CHAPTER 8
DICK
I might as well give Logan my surfboard, because I don't think I'll ever choose early-morning waves over watching Mac snooze in my bed.
She's still swimming in my sweatshirt, the overlong sleeves tangled up beneath her chin, but I had time to get a little bit used to that last night. I couldn't have been prepared for the huge swell of pride and protectiveness that choked me when I woke up, feeling her body propped against mine like she rolled into me in her sleep face-first and just stuck there. It took a while to inch my way off the bed, doing my best to replace myself with the duvet at all points of contact, but it was worth it to finally turn around and see the completely relaxed little smile on her pert face.
How she manages to stay asleep with all the sun shining squarely on her, I'll never know. I may be renowned as lazy, but I'm an early riser no matter what. I fuck around on my phone for a while, checking the Pi Sig group chat for any signs of Dead Man Walking Chase D'Angelo poking his head out. All clear for now, at least.
When Mac turns over, I take advantage of the rustling noises and creep out of the room. My caveman hindbrain wants to make sure I can feed her again, and not the cold pizza I assume we left on the floor last night.
Ronnie, Logan, and Wallace are all out on the porch, enjoying the glorious morning. Ronnie, in her perpetual alertness, spies me through the screen first, so I wave her over.
"Well, if it isn't our very own Floyd Lawton, finally risen."
"How many times did Logan have to drill the secret identities with you during party prep, hm?"
She scoffs, "Please, secret identities are my bread and butter. You think I can't remember four comic book characters?"
I raise a brow at her.
"Fine, like ten, but he was just so excited, I couldn't stop him."
I crack a smile, and she does the same. We're doing that a freakish amount these days.
"I'm sure that was the problem. Well Dr. Quinzel, would you do me a favor and use your stealth powers to wait with Mac until she wakes up? I'm going to run out and grab breakfast options."
She quirks her head at me, but it's not malicious for once. "So?"
"I don't want her to wake up alone." It's out before I can stop it, probably because I hadn't consciously registered the thought. Clearly she was more comfortable with me there, right? Obviously someone should be there when she wakes up after the night she had - anyone would have done this, right?
From Ronnie's mystified expression, the answer is clearly "wrong." But I don't feel any urge to take it back, so I don't, and Ronnie lets me have it for the moment at least.
"Fine, but bring me back sustenance too? I had breakfast a whole hour ago; I'm practically withering away."
"As if I would ever approach you unprotected by food." She chucks my hip with hers on the way to the stairs. It might be the most contact we've had since elementary school, and it doesn't send my balls back shooting back up into my body like I expected.
"Dick?" She pauses halfway up the stairs with a pained expression.
"Yeah?"
She looks me right in the eye. "Thank you. I know you understood me last night, and I know you didn't do any of it for me, but…it means a lot to me, and I wanted to say it out loud."
I hold her look - I think we're both aware that this is a huge little moment in our relationship. It feels like letting go. I hope she feels it too.
"I appreciate it, but you don't have to thank me." I gesture out to the porch, to the stairs, to my room above me vaguely. "We're family, Ronnie, for worse or for better." I'm sorry.
She lets out a breath too big for her tiny frame. "I'm glad." I forgive you. "Now can we be done with the fucking dramatics for this weekend? We're supposed to be sexy, fun youths!"
"Deal."
I finally make it out the door, eager to get this show on the road and maybe even get back before Mac wakes up, but still take the time to fist bump Fennel and Logan on my way off the porch. They nod at me; I don't think they heard us in the kitchen, but I appreciate that we don't need to have any more heart to hearts.
"Running to the cafe for breakfast - either of you want anything specific?"
Fennel gets up. "Nah dude, I have to get going. I have to take my little brother to practice."
"Oh yeah? Is he finally old enough to crush his big bro on the court?"
"He wishes. He's on the baseball team, pretending he's already playing for the Dodgers or some shit."
"That's great, dude." Logan fiddles with the handle of his pilfered Neptune Grand mug before perking up. "Hey Dick, maybe they'd like to go to the fundraising game? Get on the Sharks field for a bit?"
Fuck, I'd totally forgotten about that.
"Fundraising game?" Fennel asks.
"Yeah, it's just an annual charity game the Sharks started putting on after...you know. Proceeds go to some local teen shelters and abuse prevention programs."
"It's not 'just' a charity game - Dick set up the whole thing and fronts some of the costs."
I shoot Logan a what the fuck look. No one else knows about this - I only told him because I needed some of his fuckface father's old celebrity connections to get the first one off the ground.
But Fennel is a good dude through and through, so he just claps me on the shoulder and doesn't say a word.
"Anyway, hit me up this week - it's next Saturday at 2. I'll set it up so the Fennel Fam can meet whoever they want." When can I leave this interaction and get back to bed?
"I'll have to take you up on that, man. He'd lose his shit. I've gotta run but thanks for letting me crash last night too." He bounds off the porch.
"Any time, dude. Thanks for your help." He salutes while keeping his back to me. He knows what I mean.
I pin Logan with a look. "Sorry! But come on, even you can admit that Wallace is the best of us."
I roll my eyes, but he's right. "It's fine, I probably won't even see them there. Be right back."
I only make it to the first step before Logan's mumble gets me again. "You know Dick, Wallace isn't the only one who would want to be there with you."
Honestly, I've thought of Mac every day I've worked on this event, well before we were even on speaking terms again. After that, it just seemed unfair to burden her with having to choose between suffering through a whole day with Cass's ghost or letting me down easy. Now…
"I'll think about it."
/
MAC
When I finally wake up, the sun is streaming through the automatic Venetian blinds and there is a blonde next to me.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Veronica startles so much that she drops her phone on her face, and I laugh.
"Good morning, starshine." she grumbles. Her sardonic tone remains, but her concern and relief are evident right behind it.
"That's what I said. But really though, I thought I'd have to crawl through a wormhole before I ever saw you in Dick's bed." Still waiting on a satisfactory explanation for this turn of events.
V's face crinkles up and she extricates herself from the duvet, which she'd been lying on top of begrudgingly.
"Your guardian manchild had to go prepare breakfast, but didn't want you to wake up alone." There's about three seconds of silence before we both burst out laughing.
That's excessive, but I can tell neither of us is going to tell Dick that. Veronica would have made it clear already if she hadn't so obviously melted into Dick's charm. She gets quiet though, and stares at the spotless floor a moment later.
"V, I'm honestly ok. I don't totally know how, but I am, and I'm not going to overthink it."
She looks up. There's a sheen in her blue eyes that makes them look almost crystalline.
"Where's the fun in that?" Her smirk is terribly unconvincing, but I don't think either of us is really in the mood for declarations of sisterhood right now.
There is another uncomfortable conversation on the horizon though, and I can't keep pushing it off. At some point in my catatonia, I still dreamed about Stacia Kissinger's abominably expensive shoes clicking down a long, dark hallway, leading somewhere shadowy that I didn't want to go. I can't afford not to listen to my gut anymore.
"Veronica, we need - "
"I think you should turn to your side," she stage-whispers.
"Why?"
"Because I hear footsteps." She skitters back onto the bed while I roll over, pulling the covers up and gluing my eyes shut, resolving to force the issue next time we're in the office. I can hear something make contact with the bedside table, and feel Veronica's miniscule weight lift off the bed again.
Dick whispers "thank you", and I hear no sign of Veronica punching him, so that's a positive development. The door clicks closed, so I try to steady my breathing and really sell the act.
He eases himself onto the bed and settles in with what smells like a cup of coffee.
Ah fuck, how long do I have to pretend now?
"I assume I can drink your coffee, then?"
I guess not very long.
"How did you know?" I gripe, turning back over to look at him. I half expected him to be wearing glasses and reading a folded-back newspaper, as though we'd been in this routine well into our fifties.
"Easy. You sleep on your left side because of your body modification on the right." He grins and it's so annoying. He also hands me a mug, which is decidedly less so.
"What?! I never told you which side it was on!"
"I notice these things." I smack his arm. "Alright fine, I heard you and Ronnie laughing from the hallway."
I can feel my face getting all moony, but I can't seem to stop it. My head tilts to the side and everything.
"Thank you."
He nods slowly, still smiling softly. It's so comfortable, this moment, side by side but not needing to talk. Just knowing that the other person takes care of you.
I venture into the silence reluctantly. "Is it really weird that this was a good weekend? Obviously the Chase of it all fucking sucked, but the rest of it was…"
"Nice?" He offers. I nod. That seems like the word. "Transformative" is too melodramatic and "fun" is definitely too far. But I feel oddly comfortable, and I think everyone else feels it too.
"No, I don't think it's weird. In a roundabout way that still makes me want to punch Chase in the dick, we actually came a long way. And we have some things to be proud of, you especially." He drops a kiss on the top of my head and I can't help but picture the glasses and newspaper again.
It feels more like a premonition this time.
He shifts so his arm is around me and I sink in as he says the one thing I do not expect him to say in that moment.
"Do you want to go to a baseball game with me next weekend?"
"Do you want to go to coding camp with me?" I quip back.
"Yes."
I open my mouth to retort, but he's not kidding. His face is open and honest and telling me that he simply wants to be around me, and I don't think it's just hovering because of what happened last night.
"I'm sorry, tell me more about this baseball excursion." He looks down into his coffee cup and I feel even worse for misreading this situation, so I scoot a little closer to his truly unjust body.
"It's not a big deal. It's a charity thing that the Sharks put on to support local children's charities for…obvious reasons. But they have a lot of fun games and stuff for kids; it's a solid event. I've given them some money over the last few years so they give me a box and all this shit, but I've never taken anyone. It just seemed weird to invite anyone else, but I thought…I think you understand."
My heart can't seem to choose between bursting out of my chest or stopping altogether. We're both swimming in all the unsaid things around our life raft of two, but it doesn't feel so much like drowning anymore. Just floating.
I gently turn his chin toward me and he comes willingly. "You've done more than just give them money, haven't you?" One corner of his mouth lifts in confirmation, not that I really needed it. "Yes, I want to be there with you. Thank you for asking."
I can feel some tension release from his jaw just before he closes the distance and kisses me. Finally, I think, and it overwhelms me how reassuring it is to have him initiate, as though part of me is still convinced that I'll never be enough for a Casablancas. But as he executes some kind of contortion to put our mugs on the side table and settles his body over mine, I'm convinced the thought has never entered his mind.
