[fic] Jacaranda - 2/?
Title: Jacaranda
Author: garnetice
Pairing: Kendall/James, James/Ofc (his stepmilf)
Chapter: Two of ???
Rating: T for the moment
Word Count: 2,795
Warnings: Um. None for this chapter that I can recall?
Summary: “Our new choreography is ridiculous. That much pelvic thrusting is unnecessary in any situation that involves clothes.” Kendall nearly chokes on the s’more he’s trying to eat. “Oh god, you don’t think Gustavo will make us dance naked, do you?”
Disclaimer: BTR is not mine.
Author's Notes: Hugely inspired off of Cruel Intentions, but not based off it. No one is hitting James with a car, damnit.
---
It’s midsummer, and it’s just so damn hot. People live in Southern California for the dry, arid heat, the kind that kisses your skin like a soft breeze without ever really making its presence known.
When the temperature spikes, sweat starts beading in the contours of James’s abdomen, pooling in the hollows of his collarbone, but even when it’s turning his throat to desert sands, it’s never usually this bad. Today the warmth has touched down hard in a cloud of east coast humidity, rare as a solar eclipse in these parts. It’s the kind of hazy heat that muddles a person’s mind, searing them to the bone. Even the flowers are wilting, from the sweet scented jacarandas to the exotic birds of paradise that are so distinctive to the Palmwoods. James can’t think, he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t want to do anything except nap poolside, where the blue of the chlorinated water almost looks oversaturated in comparison to the sun-bleached concrete. He stays out there until dusk touches down, turning the sky a periwinkle that radiates up into a deep blue, down into a gold-green where the horizon is lit by thousands of distant lights.
In a haze, James wakes, recognizing Camille drifting around the pool like an old school Hollywood nymphet. She’s wearing a dress that the color of red wine stained lips, and when she shifts, it sparkles like diamonds. She’s practicing lines, her mouth swathed in berry rouge, moving like she’s whispering alms.
Guitar Dude is sitting by the fire pit, strumming out the chords to a melancholy tune that makes James want to return to sleep, to the place where he doesn’t have to deal with the sweltering heat or the way his brain won’t work quite right. Logan’s sitting at Guitar Dude’s feet, bent over a guitar of his own, learning how to make music with his fingers instead of his voice.
He’s already good; Logan learns like he breathes.
James sighs, pulling himself up from the chaise where he’s dwindled away his day, starting the trek up to 2J. Inside the apartment, Kendall’s mom has retreated to an ice water bath, and from the living room James can hear the soft sound of classic rock drifting out from her iPod dock. Katie and Kendall are sitting on the couch, absorbed in some drama about dysfunctional families on Showtime that James is reasonably certain involves way too much cursing and nudity for Katie to be eligible to watch. But much like James, Katie is used to getting her way.
Even now, she’s got the remote control clutched in her hand in the event Kendall tries to make a play for it, and Carlos is standing behind her waving a notebook back and forth like it’s a fan. Her hair brushes against her shoulders like there’s an actual wind.
Carlos perks up when James walks in, yelling his name and dropping his makeshift fan. He nearly leaps over, but with a sharp word, Katie has him stilled and back to his job.
Kendall, though, is free to turn to face him.
James feels a familiar rush of adrenaline. Time to get started.
He lied when he said that pursuing pretty girls was anything like hunting. It’s so much better. It’s more like a relaxed chase, a jog, even. No challenge. And he likes that; jogging is something he’s good at, something he enjoys, even. He’s an awful hunter. His dad took him along on a few trips as a kid, and even aside from the whole yuck factor of shooting helpless animals, there was always too much waiting. Patience isn’t James’s forte. But he thinks that he might have to dredge up those long lost traumatic memories of hunting trips, of nights spread out beneath the stars while his dad told him ghost stories, back when the man still had his respect, and days spent loading deer carcasses into the back of his classy pickup, the kind with a big, purring engine and shiny rims. Kendall won’t be a midmorning jog.
No one chases Kendall Knight, or at the very least, no one ever catches him. He was the fastest guy on their school hockey team. He is the fastest guy James knows, on or off the ice.
“Hey, you’re back.”
“Pool was boring,” James says noncommittally.
Kendall grins. “I’ve been trying to get Carlos outside all day. Let’s do something.”
“Too hot. Can’t move,” Carlos whines, even though he’s still fanning Katie like it’s his only job in life.
“I’m done asking you. Let’s do something,” Kendall repeats to James, and James wants to parrot Carlos’s words back at the blond, but this distant, clear part of his mind whispers that he has a bet to win.
“Like what?”
Kendall’s eyes spark, like someone just flicked a switch inside his brain.
“Anything.”
Which is how they end up towing sleeping bags, a carton of crackers, two packs of chocolate, and a sack of marshmallows across a long stretch of sand.
The bonfire pits lining the beach in Newport are mostly deserted. Even though it’s at least ten degrees cooler on the coast, it’s still too hot for anything like camping. But Kendall insisted, and James couldn’t figure out a reason to say no. He would’ve, if he’d been able to. It’s the main problem with this whole deal with Diana. Kendall likes it when people defer to him, and the thing is, that’s never been how his relationship with James functions. When Kendall wants deference, or obedience, he goes to the other guys. Carlos is loyal to a fault, and the only thing a person needs to do to get him onboard with anything is to ask. Logan can be swayed by logic. And he’s not huge on confrontation, so if logic fails, he’s easy to bully into submission. It’s always been up to James to knock Kendall’s ego down a few notches whenever it gets too inflated. Kendall does the same for him, and its part of how they click. Their friendship has seamlessly worked like that for eighteen years.
Until now.
If James wants to turn their friendship into a relationship, he’s not going to be able to use his usual tactics; Kendall’s too used to him. He can’t come on strong, guns blazing. He’s going to have to hunt in earnest.
He’s not as excited as he should be. In the parking lot, dandelions peek up from the cracks in the pavement, and Kendall’s feet move around them conscientiously, even though he barely even glances down. James can’t help but stomp a few, white fluff flaking off on the bottom of his sandals.
As they march turns from asphalt to beach, James tries to figure out a way to tactfully hit on Kendall.
He’s not sure there is one.
Kendall builds a fire out of kindling he gathered in the Palmwoods Park and old scraps of newspaper he filched from the hotel’s recycling bin. James pulls his knees to his chest and watches. It’s comforting, watching Kendall tend to the flames the same way he used to when they were thirteen, camping in the woods. Kendall has always been their designated fire starter; his dad taught him how to build the best ones. They don’t talk about that, though.
They do get to talking about everything else; about life and girls and the studio. It’s so fucking hot. They strip down to their shorts and boxers, hanging their shirts over some idle driftwood. Kendall pulls the material for the s’mores out. They use a few spare twigs to melt the marshmallows, hands drifting too close to the fire at times, too close to the burning heat. James lets Kendall roast his after his first few tries. There’s more than one burnt lump of a marshmallow lying in that pit now.
All the while, the conversation flows. They’re accustomed to each other’s company. They don’t need to have a topic to stay interested.
James wishes Diana wasn’t such a sadist.
“Our new choreography is ridiculous. That much pelvic thrusting is unnecessary in any situation that involves clothes.” Kendall nearly chokes on the s’more he’s trying to eat. “Oh god, you don’t think Gustavo will make us dance naked, do you?”
James snorts. “Unlikely.”
The new choreography is a little wild, but James likes doing crazy things. He likes doing whatever it takes to capture the attention of a million screaming fans. But-
“At least you’re better at it than me.”
“I am?” Kendall’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Are you admitting I’m better than you at something?”
“No. But. You’re good. I can’t-“ James stands and does a demonstration. His hips are too stiff for the rolling undulations Mr. X has worked into their routine. He’s not a girl. He doesn’t have the curves for it.
That doesn’t seem to matter for Kendall, who instinctively knows how and when to move. It makes his insides churn with envy. James is a great dancer. He’s been training since he was a kid, and he has all the technical skills he needs. But Gustavo was right, back when he first scouted the band. James doesn’t have any fire. Kendall though, he is fire embodied.
“No, see, you move your hips wrong, like-“ Kendall stands and does a demonstration of his own, doing this circle with his hips that is a little obscene.
He moves with a casual elegance, completely unaware of how each sway of his hips mimics the flames in the pit, completely confident in his own body. He’s always been like that, and James has always found it irritating. But now, when there’s nothing to compete for and no audience to watch, he thinks that Kendall really is talented. And weirdly beautiful.
He isn’t sure if he’s thinking that because he’s supposed to, because of the bet, or if he’s thinking it because it’s true. He decides on the latter. It’s not like he hasn’t ever thought that Kendall was attractive before. It’s just, he never had any reason to acknowledge it.
“Want me to show you?” Kendall’s hands dart out towards James and oh hell no. There’s this moment where he lets Kendall guide him, hips brushing slow against the back pockets of James’s pants, and he wants to lean into it. Sand squishes between his toes, the two of them mimicking the crackling flames, the roll and crash of the waves, just for that second. And then-
“I’m good,” James squeaks, jumping so far back that he actually loses his footing, taking Kendall down with him. He lands on top of James’s body with a thud. All the wind rushes from his chest, and James is virtually blinded by pinpricks of white light on the backs of his eyelids. Yeah. Real smooth.
Kendall coughs, choking on sand and laughter.
“Dude, good job. We’re gross now.” Still laughing, he stands, brushing off his shorts. “Want to go for a swim?”
“There are sharks out there.” James wheezes, clutching his chest and shuddering.
“Suit yourself,” Kendall shrugs. And then he starts unbuckling his pants.
James croaks. “What are you doing?”
“Going swimming.” Kendall tosses him a smile and starts down the slope for the water, rolling into the coast. James looks at the sweat beading on the back of his neck, dripping down his back.
Kendall is sexy. James has always known it, somewhere; the same way he knew that Kendall is beautiful. It was a distant itch in the back of his mind, one more stray idea he never really entertained. But now that he is thinking about it, he’s imagining what it would be like to press his tongue against Kendall’s spine, or what it might feel like to actually fuck him, rough and wild or sweet and slow.
He bets that Kendall can give as good as he gets.
James is a little bit shocked by how good the idea sounds. Maybe Diana had a better idea about what she was doing than he originally thought. He points his finger at Kendall, squinting over the slope of it to sight him and cocking his thumb like a gun.
In his imaginary crosshairs, Kendall’s back recedes.
By the time James shucks his shorts and races down the beach, Kendall is already waist deep in the water. The starlight, dimmed from layer after layer of hazy cloud cover and smog, still manages to sparkle on the surface of the waves, silver-white and lovely. Kendall, in the midst of it, has turned to a marble statue, carved of shadows and moonbeams. He’s laughing, splashing around in the midst of the current, hollering for James to follow him in. He kicks the crest of a wave, spraying James’s chest and thighs with water. It’s frigid against his skin, but it’s a good kind of cold.
It warms too quickly in the muggy night, and James dares to take a step forward, toeing the water.
“Don’t be a pussy,” Kendall goads him on. James takes another step forward, and then another. The water laps against his knees, and he stops, feeling naked and vulnerable. Sweat’s beading at his forehead, but his toes are numb from the cold.
Kendall’s not prepared to wait for him to adjust, either. He lurches out of the water like a sea monster, lunging at James and pulling him in. They stumble back a few steps before falling, falling; everything with Kendall is about falling today. James tastes sand and salt and fondness in his throat.
The last thing he sees before he crashes into the water is Kendall’s face, laughter and mischief and light enveloped by the water.
The world goes all fragmented under the surface of the waves, and James pushes away from Kendall’s body. He twists against the currents, staring up at the blackness, pierced by the occasional spot of light. He holds his breath for so long that his lungs begin to burn, but he still doesn’t break the surface. It’s only an arm wrapped tight around his ribcage that brings him up. James splutters and gasps, breath cold and wonderful in his chest.
“Dude, I thought a shark got you.”
“No, it’s just- pretty.” James rubs at his eyes, salt water making them burn.
“Pretty?” Kendall glances up at the sky. “I mean, yeah, it is, but couldn’t you-“
“No. You have to look at it underwater. It’s beautiful.”
Again, Kendall glances doubtfully up at the sky, and then he shrugs. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
He holds out his hand to James. “Okay.”
They dive back beneath the waves, sitting cross legged under the surface and staring up at the sky through the viscosity of the surface. It shimmers like stained glass. The moon makes their skin glow luminous.
When they break the surface, panting and spluttering, Kendall turns to James and says, “You were right.”
“I’m always right,” James states simply. Kendall laughs, pulling an arm around his waist until they’re drifting in close, floating on their backs, toes pointed towards the moon. The waves are a lullaby beneath them, cresting gently and then settling them back down on top of currents that pull and push. They float away from each other and then back again, like their bodies have their own gravitational pull.
At one point, Kendall’s so close that his mouth is hovering just millimeters away from James’s. He can feel Kendall’s breath on his lips, and he wants it. He wants Kendall to kiss him. He feels it in this visceral way, in the marrow of his bones. His whole body is vibrating with it.
Kendall is looking at him, all wide-open and trusting, and James can’t kiss him. He can’t, but he wants to. All he has to do is lean forward, just another half inch or so and-
Abruptly, Kendall pulls away. James feels like he sucked all the air from the world with that movement. He finds his footing there in the ocean and wiggles his fingers at James. “Time to go back in. I’m starting to prune.”
James’s fingers clench into fists at his side. He can almost feel the heat of Kendall’s skin against his palms, so why couldn’t he do it? All he had to do was cross the distance.
He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks that he’s trying to rush things. That’s how mistakes happen. That’s how he loses the game.
Obediently, he follows Kendall as he bounds back up to the pit. They dry off in front of the fire, salt drying and cracking over their skin. And then they curl up in their sleeping bags, flaps half back from the ridiculous heat, and fall asleep that way; watching sparks fly, embers climbing up to the stars.
---
Author: garnetice
Pairing: Kendall/James, James/Ofc (his stepmilf)
Chapter: Two of ???
Rating: T for the moment
Word Count: 2,795
Warnings: Um. None for this chapter that I can recall?
Summary: “Our new choreography is ridiculous. That much pelvic thrusting is unnecessary in any situation that involves clothes.” Kendall nearly chokes on the s’more he’s trying to eat. “Oh god, you don’t think Gustavo will make us dance naked, do you?”
Disclaimer: BTR is not mine.
Author's Notes: Hugely inspired off of Cruel Intentions, but not based off it. No one is hitting James with a car, damnit.
---
It’s midsummer, and it’s just so damn hot. People live in Southern California for the dry, arid heat, the kind that kisses your skin like a soft breeze without ever really making its presence known.
When the temperature spikes, sweat starts beading in the contours of James’s abdomen, pooling in the hollows of his collarbone, but even when it’s turning his throat to desert sands, it’s never usually this bad. Today the warmth has touched down hard in a cloud of east coast humidity, rare as a solar eclipse in these parts. It’s the kind of hazy heat that muddles a person’s mind, searing them to the bone. Even the flowers are wilting, from the sweet scented jacarandas to the exotic birds of paradise that are so distinctive to the Palmwoods. James can’t think, he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t want to do anything except nap poolside, where the blue of the chlorinated water almost looks oversaturated in comparison to the sun-bleached concrete. He stays out there until dusk touches down, turning the sky a periwinkle that radiates up into a deep blue, down into a gold-green where the horizon is lit by thousands of distant lights.
In a haze, James wakes, recognizing Camille drifting around the pool like an old school Hollywood nymphet. She’s wearing a dress that the color of red wine stained lips, and when she shifts, it sparkles like diamonds. She’s practicing lines, her mouth swathed in berry rouge, moving like she’s whispering alms.
Guitar Dude is sitting by the fire pit, strumming out the chords to a melancholy tune that makes James want to return to sleep, to the place where he doesn’t have to deal with the sweltering heat or the way his brain won’t work quite right. Logan’s sitting at Guitar Dude’s feet, bent over a guitar of his own, learning how to make music with his fingers instead of his voice.
He’s already good; Logan learns like he breathes.
James sighs, pulling himself up from the chaise where he’s dwindled away his day, starting the trek up to 2J. Inside the apartment, Kendall’s mom has retreated to an ice water bath, and from the living room James can hear the soft sound of classic rock drifting out from her iPod dock. Katie and Kendall are sitting on the couch, absorbed in some drama about dysfunctional families on Showtime that James is reasonably certain involves way too much cursing and nudity for Katie to be eligible to watch. But much like James, Katie is used to getting her way.
Even now, she’s got the remote control clutched in her hand in the event Kendall tries to make a play for it, and Carlos is standing behind her waving a notebook back and forth like it’s a fan. Her hair brushes against her shoulders like there’s an actual wind.
Carlos perks up when James walks in, yelling his name and dropping his makeshift fan. He nearly leaps over, but with a sharp word, Katie has him stilled and back to his job.
Kendall, though, is free to turn to face him.
James feels a familiar rush of adrenaline. Time to get started.
He lied when he said that pursuing pretty girls was anything like hunting. It’s so much better. It’s more like a relaxed chase, a jog, even. No challenge. And he likes that; jogging is something he’s good at, something he enjoys, even. He’s an awful hunter. His dad took him along on a few trips as a kid, and even aside from the whole yuck factor of shooting helpless animals, there was always too much waiting. Patience isn’t James’s forte. But he thinks that he might have to dredge up those long lost traumatic memories of hunting trips, of nights spread out beneath the stars while his dad told him ghost stories, back when the man still had his respect, and days spent loading deer carcasses into the back of his classy pickup, the kind with a big, purring engine and shiny rims. Kendall won’t be a midmorning jog.
No one chases Kendall Knight, or at the very least, no one ever catches him. He was the fastest guy on their school hockey team. He is the fastest guy James knows, on or off the ice.
“Hey, you’re back.”
“Pool was boring,” James says noncommittally.
Kendall grins. “I’ve been trying to get Carlos outside all day. Let’s do something.”
“Too hot. Can’t move,” Carlos whines, even though he’s still fanning Katie like it’s his only job in life.
“I’m done asking you. Let’s do something,” Kendall repeats to James, and James wants to parrot Carlos’s words back at the blond, but this distant, clear part of his mind whispers that he has a bet to win.
“Like what?”
Kendall’s eyes spark, like someone just flicked a switch inside his brain.
“Anything.”
Which is how they end up towing sleeping bags, a carton of crackers, two packs of chocolate, and a sack of marshmallows across a long stretch of sand.
The bonfire pits lining the beach in Newport are mostly deserted. Even though it’s at least ten degrees cooler on the coast, it’s still too hot for anything like camping. But Kendall insisted, and James couldn’t figure out a reason to say no. He would’ve, if he’d been able to. It’s the main problem with this whole deal with Diana. Kendall likes it when people defer to him, and the thing is, that’s never been how his relationship with James functions. When Kendall wants deference, or obedience, he goes to the other guys. Carlos is loyal to a fault, and the only thing a person needs to do to get him onboard with anything is to ask. Logan can be swayed by logic. And he’s not huge on confrontation, so if logic fails, he’s easy to bully into submission. It’s always been up to James to knock Kendall’s ego down a few notches whenever it gets too inflated. Kendall does the same for him, and its part of how they click. Their friendship has seamlessly worked like that for eighteen years.
Until now.
If James wants to turn their friendship into a relationship, he’s not going to be able to use his usual tactics; Kendall’s too used to him. He can’t come on strong, guns blazing. He’s going to have to hunt in earnest.
He’s not as excited as he should be. In the parking lot, dandelions peek up from the cracks in the pavement, and Kendall’s feet move around them conscientiously, even though he barely even glances down. James can’t help but stomp a few, white fluff flaking off on the bottom of his sandals.
As they march turns from asphalt to beach, James tries to figure out a way to tactfully hit on Kendall.
He’s not sure there is one.
Kendall builds a fire out of kindling he gathered in the Palmwoods Park and old scraps of newspaper he filched from the hotel’s recycling bin. James pulls his knees to his chest and watches. It’s comforting, watching Kendall tend to the flames the same way he used to when they were thirteen, camping in the woods. Kendall has always been their designated fire starter; his dad taught him how to build the best ones. They don’t talk about that, though.
They do get to talking about everything else; about life and girls and the studio. It’s so fucking hot. They strip down to their shorts and boxers, hanging their shirts over some idle driftwood. Kendall pulls the material for the s’mores out. They use a few spare twigs to melt the marshmallows, hands drifting too close to the fire at times, too close to the burning heat. James lets Kendall roast his after his first few tries. There’s more than one burnt lump of a marshmallow lying in that pit now.
All the while, the conversation flows. They’re accustomed to each other’s company. They don’t need to have a topic to stay interested.
James wishes Diana wasn’t such a sadist.
“Our new choreography is ridiculous. That much pelvic thrusting is unnecessary in any situation that involves clothes.” Kendall nearly chokes on the s’more he’s trying to eat. “Oh god, you don’t think Gustavo will make us dance naked, do you?”
James snorts. “Unlikely.”
The new choreography is a little wild, but James likes doing crazy things. He likes doing whatever it takes to capture the attention of a million screaming fans. But-
“At least you’re better at it than me.”
“I am?” Kendall’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Are you admitting I’m better than you at something?”
“No. But. You’re good. I can’t-“ James stands and does a demonstration. His hips are too stiff for the rolling undulations Mr. X has worked into their routine. He’s not a girl. He doesn’t have the curves for it.
That doesn’t seem to matter for Kendall, who instinctively knows how and when to move. It makes his insides churn with envy. James is a great dancer. He’s been training since he was a kid, and he has all the technical skills he needs. But Gustavo was right, back when he first scouted the band. James doesn’t have any fire. Kendall though, he is fire embodied.
“No, see, you move your hips wrong, like-“ Kendall stands and does a demonstration of his own, doing this circle with his hips that is a little obscene.
He moves with a casual elegance, completely unaware of how each sway of his hips mimics the flames in the pit, completely confident in his own body. He’s always been like that, and James has always found it irritating. But now, when there’s nothing to compete for and no audience to watch, he thinks that Kendall really is talented. And weirdly beautiful.
He isn’t sure if he’s thinking that because he’s supposed to, because of the bet, or if he’s thinking it because it’s true. He decides on the latter. It’s not like he hasn’t ever thought that Kendall was attractive before. It’s just, he never had any reason to acknowledge it.
“Want me to show you?” Kendall’s hands dart out towards James and oh hell no. There’s this moment where he lets Kendall guide him, hips brushing slow against the back pockets of James’s pants, and he wants to lean into it. Sand squishes between his toes, the two of them mimicking the crackling flames, the roll and crash of the waves, just for that second. And then-
“I’m good,” James squeaks, jumping so far back that he actually loses his footing, taking Kendall down with him. He lands on top of James’s body with a thud. All the wind rushes from his chest, and James is virtually blinded by pinpricks of white light on the backs of his eyelids. Yeah. Real smooth.
Kendall coughs, choking on sand and laughter.
“Dude, good job. We’re gross now.” Still laughing, he stands, brushing off his shorts. “Want to go for a swim?”
“There are sharks out there.” James wheezes, clutching his chest and shuddering.
“Suit yourself,” Kendall shrugs. And then he starts unbuckling his pants.
James croaks. “What are you doing?”
“Going swimming.” Kendall tosses him a smile and starts down the slope for the water, rolling into the coast. James looks at the sweat beading on the back of his neck, dripping down his back.
Kendall is sexy. James has always known it, somewhere; the same way he knew that Kendall is beautiful. It was a distant itch in the back of his mind, one more stray idea he never really entertained. But now that he is thinking about it, he’s imagining what it would be like to press his tongue against Kendall’s spine, or what it might feel like to actually fuck him, rough and wild or sweet and slow.
He bets that Kendall can give as good as he gets.
James is a little bit shocked by how good the idea sounds. Maybe Diana had a better idea about what she was doing than he originally thought. He points his finger at Kendall, squinting over the slope of it to sight him and cocking his thumb like a gun.
In his imaginary crosshairs, Kendall’s back recedes.
By the time James shucks his shorts and races down the beach, Kendall is already waist deep in the water. The starlight, dimmed from layer after layer of hazy cloud cover and smog, still manages to sparkle on the surface of the waves, silver-white and lovely. Kendall, in the midst of it, has turned to a marble statue, carved of shadows and moonbeams. He’s laughing, splashing around in the midst of the current, hollering for James to follow him in. He kicks the crest of a wave, spraying James’s chest and thighs with water. It’s frigid against his skin, but it’s a good kind of cold.
It warms too quickly in the muggy night, and James dares to take a step forward, toeing the water.
“Don’t be a pussy,” Kendall goads him on. James takes another step forward, and then another. The water laps against his knees, and he stops, feeling naked and vulnerable. Sweat’s beading at his forehead, but his toes are numb from the cold.
Kendall’s not prepared to wait for him to adjust, either. He lurches out of the water like a sea monster, lunging at James and pulling him in. They stumble back a few steps before falling, falling; everything with Kendall is about falling today. James tastes sand and salt and fondness in his throat.
The last thing he sees before he crashes into the water is Kendall’s face, laughter and mischief and light enveloped by the water.
The world goes all fragmented under the surface of the waves, and James pushes away from Kendall’s body. He twists against the currents, staring up at the blackness, pierced by the occasional spot of light. He holds his breath for so long that his lungs begin to burn, but he still doesn’t break the surface. It’s only an arm wrapped tight around his ribcage that brings him up. James splutters and gasps, breath cold and wonderful in his chest.
“Dude, I thought a shark got you.”
“No, it’s just- pretty.” James rubs at his eyes, salt water making them burn.
“Pretty?” Kendall glances up at the sky. “I mean, yeah, it is, but couldn’t you-“
“No. You have to look at it underwater. It’s beautiful.”
Again, Kendall glances doubtfully up at the sky, and then he shrugs. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
He holds out his hand to James. “Okay.”
They dive back beneath the waves, sitting cross legged under the surface and staring up at the sky through the viscosity of the surface. It shimmers like stained glass. The moon makes their skin glow luminous.
When they break the surface, panting and spluttering, Kendall turns to James and says, “You were right.”
“I’m always right,” James states simply. Kendall laughs, pulling an arm around his waist until they’re drifting in close, floating on their backs, toes pointed towards the moon. The waves are a lullaby beneath them, cresting gently and then settling them back down on top of currents that pull and push. They float away from each other and then back again, like their bodies have their own gravitational pull.
At one point, Kendall’s so close that his mouth is hovering just millimeters away from James’s. He can feel Kendall’s breath on his lips, and he wants it. He wants Kendall to kiss him. He feels it in this visceral way, in the marrow of his bones. His whole body is vibrating with it.
Kendall is looking at him, all wide-open and trusting, and James can’t kiss him. He can’t, but he wants to. All he has to do is lean forward, just another half inch or so and-
Abruptly, Kendall pulls away. James feels like he sucked all the air from the world with that movement. He finds his footing there in the ocean and wiggles his fingers at James. “Time to go back in. I’m starting to prune.”
James’s fingers clench into fists at his side. He can almost feel the heat of Kendall’s skin against his palms, so why couldn’t he do it? All he had to do was cross the distance.
He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks that he’s trying to rush things. That’s how mistakes happen. That’s how he loses the game.
Obediently, he follows Kendall as he bounds back up to the pit. They dry off in front of the fire, salt drying and cracking over their skin. And then they curl up in their sleeping bags, flaps half back from the ridiculous heat, and fall asleep that way; watching sparks fly, embers climbing up to the stars.
---