riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-06-18 11:16 pm
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-06-18 11:16 pm
Entry tags:
"Diving In" (Beach Boys, 1982)
Title: Diving In
Rating: PG
Summary: When an opportunity for them to make extra cash falls in Nick's lap, he knows the only way he'll have it is with the one person who means more to him than anyone else in the world. And that's not Dex.
Nick had been searching for Cody all morning, and between the sun, the sea and the worry, he was starting to get a headache.
He'd looked in Straightaways first (leaving only after detaching several of the waitresses with vague promises and appreciative glances, as always), he'd looked in the fish market, he'd looked over on Mimi's slip (hope springs eternal) and the Chinese takeaway up by the main road, along with every place in between. He'd even tried looking on the Contessa, fat lot of good that had done.
"Haven't seen him, but I'll toss him your way if he shows up and tries anything. Now scoot, before I scoot it for you." Mama Jo always did have a way with words, Nick mused.
He strolled along the pier, scanning the tourist crowd, eyes peeled for a tall blond in a white cotton sweater that complimented his blue eyes, and shorts that were technically illegal in seven states.
Nick kept looking, hands stuffed in his pockets, head down. When the two of them were apart, Nick felt incomplete, like everything was in black-and-white, or he had cotton wool stuffed in both ears. They'd been through too much together for Nick to feel at ease without Cody at his side, or at least somewhere he knew where to find him. Nick stopped at the railing and let the tour tram go by. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nick rested his eyes for a second, then returned to scanning the harbor, noting every little thing he might need to find Cody.
A British guy had turned up at the Riptide an hour ago, and at first Nick had figured him for an ordinary tourist, after the best of King Harbor water-skiing and Mimi's best line in harbor tours. But it turned out the guy wanted someone to dive for the yacht his kids had sunk a couple summers back. Based on the description, the yacht was in pretty shallow water. Hard cash for an easy dive. And as soon as Nick fixed the coil, they could haul anchor and get going, or whatever the damn term was.
Something brushed his shoulder, and Nick froze. Then deck shoes slapped past him on down the pier, young lovers on their way to a cruiser two slips down, a couple out for a mid-day cruise to Catalina, talking rapidly at each other, arms brushing hips and waists as they walked. First cruise of the season, just out of dry dock, blah blah bl--
That was it. The one place he hadn't looked.
---
Picking his way gingerly between the disemboweled motors and yachtless masts, Nick headed for the tiny shack at the heart of the mess. He figured Dex might've seen Cody. Stepping around a tiny keelboat whose guts were spilling over the side onto the sandy concrete below, Nick realized shook his head. He should've figured. The Riptide had thrown a coil the previous evening, and Cody'd gotten all bent out of shape at the thought of not having it fixed in time for the weekend.
Fixing was something Nick was happy to oblige with, as long as they could get the parts. A weekend full of beer and fish and--
Nick stopped, tuning into the sound of voices, coming from up ahead.
"Yeah but Nick might--"
The rest of the sentence was swallowed up by the arrival of a big Caddy at the main gate and Nick cursed silently. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. Cody.
"Come on, man, he doesn't have to know."
Nick's eyes narrowed. Dex. There was something about Cody's friend that didn't sit right with Nick, set up his hackles, started him looking for cover. Cody said he was on the level, but--
"Dex, you don't know him like I do, buddy. Now, come on, you said you had a coil for the Riptide?"
Nick climbed over a 420 dinghy lying tragic and rusted in the sun. Experience and effort kept his approach silent, until he was able to make out Cody and Dex, standing together outside the ramshackle hut's front door.
"Cody, loosen up, baby. Gimme a shot, okay?" Dex put a hand lightly on Cody's upper arm, trailing his fingers down the sleeve of the sweater Cody'd thrown on that morning, taking another step closer. Nick ground his teeth.
"He's not gonna know about it. It'll just be between you and me." Dex stepped closer, his tanned hand dropping to Cody's hip, familiar and knowing. Nick stared at the hand, then looked back at Dex's face, the lupine, predatory expression there propelling him forward.
Cody stumbled back, out of Dex's grasp as Nick emerged from a tangle of slashed Scarab seats and fiberglass.
"Cody!" Nick's tongue was thick in his too-dry mouth. He dropped his eyes to Cody's hip, where Dex's hand had lingered. "Been looking for you all morning, man. There's a job I need to talk to you about. A wreck."
Cody stepped closer, an expression of relief dawning on his face like sunrise after a storm. He dropped a hand on Nick's shoulder. "All right. Good work, Nick."
Dex's eyes bored into Nick like lasers and Nick instinctively stepped in front of Cody. He managed a nod of greeting. "Dex."
"What wreck?"
Nick looked back at Cody, and the two of them silently agreed to carry the conversation on elsewhere. Nick tore his eyes away, looked back at Dex with a grin. "Chopper crash." He shrugged. "It happens, you know?"
Dex looked from one of them to the other. Nick could tell he wasn't buying the story; if he had, he'd've come up with a question or two about it. But then again, Nick didn't really give a shit if Dex believed he was the King of Persia.
With a last dark look, Dex turned and strode off into the shack, slamming the door behind him.
Cody turned to Nick as soon as the door closed, his hand on Nick's bare arm. "What was that about, Nick? What chopper? Did something happen with the Mimi?"
Cody's fingers on Nick's skin sent shivers running through him, despite the heat of the day. Unbidden, the sight of Dex's hand, familiar and proprietary on the pale corduroy of Cody's shorts, loomed large in Nick's sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blinds twitch in the rental hut's lone window. "C'mere," Nick said hurriedly, tugging Cody into the shade of a leaning catamaran. "I got something to tell you."
He led, and Cody followed. Nick had always taken that for granted. Until now.
"What is it, buddy? What's going on?" Cody's fingers were back on Nick's shoulder, the contact searing his skin through the canvas flight vest. The look in Cody's eyes, confused and anxious, alarmed and...vulnerable. Nick wondered why this moment hadn't come before, and then, as he let his hand drop onto Cody's hip, he knew why. This moment was unlike any other. This would change everything.
"Nick? You're scaring me, pal. What's going on?"
Nick stepped forward and pulled Cody close, fingers tightening on the corduroy, Cody's hipbone close under his thumb. Leaning forward, he claimed Cody's mouth with his own, clumsy and urgent, unable to contain his desire any longer, dimly aware of Cody's hand moving to his chest, flat against the pocket of the vest directly over his heart.
Nick kissed Cody like a drowning man drinks water, and after a few seconds, his heart leapt when he realized Cody was kissing him back, skillful and sincere.
The two of them broke apart, panting for air. Nick couldn't remember the last time he'd been so terrified, so alive. Cody's palm burned on his skin, searing the imprint there. Nick looked up into the eyes he'd known forever, the eyes he'd die for, and prayed that nothing and everything had changed. "Cody..."
"Boat," Cody panted. "Now."
Three days later, they remembered to dive the wreck.
Rating: PG
Summary: When an opportunity for them to make extra cash falls in Nick's lap, he knows the only way he'll have it is with the one person who means more to him than anyone else in the world. And that's not Dex.
Nick had been searching for Cody all morning, and between the sun, the sea and the worry, he was starting to get a headache.
He'd looked in Straightaways first (leaving only after detaching several of the waitresses with vague promises and appreciative glances, as always), he'd looked in the fish market, he'd looked over on Mimi's slip (hope springs eternal) and the Chinese takeaway up by the main road, along with every place in between. He'd even tried looking on the Contessa, fat lot of good that had done.
"Haven't seen him, but I'll toss him your way if he shows up and tries anything. Now scoot, before I scoot it for you." Mama Jo always did have a way with words, Nick mused.
He strolled along the pier, scanning the tourist crowd, eyes peeled for a tall blond in a white cotton sweater that complimented his blue eyes, and shorts that were technically illegal in seven states.
Nick kept looking, hands stuffed in his pockets, head down. When the two of them were apart, Nick felt incomplete, like everything was in black-and-white, or he had cotton wool stuffed in both ears. They'd been through too much together for Nick to feel at ease without Cody at his side, or at least somewhere he knew where to find him. Nick stopped at the railing and let the tour tram go by. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nick rested his eyes for a second, then returned to scanning the harbor, noting every little thing he might need to find Cody.
A British guy had turned up at the Riptide an hour ago, and at first Nick had figured him for an ordinary tourist, after the best of King Harbor water-skiing and Mimi's best line in harbor tours. But it turned out the guy wanted someone to dive for the yacht his kids had sunk a couple summers back. Based on the description, the yacht was in pretty shallow water. Hard cash for an easy dive. And as soon as Nick fixed the coil, they could haul anchor and get going, or whatever the damn term was.
Something brushed his shoulder, and Nick froze. Then deck shoes slapped past him on down the pier, young lovers on their way to a cruiser two slips down, a couple out for a mid-day cruise to Catalina, talking rapidly at each other, arms brushing hips and waists as they walked. First cruise of the season, just out of dry dock, blah blah bl--
That was it. The one place he hadn't looked.
---
Picking his way gingerly between the disemboweled motors and yachtless masts, Nick headed for the tiny shack at the heart of the mess. He figured Dex might've seen Cody. Stepping around a tiny keelboat whose guts were spilling over the side onto the sandy concrete below, Nick realized shook his head. He should've figured. The Riptide had thrown a coil the previous evening, and Cody'd gotten all bent out of shape at the thought of not having it fixed in time for the weekend.
Fixing was something Nick was happy to oblige with, as long as they could get the parts. A weekend full of beer and fish and--
Nick stopped, tuning into the sound of voices, coming from up ahead.
"Yeah but Nick might--"
The rest of the sentence was swallowed up by the arrival of a big Caddy at the main gate and Nick cursed silently. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. Cody.
"Come on, man, he doesn't have to know."
Nick's eyes narrowed. Dex. There was something about Cody's friend that didn't sit right with Nick, set up his hackles, started him looking for cover. Cody said he was on the level, but--
"Dex, you don't know him like I do, buddy. Now, come on, you said you had a coil for the Riptide?"
Nick climbed over a 420 dinghy lying tragic and rusted in the sun. Experience and effort kept his approach silent, until he was able to make out Cody and Dex, standing together outside the ramshackle hut's front door.
"Cody, loosen up, baby. Gimme a shot, okay?" Dex put a hand lightly on Cody's upper arm, trailing his fingers down the sleeve of the sweater Cody'd thrown on that morning, taking another step closer. Nick ground his teeth.
"He's not gonna know about it. It'll just be between you and me." Dex stepped closer, his tanned hand dropping to Cody's hip, familiar and knowing. Nick stared at the hand, then looked back at Dex's face, the lupine, predatory expression there propelling him forward.
Cody stumbled back, out of Dex's grasp as Nick emerged from a tangle of slashed Scarab seats and fiberglass.
"Cody!" Nick's tongue was thick in his too-dry mouth. He dropped his eyes to Cody's hip, where Dex's hand had lingered. "Been looking for you all morning, man. There's a job I need to talk to you about. A wreck."
Cody stepped closer, an expression of relief dawning on his face like sunrise after a storm. He dropped a hand on Nick's shoulder. "All right. Good work, Nick."
Dex's eyes bored into Nick like lasers and Nick instinctively stepped in front of Cody. He managed a nod of greeting. "Dex."
"What wreck?"
Nick looked back at Cody, and the two of them silently agreed to carry the conversation on elsewhere. Nick tore his eyes away, looked back at Dex with a grin. "Chopper crash." He shrugged. "It happens, you know?"
Dex looked from one of them to the other. Nick could tell he wasn't buying the story; if he had, he'd've come up with a question or two about it. But then again, Nick didn't really give a shit if Dex believed he was the King of Persia.
With a last dark look, Dex turned and strode off into the shack, slamming the door behind him.
Cody turned to Nick as soon as the door closed, his hand on Nick's bare arm. "What was that about, Nick? What chopper? Did something happen with the Mimi?"
Cody's fingers on Nick's skin sent shivers running through him, despite the heat of the day. Unbidden, the sight of Dex's hand, familiar and proprietary on the pale corduroy of Cody's shorts, loomed large in Nick's sight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blinds twitch in the rental hut's lone window. "C'mere," Nick said hurriedly, tugging Cody into the shade of a leaning catamaran. "I got something to tell you."
He led, and Cody followed. Nick had always taken that for granted. Until now.
"What is it, buddy? What's going on?" Cody's fingers were back on Nick's shoulder, the contact searing his skin through the canvas flight vest. The look in Cody's eyes, confused and anxious, alarmed and...vulnerable. Nick wondered why this moment hadn't come before, and then, as he let his hand drop onto Cody's hip, he knew why. This moment was unlike any other. This would change everything.
"Nick? You're scaring me, pal. What's going on?"
Nick stepped forward and pulled Cody close, fingers tightening on the corduroy, Cody's hipbone close under his thumb. Leaning forward, he claimed Cody's mouth with his own, clumsy and urgent, unable to contain his desire any longer, dimly aware of Cody's hand moving to his chest, flat against the pocket of the vest directly over his heart.
Nick kissed Cody like a drowning man drinks water, and after a few seconds, his heart leapt when he realized Cody was kissing him back, skillful and sincere.
The two of them broke apart, panting for air. Nick couldn't remember the last time he'd been so terrified, so alive. Cody's palm burned on his skin, searing the imprint there. Nick looked up into the eyes he'd known forever, the eyes he'd die for, and prayed that nothing and everything had changed. "Cody..."
"Boat," Cody panted. "Now."
Three days later, they remembered to dive the wreck.