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ajremixTitle from Kokomo by The Beach Boys because I'm bad with titles.
Title: Tropical Contact High
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1682
Characters: Lisa, Len, Mick
Summary: Three Midwesterners go to their first beach.
Almost the second their bags are in their rooms, Mick and Lisa are out on the beach with a whoop, leaving Len to gather up things like towels, sunscreen, sunglasses, a trashy novel he’d pocketed out of some lady’s purse in the airport and made sure the doors were secure before following them out. By the time he finds them on the beach, Lisa is perched on Mick’s back as he wades waist deep into the ocean. Both of them have sticks for some reason.
Len sets their things up before wandering over to where they are, just close enough so the waves crest over the tops of his feet. It feels nice in contrast to the sun-hot sand. “What are you two doing?” He asks.
Lisa twists around, her expression one of absolute amazement. “Look, Lenny! It’s so blue!” Given until then the only non-pool body of water she’d been near was the Missouri River, her excitement is understandable. The river is called The Big Muddy for a reason.
“Yes,” he says lightly, “but why the sticks?”
“In case we see jellyfish,” Lisa says matter-of-factly.
“Don’t wanna get stung,” Mick adds, staring at the water like he’s expecting an ambush.
Len huffs laughter to himself. They’re such dorks, Len loves them. He goes back to the towels, slathers on sunscreen and settles down to read. He doesn’t care for the plot of the book- though he supposes the plot is rarely the point for this type of romance novel -but some particularly juicy passages brings up some very nice memories with Mick. It doesn’t take long to start wishing he’d brought something to shade himself with, though. The t-shirt he’s wearing is one of Mick’s lighter ones but he’s still getting warm in it all the same.
As he makes his way through the chapters, skimming through the boring parts, Lisa shrieks intermittently, slapping the water with her stick. She’s also wearing one of Mick’s shirts, only because her swimsuit doesn’t cover up the scar on her shoulder. Periodically she’ll use her stick to fish something out of the water and call out, “Lenny, Lenny! Is this a jellyfish?”
“Looks like a plastic bag to me.”
“There’s a jellyfish!”
“Pretty sure that’s seaweed, Lise.”
“It’s a jelly! Kill it!”
“Same plastic bag.”
Len thinks, of course, her paranoia and fascination with jellyfish is justified given their lack of brains or most familiar internal organs.
“Mick! Jellyfish at six o’clock!”
“That’s a condom. We’re going over here.”
Len hides his laughter in the book.
It’s a good hour before the two tire of splashing around, hunting jellyfish of which they found none. Mick wades back to shore and finally lets Lisa down when the water is at his knees. The instant she’s back on the ground, she races across the blistering sand to Len’s towel, dripping all over him once she’s there. “Lisa!” He protests, trying to maneuver the book to safety. Not because he wants to keep it but because the current chapter is giving him inspiration for tonight.
“Come and play, Lenny!” She says, beaming
“Put some sunscreen on,” he counters. Lisa gives a full bodied eye roll but does as Len says. Then helps Mick put some on as well, slapping her hands against his back.
“And after I carried you to the water so your feet wouldn’t burn!” Mick protests.
“It’s a massage! It loosens the muscles or something!”
“I’m not leaving you a tip,” he grumbles but doesn’t say anything else about it. It helps that it’s all sound, Lisa’s hands not even stinging.
After, Lisa stands over Len again, expectantly. Len just ignores her, pretending to be enthralled in his book. He’s so focused on trolling Lisa he doesn’t see Mick until Len is already in his arms and in the air. And being carried to the water.
“Mick!” He cries, “Don’t you dare!” Len flails and Mick grunts a little.
“Do you want me to drop you?”
It’s more of a rhetorical question, Len can’t think of a time he’s ever slipped out of Mick’s arms by accident. He still struggles though not as much and when Mick’s feet starts splashing the water, Len takes off his sunglasses and holds it and his book to Lisa. “Lise!”
She’d been following closely, of course, enjoying their antics, and darts forward to save Len’s things. Mick continues to trek deeper into the water as the waves lick up his thighs. Just to be a brat, Len times a full-body jerk with a heavy wave crashing against Mick. The combination unbalances him and with a, “Whoa!” they both fall backwards into the water.
Their limbs are all tangled together, Len’s elbow scraping against the sand and a knee pushing into something soft and fleshy. A hand blindly fumbles at his cheek and, due to holding his breath, Len snorts seawater by accident.
When his head finally breaches the surface, coughing, coming up nearly nose to nose with Mick and Len’s breath is momentarily caught. The way Mick bellows out with laughter, the droplets clinging to his eyelashes and beading against his skin, the way his hair droops down into his face.
Len has the sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss him. To claim Mick in front of anyone watching, to grab a fistful of hair just to hear Mick give that low, needy moan he always does when Len pulls it. With the way Mick’s eyeing him, licking his lips- belatedly, Len realizes Mick’s shirt is now clinging to him, translucent in places -Mick must be thinking something similar.
“You okay?” Mick asks and Len shivers at the rumble in his voice.
“I’m gonna be sneezing salt for a week,” he says, shifting back toward the beach. Just in time for a new wave to knock him face first back into the water. When he comes back up again, Mick is laughing even louder and Len wonders what he sees in the asshole.
When they get back to dry ground, Lisa is standing there with a brightly colored plastic pail. She holds it toward Len. “Help me build a sandcastle!”
“Where did you get that?”
She shrugs guilelessly. Since he can’t argue with that, Len just shrugs back and goes to stake out a promising bit of sand for their architectural masterpiece. It takes a while to figure out the best sand-to-water ratio but once they do, their sandcastle goes from shapeless lump to a sprawling, five-inch tall structure. Len can’t help getting into it, mind pulling up blueprints of banks and stores automatically. Seeing this has now become Serious Business, Lisa abandons the building and is now making sculptures around the base. First a classic mermaid, then a shark chasing swimmers, now she’s onto an octopus tangling around a ship. She’s not a great artist and sand isn’t a particularly easy medium but Lisa’s intent is obvious.
“Hey, man- wanna play some volleyball?”
Len looks over to see some guys standing over Mick. They’re young, bodies the kind of fit that prefers aesthetics to functionality. Nice to look at definitely, but even if they didn’t have the bleached hair, reflective sunglasses and visors marking them like some frat guys, Len can’t help finding Mick’s practical strength more alluring.
“I’m in,” Mick says, getting up. Last time Len had looked over at him, Mick was dozing. “I don’t know the first thing about volleyball.”
He’s accepted anyway and the guys are patient in teaching him. It helps that the rules are simple and all Mick has to do is punch a ball around so he picks it up quickly. His serves are shit but his team forgives that because his spikes are nasty. Len eventually wanders over to join the spectators. He can claim he got bored because Lisa decided she’d rather play cheerleader or because he hadn’t realized their castle would be caught by high tide but Len really has no shame in admitting how much he enjoys ogling Mick’s athletic prowess.
By the time the game ends, the sun is starting to set and Lisa looks up at her brother from where she’s leaning against his arm. “I’m getting hungry, Lenny.”
He stands and stretches, waving Mick away from his new friends. “Alright, we’ll head back to the hotel. We still have an entire week to enjoy Aruba.” They gather their towels though Len’s book is lost somewhere. He’s not heartbroken over it, though. He already has plenty of inspiration.
Len hadn’t had a chance to snag a disposable camera before the day’s hijinks and remedies that by buying one in the hotel lobby. They order room service and eat on the balcony of Len and Mick’s room, taking cheesey photos of each other, laughing about the day and making plans for tomorrow. After, with the sky gone dark and cool wind carrying the sound of the ocean to them, Lisa yawns. “I’m gonna take a bath and then go to bed. Night, guys.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mick says, after Len sees his sister to her room across the hall because that’s the kind of paranoid he is. Mick shucks his shorts off, not at all caring that the porch door is still wide open. Len appreciates it.
“Mind if I join you?” Len steps in close, voice sultry and smirk promising. “I could help get sand out of those… hard to reach areas.”
“I know you’re just giving me a line but I’m pretty sure I actually am gonna need help with the sand.”
It takes a while to get Mick clean but being able to push him up against the corner of the most luxurious shower he’d ever seen after spending a day watching the two people he loves most being happy? Len thinks it’s totally worth blowing their first big score on this trip.
Title: Tropical Contact High
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1682
Characters: Lisa, Len, Mick
Summary: Three Midwesterners go to their first beach.
Almost the second their bags are in their rooms, Mick and Lisa are out on the beach with a whoop, leaving Len to gather up things like towels, sunscreen, sunglasses, a trashy novel he’d pocketed out of some lady’s purse in the airport and made sure the doors were secure before following them out. By the time he finds them on the beach, Lisa is perched on Mick’s back as he wades waist deep into the ocean. Both of them have sticks for some reason.
Len sets their things up before wandering over to where they are, just close enough so the waves crest over the tops of his feet. It feels nice in contrast to the sun-hot sand. “What are you two doing?” He asks.
Lisa twists around, her expression one of absolute amazement. “Look, Lenny! It’s so blue!” Given until then the only non-pool body of water she’d been near was the Missouri River, her excitement is understandable. The river is called The Big Muddy for a reason.
“Yes,” he says lightly, “but why the sticks?”
“In case we see jellyfish,” Lisa says matter-of-factly.
“Don’t wanna get stung,” Mick adds, staring at the water like he’s expecting an ambush.
Len huffs laughter to himself. They’re such dorks, Len loves them. He goes back to the towels, slathers on sunscreen and settles down to read. He doesn’t care for the plot of the book- though he supposes the plot is rarely the point for this type of romance novel -but some particularly juicy passages brings up some very nice memories with Mick. It doesn’t take long to start wishing he’d brought something to shade himself with, though. The t-shirt he’s wearing is one of Mick’s lighter ones but he’s still getting warm in it all the same.
As he makes his way through the chapters, skimming through the boring parts, Lisa shrieks intermittently, slapping the water with her stick. She’s also wearing one of Mick’s shirts, only because her swimsuit doesn’t cover up the scar on her shoulder. Periodically she’ll use her stick to fish something out of the water and call out, “Lenny, Lenny! Is this a jellyfish?”
“Looks like a plastic bag to me.”
“There’s a jellyfish!”
“Pretty sure that’s seaweed, Lise.”
“It’s a jelly! Kill it!”
“Same plastic bag.”
Len thinks, of course, her paranoia and fascination with jellyfish is justified given their lack of brains or most familiar internal organs.
“Mick! Jellyfish at six o’clock!”
“That’s a condom. We’re going over here.”
Len hides his laughter in the book.
It’s a good hour before the two tire of splashing around, hunting jellyfish of which they found none. Mick wades back to shore and finally lets Lisa down when the water is at his knees. The instant she’s back on the ground, she races across the blistering sand to Len’s towel, dripping all over him once she’s there. “Lisa!” He protests, trying to maneuver the book to safety. Not because he wants to keep it but because the current chapter is giving him inspiration for tonight.
“Come and play, Lenny!” She says, beaming
“Put some sunscreen on,” he counters. Lisa gives a full bodied eye roll but does as Len says. Then helps Mick put some on as well, slapping her hands against his back.
“And after I carried you to the water so your feet wouldn’t burn!” Mick protests.
“It’s a massage! It loosens the muscles or something!”
“I’m not leaving you a tip,” he grumbles but doesn’t say anything else about it. It helps that it’s all sound, Lisa’s hands not even stinging.
After, Lisa stands over Len again, expectantly. Len just ignores her, pretending to be enthralled in his book. He’s so focused on trolling Lisa he doesn’t see Mick until Len is already in his arms and in the air. And being carried to the water.
“Mick!” He cries, “Don’t you dare!” Len flails and Mick grunts a little.
“Do you want me to drop you?”
It’s more of a rhetorical question, Len can’t think of a time he’s ever slipped out of Mick’s arms by accident. He still struggles though not as much and when Mick’s feet starts splashing the water, Len takes off his sunglasses and holds it and his book to Lisa. “Lise!”
She’d been following closely, of course, enjoying their antics, and darts forward to save Len’s things. Mick continues to trek deeper into the water as the waves lick up his thighs. Just to be a brat, Len times a full-body jerk with a heavy wave crashing against Mick. The combination unbalances him and with a, “Whoa!” they both fall backwards into the water.
Their limbs are all tangled together, Len’s elbow scraping against the sand and a knee pushing into something soft and fleshy. A hand blindly fumbles at his cheek and, due to holding his breath, Len snorts seawater by accident.
When his head finally breaches the surface, coughing, coming up nearly nose to nose with Mick and Len’s breath is momentarily caught. The way Mick bellows out with laughter, the droplets clinging to his eyelashes and beading against his skin, the way his hair droops down into his face.
Len has the sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss him. To claim Mick in front of anyone watching, to grab a fistful of hair just to hear Mick give that low, needy moan he always does when Len pulls it. With the way Mick’s eyeing him, licking his lips- belatedly, Len realizes Mick’s shirt is now clinging to him, translucent in places -Mick must be thinking something similar.
“You okay?” Mick asks and Len shivers at the rumble in his voice.
“I’m gonna be sneezing salt for a week,” he says, shifting back toward the beach. Just in time for a new wave to knock him face first back into the water. When he comes back up again, Mick is laughing even louder and Len wonders what he sees in the asshole.
When they get back to dry ground, Lisa is standing there with a brightly colored plastic pail. She holds it toward Len. “Help me build a sandcastle!”
“Where did you get that?”
She shrugs guilelessly. Since he can’t argue with that, Len just shrugs back and goes to stake out a promising bit of sand for their architectural masterpiece. It takes a while to figure out the best sand-to-water ratio but once they do, their sandcastle goes from shapeless lump to a sprawling, five-inch tall structure. Len can’t help getting into it, mind pulling up blueprints of banks and stores automatically. Seeing this has now become Serious Business, Lisa abandons the building and is now making sculptures around the base. First a classic mermaid, then a shark chasing swimmers, now she’s onto an octopus tangling around a ship. She’s not a great artist and sand isn’t a particularly easy medium but Lisa’s intent is obvious.
“Hey, man- wanna play some volleyball?”
Len looks over to see some guys standing over Mick. They’re young, bodies the kind of fit that prefers aesthetics to functionality. Nice to look at definitely, but even if they didn’t have the bleached hair, reflective sunglasses and visors marking them like some frat guys, Len can’t help finding Mick’s practical strength more alluring.
“I’m in,” Mick says, getting up. Last time Len had looked over at him, Mick was dozing. “I don’t know the first thing about volleyball.”
He’s accepted anyway and the guys are patient in teaching him. It helps that the rules are simple and all Mick has to do is punch a ball around so he picks it up quickly. His serves are shit but his team forgives that because his spikes are nasty. Len eventually wanders over to join the spectators. He can claim he got bored because Lisa decided she’d rather play cheerleader or because he hadn’t realized their castle would be caught by high tide but Len really has no shame in admitting how much he enjoys ogling Mick’s athletic prowess.
By the time the game ends, the sun is starting to set and Lisa looks up at her brother from where she’s leaning against his arm. “I’m getting hungry, Lenny.”
He stands and stretches, waving Mick away from his new friends. “Alright, we’ll head back to the hotel. We still have an entire week to enjoy Aruba.” They gather their towels though Len’s book is lost somewhere. He’s not heartbroken over it, though. He already has plenty of inspiration.
Len hadn’t had a chance to snag a disposable camera before the day’s hijinks and remedies that by buying one in the hotel lobby. They order room service and eat on the balcony of Len and Mick’s room, taking cheesey photos of each other, laughing about the day and making plans for tomorrow. After, with the sky gone dark and cool wind carrying the sound of the ocean to them, Lisa yawns. “I’m gonna take a bath and then go to bed. Night, guys.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mick says, after Len sees his sister to her room across the hall because that’s the kind of paranoid he is. Mick shucks his shorts off, not at all caring that the porch door is still wide open. Len appreciates it.
“Mind if I join you?” Len steps in close, voice sultry and smirk promising. “I could help get sand out of those… hard to reach areas.”
“I know you’re just giving me a line but I’m pretty sure I actually am gonna need help with the sand.”
It takes a while to get Mick clean but being able to push him up against the corner of the most luxurious shower he’d ever seen after spending a day watching the two people he loves most being happy? Len thinks it’s totally worth blowing their first big score on this trip.
no subject
Date: 2017-09-08 08:31 pm (UTC)