Pacey startled awake and tried to remember if Joey had fallen asleep sprawled across him like that. Judging from the broken hammock above him and the murderous look on her face, he was thinking not so much.
“PACEY! You said you fixed the goddamn hammocks! That’s the third time this month! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you did it on purpose.”
“Well, I’m not exactly a professional hammock weaver. Maybe if you’d spent a little more time in your youth working on a few ladylike pastimes, you’d be able to thread a needle and fix your own freaking hammock. Lazy ass.”
He winced at the death glare and wiggled over to make more room.
“I guess we’re doubling up tonight, Potter. Sleep tight!”
“I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you, Witter. Your ass is mine.”
“You only wish.”
When Joey awoke in the morning she started to roll over and was stopped suddenly by the slight obstacle of her slumbering boyfriend. Once he was snoring like that, nothing would wake Pacey up, save a girl falling on him from above. So Joey decided to let him sleep a few more hours before she killed him. She wouldn’t want him to go to hell without a good night’s sleep.
Climbing out of the hammock and grabbing a sweatshirt, she made her way up to the deck and looked around. The boat bobbed gently on the waves and the sky was clear and bright. Blinking a few times, Joey grabbed the cooler and headed down to the kitchen. The capacity for cooking something other than fish, fish, and on special occasions, fish was one of the biggest improvements they’d made to the boat over the last year. And much to the benefit of her ego, Joey eventually learned how to cook a few things. Pacey had informed her since he seemed to be the only one who ever did any work around the boat, he was damned if he was going to cook too. Joey decided that learning to cook was marginally better than living off toast and Kraft Dinner for the rest of their lives.
Yawning, she took four eggs out of the mini fridge and grabbed a frying pan. Just as she was about to crack the eggs into the pan, the boat hit a wave and knocked her sideways. Egg splattered across the floor.
“Something wrong, dear?”
Pacey’s groggy voice and bed head emerged from the hammock. His sleepy face gave her a mischievous grin.
“Well, if you insist -- since it looks like we’re not eating any time soon.”
Joey started to protest but Pacey quickly silenced her with a hard, passionate kiss. “Does this mean you’re cooking breakfast?” She looked at him innocently and flashed a lopsided smile at him.
“Don’t push your luck.”
“Damn. Where the hell did you learn to do that?”
“Ah.” Joey attempted to look mysterious but took a wrong turn at slightly constipated. Poking Pacey in the side, she rolled over to her side of the bed. “I don’t understand why you insisted on sleeping in those damn hammocks when we’ve got a perfectly serviceable and remarkably comfortable bed right here.”
“It’s tradition, Jo. You know that, I know that, so quit with the bitching, woman, and bring me some breakfast.”
His machoism was somewhat compromised by the pillow she stuffed in his face.
“So what’s on the agenda for the day?”
Joey looked at Pacey expectantly, waiting for a long list of things to do, which would probably include some form of naked swimming. Not that she minded the naked swimming. In fact, given the choice, she thought she would probably choose naked swimming over of a lot of other things.
“Well, the boat needs a good cleaning,” Pacey began. “And I have some work I need to do on the motor.”
Joey sighed. Naked swimming wasn’t looking like such a likely
“For god’s sweet sake, stop with the whining. You’re worse than Dawson. What the hell do you want?”
“I’m BORED! I’ve been cleaning this stupid boat . . .”
“It’s not stupid.”
“Fine. I’ve been cleaning this fabulous boat for the past four hours, and either the Windex goes or I go. I’ve had enough. I’m doing something else.”
“Knock yourself out. I, however, am going to finish what I started, like a good human being. Have fun being amoral. I’ll just bask in the glow of knowing that I’m doing the right thing while you wallow in your slothful ways.”
Pacey resolutely turned around and returned his attention to the loose bolt he was working on. His moral superiority took a nosedive, however, when he heard the unmistakable sound of Joey unzipping her shorts. He turned around in time to see her jump off the edge of the boat, leaving a pile of rumpled clothes on the deck.
“The least you could do is fold up your clothes. Slob.”
Starting to pick up after her, his last shred of virtue flew out the
window when he saw the lace thong she had left behind. He quickly shucked
his clothes and dove in after her.
They swam lazily around the boat for the best part of an hour, splashing each other, dunking each other, and occasionally getting sidetracked from the “swimming” aspect of the event by the rather prominent “naked” element. An element that was quickly growing more prominent as Joey wound herself around Pacey and started treaded water with her arms. Bobbing gently, she grinned as he groaned and grabbed her around the waist.
“I hope you’re not starting something you don’t intend to finish. Because if you are, I may have to drown you. I think I could probably get off on a plea of self defense.”
Joey grinned seductively. “Oh, I think we can find a better way for you to get off than that.”
Joey ducked underwater and Pacey let out a gasp. As she teased him endlessly, occasionally coming up for air, he tried desperately to keep both of them afloat. Eventually, he gave up and half-heartedly swam back to the boat. He quickly realised that swimming with only two shaking arms to propel with and a girl around your waist was not the most efficient method of transportation, but he wasn’t about to complain. Finally making it to the side, with Joey’s legs still wrapped around him, Pacey pulled them both to the ladder on the side of the boat and climbed up it.
Glancing at the nameplate on his way up, he grinned at the memory of the naming ceremony. This one had been more private than True Love’s. Once Joey had told him that she was ready for sex, or rather, desperate for sex, it seemed only fair to name the new boat the Christina Jo. Jo for obvious reasons. Christina in memory of the christening ceremony they held the first night on the water. He could never quite look at a bowl of cherries the same way. Surprised would be an understatement for his reaction to Joey that night a year ago. He hadn’t expected to find her on the bed with only a few cherries covering her up. He grinned at the memory. “Well, Pace, it only seems fair that you should get some real cherries along with the proverbial one. After all, you’ve been waiting for it for quite a while.” He wondered if they had any cherries in the fridge. Probably not. They didn’t last very long on this boat.
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