Work Text:
When you tell this story to your brother, later, it will go differently. You waded into the water carrying Jade in a princess hold, ignoring her kicking and laughter, and then dumped her in; the exploration was your idea; you caught sight of the discovery first. Your brother will listen, and his half-smirk will let you know that he thinks your bullshit is so patently obvious that he doesn't even need to call you on it.
On second thought, maybe you shouldn't edit the past for him. Maybe you should tell him the real story, which went something like this:
You don't particularly like getting wet, or wearing less than long t-shirts and longer jeans even in the summer. Underneath the armor that your outfit provides you, you're just wiry muscle lashed over bone and covered in freckled, scarred skin that's already halfway to burning, knobby knees under red swim trunks, sunglasses slipping from the bridge of your nose from the sweat. Your ankles are thin enough for Jade's hands to encircle, and she takes advantage of that to yank you from the dock and into the water. You don't even have time to shout before you're under, and your mouth fills with bubbles, then lakewater.
You come up spluttering, and see her floating with just her eyes above the water, blinking at you. “That was totally uncalled for, Harley. I could have died. You could have killed me—”
She surfaces a little more. Your sunglasses are held delicately in her teeth. You snatch them away to set them gingerly on the dock, and she laughs.
“I found something at the bottom of the lake!” she says. “Come on.”
“Dark and spooky is more Lalonde's scene.”
She rolls her eyes and dives. Jade doesn't often repeat herself around you; she knows you'll follow her anywhere. Monologuing and slouched, hands in your pockets, but only one step behind her all the same.
You duck your head under the water to watch her, and soon her body is swallowed by the lake's dark depths. You lift your head again, glance at your sunglasses, mutter “Wish me luck,” and dive.
You're not as good a swimmer as her—she's the one who lives a stone's throw from the lake, not you. Your lungs feel tight as you work your way down, feeling the water change around you, becoming colder, feeling softer somehow. The bottom of the lake comes into view, like the surface of another planet: long strange flora reaching for a foreign sun, light slanting oddly through the water. Combined with the lack of oxygen, you feel as if you've left Earth entirely. Venus, maybe. You've been reading old sci-fi recently, thinking about fictional jungles on Venus filled with helium. Here there be dragons, or aliens, or just your girlfriend diving fearlessly into the weeds, hands out and searching.
You swim to her, tap her on the shoulder. She grins when she sees you and points down. There's a small chest at the bottom of the lake, all rusted hinges and warped wood. She tugs at it, and you get the idea.
It takes both of you to pull it from the lake's sucking bottom and haul it up, and you gasp for air when the two of you finally surface. “You all right?” you ask her, and she rolls her eyes at you.
Damn, this thing is heavy. You're both exhausted by the time Jade pulls herself out of the water and leans down to help pull the chest onto the dock. You flop out of the water yourself and lie spread-eagled beside her on the wooden slats, chest heaving.
“I want to know what's inside,” she says quietly beside you.
One of your hands fumbles for hers. Her skin is as cold as your own, and twice as wrinkly. The sun feels good, looks better angling off her tanned stomach. Your other hand searches for your sunglasses and perches them on your nose.
“In a minute,” you mumble back, sighing as her fingers tighten around yours.
Maybe you shouldn't tell Bro the story at all. Maybe you'll just bring him a souvenir from the chest, one of the multicolored glass bottles filled with fine sand, and keep the rest of the afternoon for yourself: Jade's breathing evening out beside you, the prickle of water drying on your chest, her fingers warming slowly against yours. Lifting her hand to your mouth and pressing a kiss to it, slow and lingering. Her eyes blinking open to smile at her reflection in your shades, or maybe at you.
Yeah, you think. Some things are worth keeping.