A/N: Dick's POV, back in 2009, where time moves slower. It's still the day after Mac's accident, and everyone is trying to cope the best they can. Thank you for all the reviews, follows & favorites. I hope everyone is still enjoying this story. If so, I'd love it if you'd let me know! I read and reread each review a zillion times-give/take. Thank you so much to the best & most patient beta in the fandom, if not all the fanfic 'verse-cainc3! Thanks for your great ideas I keep running with, too. Enjoy! (Dirty word alert in full effect-Dick has a potty mouth!)

Obligatory Disclaimer-I don't actually own any of these characters, sadly. But I do enjoy playing in their world. They belong to Rob Thomas & gang!

Chapter 14—Lather, Rinse, Repeat

"So, how did you do it, Dad? How did you get mom to take a break?" Ryan tossed aside the issue of Wired he'd been "reading" for hours, and leaned forward to get a better view of Mr. Mac. "Did you threaten her?"

Less than ten minutes after Mrs. Mac returned to the waiting room after her talk with Dr. Pence, nurse Tara and Lauren Sinclair about the disappointing results of the latest batch of poking and prodding exams, she was once again leaving. Before she was out the door though, she stopped, turned around and gave Mr. Mac a long laundry list of instructions for every scenario that could arise in her two hour absence.

"Did you bribe her?" Dick submitted his own guess.

"No, guys, something more effective," Sam answered. "I used her own mom logic against her."

"Oh, devilish, I like it Mr. Mac…Er, Sam," Dick said giving him a 'thumbs up.'

"Well, there you go, your life is complete, you've got Dick's stamp of approval," Veronica threw out there. The phrase 'bucket list' hung heavy, but wasn't uttered, not here, not in purgatory's holding place.

"I told her that if she didn't start taking better care of herself, she wouldn't be able to take care of Cindy when she woke up."

Dick could hear all of Sam's fears and wishes wrapped up tightly in the word when.

"That actually worked?" Ryan asked his dad, tone full of awe. He was probably filing the information away for future usage. It was always valuable to note those vulnerable parental areas for future exploitation. He'd found several areas to use against Big Dick, and it had served him well through the years. Cassidy, unfortunately, had never had the knack he did in that area. The only knack Cass had was to find himself in the sight picture of all their dad's own insecurities and areas of self-loathing.

"She's going home to shower and take a brief cat nap, I'd call that a victory."

"I wouldn't display your checkered flag quite yet," Logan said pointing towards the door.

Evidently Mrs. Mac had made it as far as the elevator before turning around. She was walking with a purpose towards her son and husband. "I've got a second wind," she said by way of explanation. "There's plenty of time to go home once Cindy is awake."

"Nat, honey, we've been over this. It's when she's awake she'll need you the most, but right now you need to take care of yourself, too," Sam said, gently but firmly. He got up from his seat to meet her halfway. He stopped in front of her and put an arm on one of her shoulders, the other tenderly moved her chin up so his brown eyes looked into her green ones.

"I can't do it, Sam; I just can't leave her here. She can hear me, I know it. She can hear us. I feel like I, er, all of us, we're her…" Mrs. Mac's voice trailed off and she stepped back just enough so her husband was no longer touching her.

Mr. Mac tried to prompt his wife to complete her thought, but she just shook her head and clammed up. Finally, he tried one last track. "Look, how about the rest of us pinch hit for you?"

"Pinch hit?"

"It's baseball talk for a substitute batter," Ryan explained to his mom, no longer content with being regulated to the dugout. He wanted a turn at bat, too.

"I know that, hon. I meant how does that relate to me leaving Cindy alone," Mrs. Mac clarified.

"I'll sit with her while you're gone," Veronica volunteered, breaking her silence. She had just been sitting there quietly, not wanting to get involved.

"Me, too," Dick added.

"I called first dibs," Veronica said.

"Dibs?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You heard me, Casablancas."

"I just didn't know we were back at Neptune High," he quipped back. "Actually, make that elementary school."

"Um, okay," Mrs. Mac caved. "Remember, make your visits short. Just talk to her like you expect her to answer. I just can't stop thinking if we don't keep this up she'll…" Her voice trailed off again and she shuttered operations down. Whatever it was that kept circling through her mind, Dick could tell it wasn't anything she felt able to say out loud. He wasn't a stranger to that kind of thinking. "Veronica, Dick, you both can have a turn. Wallace, you, too, hon. I'll talk to Tara before I leave, make sure she has my cell number."

"She has your number, Nat," Mr. Mac said patiently as he leaned in and kissed his wife's cheek. Then he gently, but firmly, turned her around and nudged her towards the door. "We can handle things for a couple of hours. You need to get away from these same four walls, and Cindy's depressing room."

She opened her mouth one last time as though to make another argument against going, then shut it and shook her head. "Alright," she capitulated at last. Mrs. Mac waved to the group at large, and then Dick watched her retreating figure.

Mrs. Mac hadn't even been gone five minutes before Veronica got up to see Mac. She shook off Logan's offer to go with her, but he got up anyway, trailing her at least as far as the elevators.

Dick was happy when Logan came back several minutes later, laden down with a tray full of coffee. By now he had to have had everyone's coffee orders memorized.

"Thanks, coffee bitch," he said, carefully taking his cup from Logan's outstretched hand.

"Coffee bitch?"

"You heard me, Echolls. That's your new title; it's been decided in your absence. We took a vote," Dick said, gesturing to Wallace. He blew into the tiny opening in the lid, and then took a sip of the strong, hot brew.

Wallace didn't say anything; he just shook his head, and then went back to reading one of the Wired magazines Ryan had recently discarded. Dick wondered if he lost his powers of speech when Ronnie wasn't around. Maybe she had a remote control?

Mr. Mac was grateful to get his own cup from Logan. Dick made a mental note at how cheap it was to buy extra "brownie points" from Mac's dad.

Veronica came back to the waiting room well outside the outer limits of the time frame given to them by the ICU staff. She swiped her eyes with one hand and eagerly grabbed her own cup of now-tepid coffee from Logan with her other hand before sinking into the same chair she'd been occupying off and on the entire long-ass day.

She took a sip of her latte, or mocha or what-the-hell-ever froufrou drink Logan had bought. As she drank, Dick could feel her eyes on him.

"What?" He finally asked.

"I'm just wondering why you're here."

"Well, twenty-three years ago my mom released an egg, my dad's sperm fertilized it, and nine months later I was born. Really, Ronnie, you and I went to the same school, I know you had to have taken sex ed."

"No, jackass, while I thank you kindly for that visual of your parents having sex, and now will be promptly bleaching my eye balls, what I was asking is why are you still here at the hospital? Don't you have better things to do than spend two days waiting for someone you're not really close with to wake up from a coma?"

"No," Dick said. He didn't see the need to explain to anyone what he was doing there. He shouldn't have been surprised that the pixie spy wasn't going to let it go that easy though. He continued to drink his coffee.

She did accept his answer, however, only for about thirty seconds.

"Is it because you watched the accident?" Veronica spoke softly; she shuddered as she said it, as though trying to picture the whole nightmarish scene.

"Partially."

"I can't imagine what that would've been like to see," she replied. Dick was pretty sure her tone could only be classified as sympathetic. He had an urge to write down the date of this historic event.

"Awful," he said, though it didn't really need to be said.

"Can you speak in more than one word sentences?"

"Nope." Dick said as he sported a grin. The years hadn't dulled the joy he got from bugging Ronnie. It was good to have hobbies.

The fact remained that she wouldn't understand how he felt about Mac. Hell, he didn't fully understand it either, but she was the one person that got him and he had more fun with her and their pseudo friendship than he did with practically anyone else, other than possibly Logan (who he could safely say he never wanted to kiss). Blech!

"It was beyond awful. I was close enough to watch the ball coming right towards Mac's head, too far away to do anything about it. But Mars, that's not even why I'm here, or if it is, it's just a small fraction, of why. You have a gift of running away and fucking people up in the process," Dick clarified, he kind of liked Veronica's idea of eyeball bleach. He could have used that to get the memory of Mac being hurt out of his own mind. He didn't have the words really to express how shattering watching that was.

"What is your problem, man?" Wallace shouted, evidently regaining his powers of speech, and adding more credence to Dick's theorem about Ronnie secretly holding a remote control that powered him on and off.

Logan was siding with Ronnie's minion and glaring at him too, but he pushed on.

"No guys, she asked, I'm answering," Dick continued. "Truth hurts. Mac missed you a lot, Logan was fucking bleeding inside and, well, we all started spending time together. You were making a new life, and I get it, kind of. Things change, Mac and I are good friends, and she lets me beat her at Halo, though she might not quite use the F-word."

"Fuck buddies?" Veronica asked tentatively, her face looking as though she bit into a lemon, her lips puckered in distaste.

"Friends. Get your mind outta the bedroom, Mars."

"I call foul," Logan cut in; evidently he was capable of speech now, too. "You beat Mac maybe one time at Halo3. Every other time it was her handing you back your ass. You are the sorest fucking loser, too, all that whining and shit."

"Five times, I've won five times, and each time she won it was only because I played the gentleman card."

"Gentleman?" Veronica asked incredulously.

Everyone scoffed in unison at that notion.

"Yes, Mars, I am nothing but a gentleman. I let her win, her ego needed it."

This time everyone shared an eye-roll.

"You wouldn't know a gentleman if he came up to you and slapped you on the face."

"I know enough to know a true gentleman wouldn't be slapping me around to begin with, Ronnie."

"I said gentleman, Dick, not a saint."

"Well, thanks for the education, but I believe it's my turn to visit Mackie-Oh," Dick announced, suddenly tired of sparring with Veronica. He took one last sip of his coffee, wrinkling his nose slightly as he swallowed the last dregs of the cold, strong brew, and then set the cup down on the table with a satisfying thud.

He got up and walked through the waiting room, to the institutional hallway. As he opened the double doors to the inner sanctum of the ICU he was once again greeted with the cacophony of lifesaving machines beeping and buzzing, the hushed tones of people conferring, and the occasional moan coming from patient rooms. The smell of antiseptic and decay walled itself around him causing him to cough.

Nurse Ratchet looked up from her station just then, but didn't say anything. Dick kept walking with a purpose to room 305.

He walked in and came to a sudden stop. Mac's nurse-clone, Tara, was checking the leads and monitor next to her head. He was about to back up and step out when she looked over at him.

"Hey, I'm almost done here, and then Cindy is all yours. She's looking better today."

"How can you tell?" Dick asked, and suddenly wished he'd reigned in his verbal diarrhea before it had spewed out.

The nurse just gently laughed though, not offended. "She's not as pale."

"She's always a little pale," Dick said. "I like that contrast, the dark hair and pale skin. You don't see that much around here."

"So how long have you been dating?"

"We're not," Dick quickly said. Yet, he thought, but was afraid to say out loud. He was pretty certain that Mac didn't like him that way, hell, he himself was only starting to figure out he might have deeper feelings for her than he'd suspected pre-accident, and if he said it out loud it would probably jinx things. He wondered if maybe it would be possible to plant that thought in her mind. Would that be creepy? What if he did mention that her to her, out loud, after Tara left?

"Oh, I just assumed you two were dating," Tara said.

"She's just a friend," Dick lied, because she wasn't just anything. "She's a pretty cool chick, never afraid to be anything but herself." The second part of his rambling explanation was all truth.

"Well, she's lucky to have you as a friend," she said, reaching over to grab a bag off the bedside table. "I just have to give her another dose of Mannatol, that's the drug we're hoping will decrease the swelling, and then I'll make my exit. Just tell her about your day, how much you enjoy spending time with her. It helps; I promise you, it helps a lot."

Dick watched the nurse hang the livesaving (hopefully!) drug on the hook of the I.V. pole and attach the tubing to the needle in Mac's hand. She then gently touched Mac's cheek, one of the few places on her face and head that wasn't covered by thick bandaging, and leaned in to whisper something like I'll check on you later, sweetie.

The nurse said goodbye to Dick and left the room. He took the chair by her bed and scooted it closer. Before saying anything to Mac, he just looked around the room, taking it all in. The lights had been dimmed; just enough for the caretakers to see what they were doing and easily check the monitors, but all the harshness of the obligatory institutional lighting had been softened.

Mrs. Mac had an overnight bag up against the far wall, it was open and a cardigan sweater and a pair of sweat pants were oozing out. She'd also placed her new blinged out sleeping mask on top of it.

Mac was still covered by the thin blanket he'd pulled up over her chest yesterday and her arms were on top of the cover lying slack and unmoving. Gently he grasped the hand closest to him, it was the one untethered, and gave it a quick squeeze.

In the movies, she'd squeeze his hand back, then wake up, and they'd kiss. This wasn't the movies, however, and there was no answering squeeze. He still was holding out hope she'd wake up soon and maybe, eventually, there would be a kiss.

"So, Mac-Attack, how's it hanging? Are they treating you okay in this establishment?" Dick mentally cringed at the crap spewing from his mouth, but they kept drilling the need to talk to her like she'd respond. He laughed out loud though thinking about how if she was awake now, she'd tell him to shut up, and explain that since she's a girl nothing was actually hanging.

"You are missing quite the show out in the waiting room. I was thinking that soap operas got it wrong; the real drama potential is in a waiting area, not the patient rooms. Think about it, Days of our Neptune Memorial. Ta da, it has showbiz potential all over it. Our star couple is reuniting out there. Not sure what all the Pixie Spy told you just now, but she blew in from the north and landed back in Logan's every waking thought and all his wet dreams at night, too, I suspect. Not that I really think of the dude's wet dreams, mind you, but we all know how that show ends. Been there, done that." He was lightly stroked the top of her too-still hand with his other hand.

"Your room needs some more personal décor, I think flowers are outlawed in the ICU, but you need a teddy bear in here I think. One with those personalized shirts with some inspirational get well message and shit on it. Though I do like your mom's new sleep mask your dad bought her. It adds some pizzazz. That's our secret though, that that word ever passed my lips. Pizzazz! It would shoot my street cred all to shit and stuff. Okay, this is where you wake up just to tell me how lacking I am in that area, anyway."

He could picture that scenario clearly in his mind. Variations of that image played on an endless loop in his brain as he kept up the chatter. That positive visualization and crap, trophy bimbo stepmom #3, or was it 4, whatever, anyway she would have been so proud.

"You have such a great family, such a great life here. I was thinking, and yes, to answer your unspoken question, I do do that from time to time, that maybe it should have been me here. You know? I think there was a mix up. I mean it makes more sense karmic-ally if I were here and you were out there in the waiting room. You have a lobby full of people worried as hell, me, I'd have you and Logan. That's it. Maybe a couple Pi Sigs would drop by, tap a keg in my honor. It is what it is. I know what you call me, your pseudo-friend. I get it, I totally do, but I also know if it was me in the coma, and shit, you would be right here by my bedside. So, we can stick with your label, but know I see through you. You like me; you really like me, despite my jackassery. You are like the only chick who tries to get to my doughy center." He sighed, then gave an ironic bark of laughter. "There goes my man card. At least I can trust you to keep it secret."

"It's been over fifteen minutes; let's give her a break now. You can come back later."

The other voice penetrated his monologue, and Dick jumped a little, before lifting his head up to see the nurse framed in the doorway.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Tara continued.

"No big. Our girl here and I were having a nice chat."

"Good, that's good. She needs a break now, though. Healing is tough work. She's doing more right now just laying there, than you would be if you ran a marathon right now."

"I'd collapse on mile 4," Dick grinned.

"Really? Buff guy like you?" She didn't sound as though she were flirting; it was more of an observation.

"I surf."

"Okay, what your "friend" is doing right now to heal after her accident is expending more energy than if you were surfing right now." Tara used air quotes when saying the word friend. She was still just standing there. "She's pretty amazing, such a fighter, but all fighters need a break. Come on, I'll walk you out of the unit."

"Oh, an escort?" Dick asked. He let go of her hand, and rose up from the chair.

"We here at Neptune Memorial really roll out the red carpet." Tara motioned him forward.

"Alright, Mack-a-lac, I'll be back, but I'm being temporarily kicked out right now. Come back to us! Please. There's an entire waiting room full of people who love you," Dick said softly, speaking close to where her ear would be, if it wasn't turbaned by gauze. "People who need you, including me, I'm definitely on that list." He pressed a kiss on her cheek again, and then walked over to the nurse, throwing one more lingering look at Mac as he left.

The scene in the waiting room looked much like it had been when he'd left twenty minutes before. A glance at the wall clock proved his favorite rebel nurse had let him linger a little longer in Mac's room than she normally sanctioned.

Logan was whispering something in Ronnie's ear, it almost seemed like she was blushing. The only thing Dick knew for sure was he didn't want to know what that was all about.

"Hey," Wallace said looking up and into Dick's eyes.

He looked around to make sure Ronnie's shadow wasn't talking to anyone else. He squashed the urge to point to himself. "Hi." He muttered back.

"Any, um, changes in Mac?"

"No, nothing," Dick said, dejectedly. "I mean of course they're keeping her drugged on purpose, I realize that, but it just felt like there would be some kind of sign, like she'd squeeze my hand, or get up and tell me to go to hell, but it's just this dead silence, and it's so not Mac." He blew out a sigh. "It's wrong; this whole thing is cosmic bullshit."

"I get that man. No one is arguing with you on that point. Mac is such a great person, she doesn't deserve this."

"No, she doesn't deserve this; no one does, but no one deserves it less than Mac. Hey, do you want another turn to see her?"

"Yeah, I do" Wallace said.

Mr. Mac looked over at them at that point. He'd been meditating or some shit like that, looking up at the tiled ceiling, as his son was napping on his shoulder, snoring with his mouth open. The kid was probably drooling. Dick looked close, yep, there was a defined wet spot on Mr. Mac's faded gray Neptune High sweat shirt. He remembered Mrs. Mac saying something the other day—hell, it was only yesterday—about going to Pan, the two senior Macs from two high school rivals, yet they made their own love story. Who you were in high school didn't define who you ended up becoming. Dick knew that firsthand, but the extra confirmation was nice.

"Go ahead, son," Mr. Mac directed that to Wallace, speaking softly so he wouldn't disturb Ryan. The kid in question let out a particularly loud snuffling sound, but otherwise didn't stir.

With that invitation, Wallace murmured that he'd be back and then headed off towards the hallway and presumably the bowels of the ICU.

Dick dared to interrupt Logan and Veronica's whispered conversation to ask for Logan's cell. His was still in his truck; at least he presumed that's where it was, or maybe it was still in his room, it hadn't seemed like a priority at the time. As long as the Macs had some sort of way to reach him—phone, email, pony express, carrier pigeon, whatever—that was the only thing that mattered to his way of thinking.

"Who are you calling? Chip? Trying to track down a party for this weekend?" Logan asked, but he handed the phone to his friend anyway.

Dick shook his head, but didn't deign to reply to that. He took one of the chairs across the narrow aisle so he was directly in front of Ryan, and scrolled through the menu to the camera setting. He took a couple photos of Mac's sleeping baby brother. He thought he caught a brief glimpse of a smile playing on Mr. Mac's face before turning his head away from the cell.

When the photo shoot was done he emailed the photo to his own cell. Ryan slept right through it.

"I thought Mac, er Cindy, would appreciate a little pictorial retrospective of what her family and friends were doing while she took her long nap."

"That's a sweet gesture," Mr. Mac said.

"In a twisted kind of way," Veronica couldn't help adding, but it still had the undertones of a compliment.

Wallace was back within the ten minute window, and had barely settled back into the same chair he'd been occupying for the better part of the day when Mrs. Mac came back. Ryan had just woke up, and he blinked his eyes a few times as though he'd thought his mom was an apparition.

Mrs. Mac walked by him on the way to her husband and son. Dick was sure his nose wrinkled involuntarily as she went by, the smell of smoke clung to her clothes and hair. It was like she'd found a corner bar and hung out there the entire time.

Mr. Mac hugged her close for all of ten seconds before pulling back. "Oh hell, Nat, you smell like a damn ashtray."

"It was just one cigarette, Sam."

Her husband wasn't buying that for a millisecond.

"Okay, well, three cigarettes," she admitted. "The stress is killing me."

"If smoking doesn't do it first," her husband muttered, but it wasn't that quiet because Dick heard it perfectly. Then he spoke louder, "it was hell getting you to quit the first time. In fact, if you didn't end up pregnant with Ryan I think you'd still be smoking."

"It was a stressful time then, Sam, just like now. I'll quit again, but right now, don't lecture me, okay?" Pleading clung to the words.

"Okay, I won't lecture right now," Sam finally relented. "I'll wait until Cindy is awake, and then she can join us in lobbying for you to quit, again." He laid extra emphasis on the word again, giving it more mass.

Once Mrs. Mac's quitting schedule was firmed up the subject was dropped in its entirety and time ticked by slowly.

Dick was just thinking about food when his reverie was interrupted by Veronica's excited exclamation.

"Dad!"

"Hey, Pumpkin," the former-sheriff Mars said as he walked through the waiting area, carrying a big aluminum foil tray. He also had a white plastic bag draped over one arm. "Hello Mackenzie family. I thought I'd drop by some dinner."

"Oh, Mr. Mars, you've done so much already, the donuts, lending us your daughter, thank you so much," Natalie said, her voice thick. She coughed softly and blinked her eyes briefly.

"It's Keith, and it's no problem. You have so many other things to focus on now, plus I know a certain person in this group who will make sure no food goes to waste."

All eyes trained on Veronica, and she smirked as she patted her belly, which induced a smattering of laughter.

Wallace met Keith halfway and relieved him of the tray.

"Thanks, Wallace."

"No problem, Mr. Mars."

They took the carry-out to one of the side tables, and then grabbed another one across the room, that wasn't being utilized, before removing the lid to expose a steaming pan of lasagna. Mrs. Mac joined the guys, unpacking the contents of the bag to reveal plates, utensils and lots of napkins and wet naps. The plates and napkins had the words Mama Leone's printed on it.

Everyone served themselves buffet style. The chairs had been rearranged so the entire group was circled around the tables. It was their own little party, there was still a pall hanging over them, but it was like they'd all set aside the fear and grief that had become their hopefully temporary default setting, and was making conscious efforts to eat and laugh.

"Seriously, Keith, thank you so much for this. I'd wanted to try Mama Leones since they'd opened in, what, February, I guess?" Mrs. Mac said again, between bites of lasagna. This was the most Dick had seen her put away.

"Oh, yeah, this is pretty good, dad. Why didn't you get Luigi's though?"

"They closed last year, Veronica. Didn't I tell you?"

"No, I don't think you did. I'd have remembered such big news like that."

"I'm pretty sure it had something to do with losing their best customer, there, Superfly."

Instead of replying though, Veronica just grabbed a napkin and wadded it up.

"Hey," Wallace exclaimed as the napkin ball flew into his chest, landing in his lasagna, though there wasn't very much left of what had been a large square to start with.

"You know, I think it's worth pointing out that there's about to be a food fight erupting and I'm completely innocent." Dick interjected.

"I think that means its end of days," Logan theorized.

"In other words, the apocalypse is starting," Veronica clarified.

Dick reached one hand over to Ryan, who was sitting next to him, and placed his hand over the kid's eyes as he expressed his lack-of-gratitude with the middle finger of this other hand. Ryan quickly shook his hand off though.

"And order to the universe is now restored," Logan retorted.

"A party? Did my invitation get lost?" A new voice interjected.

Dick jerked his head up and saw a woman who looked vaguely familiar walking towards them, a big tray of food in her arms, too.

"Mom," Wallace exclaimed. "I didn't know you were coming." He got up to hug his mom and grabbed the container from her.

"I thought you all might be hungry, so I made my pot-luck go-to, Nacho Bake casserole. It can feed an entire boy scout troop, right Wallace?"

He made a face at his mom's reminder of his scouting days.

"Obviously Keith thought the same thing I did. Well, I can take this home, and reheat it for tomorrow." She tried to grab it back from her son.

Mrs. Mac opened her mouth to say something, but it was lost over Keith's next comment.

"Don't go, Alicia. Have some lasagna first." He got up to grab a chair and squeezed it in next to his own.

"Thanks, Keith." She smiled softly, almost shyly, as she sank into the chair.

Dick vaguely remembered hearing they used date a long time ago. He would've thought he was imaging a rekindling until he witnessed the look being shared between Wallace and Ronnie. Even Logan got in on the non-verbal exchange, raising his eyebrow and nodding his head towards the whispered conversation of the two former lovers.

Mr. Mac got up and dished out a generous slice of the lasagna, pressing the plate into Alicia's hand. She pulled her attention to him long enough to smile and thank him.

They worked through the food logistics, eventually deciding to hand the nacho bake off to Nurse Tara to put in the visitor fridge in the break room. Mrs. Mac had been told of its existence her first night during, what she now termed as, orientation.

Eventually Wallace's mom and Veronica's dad said their goodbyes, and hugged the Mac's in support, before leaving the hospital together. Dick's reunion sex jokes didn't seem to be appreciated, though for some reason Logan got by with the pony and bunk bed suggestions, not that he expected it to be any other way.

The rest of the party broke up when the clock indicated it was 9 PM. Day two was fast coming to a close. After saying their good-byes to the Mackenzies, they all piled into the elevator. Dick mused to himself how it felt like days instead of hours since he and Logan had bumped into Wallace and Ronnie in the elevator that morning. They'd go home, and then tomorrow would be a repeat of today.

In the words made famous by shampoo bottles everywhere: lather, rinse, repeat.

TBC…

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