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winterShower idea. 560 words, 20 minutes. May get corrected and/or further developed later.
Fandom: Once Upon a Time in Mexico / From Dusk Till Dawn
Rating: PG-13
STRANGE CROSSING
by Beth
It's a close one, but when all is said and done, Sands thinks healing bullet holes is worse than getting them. Still, by the time Christmas looms he's back on the road, walking blind and waiting for someone to take pity on him.
It turns out to be a battered mobile home, pulling up so smoothly, Sands feels the heat radiating off the cheap bodywork. He traces the car with his hand as he walks forward to find the door, and what he feels is very much like crosses.
Girl-smell, long-hair rustle, and an accent that screams apple pie and homecoming dance. "Hi, I'm Kate."
He hauls himself onto the steps, slumps into the other front-row seat for the farce that is Mexican highway traffic. He hopes he's not bleeding on the upholstery. "I'm Sands."
They keep it to small talk for the next three hours, until nightfall. Then after a brief interruption they start telling each other their life stories, because there's something about flattening a nest of vampires and three cars of cartel killers that really brings people together.
* * *
Kate tells him about the Reverend Jacob Fuller, who sounds like the kind of saint they put on stained-glass windows, and Sands thinks he'd have shot the guy if he met him, on general upholding-the-balance principles. He counters with some choice bits about Genevieve Sands, who as far as he's aware still posthumously holds the record for quickest kill with nail clippers, and Kate admires his mother's ingenuity in what sounds like a sincere voice.
Near the point where night dies, when the sun's coming up and the tequila's running dry, he tells her about the women. The prom queen, the CIA secretaries, Natasha, and then even Her. And where he left Her, lying in her own blood.
All Kate mentions is a guy called Sex Machine, who she kind of liked for a few hours, before he tried to rip her throat out. From what she says about his weapons, Sands thinks she ought to have checked the guy's motorcycle for a guitar.
* * *
The deal's simple. An eye for an eye. Cartel for vampire. And they do it together.
It's easy. The suckers don't bite Sands, and somewhere he thinks that's because Mexico's already been and done it, and hung big "do not touch" signs all over his soul. And the faces of cartel fuckheads when sweet Kate pulls out an SMG? Sands really wishes he could see them.
* * *
Sands half expects it every day, so it's not as much a surprise when they hear that the most recent cartel just got their hands on very prized bounty. Kate gives a little gasp when they hear an American voice trying his best to piss off everyone in hearing range, but he expected that, too. Just one more proof that la vida loca has him by the balls and is still holding fast.
The guards die messily, but quietly, and then they're all inside the cell. The gasp has to be Seth Gecko, and Sands leaves him to Kate's tender mercies as he shoots off El's manacles.
"I can only take one chatterbox American at a time," El says.
Sands grins. "Treat this as an opportunity for personal growth, compadre. Because that's what I've been doing."
/f-i*n#i^s)
Fandom: Once Upon a Time in Mexico / From Dusk Till Dawn
Rating: PG-13
STRANGE CROSSING
by Beth
It's a close one, but when all is said and done, Sands thinks healing bullet holes is worse than getting them. Still, by the time Christmas looms he's back on the road, walking blind and waiting for someone to take pity on him.
It turns out to be a battered mobile home, pulling up so smoothly, Sands feels the heat radiating off the cheap bodywork. He traces the car with his hand as he walks forward to find the door, and what he feels is very much like crosses.
Girl-smell, long-hair rustle, and an accent that screams apple pie and homecoming dance. "Hi, I'm Kate."
He hauls himself onto the steps, slumps into the other front-row seat for the farce that is Mexican highway traffic. He hopes he's not bleeding on the upholstery. "I'm Sands."
They keep it to small talk for the next three hours, until nightfall. Then after a brief interruption they start telling each other their life stories, because there's something about flattening a nest of vampires and three cars of cartel killers that really brings people together.
* * *
Kate tells him about the Reverend Jacob Fuller, who sounds like the kind of saint they put on stained-glass windows, and Sands thinks he'd have shot the guy if he met him, on general upholding-the-balance principles. He counters with some choice bits about Genevieve Sands, who as far as he's aware still posthumously holds the record for quickest kill with nail clippers, and Kate admires his mother's ingenuity in what sounds like a sincere voice.
Near the point where night dies, when the sun's coming up and the tequila's running dry, he tells her about the women. The prom queen, the CIA secretaries, Natasha, and then even Her. And where he left Her, lying in her own blood.
All Kate mentions is a guy called Sex Machine, who she kind of liked for a few hours, before he tried to rip her throat out. From what she says about his weapons, Sands thinks she ought to have checked the guy's motorcycle for a guitar.
* * *
The deal's simple. An eye for an eye. Cartel for vampire. And they do it together.
It's easy. The suckers don't bite Sands, and somewhere he thinks that's because Mexico's already been and done it, and hung big "do not touch" signs all over his soul. And the faces of cartel fuckheads when sweet Kate pulls out an SMG? Sands really wishes he could see them.
* * *
Sands half expects it every day, so it's not as much a surprise when they hear that the most recent cartel just got their hands on very prized bounty. Kate gives a little gasp when they hear an American voice trying his best to piss off everyone in hearing range, but he expected that, too. Just one more proof that la vida loca has him by the balls and is still holding fast.
The guards die messily, but quietly, and then they're all inside the cell. The gasp has to be Seth Gecko, and Sands leaves him to Kate's tender mercies as he shoots off El's manacles.
"I can only take one chatterbox American at a time," El says.
Sands grins. "Treat this as an opportunity for personal growth, compadre. Because that's what I've been doing."
/f-i*n#i^s)
