strongsmokes:

max-simmons:

a-gentlemanscall:

Dustin waited outside the boat; he didn’t want to get knocked over in the hustle to get on. He watched Max carefully, sizing him up as a leader. Dustin had no problems taking orders he would just like them from a reliable source. He wanted to live and although he might be able to do it on his own it was easier with a team. The leader appeared hopelessly uncoordinated or overly jumpy, either one made Dustin slightly nervous. He didn’t want the leader to fall off the boat or trip on the island. That would just slow them down. Dustin wanted out as fast as possible. He thought everybody else might want the same thing.

By the time Max had begun speaking everyone but Dustin had gathered in the boat. He held the edge of the stern with one hand and gracefully pulled himself over with the other, barely rocking the boat. Although he had already been worried about Max’s coordination he found comfort in his voice not just the words he said but how clear they came out. They carried to every ear, no chance of misunderstanding.

Dustin also agreed with his rules and wouldn’t find it to difficult following any of them. He doubted any plants would be more tempting than their own food. Even if they lost all supplies he had read up as much as possible on exotic vegetation. That knowledge really wouldn’t protect him as this particular island had no specialty books or sites to study. Talking and staying together were easy. Dustin rarely spoke unless necessary, he enjoyed silence and time with his own thoughts, making friends wasn’t his priority. Surviving was.

Dustin stepped forward and stretched his hand out to Max. “Dustin Hoffman sir. We have met before and it is a pleasure to be here. I happen to have knowledge of sailing.” His dad had taught him on a trip in the Bahamas, the water was warm and clear. Easier than the ones they were on now but Dustin was confident he knew enough to get there. It was faster and easier than paddling. If they did that everyone would tire themselves out. “I’m ready to go if you are?” He directed at Max.

A tall blonde stepped up to where Max stood, and he glanced up with a look of pleasant surprise. Dustin. A rare smile found its way onto his face. “I remember.” He took the hand offered to him with a nod, and a firm shake. “The ‘sir’ won’t be necessary, please. We’re all team mates now. I’m not any better than you.” There was a brief lull in conversation as Max took a quick stock check. Muscular - that definitely wouldn’t go amiss. They needed all the fire power they could get with his own weedy contribution. And tanned; Max wasn’t surprised Dustin could sail. He looked like he’d had his fair share of excursions abroad. 

“Thank you, that’s a great help. If you know where we’re going, then I believe it’s all anchors away.” Gesturing for Dustin to take his place at the front of the boat, Max turned to the remainder of the group. “Everyone set? Let’s get going.”

A small gust of wind blew against his face as Jason listened to Max. The boy could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was as if he was preparing before a football game. It wasn’t all that different to Jason really, between the task and a football game. Both had one, simple goal to be achieved. Both had other forces working to prevent you from achieving that goal. And his past football matches was any indication; both in which he will succeed. There were many things in life that Jason wasn’t sure of, but football was the exception.

And so was going on this task.

An amused smile stretched across the football player’s face when Max finished telling them his instructions. “It’ll be fine, Sims.” he assured, placing both his feet on the handles around the boat as he settled into a chair. Jason had been on a boat before - those crappy motor boats he rented for his fishing trips back in Dallas, but he had never been on a fancy sail boat like that before.

The boy glanced at his team mates lazily, the smile still lingering on his expression. “In and out.” he teased with slight smile as his gaze wandered off towards the horizon. He reached down for the six pack that was conveniently placed on the floor, and cracked open a can of beer. He then slid the rest of the cans across the floor, towards his team mates. “To..” he paused, his incompetent mind struggling to figure out what they were toasting to. “To gettin’ home in one piece.” he finally added, with a gesture of his beer, feeling pretty good about his appropriate phrasing.