Chapter Text
Drowning out the bothersome ticktock from the clock was futile; the static hum of the radio turned up did nothing for him. It had been a mere twenty six seconds since Ron last raised an arm to irritably swipe across his forehead, dragging away his hair which clung to the thin glimmer of perspiration. His hair had been tidy this morning, like it has been every morning before leaving for work. Neatly parted slightly off center, not interfering with his face one bit and he had deemed himself presentable.
Not much could be said for it by now; every hair that has roamed out of place felt like it was driving him closer and closer to the moon.
He enjoyed his job at the local bar, he really did. The establishment is a humble stature with drinks and food that are quality at a fair price. There were few employees, many of which Carwood and himself have become very close friends with.
What he didn't enjoy was the relentless humidity with a side-serving of a dysfunctional air conditioning system for the better part of the week.
Over the last hour Ron had barely shifted from his table in the corner of the bar, polishing cutlery. He has never seen forks and knives shimmer so brilliantly. He carried on with the task at hand; effortlessly bundling up each fork with a knife into a napkin before placing the cutlery into their designated tray.
Ron worked through the monotonous process without a disturbance. On occasion he would gander out through the main windows to the parking lot when movement caught his eye, quick to note that the majority of the traffic was heading next door to the new ice cream shop. There had not been a customer in since the breakfast crowd and Ron couldn't blame them. Scream Cream had opened up in the spring, and they are the only location in their quiet town that specialized in ice cream, among a few other frozen treats. It's the place to stop if you're out and about.
The pace will pick up, around dinner and in the evening. It always does. Not that Ron would still be here; his shift is due over in a few more hours and for now he is restless, to say the least.
This day being no exception, the previous two weeks have been plagued by a blistering heat wave and not even a gracious moment of rainfall. No rain, no relief, hell it's been rare to see a cloud at all opposing the crisp blue of the sky. There are two fans hooked up in the bar which he detested; they accomplished nothing but to sway the thick humid air in a different direction. He had no hope of cooling off for more than a few minutes at a time. At least, not while at work.
Ron stood up, taking his tray of assembled cutlery with him and dropped it off at the far edge of the bar. With one final quick peek out the window for potential customers, he disposed of his polishing rag and darted into the kitchen towards the back of the bar.
He was not the only person in attendance. There was the other bartender and the cook; Kitty and Harry, but the kitchen is currently vacant. He presumed they were outside chatting over a cigarette, which initiated this as one of Ron's few prized moments.
The handle on the walk-in freezer had a tendency to jam at times. Ron eagerly toyed with the frigid handgrip before it gave away, and then a bitter gust of frosty dry air washed over him. He stepped through the door, deliberate in leaving one foot between the open door and the frame so he couldn't lock himself inside. There, he simply stood. He just needed a minute. A satisfied sigh escaped him as he raked a hand through his hair, tilting his head back.
"Again with the freezer?"
Ron snapped around in a flash, tossing an arm out precisely in time to stop the heavy metal door from shutting him inside. His wintry oasis melted before him. Begrudgingly stepping out of the freezer and fastening the door behind him, he was met with Kitty and Harry. It was Kitty who had caught him. Meanwhile, Harry was leaned casually against the edge of the grill, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he sipped from a glass of iced tea through a straw.
Ron instantly felt the coolness from the freezer dissipate from his body. His will going along with it. Trying not allow his tone to sound too disappointed, he stated the obvious. "This humidity is insufferable."
After tossing him an almost-sympathetic glance, Kitty turned and made her way back to the bar. Harry was on her heels, imbibing the last few drops of his ice tea with vigor. Any other circumstance and Ron would have found the slurp an assault to his eardrums, but he simply didn't have it in him.
He followed suit, joining the pair in the empty bar.
"You've been wearing autumn clothing all summer," Kitty began, gesturing with a fluid hand motion as she found a place next to the cash register. "The jeans, the runners; got to let yourself breathe."
Ron stood across from her, observing as Harry refilled his glass of iced tea next to him. Kitty was accurate, of course. Though in his defense, he did slip on one Carwood's t-shirts for work today, and in the past the air conditioning has worked flawlessly. He's had this sort of conversation on various occasions with Carwood. The conclusion was much more fulfilling then oppose to now; standing entirely clothed, agitated, inevitably sweating slightly.
"Or you could get yourself a summer dress, like Kitty's," Harry suggested before popping an ice cube into his mouth. "That ought to help you stay cooled off."
Ron smirked, deciding to ignore Harry for the time being. He wandered around the corner of the bar to take a seat one stool over. "That is a lovely dress, do you think they'd have one in my size?"
"I wouldn't doubt it," she said. As if unfazed by the question, Kitty elaborated. "Better get to Old Navy quick though, they've been having a summer sale."
Kitty was vibrant, Ron noted, even in this grueling weather. Her shoulder-length dark hair tucked neatly behind her ears, constantly on the cusp of a smile. It was no wonder that from day one Harry has been head over heels for such a lively woman.
"Think they'd have the dress in blue? I'd prefer blue," Ron said, catching himself as he once again ran his fingers through his hair. To the moon. "The yellow suits you just fine, though."
Kitty's grin became real pleasant and he could see Harry shift on the bar stool in his peripherals. For a moment Ron wondered whether or not Harry had complimented Kitty on her dress. Of course he had. If the way Harry was now ducking his head slightly and his surprisingly shy smile was any indication.
"I don't recall seeing any blue, but thank you."
"Well, that's a shame."
Harry tossed Ron a curious glance, straightening his posture on his seat.
"You wouldn't wear a dress," he drawled.
"Not for you, I wouldn't." Ron countered, tone entirely grave.
He made his way to the soda machine, hiding his grin while he faced away from the duo. Ron tried to imagine their reactions if he did happen to waltz in for work one day wearing a bright blue dress. Perhaps one similar to the shade of the sky. It'd probably feel pretty freeing; Kitty has the right idea. Not that he would ever.
Kitty lightly snickered as she began to mindlessly check in on the money in the register, a pointed glance towards Harry here and there who's cheeks had turned a tint of pink. "How has Lip been, by the way? He must be enjoying his time off."
"He has been well," Ron said. He took a generous gulp from his soda, envisioning Carwood in the state he left him in this morning. It wasn't necessary for him to get out of bed when Ron had, but he did. When Ron had stepped into the shower, Carwood stepped beneath the spray as well. Sleep still heavily invading his mind, mumbling something about how he wasn't entirely sure why he's bothering to have a shower yet with a morning full of yard work planned. He understood what that tone of voice meant. That tone became all the more transparent when Ron found himself being edged towards the wall, followed by Carwood's body flush against his. A steady hand teasing his arousal, tongue and teeth against his neck. Carwood was doing fine. "Very well, in fact. He enjoys this sweltering weather more than I do."
"That's not really saying too much," Harry muttered.
Maybe not.
Needless to say, Ron wasn't an admirer of summer. He was much more comforted by winter; when finding warmth was actually satisfying.
"You know Ron, Babe is going to be here in the next hour. Plus you haven't had any time off since you started here," Kitty turned away from the register to face him. "You're welcome to the rest of the afternoon, if you like."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah! Go on home, I think Kitty and I got this." Harry reassured, gesturing around the desolate room.
"I just might."
"Maybe make a pit stop at the store on the way back, surprise that sunshine of yours by showing up early in a new dress," quipped Harry.
"You really want to see me wear a dress, don't you?" Ron noted the time, reaching for the work calendar hanging in its clipboard on the wall. "Tell me, are you still pretending to be bitter about your drunken dress-up on new years? Because as I recall, you really enjo—"
"Okay, okay!" Harry interjected, a blush spreading over his features. "Jesus Christ, don't give me lip."
"I wasn't planning on giving him to anyone."
Harry gaped, a finger pointed towards Ron while he stared at Kitty in disbelief. "Are you hearing this? He's terrible today."
Pen in hand, Ron jotted down his hours from his shift. He heard Kitty giggling, probably recollecting the ridiculous events of their new years together. He was never short on ammo, not when Harry was concerned. Hell, Harry practically gift-wrapped it for him.
"All right, I'll get on home."
*
Ron didn't know what else he expected upon exiting to the parking lot; the dim lighting in the bar did nothing to prepare him for the sun's immediate assault on his vision. He fished out his pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips while padding down his pockets in search for his car keys.
The handle was scorching, he swung the driver's door wide open then he leaned in to stick his key in the ignition. There have been severe thunder storm warnings all week long, not that it has rained a minuscule drop. However, Ron continued to roll his windows up every day before going in to work, just in case. Yet every day he would find himself leaning against the hood of his car, inhaling smoke and squinting uncomfortably in the brightness as he refused to get in until the stale hot air wafted out.
Kitty and Harry are good people, he thought with a slight smirk. He knew he was fortunate to be working with these folks, even if Harry found pleasure in grinding his gears. Truthfully, Ron didn't mind one bit, and it was a legitimate excuse to dish right back. Between those two, Carwood and himself, they've had a fair share of memorable times.
Pulling a last heavy drag from his smoke, Ron then chucked the butt and hunkered down into the driver's seat, his legs outstretched from the vehicle. He leaned back to fiddle with the radio stations some. Flipping through static and radio hosts announcing the obvious heat warning in affect, Ron shut off the radio near instantly, feeling defeated.
Tell me something I don't know.
He removed his phone from his pocket, dialing Carwood's number. Ron may be restless as a direct result from the scorching weather, but he knew Carwood has been getting restless due to much excess time on his hands. Being a second grade teacher in the town's main public school granted him with a fair amount of down time during the summer months.
On the other line Ron heard three rings before an indistinguishable crackling noise, followed by Carwood's voice.
'Ron, how's it going?'
"It's hot."
'You don't say,' he could already hear the amusement in Carwood's tone, 'Aren't you at work?'
"I am momentarily, it's been a very slow day. Kitty had suggested I head home for the afternoon and Harry agreed. There's no sense in the three of us standing around, melting."
Ron heard a light chuckle over the line, he imagined Carwood's smile.
'That's good, you haven't had any time off since you started working there.'
Ron listened intently to the crackling coming through his phone, he couldn't make out the sound. "What are you up to?"
'Shi—' Ron then heard the distinct sound of Carwood dropping his phone, and fumbling to pick it back up '—Damn it. Nothing, it's nothing. You'll see when you get home.'
Ron smirked and raised a brow in question; Carwood is definitely up to something.
'When will you be back?'
"That depends; do you need me to pick up anything while I'm out?"
'I don't believe so, try not to completely evaporate on the way back.'
"Hmph, I should be so lucky," he sighed a bit dramatically, pulling his legs into the car and shutting the door.
'You know, you could try wearing clothing appropriate to the weather.'
"So I've been told," Ron will tell him about the dress idea later. "Honestly, I think I'd prefer a nice refreshing shower followed by not getting dressed after. Maybe not even at all for the rest of the day."
'I'm all right with this idea.'
Starting the engine, Ron then fastened his seat belt, careful to avoid the metal buckle that was no doubt molten and on the offensive. The notion of lounging around the house butt-naked really wasn't a bad idea, he considered, it's not like they had neighbors in the vicinity to peep.
Bonus, Carwood was more than likely to participate along side him.
"I'll be home shortly."
*
Carwood's morning had been nothing fancy. His initial plan consisted of watering the gardens out front and back, plus a little weeding and checking to make certain everything was fine with the bird feeders. Just general yard maintenance. If he'd stumble upon something askew, he would take care of it. Nothing was a pressing matter, per se, but he liked having a plan.
Yard work wasn't his only plan for the day, though.
It wasn't unusual for Ron and himself to be early risers, that had always been their pattern. When Ron's alarm went off at 6:00 sharp, Ron hadn't budged. Carwood had been laying in their bed partially on his side, partially his stomach, and an arm draped over Ron's exposed middle. He shifted his weight onto an elbow, preparing to reach across Ron and to the night stand where his phone alarm continued its morning disturbance.
He knew Ron was awake, laying naked down to his underwear spread eagle on his back, sheets had long since been kicked off throughout the night and rest on the floor. When Carwood leaned over him to shut off the alarm, Ron drawled out a pleading 'no' before rolling over. He proceeded to mutter curses into his pillow.
It made Carwood smile; the way Ron all but turns into a somnolent puddle in the wee hours during summertime. The contrast between him now versus, say, either autumn or winter, was astounding. They both enjoyed the cooler seasons, but Ron especially. One quirk Carwood had noted throughout the winters they have spent together was that Ron found joy in snow storms. Well, the 'cleaning up' after, more or less. The scraping ice and snow off their car, shoveling snow off the expanse of the driveway, etc. It was safe to bet that Ron is the only individual Carwood has ever met that looks forward to such tasks. It didn't make a difference how much snow, ice or how far below freezing the temperature dropped, he'd always manage to find creative and cozy ways to warm up.
What Carwood wished to accomplish today; bring the feeling and excitement of a snowball fight into summer.
After their morning shower and dress for the day, they lounged in the back yard up until the time Ron had to leave. A cup of coffee, a cigarette, and the cheery prattle of birds to fill the calm space.
When Ron had departed, Carwood dove right into the yard work. There was no need to rush; his pace was leisure in the rising temperature. He'd discarded his t-shirt within the first hour and the sun hadn't even risen to the point where it washed across the back yard. This day was going to be a real scorcher.
Another one.
Aside from the birds singing, there was also the distinct sounds of cicadas chirping. Or screaming, as Ron preferred. Not that their ruckus was made due to high temperatures, but they were a sure indication that the weather was hot. Carwood had once teased that he wouldn't stop Ron if he were to climb up a tree to yell out his distaste for summer. That had earned him a shady glare, followed by a quiet 'don't tempt me.'
Ron never did climb a tree, he also never yelled, but since that conversation the sound the cicadas made brought that image of Ron into his mind.
Once finished up outside, Carwood showered up for the second time this day. More thoroughly, less distracted by a sleep-hazed, inspirited Ron who should still be at work for a couple more hours. After his shower, Carwood fixed himself up some lunch. It was nothing extraordinary; a simple peanut butter sandwich and a second cup of coffee. The lunchtime special.
Now, it was time to get down to the real business.
Over the last week Carwood had picked up several water guns, super-soakers, and even some balloons he planned to fill with ice cold water. He'd been worried about Ron discovering them in the house, so he had concealed them under the porch steps. The steps were wide enough, and with a loose wooden panel hanging by a single nail, it made stowing them away quick and effortless. Should Ron have caught him crouched down by the steps, a simple 'I'll be sure to fix this during the week' would deter him from investigating further.
Fortunately, that circumstance never came up.
Carwood took a seat in the grass, strewing out the various water weapons he collected before him. He got the majority of the water balloons filled, resting in a sizable cooler topped with ice. It was the water guns themselves which consumed the most time. The excessive plastic packaging was ridiculous.
On his last pesky pistol, his cell phone chimed. He swiped to talk, placing his phone between his ear and shoulder while resuming with the task at hand.
"Ron, how's it going?"
'It's hot.'
"You don't say," Carwood didn't even attempt to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Aren't you at work?"
'I am momentarily, it's been a very slow day. Kitty had suggested I head home for the afternoon and Harry agreed. There's no sense in the three of us standing around, melting.'
He could easily visualize Ron at the bar, shifting uncomfortably in his own clothes, meanwhile putting in his greatest endeavor to not appear entirely miserable. Carwood smirked, despite Ron's expense. It's a real shame the air conditioning happen to malfunction during the hottest days they've had so far this year.
"That's good, you haven't had any time off since you started working there," he noted.
Carwood almost had the last of the water pistols out of its plastic confinement. He was becoming mildly agitated by this point; weren't these things marketed for children? The resilient packaging wove around the pistol in all the wrong ways, depriving him from simply pulling the damned thing out. Not to mention the edges became near sharp as a blade once he began cutting into the plastic.
'What are you up to?'
"Shi—" Finally, with a loud crack, he pulled out the pistol. He pulled with enough strife to cause him to rock back when the plastic released its grip, his phone slipping onto his lap. He fumbled momentarily before bringing the phone back up to his ear. "—Damn it. Nothing, it's nothing. You'll see when you get home. When will you be back?"
'That depends; do you need me to pick up anything while I'm out?'
Carwood considered this; but there really wasn't anything he could think of. If Ron was leaving work now, that gave him roughly five —ten minutes tops, to finish organizing the back yard. This is fine, I only need five minutes. As long as he's careful not leave any clues in sight, everything will work out. "I don't believe so, try not to completely evaporate on the way back."
'Hmph, I should be so lucky,'
He heard Ron sigh profoundly.
"You know, you could try wearing clothing appropriate to the weather."
'So I've been told. Honestly, I think I'd prefer a nice refreshing shower followed by not getting dressed after. Maybe not even at all for the rest of the day.'
"I'm all right with this idea," Carwood smirked. It's a good idea.
'I'll be home shortly.'
Once the line went dead, Carwood sprang into action.
All together he had an even ten water guns to fill up and plant throughout the backyard. This proved to be more tedious than he hoped, not to mention he completely soaked his shoes while attempting to fill up the largest of the super-soakers. He ended up ditching his shoes in the shed, then sought out hiding places; among the garden for the smaller pistols, and into the shrubs went the more hefty guns.
Carwood checked the time that lapsed; he had one —maybe two, minutes at most before Ron was due home. He still needed a place to stash the cooler filled with water balloons, and a place for himself to hide. The way he figured, he had two worthy options.
His original plan called for him to climb onto the roof. With their bungalow the roof was easy access, both going up and climbing back down. Ron would arrive home, amble on into the empty house and probably call out Carwood's name. Without a response, Ron would then go out to check the back yard. The yard would be vacant too, of course. All Ron would have to do is take one step out of the house to be a target on the deck from the rooftop. Carwood would have a clear shot, and Ron would never have seen it coming. Who would look up?
His secondary option was to hide in one of the unruly shrubs along the perimeter of the yard. This would be less pleasant, and considering the time Carwood didn't have a minute to spare to run inside and fetch a shirt to throw on. Though, with this option, he could haul his cooler full of water balloons with him. Which he still had to disguise.
The last pistol Carwood pried from its packaging he had a special purpose for; instead of filling it up with water, he was going to fill it up with rum.
Reaching into the cooler beneath the assorted water balloons, he pulled out a chilled 40oz of Kraken black spiced rum. The stuff was borderline vile, it had a real kick to it. Making fast work of twisting the seal off both the bottle and the water gun, he carefully began to pour the ink-like gritty liquor into the pistol's chamber. Before the flavour even had a chance to be uninviting, there was its smell; foul enough to peel paint.
Carwood often had to remind himself the reasons why this particular rum had become their favourite.
Once the pistol was filled, he quickly capped off the bottle and snuck it back under the balloons. While in the process of pocketing the rum pistol, Carwood heard Ron pull up along the gravel driveway.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
There was no time for the roof.
Carwood promptly closed the cooler, dragging it behind him as he darted towards the shrubbery. He hid the cooler first, lifting it up and over so it rest behind the shrub itself. Next, he had to crouch down. This was a good place to hide; the greenery surrounding him was excellent camouflage. There weren't any thorns, but the twigs and branches had an irritating way of poking at the bare skin of his torso.
He heard the car engine shut down and faint foot steps making their way towards the house. Carwood reached behind himself to slide his hand into the cooler, retrieving two water balloons and rest them on the ground. Pointed objects are a natural enemy to balloons; he had to be wary of the branches when taking his first launch from the shrub.
Next he heard the front door shut, a drawn out silence ensued.
Carwood removed his phone from his pant pocket, initially to turn off the sound, but he supposed he ought to leave it behind once the watery barrage commenced. A text message from Harry caught his eye:
'The dress was my idea, by the way.'
Why is Harry sending this now?
Carwood made a quick reply: 'are you referring to new years?' before ditching his phone.
He then brought his gaze back up, focusing on the back door. Waiting. Carwood sincerely hoped that Ron didn't immediately head for the shower.
C'mon.
C'mon. C'mon. C'mon.
Carwood was a patient man, but crouching down in a bush like this without a shirt over his back was making him antsy. He was also feeling very, very enthusiastic. After smuggling plastic water guns of all shapes and sizes into the house throughout the last week, now was his time to help Ron really beat the heat.
He was squinting slightly, attempting to make out movement through the backdoor's window.
There he is.
Ron leisurely stepped out onto the back deck, one hand remained on the doorknob. He gave the yard a once over before calling out "Carwood?"
Carwood was grinning ear to ear by this point, picking up one of the water balloons he set aside and prepared himself for the ambush. He watched as Ron walked to the edge of the deck, barefoot, a hand raised to his brow to shield the sunshine from his eyes as he scoped the yard.
It took everything he had to wait until Ron turned back around, believing that Carwood was elsewhere than the back yard. He waited seconds that dragged and dragged on. He fiddled with his grasp on the water balloon, steadying himself to fire.
Ron took one bitty step back before swivelling around, directing himself towards the house.
Here goes nothing.