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FIC: Happy Anniversary (OUaTiM)
TITLE: Happy Anniversary
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time in Mexico
PAIRING: Sands/Ajedrez
RATING: PG/R
WORD COUNT: 604
WARNING/S: Some language, plus mention of after-the-fact violence
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Sands and Ajedrez aren’t mine, they belong to Robert Rodriguez; I’m just playing without permission, but please don’t sue. I’m broke.
NOTES: This is actually a section from a much longer (and so far unfinished) story about them, I just thought it could work as a stand-alone as well.
Happy Anniversary
“Why, Ajedrez, what are you doing calling so late?”
“I was in the neighbourhood.” Her voice is light and breathy. You can’t decide if she sounds like she’s going to pass out or cry.
“And?”
“Can I come up?”
“…you weren’t joking about the neighbourhood bit, were you?”
A choked laugh.
“God, I wish I was. I’m in the carpark. Can I come up?”
“Why?”
“Need to use the bathroom.”
You raise an eyebrow in the general direction of the door.
“Room 24.”
“Thank-”
You hang up.
--
“Are you sure you meant bathroom? Because, I have a lovely car just downstairs. If you promised not to get blood all over the leather, I’m more than happy to drive you to the hospital. I’m told it’s practically professional, and has a much lower fatality rate than you might expect.”
She doesn’t even bother glaring at you, and that has you more worried than you like.
“Know how to take out a bullet?”
“I’ve done it once or twice. Bathroom’s this way and easy does it.” You catch her as she stumbles and guide her to the bathroom. Tiles, easy to clean, bath easy to hose off and as she gets into the tub and sits down on the ledge, you open up the cabinet to find your tools.
“Sorry, out of morphine, but I’m told that tequila does in a pitch…”
“Fuck off, Sands.”
“You are bleeding all over my motel bathroom. And the carpet.”
“Sorry.” She even sounds like she means it, and you unscrew the lid and pass the bottle over. Ajedrez takes a long drink, but she’s using her left hand. A pause, and another long drink, and she gives it back. You look at her, battered and bloody and shivering faintly, and you sigh.
Well, there go all plans for sleeping tonight.
--
By the time two am rolls away, you’re down to picking the broken glass and grit from her feet. She’s drunk, drunker than you’ve ever seen her, and nearly asleep from it all. You’d almost say that she looks adorable like that, all sleepy-eyed and soft, wrapped up in a blanket like a caterpillar. You’d almost say it, but her bottom lip has been split and in the morning her right cheek is just going to be one fat old bruise.
You had been idly contemplating tracking down who had beaten her up and making their life hell, just from the principle of it. But her clenched-teeth scream as you finally managed to pull the bullet out of her arm changed your plans a wee bit.
You’re going to kill them. Nothing creative, just a few bullets, but you are going to kill them.
As soon as you work out who.
“Hey, baby, what’s the time?” Ajedrez’s voice is slurred with sleep and alcohol. You find it doesn’t detract from the picture in the slightest.
You tell her and she laughs.
“Hey. Happy anniversary, then.”
You can’t help but smile at her, albeit crookedly.
“You’re a sick, sick woman.”
“S’why you like me.”
You open your mouth to reply, but her eyes are closed and her breathing is even. You finish her feet, bandage them, and pack everything away. You contemplate leaving her in the bath, but…
Hell with it.
You pick her up and carry her over to the bed, managing not to drop her.
“You’re heavier than you look, AJ,” you inform her, and you know that if she had been awake she would have hit you for that. That gets a smile, even as you turn off the lights and pull her close.
--
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time in Mexico
PAIRING: Sands/Ajedrez
RATING: PG/R
WORD COUNT: 604
WARNING/S: Some language, plus mention of after-the-fact violence
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Sands and Ajedrez aren’t mine, they belong to Robert Rodriguez; I’m just playing without permission, but please don’t sue. I’m broke.
NOTES: This is actually a section from a much longer (and so far unfinished) story about them, I just thought it could work as a stand-alone as well.
“Why, Ajedrez, what are you doing calling so late?”
“I was in the neighbourhood.” Her voice is light and breathy. You can’t decide if she sounds like she’s going to pass out or cry.
“And?”
“Can I come up?”
“…you weren’t joking about the neighbourhood bit, were you?”
A choked laugh.
“God, I wish I was. I’m in the carpark. Can I come up?”
“Why?”
“Need to use the bathroom.”
You raise an eyebrow in the general direction of the door.
“Room 24.”
“Thank-”
You hang up.
--
“Are you sure you meant bathroom? Because, I have a lovely car just downstairs. If you promised not to get blood all over the leather, I’m more than happy to drive you to the hospital. I’m told it’s practically professional, and has a much lower fatality rate than you might expect.”
She doesn’t even bother glaring at you, and that has you more worried than you like.
“Know how to take out a bullet?”
“I’ve done it once or twice. Bathroom’s this way and easy does it.” You catch her as she stumbles and guide her to the bathroom. Tiles, easy to clean, bath easy to hose off and as she gets into the tub and sits down on the ledge, you open up the cabinet to find your tools.
“Sorry, out of morphine, but I’m told that tequila does in a pitch…”
“Fuck off, Sands.”
“You are bleeding all over my motel bathroom. And the carpet.”
“Sorry.” She even sounds like she means it, and you unscrew the lid and pass the bottle over. Ajedrez takes a long drink, but she’s using her left hand. A pause, and another long drink, and she gives it back. You look at her, battered and bloody and shivering faintly, and you sigh.
Well, there go all plans for sleeping tonight.
--
By the time two am rolls away, you’re down to picking the broken glass and grit from her feet. She’s drunk, drunker than you’ve ever seen her, and nearly asleep from it all. You’d almost say that she looks adorable like that, all sleepy-eyed and soft, wrapped up in a blanket like a caterpillar. You’d almost say it, but her bottom lip has been split and in the morning her right cheek is just going to be one fat old bruise.
You had been idly contemplating tracking down who had beaten her up and making their life hell, just from the principle of it. But her clenched-teeth scream as you finally managed to pull the bullet out of her arm changed your plans a wee bit.
You’re going to kill them. Nothing creative, just a few bullets, but you are going to kill them.
As soon as you work out who.
“Hey, baby, what’s the time?” Ajedrez’s voice is slurred with sleep and alcohol. You find it doesn’t detract from the picture in the slightest.
You tell her and she laughs.
“Hey. Happy anniversary, then.”
You can’t help but smile at her, albeit crookedly.
“You’re a sick, sick woman.”
“S’why you like me.”
You open your mouth to reply, but her eyes are closed and her breathing is even. You finish her feet, bandage them, and pack everything away. You contemplate leaving her in the bath, but…
Hell with it.
You pick her up and carry her over to the bed, managing not to drop her.
“You’re heavier than you look, AJ,” you inform her, and you know that if she had been awake she would have hit you for that. That gets a smile, even as you turn off the lights and pull her close.
--