Notes: The Surfer's Prayer in the story is based largely on a prayer written by a West Coast surfer named Foondoggy.
The song is "When The Sharks Get A Day Off" by The Mundahs
~~ = lyrics
Endless Summer Part 7
Rum Rituals
On the dark beach, the only light was a bonfire, which stood out from offshore like a flaring star. Around it, surfers gathered like moths to the flame. Some, like Quatre and the others, Duo knew. Others he had never seen before.
Closest to the fire, Trowa was sitting cross-legged with a guitar, strumming it and singing along in his quiet, husky voice. Quatre played the ukelele beside him, the sweeter instrument providing the melody. The inner ring of the crowd spoke in whispers, because that was the only way to be able to hear Trowa Barton sing. Next to him, Quatre sang along, his higher, sweeter voice a perfect counterbalance to that of Trowa's.
"After awhile, it all seems the same... even a smile, a part of the game... but there'll be points in time... that remind and remain... it'll all be all right, if we can just wait, 'til the sharks get the day off, I'll be a better man, when the sharks get the day off... I'll be all that I can... when the sharks get the day off, I'll be free again... when the sharks get the day off... I'll be out to see you again..."
Duo stood on the outermost part of the ring, where the light of the fire barely touched him, listening to the music, keeping to the shadows and drawing them around himself like a blanket. He had arrived unnoticed and that was exactly the way he liked it. He didn't see Heero yet; maybe when Heero had said he would accept the invitation, he had been teasing him. But Heero didn't seem like a guy to tease.
They were all so close. How in the hell were they all going to compete against each other? He didn't know any of them that well, but he could read it in the way they spoke with each other, touched and talked. Always being on the outside and watching others from the protective barrier he put around himself, he had gotten very good at observing people.
Like the way Quatre was leaned up against Trowa as he played. Lovers. Deep lovers. No mistake. The way Wufei sat with Relena, talking softly and blushing constantly, while Relena giggled every once in awhile. Crush.
The wahines all stuck together, doing the girl thing that left Duo-as well as the rest of the sane male population-mystified, gossiping like seabirds and relating surf tales with much flailing of arms and jerking of hips and laughing.
Of course, just because the bruddahs didn't understand, didn't mean they were not watching all of that seductive swaying and hip jerking as the wahines showed their friends exactly how they had taken that nosedive.
~~"Shipwrecked... shanghaied... blown off course... a million miles... treading water... I don't mind...but I hope before... the end of time...the sharks get the day off...I'll be a better man... when the sharks get the day off, I'll be free again... when the sharks get the day off, I'll be out to see you again... when the sharks get the day off... I'll be out to see you again..."~~
Watching them all, Duo felt a sharp pang of homesickness. For which home, he didn't have a clue. Maybe it was just the knowing that one of them would not make it through the competition. That someone here was dead and didn't even know it. He didn't know how many of them here were competing... would it be one of them that would fall? He didn't know them... he didn't want to know them. That would only make it worse. But now he knew their names... dammit, he had never asked to know their names. Now he was responsible.
He watched the crowd of surfers, trying to see which of them it would be. Who looked weak, or cocky...or just unlucky.
All this friendship and celebration... it was just all so familiar and could never be to him. There were couples on the very outskirts, past the ring of surfboards, looking for more private places for intimate conversation, or more. The coals of cigarettes lighting the area around the bonfire like fireflies.
Someone threw a sweet-smelling lei of white and yellow flowers around his neck and put a rough, callused hand on his bare shoulder, and Duo jerked.
He turned around to look into the dark blue eyes of Heero Yuy. A lei of soft blue flowers was around his own neck.
"Uh..."
"You were underdressed," Heero said, as a way of explanation for the lei. "What are you doing all the way back here?" Heero looked past him to where Quatre and Trowa were playing. "You saw them earlier. They won't bite."
"Yeah, I know."
"Come on then," Heero said bluntly, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him forward.
Duo's eyes widened and he yelped, trying to pull away. "Heero! No!"
Heero looked at him. The Japanese surfer raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?"
"Because I mean... people'll recognize me now," Duo finished, rather lamely. "You know, like with the girls? I don't want to do that again..."
/ I don't want to get to know them better. It'll only make me feel worse. /
"So? People recognize me. I don't hide in the shadows. Don't be a cluck."
Duo let himself be pulled forward, watching the back of Heero's head. / You are hiding in the shadows. That's why you haven't competed in four years. /
~*~
An hour or two later, prodded by Heero and made bold by a quite liberal dose of Coors, tequila, and rum punch that had been smuggled onto the beach and was sitting in a couple of coolers on the sand, Duo was in easy conversation with the others. The party had quieted, and all but a circle of twenty or so had left.
Quatre was leaning up against Trowa's shoulder, hand on the quiet boy's knee, the ukelele abandoned. Trowa was strumming his guitar thoughtfully, picking out different beautiful chords that rang across the beach and reminded Duo of sunlight dancing on the water. He was drunk.
"Are you competing, Quatre?" he asked, listening raptly to Trowa's song.
The blonde surfer looked at him, smiling softly. "No. I don't compete." He glanced at Trowa shyly, and the silent boy smiled back at him. "You don't ever compete with the people you care about. It never turns out the way you want it to."
Duo mulled this over lazily for a moment, thinking of Heero as he sipped a beer, feeling warm from the fire and the presence of so many people who accepted him without question, feeling comfortably drunk with drink and firelight and good friends. He turned to Wufei. "What about you, Wufei?"
Wufei snorted. "I do not compete with women."
Many female glares were shot in his direction, as the Chinese boy had spoken a little louder than he realized. When Wufei found Relena's glare as one of those pointed in his direction, he blushed in the firelight and suddenly found something fascinating to stare at in the sand, then spoke obstinately.
"Well, I don't."
Catherine whispered in Relena's ear, and Relena burst into laughter. The rest of the wahines laughed, too, because even if they hadn't heard what Catherine had said, they knew exactly what it was. Wufei blushed harder.
Heero was sprawled across the sand, still warm from the day's heat, gazing into the fire. Without turning around to watch the antics of his friends or losing the calm, distant expression on his face, he said, "Catherine, leave him alone. You know it's because he refuses to lose to a woman."
Wufei glared. "Thanks a lot, Yuy."
"No problem."
Someone spoke up from the shadows. "It's time for a prayer to Huey. Anyone want to lead?"
Hilde laughed. "Oh yeah, right! Hey Heero, do the prayer! C'mon!"
Heero scowled, but Duo thought he could see a smile beneath the frown.. "I don't want to do the prayer. Someone else do it."
"Ah, we gotta do it! Competition is almost in a week! We gotta be ready, especially you and Trowa and Relena and Duo! You used to do the prayer all the time, do it again, Heero. C'mon, don't cluck out!"
Duo felt a nudge as Heero elbowed him. The Japanese surfer was smirking at him. "I don't want to do it. You do the honors, Duo Maxwell. As one god to another."
There was a round of laughter, and someone pushed a bottle of Cujo Mescal into Duo's hand, dead worm swishing at the bottom. Duo gulped hard, then uncapped it and took a deep swig, grimacing. Cheers all around.
"Okay, okay..." Duo made only slightly drunken quiet-down motions with his hands, and the rest of the party got quiet, watching black-clad surfer swaying a little in the firelight. "Get quiet, you...land-lovin' heathens."
Everyone laughed at him. He felt all warm and fuzzy, full of bravado and in the limelight, the center of attention, but they weren't remembering who he was...were they? Oi, he was drunk.
"Oh Huey, all powerful and divine Ocean Spirit of indeterminent religious persuasion, I, Duo 'Reaper' Maxwell, hyperborean wanderer of the coasts, your most humble and half-baked servant, do beseech thee to hear my plea."
"Preach it bruddah!"
"By this time last year in Aussie, you had blessed me with an abundance of most awesomely rideable waves and very few men in gray suits. We worship and praise your infinite power to bring us such wonderful conditions and pray take pity on us once more for the Billabong Pro. Your humble servant *hic* (that would be me) will be facing the bleak, black prospect of facing these other wave warriors in combat...to the death."
Duo's voice took on a deep, snarling, theatrical tone, and the other surfers laughed in appreciation, unaware that he believed he was completely serious.
"I pray you will provide most heavy wave turbulence on the day of competition for Billabong Pro, which will cleanse and purify your holy waters and give me an opportunity to cut up the mob one more time. I do not ask for much, but if you could make it gnarly enough so the camera crews and such step back a bit, I'd really appreciate it."
More laughter. The fire was starting to blur, and Duo was speaking loudly, more loudly than he had to to be heard. He didn't notice the look of vague alarm in Heero's eyes as the Japanese surfer got to his feet and walked towards him.
"Please, oh omnipresent one, I beg thee to grant this request. In return I will never ever watch an episode or rerun of "Baywatch" or access the unauthorized Pamela Anderson Homepage. I will never cut off a rat on the swell, even though they usually deserve it. These things I do usually swear, Big Kahuna."
"Cowabunga and Amen." Duo swayed harder, started to fall. Heero's alarmed face spun out of view as he toppled backward, and Duo barely felt Heero grab his shoulder to pull him forward and keep him from falling into the fire.
As Heero threw Duo over his shoulder, he looked at the rest of the party, who were either laughing or looking astounded.
"I think the God of Death had too much to drink."
TBC...
Riptionary! Surfer Terms:
Wahine: female surfer
Gnarly: Hard waves; good surfing, generally a positive adjective in general
Bruddah: male surfer...also used as a greeting
Shanghaied: kidnapped (in case anyone didn't know)
Lei: the flower necklaces people wear in Hawaii for luaus and other special occasions
Cluck: chicken
Ukelele: Hawaiian instrument, like a guitar, only little ^_^
Huey: God of the surf (so they say)... aka Poseidon or the Big Kahuna
Men in gray suits: sharks
Rats: cocky kid surfers who bug older, more experienced surfers
Back to CleverYoungThief's Fanfictions Page