The beer goes down dry. Much like Sean's speeches.

Smiling, Elijah tips back another swallow, and Sean stops in the middle of a tirade about the upcoming presidential elections to ask Elijah what that smile was for. Elijah grunts and rolls over onto his stomach, feeling the criss-cross of towel marks pushed into the skin of his back as he does so.

"Remember when I told you your soapbox rants make your face all scrunchy and handsome?"

"Yeah," Sean replies.

"Well," Elijah says, "that only goes so far."

And gets a bottle of suntan lotion chucked at him.

Grinning, he moves his beer safely away. "Work with me, here. I promise to vote responsibly, Sean. With a designated driver and everything. And maybe a condom or three."

"You know just how to get me to shut up, don't you?"

"And, being the only human in the continental United States with that power, I believe I have an edge."

Elijah feels a slick of warmed lotion between his shoulder blades, and swallows a sigh. Sean's shadow affords him a few moments of pleasant respite from the afternoon sun. When he gets tired of the application he rolls back over, leaving Sean's fingers to trail across his ribs. He wraps his hands around Sean's, holding them there against his belly.

"And I should be institutionalized for this, but sometimes I think I love you more every time you open your mouth," Elijah says, smirking.

"Sometimes I think you're the only one," Sean replies, a hint of a frown brushing his mouth.

Not expecting such a sullen response, Elijah tightens his hold on Sean's fingers. "Sometimes their loss is our gain."

With embarrassingly obvious affection in his eyes, Sean leans in. "And sometimes? You talk too much."

Elijah snorts and, with a smooth one-two push of his hands and knees, sends Sean flying into the pool.