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The last place Aventurine expected to be reunited with the manipulative, intrasigent, devastatingly handsome former Head of the Oak Family was the beach.
Sure, he wasn't exactly kicking sand on Astropolis without any kind of agenda at all, but he was doing his best to have some fun while carrying out his latest inescapable orders. So there he was, at the cabana bar set directly on the sand only thirty feet from where the waves beat their endless drum against the shore, mai tai in hand and the sun on his bare chest, when who should appear but the Astral Express crew, Sunday Oak in tow. Was he one of them now? Aventurine wasn't the only one speculating.
He met them warmly, his old adversaries turned sort-of friends, giving each a charming smile and personal greeting. They were obviously dressed for recreation as well, even Sunday who had traded his turtleneck and slacks for a white T-shirt and long board shorts. Aventurine's gaze lingered on those nimble pianist's fingers for a little too long before he tore it away. How did Sunday manage to look indecent while still wearing more layers than anyone else on the beach?
The crew settled in to get some sun, and Aventurine returned to his drink, watching them from his vantage point. March and Himeko laid out in the sun, Welt lingering nearby under an umbrella. Caelus and Sunday seemed to be deep in conversation, and Aventurine had a sense that it might have been about him, as Caelus gestured in his direction once or twice. Finally, Sunday threw up his hands and turned away, seeming as though he'd lost the argument.
Then Sunday returned to the bar, standing awkwardly nearby as though hoping for Aventurine to acknowledge him. Out of spite, Aventurine gave him a little wave and a wink, enjoying his flustered reaction.
"Can I help you, Mr. Sunday?" he purred, closing the distance between them.
Sunday drew in a long breath through his nose, his eyes lingering on Aventurine's chest for significantly longer than was strictly proper. "I… I was hoping to ask for your assistance."
"Sure, I'll do what I can." Aventurine leaned in, curiosity piqued.
"I… lost a bet. And therefore I must take a penalty. Caelus has seen fit to insist that I go surfing as recompense. However, I have never touched a surfboard before."
"I see." Aventurine stifled his laughter because Sunday looked so morose, as though being sentenced to catching a wave was a heavy penalty.
"I saw you earlier, in the waves," Sunday said. "You were quite good. I thought perhaps you could give me a lesson. But only if it's not too much trouble."
Aventurine couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, the same expression his cats made when he capitulated to their demands and laid down a dish of cream.
"It would be my pleasure," he said, tossing back the remains of his drink in a single go and enjoying the way Sunday's gaze lingered on his throat as he swallowed.
He found a rental surfboard and laid it out on the sand, demonstrating to Sunday the movements involved before dragging him into the water.
"You can swim, right?" he said, as they waded waist deep into the waves. The water was a deliciously cool contrast to the heat of the sun, soaking through Sunday's shirt and making it cling to his skin.
"Yes, of course," Sunday said. "I'm just not particularly fond of being wet."
"Like a cat." Aventurine chuckled. "Alright. Watch me catch this wave, then you do the next good one."
Sunday nodded, as attentive as a student in class as Aventurine demonstrated for him, showing off a little even though the waves were on the puny side this close to shore.
Then Sunday proceeded to demonstrate just how hilariously bad he was at the sport. He could not stand on the surfboard to save his life, but fell into the water each time, then came up sputtering and utterly drenched, droplets flying from his halo. Aventurine did his best to give pointers, but Sunday was hopelessly uncoordinated, and balancing on a surfboard was obviously a bit too much.
"Hey, let's take a little break," Aventurine said, noting the dangerously irritated expression on Sunday's face as he spit salt water and glared at the ocean as though it had some kind of personal vendetta against him.
"I've never been what you might call "athletic," but this is just humiliating," Sunday muttered, with a murderous glance at Caleus who waved innocently at them.
"It's just a game," Aventurine said. "Sometimes it's nice to just float around a little bit. Why don't we paddle out to the sandbar over there?"
Sunday dutifully followed Aventurine away from the shore, past the breaking waves, until they reached a floating lifeguard tower, currently empty of any lifeguards. They sat at the tower's base, their feet in the water and their surfboards tethered to their ankles, watching the sun slowly sink into the sea. The air smelled of salt and brine, and the sunlight warmed Aventurine's bare shoulders, glinting brightly off of Sunday's halo.
"Thank you for being patient with me," Sunday said. "I… I must admit I have not been entirely honest with you, Aventurine."
Aventurine cast a wary glance at him. "What do you mean?"
Sunday huffed a soft breath. "I was given a task. It involved you. But it had nothing to do with surfing."
"What was it, then?" Aventurine's mind raced, wondering what the Astral Express might be scheming. Had they come to Astropolis for more than just some rest and relaxation? What did they want with Aventurine?
"I am supposed to kiss you," Sunday said. He held himself stiffly, but not imperiously. It was clear he was utterly embarrassed by the whole thing.
"You're supposed to kiss me?"
"It's a self-improvement regimen that March has us all doing. We each had to identify something we wanted but would not let ourselves have. I did not realize that the next step would be to obtain that very thing. I apologize for all this. I am surely the last person in the galaxy that you might want to kiss and I—"
"Hey." Aventurine's voice was soft, careful, but it stopped Sunday in his tracks. "You really want to kiss me that bad?"
Sunday's entire face flushed a stunning red. "Please don't rub it in."
"And you think I don't want to kiss the most handsome man in Astropolis?" Aventurine said slyly, putting one hand on Sunday's knee. "I thought you were supposed to be a mind reader."
"I would never invade your privacy in such a—"
Aventurine kissed him. Just a quick, gentle press of his lips, enough to cut Sunday's sentence off entirely and leave him softly stunned.
"How's that?"
Sunday kissed the smug smile off of Aventurine's lips, leaning in and devouring him like a starving man. He tasted like chapstick and the salt of the ocean, and Aventurine felt dizzy with how deeply he desired him.
"I have another confession to make," Sunday said, between desperate, frantic kisses.
"What's that?"
"I grew up on a resort planet. I know how to surf."
Much later, his head still spinning, they returned to the waves and Sunday demonstrated that he was actually quite adept at surfing. Even later, they slipped away to Aventurine's hotel room, and Sunday demonstrated his skill with a different kind of pastime, leaving Aventurine sleepy and sated in the expensive sheets. Curled up in Sunday's arms, he couldn't help the part of himself that couldn't stop hoping, hoping beyond reason that this could be the start of something more.