Something Fishy {Will and Freds

[RJ TEACH]

Altogether it was an exceptionally quiet Sunday afternoon. a lazy Sunday afternoon, which was out of the ordinary for a group of usually rambunctious teenagers who lived in the most bustling city in the country. By all accounts they ought to have been off doing something a bit more exciting than hanging out on the gently floating Osprey doing much other than chat idly and watch RJ cast out his line every once in a while as he grimaced at the results of the poor day's fishing. According to every 80s movie ever made the collection of able-bodied ought to have been off somewhere, going on some adventure or finding something fun they could do, like a nice community project set to a chipper pop montage.

Luckily, RJ had gotten his way today, and they had foregone all that nonsense for a bit of rest and relaxation. He needed a breather after a particularly hard fought soccer game on Friday, and hell, he just hadn't gotten to go out on the boat lately. It was an injustice was what it was! It had been what, two weeks, maybe even three since he'd been able to escape from the school and the city to the rush of the open waters and the brisk sea air. He'd dragged Will and Freddie along with the promise of a bit of alcoholic fun, only to find that he was out of stock a few knots out to sea.

"Hey, sorry again gys about not having any beverage of note for you guys, but you gotta' admit that this is pretty alright as it is. I mean, isn't this peaceful? And like, I know the fishing's been shit but that's no problem."

RJ leaned back in the plush dock seat, reeled in pole resting on his shoulder and legs spread wide. he just wanted to drink in the beauty of the moment and the serenity of the open sea. No crazy noise and lights and insanity that plagued every waking moment in the city. Just the gentle lapping of the waves and the every once in a while a shriek of some offshore gull.

"I mean, it's the principal of the whole thing, you know? It's the escaping the city and getting back to your roots. You gotta' admit that this is better than some busy city street or waiting in line in some food court someplace, right?"

[FREDDIE FOSTER]

“Horrible” was just about the only word Freddie could think of to describe the situation he was currently in. Horribly boring, horribly stupid, horribly obnoxious, horribly pointless. Horrible, horrible, horrible, life was but a…so bad, even, that he couldn’t complete the little rhyme in his head; not even with an obscenity. He’d made it known several times in the past hour or so just how goddamn awful this whole idea of RJ’s was, but to no avail. Neither he nor Will had appeared to be listening to a word he’d said. Whether that was because each time he’d mentioned his hate for this trip, they’d been reeling some manner of aquatic animal aboard, Freddie honestly couldn’t care less. This—the whole idea of it, sitting on a boat for hours with a stupid pole and a sore ass—was the dumbest waste of time he could possibly think of, other than calculus homework (not that he took the class, but still, the idea of it) or college planning.

Hell, they didn’t even have any good drinks around.

Freddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes when RJ spoke, slouching even lower in his deck chair, hardly gripping the fishing pole. It most certainly was not alright. They’d been out here for forever, and Freddie had yet to feel even a nibble on the end of his line. Sure, RJ had tried to “help” earlier on by “adjusting” his technique, but all that endeavor had ended in was a near-hooking of Willow’s thumb when Freddie had cast off. Needless to say, the last half hour or so had been devoid of pointers.

Halfway through his friend’s speech about the “principle of the thing” (honestly, did it get more forced than that?) Freddie sat up, swiveling his chair to face RJ while reeling his empty line back in. Brows shooting upwards, he listened all the way through the first sentence before piping up, voice loud and authoritative.

“Fishing’s gay. Beer, on the other hand, isn’t.” Conversation over. He hadn’t caught anything, after all. What else could it be?

Without offering either Will or RJ any more than a few slow blinks, Freddie got up from his seat and turned, tossing the pole across the deck in a manner that could certainly not be deemed safe, even if one hadn’t bothered to read the pamphlets warning so. He moved without asking permission, having spent far too much time on this boat to bother and never having been one for useless things like that, anyway. Lazily, Freddie crossed to the other side of the deck, leaving the two to their own, moderately successful devices. Faggots. They would be good at fishing, both of them. Glowering at the fishing knife taking up the seat he wished to occupy (Dangerous things like knives didn’t belong tucked away in drawers, he’d declared long ago, and so had been law on the Party Boat ever since), Freddie picked up the weapon and held it. Rhythmically, he slapped the blunt end of the blade against his jeans, thinking about nothing in particular other than the overwhelming urge to find something, anything to do besides fish.

Thwack. Thwack. Fishing competitions couldn’t be real. Thwack. Thwack. Obviously they were just some stupid thing made up by RJ to try and lure them onto the boat in the first place. No way in hell anyone could possibly be stupid enough to fish in a league. Well, maybe RJ could. Or would, one day. Whatever.

It was with one last burst of indignant disapproval that Freddie straightened up, calling over his shoulder to his friends without actually turning to face them. “You know what would have made this fun? Beer!” thankfully, Freddie had never been one to aim for subtlety. “Beer and—Jesus, I donno. Maybe not coming out here at all? This boat sucks balls…” he grumbled the last sentence to himself, sinking low in the seat again once that little bit of steam had been worked off. Something had to change, or he was quite literally going to consider throwing himself off the edge.

It was then, of course, that the glint of the sun reflecting off the fishing knife caught his eye. Sly grin crossing his face, Freddie cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before he began leaning forward over the side of the boat, knife in hand. It would just be an improvement, that was all. Just a tiny little thing. Hell, no one would probably notice. And if they did…well, then at least he could say the trip had been productive, right? RJ was always on him to do something worthwhile while sober. Well, maybe here it was…

[WILLOW FAYETTE]

OUTFIT OF WILLOW FAYETTE!

Willow Fayette- known as Will to anyone who was important to her- was so cold her face stung. She wasn't wearing a proper jacket, and held her fishing pole between her knees as she clutched a grande cup of coffee in her gloved hands. Her shoulders shivered as pink kissed her cheeks and nose, and her teeth chattered audibly. But still she smiled. Why, on a boat in December, was Will smiling? Because she was with her two best friends in the entire world, that's why?

RJ was speaking with an old-sea-farers-nostalgia, and Will couldn't help but grin because he was right. It was peaceful. The sea was almost a ghost town, because who in their right mind would go fishing in the middle of December? Them, that's who. Though that hardly counted as 'right mind', huh? She grinned as he spoke of getting back to his roots. "Back to your roots? What are you, half fish? Are you a merman, RJ?" She teased lightly, taking a sip of her coffee.

Of course, all the peace in the world wouldn't mean anything to Freds. He was to free spirted to be tamed, even by the calm lullaby of the sea. She watched him huff off. "Spoiled sport." She called after him, predicting his irate lion pace back and forth behind them. Will could scold Freds til she was blue in the face, but it would never hold any weight. She couldn't give him a proper talking to anymore than she could deny him, though he never requested much more than a partner in crime. And. Nothing. Else.

He shot out the word gay, as he did most slurs. With little care of what they actually meant. Though, Will could simply be making excuses for him. Again. But she knew he didn't have an issue with gay people. Hilary Duff and Wanda Sykes could make all the 'Don't say Gay' commercials they wanted, people would still say it. And Freds was a people. Still, she grinned at RJ, deciding to allow Freddie to have his temper tantrum in peace. "Freds would say sex with girls was gay if he didn't like it." She said, tone full of disapproval. Because Freddie did like having sex with girls. Or, more accurately, people he considered girls.

One guess as to who was on that was.

Honestly, RJ had a better shot at this point.

Freddie continued ranting behind them, as Will offered some of her warm coffee to the peaceful RJ. They were opposites, those two. Which made Will a lucky little bit, didn't it? She got the best of both worlds. Fun and energy and a little bit of lusting on her part with Freddie, and quieter talks and private jokes and piggy back rides with RJ. And they both liked sports and were both funny in their own ways. And she got to judge their little competitions. And, she was was proud to say, she was mostly impartial with that judging. Mostly. Okay, lets face it, everyone knows Freds is a sore loser. "Hey! Don't blame The Party Boat on you sucking at fishin- OH!" Her clever use of Freddie's own favorite adjective was easily forgotten as she felt a pull on her pole. Excitedly, she looked at RJ. "Arj! What do I do!?" The self depicted 'pocket person' cried out to one of her best friends.

[RJ TEACH]

RJ had the distinct talent to ignore the negative comments Freddie seemed to spout at any given moment of the day. It was a skill he'd been forced to teach himself over time or else risk insanity by constantly attempting to correct his friend and explain how what he thought 'sucked' was actually a fantastic, amazing part of RJ's life that would always have a special place in his heart. By now the sounding off of insults about The Osprey was just the usual. If RJ wore a watch one of these days he probably could time the slanderous remarks and figure out exactly how long it took Freddie to go from one set of oft recycled complaints to the next. It had been an idea that RJ had for a while, but he hated watches and it always just slipped his mind until he was already out to sea or off at a game.

"You caught me, Will. I'm actually one quarter shark on my mom's side. I drag you guys out here so much because I have to get to my little family reunions. If you see a wandering great white it's probably just my Aunt Suzie. I wouldn't say hi if I were you though, she's a bit of a nibbler." RJ laughed at Will, just looking over his shoulder to get a glimpse of her. The only REAL fishermen on the boat, they sat on opposite sides to keep from stealing each other's fish. It was quite gentlemanly, to be honest. It kept their contest quite fair. No one could accuse the other of stealing a fish that THEY had done all the work to lure in. This was a measure taken after some particularly brutal fights when they'd first started this whole fishing routine.

RJ shot a grin at Will and rolled his eyes, sharing a mutual 'meh' moment with her over Freddie's pathetic attempt at a temper tantrum. RJ knew exactly how this little song and dance went. Freddie would get bored with whatever he was doing. It was a simple rule of life. In a few minutes the closet case of ADHD would find something interesting to do. He'd probably discover the box of matches RJ kept in the top drawer of the ship galley. RJ was willing to bet that the fine day of fishing would end with him screaming his head off and Will desperately trying to put out a rather substantial blaze. For a moment he tried to remember exactly whether or not insurance would cover a mysterious firey disaster on the boat and what possible explanation he could come up with to explain incendiary damage this far out to sea. Roving, pyromaniac pirates sounded like a good place to start.

"Yeah, don't knock The Osprey if you're too fucking stupid to listen to some good advice! I told you to bring a damn magazine or something. It's not OUR fault and much less the BOAT'S fault if you can't manage to find something to entertain yourself!" RJ called called out to his grumpy friend. Jesus. It was times like this that he was particularly glad he had Will to keep him steady. Without her around to mediate between the two of them RJ swore he would have killed Freddie long ago. The boy had an UNCANNY knack for being annoying.

RJ was slammed out of his quiet, grateful reverie by Will flailing in distress. RJ swore that no matter HOW many fish the girl caught she would always freak out like it was her first time being near a damned pole the moment something decided to open up and latch onto her bait. "I'm comin', I'm comin'! Just reel in! You've got this!" RJ ditched his pole on his seat, scrambling to get over to Will, putting his hands on her shoulders as he looked over the side to try and get a glimpse of what was wriggling in the surf below. All thought of his beef with Freddie was forgotten as his hopes of winning the contest dwindled.

"Jesus, you've GOT to be kidding me. ANOTHER seabass?"

le outfit de RJ

[FREDDIE FOSTER]

If it wasn’t so Goddamn cold out, he would have jumped right into the water and drowned himself. Although maybe the hypothermia from when Will and RJ eventually pulled him out would be worth it; it’d give him something to think about, anyway, other than what a waste of time this all was. Fuck RJ and his ideas. Fuck him for enjoying himself out here, and fuck him for making Will like it all, too. Freddie despised being alone in his argument, although there was still a bit of satisfaction in it, having their attention focused solely on him while he complained.

…or not.

Grumbling something about hermaphrodites that made sense only to him, Freddie turned away from the two supposed experts as he tugged, disgruntled, on the flaps of his hat with his free hand—the other, of course, was still holding the fishing knife. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his ears would have turned to blocks of ice and fallen right off (maybe that was a bit dramatic) instantaneously, he’d have taken the ridiculous thing off and thrown it overboard right then and there, just out of spite.

There had been a small bickering match earlier that morning between himself and RJ as he’d been getting dressed, determined to leave for an entire day of winter fishing wearing nothing more than a sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. RJ, of course, being the stuck-up pussy he was, had planned on having none of that. It’d taken a good hour and a half of straight up grumbling, whining, and attempted smooth talking (all Freddie’s) before he’d eventually blown off enough steam to listen to his friend and shove the ridiculous-looking trapper hat over his head and walk out the door with a slam. He hadn’t even known he’d owned it until this morning.

Now, of course, Freddie was very much wishing he wasn’t quite so grateful for having brought it, as the gesture of balancing on the boat’s bow and tossing it over the edge would have been wonderfully dramatic and equally as fulfilling. Not to mention exciting.

Still, this could be fun. This could be exciting. This could be thrilling, once he figured out what he was going to do with this brand new toy.

The knife seemed to tingle in his hand as he stared at it, then the deck of the ship, then the water, then back to the blade again. Oh, he was brilliant. Without bothering to check behind his back again (he could hear them talking about something, after all—no doubt they were preoccupied with how much “fun” fishing supposedly was. Idiots), Freddie eased himself down onto his stomach so that he could better hang his torso out over the side of the boat. Teeth biting determinedly on his tongue, he brought the knife down towards the thing’s white, shiny, waxed surface. A wicked grin spread over his face when the blade made contact and began to scratch deep into the surface of The Osprey’s paint and exoskeleton; so deep, in fact, that chances were it wouldn’t be easily repaired. Good. Freddie hated making things easy.

It was slow, deliberate work, tracing over the boat’s name with these new, improved letters, but one couldn’t blame him for taking so long, really. It was the silence that was probably most alarming. But it took concentration, drawing letters upside down and backwards, and he wasn’t about to let the brilliance of his plan be slipped up by something as stupid as words. Still, time managed to move quickly.

Freddie squinted as he completed the last letter, gripping the fishing knife tight in his gloved hand. Perhaps his hold was a bit too tight, however, as immediately after the work had been completed (scratched over Osprey was now a significantly less elegant “CODFISH”), the blade’s handle slipped from his grasp and fell, hitting the water with a little splash.

Freddie’s eyes widened. “Shit.” He scrambled quickly to his feet, innocently abashed smile making its way over his face as he called out across the boat to his friends. “So…umm…you guys didn’t need that knife for anything, right?”

Unfortunately, the casual facade never seemed to work with these two.

Freddie's fishing garb

[WILLOW FAYETTE]

She couldn't help but laugh at RJ's griping at Freddie, if- for no other reason- she very well knew that RJ adored/was irritated by their mutual friend. Still, for all Freddie's short comings, he had his saving graces. Just like the rest of them. True, he was impatient and reckless, but he was funny and energetic. There was not way to be possibly bored around him, even as he- himself- bellowed about how bored he was. But RJ and Will were hardly little angels by comparison. RJ, while being moderate and the most mature of the three, was often a kill joy and over sensitive. Out of all of them, he was most likely to take teasing personally. And though he would gripe and accuse Freddie of mooching, he'd certainly make no effort to stop the behavior. And Will herself was nothing short of being a vat filled to the brim of piss and vinegar. She was haughty and judgmental and horribly unforgiving. All those faults aside, however, and once could tell she was honest. Honest enough to tell you exactly what was right and wrong with everyone in the room, including herself. And yes, basically just to prove she could do herself!

Haters gonna hate.

Encouraged by RJ's hands on her shoulders, she pulled up the fish. Hardly having a Ph. D in Fishy Business (insert perverted joke about being a closeted lesbian by Freddie here, followed by a slightly exasperated pout by Will), she believed RJ when he said it was a sea bass. Which was apparently good! She reeled the flopping thing up to the boat, frowning as she saw the hook in it's lip. Poor thing. "Oh! Arj, let it go! Should we put a band aid on it or something?" Now, she wasn't a Peta freak or anything. She wasn't about to go and accuse Sea World of whale slavery or anything, because she wasn't retarded. But she couldn't help her hippie heart welling up for the little creature. Of course, she knew she could toss it back. RJ had graciously, if not with what Will was sure was well concealed eye rolls, allowed her to toss the fish back, counting them on a tally he kept in his head. She knew she was beating the boys, and that was enough. No need to traumatize the fish further.

Quickly, she set the fish down on the deck, trying to work around it's flailing as she un-gloved her hands. As gently as she could, she got the hook out, wincing as she tore at it's little fishy cheek a little, before grabbing it, and tossing it back over with all her strength. "Go back to your family Mister or Missus Fish!" She called after it, all five feet and two inches of her bent over the rail to watch it swim off in the icy gray water. Grinning back to RJ, her brown eyes sparkled, pleased with her good deed. "I think it'll get back, don't you?"[/green] Smelling her hands, her face cringed despite the remaining smile, holding them up for RJ to enjoy/endure. "They're all fishy... You still have the purell?" Not only were they fishy, but they were freezing, bright red from the exposure to the cold water on the fish. Digging with the shyness of a spooked water buffalo- and not even waiting for the answer, as she knew it- Will dug in RJ's jacket pockets before finding the little bottle, squirting a generous amount into her hand.

"Now, don't get all sour about the fish." She ordered, grin never leaving her face. "I brought stuff to deep fry you guys some Morale Mushrooms, just like you like." Probably more like how she liked it, and they put up with. Freddie certainly applied a generous amount of catsup on his. But they were boys who would eat anything, and if she was cooking and they'd just have to suffer her dietary habits. Still, they were tasty, and had a meat-ish quality. Seasoned battered mushrooms, cooked in hot oil, til golden brown. Delicious. "And don't tell Freds, cause he'd swill it down in a second, but I think you still have a fifth of Captain under your cot down there. Just a little FYI."

Grinning, Will found herself instantly distracted by Freddie asking about a knife. And, uh-oh, he had that grin he got. That little shit-eating-grin that said 'I just did something wrong, but I'm gonna let you guess what exactly it was'. Will had to admit, she loved that grin. She sort of loved everything Freddie did. Ever. "Not immediately... I don't think... Why?" She grinned, tossing RJ the bottle of purell, and running over to the other side of the boat (how many times had RJ told them not to run? Oh well...) where Freddie had just emerged from. What had he been doing? Leaning over the edge, her eyes widened as she saw it-

CODFISH

Scratched, right over the boats name. Deep too. Reaching down, her fingers traced the rigid lines of Freddie's sloppy script, a shocked laugh escaping her throat. Oh boy, mediating skills were certainly going to be tested today, weren't they? Looking at Freddie, she couldn't help but ask the last question she honestly should have been asking at the time: "Freds, why Codfish?"

[RJ TEACH]

RJ wasn't afraid to admit that he lived for these moments. The times when he could act with Will like they were the only two people in the world and Freddie just kind of faded away to non-importance. It was like time stood still for a moment, freezing for that one perfect instant where everything meshed so well. With his arms on her shoulders as she giggled and he laughed about the fish leaping on the line, well, it gave him hope. RJ had hooked up a few times with some girls at parties, sure, but he was always awkward when it came to having an actual relationship. Not that he had one with Will, of course, but he could never figure out how to talk about it with her. With ANYONE, really. At most, he figured that he would be stuck in some fantasy world whenever he dreamed about them being together.It was these shared moments, snapshots of everything they did together, which fueled that magical construct of his imagination. It was these memories that he could escape to when he lied awake at night, after Freddie had drunk himself into unconsciousness and everything was quiet, while he quietly imagined what would really change if he could one day tell her and work up the courage to fucking admit to his feelings for once.

All at once, the perfect moment that had hung lazily was brought back to standard time, the fish flopping onto the deck to the shrieks of delight and terror from Will. Rj couldn't do much but laugh as he loudly declared "Jesus Christ! Another friggin' seabass! Damn, you're winning by a long shot!" The fish flopped around and Will gave her seemingly mandatory bleeding heart response to the fish's poor widdle lip. RJ thought it was cute how she could get so worked up over the state of one little fish, but he swore that the day she decided to start calling them "sea kittens' because "fish" was a derogatory term, he was going to have to set her straight.


RJ leaned against the rail of the boat, watching as Will valiantly dove to the deck to try and wrestle the hook out from the little guy's lip. "Hey! Careful with that hook! That's top of the line! I'm not gonna have you ruin the hook just so you can keep some poor little bass up and running... er, swimming." Those were the only words of advice RJ offered as he watched with interest while Will delicately plucked the little guy off the lure. As the fish went flying through the air over the edge of the boat and into the freezing cold water, RJ's only response was to laugh at Will's excited reaction. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure that little guy is probably already home, hanging out with Spongebob and the gang, telling 'em all how he was taken captive by some giant." He couldn't help but tease her a bit about her inability to keep a dang fish, even when it would make for a great dinner!

With a scrunched up expression, RJ batted away Will's fishy hands. There was only so far he was willing to go. Sniffin his crush's stinky hands was outside the range of things he was comfortable with. "Jesus Christ! Take your purell! Take it and get those stanky things out of my face!" He laughed as she went digging through his pockets, searching for the sanitizer. RJ could only roll his eyes as she went on about her mushrooms and such, heading back to his seat to check and see if any fish had bitten while he was helping her. This ended up being a ridiculous attempt because, naturally, nothing had even swum by it seemed. He gave merely a thumbs up to Will about the drink, smirking to himself and wondering how he'd be able to use that as a carrot later on to get Freddie to shut the fuck up for a minute.

Speak of the devil...

For a minute, RJ didn't care about the knife. He was too preoccupied with checking his line for what seemed like the upteenth time, wondering if he had perhaps forgotten to put any bait on the hook. It wasn't until Will asked him 'why codfish?' that something registered as amiss with RJ.

Ditching the pole, he ran to the other side of the ship, blasting past Freddie and his damned cocky little face to the side, where Will was hanging over the side. For a second, he wasn't sure he WANTED to know. The next second he knew that he fucking HAD to know, if only to have a good reason to beat Freddie to a bloody fucking pulp.

Leaning over, he positively hissed as he caught his breath, seeing the deep, garish cut to the side of his boat - his boat!

Perhaps what was the most wrong with the whole thing was that Freddie couldn't even spell right. Perhaps RJ could pass off the 'codfish' as a cute little petname that someone had suggested but cobfish? COBFISH!?

"JESUS CHRIST, FREDDIE, THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!? WHY? WHY TAKE IT OUT ON THE OSPREY! I TOLD you to bring something to entertain yourself! THIS.... this is not it! Holy fucking shit," RJ was pacing the deck, trying to wrap his head around how this could have possibly happened. This was ridiculous. This was fucking crazy. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT!

"At least learn how to spell! Goddamnit! Cobfish!? It's spelled with a fucking 'd,' as in DUMBASS!" RJ suddenly turned, pissed and wanting to take it out on the person who hurt his poor boat.

RJ took off at a sprint, heedless of the slick surface of the deck, willing to chase Freddie off the damn boat if it meant getting retribution for this heinous crime.

[FREDDIE FOSTER]

Not immediately. Well, that was good. It could have meant never—Will didn’t know what the hell she was doing when they went fishing, anyway, so God only knew if she was even aware of what he was talking about. Hell, she probably thought he meant a butter knife. Actually, that might have been a bit more of a tragedy, as they could very well have been out of alcohol and utensils with which to prepare food. Or to make Will prepare food with. Freddie wasn’t allowed in the kitchen when there was “actual food” being made. Not after the time last year, when he’d managed to almost set the Party Boat on fire by juggling burning hotdogs over the kitchenette’s wood floor. Really, he didn’t know what the big deal had been. He’d been wearing oven mitts, after all, and was doing perfectly fine until RJ poked his fat head around the corner and yelled, breaking his concentration and causing the charred bits of pig innards to fall to the ground, smoking.

Not that he really cared. As long as there were chips and something stronger than Pepsi to drink. Which, right now, there wasn’t.

Freddie was still grinning as Will approached, although it became slightly more mirthful as the petite little girl rushed her way closer. She would appreciate it, at the very least. It was brilliant. Pure brilliance. Leaning over the side next to his friend, Freddie glanced once down at the lettering—a bit rustic, but that gave it a sort of weathered charm, right?—and back at Will. He shrugged. “I donno. It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you—”

Whatever glimpse into his mind Freddie had been about to offer was blasted aside along with the rest of his person as RJ careened past him and to the edge of the boat. For a moment, he stood still. Body taught with anticipation, Freddie waited with a close-lipped grin and a fist pressed against his mouth to keep from laughing. He gave him five seconds of shock. Then, the explosion. RJ always exploded over stupid shit.

Five.
Silence.

Four.
More silence.

Three.
Freddie began to back up slowly away from the rail, if more for self-preservation than anything else. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that RJ would at least attempt to throw him overboard, was he close enough to do so. No way in hell was Freddie getting in thatwater.

Two…
Here it came. A second sooner than he’d anticipated, RJ wheeled around and began pacing. Freddie stopped his subtle retreat, casting Will a furtive look and a snicker. He watched as RJ moved back and forth, back and forth across the deck, smile growing wider and more toothy as he did so, the snickering less subtle as his shoulders began to shake.

“Well, I told you to bring something to drink. If you had, I’d be up on one of the chairs, happy as a clam,” he nodded, as though this explained his actions simply. Still, he was unable to offer any further clarification of his motivations, as RJ had once again begun ranting, although now he’d turned, facing Freddie head on.

“The hell are you talking about?!” he shook his head, appauled RJ would suggest he didn’t know how to spell. “It is a fucking ‘d’—as in DIPSHIT!” he paused for a split second, wicked grin wide on his face as he watched RJ begin his charge.

When his furious best friend was just three feet from him, Freddie bolted. Across the deck he ran, dodging to his left as RJ lunged, holding his hat tight on his head with one hand. He was laughing when he reached the stairs, taking them two at a time as he made his way to the upper deck where the white, far too-bright chairs sat circled around a table they’d gotten drunk at many a time. Grinning even as he caught his breath, Freddie wheeled around to yank off the latch of the compartment on the side of the boat that would lead him to a ladder and down, into the newly-named Cobfish’s warmer interior. They’d never catch him there.

“HEY, WILL!” he shouted when only his head was peeking out from the open compartment, “YOU LIKE THE NEW NAME, RIGHT?!” before he could listen for a response, Freddie jumped down the ladder and plopped himself right in the middle of one of the couches nestled into the yacht’s warm interior, laughing to himself as he stared out the tinted sliding glass door.

[WILLOW FAYETTE]

Despite the fact that one of her friends was trying to murder the other, Will was oddly calm. Because, honestly, RJ was trying to kill Freds.... must be Tuesday. Will was so use to these games of cat and mouse, all that was really left to do was consider who was the mouse and who was the cat. On one hand, RJ was more than often the one trying to kill Freds. On the other, it was almost always Freds toying with RJ. So.... it was basically a matter of perception at that point.

Leaning over the rail, she looked at the side of the freshly re-christened boat as chaos ensued behind her. She didn't bother to tell them to stop, or to cry dramatically that they needed to get along cause they were friends boohoo, or to even be careful on the slippery deck. What was the point? They'd just do it anyway. Instead, she kept it informative. "That is definitely a 'b' there Freds..." She spoke casually, as if correcting a spelling test. "Dyslexia, thy hand is cruel and swift..." She stood back erect, watching Freddie, hearing the 'shwoonk click' of the sliding glass door.

Well, at least RJ couldn't throw him overboard. Will was ninety five percent sure RJ would have thrown him if he got the chance.

Sighing, Will decided to intervene. She felt like the middle of the child, always trying to get oldest (RJ) to play nice with youngest (Freds). Hopping down to the lower deck, she grabbed RJ's sweater, pulling herself in front of him. Okay, to Freddie's question, yes, she liked Cobfish better. But that was only because she didn't know what an Osprey was. Wasn't it a bird? See, that just didn't make sense on a sea faring ship. Marlin would have been better... Or Koi! Bass... CLOWNISH! WHALE SHARK! Oh, god... wait... was a whale shark a whale or a shark? Anyway, the point was, she couldn't very well just announce that. The last thing she needed was to be tossed overboard because Freds had shielded himself behind a wall of glass.

"ARJ! Now, listen! It's already scratched in, right? I mean, beating his face in isn't gonna make that go away! I mean, he cut DEEP!" Hrmmm, that might not be helping. He grip tightened around his shirt, careful not to let him get around her in a new surge of anger. "But now you have physical proof that he's a dink! You can even take a picture and put it on FB: 'EL-OH-EL, Ninja can't even spell!'" Her voice was attempting to tempt him, to lull him into a gentle sense of security so that he'd chill out. "But he did it to make you mad, so if you beat him up... he wins! Especially since you'll get afters guilt about putting him in the hospital! And you know you would Arj, you know you would!" Bam, logic. What would these two retard do without her?

...

Kill each other obviously...

So it was good that she was here!

[RJ TEACH]

Only one thing was working its way through RJ's head at that moment, and that was the unrefutable fact that Freddie would have to pay, PAY for the crime he had committed. Leaving his gross underwear around the dorm RJ could handle. Drinking all the soda and eating the sandwiches and food that RJ bought with his own money and left in the room, sure, he could deal with that. Sleeping around like it was his job with literally any girl he could get his hands on, whatever. But this, THIS. This was a matter of pride. The Osprey was RJ's home away from home. It was his baby, his one true love. People could come and go, but The Osprey would always be there for him. It was the ONE good thing his parents had ever done for him, goddamnit!

Now, well, now it was a scarred, wounded victim, an innocent bystander that had been cut up by the restless childishness of a fucking idiot that RJ should have known better than to trust on his darling boat. Now the once noble and beauteous Osprey, which had once sliced through the cold Atlantic surf like a royal entourage was reduced to a disfigured casualty in the onslaught of victims left in Freddie's wake. It was a disaster. A tragedy. An event which required the highest level of revenge.

That little brat went flying over the deck like a goddamn mountain goat. RJ had always hated how light the fucker was on his feet. It made him score more in soccer and now it was giving him the upper hand in his escape. That fact that he had decided to go running into the interior of the newly vandalized boat just made RJ want to hurt him more. It wasn't fair that the bastard could horribly disfigure the hull of the ship and then lock himself all warm and toasty inside to escape retribution.

RJ was just on the edge of deciding to throw himself against eh glass door to get inside when Will grabbed onto him and intervened. Goddamnit. He was sick of her mediating. This happened EVERY time. It was like a goddamn formulaic plot for a bad TV show. Freddie did something outrageously bad, RJ got pissed and wanted revenge, Will threw herself between the two of them in order to keep Freddie safe and then RJ ended up pissed as ever but basically outnumbered and Freddie got off Scot free.

"I don't give a shit about embarassing him! He does a pretty good job of that himself just by going out in public! I'm not letting him get away with it because FUCKHEAD HERE CAN'T SPELL!" RJ shouted the last bit to make sure that, no matter HOW sequestered he was inside the yacht, dipshit Freddie would be sure to hear.

"Now, c'mon, Will, get out of the way. I don't CARE if I'm gonna feel guilty about it later. I'll be more than happy to take a trip to Hallmark and get an 'I'm sorry' card for him and get flowers or whatever. He has gone WAY to far this time." RJ was getting less and less pissed by the minute as he tried to plead with Will to let him go, his blind fury being replaced with a whiny frustration. Goddamnit. RJ just KNEW the little fucker was going to get into the beer now and guzzle it all while he was locked out with Will. This was just fan-freaking-tastic.

[FREDDIE FOSTER]

This had been far too easy. Pathetic, really. When he’d fled, Freddie had given RJ an approximate half minute to catch up to him, find him, and start trying to rip his head straight off his shoulders. Not that he would have been able to. That was part of the fun of it, though—actually watching him explode, and then starting to fight with him before Will called it off. That part he hated. It was like she was nervous or something, whenever they got close to throwing more than one punch. And she really didn’t need to be, because actually, as much fun as Freddie had tormenting and punching and kicking RJ, he wouldn’t actually kill him. Then there’d be no one else to annoy. And no food in the fridge. Freddie wasn’t about to go a day without Redbull if he had any say in the matter.

Hearing RJ’s muffled yell through the door, Freddie replied with an equally loud “IT’S NOT MY FAULT FUCKSTICK CAN’T READ!”
He hopped up off the couch, feeling very pleased with himself even as his stomach audibly growled. Moving quickly to the kitchen, Freddie proceeded to throw the little fridge wide open, although the smile drooped to a scowl upon the discovery (the third of the day, actually, as he’d revisited the spot twice already on their little endeavor) that there was no beer to be found. Not even a half empty can of flat somethingorother. Not even a fucking Monster. The cabinets, too, he found were empty of both alcohol and food. All he could find was an apple, and no way in hell was he eating one of those unless there was no other option.

Grumbling several obscenities about Will probably hiding all the good snacks in her bra somewhere, Freddie stormed off to the little room he and RJ shared when they slept overnight aboard the ship. It was a long shot, as he was fairly certain he’d drained every last drop of anything acceptable last time they’d been in here (then again, he didn’t exactly remember what had happened after eleven thirty that night, so God only knew). But still, it was worth a try.

Stripping the entirety of his own cot in a fit of desperation for a celebratory drink, Freddie was more than severely disappointed to find the thing empty of any and all booze. In a display of his outrage, he aimed a hefty kick at the wall, which resulted in a brutally stubbed toe and another small fit of loud obscenities. The search through RJ’s cot, however, proved more successful. It took another stripping of the sheets and a good deal more swearing, but at last he found it. Captain Morgan, the glorious man, nestled comfortably beneath the bed, just waiting for him. Freddie actually whooped a bit in excitement as he snatched the bottle, not caring in the slightest that only a small amount remained as he ran his way back to the couches where he’d previously set up camp. An untwisting of the cap and a swallow of the harsh, bitter stuff later, and he was smiling. Happy enough even to unlock the sliding door and poke himself halfway out, waving the near-empty bottle in the direction of his friends as he grinned, though his tone was accusatory.

“See, now, don’t go blaming me for ruining your goddamn boat or whatever—you’d told me about this”–he waved the bottle in the air for dramatic effect—“and it never would have happened in the first place, asshole.”

Yes, he felt quite correct as he took another swig of the stuff, shaking his head a little as the liquid burned his throat on its way down.

[WILLOW FAYETTE]

Boys were idiots. It was like having something dangling between your legs automatically made your IQ below forty five. When life is good their attention spans were that of gold fish; get them all pissed off and bothered, and you had an army of bullet ants eating a poor squirrel. On one hand, she got it. Freddie defaced the Ospry- though Codfish did have a ring to it- which Freddie KNEW was RJ's baby. On the other hand, defacing Freddie's face wasn't going to fix it. And that's about where this was going. Awesome.

And of course, it was left to Will to save the day.

They had better both love her for this. She wasn't there God damn nurse maid. But that's what she was always left to be. Freddie would be hung over and it would be: 'Will, I don't feeeel good. Can you heeeelp me?' Or if RJ was mad at something Freddie did it was: 'I don't even know why I bother Will! He's such an asshole-' Yaddda yadda yadda. "FREDDIE! KNOCK IT OFF!" As she called behind her in exasperation, she realized she was only internally squawking because they were inconveniencing her peaceful day. Secretly, she did love how much they needed her. She loved that, despite his harem of whores, Freddie needed her. And that she kept him and RJ patched. They worked well together, when the boys weren't trying to kill each other.

So, despite protests for her to move, Will did the opposite. Will wrapped her languid arms around RJ's neck and hung from him like a clinger. Her face nuzzled into his neck comfortingly, trying to soften his anger. She looked ridiculous, her toes barely dangling on the floor. But luckily RJ was the sturdy sort. He could hold her weight. "Arj, please stop." Her voice was soft and pleading. "I know he screwed up, and I know you're mad. You should be..." Freddie owed her. Freddie owes her so hard. Thinking of how her Dad would calm her- as she was a temperamental soul herself- she started to pet his hair gently. "I'll help you patch it. Just you and me, so he won't be able to screw it up. We'll make it better, just don't beat him to a pulp..."

To be fair, RJ was the sort to get mad than regret later. Just as it was Freddie's nature to never, ever, ever, admit he's wrong. Ever. Even under threat of torture. She'd make it all better though. Pulling her face back, Will put out her sweetest brown eyes with a side of pout. "Pleeeeease? We'll all have some drinks and warm up. It'll be fun... I hate when you guys fight." Though her aim was to calm him down, she was being wholly honest. She absolutely hated, more than anything, when they fought with each other.

[RJ TEACH]

By now, RJ already knew that he had lost, and that was the one thing that was pissing him off more than anything. He was defeated. There was no way around it, this happened every time. The formula was tried and true. Freddie would fuc up astronomically and then RJ would be the one cast as the bad guy for just trying to get some JUSTICE for it, but no, Will would intercede like she always did and Rj would have to back down in the face of Freddie's humiliating victory laugh.

Snorting like a bll in the pen, RJ could tell that it was over. The fact that Freddie had gotten to the booze just meant that there was nothing worth fighting over any more. A drunken Freddie might be slower and easier to catch, but it certainly wouldn't be as fulfilling and wouldn't bring back the supposedly carefully hidden beer that the idiot had just downed.

Of course, he couldn't exactly focus his attention and energies on that asshole when Will was right there, literally draped over him and pleading with her big doe eyes for him to take pity on the poor boy. For the first time since seeing the botched rechristening of the boat, RJ's eyebrows unfurrowed themselves as he looked at her pleading expression. There was no way he could continue to act like the Incredible Hulk while she was clinging to him like a particularly pacifistic koala.

Sighing loudly, RJ felt all the fight go out of him. Unfortunately, Will had been doing nothing but training for the perfect ways to break up fights since they'd all become friends. RJ hadn't even gotten to throw a good punch and now there was just no point. How could he say no to that perfect face? She was pouting and everything. The smoldering plead was too much. He swore, it felt like such an unfair cop-out.

Just because she was petting his hair and crooning to him telling him everything would be alright in the end didn't mean that he had to suddenly be all sunshine and rainbows again though. He had time for a little pouting of his own, sticking his bottom lip out like a kid who hadn't gotten his way. Despite the front he put up, he was still the spoiled kid at heart and hated having to play second fiddle to Freddie's whims.

"Fine, go on, go play mediator, I know you want to," he said, gently detaching her from himself as he went to pout and brood a bit more on one of the deck's plush seats. "Get the drinks, I don't care. You know how to do this better than I do. And I couldn't make any promises that I wouldn't punch him to a bloody pulp if I went in there just yet." He raised his eyebrows and smirked a bit at her at the last line, mostly kidding with her. She might have managed to patch it up for the moment, but he still wasn't happy that the poor hull of his ship had to be the victim here.