2013.09.02 - Morning on the High Seas

The young, red-haired waitress has a gift for getting people to do things they wouldn't normally do. Take for example this situation: The yacht that Justin Hammer owns, the one he took one Miss Fern Fiddlehead out on for a Labor Day weekend trip, has two large and very fancy state rooms and a master suite. She was given one to use, and of course the master suite was his. But somehow, inexplicably, she managed to convince him to sleep on the open flying bridge of the boat. Something about it being like camping and looking at the stars.
And that's where Justin woke up early the next morning. The awning over the flying bridge was still drawn back from the star gazing the night before, and the 6AM rays of sun had started hitting him in the face. He had fallen asleep mostly sitting up, his feet up on an ottoman that goes with the deck furniture of the flying bridge. He's still in his suit, minus the suit jacket he left in the salon downstairs, Though at some point he had kicked off his shoes and taken off his glasses, so the world is just a bit to bright and far too fuzzy for his liking.
At least Justin isn't waking up alone! Or perhaps that's not such a good thing? The aforementioned redhead hasn't been roused by the sun yet, used to sleeping in an apartment with thin drapes that do very little to block out the daylight. Also still fully dressed, she's managed to sleep remarkably modestly without her skirt riding up or the banded top shifting down, and is curled up next to the Hammer CEO, her head tucked against his side.
The previous night's events start to clear up in Justin's brain, so when he looks over and sees Fern there, it doesn't completely startle him. After all, waking up with a woman next to him isn't a completely foriegn concept. They had been talking late into the night, and finally both of them had fallen asleep, no doubt helped along by the last rum and Cokes they both had. Blinking again at the sun, Justin rubs at his face then tries to sit up slowly, as not to wake Fern up. He reaches for his glasses, which are on the end table next to the long bench seat, and puts them on. Luckily they're the tinting lenses, and he gets a reprieve from the sun as well as clearer vision. That done he makes an attempt to stand up, still doing his best to not wake Fern.
While he doesn't wake Fern, the young woman does stir, shifting as he moves. One arm reaches out, her hand settling into a light grip on Justin's vest, as if to stop him from slipping away. She comes out of sleep just enough to complain with a grumpy note to her voice, "Too early." Granted, she's got no idea what time it is, but her internal clock deems it an inappropriate hour for waking. There's a weak tug as she attempts to pull him closer, like a bespectacled teddy bear.
Well, that didn't work. Justin looks down, blinking, as Fern seems to keep him from getting up. It's still early and the sun is still fairly low in the sky, but if the awning doesn't get closed shortly then they're both likely to end up with sun burns. Not to mention that Justin wants coffee. The thought of sweet, sweet java is what spurs him into action, and he picks up one of the throw pillows he had been leaning against. Carefully, he attempts to swap himself for the pillow, attempting to remove the woman's grip from his vest as gently as possible.
Luckily for Justin, Fern is no superhero and her grip is easily broken. However, the swap doesn't go off as smoothly as he might have liked, and blue eyes flutter open, the sunlight registering and drawing a groan as Fern rolls to bury her face in the cushion. "Why is the light on?" she mumbles into the fabric. She stays still for a moment before lifting her head, blinking several times to clear her vision, propping herself up on her arms to a mostly, sort of, sitting position. Another beat and one hand lifts, sweeping her hair back as she looks up to Justin. A sleepy smile curls her lips, "Mornin'."
At least Justin is able to stand now. He straightens his back, which turns into a stretch, then looks back down at Fern as she first hides from, then accepts the daylight. He grins. "Good morning," he returns, looking back toward the awning panel. He moves that direction, hitting the controls to pull the hard fiberglass cover back over most of the flying bridge. "There, that better? It's already getting bright. Gonna be a hot one today, I think." He turns back toward the bench and his guest. "How about some coffee? I think I can manage to operate the coffee maker if Miguel is still asleep."
Fern's squint lessens as the awning brings shade, and she nods, "Much better." She makes a face, smacking her lips and frowning deeply. "Bleh. Yes, please, coffee good." So, she's not much of a morning person, but at least she's somewhat verbal. "Need me to help?" She starts to move before he even has a chance to answer, sliding her feet out from under her, getting them planted and levering herself up. She almost makes it, but they hit a 'bump' and she plops down onto her rear on the cushion again. "Can't they make the water smoother in the morning?"
Justin can't help but chuckle when Fern ends up back on her butt on the couch. Though the bump in the water does sway him as well. "I'll get the captain right on that," he replies, taking the couple steps back over to the bench and offering Fern a hand up. See? He can be a gentleman, when properly motivated. "I think I can handle the coffee maker, but if you'd like to accompany me, I won't complain."
Fern puts her hand into Justin's with a light slap, taking hold and pulling herself back up lightly. "Thank you, I would appreciate it. Could you order us some dolphins while you're at it?" The banter comes easily as she wakes up more, and she keeps hold of Justin's hand for a few moments. "Lead the way, Gunga Din," she grins. 
Justin makes sure Fern is steady before he heads toward the stairwell that leads back down to the main deck. The galley is through the salon and toward the bow, and is more spacious than one would expect on a boat. On the counter is one of those single-cup coffee brewers that has been anchored down to keep it from sliding around in rough water. Justin flicks the switch to turn it on, and it makes an audible growling sound as the water starts to heat up. "So what kind ya want? I think there's quite a few choices." Pulling open one of the drawers, he reveals a stash of little single-serving brew cups in a variety of flavors. There's even some tea, hot cocoa and cider in the mix.
The more she wakes up the more sure-footed Fern is as well, and she trails along behind Justin, her sea legs returning. Thankfully, she's prone to neither seasickness nor hangovers, so the rolling water has no more ill effects on her. When she spies the coffee maker she can't help an "Oooooo. That's nifty." Planting her hands on the counter next to the drawer Justin opens, Fern gives a hop and a push, turning as she pops up, skirt under her rump as she lands sitting on the flat surface. She leans to peer into the drawer, again giving a delighted little "ooooo!" as she spies the contents. "That's more flavors than most coffee shops have," she remarks, letting her eyes drift over all the different names. "Jamaica Me Crazy?" She looks up at Justin, reading the name off a Wolfgang Puck brand brew, grinning. "I have to try that." 
Justin can't help but chuckle at Fern's selection. He doesn't protest to her sitting on the counter, either. She can get away with a lot that most others wouldn't be able to in his presence. He picks out a mocha for himself and closes the drawer. It takes a couple tries for him to find the right cabinet with the mugs, finally pulling two down. "This thing comes in really handy on the boat. It's handy anyway, but more so here," he says of the coffee maker before putting one of the brew cups in the top of it and placing the mug on the platform. A couple button pushes and a few minutes later, and Fern has a cup of 'Jamaica Me Crazy'. "There should be milk or cream in the fridge, and the sugar is..." He looks around. "...it's around here somewhere." So he doesn't know his boat all that well. At least the galley.
Fern watches Justin be all domestic with a bemused smile on her lips, letting her feet swing lightly before she slips back down to her feet and takes the offered cup with a soft thank you. She takes it with her to get the cream, the carton brand new and fresh, bringing them back to the counter while Justin makes his own cup. "I'll find it," she says, proceeding to open and shut whatever cupboards and drawers Justin hadn't already hit on his search for mugs. "Here it is!" Triumphant, having even found some silverware and taken out a spoon, she brings a small sugar bowl over and starts putting together her coffee. It takes no less than six teaspoons to get it to the required sweetness, and a good dollop of cream so that it's nearly as pale as she is. 
The second cup of coffee is brewed before Fern finds the sugar, but not by much. He watches as she basically fixes sugar with a bit of coffee in it and grins. He's almost that bad- not quite but close. Two teaspoons and a splash of cream is good enough for him. Then again, the mocha is already semi-sweet. "You want some coffee with your sugar?" he asks, grinning. "So whereto now? I figure Miguel will be up shortly and we'll have breakfast soon." He checks his watch, it's still only 6:30, and breakfast probably won't be for another hour at least.
Fern hands over a second spoon to Justin, and leans to gently bump her side against his as he ribs her. "Sugar makes everything better. Coffee is so bitter, I can't believe people drink it black." She pauses, stirring her concoction, then taking a sip. "Never trust someone who drinks black coffee, Justin. They're just not right." The words are light and joking, and she goes on, "Hey, this is really good. Want a sip?" she asks, offering her cup out. "It's kinda coconutty, like the rum drink last night." 
The CEO looks down at the waitress when she bumps him, then shakes his head. "I think I've had that kind before," he says. "Thanks, though," he takes on as an after thought. Being polite isn't exactly his forte, but he's getting better at it. He turns and heads back out of the galley and toward the salon to sit down, turning once to make sure that Fern is following. "So, did you sleep OK last night?" he asks. His back is a bit sore, but otherwise he seems to have survived sleeping in the great outdoors.
She's right there, padding after him like a small, redheaded shadow, moving a little slower as she takes a sip, then trailing behind him again. "I did. It was nice, the waves rocking and the moon and stars shining. You make a pretty good pillow, but you were snoring for a while," she adds with a smirk, quickly taking another sip of coffee. 
After setting his coffee down on the aptly named coffee table, Justin flops down on one of the couches. He looks real stellar right now- suit minus the jacket, his tie still pulled out from under his vest, hair ruffled and unshaven. One would think the night was a lot wilder than it actually was. He gives Fern a look and snorts lightly. "I do not snore," he says flatly, though not harshly before taking up his mug again and taking a drink.
Fern's transition to sitting is smoother this time, and she eases down next to Justin with her cup still held, albeit in both hands. "Like a slumbering grizzly," she says airily in contradiction, leaning to put her cup down as he picks his back up. The little waitress isn't in much better shape, her dress rumpled from sleeping in it, her hair definitely erring on the side of bedhead, but she's not self-conscious about it. Everyone looks funny when they wake up, it's just how life it. It's the great equalizer. 
Justin raises a brow and throws a sideways glance at the redhead. "A slumbering grizzly? Really?" he says in a mock questioning tone. "I find that hard to believe." Another drink of the coffee. "Well, you squirm like a catfish in your sleep." That's delivered as plainly as possible, an attempt at dry humor.
"Next time, I'll record you on my phone," Fern says, barely taming her grin. "A catfish?! Ewww! Couldn't you at least have said a mermaid? Jeez, Justin, catfish are ugly." She tries to look properly insulted, but ends up giggling as she lounges back and leans against him. Personal space is merely a concept. "Thanks for sleeping with me," she says, raising her eyes to look up to him. 
"They're ugly, but they taste good fried," Justin returns before taking a drink of his coffee. He has stopped being surprised by the lack of space, having surrendered his personal bubble to Fern. The next few words cause him to almost choke on his coffee, and he leans forward to set the mug on the table. He clears his throat and coughs lightly. "Um, wait-" He wasn't that drunk, he knows it takes a lot more than what he had last night to make him forget the night before. That's when it dawns on him that the redhead means that in the most literal sense and he looks slightly ashamed of himself.
Fern sits up at once as well, patting Justin on the back lightly even though he didn't really choke. Much. She rolls her eyes dramatically, "Oh for heaven's sake, Justin." There's another giggle, no offense taken at his misinterpretation, and she can't resist adding, "You'd remember that." Giving his back a quick rub, she takes a sip of coffee, puts her cup down, then sits back again. "I've actually slept with more boys than I've 'slept' with," air quotes supplied, "Sometimes it's just nice to wake up with someone else there." And it usually keeps her nightmares at bay. 
Justin can't really boast the same thing, but he doesn't dare voice that. He forces a chuckle, remaining leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He looks back at Fern with a grin. "Well, I would hope I would remember that," he replies. He looks back at his coffee cup, picking it up again and attempting another drink from it. He nods lightly, then gets quiet for a moment.
"Darn right you would," Fern grumbles lightly. She tilts her head back, settled against the cushion and pressed lightly against Justin's arm, and looks up at the clear morning sky, letting the silence hold for a moment. The boat's motor is a light rumble, accompanied by the slap of water against the sides. Without looking at him, she says, "Hundred bucks for your thoughts. I'll have to owe you though." 
"A Franklin? Really? Most people won't even take the two-cent version," Justin says looking back toward Fern again. He doesn't set his mug down this time, opting to just hang onto it. "Nothing, really. Just spacing out." That's not entirely true, of course. "I'll throw the same offer out to you, payment up front."
Fern has an answer ready without even pausing to debate it, "I was just thinking how lucky I am that you came into the restaurant, and then that we bumped into each other on the ferry." Her eyes slide sideways to him before her head turns, "No matter what we've done, it's been fun. Well, except for when things got a bit furry," is amended with a wryness to her smile. "And I'll keep a tab for you, don't worry about payment now." 
"And the zoo. Don't forget the zoo," Justin adds. He hasn't forgotten when Fern and the other young lady, Onora was it, were trying to get him to sit on the ground among a bunch of butterflies. He grins, but then his expression drops a bit more serious. "Yeah, I'm glad too. The werewolf, though, was a bit much. I'm with ya, on that one." He finally leans back again, coffee still in hand. "Ya know, speaking of things that aren't normal... I want you to be careful around that Leo Luthor character. I noticed something about him at the Expo. I don't think he's as normal as he puts on."
"How could I possibly forget the zoo and the butterflies?" Fern grins. When Justin relaxes back again, Fern leans toward him, letting her head rest lightly against his shoulder. Her surprise at his statement is genuine, blue eyes widening as she sits up, turning to look at him. "What do you mean? He seems perfectly normal to me." Of course, she knows that he isn't, that he's 'special' although she doesn't know his full story. 
It easy to tell that Justin is being serious because his tone actually drops and softens some. It's not his normal, over the top attitude. "When we were at the Wayne demo, and LeGraize stormed the stage, he seemed to... Change. Got wilder somehow. It was subtle, but definitely there. Now I'm not saying he's a bad guy- but I think you should be careful." Justin won't admit that he doesn't like the kid because he knows Leo was hassling him at the Expo opening, or that he might be a bit jealous, and that his warning may be completely unfounded.
The gentling in Justin's manner isn't lost on Fern, and her eyes ease back to normal, the surprise fading into a gratitude. Her tone matches his when she responds, "I think maybe a lot of people were just ready for something worse to happen. But I promise, I'll be careful." She'd love to tell Justin that Leo saved her life when an angry cultist gave the order to kill her, but she made a promise. She's a secret keeper, not a blabbermouth, and until or if Leo is ready to make himself known, his secret will stay safe. It's not that she doesn't trust Justin, but it's on her honor. 
It's a good thing Fern is so committed to keeping the knowledge that she has safe. Otherwise Justin would likely use it like he plans on using the information he has on Howard Stark- as leverage against competition. It's the ruthless, scheming side of him that he has managed to keep hidden from the redhead. He nods. "Yeah, I expected a lot worse. Glad it didn't turn out that way. As long as you're careful, which I'm sure you will be. You've managed in this city for this long, after all."
"Well," Fern drawls slowly, "that is because I have friends who look out for me. Like you." In fact, most of her friends have turned out to be some form of special or another, which isn't really that surprising seeing the concentration of unique individuals that seem drawn to New York. "Just like I'll always look out for you, too." Even if it puts herself in harm's way. She may not have powers, but she's got the chutzpah of a superhero. 
The first thought that goes through Justin's mind is 'What could Fern possibly do to help him in any way?' That makes him feel slightly guilty, and he mentally reprimands himself. There's actually plenty she could do- and has done. Like telling him when people bring up his name at the restaurant, or simply being there to somewhat temper his obnoxious nature at charity events. "You know if you ever need anything, you just call me and you've got it." He actually considers giving the young woman a hug but stops, then simply takes another drink of his coffee.
And let us not forget the macing of the previously mentioned werewolf. And the cannoli fixes. And getting him away from work now and then. But who's counting? Fern nods, responding softly, "I know." Reaching for her coffee again, which is cooling despite the warming day, she pauses to give her dress a quick tug up, and she giggles. "We're both still in yesterday's clothes. Thankfully, we don't have a walk of shame ahead of us. But we should probably get showered and changed soon." 
Justin looks down at himself, frowning at first, then grinning and setting his cup aside. He tugs his tie off, since it's half pulled loose anyway, and straightens the knot out of it. "Yeah, luckily the only people we're likely to see are Jack, Miguel or the crew. And they're all sworn to secrecy by penalty of death." He gives Fern a wink, then checks his watch. There's a rustle toward the fore, likely Miguel getting ready to start breakfast.
Fern is grinning as she watches Justin finally pull his tie off. "I can't believe you slept in your vest and tie. Goofball," she says fondly, reaching over to give his knee a gentle shove. Her brows go up at his remark, and she says, "Man, you're a tough boss." She stands, looking down for a change at the taller man for a moment. "Race ya to see who gets back here to breakfast first," she challenged with a gleam in her eyes. 
Admittedly, it's not the first time Justin has done just that. Most of the time it's because he fell asleep working at the office, though. Not because he got conned into sleeping on the flying bridge of his yacht by a cute redhead. "Hey, I was taught that it's impolite to dress down in front of a lady," he remarks, despite the fact he just did, technically. Looking up at Fern, which is a touch unusual, he smirks. "Yeah, I'll take that challenge. Women can never get ready in less than two hours," he comments as he stands. He grabs his suit jacket, which is still there from the night before, and turns toward the stairs before pausing. "I'll give you a head start, to even the odds."
Fern clucks her tongue softly at Justin, looking at him like he's some sort of addled child. "Oh Justin, when will you learn that I'm not other women?" The grin comes back suddenly and she's on the move, scampering past him before he's even finished saying he'll give her a head start. "You're on," she calls back, already well on her way, hurrying but not running, leaving her shoes from last night lying on the deck where she'd left them. She'll get them later, right now she's got a race to win. 
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