Chapter Text
Two days after graduation finds you in your room, packing for the two-month sleepaway camp that’s twenty miles south of Insomnia where you’ve been a counselor for three summers in a row. Well, soon to be four. While the outdoors isn’t exactly your forte, you can’t deny the cool survival skills that you’ve learned over the years, plus the pay is decent—car, soon, hopefully, yes?—you always come back with something akin to tan (along with a million bug bites), the kids are fun, most of the time, besides. It gets you out of the house, is basically the only thing on your resume at this point in terms of “leadership,” and...and it nets you two beautiful, wonderful, amazing months with the love of your life. Delicious, delicious torture—seeing as he doesn’t know that he’s totally made of boyfriend material. At least Prompto’s your best friend, you think idly as you dig out your trusted supply of shorts and camp shirts (seriously, three years at a camp gives a girl a fuckton of shirts, tie-dye and otherwise).
Thwack!
The sound underneath the emo playlist resonating from your phone is a familiar one—you rush to the window and throw it open, letting the stuffy afternoon air into your bedroom (gross, it feels like soup outside). But the heat is worth it, if only for gazing down at the chipper blond two stories below. You let out a small sigh and proceed to swoon inside of your brain.
“Hey punk, quit throwin’ rocks at my window!”
Prompto grins, and it lights up his whole face.
It’s not fair.
“Psh, like I haven’t been throwing rocks at your window since middle school.” He tosses second pebble in one hand a few times before lodging it up at your open window.
Without flinching, you catch the whizzing rock in one hand, only wincing slightly at the sting. You put it on your desk, along with the other rocks Prompto’s thrown over the past five years. (You have a lot of pet rocks at this point.)
“Nice catch!” Prompto puts his hands on his hips. “Can I come up?”
“You never ask if I’m busy, huh?” What Prompto doesn’t know is that you’re never too busy—not for him.
Prompto shrugs. “Are you busy?”
You shake your head and smile. “Nah dude, I’m just packing for camp.”
Prompto, wide smile still plastered on his face, proceeds to free climb up the bac of your house up to your second-story bedroom. From the bottom of the stairs, you can hear your father’s protests of Is that damn kid scaling my aluminum siding again?!
You shake your head. Prompto’s been caught before, but being eighteen must come with enhanced speed, because he makes it up in record time before your dad can make it to the back sliding glass door and yank him down by one slender calf.
Prompto climbs inside your window just as you find yourself turning red at the thought of Prompto’s bare legs. He’s thankfully covered today, which doesn’t really make a difference in terms of hotness. He’s in black ripped skinny jeans, a white tank top with the sleeves and sides cut out, giving the whole world ample view of his lean, muscled body, and black Vans. You quickly glance away and move back to your huge suitcase on the bed, taking stock of your clothes.
Prompto flops on the bed. “So,” he says, voice a little less chipper than usual. “Last summer at camp.”
“Hopefully,” you say, biting your lip, shrugging. “Probably. At least for you. You’re definitely gonna make it in.”
“Dude,” says Prompto, sitting up and crisscrossing his legs. “We’re both gonna make it in, no sweat.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Aw c’mon, there’s only room for one anxious self-deprecating dumbass in this room.” Prompto runs his fingers through his spikey blond hair.
You follow his movements like a hawk. “This is the Crownsguard, Prompto. The literal military. I—people like me don’t make it into the military.”
“Not everyone is bff’s with his Highness,” Prompto counters.
“Yeah, get in on Noct’s recommendation and then fuck up on a mission and then get discharged. What a legacy,” you scoff, folding more shirts and rolling them tightly.
“Hey,” says Prompto. “You’re making me sad, bro. Don’t tell me you’re going back on our pact?”
You sigh. The pact—the pact that you and Prompto had made the first year of high school—to graduate and apply for the Crownsguard, specifically Noct’s personal retinue. To pledge your life and service to the crown. Prompto makes it look so easy—he can run, he’s a wizard at guns (the camp offers rifle practice), and he just...he’s perfect. You’d trust him with your life—you do trust him—and there’s no reason that Noct shouldn’t, either. You? You’re not half as skilled in anything that Prompto is. You do have a slight affinity for elemancy, but that’s not too terribly special. Frowning, you focus on packing.
“No,” you say. “I’m still gonna try out. It’s just...don’t be surprised if you’re the only one who makes it. Maybe I’ll just go to college, study international politics. Noct could hire me as a counselor.” You smile a little. “From camp counselor to royal counselor, how about that?”
Prompto giggles a little. “I never thought of that. But c’mon ___________, give yourself some credit. You’ll do great. Maybe you should do fencing this summer instead of crafts and cooking? Learn some swordplay, like Gladio.”
You shrug. “I’ll think about it. But the crafts are inside...in that sweet, sweet air conditioning...”
There’s a knock on your door, and your mom pokes her head through, stack of laundry in her hands.
“Oh, hello Prompto! I didn’t know you were here.”
You snort. “You didn’t hear dad shouting about him scaling the house again?”
Your mom chuckles and shakes her head. “Your father is so particular, I don’t understand what his problem is. Here, sweetheart, I washed your clothes.”
“Thanks mom.” You take the stack of laundry from your mom and set it beside your suitcase, sorting through it, deciding what to take.
“Although,” your mother continues, looking at Prompto with amusement. “You know we do have a front door, Prompto.”
Prompto laughs loudly and shakes his head. “Aw c’mon, Mrs. _________, that’s no fun. Besides, uh. I kinda don’t want to get chased out of the house with a .22 again, heh heh...”
“What?” Your mother whips her head to you. “When did that happen?”
You snicker at the memory. “You were on a business trip...I guess maybe a couple of months ago? Prompto tried to come in and hang out through the front door, but dad chased him off, shouting something about my ‘womanly virtues,’ or whatever.”
“I’m not that kinda guy, honest!” Prompto squeaks, waving his hands defensively. “We were gonna go to the arcade with Noct and eat ramen afterwards, I swear to the Six!”
“Oh honey,” your mom says, downhearted. “I am so sorry my husband acted so out of order. There’s certainly worse friends I can think of for our sweet __________ here than Prince Noctis himself and a kind boy like yourself.”
“It’s okay mom,” you laugh. “I snuck out anyway.”
Your mom’s eyes widen. “I see,” she says, clicking her tongue. Then she sighs. “You’re an adult now, I guess I can’t chide you too much. And it does seem like ___________ was out of line, chasing off poor Prompto with a gun.”
“Good think I was track team captain!” Prompto laughs, holding his belly. “No harm no foul, Mrs. __________. You know we always take care of ____________ for ya.”
Your mom smiles and nods. “Prompto, will you be staying for dinner?”
Prompto’s violet-blue eyes go wide and his smile lights up your room. You focus on packing. “Who, little ol’ me? I’d be honored! Your cooking is straight from the Astrals themselves, Mrs. __________! I, uh...as long as there are no guns.”
Your mom winks at him and turns. “I’ll see what I can manage.”
As she shuts the door, Prompto flops back on the bed. “Damn, your mom’s home cooking. I’m a lucky bastard.”
You shake your head. “Is food all you think about?”
“I’m a growing boy,” Prompto counters, sticking out his tongue. He pauses for a minute, then-- “Hey, uh. You’ve been... a little distant lately. Is everything okay?”
Yeah everything’s fine I’ve just been in love with you since I was thirteen but I can’t tell you because I don’t want to ruin our friendship and besides, who likes fat girls anyway? “Huh? I’m--fine, sorry. Just a lot on my mind with graduation and all, the Crownsguard test at the end of the summer...” You shrug. “Y’know. Just stuff.”
Prompto nods slowly. “Okay, but like. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I mean we’re best friends, aren’t we?”
You nod slowly. “Of course we are, Prom.”
“Okay. As long as we’re cool.”
You look up from your sea of camp outfits and gaze into his bright eyes. “Yeah, Prompto. We’re cool.”
_________
The next day finds you and Prompto hopping aboard the big charter bus that picks up all the Camp Catoblepas employees—the directors, counselors, medics, activity coordinators, janitors, maintenance staff, and chefs. Prompto, as usual, helps you load your luggage into the huge storage spaces under the bus, then follows you to a seat, sinking down and sighing in satisfaction. The two of you are dressed in matching tie-dye shirts with the current year and the camp logo—Prompto in loose gym shorts with your high school logo on them and his ever-present Vans; you’re wearing short denim shorts and waterproof sandals. You’re plugging up your phone to the bus’s chargers when you hear the voice of another counselor, Nova—and it’s all you can do to keep from rolling your eyes in public at her usual prissy attitude as you hear her chatting idly with the others.
“Hey Argentum, you gonna spend the whole ride looking at ____________’s fat legs, or would you rather sit with someone way prettier?”
You whip your head around just in time to watch Prompto turn red and flick his gaze to the ceiling.
“Y’know Nova, I keep hoping that you’ll get eaten by an actual catoblepas by the end of the summer. Maybe this year the gods will actually grant my request,” Prompto deadpans, closing his eyes.
You snicker at her affronted scoff and watch as she directs her ego elsewhere.
“Thanks,” you mumble to Prompto.
“She’s such a bitch,” whispers Prompto as the bus begins to fill up with more of the camp staff. “I wish she really would get eaten.”
You laugh as you try to squash down a thought—Prompto, you can look at my fat legs all you like.
The campers won’t arrive for another three days, so it’s up to all of you to get the camp ready. Thankfully, Nova is always assigned to the four Green Cabins with Questus, Septimus, and Aqua, so you’re in minimal contact with her except for the pre-camp setup and meetings during the summer—she's usually preoccupied with trying to prove that her cluster of girls in the best, so you don’t pay much attention to her. By some wonderful twist of fate, you, Prompto, Stella, and Amadeus are all Blue Cabin regulars. You know that as long as you stick with them, Nova will give you minimal problems.
The big charter bus turns onto the dusty road leading up to the sprawling, secluded camp. You feel a warm hand on your knee—you blink your eyes open and find that you’ve dozed off on Prompto’s shoulder. He’s so warm, and you find yourself wishing that the moment could go on forever.
“Dude,” says Prompto. “We’re almost here! C’mon, camp song! Sing with me! It’s our last year!”
You yawn and sit up, looking out at the window at the passing cedar and pine trees. Prompto stands up, motioning to the rest of the cabins. He looks down at you and holds out his hand. Beaming, you take it, and then you launch into a screaming rendition of the Camp Catoblepas theme song.
“Camp, Camp, Ca-to-ble-pas!
No one is, bet-ter than us!
We hike through the pines and swim in the lake!
We form bonds that do not break!
We shoot and craft and learn to trust!
Camp, Camp, Ca-to-ble-pas!
No one is, bet-ter than us!
Ev-e-ry camper matters most!
We wake at dawn and sleep at dusk,
We are shar-per than, a
Catoble-pas tusk!
Camp, Camp, Ca-to-ble-pas!
We dare you to, be-come one of us!”
Everyone laughs and cheers as they flop back in the cushy vinyl seats. Prompto’s skinny legs are bouncing in anticipation as the bus drives under the arch that marks the camp entrance. He looks at you again, smile splitting his gorgeous freckled face.
“Last summer,” he says. “Let’s make it count.” He holds out his fist.
You bump it, nodding. “Let’s make it count.”