Author's note: This was a gift fic for Yuletide 2009. The requests made writing this story a dream because I had planned on writing something similar to begin with.
Story takes place pre-Uncharted 2.
Participation Sensations
Chilling out at a beach bar normally meant lax drinking and conversing. Today's blistering heat gave the outdoor tavern a whole new positive angle besides a rundown watering hole. Staying indoors was a blasted death sentence and the outdoors was, well, a tropical version of hell.
But it sure was a pretty hell. Blue skies, crooning gulls, and clear waters.
The Istanbul heist for the oil lamp was scheduled in two days. Flynn, Nate, and Chloe had gone over the specs of the museum and the sewer system already and assembled their essentials they'd need to bust in.
Nate was stoked to discover what secret Marco Polo had lay in the lamp. Normally, pre-steal jitters bounced him around and he had troubles sitting in a single spot. He liked to jog to burn off the excess nervousness in the days that led up to a thievery, especially the trickier ones. Jogging always was a surefire way to calm down. Of course, there was the voracious method, but jogging proved to be reliable through and through. No second groin needed for the energy burn, just a pair of running shoes.
The ironic fairy of his dreams must have played a trick on him this day because he didn't want to jog. At all. Nate wanted to laze about and chug beers and essentially become a slug for the whole morning, afternoon, and right into night.
Maybe he really didn't have anything to worry about for this lamp gig. Museum blueprints were mapped in his frontal cortex. He could already imagine the putrid stink of the sewers and how his feet sloshed in muck.
Nursing a condensating cooler, Nate shifted eyes over to the other person next to him.
Or it could have been the company which blocked his jogging habit.
"Flynn, you alive, there?" Nate nudged the man who was not drinking, but instead tapping his fingers along the grainy surface of the counter.
"If I answer, does that mean yes?" Flynn looked like he mulled something.
Nate knew Flynn was a stickler for details and he had a good impression what bothered his friend. "I told you already we'll be fine. We covered everything for our drop-in into the museum."
Flynn watched Nate critically, his forehead crinkling. "One can't be too careful, yeah?"
"You've gotta loosen up." Nate slid off his high stool and walked to the edge of the entrance of the hutted bar. He shielded his eyes as they adjusted to the stark light. In here was dark and sheltered, but outside reaffirmed paradise. Glinting clear ocean, balmy breezes, a stretch of smooth sand with tropical trees dotted alongside, all topped off with the broiling sun.
"What do you see?" Nate surveyed the vast crystal blue of the sea.
Flynn joined his partner with a beer of his own. He followed Nate's gaze out to yonder azure. "Opportunities to apply lifeguarding skills?"
"Fishing."
"Fishing?" Flynn stared at Nate like he had grown a third arm. Flynn waved a hand at the sunny terrain outside of their shaded hut of beverages. "You realize it's a bloody sauna out here? We'd die before catching anything." The punctuated word rolled off his Britishly-accented tongue with edge.
"C'mon, you get your one ludicrous idea of breaking into a museum, and I get mine." Nate put his hands on his hips and smiled widely at Flynn. Nate had always admired the sea, but never knew if anything edible swam in it.
"Couldn't your brilliant ideas have something to do with the indoors and perhaps involve a stirring lap dance with a cute little dame?" Flynn wiggled his hips to emphasize.
Nate rolled his eyes. "Two hours, ok? We'll fish for two hours and see if we catch anything. Haven't you wondered if there's ocean life out there?" He held out his arms expansively.
"Not particularly. I don't swim that far out to risk being chomped on by a passing shark or other."
"But it's stunning out there." The pondering mood hit Nate hard as the iridescent waves beckoned to him with its shimmer.
"Yeah, and swimming is the better idea than fishing. Why not compromise and swim in the beauty?" Hope lit up Flynn's eyes at a possible bailout to fishing.
"Eh, we can always do that." Nate made a non-committal wave and ignored Flynn's crestfallen expression which wasn't going to lure him to give up. "C'mon, help me get the gear."
18 and a half minutes after they acquired the rentals, set off to a nearby dock and cast their lines, Nate cursed his whimsical event. The sun beat down a hell of a lot hotter than he originally anticipated and his shirt already clung uncomfortably to his body in soaked sweat. Flynn wasn't faring better and he took his cranky frustration out on his buddy.
"So, since I'll pass out from heatstroke before you do, you do the cooking with whatever scrumptious marine life you fetch up." Flynn had smartly set up a huge umbrella for shade, but the humidity paid no heed to it.
"If I cook, I eat. You won't see anything 'cause I'd have eaten it all."
"You cook?" Flynn seemed genuinely surprised. The treasure vagrant producing home-cooked meals?
"Damn straight. You should see me with the BBQ grill. Propane tanks receive no mercy." Grilled steaks tasted the best!
"Look out, propane," Flynn muttered, taking a swig from his undeniably warm beer he took with him.
"Aw, damn it, the heat is a bitch." Nate really hoped some poor fish would catch on his line in the next two minutes so they could pack up and call it a day.
"Shall we go in?" Flynn made as if to get up and go into the cool haven of the bar shack, still in view from their seaside spot.
"No." Nate wondered himself about his stubborn streak, but promptly ignored it as he popped the tab to a lemon flavored water from their cooler. He chugged its icy liquid, uncaring about brain freeze if it came.
Not holding out that his shirt would literally begin dripping when the two hours were up, he put down his drink and peeled the wet shirt over his head. His upper body sizzled in the sun's intense rays, but he wasn't unbearably damp.
Flynn whistled after Nate stripped his shirt. "Wow, mate, you've really outdone yourself. Look at those plump pectorals. And I'll bet you could carrying a two ton carp with those massive arms."
The observation was a total exaggeration, but they were fishing and consequently not doing anything except sit, thus bored, so Nate flexed his biceps. "Yep. I'll bet I could carry you."
"Please do. Over there by that row of brandy would be delightful." Flynn pointed to the darkened outdoor bar again.
"Nice try."
They remained remarkably silent for a while. Nate's thoughts began drifting towards Chloe. He had broken up with her because he needed space. That, coupled with how frequently he jetted from excavation sites didn't give him quality time to spend with a significant other. Chloe wasn't to blame; she was a great gal and they had shared intimate moments when there was the rare opportunity not to run around to another site of potential treasure. Who knew if those old habits would flare up if they got back together?
Chloe must have badly yearned to see him if she were willing to track him down. Nate would gauge how things ran with Chloe after the museum business was done.
"Well, aren't you two the zaniest men I've met?" A throaty female voice drifted over, and for a second, Nate thought his thinking had come alive. Chloe neared them, decked out in a clingy t-shirt and shapely shorts. Her sandals made slapping noises on the creaking planks as she stepped between their chairs.
Nate had to force himself not to react openly to her presence, as she and Flynn were "a couple". Nate and she were supposed to be ex but through some strange twist of fate, he was back in her arms. So to speak. He pretended to check his line as Flynn and she shared an engrossing look of flirtation.
Flynn touched her arm. "Correction. Mr. Drake here is the zany one. This is all his plan."
"Really?" Chloe turned her body and catty expression towards Nate. If Flynn were able to see the full side of her face he'd notice the trace of a flicker as she eyed Nate from neck to stomach, then back up to his face. "Color me surprised. I figured this was your kind of thing." She returned her gaze back down at Flynn.
"Roasting out here? No. Why would you think fishing was my thought?" He nudged her hip in good humor, then grumbled to Nate, "Fudge, I'm with you, mate." Caving in too, he removed his shirt. Whether it was for Chloe's womanly perusal or strictly heat related, Nate didn't want his thoughts to stray that direction. A disturbing direction.
Chloe waited until the fabric cleared Flynn's head before she spoke. "You're the prudent one. Careful timing and action. Fishing is like that; pull the rod at the right time or else the fish escapes." Nate kept his vision out to the water to avoid watching Chloe run a hand through Flynn's hair. Nate really wanted her to do that to him.
"That's mighty deep of you, lass," Flynn complimented her, then directed at Nate, "isn't she?"
"Sure." Nate proudly managed to keep the sliver of sarcasm from entering his reply. The most deep Chloe had gotten with him lately was an intense wail of orgasmic pleasure at the end of one of their tumbling sessions. Not that he found that offensive in the least.
"I'll leave you two to be," Chloe announced. "I realized with this summer swelter that I don't have any black tops at all to use for our op coming in minus two days. I'm picking one up." She grazed a coy hand across Flynn's chest. "Good luck with fishing."
Flynn happily waved at her as she walked off. Nate tossed in a wave to participate.
Flynn said to him, "Two hours out here, you said? Well, now I'm ready." He beamed and looked out to the waters, much cheerier than he had been in the quarter of the hour they'd been out here at the docks.
Nate bristled. Jogging be damned. He wanted a punching bag.
Two hours passed as promised. Nobody caught anything.
It must've been his lousy mood, Nate reasoned with himself. The fish could feel the negative vibes he emanated. Yeah, that had to be it.
Flynn wasn't as outwardly grumpy as Nate was inwardly. The jarring slap on Nate's shoulder broke him from his ultra low mood to average. After all, this fishing trip was his creation. Why get in the dumps?
"You going home?" Flynn asked as they packed up.
Nate nodded and hoisted up the drinks cooler against his stomach. He walked ahead to the rental shack as Flynn gathered the last pieces of fishing gear.
"I'm heading off, too," Flynn told him after dumping the goods. "I'll meet up with you and Chloe again tomorrow to double-check the plans, yeah?"
"You mean triple and quadruple check," Nate chided.
Flynn lightly chucked Nate's chin. "Better to avoid falling into some death trap than to find one."
Arriving home, Nate shut his front door, only to hear a knock eight seconds later.
He pulled the knob and in the doorway stood Chloe, a hand on her hip.
Nate began begrudgingly, "Look, if you're here to inform me about your escapades with Flynn I'd rather you leave, 'cause- whoa!" Chloe cut him off mid-sentence when she launched herself at Nate. He barely had a second's breath to command his brain with "catch" before her legs twisted around his waist and her arms wound around his neck. Her jump allowed him to twirl her around as his own arms hooked around her back to support her.
Chloe ruffled his hair. "Sorry about the show with Flynn. It's temporary, remember? Just until we get the treasure."
"Your performance is outstanding. Ten out of ten," Nate awarded mockingly. Her act convinced him, all right.
"Surely you know better that when I'm here, I'm here for you only." Chloe pulled closer until she spoke against his mouth, her velvet tones skidding a thrill down his spine. "Honest truth. You're what I want." She bruised his lips altogether in a fierce kiss.
Nate thought he made some unintelligible noise as an answer, but he didn't care what he was attempting to say as he tightened his grip and smashed wet lips onto hers.
-- THE END --