Mestresse Island

No Beta
Rated T in case of future chapters - may change later.
I have a habit of taking long breaks in between writing; maybe this will help fix that. We'll see how it goes.
"There was a great BANG and the boat lurched forward; Radio Rock was setting sail at last."

It was another early morning on the Radio Rock boat, and Thick Kevin couldn't sleep. It wasn't because he was affected by The Count's comment last night ("Maybe you should drink more often, if it really does sharpen your mind," he had said), or that he had once again stayed in "The Room of No Sex" with Simon, Felicity and John last Saturday, or even when someone (Quentin? Harold?) had told him (no, it was Dave) that he smelled of rotten eggs (yes, it must have been Dave). No, Kevin couldn't sleep because the boat was a mess - What else is new, he thought - and something in him said that he had to clean it all up. That was what he did, it was part of his job: cleaning the boat when necessary, and providing unintentional comic relief for the rest of the boat. He quite enjoyed both activities.

Trying to be as careful as possible, Kevin crept out of the top bunk of the bed that he shared with Carl and slipped out into the quiet corridor. Somehow, he had been successful at keeping quiet - perhaps the rest of his day would be good as well. He passed Simon on his way to the supply closet; they each muttered a quick "good morning" before moving along to begin their day. Simon's morning show started in ten minutes, broadcasting to millions of listeners across the United Kingdom. The thought of having that job terrified Kevin - thankfully, Quentin would never, ever consider making Kevin a DJ.

Kevin had a pattern when it came to cleaning: on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, he would start with the bathroom near his room; Tuesdays and Thursdays meant he cleaned the kitchen first, and on Saturdays and Sundays he would start with cleaning his room. Today was a Thursday, so that meant Kevin was on his way to the kitchen to scrub every inch of it that he could reach. Cleaning the kitchen, the bathrooms, the general living area, the corridors, the recording areas, and the room he shared with Carl - that was Thursday's cleaning pattern. Thursday also meant that Kevin had to collect the laundry from the boat's other inhabitants.

He went to Simon's room first; it was the closest, and Simon was broadcasting anyways. He was known to talk in his sleep, which made Kevin glad that he did not get up to clean any earlier than 5:55 a.m. precisely. He went to Harold's room next, because Harold had to get up early to assist the DJs. John was awake as well; nothing excited him more than early morning news and weather, which Kevin found a bit odd.
As Kevin collected the laundry from Dave's room, he noticed a knitting magazine threatening to slip behind the dresser. Kevin looked between the daytime DJ and the magazine for a moment before slowly helping the magazine along on its journey to the floor - he would come back for it later.
Angus was already awake, listening to Simon's show; he had piled his dirty laundry neatly by the door. The still sleeping Count didn't show any signs of waking up, which made it easier for Kevin to collect the clothing strewn around the floor and place it into the giant laundry bin. Gavin's clothes were in a small basket by the foot of his bed; Kevin dumped the contents of the basket into the laundry bin and was out in seconds.

With a majority of the DJs out of the way, Kevin stopped for a moment to think. Felicity and Quentin insisted on doing their own laundry, and the crew's laundry was done separately. That meant that Kevin had two more rooms to stop by: Bob's and Mark's.
Kevin automatically headed for Bob's room first; Kevin felt much safer if he stayed as far away from Mark's room as possible. It wasn't because Mark was frightening - Kevin just had an irrational fear of going into his room.
Bob was half awake when Kevin entered; the older man gave a half smile before drifting off to sleep again. Kevin waited for a few moments before grabbing Bob's dirty laundry and sneaking out to slip the clothes into the bin.
After taking a few deep breaths and taking a mental note to get a grip on himself, Kevin made his way to Mark's room.

As always, the room was dark, big and practically empty - unfortunately, this meant that every sound that Kevin made was magnified by ten. Kevin took off his trainers in the hopes that it would make his footsteps quieter, and made sure to skip the third step from the bottom (it squeaked), and, somehow, successfully reached Mark's laundry basket without waking the late night DJ (Kevin thought of him as the early early early DJ, seeing as midnight was actually morning, which meant that it wasn't actually night anymore).
Getting out, however, was not as easy as it was to get in.
Kevin made it to the door without making a sound; in fact, he made it into the hallway and dropped the clothes he had collected into the large (and almost full) laundry bin. Unfortunately, Kevin was easily distracted, and the mysterious Midnight Mark was always a topic of interest for him.
Kevin turned around and leaned in the doorway, watching Mark sleep - Kevin couldn't actually see him; Mark was covered in layers of blankets, a habit he had taken to when Kevin brought up the fact that he noticed Mark slept in the nude (Kevin had actually written to his mother once about it, and, for some unexplainable reason, she seemed quite interested).
When he realised that he had been staring at Mark for an uncomfortably long amount of time, Kevin slowly turned around to leave - and proceeded to trip quite loudly over thin air.

The next thing Kevin remembered was attempting to dodge the multiple objects that were being thrown at him, and eventually getting hit in the back of the head with a slipper; Kevin hurriedly closed the door behind him, and just in time, too - there was a loud crash on the other side, and Kevin was quite sure that Mark had just thrown something no lighter than the giant clock resting on his wall.


During the course of the midnight show with Mark, Gavin and The Count exchanged a few choice words during a particularly intense game of poker; Simon was going on about a beautiful sunset he had witnessed to anyone who would listen (Carl and Angus were, unfortunately, in Simon's immediate area); Dave was "teaching" John about how to give women what they like; and Harold was sitting silently next to Thick Kevin (who had already forgotten about that morning's events).

And that was the last time that true peace would reside on the Radio Rock boat.

"I have news for everyone," Quentin announced, leaning on the rail of the stairwell. "And it's not very pretty at all."
Everyone turned their attention to the radio station's owner with identical expressions of curiosity.
"Don't tell me we're getting shut down," The Count said, narrowing his eyes. "I refuse to stop broadcasting because of goddamn political we-"
"We're not getting shut down," Quentin interrupted. "Not yet."
He scanned the faces of the men in front of him.
"We have to move."

Shock replaced curiosity, and an uproar followed seconds later.
"WHAT?"
"Why?"
"This is not a good idea at all-"
"This is ridiculous, come on, Quentin-"
"Where are we going to go?"
Quentin stood silently, waiting for the room to calm down; eventually, it did, so he began to explain.
"I've received word that Her Majesty's Government aims to shut us down by making a new law that will forbid any pirate radio station from broadcasting, due to the danger we cause by blocking other, more important radio transmissions, such as distress calls." Quentin straightened his jacket, allowing his words to sink in.
"However," he continued, "there is a way to get around such a law."
"Become a real radio station?" Kevin asked.
"Well, that, too," Quentin replied, giving a half-shrug. "But where's the fun in that? So, as of tomorrow morning, we'll be on our way to a small island that is owned by a dear friend of mine. He's sent someone out to check our engines, and - if we're in proper working condition by then - we'll be setting sail on schedule."
"And we'll still be able to broadcast, yeah?" asked Dave, raising a hand to direct Quentin's attention.
"Of course we will," Quentin said, obviously offended. He straightened himself even more than usual and sniffed. "You don't think I thought out every detail?"
Dave opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it and shrugged in agreement.
Everyone fell silent; the only noises that could be heard was the music coming through the speakers and the waves hitting the very bottom of the boat. And then-
"So when are we leaving?" Kevin asked, sitting up.