Chapter Text
What they were doing currently was, unfortunately, not legal. It wasn’t the first illegal thing Michael had ever done, not by a long shot. The problem was, he preferred to keep his home life and his work life separate; sure, he’d done some trespassing, some breaking and entering, but that had been for the Institute.
He had tried to find a legal option, he really had. He’d pulled up a list of perfectly good campsites at first, all highly recommended by travel blogs. And then he pulled up another. And another.
They were all just so….manicured. Rows of tents, standing neatly next to each other in a field, not a tree, not a bush, not even a weed in sight. Even the campers in the photographs seemed fake, too-wide smiles and impeccable clothing giving them the look of a stock photo.
He must have gone to one such campground all those years ago, when he’d last been camping. It had seemed so exciting at the time; cooking dinner over a fire and sleeping under the stars had been so far from his every day, an opportunity to pretend he was off on some grand adventure.
Maybe he should have still been excited for it - after all, it would still be a change of pace, and Gerry would be there. Despite all of his rationale, all of his efforts to convince himself, he just couldn’t bring himself to book a spot at any of the sites he’d managed to find. After everything he’d learned at the institute, all the horrors he’d managed to face down, the prospect of spending three whole days at one of these sites just seemed so bland.
Eventually, after what felt like hours of fruitless searching, he’d given up, shutting his computer down. He’d texted Gerry, intending to just call off the whole damn thing. It wasn’t as though they’d spent ages planning out this trip; it was the product of the realization they’d forgotten about an upcoming long weekend, partially suggested in jest. In truth, he hadn’t even really known why Gerry had agreed to it in the first place.
He hadn’t been expecting Gerry to text back only a few minutes later, suggesting that they skip the campgrounds and find a secluded spot in a forest somewhere. He’d tried to protest, of course, but it was really only out of propriety. Even he had to admit the effort had been half-hearted.
A few days and some rather hasty preparations later and here they were, miles outside of the city with only the packs on their backs and no cell service to speak of. The sun lanced dramatically through the leaves overhead, their red and orange hues lending the whole scene an almost surreal feel as the gentle breeze sent shifting patterns rippling across the ground underfoot.
The day was warm, and the forest quiet, save for the crunching of the leaf litter beneath their feet. It was peaceful, and would have been perfect, save for the worry that wouldn’t stop circulating through Michael’s skull. If they were caught, they likely wouldn’t be able to lie their way out of this one. He hadn’t really researched the legal repercussions of doing something like this; maybe he should have -
Gerry reached out and grabbed Michael’s hand, breaking his train of thought as he laced their fingers together. Lost in his worry as he had been, the action caught Michael completely by surprise, and he stumbled over a root, flustered.
He’d barely even realized he was falling when Gerry caught him, free arm around his waist. Michael wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but suddenly he was leaning all of his weight back against Gerry’s arm, looking up at Gerry’s beaming smile, his hand still clasped in Michael’s own.
“I guess you could say you’ve…fallen for me,” Gerry said, struggling to hold back a laugh.
Michael didn’t even try to stop his own giggle at the statement. “That was awful.”
“I don’t think it was all that bad,” Gerry said, still supporting Michael’s weight. “It let me see your beautiful smile, after all.”
Michael felt the heat rising into his cheeks at the statement, Gerry’s grin widening as he saw it. With a rush of courage that he didn’t know he even possessed, Michael wrapped his hand around the back of Gerry’s neck, pulling himself up to kiss him. Judging by the small noise of surprise Gerry made, he hadn’t been expecting it either, and Michael pulled himself even closer.
He pulled away far sooner than he would have liked, extricating himself quickly from Gerry’s grip as he tried to hide the embarrassment he was sure was written plainly on his face. As he stood up fully, he couldn’t help but notice the blush that was most definitely coloring Gerry’s own cheeks, and how very good it looked on him. He grabbed Gerry’s hand again, giving it a gentle tug as he continued on into the trees.
_______
It was nearly four hours before they decided that they were far enough from civilization to safely set up camp. The spot they chose was small, barely large enough to be called a clearing. The stream that bubbled cheerily along the edge of the site was perhaps its biggest draw; they weren’t going to risk drinking its water, but it would make cleanup easier.
It added quite a nice ambiance to the spot, as well. Michael wandered over to it, taking in the moss-covered rocks and fallen branches that lined its banks. The water was clear, and he could clearly see the fallen leaves trapped in the mud at the bottom of it.
He felt as though he could stare into that stream for days. The water surged past the rocks, bubbles popping and reforming, spinning endlessly in the swirling eddies of the currents. Michael tore his gaze away with a small start, feeling slightly unsteady.
He turned away with a decisive motion, swinging his pack off of his shoulders and letting it hit the ground with a soft thump. Now was not the time to enjoy the natural beauty surrounding them, he decided. Or, rather, his stomach had decided. They had eaten before they had left, of course, and had snacks along the way, but Michael was still starving.
Unfortunately, there was much to do before they could even begin to think about eating. Gerry was across the clearing, busy setting up the portable barbeque that Michael had insisted on bringing. Gerry had wanted to dig a campfire pit; Michael had posited that was a good way to accidentally burn the forest down.
He freed their tent from his own bag, unrolling the thin nylon to lay out flat on the ground. It was a small thing, just big enough for the two of them to sleep in comfortably. Hardly luxurious, but nothing about camping was, really. What was important was that it was light, and almost ridiculously easy to assemble. It took barely any time for Michael to slide the tent poles into place and hammer in the stakes that would secure it to the ground.
Inside the tent, he rolled out the mat they’d brought; it was, quite honestly, the most annoying part of the whole endeavor. No matter what Michael tried, it refused to stop rolling back up at the edges. Eventually, he gave up, laying it as flatly as he could and flopping their sleeping bags down on top of it, pretending that their weight would keep it from rolling back up the second he turned his back to it.
Outside, Gerry had apparently had better luck. He was sat upon a large rock beside a cheerfully crackling fire, contained neatly within the barbeque. He was looking through the food they had brought with them, namely the few pouches of boil-in-bag MREs that Michael had picked up.
“The tent’s set up!” Michael announced as he straightened up, sending a glare back in the direction of the mat he was sure was currently rolling itself back up.
“Great! What do you want for dinner? We’ve got chicken and rice…spaghetti and meatballs…”
Michael interrupted him with a wave of his hand, plopping down on the rock next to him. “I don’t even care. I’m so hungry, I think I could eat an entire horse.”
“Hmm. No horse, sorry. Chicken and rice it is, I guess.” Gerry handed Michael two of the packages, putting the rest away before he grabbed their small pot and took it over to the stream to fill.
Michael watched him go; he was staring, he knew, but it was hard not to. Gerry was just so nice to look at.
He had to stifle a giggle as he watched Gerry briefly struggle to keep his leather trench coat from dragging in the mud as he crouched down. The coat was entirely impractical for camping, but Gerry rarely went anywhere without it. Michael hadn’t even been surprised when he showed up wearing it.
He turned his attention back to the fire as Gerry returned, setting the pot onto the grate that rested over the top of the barbeque. Michael didn’t hesitate, plopping the packages into the water immediately.
“Aren’t you supposed to wait for the water to boil first?” Gerry asked.
“Does it really matter? They’ll still get hot. I think this might be faster, too.”
Gerry just shrugged and sat back down on the rock beside Michael, leaning against him. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”
Michael hesitated for a moment as he wrapped his arm around Gerry, a bit taken aback by the question. “Hmm?”
“You’re the man with the plan. What did you have in mind for tomorrow?”
“Oh. I, uh, didn’t, actually. This was so last minute, I was more worried about figuring out where we would go and getting all the supplies than what we’d actually do once we got here.” He chuckled nervously. “Plus, I know you tend to prefer to make things up as we go along, so I figured we could try doing that.”
He bit down a surge of panic as he finished his statement – had Gerry wanted him to plan everything out? Maybe he should have asked; they’d never really had any sort of “vacation” together before, they hadn’t been together long enough for that.
The look on Gerry’s face said all he needed to know. Michaels apprehension melted away as Gerry stood up, chattering excitedly as he pulled the food out of the pot.
“Well, I figure we could probably just go explore. After all, camping is all about ‘being one with nature,’ right?” He handed Michael one of the packs, holding it carefully by one corner. “Careful, that’s hot.”
Michael ignored the warning, immediately ripping the package open and sticking his fork into it. “Works for me. We could bring some food with us, and find a spot to have a picnic.”
“Absolutely,” Gerry said, sitting back down beside Michael.
They sat in silence for a few moments, both focusing on the food in their hands. Michael broke it first, asking, “How is yours?”
“The food?” Gerry shrugged. “It’s not bad, actually. Better than some of what’s served in the cafeteria at the Institute, for sure.”
Michael snorted out a laugh at that. “As if that’s hard.”
“Think we’ll have the same luck with the instant coffee?”
Michael made a face, wrinkling his nose as he thought of the bitter, grainy taste of the Institute's coffee. “I mean, it can’t possibly be worse, can it?”
Once again, Gerry’s expression said it all; disgust, apprehension, and regret all vied for a place on Gerry’s face, and Michael couldn’t keep himself from laughing.
“Coffee can always be worse,” Gerry said seriously before his composure collapsed into laughter of his own moments later.
Their laughter trailed off into silence again after a few moments and Gerry leaned back against Michael’s shoulder with a contented sigh. The moon was barely visible through the trees, looking impossibly large and bright as it hung just above the horizon.
“It’s a full moon tomorrow, you know,” Michael said, looking up at it.
“Yeah. Hunter’s moon, they call it.” Gerry replied, idly playing with a piece of Michael’s hair.
“Why’s that?”
“Back when people needed to hunt for their food, those in the northern hemisphere would spend the month hunting and preserving game for winter. Thus, hunter’s moon.” He paused for a beat, staring into the fire with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Every full moon has a name, though not many people remember any more. I’m rather fond of the “Worm Moon.” That one’s in March.”
“How do you know that?” Michael asked with a fond smile.
Gerry shrugged. “I always liked astronomy, constellations and the like. It was an escape, you know?”
Gerry didn’t say what it was an escape from; he didn’t need to. Michael didn’t say anything, either, just wrapped his arm around him and held him close.
“My escape was always books,” Michael said with a quiet huff of laughter, “any books, really, but especially Gothic literature. I guess it’s really no surprise that I ended up at the Magnus Institute.”
“You know, when I first met you, I never would have guessed it,” Gerry said, squinting up at him.
“A lot of people tell me that. I’ve never really been able to figure it out,” Michael joked.
“It is quite a mystery. After all, bright sweaters and colorful bowties are the choice attire of every Gothic writer. Surely people know that.”
“Exactly! I have to dress the part!”
Gerry huffed out a quiet laugh at that. “Do you have a favorite?” He asked.
“Bowtie?”
“No, book. I know which bowtie is your favorite - that blue one, with the little pink flowers? You wear it all the time. Sorry, I should have clarified.”
“Oh!” Michael had to take a moment to process; He hadn’t realized Gerry paid attention to what he wore at all, much less so enough to correctly pick out which tie was his favorite.
“That’s a tough question,” he said after a moment of thought. “If I had to choose...Probably the Picture of Dorian Gray. It’s just such a beautiful book. And so sad! Poor Basil didn’t deserve what happened to him. Oh! And Sybil!”
“I haven’t actually read that one,” Gerry admitted.
“Oh! Then I will say no more,” Michael said. “I don’t want to spoil it if you do decide to read it.”
“Do you have a copy?
“I do! Not on me, obviously, but I could loan it to you when we get back to London, on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That you keep me updated while you’re reading it,” Michael winced after he said it, realizing how demanding it sounded. Was it too much? Maybe he should have phrased it differently.
Gerry barked out a laugh, much to Michael’s relief. “Of course I’m going to keep you updated. It’s your favorite book; you wouldn’t be able to keep me from telling you my thoughts if you wanted to.”
They kept talking until the moon was high and the fire had burned down to a smoldering pile of ash. Michael had barely even realized how late it had gotten until he found himself shivering in the chill. It always amazed him how easy it was to lose track of time when he was talking to Gerry; he didn’t think he’d ever met someone who made him feel so heard. He was so used to being talked over, to feigning interest. It was a nice change - one that he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on right now, for fear of actually crying.
“Come on,” Gerry said, and Michael didn’t protest as he grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go to bed.”
_______
“Oh, fuck.” Gerry’s voice dragged Michael back to awareness.
“Wha…?” Michael mumbled, sitting up. There was a loud sound, one he couldn’t place through the haze of sleep. He shook his head with a frown, trying to register what was happening. “Is it raining?”
“Yeah. The tent’s leaking,” Gerry said, moving his pack out of the way of the steady drip of water.
“Oh, shoot. I must have put the rainfly on wrong,” Michael said, wriggling out of his sleeping bag. “I didn’t even think we would need it, not really. It wasn’t supposed to rain!”
He pulled his boots back on and grabbed Gerry’s coat; while it was, in general, rather impractical for camping, it was a great deal more waterproof than his own sweatshirt. Before he could begin to worry about what the rain was going to do to his hair, he ducked out of the tent’s doorway and into the deluge.
“Wait, Michael!” Gerry called after him, but by the time he’d heard him, he was already outside.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it!” He called back.
It was raining hard, and his hair was drenched within seconds. He realized too late that he had forgotten to grab a torch. It only gave him pause for a second before he decided it would be a waste of time to get one. The light shining through the tent’s walls from the light inside was just enough to see by, anyways.
He half-stumbled, half-felt his way over to where the leak had appeared to be, tugging the rainfly more securely over the tent. “Is that better?” he called.
“Yeah, that did it.”
“Great,” he muttered, crouching down to try to tie the fabric back into place. The wet cable, combined with the lack of light, made it take longer than it usually would have, and he may or may not have let slip a few uncharacteristic curses before it was done.
He crawled back into the tent, trying not to drip all over everything. It was hard – their sleeping bags took up most of the space inside, and the little that was left was occupied by their packs. Gerry was waiting for him with a towel, which Michael gratefully accepted.
“Thank you for fixing that,” Gerry said, looking almost...sheepish?
“Well, one of us had to,” Michael said with a short laugh. He unfolded the towel, starting to dry off the sleeves of Gerry’s jacket.
“Yeah, I know but – what are you doing? That towel was meant for you, not the jacket.” Gerry pulled the towel back out of Michaels hands and plopped it on top of his head, ruffling his hair with it instead.
“Hey!” He protested, trying to pull away. “But, it’s your jacket, which you love, and I borrowed it without asking. I can’t just give it back like this.”
“It’s just a coat, Michael. It’ll dry. Sure, I love it, but I love you more.” Gerry was smiling softly at him as Michael pulled the towel back off of his head, and Michael felt his apprehension ease at the sight, the knot of worry in his gut loosening slightly.
He shrugged the jacket off, trying not to let it drip on the sleeping bags as he handed it back to Gerry. Gerry took it, then leaned forwards, closing the distance between them to kiss Michael, quick and soft. He leaned forwards just enough to whisper in Michael’s ear, saying, “It looks good on you, by the way,” before pulling away again.
Michael couldn’t seem to find any words to respond, trying to ignore the heat that he felt creeping into his cheeks. Across the tent, Gerry seemed pleased with himself, spreading his jacket out to dry. Michael tossed the towel back over his head, telling himself that it was just to finish drying his hair, and not at all so that he could hide his reddened face.
He ended up just crawling back into his sleeping back without pants on; the pair he’d been wearing were absolutely soaked from the knees down, and trying to find another pair in his overstuffed bag was more effort than he was willing to put in at the moment. That, he decided, could be a problem for the morning.
Gerry was cuddled up against him within seconds of his lying back down, his sleeping bag unzipped just enough to stick his arm out and wrap it around Michael’s waist.
“I wish we could have gotten one of those double sleeping bags,” Michael mused quietly as he reached over to turn off the torch.
“They make those? Why didn’t we?” Gerry sounded almost offended. Michael chuckled.
“I couldn’t find one on such short notice.”
“Damn. Next time, I guess.”
“Next time,” Michael agreed, smiling widely in the darkness. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “I love you too, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” The cheeky reply made Michael giggle. Gerry joined in, the sound filling the small space. Michael rolled over, shifting just enough to press another kiss to Gery’s lips. It was a bit harder to do in the dark, a bit messier, but they managed just fine, still laughing breathlessly between kisses.
Once they had finally calmed, Michael laid his head on Gerry’s chest, listening to the reassuring thump of his heartbeat. What a mess, he thought quietly. His hair was still practically dripping, the rain outside still beating down, and Michael could definitely feel a rock through the mat, digging into his hip.
Michael was quite sure he had never been happier.
Judging by Gerry’s contented sigh, Michael thought it was pretty safe to assume that he felt the same way.
_______
He wasn’t sure what time it was when he awoke the second time. It was still dark outside of their tent, no hint of sunlight showing against its thin fabric walls. At first, he couldn’t find a reason why he would be awake. Gerry seemed to still be asleep beside him, and the tent was still dry.
He lay in the dark for a few moments, waiting for sleep to overtake him once again. After a few moments, though, he heard it.
Or, rather, he didn’t hear anything. When they’d gone to sleep, the forest outside had been alive with sound – the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs. Even when the rain had started, there still had been sounds of life. Now, it was dead silent. Even the stream, so close to their tent, was muted, sounding oddly distant in the stillness.
For a moment, Michael could almost convince himself that it was just of the late hour that had brought about the change.
Until - outside, a rustling in the leaves, a huffing of breath on the other side of the thin nylon wall. There was no way to see out, no light to cast a shadow, but it sounded big. Bigger than anything that should rightfully be in these woods.
Michael froze, his heart racing. Would it try to come after them? Behind him, arm wrapped tightly around him, Gerry mumbled something quietly. For the briefest of moments, Michael considered waking him. He quickly decided against it. What would he do? Something rash, no doubt.
The rustling faded slowly, whatever was causing it moving away. He heard a splash as it stepped into the stream, though any more movement was hidden by the noise of the water.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, waiting, barely breathing. Finally, a few hesitant cricket chirps broke the silence, and the forest around them exploded back into the quiet ambiance Michael had fallen asleep to. The tension seemed to have drained from the air, and Michael relaxed, letting out a quiet sigh.
He pressed himself closer to Gerry, freeing one hand from the confines of his sleeping bag to lace their fingers together. He murmured in his sleep again, and Michael closed his eyes, trying to forget whatever had been outside as he listened to Gerry breathing softly behind him.