A/N: This was originally posted Aug. 10, 2014, as a ficlet for Irrationalgame's birthday. Her prompt was: modern AU, with either Thomas or Jimmy as a lifeguard, and one of them saves the other one's life :)
Warnings for jellyfish-related injuries and possible medical/science inaccuracies. I only did light research for this one and have never seen an episode of Baywatch.
Thomas was determined to get fit this year. He'd left his twenties behind and his midsection was thicker than he liked; he wanted to get back to the shape he'd been in at 24, when he was strong and still had wind in his lungs. He'd quit smoking too, of course.
But one thing at a time, he decided.
Every morning before work he started going for a swim. He'd recently moved to a flat just ten minutes' walk from the beach, and the novelty of the sea air and ocean waves was too much to resist. He still felt like he was on holiday every time he felt the sand between his toes.
Swimming was good exercise, and one of the few he enjoyed, so making it a routine wasn't nearly so difficult as trips to the gym (which he'd quit in a week). He'd been on this new regime for a month and was already feeling an improvement in his overall health and mood. That didn't stop him from feeling lonely in the evenings, though. He didn't really know anyone in town and his new co-workers at the office were less than welcoming—as for the gay scene, it was pretty much nonexistent here as far as he could tell. He supposed he could travel to the city and go to a club, but he wasn't feeling he had it in him at the moment… he wanted something more than a hook up, and wasn't sure even at his age how such a thing was accomplished. Most of his previous relationships had been fairly subnormal even from the start, leaving him with what felt like a poor education now.
But that was fine, he decided. This year he was all about self-improvement, healthy self-love, self actualization—or whatever other silly word those daytime telly people were calling it these days.
So Thomas started swimming in the mornings and the evenings. He felt better at the beach than anywhere else, and being in a crowd of beach-goers helped to ward off his loneliness. After another month he'd even made some friendly acquaintances (with almost no effort or friendliness on his part, ironically enough). Daisy Mason, one of these new acquaintances, had even invited him out to drinks with her and her mates more than once. He supposed he could call her a proper friend now. She was nothing like O'Brien back in Yorkshire, but then, no one was.
Thomas's evenings quickly became the most social part of his day. His mornings, though, he spent quite enjoyably alone, swimming hard and then having a cigarette on the beach.
One day he arrived early, because he had a dentist's appointment and didn't want to skip his solitary morning swim. Only a few other people were in the water this early, wading close to shore, while the two lifeguards on duty chatted by the water's edge. One of the lifeguards was the gorgeous blond man Thomas always tried not to look at (and failed). There was no way that was ever happening, he knew, and besides, blondie always seemed to be flirting with his brunette—and very female—co-worker. She seemed far too silly to deserve blondie, in Thomas's opinion, but that was probably just bitterness talking and he knew it.
Trying to shrug it off for the hundredth time that week, Thomas waded in and cut through the dark waves with ease. The water felt amazingly cool and refreshing so early in the day, so he swam out much further than he usually did. Faintly he thought he heard one of the lifeguard's whistles, but it almost certainly wasn't directed at him, so he ignored it.
Eventually he paused to check his waterproof watch—damn, he had to head back to shore now if he wanted to make it home in time to shower before his appointment. Sighing, he turned around—and that's when he felt it: a burning sting around his legs and ankles, so intense and sudden it took his breath away. He screamed, or tried to, but a heavy wave crashed over him and silenced the cry, pushing him under. He choked on the water, but the hurt in lungs was nothing like the fire and lightning in his skin.
He didn't know what was happening, if his legs had been bitten or torn off or—
But then he remembered with HD clarity, complete with sense memory and surround sound: a sign in the sand about jellyfish, the one he'd walked past every day for months and had never taken seriously.
Desperately he clawed his way to the surface and burst out into the air, gagging on another cry for help.
He wasn't sure how long he floundered, struggling to get back to shore with pain vibrating through him, before he heard a voice shout: "Thomas! Hold on!"
It was the blond lifeguard, and he had a red flotation device and was pulling Thomas's arms around it. He was asking him what was wrong, and Thomas managed to cough, "Jellyfish," before he became too breathless to talk. Blondie clutched him tight and pulled him to shore faster than seemed possible.
He was saying things as they staggered up the beach, asking questions about where he was hurt, and Thomas answered as best as he could. The lifeguard laid him down on the sand and peered into his face anxiously.
"Hurry up, idiot, get the spray and the EpiPen! He's been stung!"
Huh?
Then Thomas realized he was talking to his companion, the female lifeguard. She sputtered, "R-right, of course!" before dashing to her chair and returning with two bottles and what looked like a giant tube of chapstick. The blond shot Thomas with the chapstick—oh, it's a needle— then poured some clear liquid over the burning in his legs. Last of all he sprayed him with something that smelled horrible, but helped dull the pain. Thomas could see wicked red bumps crossing his skin like streaks of lightning—it looked bad.
"Breathe, Thomas, you're going to be alright!" the blond told him, although he sounded as if he needed to be reminded to breathe, too. "There's help on the way—"
How does he know my name? Was Thomas's last thought before he fainted.
When he woke up, he was lying on a cot in a concrete building. There was a messy desk to the left, colored flyers pinned to the walls, and various swimming paraphernalia scattered from floor to ceiling.
The two lifeguards were there, too. The girl was across the room, flirting with a man in a white uniform—a medic, probably. Blondie was—oh. Sitting in a chair by the cot, staring at him.
"Are you alright?"
Thomas's legs were throbbing, but at least they were wrapped up in clean bandages, now. He nodded.
"I'm alive," he croaked. "Could use a fag if you've got one, though."
Surprisingly, the lifeguard produced one and lit it for him.
"Bloody hell, Jimmy, don't give him that now, he's just been hurt!" the girl said, noticing Thomas awake for the first time. "Are you okay?" she asked Thomas kindly. Thomas nodded again. The girl handed him a Powerade from the mini fridge, and he took it with weak fingers. In his periphery he saw the blond—Jimmy— light a cigarette for himself, too, and take a long drag.
The medic took over from there, and Thomas answered his questions and drank the Powerade with one hand, smoking with the other. He was conscious all the while of Jimmy's stare, and he wondered again how he'd known his name when they'd never even spoken before.
Unfortunately now that the shock of the incident was wearing off Thomas felt humiliated. He'd actually fainted, and the stings hadn't even been as bad as they could have been, apparently. It sounded as if he'd caused more trouble for himself by panicking than if he'd had just stayed calm.
Finally the medic released him from interrogation with instructions to keep his wounds clean, and to check in with his doctor as soon as possible.
Then it was just Thomas, Jimmy, and…
"Ivy," Jimmy said abruptly. "Could you fetch Thomas's things for him? He left them down on the south end—there was a blue towel and some brown sandals, I think."
Ivy gave him a strange look and left, leaving the two of them alone. How Jimmy knew where he'd left his things, let alone what they looked like, baffled Thomas.
"Shut down the beach, did they?" he asked instead, mostly to fill the silence. His stomach was fluttering like he was thirteen again, which was just ridiculous.
Jimmy nodded. "Only for today, though."
Thomas cleared his throat, shifting on the cot. He wished he had a shirt to put on. "Uh, thank you," he said awkwardly. "Suppose you saved me life…"
A smile lit Jimmy's face. His eyes got all squinty when he smiled, Thomas noticed, and it was beautiful.
Oh god.
"You shouldn't have gone out so far, you know, not so early in the morning," Jimmy told him. "Jellyfish come out at night to hunt, and sometimes they linger a bit near the surface, before the sun's high."
Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. "Should've watched more David Attenborough programs, I suppose."
Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, or read the warning signs we put up."
"That too."
They smoked in silence for a few minutes, and even though they didn't know each other Thomas felt the silence was… companionable. Comfortable. Certainly… enjoyable. Maybe it was always like this with someone who had saved your life, he mused.
Before that Ivy girl returned with his things, though, Thomas had a few questions for Jimmy alone.
"How did you know my name?" he asked.
Jimmy affected an air of nonchalance, but the leg he started jiggling up and down gave him away. "I know Daisy Mason," he said lightly.
"She told you about me, then?"
"Well," Jimmy coughed. "I asked about you—then she told me about you."
Thomas's stomach flipped. "Oh."
"And I knew you were in trouble right away because—because I was looking at you." Jimmy admitted, blushing under his tan.
Thomas wondered if he were actually dreaming this.
"Look at me often, do you?" he asked faintly.
Jimmy bit his lip, looking frightened and hopeful all at once. "Sorry, it's been a… habit of mine."
"Your habit saved my life today, I think."
The moment between them was so charged and intense Thomas couldn't feel the pain in his skin anymore. He was sure the tension was going to kill him if he didn't break it soon.
"Wish I would've known sooner, though…" he said cautiously.
Jimmy jiggled his leg so violently the chair rattled. "Really? Why?"
"Wouldn't have had to get your attention like this," Thomas gestured at his wounds with an overly-dramatic, long-suffering expression.
Jimmy snorted, caught Thomas's eye, and started laughing hard. Thomas grinned like an idiot in response. It wasn't even funny
really but somehow it was bloody brilliant anyway.
Just then Ivy returned with Thomas's things. "I found them—oh!" she stopped short, staring at the two of them. "Did he finally ask you out, then?" she asked Thomas. "He's been mooning about you for ages and I wish you'd just put him out of his misery, for my sake at least. Saving your life was impressive, right?"
Thomas laughed and nodded. Jimmy hid his face in his hands in embarrassment, but Thomas could see him smiling underneath.
Thomas was pretty sure he'd just fallen in love and gotten a date, all in the space of ten minutes. He supposed he could deal with the jellyfish stings and a missed dentist appointment today, if he got this too.
~The End~