As always, having Joel talk him through this puts Spencer more at ease. He feels the tension in his shoulders wash a little more away with every wave that moves them, and he buries his face in the crook of Joel's neck without being able to hold back his grin at the thought of Joel as a lifeguard. He imagines the hustle and bustle of children running poolside when they're meant to only walk; having to overhear complaints and gossip and all sorts of things that are much better kept away from such a public setting; the occasional and inevitable sunburn that must have come with the job, and he can't help but laugh, though it's not out of mockery. As utterly incapable as Spencer would be at holding that particular job, he imagines Joel would have been quite good at it if the need for any actual guarding of lives had ever arisen.
"I know you won't," he answers, relaxing a bit more as he feels the panic dulling in his chest and starts to kick under water with less force, less resistance. "I'm sure you were an excellent lifeguard, I'd have trusted you to save me without question. I do now, anyway."
Joel is always there, after all, to pick Spencer up when he falls, no matter what the circumstances. It's only Joel who can truly lift him to a better place, a better mood that's more than just a small smile, and it's only Joel who understands better than anyone what it's like to be alone for so long that it becomes difficult to accept that there's anyone willing to be there. Spencer's accepted it, that Joel doesn't just feel obligated to be with him, to protect him because Spencer can't protect himself; Joel wants to do these things, and he wishes he could find a way to repay that.
He realizes then that he's been treading water for a full minute without complaint or any sudden bouts of terror of drowning and his eyes brighten as he pulls back to look at Joel. "I'm getting better," he says, nodding down toward the water, and he experimentally lets one hand free of holding onto Joel only to find himself slipping through Joel's arms and nearly underwater. His boyfriend wastes no time in hauling him back up before Spencer can swallow any water and he wraps his legs around Joel's waist because it seems secure enough to him.
He groans, rolling his eyes at himself as his cheeks turn a few shades darker. "We're not every very far out," he complains, looking back toward the shore. "Perhaps the ocean and I just aren't meant to be."
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"I know you won't," he answers, relaxing a bit more as he feels the panic dulling in his chest and starts to kick under water with less force, less resistance. "I'm sure you were an excellent lifeguard, I'd have trusted you to save me without question. I do now, anyway."
Joel is always there, after all, to pick Spencer up when he falls, no matter what the circumstances. It's only Joel who can truly lift him to a better place, a better mood that's more than just a small smile, and it's only Joel who understands better than anyone what it's like to be alone for so long that it becomes difficult to accept that there's anyone willing to be there. Spencer's accepted it, that Joel doesn't just feel obligated to be with him, to protect him because Spencer can't protect himself; Joel wants to do these things, and he wishes he could find a way to repay that.
He realizes then that he's been treading water for a full minute without complaint or any sudden bouts of terror of drowning and his eyes brighten as he pulls back to look at Joel. "I'm getting better," he says, nodding down toward the water, and he experimentally lets one hand free of holding onto Joel only to find himself slipping through Joel's arms and nearly underwater. His boyfriend wastes no time in hauling him back up before Spencer can swallow any water and he wraps his legs around Joel's waist because it seems secure enough to him.
He groans, rolling his eyes at himself as his cheeks turn a few shades darker. "We're not every very far out," he complains, looking back toward the shore. "Perhaps the ocean and I just aren't meant to be."