An FBI Agent Walks Into A Bar
Extended Blurb:
After Rodrick Heffley saves Fox Mulder from a brutal beating, the two realize that they have much more in common than they originally thought. The paths ahead don’t lie easy, but with the support of each other, both men will blossom in their own ways. And, perhaps, along the way, sparks will fly. But with it, tensions will rise...
An FBI Agent walks into a bar.
Fox Mulder was looking only for one thing: a drink. He slid past men and women alike, body crunching between rocking bodies, grinding hips and sparkling eyes. He expertly made his way to the counter, flicking over a $20. “Bourbon,” Mulder grunted.
“Back again?” the bartender asked, slightly amused. “I’m pretty sure this is your second time in here today.”
“I know, I know.” Mulder rolled his eyes, fingers twitching and aching for alcohol. “I don’t have anything else to do, really.” Not after his suicide attempt, but that was left unsaid.
Jerry, the bartender, grunted in response and set the drink down in front of Mulder, eyeing him. “You stay responsible, Fox. I can’t have you strollin’ around drunk at this time of night.”
Cringing at his name, Mulder turned his head to the side and didn’t reply. His throat was dry and his tongue felt like he’d just licked a pile of sand. He raised the bourbon to his lips and let it slide over his mouth, washing him away in a sheet of cold. His chest began to burn and pop mercilessly, but he visibly relaxed.
He knew the crowd here almost better than the bureau. The man with brown hair and dark eyes in the corner always took a woman home with him, whether intentional or not. The girl with blonde hair and blue eyes most certainly just wanted a drink, but always ended up being groped by men and shoved into a corner that she couldn’t claw her way out of. Different couples liked to come here, too, just having fun and enjoying themselves on a night out.
Mulder twitched when he thought about Scully, but more or less blocked her out now-a days. She was happy with Colin. That’s all that mattered. Even if I know he isn’t a good person, he thought absentmindedly, eyes flickering back and forth across the bar, then again I can’t say much. It’s not like I am either. He softly sighed and downed the drink in one long gulp and turned, slapping the glass down. “Refill, please.”
Jerry seemed reluctant but poured the bourbon once more anyway. Mulder swiveled around again, crossing one arm along his chest and swishing the alcohol in the other. He eventually grew bored with the people watching, but the numbness creeping through his head washed away his troubles, so he really had nothing better to do.
A grunt blew out of his lips when he watched someone new walk through the door. His eyes widened slowly at the man, maybe a few years younger than him, stumble through the crowd on shaky legs, a fresh grin stuck to his face as he slid through. His hair was black as midnight, slightly unkept and hanging in threads over his shining dark eyes, which were circled in thick eyeliner. He had a ripped black shirt that showed his arms and shoulders, pale skin rippling underneath his clothing, and his pants were tight and skinny and clung to his legs. Mulder raised a brow at him but decided to divide his attention elsewhere, leaning back against the counter and exhaling.
And wouldn’t you guess, the guy sat right beside him. “Your best cocktail,” the man smirked, wiggling his fingers toward Jerry.
“Humph.” He began to mix the drink accordingly, pursing his lips. “I’ve never seen you in here before. New to Washington?”
“You could say that,” the man shrugged, clearing his throat. “I’m only here for a couple of days, though. Family, yada yada.”
“Gotcha.”
When he received the cocktail, he raised the glass and grinned. “Thanks.”
Jerry nodded and glanced at Mulder, a look which the stranger followed. Fox didn’t return the gaze, but turned his legs around and finished his second glass. “Jerry,” he moaned, “another?”
“This is your last one,” he sighed. “Seriously, Fox, you gotta stop doing this. Can’t you, like, get kicked out of the job for this?”
Mulder shrugged, ducking under the stranger’s imploring and curious stare. He hated being this awkward, and sharing a personal conversation in front of this guy was definitely something he didn’t want to do. However, Mulder wasn’t rude, and he wasn’t going to evade a question because he was embarrassed. “Yeah,” he offered, “but Skinner’s giving me some time off, after my time in the hospital.”
“Ah. Skinner. I love that guy.” Jerry smiled but it quickly flickered away. “Damn. You get shot? I guess that explains why you were gone for a few months.”
“Yep.” Mulder popped the ‘p’ and nodded slowly. “Shot.”
Meanwhile, the stranger had leaned closer, a smile widening on his dimpled cheeks. “Let me guess. You’re a copper?”
“One, no one calls them that anymore, and two, no, I’m an FBI Agent.”
The guy smirked. “Oo. Feisty. I love it!” He clapped his hands together. “I feel blessed. An FBI Agent, talking to me? What have I done to deserve this?”
Mulder, completely unamused, huffed and stared straight forward. Jerry had a knowing look in his eye and sped away, leaving the two alone.
“So.” The man crossed his legs and faced Mulder. “I’m Rodrick Heffley, and I’m a drummer in a band. Impressive, I know.”
He didn’t take the bait, but his bambi eyes flickered over Rodrick, pursing his lips. “Fox Mulder. FBI Agent.” He wasn’t keen on shaking anyone’s hand, and was grateful when Rodrick didn’t expect the touch. “And that is just.. awesome for you.”
Rodrick faltered for a moment, but quickly regained his composure and hummed. “Who’s the chick?” he asked unexpectedly.
Of all the things that could’ve have been questioned, Mulder was definitely not expecting that one. He nearly spit his drink out, anger bubbling in his chest. “What?” he snapped.
“It’s quite obvious.” Rodrick waved his hand, cocktail spilling over the sides. “You’ve got this look. I can see it. Who is she? Unless..” He smiled. “It’s a he?”
“I’m not gay,” Mulder spat, and Rodrick appeared to be mildly disappointed. “Besides, it’s none of your business. She isn’t anyone.”
He smirked. “She isn’t anyone, huh? Is that why you mentioned her?”
Mulder clenched his fingers, turning back away from Rodrick. He didn’t want to think about Scully. He loved her — how had she not seen that? Or maybe she had seen it, and had decided that finding a boyfriend was a better option. But god, he really — he’d really thought — ? Of course it didn’t happen, though. Nothing ever went his way. He was used to it by now. “I guess..” He breathed. “She just doesn’t want me anymore, y’know?”
“Ahhh.” Rodrick nodded heftily. “The sex was great and she just didn’t want that? Wanted a real relationship? I get it, dude, don’t worry.” He waved his hand, nonchalant.
“What? No! We never —” His face scrunched up. “We never did.. that. She’s my partner. She’s an FBI Agent, too.”
“Oooo. This... complicates things.” Rodrick fiddled with his fingers and pondered. “What seems to be the problem, then?”
Mulder groaned and thrummed his fingers through his hair, messing with the tangles and letting them slide through his hands. “We were never really together. We just — we were close. We’ve been partners for seven years. And then, well..” He trailed off. “Something happened a few months ago, and it drove us apart. After that, she started dating this guy named Colin. And let’s just say he’s a horrible person.”
“Damn. You have more drama than I do!” Rodrick tried to laugh, but Mulder could see the pain somewhere in there. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how much he cared right now, though. “I’m sure she’ll see what she’s missing out. Or, maybe you deserve better, y’know?”
Deserve better? Mulder thought, eyes flickering back and forth along the floor. He wasn’t better, though. He could still picture that night outside of the bar, the rage that had propelled him forward...
“You piece of shit,” Mulder hissed, watching the two women at Colin’s side quickly disperse. The man looked annoyed more than anything and curled his lip into a sneer, eyes fiery.
“What’s wrong, Fox?” Colin grinned. “Are you upset because you can’t fuck your partner anymore? That must be really hard. Can’t relate.”
“Don’t you talk about her like that,” he growled, “you’re her boyfriend! You should be loyal! And here you are, flirting with other women..”
“It’s harmless.” Colin walked by Mulder and narrowed his eyes when the FBI Agent held out a hand to stop him. “What are you gonna do? Huh? Tell her? You think she’ll come back to you? Dana loves me, Fox, not you. The sooner you realize it, the better off you’ll be.”
Mulder’s fingers twitched and he glared back at Colin for a moment. “Okay,” he said in a hushed voice, talking a step forward. Thankfully, he was taller than the other man. “You want to play this game? You want to pretend that you’re better than I am, when we both know that you were planning on taking those girls home? Fine. If that’s what you really want to do, then be my guest.” He paused. “But I’m not going to play along.”
His hand flew out and his knuckles clenched as they swiped along Colin’s jawline. The other man spluttered as he was knocked back, feet tangling below him. Mulder dropped to his knees and continuously punched Colin, watching the blood spread across his face, the crimson painting over his hands. Deep cuts and bruises splattered around Colin’s face, and Mulder felt a deep satisfaction at the sight.
“You still think I’m playing? Huh?” Mulder stood up and glared down at Colin, who was squirming on the ground. “Well, I’m not.” He flicked his foot forward and felt the crunch of bones under his boot, smiling at the cry of anguish Colin let out. He kicked him again, and again, and again, hitting his ribs, his stomach, his sides — by the time he was finished, Colin was laying in a pool of his own blood.
“Deserve better..” he muttered. “Yep.” The back of his eyes burned and he choked out a huff that was originally meant to be a sob but he didn’t let it come out as one. Mulder slammed his glass down on the counter and flicked whatever he fished out of his wallet to Jerry. He didn’t say anything else, ignoring the wide-eyed and curious glance of Rodrick, and strolled away from the chair.
Mulder shouldered his way through the dancing bodies and pressed his shoulder against the door, spilling out of the bar and gulping in a breath of air. He screwed his eyes shut and rubbed his hands down his face, stressfully clawing his hand through his feathery hair. “Fuck!” he screamed into the night, not noticing the the flinch from the group of people walking past him.
He stood there like a fucking idiot for another five minutes before opening his eyes. He realized he was crying. What a pussy, he told himself in a hiss, Seriously? Crying over something you did? It’s your fault you hurt Colin. It’s your fault you hurt Dana. So get your shit together and move along!
He exhaled and forced his legs to move, slowly walking away from the bar and realizing he was gonna have to walk home. Shit. He forgot he’d walked. Well, this is gonna be fun. Mulder grunted and strolled past an alley, pausing and fishing through his pockets to find his cigarettes. “Ugh...” Where were they? As he was distracted, two dark shadows snuck up from behind him.
Mulder felt a breath at his neck and froze. He stood there for a moment, calculating his options, before whipping around and snapping his hand forward. The man dressed in black ducked and bowled into him. Mulder gasped out when his skull bounced off the sidewalk. Stars swam in his vision and he felt blood trickle down his head, tears involuntarily dripping down his cheeks. He tried to scream out for help but he couldn’t speak, he was so disoriented and everything was dizzy and spinning.
His legs were tugged by both men and he was dragged into the dark alley, shadows swathing his body. Mulder cried when punches were sent to his face, cuts splitting into his forehead and jaw. A boot connected to his ribs and he turned on his side, holding his body with white knuckles. “No, no, no,” he muttered, the feeling of nausea overwhelming. He wanted to throw up and was pretty sure he was going to die. Why was he being attacked? Was it a mugging? An attempted kidnapping? Was it the work of The Smoking Man, or Krycek?
Mulder wasn’t sure he’d ever know. He shut his eyes and let cold numbness wash over him as the beating continued. His vision faded more and more, darker and darker, until the world seemed a million miles away...
