Work Text:
Dylan places the counselor ledger back in the bottom drawer, then his hand hovers over the handle of the one above it.
~Open Drawer~
~Stop Snooping~
Dylan opens the drawer, finding a facedown picture frame inside. He picks it up and gasps in delight.
“Ryan, is that you?” he asks gleefully, showing the photo to him. It’s of two small boys smiling in front of the lodge’s camp sign.
Ryan ducks his head, embarrassed. “Uhh…”
“It is!” The delight in Dylan’s voice is palpable as he refocuses on the photo in his hands. “Oh my god, you’re adorable. Look at that smile! And your ears! Don’t worry, you grew into them.”
“Yeah, yeah… you done?”
“Absolutely not. How old were you in this? What’s it doing in a drawer? I need details, Ryan, details.”
Ryan sighs, looking to the ceiling for patience (or to hide his continued embarrassment).
“I was, uh, eight in that. First year at camp. Caleb, too. And it’s in a drawer because I asked Chr- Mr. H to put it there,” he answers slowly.
“And… why did you ask him to do that?” Dylan asks, matching Ryan’s tone.
“Uhh, so you and the others wouldn’t see it and laugh at me?” Ryan answers like it should be obvious.
“What! Who’s laughing? It’s sweet.”
~Curious (How many years)~
~Casual (Jacob might’ve laughed.)~
Dylan hums in thought. “So how many years have you come here?”
“... since I was eight,” Ryan says, like he doesn’t understand the question.
“No, I mean, how many actual years? Like, I was a camper here when I was nine, but this is only my second summer here at the good ole’ quarry,” Dylan elaborates.
Ryan pauses and counts on his fingers. “This is my thirteenth.”
A beat.
“I- you’ve been coming here every year since you were eight?” Dylan asks, surprised.
“Yeah, you… didn’t know that?” Ryan replies, bemused.
Dylan blinks at him. “I mean. Now that you say it, it seems obvious, but no I did not.”
Ryan shrugs and elaborates. “Yeah, I mean. Camper for six years, junior counselor for three. Then I was the lake lifeguard when I was seventeen. And then I’ve been a counselor for the last three years… so. Thirteen.”
“Huh,” Dylan says, leaning back in the chair a little. “Huh. Well, no wonder you’re Mr. H’s favorite.”
Ryan ducks his head again. “I mean, I’m sure I’m… not really…”
“Ryan, the guy keeps a picture of you on his desk,” Dylan deadpans.
“It’s a picture of Caleb’s first year at camp, I just, like, happen to be in it,” Ryan denies, gesturing vaguely.
“Because he has no pictures of his son alone anywhere around the camp. That he owns and runs. For two months out of the year,” Dylan counters, sarcastically but not unkindly.
Ryan doesn’t seem to have an answer to that, looking down and shrugging to hide a small smile.
Dylan smiles back, glancing at the photo again.
~Put Back~
~Place On Desk~
He leans forward and places the picture on Chris’s desk, next to the one of him and his kids. Then he stands up to continue his exploration of the office.
*Ryan’s happy you did that.