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The general populace was being exceptionally stupid today. Only a slight exception could be granted for her fellow lifeguards, all of them equipped with wetsuits, walkies, and laughter at her misfortune. She was on tower duty, cooped up in the lighthouse-like structure looming over the sand. Her elbows were digging into the small shelf before the panoramic windows, eyes stained from an afternoon staring into the glare of the surf.
Some tourist was spitting out sand and salt after Ingrid hauled his ass back. Idiot must have never seen a wave before.
Her head was throbbing. Removing the hair tie keeping her shoulder-length hair pinned up did fuck-all to relieve the pressure.
Ten minutes left. Just ten minutes.
“You look stressed,” the cool voice had her lowering the binoculars and blinking away the vision of the squirming waves. “Need a drink of water? Food? …Massage?”
“Touch me and die.”
He laughed jovially behind her. Without looking, she knew he was sitting there with his arms behind his head, feet kicked up on the desk. “Come on, Felix— lighten up! If you don’t, you’ll scare off your dinner date.”
Felix wrinkled her nose, lifting the binoculars again to the rubbery creak of her suit. A swell and crest of the growing waves mounted on the horizon.
“My dates are none of your business, Sylvain. Waves are growing. You should be out in the buggy.”
She ignored the whining behind her to watch a man approaching the 200m buoy. He looked fit, heavy stature. Felix narrowed her eyes as his arms started to cut through the water with slapping force. Then it was black, and the viewing aid jammed against her eyes. It was almost soothing, the way a squeeze to the nose silenced a sinus headache
Felix pulled her head back slightly to glare around them at her redheaded coworker. Somehow, he had managed to get himself on the counter and sandwiched between the window. He was obscuring the lens with his stupid black rashguard.
“Sylvain, move.”
He threw his head back. “The buggy is boring. Tell you what, I’ll take over tower duty and you zip around in the cart. It’s a great deal~.”
Felix leaned around Sylvain, but she had lost sight of the swimmer. “You’re just avoiding the buggy because Ingrid is on duty and you can’t flirt with girls wearing bikinis.”
“Excuse me. I’m avoiding the buggy because it’s hot, and Ingrid is on duty and I can’t flirt with sexy women in bikinis.”
Felix’s walkie crackled over a soft male voice informing them that he would be removing the red flags now. She glanced at the little analog clock, and yes, it was minutes from the end of shift. She lifted her own walkie and delivered a sharp, “10-4,” before placing it down heavily on the counter. She directed her next statement at Sylvain, “Ashe is picking up the flags. Go make yourself useful.”
“Alright, alright. …can I go with you guys to dinner?”
“No. Now shut up and go.”
In the binocs, the man disappeared briefly beneath the surface of the ocean. Felix felt her heart stutter. A single hand breached the surface of the waves, a flail, before slipping below.
“He’s under.”
“Who’s what?”
She slammed the binoculars, could have hit the counter or the floor. Didn’t matter. Felix snatched her walkie and jammed it into place, donned the aid kit. Hot breeze whipped her face as she emerged from the tower exit. Sylvain was talking, reporting through the comm, “Fraldarius is on it.”
Felix vaulted as many stairs as she could handle to slam into the sand. Her arms flexed as she pulled on the rail to pivot, then launch herself into a waiting rescue cart, only barely avoiding wanging her leg on the mounted board. She twisted the key. The machine growled to life, and sand sprayed as she peeled out towards the water.
The crowds had thinned for the evening, which meant less towels to dodge. Still, Felix’s eyes scanned the water as she weaved. A beach chair here, a person there.
She slid to a stop where the sand turned into mud. She grabbed the board under arm and raced towards the water.
“Felix, you’ve got help.”
Felix ignored Sylvain’s voice from her hip holster. Into the water, board down, she mounted the board and pressed her chest down against it. A mouthful of brine and Felix paddled herself out.
The man was straight from here, centered between the rocks. It was the unfortunate nature of the ocean that there were no other discerning landmarks to locate the man. The bobbing of her board as her arms strained against the water made things all the more difficult to navigate. He had been far offshore. Underwater. Maybe a rip.
The next wave swelled while hers troughed. A shock of gold, yellow, and a red—a woman— floated atop like the most attractive fisherman’s lure. The still form of the man Felix was hunting was curled around a board, lying across the deck and rails close enough to the fins for a sizable chop.
Felix huffed, cruising to a stop by the woman straddling the other board. “What are you doing here.”
The sun sparked off the long tendril of her bangs, twisting down her forehead and nose before she curled it back behind her ear. Felix tried not to stare as the other woman moved her board closer, stopping over to grasp the rope of Felix’s own board. One streadying hand remained on the man’s back.
“Hello, Felix. I thought I might meet you so I might escort you to the restaurant. Though it seems your last-minute emergency may cause us to miss our reservation.”
Drips from the tip of her nose fell to the rounding of her chest, then down to the twist of fabric curling beneath her ribs and the dip of the bikini cut cinched about her legs.
Trust Dimitri to find the world’s sexiest one-piece swimsuit. Hell, she was even still wearing one of those adhesive eyepatches that she claimed helped patients not be afraid of her on the job. It complimented the yellow of her suit like a cute bumblebee. Goddammit. If she was wearing the black holster-purse on her leg again Felix might have to jump her right here. She could usually see it through the water. Where—
“Felix?” Dimitri’s too-blue eye blinked at him in wonder. Like she didn’t know what she was doing. “Could you paddle us to shore? This man needs resus.”
Yes.
Right.
Rescue mission.
She didn’t come out here to ogle her fiancé’s thighs, no matter how shapely they were on either side of the board that Felix wished was her own waist. Sylvain was probably screaming over the radio by now at the delay, not that Felix could hear it over the surf.
“Right. Hold on.”
Felix fumbled with her bolstered walkie to report, “bring the defib, we have a resus” back to the tower. She didn’t dare look at Dimitri again as he angled their boards towards the shore. It was enough to hear Dimitri whispering low reassurance to the man hanging on her board and see the curl of her strong, scarred fingers securing her taxi back to shore. She was depending on Felix to bring them in safe, and Felix did not intend to fail.
The waves did most of the work to carry them back to where several familiar figures waited on the sand. Felix’s board skirted into the shallows. They grabbed the unconscious victim together, Felix by his arms and Dimitri by his legs, and halted him out of the water and a good distance up shore to where Dedue’s tanned, towering form waited.
“Male, unresponsive,” Dimitri rattled off as they laid him down.
Felix pressed a hand to the man’s neck. “No pulse.”
“Starting compressions.”
Felix didn’t bother to move from over the man’s head while Dimitri started to pump his chest, hand over hand, numbers dripping from her lips as she counted upwards. Felix wished she had time to watch as Dimitri’s hair clung to her skin and every jerk of her arms caused her chest to bob, but having someone die on the beach because she couldn’t stop staring at her girlfriend was not how Felix wanted to go down.
“16, 17, 18,” Dimitri continued on as Felix tilted the man’s head back.
Plastic crinkled by their side as another guard unwrapped what Felix hoped was the ambu bag from the resus kit. “Call the ambo.” If Dedue’s deep voice hadn’t identified him, the large hands that helped Felix fit the face mask into place over the man’s mouth would have been more than enough.
“Where’s the defib?”
Dimitri paused compressions. Felix administered two breaths via the bag. Dimitri resumed compressions.
“Got it. Dry his chest.”
Hands and towels swiped across the man’s chest. Dry enough that the defibrillator pads clung to his chest like the grit on the sand beneath their aching knees.
“Ambo on their way.” Sylvain came through the walkie.
The team clicked into place readily. Multiple years of working together had them successfully administering CPR, even though they were exhausted and after hours. It wasn’t until the ambulance was pulling out of the car park that Dimitri leaned down to brush her lips across Felix’s cheek and tangled their fingers together.
“So. Dinner?”
Felix snorted. “We’re soaking wet and probably covered in body fluids and you want dinner?”
“I want to take my love out.”
Felix tried to focus on tightening her core. Maybe if she was lucky it would keep the heat away from her face. Dimitri poked her side.
“Please? I brought a sleek suit along, just in case things ran long.”
“You plan too well.” Felix supplied, but tugged Dimitri towards the pier by the enmeshed hands.
“Is this a yes, then?”
Felix rolled her eyes. “Yes. Obviously. I’m starving.”