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Bruce Banner has never been the type of guy to get overly pretentious about anything. He’s calm. He drinks tea instead of coffee. He’s a pretty serene, down to earth kinda guy. Nothing really throws him off his balance. He’s increasingly dedicated to his weekend yoga classes, and he likes putting effort into centering his chakra with his natural surroundings.
That is, when he’s not surfing.
Bruce Banner, when he’s decked out in his usual surf gear, is entirely a new person. There’s something about when he pulls on his preferred green wetsuits that de-aligns him completely from himself. No more tea, to hell with yoga, and what’s the point of being one with nature? The contradictory feelings are even more intensified when he braces himself in the water.
The feeling of the waves crashing against his skin is surreal. Just thinking about polishing his favorite surfboard gets him all tingly inside. Cool sand between his toes as he jogs out to catch the early morning waves just as the sun starts to rise. It’s the ultimate thrill. There’s absolutely no way anyone could convince him that anything else is better than the true freedom of the soul that comes with riding that perfect wave.
His fans, his sponsors, and the like, they call him The Hulk. It’s pretty incredible. He likes to think it’s because of his outrageous persona when he surfs, and even gets a little embarrassed by the title when fans ask him for pictures and signatures when he’s not in his zone.
It’s been pretty chill as of late though, the WSL Championship Tour had come to it’s conclusion last month, and Bruce is back in his home town of Malibu to get in some casual wave riding before he’s back with his coach on his strict training regimen and looking for more sponsorships.
Of all the events he’d participated in, Bruce had raked together an exceptional overall score total of 56.650 points, landing him safely in the third place spot.
He still thinks he could have done better, but there’s nothing he can do about it until the next Championship Tour.
Although he had extended a bit of an informal invite to his top two rivals after the award ceremony…to scope out what he needs to beat next year.
*
Steve Rogers was born and raised a city boy.
Being brought up in Brooklyn for most of his life had always been a bit of a hindrance for him, as being from a city up north with notoriously cold winter weather isn’t usually how most surfers get ahead of the game, but Steve, from a young age and due to frequent family visits down to Miami, had always held a natural inclination towards the sport.
He’s always been a surfer at heart.
Even if he loves his New York roots, and finds the concept of owning a car ridiculous when subways and busses exist, as soon as he’d caught sight of the beaches, his move to California after gaining traction as a surfer was easiest thing in the world for him.
From there, his career had skyrocketed.
With easier access to the surfer lifestyle, he’d gotten a palm-tree tattoo within his first week of living in Malibu, and has since surfed every notable beach on the Southern California coastline. Steve lives to surf, and loves getting a reaction from people when he tells them he’s from New York, of all places.
His sandy blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and muscular stature often has surf fanatics dubbing him the Captain America of the ocean due to his uncanny resemblance to the renowned comic star.
His PR team easily had picked up the nickname, and he now sports Pepsi as his biggest sponsor—the red, white, and blue logo printed fashionably onto his standard competition wetsuit.
Since the end of the WSL Tour, and his successful first time participating in a Championship level competition, he’d retreated back to California to take some quality time off. It’s the least he can do to treat himself after his 57.300 point total and subsequent second place overall win.
For Steve, his career and skill level can only get better from here on out.
It’s why he’d accepted the invitation from Bruce, who he’d only beaten by a small margin. If he’s not careful, he knows he can easily be shown up in the upcoming year.
*
Thor Odinson, who just so happens to currently hold the title of overall WSL Championship winner, with a whopping total of 59.600 points, easily takes the cake as being the hunkiest surfer ever.
At least that’s what he’s been telling himself since it’d been printed on the cover of the latest Sport’s Illustrated magazine.
Besides his good looks and lovely Australian heritage, Thor prides himself in being the Beyoncé of the surf world. He’s just known as Thor—first name only—to most.
He doesn’t have any ridiculous nicknames begotten on him by his fans, nor does he want one. Although his Feel the thunder, taste the thunder. Ad campaign with Gatorade makes up for the lack of.
Still, he wasn’t always this popular. His career had been on a downward spiral until he’d signed with Waititi Sports, who’d managed to help him outshine previous mishaps in his surfing career while simultaneously popularizing the Thor brand. All they’d really told him to do though was cut his hair.
Despite his fame and his title, though, he’s still a pretty nice guy, parading healthy rivalry and all around good sportsmanship towards his fellow competitors—namely Bruce Banner. The suddenly notorious Steve Rogers who’d appeared in the competitive surf scene out of nowhere, he knows little about.
Either way, the two had been a little close for comfort in the Championship Tour, and if not for his ability to pull multiple top scores in the overall number of events, he would have been eating someone’s bubbles.
That’s why he’d kindly flew into Malibu to meet with his dear friend and rival Bruce Banner.
*
“You invited him?!” Steve looks a little bewildered.
It’s quite a sight to behold, all three of them out on Malibu beach together so early in the morning.
Bruce stands between both Thor and Steve, his hands on his hips as the two size each other up. They hadn’t exactly formally met during the Tour, so Bruce had somewhat expected this, but that doesn’t mean he wants to put up with it.
“If you two don’t mind,” He gestures to the shore, “the waves are picking up. Surf now. Talk later.”
They wax their boards, and test out the water, swimming a decent distance out to catch the first rises in the tide.
All three of them surf well into the morning, and don’t seem to mind when more and more people—couples, families, fellow surfers—begin to share the public space with them.
Only when the tide has finished rising, do they get out of the water to take a break for drinks.
They stand a good distance from the shoreline when a sudden screech of “Somebody help my daughter!” catches the attention of the trio, and Steve is just about to break into a sprint to get back to the water when Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Steve is just about to smack him away, but seeing Thor squint in the direction of frantic splashing gets him to pause.
The three of them notice a figure leaping onto a mini jet ski and zooming out towards the drowning child, who evidently thought she could swim so far without the use of floaties. The presumed lifeguard reaches the girl in seconds, dives into the water with a clean swoosh, and quickly helps her onto his jet ski. The three of them watch in fascination as the lifeguard reaches the shore and helps the still crying child onto her feet. He bends down and seems to whisper something to the girl, whose loud wails cease just as her mother reaches her and picks her up, thanking the guy before carrying her child away.
He then whips off his sunglasses and shakes out of his hair, water flinging off his sun-kissed body as if in slow motion.
When he begins to climb back up the lifeguard post, they don’t even pretend not to ogle his ass.
There’s a general agreement between them that the lifeguard is smoking hot. He’s got dark-brown hair, looks to be lean with muscle, and the devilish grin he has on his face when he sits back down in his chair is brighter than the sun.
All three of them are whipped.
If looks could kill…
“Fuck.”
“He--He’s-”
“He’s hot.”
Steve lets out a low whistle at Bruce’s conclusion. Thor joins him, lowering his sunglasses and nodding slowly in approval. None of them look away until Thor decides to push his can towards Steve. “Hold my beer. I’m going to talk to him.”
“You? No fuckin’ way dude. I’m gonna go over there right now and give ‘im a taste of Brooklyn.”
Bruce snorts out a laugh and runs a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah right. A babe like that wouldn’t be interested in you two muscly idiots.”
Steve and Thor look at him, “Muscly idiots?!” They blurt in unison.
Bruce looks to the side and shrugs. “I mean…”
“All right.” Steve speaks up again, not wanting to hear the end of whatever Bruce is going to say. “I’ve got an idea. How ‘bout a competition?”
Thor glances back at the lifeguard and sweet Jesus does he look good perched up on that chair. “Continue.”
“We all ride a wave, whoever gets his attention gets to talk to him.”
Thor and Bruce both seem to think about the proposition for a moment.
“You’re on.”
*
Bruce goes first, claiming he’ll be able to end the competition early as soon as he has his surfboard under his arm. He catches the first wave he gets to, expertly standing to his feet as his board lifts up with the 5 foot beauty. As he’s carried forward by the wave, he holds his arms out with confidence.
The lifeguard doesn’t even blink in his direction.
Steve manages to withhold a laugh when Bruce angrily trudges through the sand, and watches Thor dodge a punch when the Aussie does burst out in laughter. He goes next, catching a similar wave to Bruce’s. He executes his small performance excellently, feeling quite satisfied when a group of women clap for him, their little contest seemingly gaining a small audience of beachgoers.
When Steve glances at the lifeguard post, he smirks when he sees that the chair has been abandoned. At closer inspection, the lifeguard has once again climbed down from his post, but when Steve takes a step in his direction, he notices that the guy is…checking his phone?!
He groans and begins the walk of shame back towards Thor and Bruce, proceeds to politely thank the group of women for complimenting his skill, and subsequently punches Bruce in the shoulder, who’s now laughing at him like he hadn’t basically done the exact same thing just minutes ago.
“You Americans.” Thor speaks up. “Let me show you how it’s done—”
He’s interrupted by the audience that their little surf-off had attracted. They’re cheering, but for who?
The trio watches, jaws dropping simultaneously as a dark-skinned man with only swim trunks on seems to angelically glide down from what’s at least an 8 foot wave. He looks smug, and he doesn’t even glance in their direction when he swims back to shore, lifts the lifeguard up bridal style, and quite literally whisks him away.
“Obviously, he just got luck—"
Thor looks at Bruce with a deadpan expression, and Steve’s already walking away—presumably to get another drink.
“Shut up Bruce. Just shut up.”