Work Text:
Henderson and Mane were going on a camping trip. They had decided to do this since October, and now, just before Mane had to leave for AFCON, they had finally got the time.
The two weren’t precisely friends. Besides Lallana when he wasn’t at Brighton, Henderson hung out with Milner and often acted as “babysitter” for the youngsters, while Mane preferred to spend time with Van Dijk, his former Southampton teammate, Alisson, and Keita.
But the two did have something in common. They were some of the hardest workers of the squad, and now Henderson and Mane finally had some time to hang out.
“Do we have everything, Hendo?” Mane asked. He had a big clipboard out, and was desperate to make sure this didn’t turn out like his last outdoors trip. That had been fishing with Van Dijk, and thanks to the Dutchman forgetting everything, it had been quickly sabotaged.
“Whew!” Henderson roped the tents to the top of the Jeep. “You know, Sadio, it would be helpful if you helped me pack.”
“Sorry.” Mane tapped the board. “Virg’s forgetfulness still haunts me.”
“I know.” Henderson slung an arm around the Senegalese. “This is your first outdoor adventure since then, right?”
Mane shrugged. “Well, I guess some people are David Attenborough, and some are Emily Bronte. And then again, still others are idiots, which really doesn’t fit in but sums up the general population.”
Unfortunately, that was when he had to come in. All chill, T-shirt clad, six feet of him.
Virgil van Dijk.
“You’re going camping?” Van Dijk practically shouted. “Oh, Sadio, this is great!”
Mane shrugged. “Virg, it’s just a little relaxation before I go to Cameroon, nothing huge.”
“But Sadio, this is good for you!” Van Dijk tossed a bag of gear in the Jeep trunk. “It’s your first outdoor trip in almost two years!”
Mane rolled his eyes. “Let’s not forget there are certain reasons why that is--namely a certain Dutchman? Somebody called Virgil who is standing in front of me?”
Van Dijk scoffed. “Sadio, that was two years ago, I’ve changed! I forget less things now!”
“Really, man?”
Frowning, Van Dijk turned to face Mane. “Dude, I had to remember things all the time when I got that injury. When rehab sessions were, how many painkillers to take, where to massage to speed up the recovery, what exercises to do. Basically, I got a big job in memory last year.” He tapped his head for emphasis and crossed his arms. “I’m not the same old Virg. This is the new Virgil!”
Henderson had said nothing all this time. But at the last part, he pursed his lips. “Virgil, you forget to defend every game.”
“This is different. This is camping.” Van Dijk turned to Mane. “What I mean by that is--can I come with you?”
Mane almost froze solid, and the fact that it was snowing didn’t help his case. In fact, he would have been out cold if Roberto Firmino hadn’t taken the opportunity to make his grand entrance.
“Ooh, what’s going on over here?” he asked, his eyes scanning around the parking lot. “Duffel bags, poles, coolers? Is this a winter vacation?”
Henderson groaned. “Bobby, this is none of your business as usual. It’s just a camping trip between me and Sadio, no frills, one-night stuff.”
“And me too.”
“Virg!” Mane shot a glare at the Dutch defender. “This doesn't include you.”
“Unless I say so.”
Mane froze. “What the--”
Henderson sighed, resigned. “They come with us.”
*
“Jordan Henderson, what were you thinking?” Mane glared at the skipper as he steered the Jeep down the streets of Liverpool. “This is absurd, why are we taking Bobby and Virg with us?”
Henderson’s pale features remained emotionless as his eyes narrowed to the road. “It’ll be fine.”
“But Hendo!” Mane groaned. “You know how those guys are just super annoying. Bobby and Virg are party spoilers. They are on the pitch, why will they be any different off it?”
Henderson suddenly announced that he had to buy gasoline. Leaving Van Dijk and Firmino in the backseat, he motioned for Mane to join him outside the car.
“Listen,” he growled once the two were outside the car. “I like all of us almost equally. But I am absolutely sick of Bobby and Virg tagging around!”
“Then why did you invite them?” Mane stuck to the point.
“Because as soon as we get to camp, we’re leaving them behind.”
“You say what?”
“Sadio.” Henderson exhaled, turning his back so their teammates couldn’t read their lips. “We’re leaving them behind. We bring them there and leave them at the campsite, then we go for a hike without them knowing. We pretend to be lost, but leave them behind without the map. They get lost. We get back and they’re so frustrated, they leave and we can enjoy our trip in peace, okay?”
Normally, Mane would have never agreed to this sort of plan. Normally, he knew, Henderson would have never made this sort of plan. But Henderson seemed so desperate and Mane was so tired of Van Dijk messing up everything that he nodded.
“Let’s do it.”
*
They stopped off at a camping site (far from Bickershaw Lake, thankfully). It had plenty of woods, but a nice clear campsite in the middle.
“Okay, then,” said Henderson, dusting off his hands. They had set up a very nice tent and fire pit. “It’s a couple of hours until nighttime and we need to eat. Who’s doing what?”
“I’ll fish,” Firmino volunteered, as Van Dijk shot him an icy glare. “No, I really can. We used to barbecue back in Brazil and I would catch the fish while Philippe grilled them.”
“Very well,” Van Dijk sighed. “And I’ll go collect wood.”
Internally, Mane groaned. Collecting firewood was what he and Henderson had planned as their excuse to sneak off.
“Actually, I think there are some wild carrots over there.” Henderson pointed to the other side of the lake. “You know about plants, why don’t you grab some?”
“Okay, then,” Van Dijk accepted hesitantly. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time!” Mane called out. He knew that Van Dijk wasn’t exactly Mark Spitz, so he was bound to walk around the long lake. “Pick whatever you find edible!”
Van Dijk nodded as he and Firmino walked towards the lake. As soon as they were out of hearing range, Henderson and Mane clutched at their sides, laughing their lungs out.
*
“This is going so well,” Mane sighed as he and Henderson hiked through a grove of conifers. They had been out hiking for an hour now, and had just unwinded even more as they went on.
“I swear.” Henderson exhaled, leaning against a pine tree. “I have never felt more relaxed in my entire life. This is just beautiful.”
“And to think that while Bobby and Virg are busy getting dinner, we’ve covered more ground than we expected!” Mane gasped, grabbing Henderson’s arm. “Look, Hendo!”
They were on a ledge, overlooking the meadow below. The sun was setting, framed by majestic willow trees as it shone in the distance, the sky shimmering in rich jewel shades of pink and red and orange and gold.
“It’s beautiful,” Henderson murmured, almost too awed to speak. “And it looks good on your skin, Sadio.”
“Oh, come on.” Mane mock-groaned. “Are you saying this makes me look…”
“Come on.” Henderson whipped out his smartphone, bringing Mane close to him. “We need a picture, Senor Photogenic.”
They snapped a photo in the last beams of the fading sun, their perfect moment interrupted when Henderson’s phone beeped.
“Low battery,” Henderson grumbled. He looked up at the sky, where the sun was sinking fast. “And it’s growing darker by the minute. Do you have your phone?”
“It was low-battery when we finished setting up the campsite,” Mane explained. “I put it in the truck to charge. Isn’t yours charged enough?”
“No.” Henderson shrugged. “Oh, well. I guess we can just pull out the map.”
Mane dug around in his backpack. He pulled out keys, shoelaces and even a pair of headphones, before he found a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Henderson and they opened it--only to see scribbles all over the map of Melwood!
“What the--” Henderson gasped. “I could have sworn we packed the right map! It was right on the coffee table!”
“Wait a minute.” Mane groaned as he remembered what happened. “Florrie was scribbling on the old Melwood map earlier. I think I may have accidentally packed that one instead!”
“So we’re in the woods, it’s dark, and we’re mapless and can’t call for help.” Henderson put two and two together, then grew paler than he already was in the moonlight. “That means…”
“We’re lost!”
*
Robertson was looking for something to do. The New Year had just started, but he was bored again.
He saw a fire in the camping grounds, and smelled fish cooking. It was Firmino’s signature spice mix--which only meant the obvious.
“Bobby! Virgil!” Robertson called out, taking a seat on the log. “You’re camping, huh?”
“For your information, Scotsman,” Van Dijk shot back, “we’re waiting for Hendo and Sadio. They’ve been gone a long time, almost two hours. We got dinner and cooked, but they’re still not here.”
“Hendo and Sadio aren’t the ones to keep people waiting,” Firmino reasoned. “That means…” All the color drained from his face as he gripped Van Dijk’s shoulders. “They’re GONE!”
“That’s ridiculous,” Van Dijk scoffed, although he seemed worried as well. “They’re probably just lost.”
“I’ll find them for you!” Robertson volunteered. “I like Hendo--he gave me my practitioner’s degree in skippering. I can’t have him lost like that.”
“No,” Van Dijk insisted. “I flat-out refuse to let you find them or use that skippering degree. You can’t even find your own sandwich wrapper.”
“Do it.”
“What? Bobby! You can’t do that!”
“Does it look like we have a choice, Virg?” Firmino sighed, unusually serious. “Find them, Andy.”
*
“We’ve been going in circles for forever,” Henderson grumbled, slumping against a rock. “And I’m hungry. You think that Bobby and Virg are eating dinner?”
“Probably, yeah,” Mane replied, sitting across from Henderson. They had set up a small fire, but the night was very chilly, and it was snowing. “If they knew we hiked somewhere else to avoid them, they’d hate us as well.”
“Wait.” Henderson froze, staring at the Senegalese with wide eyes full of terror. “They haven’t even come looking for us. Do you think they didn’t even know we left?”
“That was the plan, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
Mane shook his head. “This is just like when I went camping with Virgil. We got rained in and we started a fire and we had nothing to eat. Praline was with us but otherwise, this is just the winter version of Camping Trip Catastrophe.”
“I’m sorry, Sadio. I should have never made that dumb plan.”
“Hendo, DON’T blame yourself. If anything, I should have made sure I packed the right map. Florrie’s surprisingly grabby.” He smiled at the thought of the two-year-old currently in residence at Kirkby.
“Let’s change subjects,” Henderson suggested. “You’re going to AFCON soon. Can’t wait to see you beat them up.”
“Yeah,” said Mane. “But--”
“What is it?”
“What if I have to face Mo? What do I do if he wins and disqualifies us? What do I do if I win and disqualify them?”
“Be yourself, I guess,” Henderson offered. “You’re nice and you don’t gloat in the loser’s face. But you do make a point--if you and Mo face off in the finals, I don’t know what to do!”
“And it can’t be a draw,” Mane groaned. “And we’ll face each other again to qualify for the World Cup.”
“Did somebody say World Cup?”
Henderson and Mane whipped around. A short, thin figure with snow-crusted hair emerged from the bushes.
“Andy!” Henderson yelled in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“Bobby and Virg sent me to find you,” Robertson explained, shaking the snow off his coat. “They had to tend the fire. Firmino was really worried about you.”
“Bobby was worried?” Henderson couldn’t help but laugh. “Now this I’ve got to see.”
“Sadio!” Robertson pounced on Mane, who had just extinguished the fire with a mound of snow. “Good to see you, man! Good luck with the AFCON!”
“You said that to Mo too, huh?” Mane chuckled. “Good luck for Mo isn’t good luck for me, remember.”
“Good point. I’ll have to remind Che of that. He and Kieran are blaming Nathan for bringing in Coke to Hampden park. Che drank so much, he got a sugar high. Oh, he danced on the roof! It was the funniest thing you’ll ever see…”
*
“Should we call the boss?” Van Dijk wondered, pacing around the fire. “It’s really late now, and Andy isn’t back.”
“Who said I wasn’t back?” Robertson burst out of the bushes, followed by…
“DIOS MIO!” Firmino yelped, cowering behind Van Dijk. “Two Abominable Snowmen!”
Van Dijk rolled his eyes. “You idiot. It’s obviously Hendo and Sadio.”
“Amigos!” Firmino jumped onto Henderson, shaking the snow off him. “Where were you two?”
“It’s a long story,” said Mane, sitting on a log. “But let’s eat dinner first. Have we got a story to tell you…”