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Del holds up her hand to show the gap between her fingers.
"How far's that?"
Wayne folds the map down without breaking eye contact.
"Pretty far."
"Not unless we get that car."
She grins up at him as he's shoving the map into his pocket, and he's helpless to the smile that pulls at his lips in response.
"Alright, I need to take a piss. Wait up and uh... can you please find me a thing of deodorant in the meantime?"
"'Course."
"Awesome. Don't miss me too much."
She spins around to begin her search for the bathroom, and somewhere in the back of her mind she registers the group of noisy young adults that come in to hassle the shopkeeper, but by the time she and Wayne make it out the door they're nowhere to be found.
----
Wayne's only memory of going to the beach is second-hand, known to him by the stories his dad told him of family holidays to Cape Cod, when there was enough family in his home to fill a cheap motel room by the bay. Apparently, he wasn't much of a fan. He stuck to his mother's side the whole time while she drank and read magazines in the beach chair, sunbathing. It was the only place sure to keep him safe from Matthew and his undying love of throwing children smaller than him into the ocean.
On the walk down to the bus stop, her hand still in his through the humidity of the day, he wonders about Del's family.
"You go to the beach a lot when you were little?"
"Yeah, I guess. Whenever we had the time. And money."
She doesn't look up at him when she responds. She looks at the grass along the sidewalk between the few and far shops out here, golden and dying and seeping through the cracks in the pavement.
"Granted that wasn't often, but we'd park the trailer down in Cape Cod at least a couple times a year."
Her hand slips out of his as she veers left, attention pulled to a cluster of posters in the window of some bargain shop. Missing Cat. Bassist Wanted. Karaoke Night. It all feels so fucking mundane.
"Sometimes if I was having a shit day at school I'd ask them to call my Ma. She'd drive down in Daddy's truck and sometimes if she was having a shit day too we'd just drive and drive till we ended up at the beach."
Wayne stops a hair behind her, looking over her shoulder, trying to see what she sees. Then looking at the pieces of hair she's pulled out of her ponytail around her face, trying to see her. Del's eyes lock on his the moment she spins around. Somehow it's harder to see her here in the light like it's any other day than it was leaning in to kiss her in the shadow of a corpse in the hospital.
With minimal exchange, Wayne slides Del's backpack down her arms and onto his shoulder. There's a way he ought to act now that they're together, Wayne thinks. Well, more together than they were originally, he doesn't know where they're at with that. It's mostly up to Del and he doesn't know how to ask. In any case, he's a little out of his depth with all of this. Being something to someone.
"How much cash we got left? We need like, sunscreen and shit."
Wayne takes the chance to direct his gaze elsewhere with immediate thanks, shrugging her bag back off his shoulder and rummaging around for today's band of money. Del had portioned their funds for week by week use after Fayetteville. Now that they don't have to pay for gas, they've got a little more to play around with. She steps closer to take the wad of cash from him and counts it out in his space so that he can see as well. It's a Sunday, he thinks. They've got fifty-four bucks left for the last day of the week.
"Nice. Come on."
He follows her into the store with little fanfare. Somehow it looks a little smaller on the inside than it did from outside, but that's just the shelves cramping the space into some variety store labyrinth. There's an automated chime as they enter, but woman behind the counter doesn't lift her head from the magazine in front of her, only identifiable by thin, graying hairs poking absurdly over a blown up headshot of some actress Wayne can't identify.
Wayne's attention is easily redirected to Del's rapid descent into the crowded shelves. He staggers behind her, looking around at the merchandise. They've got comic books down the back, but nothing he likes enough to blow seven dollars on. He pulls a copy of some Fantastic Four run from the nineties, just to flick through it.
Then Del's behind him, pulling on his sleeve, purchased items in hand, and he realises he's a good ten pages in. Wordlessly, he puts the book back and lets her tug him out of the store by his wrist.
Outside, she lets go to open the tube of sunscreen she bought, finding a shady spot outside the store to park up.
"Here, hold this."
She gives him a sheet of... something, and the rest of the cash she took. He doesn't check before taking it. As she squeezes out the sunscreen into her palm, Wayne stuffs the money into one of his pockets without thought, and looks over the artwork. Temporary tattoos, according to the plastic package they come in. Del, rubbing in the sunscreen on the back of her neck, swipes of product still in white swatches on her face, senses his question before he asks it.
"I fucking loved these as a kid. They were on clearance for like, a buck."
Pausing in her application to come closer, she points out the design at the front. It's a skull, screaming with a knife through it's eye.
"Made me think of you."
Wayne huffs a laugh at that. He gets to see the moment her eyes flick up to meet his. When she looks at him she smiles, and the world feels smaller than it is.
This time, Del elects to open her bag and shove the packet inside from this side, reaching around Wayne to do it, definitely getting some sunscreen in his hair.
"Come on. Just do your face and arms and that for now, we'll finish up when we get there."
She places the bottle into his hand, turning around to start back down the sidewalk, now moving to rub in the product on her face.
----
Del has never liked the bus. Well, yeah, who does? But mercifully, it’s pretty empty by the time they get on. Not a busy day, she supposes. She goes ahead of Wayne, paying four dollars in total for the both of them. He’s not far, close enough for her to physically feel his presence as she’s choosing seats. She slides into one of the seats facing the back so that she can face him, but he slides in right next to her. It makes her laugh, and he doesn’t know why, but he laughs too.
He’s got nice hands, she decides, once she realises she’s pulled one of them into her lap just to feel his fingers. She traces knuckle and flesh, knuckle and flesh, and doesn’t say anything. He leans closer so that their shoulders are touching in lieu of words.
When they first left for Florida, there’d be moments like these, and Del remembers that she wished to God he’d just speak, but now she thinks she gets it. He’s not like people back home, who talk for the sake of it even with nothing to say. She turns to look at him and finds that he’s looking down at their hands too. His eyes meet hers. He runs his thumb up and down the back of her palm. He’s not like anyone else.
She lets her neck fall back against the seat, and she looks out at the rest of the people on the bus. Looking anywhere but each other and shrinking into their seats. Quietly, she starts a conversation.
“You ever had a girlfriend before?”
Wayne tilts his head, and eventually shrugs.
“Once. I was six.”
“Yeah?” She can’t keep the grin out of her voice. “What was her name?”
“Can’t remember.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I was only her boyfriend for about three days. Then she started hanging out with some other kid.”
“Yeowch. No wonder it took you so long to get back out there.”
That makes him snicker. Del thinks she really likes making Wayne laugh.
“You ever had a boyfriend?”
His voice is quiet. Peaceful, she supposes. The opportunity to mess with him isn’t lost on her. “Hundreds,” she opens her mouth to say, “non-stop.” She sighs.
“You’re my first.”
Something in his smile grows, a gleam in his eye that she doesn’t know what to do with.
“I am?”
She doesn’t realise until later that he was more focused on the boyfriend aspect than the first idea. Del rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, Merry fucking Christmas.”
He interlocks their fingers just as she goes to pull her hand away. She decides she’s fine with it.
It's a decent drive, but two hours doesn't feel like anything to write home about when she's on the other side of the country than she was two weeks ago. They're gonna need to get out and kill some time in Tampa before the next bus. Del's sure they'll find something to do.
"Ocala's a bit of a shit-hole."
In fairness, it's not much better or worse than Brockton, but it certainly feels like they're a lot closer to the equator. The grass is greener, but only in the literal sense.
"Least it's warm," Wayne says, looking over her shoulder at the scene outside. Looks like they're on the same page. It'd be pretty if it weren't for all the dilapidated buildings and animal carcasses they've passed on the way through.
Glass houses, she guesses.
At a point, they get a bit stuck in traffic. Some collision or other on one of the country roads. It's only annoying because the news of it makes all the other randoms on the bus huff and puff a little more than what's to be expected from someone having to take public transport on a weekend. They've been stuck at this same street of rural houses starting and stopping for nearly five minutes.
Wayne leans down to ask a question, his eyes still fixed on the window.
"If you could buy any of these houses, which would it be?"
A grin takes to her face immediately.
"Probably the one that's fuckin'... cartoon yellow with the shooting range out back."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. What about you?"
She breaks his moment's concentration before he can come up with an answer.
"You can live with me in SpongeBob if you want."
His smile seems caught off guard and she catches herself thinking it makes him look handsome.
"Yeah, I'll take that."
---
The next bus is only a half hour away, and they probably shouldn't be spending any money, so when they get to Tampa they end up just sort of walking around. There's a park a block or so down from the bus stop, and they find themselves there.
On a bench, Del peers up towards the sky and starts to count the leaves on a tree. One then two, another leaf after another. Wayne digs around in their bag for his copy of Conan, and Del catches the movement out the corner of her eye.
"Okay, what's the deal with the comics?"
She rolls her head to the side and looks at him. His gaze is fixed peacefully on the cover of his book. She kind of wants to touch his hair. She kind of wants to kiss him just to see if she's allowed. She doesn't. Wayne just shrugs.
"It's Conan."
"I noticed."
"I like Conan."
Yeah, that seems about right.
When he flips open the comic to skim through it again, Del moves to rest her face against his shoulder, without much thought because if she thinks about it she'll chicken out or call him an idiot or something. She reads from his side, aware of the level of tension in his frame as she tries to make sense of the plot starting from a random issue in the series.
By the time they've got to head over to the next bus, he's melted into the contact. She doesn't understand much more about Conan the Barbarian than she did half an hour ago, or his relationship with the comic book, but she hopes he at least feels a little easier by her side.
---
There definitely has to be some kind of manual for what the gentlemanly thing to do here in this situation is. Some agreed upon etiquette. Maybe Wayne does need to start reading books without pictures.
"Eyes up here, asshole."
He meets her gaze immediately, a flush creeping up his neck. Del at least doesn't seem particularly slighted by him spacing out at her chest. For the most part she seems pleased just to have an excuse to wear the damn thing after Philadelphia.
"Sorry."
They're not far from the beach now, apparent from the sand in the cracks of the sidewalk. They only have one towel, but Wayne's not planning on getting in the water, so he thinks to drape it over Del's shoulders as he moves to the outer side of the pavement. He doesn't know why, but it makes her laugh. It's only slight, and she looks to the ground in a way that gives him the impression that it's more nervous than amused. It pulls at something in his chest he can't quite place, and there's a moment where he's standing close to her, one hand still on her shoulder and he doesn't want to move away. He wants to be close to her for as long as she'll have him, but he can't process that idea, so he starts walking instead.
"You're gonna get sand in your pants. You know that, right?"
"I'll be careful."
"Oh, yeah, that'll be fun."
The back of her hand knocks against his. He shrugs as he takes it. There's a slight crease between her eyebrows, and she opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out. He doesn't ask.
When they do get to the point where they can see the sandy shoreline up ahead, it feels like it should be a bit grander than it is. Del must feel it too, because they stop together for a few moments. For spring, on a day that feels so warm, the sun hasn't come out of the clouds for more than a few minutes since they got here. Wayne wonders if they'll see an alligator.
"Cool," is all she says. That's all there is to say, really.
The last storefront that they pass on the way to the beach is this little market for fresh produce, and Del whacks him lightly on the arm.
"Wait here."
He goes to pat the pockets of his jeans looking for the cash, but she reaches into his right pocket and finds it just fine on her own. It makes him feel fluttery, so he leans against one of the posts outside the shop while he waits for her, trying not to think about it.
When she comes out, it shouldn't be much of a surprise that she's got a mango with her, but he still wasn't really expecting it. She places it in one of his hands and walks behind him to put the cash in the bag. His first instinct is to hold it to his nose.
"Doesn't really smell like anything."
"Yeah, I think you're supposed to open it, dummy."
He passes it back to her and she puts it in the backpack.
Past the stores, on to the sand. When Del takes her shoes and socks off, he reaches out to take them for her on instinct. He relishes the weight of her arm when she links it through his and pulls him along, and realises he's barely thought about his dad or his car all day. It's a weird feeling, and he's sure he doesn't like it, but at the same time, he feels warm. He's content with it for now.
---
"You did not seriously come to the beach just to fuck around not doing anything."
"I can't swim."
Del sighs, hands on her hips from where she stands, no more than a few steps into the ocean.
"We're not even in inch deep water, there's not a whole lot of swimming going on here."
Wayne scratches his neck, uncomfortable under her glare from the last stretch of sand on the shore without waves splashing over it. For a long, quiet stretch, neither of them back down. Whatever. Del can work with this.
She trudges further into the water, pausing when it reaches her calves. Then, more petulantly than she'd admit to, she sits down with a splash. He watches the whole thing.
"Oh no, I've fallen in and I can't get up," she deadpans.
"Del."
"If only I knew how to swim! Jeez, I hope someone out there makes it in time to save me, I don't know how long I have left."
It's hard to tell, but she's pretty sure he almost smiles at least once. Kind of.
"Del."
"God, it's pretty fucking lonely over here, I sure wish-"
Wayne huffs, kicking his shoes off and wading into the water, coming to sit right next to her, jeans and everything.
"Guess there goes being careful."
"Happy?"
She shrugs, but she's grinning at him and whatever she can see though the cracks in his nonchalance. Then she remembers the packet of tattoos from Ocala.
"Wait a sec."
Without any further indication, she bolts up the shore to the log on the dry sand where they left their stuff. After a moment's digging, she grabs the plastic pack and runs back over to him. He's still sitting in the wet sand, waves soaking through his jeans as he looks out at the sky. If she thought they had more time, she might've asked him what he was thinking about.
"Let's see about these, huh?"
Once more, Del sits back down in the water with him and rips open the package with her teeth. Hm. She wasn't really thinking about what they'd do with the trash in the ocean. He reaches out to take it from her and just shoves the plastic in his pocket. Yeah, that works.
"Alright. Which ones do you want?"
She spreads out the cards in her hands to show the selection. She supposes it makes sense they were so cheap to get in March, they're all pretty goofy in the Halloween kind of way, but the rip-off Pennywise with blood dripping down his face makes Wayne laugh a little, so it can't be so bad in taste.
"I don't mind."
Del gives him a look, which is the politest way she can manage to let him know exactly how helpful that isn't. He doesn't take it to heart.
"Sure, whatever, you get no-face knife-face. Where do you want it?' She pulls his arm up to examine it, and he lets her. "Oh, dude, your not-fake tattoos are taking up all the space."
Wayne smiles, taking his arm back.
"You can try my back."
Before the offer fully registers in her brain, his hands are reaching backwards over his shoulders, and he's pulling his shirt off. And okay, yeah, she was just bitching about not having room, but this is an entirely different problem that wasn't even on her radar until it happened. If she was unsure about how to approach whatever changed in the boundary between them when he kissed her yesterday, she's at an absolute loss for how to go about this now. She's grateful to have already shuffled behind his eyeline, if she knew he could see the way her eyes were darting around the muscles in his back she might just go ahead and drown herself in the ocean for real.
Clearing her throat, she reaches her hand out for his shirt.
"Can I use that? Since you brought it into the ocean al-fuckin'-ready?"
He passes the fabric back to her without objection, taking no obvious note of any change in her demeanour.
"Thanks."
With the fabric still dripping back into the water, she wipes over an area around his right shoulder, then, still trying to keep the other designs dry, she holds the card against his back with one hand, and holds the wet cloth against it with the other.
"What's up with your tattoos, anyway?"
"Hm? Oh. My um... my dad took me to get.." he looks between his arms before pointing out a tattoo on the back of his left arm. "This one. A little after I turned fourteen."
Del shifts about, trying to get herself comfortable in the waves lapping lightly at her thighs.
"It was kind of around when we found out what was wrong with him, so. I think he thought it'd make me happy, I guess."
She traces over the shape of the ink. 5/5.
"What's it mean?"
A breath.
"It's his birthday."
That's... not what she was expecting. It's sweet. And yeah, under all the blood and furrowed brows and motor oil, she knows he's sweet, but it's just such an obvious display of it. She doesn't know how it was so hard to see. She doesn't know how to say that, so she moves her hand unoccupied by the wet cloth of his shirt to soothe the skin of his arm in circles, and says something else.
"Hey, that's kind of coming up. What do you think you'll do for it?"
"...I don't know."
"What'd you do before?"
Wayne needs a moment to consider this.
"I made a cake."
That makes her smile.
"Well, maybe you can do that then."
"Yeah. Maybe."
Her arm is getting kind of tired. She doesn't know how long she's supposed to do this, or how long she's been doing it, so she figures another little bit won't hurt.
"It was my ma's birthday two months ago."
He turns his head like he wants to see her at that.
"... What'd you do for it?"
"... Not much. My brothers like to go to the bar and get wasted, and, well, daddy just likes to get wasted."
She hears him moving his hand out of the water before she feels his fingers brush against hers, where they rest idly on his arm. Somehow, someway, she ends up pressing her head into his left shoulder.
"I picked flowers. Mostly, I just thought about her."
He squeezes her hand. She squeezes back.
"Maybe we can do that too."
It feels right, so when he says that, she doesn't think about lifting her head to press a kiss against the skin of his shoulder. He turns and meets her gaze, her face still half-pressed against his back. It's soft, and enough to settle into her stomach like a full meal they haven't even seen all week. When her eyes pull down to his mouth and she snaps her gaze back up to see his falling the same way, it doesn't make her feel nervous the way she did the first time he looked back at her outside her house in Brockton like she was worth wanting. Not just to anyone, but to him. If anything, it soothes her.
Maybe if she was normal, she'd kiss him. But as soon as the thought registers that she could, she locks up and she doesn't get why. If Wayne notices, he doesn't point it out. He strokes along the back of her palm, and eventually turns away.
"How's it looking?"
It's probably been at least two minutes. That's probably enough time to stick it on there. Probably.
"Let's find out."
Carefully, she pulls back the cloth, the paper with it, and when it comes off it leaves the print solid against Wayne's skin. There's a small crinkle down one of the sides, but it's not that noticeable. All in all...
"Wicked."
Wayne shifts a little, still facing the horizon, but finally able to see her better.
"Yeah?"
"Oh yeah. Way cool."
For how still he was throughout the process, it's a bit of a fright when he essentially jumps up to kneel at her side, taking the soaked shirt from her hands. Looks like it's her turn.
"You ready?"
---
They're sitting cross legged on their towel. It's done what it could to dry them off, but main priority right now is keeping as much sand off of their asses as they can. Wayne should probably change into some different pants. He thinks he might start losing feeling in his legs from the cold, and it's getting to that point in the day where afternoon turns to evening and the street lights turn on. Even Del is starting to rub her arms,
Wayne lifts his bag to his chest and pulls out his hoodie. He stretches his arm out to offer it to her without a word. It makes her smile, and as she takes it, she tucks a piece of her hair, now untied and cascading onto her shoulders in waves from the water, behind her ear.
"Thanks."
He found another shirt in his bag a while ago, but it's not much for warmth. It's whatever. He just likes taking care of her, even if he doesn't completely know if it's alright for him to think that way. It's just how he feels, and he could get used to feeling like he's doing an alright job of it.
Nothing is said about his current state, but Del definitely notices him starting to shiver, because she shuffles closer to him, giving a light hit to his thigh to tell him to change his positioning a little. When he does, she huddles up to his side, her head against his chest and an arm wrapped loosely around his waist. The sensation comes to him in an involuntary smile beaming across his face. With her pressed against the left of his chest, he becomes more aware of his heartbeat. It might be his imagination, but he swears it's slowing down a little, like his body takes the feeling of her by his side as its cue to take a break. His arm comes around her as he's trying to make sense of it.
"We probably should've sorted out where we're sleeping tonight."
She sounds sleepy as she mentions it, and the power of suggestion has his eyes feeling a little heavier.
"We could sleep here."
Del snorts.
"We'll probably get eaten by a crocodile or something. Or a crackhead."
When he looks at her, Wayne gets the momentary urge to brush her hair back with his hands, so he does.
"Pretty, though."
He means the sun setting over the sea, but that's not what he's looking at when he says it. Del leans into his touch.
"We can stay till the sun goes down." She turns to look at him. "If you want."
"I don't mind."
For once, that response doesn't seem to bother her. If anything, Del holds herself closer to him under his arm. She takes a steadying breath. She's got that look again that comes when she's trying to say something she doesn't feel ready to.
"Thanks for um... for doing all of this. With me. Today. I know it was a big fucking detour, especially because we was getting close and... I don't know. I appreciate it, I mean. This was nice." When she brings herself to meet his eyes, she can only hold it for a few seconds. "And I guess I wanted to say sorry. Because I know I've kind of been doing that a lot, like, distracting you from what you're here to do and everything. So... yeah..."
For a moment, Wayne doesn't know what to say to that. Because he doesn't know what part of that isn't sitting right with him. He knows where she's coming from objectively, but she's never felt like a distraction to him. It was his idea, but it's still her journey as much as his. And now comes that feeling again, the one he got when he realised that the car never felt more important to him than spending a day at the beach with Del on a whim. It sits now in his throat like a pill that won't go down, which is just apt. He's been thinking about this a lot, but he doesn't really know how to put it out there, to her or to himself.
"The car isn't what's important."
It's a stupid idea, or one that makes him feel stupid, at least, because it goes against everything he stands for. He's always felt that this whole trip was about his dad, living up to his legacy by taking back what was always meant to be his, and Wayne has done a lot of stupid shit over the years, but quitting at something like this just because his motivation is faltering feels like a fucking plateau.
"I mean, it's important, but..."
If he takes this trip into focus and decides that Del was worth more than the car, it feels like he's deciding that she's worth more than his father. Or whatever he may have left of him. But he looks at her in the light of setting sun, he feels her against his side, and it feels absurd to imagine that any car, any model, in any amount, could ever be worth more than her.
If finding the car was about making something right, and starting over to bring it into his future, she's part of that. Completely and absolutely. Wayne swallows.
"The car's not going anywhere. And you're important too."
Del straightens up a little at that, holding herself up on one of her hands. When she angles his face to face hers, she doesn't pull her hand away from his jaw for a long moment.
"I'm not going anywhere neither."
Despite the bus ticket, despite the ghost of what he remembers of his mother lingering in the back of his mind, despite himself, he believes her. He brushes his hand over her shoulder like he isn't expecting to find her solid and real under the fabric of his hoodie. She shifts, audible only by the sand rustling in the towel, and one hand falls on his chest, the other at his neck under his jaw.
When she kisses him, it's warm in the evening air. Matter of fact, he can't feel the cold, wet denim of his jeans seeping into his skin anymore. His sensations are overtaken by something blooming in his chest, his jaw, and his lips where she's keeping the contact, and he figures, not for the first time, that this is what it feels like to be in love. He moves his mouth against hers like they have all the time in the world, and maybe they do.
Minutes must go by, and he knows what they must look like. Teenagers making out on the beach like the world belongs to them but shit, haven't they earned that? At least for a little while. When he places a hand at her waist she giggles and he can't fathom anything more important to give his attention to.
The sky is red. It's about to go dark. Del slumps her head into the crook of Wayne's neck, so he wraps an arm around her and presses one more kiss to the top of her head. He stills to lets her stay there for a few moments. When she does move, she sits back up, stretching out her limbs like they've just been down for a long nap.
"Oof. You hungry?"
Wayne blinks himself back into the land of the living, and reaches for his backpack.
"Still haven't tried that mango."
She grins at that, cheeks still flushed, and Wayne has to imagine he looks about the same.
"Perfect."
He pulls out the fruit and his hunting knife. They spend that last bit of daylight eating on a sandy towel on a beach a country length's away from anything they've ever known as home.