Hi there!
Well, hello. My name is Beth, I’m 20 years old, American, and I like long walks on the beach. Just kidding. I don’t really much care for beaches. I do, however, love Indy. Why would I be here if I didn’t? I’d have to say my favorite of the IJ movies is ‘The Last Crusade’. Grail lore is love, that’s what it is. My parent’s think I’m crazy, though; that ‘Raiders’ is the best. We argue about it sometimes. At one time, I thought I could slash the two Dr. Jones’, but the part of me that loves Sean Connery wouldn’t let me. So, my Indy OTP is Indy/Mutt. I’ve got no problem slashing Harrison Ford. In fact, it should happen a lot more often than it does. Shia, too. Slash the hell out of that. That being said, I come bearing a gift of the Indy/Mutt variety. Like a slashy Santa Claus. I’d have joined a few days sooner, only, I wanted to bring something to the party. My mother taught me to never show up empty handed. See, I’ve got manners. Even if I swear like a sailor sometimes, I like to do it with class. XD Anyway, here you go.
Title: Because It Is
Pairing: Indy/Mutt
Rating: Well, I’d give it a T on the ff.net scale. I don’t really think it deserves an M. There’s nothing really explicit, though I’ve never really been that good of a judge.
Warnings: Naughtiness of M/M sort, Character death (not Indy or Mutt, don’t worry), And well, if you don’t know this is incest by now, there’s something wrong with you. Indy’s probably out of character, too. I don’t really think his brain process is like I portrayed. I like it, though.
Summery: When it comes down to it, it’s alright because it is, and that’s all that really matters.
Author’s Note: Not my first fic, or slash, but first of either in the Indy fandom. I won’t plead for kindness, I’m a big girl; I can take it. Just know that I’m still getting a hang for the characters. Your con-crit would be highly appreciated. Only… in a nice way, please?
…Because It Is…
When, after finding the skull, the adrenalin rush was so much that Mutt pushes him against the wall and sinks to his knees, Indy lets him. Because, well, it was okay. Everything was going to be okay. Besides, it’s not really like him to turn that kind of thing down. Mutt is eager, excited, and it was good. Really good. As they were leaving secret tomb, Indy destroyed the obvious imprints of feet and knees on the Etch-A-Sketch sand. Just in case.
xXx
But then, “He’s your son, Indy. Henry Jones the third.”
Sputter. Nonsense. Something about finishing school. All he can think is, well, at least his father had never done that.
xXx
It’s hard to forget those kinds of things, and when that’s what you’re trying to do, it has the reverse effect. Like looking down when someone tells you not to. It must be the shock, though, that’s keeping him from freaking out.
Indy tries desperately to look at Marion instead of Mutt because, maybe, if he doesn’t look at it, it will go away. It doesn’t work. Whereas looking at Mutt was perfectly alright before, it isn’t now. The whole situation is more than a little confusing.
After that ‘they weren’t you, honey’ line, he’s pretty sure he just made Mutt think that Indy was imagining the kid’s mother while he was getting intimate with his tonsils. Oh boy. Now Indy’s really grateful for his childhood. He just didn’t realize that there was an entire level of screwed up beyond what he’d experienced.
xXx
Mutt won’t let Indy kiss Marion. “Here, hold this,” and that was that. Indy would be able to feel Mutt’s confusion, even if it wasn’t obvious in his eyes. It was practically seeping from his pores. Jealous and mother should never fall in the same thought. The kid’s going to need therapy. Indy isn’t sure which he’ll need after all this; therapy or confession.
xXx
He and Marion get hitched because, well, he kind of owes her. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, or anything. He just doesn’t really know if it’s the best idea. Surely, not as good as running as far away as possible and burying himself in his work so he never has to see her (or Mutt) ever again. She was pretty insistent, though, that he owed her.
xXx
Mutt runs off shortly after and Indy can’t blame him. He can, however, be angry for the lack of warning. Marion’s temper is famous for its intensity. He would have liked to have built a fallout shelter to lock himself in.
xXx
He thinks he sees Mutt one day, a year and a half later. Marion’s in the hospital for some kind of liver problem. Apparently, building up the kind of alcohol tolerance she has plays hell on the liver. Who knew? Anyway, Indy’s in the lobby helping himself to the complimentary (terrible) coffee. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of black leather and his heart almost beats right out of his chest. When he spills coffee all over himself trying to see Mutt, there’s no one there. Indy thinks he’s loosing his mind as he cleans up the mess in the bathroom.
Only, when he’s back in Marion’s room, he’s positive that his mind’s just fine because the switchblade lying on the bedside table looks pretty familiar, and not in a ‘it was here when I left the room’ kind of way.
xXx
Indy’s pretty sure that Marion’s too young to die of liver disease but her liver doesn’t and you can’t exactly argue with a liver. It’s been almost six months in and out of the hospital, so it’s probably better this way. He thinks that she would have liked to go out a little more ‘guns blazing’, but then he reconsiders. Maybe she’d had enough excitement in her lifetime. They’d never really talked about it. As they lower her into the ground, he gives a silent thank you to whoever that she never found out what Indy had done to their son. It might have killed her.
When he turns his head away in sadness, because even if he wasn’t in love with her like he used to be he did love her, he’s pretty sure that that’s Mutt standing just far enough away that Indy can’t be positive. He wonders if Mutt’s crying, and he recalls how pretty he looks when he cries.
The figure that was probably Mutt leaves before Indy has the chance to approach him. All the same, he begins to carry the switchblade around with him. Just in case he has the chance to give it back.
xXx
Indy really is buried in his work now that no one’s around to stop him. It’s only been three days since the funeral and he’s uncomfortable in his own house.
He’s examining a clay jar, trying to confirm the date of the dig it came from, when his receptionist leans in and says that a Mr. Williams is here to see him. He’s lucky he didn’t drop the jar, but not so lucky in the fact that his knee collided painfully with the underside of his desk.
It turns out that Williams is a pretty common name, because this Mr. Williams isn’t Mutt. He tries, and fails, not to be disappointed.
xXx
Friday night, as Indy is pulling into his driveway, he notices a motorcycle parked on the other side of the street. It doesn’t exactly remind him of Mutt, because it’s a completely different bike, but the nostalgia’s still there. When he lets himself in and hears off key Elvis coming from his kitchen, he figures it’s been two years and Mutt’s probably gotten a new ride. Who else would dare sing Elvis in his kitchen?
Sure enough, he finds Mutt rummaging around in his fridge. He didn’t think the kid had noticed him, but was wrong. Again.
“Christ, pops, don’t you have anything to drink?” he asks, standing up and out of the fridge. He looks good.
“You look good, kid.” Wow. Articulate. Mutt’s eyebrows do this ‘uh huh’ kind of motion. Indy doesn’t blame him. Almost two years, and all he’s got is ‘you look good’. He must be loosing his touch. He figures now’s a good time to give the knife back, so he reaches for it in his breast pocket and tosses is at Mutt. He catches it and give is a thorough once over before tossing it back.
“If I remember correctly, you’ll probably need it. Besides, I have a new one,” he explains as he shuts the refrigerator door and leans against the counter. Indy does as he’s told and puts the knife back in his pocket.
“Where’ve you been?” Indy asks. He thinks he’s earned that.
“Been doing odd jobs to save up money. Got my GED.” He looks away as he says it, but Indy doesn’t know why.
“Well, that’s good. You going to take your savings and open up a motorcycle shop?” It seems logical, so that’s what Indy says, but Mutt shakes his head. “I thought that’s what you wanted to do?”
“Wanted, yes, but not anymore.” He’s started mumbling, so Indy has to get closer to really hear what he’s saying.
“Then what is it you want to do?”
Mutt looks him in the eyes as he says, “I want to adventure, Indiana.”
And then Mutt’s sitting on the counter and Indy’s standing between his legs. He’s not really sure if he pushed or Mutt pulled, but they’re kissing anyway. Right then, at that exact moment, he decides that it doesn’t matter. They’re Mutt Williams and Indiana Jones and there were only a handful of people that knew any better, most of which were dead. And Ox, well, Indy’s pretty sure that, given where Ox’s head’s been, this really won’t be that big of a deal.
So Indy does his best to convince his son that, since the secret tomb, it’s really been Mutt, not Marion. Right there in the kitchen. He wonders if Mutt understands, and if he does, is he flattered by it or upset that Indy would do that do his mom. Probably both. But, that’s okay because… Well, because it is. And that’s all that matters.
le fin
AN: I’m pretty sure that GED’s didn’t exist in the 50’s, but, well. I don’t care. I hope you liked it and didn’t think it was too confusing. The situation is confusing, so I tried to make it illustrate that.