Sometimes after dinnertime, the immortals would leave behind their cottage to walk along the beach. They enjoyed the waves breaking on the shore, though they were all careful not to actually enter the water, perhaps remembering the Lotan and Nereids. The Flamels picked their way along carefully, whereas Billy, Black Hawk and Machiavelli plunged ahead, the little boy in particular running up and down the dunes, now splashing in the tides pools, now climbing along the slippery rocks. Every once in a while Billy would call to him and Machiavelli came scurrying back to him.
One Saturday night, the immortals decided to have a cookout on the beach. None of them really enjoyed the food being immortal, except perhaps Machiavelli who ate with gusto, nor did they need the food after the initial aura regeneration, but it was a social occasion for them to get together at the end of the day. On this evening in particular, Billy interrupted Machiavelli before he was done eating. As the tides began to change, Billy grabbed Machiavelli's hand and said "Here's how we're going to have fun." And they ran after the waves as they went out and then turned and ran away from the waves as they came back in. Billy never let Machiavelli get too close to the water, but it was great fun to run on the wet sand.
This was all well and good until Machiavelli decided to take a flying leap into a sand pile. All of the immortals were a bit surprised to see the Italian make such an impulsive and rather ridiculous movement, but none looked more surprised than Machiavelli himself who now had sand between his toes, in his mouth, and in areas he didn't want to think about. He looked a bit disgruntled when Billy began chuckling and the other immortals caught on to his infectious laughter. The curly haired youth pouted a bit, shaking himself off and toddling over to the bigger group. Billy followed closely after him.
Machiavelli made to sit down again on the bench where the others were sitting, but Billy grabbed him from behind before he got settled. He hefted the Italian up in his arms, and backed away from picnic bench. He whispered in the boy's ear, "Want to fly, Mac?" The little boy grinned and nodded.
"Okay," Billy said cheerfully. He set the boy down so that he could get a better grip on him and scooped him up again. He dipped the Italian backwards so that Machiavelli was almost upside down and then just as quickly pulled him upright. He swung around in a circle so that the Italian felt like he was swooping through the air. Every once in a while, Billy would set him down, a bit dizzy himself. Machiavelli stumbled a little, but usually clamored for more. Billy tried swinging him in the other direction but found that he wasn't as capable of pivoting in the other direction.
Black Hawk eventually took pity on the younger American and took over his role. Black Hawk was particularly good at throwing the boy about ten feet into the air and catching him again. Billy weaved his way back to the picnic table where the Flamels sat and grinned happily at the couple. He touched Perenelle on her shoulder as he passed her and sat beside Nicholas. Nicholas smiled indulgently at Billy and moved over to make room. They watched Machiavelli and Black Hawk racing on the beach. The sun descended slowly upon the horizon line.
~MB~
Machiavelli was so much dead weight in Billy's arms, being half asleep and covered with wet sand. Since the Italian was mostly out of it, Billy had relieved him of his clothing at the back porch of the cottage and Perenelle Flamel was now shaking them out as he carried the boy over to the upstairs bathroom. The American was glad that the boy was mostly unconscious because he had a feeling that if Machiavelli was more in control of his senses, he would be resistant to getting a bath and that was what Billy intended to do at the moment.
Even almost asleep, Billy was surprised that Machiavelli offered little protest against Billy's actions. Instead, Machiavelli seemed intent upon beating the sand out from between his toes. Billy filled the tub with no incident from the young immortal. The American pulled off his own t-shirt and wiped his brow off before picking Machiavelli up and setting him in the tub. He kept an arm behind Machiavelli who leaned heavily upon him. Billy handed him a face cloth to clean his privates off with and set to gently scrubbing the sand out of Machiavelli's hair. Once he had lathered up Machiavelli's hair, he took the face cloth back and covered the Italian's eyes while he poured water over his head, getting the suds out. Billy knocked the sand off of his shoulders and rubbed water beneath his armpits, the back of his knees, and behind his ears. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile at how Machiavelli had gotten sand all over the place.
Now that the toddler was completely clean and half unconscious, Billy decided he better pull Machiavelli out of the tub before he fell asleep entirely. Billy pulled the plug in the tub with one hand and grabbed a towel off the rack. He quickly patted Machiavelli dry and roughly toweled his hair off. He pulled the towel tight around Machiavelli and carried him to the room Machiavelli had to himself at the back of the house.
Here, he laid the boy down on the bed before he did anything else. Crossing the room, he rifled through Machiavelli's closet looking for a pair of pajamas. He settled for a long sleep shirt with Spiderman on it and a pair of underwear. He managed to get the briefs on the boy without a struggle, but couldn't seem to figure out how to get the shirt on the boy who was now completely out of it and heavy with sleep. Finally, he figured it didn't matter much and tossed the shirt into the chair at the bottom of the bed and pulled the covers over Machiavelli.
Making sure that nobody else was around, he kissed Machiavelli softly on the forehead, ghosting his lips over the boy's forehead, and left the room, turning at the doorway to look back at the boy. Machiavelli had turned on his side, his thumb somehow finding its way into his mouth. Billy turned off the bedroom light with a soft click, but left the hall light on. Billy smiled in the soft lighting.