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Sea and the Sand

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Keanu's never been on a surfboard, a fact that everyone from the prop guys to the stuntmen to his costars has had great fun teasing him about. "That's totally bogus, dude!" Keanu thinks he's going to throw the next person who uses the words "excellent" or "bogus" around him through a wall. Well, a prop wall, hopefully. It won't hurt much.

Patrick hasn't uttered the words "excellent" or "bogus" around him. In fact, Patrick hasn't said much of anything to him. Keanu's starting to wonder if they're going to be able to carry off being best-friends-slash-arch-enemies in this movie, because so far they have all the chemistry of a laundry basket.

But Patrick does know how to surf. Patrick got here a few weeks before Keanu did, and Patrick's good with his body; he's a dancer. He's already pretty good at it, and he's only getting better, or so everyone says. Keanu has made plans to go out and watch, and maybe see if Patrick will be willing to help him out a little. It's a good reflection of their characters; maybe it'll work out.

He carries his big pink surfboard onto the beach and sets it down in the sand, sitting on top of it and watching Patrick out on the waves. He grins at the sight of it; Patrick might not be an expert, but he does look very good out there. Keanu suspects by the time they start shooting, they'll be able to close up on Patrick himself for some of it. He doubts he's going to get to that point, but he'll give it a shot.

It's nearly sunset; there probably isn't enough time for Keanu to do much out on the ocean. Still, he waves when Patrick comes paddling to shore, and Patrick waves back.

"Hey," Patrick pants; he drops his surfboard on the ground and kneels down in the sand in front of Keanu. "About to go out?"

"Nah, I was... just... well, are you gonna be here a while?" Keanu asks.

"Could be," Patrick grins. "You need some tips?"

Keanu nods a little, rolling his eyes. "You want the truth, I don't know shit about surfing. Just what they've been telling me for the last week. I'm gonna have the scene where I look like an asshole and fall off my board down pat by the time we get there, though."

Patrick laughs. "C'mon. I'll go out with you; even just a little practice oughta help you get some confidence up. It just takes work." He grins. "It helps if you love it."

"Do you love it?" Keanu's already standing up, picking up his board, walking towards the water.

"Oh, yeah. Anything physical, tough, anything that uses your whole body to get you where you're going -- love it." Patrick grins. "A lot of people think I'm a big sissy boy for all the dancing. It's hard goddamned work."

"Ha. Well, at least they're not following you around saying 'Excellent!' all the time," Keanu grins back. "Tough being an '80s icon, huh?"

"Well, there are worse things, but yeah." Patrick gets his board on the water and paddles into the sea, glancing back now and then to be sure Keanu's following. "Come on. Let's get you up on a wave."

Ooookay, I really don't want to humiliate myself here, Keanu thinks. The waves are merciful; he doesn't have anywhere near Patrick's easy grace, but he does manage to get up on the board without clocking himself in the head with the thing. He doesn't fall off until the wave is nearly through with him. It's better than he's been doing.

A few more waves like that, and Patrick's right: it does have Keanu's confidence up. At least a little. They drag their boards out of the water, and Patrick strips out of the top of his wetsuit, loping back towards the water. Keanu frowns a bit and follows, a few paces behind. Maybe this is some kind of surfer ritual he doesn't know about; he's not sure.

Near the edge of the water, Patrick finishes stripping off his wetsuit; naked and apparently entirely unselfconscious about it, he dives into the water. Keanu blinks a little at that, not really sure what to do; in the end, he figures When in Rome... and drops his own wet suit in the sand. At least he was wearing Speedos under it.

"You not tired yet?" Patrick calls over his shoulder. "I'd've thought you'd be wiped out by now."

"Just getting started," Keanu assures him. He takes a few lazy strokes out into the water. "How about you? You holding up OK?"

Patrick shakes his head, laughing. "Holding up just fine there. Thanks."

They both relax in the water for a time; it's not really cool yet, even though the day is drawing to a close. Keanu floats on his back; Patrick does a variety of different swim strokes before heading back to shore. Keanu follows in his wake, still wondering whether or not they're ever going to talk, or whether he's going to have to end up in the "let's pretend" school of acting. Let's pretend I know anything about Patrick Swayze. Let's pretend we're friends. Let's pretend we're arch-enemies. Jesus, anything'd be better than this.

"Hey," Keanu calls out as Patrick picks up his wet suit. "You want to -- you want to have a drink or something?"

Patrick shakes his head. "Not interested in going out to have a drink with you."

"Yeah, yeah, OK, but listen -- we're working together. Don't we need to do something...?"

"Ohhh, I need to do something, yeah," Patrick agrees. Keanu frowns and takes his place at Patrick's shoulder. Patrick leans his head back and sighs. "Listen. I think you better take off. It's been a rough day, I don't really think I'm in the mood to hang out and be social."

Torn between the urge to say hey, that's fine and look, asshole, we're supposed to be friends here, Keanu reaches out and puts a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "OK. Look, tomorrow--"

Patrick's head whips around. "Boy, I cannot believe you just did that."

And he grins.

Keanu doesn't really have time to figure out what's going on. Patrick has him by the arms, and he's dragging him back over to the edge of the water. Keanu, caught completely off-guard and wrenched entirely off-balance, loses his footing in the sand. Patrick shoves him down at the water's edge, where the tide rolls in over his head completely before rolling back; Keanu gasps, sputters, spits out water and tries to breathe. "What the--?"

"OK, lesson number one. Pretty boys like you do not just come after the wolves. Not unless you want to get eaten." Patrick straddles Keanu's hips and pins his shoulders down with one heavy hand to the chest; Keanu's arms flail up for a few seconds until the tide rolls in over him again, and it's all he can do not to swallow seawater.

"Lesson number two. When someone is obviously doing his best to stay away from you, there might well be a reason for it. Case in point, you and me. I've been doing my best to stay away from you. I've got a reason for it. You wanna make a guess about what it might be?"

"No, I--" The water comes in over Keanu's head again, and he can't help struggling, even though it lets his air out early; then there's another wave, and he chokes down seawater, coughing it up as soon as the wave rolls back out.

"Well, it's related to lesson number three. And this is one I've learned from experience, so listen up. When you're a beautiful little Hollywood pretty boy, and your older, wiser costar is avoiding you, sometimes it's not because you pissed him off, or because he doesn't like you, or anything like that. Sometimes it's because he has a real problem with self-control, and he doesn't want to just reach out and take what he wants, because that's considered rude."

"Patrick--" The surf comes in again, and Keanu's losing his strength. He jerks up one more time and then lies flat against the sand; maybe if he's not struggling, Patrick will let him up enough that he can breathe.

Patrick does. Keanu pushes up on his elbows, getting his head out from below sea level, gasping, and then he notices what Patrick's doing now that his hands are free. One hand's fingers are in his mouth, sucking saltwater off them; one hand is working his cock.

Holy shit.

"Patrick--"

"I think you oughta turn over, boy."

Keanu blinks as Patrick swings a leg over him, no longer straddling him. Keanu wonders if he could run.

If he wants to run.

He turns over, shifting his legs apart as Patrick rolls his Speedos off him. He pushes himself up on his forearms, getting his face out from the water, above it so he'll be able to breathe.

And then breathing seems completely fucking immaterial; Jesus bloody H. motherfucking Christ, oh goddamn does that hurt.

Sand. Salt water. No lube. No rubber. Oh, good holy God, what the fuck was he thinking, lying down and taking this?

"Hold still," Patrick pants, "and just take it, kid. Easy. Easy."

Keanu doesn't make a sound; he lets his head drop back to the sand and lets the water rush over him. It hurts. Everything hurts, and oh God, how he could have thought this was a good idea -- Jesus.

It doesn't take long. Patrick's fast, and cruel, and vicious, and though that means it hurts a hell of a lot more now than it would have if he were slow, it also means it's over a lot sooner than it could have been. Keanu's grateful for that, at least. When Patrick pulls away, Keanu stays underwater.

"You'll be fine," Patrick says. Keanu can hear the sound of him walking up the beach to get his wet suit and his surfboard. "You just need to be a little more careful what you ask for in the future."

Keanu's head comes up, and he coughs water out. "I'll--" he coughs, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Bet you will." Patrick doesn't look back.

Keanu waits until Patrick is out of sight, and then struggles to his knees. He retrieves Speedos, wet suit, and surfboard, and looks around briefly; no one's out there, so he walks naked up the beach, back to his car.