See if I Care!

Seeing Red

A/N: an extra thanks to my beta TheCookieMonster this time, because without her there would be cannibalism in this chapter… due to a missing comma. The classic "let's eat grandma" thing… ;)

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Chapter 6: Seeing Red

"Mark," Jake whispered, as everyone was busy rummaging around for things. "Have you ever fished?"

"Nope, never." The admission was followed by a rather raunchy smile. "But as you know, I'm quite good at handling a rod."

"Mark!" the other man gasped in fake shock. "What if your mother heard that?"

"She'd probably say that she's happy I'm getting good at it…" the blond muttered. "But come on; fishing can't be that hard, can it?"

"I'm sure you'll love it," Jake said calmly, but the younger man heard the seeds of doubt in his voice. Half an hour later he wished he had joined the 'wives' for some wine and gossip.

"It's huge!" he yelled out, fighting against the elements and what must be at least a small whale on the end of the line.

"Heh, that's what she said!" Greg guffawed.

"Just keep working it, keep the line taut!" Jake ordered him over the wind. Mark had wondered if he would even get a bite, and if he would feel it. Jake had assured him that he would; after all, that's how the rest of them knew that they had hooked something. He had been right. The bite had felt like someone had been trying to yank his arm off.

It was heavy and his arms began to ache but Mark bit his lip and continued to pull the rod towards him and reel in. Pull, wind, pull, wind, pull, wind. He desperately wanted to ask Jake to take over for a while, but he knew what Gregory would say about something like that, so he refused to give up.

"Here it comes, I can see it! Get the net!" Henry shouted. A minute later it was over. Mark was breathing heavily, sweat running down his neck and his arms were trembling.

"What is it?" he asked. "Is it huge? Can you get it on deck?"

He didn't quite understand why the other men were chuckling, until Jake guided his hand to a scaly, cold body which wasn't more than eight or ten inches long.

"It's a little mackerel. Too small to keep so we're going to let it back now," his boyfriend told him, the mirth in his voice evident.

"Oh, come on! That's not my fish! My fish almost ripped my arms off!"

"Well, these little buggers can fight," Greg told him in a fatherly way. "And we're moving too, it takes some muscles to fish, boy."

"I bet Mark can bench press more than you, Greggy," Jake snorted, filling Mark with a warm, gooey feeling. "How about it, Pooch? Wanna fish some more?"

"Hell yeah!" the blond grinned, although he honestly would have liked to sit down a little bit. Damn testosterone.

"Well, get to it! The good thing about these critters is that they move in shoals!" Greg told them, and boy did they ever…suddenly all of them had hooked a fish at the same time, and the back of the yacht filled with grunts, shouts and cursing.

An hour later Jennifer called that the food was ready, and Mark was ravenous. He had heard that the sea made you hungry and right now he could honestly eat a raw fish.

"Okay, keep still, I'm gonna grab your tackle," Jake told him as Mark had almost reeled his line in completely.

"Excuse me? In front of everybody?" the blond joked and turned towards the man, not knowing that he had already reached out for the line.