A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this from the start and those who just found it. I'm so pleased with all the reviews, follows and favorites, too. This chapter is mainly Dick's POV, and there is a little bit of overlap time wise from the previous chapter at the lake house, some of the texts are the same but now you're seeing what Dick is up to while Mac is away. The last (short) scene is the next morning back at the lake house. I'm hoping to start updating this a little more frequently but with (slightly) shorter chapters, roughly 3,300 to 3,800 words +/-, this one is a little longer because Logan has some explaining to do! Enjoy.**Oh, and Dick has a potty mouth, so be warned.

Obligatory disclaimer-Guess what?! Yup, I still do NOT own a thing. Bummer! Thanks for letting me play though...

Chapter 3—Boats!

Dick & Mac's apartment—Friday night

Dick reached out and grabbed another bottle of beer from the coffee table in front of him. He'd strategically placed a six pack within easy reach. Who the hell wanted to walk, what fifteen feet (give/take) to the kitchen each and every time they needed a refill? There were other ways to get exercise after all, like the aerobic activity of the night before (incentivizing sex with Mackie), and flexing his thumbs on the X-box controller. Opening the bottles of beer, that totally counted, too.

He decided to get more of that particular form of exercise right now. Using his shirt as a buffer, Dick twisted the cap off his third bottle of beer. Not that he was counting, he wasn't, that was something Mac enjoyed doing. With an involuntary smile on his face as she drifted through his mind—a locale she dwelled in most of the time anyway—he wondered what slumber party fantasy type activities she was participating in.

He grabbed his cell, a much fancier model than he needed or particularly wanted but he was stuck with it anyway being that Mac was the Chief Information Officer (CIO) in their house hold, all technical decisions were her domain. He thought the thing could probably launch a rocket, definitely above and beyond his technical wheelhouse, but right now it was serving its purpose.

He composed another message to his favorite techno geek. They'd been texting (sexting) off and on since earlier that evening. Sometimes there would be a big lag in response from her, due to some sort of "super fun" game and other required bachelorette party type activities. If anyone needed a break, a reason to cut loose and have fun this weekend, it was his Mackie.

Whose winning the extra VIRGIN olive oil wrestling? I've got my money on you, Scrappy-Do!

He tossed the phone on the couch cushion beside him and waited for the answering ping. He only had to wait for about a minute.

Mac: What's the spread there, Shaggy?

Dick smiled and thought for a minute before replying.

Five to one, baby! Just put in a call to my bookie on-speed-dial!

There wasn't an answering ping though. He pictured her shaking her head and then getting back to the obligatory pillow fight. Parker's older sister, Paige or some P-name had scheduled the entire weekend pretty much down to the second. When Mac had first shown him the itinerary he'd wondered if she'd even factored in bathroom breaks. Maybe there were bathroom passes?

He leaned forward to grab the Xbox controller he'd carelessly tossed on the table from his earlier marathon session right after Mac had left. He'd decided to take the day off work, that was one of the few perks of owning your own company. It really wasn't a bad gig for someone right out of college. He didn't think it counted though, not really, it's not like he worked hard for the fucker, since it was silver-plated handed to him. The company was actually just a carcass after his dad and brother had finished picking off its bones. They were both dead now; he was the only Casablancas man left, and the only hope at reviving the not-so-good family name.

The company was now called PLT Enterprises, to distance itself from its less than stellar beginnings. He was in the very early stages of legitimizing it, but so far it wasn't proving to be an exercise in futility, so he was taking joy in that small victory. He was about to close on his first property, the Camelot motel. The Spring Break tourism trade was starting to pick up and he wanted to get a cut of it. That property probably should've been condemned a decade ago but he hoped with a little make-over (or more likely major plastic fucking surgery) they'd be able to provide an inexpensive but clean offering for poor college kids looking for a semi-comfy bed to get a nap in between parties.

There was money to be had in his seedy beach front hometown, not that more money was something he needed. No, it was a sense of purpose he was really after. When he was finished, the over-worked, under-paid PI's in town would need to find new hourly-rate seedy motel properties to stake out. When he had first told Logan of his plans, his best-friend had suggested bronzing a portion on the balcony of the 2nd floor for reasons he couldn't bring himself to ask about (it was definitely Ronnie-related and he was willing to bet it would be way more information than he could stomach). For the past few weeks though any mention of the Camelot brought a haunted look to Logan's eyes, which was weird because Dick was fairly certain there wasn't any room for more ghosts. That dude needed an exorcism stat, and evidently he did, too.

He evicted all traces of his company, and those losses that still lingered, from his mind.

As Dick made contact with the game controller some of the beer from the bottle he was still holding in his other hand spilled out. Once he had the controller firmly in his grasp, he leaned back against the back of Mac's prized purple velvet couch and powered up his game. Absently he took his left foot and rubbed the beer puddle into the carpet, Mackie would never know. It wasn't a big enough spill to justify getting up to get a cloth.

After the opening credits for Assassin's Creed Brotherhood were finished scrolling, Dick ran through the set up menu selecting his default avatar—the Executioner—and settings.

He was halfway through his quest to take down his 2nd of the twelve total Borgia Towers in Rome when Logan barged through the door.

Logan had his own key to Dick and Mac's apartment but he had been schooled on the proper key etiquette by Mac. In other words, he only used it when the big boss herself was off premises and therefore none the wiser. Geez, you make one tiny inopportune drop in and suddenly you get a reputation. Besides he was the one who suffered the eyeball trauma watching one of his best friends riding his other best friend on the couch oblivious of his presence during their X-rated pursuits. Oblivious, that is, until his girly shriek coincided with Mac's primal moaning. It was a duet no one wanted, nor needed, to hear.

"I won't tell Mackie you still have the key," Dick said by way of greeting. He pointed to the beer on the table in front of him as he continued his gaming maneuverings. There, he considered his hostly duties done.

"Thanks man," Logan said. He grabbed a beer from the carton and flopped down next to Dick on the couch. Leaning over he took off his battered loafers and nudged them under the table. He grimaced when he felt a wet spot on the carpet. "Gross! What did you do, not make it to the toilet in time?" he asked, opening the beer and taking a big sip.

"What?"

"The carpet is wet."

"Oh, that. It's just a little beer; it's a good cleaning agent. Geez, I'm potty trained and everything."

"Been trawling Martha Stewart's website again, I see," Logan snarked. "I hate to hear that you wasted beer."

"There are four more six-packs in the fridge," Dick replied.

"That should just about do it, I guess," Logan said, relived. "But what will you drink?" He took another healthy sip, making quick work of his first beer, as though playing catch up.

Dick was about to retort when he noticed the puffiness around Logan's eyes, and how bloodshot they were. "Did you start the party without me? You look like you came back from TJ after going on a three day tequila soaked bender. What gives dude?"

"Are you saying I look like shit?"

"In a word, yup."

"Well don't hold back." Logan said in his usual sarcastic default setting.

"Seriously, are you okay?"

"Honestly, no. I'm pretty sure Ronnie and I are over," Logan said softly. He waited a beat, then said bitterly "again." He slammed the now-empty bottle on the table.

Dick pressed pause on the game, grabbed his beer, and chugged the rest of the contents. He tried to hold back the inevitable belch, but wasn't successful. He grabbed the two remaining bottles and using his shirt again as a buffer twisted the caps off. Wordlessly he handed one to Logan, keeping the other for himself. The whole time he was formulating what he wanted to say. This was hardly uncharted territory—a Logan/Ronnie break up and inevitable make up, however what really sucked was the shrapnel the pixie spy always left behind as a souvenir. He was the one who mopped away the tears and plied him lots of alcohol.

When it was obvious Logan wasn't going to start talking without a shit load of prompting, Dick asked "what the hell happened? I thought you two were in a good place." The finally was implied, but Logan's raised eyebrow broadcasted that he heard the subtext very clearly.

The only verbal response was Logan's bark of bitter laughter, no trace of mirth was behind it. He took a big drink from his second beer in ten minutes and leaned his head back. He looked up at the textured ceiling trying unsuccessfully to block the scenes from last night.

Dick exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and grabbed his cell phone from its perch on the table. Tucking the cold beer bottle between his legs, he composed a quick text to Mackie.

Logan finally arrived. He's a mess. What the FUCK did your bestie do to him this time?

Mac must have been holding her phone because she responded immediately.

Mac: Why do you always assume it's Veronica's fault?

Dick shook his head, and then wrote back:

History, my dear, history.

Mac: Veronica is not exactly forthcoming on the whole topic. Get Logan drunk, he'll spill.

He laughed when he read her text, then thinking briefly what to say, he typed:

True. He's the chick in the relationship. Well get back to your pillow fight. Love you!

Mac: Ditto on the love thing. Let me know what you find out. Over and out…

Dick tossed the phone back on the table where it landed with a loud thud.

"I think you need something stronger," he said, watching out of the corner of his eye as Logan worked his way through his second beer, not stopping for air. Before he could get up and grab a bottle of bourbon (the cheap shit Mackie used for cooking) the pinging of another incoming text sounded. He grabbed the cell and opened up the message envelope.

Mac: Navy!

What?

Mac: Veronica wants you say that one word to Logan.

"Navy," Dick said, leaning over to nudge his friend on the shoulder.

"Fuck," Logan muttered. "Where's that hard stuff you just suggested? I have to fortify myself now; evidently you don't have much opportunity to go on benders during boot camp."

"Boot camp? So you're finally doing it." Dick said the last bit as a statement, not a question. His BFF had talked about the Navy for years, but it was always said as a joke never as something he endeavored to do one day.

Dick got up off the couch and went into the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of bourbon from top of the fridge, Woodford Reserve (his favorite drinking brand) not the cheap cooking crap he was going to get, he then selected two rocks glasses from the cabinet and poured a generous amount of the amber liquid into each cup. Deciding that this story might take a couple drink refills, he tucked the half-full bottle (he was nothing if not a fucking optimist!) under an arm and picked up both glasses, carrying them back into the living room where Logan was still spread out on the couch looking miserably conflicted.

Dick nudged his friend's arm to get his attention. Logan then noticed the full glass of bourbon. Placing his now-almost empty beer on the table, he gratefully took the pro-offered glass from Dick's outstretched hand. Sitting up, he took a couple big successive swallows of the burning liquid then let out a soft sigh.

"I'm finally doing it," Logan admitted. He let the sentence just hang there.

After about a minute of silence, though it felt longer than that to Dick, he asked, "why now?"

"Why not now?" Logan countered.

"Are you going to do that annoying-as-shit thing where you answer every single one of my questions with a question of your own?" Dick asked, his annoyance peaking through.

"Maybe?" Logan replied, but even that was said like a question. He raised an eyebrow at Dick's one finger comeback but just raised his glass and took another sip of the bourbon. "Remember the whole law school debate that raged between Ronnie and me last year?"

"Who could forget? I still have stains on my favorite tee-shirt from your tears."

This time it was Dick who received the gift of the middle finger. His own comeback was a smirk.

"Well, the whole issue behind law school was that Ronnie felt like she was losing pieces of herself when it came to having a relationship with me. I mean she never said that, but I don't need a translator to tell me that's what she was saying. I'm pretty fucking fluent in Veronica speak. So, anyway it got me thinking that for us to have a future I need to get my own life squared away. I passed the Navy Recruiters office Monday when I was running some errands. I found myself going inside."

"Found yourself going inside? Like on auto pilot? Did a pod person enter your body and force you to do it?"

"Pod people? Mac is obviously a very good influence on your movie viewing habits these days," Logan honed in on irrelevantly.

"It is common knowledge Mac's a very good influence on a lot of areas of my life. But get back to the point, dude. I'm pretty sure the Pixie Spy will taze you for a lame ass excuse like you found yourself going inside the recruiters office. Man the hell up."

"I think it was auto pilot. I wasn't consciously planning to do anything, but since Ronnie is still waffling around on law school, and I saw the office, well, I guess it was like a sign." He paused a moment, then continued, "I told myself as I was doing it I was just going to pick up a brochure but not do anything else."

"How did that work out for you?"

"The recruiter, Office Chavez, he was a great guy. We talked for over an hour, and it just sounded right. He was from a family not so different from mine, except well for the acting thing. It was one of those perfect fucking country club families where the patriarch showed his love with a belt, behind closed doors and only under long shirts. The Navy became his family, it was this outlet he needed and what if this is my only chance to dump out my own 'baggage,'' Logan said, using air quotes and saying baggage as though he were channeling Dr. Phil. "What if I let this opportunity pass me by, what if I become like…" He didn't finish that sentence because he knew he didn't need to, not with Dick, one of the only other people he knew that got it.

"You won't. You will never be like your dad. It's just not in you, it's not in your DNA," Dick assured him. "So you signed your life away to the devil."

"I took the ASVAB Navy entry test the next day, and got the call yesterday that I passed. I told myself it was just to see if I could do it."

"What changed?"

"I passed."

They clinked their glasses of bourbon in a toast, and then each took a healthy sip.

"So, what makes you think you and Ronnie are over?" Dick finally asked, jumping over the big fucking elephant that was just sitting in the room waiting to pounce.

"Evidently she's the only one who can make major life decisions. She can do whatever she freaking wants to do, and I'm supposed to stay here and pine for her. I can't do it. I just can't. I won't be the only one in the couple without something to offer, something separate from us." Logan gulped down the remainders of his glass and then poured himself a liberal refill. Then, having said all he was going to on the sordid subject Logan reached over and grabbed both controllers off the table. He kept one, and passed the other one over.

Dick unpaused the game, reset it for two players and then they worked through the set up phase. He tried to ask a few more questions but Logan broadcast that he was finished talking about whatever battles he fought.

They meandered off on other (safer) topics as they worked together to overtake the various Borgia Towers in ancient Rome. Dick was once again Executioner, while Logan chose to be a Mercenary.

It was after 2 AM when they stopped playing. With all they'd been drinking, Dick was surprised they both lasted that long. He grabbed a blanket and pillow from the Linen closet and threw it at Logan, who mumbled his thanks.

Dick picked up his cell phone then made his way to his bedroom and big, lonely bed. Before turning off his light and falling into what would most likely be a deep, dreamless sleep, Dick sent one more goodnight text to Mackie.

Sweet dreams. Love you much! Got a little scoopage on our favorite drama mamas. Will dish tomorrow. Dream of me naked!

****************/******************

Saturday morning, the lake house. 8 AM

The sun streaming in between the cracks of the venetian blinds and the freight-train snoring of Veronica combined forces to wake Mac up before she wanted to be up. In her first few disoriented seconds she lifted her head and looked around wondering where she was. Then she quickly realized it was her first full day at the lake house.

Her reluctance at being roused this early gave way to a desire to get up and get on with her "relaxing" day. Obviously with the hyper activities director, AKA Parker's type A personality older sister Paige, the schedule didn't leave room for much in the way of relaxation. However, they would be "departing" in less than 2 hours for a boat trip around the lake.

That sounded "super" fun.

Mac carefully climbed down from the top bunk, avoiding stepping on the still fast asleep, snoring, drooling, probably still drunk Veronica. She made contact with the floor as quietly as possible. Spotting her cell on the dresser on the opposite side of the room, Mac detoured over to retrieve it. She noticed there was one missed message. Scrolling through the menu, she opened up the message envelope.

Dick: Sweet dreams. Love you much! Got a little scoopage on our favorite drama mamas. Will dish tomorrow. Dream of me naked!

Check and check! She did vaguely remember an X-rated dream staring her favorite boy toy from her wine and champagne induced slumber.

His message had come through at 2:05 AM. She had probably gone to bed an hour or so before that. Her partying skills obviously needed a little more work; the same could definitely be said for her roomie as well.

Finding the hairbrush buried at the bottom of her suitcase, Mac gave her short dark hair a few half-hearted strokes before mentally proclaiming herself presentable. She left the brush on the dresser for Veronica whose own brush was most likely MIA along with her clothes and cell phone. She wondered if the irrational decision to pack away the cell would ever make sense. At least she'd get part of the story from Dick later in the day. Hopefully! From his text it sounded like he was semi-successful in his mission to get Logan to unburden himself.

While the suitcase was open, she dug out a pair of black gaucho pants with an expandable waistline and her black BI(nary) Chick tee-shirt Dick had got her in a fit of Geek fantasy wish-fulfillment. He'd thought it was a great marriage between her taste in Geek puns and his own love of double entendre. She placed the outfit on the end of the bottom bunk for Veronica to wear today and then slipped on a pair of khaki shorts and her prized AlieNation tee shirt.

Lastly, Mac slipped in their adjoining bathroom to brush her teeth. Once that task was accomplished, she quietly crept through their room, pausing at the door, considering waking Veronica. Deciding against it, Mac quietly shut the door and went upstairs.

In the kitchen there were five other ladies already up. Some were just sitting and drinking coffee, or diet Dr. Pepper, and a couple were tucking into an egg and sausage casserole. Paige was pouring coffee and directing everyone to where they could find breakfast supplies. She looked well-rested, and perky. Paige was definitely an older version of Parker, those dominant Lee genes hard at work.

"Hey, freakball vegan, I have special frozen blueberry waffles for you. Coffee is fresh, and there are a couple soy yogurts in the fridge, too," Paige said by way of greeting when she noticed Mac ambling in. Mac had told her the night before her mom's pet name for her (among others) was freakball vegan.

"She also answers to Mac," Parker said dryly, addressing her sister. She was sitting on the counter bar with a big mug of black coffee. She had an almost full plate of fruit sitting in front of her, largely untouched. Obviously the bride needed more practice in the art of day-drinking, too.

"Thanks," Mac said. "Freakball vegan is as good of a nickname as any I suppose." She trekked her way to the coffee maker and grabbed a big mug and filled it to the top with coffee. Then she grabbed a strawberry soy yogurt and took her breakfast to the counter.

She sat down in the empty chair between Cee-Cee, and Parker. Conversation came in fits and starts as everyone enjoyed their breakfast and let the caffeine work its mojo. Mac stole pieces of pineapple and cantaloupe from Parker's plate. She grinned at her friend's weak-ass attempts at slapping her hand away for the thievery.

It was nearly nine before Veronica finally came upstairs. With just a sweep of her hand, a halfhearted wave as greeting, she shuffled towards the coffee maker. After pouring herself a steaming cup, she took the last remaining slice of the first pan of sausage egg casserole. The only available seat at the counter was between Amy and Hadley. It was on the other side of the U-shaped bar from Mac and Parker.

Paige played hostess and poured the remains of the coffee pot into her sister and Mac's cups then set to work making her fourth pot of the morning. Then, once that task was complete and all caffeinated needs were met, she explained the day's plans. The house owners had a pontoon boat at their dock which renters had full access to. The plan was to leave at around 10 AM for a four hour cruise around the lake.

"It looks a little overcast," Cee-cee pointed out.

Mac looked over her shoulder to the wall of windows going across the entire back wall of the living and dining rooms behind her. The sun was definitely in hiding.

"I checked the forecast last night. It'll be cloudy this morning, but we're not supposed to get any rain until late this afternoon. That should be plenty of time for us to get back home," Paige assured them.

TBC…

***Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading. I'd love it if you reviewed! Thank you!