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“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes, Lance. I know how to pitch a quiznaking tent.” Keith replied, his mounting frustration being met with barely concealed snickers. “Oh ha-ha. Real mature.”
Contrary to what his current predicament (and the peanut gallery) might suggest, Keith had been camping more times than he could count, and he’d set up his own campsite each time; including the tent. So why in the name of all that is holy could he not get the thing to just stay where he put it?
Quiet giggles continued from beside him and Keith watched Lance throw his hands up in mock surrender at his glare; the Cuban’s face a portrait of pure innocence as he replied. “Hey, you said it, not me.”
“Whatever, are you gonna help or just stand there?”
“I’m gonna stand here.”
Keith rolled his eyes in response but couldn’t keep the fond smile from creeping onto his face. He knew what he signed up for when he’d agreed to forever with Lance - and he’d do it all over again if given the chance. Again, and again, and again. Over and over, till death do they part. Which, for one of them, maybe sooner rather than later if Lance didn’t offer to help.
After multiple flights, hotels, restaurant dinners, and countless day trips, their pockets were starting to run dry. Unfortunately, being a Paladin didn’t pay very well and Earth hadn’t fully switched over to GAC just yet. Meaning the newlyweds were dancing very close to the edge of broke. Camping had been Keith’s suggestion as a last-ditch effort to keep their budget in check. He knew there were still a few big-ticket things Lance wanted to do, and he couldn’t bring himself to deny his now-husband anything. Even if it meant listening to him whine about hiking through the woods, mosquitos, and for some crazy reason: Lions.
“I still don’t get why we couldn’t pack some real food.” Lance’s disgruntled voice drifted over from the other side of the small clearing Keith had chosen as their campsite. He had draped himself over a fallen log in a small patch of brightly shining sunlight that managed to break through the heavy canopy above them.
“Fishing is free.” Keith deadpanned. He popped the last peg into the ground, hammering it in with the heel of his boot, and brushed the pine needles and dirt from his jeans. Rising to his feet he took a short moment to stare down with satisfaction at their temporary shelter, feeling a sense of accomplishment for having successfully beaten it into submission. “Alright, tents done. Let’s set up the rest of the site and go collect some wood for a fire, then find something to eat.”
Lance nodded and slid down from his perch. He opened up the larger of their bags, pulled out two bottles of the drinking water they’d packed, and tossed one over along with the pillows. Keith placed the two pillows at the heads of the now unrolled sleeping bags and stood staring at them with a slight scowl. He clearly hadn’t thought this through enough. It was their honeymoon and even though he’d still be sleeping side by side with Lance, they’d be separated by the thick polyester of their sleeping bags. It was supposed to get a bit chilly tonight so he couldn’t even suggest forgoing them.
Strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tightly. “Whatcha doin?” Lance sang into the crook of his neck. Keith gestured vaguely at the tent’s contents and let out a huff which made the Cuban giggle.
“I wanted to snuggle.” He confessed, earning an annoying “ awww!” from his husband, which cemented his scowl in place as Lance’s bubbly voice drifted into his ear.
“So change the sleeping bags.” Keith spun around in Lance’s arms to face him, wrapping his own around the other’s neck, and quirked a brow in confusion. “Zip them together to make one giant sleeping bag.” Lance explained and he stared back at the man before him in shock. That was - yeah, that was a way better idea. Why the quiznak hadn’t he thought of that?
“I know - I’m brilliant.” Lance grinned, seemingly reading his mind as his face was swallowed up by a blindingly beautiful (if not slightly smug) smile. Keith just rolled his eyes and closed the distance between them, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before abruptly pushing him away and crawling into the tent to fix the sleeping bags.
Nearly two vargas passed before Lance returned to camp.
They’d played a very mature round of Rock-Paper-Scissors to determine who would gather firewood and who would gather food. Keith lost. With Lance as the victor, he’d insisted on being the one to go off in search of food since he didn’t trust Keith’s judgement on the definition of “edible”.
Which was fine; Lance was probably right. Keith would eat literally anything while Lance was far, far pickier. Besides, it was easier for him to prepare the surprise he’d packed if Lance was gone. He just hadn’t expected it to take this long.
In the time since they’d split up for their respective “ assignments”, Keith had managed to gather an entire weekend’s worth of firewood, collect some dubious looking mushrooms he should probably run by Hunk before eating, and even take a few pictures of their set up for the ridiculous scrapbook Lance would inevitably spend way too much time making. And so, nearly two vargas later, the sound of beautifully melodic Spanish alerted him to Lance’s return.
Keith looked up from the fire pit just in time to see the exuberant Cuban making his way through the thick underbrush, ducking under branches and stepping around rocks as he laughed his way through the song.
“BABE! BABE!! ” Lance called, excitedly clamouring over himself in an attempt to get into their little clearing faster. “Look at this haul I got! We’re gonna eat like kings!” He grinned, setting down an armful of groceries onto the beat-up old picnic table. “You would not believe how freaking nice the people here are! One guy gave us a pack of steaks! Can you believe it? A whole pack!”
Keith pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Lance,” he chastised. “You were supposed to go fishing .”
“Oh, yeah - well, I met this couple named Frank and Maureen. They were so nice. They’re actually staying a few campsites away, down by the river, and they have this AMAZING motorhome that's like top of the line-”
“Lance.”
“-they’re the ones that gave us the steak - and they made me sit and have a drink with them - and Maureen made me a grilled cheese sandwich on the fire pit Keith! Like, how cool is that? And then Frank-”
“Lance!”
“-recognized me as a Paladin and told me all about the time that HE fought in a war except it didn’t include like, actual evil aliens, but still-”
“Lance!!!!”
“ -we bonded, yea know? And then they gave us these steaks when I said that we’re here on our honeymoon and then they gave us these beers - wait, I think I forgot the beer - DANG IT!”
“LANCE. Breathe, babe.” Keith said, hands up in a placating gesture as he tried (and failed) to follow along. “Start over - you met people and they just … gave you steak?”
“And beer!” He answered, deflating slightly at the reminder. “But I totally forgot it.”
Keith stared at him a moment before giving up with a shrug. He picked up the pack of steaks from the picnic table and peaked into the packaging. It looked like quality meat, probably expensive, definitely from a butcher. He turned the package over in his hand, wrapped it back up, and placed it back on the pile to sift through the rest of their haul.
“Good job.” He commended. Thanks to Lance’s unending charisma they would definitely be eating well tonight.
Lance got to work peeling the potatoes and carrots he’d been given, while Keith began preparing the meat. His fire was already prepped, and their campsite had come with a grill rack, so Keith placed the lightly seasoned steaks on the hot metal and listened to it sizzle. He’d instructed Lance how to make tin foil meals and helped him cut up the small onion, garlic clove, and celery stick they’d been given, wrapping them up with the potatoes, carrots, and butter before placing the finished pockets into the embers to cook.
“Where did you learn how to do all this cool stuff?” Lance asked from his spot on the ground, a large stick in hand as he poked at their dinner's foil.
Keith shrugged. “Scouts.” He replied, filling two mugs from the cast-iron kettle, adding instant coffee to one and hot chocolate to the other. “Pass me that stick.” He shot his hand out, taking hold of the stick’s charred end and using it to tug Lance closer before the other could let go. The sudden force took the Cuban by surprise and he fell forward into Keith’s side.
Keith wrapped his arm around loosely Lance, resting it low on his hip to direct him closer yet, and kissed his temple.
“Stop poking our dinner.” He playfully chastised as he tossed the firestick off to the side, well out of his husband’s reach, and earned himself a pout in response.
They stayed in that position until their dinner was ready, neither one wanting to leave the comfort of the other’s hold. At some point Lance had wrapped his own arms around Keith’s midsection, returning the embrace as he rested his cheek gently against the top of Keith’s strong shoulder. It was nice, sitting peacefully like this, all cozied up to one another in front of their campfire, the comforting smells of woodsmoke and food mingling in the crisp air around them as the sun slowly began to sink below the tree line.
He hated to disturb the stillness of the atmosphere which had settled on their small campsite, the gentle comfort that had wrapped around them like a favourite blanket; draping over their shoulders in a warm hug of love and familiarity. But Keith knew if he didn’t get up, didn’t remove himself from Lance’s embrace and pulled their dinner from the embers, then all the delicious food would go to waste. And so, with great reluctance, he dragged himself from the log and reached into the fire.
Their dinner had been surprisingly incredible. The food was perfectly cooked and tender with all of the ingredients intermingling, creating a symphony of flavour that melted in his mouth. The steak was maybe a tad overcooked for Keith’s liking, but Lance seemed to be in heaven. They ate their food straight out of the tin foil packets, drank their hot beverages, and snuggled closer as the setting sun painted the sky a brilliant orange. The fading light meant fading warmth and soon they found themselves shivering against the cool night air.
Keith placed a soft kiss on the top of his Lance’s head and removed himself from the Cuban’s side. He returned moments later with a brown and tan plaid wool blanket which he draped over his husband’s shoulders, being sure to leave plenty of room to squeeze himself under as well.
The moment Keith sat down Lance had curled himself back into the warmth of his body, pulling the heavy blanket tightly around himself.
“I honestly don’t know how it gets better than this, babe,” Lance whispered into his neck, letting out a deep sigh of contentment. Keith hummed in response.
“I can think of something that would make it better.” He smirked, fully intending the innuendo as Lance snorted beside him. Carefully Keith reached behind himself, to the place where he’d hidden the surprise.
“I have a treat for you,” he explained and as predicted promptly earned his husband’s full attention. “What’s roasty-toasty, ooey-gooey, and chocolatey sweet?” Raising the bag of marshmallows, Keith gave it a squeeze.
“Omgosh, how’d you know?” Lance replied, a sweet smile playing on his lips. Keith smiled back and moved the bag out of the other’s reach. He tutted him softly and offered a coy smirk.
“But wait, there’s more!” Placing down the marshmallows in his lap, Keith picked up the value pack of jersey milk bars and the box of graham crackers, he tossed them in Lance’s direction and waited for the pieces to click into place in his sleepy brain.
“S’mores” he breathed in an awe-struck voice, eyes wide and sparkling. Keith laughed, his heart skipping at the joy a simple childhood treat can bring.
“Hey Keith,” Lance whispered, leaning closer into the curve of the older’s neck, “What’s pale and prickly, but secretly a romantic at heart?” he placed a gentle kiss to Keith’s neck, sending a wave of tingles across his skin. “I love you, Mullet.”
“I love you too.”
