Summary: Mulder, in the bar, at some point during "The End". Mulder/Scully, Mulder/Fowley.

An old fic that I don't think I ever posted here.
I've been so silent and out of it that I simply had to
post something, hoping to jog the system a little.
Enjoy!

TITLE: Diamond Shoes
AUTHOR: Maidenjedi
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: List archives, otherwise please ask.
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully, Mulder/Fowley
SPOILERS: The End
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, thank you very much.
SUMMARY: Mulder, in the bar, at some point
during "The End".

***

From the POV of Glenne Headly's bartender in Fight the
Future, who wasn't given a name. So that's two Other
Women, I guess.

Written for Twinkledru J.'s challenge: use dialogue
from a sitcom in fanfic for a dramatic series/movie.

Author's Notes at the end.

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*


"Another. Double this time."

The lanky stranger had been in here once or twice
before, but the bartender didn't remember him as
the drowning-his-sorrows type. He'd come in for
a beer, maybe two, and once he'd stayed long enough
to catch a Knicks game.

But he hadn't ordered real drinks then, and tonight
he was knocking them back like an old pro.

She set the double bourbon in front of him.

Then she went back to wiping the counter and drawing
Miller Lite off the tap for the loud duo at the other
end of the bar.

"Both of 'em. I never thought I'd have to deal with
both of 'em."

She was busy, but she hadn't earned a reputation for
being a good bartender just by mixing excellent
martinis.
She heard him and wondered if this was the right time
to ask him what's up, or if she should eighty-six him.

"I mean, Diana was gone. She wasn't ever coming back.
I didn't think she'd show up like this; never thought
I'd have to deal with both of them at once."

The bartender moved closer, now wiping clean shot
glasses
in between mixing those martinis.

"You okay there?"

"Yeah." He swallowed his drink. "Got anymore?"

She hesitated. "Sure."

She poured the drink and regarded him as he took a
small
sip. "Wanna talk about it?" A roar erupted from the
other end of the bar as the Red Sox scored two runs
off
the Yankees.

He looked up at her, his eyes taking an extra second
to
focus on her. "You ever been in love with two women?"

She laughed. "No, can't say that I have," she said,
gesturing to her full figure.

He ignored it, or just didn't notice. "I have. I am.
I don't know. One...she was gone. Left for parts
unknown. I thought she left because of me. My work,
my obsession."

"But she's back."

He swallowed another couple of sips and nodded.

"Yeah."

"She wants you back."

"Maybe. I think so. She held my hand today, and she
looked up at me, so sweet. Old times, you know."

"But..."

"But there's this other woman. We've been together,
well,
we haven't been together." He smiled ruefully.
"We're
partners. I...she..."

The bartender walked away for a moment, to draw a
Guinness
for the waiter standing patiently in front of the bar.

"Busy night, huh?"

"Yeah. Always is, when the big games are on."

The waiter nodded and took the stein out into the
crowd.
The bartender returned to her lovelorn patron.

He was in the middle of a sentence, seeming not to
have
noticed that there was no one to listen. "...and when

she called she sounded so suspicious. So defeated,
even.
And now I don't know what to think."

"Has she ever said anything? Have you?"

He looked up at her and took a drink. "No. We aren't
like that." His voice sounded sure and firm, despite
the alcohol, but his next sentence was less so. "What
am I going to do? How do I choose? Do I choose?"

He gestured for another refill.

The bartender shook her head.

He put a ten on the bar.

She changed her mind, poured another double.

A man sat down next to her patron. "Vodka.
Straight."
He looked over at the bourbon double, surveyed his
neighbor. "Feelin' a little down, are we?"

No response.

"You know, I heard you whinin' 'bout your partner,
'bout
your ex blowin' into town."

He took a drink of his double, ignoring the newcomer.

"Get off it, man. You know how many guys would kill
to
be in your place?" He took a swig of the vodka.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah? Let's see. Two women, and you're in love
with
both of them. By sheer luck, they're both in love
with
you, or at least want to get in your pants. Am I
right?"

No reply. He signaled for the check. The bartender
spoke
up. "You're all set, buddy."

The haggler persisted. "Stop feelin' so damned sorry
for
yourself, man. Take advantage of the situation,
instead
of cryin' into your whiskey."

The man thanked the bartender and started to turn
around.
A shout of disappointment pierced the air as the
Yankees
gave up a run.

"I mean really! 'Oh no! Two women love me! They're
both
gorgeous and sexy! My wallet's too small for my
fifties,
and my diamond shoes are too tight!'"

The man swung hard and knocked the haggler off his
stool.
Vodka all over his leather jacket, the haggler lay out
cold on the floor, blood seeping from his broken nose.

The man laid another ten on the bar. "For his drink."
The bartender gaped at him.

And the night wore on.

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

A/N: I have no idea what 'Friends' episode that line
was from, but Chandler said it to Ross when Ross was
whining about having to choose between Julie and
Rachel.

This was fun; I may have to do it again.




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''I don't enjoy dumb TV. I believe Aaron Spelling has
single-handedly lowered SAT scores.'' - Joss Whedon
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fic - http://users.pdsys.org/~maidenjedi
sam houston motor lodge recs - http://users.pdsys.org/~maidenjedi/fanfic2.html