May 07-09, 2015

Disclaimer: if you google deep-throating and bananas, I will not be held responsible. Written for without_me. Do not archive without permission.

Obviously phallic

If asked, Mulder would have said he was as fond of bananas as the next man, unless the next man happened to be an outright banana fetishist, of course. (His thoughts went sideways there for a while, considering a banana as a sexual fetish object. It was very obviously phallic, but not what you'd call usefully so, past the visual appeal. You couldn't use a banana as a dildo. It would squish. Maybe if you kept the peel on, and put several condoms over it, because banana peels had rough patches and weren't all that hygienic, and were very, very careful, but that seemed to go against the basic purpose of a dildo, somehow. On the other hand, a peeled banana was an ideal object to practice deep-throating on, though not for any length of time, and again, once a banana squished, that was it.)

He was not, however, fond of mysterious bananas that woke him out of a sound sleep by landing on his chest. He spent a moment or two flailing, and groping for his gun, and saying, "Scully? Is that you?"

It seemed very unlikely that Scully would let herself into his apartment for the purpose of dropping bananas on him, though. Mulder gave up on the gun and sat up; the bananas thumped to the floor.

"Is that how you treat a gift?"

He knew that voice. Mulder squinted into the darkest corner of the room, trying to make out the shape that he knew had to be there. "You didn't even wrap them," he said.

"Bananas are pretty much pre-wrapped." Krycek took a half-step forward, enough that Mulder could make out jeans, leather jacket, hair cropped ruthlessly short. He'd shaved quite recently, that was obvious when reflected streetlight caught the side of his face for a moment. "And I'm no good at any fancy wrapping and ribbon-tying these days."

Mulder swung his legs sideways and put his feet on the floor, for once sitting on the couch the way the designer had probably intended. "You can pay people to do that kind of thing for you." He fished up the bananas and put them on the coffee table. Not squished. Good. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't just bring an old co-worker a fruit basket as a token of appreciation?"

"We were never co-workers," Mulder said. "I just thought we were. And you need to work on your definition of fruit basket, if you think this is it." He nodded at the dimly-seen bananas.

"It's a message," Krycek said. He took a half-step back again, just about disappearing into the shadows. "You'll figure it out."

"Wait!" Mulder launched himself at the dark corner, but when he got there, it was empty, and the window swung open.
Through it, he could hear the sound of running footsteps on an Alexandria street. Mulder frowned. If Krycek could manage to be such an accomplished one-armed cat burglar, he could probably tie a ribbon or two, too. Somehow.

He turned back to the coffee table and its bananas. When he picked up the nearest one, he could dimly make out a few squiggles on it. Mulder turned on the light and saw that it was a row of numbers, written small, with Cyrillic letters interspersed. That would take a bit of work. He scowled: who wrote top-secret information on a banana, of all things? Ridiculous.

Mulder reached for the second banana, to see if any additional words or numbers were doodled there. But since the light was on, it didn't take him any time at all to see that this was not so much a banana as a banana-shaped... object. He gripped it by the stem, and that was apparently the on switch; it started to buzz in his hand.

Well, there probably wouldn't be any secret codes written on a banana vibrator. The message was, presumably, a different one.

At least it wouldn't squish.

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