Work Text:
*
「 LOCKER ROOM CLEANUP : Kuramochi Youichi」
Serves him right for being late for his shift he supposes - ‘Isashiki Jun’ had been scribbled out and replaced with his name. On the other hanging clipboard beside it, he quickly spots that he’s been designated zone three.
An arm thumps heavily around his shoulders. “I don’t like that look on your face.”
“Jun-san!”
“Heh! Got somethin’ you wanna say, late boy?”
Plenty. “.........Not really...”
“That’s what I thought!”
Kuramochi exhales as inaudibly as he can, even though it’d have probably gone unnoticed, considering how loudly Jun-san’s laughing in his ear.
The backroom door swings open and Fumiya-san sticks his head in, smiling without really smiling. Eerily Ryou-san-like in a way. Maybe it’s that specific upturn in the corner of his eyes when he does that.
“Well now that you’re both here, let’s please get going,” he says. “Narumiya won’t stop whining about being held up on shift.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Jun-san replies, stretching his arms above his head before making his way toward the door that Fumiya-san patiently holds open.
“Wait a second, so you were late too?!”
Jun-san grins toothily. “Less late than you!”
*
As expected, Narumiya was not impressed with having to stick around for an extra ten minutes after shift, regardless of Kuramochi apologizing for being late. He can only go so fast on a pennyboard after all.
“Hmf, whatever,” the blond sniffs, climbing down from the lifeguard tower. “I told my friends to meet me here anyway so-”
“Wait, you have friends?”
“Oh shut up.”
Wet footsteps, a blurred figure, and the feel of air whooshing past steals attention.
“Hey you!” Kuramochi quickly reaches for his whistle hung around his neck only for his hands to grasp at the thin white lifeguard shirt - fuck! he’d forgotten his whistle at home in his haste to get to work. “No running!”
Without really thinking, barely registering Narumiya’s chortled, “Yeah get him!” he starts after the guy in the red swimtrunks.
Kuramochi is right on his heels, so he tries again, “Dude! No ru-”
And then
he fucking slips;
Slips on a particularly wet patch of tile, sending him careening forward, completely taking the guy he was chasing down with him.
The irony of the whole ordeal is nearly paramount, taking second place to the absolute embarrassment that grips him, face nestled in the curve of the rule-breaking pool-goer’s back.
Kuramochi quickly rolls off onto his side, as the guy turns over as well, the two detangling their legs from each other.
“Oh my God,” Kuramochi starts, his mouth moving way too fast, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to tackle you or anything, I kinda slipped, wait are you hurt? Shit I-”
It’s the velvety tenor of the other’s chuckle that grinds his words to an abrupt halt and all Kuramochi can see is smooth bare torso, muscles hewed and evenly toned chestnut.
“My eyes are up here.”
His ears ignite and he immediately snaps his attention north, noticing lips curled into a subtle smirk, then locking eyes with smoky quartz.
“Pretty hypocritical of you, Lifeguard,” the guy continues, tilting his head to the side. The ‘No Running’ sign featuring a stick figure silhouette slipping on a surface is irritatingly perfectly placed behind him.
Kuramochi gets to his feet, stuttering out another (more gruff this time) apology as he holds out his hand. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that the blood rushing to his face wasn’t solely due to embarrassment, and he nearly bites his tongue when his hand is met with a firm grip, the man pulling himself off the ground, standing tall. Jesus Christ, why is he getting dizzy?
He must’ve looked even more flustered because the guy cracks a warm smile, and Kuramochi doesn’t know whether he imagined the feeling of his hand being squeezed when he hears, “Well I’m not hurt... It’s alright.”
Kuramochi gulps then, letting go of his hand as he slowly nods, “That’s good...” He coughs. “Just remember, uh, no running by the pool.”
“Sure thing.” The man winks - actually winks - before beginning to walk away, and Kuramochi just stares. “See you around.”
Narumiya’s obnoxious laughter quickly grounds him and he whips around to see the other lifeguard doubled over with tears in his eyes. He can barely get a coherent word out and to boot, the whole scene had garnered the attention of all the nearby pool goers, so the heat in Kuramochi’s cheeks remains in full.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out, deciding against kicking the back of Narumiya’s knees as he thumps past him (a sharp “oh shut up” would have to suffice), quickly climbing up the lifeguard tower and getting seated, eager to put the event behind him.
Kuramochi runs a hand through his hair and exhales again, trying to bring his heart rate down to resting as he begins scanning the pool. Getting to work and all that.
Green bikini safely lounging on a recliner... and doing a really good job of it too, might he add... Navy one piece adjusting her goggles before going into the backstroke...
He immediately spots red swimtrunks making a textbook dive off one of the blocks.
10/10.
*
*
“Name’s Carlos.” A deep bow. “I’m looking forward to working with everyone.”
A low buzz emits from the group, probably due to his choice of attire - who actually chooses to wear the official staff speedo over the trunks? Kuramochi does not want to focus on that but that’s where his mind goes first, where his eyes go first. Jesus Chri-
“Kamiya Carlos Toshiki is the newest addition to our team,” Takashima Rei explains, adjusting her glasses before smoothing her blazer, “on Narumiya’s recommendation.”
For once, Kuramochi was trying to make himself seem small, trying to maybe hide (flanked by Harada and Tetsu-san, he could safely assume he was doing a pretty good job of it) as well as averting to make any sort of eye contact because hell if he were to relive yesterday’s - God, it was only yesterday - debacle in front of nearly all the lifeguard staff.
But upon hearing the last bit of his supervisor’s words, he leans forward slightly, looking off to his left to catch Narumiya snickering at him, clearly having not forgotten about what had happened.
Kuramochi shoots him a ‘You Know Him? The Fuck?’ look, and he stiffens when he hears an “Oh!”
“You know him?” Shirakawa asks - doesn’t ask Kuramochi, asks the guy - Carlos.
“You know him?” Kuramochi’s incredulous and Shirakawa ignores him save for the side-eyed glare. Typical...
“Yeah they... bumped into each other the other day,” Narumiya answers, coughing back a laugh as everyone looks at Kuramochi, whose nose scrunches to convey a silent threat that he was definitely gonna get him back for this.
“What the hell? Kuramochi!” Sachiko hisses across, with Yui pulling her back into line. “Oi! I want details!”
A loud snapping of fingers brings their attention back to the front, the new hire grinning, eyes trained on Kuramochi. “Ah, it’s you! Yes, I definitely remember you.”
Kuramochi groans, embarrassment washing over him again, heat creeping up the back of his neck.
“Okay then it’s settled.” Rei-san’s voice commands authority, obviously not impressed with the prolonged interruption, though the quirk in her lip conveyed mild amusement. “Overseeing Carlos’s trainee shifts will be Narumiya and Kuramochi.” Neither man dared voice their objection despite their displeasure at being put on the task together. “Dismissed.”
*
While Carlos certainly held full lifeguarding certification, he had never actually put it to use - apparently he’d gotten certified a couple years ago, back in high school, intending to get a part-time job at the indoor pool across town but instead helped out at his father’s restaurant after one of the line cooks suddenly quit.
Narumiya knew all this prior of course, having been his friend (“we swam in a relay on our high school’s team - me, Carlos, Shirakawa, and Itsuki” he had explained, weirdly boasting that Carlos always swam the anchor leg).
Now, Narumiya was flipping through the training manual. “Psh, I remember all this stuff - we can just run with it. I guess we’ll do a tour of the grounds first and-”
“Question.” Carlos rises from his seat on a lounger. “Do I get my own whistle now or later?”
Kuramochi looks up from his clipboard as Narumiya chews out Carlos for taking the job just to get a dumb whistle.
“I didn’t just want the job for the whistle,” Carlos says. He shoots a look Kuramochi’s way before thumbing his waistband. “Free speedo, yeah?”
Narumiya barks out a short laugh and warns, “I hope you’re aware that skinny-dipping is not allowed.”
“Like, is that a strict rule?”
“STRICTLY PROHIBITED!”
Kuramochi just puts up a hand - he does not want to know. (Actually, Kuramochi’s mouth had gone dry. He couldn’t talk let alone form actual words.) Carlos starts laughing.
*
It was a good long hour and a half of listening to Mei yap and yap as they gave Carlos a tour of the water park, showing him the various zones in which they could be assigned. Kidsplash, the Raintower, the Lazy River, the Wave Pool, the outdoor Olympic-sized pools, waterslide zones 1 through 9...
“We’ll be going over the specificities of our duties for each attraction on later shifts,” Narumiya says once they return to the indoor pool.
“Roger that,” Carlos yawns. Then, after a quick survey of their surroundings, “Isn’t it after-hours at the pool now?”
Kuramochi starts, “While you two were talking about whistles and speedos-”
“I distinctly recall the topic being more about getting naked.”
“Anyway,” Kuramochi continues, trying to look at Carlos with a straight face, “I was gonna say that the best perk about this job is that we lifeguards get the indoor pool to ourselves for an hour after closing. Provided we sign the after-hour sheet, clock out beforehand, and clean up afterwards.”
“Seriously? That’s great! Rei-san’s great!” Carlos nudges Kuramochi, jutting his chin toward the water. “Okay: You, me, race, now.” And with that, he strips off the white tee, chucking it aside before rolling his shoulders backwards.
“Whoa whoa whoa, what?”
“You heard me. Take off your shirt, let’s go.”
“Carlos,” Narumiya says, almost patiently, “he’s got trunks on. More drag.”
“Oh true.” Carlos quickly appraises him and Kuramochi feels a familiar tingle shoot up his spine. “Another time then for sure.”
Narumiya turns to Kuramochi and addresses his confused expression with a small chuckle. “You see, after your little... run-in, Carlos asked me about you and so I told him that you ran track in high school instead of joining the swimclub even though your breaststroke times at the tryouts were apparently really good - don’t look at me all weird like that! I’ve got a good memory on impressive scouting reports, you know that.”
“I’m more partial to swimming freestyle myself,” Carlos says with a shrug, “but breaststroke is fine with me for when the day comes. Though we gotta do 100m then to even it out.”
Kuramochi shakes his head. “Why are you so keen on racing me?”
“Because you’re fast,” Carlos answers at the same time Narumiya throws his hands up in the air with, “God, didn’t I just explain why?”
“I already know you’re fast on land, but how are you in the water?”
“I JUST SAID HE HAD GOOD BREASTSTROKE TIMES DIDN’T I?”
“I just gotta know how good is his good, alright.”
Kuramochi quirks an eyebrow, suppressing the leftover embarrassment from the fateful Slip Takedown Event (it’s all over now, he’s accepted it - he’s given it a Name). “But we haven’t even, like, properly had a footrace. I don’t think ‘that time’ really counts.”
Carlos lowers himself into the pool, looking back up at him with a devilish grin as he rests an arm on a lane separator. “Okay, okay you got me, I just wanted to see you in the official staff speedo.” Kuramochi has to bite the inside of his cheek, discreetly keeping himself from choking on his own spit. He needs to adapt to the way Carlos acts. And fast. “But also race.”
“It’s like I’m not even here,” Narumiya mutters, slightly disgusted.
“I bet I can beat you in a two hundred stroke without a speedo,” Kuramochi replies, and Carlos snorts. Yeah. Ridiculous.
“Is this your way of turning me down?”
Kuramochi presses his lips together firmly. He chooses to ignore the question. It sounded so... double meaning. “I don’t have one. A speedo.”
“Everyone’s issued both the speedo and the trunks,” Carlos volleys. It’s true and Kuramochi is about to surrender-
“Hey, hey! Hey, New Guy!”
Sachiko enters from the women’s changeroom, waving, and Yui closely accompanies her, white towels wrapped around their waists, colour blocking with the red of their one pieces.
“It’s ‘Carlos-kun’,” Yui corrects.
“Carrrlos,” Sachiko repeats, rolling the r - it’ll help her remember, Yui supplements.
“That’s my name.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Yui.”
“I’m Sachiko!”
“Yui-chan. Sachiko-chan. Yes, I do recall.”
Sachiko grins at Kuramochi who eyes her warily. “So what was Narumiya was saying earlier about-” she checks her shoulder into him- “bumping into each other?”
He absolutely did not need this right now. “Listen-”
“YEAH so get this -“ and Narumiya launches into it, turning it into a bigger story than it really was, honestly, (“MY FACE WASN’T AS RED AS HIS TRUNKS” “SHUT UP I’M TELLING IT HOW IT IS” “You were pretty red.” “Oh my GOD.”) garnering big laughs from Yui and Sachiko who have to wipe the tears from their eyes.
Then, to Kuramochi’s surprise, Carlos jumps in to close the tale with dramatic flare, “and so, the two were destined to be brought together once again, and here we are.”
“‘And here we are!’” Sachiko and Yui echo, dissolving into laughter again.
“The red lifeguard rope of fate!”
Kuramochi has to muster up all his strength to procure a straight, deadpan face. “Okay, are you hitting on me?”
Before Carlos even gets the chance to say something through his grin, Narumiya interjects, “He flirts with everybody.”
“Not with you,” Carlos says curtly.
A smug rebuttal: “Well that’s because I’m taken.”
“Takin’ a dip -” and with that, Carlos neatly pushes Narumiya backwards into the deep end of the pool.
As Narumiya surfaces, noisily spluttering (“I can’t believe you did that!”) amidst Sachiko’s and Yui’s bellowing and squealing laughter, Carlos moves past Kuramochi, ever so slightly leaning closer to tell him, “Don’t listen to Mei,” then throwing over his shoulder in a louder voice, “He’s just a little boy!”
Kuramochi snorts, bemused, but he blinks away from the tall retreating figure to turn his attention to the blond who props up his elbows poolside, looking up at him with a big grin and blue eyes that glint.
“Y’know,” Narumiya says before lifting himself out of the pool. “Something tells me you’re scared to race him.”
“The fuck? I’m not scared,” Kuramochi spits. “I’m just as curious as to who’s faster too! I mean, I’ve got the fastest 200m time on staff, so it’d be sweet to see how he measures up-”
“You’ve seen him do a couple leisure laps, you know he’s got really good form.” Narumiya presses on, dropping his voice so that it wouldn’t echo too much, “Or maybe you’re worried he won’t be interested in you if you lose?”
Kuramochi nearly chokes then, eyes darting to where Sachiko and Yui were so obviously eavesdropping, hands clamped over their grinning mouths. “What’re you saying?”
“Maybe nothin’ maybe a lotta somethin’,” Narumiya grins.
*
*
“That’s so not allowed! Is that allowed?”
Nabe shrugs. Sachiko shrugs too.
“Don’t get your speedo in a twist,” Carlos says and Mei retorts that he isn’t even wearing a goddamn speedo, followed by a muttered comment on wedgie incidences pitched to the floor.
“It looks really cool,” Kuramochi tells him. He appraises his own lifeguard tee, imagining what an improvement cutoff sleeves would be. “Y’know, I’ve actually been saying all this time how we should have a tank option because rolling up the sl-”
He doesn’t notice when he takes a step towards him, and when he does, it’s right as Carlos grasps his sleeves, and yanks. Hard. The shredding of fabric echoes off the walls of the indoor poolhouse.
Carlos grins lopsidedly, holding up two pieces of what used to be the sleeves of his T-shirt. “There.”
Kuramochi is immediately surprised by his closeness, scuttling backwards a step or two as he’s reminded of how tall the new lifeguard is, but he quickly diverts his attention to his own arms to stop the heat rising in his cheeks. “Holy shit!”
“Oh mY GOD CARLOS YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” Narumiya squawks.
“I just did though.” Carlos upturns the palm of his hand and Kuramochi slaps the low-five with gusto.
“Well,” Nabe pipes up, “if I recall, there actually isn’t anything specifically against it in the rulebook.”
“Atta be, Watanabe!”
“Nice one, Nabe-chan!”
Narumiya folds his arms across his chest and turns his nose in the air as he comments that it should be ammended right away.
“Hah, chill out Narumiya,” Sachiko sneers, garnering a glare from him before she holds her arms out to Carlos who promptly proceeds to rip off her sleeves as well. “Hell yeah!”
“You are all so immature and-”
Just then, Harada walks in, T-shirt sleeves rolled up. Narumiya immediately dashes over, gesturing energetically at his arms. “See? See? THIS is how you do it. Tell them they look ridiculous, Masa-san.”
“Well actually-”
“Okay stop right there.”
Everyone else snickers.
“So, Kuramochi, when are we gonna race?”
“This again...”
Lifeguard news and affairs spreads quickly among the troupe, and especially so if the gossip girlfriends had their way. Yui claims it’s not on purpose and Sachiko affirms that it is their duty to keep everyone up to date and informed with everyone’s business.
So naturally, everyone knew about the proposed race between the newbie and the reigning top time short distance long course pool swimmer.
Honestly, if he really had to be honest, Kuramochi wants to race him - it’s been ages since he has actually competed, and Carlos really did look like the perfect opponent. He didn’t really think about how he’d feel if he lost the race... It was just a race... The fastest time was only a title recognized by their group of lifeguard staff, it wasn’t anything revered or renown outside of it. Besides, even if he did lose, he could call for a rematch later on. That is if Carlos would rematch him. Then, what if Kuramochi wins? Would that be considered like putting the new guy in his place? He didn’t like that mode of thinking. Sure, he was competitive as hell, but he couldn’t figure out what was going on Carlos’s mind... there always seemed to be more than what he says aloud.
“We could make it interesting and bet on it.”
Kuramochi perks on eyebrow. “Bet on it?”
“Yeah,” Carlos says. “Winner gets to pick a punishment game for the loser or something. We can work out the details.”
“Excellent idea,” Narumiya jumps in, with Nabe offering a thumbs up.
He was very enticed, that was for sure, but, “I’ll think about it.”
“Laaaame,” Sachiko drawls, shoulders slumping as she huffed.
“Progress,” Carlos states with a smile.
*
*
“Basically it’s our job to space out the riders by about four-tubes’ length,” Kuramochi explains as he helps two girls climb onto the transparent purple tube.
“The tubes are stored here.” Tetsu-san gestures to a long bin. Usually, there’s only one person or two people manning this station, so with the four of them up there along with boarding riders, it was a little cramped.
Tetsu-san continues, “We deflate the tubes after hours and inflate them again at the start of the shift before the park opens.” Carlos nods idly, passively absorbing every word.
“No exiting of the inner-tube,” Narumiya tells the girls who giggle together as their way of acknowledging the rule. “In case of emergency, please use one of the whistles attached on the sides.” The same message is etched into a hard plastic label accompanying the whistle strings.
“They start here and go around basically half the perimeter of the waterpark,” Narumiya says over his shoulder as the tube leaves the docking area and proceeds down the channel.
“It’s a pretty simple station,” Kuramochi shrugs.
Tetsu-san juts a thumb out at the people waiting in line. “How about you usher the next ones?”
“Alright.” Carlos goes through the motions with Kuramochi closely supervising.
It’s the last day of practical training and with these past couple weeks he’s quickly learned that Carlos was really good with people - okay, he seemed intimidating as hell at first maybe, but his smile is inviting and one can’t help but feel special in its presence. As per Narumiya’s bemoaning, Carlos literally gave off the ideal lifeguard aura; exuding the promise of safety in the way he carried himself and, well, looking the way he does, and bonus points for being in the 180cm tall club.
As Carlos is getting another inflated ring in place for the next people in line, Narumiya not-so-casually sticks his foot out, pushing Carlos over backwards. But as Carlos is going down, he grabs Kuramochi’s arm and suddenly they’re squashed together in the inner-tube, sent off with a shove and a raspberry-blowing Narumiya.
After processing what happened, Kuramochi’s first instinct is to give Narumiya the middle finger and a few choice words, but he collects himself, remembering to maintain a family friendly, all-age-appropriate demeanour, settling for the deepest scowl he could muster before adjusting how he’s splayed out in the tube.
“Excuse me.”
Kuramochi trains his attention on a certain someone else. “You.”
“Me.”
“Seriously?”
“Thought you were sturdier,” Carlos shrugs, flicking the emergency whistle.
“And I thought you were studier,” Kuramochi returns.
“Please,” Carlos scoffs. “D’you really think Mei could push me over so easily?”
Kuramochi blinks. He supposed not... “Then...”
“I let him of course.”
“Why-”
“Let him think he got one on me,” Carlos continues, shifting a little to get more comfortable in the innertube, long legs hoisted right up beside Kuramochi’s head, though they’re still quite squeezed in. “Else the petty fool will keep trying to get ‘revenge’ from the other day when I pushed him into the pool.”
He nods at this at first, then, “But you didn’t have to take me down too, you jerk.”
Carlos grins. “Well, this way, we get to take a break together. ‘No exiting of the inner-tube.’”
Kuramochi bites the insides of his cheeks when he feels the corner of his lips twitch upwards. ‘Fuck you Narumiya,’ he thinks, imagining the blond’s smug face. Then he peers over at the guy in front of him. He rescinds his previous thought statement a little.
Kuramochi shuts his eyes and turns his face to the sun, exhaling deeply. “Ah... We’re gonna get in deep trouble if Rei-san catches us on this ‘break’.”
“Well I’m just a trainee lifeguard that doesn’t know any better.”
“We can blame Narumiya. Plus, today’s your last day of training so you can’t use that excuse anymore.”
“S’not an excuse,” Carlos mumbles, almost drowsily. It’s the kind of hot outside that incurs lethargy, especially if you’re just basking under the sun’s rays. Like this. Exactly like this.
“You sayin’ we didn’t train you properly?” Kuramochi drawls. He doesn’t know what to make of the way the other’s lazy chuckle seems to blanket his skin.
Carlos just slowly shakes his head and a comfortable silence falls on them, bubbles them even, as the surrounding noises belonging to the rest of the waterpark - peals of laughter, distant splashes - seem muffled.
Kuramochi peeks through one eye and lightly taps Carlos on the side of his face with his foot. “Oi, don’t fall asleep.”
“Wasn’t going to,” Carlos replies slowly. He stretches again before wrapping an arm around Kuramochi’s legs. “Also, don’t do that again.”
“Okay, okay, let go!”
“Don’t thrash, we’ll capsize.” Carlos still doesn’t let go. “Hey, ever been told you’ve got nice legs?”
He coughs. “Plenty.” But he’s never been told that by a six foot tall guy worthy to grace Sports Illustrated. Kuramochi scoops a handful of water and splashes him.
Carlos grins, doesn’t reply but unhands him, resting his arms on the transparent ring instead. “So when are we gonna race?”
“This again...” Kuramochi drums his fingers against the tube. “You’re persistent.”
“When I really want something, I put my best effort into getting it.”
Kuramochi is determined to hold eye contact with him, but he blinks and looks away after a mere couple of seconds, pursing his lips. “That’s a good mindset.” He can see the way Carlos’s lips curve upwards in the corner of his eye. He remembers Narumiya’s words... Not wanting to lose, huh...
They’re nearing the end and Kuramochi sinks deeper into the inner-tube hole, muttering, “You’re fucking kidding me...”
Sachiko is waiting at the end of the canal with the widest shit eating grin he’s ever seen her produce yet. Tadano looks like he’s trying to mind his own business, glancing over and then quickly pretending to busy himself with sending down an inner-tube to the return belt.
Carlos waves at them as their tube approaches the platform and Sachiko puts her foot out on the plastic to stop them. “Well, well, well.”
“Shut it and help us out of here,” Kuramochi says.
Sachiko stays where she is, keeps steady with her hands on her hips, eyes pointedly darting between the two of them. “But this is so nice.”
“I agree, let’s go around again.”
“Carlos-!” Kuramochi flares his nostrils at the easy going grin on the latter’s face. He looks back up at Sachiko. “Lemme out now if you please.”
“Aw, you remembered your manners this time.” Sachiko lets her smirk linger on him for a second before yelling over her shoulder, “Oi, Tadano-kun! Help the little one out while I’ll take care of our newbie.”
Tadano scuttles over as Carlos gestures for Kuramochi to go ahead. “Little ones first.”
“I’m warning you right now - call me ‘little’ one more time and I swear to Kitajima Kosuke I’ll -” Kuramochi is up on the dock now, and he gives Tadano a friendly slap on the back as thanks - “Insert threat here.”
Sachiko snorts, replying with a mocking “Ohhh scary~” before giving Carlos a hand.
“Thank you, little lady.”
“No problemo, big guy.”
*
*
*
It’s a month and a half later, after a shared shift, when Carlos asks Kuramochi out on a date. Doesn’t even pull him aside or wait for Narumiya and Shirakawa to clear out of the changeroom. Hell, they’d both just pulled on their damn pants. Just casually asks him out on a dinner date as if he were inquiring for the time.
Caught off guard, Kuramochi stammers for him to repeat the question and he barely registers it the second time thanks to the blood rushing in his ears. Carlos continues, saying that it’s okay if he said no-
“Uh, yeah sure.”
The response is... Weird. Carlos bites his lip, almost nervously, as Shirakawa lets out a sigh and Narumiya groans.
“We bet Carlos that he could get you to agree to go on a date with him on the first ask,” Shirakawa unfolds. He’s already fully dressed, patting down his wet fringe with a hair towel.
“Wh-”
“Okay, okay, okay listen...” Carlos interrupts quickly, trailing off as he holds up his hands in defense, hoping to explain himself. “It was Narumiya’s idea to-“
“Dude you shoulda bet more, jeez,” Kuramochi eyes the money Narumiya and Shirakawa had forked over. He arches an eyebrow. “Really? That’s it? Had you no confidence?”
He’s met with three stares.
“What?”
“So... You’re... You’re not mad?”
“No? Why would I be?” Kuramochi laughs as Carlos let out a breath he’d apparently been holding in before cracking a matching grin. “Unless you weren’t planning on splitting the winnings.” Carlos kisses a bill and slaps it onto Kuramochi’s bare chest.
“Actually, you know what, Katsuyuki’s the one that’s ended up being upset.”
Kuramochi pockets the money as Shirakawa’s scowl deepens. “Well no shit - I lost actual money on a ridiculous bet that I was coerced into taking. It’s gross that Mei looks happy about this.”
“I never doubted my pal Carlos for a second,” Narumiya says haughtily.
This seems to piss Shirakawa off even more, prompting, “Then why the hell would you even make the bet in the first place?”
Narumiya gently pats a hand on his shoulder. “Well obviously because then I win either way.”
“That’s literally the most backwards fucking logic I’ve ever heard.” Shirakawa trains his narrowed eyes on Kuramochi. “Did Carlos tell you to agree beforehand?”
“What? Nah dude, honest.”
“Hey, I don’t play dirty like that - you know I value winning in a virtuous manner.”
Shirakawa nods only at Carlos’s words. “True.”
“Anyways,” Carlos swivels on his heel, to face Kuramochi squarely as he pulls on his shirt. “I’ll pick you up tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“He moves fast,” Narumiya snickers as Shirakawa follows him out the changeroom door (“Wait, why did you drag me down into a losing bet.” “Oh let it go... And because it’d be funny, duh.” “Die.”)
“Yeah, tonight. Or tomorrow. Whenever.” Carlos lifts his duffle bag and pulls the strap across his chest.
Kuramochi hums thoughtfully. College homework... “I got nothin’ to do tonight I guess.”
“Awesome. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at 6?”
“Sounds good.”
“Then it’s a date.”
“You bet.”
*
Carlos arrives exactly eight minutes early, but Kuramochi was already waiting for him to pull up to the driveway, immediately out the door before Carlos could walk up to the house.
“You’re eager.”
“No, I’m going before my mom can trap you in a game of 20 questions - see, I’m doing you a favour.”
“I see,” Carlos nods. Then, with a smile, “You look good, by the way.”
“Don’t make me blush,” Kuramochi replies gruffly. Too late.
*
“So...” Kuramochi drawls once they’re in the car and moving. “Where’re we goin’?”
“My old man owns and runs a Japanese-Brazilian fusion restaurant - maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“Nope. Sounds really interesting though.”
“Yup, you’re definitely in for a treat.”
Kuramochi snaps his fingers. “Ah, right, you worked there before getting the lifeguard gig right?”
“You remembered.”
“Well... Yeah...”
Carlos makes the yellow light with a tiny smile on his face, letting the conversation fade to the tune of a Top 40 Chart pop song. He’s got his eyes on the road, attentive, so Kuramochi steals glances at his side profile - it’s different in this proximity, adding to the fact that they were both sitting. He bets his hair is really silky-
The radio volume is turned down lower. “Kuramochi?”
He pretends to have just only looked over at him, replying with a hopefully innocent “Hm?” through pursed lips.
“Um,” Carlos starts, grip tightening on the steering wheel, eyes forward still. “I want you to know that... I’m considering this a real date, okay? I mean... you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, like no worries I can just drive you home or-”
“Hey, listen - if I didn’t want to go on a date with you, a real date with you, I wouldn’t be here right now.” He pauses to let his words sink in - for Carlos and for himself maybe. “Plus my hunger is pretty fuckin’ real too.” Kuramochi doesn’t know how to react to the way Carlos looked so relieved and happy - that little chuckle and twinkle in his eye brings a small grin on Kuramochi’s own face. Ah.
“You’re sure?”
“As long as you’re sure?”
Carlos’s teeth are so goddamn white. “We’re here.”
They’re parked in front of a handsome street corner restaurant that’s got marigold linen curtains drawn back, framing tall glass windows and big black lettering above the door entrance: TOSHIKI’S rodízio & sushi.
“When I said Japanese-Brazilian fusion cuisine, I meant that it’s basically an all-you-can-eat churrascaria plus traditional Japanese dishes on the menu.”
“Chu... Ra... Does that mean, like... churros?”
This is the first time he hears Carlos really laugh a big laugh without restraint; palm slapping steering wheel twice, shoulders quaking as he rumbled. Kuramochi puts on a faux frown, waiting for him to finish, secretly hoping it went on a little longer, so that he could remember the sound in case this sort of thing didn’t happen very often. Why did his heart start beating faster at the realization that it was him that had made Carlos laugh like this? Kuramochi shakes his head at himself - he supposed he was easily thrilled by the smallest things.
“You’re a riot,” Carlos finally says when he collects himself, leaning back into his seat, eyes flickering to meet his own. Kuramochi immediately wonders whether the AC got flipped to heating by accident. “What a 'churrascaria' means is that it’s a place where meat is cooked in churrasco style - like, a barbecue.”
“Then just say barbecue!”
“Well how am I supposed to show off how cultured I am if I just do that?”
“You don’t gotta,” Kuramochi tells him. Then as they’re getting out of the car, doors slamming right each other, Kuramochi rounds by the front, “So you speak Spanish?”
“Portuguese,” Carlos corrects.
“Ah. Nice.”
They enter the restaurant, Carlos holding out the door for him: “Little ones first.”
“Wow, yeah, okay, you’re definitely getting the bill.”
“I’m the owner’s son, remember? It’s gonna be free, meat head.”
“I’ll consider being called ‘meat head’ a level up.”
Kuramochi is surprised with how big the place seems in comparison to its appearance on the outside, probably due to the high vaulted ceiling with the impressive exposed stained wood beam running down the centre. The wallpaper is a warm chevron print, though it was barely visible what with the numerous framed photographs of gorgeous landscapes hung all around. Comfortable looking chairs and tables are amply spaced with booths lining the perimeter. There’s not a whole bunch of people, but they’re there, seated, having dinner, and Kuramochi is immediately distracted by a mouth-watering smell - a waiter making rounds with skewers of meat, stopping at a table to slice some off onto a guest’s plate. There’s no host or hostess waiting at the front, just a sign pointing toward the dining area: “Please Seat Yourself!”
“You pick where,” Carlos tells him, hands in his pockets.
“Booth for sure!”
He leads them over to a cozy looking booth in the corner of the restaurant that had a handsome stained glass light fixture hanging right in the middle of the table. Kuramochi slides in, padding his hands on the navy vinyl cushion as Carlos scoots into the spot in front of him.
Carlos taps the plastic double-coloured placard. “Green side up lets os garçoms - the waiters - know to keep bringing meat over from time to time. Red side up naturally indicates to stop meat service.”
“Sweet.” Kuramochi immediately reaches over to flip it to the green side but Carlos catches his wrist.
“Uh-uh,” he says coolly. “We gotta wait for the waiter-” Carlos lets out a small chuckle and says in a lower voice, “‘wait for the waiter’... every time...” before continuing, “We gotta wait for the waiter to come around and turn it over for us.”
Kuramochi stares at him for a second - what a fucking nerd, holy shit - before nodding slowly, then looking where his wrist was trapped by slender fingers and a wide palm. He retracts his hand when Carlos lets go, dropping both his hands under the table, rubbing his hands on his jeans before holding his wrist, wondering if the tingly feeling would quickly disappear.
He tries to discreetly let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.
“You okay there? Really excited about the meat, huh.”
“Oh yeah,” Kuramochi agrees, fixating on the topic. Delicious meat. Nothing to be nervous over.
A waiter comes over with ice water, greets Carlos warmly, and proceeds to ask if they were ready to order. Kuramochi didn’t even get a chance to look at the laminated single sheet menu yet but Carlos goes ahead and asks for several meats to be brought around on the churrasqueira.
“You feelin’ any appetizers or sushi? What about drinks?”
Kuramochi registers the questions being directed at him and quickly shakes his head, saying that he’s fine with just the barbecue and water. Carlos scoops up their menus and hands it to the waiter who bows slightly before flipping their placard to the green side and leaving.
“I see you’re really lookin’ to take advantage of this all-you-can-eat meat,” Carlos comments.
“Hell yeah.” He looks around the restaurant again. “This’s a really nice place by the way. Kudos to your pops.”
“A total dream come true, to be honest.” Carlos seems to quietly reminisce, looking off with a soft sort of expression. He blinks and nods to himself, perhaps having decided to hold back on sharing the memory, but then, “The old man named the place after me... I was a total soccer fanatic when I was a kid. Thought I’d go pro. Then I really go into swimming and I thought I’d swim in the Olympics or something, y’know?”
Kuramochi nods, listening attentively.
“My father has always let me do whatever I wanted, even though he’d started this restaurant to carry our family legacy, he never once pushed me to pursue culinary arts and always supported me - never once missed a race because he’d catch them all streaming online and watch it in the break room.” Carlos leans his folded arms on the table, looking around at the restaurant, now bustling with more people. “But I love cooking too, and he’s taught me everything I know. I couldn’t completely let go of swimming though, so my dad suggested taking up a poolside job on the side to even it out. Culinary school was all my idea and when I graduate, I’m gonna run this place with him.” His dark eyes flicker up to meet Kuramochi’s. “Ah, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this-“
“No, it’s cool,” Kuramochi reassures him. He feels a tendon in his forearm twitch, as if wanting to reach across the table to touch his hand. “Your dad sounds like a great person. And that’s a nice goal to work towards - I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job of running things around here in the future.”
“That means a lot, Kuramochi. Thanks.” Carlos drums his fingers on the table. “Okay, your turn. I talked too much.”
So with a small chuckle, Kuramochi tells him that when his baseball scholarship to-
Kuramochi catches sight of a sign on one of the supporting pillars. “‘No shoes, no shirt, no problem,’” he reads aloud.
Carlos’s face breaks into a wide grin, looking over to the right. “I made that.”
“Shut up.”
“No for serious. That’s like, the only reason my dad let me put it up.”
“Has anyone ever tried getting service here with no shoes and no shirt?”
“Huh. I don’t think so... And I would’ve definitely heard if so...” Carlos taps a finger on the placemat before reaching up to the first button on his shirt.
Immediately Kuramochi hisses, “What are you doing?!” When it’s evident that Carlos is absolutely being serious about dining shirtless in public (halfway undone, now), Kuramochi threatens to walk out the damn door and not look back.
Carlos’s nimble fingers freeze, eyes measuring him up through thick lashes. “Can I leave the buttons undone and shirt open?”
Fishing for a compromise.
“No?”
Kuramochi isn’t sure if he actually heard him mumble “Damn, I’m whipped” as he buttoned up or if he simply misheard. It didn’t matter, the whole ordeal has already taken its toll on him, he knows his face is flushed.
The waiter returns carting a portable compact grill with skewered meats on a spit roasting over the embers, as well as salmon and mahimahi being kept warm on a plank. After placing two bowls of rice in front of them he inquires, “To start?”
Carlos rubs his hands. “I totally recommend trying the picanha cut,” he tells Kuramochi as a piece is sliced right off the spit and served directly onto his plate.
“Picanha?”
The waiter explains that in Brazil, it’s regarded as the most prized cut of beef and is also known as the top sirloin cap elsewhere. Carlos gives him a thumbs up and his eyes discreetly flick down to his tag to properly thank him by name, a move not noticed by the waiter who smiles, but certainly caught by Kuramochi. He sure is slick.
“I’m a tenderloin guy myself, but yeah, I’ll try it.”
“Why not both?”
“YOU’RE RIGHT.”
They dig in as soon as the waiter leaves, and Kuramochi admits that the picanha was indeed delicious, a true major meat contender against tenderloin.
Round two is lamb for the both of them as well as a cut of tenderloin for Kuramochi. He has noticed that the top two buttons of Carlos’s shirt hadn’t been buttoned back up from the very beginning, but he decides not to say anything - just enjoys his food and the collar bo- the conversation. Fuck it, he’s going to admit it to himself at least - copious amounts of skin showing anywhere outside of pool areas or the beach really had a heightened effect on him. He swallows a piece of meat without chewing properly but manages to get it down with a big gulp of water.
Their rice bowls are replenished and Carlos goads him into going for some of the fish for round three and Kuramochi settles on the mahimahi while Carlos goes for the salmon because apparently he’d had mahimahi last night. It’s absolutely flavourful and Kuramochi actually asks for it again on round 4.
“So, I’ve been wondering...” Carlos puts his ice water down. “What’s with the hair?”
Kuramochi’s upper lip twitches and he instinctively combs his fingers through his hair. “What do you mean?”
“Like, did you get caught up in a chlorine accident while working? Swam too much as a kid or something? Y’know... the greenish tinge?”
Kuramochi scrunches his nose before clicking his tongue.“Did a bad job of bleaching when I was a good for nothing junior high brat. When I started to let my roots grow out, I started swimming more and I guess the chlorine stuck. Something like that.”
“I see...” Carlos nods thoughtfully. “Got it. Dark past. Delinquent. Makes sense.”
“The hell is ‘makes sense’?!”
“I didn’t mean anything bad by it, honest. Besides, who doesn’t like a bad boy?”
Kuramochi speaks with a mouthful of mahimahi. “Oh shut up.”
*
The drive home was probably calmer than the drive on the way to the restaurant, probably because all his jitters had long disappeared. He’d always felt comfortable around Carlos at the pool, but it was different being on a date. Kuramochi suddenly finds himself thinking about stuff that happens after the main part of a date-
“You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m content and very full, thank you.”
“Okay, same.”
The radio isn’t on this time for some reason - it’s just the tread of the tires and background traffic sounds in his ears, the night lit up by the numerous shop signs they drive past.
As Carlos pulls into his driveway, Kuramochi rehearses how to thank him for taking him out. When they’re parked, Kuramochi turns to him, noting how the streetlamp shining barely shining into the car managed to highlight Carlos’s facial features perfectly-
“It’s ok you can relax. I don’t kiss on the first date.”
Kuramochi almost freezes up. “Wh-who said anything about kissing?!”
“Your eyes did.”
“Honestly, how do you keep coming up with these lines, aren’t you embarrassed?”
“Nope.”
“Shameless bastard.”
Kuramochi slams the car door when he gets out. He wasn’t used to other people reading him like an open book at all. He’s the one that usually did that. How did Carlos come to know him so well through just their interactions at work? Well, there was after-shift shenanigans... Also, they did text quite a bit outside of work but... Shit.
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Dude!” He can’t believe he didn’t even notice Carlos come up beside him, then he sees that he’d left his car door open. This guy...
“Sorry, I just wanted to walk you to the door. If that was okay?”
“No, yeah, sure,” Kuramochi says nonchalantly.
When they reach the front steps of the house, he remembers to thank Carlos for treating him to the churra...
“Churrasco,” Carlos helps.
“Yeah, that.”
“No problem at all. I had a great time.” Kuramochi agrees and Carlos continues, “Shame though, I didn’t get a chance for you try any of the fusion dishes.”
Kuramochi shoves his hands in his jean pockets, and he stares at the scuffs on the whites of his shoes. “Well, uh, I wouldn’t mind going again with you.”
He peeks up through his eyelashes to see the corner of Carlos’s lips tugging upwards into a small grin. “Maybe I’ll just cook them for you for our second date instead.”
“I’d like that,” Kuramochi tells him, squarely, giving him a genuine smile of his own.
And then Carlos’s hand is on his shoulder and the space between them is dimished and Kuramochi finds himself closing his eyes right before he feels soft lips on his own. It was only for a moment, lips perfectly pressed against each other but slowly parting, as if to let it all in sink properly, purposefully.
“I... I thought you didn’t kiss on the first date,” Kuramochi mumbles. They’re still so, so close.
“I don’t. Didn’t. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Kuramochi has to get on his tiptoes to reach, but he manages to kiss him, blood flaming up to his face when he pulls away to see the pleasantly surprise expression on Carlos’s face.
A car drives by then, zooming past, high-beam passing over their figures.
“This is kind of embarrassing, but what the hell,” Kuramochi breathes. “Carlos. I think I’m really falling fast here.”
“Well,” Carlos begins, “I already fell for you, Kuramochi-”
“Literally,” they say in unison and share a quiet chuckle after exchanging a glance and a shake of the head.
“Have a good shift tomorrow,” Kuramochi tells him as he returns to his car.
“Thanks. Pay attention in class tomorrow.”
“Will do. 'Night, Carlos.”
“Good night, Kuramochi.”
*
“Why’d Kuramochi agree to the race all of a sudden?”
“Beats me. He even came straight from lecture to make it to after-hours.”
“Yeah apparently Carlos didn’t know ’til like a couple minutes ago either.”
“Who cares! I just wanna see who’s gonna win.” Jun-san plunks down next to Tetsu-san who nods in agreement.
“I’m putting money down on Carlos,” Shirakawa says. Nabe pulls out a notebook from God knows where.
Sachiko leans forward in her shared recliner, where Yui is sitting on the foot end, calling out towards the others, “You’re on! My boy Kuramochi is gonna fuck it up!”
Fumiya-san and Kijima had volunteered to man the stopwatches since the facility technically wasn’t outfitted to serve as an actual timed trial pool (was it 50m long? Yup. Did it have pressure pads or underwater cameras or even starting blocks? As if - this was a splash park after all; the long course pool served mainly for leisure laps and the odd water aerobics weekend session).
Kuramochi steps out of the changeroom, dripping from the quick rinse with his evergreen swim cap in place, goggles gripped loosely between his fingers. He’s suddenly hyperaware of his surroundings - the tiles seem to push up against his feet with every step he takes towards the start and energy that everyone in the area exuded clung to his skin, buzzing in his bones.
‘It’s not a real fuckin’ race,’ he thinks to himself, to try to calm the familiar kind of nervousness he always got before engaging in any kind of competition. It’s futile though, because when Carlos looks up from where he’s doing static lunges, Kuramochi utters a swear as his heartbeat immediately quickens. He remembers the night before. ‘He’ll still like you no matter the outcome...’
“Look at you all suited up,” Carlos greets, rising to his full posture. “You should definitely Speedo next shift. We can match.”
“I’ll wear my Speedo for a whole month’s worth of shifts if I lose.”
“Four months’ worth.”
“Three months’ worth,” Kuramochi counters, “and if you lose, you have to pack me a lunch for a total of thirty shared shifts.”
“Deal.” They clasp hands as Nabe lets them know he’d gotten it down in writing, and before Nabe can let them know the status of who’s got betting money on who, a short burst of an air-horn cuts through the air, startling everyone.
“Let’s get this show in the pool,” Ryou-san says coolly, looking straight ahead as he walked past the loungers who started to settle down.
Fumiya-san claps his hands twice, attention befalling him. “Okay! So, Kuramochi-kun and Carlos-kun will be swimming a 100m breaststroke - winner will be recognized as the fastest swimmer and that’s it. Any other sorts of bets going on are strictly your problem - sound good everyone? Let’s have a good race!”
Cheers erupt with Jun and Sachiko seemingly trying to out-shout the other and Narumiya’s “Don’t you dare lose, Carlos!” easily picked out, as Kuramochi and Carlos approach the edge of the pool at their own lane, pulling on their goggles as Kijima and Fumiya-san take their respective positions behind them.
“Oh, you shaved your legs,” Carlos notes as they line up their toes.
“Yeah well yours are always smooth so I can’t let you have that advantage.”
“Always ready to go.”
Ryou-san’s voice isn’t loud but it’s demanding and it echoes off the walls, “Timers ready?”
Kuramochi grips the tile, toes curling with anticipation as he exhales in his starting position. He only stares at the crystalline water in front of him.
“Swimmers ready..? On your marks... Get set...”
Two splashes are barely audible over the blast of the airhorn and Kuramochi feels the water rush over his body, drowning the sound from his ears as he surfaces for the first time and launch into the stroke, rotating his palms outward.
“Carlos is starting pulling ahead!” Jun hollers, and the crowd of lifeguard rustle.
Carlos had a better starting dive than Kuramochi, and he stays in the lead by half a stroke for the first 45 metres. It’s at the wall-kick that the stage is reset, with Kuramochi unleashing a burst of power, his legs propelling him with more vigour, and suddenly they’re neck and neck, heads and shoulders bobbing in and out of the water as they enter the last 15 metres, the spectators glued to their every movement-
“GO CARLOS GO!”
“GO KURAMOCHI!”
He touches the wall with the tips of his fingers, then cushioning with his palms as he breaks the surface, gasping for air. The lights are dazzlingly bright, and he looks over to see Carlos catching his breath as well. It must have been a really close race. He wades over to the lane separator and Carlos does the same, mimicking each other’s movements as they removed their goggles and caps, then keeping a hand on the edge while they rested, the sounds of everyone yelling finally registering as people rushed to the side of the pool, eager to discover the outcome.
Kijima and Fumiya-san are showing their stopwatches to Ryou-san who’s face stays unchanged.
“It’s a tie.”
There’s pause in the commotion going on earlier but it only just fires up louder than before - about how there should be a re-match with stopwatches that record to the millisecond.
“Good race.”
“You too.”
“Ugh now what,” Carlos says, smoothing his hair back. He’s leaning on the lane separator. Everyone is still talking amongst themselves, trying to get Nabe to slam the gavel on a particular decision about the bets.
Ryou-san crouches down closer to their level, grinning, “You both have to do your punishment games.”
“Speedo on shift... Seriously...” Kuramochi moans.
“I’m looking forward to preparing your bentos,” Carlos tells him. That sentence made him too happy to hear.
Kuramochi turns to him, sinking a little deeper into the water so that his mouth was barely above the water. “Hey. Are we official?”
Carlos’s eyebrows shoot up and before Kuramochi can do anything, he’s throwing the lane separator over his head and pulling him into hug. Their skin is cold and wet, but all they felt was warm and fuzzy.
“NO PDA!” Narumiya shouts and Masa-san just quietly drapes an arm around him, telling him to let them have their moment.
“Can I consider this race the second date?”
“Hey what about cooking for me?”
“Third.”
“And then?”
“And then the rest of the number-alphabet.”
He kisses him for good measure, amid solid applause and whistles.
~
omake
[the third date. location: carlos’s house.]
An apron-clad Carlos squeezes a lemon slice generously over his dish, then looks over at Kuramochi. “Hey.” He holds out a particularly pulpy lemon slice. “Pucker challenge.”
Kuramochi takes it. “You’re so on.”
On the count of three, they popped a slice into their mouths, tears springing to their eyes as the immediate sourness punctured their tastebuds. Kuramochi wishes he was able to laugh at the absolutely puckered up look his boyfriend’s face, but he too was puckered up like a motherfucker. Kuramochi ends up spitting his lemon slice at Carlos’s forehead; it neatly bounces off and plunks into his cup of water. His mouth is still raw from the citrusy acid but he breaks out into a laugh anyway at the scene as Carlos dislodges his own lemon slice from his teeth with a grimace.
“Crude display of throwing the match,” Carlos tells him, and leans over the table to plant the most tangy kiss of their lives on him.
“What can I say,” Kuramochi says when they part. “I’m a sour loser.”
*