Ahaa! Update number two for today!

It was three days before they let Gavin into my line of sight again. Carl and Simon had been my constant companions, Carl disapproving of my fit but slightly impressed, too, and Simon just grateful I cared.

I tried really hard to explain what I did; to Dad, to Carl, to myself. Simon was my best friend before Carl came along, and he was such a sweet soul, it was hard to imagine him doing anyone any wrong. I was already so upset that Gavin wasn't the amazing guy I'd dreamt of that the final bastardly act had tipped me over the edge and it wasn't just my reaction to that one thing coming out but three months of resentment at the way he acted, the way he treated me and even Felicity as scraps of meat, as if it was only a matter of time before we turned in his favour and fell madly in love with him.

And then there was the fact that I really, really wanted to believe in love. I almost had, four days ago when I was sitting on the deck of the boat playing the Turtles' Elenore to the happy couple. Then Gavin-fucking-Kavanagh shattered his second one of my dreams in the few short months he'd been on board.

I'd heard about the Count's adverse reaction to the news. I was surprised at first, but then I thought that he, too, was reacting to a build-up of resentment at being second-best to Gavin. Carl told me he'd declared war – with a capital W-A-R – but the next I'd heard of it came, surprisingly, from the Count's own lips.

I was in the cabin I shared with Felicity, sulking, when he came in. "Hey, Court."

I looked up. "Hey."

"Um… Quentin says you can come watch Gavin and I play chicken."

I grinned at him. "Thanks." We walked up toward the main deck in the most civil silence we'd ever shared. "It seems we are united against a common enemy," I commented finally.

"I assure you it's only temporary," he warned, but I could tell he was joking.

I sighed. "The world today," I mused. "Next thing you know, we won't be the biggest fish in the sea anymore." We both laughed; ironic, really. We weren't to know.

"So how did you end up here?"

We were sitting on the floor in the boiler room, me playing a lively blues rhythm on my guitar while Carl listened and talked to me. The Count was smoking peacefully at the bar; Mark & Dave were playing fooseball. Gavin was sitting in a chair like a fat, satisfied toad and Simon, Angus and John were chatting idly in a corner. The others, too, were scattered around the room. It was a Friday evening and we were all lazy and contented.

"Mum kicked me out of the house. I think she thought it was a big hit, a cut below the belt. I don't think she ever thought I'd actually go."

"No, mine either," he chuckled. "Was she okay with it, though? She sounds like a bit of a control freak, your mum."

"Yep. Sometimes I wonder why Dad shagged her. They're so different."

Carl frowned at the sentiment. "So what did she say whe you told her you were actually moving out?"

I grinned, changing my hold on the guitar. "Oh, you know…" I pulled a G-C strum and a couple of arpeggio notes.

It's not time to make a change,
Just relax, take it easy,
You're still young, that's your fault,
There's so much you have to know…"

Carl laughed. "Find a girl, settle down,
If you want, you can marry,
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy," he joined in sagely. We set ourselves up for the epic song, both grinning like idiots.

"I was once like you are now
And I know that it's not easy
To be calm when you've found something going on
But take your time, think a lot
Think of everything you've got
For you will still be here tomorrow
But your dreams may not…"

I changed key, and was about to break out into the 'son' part when Dad's whistle blew. A collective groan went up. "All right," Dad said loudly, claiming everyone's attention, "I have some rather… strange news."

I exchanged a glance with Carl as Dad said, "Our listening numbers –"

There was a cheer. "Let's hear it," Dave said enthusiastically.

"Ah, have gone down," Dad finished.

Shock horror. "What?"

The Count shifted in his seat. "Not mine," he said complacently.

"Everyone's," Dad contradicted. "Except, of course, Gavin's." Gavin, looking straight at me, did his signature two fingers to his lips. I stuck out my tongue childishly. "And," Dad continued, "Simon's Super Sunday Smash Show."

I gave a little cheer. "But that's just because Radio Sunshine," he made a face, "doesn't have a chart show."

I opened my mouth, but the Count beat me to it. "Radio what-the-fuck?"

Gavin sighed. "Doesn't it get depressing when the 'f' word has to be in every single sentence?" he said to Carl, who ignored him.

"Right here," the Count reminded him.

He pretended to jump in fright. "Oh, fuck, sorry." There were a couple of titters from the others.

"Fuck off, Gavin," I said loudly. Harold laughed.

Dad cleared his throat. "Anyway. Ten days ago, a new station opened up in the North Sea. It is called," he grimaced, "Radio Sunshine, and it broadcasts eighteen hours a day." He paused while we all took this in.

"Oh, and by the way," he added, a final blow designed to leave us prone on the floor. "Radio Sunshine's motto is who needs the Beatles when you've got Herman's Hermits?"

I looked at the Count; he was looking like all his worst nightmares had come true. I grinned. This could be interesting.

We were making our way down to the Count's cabin later that night when Gavin fell into step beside us. I ignored him for at least a minute before he sighed.

"Oh, come on, Courtenay," he said, using my name for the first time since I'd met him, "I didn't hurt you."

I stopped walking and looked at him. "Simon's my best friend. It hurt me that you could hurt him like that. How could you even think that that was a good idea?"

"I didn't," he replied easily. "I told her it wasn't on, that she shouldn't do it. I didn't ask for this to happen; in fact, I asked for it not to, and I don't see why I'm being blamed for it."

"I walked in on the two of you in bed, that doesn't seem like blameless to me!" I rebutted, my voice rising again.

"Well, I…" he paused, then flapped his hands idly. "You're going to blame me whatever I say."

He learned fast. I shrugged. "Because you're not saying anything that's going to change my mind. And besides…" I sighed and started walking again. "It's not just that. I don't like you because you're not what I expected you to be."

He chuckled. "What did you expect?"

"I dunno. I thought you'd be… like the others, only sexy. Like you'd treat me like they all do."

He pouted. "But admit it," he said in a low, throaty voice. "You weren't wrong about the sexy part."

I slapped him, and Carl and I walked faster to leave him behind, Carl chortling idly, Gavin looking thoroughly un-sexy.

We gathered in the Count's cabin under cover of darkness to find that the rest of them were there already. "Right," I said as we arrived. "Radio Sunshine."

The Count nodded ominously. "We used to have a motto in my college frathouse," he began. "Don't get mad, get even."

I nodded and took a bite of the carrot Simon was holding. He yelped and jerked it away from me. "Our motto," he said, eyeing me warily, "was –" he spouted something that sounded like Spanish.

"And what did that mean?" the Count asked, puzzled.

"I don't know. I wish I did."

"Right," Angus interjected. "Our motto was never wear purple with beige."

"Oh – moving on!" the Count recalled, obviously marvelling at how fast the conversation had slipped from his hands. "Now, I believe in that old motto," he said in a business-like way. "And I also believe that some of us have gone and forgotten who we are. Now what are we?"

"We're pirates," I said calmly, accidentally spitting out a bit of carrot. That was undignified. "Sorry."

"Exactly, we're pirates! And what do pirates do?"

"Play records!" Kevin yelled excitedly. The Count looked nonplussed.

"No, uh… actual pirates."

Kevin hesitated. "Play actual… records?"

"No! Fuck me!" the Count exclaimed, rubbing his face in odd ways. I supressed a bout of giggles.

"It's all right, I've got it," Dave said cockily, throwing out his chest to alarming effect. "I think real pirates roam the high seas in search of loot and treasure."

"Yeah!" the Count yelled rousingly, making Carl and I whoop and clap. "In other words," he continued, still practically shouting. "They kick the fucking shit out of anyone in the fucking ocean who gets in their fucking way." I whooped again. The Count grinned at me, taking advantage of his dramatic lead to give a gesture like a herald in a medieval battle. "And what's Radio Sunshine doing?"

"Playing records!" Kevin burst out, mimicking the Count's triumphant tone.

"Fuck," the Count said, looking at Kevin like he'd never realised how thick he was. I collapsed laughing. Carl looked like he was trying not to join in.

"No," Simon corrected, "it's getting in our…" he broke off, hesitant as always to use the 'f' word. "Flipping way."

"Yeah," the Count said in relief. "So what are we going to do?"

"We," Simon finished dramatically, "are going to kick the flip out of it!"

"Yeah! All right, let's go!" the Count started, but I grabbed his coat and held him back.

"Tomorrow," I said. "If we go tonight we won't have much time before dawn. We should prepare tomorrow and go tomorrow night."

The Count, caught up in the heat of his anger at Herman's Hermits, hesitated. "Okay. So what are we going to do tomorrow so Quentin doesn't notice?"

I smiled thoughtfully. "Weren't you guys going to start an exercise regime?"

A/N: Don't expect another today. Sorry. I have also nearly finished the whole story! Muahaha! Review please!

-for you.