Chapter Text
“Did I deliver or what?” Jimmy waded in the water, the cold and distinct line of chlorinated water ebbing and flowing below his chest. He moved enough to keep him afloat but stayed within the proximity of Kim’s feet, which kicked at a curious, slow pace while safely seated on the cement edge of the pool. Even if he chose to swim around, he wouldn’t be able to make it very far. Even the VIP pool was at capacity, which was made annoyingly clear by the concierge who was conveniently able to get him a reservation after finding a few crisp hundreds slipped into a handshake.
Kim removed her lips from the curly straw accompanying her frozen beverage, only long enough to speak.
“I’d have to go with ‘Or what’,” she chided, resuming her bountiful sip. He could almost make out her smile between the plethora of floral and fruit garnishes balanced expertly on various plastic swords.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he replied, wrapping his arms around her calves. Jimmy hugged his torso to her shins, his chin conveniently close enough to rest between her knees.
“It’s not a swim-up bar,” Kim sighed, her play veiled with disappointment, “I’ll have to make do with a private bartender in our private cabana.” She pinched one of the plastic swords between her first finger and thumb, withdrawing a chunk of rum-soaked pineapple from her daiquiri. Her hand detoured south, offering the pineapple out to him.
He unwound an arm from his anchor, plucking the offering from her. Jimmy pushed down the lurch gurgling in his gut; hangover, breakfast, denial… who knew what the source of it was. But if the state he woke up in was any indication, the alcohol from the night before was likely the culprit. Past the rum, the pineapple was a welcomed change of pace. He hadn’t taken advantage of the private bartender yet. He also hadn’t told Kim about the method of obtaining said bartender. And cabana.
“That’s what it would take to get you in the pool, huh?” Jimmy peered over his Wayfarers that held no contest to the sunscreen slathered over his nose. If he didn’t need eye protection from the sun, surely he’d need it from Kim’s swimsuit. A glittering neon pink two-piece, a desperate and begrudging purchase after the unfortunate discovery that she had forgotten her suit at home. The pickings were slim; even with the triangles of fabric only held up with strings and knots, it was the most modest option. And he loved it.
“I will! I’m getting used to the water,” she attempted to kick her legs to no avail, “Or was.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, the plastic sword remaining stiff between his clenched teeth. Jimmy rose to his feet, reluctantly unraveling his arms from her. He ladled palmfuls of water over the peaks of her thighs. The process repeated, Jimmy’s attentive hands like a tide, gliding closer toward the hem of her fluorescent swimsuit with every pass. It was more-so intimate curiosity than sexual, a relished exploration of his skin on hers.
Jimmy parted her knees with a gentleness that silently vowed ‘no funny business’ and stood in between them. The tips of his fingers curled underneath her legs, prodding them to lock around his waist.
“Here, I got you. All the fun of being in the water without having to be in the water,” he earnestly reassured her. With a little scooting on her end and readjusting on his, Kim went from poolside to Jimmy’s flotation services with no casualties. Her legs clenched around him, the muscles screaming from the cold submersion. She hooked one arm around the back of his next for added stability, the other steadied her drink.
Kim’s eyes caught onto the fractals from her suit, dancing over their isolated radius of the water. She grimaced, burying her head in the safety between her arm and his neck.
“I feel like a sore pink thumb,” she groaned.
“On the contrary, if I may, Vegas is the one place where this garb fits right in. Nothing wrong with pink and thumbs,” he used his own thumbs to comfortingly strum the curves of her hips, “In fact, I think this look is very becoming. Like if Jessica Rabbit had her own Playboy cover.”
“She did have her own Playboy cover,” Kim countered, her first finger tracing the contour of his clavicle, “The same year the movie came out.” He shuddered under her touch and wished that he hadn’t, just for once. One unobtainable moment in a lifetime of chasing.
“To be fair, I stopped keeping up with the magazines when I found out porn could move… The whole ‘video porn star killed the radio porn star’ thing…” Jimmy trailed off, distracted by a lazily executed attempt to steal a sip from Kim’s drink. He succeeded, with the help of Kim tilting the glass in his direction. “We can go back to the room if you want to,” he reassured her.
Kim reclined until she was seated fully upright again, shaking her head.
“I’ll survive,” she promised, holding up the daiquiri in an inaudible ask for him to hold it for her. He took it, of course, Jimmy took it. There were very few things he wouldn’t do for her. And even then, that was probably rounding up.
She removed her hands from him, dunking them underwater and shaking off the excess until they were lightly coated. Kim brushed his hair back; fingers combing refreshing strokes down to his scalp. A refreshing and alarming reminder that he made zero effort at protecting his scalp from the sun.
“You’re going to make me look bald,” he rolled his eyes and clarified, “Even more bald.”
“I like being able to see your face,” Kim said, pausing to admire her handiwork, “With your hair pushed back, you kind of look like James Dean. Especially with that toothpick.”A drop of water trickled down the side of his face.
“You just like old men.”
“Which sounds like a win for everyone involved,” she preened at a straying strand.
Jimmy laughed, which grew mischievous as he dipped her far enough to give her a scare. She shrieked, probably at the highest octave he had ever witnessed from Kim. Every single limb clung to him for dear life; a win for everyone involved indeed.
“Jimmy — don’t!” Anger and merriment battled to win over her tone. The latter, luckily, ended on top. Victorious with a snorted laugh.
“I won’t, I won’t…” he drew another sip from the frozen beverage, which was rapidly becoming a not frozen beverage.
“That hangover of yours finally going away?” Kim asked, pressing her lips to his temple.
“Hangover? Never had one of those a day in my life,” he relaxed into her touch, “But if I did have one, it’s definitely much better now.”
“Good,” she took back her daiquiri. And he let her, of course, he let her. “Let’s get you a drink.”