A/N Apparently, these days, all my new stories owe their existence to the very wonderful works of kkolmakov. This particular tale builds off her lovely oneshot "spring break" found in her "Scattered" series. She has kindly loaned me her characters from that alt verse, and collaborated with me immensely providing dialog for Thorin, Wren, and Deidre, along with necessary Britisisms I'm horribly clueless about. Hope you enjoy these lovelies as much as we have.

Cover photo provided courtesy of Aegileif link: [colon] /d6uuf8c


"For love of mercy! Get down off'a there before you kill yourself! Have you lost your everlovin' mind?" While Philip was more than familiar with the sentiment present in the words, the southern drawl delivering them was quite a new experience. He unsteadily turned to face his accuser, trying to assess the rebuke with bleary eyes. It occurred to him he may be entirely too bladdered to see her clearly. Maybe that last jello shot was a bad idea, but who says no to amaretto and grapedini? Considering his current state, maybe the last five were a bad idea./span/p

"Hmm?" Very smooth, Philip, you'll have her eating out of your incoherent hand in no time

""For goodness sakes," the short person with a golden halo (honest to God, he could see a halo the color of clover honey about her head in the late sun) unceremoniously dumped him over her shoulder and carried him off the rock jetty he'd been exploring, grumbling under her breath the whole way. He didn't know whether to be outraged or amused. Thank God Killian was still in hospital, he'd never hear the end of it, being carted off the jetty by a girl.

For one, he had an excellent view of curvy calves and a bouncing bum, but the shoulder he was currently riding was mincing his wedding vegetables. All in all, it was an uncomfortable experience in more ways than one. He didn't have long to ponder his condition, because soon enough she dumped him arse first in the first patch of dry sand she crossed.

"Item one: these rocks are sharp and pointy. Their very construction makes them hell to walk on already. If that weren't enough, they are covered in slimy algae and water, making them doubly difficult to keep your balance. You're lucky as hell you didn't fall. Item two: Should you fall from those sharp pointy rocks, there's plenty others just waiting to catch you and quite possibly dash your brains out. Item three: if by some happenstance you manage to miss all the sharp pointy rocks, these waters are where tiger sharks breed. Tiger. Sharks. Item four: Not only are these tiger shark breeding waters you managed to go dancing about over, but it's feeding time! Dusk and dawn are the worst times to get in the water, because that's when they're most active. Are you trying to become shark food?"

"What?" Really, it was the best he could do under the circumstances. He'd finally gotten a somewhat better look at his angry rescuer, and he had to admit he was intrigued. If she were five foot he'd be surprised, but what there was of her was curvaceous. She wore a two piece, but it covered all the right bits in all the right ways. She had a glorious bosom heaving with anger and exertion, a smallish waist, and hips that seemed to beg to be grabbed. He still couldn't see her face very well, since the sunset was behind her. Her hair was lit up like a halo on a religious icon. It was rather smashing.

"What am I doing? You're three sheets to the wind, and can't make out a thing I'm saying. C'mon, let's see if we can find who you belong to." His rescuer helped him to his wobbly feet, and he leaned on her more than he had to simply because she fit so nicely under his shoulder. He could appreciate how cuddlesome she felt there much better than when tossed over her shoulder. Something told him, whether he liked it or not, his ignominious rescue would become family legend.

Briallen walked with her mysterious drunken blondie, headed for some water to help rehydrate her erstwhile charge. It was obvious he'd never be able to tell her where he was staying in his current condition, and she hadn't the heart to dump him in the drunk tank. Taking him back to the sea lab...just no. She wasn't that kind of girl: neither that loose nor that naïve. Her best bet was to walk him till he sobered, and then drop him off wherever he belonged. Yep, good solid plan. Now if he'd just quit looking at her like she was some sort of answered prayer. How did she manage to get herself in these messes? You'd think after the first stray, she'd have learned her lesson, but noooo. Now she was moving up from broken winged terns and orphaned raccoon kits to Drunkards wobbling about on rock jetties.

Boy was very easy on the eyes: long blond locks, thick downy beard, smiling blue eyes, and a physique that said he was no stranger to the outdoors. Those hands she's had to move back from off limit areas didn't have a single callous between them, so she imagined it was more sports or a gym than hard work. Course, it may have also just been luck of genetics.

Philip couldn't believe his luck, it was a moon bright evening, stars all over the sky, and he was walking with a bird he would swear was straight out of a dream. He'd finally gotten a look at the face that went with the body, and he wasn't disappointed. Her omnipresent halo set with the sun, and he could see it was the fluffiest mop of brown curls he'd ever seen. Big expressive brown eyes, straight brows, and a high bridged nose complemented a generous mouth, ripe for kisses. He'd already been tempted to try a few times, but reasoned if she was strong enough to pick him up, she was probably strong enough to lay him out flat. While that was an amusing thought, he also did not aspire to be that sort of person, drunk or no.

It was fast approaching midnight, and Blondie hadn't so much as made a peep. She noticed he was no longer wobbling, hadn't been for the past hour, nor had she had to move hands from boobs or butt in about that time. Somebody was stretching their association out, and she wanted to know why.

"So, how long 'til you were gonna fess up to being sober again?" Laughing blue eyes looked her over, top to bottom before answering.

"What gave me away?"

"You've been steady on your feet for an hour, and I've not had to slap a hand for about that long. Why were you pretending to be drunk, still?"

"Same reason you waited an hour to ask." Watching her brows knit over her nose, and oh, what a lovely pout, he decided to answer the question he saw brewing there. "I was enjoying the company, love."

"Heaven help her, but his smile was a heart melter. Scratch that, given the feeling in her knees, that blasted smile could melt bones. Bri knew she was officially in trouble now. She cleared her throat.

"Ahem, Briallen Davis, and you are?"

"Philip Durinson, charmed." Oh no, thought Bri, you are definitely the charmer, here, Mr. Durinson. She felt her heart kick it up to triple time, when he turned and wrapped two very warm, large hands about her face and kissed her senseless. Yep, there went the knees. Lucky thing Blondie was quick when sober, or they'd both be in the sand.

Philip had felt a bit worried when she called him out on playing drunk, but sheer elation took its place when she admitted how long she knew he'd been faking it. It was a relief to think that maybe he wasn't the only one feeling completely head over heels with someone he'd just met. Why else walk him instead of dumping him in the drunk tank? Why wait so long to say anything? So, in for a penny, in for a pound, he kissed her. When he felt her knees go, yeah, he wasn't the only one feeling this way. His heart was practically singing.

"We are on a public beach, and I never do this kind of thing. Never as in I'm not even on any protection kind of never. So, we need to stop, now."

How did she get all that out in one breath, even? Rather than back off, Philip pulled her back against himself, and rested his head on top of her curls. In the dark, they looked almost black, and they left long silky ringlets down to her shoulders. He didn't think lambs' wool could be as soft as her hair, and it smelled of wind, salt, and honeysuckle. He rubbed his chin into it, and inhaled deeply.

"So, what do we do from here?"

"Beg Pardon?" Why did she suddenly go stock still?

"You and me. There's something here, and I want enough time with you to find out what it is. You?"

"I know Jack Sprat about relationships. I haven't the foggiest what is and isn't normal about a guy and a girl. For that matter, you're my first kiss, ever."

"You're joking."

"Nope. No teen romances or soap operas here."

"How in Hell?"

"When you're told often enough you're nothing but a big nosed fat bitch, you eventually start to believe it." Briallen felt his arms tighten about her, and heard him growl low in his chest.

"They must have been bloody sick."

"I suppose I might have scared them off with my rapier wit and scathing insults."

"Hm, from the treatment you gave me, that I might believe."

"Just how much of that do you remember?" Brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"All of it"

"You faker! Why didn't you say anything?"

"And miss out on our romantic moonlit walk? Perish the thought."

"I just don't see how this can work. I'm as American as they come, working on my degree here at the Sea Lab, and if you're not a bona fide rich Brit, I don't know what is. You're not staying, and I can't go." Her voice, soft and sad, was not what Philip was expecting.

"What do you want?"

"I want forever, and I won't settle for less, and somehow, I don't see that happening here."

"Nonsense, you can't be giving up before we've even gotten started, can you? I'm already taking studies on this side of the Puddle, no reason I can't transfer to a closer campus. It would ease Mother's mind if someone were keeping an eye on Killian."

"You can't be serious? We just met, and you expect me to believe you're turning your entire life on end for me? Right." Philip was quite enured to sarcasm, but hearing it that thick from someone his own age made him want to wince.

"Just, think about us, and maybe..walk me home?"

"Philip, you and them eyes are pure dangerous, you know that?"

"So, is that a yes?

"Lord save me. Where're we walking to?"

"Over there."

Briallen dug her heels into the sand, hard. Philip turned back to look at her. "There's no way on God's green earth I'm awalkin' in that hotel with you!

"Why not?"

"You want the reasons in chronological, categorical, or order of severity? Sugarbear, I've been friends with Wren long enough to know what posh is. You, my love, are the epitome of posh, along with that bloomin' hotel. Which means your family quite probably has posh coming out its ears. Which means in no shape, form, or fashion am I subjecting my little country bumpkin colonial self to that disdain, or worse, pity!"

Philip could only stare at her in wonder. "How did you ever fit all those assumptions in one head?"

"Alright Philip, when was the last time you saw your momma in blue jeans?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I take it, then, the answer's never?"

"Philip, darling, where have you been? I've been terribly worried, we haven't seen you since breakfast!" If Briallen's body was tense before, it went stone rigid now at the cultured British tones. It was a voice that screamed privilege, and all Bri could think to do was bolt.

"See you later, Blondie" Briallen turned to make a hasty retreat from the lady bearing down on them.

"Oh no you don't, not yet." Philip grabbed her hand in what felt like an iron grip, and pulled her back to him.

"I'm so going to get you for this." Briallen had no choice but to grit her teeth and face down the very proper lady who was obviously related to Philip. Best guess, from the way she was doting and scolding by turns, this was his mother.

Shadows revealed a lady with the same strong features as her son, barely softened for feminity's sake. Where Philip was golden and sun bronzed, she's brunnette and fair skinned. Of course she's wearing the latest in fashion: the perfect light linen pantsuit for posh vacationers on the beach. Even the evening breeze that had been playing havoc with Briallen's own wild curls didn't dare ruffle the expensive and stylish chignon she wore. Briallen also took in the manner born she exuded. Something that said everyone but those she cared about were simply there for her convenience. Philip might have survived the sharks out of simple professional courtesy to this cold fish.

"Darling, you surely could have let me know you were alright!" The Grand Dame finally took in the scruffy and stocky young lady uncomfortably pinned in Philip's firm grip. Her features never changed, but all the warmth she showed Philip drained slowly out of the perfectly schooled features until Briallen swore she felt an arctic chill from her. "Are you going to introduce me to your new friend, Philly? You are being impolite."

"Sorry, Mum. This is Briallen Davis, she's with the Sea Lab. She saved me from my own foolishness out on the jetty today. She could have ruthlessly deposited me at the station, but took pity and let me walk it off. She was bringing me back just now. " Philip gave his mother a sheepish grin. " I may have overestimated my own tolerance for local alcohol."

"Overestimated by a great deal, it would seem." Cold as ice eyes pinned Briallen as firmly as Philip's hand. "So, you are local, Bri? Lovely, it is such an exotic place. As you can understand we are unaccustomed to such circumstances. Everything is so fascinating, the speech, the food, the fashion choices" The icy gaze and barely perceptible sneer raked Bri's wal-mart bathing suit with disdain. "This is our first visit to the island, we are in love with it! Such a pity we have to leave so soon!" Really? How many insults could one woman hide in one polite volley?

"Eh, local enough, I guess. Born an' raised just a couple hundred miles from here. Finishing my Grad degree at the Sea Lab. As to attire? Well, you don't wear fancy dress when dragging nets or rescuing tourists." Yeah, it wasn't her kin trying to kill himself. First rule of keeping one's face egg free: remember who owes whom a favor before flinging insults.

"Oh goodness, would you just look at the time! Philly, darling, we shouldn't keep our host for so long! I'm certain she must be exhausted!" Briallen had to admit, it was as graceful a retreat as one could muster under the circumstances. Philip seemed to be holding his mirth by a bare breath. His eyes were fair to crying and his cheeks….dang that had to hurt.

"I"ll be in shortly, Mum." Philip's gaze was solidly stuck to Briallen's mulish expression. He never saw the flash of ire in his mother's eyes as she swanned her way back into the lavish hotel. Briallen was impressed despite herself. How the devil does one gracefully maneuver loose sand in heels?

"Now do you see why I didn't want to go in there? Woman much as told me I wasn't fit to spit shine your shoes." Briallen turned her face. She was not going to cry; she was not going to be affected. She was mad, and she'd stay mad until she got to the safety of her own bed at the Sea Lab.

"Briallen, you were magnificent. Do you have any idea how few people have the courage to volley right back at my mother the way you did?"

"None still breathing?" The sarcasm in her voice seemed to roll right past him. The mirth he'd been holding was no longer even remotely contained. Laughter deep from his chest rumbled against her back. It felt entirely too nice, and she wanted to keep her mad going. She was not going to be vulnerable around him, she wasn't! "Philip, it's late, I'm tired, and I want my bed."

"I think I'm falling in love with you." The simple sincere words really caught her aback. Oh really?

"Uh huh. You're talkin' to a child from a broken home. It's gonna take more than words, sugarcube. Good night, sleep tight. I'm goin' to bed now." Briallen started the long walk back to the sea lab. She heard the crunch of sand behind her. "Now what?"

"A gentleman always escorts a lady home. "

"Your mother is going to be twenty kinds of furious with you; you know that?

"She knows I'm safe. It'll be fine."

"You are impossible."

"Thank you, I do my best to do at least ten impossible things before breakfast each day."

He took the opportunity to tuck her back under his arm while she was still shaking her head at his nonsense. "You're undoing the entire reason for that long bloomin' walk to get you home."

"Not entirely, Mum knows I'm safe, and I'd rather not face down Uncle John after having let a lady walk home by herself this late at night." The fact he was nuzzling her curls again did not escape her notice. She also noted she wasn't doing a thing to stop him and was, in fact, enjoying it.

"And absolutely nothing to do with extending our contact just a bit more?"

"Complaints?"

"Oh hush." Briallen wasn't even going to complain about the beard burn she'd have in the morning, or the number of people trying to figure out who gave it to her. She expected to have a long night fuming over Mrs. Durinson's shabby treatment, but slept like a log instead. She was not going to consider the whyfors.