Cock and Hot Nuts
“Alex, what are you doing?” Walter Skinner, retired Assistant Director of the FBI asked his life partner, the retired assassin and triple spy, Alex Krycek. Alex thought it quite obvious to anyone who had working eyes.
“I’m cooking, Walter.”
Walter rolled his eyes with a loud sigh. Their dining room table was covered from stem to stern with all manner of delicacy, hot and cold. And all served in finger food proportion.
Alex was currently hovering over a large pot of soup, stirring it occasionally as he added various diced fresh vegetables.
“It smells heavenly in here,” Walter had to admit as he inhaled deeply, the aromas were very enticing.
“Thank you,” Alex replied with a genuine smile. He always took great pride in his work, whether it was slitting a man’s throat or slitting the top of a jalapeno pepper to stuff it with cheese.
As Walter looked over the buffet, he noticed a large decorative dish containing roasted nuts. Before Alex could give warning, Walter grabbed a handful and stuffed them in his mouth. His eyes began to water as he unwittingly chewed the hot and spicy legumes. He sputtered and stumbled his way into the kitchen seeking something cold to put out the fire burning in his mouth. Before reaching the tap, Alex placed a glass of cold milk in his lover’s hand, guiding the glass to Walter’s mouth. After several gulps, Walter could speak.
“Are you trying to kill me?!” Walter growled.
Alex looked upwards for divine guidance with his answer. Finding none, he said what was expected. “Been there, done that, have the t-shirt to prove it,” Alex snarked.
Walter took a dish towel, ran it under the cold water faucet to dampen it then wiped his brow. When he was sufficiently cooled and calm, he spoke. “Alex, in all the years I’ve known you, including you as my subordinate and as my enemy, not once have you ever given me cause to think that you have somehow switched brains with Mulder. Now, let's take it from the top.”
Alex gave Walter a very sexy smile, his jade green eyes sparkled with mirth.
Walter cleared his throat. “Let me rephrase that. From the beginning, what is going on here? We can’t possibly eat all of this food.”
“Of course not, Walter, the guys are coming over,” Alex said nonchalantly, stirring the soup; its spicy aroma was strong enough to clear Walter’s sinuses. He stepped back from the stove.
“The guys, uh, Alex, what guys?” While he and Walter had built up some strong relationships in the small town in Montana they now called home, they never had any of the townspeople over to their home. They preferred to meet their neighbors at local socials or the town tavern.
“The Gunmen,” Alex replied as he dipped a small spoon into the pot to taste the heart stomping brew.
“Here?! The Gunmen are coming here for dinner?”
“No, Walter, Miami! Of course they’re coming here. They’ve been working on a special project for me and as part of their payment, I told them I’d cook them dinner.”
Walter sat in the nearest chair with a plop. Alex Krycek, super spy, doing a Martha Stewart impersonation to feed three ex-hippie conspiracy theorists.
“Do I want to know the nature of your project?” Walter asked but then regretted the question.
“Probably not,” Alex said as he added more cracked pepper to the vat. “I can guarantee that it’s nothing illegal and no foxes were harmed in the process.” Walter acknowledged the admission with relief.
“What time are they expected?” Walter asked as he got himself a cold beer from the refrigerator.
“Should be within the hour,” Alex replied as he turned down the heat under his soup, covered the pot and left it to simmer.
Dipping a wary pinky into a bowl of innocent looking dip, Walter gingerly tasted the flavorful accoutrement. Happily, the dip was innocent of heat but was abundant with garlic.
“I suspect an overall theme to your culinary agenda, Krycek,” Walter stated in a very AD tone.
“Yes, well, the boys have been rather annoying lately. Although they are very good at what they do, I’ve had to put up with an inordinate amount of ribbing.”
“Dare I ask?”
“It’s embarrassing, Walter, I’d rather not say,” Alex said quietly. The older man responded to Alex’s sullen look by immediately moving to his side to give the younger man a hug.
“What did they say?” Walter whispered against the soft raven hair of his lover.
“It wasn’t actually what they’ve said or done, it’s more like the innuendos and gibes.”
“In regards to what?”
“In regards to our sex life. Which I might add has never disappointed me, nor is it any of their business in the first place.”
“And what were they hinting about?” Walter tightened his hug, giving the younger man license to continue.
“Oh they hinted that at your age, well you get the idea. So rather than killing them and hiding the pieces, I decided to offer them a glimpse of what I get every night.”
“Which is?” Walter grumbled in his deep baritone voice, pushing Alex back slightly to look in his eyes. He crossed his muscular arms across his chest daring Alex to avoid the question.
“Cock and hot nuts,” Alex answered without reservation.
“Cock and hot nuts! Krycek, have you been infected by yet another unknown alien virus? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“This!” Alex retorted as he held up two opened packages. One package had the work “Cock” emblazoned across the top. It had once held the mix that Alex used as a base for his spicy chicken soup. The other package was simply called “Hot Nuts.” It held the peanuts that had attempted to burn Walter’s mouth and throat.
Walter scrutinized the packages, carefully reading the ingredients as an Assistant Director would read a report submitted by his agent.
“The Gunmen implied that my performance is less than sufficient to keep a man of your passions satisfied?”
“I see," Walter murmured as he looked over the fine but explosive repast his lover had prepared. "Cock and hot nuts,” Walter said smugly.
“Yes, Walter,” Alex reiterated as he uncovered the soup. A plume of spicy steam caused Walter to sneeze and cough.
“Carry on, agent,” Walter said with a dignified wave of his hand as he exited the kitchen for the safety of his workshop.
“Yes, Walter, I intend to,” Alex confirmed with a malevolent leer.
Twenty minutes later, The Gunmen were driving up their road, letting themselves in the front door.
“Hey, Alex, old buddy,” Langly started, stressing the word ‘old.’ “What’s for dinner?”
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