Kinetic Watch. It had made him think of the man. Elegant, well made, and meant for action.
"It's a watch," Skinner pointed out as Mulder stared into the box.
Still eyeing the gift, Mulder nodded.
"It's a *great* watch, Walter."
Clearing his throat, Skinner tapped the crystal with a rounded nail.
"It's shockproof, waterproof, and hopefully, " reproach gilded with amusement, "Mulderproof. It has a compass, a calculator and will never need a battery-- it-- it-- recharges... every time you... move."
He was plainly bewildered by Mulder's response.
Hands shaking slightly, Mulder slipped the band around his wrist and polished the crystal with the cuff of his shirt. The round lozenge of platinum was soothingly cool against his bouncing pulse.
"It's engraved," Skinner murmured, unnecessarily, as Mulder had already twisted the band and was reading the inscription aloud.
"When will you be home?"
//When will you be home?// Mulder had long thought it an existential question. When will you find your sister, when will you make peace with your father, when will you forgive your mother? When will you *have* a home?
The sentence held so much for him, his feelings for Skinner, Skinner's thoughts of him. It was a peevish complaint, the nosy housewife-waiting-up part of Skinner that always made him want to laugh, and a plea. A reminder that he'd be missed. A promise, as well. It told Mulder that Walter would always want him back, and that he would always return from wherever he'd gone: "when", never "if".
He buffed the crystal with his thumb, and reached out to resettle Walter's glasses, brush the curve of the other man's reddened ear.
"Thank you, Walter." The older man's arms closed around him, first tentative, then fierce with affection. Kissing his hair, Walter cupped the back of his head with a broad hand.
Mulder closed his eyes and leaned into the man who was his friend, his lover. He knew that he might never fix everything he'd broken in his lifetime, but he also knew that every time he saw Walter Skinner, he'd be home.
END
