Work Text:
As he and Reki dash across the sand, surfboards under their arms, Langa swears his feet are blistering with every passing second. The ocean glimmers before them, the sun’s rays reflecting off the foaming waves like pinpricks of gold. It’s nothing like Langa has ever seen before – a stark contrast to the steep Canadian powder slopes he’s accustomed to.
Captured by the sight, Langa nearly forgets about the sand frying his feet, but–
“Aw, feels like forty degrees today!” Reki laments, adjusting his headband and wiping the sweat from his brow.
And the moment is broken.
“Is it always this hot here?” Langa wonders aloud, running blindly towards the water and wishing more than ever that he’d brought a pair of sunglasses with him.
Reki just laughs. “Every fuckin’ day, mate.” His voice changes – more wistful, even reverent, Langa muses – as he adds, “But once you’re in the surf, it doesn’t matter.”
They finally reach the water and Langa takes a moment to marvel at the way it laps gently at his toes, the stinging heat of the sand dissipating in mere seconds. As they venture into the surf together, Langa lags behind slightly, captivated by the way Reki’s smile lights up his entire face. He’s only known Reki for a week or so, but there’s already something in his chest that gently pulls him towards Reki, right into his orbit.
Langa knows that if he enters that orbit, it’ll be impossible to pull away again.
A wave hits him in the face, knocking him off his feet.
Reki turns back, clearly trying to hide his grin. “Langa! You right, mate?”
Langa struggles to his feet, spitting out seawater. “I thought this would be a lot more like snowboarding, but we haven’t even gotten to the big waves yet!”
“It’s not gonna be anything like snowboarding,” Reki points out, accidentally sending another torrent of salty water over Langa’s head as he slaps his board onto the surface of the waves.
Reki stammers apologies, reaching out a hand to help a spluttering Langa steady himself.
Langa looks up into those wide amber eyes and sighs.
***
It’s been what feels like the longest day ever for Kaoru.
Bloody imbeciles, he grumbles inwardly, watching from the Bondi lifeguards’ tower through his binoculars as Kojiro brings yet another idiotic swimmer back to shore from way outside the flags. Why the beach is such a tourist magnet when the temperature is literally in the thirties is something Kaoru will never be able to comprehend. It’s always the idiots from the cold countries in the northern hemisphere who think they’re about to have a lovely field day in the nice warm sun, getting a nice tan and splashing around in the nice cool water – when in reality, they’ll be trudging back to their air-conditioned hotels with a nasty sunburn and a sling for a newly-dislocated shoulder.
Kaoru focuses the binoculars on Kojiro as he disembarks from the jet ski, noting how his back muscles ripple as he jumps to the sand.
He tears his eyes away, unable to suppress the wave of irritation that engulfs him. He really shouldn’t be thinking about Kojiro at a time like this – in fact, he shouldn’t be thinking about him at all.
A crackling through his radio puts an abrupt – though certainly welcome – end to Kaoru’s thoughts.
“Oi Cherry, we’ve picked up a lost kid. Bringin’ him over now, but can ya make an announcement from the tower in the meantime?”
Kaoru – or Cherry, as he’s called by the other lifeguards – immediately picks up the binoculars again, quickly glancing over the beach for any sign of a distressed parent. “Description?”
There’s another static crackle, and Kaoru pulls out a pen. “Asian boy, black hair, green eyes. Doesn’t seem to speak much English but keeps crying. He’s wearing a green rashie with ahh… cat ears.”
Kaoru stops writing. “Cat ears?” he asks incredulously. “Did I get that?”
The other lifeguard – Kaoru can’t work out who it is through the incessant crackling of the radio – chuckles. “Yeah mate. Funny kid – bit old to be missing his folks so much. Now, I’ve gotta go catch that bloke who’s been stealin’ wallets all day, but I’m gonna get Joe to bring the kid over to ya and check if he speaks any Japanese. Let me know if he speaks it, or else we’ll probably have to go find tourists or something.”
“Okay, copy that,” Kaoru says, immediately calling over the speakers, “Attention all beachgoers. We’ve picked up a young Asian boy with green eyes and a green rashie with cat ears. If you are this boy’s parent or guardian, please come to the lifeguards’ tower to collect him.”
For good measure, he repeats the announcement in Japanese, just in case the boy’s guardian happens to be Japanese. That’s the problem with missing child situations; a lot of the time, the hardest part of locating the child or parent is the language barrier. Especially when the child is crying their eyes out and nobody can even work out what language they’re speaking.
He wonders how Kojiro will handle the kid. Kojiro’s Japanese is clunky and stilted at the best of times, so really, sending him to fetch a foreign child is just as useless as if any other lifeguard had been sent. He’s practically monolingual at this point, and Kaoru always feels a twisted sense of satisfaction when Kojiro is forced to speak Japanese – no, he reminds himself; this is not the time to be gloating. There’s a parent out there looking for their missing child.
Kaoru watches the sand for a few more minutes, until the tower door creaks open and Kaoru spins around to see Kojiro enter with a child whose rashie really does have cat ears. He’s utterly bedraggled, his hair dripping onto the floor, and Kaoru is immediately reminded of the cat he once pulled, thrashing, out of his family home’s swimming pool.
“This is Miya. He’s lost and–” Kojiro begins in stilted Japanese, and Kaoru has to suppress a smirk at how he struggles to pronounce even the simplest sentence, but Kojiro can barely get another word in before the kid interrupts him.
“I’m not actually lost,” he states in English, not even the slightest trace of emotion in his voice.
Kojiro’s eyebrows shoot upwards and he takes a step backwards, nearly tripping over a bucket in the corner of the tower. “Weren’t you crying just a moment ago? C’mon mate, you can’t just pretend not to speak English. I had to use Google Translate to understand you!”
Miya flicks his wet hair out of his face and just stares at him. “Yeah and? Who cares, old man?”
Kojiro just gapes at him. If Kaoru wasn’t just as taken aback by the situation, he would laugh.
Miya stalks over to where Kaoru sits at the lookout and collapses into a swivel chair with a deep sigh. He loosely crosses one leg over the other and spins around a few times, sending water droplets splattering onto the window. “Aw, fuck it’s nice to take a break for once, hey.”
His strong Aussie accent is jarring.
A vein throbs in Kaoru’s temple. “We’ve got lifeguards out looking for your parents right now, when they could be helping other people who actually need saving.”
Miya just yawns. “Okay mate. Go out there and save lives, then. Be a hero. I’ll just chill here.”
He rolls the chair over to the standing fan and puts his face right up close next to it, sighing in satisfaction as the cool air buffets his hair around his face.
Kojiro is obviously starting to find the situation amusing, and his chest is so obnoxiously bare that Kaoru can’t help snapping, “Put a bloody shirt on, mate.”
Kojiro inhales sharply and Kaoru knows he’s made the wrong move, but just as Kojiro opens his mouth to start what’s probably going to be a particularly bitter fight, Miya, who’s spend the past few seconds looking between them with an increasingly disgusted expression, cuts in, “Are you two gonna stop fuckin’ ogling each other’s muscles or are we gonna sit here all day? Leave it for when you’re off-duty and please get a room. Jesus.”
The cameraman who perpetually sits in the corner of the tower barely manages to stifle what can only be described as a giggle.
Kaoru nearly drops the binoculars he’s still holding. “What did you just say?”
The boy flicks his fringe out of his face. “I said–”
Kojiro unwraps an Uncle Tobys muesli bar and stuffs it in Miya’s mouth to shut him up.
“For someone who was crying about missing his family when we were outside, this little ankle biter’s got a whole lotta nerve,” Kojiro laughs to the camera, casually resting his hands on his hips. Just so that the whole of Australia will get a closeup of his muscles on TV, Kaoru remarks scornfully.
Miya spits out the muesli bar, tugging at the collar of his rashie so he can wipe his mouth on a cat ear. “Jesus, you guys need to get healthier snacks. No wonder Australia has an obesity problem, hey – next thing ya know we’ll be beatin’ America.”
He kicks the muesli bar into the base of Kaoru’s chair. Kaoru can only feel sorry for him. He’s dealt with the absolute worst of the eshays before; he knows how to help a kid on the verge of delinquency regain his sense of self.
“Alright, Miya,” Kaoru says slowly and carefully, making sure to look Miya in the eye. This is his absolute last resort. “Joe doesn’t get it, but I understand. I went through a rebellious phase in high school too.” He searches for the words he’s heard delinquent kids say on the train in recent years; he needs to be relatable to Miya. “You just wanna hang out with the lads – I mean the adlays – and have a sweet – eetswa – time, yeah? Uh, staunching people for their wallets? Eshay… bah?”
Miya just stares at him for a moment before he dissolves into peals of laughter, quickly leading to high-pitched giggles, just like a kindergartener on a sugar high. “You – you – what the fuck are you saying?” he manages to choke, slapping his leg as tears form in the corners of his eyes.
To Kaoru’s horror, Kojiro is laughing too, his tanned face creasing into that smile that Kaoru still can’t bring himself to hate.
“WHAT?” Kaoru snaps, slamming a hand down on the tabletop.
Kojiro and Miya turn to look at him, startled for a moment, but break down into laughter barely a second later. Kaoru wants to scream, except he can’t, because he’s being filmed for goddamn Bondi Rescue and he absolutely can not damage his reputation in a situation like this.
Kaoru takes a few deep breaths and runs a hand through his hair. “What,” he begins slowly, refusing to meet anybody’s gaze, “is so funny?”
Kojiro bites his lip. Kaoru hates how good it looks.
“You really think any high school kid with bad manners is an eshay?” Kojiro guffaws, clutching Miya’s shoulder for balance. “If he hasn’t tried to rob you yet, he’s probably not an eshay.”
Kaoru wants to dissolve into his chair. “I was just trying to help!” he splutters, feeling his face and ears turn red. “We get a lot of kids terrorising the beach and they all speak like that!”
“I’m not an eshay, old man!” Miya practically shrieks, and falls off his chair. Hitting the floor, he just keeps laughing. “What the actual fuck, mate?”
Kaoru storms out of the tower. How was he to know that this menace of a child was actually a law-abiding citizen?
On his way down the steps, he nearly crashes into a burly, orange-haired man.
“Do you guys have Miya?” he asks. He sounds tired. Kaoru gets it.
“Yeah,” Kaoru sighs, glad that this whole business with Miya will be over. “He’s in the tower. Are you his dad?”
The man shakes his head. “Nah, mate, I’m just babysitting him, but he’s a real handful. Keeps runnin’ off and playing pranks.”
Kaoru raises his eyebrows. “Tell his parents.”
He’s just making his way across the sand to tell the lifeguards in the patrol buggy that Miya has been picked up, when he notices a surfer in the swimming zone. Raising his binoculars to his eyes, Kaoru sees a dark blue-haired surfer assisting what looks to be an amateur surfer who’s floated out of the surfing zone.
He would normally just keep an eye on them from the tower and leave them be, as the surfer doesn’t seem to be having trouble swimming, but any sign of this all-too-familiar blue-haired man is a bad sign.
Kaoru dashes to grab a rescue board and leaps into the water, paddling as fast as he can.
Adam is a notorious surfer around Bondi, always knocking other surfers off their boards for fun and even occasionally holding people’s heads underwater. Kaoru has banned him from the beach at least eight times, but unfortunately, Adam seems to have police connections, because he just keeps coming back to wreak more and more havoc.
The water is getting choppier, and as Kaoru approaches the two surfers, he can see that the younger one is clearly struggling. Adam is sitting on his board and twisting the younger surfer’s arms behind his back. Kaoru doesn’t want to know what’s going through his head.
“Oi!” he calls, pulling up beside them. “Adam, what do you think you’re doing?”
Adam shoots him an evil grin. “G’day there, Cherry. I’m helping this boy. He’s gotten lost in the swimming zone and can’t get back to his friend.”
He motions to a red-haired boy in the surfing zone, who’s shouting, “LANGA! WHERE ARE YOU?”
The young surfer, who Kaoru guesses must be Langa, cries, “Reki! I’m over here!” but his voice is lost in the wind.
“You need to get away from him right now,” Kaoru commands, placing a hand on Langa’s board and trying to push him away from Adam. “I can report this, y’know.”
Adam fixes him with that menacing smile. Frankly, Kaoru thinks, it’s absolutely terrifying. “I own the police, mate.”
Kaoru grabs Adam’s wrist. “I don’t care. You’re coming with me.”
Adam goes limp for a moment, and Kaoru thinks he’s finally giving in, but in an instant, Adam twists his hand out of Kaoru’s grasp and shoves Langa off his board. Langa starts paddling desperately away, but Adam has already picked up Langa’s board and lifted it out of the water.
And before Kaoru can even blink, Adam has Langa’s surfboard over his shoulder, and oh god, he’s swinging it right at him like an oversized baseball bat.
Pain engulfs Kaoru as the board hits him square in the face, making contact with his entire head and shoulders. He topples off the rescue board, his vision blurring, and the last thing he sees before passing out is Adam’s malicious grin.
“Oh, Cherrios,” Adam whispers as Kaoru’s world fades to black.
***
When Kaoru comes to, he’s back on shore.
There’s a crowd surrounding him and Kojiro is leaning over him, concern painted all over his face. “It’s okay,” Kojiro reassures him, gently pushing Kaoru back down when he tries to struggle to his feet. “We’ve got Adam in the tower.”
“Geh,” says Kaoru, spitting out a piece of seaweed. His nose is throbbing dully and he briefly wonders if it’s broken.
Kojiro chuckles.
“Did I breathe in any water?” Kaoru demands, trying to sit up again, but there’s a sharp pain in his left shoulder when he leans on it. “Holy shit.”
Kojiro steadies him and helps him sit up. “Don’t move,” he says, motioning for the ever-present cameraman to give Kaoru some more space. “A nearby swimmer got you before you went under, so you haven’t taken in water. But you’ve dislocated your shoulder, and your nose might be broken.”
Kaoru winces, and his world spins again from the pain in his shoulder.
Brushing Kaoru’s hair from his face, Kojiro says calmly, “The paramedics are on their way, but I’m gonna have to give you the green whistle while we wait.”
Kaoru looks blearily up at him. “Okay.”
He doesn’t really want to use the green whistle, but if it’ll get him out of pain, he’ll do anything. He’s administered the green whistle to beachgoers hundreds of times, but never had to experience the analgesic gas himself. He’s certainly not the biggest guy around, and he’s seen the effect the whistle has on guys his size.
Kojiro hands him the green whistle, and closes Kaoru’s hand around it. “Keep holding your finger over it, alright?”
Kaoru takes a deep breath, and then another. The pain in his shoulder starts to fade as his muscles relax, but apparently, so does his mind. “Aw, yeah,” he slurs, his voice sounding disembodied and faraway. “Wooaahhhhhh.”
He can see Kojiro starting to laugh, and somewhere above him he sees Miya, and hears him proclaim, “Haha, old man! How’s it feel to be high?”
Someone grabs Miya and pulls him out of the way.
“Woahhhh,” Kaoru repeats, and all he can see is Kojiro now. He giggles. “Kojirooo, I said put a shirt onnnn…”
He traces the green whistle over Kojiro’s abs. “Hmmmm…”
“Oi.” Kojiro leans back, but Kaoru pokes him in the stomach.
He takes another drag of the whistle, even more lightheaded and loose-lipped now. “Ohhh, Carla,” he mumbles as Kojiro supports his head and neck, “fetch me some calamari… Carla-mari… hahaha…”
He sees Kojiro stifle another bewildered laugh. “Who’s Carla, Kaoru?”
“Woooaaahhhh.” Kaoru gazes into Kojiro’s ruby eyes. Kojiro’s face looks like it’s being distorted and twisted in a spiral. “I don’t know… haha… wacko…”
Kojiro moves the tiniest bit closer, and Kaoru says the first thing that comes to mind. “Kojiro, your muscles…”
Kojiro snorts.
“Kojiro,” Kaoru murmurs, reaching out his right hand, but flailing it wildly around. “Kojiro, I have something… to tell you…”
Kojiro nods slowly. “Okay,” he says slowly, gently taking Kaoru’s hand and placing the whistle back in his mouth.
Kaoru giggles. He can hear the paramedics making their way down the sand. “Kojiro, did you know…”
Kojiro has really nice eyes, Kaoru thinks.
“Yeah?” Kojiro prompts.
Kaoru swings his uninjured arm over Kojiro’s shoulder. “I have a big, biiiiig crush on you,” he slurs, and suddenly everything is too much, and he thinks he might pass out again. He feels his eyes rolling back in his head as a paramedic catches him.
As the paramedics lift him onto a stretcher, he swears he can hear Kojiro cry, “I need to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation now!”
“He has a dislocated shoulder,” Langa points out, but Kojiro swats his hand away.
“He needs mouth-to-mouth!” Kojiro insists in the distance, but Kaoru has already been carried back to the lifeguards’ tower.
***
Kaoru’s shoulder goes back in smoothly enough, his nose isn’t broken, and he doesn’t need to go to hospital, but by the time the effects of the green whistle have completely worn off, the sun is already getting lower in the sky, casting long shadows on the beach.
Kojiro calls the police to pick up Adam, but when there’s a knock at the door, a dark-haired man walks in.
“You’re not the police,” Kojiro says flatly, and Kaoru knows there’s nothing more they can do.
“No.” The man shakes his head. “We’ll be going now.”
He pulls Adam away from the lifeguards restraining him, and Adam shoots him a winning smile. “Oh, Tadashi, you’ve always got my back,” he croons as Tadashi releases him back onto the beach to continue being a menace to society.
Kojiro sighs, turning his attention back to Kaoru. “You right, mate?”
“Fuck,” Kaoru mutters, shaking his head as more memories of his stint with the green whistle come back. “Jesus, what was I saying?”
Kojiro pales. “Let’s go outside,” he says quickly, obviously not wanting to talk in front of the other lifeguards.
They sit on the tower steps.
“You said you have, and I quote, a big, biiiiig crush on me.” Kojiro looks like he isn’t sure whether to laugh or flee.
Kaoru glares at him, but he figures there’s no point denying it. “You wanted to give me mouth-to-mouth!” he protests, punching Kojiro in the shoulder.
Kojiro rolls his eyes. “Got any complaints?”
“I was breathing!” Kaoru splutters, but he still lets Kojiro sit closer to him. “You know you shouldn’t be doing CPR!”
With a deep, long-suffering sigh, Kojiro slings an arm around him. “I’ll give you mouth-to-mouth now, then.”
Kaoru flushes, but pulls Kojiro’s face down to meet his own. “I don’t have a problem with that.”