Sound of Settling
Ian has always loved being underwater. He loves how there are three directions of movement to choose from rather than just two. He loves how all the noises of the world seem to melt away until there is only the sound of his heart beating in his ears, and maybe the occasional swoosh of moving water. He loves how when he opens his eyes, his vision is a little blurry, but somehow clearer at the same time. The only thing he doesn’t love is the fact that he can’t breathe.
He tried to breathe underwater once, when he was four years old and thought he could do anything. After getting a liter of water pumped out of him and enduring an hour of his mother’s shrieking, Ian knew better than to try it again.
Ian’s lungs are starting to burn, but he isn’t ready to come up for air just yet. He knows from experience that he can last until spots start to dance in front of his eyes, and then if he closes them he can hold out a bit longer. He is sure that this isn’t a smart thing to do and that quite possibly, he is killing brain cells at a ferocious rate, but he is reassured knowing that there are worse ways to destroy the brain.
Ian thinks that if he had gills, life would be perfect. He would never come out from under the water again and spend the rest of his life deep at the bottom of the ocean. Ian always fancies that the bottom of the ocean is better than the bottom of the pool. Swimming pools are limited in so many ways, and the ocean is endless. He could happily spend all his time trolling the bottom of the seas, scuttling along in the filtered sunlight.
Or could he really? He would be all alone at the ocean floor, and Ian starts to think that the sound of his own heart beating would get awfully lonely after a while.
It is then that Pieter’s face looms into sight. Even from under the rippling lwaves Ian can see Pieter’s face clearly, and Pieter is obviously disgruntled. Pieter opens his mouth and speaks some words, none of which Ian could make out, but Ian senses agitation in Pieter’s expression. So, trying to put Pieter at ease, Ian carefully blows a ring of bubbles. Pieter throws up his hands and leaves.
Then Ian sits up in the tub, blinking water out of his eyes, sucking in great gulps of air. When his vision is clear again, he sees Pieter waiting for him with a towel. Pieter, however, is still frowning.
Ian grins, stepping out of the tub, expecting Pieter to fold him into the towel. When the towel is thrown in his face instead, Ian sighs.
“I can’t drown in the tub, Pete.”
“You’re always trying to,” Pieter snips, walking out. Ian sighs again. He quickly dries himself and wraps the towel around his waist before following Pieter. God knows he doesn’t need to incur more of Pieter’s wrath by dripping all over the floor.
Pieter is curled up on his side of the bed, staring at the TV. Ian knows he is being ignored then, because he knows—or at least he thinks—that Pieter can’t really be that captivated by a Swiffer.
“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” Ian says, digging around the dresser drawer for clean shorts. “You never worry when I’m in the pool.”
“There are always people in the pool,” Pieter grumbles, not really wanting to relinquish his I’m-not-speaking-to-you status but unable to keep from replying. “I can watch you in the pool. In there…you’re by yourself. Something could happen, and I’d never know.”
Ian sees Pieter’s eyes flicker away from the television set when he drops his towel. Ian smirks to himself, considering for a moment the shorts he holds in his hands, then drops those as well. It is nothing new for him to go to bed naked.
“That’d make headlines, wouldn’t it?” Ian says, flinging himself onto the bed. The bed bounces under his weight, causing Pieter to roll oh so conveniently into Ian’s arms. “The Thorpedo found dead in the Flying Dutchman’s bathtub, details at eleven. You think people would suspect foul play?”
“That’s not very funny,” Pieter says coldly.
“I’m always funny.” Ian kisses behind Pieter’s ear quickly. “This problem is easily solved though. You’ll just have to start watching me when I’m in the tub. I’m surprised you didn’t think of it yourself, smart medical student that you are.”
Pieter can’t help but start laughing. “I hate you.”
“Oh, that hurts Pete. Especially when I love you so very, very much.”
“Do you?” Pieter’s eyes flash wickedly. “Prove it.”
Ian decides to do just that.
It is a while later, when Ian is contemplating something like sleep or just gazing lazily at the milky skin of Pieter’s stomach, when Pieter speaks again.
“Why do you do it?”
Ian thinks about explaining his fantasy of living under the sea, but he isn’t sure he can without breaking into song, and it is too late (or maybe too early) for singing. So he only half shrugs his shoulders.
“I like to listen to my heart beat.”
“You’re so vain,” Pieter snickers fondly.
“No more than you.” Ian pauses. “Don’t you like being underwater?”
Pieter is silent for a minute, and Ian imagines he can almost see the thoughts gathering in Pieter’s head.
“I like being in the water, not under it,” Pieter says softly. “It’s always so quiet under. And it makes me feel too alone.”
Ian rests his head on Pieter’s chest, holds Pieter just a little tighter, and is suddenly very glad that he doesn’t need to be underwater to hear Pieter’s heart.