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By sundown, the beach at Dragonstone was already littered with beer bottles and half-buried flip-flops, and the castle above them loomed like a disapproving chaperone, though the only adults left inside were sipping cognac, pretending they didn’t know where their teenagers had vanished to.
Lucerys Velaryon was drunk.
Not so much falling-down, stomach-pumping wasted but drunk enough that everything was a little softer and a little funnier than it truly was. Joff was trying to teach Rhaena how to shotgun a beer. Jace was swearing at the Bluetooth on his speaker. There was a bonfire glowing hot in the sand like a second sun.
And then there was Aemond.
He was sitting about twenty feet from the group, on a rock like some brooding poet, flipping through a copy of The Phenomenology of Spirit like he hadn’t brought it specifically to be seen reading it. He had his shirt buttoned up to the top of his neck and despite the heat, he hadn’t had a sip to drink. The firelight made the white of his hair stand out against the black of the night.
Lucerys narrowed his eyes.
“Who the hell brings Hegel to a beach party,” he muttered, half to himself.
“You good?” Baela asked, watching him sway to his feet.
“Peachy,” Luke nodded and then, without thinking about it too much, (because if he did, he’d sit right back down again), he staggered across the sand toward Aemond.
His uncle looked up just as Luke reached him, raising a perfectly sculpted brow. “You’ve had too much.”
It didn’t warrant a reply. Luke simply swiped the book from Aemond’s hands and flung it, overhanded, directly into the sand.
Aemond stared at the spot where it landed and then back at Lucerys. “Oh, you are well lubricated, nephew.”
“At least I’m not a nerd,” Luke slurred.
There was a breeze coming in off the water, warm and salty, doing nothing to cut through the sticky weight of sunscreen and alcohol. Aegon was handing out the last of the warm Coronas like communion and Joffrey had now duct-taped two together and declared himself God of Blackwater Bay. Summer had left its mark on them in uneven sunburns on the tops of ears, the streaked lines of missed shoulders. The sand was inescapable, tucked into hems, hair, and the folds of towels long abandoned. Time had softened out here, unspooled under the weight of heat and salt until no one was quite sure what day it was meant to be anymore.
Lucerys blinked up at the stars, then back down at Aemond, still seated like a misplaced vampire in an indie coming-of-age film, and wondered just how much of his time off he’d squandered on someone who maybe didn’t even like him back.
“You are annoying,” he concluded.
Aemond, with his book securely back in his hand, turned a page with exaggerated care. “Charmed.”
“Who brings their homework to a beach party and then sits there acting like they’re above it all?”
“Not that it’s ever concerned you, but I want to be ahead of my reading for the semester.”
“That’s…possibly worse.”
“No one's asking you to watch me,” Aemond said, eye still on the page.
“I’m not watching you,” Lucerys lied. He threw himself down into the sand beside Aemond, legs kicked out in front of him, beer dangling from loose fingers. He squinted at the side of Aemond’s face, then scoffed. “You’ve still got sunscreen on your nose, by the way.”
“And you look like a frat boy at a kegger.”
Lucerys barked a laugh. “Yeah, well, at least I look like I’m supposed to be here.”
Aemond looked up at him, the flicker of amusement there, edged with something cooler. “Stop while you’re ahead.”
“Boo, make me.”
They stared at each other. Aemond’s expression was hard to read in the firelight, maybe annoyed, maybe amused, but definitely regretting he hadn’t stayed inside with the adults and their expensive liquor.
Luke let his head tip back, staring up at the stars. He could hear the others laughing behind them, the music skipping every time the phone lost connection. The sand was still warm beneath his toes, clinging to the back of his legs like a second skin. His own felt tight from salt and the four beers he probably shouldn’t have had. His heart, felt tighter still.
“I can’t believe I wasted a whole summer pining after you and didn’t even get a kiss out of it.”
Aemond blinked. “What?”
Lucerys rolled onto his elbow, leaning toward him. “You heard me.”
“You really shouldn’t drink.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t need to if I wasn’t always the one doing the chasing.” He paused and before Aemond could formulate whatever prickly retort he was about to give, Lucerys leaned in and kissed him.
For a first real kiss (the practice ones with Rhaena didn’t count) it was not particularly impressive. Lucerys’ lips were off-center and their noses bumped together, but it was real, and it was happening, and when Luke pulled back with his heart in his throat and sunburn blazing on his cheeks he said, with a determined finality, “Well. That’s that.”
Aemond didn’t say anything. Then, “You’re insane.”
“Oh shut up, you brought a German philosophy book to the beach.”
A flicker crossed Aemond’s mouth, not quite a smile. “It’s hard to kiss someone back who won’t stop being rude.”
Lucerys grinned, all teeth. “So, you don’t want me to talk at all?”
A slow breath slipped out of Aemond, more resignation than irritation. “You’re an idiot.”
This time, when Aemond kissed him, it was slower and more deliberate, maybe even a little cruel in how careful it was, like he wanted to make Lucerys regret every second he’d spent imagining it instead of making it happen.
When they finally broke apart, Aegon’s voice came bellowing from the fire, full of beer and delight.
“How long does it take to close the deal with my loser brother, Lucerys?”
“Working on it!” Lucerys shouted back, not even bothering to hide the grin spreading across his face.
Aemond shook his head, smiling too despite himself. “Drunk, little bastard.”
Dropping into the sand beside him, Lucerys stared up at the stars and said, “You really shouldn’t call your boyfriend a bastard. ‘Ts bad optics.”
And then they kissed again, even slower this time, sun-dazed and salt-slick, stretched out on the sand like they could pin the night in place, pretending summer might never end.