Author's Note: Have some delightful beach adventures. Finished it before summer was over. Go me! Going on adventures to the shore with Faintly Falling gives me writing ideas.
Today was one of those good days filled with all manner of natural wonders to flood the senses. Some man-made as well. Sand and water and sunshine, the smell of the ocean and junk food. Not to mention a pair of good friends to provide company and to drag me out into the salty abyss of the Atlantic.
I'd been craving a day like this for ages. A day by the beach with the smell of seaweed. As much as the concrete jungle has become my home I still find myself drawn to the shore with its carefree nature and sensory punch. Waves and impromptu bands. Watching Sebs almost vomit as Tom downs all manner of boardwalk goodies like giant pizza and questionable hot dogs and getting globs of mushy, wet, sand to the face which quickly escalated to a full blown 'sand war" with wrestling and other feats of strength. Occasionally stealing Tom away for a kiss and smiling at the fact that Sebs notices and doesn't care. He seems to even enjoy the stupid look that comes on Tom's face when he too realizes what's going on. I'll admit that it is pretty comical.
Tom smelled like sun-block and the ocean, and somehow that's just all too attractive to me. Lucky for him the beach is a public place or I would have jumped his bones right then and there. Besides, sand is annoying and gets all kind of places.
When that wasn't happening there was splashing around more than some kids, and giving lifeguards heart attacks is all a part of the fun. Sebs said Tom nearly drowned him ten times. Tom said it was more like five. Whoever's right, it doesn't matter. It was fun to watch from a distance. Was because the two dorks actually picked me up and took me to that water. It's always freezing when you first get in, or rather, when you're first forced in.
I managed to dunk Tom a few times, but Sebs proved a bit too agile for my water maneuvering abilities.
No matter how well he swims Tom will always look like a drowned rat, a title that he seems to be becoming rather fond of. Surprising if only slightly. I shouldn't complain about him being accepting of things.
Tom learned that he doesn't like the quality of the sand here for sandcastle building purposes. Said it needed to be finer or less wet or something else. I just think he's not very good at making sandcastles. Even if that's true it's much easier to bury Sebs' legs when he's passed out in the sun anyway. It's not a sandcastle, but it's still really rewarding and much faster. The reactions to it were pretty priceless.
When the beach itself was exhausted we took to the streets, covered up just enough to be presentable. Tom somehow managing jeans despite the heat. Sebs and I were sure to point it out to him, but he assured us that this was the sort of weather he grew up with. That we "east coast types" just couldn't handle it. We were in no position to argue with him though we did manage to wrangle him into his t-shirt as we got into town with its shops and people on corners playing a song on perfectly tuned instruments. Tom wanted to dance, but I said it was too hot for that nonsense. But Tom's persuasive, and by that I mean forceful. Managing to get me going for a second and even grabbing Sebs, who squirms like no other, and dipped him lower than you see on TV.
Tom wanted to head back to the boardwalk and play some games after the shops were invaded, their knick-knacks stared at for long enough. Neither Sebs nor I could think of any reason why not. Of course that changed when the two of us were walking around with the spoils of Tom's success at carnival type games. You'd think by now we'd know better than to underestimate just what his brute strength is capable of. Personally, I would have settled for just one of the normal sized prizes, but I guess a giant tiger is something I could work into my décor.
He offered to win Sebs something, but somehow Sebs convinced him otherwise. It's freakin' voodoo. I swear.
I made friends with one of those "robotic" performers that was hanging around. The ones that make whistling noises and whirr. Moving stiffly to the amusement of the crowd. I got him to mess with Sebs who was a good sport about the whole thing. He's surprisingly good at mimicking robot movements. There's a joke in there somewhere, but I'll leave it to you to make it.
I should have known better than to allow Tom to take on the challenge of the go-kart track, but in his defense he did get first place when all the laps were done. You'd think bumper cars would be different, but I keep forgetting that Tom has no resistance toward slamming into things. My back is going to be sore tomorrow. I just know it.
The three of us settled on one coaster to ride, and no one vomited at the end. A celebratory funnel cake was in order for that, of course. Tom managed to eat one all by himself, and by some miracle he shared the second with us. I honestly don't know where he puts it all, the skinny bastard. His face was covered in powdered sugar by the end of it, and he would have stayed like that had I not intervened. Sebs helped too, but mostly because I threatened to have Tom rub his sticky, sugar, fingers all over him.
We caused quite a scene, but hey, if anyone is going to cause a scene it's us. At least we're interesting more than annoying.
Still, it was all just for a day, and Tom had already begun to fuss about how the sun made him itch like the pasty vampire he is. Sebs had been willing to call it quits as well. I didn't blame them. My feet were tired, and I could see that the leather of Tom's flip flops was starting to wear, but also Sebs was looking fatigued despite the coolness of evening that was coming on.
I had to drive of course, but that's pretty much the only option. I don't trust Sebs' driving, no offense to him, and well, Tom can drive…just not legally. We packed everything up, and Tom volunteered to sit in the back with the tiger and his other spoils. Chewing happily on the straw of the second smoothie he'd weaseled me into buying him, clever bastard that he is. He kept fussing with the windows until I decided to just open then all. Fuel efficiency be damned, the wind felt great. Sebs complained about the sun being in his eyes for a minute or two, but we all figured that it was just leftover energy from the day escaping. If nothing else, why not complain?
I had my own grievances about sand in my car that Tom responded to by wiping sandy feet across the floor. Sebs was no help, encouraged him even. Most effective tag team in the east.
We blasted the radio for a bit, screaming more than singing and realizing just how few of the songs we actually remembered actually got played on most stations. Oh well, that's what stations devoted to certain decades are for.
We rocked the shit out of the 80s and 90s station.
Eventually, Tom konked out in the back, the tiger, who still needs a name, proving to be a most efficient pillow. The way he clung onto it you'd think Tom was convinced that it was trying to get away from him. Again, not surprising. Tom never likes anything to get away from him. Especially giant, stuffed, tigers it would seem. Sebs stayed awake for the drive and was good conversation when there were patches of particularly annoying traffic. By the time we got back Tom was back up again, and it had actually started to feel like evening time.
What a change the city is. No sound of waves, and the sun gives way to the glowing, electric, lights of man. Home in a different way. Tom was feeling over eager as usual and practically grabbed everything out of the trunk himself. I certainly wasn't going to stop him. Less work for me, and I like watching him go up the stairs anyway. We have an elevator, but Tom's not big on them even on his best days.
Sebs caught me watching and gave me a look that told me he knew what I was thinking. I smiled and told him to lay off. I can stare at Tom's ass all I want, and I will. Sebs doesn't have to know that. Well, he does know that, but he doesn't have to make a joke of it.
Eh, whatever. I don't even really care. We're all friends, and if Sebs wants to tease me, why the hell not? Besides, I can always pull the "you need to get laid" card on him. Works practically every time.
By the time the two of us got up the stairs and to my place Tom had already freed himself of his shirt and was washing sandy feet in the kitchen sink. There's really no point in reprimanding him for such actions anymore. It's just part of his "charm". Once everything's in its place I find the two dorks discussing how Tom's haircut makes him look like a twelve-year old, but I like it anyway. The shorter look for summer is a welcome change the general somewhat shaggy mop his likes to keep it at either out of comfort or laziness. Still, I kind of miss that fluff. I rubbed his head, and the hair easily moved back to some semblance of how it was though my "ruffling" was still apparent. Perfect. Whatever Tom's hair is doing I like to mess it up.
Take that as you will.
Sebs went on about Tom's gastronomic feats for a while, taking special note of the density of all the carbs and how Tom shouldn't be able to move. Eventually though, he headed out. Saying he was getting tired and that he was getting bored of Tom and I "fucking with our eyes", whatever that means. I hadn't noticed anything, but Sebs has a weird sense of humor like that.
Still…maybe he had noticed something. Tom's giving me that look, and I know he's thinking about it. I kind of don't want to prove Sebs right, but then I remember the smell of sun-block and saltwater. I see the light off of amusement park rides on his face, and the tint of red on his skin from the sun. The music of the street corner band in my ears and the taste of funnel cake with copious amounts of sugar. I'm still at the beach, and I can feel the prickle stubble on Tom's face as he tells me a secret under the shade of the umbrella. An attack on my senses brought about only by a suggestion, a look, and man, it's a strong one.
Back to the present, and Tom's still got that feel of beach on him. Face a little rough like the waves with eyes to match the cloudless sky. Heat coming off him from sunburn, smelling like seaweed and sweetness and every bit as enticing as a dance on the corner of a block. He kisses me, and I'm going to let him. After all, didn't I say I'd been craving some time at the beach?