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It's a blazing hot day, and the lifeguard is on break. Feyd observes the would-be swimmers, clustered around the edge of the pool, waiting for the chance to dive into the blue, chlorinated water. The poolside has turned into a forest of umbrellas, providing shade to those waiting. The bar provides iced drinks and some relief from the heat, though Feyd has always wondered at the sense of allowing the sale of alcoholic beverages near a pool.
He doesn't particularly care for swimming. He saw the Atreides's car in the parking lot and came in search for Paul, to pull him inside where there was air-conditioning and any number of conference tables to bend him over. Feyd ignores the stares and the irritated huffs of the other country club members as he makes his way through the maze of seats and towels. One man who seems to be trying to read scowls at Feyd as his shadow blocks his sunlight and edges away from Feyd's boots. Feyd sneers back and then spots his quarry.
Paul is reclining on a pool chair. He's wearing a pair of sunglasses that look like they cost far too much. He's shirtless. Feyd can't enjoy the sight because there's a kid laying on his chest, wrapped up in a floral beach towel.
There's a group of women a respectful distance away, blushing and giggling at the pair, attracted by Paul's—paternal instincts? Feyd frowns. He doesn't think Paul is a father. That would've come up at some point, surely.
The kid turns its head as Feyd draws closer to them, blinks at him with huge eyes the same color green as Paul's, and glares. It's a truly hateful look on such a youthful, round face and Feyd has to marvel at it.
Paul lowers his sunglasses with a finger. "Feyd," he says, voice light and pleasant.
"Paul," says Feyd. He points to the kid. "What's that?" The kid's glare intensifies. Feyd pulls his hand back in case it bites.
"This is my baby sister, Alia."
Jesus, a sister? When did Jessica have her? Paul must've gone through high school with a newborn screeching in her cradle in the room next to his.
"You never told me you had a sister," Feyd says.
He's fixed with a pointed look. "Well, somehow, the topic never came up," Paul replies with raised eyebrows. If Feyd were a decent man he might blush, but he's not so instead he shrugs.
The kid—Alia—takes this moment to shriek, "I'm not a baby, I'm five!" She wriggles out of the beach towel and Paul's grip and jumps to the ground. She has on a bathing suit that looks like a sunflower. A ring of yellow petals circles her waist. Feyd wonders if that helps her stay buoyant in the water or something.
Paul crouches down next to her. "You're right, I'm sorry. You're such a big girl now."
"I am!" Anger assuaged, she asks, "Can I have juice?"
"Yeah, let's go get something to drink."
At that moment the lifeguard climbs back into her tower and blows the whistle, her break over. A group of teenagers immediately jump into the deep end, one of them sending up a great splash with a cannonball. Others dive with a little more grace but no less eagerness.
Alia watches them with wide eyes. She turns to Paul and stamps her foot. Feyd marvels at how tiny her flip-flops are. "I want to stay here! I want to swim!"
"Do you want juice or do you want to swim in the pool?" Paul asks with more gentle patience than Feyd's ever heard from him before.
"You can get juice and I can swim in the pool."
Paul smiles. "But you have to come with me. You can't swim alone."
Alia points a chubby hand to the lifeguard sitting high above them. "The lifeguard is here. I can swim when the lifeguard is on duty."
"That's her rule. My rule is you swim when I'm here."
Her eyes well with tears. Feyd is bewildered at these ricocheting emotions. From angry, to happy, to despair. Are all kids like this? Paul sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He glances at Feyd. "Do me a huge favor? Just stay here and watch her swim while I grab some juice and snacks?"
It's not quite the favor that he hoped Paul would ask him. And Feyd doesn't know shit about children. "What's in it for me?"
Paul grabs his hand and leans in. This close, Feyd can smell the coconut scent of his sunblock and see the sweat beading on his bare chest. Paul murmurs, "I will be very grateful later."
Feyd kicks off his boots and sits at the pool's edge. "Fine." Then, as Paul walks away, he asks, "She's toilet-trained, right?"
"I'm FIVE!" Alia shrieks, as if that answers his question.
Alia dog paddles around the shallow end of the pool. Occasionally Feyd pokes her with a pool noodle, just to rile her up. It's funny. She's like one of those little frogs that puffs up when it gets mad and lets out a ferocious squeak.
She makes Feyd keep count while she holds her breath, intent on breaking a world record. Then she has him watch as she does handstands at the bottom of the pool. He doesn't know if that's impressive or not.
After some time she starts to dog paddle in one place, staring up at him.
"What, you tired now?" he asks.
"You don't have any hair," Alia tells him.
Feyd replies, "You can't swim for shit."
She glares at him. She's good at glaring. With a haughty sniff that is so similar Paul's that it makes Feyd want to laugh she turns and swims away.
"I'm becoming a prune," Alia declares as she clambers out of the pool. She speaks very clearly for a five year old, Feyd thinks. He isn't entirely sure what a five year old can do. Does she even know the alphabet yet? But Alia carries herself the same way Paul does; a slow, easy manner, like a hawk drifting above the clouds, watching everyone from on high. On Paul it's regal. On Alia it's hilarious how seriously she takes herself.
Feyd throws the floral beach towel around her shoulders. "Dry off, then."
She dries off and uses the towel as a kind of cape. "My dad doesn't like your uncle," Alia tells him.
"No one likes my uncle," says Feyd, himself included. He hates his uncle with the special fervor that is only given to other family members. It is an intimate hatred that comes from knowing his uncle his entire life. Whatever the public sees, whatever they think they know, whatever rumors they spread, Feyd knows Vladimir Harkonnen to be even worse. He is a man with lofty ambitions and who will do anything to get what he wants. He's instilled the same principles in Feyd, and Feyd wants to see his uncle dead by his own hand someday.
Alia, unaware of any of these pieces of his family dynamics, asks, "Did your uncle teach you to swim?"
"What?"
"My dad taught me how to swim," she says, proudly.
"Good for you." Feyd looks around, searching for Paul. Where the hell did he go? Alia looks expectant; he supposes they are having a conversation. Feyd offers, "My dad taught me to swim, too."
"Oh!" She blinks those huge green eyes at him in surprise. "Where's your dad?"
Dead, thanks to Rabban. A shakeup in the Harkonnen family hierarchy. Before Feyd can decide whether or not to lie to her, an older woman invades their space.
The woman's gigantic, floppy black sunhat swivels first in Alia's direction, then in Feyd's. "Alia! Look how big you've grown! Now, who's this?" The way her eyes narrow suspiciously at Feyd makes his hackles raise. He's just watching the kid. Anyone can see that.
Alia waves her hand at him. "That's Feyd. He's my brother's friend."
The flippant way she says it stuns him. He hasn't thought about it before—where he and Paul stand. Not really. They fuck when they can. They talk, sometimes. Or at least, Paul talks, voice low, murmuring into Feyd's ear, and Feyd listens with an arm wrapped around Paul's waist, satisfied, and with Paul's breath against his cheek.
He supposes friends do that.
The woman and Alia are still talking. Alia makes another declaration. "I am going back into the pool now," she tells the woman.
Feyd smirks.
The clear dismissal obviously surprises the woman, but she says, "Oh, well! Then give me a hug and a kiss goodbye!"
Alia makes a face and shakes her head. "No, I don't want to."
The woman expression becomes one of irritation. "That's a bit rude, don't you think? You'll make me feel bad!" She holds her arms out, more insistent. "Now, Alia..."
Alia suddenly looks uncertain. She glances back at Feyd, her thumb in her mouth, her brows furrowed.
I need help, her expression says.
Feyd's between them in a second, blocking Alia with his body. "Fuck off," he growls at the woman. "She doesn't want to. She doesn't have to."
Affronted and appalled, the woman presses a hand to her chest, scowls at him, and asks, "Who are you again?"
"The babysitter," Feyd says. Then he adds, "Paul's friend."
"I'll let Jessica know about this." That fucking figured. One of the women in Jessica's—PTA or garden or tea club or whatever it was they all did together.
Feyd sneers. "Yeah, you do that."
When she finally leaves, Feyd tells Alia, "Don't ever let anyone pull that shit with you. You hear me? Doesn't matter who it is." His heart is racing. "Someone tries anything like that, you tell—tell Paul. Tell your brother."
Alia stares at him. She nods. "Are you mad?" she asks.
He takes a deep breath. "Not at you."
Alia reaches out and holds his hand.
Paul finally returns with a three juice boxes, a bag of red licorice, and a pack of peanut butter crackers. "Sorry, they're short staffed today and it was busy. Everything all right?"
With Alia sipping at fruit punch on the pool chair, Feyd tells Paul of their—interaction—with the woman. "Some friend of your mother's," Feyd says.
He expects Paul to chew him out for cursing out some old woman in front of his baby sister, but Paul just chews on a piece of licorice. Eventually he says, "Thank you for looking out for her, Feyd." It's sincere in the way only an Atreides can be. Feyd has to turn away from him.
"Better show me how grateful you are later," he mutters.
Paul nudges Feyd's knee with his own. "Anything you want," he says.
He still smells like coconut-scented sunblock.