Genre: RPS, schmoop
Spoilers: not a one
Warnings: RPS, schmoop, may rot your teeth
Disclaimer: Did I mention RPS? This ain't real, folks.
Word Count: ~700
Summary: To see the light upon your skin, the sun upon the sea….
Note: Another one for the schmoop_bingo card, the square wot says "sunburn." Yet another story in the Incremental Movement 'verse, in which two people s-l-o-w-l-y come together. For morganoconner, for all those reasons she already knows about.
No answer seems forthcoming. Richard pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head and listens, but there's nothing much really except the eternal sound of the ocean, its rumbling voice washing in through the open windows. The inside of the condo come beach get-away house is still morning-cool and dim, so whatever Jared's decided to do – or not do – it hasn't involved turning on the lights.
Richard sets the magazines and book he'd purchased on the bar, along with the bag of muffins, but keeps a hold of his cold coffee-smoothie thing. He kicks his sandals off by the front door and ambles through the small main room, the wood of the floor cool and vaguely gritty beneath his feet.
The ocean-side doors are open, the near-constant breeze fluffing the long, filmy curtains and filling the room with the smells of salt and sand and a bit of humid decay. Richard stops to savor, breathing it all in, and it's then that he hears it, the rumble that doesn't come from the ocean.
Shaking his head, he leans through the doorway to look on the deck and yep, mystery solved. Jared is sprawled out the big lounger – the one that had been obviously designed for two people, or more – and snoring away in the morning sunlight.
"Gonna burn yourself good, Jaybird," Richard murmurs absently, soaking up the vision of a practically naked Jared, golden against the white cushions. God Almighty, but the guy has a body that just won't quit, muscle outlined firm beneath his skin, sunlight kissing across his shoulders and pecs, down those superb abs and right on over the mound of buried treasure only barely hidden beneath soft cotton shorts.
Richard swallows, finally remembers that he actually has a drink in hand and swallows some of that as well. The icy-sharp of it jars him enough to make him move, and he sinks into the lounger next to Jared's – the one that's still in the shade, thank you very much – jams his sunglasses back down and stares out at the tumbling sea.
The sun's warming Richard's feet and ankles and his coffee slurpee is gone by the time he hears Jared's breathing change. "Rich?"
The husky timbre runs a zing up Richard's spine. "Morning, sleepyhead."
"Hmm." The lounger creaks and Richard has to look over and watch Jared stretch. Has to. "Still morning?"
Richard twists around to squint at the clock inside; he'd taken his own watch off the day after they'd gotten here and sworn not to put it back on until they had to catch the plane back to
"Uhm. Sorry." Jared sits up and knuckles his eyes and yawns, which makes Richard smile.
"Why sorry? You warned me that you might crash the first couple days, remember? You need the sleep. It's fine, although you're gonna get toasted if you don't watch it."
"Naw, I won't." Jared rearranges the lounger so that it's more of a chair thing than a bed thing and settles back into it, and squints over at Richard. "You're not doing much, though, either."
Richard rolls his eyes. "Va-ca-tion, Jay. Some of us actually plan to rest and relax, not do everything on the entire island in two days. Here for the sun and the ocean and oh yeah, because it's warm. Everything
Richard looks over at the pause and gets caught in Jared's eyes, and the gleam of sunlight on his hair.
"It was my idea," Jared says, soft and gruff, "and I – want you to have a good time."
Richard's not only caught, he's drowning, and he has been for a while now. And God help him, he likes it. Entirely too much. Maybe it's finally time to stop fighting the undertow.
"Jared." Richard sits up and swings his legs around between their loungers and leans forward, pushes his sunglasses up. Ignores the tremor in his stomach. "I have you, and two weeks, and we are – almost literally – alone together in a tropical paradise. How could this not be good?"
Jared watches him, all sleepiness fled from the hazel-green gaze. "You do have me, you know."
And Richard doesn't fight the joy that ripples up, or the smile that bares his teeth. "We could test that theory," he says, getting to his feet. "Inside. Unless," he turns in the doorway, "you wanna keep working on that sunburn instead."
"I am not sunburned!"
"Okay, I'm…a little pink."