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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: PG
Pairing: John/Jane, El/Sands
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Once Upon a Time in Mexico/Mr. and Mrs. Smith crossover.
Summary: Call it girlie-talk and somebody’ll shove pickaxes into your eyeholes.
***
“That was you? No shit. Now I really wish I had my eyes; we only got the one blurry photo of your ass.” Sands kicked back and put his feet up on the table. A bullet ricocheted off the ceiling and dust pattered on him, making him sneeze. He disgustedly dusted himself and sloshed the rest of his drink over the back of the sofa. “Back it off, boys. Take it to the kitchen.”
The woman beside him laughed, full and throaty. What much of her that he could feel might even have Ajedrez beat for curves. “My turn. You said you were working New York City two years ago. Dellacroce. Why’d he show up late?”
There was a thump followed by several punches, and then a body slamming into a wall hard enough to shake the whole shack. “I said the fucking kitchen, El!” Sands snapped. “That’s to the right. Fuck, and I’m the blind one…oh, Dellacroce. We were pulling him through this brothel he visited every week. Old guy got it up too hard that night, nearly had a heart attack in Fabio’s bed. Jesufucking Christ, he had the CIA jumpstart him just so he could get his head blown off by the NSA via you. It’s pretty funny, now that I think about it.”
“Hmmm. So when does yours usually give up?” Jane asked. Then she called to the tussle going on in the hall. “Honey? I’d like to get back to the hotel in time for siesta.”
Sands thought a moment, mentally recounting gunshots. “Depends. Today I’d say I have this other bottle of tequila that we could take care of first. Oh, and there’s the tiny issue that somebody hired you guys to kill El.”
“Well, I didn’t like them much anyway. The contact kept trying to look down my blouse.” Rustling paper. “Even trade—you scramble us up a compensation fee and we pass over the information on our former employer.”
“I think that’s doable.” Pause while Sands wrestled the goddamn cap off the bottle and poured himself a fresh shot. “Want to tell them now?”
Another pause while he passed the bottle to Jane. “Nah. Give them a few more minutes. A good fight always makes John so happy. It’s great for the sex.”
“Amen, sugarbaby.” Sands grinned, listening for how her clothes whispered and the sofa creaked. Then he stuck out his glass and clinked it against hers.
***