DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING!

A/N: Just a random one-shot I thought of a while ago. Please read and review!

It was late in the afternoon by the time the plane touched down in Nazca, Peru. Indy always liked to jump into his adventures with both feet as soon as he arrived at his destination, but it might not be possible this time with his new partner, Mutt Williams. He was lagging several steps behind and kept yawning. Indy wasn't surprised. The kid had stayed awake for their entire trip and was probably jet-lagged as hell. Indy figured the best thing to do would be to find a place to stay for the night and get a fresh start in the morning. Having dinner wouldn't be a bad idea either...

Mutt and Indy wandered through the town square of Nazca. Indy was sort of playing tour guide, pointing out different street vendors and describing the kinds of primitive artwork the locals were selling. Mutt wasn't even paying attention; he was looking around for anything vaguely resembling a diner that would serve juicy hamburgers, crisp, salty fries, and tall, thick, ice-cold milkshakes. He was so preoccupied that he almost plowed right into Indy's back when Indy stopped to talk with one of the vendors. Money was exchanged and Indy turned around. He had a shish-kabob like stick in each hand, large chunks of roasted meat speared on them almost to the top.

"Here, kid," said Indy, passing Mutt one of the sticks.

"We're not getting burgers?" asked Mutt, looking disappointed.

Indy chuckled. "Kid, one of our good friend the Ox's favorite sayings is, 'When in Rome, do as Romans do.'"

Mutt knew that; he'd heard it enough times growing up.

Indy gestured to the shish-kabob in Mutt's hand. "I'd hurry up and eat that if I were you. Roast guinea pig is best hot."

Mutt stopped in his tracks. "Whoa. Did you just say 'roasted guinea pig'?"

"Yep."

"Aren't they those fat things that look like rats?" Mutt wanted to know.

"It's a local delicacy." Indy replied through a mouthful.

Mutt thought for a minute. He was hungry, all right, but definitely not hungry enough to eat roasted rat. He handed his shish-kabob back to Indy.

"Suit yourself, kid," said Indy with a shrug.

He happily finished both sticks of roasted guinea pig before leading Mutt to a jungle flophouse he knew of. Indy was sure he and Mutt would more comfortable in separate rooms, but with the KGB on their tails, it was definitely safer for them to share a room. The room they were rented was very small and had only one bed.

"You can have it," offered Mutt, dropping the saddlebags from his motorcycle onto the dirt floor. "Sleepin' on the floor ain't good for a geezer's back."

"Gee, thanks, kid," Indy said sourly.

He set his bullwhip on the nightstand and rested his hat on the bedpost. Then he removed his shirt and shoes and set them beside the bed. Mutt stretched out on the floor beside the bed. The geezer could handle himself in a fight pretty good, but in case he was a heavy sleeper, Mutt thought it best he sleep between the geezer and the door. Like he had on other occasions, he'd use his saddlebags for a pillow and his leather jacket for a blanket.

"That was a damn good meal, kid," said Indy, now relaxing in the bed.

"I'll take your word for it," said Mutt, slipping his switchblade under his makeshift pillow.

"Try to get some sleep, kid. We're gonna have a long day tomorrow." Indy turned off the single oil lamp that lit the room. "And don't wake me up in the middle of the night complaining about having a stomachache." he added sternly.

Mutt hadn't planned on doing that anyway. He rolled over so he was facing away from Indy and tried to go to sleep. He was nearly asleep when a cockroach the size of his switchblade skittered across the floor, an inch away from his nose.
The night soon turned into a long one for Mutt. He was something of an insomniac to start with and listening to the geezer snore away on the bed wasn't very helpful. Neither was the fact that his stomach kept rumbling from hunger at odd moments. Sheer exhaustion eventually overtook discomfort and Mutt fell into a light sleep.

Mutt was awakened by someone nudging him in the ribs with their toe. He opened his eyes a little and saw Indy standing over him.

"Rise and shine, kid," he said.

Mutt still felt exhausted. He glanced out the window. "It's still dark out." He rolled over and mumbled, "Wake me up at sunrise."

"Can't do that, kid. The sun won't rise for about another hour. We need to start looking for the Ox and your mom." Indy knew those words would motivate the kid to get moving.

Mutt sleepily stood up, picked up his saddlebag, and set it on the nightstand. He pulled a fresh T-shirt from one of the pockets and a tin of hair oil from another. He changed into the new T-shirt, rolled the old one up and put it in his bag, then extracted his comb from his back pocket. The last of Mutt's drowsiness ebbed away and he noticed his stomach was now growling with the volume and intensity of his Harley-Davidson's engine. It hurt a little too, but he tried not to let it show in his face as he worked to restore his pompadour. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Indy seemed to be holding something behind his back.

"What's that?" asked Mutt.

"Something you'll be very interested in," Indy replied cryptically.

"A skull? Clues to where my mom and the Ox are?" Mutt guessed.

Indy shook his head and adjusted his position so Mutt could see what he was holding. Mutt couldn't hide his delight at seeing it was a loaded breakfast tray: scrambled eggs, bacon, some kind of fruit, something that looked like a doughnut, and a glass of milk.

"All yours, kid," said Indy.

Mutt quickly sat down on the bed, grabbed the tray, and started greedily eating his breakfast. Indy watched, deciding not to tell the kid that the scrambled eggs were iguana eggs, the bacon was from a tapir, and the glass of milk was fresh from the innkeeper's llama...

THE END