In the Summertime

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"...We're not dirty, we're not mean

We love everybody, but we do as we please

When the weather's fine, we go fishing or go swimming in the sea

We're always happy, life's for living,

Yeah that's our philosophy..."

- Mungo Jerry

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There were some advantages, Hiro considered, to being BEGA's team coach. Such as getting to come along on their ridiculously expensive group-holidays - this year, sauntering around the Mediterranean on what called itself a cruise ship but was to all intents and purposes a floating Ritz. Cushy indeed. Tyson had nearly had a hernia over it.

But of course there were disadvantages. Such as being stuck in one of Gibraltar's blasted legion of jewellery shops, trying to convince Mystel that he did not need any more piercings. At all.

"You're running out of room," the bluenette pointed out, as sternly as he could manage at thirty-seven degrees Celsius.

"But I need another one!"

"Well, Coach is sort of right," Brooklyn said thoughtfully. Hiro regarded him with deep suspicion. "...You have run out of space on the helix. But you've got a nice big tragus, so we can use that." Suspicion justified. Hiro wasn't sure whether he wanted to know what a tragus was, or if he should just choke the pair of them there and then. It might be simpler.

"What's a tragus?"

"This bit." He looked at the indicated potential-trauma-area; a smallish nub of cartilage and skin, more attached to the cheek than the ear, about a centimetre up from where normal, decent piercings lived.

Mystel considered it in a hand-mirror, courtesy of the shop owner. He looked doubtful.

"Will it hurt more?" Brooklyn shrugged.

"I wouldn't think so, it's just cartilage."

"Okay!"

"Nooo... Look, Mystel, that's enough. Both of you, in fact. You have enough piercings now. You don't need any more. Do I make myself clear?" Hiro had been aiming for cool and collected, but seemed to have hit frazzled instead. Mystel stuck his lower lip out as far as it would go, and frowned.

"Yeah I do. I need one more. See?"

There was, indeed, a solitary gold earring - a thin hoop, with a bead fastening and ornamental feather - in the little tray beside the piercing couch. This was the problem. As a matter of what he claimed to be family tradition, Mystel had acquired a piece of jewellery at each port of call. Not all were earrings; the small Egyptian was also wearing two necklaces, five rings, and quite an assortment of bracelets and bangles. He even had a toe ring. And, prior to coming on this excursion, nine separate earrings and only two places to keep them. This was the real problem.

Hence, while Moses, Ming Ming and Garland followed the tour guide in the proper fashion, Hiro had turned to check for the others and spotted only a blond braid weaving away into the crowd. And he'd grabbed it, because no WAY are you two wandering off by yourselves out here, you could get lost, and then what - and he'd stupidly released the handful of hair. Mystel had stopped yelping. Brooklyn had emerged from the scrum of people, grinning like a bad Halloween mask. Hiro had, again stupidly, turned to look for the rest of the group who were long since gone, and found himself seized by the elbows and summarily wandered off with.

They'd found a shop that did piercings after about twenty minutes of total disregard for his advice, demands and orders not to, and moreover located the only jeweller in Gibraltar who only spoke Spanish. Which meant they could get away with it, because Hiro didn't speak Spanish. Mystel could communicate a need for oranges, ask where the bathrooms were, and say two drinks please, my friend will pay. But, having apparently decided that Devil's Advocate was a really fun game, Brooklyn had started chattering away fluently to the large man behind the counter, and not ten minutes later Mystel's ears were holier than the Pope.

Hiro considered the merits of suicide.

The jeweller, meanwhile, was busily sanitising several pointy metal instruments. He said something.

"He'd like you to lay on your side, he's got to put a clamp on it," Brooklyn explained distractedly, searching his pockets for something. Hiro tried to decide whether intervention would do him any good at this point, but a blare of synthesized music cut off his thoughts; Brooklyn had apparently been looking for his cellphone, which was now ringing.

"¿Hola buenas tardes? Oh, hi Gar!" The coach stared. Watching the jeweller apply a scissorlike clamp to Mystel's right ear, and listening to the irate voice issuing from the handset, he was suddenly very thankful that Garland was a whole phone line away.

"...Hmm? I know we are. You're where?"

"This is a bad idea," Hiro stated shakily. The jeweller had gone to fetch a fresh needle.

"You are? Well, there's no need to be like that, we'll be back in a while..."

"I mean, why can't you just swap it with one of the other earrings every week?" Mystel attempted to shake his head, recognised it as a bad plan, and poked his tongue out instead.

"Nuh-uh." A small circular fan hummed pathetically; Hiro wished it would shut up. Either that or start actually making him feel cooler, and possibly more collected.

"Why not? You know, it's probably going to hurt a lot, that part looks thicker - "

"Coach, be quiet, I'm on the 'phone," Brooklyn scolded him, covering the receiver with one hand. Hiro gaped.

"You - "

"Shhh! ...Mm? No, just Hiro - mmhmm, he's here...well of course I know what time the boat leaves - "

The bluenette, who had been glaring up a storm, paused to pray for a swift and painless death. Garland now knew he was here. That meant when they got back to the boat - if they got back to the boat - he would be tried under the Tzebult jurisdiction for -

"Owch!"

- Yes, now the full nine counts of Aiding and Abetting Mystel to Behave Foolishly in a Public Place. Sentencing would be quick, but merciless. And probably involve babysitting the pair of demons he was currently stuck with.

"Because I said we'll get back before it goes, that's why."

"Bueno." The jeweller stood back, having extracted the needle, threaded the hoop in and removed the clamp. He handed Mystel a tissue to mop away the few drops of blood that had resulted.

Hiro was amazed his skin was still attached - he'd assumed it had crawled right off. The blonde grinned at him impishly.

"Dontcha like needles?"

"No."

" - Gar, settle down. We're on holiday, remember? ...Hmm? In a jewellers, why? Oh, well you know Mystel bought all those earrings, and last night at dinner he mentioned he didn't have enough - "

Hiro winced at the bellowing issuing from the other end of the line. Mystel snorted and shook his head gleefully, making the mass of earrings jingle. Brooklyn held the phone at arm's length and gave it a look of mild reproval, eventually bringing it up again when the yelling stopped.

"...Sorry, I didn't catch that. The signal's not great - " Hiro remained transfixed in horror, only moving to snatch Mystel away from going to investigate the shop's own display of gold and silver. The jeweller was clearly waiting for something. "...Now, now, calm down - Gracias. ¿Cuánto vale? - Yes, I do actually. Hmm?"

"Cincuenta y ocho, total."

"Fifty-eight, Mystel. That's quite good. - No, not you, Gar. No, say it again, I wasn't listening. You what?"

The Egyptian rummaged in his shoulder bag and found a grand total of thirty-four pound sterling. He turned appealing eyes on Hiro, smiling like a little goddamn cherub. The bluenette handed over twenty-five from his wallet, and reminded himself that viciously attacking people over a foot shorter than yourself is generally considered bad sportsmanship. He watched Mystel bound over to the till, while fervently wishing he'd stopped growing sooner, if only for the purposes of justifiable homicide.

" - No, we'll see you at the deck party later, actually. I booked you for a full body massage earlier, and you need to be there in four minutes, so - because it's nice, that's why. No, I didn't. Now hurry up, or you'll miss your appointment."

Hiro could not find words. The redhead was managing to sound absolutely guileless on the phone, while wearing a smirk clearly borrowed from the Cheshire Cat, and making an "okay" sign to Mystel.

"...We will, I said so. N - hai, kaa-san, absolutely..."

There was further rage from Garland, who evidently did not like being called mommy. "Alriiiiight, we are. Yeah. Just go to your appointment, we'll see you at the party. Okay? Bye-bye." The phone was flipped shut and returned to its pocket before the team captain could say anything more on the matter. And if Hiro knew him at all, he was probably now sprinting upstairs to the Deck 12 Spa; Garland's holiday neuroses seemed to centre mostly around timekeeping. He'd always hated missing appointments, anyway.

"Hey, check it out!" Mystel pounced onto the coach's back, shaking his head rapidly; his braid thwacked Hiro on the neck in passing, and his assortment of brand-new earrings made a noise like a brass band in a traffic accident. "It makes a tune! Isn't that cool?"

"They'll probably whistle if it gets windy enough. Look, those three hoops form a tunnel."

"Like a flute, then," the blonde asked, jumping down and pulling his team's temporarily deafened tutor out into the blinding afternoon sunshine.

"Like a flute," Brooklyn agreed, "They look very nice. Wouldn't you say, Coach?"

The bluenette shoved his sunglasses back on, and began to storm off down the street. The remaining two blinked owlishly at each other before pursuing him; Mystel caught up first.

"Hey! Hey, what's up, why're you all mad with us? Coach?"

Hiro turned on his heel, looming ominously over the blonde.

"Why do you think I'm mad with you?!"

"Umm...mm...eh..?"

"It's because you just - "

"Aaw, come on, Hiro," Brooklyn interrupted, having by this time wandered far enough along the street to join the conversation, "There's no need to be mad with him just 'cause you're lost."

Hiro stopped. And looked around. And cursed to any number of unpleasant mishaps impertinent redheads and their tendency to be right about things. One, specifically.

"...It's not his fault. Come on, the ship's this way." He meandered off up a side-street. Mystel followed seconds later, snagging a conveniently-placed washing line and swinging to the next one, out of sight. Hiro stared. He uttered several futile curses, unclenched his fists by sheer determination, and set off after them.

-----

The ship left Gibraltar at half past five, by which time everyone supposed to be on board was indeed on board. The massive, tropical-themed, on-deck party began at eight, and by nine-forty, Garland had still not caught sight of either of his missing teammates, or their most-likely-unwilling-but-still-going-to-get-yelled-at accomplice. Until the lower half of a body appeared very suddenly, directly in front of him. Fortunately, Garland was quite accustomed to suddenly-appearing Mystels, and waited for it to drop from the upper-deck railing it had evidently used to hang from. This was less startling than the 3am dormer window escapade, at least. Until the blonde's upper body came into view. The team captain took one look, and planted his face in his hands.

"God damnit Mystel."

The aforementioned cocked his head to one side, puzzled by this odd behaviour. His earrings jingled. Oh, riiiight. He took a few steps closer to the elder teen, who happened to be sitting on a wooden, steplike creation designed for exactly that purpose.

"Heeeey, Gar?"

No response. Mystel shuffled a bit closer, because he sort of wanted to make sure Garland knew nothing was wrong, so he couldn't be responsible for it anyway - and furthermore, a large conga line had nearly run him over, and Garland definitely counted as higher ground and safety.

"Hey, um, are you okay?"

The older teen raised his face just out of his hands, and glared.

"Of course not. What were you thinking? You - you weren't! What'll your parents say? Oh, God."

The Egyptian shuffled a bit more, and then quickly took a seat beside him, peering over to try to see if he was still glaring.

"Umm, well I shouldn't think they'll say a lot, Mama has a nose ring. And Papai thinks it's cool but he's too scared of needles. D'you know, Hiro's scared of needles?" Garland processed the information. Nose ring? Needles? Relief gradually began to wash over him at the prospect of not having to explain to Mr and Mrs Bayoumi why their son now very much resembled a living charm bracelet.

"Is he," he inquired faintly.

"Yeah, he went really pale earlier. He looks okay now, though."

"So I see," the older teen replied somewhat stonily, having scanned the crowd for Hiros and found one leaning on the bar, far too close to Brooklyn. Mystel giggled.

"He was really pissed off earlier," he explained, grinning, "And then we had the Planter's Punch and he felt better." Garland sat up straighter, alarmed.

"You had punch? What kind?"

"It's fruit and rum!" Mystel relieved a passing waiter of a glass of something peach-coloured, and brandished it excitedly. "Try? C'mon, it's nice."

His captain treated him to a fair impression of a thousand-yard stare.

"How much have you had?"

"Half a glass, but then they started getting all funny and stuff, so I came over here instead. Are you mad with me?" Garland would have liked to say that goddamn right he was, and go into graphic detail of all the reasons why, but the music was so loud they were having to halfway yell to be heard. And what's more, Mystel was looking at him in such a preposterously hopeful way, with the forlornness of a retriever puppy that hasn't been petted for whole minutes now. Garland caved.

"...Not very much."

"Oh." He seemed genuinely surprised, and adopted the lotus position in a somewhat puzzled manner. Garland looked at him, slowly. Up and down. Frowning.

"...Why are you wearing a grass skirt?" The blonde stared back incredulously. He was indeed wearing a grass skirt, no shoes, and a pair of surf shorts with a floral pattern so violent it should probably have been locked up.

"Tropical!"

"I see." The team captain glanced self-consciously at his own sandalled feet, jeans, and t-shirt. He really hadn't been in the mood for it. Mystel, snickering helplessly, pulled a string of neon fake flowers from around his own neck and dropped it over the older teen's head.

"Hehehee - have a garland, Garland..."

The aforementioned tried to suppress a snort of unwanted laughter at the overall bizarreness of the situation, and failed dismally. He looked across the partying crowd in an attempt to distract himself, but only succeeded in noticing Ming Ming, elevated from the rest on Moses's huge shoulders and doing a decidedly creative hula. She waved, flicking her own earrings with one finger and giving a double thumbs-up. Mystel waved back energetically, and there was a jingling.

Garland glanced surreptitiously at the collection of new, noisy ornaments. Gold. Coloured stones, beads, feathers, paint. White gold, here and there. The revolving spotlights on the upper deck caught and made it all sparkle - fantastically, he supposed.

Mystel turned and grinned at him.

"So what d'you think?"

Garland looked at the impossibly shiny jewellery and blinding smile, and caved for the second time in as many minutes.

"...Don't do it again."

The blonde laughed, hit him lightly in the arm, and rested a selection of earrings on his nearest shoulder.

"You know," he heard after a minute, "We should scare Hiro with needles."

The older of the two nodded, reaching for one small hand and holding it lightly, to no apparent purpose.

"Definitely."

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NOTES:

- By request for Nezitsuki, dammit sorry it took so long! The request? "A story when Mystel gets his ears pierced multiple times and everyone is obsessed with him and his ears."

...well, feather-duster tried. But gawsh, Garland and Mystel are so darned cute the pair of 'em, and...waaaaaa. Hopefully it was okay, guys? Riiiiight?

Ahem.

- The name "Bayoumi" and the concept of the 3am dormer window escapade are hijacked with the best of possible intentions, from Kelirehenna. Who feather-duster is HOPELESSLY SLOW at emailing. Darned beach lots crashin' mah computer! -shakes fist-

- And just why shouldn't Mystel be wearing a grass skirt and surf shorts, huh? HUH??

- Anybody wanting to give Garland a garland is quite welcome to do so. We must festoon him with flowers, be they fake or otherwise! Woo!

- Translation of languagey bits-n-pieces (forgive feather-duster for any glaring mistakes):

¿Hola buenas tardes? - Hi, good afternoon (phone greeting - this version is sometimes used by telemarketers, and may be just a fraction sarcastic, ehe)

Gracias. ¿Cuánto vale? - Thank you, how much is it? (i.e. how much do we owe you, kinda thing)

Bueno - Good/fine/okay. (And if you don't know that, you should!)

Cincuenta y ocho, total - Fifty-eight, total.

hai, kaa-san - Yes, Mom/Mommy (poor Garland, ehehee)

- Moving on. Yes, you can make a wind tunnel that whistles if you have a "tunnel" of hoop earrings. Trust feather-duster and her nine ear piercings on this one.

- Tragus...if you want a picture, look it up. It's exactly how it's described in the fic. feather-duster has one of hers pierced, though it's slightly wonky, oh well. Some people find that particular piercing to be very painful, some don't.

- The helix is the outer edge of the ear, type of area. Where most upper-ear piercings usually are. Eight isn't a huge number of holes to have in the helix, but of course, putting another hole in would make them unevenly spaced and whatnot, if they'd been laid out properly.

- Hiro fears the wrath of Garland. Why? There's nothing scarier than an angry mommy, folks.

- "Mama" is a pretty generic word for mother. "Papai" is mostly Portugese, but Mystel can use it if he wants to.

- Hiro plus rum punch equals leering. Planter's Punch is indeed rum and fruit juices. Not very strong.

- Mimi is doin' tha Hula Dance mostly due to Sims 2 Bon Voyage, and the exciting lifestyles of feather-duster's BEGA Sims. Mimi is hula queen, seriously.

- Oh yeah, and they're on a cruise ship cause cruise ships are awesomeness. As are deck parties. Especially the tropical ones!

- Title taken from the song quoted at the beginning.

- Audience members wishing to scare Hiro with needles may form an orderly queue to the left of this notice, and review while waiting. Then I'll love you! ...But Hiro won't.