Title: THE LODGE: STORM (1/1)
Date: January, 2000
Summary: Entry in the Slash-writers "Storm" challenge
Archive: With thanks to CJK at:
Yes, to Basement, Ratlover
DISCLAIMER: Yes, these are the property of CC, Fox and
1013: but it's cold here and I'm only borrowing them
to warm up.
THE LODGE: STORM
Walter turned off the CB radio and grimaced. Well,
considering the time of year, it was to be expected.
Not liked, but at least Terry had given them ample
warning so they could get ready.
He pulled on his outdoor clothes and went out to give
Alex the news.
"I think we should bring the dogs in. Terry wasn't
sure how long this storm is going to last, but he told
us to be ready for at least three, four days of it."
Alex found it funny that Walter was always worried
about dogs that had been bred to endure sub-zero
temperatures, whose pelts were so thick that all they
needed was some shelter and they would be more than
Still, he rounded up the seven dogs and pups, settled
them in the mud room using some of the straw that he
used to insulate their kennels. It would serve to keep
the dogs off the cement floor of the mud room, absorb
any little "accidents" that should happen during their
stay indoors. Madonna and Boy would, of course, be
spending more time with them in the kitchen, in their
Walter went around making sure all the cabin doors were
secure, that the rope-guides to the wood pile were
tightly knotted. They had already stacked more than
the normal amount along the porch and in the mud room,
as a precaution. Alex joined him for a final
inspection and then, as the snow began falling, they
both went in, patted the excited puppies who had rarely
been allowed indoors, calming them, settling them down.
The older dogs had claimed whatever straw had appealed
to them and curled up, knowing that the storm was well
Inside, Walter and Alex double-checked the upstairs.
That all the windows were truly shut and shuttered,
that all water had been turned off. Alex made sure the
fire in their room had died down enough for him to
close the damper, the flue. He gathered all the
clothes he thought they would both need and piled them
in one of the laundry baskets.
By now they felt like old hands at this. Between the
two of them, they rearranged the kitchen, dragged down
one of the double-sized mattresses, pulled in two of
the long couches from the lobby. Using some rope to
tie the legs together, they made a foundation for the
mattress. Walter made the bed up in the corner while
Alex went and got some of the heavy blankets, a couple
of the duvets from the linen room. After the first
winter, they had arranged for some removable doors to
be made to block off the bottom of the stairs leading
up. They would be concentrating the heat in the
kitchen and in the small bathroom just off it.
The pantry was filled so food was not a problem. Since
the fridge, the freezer worked off propane, the food
they did have would not go bad. Walter did make sure
the radio was working. He arranged with the
Postmistress in LA to call in at a certain time every
day, just in case. Encazou, she called it.
Alex remembered to bring down the book Walter read
every night before going to bed. Added a few others
from their bedroom bookcase. He even brought down the
CD player that they fuelled with the batteries Mulder
had left behind when he'd been up at the start of that
By the time the mid-day sky had blackened, their
preparations were complete and they settled in to wait
out the storm.
Walter set himself up at the table with some of the
endless paper work associated with running a business.
Alex puttered around, putting together the ingredients
for a chocolate cake as their summer cook, Marie, had
taught him to make.
They ate supper, cleaned up and spent the evening
playing their usual game of chess. Alex let the dogs
out for a quick turn on the porch, had no trouble
getting them back in out of the stinging storm.
That night, Walter got ready for bed first. The
bathroom downstairs barely had room for the toilet, a
small sink, the shower stall. One person using it was
a squeeze: two, an impossibility.
He was waiting for Alex in their makeshift bed when
Alex came out, hair still damp, wearing their usual
nightwear for the time of year, heavy fleece sweats and
thick wool socks. Alex checked the wood stove one last
time, turned off the kerosene lamp. He crawled over
the armrests and made his way over to the raised
covers. Walter dropped them over him.
"What was that grin about?" Alex snuggled close to
Alex looked over his shoulder at his smiling partner.
"The one you flashed me before I turned off the light.
The one you're fighting off even as I speak."
"Oh. *That* one." Walter's smile grew into the grin
Alex was accusing him of.
"I was just thinking."
Alex rolled over a bit so that he could watch Walter's
face. "Should I ask about what?"
Walter propped himself up on an elbow, the easier to
see the face looking up at him. "I was just thinking
how we both are probably wearing as much clothing to go
to bed here as we wore to work in, before."
"I'm not wearing my leather jacket." Alex made himself
comfortable. For two men who barely spoke ten
sentences to each other throughout the day, their
nightly ritual made up for it. "Do you want me to go
upstairs and put it on?"
Walter grinned evilly. "But then I would have to
insist that you take off all the other clothes you have
on and wear just that. Might be a bit cold,
Alex gave a little shrug. "Then I would have to insist
that you take all your clothes off, too. I'm sure I
could think of something to do to keep us warm."
"I'm sure you could." Walter slowly lowered his head
to the mouth coming up to meet his. "Still," he said
when they'd both caught their breaths, "wouldn't do to
catch cold. I'm sure we can find a way without getting
Alex gave the soft laugh that always found its way to
Walter's groin. "I'm sure we can. We do seem to have
lots of experience with this."
"Can never have too much," whispered Walter.
Encazou = slang for "en cas d'ou": means "in case of"
or, colloquially, "just in case".