Characters: Dee, Ryo.
Setting: After Like Like Love.
Summary: Dee and Ryo are enjoying a luxurious tropical vacation.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt 639: Reality at slashthedrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
“Mmmmm,” Dee sighed, stretching luxuriously. “This is like somethin’ outta that reality show where they send a bunch of pretty people to some kinda paradise resort and see if the contestants hook up with each other. What’s it called, Love Island?”
“Why’re you asking me?” Ryo cracked open one eye. “The only reality shows I watch are the dancing ones, and Bikky likes ‘I’m a Celebrity’ because of the gross challenges where they have to eat bugs and stuff.”
Dee rolled onto his side to scowl at his lover. “Are you deliberately tryin’ to kill the vibe we got goin’ on here?”
“What?” Ryo raised his head off his folded arms just long enough to throw a confused look Dee’s way.
“I’m talkin’ about romance in paradise, and you’re goin’ on about eatin’ bugs!”
“You started it, comparing this to a reality show.”
“Forget I said anythin’. Let’s just concentrate on the sun, the sand, and the sea.”
“I was until you started talking.”
“Got an answer for everything, don’t ya?” Reaching across, Dee poked his lover in the ribs, tickling him, until Ryo was forced to roll right to the edge of his beach mat to get out of range.
“Keep that up and I’ll…”
“You’ll do what?”
“I don’t know. Something you won’t like though.” Ryo was feeling much too lazy to think. “Now shut up. After lunch is the best time for a siesta.” He yawned, rolled back onto his stomach, and pillowed his head on his arms again.
Dee flopped onto his back, closing his eyes. “Fine. But just so ya know, if this was Love Island, I’d choose you every time.”
Ryo smiled sleepily. “Same here.”
Silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of the waves, and distant laughter from the next beach house, beyond a grove of palms.
This trip was an anniversary gift from Bikky, a two-week all expenses paid vacation at an exclusive island resort. They had their own rented beach house, complete with private stretch of beach, and unlimited access to all of the resort’s facilities, from restaurants and nightclubs to the spa, golf course, tennis courts, swimming pool, and water park. Not that either man cared much about any of that, except for the restaurants and possibly the spa; at the very least, the occasional professional full-body massage wouldn’t go amiss. But all they really needed to unwind was the luxurious cabin with its covered veranda, the beach, and the sea, where they could swim whenever they felt like it.
After three days in this little piece of heaven, the outside world seemed like a distant, barely remembered dream. New York, with all its pollution and crowded streets, like something they’d seen on TV. In eleven days, they’d be leaving the peace and tranquillity behind and returning to the reality of their lives as overworked, underpaid, and unappreciated cops, but why think about that until they had to? The rest of the world would still be there later.