Spoiler free. No actors were harmed in the writing of this
fic. All borrowed characters will be returned by midnight.
"This is nice. A day off at the beach. We should do this
more often."
"Definitely,"
replied Darien stretching out on the blanket beside Hobbes.
"Watch it!
You're dripping on me!" Hobbes pushed
Darien away from him brushing the water off his legs. He glanced at his watch
then flipped over to his stomach to sun his back.
"Are you
reading that?" asked Darien.
"This?"
Hobbes held up the latest issue of Maxim. "No, you can read it."
"Thanks,
man." The two men read peacefully soaking up the sunshine. It had been a long
week and each man had been in need of a vacation. The Official would never give
them a real vacation so they had had to make do with a day at the beach. Darien
finished flipping through the magazine and sat up.
"What?"
"My stomach's
growling."
"So?"
"I'm
hungry."
"Eat."
"We don't
have any food. Come on, Hobbes. I'm hungry," whined Darien. "Can't we go get
some food?" Hobbes glanced at his watch then at his partner and back.
"O.K. We
can go get some lunch but you're paying."
"Fine with
me." They picked up all of the valuables from the blanket and trudged across
the hot sand to the van. They were passing a gift shop and a burger shop when
Darien noticed a sign in the door. "Ooh! They have funnel cakes! Let's eat
here." He turned and opened the door before Bobby could protest.
"Fawkes,
get back here. I do not want to…. They have banana splits." Hobbes protests
were silenced after he caught sight of the menu. They each ordered a hamburger
and fries then went back for desert when they were done. "MM., this is
heavenly," sighed Hobbes sucking a bit of hot fudge off his finger. "We'll have to come back again."
"Uh-huh,"
replied Darien tearing off another bite of fried dough. He rubbed at his face
smearing powdered sugar across his nose.
"Um,
Fawkes, you might want to try eating that instead of wearing it."
"I'll keep
that in mind." Darien crossed his eyes to see his nose and tried to wipe it
off.
"Idiot.
Here let me," said Hobbes laughing as he took a napkin and de-powdered Fawkes'
face. The two men finished their meal
and wandered into the gift shop before heading back to the beach. They skipped over all of the T-shirts that
declared their location in bright letters instead wandering down the rows of
pretty little useless knickknacks.
"Hey, look,
it's Santa," said Fawkes pointing to a figurine. "He looks like he's posing for
playboy or something."
"That would
be playgirl, Fawkes, and he'd have to be nude for that."
"You never
see Santa without his clothes on."
"How would
you know he was Santa if he didn't have any clothes on. Come on. Think will
you? A naked Santa is just a fat old
man with no clothes."
"Ugh, I did
not need that mental picture."
"It's your
fault."
"How is it
my fault?"
"You're the
one who wasn't smart enough to figure out why Santa always wears clothes."
"I was not.
I was just commenting how you never seen him nude."
"See. Your
fault."
"Fine, you
win. Can we go swimming now?"
"Since you
were so gracious to admit that I was right and you were wrong." The two left
the posing Santa behind to enjoy the rest of their day at the beach. They left
the beach as refreshed as they could be with only one day off and returned to
the regular routine.