Walter shifted unhappily from one foot to the other. His head pounded, his eyes stung, his nose ran, his throat was sore and it hurt to breathe. He wanted nothing more than to stretch out in his warm bed.

Instead, he was standing with Alex in a line of patients by the receptionist's desk in his doctor's office, in deference to the neatly printed sign that instructed patients to "Sign In Upon Arrival."

"Good morning, I'll be right with you," the receptionist had said almost ten minutes ago. She had then proceeded to field a series of phone calls from callers, most of who wanted to schedule future appointments. Seemingly oblivious to the sick swaying in front of her eyes, the receptionist sipped her coffee as she leisurely perused the doctor's appointment diary.

"Excuse me." Alex leaned over the receptionist's desk, reached for the tissue box, and toppled the half-full coffee cup, spilling hot liquid over the appointment diary, the desk and the phone. The receptionist leapt up with a startled cry.

"I'm so sorry, " Alex said, flashing an apologetic and totally insincere grin. He mopped up the coffee with a wad of tissues, at the same time surreptitiously yanking the cord from the central phone. "There. No harm done."

The receptionist sat down huffily.

This time there were no interruptions. The receptionist swiftly took Walter's name, history and insurance information.

"If you would have a seat, Doctor will be with you shortly," the receptionist said.

In his feverish state, it took Walter awhile to puzzle out what had just changed about the office. There was no ringing phone. The receptionist was attending to the living and breathing, albeit barely, patients before her desk. One of who looked startling familiar.

"Agent Mulder," Walter said softly. The dark haired man started. "What are you doing here?"

"I hab a cob," Fox Mulder said miserably.

"I sympathize," Walter said.

"Poor Fox, what a shame," Alex added in saccharine tones.

"Alex," Walter said sharply. Alex smiled sweetly.

Both Mulder and Walter were too ill to feel up to carrying on any conversation, so they merely nodded again to each other before picking up and leafing through magazines in a desultory fashion. Walter wished fervently he could stretch out, if just for a moment, but there were people sitting on either side of him.

Alex scowled. His Walter was huddled miserably, trying not to breathe germs on the people adjacent to him, and meanwhile Mulder had an entire bench to himself as he snorted and sniffled ostentatiously, surrounding himself with wads of used tissues. This wouldn't do at all.

Alex turned to the middle-aged woman sitting next to him.

"How about that anthrax thing?" he said loudly.

"Anthrax?" she asked, looking startled.

Alex made a show of looking in Walter's direction and putting his finger to his lips.

"He doesn't think it's related, but--" Alex stage whispered. The woman gathered her handbag and coat and hastily moved to a chair across the room. Alex shifted over.

"You could stretch out a little, Walter," he said helpfully. Walter felt too sick to do more than glare half-heartedly at Alex. He knew exactly what Alex had done, and it wasn't right, but being able to recline a bit was just so tempting. He wished he had something else to read. The Ladies Home Journal and Seventeen interested him not one bit.

Alex knew Walter was bored. He noticed that Mulder had sequestered a stack of what looked like moderately recent newsmagazines.

Alex used his hard won Consortium skills to sneak up on Mulder without being observed.

"Didn't you ever learn to share, Fox?" Alex asked, swiping a handful of magazines from his pile.

"Hey, dat's nod nice, Alex!" Mulder protested, but it was too late.

"Here Walter, try these," Alex said solicitously. Walter knew he should reprimand Alex, but still, he had left Mulder a few magazines. And eidetic memory or not, Mulder could only read one at a time, after all.

At long last, Walter was summoned into the doctor's inner sanctum.

"Wait here," Walter instructed Alex.

Alex shook his head adamantly. No.

Walter sighed. Alex would never accept that the likelihood of Walter's needing his protection at the doctor's was slim to none. Although, given Alex's own propensity for sneak attacks in medical settings, his paranoia was understandable, if irritating.

The doctor checked Walter's nose and ears, looked at his throat, thumped his chest.

"You have a bad cold, Mr. Skinner. I'll give you something to relieve your symptoms. I'm a bit concerned about the congestion in your chest. We don't want anything to settle in there. It's very important that you spend at least some of your time sitting upright. Swing your arms about, take deep breaths. A little exercise will open your chest up and help you breathe easier."

The doctor scribbled a few prescriptions and handed them to Walter, who nodded his thanks.

Alex went out to retrieve the car, Walter paid his bill and after a brief stop at the pharmacy, the two men headed for home.

Alex eyed Walter apprehensively. He knew some of his actions at the doctor's office were open to criticism.

Hoping to appease Walter, Alex fixed him a bowl of soup and gave him his pills.

"Thank you, Alex," Walter said sincerely. "I appreciate your help. We'll talk after I nap a bit."

That did not bode well, Alex thought, as he helped Walter into bed and tucked the covers around him.

Walter knew Alex was anxious to get their chat over with.

"When I wake up, Alex," he promised.

Alex tried to find something useful to do while Walter napped, but it was hopeless. He was almost glad when he heard Walter stirring.

Walter felt better. He used the bathroom, washed his face, and rinsed his mouth. The medication was definitely helping relieve most of his symptoms, although his chest still felt a bit full.

Walter seated himself on the living room couch.

"Alex!" he called.

Alex appeared instantly.

"Are you sure you don't want to stretch out, Walter?" he suggested.

"Alex, you heard the doctor. He said a little exercise would do me good, that I should sit upright, take deep breaths, and move my arms. Over my lap now, Alex, a sound spanking is just what the doctor prescribed."

Alex gulped. That was certainly an interesting interpretation of the doctor's orders.

"Now, Alex," Walter said firmly. "Don't make me come and get you, I'm a sick man."

Obediently, if reluctantly, Alex arranged himself ass up over Walter's lap. Pushed down his jeans and boxers.

Walter took a deep breath, raised his hand and brought it down smartly on the upturned white buttocks. Admired his handprint. Peppered Alex's bottom with stinging smacks, watched its color deepen from pink to rose to red. Nothing like getting the blood moving to make a man feel better, he thought to himself.

"What is this spanking for, Alex?" Walter asked.

"For unplugging the phone! Scaring off that woman! Snatching Mulder's magazines! Ow! Ow!! Ow!!! Walter, I did it to help you!" Alex yelped.

Walter continued his relentless circuit of swats.

"I know you meant well, Alex, but the end does not justify the means," Walter said. He could feel the heat rising off Alex's bottom.

No, thought Alex resentfully, the Mean just fry the end.

He must have unwittingly spoken aloud, because Walter launched a flurry of whacks at the tender spot between buttock and thigh.

Whack! Whack!! Whack!!!

"Ow! Ow!! Ow! I'm sorry Walter, I'm sorry!" Alex began to cry.

Walter eased Alex off his knees and drew him upright, hugging him reassuringly.

"There now, all over. All forgiven. I know you meant well, but don't do that again."

"Never, Walter," Alex assured him, sniffling.

Walter dried Alex's face gently.

"I would kiss you, Alex, but I don't want you to catch my cold."

Alex felt very guilty for making Walter exert himself when he was sick.

"How do you feel, Walter?" he asked ashamedly.

"Surprisingly good, Alex. The doctor was right. A little arm movement did wonders for my congestion."