Archive of Our Own ^beta

virat would have thought, considering how different the beaches outlining india were from the ones in australia, that pat would find it jarring. this one especially, he thinks. the overcast sky, clouds threatening to burst with rain. street dogs barking and nipping at the heels of the horses trotting around with their riders. no surfers or lifeguards, no beach balls or huge umbrellas or towels the size of a bedsheet spread on the sand; none of the bright colours that virat has come to associate with his boyfriend's home. and hardly any men wandering around shirtless, never mind women.

there's still the same flurry of activity, though. groups of friends pulling each other into the water, tripping over themselves, splashing around and laughing. parents with their children; toddlers squealing at the cold waves, older kids chasing the tide and crouching to look for shells. couples sitting on the sand shoulder to shoulder, or walking slowly down the shore holding hands. the occasional solo traveller there to watch the sunset, a camera in hand.

pat seems right at home.

virat! pat calls. his boyfriend is standing at least twenty feet out into the water, water up to his waist, and glasses speckled with droplets. he waves a hand. come on!

a wave flows over virat's feet and he shivers at the cold. he's already flinching at that, an inch of water that barely reaches his ankles. of course he's not going to survive anything deeper. he shakes his head at pat. no way. the younger man tilts his head as if to say, really? and wades back out just to grab virat's hand and tug him along.

virat puts up enough of a fight that pat gives up halfway and stomps back, leaving virat to watch helplessly with the waves cresting around his knees. pat is fearless sometimes, he thinks. or foolhardy? he's tall and strong but virat is still anxious about him venturing that far out.

pat bounces lightly as the water rises and falls, and he gets a little farther out than he was before. then turns to look at virat, tries to persuade him again. virat has just flipped him off when a massive wave emerges behind pat and goes crashing into him. pat disappears and virat loses his mind for a solid five seconds before he resurfaces, drenched.

his glasses are missing.

they both realize it at the same time. even from this distance, virat can hear pat's frustrated yell of fuck! he can't help it: he bursts out laughing. he laughs and laughs as the petty side of his brain goes, well, i told you! i told you not to go so far out! and then he realizes pat—tall and strong and blind pat—is still out there, bobbing in and out of the water as if trying to find his glasses.

oh, this fucking idiot. he’s not going to come back now even if virat calls him—apparently he can’t hear very well without his glasses, which makes no sense—so virat takes a deep breath and wades out inch by inch until he’s within arms distance.

what are you doing! virat exclaims, reaching for pat’s shirt and pulling him close.

i lost my glasses, pat replies, a little pathetically, and virat wants to kiss that little pout. he settles for sweeping pat’s wet hair off his face, letting him see those bright blue eyes, more vibrant than the sea they’re standing in, more beautiful than the sky above them. it’s not too often that virat sees them without frames blocking his view.

it’s okay. virat holds his hand. there’s no point in staying out here; they’ve probably been swept away by now. after a moment’s hesitation, pat relents and follows virat back to shore.

babe?

hm?

’s that a bottle cap or a shell? virat blinks in the direction pat is pointing. there’s something white half-buried in the sand, washed up by a wave. it’s just within reach, so he leans over as far as he can from where he sits, and digs it out.

it’s a shell. but a broken one. virat passes it to pat, who squints, then frowns at it.

ah, crap. he tosses it back out at the water as if trying to make it skip on the rippling surface. it doesn’t work. why are they all broken?

virat chuckles at his annoyance. true, all the shells they’ve seen that day were snapped in half for some reason. they sit on the sand for a while longer, the water flowing under their legs, and virat finally decides it’s time they get up and find some damn shells that are whole. if this is a tradition for pat to collect shells from every beach he visits, then he’s damn well going to keep it going.

they stroll down the beach, sandals and shoes in hand, stopping occasionally to examine shells. pat drifts a little farther away, his poor eyesight requiring him to crouch just to see properly. a wave of fondness washes over virat, the sight of this six foot tall man squatting in the sand searching for shells like a child. it’s so strong, the feeling swelling in his lungs, that he takes out his phone and snaps a couple of pictures.

god, pat can be so cute sometimes. maybe he’ll set this as his wallpaper.

hey, i think i found—nah, that one’s no good. pat scoffs, dropping the shell and straightening up. he stretches, arms high above his head, then rests his hands on his hips, staring out at the horizon.

virat takes a photo of that, too: pat’s broad back, head slightly turned, plump clouds in the sky, and the blue-green waves foaming at his feet. now this just might be perfect for his wallpaper.

he shivers a little as a wave covers his bare feet, and he steps back before he loses his balance. and that step lands him on a shell—one that is finally, finally not broken. he bends to pick it up. it’s small, barely bigger than a one-rupee coin, but it's a pretty shade of purple on the inside, as if it were one of those geodes that split open to reveal crystals. he slips it into his pocket, thinking that he would give it to pat if he grew disappointed with the lack of proper shells to be found.

pat seems to be distracted, though. he stands a few paces away from virat, watching a man carry his toddler to the water. the child is shrieking, scared, her little anklets chiming as she kicks to be put down on dry land. virat’s heart goes out to her, but there’s no danger, after all. her father sets her down on the sand just as the tide comes in, and water rushes over her tiny feet.

and then she giggles.

virat visibly sees the way pat falls in love with that sound. his shoulders slump, and he smiles helplessly. virat’s heart clenches at this, and briefly he wonders—he’s wondered many times before—what a family would look like with pat. what a child of their own would look like in pat’s arms. there are so many images that come to mind, full of domestic bliss, but he’s getting ahead of himself, isn’t he? it hasn’t been that long since they started dating!

but he looks down at the ground, his and pat’s footsteps etched in the sand, and imagines a smaller pair running alongside them.

virat snaps back to the present moment when pat moves. he’s approaching the father and little girl, something enclosed in his palm. his face is bright with joy, and virat thinks he just might die today. he opens his hand to reveal a tiny conch shell, brown markings on white. virat is impressed. those aren’t that easy to find. pat kneels, holds it out to the girl, encouraging her to take it. she looks up at her father, who nods, then shyly takes the shell from him.

oh god, his heart can’t take it.

he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down, to get his feelings under control. the last thing he wants is for pat to think he’s weird for getting emotional at two in the afternoon at a fucking beach.

babe, look, i found one!

the first drop hits virat on his cheek. he’s lifting his face to the skies and a couple more splash onto his forehead, his nose. pat has also felt the rain, and before they know it, it’s drizzling. people all around them are talking loudly, then shouting, grabbing their things and trudging back up the beach to find shelter.

virat stands there for just a bit longer, admiring how the water looks with raindrops breaking the surface. it looks magical to him—up until the rain suddenly grows much heavier.

okay, we gotta move, pat says. they grasp each other’s hand and make a dash for the trees that separate the beach from the road. other people are either running for their cars and motorbikes, and the rest are huddled together near the little shops, under their flimsy roofs. they could get to their car, but they’ve parked pretty far, and the shade of these trees will have to suffice for now.

pat rests his back against a tree trunk, the densely packed branches shielding them from the rain enough for them to catch their breath. virat makes the mistake of glancing up at his boyfriend—pat is breathing heavily, drenched shirt tight across his chest, sleeves clinging to his arms as he raises his free hand and runs his fingers through his hair. virat’s heart stutters, suddenly shy, beats growing irregular in the presence of this man. his man.

god, this is his man!

sometimes virat can’t believe it’s real. that pat is real. that he gets to have this. that all the choices they’ve ever made in their lives led them to each other. they haven’t been together for very long, but he already knows this is it for him. he doesn’t want to be anywhere else, except on this beach. doesn’t want to inevitably catch a cold and be sick and miserable with anyone else.

i love you, he says abruptly, and pat looks at him, lips parting in surprise. his eyes search virat’s face, then soften. he doesn’t respond verbally, not at first. he draws virat close with their still intertwined hands, so close that a thrill runs down virat’s spine at the heat of pat’s body. a caress around his waist, up his back.

virat’s eyes dart between pat’s, then fall to his lips. he melts into the taller man and lets his eyes close. warmth in his chest, and warmth ghosting over his face. he’s prepared for a kiss, not the words.

you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen in my life.

he nearly breaks into tears. he doesn’t, though his eyes are glassy when he opens them. pat is looking at him like he meant that, and virat doesn’t understand—what does he mean, he’s the most beautiful? they’re surrounded by some of nature’s masterpieces, these lush green trees, this gorgeous sprawling beach, the rolling waves stretching as far as the eye can see, and the cold, fresh rain falling from the clouds in the sky. all this, and he is the most beautiful?

he swallows his emotion down, and murmurs, teasing. can you even see anything right now without your glasses?

pat cradles his face in his broad palms, lips brushing over his. shut the fuck up. a laugh bursts out of virat, a laugh that’s quickly muffled by pat’s mouth on his. his fingers unconsciously curl into pat’s shirt, holding on for dear life as pat tells him just how much he reciprocates virat’s love with his tongue. they’re both breathless when they part.

i love you, too, if that wasn’t clear enough, pat whispers, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his lips. god, he’s so in love with this man. even if you’re too scared to swim.

hey!

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