"We should go camping."

I was over at Dave's house. I was lounged on the couch with him. His family had a wonderful book collection. Their living room was nearly a damn library, with custom-made shelves that sat right where the ceiling and drywall met. These shelves ran along the entire perimeter of the room. They also had two massive bookshelves, flanking either side of the TV.

I pause my reading regarding the tanks that were used during WWI. My head was in his lap, and he had been absent-mindedly running his fingers through my hair.

"Um. What?"

Dave looks down at me and smiles. "I said we should go camping."

I chuckle and shake my head. "Alright."

"I'm serious."

I look up at him. Dave's brow is slightly wrinkled, and he's pursing his lips in consternation. I'm suddenly self-conscious. "Uh...I don't...I don't really do camping."

He's shocked. "What? Why not? I thought that'd be right up your alley!"

I shake myself. "It's too buggy."

Now he raises an eyebrow at me. "Buggy?"

"Yes," I reply, metaphorically digging my heels in. "It's too buggy. There's too many skeeters, and too many flies, and too many spiders, and—why are you laughing?"

"You're like, the epitome of a guys guy!"

"But I'm gay," I deadpan.

Dave rolls his eyes. "Besides that."

I merely snort and go back to my reading.

"What about fishing?"

I sigh and put down my book onto my chest. "Well. I don't particularly like it."

Dave frowns deeply, and I'm noticing a subtle shift in his eyes—disappointment, like a light on a dimmer switch. I can't stand the look. 

"I mean, I don't exactly hate it either," I continue.

Dave smiles at me like I just told him Christmas was back on or something. It makes me smile a little. "I used to go with my dad and my brother every summer. So I'm proficient at it."

Dave laughs, cocking his head to the side. I really hopes he never does that again, because the gesture immediately reminds me of Orion. "You're 'proficient'?" 

I grin. "Yes--I'm 'proficient' at the sport of fishing." 

Dave sighs. "So...I wouldn't be able to talk you into it?"

I pick up my book. "Probably not."

"Not even with bug spray?"

I don't reply.

"Citronella candles?"

Still nothing.

"Tiki torches to produce smoke and drive away even more bugs?"

I sigh.

"I'll bring a damn bug zapper if I have to!"

I laugh and sit up. I look at him a moment. He bottom lip is slightly jutted out, and his arms are crossed. Grinning, I slink my arms around him, pressing my forehead to his.

"Anyone ever told you you're cute when you're annoyed?"

"Yes," he replies tersely. 

I grin. "Whom?"

After a moment, Dave rolls his eyes. "Okay, no, but--"

I cut him off with a kiss. When I'm done kissing him, I pull away and smile. "I'll go on your damn camping trip."

He looks hopeful. "You will?"

I smile. "Yeah."

~

Dave kept to his word, bringing an abundance of bug spray, candles, and even two torches. It's sweet when he even goes as far as spraying our immediately campsite with bug spray in an attempt to make it less buggy for me. I have to admit, it's really endearing.

Currently, we were sitting on two logs across from each other. The air was cool, and I could feel the end of summer in my very bones. I couldn't wait. I liked all weather, but I didn't like being too hot. Winter was definitely my thing.

Between us, a small fire crackles and snaps, occasionally spitting tiny embers at us. Every time that happens, I can't help but jump. The first couple times Dave laughed at me. After that, though, he let it be.

I turn the marshmallow that's on the end of my stick, looking at it instead of at Dave as I speak. "So you're sure a bear ain't going to come eat us because it sees our fire?"

Dave laughs again. "Dude, relax. I promise you a bear is not going to eat us."

"I remember hearing on the news awhile ago that there was a bear sighting not too far from Amarillo." 

Dave blinks at me, looking surprised. "Man. You really don't do the outdoors, huh?"

I don't reply.

Dave gets up and walks around the campfire, pulls out a map, and sits next to me. It's a strange map, where it's the outline of Texas, and there are squares filled with yellow and red. 

"Look," he tells me seriously. "Going into this I knew you were kinda jumpy. Yaknow how it took us awhile to get here?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," he says, inching closer until our legs and shoulders are touching, "so we're here." He points at a square that's white, not far from where Amarillo would be. "The yellow parts are where there have been bear sightings."

I start to get to my feet but he yanks me back down. 

"Here," he continues, pointing at the red parts which are clear on the other side of the state, "are where there are confirmed breeding grounds. We're not anywhere near where there are sightings, or breeding grounds."

I relax a bit, and I'm sure the look on my face is mystification. Dave smiles softly at me.

"Also, I'll have you know, my parents come to this exact campsite multiple times a year. And I've been coming here since I was little. And we've never seen a bear. And--"

I cut him off with a kiss. When we're done, he looks at me in a haze. 

"You thought about all this? For me?"

Dave chuckles. "'Course. Why wouldn't I?"

I don't know whether I was to hug him, kiss him, make out with him, or fuck him. "That's...so sweet and thoughtful."

Even against the dim light of the campfire, I can see him blush. For a moment we just stare at one another. Finally Dave speaks quietly, and his voice is wrought with emotion, though I'm not exactly sure why.

"I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable while we're here, Tristan."

I lean over again and we kiss. I deepen the kiss. I'm ready to take him right here in the middle of the damn forest with only the Gods watching when he mutters against my lips.

"Your mallows are on fire."

I pull away. "W-what?"

"Marshmallows," he says, pointing. "You're marshmallows are on fire."

"Oh shit." 

I yank them out and frown. "Sorry. Get me the bucket of water--"

Dave laughs again, taking the flaming treats out of my hand. "They're fine."

"What? They're on fire--"

"They're really good that way, actually."

I watch him in wonder as he blows repeatedly on them until the fire is out. He's laughing and turning the stick, trying to stop them from falling to the ground. After a few moments, he grabs one, cusses, yanks his hand away, and blows on them some more. Again he grabs one, and this time it's cool enough for him to pull it off the stick.

He proffers it to me with a grin. 

I raise my eyebrows. "It's black."

He moves it up and down. "It's delicious." 

I take it, start to take a bite, but then pull away. "What if there's a piece of wood from the stick in it?"

"You'll die," he says in dry sarcasm. 

With that I take a bite. I laugh as it's much softer than I expected, and it dribbles out everywhere. I try to pull it away, but instead it just stretches, so I cram the entire thing in my mouth. I chew, Dave grinning at me the entire time.

"Well?"

"That's fucking good," I can't help but laugh, wiping my mouth on my flannel sleeve. 

It's like music to my ears as our laughter echoes off the still trees, slipping away into the delicate night.