Chapter Text
"—Stupid birds." Ilya grumbled using a wet paper towel to wipe bird poop from the camera lens of the trail cam in his hand. "Must be the work of a stupid Canadian Wolf Bird. At least it recorded sounds."
Scott snorted, a second circle Band-Aid on his forehead, paired next to the first one. "Yeah, the sounds of a bird sh-pooping." Kip elbowed him before he could curse in front of the kids.
They were all gathered around the picnic table—save for Hayden, Dixion, and the twins, who were fishing at the lake early that morning—once again preparing breakfast. Well, except for Ilya and Scott reviewing the overnight footage.
"No, you already ate 2 sausages, Arthur. Eat your eggs."
When Jackie turned back to the griddle, Kip snuck half of his sausage to the kid's plate with a finger over his lips. Arthur copied him and ate it quickly before his mother could see.
Kip smiled and turned back to Shane, who was poking his scrambled eggs around.
"And how is this morning treating you?"
Shane plastered on another smile.
"Its fine. It's been good."
Shane didn't see the concerned look that Jackie and Kip shared.
Before returning to the lake, they decided to go for a hike. The path was a bit too steep for the kids, so they stayed with Jackie, who was preparing lunch for when they came back. So the boys hiked the trail. A fortunate plus side to the shitty campsite, were the views. The forest was deep but eerily beautiful. Sunlight peaking through small crevices, casting gorgeous leafy shadows, illuminating the mossy places.
Then Dixon had to fuck things up by challenging Shane to a race. Regrettably, Shane is competitive by nature. Although, it was the only time he felt like he finally had a damn win, by beating Dixon, who exerted himself so much so that he gagged.
Dixon was about to wheeze something out when a strange howl echoed across the forest.
"What the hell was that?"
Another call, but different.
"It kinda sounds like Rozanov." Hayden comments.
Another sounding off with a lower pitch but just as loud.
"Is that Scott?" Kip gasped.
This time it was much louder and it stretched into a scream.
"...What the hell are they doing over there?" Shane says between gasps.
"—No, no. You sound like pregnant cat. Like this."
Ilya cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a yell that was a mix of a bear and a yowl.
Both men were crouched down in the bushes, separated from the group long ago.
Scott scoffed. "And I am the one that sounds like a pregnant cat?"
"Yes. Now your turn."
Scott glared and cleared his throat before trying again.
"Still trash. Try to go louder."
And while Scott attempted to try once more, he glanced at Ilya who was staring at his shoulder with horror. So in mid-yell he looked down at his shoulder to see the biggest fucking spider of his life leering right up at him.
At the end of the day, they gathered around the campfire one last time for the trip.
Hayden, Jackie and the kids had already eaten their meals, finishing off their packaged snacks for the trip.
On the other hand, Dixon "volunteered" to cook for the rest—a godforsaken soup that looked inedible enough to call it the sickly garbage that would spill out of a week old trash bag that had been sitting out in the sun. What's worse is the smell does not betray it's appearance.
While waiting for it to cook and stew away, they talked amongst themselves.
"—is Anya with your parents?" Kip asked Shane who nodded in response.
"We didn't know if this place was exactly dog friendly or not."
"And now?"
"No. Definitely not."
"Is Anya the puppy we played with?" Jade bounced.
Ilya smiled. "Yes, Anya is the puppy."
"Oh!" Amber piped up. "My friend's dog has 13 nipples!"
Jackie choked on her drink while Kip stifled a laugh.
"13?" Ilya asked.
"Did you mean 12, sweetie?" Hayden patted his wife's back.
"No, it's 13. I counted! But one is waaay bigger than the others—"
"OKAAAY, time for you guys to go to bed! We gotta get up early tomorrow. Come on. Let's go."
Everyone was trying to keep their laughter in as Jackie and Hayden herded their pouting kids away.
"Well boys, soups' done!" Dixon proudly announced.
And it, in fact, did not look done.
Dixon gave everyone paper bowls to serve food into, almost a bit too generously.
He seemed to be on the edge to ask Shane to take a bite, and thankfully his beautiful and fucking handsome husband spoke up.
"Scott is old and needs more vitamins for his age."
At Scotts glare, Ilya arched a brow, mouthing the words 'are you old or coward?'.
Challenged and pressured, Scott gave an Oscar worthy smile and performance as he ate the soup under Dixon's watch. The only telltale sign being his eyebrow spazzing out.
"Tell us how it tastes, Hunter." Ilya smiles sadistically.
Shane felt horrible for him.
But oh well. That was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Dixon seemed to approve and clasped his hands together, the sound making Kip flinch.
"Alrighty, boys! O'l Dixon needs to go to bed too. Could you guys do my favor and pack the food up—if there's even any left?"
Kip jumped in, no hesitation, "Yep! You have a good night Dixon!"
Dixon waved good night and walked off. "Good night boys!"
When it was absolutely sure that he had left and went and entered his cabin—Ilya stood up, walked his bowl to the trash and dumped it.
Scott gawked.
"You didn't even eat any!"
Ilya shrugged, "Of course not. I am not dumb." He blew a raspberry. "But it was funny to see you choke it down, no?"
"You motherfucker—" Scott abandoned his food and lunged at Ilya. The two pushing at each other, trying to make the other fall.
"Come at me, you old fuck!"
Avoiding them, Kip quickly dumped his food and slides next to Shane, who was poking the fire around with a stick, and bumped shoulders.
"So," he asked mildly. "The trip's almost over. What do you think?"
Not far from them, Scott and Ilya fall into the bushes.
"GET OFF MY FUCKING BACK!"
"Then eat more collagen for joints—"
Shane stared into the fire for a few seconds. And shrugged.
“It’s fine.” Another crash sounded from their husbands. “Forest’s nice. Been fun.” He glanced toward the cabins. “Good seeing everyone.”
Kip nodded and hummed.
"But you're upset."
Shane caved and sighed, "Dixon..."
“Yeahhh.” He smiled a little. “I kind of got the vibe you didn’t like him.”
Shane groaned and leaned back further into the log.
“It’s so stupid.”
“It doesn't sound very stupid.”
“No seriously.” He rubbed his face. “I don’t even have a fucking solid reason.”
"OW!"
"Tap out then."
"Fuck you Rozanov!"
Shane stared into the fire.
“I think it’s because they're so close.”
“Hm?”
“Hayden and Dixon. Like.” Shane gestured vaguely. “They're like brothers and they are actually related. And Hayden’s always talking about him.” Shane muttered. “Dixon this. Dixon that. Dixon helped with this. Dixon said this weird thing. Dixon caught this fish.”
“Ohhh.” Kip nodded slowly like he understood immediately.
“What.”
“You’re jealous.”
Shane looked horrified and spluttered.
“What? No. No the fuck I’m not.”
“You kinda are.”
“I’m literally married. To that. Over there.” He pointed at the ground where Ilya who was trying to lick Scott's hand—while Scott was trying to push him away, desperately.
"Yeah, but you know that's not what I meant. Hayden's been your best friend for years. And you guys hardly hang out as much, especially in different teams. This was something you were looking forward to."
...True.
Scott and Ilya staggered over, dusting off leaves and dirt.
"I think you should tell him."
"Absolutely not."
"Tell who?" Scott panted.
"Tell Hayden that he hates Dixon—"
"Kip!" Shane hissed.
"Oh. Yeah. I get it."
"What?" Shane whipped his head.
Scott shrugged.
"Some people just have punchable faces and you can barely stand them."
"Thank you."
"You should tell Pike."
"I take it back."
Kip laughed and held Scott's hand.
"We're going to bed, but Shane, please think on it."
The only thing on his mind while watching his husband reinstall the trail cam—with a flashlight in hand—is how fucking hungry he was.
Maybe it was how much hiking and swimming they all did or Shane skipping out on lunch and dinner—or maybe it was both.
Just the thought made his stomach growl embarrassingly loud.
Ilya jolted and started scanning the forest.
"Bigfoot is on his way—"
"No, you fucking doofus," Shane lightly smacked the back of Ilya's head, "That was my stomach."
"You not eat Dick-son's scary food?"
"Of course I didn't eat it. You didn't either. Aren't you hungry?"
"Shane, I am a hockey player. I will eat your shoe if I have to."
Shane's stomach growled again, longer.
"...Did you want to eat my shoe?"
"Shut the fuck up." Shane sighed, running a hand down his face. "I kind of wish there was a snack store here or at least a vending machine."
"Bigfoot would steal their snacks and money. But yes, I wish they had the McDonald's closer. We should go to it on our way home."
"There's a McDonald's?"
"Yes, the one we passed driving here?"
He could vaguely picture it, but there was indeed one. It was on the edge of the town, just before the road took them to the camping grounds. And by the growl of his stomach, it could remember it too.
So he thought about it. And really thought about it.
"What time is it?"
"...Time for Bigfoot to step all over camp?"
"No. What time is it right now?" But before Ilya could respond, Shane pulled out his phone. 9:43.
"Ilya."
"Yes, moya lyubov?"
"...How do you feel about getting a bite?"
On their way out, they dumped the bag of trash—and Dixon's vomit soup—and pulled into the McDonald's parking lot. The line for the drive-thru was ridiculous at this hour. But they weren't in a rush and decided to dine in.
There were maybe only 3 customers other than them and a couple of workers. The lanky employee at the register had this very overly optimistic aura about him and wore like 20 pins of bears next to his name tag of Parker Jones.
"Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get for you guys?"
"Can I get a Double Big Mac combo with Large fries." Ilya's brows rose as Shane ordered.
"Would you like a drink with that?"
"Ginger ale."
"Oh, sorry, we're out."
"Okay then, uh, a sprite?"
"Sorry, out of that too."
"...Diet coke?"
"Sorry—"
"Okay, then I'll take a water. Please."
"What si—"
"Large."
"Well, it looks like we only have bottled Dasani, will that—"
"Yes. That's fine."
"Okay!" Despite Shane's snappish tone, he seemed to be completely unaffected.
"How can I help you, sir?"
Ilya opens his mouth to order but the employee cut him off.
"Hey! You guys were camping huh! The place not far from here, right?"
Ilya nodded.
Then like floodgates, the guy began unleashing a word vomit. Every little detail about the park, the workers, history, places, trails, and the bears. This guy knew everything about bears. Everything.
Used to Dixon at this point, Shane tuned it all out. The only words he got out of that was something about a pet bear, blah blah, ranger, blah. They must have been standing there for at least 10 fucking minutes.
Miraculously, someone shouted in the back and Parker snapped back.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! Please sir, tell me your order!"
Ilya ordered his double cheeseburger, fries and a coke and they went and sat in a booth. And despite the long conversation, the food was ready in 5. They wasted no time to dig in.
However Ilya deflated upon seeing his double cheeseburger had no cheese.
His husband seemed to be upset, excluding the no-cheese-cheeseburger—Shane can only assumed to be from unable to find bigfoot. So he talked to him about their trip and seeing everyone again.
"Glad to see Pike's kids are still a handful" Ilya chomped on his cheeseless-cheeseburger.
Shane guffawed, nearly choking on his fries. "No, cause when Amber started talking about dog nipples, Jackie choked."
Ilya snickered. "Yes and Pike had to scramble out of there."
Shane smiled at the small moment. It was really nice to see everyone again. He couldn't stress that enough.
"Two or four?" Ilya asked out of the blue, slightly muffled by food.
"Two or four what?"
Ilya swallowed his bite, "Nipples."
"What?"
"Do Sass-Squashes have 2 or 4 nipples?" He licked some of the sauce that dripped onto his finger, "Or maybe 6?"
Shane just stares at Ilya, who finally looks up and shrugged.
"How else will the hairy babies eat, Shane?" He bit into his burger.
Shane snorted, reached over the table and pat a hand on his curls, to which Ilya preened and leaned into while munching his no-cheese-cheeseburger.
"I'm glad someone at least one of us is enjoying this trip."
.
.
.
After eating and talking, they realized they lost track of time and the place was about to be closed. So they leave with their drinks and sit in the car. They watched as an employee left, as well as other cars leave, until it was only their car and a scratched up truck on the other side of the lot.
Shane sighed.
Regardless of the night. Kip's words were bouncing around his head.
"I think you should tell him."
...Sorry Kip. He wasn't going to tell his best friend that he hadn't seen in a while that he hated his cousin.
Then Shane put his key in to start the ignition.
The dash turned on and the engine stalled but doesn't start.
And so he turned the key again—
Aaaaand it still doesn't start.
"...Shit."
DIxon's food must have been made with something radioactive because Scott's guts were all kinds of fucked up. He staggered back to the cabin after he pleaded and prayed to survive in the outhouse. He had narrowly won the battle. Which nearly costed his soul.
Kip was already knocked out cold and Scott finally kicked off his shoes and laid down, arms too tired to pull up the sleeping bag.
But he only had one more day, not another night! And then they can finally fly back home.
However, his phone started to go off and groaned, trying to answer before Kip could rouse awake. Then again, Kip was an adorable heavy sleeper.
"This is Hunter."
"—Scott—"
He frowned and pulled his phone back for a second to confirm the caller ID.
"Hollander? Why the hell are you calling?"
The voice flittered though, but with every word, Scott only grew more confused.
"What the hell were you doing at McDonald's—never mind don't answer that. Do you guys have jumper cables because our car is a rental?"
Hollander's voice sounded tense and asperated, if not a bit embarrassed—but then it suddenly got quieter before shouting. A few words loud enough that they echoed in the cabin.
"—fucking kill—"
Then the call abruptly ended.
Scott groaned and pulled himself up.
Moments ago—Ilya and Shane took a look under the hood to inspect why, now of all times, the car decided to not work. It only took Shane a few guesses before he dumbly realized that, shit, the battery died.
What made matters worst is that in this small town, nearly everything was closed and it was well past 11 p.m.
Ilya even tried knocking on the McDonald's door—which was now locked—and peeked through the window before looking back at Shane, shaking his head.
Shane groaned and sat in the car pulling out his phone, going into his contacts.
Ilya gets back into the passenger seat, "Who are you calling?"
"Scott."
Ilya made a face.
Shane huffed, pressing the call button. "It's late and I'm pretty sure everyone else is surely sleeping."
It took a few rings before it was picked up.
"Hey, Scott—sorry uh, do you think you can come and help? We're kind of stuck at a McDonald's just outside the campgrounds. The car battery died so—"
"Shane." Ilya shook his shoulder. "Shane."
"I'm talking to Scott, give me a sec. Yeah, no I have cables—"
"It's Sass-Squash!" Ilya now frantically shaking him.
"Ilya for fuck's sake—Ohmygod. What the hell is that?"
Finally, Shane saw through his window to where Ilya was looking at—under the flickering light of the drive-thru, was a black mass figure, walking in a VERY odd way. Almost inhuman if you will.
"Shane, it is happening!"
"No it not fucking Bigfoot, okay—it's probably just some guy—"
Shane rolled his window down, glad his car had enough power to do that much, and when he was just about to shout asking if the man was alright, his jaw snapped tight as he heard the rather startling grunts that no human could possibly make.
His heart nearly leapt out of his throat.
"Oh my fucking god...that might actually be Bigfoot."
Then—for some goddamn unknown reason—Ilya is trying to get out of the fucking car like a fucking idiot.
Instinctively, Shane grabs Ilya's shirt, pulling him back.
"What in the fuck are you doing?!"
"I am going to fight him." Ilya strained against his shirt.
"Why the fuck would you fight a goddamn sasquatch!"
"How many men can bravely say they fought bigfoot and lived to tell the tale—"
"NONE BECAUSE HE WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
"Shane—"
"ILYA YOU FUCKING—JUST STOP—"
"He is right there—oh, he disappeared."
In the middle of their squabble, at some point the fucking cryptid disappeared. Shane gave a shout of alarm.
"Aww Shane," Ilya deflated, "you scared him."
"You wanted to fight it you fucking psycho—fuck! I accidentally hung up on Scott."
Shane let go of Ilya's stretched out t-shirt to fumble around for his phone.
"He did not seem very tall. I could take him." His husband pouted, looking out the window.
"It's still a fucking creature."
"He looked short and heavy."
"So you wanted to fight an obese bigfoot?"
"Fat-shaming Bigfoot, Shane? I am disappointed. It could have been a pregnant woman bigfoot—"
"Oh my god—"
"—maybe if I get closer next time, I can count the nipples."
"Jesus, just shut—holy shit—it's fucking back again—!"
Scott staggered around the path, grumbling while holding his phone with the flashlight on, and shuffling his keys—swatting away at persistent moths.
"Scott?"
"—they hear their names called in the middle of night. The voice just like a human's—"
Horrified and about to shit his pants, Scott yelped and shined the light into Hayden's face, who flinched back, hand instinctively held up.
"Jesus—What are you doing out here?"
"Someone had to go potty," he gestured to his son, who Scott just realized was standing there rubbing his eyes sleepily, "Where are you going?"
Scott huffed.
"To go rescue Hollander and Rozanov from McDonald's."
"...what?"
"You crazy fucker—stop fighting me!" Shane's arms were wrapped around Ilya's waist.
"Shane. It is my time to shine."
"Like a fucking idiot—what the hell are you saying?!"
"We will be in history books and—oh, Sass-Squash is coming here—"
"WHAT?"
They froze as they saw the figure stumble their way and—drops to the ground like a fucking horror thing.
"Oh shit, it tripped over its big fucking feet."
It turned and then they realize—
"Oh thank god," Shane sighed with relief, "It's just a fucking bear."
It wobbled over to the garbage cans in front of the restaurant.
Ilya peered out of the window, leaning out.
"It is a really fat bear."
Shane smacked his arm and pulled him back in, "It's still a fucking bear!"
So they sat there, and watched the chubby bear dig around for McDonald's leftovers. And Shane started laughing. Giggling at this fucking bear. Ilya chuckled too.
"What a fucking day..."
And what a day indeed—just how wound up Dixon got him and how—let's face it—jealous and childish he acted. And Kip was right. He needed to tell Hayden.
The bear licked its lips after snacking and somehow got curious of Ilya and Shane's car, waddling over.
Ilya pressed his forehead against the glass, "It is very well fed. It has triple chins."
At the building's employee exit, the lanky man, Parker Jones, closed the door and sees the bear. Ilya and Shane ducked.
"Charlie! Leave that damn car alone!"
The bear—Charlie—turns and ambleed off to the guy who ruffled the bears ears and led it to the truck. He flipped down the tailgate and the bear pulled itself up on the truck—which bounced from the weight—he shut the gate and pulled a tarp over. He hurried into the truck when new headlights turned into the parking lot, and drove off.
"...well, damn...I guess he really did have a pet bear."
The new car parked next to them, Scott rolling down the window and gave them a tired look.
"Good evening, Scott." Shane nodded.
Then Hayden's head peeked around Scott.
Shane froze "A-and you too, Hayds...."
Everyone got out of the vehicles. Ilya and Scott looked at the car under the hood.
"You look like shit, Hunter? Missed your old people nap?"
"Fuck off."
They started slapping each other's hands out of the way, commencing a slap fight.
Hayden walked over to Shane.
"So...McDonald's. Why—"
"Hayden. I'm sorry."
"What—"
"—but I think your cousin is a dick and I can barely stand him and there's not really a concrete reason or evidence to back me up. Sorry. Oh and his food smells and looks like vomit."
Everyone was shocked into silence.
Scott and Ilya gawped from around the hood.
After the longest moment—and Shane feeling a trickle of dread—Hayden snorted before laughing so hard Shane felt deeply concerned.
"Dude. I get it. He's so fucking annoying and his face is so punchable."
"...What the fuck?"
"Buddy. Is that what was bothering you? I was worried that you were sick or something!"
Then Shane started giggling, "Oh my fucking god, I think I'm going insane."
Hayden chuckled, "I think you are too."
The car was fixed, or at least charged enough—Shane already planning on buying a new battery on their way home or just simply ordering one.
And in the morning, by some miracle, Dixon had to leave early due to work and shift schedules. So Shane and Hayden decided to hang out on the paddle boat for one last moment before everyone left.
They said their goodbyes to Scott and Kip as they had to catch their flight. And they also hugged the Pikes, already making plans for next time.
On their way out, walking by the office the rangers were talking out loud—something about the McDonald's drive-thru sign falling on a car—talking about how they think it might have been the bears climbing on it, considering there was one bear in particular that loved climbing poles. But shame that it died long ago.
Ilya offered to drive, seeing how absolutely wiped out Shane was.
They strolled down the road.
"This camp was...interesting."
"You can say shit, Ilya," Shane stretched and yawned. "I might be done with camping for a while. Maybe for the whole year."
Ilya snorted. "We have the cottage. That might be enough for camping."
Shane smiled and looked out his window as the trees and scene scrolled by—and saw a tall hairy and dark figure walking through the shrubbery.
"Oh my god," Shane's heart lurched and twisted to look back at it.
"What? Your husband is so smart?"
"No, I think-I think I just saw Bigfoo-
Ilya slammed on the brakes, sliding across the gravel and dirt, and swerved the car.
.
.
.