Entry tags:
FIC: Morning After (cartel!verse)
TITLE: Morning After
FANDOM: Cartel!Verse
RATING: PG?
WORD COUNT: 947
DISCLAIMER: These characters aren't mind, and the world is a strange 24/Once Upon a Time in Mexico/The Things They Carried crossover via M'ways in the past, and sorta belongs to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
walksbyherself - I just threw in OUaTiM and started playing. Set directly after this, and makes little to no sense unless you read Kat's fic first.
Morning After
This is something that Mary Anne should have learned by now; there is always a morning after. It is the sixth day, day before rest, the day that God created the original game park, and she is more than a little bit lost. Well, that is her excuse, anyway. The hotel has a pool in a greenhouse on the top floor and she wants eavesdrop those eating in the dinning hall nextdoor. And if she can’t eavesdrop on someone, then she’s going for a swim. Day before day of rest, but as Ramon was conferring with one of his captains…
Never let it be said that she wasn’t opportunistic.
Also never let it be said that Lady Luck always smiled at her, for when she turns the corner she nearly collides with Barillo. Mary Anne would apologize, for the collision if not the borrowing of the woman’s bodyguard, but she has a knife at her throat.
It takes less then a second for her to react, and she locks her eyes with Barillo’s across their blades.
“Ms Barillo.”
“Mary Anne.” Barillo’s warm voice is husky from anger and her dark eyes are smoldering. She looks different like this; jeans and short-sleeved t-shirt with that incredible hair left loose in a brown mane. Not so polished as the meetings (Mary Anne hadn’t been paying attention to her last night at the club), not so polished and younger; closer to the thirty side of the age bracket instead of the forty.
“Is this really necessary?”
“I have your attention.”
“I’m all yours.”
“Manhandle my husband like that again, and I’ll carve out your heart.”
Death threats Mary Anne is used to, but…
“Husband?!”
Barillo smiles at her, bitchwhorekiller. “Si. You look surprised.”
“Oh, I thought you guys were just fucking,” Mary Anne replies lightly. Crap.
“No.”
“…same goes with me, then,” she says after a moment’s reflection on the way her Columbian drug-lord had looked at this dark-eyed cartel queen. “Leave Ramon alone because if you fuck him? I’ll kill you.”
“A fair request.”
“It’s not a request, lady.”
“A matter of principle?” Now she sounds amused and Mary Anne presses her knife in just a little bit more. She doesn’t feel like explaining the jealousy. It’s not just the fucking around. It’s that with Barillo it wouldn’t just be…oh, fuck it.
“Something like that. You’d really carve out my heart?”
“Not so hard, just go under the ribs. Easier with practice.”
Mary Anne briefly considers talking shop (so, what do you do with the hearts afterwards, because I have this lovely tongue necklace…) when she looks over Barillo’s shoulder. Then she grins, because misery loves company. “Hi…Sands, wasn’t it?” He, sans sunglasses, puts up his hands and starts to move backwards but Barillo’s attention has been successfully diverted. She spins around in a whirlwind of brown hair and two steps gets the knife at his throat.
Mary Anne doesn’t put hers away, but she does lower it and rub at her abused throat.
“Beatriz,” Sands was saying, placatingly. Mary Anne glances at his left hand and wonders if the gold ring is the wedding one – it’s a little hard to tell when he has more than one.
“I’m still mad at you,” and Barillo’s voice is low and warm and rich and oh so very pissed off.
“Flirt with Salazar, sweetheart, what do you expect me to do?” His voice, on the hand, is the softly-spoken voice of the Devil’s own reason.
“You mind?” Barillo’s tone is arch and she steps closer, moving the knife so the tip is under his jaw.
“You could say that.” Guarded, mocking, and Mary Anne has the distinct feeling that she’s being utterly ignored. Barillo traces the knife down his throat, running the blade along the skin without actually cutting. Mary Anne can hear his sharp intake of breath from the corner of the hallway. “C’mon, AJ, you jerk my chain, I jerk yours-”
“With Salazar’s piece of ass?”
“I use who is available.”
Thanks, Mary Anne thinks, but she’s starting to be amused despite herself. She had been wondering why exactly he had agreed to dance with her, and now she’s curious as to just how many games like hers and his are played. Clearly, she’s just going to have to pay more attention to the underlings and peers of the criminal world.
Sands’s hand is on Barillo’s arm and just as lightly as she had traced the knife he traces his fingers down to her wrist, her hip and with her knife still at his collarbone he bends his head down and kisses her. Deep and hard and his fingers dig into his wife’s hip even as his other arm draws her close. Her free arm curls around his neck, and Mary Anne resists the urge to wolf-whistle at them.
(Not by much)
“You,” Barillo (AJ?) says a little breathlessly once he pulls away, “are coming with me.” She slides the knife away and grabs his hand and as they go past Sands tosses Mary Anne a grin.
“I love my life,” he tells her brightly, and the pair vanish around the corner. Mary Anne manages to wait until she hears the elevator ping before she starts to laugh.
It’s a long time before she manages to stop.
FANDOM: Cartel!Verse
RATING: PG?
WORD COUNT: 947
DISCLAIMER: These characters aren't mind, and the world is a strange 24/Once Upon a Time in Mexico/The Things They Carried crossover via M'ways in the past, and sorta belongs to
walksbyherself - I just threw in OUaTiM and started playing. Set directly after this, and makes little to no sense unless you read Kat's fic first.This is something that Mary Anne should have learned by now; there is always a morning after. It is the sixth day, day before rest, the day that God created the original game park, and she is more than a little bit lost. Well, that is her excuse, anyway. The hotel has a pool in a greenhouse on the top floor and she wants eavesdrop those eating in the dinning hall nextdoor. And if she can’t eavesdrop on someone, then she’s going for a swim. Day before day of rest, but as Ramon was conferring with one of his captains…
Never let it be said that she wasn’t opportunistic.
Also never let it be said that Lady Luck always smiled at her, for when she turns the corner she nearly collides with Barillo. Mary Anne would apologize, for the collision if not the borrowing of the woman’s bodyguard, but she has a knife at her throat.
It takes less then a second for her to react, and she locks her eyes with Barillo’s across their blades.
“Ms Barillo.”
“Mary Anne.” Barillo’s warm voice is husky from anger and her dark eyes are smoldering. She looks different like this; jeans and short-sleeved t-shirt with that incredible hair left loose in a brown mane. Not so polished as the meetings (Mary Anne hadn’t been paying attention to her last night at the club), not so polished and younger; closer to the thirty side of the age bracket instead of the forty.
“Is this really necessary?”
“I have your attention.”
“I’m all yours.”
“Manhandle my husband like that again, and I’ll carve out your heart.”
Death threats Mary Anne is used to, but…
“Husband?!”
Barillo smiles at her, bitchwhorekiller. “Si. You look surprised.”
“Oh, I thought you guys were just fucking,” Mary Anne replies lightly. Crap.
“No.”
“…same goes with me, then,” she says after a moment’s reflection on the way her Columbian drug-lord had looked at this dark-eyed cartel queen. “Leave Ramon alone because if you fuck him? I’ll kill you.”
“A fair request.”
“It’s not a request, lady.”
“A matter of principle?” Now she sounds amused and Mary Anne presses her knife in just a little bit more. She doesn’t feel like explaining the jealousy. It’s not just the fucking around. It’s that with Barillo it wouldn’t just be…oh, fuck it.
“Something like that. You’d really carve out my heart?”
“Not so hard, just go under the ribs. Easier with practice.”
Mary Anne briefly considers talking shop (so, what do you do with the hearts afterwards, because I have this lovely tongue necklace…) when she looks over Barillo’s shoulder. Then she grins, because misery loves company. “Hi…Sands, wasn’t it?” He, sans sunglasses, puts up his hands and starts to move backwards but Barillo’s attention has been successfully diverted. She spins around in a whirlwind of brown hair and two steps gets the knife at his throat.
Mary Anne doesn’t put hers away, but she does lower it and rub at her abused throat.
“Beatriz,” Sands was saying, placatingly. Mary Anne glances at his left hand and wonders if the gold ring is the wedding one – it’s a little hard to tell when he has more than one.
“I’m still mad at you,” and Barillo’s voice is low and warm and rich and oh so very pissed off.
“Flirt with Salazar, sweetheart, what do you expect me to do?” His voice, on the hand, is the softly-spoken voice of the Devil’s own reason.
“You mind?” Barillo’s tone is arch and she steps closer, moving the knife so the tip is under his jaw.
“You could say that.” Guarded, mocking, and Mary Anne has the distinct feeling that she’s being utterly ignored. Barillo traces the knife down his throat, running the blade along the skin without actually cutting. Mary Anne can hear his sharp intake of breath from the corner of the hallway. “C’mon, AJ, you jerk my chain, I jerk yours-”
“With Salazar’s piece of ass?”
“I use who is available.”
Thanks, Mary Anne thinks, but she’s starting to be amused despite herself. She had been wondering why exactly he had agreed to dance with her, and now she’s curious as to just how many games like hers and his are played. Clearly, she’s just going to have to pay more attention to the underlings and peers of the criminal world.
Sands’s hand is on Barillo’s arm and just as lightly as she had traced the knife he traces his fingers down to her wrist, her hip and with her knife still at his collarbone he bends his head down and kisses her. Deep and hard and his fingers dig into his wife’s hip even as his other arm draws her close. Her free arm curls around his neck, and Mary Anne resists the urge to wolf-whistle at them.
(Not by much)
“You,” Barillo (AJ?) says a little breathlessly once he pulls away, “are coming with me.” She slides the knife away and grabs his hand and as they go past Sands tosses Mary Anne a grin.
“I love my life,” he tells her brightly, and the pair vanish around the corner. Mary Anne manages to wait until she hears the elevator ping before she starts to laugh.
It’s a long time before she manages to stop.