Socks

by Abree, CiCi Lean, Trillian, Odie and Shan Krug

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Chapter Two: High Fashion Footwear
by CiCi Lean
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"I'm surprised at you, Pendrell."

Brian Pendrell looked up and gulped at the sight of an enraged AD Skinner, furious, red-faced and with veins popping from nearly every pore. Oh, it was the works. He'd seen Skinner mad before, especially the time he'd had forgotten his dry-cleaning right before the big meeting, but this kind of rage was something new.

Pendrell threw a another miserable glance at Krycek, and wondered if he looked half as disheveled as Krycek did. With his hair mussed, his clothes askew, even his lips obviously swollen and moist. God, all that just from having an innocent conversation about *socks* while locked in Scully's closet, cuffed at the ankles.

Just a little talk, that's all it was.

Yeah, right.

Pendrell felt the blood rush to his face at the memory. "Well, I'm pretty surprised too, sir."

Skinner could barely spit the words out. "How long have you been consorting with this...this scoundrel?"

"I'd say about three hours, sir," replied Pendrell unhappily, ignoring the small kick from Krycek that landed sharply on his ankle. "Maybe longer..."

"Goddamn it, Pendrell," snarled Fox Mulder, who had been pacing furiously behind Scully and Skinner. "I should have known. You two make quite the pair. Like two mismatched socks."

At this, Krycek started chortling with uncontrollable laughter. Mulder glared at him as he laughed and Krycek desperately tried to stop, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry, Mulder...but our socks match. I mean, you should take a look at...OW!" Krycek yelped as it was his turn to receive a swift kick from Pendrell.

"Agent Mulder, this isn't what it seems," said Pendrell, imploringly. "I was just going grocery shopping."

"Oh, yeah. Right," scoffed Scully furiously. "Sir, when I caught these two together, they had just exited an obviously improperly appropriated vehicle and both were armed and dangerous."

"Not me," replied Krycek, waving his stump.

Scully glared at him.

"Well, you both are being taken in for questioning," snarled Skinner. "And maybe some time in the lock-up will straighten you two out."

"Straighten us out? That's doubtful," replied Krycek, with a wink at Pendrell, who tried very hard to get another ankle kick in, but before he could, Krycek had lunged at Skinner and grabbed his gun from his holster.

"OK! NOBODY MOVE...OR HE GETS IT!" Krycek screamed, pointing the gun at Pendrell.

"Why should we care if he gets it?" replied Scully with exasperation.

"Yeah?" asked Mulder, reaching for his firearm.

"Uh...because...uh," said Krycek, breaking out into a sweat.

But Skinner came to his rescue. "NO! Agents Mulder & Scully, put your weapons down. We'll try to avoid a shootout at any cost. Even if it just kills Pendrell."

"Oh gee, thanks," replied Pendrell dryly, as Krycek grabbed him roughly and they began to back out of Scully's apartment.

"Back off," snarled Krycek, in his best bad guy voice. "You heard me, back off. He's coming with me. And if any of you follow us...BLAM! Agent Goober gets it."

At this, Pendrell turned around indignantly. "*Agent Goober*?"

"Just play along with me, OK?" whispered Krycek imploringly.

"Does this mean we can continue our *conversation*?" Pendrell whispered to Krycek, as he was being unceremoniously shoved out of Scully's front door.

"Uh, huh," whispered Krycek back, waving the gun in the air, as Mulder made a step toward them.

"Oh, good," Pendrell replied. "I have *one* pair of white socks, you know."

"Mmmm," replied Krycek as they finally cleared the doorway.

Together, they ran for their lives.

*******

Krycek shut the motel room door with a deep, relieved sigh. They had only car-jacked three Volvos to get there and things were looking good.

Pendrell turned to him with a relieved expression. "Think the coast is clear now?"

"Yeah, I think so," replied Krycek carefully "Say, could you do me a favor, Brian?"

Pendrell nodded, his knees shaking slightly. The *sock* discussion they'd had earlier in the closet had never reached its conclusion due to the confined space and their awkward position. The whole drive over, in every Volvo, the desire for it to continue had only grown stronger with each bounce of the cheap upholstery down badly paved streets.

Krycek smiled and looked sweetly at him with bright green eyes underneath dark eyelashes. "Would you mind lying down on the bed and holding onto the headboard?"

Pendrell gaped. Wow. Now, *that's* more than a simple discussion about foot coverings, that's for sure.

"Well...I...uh...oh, what the hell," he said with a devil-may-care shrug. He did as Krycek asked, and closed his eyes. It's not every day I get to have such stimulating conversations, he thought.

Might as well take advantage of it.

Krycek straddled him quickly, grabbed his hands and shut the handcuffs around each of Pendrell's wrists with a click.

"Hey!" yelled Pendrell, yanking on the cuffs in surprise. "Uh, Alex, I think we should get to know each other a little better before we start getting into this."

Krycek sat on the bed's edge with a sigh. "Look, Brian. I'm really sorry. But this is for your own good. If those guys come in here and catch us...you know...*talking about socks*, then you'll never be able to convince them that you and I are just casual acquaintances. But, if they find you like this, they might believe your story. OK?"

"Oh," replied Brian, somewhat sadly.

"I'm really sorry. Listen, as soon as the heat's off and I can get out of here, I'll let them know where you are and then you and I can go our separate ways, OK?"

Pendrell shrugged. "Fine. Whatever you say. Besides, I've had better *sock discussions* with other people anyway."

At this, Krycek looked up, slightly miffed. "No, you haven't. You're just saying that."

"Yes, I have. In fact, I've had better ones with myself." replied Pendrell petulantly, looking away from Krycek.

"Really?" replied Krycek, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes." replied Pendrell in a disdainful tone. "Really."

In response, Krycek grabbed his chin and was just about to lean in for the debate, when the motel room door burst open.

"Uh, oh," said Pendrell, wincing and shutting his eyes in fear.

"Oh, shit," said Krycek, his eyes widening in apprehension.

Entering in the room, machine guns drawn, were a dozen soldiers and one bald man, with an evil grin and a silly-looking monocle.

"Ahh. Alexander Krycek," said the bald man with the silly monocle. "We meet again at last."

Pendrell leaned in and whispered in Krycek's ear. "What four o'clock movie is *this* guy from?"

"Shhhhh," replied Krycek desperately.

Oh, this was bad. Very bad.

"We've been waiting for the right opportunity, Comrade Krycek," continued the bald man. "And it seems you are pleased to give us this one. Now, tell us. Who is your friend here, Comrade?"

"Uh, no one," replied Krycek, with a gulp. "He's...uh...the dry-cleaning guy. He messed up my last pair of dress pants. I was..uh...going to teach him a lesson."

The bald man smiled. "I think we can teach him a lesson. Right along with you, Comrade."

"Oh, no!" yelled Krycek, waving his arm. "He's really annoying. I don't think it's worth your time."

"Well, you're not worth our time, Krycek, and yet, here I am. Day and night, hunting you down. It's enough to make me go looney at my age. I'm two months away from retirement, Krycek, and *this* time, you aren't going to keep me from it," snarled the bald man furiously. "All right, boys. Grab 'em!"

Krycek felt himself being hauled up by the soldiers right along with Pendrell and dragged out the door. He started to curse in Russian.

"Dos vedanya! Borscht! Chicken kiev! Brighton Beach!" he screamed, but to no avail.

Pendrell turned toward Krycek as they were being hustled into the waiting black car. "You speak Russian?" he asked, with a warm look in his eye.

"Yeah," replied Krycek miserably, as they were tossed in the back seat. "So?"

Pendrell bit his lip and stared at him. "God. That's better than socks..."

"Oh, Christ," said Krycek, rolling his eyes.

The car took off.

****

"And then I went to the footwear department..."

As the ship they were on took another tilt into the waves, Krycek moaned. Oh, this was awful, he thought. Captured by the KGB, placed on ship and handcuffed once more to a certain agent from the Sci-Crime lab.

Krycek leaned back against the groaning wooden sides of the ship's lower deck as Pendrell continued. "And then, I went to the Perry Ellis section, but didn't see anything I liked."

Krycek nodded. Yeah, he wasn't too crazy about his stuff either. But more pressing thoughts were intruding into their comfortable discussion.

Like...how were they to escape these fiends who were going to teach them a lesson?

"So, I tried the Calvin Klien stuff, but that was duller than you'd think. Especially in socks...all grey and black. Boring, you know?"

But, did that, in fact, really matter? Here he was, trapped with a man with whom he'd shared so much with in such a short time. Trapped together to face, who knows, what fate. Krycek, shifted, his body growing warmer with the thought. They could kill us the moment we step off the ship.

This could be our last night alive.

"So, I ended up in the Ralph Lauren area. And I finally saw what I was looking for. Socks that weren't only functional, but fun. You know, something interesting..."

"Interesting," repeated Krycek, turning toward his companion with a gleam in his eye.

"Functional," replied Pendrell with a nod. "And good-looking."

"Good-looking..."

"Warm..."

"Very warm..."

"Comfortable..."

"More than comfortable..."

"And just perfect for me."

"Perfect for me."

****