Work Text:
Peter pushed through the rhododendron bushes, panting, the dense branches forming a nearly impenetrable maze. His muscles were burning, he was getting pretty tired.
He heard a groan and a thud behind himself, and turned to look. Neal was on the ground, simultaneously cushioned and prodded by the bushes.
Peter fought his way back to Neal. The younger man was sitting, slumped onto his elbow, panting to catch his breath, hand fisted at a stitch in his side. He was shaking with exhaustion. He had his suit jacket tied around his waist, his shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his slacks rolled up above his knees.
Peter crouched nearby, took his backpack off, and pulled the water bladder hose further out of the pack.
Peter offered Neal the mouthpiece, "it's gonna taste like river and water purifier, but it's filtered and it's safe."
Neal nodded tiredly, and drank, making a face at first and then chugging. Peter pulled the hose away for a moment, "hey, if you chug too much at once you'll be sick."
Neal gazed at him, basically just too tired to muster a glare, "I know you're right but I hate you anyway."
"I can live with that."
Peter got a granola bar out of his bag and offered it to Neal. Neal unwrapped the end, took a bite. Neal closed his eyes, chewing, still puffing.
They had been going for miles through rough mountain terrain covered in thick underbrush. Their car had been sabotaged when they went to try and talk to some scam artist at his mansion in the woods. Peter the boyscout had had everything they needed to get out safely in his trunk.
Except, Peter did things like this voluntarily, for fun. Neal did not. Peter had slept last night. Neal had not, staying up with Diana to pin down the exact location of this cabin.
Peter reached and squeezed Neal's arm, "I have an emergency shelter in my pack. We don't have to make it in one day."
Neal shook his head emphatically, "I do not want to sleep out here."
"Well we've got about seven miles left until we hit a highway and can hopefully get a cell signal. It's not that far."
Neal gave him a look of frustration bordering on hurt.
"Sorry," said Peter, "I just meant it's doable before dark."
Neal sighed, "yeah. Can I finish the granola bar?"
"Of course. We can rest for a while."
Neal nodded. Peter patted his own chest. Neal scooted closer and leaned against him with a sigh. Peter hugged the younger man around the shoulders. Neal drank water and ate.
Peter didn't like how Neal's muscles were shaking under his hand, as he held his friend.
They kept going after a while, Neal stumbling along through the brush. He was practically asleep on his feet. He slipped on a loose rock, and slowly fought his way back to standing.
Walking further, his foot got caught in a root, and he fell again. Peter stopped, and helped Neal up.
"Here, hang on to me," said Peter, putting Neal's hand on a strap of his pack. Neal nodded, wiping his face on his sleeve.
They walked for maybe another hour, but they were making less and less progress. They were following a stream through the thick rhododendrons, but there were more and more logs down across it as they went uphill.
They were climbing over a log that was almost as big around as Neal was tall, with two smaller trees down diagonally across it, one of which still had lots of green branches full of picky spruce needles. Peter had offered to go second and boost Neal along, since Neal’s legs were shaking just standing there in the river, but Neal had refused.
Peter got to the top, and turned around to see if Neal needed a hand, just in time to see Neal slip back down on the mossy logs. The boots he had borrowed from Jones when he found out they were going somewhere rural were a size too big and didn’t give him great purchase. He fell onto his rear, landing with a splash.
Peter scrambled back down and crouched beside him. Neal looked at him, panting, white in the face.
“Hey, let’s take another break?” suggested Peter.
Neal nodded. Peter stood and hung his pack from a branch. He got out a bag of nuts, peanuts, raisins, and m&ms. He pulled the water bladder out entirely and brought both back to Neal. Neal was just sitting in the water in his slacks, rubbing his left wrist.
“Are you okay?” asked Peter, concerned.
Neal nodded, “just jarred it when I landed, I’m fine.”
“Okay. Want some GORP?”
Neal looked up at Peter with a raised eyebrow, “do I want some what?”
Peter showed him the bag of nuts and other things. Neal shook his head, “normal people call that trail mix.”
Neal took the snacks and water. Peter went and got an expandable bucket from his pack. He scooped the fastest running water from the river, and then set it on a big rock. He got drops out of his pack, and squirted them into the water. Then he sanitized his hands, and opened a flexible white bag which he hung on a branch. He took a bladder the same as the one Neal was drinking out of, out of the pack and set it up so that water would flow from the hanging bag into that. Then he poured the water from the bucket into the hanging bag.
He turned around and looked at Neal. Neal was watching him with tired bemusement.
“You’re really into this stuff,” said Neal.
Peter shrugged, “I like going out, getting away, where nothing stressful matters. You’re just spending time with people, and seeing nature, with nothing to distract you.”
Neal smiled a little bit, “I like the beach for that. Plus it has frozen fruity drinks and you can’t get stuck twenty miles from cell service.”
Peter chuckled, “fair. Well, I can probably take you to the beach some time.”
Neal grinned at him, “I’d appreciate that. Maybe you and Elizabeth, Sara and I…”
Peter nodded, “I’ll tell Elizabeth, right after I call for help.”
Neal laughed, and winced slightly as he jostled his arm. Peter chose not to push him about it. There was no way Neal would let him splint it unless it caused serious problems, and it would be a pain trying to get through this situation with a splint on anyway. Therefore, there was little he could do. Except…
He dug in his bag, and brought out ibuprofen. He offered them to Neal, Neal took three, gratefully. Peter didn’t know if that meant his wrist was really hurting, or if he was just sore all over from the trek.
Neal finished the bag of GORP, and most of the bladder of water. Peter took both back from him. Peter finished the rest of the water, then closed the thing up, and took the hose off it. He put the bladder in his pack, and attached the hose to the now filled new bladder. He put the bucket and the hanging bag filter away in separate bags. He put the bladder in the pack and pulled the hose through so it hung on his shoulder strap.
He put the pack on and turned to Neal. Neal was struggling to his feet. Peter offered him both hands, Neal took his left hand, and Peter hauled him up. Peter put his hands on Neal’s shoulders, looking the younger man in the face, “listen. When people keep going when they are too tired, they are more likely to get hurt. If you need a longer rest, we can do that. If we need to find a place to sleep, we can do that, too.
Neal shook his head, “I’m fine.”
Peter sighed, but let go, and went back to making his way over the logs. He deliberately went all the way over and did not watch as Neal climbed over them. He could hear scuffing, and grunting, and hisses of pain between Neal’s teeth. Neal slid down the other side and landed in the river beside Peter on his feet, but his knees gave way and he fell down onto his hands and knees.
Peter immediately crouched beside him, hand on Neal’s back. Neal looked at him, shaking and fighting to catch his breath, “I’m okay. Just slipped.”
Peter helped Neal up by the arm, and then pulled it over his shoulders, and put his own arm around Neal’s waist. Neal let him do it, so tired he just leaned on Peter and let Peter lead him along.
They hit another big set of logs, this time four medium sized trees stacked together, washed down by a big storm. Neal let go of Peter, and this time he went first. Peter went close behind him, making sure he was always well braced so he could help if needed. Neal made it over, Peter scrambled over the top a little bit further down the logs, and landed in the river on his feet, so that he could catch Neal on the descent. He turned around. Neal was struggling to get his foot free from a y in one of the trunks. He finally did, and climbed down, wincing as he put weight on the foot that had been stuck.
Peter just offered Neal his support again. Neal shook his head, and limped forward, looking determined. Peter backed off, drank water. He took his pack off and put it back on in front of himself, so he could dig for electrolyte powder. Water would only go so far with how much they were sweating, they needed salt and minerals as well.
He looked up at a distressed sound. Neal was bracing himself on the river bank, heaving, clutching his stomach with his hand. Peter sighed. He had thought Neal was chugging the water again earlier, but Neal was in such a bad mood Peter didn’t want to push him on anything. Peter came over, but Neal waved him off. Peter backed off and instead dug some wipes out of his pack. He put some water on a little puck and it expanded into a wipe in his hand.
He went and offered it to Neal. Neal took it with a shaking hand, but still didn’t make eye contact, so Peter went back to the other river bank. He reorganized things in his pack so that things he thought they would need soon were on top.
He heard a splash and a thud and looked up. Neal was on his hands and knees, head hanging. Peter closed his pack and hung it on a tree, then went over to Neal. Neal looked up at him, still swallowing repeatedly and occasionally spitting out extra saliva. He did not look good, he was as white as the puffy clouds far above them between the treetops, and he was swaying.
“Sorry, Peter,” he said, faintly, and collapsed into the stream. Peter quickly turned him over so his face wasn’t in the water, and pulled Neal into his lap. Neal was like a ragdoll, completely limp in Peter’s arms. Peter dragged him up onto a high part of the riverbed that was currently dry, and then sat there with him, checking his pulse at the wrist. He seemed to be okay, he was just exhausted.
Peter gently cradled Neal’s face with his palm, as he held him close with the other arm, “sorry, buddy. I should have made you rest. I should have just set up camp miles ago.”
Neal’s eyelids blinked open, and he gazed up at Peter, “I would have been a total bitch.”
Peter laughed, and squeezed Neal, kissing his forehead briefly. Neal slowly sat up away from Peter, putting his left hand to his head as he braced himself with the right. Neal managed to get on Peter piggyback, and Peter carried him out of the river area, into the woods. They found a rare clearing, and he put Neal down there. He went back for his pack, and then returned to Neal.
Neal was sitting against a tree, totally spent, holding his left wrist.
“Are you hungry?” asked Peter, “I’ve also got beef jerky.”
Neal shook his head, “still kind of nauseous.”
“Okay. Well I’m gonna mix electrolyte stuff with the water, can you at least drink some of that?”
Neal shrugged a little bit, but it wasn’t an immediate no, so Peter went ahead anyway.
Neal watched him, slumped down, barely keeping his eyes open. Peter brought him the water, Neal drank a little bit of it.
"Thanks," said Neal, sluggishly.
Peter got a few things, tied his pack in a tree a ways away, laid a mylar blanket down on the ground and then laid down near Neal. Neal crawled shakily over to him, and curled up against him, head on Peter's shoulder, arm across Peter's chest.
Neal was asleep in moments. Peter held him close, pressed his lips to top of Neal's head.
Peter didn't sleep, he just went over plans in his head. They probably had about four or five miles left. He pulled out the map with one hand and he kept his other arm around Neal, unfolding it awkwardly. It was large scale, because it was the whole state, but he could identify a crest and the river they were on. Yeah, about four more miles. He tried to fold the map up one handed and gave up, just setting it down next to himself and putting the emergency shelter pack on top so it wouldn't blow away.
He turned his attention back to Neal. Maybe they should have waited for backup. But it wasn't even evening yet. Nobody would know they were gone for hours yet. Someone could have come back to mess with them. At least here they were pretty safe.
Neal was so tired, though. Peter considered. He could theoretically build a sled, lash branches together and weave rope or tie clothes to make a sling between them to drag Neal on. No, that wouldn't work in this terrain. They really had to hike out.
Neal slept soundly for quite a while. Then rain started to fall. Neal curled up, whining in protest. Peter got up, which Neal was also not happy about. He strung up the tarp over a rope and staked ropes from the four corners to the ground.
He climbed back under the shelter with Neal. The younger man was sitting up, watching Peter..
"Do you want to bring your pack in here?" Asked Neal.
Peter shook his head, "it has the food in it. If we are sleeping it should be hanging somewhere away from us. Worst case I just get wet later."
Neal and Peter tried to lay back down. It was raining fairly hard now, though, and the water was running over the foil blanket, which was so thin it was ripping anyways. Neal sat back up, his face holding resigned disgust. Peter sat up too, and scooted close to Neal and slightly behind him, putting his arms forward around the younger man.
Neal leaned against him with a sigh.
"This still fun for you?"
"I mean not the part where you're miserable and injured. But being in the woods, adapting to things going wrong, getting rained on, drinking river water…yeah, it's fun to me. I mean I will be happy to get dried off, but…"
"And people think I'm the risk taker…"
"But that's just it. If we do everything right, the worst we're gonna be is mildly uncomfortable."
Neal gave him a withering look.
Peter relented, "pretty uncomfortable."
Neal just shook his head and rested it back against Peter's shoulder, closing his eyes. Peter hugged him tight. He would definitely have to take Neal to the beach, after this. And probably pay for his and Sara's drinks.
Neal fell back asleep a few minutes later. Peter just held him, heavy and warm against Peter's chest, and listened to the rain.