learnfromthem | [for Chase]

Okay, this looks good.

Beautiful sunny day, a stack of magazines to flip through, a killer outfit, and nothing but the sound of the waves to keep me company while I catch up on all the outdated celebrity gossip. It should be paradise. People pay thousands of dollars for this exact kind of vacation.

Except I'm bored out of my mind. Ugh. I make it halfway through a Janet van Dyne fashion retrospective until I decide I've had enough lounging to last me a lifetime and shove the magazine back under the rock I've been using to prevent them all from flying away. Untying my sarong, I bunch it into a ball and shove it into my sunhat to keep its shape, sliding my sunglasses around the brim.

I squint out towards the ocean. The waves aren't too bad today, meaning I might actually get a decent swim out of the deal instead of wishing I had a surfboard. Toeing off my flip flops, I make a run for it, biting back a totally badass shriek at the temperature change and barreling forward 'til I'm thigh deep in the water.

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"I promise," he said, grinning, and lowered himself seamless back onto his stomach to paddle the board a little farther out and turn it about. It was only a couple minutes before the next swell, and fell into the instinctual rhythm of paddling, arms cutting swaths through the water and then pushing up, center of gravity sinking in and posture shifting until he was turning the board along the crest, and he rode the wave- mild and gentle, if a good size- into the shore. He flashed Kate a thumbs up before paddling back out again, and slipped off the board to submerge briefly before coming up, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he pushed the board over to her.

"Okay, now you."

There's no way in hell I can outdo him. Which, yeah, sucks a little, but I'm not going to let that stop me even if I do make a fool out of myself. If hanging out with Clint's taught me anything, it's that you don't have to be the best to try for the best, no matter the odds. So even though the chances of making a fool of myself are pretty damn high, I go for it, replaying his instructions in my head.

It goes better than the last attempt, the time I spend actually standing longer than the time I spent submerged once I fall off, and I'm laughing when I come up for air, breathless from the rush of having managed to stay up for most of the wave.

"Ohmigod."

"That was great!" Chase laughed, paddling over and slinging an arm onto the board, hanging on opposite her.

"You did awesome!"

I'm still fighting to catch my breath, but I'm grinning from ear to ear. This so beats sunbathing.

"How do you get it to turn? Is it just, like, leaning or--?"

"Yeah, it's shifting your weight," Chase said, nodding.

"You just kind of get a feel for it. It's pretty addicting."

I knock on the board.

"So who do I talk to get me one of these things?"

"Aaah, a good question. Sometimes there are people around who can make 'em, sometimes you get presents from the island in the form of the very sleek and beautiful Wyland shortboard you see before you. If we make one for you, we should make a long board, they're easier to learn on and can take a lot of damage," he said, absently smoothing a hand over the board.

"I've got a pretty good tool set in the scrapyard, so unless there's a master around, I can set you up with one."

"A Chase Stein original, huh?" I say, biting back a teasing grin. "Well, if you're half as good at building as you are at teaching, I think I'll be in safe hands."

"I'm way, way better at building than I am at teaching," Chase replied, grinning a little back.

"I may be dumb but I'm good with my hands."

I arch an eyebrow, slowly, and give him a measured look. Or as measured as I can, with the water jostling us around with each new, rolling wave. In a lot of ways, he's different than I remember -- and I'm not just talking about looks, though those, uh, have definitely changed. But he's been through some stuff. Grown up a lot. And I get that, more than anyone here really knows -- even Billy and Teddy.

"Hey," I say, reaching for his nearest hand. "I don't hang out with dumb people."

It was partly instinctual, the way Chase turned his fingers against Kate's to thread them a little, the way the pad of his thumb skirted along the life line that traced across her palm. The thing was, she was capable and a super hero and a bad ass and smart and, also, as it happened, sexy as hell. Not that that meant anything necessarily, it just was particularly true in the moment.

"You don't have to flatter me just because it's my birthday, yanno."

My eyes widen a little, brightening at that little nugget of news.

"Your birthday, huh?" I say, squeezing his hand. "Why didn't you say anything sooner, Old Guy? We should celebrate--! Get the guys or something. Go to one of the bars."

"Well, y'know, the big four oh can be a little daunting," he laughed. Old guy. Yup, that was him. He'd gone from being a teenage renegade whose solemn vow was to never trust adults to being a twenty something who worked with Tony Stark, of all people, on occasion and who had outlived or outlasted most of his friends. It was difficult to get excited about celebrating.

Kate's enthusiasm helped a little, though.

"Yeah, I think I was going to be seeing some people at the Hub, but not until tonight. I didn't exactly send out a blast on Facebook about it, y'know?"

"I miss my cellphone," I sigh, but I don't mope about it for too long.

"But if you were going anyway, I'm inviting myself along. I'll even get you a drink."

"What? No," Chase groaned.

"That makes me look like such an asshole, because now I can say I was two seconds away from inviting you and it doesn't even matter if it's true or not. God, I'm friends with a lot of bossy women," he added, looking not at all like this was actually a problem for him.

He also hadn't let go of her hand yet and idly wondered if that was weird.

It literally takes him saying that for me to realize he's maybe not single. And why would he be? I can't be the only person's who thought to look. Even on Supermodel Island he sticks out.

Except he's still holding my hand. But that could mean any one of a billion things, and reading too much into it is just going to give me a headache. Ugh. I pull my hand away, but only to pat his arm like a total tool.

"And don't forget it."

The arm pat. Ouch. Chase just smiles and slipped down off the board, enough to dip his head and slick his hair back.

"Okay, ride one more in, then let's drink some."

I have no idea whether or not I did the right thing there, but I'm kicking myself anyway. Whatever Chase might be, I can't really see him as the cheating type. He would've mentioned if he had a girlfriend, right? I just don't want to be that girl who flirts with other people's boyfriends. It's so not who I am -- if that could even count as flirting.

I am so overthinking this. He's a friend. That's it. Neither of us did anything wrong and if he has a girlfriend, well, he has a girlfriend. Doesn't mean we can't be friends. It's not like I like him or anything, right?

Yeah. Right.

"You're on."

Edited 2013-04-12 00:24 (UTC)

[for Chase]

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