When Sailors Go Swimming

Pairing: Russia/England

What happens when you put two men together who can't swim? Disaster.

~o~

Arthur had only come to the beach to humour his friends. While they splashed about in the water, he stayed behind with a book to guard their belongings. It wasn't his fault he had never learnt how to swim. He simply… never bothered to do so. Besides, his new neighbours were interesting enough to keep his sunbathing mind company.

It was a very warm day, perfect beach weather in fact. So of course, everyone had decided to start a mass-immigration towards the sea and its sandy beaches. Families with young children, elderly couples sharing a cone of ice cream, teenagers with their summer tunes turned all the way up. And the newcomers unpacking at the empty spot next to Arthur's towel. There were three of them, one brother and his two sisters. And the one thing they had in common was that they were pale as all hell.

Just like Arthur guarded his friend's things, it was the tall and sturdy man proposing to stay behind while his sisters went for a swim. His body resembled a porcelain vase- usually covered up as it stayed inside a house of clothes, now for the first time exposed to daylight. He had bandages around his neck, and sent Arthur a curious sunglasses-covered glance when he noticed the other staring at them. Arthur mentally berated himself. He should know better than to gape like an insolent child!

"Would you not rather be in the water?" a voice roused him from his musings. Head snapping up, he saw the other still looking at him, only now he had perked his shades atop his coupe of platinum to reveal almost purple eyes, a strange hue of violet Arthur had never seen before, grabbing his attention a moment longer than socially allowed. He quickly coughed into his hand when a pale eyebrow was cocked, and spoke up as well.

"I could ask you the same thing, you know," he pointed out, the other replying with a gleeful giggle far too adorable for a man his size.

"If you say so, comrade," the other teased, making Arthur feel like he somehow had to defend his honour. With a frown he put his book aside and leapt up, puffing out his chest and marching over to the water. A violet gaze stabbed daggers into his back, but he pretended to blatantly ignore it. He'd show him! Even if they had only known each other for approximately five minutes!

Wading into the cool water, Arthur only came to regret his decision the deeper he went, strong currents pulling at his inexperienced swimming legs. He only needed to make sure that he didn't go too deep; if he got swept away, he was done for. Arthur could see his friends laughing and playing further away, but knew he couldn't possibly join them. A look over his shoulder confirmed the fact that his new "friend" was still closely watching him, smirk plastered firmly onto his lips, or at least, Arthur believed it to be a smirk. Damn bastard, mocking him!

He thrusted up a hand and waved at him, opening his mouth, about to shout a "see? I told you so!" And then he could feel his legs being torn away from under him, as if someone had pulled out the chair he was sitting on. One moment he was looking at that cheerfully encouraging expression, the next he could only blink furiously against the raging water.

It was such a strange experience. One moment everything was normal, his head was clear, none of his senses bombarded from all possible directions. Now, he only knew panic. Up was down and down was up, there was a loud buzzing in his ears, when he opened his mouth he only breathed in liquid, and it was suffocating. He didn't like to admit it, but at that moment, he feared his life.

He was alone. All alone in the vast expense of the ocean, only white noise attacking his eardrums, sharp jabs constantly sent to his lungs and ribs and sides, unsure whether what he saw was sunlight or white waves. He was drowning. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Someone else had a different plan.

Strong arms suddenly captured his torso, pulling him up. He gasped for air when he finally resurfaced, coughing up water and spit and sand, everything hurting. He wanted to say thank you to his saviour, until he saw the terrified look on his face as a new wave approached.

"I cannot swim," the other whispered frantically, and next thing he knew, they were both pulled under once again.

~o~

"Artie, you're such an idiot."

"Shut up, Alfred!"

"Brat, chto-"

"Nyet, sestra."

Arthur and Ivan were back where they belonged, on the beach, many towels wrapped securely around their bodies. Arthur was still shivering and his throat hurt like a bitch, but at least he was alive. Not exactly thanks to Ivan, but at least he'd tried.

"Seriously though," Gilbert wheezed, doubling over every time he thought about it. "Who goes swimming when they can't swim?"

"Shut up, Gilbert," Arthur growled, sending him a venomous leer. Next to him, Ivan wasn't so much chastised as fussed over, his sisters constantly making sure he was okay. Turned out Arthur wasn't the only one who didn't know how to swim.

Arthur coughed into his fist, flinching at how much it hurt, before deepening his scowl.

"...Thanks," he murmured to his companion, who shook his head.

"Do not mention it. Ever."

That did not stop him from proposing to go warm up over a nice cup of tea, however.