[FDTS] Follow Me Home

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom: From Dusk Till Dawn TV Series

Rating: Teens and up

Pairing: mainly Richie Gecko x Kate Fuller, (hinted) Seth Gecko x Kate Fuller x Richie Gecko, Seth Gecko x Kate Fuller, Seth Gecko x Richie Gecko

Genre: fanfiction

Characters:  Kate Fuller, Richard ‘Richie’ Gecko, Seth Gecko, (mentioned) Amaru, Carlos Madrigal

Summary:

When Kate walks through the portal to hell, she wants to kick the queen of hell’s ass. But that isn’t her only purpose; she has someone there she must definitely bring home.

She only hopes she isn’t too late.

Or what I imagine happened between Kate and Richie when they were in the underworld (which the season finale was running out of show time and didn’t bring to screen).

—

When Kate sauntered through the gate of hell (quite literally), her companion was a tumult of emotions: a boiling rage directing at Amaru for using and disposing her body as she saw fit; an acidic hatred for every monstrosity the queen bitch had committed on her loved ones, with her hand no less; a thirst for vengeance so hot Kate could wield it like a burning sword; an unjustified confidence that she would be able to close the portal and send Amaru back where she belonged; a clouding uncertainty of how she would actually do it, and finally, a gnawing fear that she might be too late, or wrong about Richie’s fate. Soon as she came around from her post-Amaru possession, she had caught glimpses through the queen’s eyes, brief glimpses that resembled snapshots from a paranormal camera. Thanks to them she was able to piece together a picture of what had happened to Richie, and she felt a profound relief that Amaru’s weird fixation on him had prevented her rampant murderous hand. Nevertheless, not until she was one foot in hell did she become oddly paranoid – a ‘hello’ from the other side that was. Her fists clenched, her arms pressed against her body and she gritted her teeth, bracing herself for what else the underworld had to offer.

Hell was nothing like her imagination stemmed from her Christian upbringing: instead of fire and brimstone spurting from numerous cracks on the earth and the sky black as ink, what presented to her sight was a vast desert land, the sun eclipsed and the whole scene dipped in an orange-ish hue not unlike an Instagram filter. No demons, no tormented souls, nothing. Only sand, and more sand. She had expected the underworld to be associated with fire, not with sand, but since the ‘Devil’ herself had no red skin, hircine horns and hooves, it kind of reconstructed her belief a little.

She walked, having no definite destination in mind, just letting her feet carry her by their will. When it came to this version of hell, Kate knew next to nothing; still, what her conscious mind failed to grasp, her body knew by itself. Her flesh, dead by the moment her last mortal breath had escaped her lungs, had been revived by the potent blood of the queen, every fiber imbued with her devilish power and ancient knowledge. Amaru had bled, yet in her impatience to walk in her own skin again, a tiny amount of blood had tenaciously stayed in Kate’s veins. Like a barbed red string winding around her wrist, binding her to Amaru. Whether it would eat into her flesh and consume her soul remained to be seen but right now, it was giving her a distinct leverage in this single mission through hell. If she concentrated her mind on finding Richie, who had been possessed by Amaru in Kate’s body before, it might just give her a lead to his whereabouts.

Kate closed her eyes as this habit helped gear her thoughts towards the younger Gecko. Images danced on her consciousness, black and white and distorted at first but quickly getting vividly colored and stable: from their fateful encounter at the pool, their bumpy ride to the Titty Twister, every horrific event happening at that hellish bar and beyond up to the final moments of her life as the human Kate Fuller. A spark of pain jabbed her abdomen as if the bullets were piercing her again and then it was gone. Her lips curled in a grimace. The stream of images didn’t end with her death; it kept flooding her mind and she soon realized she was seeing with another person’s eyes. It was difficult to tell whose; one second it appeared to be Amaru’s and the next, Richie’s. The constant flipping of perspective, coupled with her earlier blood loss, was making her head spin. One hand holding her forehead, her body hunching, she lamented the sore fact that there wasn’t a single tree in this barren land for her to lean on and balance herself. If this was a fraction of Amaru’s abilities that had become hers now, Kate figured it could take a while to get used to and actually gain control of it.

Well, Kate would be disappointed if it was too easy to plunder the queen’s powers.

There was a flicker and another switch of view occurred. Kate was perplexed because she couldn’t tell whose eyes she was seeing through this time. It was certainly neither Amaru’s nor Richie’s: Amaru was on the other side and there was no way Richie could be looking down on himself. Still, if it wasn’t Amaru or Richie, she couldn’t think of anyone else who possessed a mental link with her. She blinked furiously, deliberately cutting off the stream of images. She had seen enough and it was the time to act and if she didn’t act now, and fast, something ugly might happen. Kate had no luck guessing who else could be mentally connected to her – gotta save the question for later – but the sight she’d seen via her vision-sharing mechanism was worrisome: the reason she’d been able to look down on Richie was because his impressive height had been reduced by his kneeling position. Kate deduced that whoever was having Richie on his knees with a hand around his throat could never be an ally. With determined look, she straightened her back and moved forward.

…

Hell was everything like his imagination, Christian upbringing or not: a vast nothingness stretching out toward the horizon. There was no fire, no brimstone, no twisted bizarre creatures soaring in the dark sky, and it was exactly why this hell was frightening. For a man like Richie, a hell worthy of fear wasn’t a litany of red-skinned and horned demons stabbing their forks into human souls but something like this: an endless empty space and a harrowing knowledge that you would have to spend an eternity here, all by yourself. Loneliness cut deeper than any Xibalban blades and a mere thought of never seeing Seth again nearly shattered Richie’s mind, rendering him an insane beast that gnawed his own flesh. He was a man standing tiptoed on a precipice, and the only thing that kept him from giving into gravity was a sliver of hope – to return and save su hermano. Brought to him by Carlos fucking Madrigal no less. Vague as it was, this hinted that he still had a chance of return; if Carlito could hop back and forth between two realms, why couldn’t he? As far as he was concerned, they were both tampered by Xibalba. He just needed to figure out the way because Carlito, being the fucker that he naturally was, always failed to include the most crucial detail and this hell wouldn’t be kind enough to pop down some sort of door for him. Think, Richard, think.

“It’s futile, Richard,” a voice said. More like breathed into his ear.

Richie turned sharply to its source. A dark, obscure figure appeared in his sight. He shook his head and blinked, feeling like he was suddenly all myopic again. The figure was striding toward him with grace, speaking as they went, “You will leave here never. It’s your place and you belong with us till the end of time…”

The figure became clear at last. Richie couldn’t help but gasped as though seeing a ghost.

He was seeing a ghost. A ghost that made tear prick hotly at the rims of his eyes.

“Kate…” he muttered, reaching his hand to her. He needed to make sure that she was real and not a mirage.

“… as our slave.”

It was as if gravity just increased tenfold and heavy, invisible hands pushed him down on his knees. His expression twisted as sharp pain wrecked through him; his kneecaps might have popped. Her nimble fingers wrapped around his throats felt like cold hard vice. Smiling, she forced him to look up into her solid red eyes. The red looked as though it could be spilling out of her sockets any moment.

“Look how ready you are to be on your knees. I love that spirit. Born to serve.”

This couldn’t be Kate, Richie willed his mind to think. Kate was gone – Amaru had informed him with a triumphant note in her tone, having learned that the mortal girl’s death would easily pain him more than any psychological tortures she’d tried on him. Even if she was alive, the real Kate would never smile such a wicked smile, never speak in such a cruel tone, no matter how mad she was. The real Kate was light; this ‘Kate’ in front of him exuded darkness. She looked like Amaru while she had been in Kate’s body, except that he knew for sure the queen bitch was busy plotting and preparing her domination on the human world. He was in hell and this distorted impostor might just be his torture. A clever and effective one to make him submit. He would not.

The tips of her fingers became iron-hot and from there, heat invaded every nook and canny of his body. The blood in his veins was boiling – like goddamned ready-made soup being cooked in the microwave. It took every ounce of Richie’s will not to scream; the last thing he wanted was to allow her the satisfaction of knowing she was breaking him.

…

Kate arrived to the scene of Richie being put on his knees and anger immediately rose in her. His exposed skin was all red and blistering like he was having second-degree burn, except the eclipsed sun here did no harm to his kind. He was in tremendous suffering and his tormenter, it wasn’t difficult to notice, was the demon looking like her long lost twin, except she had none. Now she’d gotten her answer for her earlier mystery. It was her shadow self, as she had learned from her crash course about Xibalba: everyone on the realm of light had a demonic counterpart in the realm of shadow – sort of a yin-yang mirror. And hers was taking advantage of their shared countenance and memories to hurt Richie. Kate couldn’t help but being hotly reminded of how helpless she had been when trapped inside her own body and forced to watch Amaru have her way with her loved ones, all the while using her face as a mask. It should be different this time; back then she hadn’t a choice and right now she had, and she chose to act. Impatiently she scanned the area, looking for something she could use as a weapon. She let out an exasperated huff when she found none, not even a twig or a rock, just sand and more sand, the same as where she had left. She wished she hadn’t left the sword on the other side of the gate. Xibalban steel would do this vile thing wonderfully.

Her gaze landed at her feet. She had an idea.

…

It seemed to last forever, the agony, while in reality it was only a couple minutes before Richie heard a whack. Wrapped in pain, his mind was at a loss to decipher the meaning of such a peculiar sound. It took a while for him to realize it was the signal for his torture’s end: the pressure on his throat vanished, the air whooshed in and the pain subsided till it was only an echo withering away. Once again he was grateful to his culebra healing factor as it kicked in timely. Once he was all healed up and calmed down, his eyes cracked open to a too familiar visage. If it weren’t for the shimmering green eyes and the gentle quiver of her lips that together painted a kind, soft face, he would not be able to tell the girl in front of him, standing like an angel, from the monster this hell had conjured. Still, it was by no means reassuring at all. Who could tell if this god-sent girl, this Kate, was not another elaborate trap? After all, this was hell; what could not happen here?

Before Richie had finished his train of thought and managed a correspondence, this Kate stepped up, her tender expression hardened, and what she did next astonished even the likes of Richie: steadily and repeatedly she hit her doppelgänger, who had sprawled on the sand after her first sneaky first blow, until the body stopped writhing. As if enthralled by her violent fit, Richie watched her unblinkingly, alternating his gaze between the newly arrived Kate and the fallen Kate. Then he noticed wisps of pale green smoke emitting from the unmoving body. With preternatural speed he didn’t know he had, Richie launched at Kate – the angelic-looking one of course – and pulled her out just in time, instinctively shielding her body with his own, as the body exploded, sending gooey bits in every direction.

With their bodies pressing together, his on hers, Richie could hear both their hearts tattooing in their rib cages. So she had heartbeat. That, coupled with the warmth and softness of her flesh that he felt despite the barrier of their clothes, helped him decide that the Kate underneath him was not a phantom. She was real; moreover, she was breathing and living and though Richie had no idea how it was possible that she was alive, he realized he just didn’t care. All that mattered was her breath ghosting on his face and her voice saying his name.

“Richie…”

“Kate…”

Just like that, time went back to the moment at Malvado’s lair when they first met each other again after months.

“… Get off me please. You’re crushing me.”

“Oh sorry.”

Richie clambered off her, less gracefully than he would like, stood up and brushed the sand off his suit, out of habit more than anything because it was already dirty anyway. He held out his hand to help her up, and was surprised that she took it wordlessly, free of hesitance. Only when she was on her feet did he notice Kate was wearing only one boot.

“You were using your boot?” he asked, his tone half amused, half curious.

“I improvised,” she replied, shrugging as she glanced at the scattered remains of her evil ‘twin’. “Steel-heeled. The bitch has a fetish sort of, which comes in handy.”

Somehow he wasn’t startled by her natural usage of coarse language.

“She said you were dead.” Amaru’s words echoed in his head as if she was standing right behind, whispering in his ears. Their connection still hold, meaning the bitch was still kicking. He would be shocked if she wasn’t.

“She knows nothing.”

“Pretty sure her first name isn’t Jon and her last name isn’t Snow.”

Kate didn’t intend to chuckle. She did.

“Still she knows nothing. Seth arrived in the nick of time and gave me a blood transfusion. I was lucky that our types match.”

“He’s never not timely,” Richie said. “And he’s type O so he can give his blood to anyone. Why did you come here?”

It would be sensible, he fathomed, that she leave this ghost town as soon as she came to herself. Anyone in her shoes would make that choice and no one, not Seth, not him, could begrudge her for getting out of this mess that they had dragged her deep into. Nonetheless, against all his rationality, he was beyond happy to see her. Her presence had brought not only joy but also hope, radiant and warm and burning strongly.

“The world is literally ending out there, Richie,” replied Kate, “so it’s no use running anywhere. It’s only a matter of time before she takes over and enslaves us all. Besides, I’ve got some scores to settle.”

“How did you come here?”

“Same way you did, through the portal. I saw it through her eyes, probably some sort of psychic residue due to her blood in me.”

A look of concern crossed his countenance. Before he voiced it, Kate said, “I got it under control… for now I guess. That’s why I know once I walk through the gate, her power will be returned to nourish the realm of shadow.” She looked around. “She isn’t the queen in name; her energy does bring this place to life.”

“You already walked through it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I’m feeling it being sucked out as we speak. We have to hurry before it’s completely dry and we’ll be lost in here.”

“And before Seth commits suicide over our collective ‘losses’,” he quipped, just to lose a bit of tension.

Kate crossed her arms, giving him the look. “Not funny, Richie.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said meekly. Something occurred to him. “We’ve already lost much time!”

“Time passes differently here as it does outside, which gives us a little more. Still, we’d better go now.”

Kate took him by surprise as she grabbed his hand. Her hand still felt so small in compared to his that it ended up being wrapped in his instead. She did not protest the shift.

“Let us go home.”

…

They were but only one step out of hell when Kate turned to Richie and conveyed through her gaze.

“Just to be clear, I’m still mad at you about last time.”

He smiled, daring to squeeze her hand a little. “Rightfully so.”

It had already ranked top in his agenda, to make amends for her, even if it’d take a lot of time. Fortunately, time was what he had in plenty.

…

It didn’t have to be spoken, only taciturnly understood, that once it was all over, if Kate refused to join Scott and his little fang-y gang, she would lot herself in the Geckos’ lives. For the brothers, this was the very first sneak peak of heaven after their long tedious episodes of hell.

Seth glanced at Kate’s feet, arched his eyebrows, then focused his gaze to her bare white foot.

Never before had he seen Kate’s feet, not even during their Mexican ‘honeymoon’. Neither had he had a foot fetish, unlike Richie, who had, with pleasure, licked the liquor off Santanico’s foot, but Seth thought he might be developing one.

“Why are you’re wearing only one boot?”

“She improvised,” Richie answered, having gained her silent approval. “Steel-heeled. The bitch has a fetish sort of, which comes in handy.”

“What does that suppose to mean?”

“It means,” Kate enunciated, looking at her outfit, “I need to go shopping. Have to rid the rest of the bitch’s vestiges.” She eyed the boys up and down. “You guys could use a change of clothes too.”

End

—

Note:

I’ve read some complaints that Kate completely ‘ignored’ Richie in the season finale and I don’t think it’s true at all. Sure they didn’t exchange a word onscreen, which I admit is a bit of disappointment. Still, watching the episode again, I noticed the knowing look they gave each other as they were walking with Kisa and Scott. They didn’t really have to speak because they’d already spoken what needed to be said when they were in hell. My guess is either Kate found Richie or they ran into each other and that’s how this fic came into being.

This story happens before other FDTD fanfics I wrote: Don’t Think About Tomorrow (We’ve Only Got Today), ‘Tis a Night at Jacknife Jed’s  and Sink Your Teeth into My Flesh.

Title from Shel’s Follow Me Home.

[Quick review] From Dusk till Dawn (1996)

(Hình ảnh lấy từ nhiều nguồn, chủ yếu là tumblr.com và Google)

Warnings: cố gắng ngắn gọn nhưng không đảm bảo không lan man, spoilers là chuyện thường ngày ở huyện, ngôn ngữ thiếu nghiêm túc, có thể chen 2-3 thứ tiếng

…

Bạn Joel từng xem From Dusk till Dawn (FDTD) cách đây rất lâu, trên kênh Cinemax. Có lẽ vì xem giữa chừng cộng với không chú tâm nên xem xong, hầu như bạn chẳng có ấn tượng gì với phim ngoại trừ ờ, phim có vampire, vampire hình như không xinh, có đánh nhau máu me, có người chết và kết cục sau cùng: một trai đẹp và một gái đẹp là hai người sống sót cuối cùng, trai đẹp và gái đẹp chở nhau đi về phía hoàng hôn. Thậm chí ngay đến kết cục bạn nói trên cũng là sản phẩm của trí nhớ cá vàng (hint: trai đẹp và gái đẹp sống sót nhưng đường anh anh đi đường em em về và the end). Bạn tự hỏi vì lẽ gì trí nhớ của bạn lại tạo ra một ending khác 180 độ so với ending thật sự vậy nhỉ? Máu shipper lên não bất chấp sự thật và logic chăng? Anw, bạn Joel không phải fan bự của Quentin Taratino (có xem và thích một số phim của bác như Planet Terror, Death Proof, Inglorious Basterds…) đến nỗi phim gì của bác cũng ráng xem bằng được, bạn cũng không hoài cổ đến mức một ngày đẹp trời đi download một phim có tuổi đời hơn 20 năm về ngâm cứu xem rút ra được chân lý sâu xa nào từ cổ nhân hay không. Lý do bạn tìm lại phim này là do dạo gần đây bạn lỡ sa chân vào fandom FDTD bản truyền hình (mới làm năm 2014, có khi bạn sẽ viết một bài dành riêng cho nó sau). Vì đã sa chân nên bạn muốn tìm hiểu mọi vấn đề xoay quanh phim, tất nhiên bao gồm cả bản điện ảnh original – bạn muốn xem bản truyền hình đã sửa đổi, thêm thắt những gì, và muốn tự mình đánh giá những thêm thắt đó hay hơn hay tệ hơn.

Bản điện ảnh VS bản truyền hình

Phim: From Dusk till Dawn (Từ Hoàng Hôn đến Hừng Đông)

Năm phát hành: 1996

Đạo diễn: Robert Rodriguez

Cốt truyện: Robert Kurtzman

Biên kịch: Quentin Taratino

Ngôn ngữ: tiếng Anh

Diễn viên:

George Clooney — Seth Gecko

Quentin Taratino — Richard ‘Richie’ Gecko

Harvey Keitel — Jacob Fuller

Juliette Lewis — Kate Fuller

Salma Hayel — Santanico Pandemonium

Trong bài này, bạn Joel sẽ không nhắc đến bản truyền hình (nó xứng đáng có một bài riêng, nếu bạn Joel đủ siêng) mà nói đến bản điện ảnh. FDTD là một bộ phim khá……. kỳ lạ (và có thể kỳ dị với một số bạn). Đây là nhận xét chung của nhiều khán giả; vào thời điểm nó được công chiếu, một số khán giả sau khi bước ra khỏi rạp đã thốt “The fuck I just watched?!” (“Mình vừa coi cái vẹo gì vậy?!”). Nhận xét này hoàn toàn không làm quá và nếu như bạn không xem trailer, không đọc spoilers trên mạng cũng chưa từng ngó qua tập nào của FDTD bản truyền hình, khả năng cao là bạn cũng thốt lên một câu tương tự. Phim bắt đầu một cách khá đường đột bằng cảnh bắn nhau tưng bừng trong một tiệm bán rượu (và một loạt sản phẩm khác từ tạp chí khiêu dâm đến… giấy vệ sinh) giữa một cảnh sát (dù cảnh sát tèo trong vòng 3 nốt nhạc), chủ tiệm và hai người đàn ông áo đen: Seth (George Clooney) và Richie (Quentin Taratino – một trong những lần hiếm hoi bác đóng vai bự thay vì vai… bựa lèo tèo). Phim cho biết rằng Seth và Richie là cặp anh em Gecko cướp ngân hàng khét tiếng đang trên đường chạy trốn sang Mexico (đang nói xấu Mexico chăng?!). Trên đường, hai anh em Gecko tình cờ gặp và quyết định bắt cóc gia đình Fuller – Jacob, cha, Kate, con gái, Scott, con trai nuôi – nhằm lợi dụng chiếc RV của họ đưa hai người vượt biên. Đọc đến đây bạn sẽ nghĩ FDTD là phim tội phạm (crime fiction) đúng không? Quả thật phân nửa đầu phim hoàn toàn giống phim tội phạm, tuy nhiên, đến khi nhóm Gecko-Fuller thành công qua biên giới và dừng chân tại quán bar kiêm strip club Titty Twister (nơi hai anh em Gecko hẹn đối tác bên Mexico), phim quay ngoắt 180 độ không hề báo trước, trở thành phim kinh dị siêu nhiên với dàn vũ công xinh tươi mơn mởn hiện nguyên hình là vampire, xơi tái khách trong quán. Nửa phần sau của phim thuộc thể loại survival horror khi các nhân vật của chúng ta – anh em Gecko, cha con nhà Fuller cùng một số khách (con người, tất nhiên) trong quán – phải chiến đấu với bầy vampire/zombie tràn vào như lũ, từng nhân vật ngã xuống và đến cuối, chỉ còn hai người sống sót và thoát khỏi ổ quỷ (trai đẹp và gái đẹp bạn nói ở đầu bài là Seth và Kate). Có thể gộp nhiều thể loại vào một phim như vậy, không biết đây là điểm mạnh hay điểm yếu của biên kịch tức bác già Quentin nữa?

Chẳng trách một số khán giả bị whiplashed và thốt lên câu trên sau khi rời rạp.

Với phong cách ‘phi thân’ từ thể loại này sang thể loại khác khiến khán giả bối rối như thế, khó mà nói FDTD có giá trị sâu sắc hay mang tính nghệ thuật, và có lẽ khi làm bộ phim này, đoàn làm phim cũng chẳng có tham vọng đoạt Oscar hay bất kỳ giải nghệ thuật nào với nó. FDTD là phim giải trí, vui là chính và (có lẽ) ship là phụ (hint SethRichie không ít và chắc chắn có người ship SethKate). Tuỳ cảm nhận cá nhân mà mỗi khán giả sẽ đánh giá tính giải trí của nó ở mức nào; với bạn Joel, FDTD là phim giải trí ở mức trung bình, chưa đến nỗi nhảm nhí nhưng khiến bạn xem đi xem lại và lần nào cũng cười lăn như The Producers (2005) hay Robinhood: Men in Tights thì không đến. Đối nghịch với số nhân vật tèo em (từ thứ chính đến phụ và qua đường), phim khá… ‘tươi sáng’ với nhiều chi tiết hài hước (hoặc khiến khán giả cảm thấy hài hước – tùy cảm nhận mà), mặc dù phần lớn là black humor đen thui thùi lùi: chẳng hạn anh em Gecko cãi nhau như hai đứa trẻ lên năm trong khi quán rượu sau lưng bốc cháy và nổ tung (ai đốt? Còn ai vào đây nữa), băng keo có thể giải quyết mọi vấn đề, kể cả một lỗ đạn to oạch nhìn xuyên thấu trong lòng bàn tay, hay những nỗ lực che dấu việc mình dần hoá thành vampire sau khi bị cắn của nhân vật Sex Machine (no kidding, tên nhân vật thật sự là Sex Machine)…

Vũ khí ‘đặc biệt’ của Sex Machine

Cũng có tác dụng ấy chứ =)))

Gore là một yếu tố nữa khiến người xem FDTD khó take it seriously bởi khán giả không quen xem gore sẽ thấy gớm còn khán giả quen với gore sẽ thấy nhảm và buồn cười. Nói một cách công bằng, phim không phải không có chi tiết nghiêm túc, cảm động nhưng chúng ít ỏi và không tài nào nổi lên được giữa một bể máu giả xanh lè cùng rất nhiều tay chân, đầu mình bằng cao su mà nửa phần sau của phim mang lên màn hình. Thông tin ngoài lề: để vượt qua bàn tay cắt xén của kiểm duyệt, phim đã giảm bớt yếu tố bạo lực bằng cách cho máu vampire có màu xanh lá. Không rõ việc chuyển máu từ đỏ thành xanh giảm được bao nhiêu phần trăm bạo lực khi mà tứ chi nội tạng vẫn văng tung toé với mật độ càng lúc càng tăng về cuối?!

Bạn Joel không muốn đăng hình gore nên thôi để đỡ hình vampire trong phim

Bạn Joel không mấy ấn tượng với diễn xuất của dàn diễn viên, mặc dù trong đó có những cái tên bự như George Clooney, Salma Hayek, nhưng với kịch bản campy và thiếu nghiêm túc như vậy mà bắt diễn xuất xuất sắc thì làm khó nhau quá, chỉ cần không đơ là ổn rồi. Tuy không đánh giá cao diễn xuất nhưng bạn chú ý nhân vật, đặc biệt là Santanico Pandemonium (Salma Hayek). Chị xuất hiện thật ấn tượng với màn nhảy cực sexy mà sau này người ta nói đến FDTD thì sẽ nhắc đến cảnh đó đầu tiên. Với vai trò nữ hoàng của các vampire trong quán, bạn Joel đã nghĩ boss không thể là ai khác ngoài chị và trận cuối chắc phải gay cấn lắm. Bạn đã lầm. Chị tèo cũng nhanh như sự đổi thể loại của phim: chừng 20 phút sau khi lên hình, chị đã chết một cái chết không thể lãng nhách và anti-climatic hơn, nhường chỗ cho đàn vampire cư xử như zombie không não tràn vào quán trong đoạn cao trào. Thật là hết sức phí phạm.

Richie cũng là một nhân vật mà bạn muốn nhắc đến trong bài này. Diễn xuất của bác Quentin thì bạn xin miễn bình luận vì bác cũng không phải diễn viên chân chính, có đóng cũng là đóng những vai qua đường siêu bựa trong chính phim mình làm hoặc phim hợp tác với Robert Rodriguez. Tuy mang tiếng là một trong hai vai chính, đứng cùng George Clooney trên poster nhưng dường như Richie chỉ làm nền cho Seth, để Seth nổi bật hơn. Mà làm nền cũng phải thôi, bởi vì so sánh giữa ông em dở hơi, có xu hướng bạo lực, bị hoang tưởng, là rapist và… không xinh trai cho lắm và ông anh lý trí, mồm miệng sắc bén, dù là cướp nhưng khá nghĩa hiệp, thương em đến mù quáng và… đẹp trai, khán giả ắt hẳn sẽ thích ông anh hơn rồi. Kết quả của việc ‘làm nền’ này là Richie tèo trước khi khán giả hiểu ất giáp gì đang xảy ra ở cái quán chết dẫm này, chỉ kịp tung một hint cuối “I love you too, Seth” (“Em cũng yêu anh, Seth”) trước khi nhắm mắt xuôi… à mà không, biến thành vampire và Seth buộc phải giết chết.

Nhân tiện, Richie bản điện ảnh và Richie bản truyền hình khác nhau nhiều lắm, ví dụ như Richie bản điện ảnh do bác Quentin đóng còn Richie bản truyền hình do Zane Holtz – cựu người mẫu – thủ vai. Ý đồ câu khách có thể rõ ràng hơn nữa không?! Dĩ nhiên, trong bản truyền hình Richie không còn ‘làm nền’ cho Seth mà cùng với Seth làm hai nhân vật chính dẫn dắt câu chuyện.

(Bạn tưởng tượng bác già Quentin sau khi nhìn dàn cast FDTD bản truyền hình sẽ xụ mặt xuống và nói với bác Robert thế này: “Ông xỏ tui đấy phỏng???)

…

Túm lại, FDTD là phim giải trí, bạn xem với tư tưởng xem phim giải trí thì thấy nó không tệ, thậm chí khá vui; còn nếu bạn xem một cách đứng đắn và trông đợi điều gì đó đứng đắn từ phim thì bạn thua rồi.

[FDTD] Sink Your Teeth into My Neck

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom: From Dusk Till Dawn TV Series

Rating: Teens and up

Pairings: Seth Gecko x Richie Gecko (yeah, it’s incest), Seth Gecko x Kate Fuller x Richie Gecko (yeah, it’s threesome)

Genre: fanfiction

Characters:  Seth Gecko, Kate Fuller, Richard ‘Richie’ Gecko, Kisa/Santanico Pandemonium

Warnings: 3some, incest, language

Summary:

“You fucking turned me into a monster!” Seth roared, finally snapping. “Now you’re egging me to act like one!”

“Monster, that’s how you’ve always seen us, despite all what you’ve been through,” Richie gritted through clenched teeth. “That’s how you’ve always seen me. Welcome to the club, big bro. We’re all equal.”

—

Amongst Richie’s many antics that came as bonuses of his culebra status, there was one in particular that Seth had mixed feelings about. Others, well, let’s say Seth’s attitude towards them ranged from annoyed (his keenness to pick up random, if not sometimes weird, talents from his kills) and disturbed (his habit to glare with slit-pupil eyes, bare his fangs and growl – positively animalistic – when they got into a heated fight) to downright disgusted (the bloody – no pun intended; he wasn’t British – mess he created with a meal, although recently he had taken Kate’s advice of ‘drink ‘em, turn ‘em, stake ‘em’ to clean up after himself but Seth figured it was Richie’s sanguinary lust rather than the mess that upset him – scared him actually). So, negative in general.

Feeding (Jesus how that word left a bad taste in Seth’s mouth), however, wasn’t the only culebra tic that involved blood; there was another and that was the one thing getting Seth’s feelings bewildered. For a lack of better, more scientific term if there was ever science about this whole serpent business, he would call it ‘being in heat’, courtesy of Kate when she accidentally walked in on them in the middle of it. Her reaction? She just grabbed the nearest sit-able object, sat down and observed them, wearing a look of amused curiosity on her pretty face, till they finished and descended from cloud nine and offered her own understanding from her high school biology’s knowledge. It was four-part awkward – embarrassing even for thugs like Seth and Richie – and six-part aroused to be the sole focus of her smoldering gaze, and if Seth hadn’t already flushed from what Richie’d done to him, he might have blushed like a fucking teenage punk. “Many girls like watching guys in sweaty action,” Kate had nonchalantly explained it to them later, “bonus points if the guys are hot. It’s not very different from guys watching porno.” Preacher’s daughter, right. They both came to a realization that they had vastly underestimated their little princess. Kate Fuller never ceased to amaze them, for better or worse, and they were heads over heels for her because of that.

Back to the ‘being in heat’ business. He didn’t know if snakes, both with and without legs, were ever ‘in heat’ and he didn’t really care; nevertheless, when he contemplated it at some point during his idle time, Seth had to agree that Kate’s term was really the best description. He had thought it came sporadically at first, but as it’d happened again and again, he had begun to believe there might be a pattern, which he was too occupied with many other affairs to try figuring it out; for Christ’s sake he had no habit to keep a calendar for his little brother’s ‘periods’. No luck asking Richie when it arrived either; the fucking dumbass probably had even less idea than Seth. He could safely guess it didn’t bother Richie as much as it should have, and fairly so because it didn’t hamper his ability to plan a job or execute one and when it came to pay a visit, it always conveniently happened where it could be thoroughly dealt with. The lucky bastard.

So, here was how it basically went: some time during a humid day (Seth theorized that it had something to do with the temperature, what with his brother being cold-blooded and all but he was no zoologist), Seth was doing whatever shit he was doing in their place, binge-watching a show, having a chilled beer, working out, heck, even taking a brief shower to cool himself, when Richie emerged from their room while he ought to be slumbering his ass out like a nocturnal creature would. Then he stalked to Seth, having that dazed look as if he was sleepwalking, suddenly grabbed Seth by his collar (if he was wearing a shirt), fanged out and sank his cute little fangs into his elder brother’s goddamned jugular. What he did he did with a viper-strike speed that left Seth very little to absolutely no chance to defend himself. One could argue that Seth should have learned a thing or two after having been jumped so many times but no, culebra-Richie in heat was a dozen-plus times faster than culebra-Richie and even if Seth fully knew it was coming from all the telltale signs, all his fucking reflex was never enough to get him out of Richie’s clutch. At first he had tried to run but a few steps was the best he could manage. Damn all the shades in the place once and his inability to just incapacitate Richie with a lead twice – couldn’t find it in his heart to hurt his little brother, even if big culebra boy could take so much more than a mere bullet. In grim retrospect, Seth was convinced that if every culebra normally behaved like Richie did, the Mexicans wouldn’t have survived long enough for the Spanish conquistadors to land on the shore and convert them.

The first time Richie had jumped him, Seth had been convinced that his brother had intended to kill him for good. Maybe he had been containing his urges for so long and it had backfired on him; maybe he had finally lost it, his bloodthirsty culebra side taking over; maybe he had reached what was called the ‘ripper’ state (got that term from a teenage vampire show that was a bit too violent for teenagers) and sought to rip anything on legs in sight. Seth had feared for Kate when she got home despite knowing their girl could handle much more than Seth ever gave her credit for, but if it was Richie, Kate’s guard would go way down, making her the perfect prey. Seth tried to jerk himself free, kicking and using many tricks from his dirty book but Richie’s grip was uncompromising. All his efforts had been in vain, just like the first time at Titty Twister.

That fucking first time.

Reality proved that Seth’s overthinking tendency once again got ahead of the situation – in most situations it was an advantage, allowing him to judge and react promptly. Richie’s fangs did find his artery but didn’t sink in as deeply as necessary to mangle the flesh like Seth had watched him in the act before. He took his damn sweet time to mouth at Seth’s neck, his lips dry and cool yet feeling like ember pressing on Seth’s skin. His snake tongue darted out between his lips to gather the droplets seeping from the twin wounds while his arms caged Seth and his hands roamed over his brother’s body, cupping a little here, squeezing a little there, altering between tenderness and sadism and making Seth shiver against his taller frame, his hairs standing on end. It was so wrong on so many levels, to have your own brother touching you in all the wrong places, and yet to Seth it felt so damn right he could weep (it was figurative speaking). He thought he was supposed to feel profound shame but he didn’t; rather, he enjoyed Richie’s ministrations, questions of moral and such be damned. Again, what aspect of their life that wasn’t wrong for others but right for them: from growing up without a mother figure, becoming orphans at young age and professional criminals when they got older to sharing the love and body of one girl and being more than cool about it? As far as Seth was concerned, this was just another bullet point in the long, seemingly unending list of Gecko quirks.

When Richie finally began to suck, he did it at such a torturously low pace that the earlier panic of his brother going off the rail receded from Seth’s mind, replaced by puzzlement and, well, if he had to admit it, arousal, a huge rush of blood traveling south. Brutality wasn’t the only essence of Richie’s feeding; there was also speed, sharp, ruthless speed that allowed his victims five to eight seconds to struggle at most; unlike how many sappy shows took artistic license in portraying vampirism, Richie didn’t prefer to drag out his meal, and if there was something to savor, it wasn’t the taste but the satisfaction that his culebra system had been efficiently nourished and he had absorbed some useful skill from the once-whole soul.

Richie drank languidly, taking small sips of life essence from Seth. Blood was the conduit of the soul, as he liked to remind his brother, and Seth hallucinated his soul was inevitably leaving his flesh suit, piece by piece, due to Richie’s pull. What did his soul taste like on Richie’s culebra taste bud? He had plenty of sins and he wondered if that had any particular effects on the flavor because Richie seemed determined not to let go of him until he was satiated. One of his arm held Seth in place, keeping him standing although Seth’s legs were liquefying, while the other dipped below his waistband. His tight jeans strained against Richie’s knuckles as he started to fondle Seth.

Nobody ever questioned Richard Gecko’s multitasking ability, certainly not Seth.

Before he had fully registered what the heck Richie’s problem was, Seth found himself flat on his brother’s cool naked body, trying damn hard to catch his breath with heavy pants after exertion in the state of blood loss. He had no more clothes than his brother, his skin was uncomfortably sticky and his neck throbbed with dull pain. He lifted his forefinger to scratch the wounds and was unsurprised to see reddish brown crusted under his fingernail.

“The fuck, Richard?” Seth growled, voice hoarse. He forced himself to unlatch from Richie’s body and grimaced with a sting immediately shooting up his spine from where he’d been ‘duly fucked’. Guess some irresponsible idiot of a brother had hastened the prep. “Didn’t we agree that you kept your fangs 31256 fucking miles away from my neck?”

Richie rubbed his eyelids and opened his eyes, the whites of which being bloodshot.  “I don’t know, man,” he replied, half-groaning and Seth could almost hear honesty in his voice. “I woke up with this incredible urge blazing in my guts to re-taste the first blood I’ve ever had. I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s it? You were in the mood for a snack after your nap and you jumped me?”

“Your blood,” Richie corrected. “In case you forgot, the first blood I’ve had was yours.”

“You know what, Richie,” Seth said, curling his fingers, “I’m having this incredible urge blazing in my guts right now to knock your fangs off with my fist.”

Then he acted on it. Nobody ever doubted that Seth Gecko was not a man of his word.

(No fangs was knocked off but Richie suffered a temporarily broken nose, which healed right after the first crimson drop dotted the duvet. Kate still questioned it however.)

After a couple more broken noses and the extension of his flame tattoo, Seth decided to give Kisa a call because there was nothing abnormal about chinwagging with his brother’s ex in his free time. Fire-forged friends, he and the serpent queen were.

He was considerate enough to call at the time she wasn’t burying herself under the bed sheet to avoid the sun. Kisa, on the other hand, wasn’t considerate enough to not find his current situation with Richie amusing. Seth could hear her laughter bubbling on the other line, waiting to burst.

“That’s what happens when Richard didn’t listen to me,” Kisa said.

“Excuse me?”

“His first blood has to be his first kill, Seth,” she replied. “Culebra system’s funny like that. Usually it doesn’t pose a problem as baby culebras don’t have enough self-control to spare their first victim like Richard did. It takes a lot of practice.”

“His first blood happens to be mine,” Seth snarled. “Are you saying Richie should have done me?”

Kisa, being Kisa, possessed no tact bone in her snake skeleton. “Yes, he should. But he didn’t, and now he’s plagued with an occasional craving for your blood. I’m surprised you’re still alive after, what, how many times already? Are you still man?”

“Every goddamned bit,” he barked. “Tell me how to fix it.”

“Putting half a state between you and him. The distance should help.”

“Not an option.”

“Killing you.”

“Fuck that.”

“Killing him.”

“Fuck you.”

“Then it’s incurable.”

Did he hear a chuckle from her?

“Thanks a ton.”

Grunting, he hanged up.

…

As time went, Seth began to accept that he might not abhor Richie’s little ‘episodes’ as much as he thought he had and that where the confusion started. He still felt anger, and if he dared to admit, vulnerability, shimmering in his stomach when his brother ‘was in the mood for a snack’, but each time it took Richie a little less effort to have his older brother squirming in his tight embrace, fully aroused and ready for come what may. Seth was surprised himself to discover that he could get hard while his neck got bitten – had never been one to have blood kink or enjoy any blood-related kind of foreplay. Nevertheless, he supposed what really got him was the side of Richie that lurked under his calm and collected exterior yet rarely surfaced. He was never not treading carefully around Seth and Kate as if subliminally scared by the prospect of his culebra instincts triumphing his human mind and hurting his two dearest people in this world. It particularly showed when they engaged in copulation: Richie was always thoughtful, always gentle and always held back; no matter how Seth and Kate tried to coax him into adding a little roughness to their ritual for the sake of fun, he didn’t comply. But this Richie was different: he acted less on his rationality and more on his nature, meaning he had foregone his usual self-imposed restraint. That made him more open, more vulnerable and generally more like the little brother that was the core of Seth’s protective-big-brother syndrome. How Seth just loved it.

So, when Richie once again wrapped his arms around him and penetrated his jugular vein, Seth only muttered a small curse under his breath and resigned to his fate, hoping the boring part would pass quickly for the fun one to start. It was a sweltering afternoon in June and he was aching to release a bit of the heat by some sweaty actions – not the soundest logic to exert in hot temperature but still. It was a shame Kate had left earlier to attend Scott’s rock concert; he would much prefer her to be home – her presence and her gaze on them showing unveiled excitement made things all the more better.

That meant Seth wasn’t prepared for a stab of heat entering his bloodstream through the puncture wounds and the burning sensation went straight to his brain. It was pain, pure searing pain, the kind one couldn’t describe unless they had been injected with a syringe full of acid and somehow survived that to put it into words. Seth’s vision went white in milliseconds and his voice’s crying Richie’s name came out broken. He tried to break free but Richie’s arms were unyielding as they snaked around his torso like iron vines. Seth realized, perhaps for the first time, with grim despair how wide the gap between his own strength and Richie’s was. He might have won their fights before using tricks but in a fair test of brawl like this, he against Richie would not be different from a Xibalban jaguar warrior against a newborn culebra. His last thought before his brain shut down was “It’s really bad.”

It was also his first thought when his brain restarted and he found himself in the darkness of their shared bedroom. The lights were completely off and since their room was underground, there was no window and streetlight to give some indications of time, yet Seth knew it was precisely six hours till dawn thanks to the grandfather clock on the wall. That was when his entire being was alarmed: despite the ink-thick darkness engulfing the room, he could see the hands of the clock as if in full light. Not only the hands of the clock but just about every object in this room and all the characters on the movie posters. Sight was not the only aspect this weird sudden acuteness touched; his sense of smell and sense of hearing were also enhanced. As his nose singled out the many scents mingled in the air, the sweats dried and forming a sheen on his skin, the new turquoise paint Kate had picked for their room’s makeover (Richie’d complained about the smell for hours on end), the lavender-sweet perfume on Kate’s vanity, sounds flooded into his ears and strangely enough, he could distinguish them as he did the scents. Because his hearing had gotten so keen, the beating of his own heart, in sync with another’s, was thunderous.

Seth was certain he hadn’t been born a superhuman and a few hours ago, he had had none of these super-senses. It was as if his ordinary senses had been scooped out and replaced with extraordinary. For all he knew, it could only mean one thing.

Seth made out Richard’s features effortlessly: the lines of his jaw, the shape of his nose, his cheekbones, even the blue tint in his eyes, fixing on Seth’s face like there was nothing else in the world worth seeing. Normally Seth would be so turned on by such look and would want nothing else than to drag his brother into the carnal pleasure they both knew was sinful and wrong but neither cared. But today Seth got a humongous turn-off looking at Richie’s face: his expression was serene but focused, a stark contrast to the shadow clouding Seth’s, and the fact that his brother looked so calm, with no hints of remorse for what he had done, was a claw raking Seth’s insides, tearing him to shreds. Anger wasn’t enough to describe the torrent of Seth’s emotions at the moment, for anger was too simplified a word for what he was feeling. He wasn’t just furious; he was wounded by a bone-deep knowledge that his own blood had betrayed him, and god, was there even a greater agony than betrayal?

Holding that calm yet intense gaze, Richie extended his hand to Seth’s cheek. His skin no longer felt so cold as before; it felt normal and to Seth, everything that felt normal at the moment was freaky, just like what he’d turned into.

Been turned into.

“Now your fear due to our difference in strength is no more,” Richie said, his tone even. “Is that what’s been going inside your head the whole time? To be the only man in this snake pit and having to be on gua—”

Seth’s fist connected with his jaw, knocking his remaining words back and making him swallow them. The crunching noise beat against his eardrums. Painful, all this enhanced senses were; how a man could get used to them, he wondered. Still, it would not halt his hand from clamping around Richie’s neck. How fragile his brother’s bones felt under his fingertips. His fingers clawed, and he was raging with tangible, physical urge to rip Richie’s throat out. It would be a piece of cake with his newfound strength. The beast in him was hissing and spitting venom. The eyes in the vanity fair’s mirror staring back at him were glowing amber and in the center, two vertical black strips resembling a snake’s tongue stood out.

You’ve found your own venom, Kate’s words hauntingly echoed in the back of his head.

“Do it,” Richie wheezed, struggling to find his voice against the steely constriction applied on his throat. “I know you want to do it, rip my throat out. Do it now. Vent your anger. Don’t hold it in.”

The fingers tightened; a fraction of strength added and flesh would tear and bones would snap. Seth held it right there, just one short step between retaining his humanity and giving in to bestiality. Eventually he would give in – a bloodsucker could only withheld for so long before he had to feed. He didn’t know how long he was able to postpone the inevitability.

“You fucking turned me into a monster!” Seth roared, finally snapping. “Now you’re egging me to act like one!”

“Monster, that’s how you’ve always seen us, despite all what you’ve been through,” Richie gritted through clenched teeth. “That’s how you’ve always seen me. Welcome to the club, big bro. We’re all equal.”

“We had a fucking promise, Richard, one you trampled on and dumped into shithole: you keep your venom to yourself! Never to Kate. Never to me!”

Richie laughed; although it came out chocked and distorted, for Christ’s sake he just fucking laughed. It was a harrowing sound that sent chill down Seth’s spine, if his snake skin could still feel chill. He supposed the chill was mental rather physical.

“What about our promise to never keep a secret from one another, huh?” Richie deadpanned, human eyes staring into Seth as if intending to drill the question through Seth’s skull and into his brain.

“What—”

“Blood is the conduit of the soul, remember, brother; when your blood is rushing to your cock, your mental defense sadly weakens. And if all that soul-sharing shit ain’t enough…” said Richie, taking the advantage of Seth’s grip going lax to sit up a little and open the drawer of the nightstand. He took out a crumpled piece of paper, somehow managed to straighten it out with one hand in awkward angle and handed to Seth. Seth’s eyes snapped back to his dark human ones as he scanned the contents. A lump formed in the back of his throat.

“Really, Seth?” He was using that bitingly sarcastic tone he often used to mock Seth, sometimes for fun and sometimes to drive him insane. “Cancer? The great Seth Gecko, professional thief, Xibalban slayer, dying of lung cancer?”

Seth was mute. Richie, not waiting for any reply, continued, “You know what stamps your ass as a particular jerk, besides planning to keep it to yourself till the last day and just leaving behind a note saying ‘Hey, I’m off for a romp with that bitch Amaru, you guys stay and behave’? You don’t think you can survive it at all. You already give up before it begins.”

Seth thought he needed a Jupiter-sized bottle of scotch to swallow his lump. He managed to do it without and raised his voice. “So you pried into my stuff and then my head and decided to take matter in your own hand. Damning me to the fate of a reptile, is that what your genius snake brain says is the right thing?”

“It is the right thing,” Richie retorted. “Don’t think for a second that I’d stand by and fucking watch my brother die of cancer. I did what every brother would do.”

“No, you did it because you’re a selfish bastard—”

“Who doesn’t want to lose his brother,” Richie cut him sharply. “Tell me if it’s so wrong for me to want you to live. Think about Kate. You honestly want her to suffer another loved one’s death?”

“You leave Kate out of this. She has—”

This time, it was Richie’s fist rather than his words that cut Seth off. Having received an unexpected blow, Seth fell flat on the mattress, losing his threatening stance.

“That’s for Kate, prick,” cursed Richie. “She’s one of us. She is us.”

The cut on Seth’s lips healed before any blood spilled and any pain registered, but he was in no mood to pay attention to such triviality. He sprung back and in a fraction of a second, he resumed his hold on Richie, his eyes supernaturally glowing.

He was mildly disappointed that his brother was mostly submissive except for his eyes, two twin amber flames that were identical to Seth’s. The roof of his mouth itched. Must be his fangs aching to be out.

“Don’t use her as an excuse, Richard,” Seth hissed. “You crossed a line and that’s that.”

“Right, I crossed my line, after you crossed yours. Guess that makes the two of us, huh? Well, you may hate it, or me, as much as you like, but there’s no undo button for what I did and—”

A phone buzz halted Richie’s speech. Kate’s name appeared on the screen of his phone on the nightstand. He gestured for Seth to pick it up.

“Kate?”

Kate sounded excited on the other line. Though her voice was almost drowned in the sea of loud music and louder cheers, Seth had no trouble hearing her.

“Oh, Seth, I call to let you know that I’m gonna be home a bit late. After-concert party and all. So don’t worry about me, ‘kay?”

A moment of hesitation and she continued, a shift in her tone, “Please don’t kill Richie while I’m not home.”

Seth’s voice reflected his confusion. “What did you say? You knew what he did?”

He heard Kate take in a breath. “Yes. We’ll talk about it later, alright? For now, please don’t kill Richie.”

She repeated as though she sincerely believed, or feared, that he would tear Richie’s head from his neck. A portion of Seth’s wrath dissipated because of her pleading tone; as the same time, realization dawned on. He hang up.

“She knew, didn’t she?” Seth asked. He didn’t dare voice his suspicion that Richie and Kate might have planned it together.

“She found that piece of paper,” replied Richie. “Your blood confirmed it. Your mortality is inevitable because you’re fully human, unlike us, and it’s a subject we all try to skip around. But neither of us wants to lose you. At least not that soon.”

Seth’s rage had already reached its peak and now, he no longer felt it so scorching in his chest. Instead, exhaustion seeped in, exhaustion and something else.

The itch in his mouth only worsened. He tried to be ignore it and failed.

“You know, Kate refused to be turned even on the verge of death…”

“Her father also asked her to stake him because he didn’t want to become a bloodsucker.”

“I know. Her blood showed me when Malvado cut our palms. You know what else I got from her blood? A deep regret that perhaps she should have tried to convince Jacob to continue living. She doesn’t want to go on without you. Neither do I.”

His stomach was churning. In his ears, the rush of blood, both in his veins and Richie’s, became tidal waves. He only caught about half of his brother’s words.

Richie’s hand caressed the side of his face, fingers dry and cool. “What I was saying earlier is there’s no reversing what I did—”

“So I just have to roll with it, don’t I?”

“You won’t know if you’re cut out to be a culebra until you become one,” said Richie, slightly pressing his thumb at the corner of Seth’s lips. “From what you’ve done so far, I’d say you’re rolling with it just fine.”

Fine my ass, Seth mentally cursed as his self-control slipped and he bit Richie’s thumb, eliciting a shudder from his brother.

Richie tasted bitter, like bourbon-bitter and just as intoxicating.

For the very first time Seth had experienced the mystical engine of soul-sharing. Images flashed before his eyes like fast-forwarding a movie at top speed.

“Easy, brother.”

The thumb was removed from his mouth. Dazed, he stared at Richie’s face with yellow eyes, his mouth agape and his fangs glistening with saliva.

He didn’t expect Richie to crane his neck and bare his vein to him. “Come on, brother. Satisfy your hunger. You’ve fed me so many times, and I think it’s time for me to return the favor.”

Seth just smirked. Even without Richie’s offering himself to him, he would take it; he was ravenous and the prospect of finding a prey didn’t seem very appealing to a newly turned culebra with zero experience in the hunting business. If he had to spend the rest of his time as a snake, he might as well learn to be one properly. Not today though; today he wanted ready meal.

One hand pressing into Richie’s chest to hold him down, Seth dived in.

…

“How is he?”

“Belly full, neatly tucked in and peacefully sleeping,” Richie answered, gesturing to the body sprawling on top of his. Seth wasn’t exactly light-weighted and he hadn’t been able to relax for the past few hours. Half of his own body had gone numb, something he hadn’t known a culebra was capable of. Kudos for new discovery.

Kate was standing at the door, clad in form-hugging jeans, leather jacket and a Fanglorious tee –  special edition. Her hair was let loose and a bit tousled and her makeup smudged.

“Did you have a good time?”

“It was fun,” Kate replied, approaching the bed with ease in spite of the thick darkness. “The after-party was really wild though. I haven’t attended a party for so long I was a bit overwhelmed.” A short pause, her eyes gazing down at Seth. “So he’s a culebra now.”

“Yes. He was pissed off. Probably still is when he wakes up.”

Kate sat down on the mattress, her hand reaching to touch the side of Seth’s face as a habit. She decided against it, not wanting to disturb his sleep. “Shouting-pissed-off or punching-pissed-off?” she asked, scanning the walls. “Not shooting-pissed-off, I guess?”

“Biting-pissed-off,” Richie said, half-chuckling. “He nearly drained me. I almost believed he wanted to kill me in wrath but no, he was just hungry, like every other newly turned culebra.”

“No wonder you look so haggard,” Kate commented.

“Your eyesight has been upgraded again, I see.”

“I’m belonging more and more to the night as time passes. You want the neck or the wrist?”

“What?”

“Feeding, Richie. It’s too late to get you some pervert who messes with underage girls and expects to get away with it. You don’t want to show up in front of your employees tomorrow looking like the walking dead, do you?”

“Technically, I’m mostly dead,” he quipped. “Wrist, that’d be easier to moderate my drinking.”

Unceremoniously she brought her right wrist to his mouth and unceremoniously, he took her offer. They had done it a couple of times before, her feeding him when preys were dire, and every time, he went to great lengths to give her the least discomfort as possible.

She tasted like sweet strawberry popsicle on a summer day, cool and soothing just like he remembered, but today there was a little spice added to the usual flavor. She had been drinking at Scott’s party so it didn’t startle him. He caught glimpses of the concert through her bloodstream: Scott screaming at the top of his lungs, the fans chanting his name like he was some sort of god, Scott pulling her to the stage, them singing together and having quality sibling-bonding time.

She had had a good time. Richie smiled upon learning that. He retracted his fangs shortly after, flicking his tongue against her pulse to bid adios to her soft, fragrant skin. Above him, she moaned.

“Gochisousama deshita, as the Japanese say ‘Thank you for the meal’.”

A small smile graced her lips. “The way Seth is, I suppose we can kiss goodbye to all the love gloves stuffed in the drawer.”

Richie nodded. “He wasn’t particularly happy about that. Said I ‘castrated’ him and ended the Gecko bloodline.”

“Always elegant with his choice of word. Besides, I’m not sure I should have babies with the queen of hell’s blood making me more Xibalban every day.”

“We can adopt,” he suggested, “if that’s what you want.”

“Kids adopted by a family of snakes? Sounds very Grimm. Besides, I’m eighteen, Richie. I haven’t reached the age to seriously think about having children yet.”

Kate shrugged out of her boots and her jacket and stripped down until she was only wearing her tee and her panties. She let out a long, open-mouthed yawn while she pulled her bra out under the tee and discarded it on the heap of clothes. “Right now I want to have a long sleep. Urg, Seth’s hogging you, again. Is there’s still space for me?”

“There’s always space for you,” Richie answered, patting the mattress on his right.

She grinned, climbed on the bed and nestled against his right side. “Fitted like a glove,” she mumbled. “We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”

“We do, but for now, goodnight, Kate.”

“You mean, good morning?”

“Yeah, good morning, Kate.”

Then he kissed the top of her hair, taking in the scent of her hair, and closed his eyes.

…

Richie might have drifted off for a few minutes when Kate’s voice raised. “Do you think the ‘first blood, first kill’ rule applies to culebras as well?”

“I haven’t heard about it, not from Kisa,” he replied sleepily. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, it just hits me that Seth’s first blood was yours, so…”

A moment of silence. “Right…” Richie muttered under his breath. “I may need to give Kisa a call tomorrow…”

The next evening he gave his ex a call and later wished he hadn’t.

End

—

Notes:

As I was writing this story, it suddenly occurred to me how incredible it was for Richie to not only keep his venom for himself but also control his thirst to not drain Seth in 1×10. He was a newborn culebra and starving and moreover, he’d had tasted Seth’s blood. Yet he was able to take just a little blood and stop although he had stated ‘I couldn’t help it’ earlier in the labyrinth.

This story happens in the same universe as other FDTD fanfics I wrote Don’t Think About Tomorrow (We’ve Only Got Today) and ‘Tis a Night at Jacknife Jed’s (which explains why Richie can speak Japanese).

Title came from Simon Curtis’s song Flesh.

[FDTD] ‘Tis a Night at Jacknife Jed’s

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom: From Dusk Till Dawn TV Series

Rating: Teens and up

Pairings: Seth Gecko x Kate Fuller x Richie Gecko (yeah, it’s threesome), implied Seth Gecko x Richie Gecko (yeah, it’s incest)

Genre: fanfiction

Characters:  Seth Gecko, Kate Fuller, Richard ‘Richie’ Gecko, original characters

Warnings: 3some, incest

Summary: While the boys were occupied with their business, Kate found some ways to entertain herself at Jacknife Jed’s, mostly by dressing up, having a few drinks and attracting attention from some male patrons.

—

This was just another night at Jacknife Jed’s, where Kate put on a little makeup, wore a little perfume – nothing too bold – and her more favorite pristine dress that left her pale arms bare and revealed just a delicious hint of her breasts through delicately woven lace. She liked it for the lace, especially when the boys caught it in their teeth, gnawing playfully until she either melted in their arms or pushed them harshly down the mattress, depending on which role she preferred at that moment – innocent little angel or wicked mistress of hell. She still had to remind them not to ruin her clothing though, especially the one with fangs and a tendency to rip, yet her boys were forgetful at times. However for every piece they wrecked, deliberately or not, they sought to compensate her with two, so she didn’t find it in her heart to complain. And when she said “boys”, she meant only two, neither of whom being here to entertain her. But that was fine; even by herself, Kate wouldn’t be deprived of entertaining resources. Her fingers, adorned with antique silver rings her boys had unearthed from the previous owner’s stash, tapped on the wooden surface and her feet, clad in black leather ankle boots and dangling from the tall chair she was sitting, swung slightly in tune with the loud music blaring. The music wasn’t to her taste but she was in good enough mood to enjoy it as much as the man sitting near her, hunched over his drink while glancing sideway to appreciate the sway of a certain waitress’s hips.

“Missy, that man’s been eyeing you for at least a quarter of an hour,” whispered a voice into her ears.

As she turned her head to the voice, which sounded familiarly British to her, she encountered a pair of purple-blue eyes veiled behind a curtain of thick pale eyelashes. The eyes gleamed as if coated by a sheen of liquid, and while Kate sometimes teased their owner that he appeared to be constantly tearing, she always thought how immensely beautiful they were. Eyes to drown in, in honor of cliché.

He wasn’t tearing at the moment, of course; in fact he was wearing a congenial smile befitting his profession – a dedicated bartender on his working shift. He had just finished preparing the order of some customer when he leaned in and confided to her. The reason Kate allowed his invasion of her personal space without so much as a frown was because he wasn’t just a bartender to cater to her needs; if there was someone here Kate would call her ‘best friend’, it was no doubt this easy-on-the-eye young man.

His name was Charles but everyone around here endearingly referred to him as Charlie. Richie had found him in some deserted alleyway, all black and blue, dirty and penniless – too pitiable to eat even for a starving culebra, picked him up (quite literally), brought him to Jacknife Jed’s and nursed him back to health. The story of how a transferred student from Shoreditch, who had landed on American land to study mixology, had ended up in this miserable state half a country away from his intended place was gut-wrenching, long and complicated, one Charlie wasn’t comfortable to share with anybody other than his jefe (savior) and his best friend. Having arrived at Jacknife Jed’s roughly the same time (though under different circumstances) and being about the same age had them strike up an instant friendship which, Kate admitted, was strange and unlike any friendships she’d had before.

To be fair, back then, Kate had been a dutiful preacher’s daughter dating a boy from the choir, not this partner-in-crime of two criminals living amongst predators. She doubted if she could even recognize herself if they were to meet.

“Who?” Kate asked, not entirely surprised that she’d been gathering attention to herself. When she put on her makeup, donned this dress and stepped in these boots, she intended to harvest attention, other men’s attention, not her boys’; her boys liked her makeup-free, barefooted and wrapped only in their own white shirts or nothing at all – less was more for them, obviously. She turned her head. “Is that drugstore cowboy in the left corner?”

“Yeah,” Charlie confirmed. “His gaze’s so intense it’s hard to misinterpret what’s going on inside his head.”

“Oh, I wonder what he might be thinking,” Kate said, directing her eyes to him. When their eyes met, she put on her smile and raised her glass. As he caught on her hint, she downed her drink in one gulp. The leftover liquid glistened on her lips like a layer of lip gloss.

Watching their interaction with a mildly amused expression, Charlie cocked his blonde head. “Shall I prepare another drink for you, Missy?” he asked. “Same thing or different?”

“That won’t be necessary, Charlie. Call it a hunch but I think someone’s gonna pay for my next drink.”

“You never pay for your drinks, Missy. Nor do you tip me ever.”

“I did ask your bosses to give you a raise.”

Charlie chuckled good-humoredly, straightened his back and was ready to serve another customer who just sat down on one of the empty chairs lined up alongside the counter. At the same time Drugstore Cowboy was approaching Kate, holding his tumbler in hand. Something of dark amber with a melting cube of ice. Perhaps whiskey.

Up close, he looked somewhere in the middle, too old to be hitting on teenagers without the legal risk but still young enough to venture into a place like Jacknife Jed’s in this sort of flashy outfit. His visage wasn’t hideous and Kate would say it was attractive in a strange sort of way, with square stubbly jaw, nose that was little too big and grey eyes a little too small to be normally proportioned. His cheeks were gaunt and his mouth, again, a little too wide, making his smile appear predatory, like a shark’s if sharks could smile. He was flashing that smile at Kate while striding toward her, his gait exuding the desire to impress and intimidate her at the same time. In his mind, he probably believed that was exactly the way she wanted; he was cocksure in his judgment, his confidence practically seeping out from his every pore. It wasn’t a pleasant smell.

Kate refused to live up to his expectation. She kept her relaxed posture, leaning a little over the counter on her left arm, her head slightly tilting and her legs crossing. She countered his smile with her own, adding in a bit of her inner-Amaru (yes, the queenly bitch had stayed in her veins in spite of everything but Kate reigned it now rather than it did her, turning once handicap into advantage) to deliberately mar her innocent façade. Her glass sat on the counter, gleamingly empty and begging to be filled.

While Drugstore Cowboy hardly impressed Kate, something of him caught her interest instead. Something on him, to be more precise. On his left breast was a bronze badge of unique design. Because of its special look, Kate recognized it at first glance as a replica of a badge worn by the sheriff – the one Seth and Richie had referred to as the ‘cool guy’ – in an old western movie they’d picked for her (compulsory) ‘cinematic education’, as they’d put it. And what an intricate replica it was; Seth would love something like that even though he would never say it out loud – afraid that she would laugh at his childishness and perhaps think less of him, he who always tried to act like the ‘big bro’ in their trio. Kate imagined how his face would light up if she gave him something like this, how he’d try to appear nonchalant although inside he was squeeing like the little fanboy he was and how Richie would feign jealousy and demand his present as well. The thought of them brought a real curve to the seams of her lips.

“If I may ask, are you even legal to sit in this bar?” Drugstore Cowboy asked, leaning over the counter and tipping his hat slightly.

Kate thought it strange to wear a hat inside but understood it was necessary to complete the outfit. “The guard let me in without asking for my ID,” she replied, shrugging. Nothing but the truth.

“Well, that’s as much legal as a place like Jacknife Jed’s can get,” said Drugstore Cowboy, a glint in his grey eyes. “The name’s James Gordon. What’s yours?”

Kate took his hand and shook, lightly and quickly. “My name’s Kate.”

Charlie had handed the customer his ordered drink and now turned to James and Kate with a ready-to-serve smile. His eagerness, partly stemmed from his curiosity and largely from his over-concerned jefe’s request, amused Kate; thanks to their age gap and potentially his trauma at witnessing her death, Richie kept forgetting that she was already a woman grown and fully capable of defending herself against most sources of offenses, supernatural or not, and his overprotectiveness could be suffocating as well as loving. On the other hand, Seth might look cool, waving off Richie’s worry as if his little brother was making a fuss, but he’d given the staff the green light to ‘duly deal with’ any man hitting on her. It wasn’t good for business, Kate thought yet said not a word.

“May I help you with anything, sir?” Charlie asked.

“I’m good, kid,” James replied, swaying his tumbler in his hand. “But the little lady’s glass is empty and it’s never good to sit in a bar with an empty glass. Can I buy you a drink, Kate?”

Kate chose to ignore his condescending choice of words for now. “Another cosmo just like the last, please.”

“Right away, my lady.”

As Charlie was preparing her drink, James took the chair next to hers, placing his drink on the wooden counter with a dull thud. His musky cologne was too strong for her liking; her boys usually wore something more subtle or preferred the natural scent. Her nostrils itched with a sneeze but she contained it.

There was something else, a different smell, that she caught lurking beneath the cologne. A hint of frost was reflected in her eyes but for a half second.

“Cosmo… humph, I’d say, not a bad choice but definitely not the best.”

Kate’s smile cleared the frost in her eyes. “The bartender here adds to the conventional cosmo recipe, making it his unique yummy version. And it’s a safe choice, so that’s a plus.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to go with safe, honestly,” James said, chuckling. “How about something with a little more fire? Dry martini maybe?”

Charlie was quick as he’d always been and Kate’s cosmopolitan was sitting in front of her. She raised her glass. “I’ve never tried martini but a change won’t hurt, right? Is it too bold for me to ask if I could have a second?”

James clinked his tumbler with her glass and said, “Of course. My pleasure.”

And then they both drank.

…

Kate’d had her dry martini as promised; in fact, she’d had two because after she’d complimented the first martini, James ordered a second. After a few small sips, she excused herself to go to the bathroom, claiming she’d gone a bit tipsy. That was a lie – her time with the brothers had significantly strengthened her tolerance of alcohol and her Xibalban blood wouldn’t allow her to get hammered without some serious try, like really serious. Yet, like a naive, careless girl a bit too young to sit in this bar, she had had to leave her unfinished drink on the counter to a stranger. Truth was, Kate was baiting him. Earlier she’d grasped something from him that spelled fishy and she wanted to find out if he would act on it.

Perhaps because the queen of hell was able to read every mortal’s soul, her blood in Kate had given her a fraction of that ability. While Kate was far from reading a soul, she could, if she concentrated, pick up smells, which were accurate indicators of a soul’s intentions. The desire to take a life was unsurprisingly like blood left for a while in dry air, greed smelled like dirty money bills passed around by too many hands and rage had an acrid smell like plastic burned, et cetera. She smelled spicy savagery on Richie when he fed and bitter ruthlessness on Seth every time he pulled the trigger. When they were with each other and with her, their affectionate lust had a rich sweet scent like ripe apples. In contrast, James’ was a nauseously sweet smell of rotten fruits, made all the worse by the unmistakable stench of domination. She subconsciously wrinkled her nose remembering it.

She was making her way back to the bar when Charlie met her at the corner. He was having one hand on his hip and a mildly annoyed look on his face, his easy smile absent. “I saw Drugstore Cowboy slip a cute tiny pill into your drink,” he stated, gesturing with his free hand towards the bar. “I may not know what the bloody hell it’ll do but I have enough brain cells to figure it can’t be anything legal or decent.”

Nothing out of her prediction at all. “Oh,” she let out an amused sound, the corners of her lips curving.

“As I caught him, he said ‘she’s practically asking for it’,” he said, mimicking James’s heavy accent, “and promised me a fat tip.”

“He’s right,” replied Kate, “I’m kinda ‘asking for it’.”

“Shall I teach him a lesson? Just say the word, Missy, and Drugstore Cowboy’s in for a cowboy ride of a lifetime.” He lowered his voice, cupping his free hand around her ear. “The other boss said it’s OK.”

Right after he had finished the sentence, his eyes shifted, the purple-blue transcending to amber and his pupils slit. The skin under his eyes receded for reptilian blue scales to emerge. If she strained her ears, she could hear his bones cracking beneath flesh and skin.

“No, no, no, Charlie,” Kate said, patting his shoulder and vaguely feeling his bones rippling under his white shirt. “You saw nothing and you will do nothing except getting your big fat tip. Sometimes I feel your bosses are underpaying you.”

His eyes reverted to normal and his skin smoothed out as she no longer felt the rippling movement underneath her fingertips. “The benefits more or less compensate for the pay so I’m not complaining. You’re cool, Missy?”

“Yeah, I’m cool. I can handle our drugstore cowboy and his shenanigans just like last time. Go back before I do so it won’t tickle his spidey sense.”

“Just like last time?” Charlie echoed with an arch of his eyebrow and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, just like last time, so wait for my cue, will you?”

“Whatever you say, Missy,” he replied, allowing himself to be ushered out of the corner.

Back to the old job already, Kate thought to herself, reminiscing once upon a time in Mexico and a good friend who’d been torched in the unforgiving Mexican sun to save her life and Seth’s.

…

“It’s much larger than it appears, Jacknife Jed’s,” Kate said when James and her were in one of the nicer, least bumpy elevator, preserved only for the brothers and her. “And certainly deeper. Sometimes I imagine it penetrates all the way to the bowel of the Earth.”

“Can’t judge a book by its cover, right?”

“Sometimes you could,” Kate said with a smile, leaning against the rail to reinforce her guise. The intoxicated guise.

As soon as she returned from the bathroom, she consumed the remaining of her drink; she needed James to believe that his devious scheme had worked for her own scheme to work. After that, it wasn’t really difficult to coax James into thinking she was ready to head home, or just any place providing a soft mattress to retire her body because the alcohol’s effect was starting to kick in, preferably with his company. Then, trying to be ‘helpful’ and hopefully getting more tip like any bartender would, Charlie suggested the underground facility for customers with ‘other’ needs. James laughed and expressed genuine surprise that Jacknife Jed’s provided such a service. He had thought it was merely a bar slash diner, a stop for travelers who needed to eat or piss, sometimes both.

Only at customers’ demand. Kate and Charlie exchanged a discreet knowing look when James fulfilled his promise by putting some dollar bills into the tip jar. The biggest tip he’d had in the day, Charlie said with a bow to James who was leading Kate by the hand to the elevator.

“Sure,” James answered, eyeing her with less restraint than when they’d been in others’ presence, “take you, for example. When I thought you were a risk-taking one, you opted for safe. And when I was almost convinced you were sweet and innocent cherry pie, you showed streaks of mischief.” His gaze lingered at the milky skin both revealed and hidden by the lace, imagining how the rest of her would look like without any fabric. She was raising a dangerous flag but who cared, not him anyway. If someone thought of finding evidence for a legal case in a place between roads like Jacknife Jed’s, he shouldn’t be in the legal profession at all.

Kate met his eyes. “You just have to find out.”

“Don’t worry, baby girl, I will.”

Then he proceeded to close their distance and press his lips against hers. Kate ducked, slipping out of his reach at the same time a chime announced they had reached their destination. “Good things come to those who wait,” she said, promptly stepping out of the elevator and walking down the corridor. The flame was blazing in James’s eyes as he followed her.

Kate opened a door and turned on the lights. The fluorescent tubes provided enough light to see things but weren’t glaring and exposing all flaws on a girl’s face despite careful makeup. She closed the door after James, who was busy examining the movie posters littered on the wall, and picked up the landline phone, decorated like a prop from a roaring 20s movie set. “Tell the jefe that I’m in the master room and want him to come down here,” she spoke, low-voiced, in fluent Spanish when the other line was picked up, “and hurry, please.”

“Who’re you calling?” James asked, stalking over to her.

Hanging up, she replied, “Room service. The staff speak only Spanish but fortunately I can speak a little thanks to my time in high school.”

Once again she side-stepped and ducked his reaching hand. James’s expression began to wrinkle with frustration.

“Hush, before we begin I have something to tell you, sort of a little confession. The night is young and we have plenty of time, yes?”

James grunted but sat down on the bed anyway. “This bed is way too big it’s strange, don’t you think?”

Kate nodded. “It is, custom-made to accommodate three adults.”

“Three?”

“Yes. And to be completely honest, I’m not a patron of Jacknife Jed’s. I particularly live here.” She chuckled. “That’s why no guards asked for my ID despite me looking every bit underage.”

James’s bushy eyebrows knitted. “What? You’re part of the staff?”

By staff, of course he meant ‘that’ kind of staff.

It wouldn’t shock him at all if this place was to be a pleasure house as well.

“No, but this is—” her eyes traveled around the walls, painted in turquoise – her choice, “my room. Well, our room. The other two aren’t here but soon they’ll be.”

James sprung from the bed, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. “What game are you playing? What do you mean by ‘the other two’?”

As if on cue, the door was pushed open and a tall figure walked in. Taller than himself, James estimated, with better build under fitting black suit and a pair of ice-blue eyes behind browline glasses. The eyes were fixed on James for a few seconds before moving to Kate, where their gaze got significantly softer. For a moment James felt a snake slithering up his spine, leeching warmth with its scaly skin as it traveled. Instantly he knew he had low chance of victory should he get into a fight with this man.

But why would he get into a fight with a perfect stranger?

“Kate,” the man sighed.

Kate’s smile broadened. “James, may I introduce you to one of the bosses running Jacknife Jed’s?” There’s two, by the way.”

The eyes were on James again, speaking of murder. Stranger said not a word.

“Richie, this is James, whom I met earlier at the bar,” she said, beaming and gesturing to James. “… who also slipped a cute tiny pill into my drink. I have no ideas what it’ll do to me. Do you?”

A bead of swear formed at James’s temple. “What—I…?”

“Did you consume it?”

The eyes had left James to seek for her.

Kate pouted. “I may be younger than you but I’m not dumb. Charlie switched the drink for me.”

“Clever bastard.” A dry, humorless chuckle. “It could have made you stoned as dead or high as fuck, whichever is convenient to his intention.”

The bead of sweat rolled a tortuous trail down the side of James’s face and got absorbed by his collar. He reached into the butterfly knife in his pocket, finding little assurance in the cool steel. Everything about that little bitch screamed jailbait yet in a hormonal rush he had waved off every fucking red flag because damn was she a delicious cherry pie begging him to savor. He began to regret ever stepping into that elevator. What was the odds of him getting out of this mess unscathed? Wait, fuck unscathed. He needed to get the fuck out of this room, well, out of this place really, even if he had to commit a few murders. Two, if he was lucky. He doubted it would take long for the rest of this snake pit to notice they’d lost two.

“So what?” James asked, inching closer to the door.

Kate was having that innocent look which had hooked him as she shrugged. “Well, nothing, except it’s dinner time. You hungry, Richie?”

“As if I could eat a horse,” Richie deadpanned, leering at James.

James than bore witness to the strangest thing ever: the man’s eyes turned into amber, the color a stark contrast to the black of his pupils, two thin vertical strips akin to a snake’s. Around his forehead and temples, something that looked like… what, scales, formed on top of human skin. He opened his mouth, baring two long, pointed fangs and let out a bestial growl.

It was a sound worse than anything James’s heard.

This was bad, real bad. Who knew it would go from potential porno to B-movie shit this quick? Certainly not James.

He reacted with a hundred percent instinct. The knife came out of his pocket and aimed to bury its edge into the nearest neck.

The man, scratch that, fucking beast, did not stand still and received the blow. He held his left hand up and as result, the knife was lodged in his palm instead. He tore it from James’s grip with a strength that a wounded hand should not possess. Blood from the wound dotted the cream carpet.

“Shit!” James cursed, plunging his bare fist forward. At this point, he wasn’t confident that a punch could knock the beast out, so he poured in all his strength plus a little extra from his fear and desire to get out of this cursed place.

His fist was caught in vice-like grip. James’s vision went short-circuited at the same time a crunching sound echoed in his ears, coupled with intense pain. Must be his nose. His back landed on the ground, his bones rattling.

He heard something metal hitting the cement, probably the knife, and a male voice. It spoke, “That’s why I’ve established the ‘no eating in the bedroom’ rule. Hard to clean up after.”

And a female voice, undoubtedly Kate, replied, “Right, duly noted. Do you mind? Your dinner seems to be waiting.”

Amidst the pain and the fresh blood drenching his face instead of sweats, James managed to open his eyes. The last thing he saw was amber eyes and gleaming fangs.

Kate stood in the corner, watching Richie consuming his meal with silent fascination. The Kate Fuller of the past would never have laid eyes on a scene like this, let alone enjoyed it. That girl was dead, as Kate had told Seth, dead and buried. From her dried blood and rotted flesh, the new Kate Fuller had been born and she, with a fragment of Amaru flowing in her veins, breathed in violence like oxygen.

With the brothers by her side, she would never be deprived.

The spicy aroma pervading the air between her and Richie was that of a well-made enchilada. Kate inhaled deeply.

…

Jacknife Jed’s was pretty quiet when Seth drove into the garage. Charlie gave him a chilled beer with a smile as he passed the bar on the way to the elevator. Though he’d kind of gotten used to it after having seen it almost every day for the past four months, Seth had yet to shake off the odd feeling in his guts whenever Charlie flashed that smile as him. He smiled easily, that was for sure, and others found his smiles sweet and charming, Richie and Kate not excluded, and everything they were looking for in a bartender but not Seth. Perhaps Seth was the strange one here but he couldn’t help being a bit weirded out by someone who seemed to be perpetually smiling regardless of whatever shit life was dumping at his face (it was disturbing), and so he didn’t get very chummy with the boy like every other at Jacknife Jed’s. It certainly didn’t help that Charlie’s wayob, as Richie had put it, or special culebra power, was giving his designated target a five-minute ride to heaven or hell with his eyes. Seth wasn’t sure how that was useful in a fight but he made sure he never wanted to try it. It amazed him how Richie had discovered and literally picked up such a peculiar thing in an alleyway like people did a stray pup.

Still, as long as that pup did his job well and didn’t sink his canine into any undesired neck, Seth didn’t think it was in his principal to give him a hard time.

The door to his, no, their bedroom wasn’t locked – only was when the three of them were away – and the lights were on so Seth figured it was occupied. The voices from behind confirmed his belief.

Seth heard his brother’s voice first, speaking something in Spanish that his own shitty Spanish failed to translate. Okay, that was weird. As far as he was concerned, although the three of them was basically living amongst Spanish-speaking culebras – even the British Charlie was fluent (bizarre!), Kate was the only one able to manage an undisrupted conversation in this language; Richie’s was as thick a head as Seth’s. Had he been taking lessons without Seth’s knowledge?

Right after that, Seth’s ears picked up Kate’s yelping and laughing and thudding sounds that probably meant her tiny fists punching Richie’s shoulders. She often punched Seth in the same manner too, when he was in dirty-humor mood and told her an R-rated version of the bird and bee story. He guessed whatever joke Richie had just just made, and in Spanish no less, was lewd enough to embarrass their little princess.

“Did I miss something?”

Seth opened the door and stepped in, announcing his presence with his question. He found Richie sitting on the edge of the bed and Kate lying on her stomach, still clad in the same white dress he had seen in the early evening, her leather boots carelessly discarded near the nightstand. They didn’t seem to be engaging, or had just finished, some adult action and Seth appreciated that. They knew he disliked being left out in any of their shared activities.

“Dinner, obviously,” Kate answered. “And Richie’s just become trilingual.”

“You? Trilingual?” Seth’s surprise wasn’t feigned.

Richie shrugged. “I don’t just suck blood, you know. I absorb knowledge, skills, special talents et cetera.”

“Turns out he didn’t boast when he said could speak Spanish and what, Chinese?” Kate asked.

“Japanese actually. It may come in handy someday.”

“Who’s this ‘he’ you’re talking about? Someone I know?”

“Another thing you missed,” Kate replied.”

“Some drugstore cowboy,” Richie continued seamlessly, “who spiked Kate’s drink, hoping to get wild with her.”

Seth’s face immediately darkened and his voice when he spoke was edged with frost. “Where’s that motherfucker?”

He didn’t bother to veil his intention of going all American Psycho on said motherfucker.

In contrast, Kate’s expression was that of amusement. “You’re stepping on him,” she said, gazing at his Italian shoes.

“What?”

Alarmed, Seth lifted one foot off the ground, checking his sole. All he saw was that he’d accidentally stepped on some ash.

Why was there ash in their bedroom, cleaned once a day? Oh, right.

“Drank him, turned him, staked him,” said Richie with a snap of his fingers. “Kate’s idea of cleaning up after mealtime.”

“Smart” was all Seth’s reply.

Kate sat up, crossing her legs. She leaned over to the nightstand and said,” Got something for you, Seth”, throwing something at him. He caught – perfect reflex – and examined the object. The earlier dark clouds retreated and his face lit up as he did. “This is…”

Both Kate and Richie saw how hard he was trying to control the muscles around his mouth to not squee like a little fanboy he (secretly) was. They exchanged a smile.

“Sheriff Cool’s limited-edition badge. I remember, don’t I? Richie got two languages, you got your favorite sheriff’s badge and I’m being fair,” Kate sing-sang.

Richie agreed.

“Now,” Kate drawled, sprawling on the massive bed, her chest heaving under the lace, “what will you guys give me in return?”

End

—

In 3×01 – Head Games, Richie mentioned that he had turned a bartender. I took the liberty to give that bartender a name and included him in this story.

This story happens in the same universe as another FDTD fanfic I wrote, Don’t Think About Tomorrow (We’ve Only Got Today), so Richie x Seth isn’t excluded.

[FDTD] Don’t Think About Tomorrow (We’ve Only Got Today)

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom: From Dusk Till Dawn TV Series

Rating: Teens and up

Pairings: Seth Gecko x Kate Fuller x Richie Gecko (yeah, it’s threesome), implied, if not blatantly shouted out, Seth Gecko x Richie Gecko (yeah, it’s incest)

Genre: fanfiction

Characters:  Seth Gecko, Kate Fuller, Richard ‘Richie’ Gecko, mention of Kisa/Santanico Pandemonium

Warnings: 3some, incest

Summary: Naked and tangled in bed, Seth, Kate and Richie had a conversation about something Seth and Richie had said earlier before they stormed into the bank like they owned the place. Then somehow the topic veered into a grimmer turn.

—

“So, why do you guys say it?”

With her usually clear voice coming out of her flushed lips little more than an audible breath, Kate raised a question to the two guys snuggling on either side of her. She was pillowing her head on the crook of Richie’s broad shoulder, her long red hair spilling on his smooth chest (which she was sure would be quite tickling but Richie didn’t look like he was about to file any complaints); in turn, she was feeling ticklish with Seth’s crisp short hair constantly scratching the still-sensitive skin of her breast as she also lent her shoulder to him. And like Richie, she wasn’t complaining about any discomfort she might be experiencing, not when their naked limbs were a tangled mess under the duvet.

Tangled. That was the word to describe their lives. Or their life now.

They were lying on a king-sized bed that was large enough to comfortably accommodate two big guys and a tiny girl and still have space for whatever activity they opted for. This luxurious kind of bed only hotels with four stars and up could offer and the price for one night could lasted them several others in a decent motel. In fact, they had picked the grandest hotel in town, paying no mind to the price because money they had, plentiful, from their latest successful job in another town, far enough from here that the news of one bank heist had yet to stir.

Even if it had, they didn’t give a damn. Tomorrow they would hit the road again and vanish without a trace until their next job, which only they knew when.

The Gecko brothers rode again after a short time of quiet, this time with a brand-new face. This crimson-haired petite lady who barely reached Richard Gecko’s shoulders stood with unwavering confidence between the notorious brothers, holding her gun firmly on one hand while reciting Seth Gecko’s favorite catchphrase: “Be cool.” Nobody knew who she was and what relationship she had with the Gecko boys as she was never heard before, but everyone would know that she meant it and God helped them if they didn’t do as she said.

Katherine Fuller. Kate Fuller. That was her name and a few years from now, it would be inseparable with the criminal brothers’.

They were full with the haute cuisine of the restaurant downstairs, slightly intoxicated with the ten-year-old champagne and thoroughly satiated with their desires fulfilled by the wild tango of flesh only minutes ago. For now, life couldn’t be any better.

“Say what?”

It was Richie who answered her in a husky voice, he who always had keener sense. Seth had likely dozed off – he had that habit post-coitus and Kate had learnt to adore it (Richie had, many years past). Still, if she and Richie continued this conversation, Seth would no doubt wake up and join them. He never liked to be left alone in anything; Kate could count on that.

“What you said in the car earlier, before we entered the bank,” Kate said, and if her arm wasn’t Seth’s pillow right now, she would air-quote. “Here’s to getting rich and fat—”

“And dying in the arms of a beautiful woman,” Richie seamlessly continued, like he had done so a thousand times before with his brother.

“Yeah, that. Why?”

“It’s something Seth invented long, long ago, when we were children. We were orphans, with no roof above our heads and nothing in our possession except the clothes we were wearing.”

Seth stirred – always a light sleeper. His arm reached over Kate and punched Richie in the chest though there was no real force in it. “Remind me who made us orphaned and homeless,” Seth growled.

Richie cluck his tongue. “I did alright.”

Kate had heard the story of their father’s murder by Richie’s hand; the boys had made no vow to confess to her every dark secret of their life before her but every now and then they would feed her tidbits of their history during the ride. Although Kate had been initially shaken by what Richie had done at the tender age of nine, her shock had been brief and she was free of judgment. After all, was a patricide in any position to judge another?

She let that matter slide and asked instead, “Why ‘rich and fat’? I see rich people nowadays are overly concerned about their looks and pretty sure no one wants to get fat.”

“We were children, Kate,” Seth said, chuckling, “children who watched a lot of TV since we had nothing better to do and assumed all the rich men were fat because that’s how TV back then portrayed them.”

“Plus Seth was a scrawny ass,” Richie chimed in, “who desperately tried to gain a few pounds and always failed.”

Seth scoffed. “At least I wasn’t a scrawny ass who couldn’t see shit without a pair of coke-bottle glasses attached to my face.”

“Hey, I wasn’t wearing coke-bottle glasses.”

“Meaning you admit to being a scrawny ass.”

“Guys,” Kate sharply interjected, feeling the urgent need to step in before the war between five-year-olds escalated to ridiculous level; trust her, she’d seen it happen before. Professional thieves, legendary brothers, slayers of Xibalbans, the Gecko brothers could be many things but deep down inside, they were oversized children who needed an adult to separate them when they got into a fight with each other. Much younger than both of them and yet Kate often found herself in the adult role. She thought of Kisa each time and admired how smart the serpentine beauty was to have refused their offer to stay; she must have foreseen this.

“Can we go back to why Seth said we should change that?”

“Because it doesn’t apply to us anymore, Kate,” Seth answered. “It’s not like Richie could gain a pound the way he is now.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Really? You won’t gain weight?”

Richie tried his best to shrug considering that Kate was pillowing on his shoulder. “No. I tried wolfing down hamburgers and fries for some time and it didn’t work. Culebra’s metabolism’s funny that way. Just look at Kisa. You honestly think she went to gym to stay in that killer shape?”

If Kate were another girl she’d experience a tinge of jealousy at Richie’s mention of his spicy Latina ex, but she was Kate Fuller and so she was amused. “Kisa’d snap your neck if she heard you.” She knitted her eyebrows for a second and then continued, “Would you die if your neck was snapped? Those vampires in The Vampire Diaries and The Originals don’t; they’re just out cold for a while.”

“Don’t know and don’t wanna try.”

“Come on, Richie,” Seth pled, “for science’s sake.”

“For fuck’s sake, asshole,” Richie huffed, reaching over Kate to punch his (slightly) older brother. Good thing he had long limbs. “Even if I won’t die, it’ll still hurt like hell.”

Kate started to regret being sandwiched between these immature boys.

Seth had slid from Kate’s arm to dodge Richie’s fist of fury; now he was scratching his stubbly chin on her side, just under her breasts. More tickling.

“Moreover,” he said, “now that you’re with us, the latter part really doesn’t apply, does it?”

With her newly freed hand, Kate tapped her chin, contemplating. “In my case, I’d like to die in the arms of a hunk.”

“I’d happily provide,” Seth joked.

Kate gave him a dubious look and Richie chuckled, sending a soft vibration through her. “Don’t count on Seth. He’d be lucky to still retain the control of his bladder.”

Then it suddenly hit Kate and any joke she was about to launch died prematurely on her tongue. She went mute. They had never really had a serious conversation about their future, merely some good (or not so good) humor sprinkled now and then, like they all subconsciously skirted around the topic. For fear, she guessed, the deep and primal fear of death and separation, and being all by himself. That’d be Richie as he was of a species capable of living for centuries if not millennia. Being completely human and totally averse to turning, Seth would no doubt be gone in a few more decades and, if God had mercy, his human life would end in peace, untroubled by the ailments that came hand in hand with seniority, and on a sunny, pearly beach as he had so wished. After that, what would become of Richie? From her experience with them, Kate could tell that Richie was never complete without Seth and vice versa. He had been gradually losing himself during Seth’s sentence, his bright, sharp mind clouded and dull, and his person merely a husk of his former self; Kisa’s manipulation had only been the final straw. This time it would not be five years but an eternity instead. Kate felt as if her heart was repeatedly stabbed just thinking about it.

And, what about her, Kate had no idea. She was not even confident that she was one hundred percent human at the present. Amaru’s blood had saved her from death but it had also changed her and, quite unfortunately, not for the better. No matter how Amaru had bled, the blood had remained in Kate’s veins, making it home there and becoming part of her as she’d become a part of Amaru. It’d allowed her to saunter through the gate of hell and come back to give the queen of hell a taste of her medicine, and it also erased her remorse when she raised her gun at an innocent and pulled the trigger, justifying it as a means of survival. The Kate Fuller of the past would never have dreamed of becoming a thug and riding with two criminals; the Kate Fuller now was as much a sinner as her dearest companions. She could feel the lingering echo of Amaru’s wickedness humming beneath her skin every time she curled her finger around her hair. Blood-red like the flame of hell. Would that cursed blood make her immortal like a true Xibalban or would she grow old and die like any mortal, like Seth, only time could tell.

More importantly, which fate would she truly want?

Kate didn’t know she was having tear until Seth wiped away a forming drop at the corner of her eye with his thumb. Then he slapped Richie on the shoulder, hard enough for Kate to feel it. “Way to spoil the mood, fucking shithead,” he chastised.

For once Richie had no biting retorts, only muttering “My bad, I’m a fucking idiot” in a low, apologetic tone.

Sarcastic Richie might have her heart swell but apologetic Richie never failed to make her heart melt. She caressed his clean-shaven cheek, half forgiving, half reassuring him that it was OK.

What was OK, really, she didn’t know. Surely not their future.

“On second thought,” said Kate, attempting to shift the grim subject, “I don’t think it’s too bad to die in the arms of a beautiful woman. I mean, if it were Kisa, I wouldn’t say no. Yeah, Kisa’d be good. Maybe I should give her a call and book beforehand.”

Seth groaned, his nose wrinkling. “Don’t tell me you’re hot for her too. Am I the only one here who’s immune to her so-called charms?”

“I suspect your boner’s dysfunctioning sometimes,” Richie snorted and earned himself a kick under the duvet.

“Didn’t hear that when I rammed—”

Kate’s hand shot up to cover Seth’s mouth. “Don’t need to hear what you guys do when I take a nap. Really don’t. Heard enough.”

Seth and Richie exchanged a brief frightened look.

“…Secondly I’m with Richie here. Kisa’s the very embodiment of ‘making straight girls feel gay’.”

“FYI, I did die in her arms,” Richie said. “It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

“I can imagine a big rattlesnake and a trembling rat.”

“Right, anyone has an idea how’s she doing now?” Kate asked.

“Last time I checked,” Seth replied, “and yeah, I’ve been keeping tabs on her in case another hellish incident occurs and we need her, she’s been building a harem fit for la reina. Know what they say: it’s good to be queen.”

Kate couldn’t decide which was more amusing: the piece of information itself or how Richie was trying to appear nonchalant about the whole “My ex just got a harem” and failing comically.

Kate elbowed him in the ribs, intending to get his attention rather than hurting. “Hey, don’t be jelly. You already got Seth and me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed after a short while, shifting his body and extending his free arm to reach his brother on the other side of Kate, “I guess…”

Seth scoffed but did the same and thus, Kate was enveloped in the arms of the brothers, feeling protected and cherished beyond she could ever imagine. She loved it and were Kate some other eighteen-year-old, she’d say something cliché like she wanted to have time frozen so this moment could last forever. Since she was Kate Fuller, an amateur thief soon to be professional, she wouldn’t. She was rational enough to understand and accept that this moment would come to pass. Moreover, she came to another, quite harrowing, realization: that perhaps none of them would live long enough for the future she’d pondered earlier. All lives were on a knife’s edge, each creature living through the day with the shadow of a scythe looming over their head. In their lifestyle, death was a constant element; a small miscalculation, a tiny flaw in the plan, a bit of ill luck and a well- (or badly) aimed bullet and there was no future left. Even a culebra like Richie or a carrier of Xibalban blood like Kate were never entirely out of its clutch.

Having realized that, strangely Kate felt no fear; rather, her being was flooded with an elated sense, something like an epiphany. Well, if the future could very well end tomorrow, why wasting time thinking about it? And why not just simply enjoying today, with the haute cuisine, the one-hundred-dollar champagne and the company and warmth of one another?

Kate took Seth’s and Richie’s hand in each of hers, squeezing. “I was joking,” she whispered, knowing how the boys loved her it when she did. “Here’s a moment of truth: when I die, I want to die in the arms of you two, just like this. So…”

She pinched them lightly. “…So, you’d better not die before me. Clear?”

“Yeah, crystal-clear,” Seth muttered, smiling. “You heard her, Richie. Who dies first is gonna have his ass kicked all the way to Xibalba.”

“That won’t be me,” Richie replied, burying his nose in her lustrous red hair, inhaling deeply her scent. Lavender.

“I love you…”

Between them, it didn’t matter who as long as these three words were said. Its pleasant weight blanketed them, soon lulling them to a dreamless, fearless sleep.

End

—

Title came from the song If the World Should End (Spider-Man: Turn off the Dark)

In case you’re wondering why there’s no plot, this is really plotless, just the three of them having idle chit-chats after, well, you know.