Title: Los Bandoleros

Author: Nakita1031

Rating: R (M)

Pairing: Dom/Letty

Feedback: Of course!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to TFATF or Universal. Don't sue.

Summary: After the tragic turn of events during the heist, Dom and Letty flee to Mexico where they must find a way to put the pieces of their lives back together.

Chapter 1

Turning into the lot of a run down motel just outside Tijuana, the bright orange car came to a halt, and he lay his head back against the seat, wiping beads of sweat mixed with dried blood from the cut on his forehead. His shoulder throbbed, his head burned, and all he wanted to do was lay down, close his eyes and go the fuck to sleep.

Wearily, he stepped out of the car, his eyes scanning the motel windows for the sign. Relief rushed over him as he caught sight of the white towel shoved between the window and the rose colored curtain of Room 8.

Grabbing the keys from the ignition, he made his way across the dusty parking lot and stood in front of the door. He knocked three times, and waited.

Nothing.

He waited briefly before knocking again, three more times. This time, his knocks were answered and the door creaked open.

She appeared before him, bruised, broken, but somewhat cleaned up, wearing only a bath towel wrapped around her body. Her jet black hair was soaken wet, and her normally flawless complexion was tainted now, covered with numerous cuts and bruises, a black eye, and a swollen lip.

"Where's Leon?" He asked as he entered the room looking around, shutting and locking the cheap wooden door securely behind him.

"Don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Don't fuckin yell at me Dom." Letty snapped, her demeanor equally as volatile as his. Her throat was raw and it was painful to yell, but she only yelled when he did.

He watched as she slowly made her way over to the bed and sat on the edge, re- wrapping the shitty motel towel tightly around her body, resting her head in her hands.

"I think he fuckin rolled." She began, her voice gentle now. "Said he was gonna go grab some food. That was like two hours ago. I think he got freaked, and rolled.."

Dom rubbed at his temples.

He wanted to be pissed. Pissed at Leon for leaving her alone, for pussying out. Truth was though, he was relieved. Relieved that it was just the two of them. Relieved that he didn't have to play the role of savior tonight. He was too fucking tired. And he was no fucking savior.

Slowly, he made his way over to the bed and took a seat next to her. Mirroring her, he leaned over and placed his aching head in his hands. He felt her shift, and felt a tiny hand go his face, slowly turning it toward her. Her dark eyes scanned his body, coming to a hault as she saw the deep cut on his forehead.

For a second he thought she might ask how it happened and he wasn't sure that he had it in him to tell her. Telling her about the Charger would mean having to tell her about Jesse and he just couldn't do it. Not yet.

She didn't ask though.

Her hand went to his jeans, finding the zipper, pulling it down. His pulse raced at what she was insinuating.

The shitty white motel towel fell to the floor as she slowly positioned her broken body around him. She winced as he slid inside and wrapped legs around his back, her head resting on his shoulder, jet black hair tumbling over his chest.

This was why he loved her. This was why he had no doubt that she would be waiting for him with open arms even after everything he'd put her through, put his family through. She was his family. They were in it together.

He wrapped his massive arms around her as their broken bodies moved to a completely off but beautiful rhythm. He dug his face into her hair, taking in the scent of the cheap ass cherry scented motel shampoo she'd used. He closed his eyes and focused on how she felt when he was inside her, how perfectly they fit each other. They were misfits, fuck ups, bandits, los bandoleros...

This was why he loved her.

For a few brief moments, all of the days hideous events were forgotten. Jesse was laying on their living room floor throwing popcorn at Vince and Leon, Mia was upstairs studying, his fathers Charger was in the garage, and he was upstairs, in their bed, making love to her.

Her breaths were heavy, scattered in between painful gasps as he slid in and out of her. He grabbed her tightly, digging his face even further into her hair as he came before finally letting his body go limp around her.

"I gotta lay down." She slid off of him, snapping him back to the reality of their shitty Mexican motel room.

He lay down next to her, fully clothed, not even being able to muster up enough energy to kick off his boots. The untended to cut on his head burned and his shoulder throbbed, a constant and painful reminder of the days events gone horribly wrong.

Draping an exhausted arm over her body, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He was so fucking tired.