Name: Endless Nights

Author: I be DK the Stalker; also known as the Wookie Devil. Rarr!

Summary: After a boring, dead-end case, Mulder unwinds in a local bar. But when the drinks go to his head, who'll be there to help him make it through the night in one piece?

Setting: Hmm. Somewhere in the middle of season 6. Just cuz that's a great season, and Mulder and Scully are at a good point in their relationship to make this story plausible. No spoilers as of yet, but it's nice if yew've followed the show.

Category/Rating: It's pure humor and MSR. The good stuff, as one would say. Rating-wise, I'd say a general PG or PG-13 for language and some minor adult situations. Nothing drastic though =)

Disclaimer: Yeah. Nothing belongs to me. I'm a nobadie with no life who's borrowing these lovely characters out of boredom and an urgency to write.

Archive: This is just a little humor fic I *had* to start writing one night. If yew really want it, go ahead. Just wait until I complete it and e- mail me at shadowkam@aol.com for a full copy.

A/N: Alrite. It's a Sunday night. Just past 11:30. I have school tomorrow. I should be in bed, but ha. After reading some humor X-File fics for the past few hours, and watching the X-Files Fight the Future movie on DVD about 3 times today [making the grand total of times I've seen it just over 80 since I got it 3 weeks ago], I suddenly needed to write a funny little drunk Mulder fic. Although I'm currently working on a serious, chaptered story that I'll be posting soon, and I consider that to be my very first office X-Files fic, I guess this counts too. Remember; it's just for fun. I find it amusing. Hope yew all do as well. R&R, okay? I'll love yah!

~~~~~~

Downtown Washington D.C.

2:34 AM

Special Agent Fox Mulder swayed slightly on the hard wooden stool. The damn world wouldn't stop spinning and it was really pissing him off.

Reaching out, he grabbed the edge of the waxed bar table and steadied himself into a sitting position.

"Another shot, love." He barked groggily at the charming waitress who merely rolled her eyes and rounded a corner, stepping out of his view to retrieve the order.

"So what is it you do again, Mr. Muldah?" A New York accented male voice broke the agent's staring contest with his empty glass. Its bearer had taken the seat beside him a mere 15 minutes ago, and was trying to hold a decent conversation although Mulder was in no condition to comply.

"I told yah I'm a, what'ca'might'call'm? A... guy with a gun who works for the gov'n'ment and stuff - walking around shootin' and puttin' people in jail."

"A Fed, huh?" The middle aged man deepened the question, taking a sip from his own drink.

"I dunno. F'you insist. But that's just what's expected of me to do. But I don't do that."

That seemed to spark the other man's attention. He turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at Mulder.

"No. I don't do that at all. See, it's all a game of cat'n'mouse. And guess what I am?" Mulder babbled on aimlessly, one hand holding him still and the other rummaging through his messy hair.

The man chuckled and gulped down the rest of his whiskey, just as the waitress returned with Mulder's. Both men nodded - Mulder in thanks, the New Yorker in confirmation that he wanted a refill as well.

"Go on then, Mr. Muldah."

Now it was Mulder's turn to roll his eyes. He hated his guy's accent. What was his name again? Jim or Joe? Or was it Ron? One of those simple three lettered things.

"'Scuse me, who are you 'gain?"

"Brian. Brian McGreen."

Oh well. He was close.

"Right then. B'ian. Where was I?"

Before the man has a chance to reply, Mulder snapped his fingers.

"Yeah. So, I'm the mouse, ok? And the damn cats are all over the place, eating away all the cheese. And my life's work is to get to the cheese, but the cats are *always* on my tail, keeping me from my destiny, and covering their tracks the process. It's a freakin' conspiracy, I tell yah!"

To demonstrate the degree of the matter, Mulder rose from his chair and slammed his hand on the bar. Of course, he miscalculated the distance from his standing spot to the countertop, and his arm flew through the air and did a near 360 rotation before falling limply at his side.

In perfect timing, another customer equally drunk as Mulder, was walking towards the bar when the agent's forceful swing rammed him straight in the chin.

Mulder regained his posture, managing not to fall from both surprise and amusement. Beside him, Brian sneaked his newly arrived refill and lurked away from the bar area, his senses still keen enough to tell him it was time to split before all hell broke loose.

The calm air before the storm lasted a whole 10 seconds, then-

"What da hell, man?!" The bulky, bearded motorcyclist-looking man flexed his jaw before stepping up to the slightly taller Mulder.

"Oh. M'sorry mate. Didn't see yah there." The agent nodded sincerely, his attention returning to the bar as he noticed his chat-buddy was gone. "Hey! Where'd Bob go?"

"I'll show you where Bob went." The leather-jacket equipped offender brought his fist back, punching Mulder full force in the face.

The agent had little time to register the pain of what felt like his nose breaking, for the much heavier man was on top of him in seconds.

The bar crowd suddenly picked up on the action and formed a circle around the brawling pair, chanting words of encouragement and placing bets on who would be knocked out first.

Mulder let pure instinct take over - his arms flew up to protect his face while he rolled the other man off him and in turn proceeded to kick him where it hurt. Luckily for everyone in the bar, Mulder didn't remember he had a loaded gun on him and kept to using brute strength.

After both sides landed a few more punches and kicks, the red and blue lights along with the annoying howl of a police car outside, cut the excitement short.

Two strong officers trailed in with badges and handcuffs, and broke the fight up with relative ease. Mulder was pulled off the floor and propped against the nearest wall as the officers calmed the crowd.

While his attacker was being hauled away, Mulder found the sense to fish out his own badge and flash it at the officer who was preparing to cuff him.

"Ah. A fed huh? How'd you find yourself in this mess, Agent Mulder?" The officer stood back and scanned the room while talking.

"He, uh, came up behind me and hit me." Mulder blurted out what he could remember, oddly excluding the detail that he was the one who'd hit first. Accidentally, of course.

"Right then. Sorry about the trouble. We'll clear this up. You might wanna go to the hospital or something. Seems like you need a doctor for that nose." The officer smiled grimly and patted Mulder on the back enthusiastically, almost causing the agent to topple over.

"A doctor? Oh, yeah. Can do." Mulder agreed with a drowsy nod and thanked the police man.

Within minutes, the bar was back to normal. With the police gone, Mulder wobbled over to the waitress and produced a few $20 bills to pay for his busy night, not bothering to stand around and wait for his change.

Stepping out into the cool February air, he waved a taxi over and attempted to wipe the dripping blood off his face before getting in.

It was time to go see his doctor.

~~~~~~

A/N: Alrite. I had to proofread it and stuff today, and I'll be continuing the story every chance I get. I find it fun to write late [it's just after 11:40 once more] on school nights. Helps me think. I work well under pressure. Heehee. Anyways! Drop a note if yew like it. Please. Look for the next chapter by the end of the week! -DKers