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There she was. Special Agent Fox Mulder crunched on a sunflower seed as he watched his target make her way down the busy downtown DC street. She was window-shopping. Again. The woman paused in front of a shoe store, concentrating on the window display. It figured.



Ellen Feldman had a thing for shoes.



Mulder chuckled softly to himself, watching as Feldman went into the shoe store. Would she buy one pair or two? Two, he decided. Exactly seventeen minutes later, she came out carrying a shopping bag. Three pairs, Mulder counted. Greedy, little thing.



Of course, she needed something to fill the time, since her Ratboy Alex Krycek hadn't been around during the past four days. Mulder knew that for a fact because he'd been watching her. Not because she was a suspect in a crime. No. Mulder was watching her because Assistant Director Kersh suspended him for three weeks. Without pay. Again. Which left Mulder with Nothing Better To Do.



After sulking for half a day, Mulder decided he needed to get laid. Badly. Badly enough to drop in on Feldman and Ratboy. But they moved, the little sneaks. No matter, he knew where Feldman worked correction, where she worked at her legitimate job. And now he knew where she lived.



Tonight was the night he was going to make his move.



"Mommy's home."



"Myeh."



"Myeh to you to, Winky." Ellen reached down and stroked the loudly purring one-eyed cat. "Wait til you see the shoes I found, Wink. They were on sale. Forty percent off."



Winky rubbed his body against the shopping bag, blessing her shoe purchase.



"I knew you'd approve," Ellen murmured, stepping into the kitchen to survey the damage. It never ceased to amaze her how much mess one fifteen pound cat could make. "Nice mess."



"Myeh." Winky leaped up onto the kitchen counter, beginning their nightly dinner ritual. He paced along the counter top while she used a dust-buster on the food that was scattered on the kitchen floor. That accomplished, she refilled his water dish and gave him fresh food. Her efforts were rewarded with a loud purr.

"What should I have for dinner?"



As if in response to her question, the doorbell rang.



Ellen felt her pulse start to race. Maybe it was her Ratboy. It had better be her Ratboy. With a good explanation about where he'd been these past three weeks. She stalked to the door and threw it open. "Where have you been!?"



"Picking up dinner and a video."



Ellen could feel her jaw drop as she stared up at Fox Mulder. Yup, he was holding a bag of what smelled like Chinese food and carrying a video. And wearing a very cocky grin on his face. "M-mulder? How did you "



"If you're wondering how I found you, Feldpup, you're very easy to follow. I'm going to have to have a talk with Ratboy about that." He pushed past her into the living room. "Nice place. Very tastefully furnished."



"Of course it is. Ratboy wants nothing but the best for me," Ellen sniffed. Ratboy was going to have a cow if he found out about this. But maybe he didn't have to know. Maybe she could ----



"I'm sure you'll think of a creative explanation about how I found you," Mulder commented, reaching past her to shut and lock the door. "If you're good, I'll help you come up with one for Ratboy. If you're bad, I'll come up with one he'll believe."



Mulder was flirting? Mulder!?



He hooked an arm around her waist. "C'mon, Feldpup, shake a leg before the take-out I brought from King Ying gets cold."



Ellen wrenched free and scowled up at Mulder. "That's your idea of wooing me? Take out and a copy of Revenge of the Pink Panther?"



"Yup. Why tamper with something that works so well?"



"Because maybe I'd appreciate being wined and dined?"



"You've got Ratboy for that." Mulder chuckled softly. "I'll bet you've never ordered in with him, the poor pussy-whipped bastard."



"He is not!"



"He is. But I'm not."



"You must be. You're here with take-out and a movie."



"I'm horny, not pussy-whipped. There's a difference."



"That's right. Ratboy gets and you don't," she sniffed indignantly. So there.

Mulder arched an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?"



"You think a lousy fifteen bucks worth of take-out is going to get you some action?"



Mulder nodded. "It has before."



"Before Ratboy."



"Ratboy's not here."



"So?"



"So you're horny, too. You haven't gotten any in the week that I've been watching you."



A week? He'd been watching her for a week? If her Ratboy found out about this. It was time to go on the offensive. "What do you mean you've been watching me?"



"Exactly what I said."



"Why?"



"Because."



Her eyes narrowed slightly as she realized how Mulder had all that free time to make her life miserable. "Did you get suspended without pay again?"



"What if I did? You gonna spank me?"



"I would but you'd like it too much."



"Kinky, Feldman. Very, very kinky. You're showing some real promise," Mulder murmured. "Quite a difference from when I first met you."



"You mean when I was so naďve I thought take-out and a video was a romantic date," she countered.



"That is naďve," he agreed. "I'm glad you've learned what take-out and a video really means."



Ooooh! What to do? Throw him out and be hungry, horny and frustrated? Eat the food and throw him out? "Did you get me chicken kew?"



"I got you chicken kew," he mocked, gently. "And I've got something else for you that's nice and tasty."



"Does it taste good with duck sauce?"



"Feldman! You little tease!"



"I'm not teasing. Get naked and gimme the duck sauce." Mulder. Duck sauce. Oh, her Ratboy would have loved this. Her RatboyŠoh, how she missed her Ratboy. Mulder was fun, but he wasn't Ratboy. On the other hand, he could be Ratboy, with a little work. Before she could consider this further, Mulder caught her and pulled her to him, kissing her hard.



Mulder finally broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck. "What are you planning, you little criminal?"



"I'm not planning anything."



"You've got that look on your face, Feldpup."



"What look?"



"The one that says trouble."



"Wanna play a game, Mulder," Ellen asked, giving him her most innocent look.

"What kind of game?"



"One that you'll really like."



"Such as?"



"It involves dress-up and leather."



"You're gonna dress up in leather for me, Feldpup?"



Ellen tugged Mulder's shirt out of his jeans. "Actually, I wanted to dress you up, Foxboy."



"Mulder. My name is Mulder," he corrected her, catching her hands in his. "And I don't think I want to be your Ken doll."



Time for a classic Feldman pout the kind that got her whatever she wanted.

"But, Mulder, it's not like I'm gonna make you wear a dog collar. All I want is to make you wear something sexy and then ravage your hot body."



"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?"



"You won't regret it, Mulder."



"Famous last words."



They were indeed.



This was already getting out of hand. She was up to something. Something bad. Something that involved leather. So why was he taking off his shirt? Because she said the magic words duck sauce. The only thing that would make this evening any more interesting would be Ratboy ---



"Mulder?" Feldman stood at the top of the stairs wearing nothing but a devious little smile and hiding something behind her back. "How come you're still dressed?"



"Because I might need to make a hasty retreat, Feldpup."



Feldman pouted again.



God, she was cute when she did that. Really cute. "What are you hiding behind your back, Feldpup?"



"You're the detective," she purred. "Why don't you guess?"



"Don't make me come up there," Mulder warned.



"I double-dog dare ya, Foxbo---"



"The name is still Mulder." With that, he bounded up the stairs. Feldman threw something dark at him and backed up, giggling. That was when he knew he was in trouble. Sighing, Mulder looked at the bulky object in his hands. It was black. It was leather. It was "Ratboy's jacket?"



"Put it on."



"What?"



"The jacket. And nothing else."



Oooooh. Kinky. He liked kinky. "You want me to be Ratboy?"



"Do you want to be Ratboy?"



"That depends. You gonna brain me with a cast, kneecap me or beat on me?"



"Do you want me to?"



Mulder slipped into the jacket, savoring the feel of the satin lining against his bare skin. It felt nice. Soft. Smooth. Supple. And it smelled like Krycek. And like Feldman. "Been borrowing this lately, Feldpup?"



Feldman turned pink. "No."



"You have, kitten. Miss me much?" His Ratboy imitation was right on the mark if Feldman's reaction was anything to gauge it by. "Tell me what you do with my jacket."



"I'd rather show you, Ratboy." Her beautifully manicured hands tore at his jeans. "Oh, my sweet, sweet Ratboy."



"Moi krasivya shalava." Did he pronounce that correctly? If he did, he just called Feldman his beautiful little slut.



The little lawyer dropped to her knees and licked him earnestly. "Oh, Ratboy...my Ratboy, the things I'm gonna do to you."



Oh yeah. He definitely pronounced that right. Maybe being Ratboy for a night wasn't such a bad thing after all. As long as nothing got blown up or sank, and Ratboy wasn't around to see this, it was going to be a night to remember.



It was going to be a night to remember. Alex Krycek shifted his duffel bag and fished his keys out of his pocket. Yeah, it was always nice to come home to Feldman but tonight, well, tonight he was well-rested and ready to be greeted in style. Maybe he could convince his kitten to order in tonight. It was a long shot. She liked to be wined and dined, but maybe, just maybe this once, he could claim exhaustion. Feldman had to cut him some slack once in a while.



What was that noise? It sounded awfully familiar. Alex pressed his ear to the door and listened.



It sounded like...



But it couldn't be.



Could it?



Alex slipped his key into the lock and silently let himself into the townhouse. His mouth fell open as he took in the scene on his living room floor.



Mulder. Wearing his leather jacket. And nothing but his leather jacket. Well, maybe more if the lawyer wrapped around Mulder counted as him wearing something, but still.



"Ohhhhh, yes, Ratboy...harder, Ratboy, harder...oh, God, yes, Ratboy..."



"Alex...my name...is Alex," Mulder grunted, slapping her lightly on the rump. "Say it."



"Rrrrrrrrrrrratboy!"



"Yes, kittenŠoh, God, yes."



Un-freaking-believable. Alex was seeing it with his own eyes and he couldn't believe it. He unholstered his gun and stealthily made his way up to the couple.

With a grin, he pressed the cold steel barrel of the nine millimeter to the base of Mulder's skull and slid the safety back.



Mulder, to his credit, froze mid-thrust. "Ratboy? Is that you?"



"Yes, it is, Mulder."



"Why are you holding a gun on me?"



"Why are you wearing my jacket and fucking my wife on my living room floor," Alex countered. Yeah, he was wide awake and horny as hell now. All he had to do was play his kitten and his Mulder just right.



Mulder slid slowly off of Feldman and Alex noted with some glee that the federal agent wasn't turned on at all by gun play. Heavy lidded hazel eyes blinked slowly while Mulder thought of a smart-ass comeback. "First of all, she's not your wife. You deleted that phony record months ago. Second, this isn't even your house. I believe you bought it under the name of Sanders, Pooh Bear. Christopher R. Sanders. Feldman came up with that alias, didn't she?"



"What's wrong with my alias," Feldman complained. "And how come you're not hard any more? Fix it, Mulder! I'm horny!"



"Fix it," Mulder echoed. "Tell your Ratboy to stop pointing his gun at me."



"Ratboy stop pointing your gun at Mulder!"



"Alex. My name is Alex." Was she ever going to get it right?



"Whatever," Feldman sniffed. "And take back what you said about us being married. It's not funny to lie about something like that."



"I'm not lying. I never deleted the record."



"But that's not fair," she whined. "I wanted a big wedding and a white dress and a chuppa and a rabbi and a---"



Alex clucked sympathetically. "You want that, you'd better be faithful to me."



"But you're not!" Feldman's eyes narrowed as she suddenly realized what he was up to. "You jerk! You just wanted to slow us down so you could get in on the action."



"That's right, kitten, I did." With that, Alex slid the safety back into place and set the gun down. "And it worked like a charm. Which of you wants to kiss me first?"



Before Feldman could move, Mulder grabbed him. "Get over here, Ratboy."



"Alex. My name is---"



"Shut up, Ratboy," Mulder ordered.



"Shouldn't I be calling you Ratboy? After all, you're the one in the jacket."



"Hey! What about me," Feldman complained. "Don't I get any?"



"Oh, you'll get yours, kitten. Trust me," Mulder warned her. "And as for you, Ra---"



"Mulder," Alex corrected him. "My name is Mulder."



The federal agent smirked at him. "You couldn't handle being me, Ratboy."



"You can't even handle being you, you pathetic slob," Alex chided. "How many times have you gotten suspended without pay this year?"



"You gonna console me, Ratboy?"



"I wanna console you," Feldman whined. "Both of you!"



Alex tugged her to him. "Feeling left out?"



She nodded and slid her arms around his waist. "I missed you, Ratboy."



"I missed you, too," Mulder snickered. "C'mere, kitten."



"Two Ratboys and King Ying," Feldman sighed. "Life is good."



"King Ying?"



"I'm gonna teach you about take-out and videos, Ratboy," Mulder murmured. "Somebody has to."



Take-out? Videos? Mulder? Feldman? Role-playing?

It was going to be a long, hot night.



Mulder was in the middle. Of course it wasn't exactly a tragedy to be tucked in bed between Ratboy and Feldman. It was strange, but it wasn't bad. Krycek's arm was slung around Mulder while Feldman was burrowed into his side. Had he really spent the night in their bed? How was he going to sneak out without waking them? More importantly, were they free later?



Before he could think of a solution to his dilemma, something on Krycek's side of the bed beeped loudly.



The other man cursed softly in the darkness.



Feldman groaned and snuggled closer to Mulder.



Krycek slid out of the bed, circled around to Feldman's side and tossed the covers off of her. "Let's shower, kitten."



"Ratboy!"



"Get up."



"No!"



"Feldman! Get up!"



"Why?"



Krycek emitted a small, frustrated sound. "Because we want to get fresh croissants for our guest."



Mulder snorted and turned on the lamp. "Tell her the truth, Ratboy. You're going to meet the smoker."



"We do not work for the smoker," Feldman snapped, sitting up.



Both men stared at her.



"Okay, Ratboy works for the smoker."



Mulder cleared his throat.



"Alex. His name is Alex."



"Why me," Krycek muttered, taking Feldman by the arm. "Get. Into. The. Shower."



"But, RatboyŠ" Mulder imitated Feldman's whine perfectly. "Feldman wants to sleep in. Why don't you take me instead?"



"I repeat, why me?" Krycek narrowed his eyes at Mulder. "You know why you can't come with us, Mulder. I suggest you either get your things and go home or go back to sleep."



"Are you kidding?"



Feldman leaped back onto the bed and snuggled against Mulder. "We'll stay here and wait for you, Ratboy."



"FeldmanŠ MulderŠ." Krycek rubbed his eyes. "Ellen, princess, come onŠ.get out of bed."



"No. I want Mulder," Feldman purred, pushing Mulder onto his back.



The federal agent blinked in surprise as she caught his wrists in her hands and pinned them against the headboard. The slatted headboard. No. Oh. No. Before Mulder could react, Krycek was snapping Mulder's handcuffs around his wrists. "Ratboy, you sonofabitch!"



Feldman sighed wistfully. "I'm sorry, Foxboy, but Ratboy---"



"Alex, dammit!"



"Alex has to go to that meeting," Feldman concluded.



"No, kitten. We have to go to that meeting."



"Yes, Ratboy."



"And don't call me Ratboy."



"Yes, Ratboy."



"Why me?"
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