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“Are you sure we should be out here?”
Jim chuckled and leaned against a tree while he waited for Oswald to finish tying his shoe. “It’s fine. My dad and I used to go camping out here when I was younger. The Wayne family won’t even notice we were here.”
Oswald raised his eyebrows and smirked. “So, the answer is no, you’re just sure we won’t get caught. You deviant.”
“I’m the one with the marshmallows,” Jim said, wagging his finger at Oswald. “You better be nice to me.”
He braced against the tree as Oswald stood and walked over, crowding Jim against the rough bark as he reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. “I can be very nice.”
“Noted,” Jim said before kissing him again.
Since that morning in the rain, Jim kissed Oswald every chance he got; behind his apartment building, in the alley next to his work, at home on his front porch, and each kiss felt different and wonderful. It stopped his heart and stole his breath, though, when Oswald felt relaxed enough to kiss him first.
“The campsite is just up that hill,” Jim said, slinging his backpack into place once he could breathe again. “Almost there.”
“Thank heavens,” Oswald said, following Jim's footsteps up the incline. “I'm made for city life, Jim. These feet are made for concrete, not stepping in rotting leaves and tripping over roots.”
Laughing at his boyfriend’s melodrama, Jim crested the top of the hill and looked out over the campsite with a pleased smile. Oswald joined him and took in the scenery; the small plateau where a fire pit stood, the drop off to a small river running through the canyon. With the sun setting below the horizon, everything glowed with a faint pink color.
“You were right,” Oswald said in a hushed tone. “It's beautiful up here.”
“See? Who has good ideas?” Jim bumped against his side and grinned.
Oswald pushed him away and turned back to the firepit. “Come on, we should set up the tent while we still have the sun.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Jim saluted him, his heart fluttering at Oswald’s unrestrained laughter.
The two boys worked together, Jim setting up the tent while Oswald got a fire starting and pieced together the collapsable table. The tent popped up quickly and Jim spread out their sleeping bags, foam pads, and pillows inside, making sure Oswald’s side had plenty of cushion. Hanging a battery-powered lantern from the hook at the top, he looked outside to see Oswald standing in front of the firepit with his arms stretched out and his face tilted to the sky.
“What is it?” Jim called out.
Oswald turned around with his arms still held out and a giant grin across his face. “I’m king of the flame!”
Jim scrambled out of the tent, laughing while he zippered the door shut. “All hail the king!”
Oswald spun in a couple of circles, bowing to his invisible court, before collapsing into his camp chair in a fit of giggles.
Shaking his head, Jim leaned over the back of the chair to wrap his arms around Oswald’s shoulders. “Is all this fresh air going to your head?”
“Maybe,” Oswald said, looking up at him with happy, shining eyes. “You’re wonderful, you know that?
Heat spilled across Jim’s cheeks at the compliment and he ducked his head to hide his face in Oswald’s hair. “You’re being silly.”
Whenever Oswald looked at him, there was an honesty to it that squeezed Jim’s stomach and dried his throat, made it hard to speak. Pressing a kiss to his ink black hair, Jim sighed at the happiness bubbling into his chest.
“You’re wonderful yourself, you know? I know I don’t say it enough,” Jim mumbled into Oswald’s hair.
Oswald hummed and reached up to run his hand through Jim’s hair. They stayed like that, wound around each other while the sun set and the fire flickered bright in the growing darkness, until Jim’s back ached from the bent position and he had to stand back up.
Staring at the flame, Jim scrunched his face. “You know, for a self-proclaimed city boy, you’re pretty good at building a fire.”
Oswald leaned forward to poke at the blaze. “Before I worked for Mr. Gilzean, my mom couldn’t really work.” His face turned solemn and Jim wanted to pull him back into his arms. “We used to find old furniture that no one wanted and use it to keep the apartment warm. We’d open up the window and let the smoke pour out. Sometimes I wonder if other people in the building did the same thing, and that’s why it burned down.”
“I’m sorry, Oz,” Jim said, reaching out and placing a hand on the small of Oswald’s back.
Oswald shrugged. “It was a while ago, and I have my job now that keeps us in fuel.” He turned his head and shot a smile at Jim, the gesture not quite reaching his eyes.
Pushing his unruly hair out of his face, Oswald stood up and moved to the plastic camp table where he’d left their food. Jim watched him, the light of the fire giving Oswald an otherworldly look and turning him into a fey creature moving through the shadows.
What’s he even doing with an idiot like me? He’s so much better than this town.
The idea that Oswald was from another world, only here through his connection to Jim and the growing emotion (love) between them, sent shivers through his spine. He wanted to touch him again, remind himself that Oswald was a survivor and smart as shit and wanted to be with him.
“Why did we bring this many marshmallows?” Oswald held up the enormous bag of marshmallows and broke through Jim’s wild imaginings.
Grinning wide, Jim walked over and slid his arms around Oswald. “Yeah, sorry, it’s all I could carry.”
“Are we building an igloo out of them or something?”
“We could,” Jim said with a shrug. “I plan on eating them, though. You stay comfy, I’m gonna go get us some sticks.”
Pulling out a granola bar, Oswald waved him off with a smile, tearing open the wrapper and returning to the fire pit.. Jim shook his head and left Oswald fiddling with the logs, moving them into a more desirable position while he ate his snack.
It didn’t take long to track down two suitable marshmallow skewers and Jim hurried back through the woods to find Oswald sitting straight in his camping chair, talking to a grey-haired man across the flames.
“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. My friend thought we could use this spot, since his father used to bring him here,” Oswald said, his tone light and his smile small.
Jim rushed forward. “Sorry, sorry. I’m Jim Gordon. My dad used to bring me here whenever he had time off work.” He looked down and scuffed the ground with his foot. “I thought, well, I thought that it might still be okay.”
The older gentleman looked at Jim for a long while, his brow furrowed and his mouth in a thin line before nodding his head as if he’d reached a conclusion. “Yes, I do see a bit of your father in you, young Jim.” He held out his hand. “I’m Thomas Wayne. It’s nice to meet you.”
Jim shook the extended hand and moved closer to Oswald, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort. “This is my frie-” He stopped, looked down, and smiled. “This is my boyfriend, Oswald.”
Oswald blushed, but shook Thomas’ offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“I did have a standing invitation with your father. He needed the woods to relax at times. I suppose it’s nothing to let you inherit that invite.” He tipped his hat to the two of them. “I’ll let my staff know to leave you alone. Have a good time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
With one final nod, Thomas left them to their camping and Jim let out a huge sigh of relief. Oswald stood up and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Holy cow, that was, that was Thomas Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises, and he knows my name!” Oswald’s smile stretched over his face. “Do you know what this means?”
Jim looked around their campsite. “Yeah, it means we can come here anytime we like.”
“No, you silly boy.” Oswald’s whole body vibrated. “It means, that I’ll be able to say ‘Hello, Mr. Wayne, it’s nice to see you again’ the next time Mooney needs to have a meeting with him. God, imagine her face!”
Jim turned around, walked to the table, and grabbed the bag of marshmallows. Walking to the fire, Jim opened the bag and started throwing the white puffs into the fire.
“What are you doing?” Oswald asked, wrenching back his arm.
“Making a sacrifice in the hopes that you won’t get the shit kicked out of you,” Jim said, keeping his voice light even while his stomach churned with the thought of Oswald getting hurt.
Thin arms wrapped around his waist and Jim leaned back into his embrace. Deft fingers stole into the plastic bag in his hands and threw a marshmallow into the fire.
“There, now we’ve both sacrificed,” Oswald said, rubbing his nose into the back of Jim’s neck. “I’m as safe as the gods of sugar can make me.”
“You’re being careful, right?” Jim asked, his heart in his throat.
Oswald drifted around until Jim could look down and see his bright eyes. He cupped Oswald’s face and the air sizzled with static as they stared at each other.
“I’m being careful, Jim, I promise.” Oswald’s eyes held every drop of sincerity and Jim couldn’t breathe.
Leaning down, Jim kissed him and felt the tension of the moment dissipate into a sweeter ache as he pressed his whole body against Oswald. A faint whimper and Jim stepped back, separating with a brush of his nose against Oswald’s cheek.
“Better?” Oswald asked, breathless and smiling.
Jim smiled back. “Better, but... know what would make it even better?”
Oswald held up the forgotten bag of marshmallows. “Fire and sugar?”
Laughing, Jim nodded and looked around for the roasting sticks. “You know me so well.”
They took their respective seats, though Jim moved his chair closer and Oswald turned his so that he could lean against Jim while they watched their marshmallows, content in their new hideaway.