Indiana Jones
and the
Honeymoon Adventure
Summary: Indy runs into a couple of old friends. Mutt runs into some BIG TROUBLE. Paris may never be the same again.
Author's Note: Mutt is just fifteen. Sequel to: Indiana Jones 4: 1952 Version.
Warning: spanking later on.
Disclaimer: I don't own Indiana Jones or any of these characters. They belong solely to George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and Paramount Pictures.
Chapter 13: The Match
They made it to the Greek mainland, and began the next leg of their journey by way of a military caravan. Unfortunately, bad roads slowed their progress and finally they were forced to camp for the night due to storm-damaged trees blocking the roads. While his men got to work clearing it, Donovan and the others made camp; or rather, his men did while they all sat around and watched.
Indy and his family had been left alone, except guarded to make certain they didn't try anything for the most part. They had stayed in their cabins throughout the rest of the voyage by water and had so far managed to keep out of the way of Donovan and his goons.
"I still wish we didn't have to sit here," Mutt grumbled, sitting on a log next to Freddie. "This stinks."
The girl nodded. "Yeah," she said, "it does, but at least they're treating us decently enough. They could have us tied up without any food or water."
"They knew if they did that," Mutt told her, "Dad, Shorty, and me wouldn't be able to get through the Temple traps alive…and they aren't about to risk their sorry asses to get their hands on that stinkin' Tapestry."
Freddie sighed. "I wish there was something I could do," she said. "Our moms are being so brave about all this. I just want to cry and scream."
Mutt put his arm around her, and she leaned in close to him…that alone told him how much this was upsetting her. "We're going to make it through this," he assured her. "Dad is going to think of something and when he does…these bastards aren't going to know what hit them."
Freddie smirked at him. "You have a lot of confidence in your dad," she said. "I figured you'd still be sore at him about the other day."
Mutt blushed, reminded about the whipping he'd gotten from his old man. "Believe me, I'm plenty sore," he said, wincing, "but that's beside the point. You ain't ever seen the old guy in action. He's amazing!"
Freddie grinned. "You make him sound like some super hero," she observed, knowingly.
Mutt blushed again. "Well," he said, shrugging, "I just look up to him, that's all. Is there anything wrong with that?"
She shook her head. "Of course not, Mutt," she said, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. "In fact, it's quite touching. It shows you love him very much. That's the way it's supposed to be between father and son."
Mutt blushed a third time, from her kiss. "Yeah," he said, ducking his head in embarrassment, "I guess."
She grinned, and lifted his chin. "Well, I know," she said, and then got up to go help her Mom and Marion who were attempting to wash some of their things nearby.
Mutt stared after her, amazed. "Wow," he said, feeling butterflies in his stomach.
"She is beautiful, no?" a French accented voice spoke behind him.
Turning, he glared at Rene Belloq Jr. "Yeah, she is," he growled, standing up. "What do you want?" He crossed his arms and glared at the boy. Their fight the other day was far from forgotten and certainly wouldn't be forgiven.
The French boy held up a pair of foils. "You fence, yes?" he asked. "I thought perhaps you'd care to go a few rounds?"
Mutt raised an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked, coldly.
Belloq shrugged. "None else knows how except Uncle Joseph," he said, "and he is too busy. I need to practice and well…I'm bored!"
Mutt smirked. "You're bored?" he asked. "You have the run of the whole camp, how can you be bored?"
The French boy shrugged. "I just am," he growled at him. "Will you fence with me or not?"
Mutt smiled, shrugging out of his jacket. "Let's go," he said, holding out his hand for a foil, "but you'd better not cheat!"
The French boy looked insulted as he tossed him the second foil. "I would never," he said, seemingly shocked at the very idea, "besides; if anyone would cheat it would be you!"
Mutt glared at him for that. "Why's that?" he asked. "Because I'm an American or because I'm a greaser?"
"Both," the French boy told him, sneeringly. "Now, let's begin." He moved to a clearer spot and went immediately into a fighting stance.
"Hold up a minute," Mutt said, following him, "how about we have a friendly wager?"
The French boy raised an eyebrow. "What sort of wager?" he asked, suspiciously.
"If I win," Mutt told him, "you give me fifty bucks."
"And if I win?" Belloq asked him.
"You won't," Mutt told him, smirking.
The French boy returned the smirk. "If I win," he said, thinking, "you have to do something for me?"
"Like what?" Mutt asked him, just as suspiciously.
"Um," Belloq seemed to think it over, "you must sneak into the tent where the keep the supplies and get me a beer."
Mutt raised an eyebrow. "Mind if I get me one too?" he asked, snorting at the idea.
"Of course," Belloq said, "we will toast my victory together."
Mutt smirked, getting into a fighting stance. "We'll see," he said, though he was sorely tempted to lose on purpose just to have to do the dare.
Yeah, and Pop'll roast your backside again!
Belloq attacked first, with a side swipe to the cheek. Mutt countered it easily and attacked with an abdomen slice that the French boy easily avoided. "You are very good," the other teen observed, "but I'm better."
"Yeah," Mutt sneered, blocking yet another attack, "at being a windbag!" He attacked with an over head swipe.
"Better than that," the French boy sneered, "than a mutt!"
Mutt growled, attacking with just a bit more viciousness. Unfortunately, the ground around their feet wasn't so stable and he ended up tripping over a tree root. He fell, and his foil went flying. He found himself on the ground with Belloq standing over him, his foil pointed at his neck.
"I win," he declared, bluntly. "Do you concur?"
Mutt was going to argue, to say he'd cheated, but the truth was he was glad he won. "Yeah," he said, "I concur."
"Good," Belloq said, surpringly holding out a hand to help him up, "now you can go get us those beers."
Mutt dusted himself off. "Why don't you just go get it yourself?" he asked him. "I mean, it's not like anyone is going to stop you?"
"Actually," Belloq said, "Uncle Joseph gave strict orders I'm not to drink. He says I need to remain alert at all times." He rolled his eyes, showing just what he thought of that.
Mutt smirked, knowing he'd have felt the same way. "You know," he said, "I got my butt blistered for that fight the other day, while you got off without even being yelled at."
"You're wrong," Belloq said, wincing. "Uncle Joseph did yell…and more." He reached up to rub his jaw, as if someone had hit him.
Mutt was stunned. "He decked you!" he exclaimed, shocked to the core.
Belloq nodded. "Yes," he said, "though I am used to it. He's done it before."
Mutt couldn't believe it. Sure, his old man had taken his belt to him and tanned his hide with it, but he would never hit him across the face or beat him with his fists. That just wasn't right, no matter who it was done to.
"That's awful," he said, pity for the French boy welling up in him.
Belloq shrugged. "It's nothing," he said, shrugging it off. "As I said, I am used to it, but that is why I can not risk angering him further."
Mutt nodded, understanding. "I guess if anyone deserves a drink," he said, "it's you. Where are they kept?"
Belloq grinned. "Follow me, " he said, sticking his foil into the ground point-down.
Mutt nodded, and followed him.
I must be nuts, he thought, but this just might be fun!
TBC…