beyondtheline | Tornadoes and skeletons and nacho dogs, oh my

Tornadoes and skeletons and nacho dogs, oh my

[So this is how he gets away with it, then. Cruz, a skeleton, with a skeleton horse, lives in a skeleton of a house with a skeletal barn attached - and he remains unseen, his home apparently abandoned, all the way on the outskirts of this thing that's barely a town.

Well, you do what you gotta do, and Johnnie won't turn down a kind offer of a safe place to stay the night. He can't help but grin at Chrissy having such a good time riding that bony horse as he pulls the bike in through the barn door and parks it to the side, then hops off.]

Hey man, we owe ya for this. Here.

[See, this is yet another reason it's good to stock up on alcohol. He finds their most recent stolen bottle of tequila and pulls it out as he saunters over to their host and offers it in an outstretched hand.]

On us. Uh, if you drink, that is. You do drink, right?

[Normally that would be a dumb question to ask but the guy appears to be actual bones. But, bones that can smoke, without lungs, so he can probably drink without a mouth, right?

That earns a laugh from Cruz.]

I sure do, fella. You don't have to, though. I'm not looking for any kind of repayment, just helping out a couple folks in need.

[Johnnie shakes his head and waves that attempt off.]

Nah, it's all yours. Or if you really insist, we can all split it tomorrow, the three of us an' the rest of your crew. Can't wait to meet 'em. They all skeletons too?

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Oh, no, you'd just stock it with the good shit.

[He grins and pats her leg. Someone else can work the counter. She's the one who slips the guy the goods, that's all. But, hell, if she wants to run merchandise from place to place then he won't complain one bit, and if she likes it she can keep it up, and if she doesn't, there are always other opportunities.

He gulps down another mouthful of coffee, and raises a hand to tangle fingers in her hair.]

Yeah, of course. Like I said, you give part of it but you keep the rest. An' what you give up goes back to all of us in a pool, anyway. But, I bought my bike, I bought my guitar. It's okay to have the things that make life worth living, otherwise what's the point?

[He'll think of a way to rephrase that, eventually. The things that make being part of the world matter? The stuff that - no, fuck it, even if his heart stopped ticking and his existence is tethered to some unknowable horror of an entity, he's alive in the ways that count to him. It still works as a metaphor.]

But, if you see a car you like out there on the road an' it costs too much, you just ask. I'll make it happen. That's shit we're real good at.

[Her hand reaches up to cover his, and presses his touch more firmly against her head. She nuzzles against his hand and smiles, so proud that he's hers. She knows that if there's anything she really wants, he'll find a way to get it for her. He always takes care of her, always makes sure she's happy.

Gratitude is on her mind as she turns her head to kiss the inside of his wrist.]

I'll let you know when I find the perfect car. And then we can paint it pink.

[As pink as the sunrise, maybe. Or as pink as bubblegum, that would be good too.]

Do you remember when we talked about racing cars? Can we do that still?

[Pink with strawberries on the backs of the mirrors, even. He grins and holds her close as he sips at the coffee, passing it back and forth any time she wants some for herself.]

Yeah, you bet. Street racing's a hell of a good time. Good way for you to work on your driving skills, too, you know? Gotta make all those fast decisions.

[He stretches out his legs beside hers like they're in the front seats of a car, and one-hands an invisible steering wheel as he pulls it hard to one side, then the other, making engine noises until he can't help but laugh at himself and let his hand flop back into his lap.]

When we come in on the 10? That's a good track, an' real easy to follow. Freeway racing's real fun. We'll just do that out farther east from downtown until you're good, so you're not tryin' to race LAPD also. Man, those bastards got all these helicopters too, so you really can't out-drive 'em if they've got one of their tin cans in the air. It's some real bullshit.

Why are they always trying to control everything people do? It's not like racing is hurting anyone. People are just having fun.

[Ugh, the police are such idiots. They sound like a real pain in the ass, controlling everyone else. Well, she rebelled against her mother and broke free. She can defy the LAPD too.

Now it's her turn to pretend to drive a car, complete with police siren sounds. Clearly, she's pretending to race and outrun an entire army of cops. Her reward for winning the imaginary race is grabbing the thermos from him for one last long drink.]

Will I still be able to see you every night? Or will you be busy a lot of the time?

[Okay, even he knows street racing definitely can hurt someone, but he's not going to correct her. It is fun, so it's worth the risk. Hell, the risk is what makes it fun! Who goes through life only doing shit that has zero risk to it? Doesn't sound like any kind of life to him.

He laughs along with her police race for sure, and tackles her with a hug when she apparently wins - though, after she has that victory drink so she doesn't choke on it.]

I'll be around, babe, you ain't gettin' rid of me that easy.

[He snickers and decorates her temple with a powdered sugar kiss.]

It'll be different though, I've got shit I gotta take care of, I've got the band, you know. But there's a lotta time where I can just hang out or we can go on a ride around town, or whatever. An' there'll be jobs where I want you with me, 'cause we work together so damn well, it'd be a waste not to use that to our advantage. I wind up downtown a lot since we need eyes out there, you'd be great to have right at my side.

[Now the the fear of him being busy all the time is gone, she's able to have one last doughnut. She's definitely going to be wired after all this sugar, but it's okay. They'll be in California before too long, and then she'll need to be energetic to keep up with everyone and everything once they're home.]

I'd really like to go with you sometimes. Whenever I won't get in the way.

[And she doesn't mean that in a self-depreciating kind of way. But she realizes that it's going to be different being stationary and not being alone together all day, every day for days on end.]

If I wanted to go to school, would you mind if I did that?

Just gotta join us, then you can come.

[He shrugs, matter of fact. But more and more it does sound like she intends to join, and that's a relief to him. She's obviously capable enough to handle herself, even though he worries about her anyway, just because she's a girl and young and naive to all of this. But she'll pick it up fast, he's sure of it.]

Of course I wouldn't mind. School's great, learning stuff's always good. An' we recruit from schools too, you could be part of that. Hell, we got kids sellin' in schools, but I dunno if that's your thing. Pot, okay, don't think I'm sayin' we go an' sell acid to thirteen year olds, though it might do 'em some good now an' then.

[Ah, to be that young and especially enthusiastic, when every drug was new and worth trying once, twice, ten times. He's not going to get nostalgic about first-ever weird trips or anything, but that was sure a time in his life.]

[Chrissy leans back and eyes him with both eyebrows arched. Yeah, she's now totally thinking they sell acid and all kinds of things to thirteen year olds.]

I mean, getting high over and over again has done me a lot of good. But I'm not selling to thirteen year olds. I was thinking about maybe trying community college or something. I'd sell to adults.

[He's just earned a playful tweak of his nose.]

I don't want to go back to high school and be a cheerleader again or anything. I was so close to graduating, it feels like it's time to grow up.

[He grins as he tries to pull his head away, but to no avail, and bats at her hand.]

Aw, hey! I just meant, before you got the wrong idea I'd explain. Didn't think you were gonna go hang out with kids that age, c'mon. You sell to adults all you want, babe, you'll be everyone's favorite new friend at school.

[All right, one last doughnut, then he dusts off his hands.]

Mm. Oh, one more thing, before I forget. Words you hear now an' then that you don't go repeating unless you want your teeth punched out. Don't be all cutesy like Miss Toni an' go callin' people cholito or cholitito, okay? In fact, don't even be not-cutesy about it, if someone ain't already your best friend, don't say cholo or chola, it'd be weird comin' from a white girl. You got that?

[Just a friendly heads up, mostly since that's one of those words that can be completely fine or super offensive and he doesn't know how to tell her when it is and when it isn't, so... Probably best to just not, he figures.]

[She's getting the idea there's probably a lot of things that she shouldn't do or say as a white girl, and appreciates the warning. Him asking her if she gets it makes her sit up a little straighter though, and she nods as she stands up to start picking up their breakfast.]

I won't say it. I promise.

[As a white girl, it's probably going to be pretty difficult to make best friends. The last thing she wants to do is make it harder on herself by saying things that are offensive.]

What else shouldn't I say? Maybe I should just only try talking in Spanish to you, when we're alone.

Oh, it's just a respect thing, you know? Use your Spanish, I ain't sayin' don't, but watch out for the slang until you know how to use it.

[Especially for words like that one in particular, which has a whole mess of meanings he's not about to go in depth into, and not just the meaning he knew Miss Toni intended earlier in the night which was just meant to tease and not to actually piss him off. She can get away with it in ways that someone who looks like Chrissy absolutely can't.]

Or if you hear someone joke about themselves an' say they're pocho, don't repeat that one either.

[He should really get around to helping her learn proper Spanish sometime, rather than only telling her about swear words and slurs and sex stuff, but, whatever.]

Actually, one you're more likely to fuck up that you should know, is if you're talkin' about someone's mama, you say mamá, you don't use madre, 'cause that one gets turned into a real serious insult more often. You say something about "tu madre" an' you'll get a chair swung at your head. It's like callin' someone "you motherfucker", the "fucker" part's just implied.

[Her eyes go comically wide, and she slowly nods her head. The first sign that what he's told her has made her anxiety go up to a ten is her teeth pressing against her lower lip, followed by her hands fidgeting together in between picking things up. The pacing comes next, hands knit together nervously, and she's grateful that she has the distraction of getting things back to the bike to focus on.]

But you'll help me learn, right? Really learn?

[She wants people to like her so badly that it's ridiculous. She wants friends, real ones. And she doesn't want to mess that up by saying the wrong thing. Life with the World Enders comes with a lot of rules, despite the fact they seem pretty chaotic and hedonistic. They've just got a different code that they live by, one she isn't used to.

He keeps telling her that he'll get her in with the gang, but she thinks there might be very real odds that she just won't fit in no matter how hard she tries.]

Aw, babe. Yeah, of course. Hey, we could do Spanish-only nights sometime, like, you an' me, no English at all, once you're at the point where you know a bit. That might make it go faster.

[She gets up and so he does too. Camping sounds nice but they need to get the bike farther from the highway before that happens. By now the sun is up and starting to feel warm, so it's time to go cuddle somewhere shady and quiet.]

Also, you don't have to know Spanish at all, you know that, right? I mean, just about everyone speaks English most of the time, an' it's a whole mix, too, people from all kindsa backgrounds. You won't even be the only white girl.

[He's told her this before, but with how she's so nervous, it's hard to know how much that sank in. He catches her in his arms once they're back at the bike with their things, and he kisses her, then smudges powdered sugar off her chin.]

It's just California, baby girl. You ain't goin' to Mexico or some shit. It's not that big a deal.

I know.

[She presses her hand over his arm and relaxes against him.]

I want to speak Spanish because you can. It's a part of you, so it's important to me. I just don't want to mess it up.

[Normal people mess up all the time and don't care that much about it. But she's been conditioned for seventeen years to show nothing but perfection, and it's going to take some time for that to completely go away. He's so patient with her all the time, and she doubts that will change even if she messes up. She's messed up a good number of times with him, and he always helps her through it.

She better pay him back by getting him to lower his head enough that she can lick off that blueberry lip stain she left on his cheek. That done, she really can't resist kissing him, slow and sweet.]

And I think I might be pretty tired after everything. I always overthink when I'm tired. What does pocho mean, anyway?

Edited 2023-06-18 06:19 (UTC)

[That... honestly makes him feel warmer and fuzzier than it has any right to, her wanting something just because it's a part of him, his family and heritage. He bows his head at her urging him to, then smiles into that kiss as he holds her close and enjoys the feel of her lips on his. She's so goddamned good, he can't work out how he got this lucky.

About to hop on that bike next to them so they can find their camping spot, he's stopped by her question first, and chuckles as he lets his arms fall to where they end up looped loosely around her waist.]

It's a rude fuckin' thing to call someone, is what it is, unless they're using it to make fun of themselves. Every now an' then you get these asshole Mexican tourists who might say it, though. Like me, I'm pretty fuckin' pocho. My accent's wrong, sometimes I forget words, you know. So it's one a' those things they'd say to try an' put guys like me down, like we're lesser than them 'cause we're too American. But fuck 'em because I'd rather be American anyway.

[He shrugs, then rubs her back as he pulls away to help her onto the bike, then hops on himself.]

People are assholes for the dumbest reasons, that's all there is to it.

[That both answers her question and doesn't at all, because she doesn't have an English word to attach meaning to. Except that it's rude, which is good enough. Just one of those things she'll never ever say.

He gets the bike going and she loosely wraps her arms around him, figuring he won't go too fast since they're just looking for someplace nice to pull over and sleep.]

If anyone calls you that in front of me, I'll stab them.

[Forget punching. When you're tiny and dainty, you have to stab to send a message.]

Your accent is cute and perfect. Especially when you're whispering into my ear.

See, that's what matters. I don't give a shit what someone else thinks, long as it gets you all hot an' wet.

[He grins and pulls off onto a dirt track that heads down toward what looks like an old, dry riverbed. There are more trees here, which is nice, but man, his isn't a dirt bike and it's tough going.]

I think we oughta walk this, I don't wanna pitch us down the hill - hey.

[Just as he's hopping off, he notices there are footprints in the dirt. Old, probably, faded by the wind, but they lead to, and then beyond, a rock cairn tucked away in the bushes.]

All right, not a camping spot. You wanna do something good for someone, though? Do we still have jerky left? Or anything that won't go bad.

[Do something good for someone?

Those are like magic words to her. She instantly perks up and nods, and waits to hop off the bike so she can dig through the saddlebags to pull out a jar of jerky and a jar of dried apples.]

Like these, mi querida?

[She leans over to kiss the tip of his nose before hopping off the back of the bike, clutching those jars close to her chest.]

How do you know it's not a camping spot though? Are other people already here?

[Yeah, she sees those footprints.]

Dunno if there's anyone right now, but I don't wanna get our shit taken while we're tryin' to sleep. We can leave something, though.

[He gestures to the cairn, but then decides to drop the kickstand for a moment and walk over to it. A cursory search of the bushes turns up trash only - empty water bottles, and foil wrappers.]

I dunno if it's a migrant trail or coyotes. Maybe it's both, I don't really know how all that works, but someone'll appreciate a bite to eat.

[He almost leaves it at that, but realizes he should define something before she thinks he means dogs.]

Coyotes are smugglers. Doesn't hurt to give 'em a hand, since some of our business relies on them getting through with the merchandise.

I think I remember you talking about the coyotes once!

[Either that, or it's knowledge she's picked up along the way. But she like the idea of helping others, especially if it's anyone that will assist the World Enders in the long run. So she looks to find the perfect place to tuck in the two jars. Once they're nice and secure, she steps back with a pleased smile.]

Let's keep going and find somewhere better to sleep. We need to get at least a few hours so we can make it back home later tonight.

[Her hand takes hold of his, and she brings their joined hands up toward her mouth so she can kiss at his knuckles.]

Hey, have you ever gotten to be a coyote before?

[Smugglers can only smuggle part time, she's guessing. Like a guest coyote experience. It seems like something he'd be really good at doing.]

[Yeah, they'll continue on, so he does, pushing the bike along down the rough river cobbles and away from the trail that cuts into the brush, heading north. It's nice in here, they'll find themselves a good spot to sleep that's away from desperate travelers.]

Me, a coyote? Hell no. I got enough to deal with just drivin' stuff through the city, I ain't interested in the long-distance shit. These guys move things across the border for growers an' gangs in Mexico to their contacts up here, and then we buy from those guys. Or, we have our own guys who ship stuff in to Long Beach, an' we pick it up there. No, cartin' drugs from Mexico to here, all alone in the desert? Sounds miserable. Lonely.

Maybe we could do it together sometime. Just to say we did.

[It sounds pretty dangerous though, so she just shrugs and lets that be that. Instead of worrying too much about it, she helps him push the bike along and keeps her eyes peeled for somewhere safe to sleep. It's quiet and still out here, so all they have to do is find the perfect tree.]

What about over there?

[She points over toward a tree that looks tall enough and provides some shade. It's also tucked away enough they won't be easily stumbled upon or bothered.]

Next time we travel like this, we need to make sure we bring a sleeping bag.

[Just one, so they can share.]

I'll think about it.

[Which he says with some amusement. The coyote life is not for him, that's the worst possible kind of low-level courier job. People do that stuff because it pays, not because it's enjoyable, and he'd rather enjoy what he does. If she wants to go to Mexico, they can just go to Mexico any time.

Anyway, she's found them what looks like a reasonable spot, and drags the bike over to it.]

Yeah well, next time will probably be a planned camping trip, not me on my own tryin' to keep from going fucking insane. So, sure, we can pack better.

[Bike propped into place now, he kicks branches and rocks aside and tries to make the ground something flat enough to sleep on. At a glance, it should stay shady enough here even as the sun shifts, so that's helpful. Even though it's been cold at night it could still turn blistering hot during the day.

With her help, he gets the blanket laid out, then grabs what's left of the jug of water so he can have a drink and also brush his teeth.]

[She takes the water after him so she can brush her teeth and splash her face, and has a little to drink too. The jug is set next to their blanket and she's quick to usher him to sit down with her so they can get comfortable. She's exhausted, and wants to just curl up and sleep.

First though, she needs a little cuddling.]

I think I did a good job. [She says out of seemingly nowhere, guiding his arm to wrap around her as she nuzzles up close against him.]

Of keeping you sane, I mean. We're not totally crazy or anything. Just really violent and ruthless.

[He makes himself comfortable on the blanket, and as she wraps his arm around her, he goes a step farther and pulls her close so she can rest her head on his chest, and so he can stroke his fingers through her hair. Fuck the blanket, she's soft and warm and easy to get all wrapped up in.]

Heh. Yeah, you did help. It's been easier, havin' you with me. You remember, right? I was still pretty jumpy about stuff right when I first ran into you. Bein' under the night sky really fucked me up for a while. And now, I almost feel like everything's pretty normal, most of the time. What isn't normal, I'm gettin' used to just fine.

[Thankfully, because man if he couldn't handle being out in the darkness of the night anymore he'd really have to rethink a lot of things about his life. Instead, he's gotten comfortable with what he is now, and having Chrissy around is a big part of that even if he's not exactly sure how or why she helped level him out. It's just that she did, and he's grateful.]

Tornadoes and skeletons and nacho dogs, oh my

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