Title: Eros Mala
Author: Neoxphile
Spoilers: Seasons 1-8 up through dead/alive
Rating: R-ish (don't try this at home, kids)
Summary: Set in a AU after Mulder's return (season nine never happened), Mulder is jealous that Scully's heart isn't as assuredly his as he thought, but a bar visit gives him other ideas.
February 11th, 2002
1pm
Returning from dropping off something to the lab, Mulder paused at the door, just in time to hear Scully say, "Oh, of course, John, I'd love to go to dinner with you on Valentine's day."
Mulder paused - still unseen - then walked off to the men's room, where he thrust the bouquet of flowers he bought into the trash can with a violent gesture. Petals rained onto the floor, but he just kicked at them with the toes of one foot and made no effort to pick them up.
It bothered him that Scully had taken up with that Doggett character while he was dead, but he didn't make too much of an issue of it. He assumed that since he was William's father, she'd easily be won over again once the shock of his premature burial wore off, given he was still very much alive.
But things didn't work out that way. Some how that jerk had wormed his way into her heart while he was being tortured by aliens, and he still had a hold on her. Now Mulder was the one who had to hope to carve out time to see Scully alone, and had to wait until weekends to spend time with his son.
Shaking his head, Mulder pulled out his cell phone and called Skinner. "It's agent Mulder…I've come down with a bad case of diarrhea suddenly, would it be ok if I go home for the day?" As expected, Skinner was more than willing to let his "sick" agent go home. Mulder smirked; the excuse was as effective as girls claiming cramps in PE class.
Fleeing the Hoover building, Mulder almost knocked agent Reyes on her butt. "Oops," he said, taking her arm until she regained her balance.
She didn't look upset, instead touched his arm lightly, in that overly familiar touchy-feely manner of hers. "You're in a hurry."
"Yeah…I'm on my way home. Coming down with something vile."
Reyes gave him a sympathetic look. "I hope it's not contagious." Then she went into the ladies room and he could hear her vigorously washing her hands. He shrugged.
Since he didn't have anything better to do, Mulder decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in the bar that had just opened up within walking distance of his apartment. He'd never drank much, but it seemed like a perfect day to start.
The bar was pretty dark, but an "open" sign burned in the window, so he pushed open the door. It wasn't until he saw it painted on the mirrored glass behind the bar that he even gave the bar's name a thought. Eros Mala it proclaimed boldly in green, and he found it a damn strange name for a bar. Shrugging it off, though, he decided that the oddness of the name wasn't going to adversely affect the wetness of the liquor.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asked from his vantage behind the bar. Mulder noticed immediately that the man was short, probably not even as tall as Frohike. It didn't really matter, as long as he could see over the bar, Mulder supposed.
"A shot of double malt," Mulder said impulsively. His dear old Dad had always considered it worthy of getting the job done.
The whiskey was soon slide across the counter, and almost as soon consumed. Mulder's throat burned, but he ordered another.
"Something is bothering you," the bartender said as he passed over the second drink. "Wanna talk about it, buddy?"
"I'm the key figure in an on-going government charade, the plot to conceal the truth about the existence of extraterrestrials. It's a global conspiracy, actually, with key players in the highest levels of power, that reaches down into the lives of every man, woman, and child on this planet, so, of course, no one believes me. I'm an annoyance to my superiors, a joke to my peers. They call me Spooky. Spooky Mulder, whose sister was abducted by aliens when he was just a kid and who now chases after little green men with a badge and a gun, shouting to the heavens or to anyone who will listen that the fix is in, that the sky is falling and when it hits it's gonna be the shit-storm of all time."
The bartender just nodded. " hat's not what I meant though. Woman troubles, right?"
Mulder toyed with the empty shot glass. "I guess you could say that."
The bartender grinned. "I knew it. Soon as I saw you, I thought to myself, 'that guy's got some dame making his life hell'."
"Well, it's not just her," Mulder protested weakly as he ordered his third shot.
"Like I said, if you need to talk about something, I'm all ears."
Mulder sighed and drained his glass. "So I was kidnapped by aliens and while I was gone my pregnant girlfriend hooked up with the guy they replaced me with in the office. I guess she figured replace me in one area, replace me in another, right?" he said bitterly, and the bartender gave him a knowing frown. "So now I'm worried my kid is gonna be calling this jag-off 'Daddy.' I don't know how much more of this I can take."
The bartender slid another drink over without having to be asked, and Mulder picked it up gratefully. "It's just getting really grating, you know? 'Oh, I'd loooooove to screw you for Valentines day.' Whatever."
"That does sound like a bummer," the bartender said. Mulder noticed for the first time how curly his hair was. Blond, too. Made him look younger than he initially thought.
Mulder snorted. "The only person who understands what I'm going through is a bartender who doesn't know me from Adam. What's the luck?"
"Are you sure I'm the only one?" the bartender asked, another drink in hand.
"Well, she sure doesn't. And that idiot ex-marine, I don't think he's given me any thought at all, never mind mulled over my plight." Mulder was beginning to feel a little weepy from the weight of self-pity, so he sniffled a little.
"But are you the only one being hurt by this?" the bartender persisted.
"I doubt they're feeling any angst. My kid, maybe, but he's too little to know what's going on."
"Ok, ok. What I'm getting at is, is there another girl?"
"A threesome?" Mulder choked on his drink. "I hope not, I mean I couldn't talk her into it, so if he could, boy would I be pi-"
"A girl that likes the jarhead."
"Oh. Yeah, I guess Monica has a thing for him. God only knows why," Mulder muttered darkly.
"There you go."
"Huh?"
"What do you think of this Monica?"
