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It was supposed to be perfect. Hunter needed a perfect moment for revealing a truth he’s scared of because it might destroy something. He hates to destroy things. Unfortunately, he seems to be remarkably good at that.
Right now, he’s 98% sure, he’s never going to tell that particular truth tonight.
He and Fitz are sitting inside their poorly constructed tent. The sun is just about to set. It’s hard to tell, because the sky is like grey velvet. It’s cold. And it’s raining cats and dogs. Thunder is rolling in the distance, making it clear, that the weather won’t get any better soon. From time to time, a strong gust of wind makes the tent wobble and Hunter’s afraid it might collapse. That would leave them no other choice but to sleep in the car.
Hunter figures this is the worst and most tragic road trip in the history of road trips.
“The forecast didn’t mention this,” he says dryly, watching the cascades of raindrops in front of them.
Fitz shrugs. He’s sitting on the ground cross-legged, a huge pack of marshmallows leaning against his knees. They are mostly dry, not like Fitz’s hair which is just drying. It’s curling at the edges. He watches the rain and says, “It’s the weather. It does what it wants.”
Hunter sighs. “I’m sorry.”
Fitz looks at him confused. “What for?”
“Well … this is not what I had in mind when I said road trip and it’s certainly not what you deserve.”
Fitz chuckles. “Don’t worry. Things go wrong all the time. But that doesn’t mean everything has to be horrible. You can improvise.”
“Still. I wanted it to be … nice,” Hunter says, sighing.
“This is nice,” Fitz says softly.
God. Hunter wants to hug him. Too soon, he tells himself. Maybe it will always be too soon. “But … It could be so much nicer,” he insists. With a hotel room for example. A hotel room, with a proper bed and a warm shower. With the little packs of soap they use to put on the pillows, right beside some chocolate. Seriously, screw these websites that say road trips and camping are romantic. They don’t tell you what could go wrong. It’s a whole list. A long, long list. When they get out of here alive, Hunter is going to write a honest blog post about road trips.
Because, it is not only the weather. It is … everything.
First, they got lost. Really, really lost in the literal middle of nowhere. Hunter somehow managed to lose the map. One moment, he had it and was looking for the place he wanted to go to - a proper camping site with proper fire places - and suddenly, the map was gone. Next, their mobile phones had no signal. Hunter was about to freak out, because it started nice - with calm talking in the car, to soft country music from the radio and the beautiful nature passing by - and suddenly they were driving on streets that clearly had seen not a lot of other cars lately. Fitz had calmed him down, telling him they would find the place or something else.
But then, the car decided to conk out. Smoke came out the engine cover. With no one around to help, no signal and no tools, they weren’t able to do anything about it and decided to put up their tent somewhere. They were almost finished when the dark clouds came and the sky showered them with heavy freezing rain. They fled into the tent and now here they are, in a huge forest, with tall trees standing so close together they are blocking out the sunlight. There are no other people. No proper ways, only thin path trails. Hunter is quite sure he saw the footsteps of a heavy bear earlier.
Hunter feels horrible.
It’s his fault they are stranded in a forest with who knows how many wild animals in it. It’s his fault they are wet and cold and have to eat their marshmallows out of the bag because no fire could resist this kind of rainstorm. It’s all his fault.
There’s no way he’s going to tell Fitz his secret here. No one knows anyway. He didn’t tell anyone else. He has a feeling Bobbi might have a suspicion. It wouldn’t be a surprise. She’s good. Too good. She reads him like she reads anyone else around her. An open book. But who knows, Jemma might hold a few secrets for her too, Hunter muses. He shared his own secret only with the mirror in the bathroom. A few times. He planned, prepared and scrapped everything. He’s bad at this.
When Hunter thinks about it, it’s a marvel, they even came this far.
Fitz was surprised when Hunter asked him. He needed a moment to answer and Hunter waited patiently, leaning against the cold table in the lab.
Fitz was surprised. Even though, Hunter thought he and Mack counted as friend at this point. At least, Fitz now joined him and Mack on the couch and takes a beer without much hesitation. He didn’t need an invitation anymore. But he still was in the lab and his room a lot. Mostly alone. So yeah, an invitation to a road trip with Hunter might came sudden.
“Is Mack coming too?” Fitz finally asked, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.
“No,” Hunter said. “Only you and me. If that’s … ok?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. It’s ok. I mean … I never did something like that. Never went on a road trip. You’re sure you want me along?” Fitz chuckled nervously.
There it was again. The Fitz who was certain everyone only wanted him around because they pitied him. Because they wanted to make him feel he was still a part of the team, although he still had bad days on which he couldn’t find words or make his hand stop trembling. The Fitz who was certain they would rather have the old Fitz around. But old Fitz was gone and new Fitz was not sure about anything - least of all of himself.
If he wasn’t an idiot who forgot how to talk when he was faced with feelings, Hunter would tell him. Would tell him how special he is, how Hunter’s heart sings when he sees Fitz’s smile and how desperately he wants to protect Fitz from the demons in his mind. But he forgot how to talk. But he just said, “Of course, I asked you, didn’t I?”, and winked at Fitz.
Fitz blushed. But he nodded.
That was - is? - the best Hunter could do.
They took Hunter’s old car - a mistake. He should have taken Coulson’s offer. Should have taken one of Shield’s car … - and packed their things. Well. Not all of them, as Hunter noticed soon. He forgot a lot of things. Important things. Like a toothbrush. Or an extra pair of socks. Or more food. The pack of crackers he brought is soaked.
Everything's a mess.
The thing is … Fitz really does look happy. He has looked happy in the car and he does now, watching the rain falling. For some weird reason, Fitz seems to enjoy this horrible chaotic so called road trip.
Still. Hunter should have planned this through better. God. He can’t tell anyone he fucked up this bad. They will laugh about him.
Fitz sneezes and Hunter perks up. “Sorry,” Fitz mumbles, hiding behind a tissue.
“You’re cold, aren’t you?” Hunter asks. And he feels bad again. His heart sinks.
Fitz sniffs and hesitates. Hunter knows he’s about to say no I’m fine. Fitz does that a lot. Saying he’s fine, saying everything’s alright, when it clearly isn’t. But then, Fitz says something different. “A bit,” he admits with a shy smile. It surprises Hunter. But it also makes him feel special.
Hunter reaches for his bag and pulls out a hoodie. “Here.” He gives it to Fitz, who looks at it surprised, but pulls it over his jumper.
“Better?” Hunter asks.
Fitz nods. “Thank you.”
Hunter hums and takes another marshmallow to distract himself. It’s too sweet on his tongue and reminds him of the toothbrush he didn’t bring.
“At least I didn’t forget the beer,” he mumbles.
Fitz chuckles. “The beer and the sweets. The most important things.”
“Yeah. Cheers to that.” Hunter reaches for the beer and hands one bottle to Fitz, opening one for himself. They clink their bottles and take a sip. At least they won’t have to worry about the beer getting too warm, Hunter thinks.
They drink in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable. Hunter watches Fitz and lets his thoughts wander. They bring him far away from the words he’s maybe never going to utter. Instead, he goes back to asking himself, it what he felt was there or no wishful thinking. If the things he read in some of Fitz’s gazes were just volatile moments of some emotions not even directed at Hunter. Maybe he was alone for too long. Maybe Fitz reminds him too much of a spark of love in his youth that went as fast as it came. Maybe.
“It stopped raining,” Fitz says after a while, waking Hunter up from the thoughts.
Hunter looks out the tent. Fitz is right. The steady beating of the raindrops disappeared. Water is dripping from trees and bushes, down into the puddles in the mud. It’s dark. The sky is clearing up, clouds floating away as if something’s chasing them away.
Fitz leaves the tent, stretching his back and Hunter follows him hesitantly, avoiding a big puddle right in front of him.
“Wow,” Fitz says, looking up at the sky, his eyes widening.
Hunter follows his gaze. Oh. Wow indeed. The revealed night sky is covered in stars. So dense, everything’s sparkling. It’s stunning. Combined with the silence of the forest, the soft rushing of leaves, It’s … it’s the moment Hunter had been hoping for, he realizes with sudden surprise. It’s a perfect moment. His heart jumps and he clears his throat. “Uh. Fitz?”
“Yeah?” Fitz smiles, his eyes still focused on the stars.
Hunter gulps. That smile. Oh fuck. He can’t do it. The words are stuck in his throat.
Fitz frowns. He tears his eyes from the sky and looks at Hunter. “Are you alright?”
Oh yes. Yes, I’m alright. I’m only so in love with you it hurts. And I don’t know if I should tell you because I don’t want to lose what we have now. I don’t want to destroy something, like I almost do. But it’s alright. I’m alright.
“Hunter?” Now Fitz sounds definitely worried.
Hunter takes a deep breath. Screw it . “I think I’m in love with you. Have been for a while. Wanted to tell you. I’m sorry,” he blurts out, everything at once, and then he wants flee, wants to run into the forest and never come back. His face burns. You’re a sore loser Lance , he tells himself.
Fitz gasps.
Hunter looks away and stares at his dirty shoes. He can’t bear to see the look on Fitz’s face. Surprise slowly changing in pity and regret. He knows the look. He knows worse.
But when Fitz says his name softly, he looks up and sees only Fitz’s wide open eyes, reflecting the starlight. Fitz doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he repeats Hunter’s name like it’s a mantra and raises his hand, to touch Hunter’s arm. He builds a connection.
It’s a connection, not parting, and Hunter thinks it might be alright. His secret is out and in Fitz’s hands. And when Fitz leans against him, until their shoulders are touching - warm and soft - Hunter knows it’s going to be alright.
Maybe Hunter didn't fuck up as bad as he thought after all.