Seasickness

Part 3

Brendon wonders, around one o'clock that afternoon, why exactly he's still watching some crappy sitcom when he's on a ship full of shops, beauty salons and cute staff.

Two seconds later, he barges into Jon's room without knocking, wearing his brightest smile. Jon's snoozing on his bed, fully clothed, and so Brendon quickly shakes him. He stirs, murmuring groggily, and opens one eye. "Ugh. What time is it?"

"One," Brendon replies, picking up Jon's pale yellow pillow and swiping him over the head with it. "Way too late for you to be sleeping. Come on, I was thinking we could go for massages or something. That Rosie chick said there was a place to get them on the floor below, didn't she?"

"A massage?" Jon asks, finally sitting up. After yawning and rubbing his eyes, which Brendon suddenly sees are rather red, he takes the pillow from Brendon's lax grip and puts it firmly back in it's place. "Sounds good. We may as well explore, we're going to be here for a while and I want to find the best bar."

"Alcohol, Jon, really?" Brendon asks, teasingly. "Are you sure you're supposed to mix that with cannabis?"

"Fuck off, Urie," Jon groans, getting up and sweeping a hand through his hair. He yawns, widely, and then blinks a few times. "What have you been doing all morning? Getting, um, acquainted with your cabin boy, eh?"

Brendon smiles, secretively. "That's my business."

"What, you haven't touched him already, have you?" Jon asks, laughing slightly. "That's moving fast, even for you."

"No, I haven't." Brendon strolls over to the full length mirror, and scrutinises himself. Deciding that he looks perfectly nice, thank you very much, he turns back to Jon. "Massage, then?"

"Alright," Jon agrees, and they leave the room together. It takes them half an hour to actually find the spa - they take several wrong turns along the way, ending up at one point in a huge, tempting bar that Jon insists they'll have to visit later - but they don't mind getting lost. It's all fun to them, really.

When they finally enter the spa, they find two, young women chatting idly, wearing the uniform black of the staff - in the form of quite skimpy shorts and tight-fitting shirts. Brendon hardly notices their obvious attractiveness, but he can see Jon drawing himself to his full height and smoothing back his hair out of the corner of his eye, and smirks.

The two girls look up as they walk in, and one of them instantly takes charge, standing up and smiling, prettily. "Hello, Sirs! How can we help you?"

"Is this the place to have massages?" Brendon asks, looking around. The hall is well heated, and very, very white, with huge Jacuzzis across from them, and several massage tables to their left. The woman nods, and the other stands up, smiling as well. "Cool! It'll be nice to loose some of the tension in my shoulders. It's not easy posing for the cameras all the time."

The woman who first spoke laughs, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind an ear. "Right, well, we can definitely help you there! Mr. Walker, if you go along with Susie here, she'll get you sorted out. Mr. Urie, follow me, please. Would you like your massages close to one another so that you can talk? If not, we can -"

"Next to each other will be fine," Jon interrupts, shrugging indifferently. "Brendon can't go five minutes without gossiping anyway."

"True," Brendon concedes, as they're led toward the massage tables. "So, how many clothes are we taking off?"

The woman laughs again, and it's a soothing sound. "As many as you like, really. It depends how much of your body you want the massage on."

"Oh, all of it," Brendon snorts, as though it's obvious. He pulls his top over his head, shamelessly, and then gets to work with his belt buckle. Jon rolls his eyes, but soon follows suit, and in a minute or two they're climbing - face-down - upon their respective table. It's cool against Brendon's skin, and he can't help but let out a childish giggle.