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Ethan was the one who suggested camping.
He’d made some argument about how he was an ‘outdoorsy guy’ now after living on the farm for five entire years. The farm that he didn’t really work on. The farm that really only made wine and had an orchard for U-Pick weekends. The farm that had a fully renovated, entirely too modern house (yet still whimsical, his sister would say).
Never once in his life had Ethan Wilde ever had to ‘rough it out’ in the woods.
Okay, maybe that was a lie. He and his sister did live in a two room (not bedroom) shack on their property before the house was un-condemmed.
He’d just never been camping.
So, yes, Sam was rightfully suspicious when his husband suggested they go camping.
In the middle of Winter. For Love Day.
But Sam wasn’t one to tell Ethan no.
If it was a disaster, then it was a disaster and that was okay. There wouldn’t be an I told you so moment or anything cocky and demeaning. Ethan thought camping was a good idea, so that meant camping was a good idea. Sam was allowed to be a little bit nervous about good ideas.
Sam knew something was up the second they pulled into the driveway.
For starters, it was an actual driveway instead of a dirt path or a clearing in the woods. A nicer driveway than they had at the aforementioned completely renovated farmhouse. A perfectly laid cobblestone, plowed from the ever falling snow, professionally maintained driveway leading up to a cabin that looked like it had been copy and pasted from one of Daisy’s fancy Homestead Living magazines that lived on the coffee table.
The exterior was all dark wood and white panels and sleek black metal. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the snow like a mirror. Soft golden light glowing from inside like it had been expecting them.
Ethan cut the engine and looked over at him with entirely too much confidence for someone who had made a weekend at a lake house seem like surviving in the woods.
“See?” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, entirely too giddy. “Woodsy.”
Sam stared at the cabin.
“You booked a luxury lake house.”
“It’s a cabin.”
“There are fancy string lights on the porch.”
“Rustic ambiance?”
Sam squinted at him, trying his hardest not to smile. “I thought we were camping. Like in a tent. In the woods.”
“This is the woods, babe,” Ethan scoffed. “I’m outdoorsy, not barbaric.”
Sam couldn’t hold back the fond laugh that filled the car at that. He leaned across the center console and pressed a kiss to Ethan’s cheek. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
Ethan turned his head, pouting dramatically before capturing Sam’s lips in a kiss. “You love me though, right?”
“Unfortunately,” Sam grinned.
There was a fresh layer of fluffy snow covering the ground when they stepped out of the car, crunching under their boots as they rounded the sides of the vehicle to the trunk. Sam watched as Ethan swung an overnight bag over his good shoulder as if he were conquering new territory in the uncharted terrain deep in the woods. Instead, the two walked up to a grand front door with a smart lock.
Ethan inhaled deeply as he scrolled on his phone to find the app to unlock their sanctuary for the long weekend. “Smell that?” He asked dramatically, turning from the front door (and the task to get them out of the cold) to survey their surroundings. “Fresh winter air. Pine trees. Wilderness.”
Sam sniffed once, humoring his husband. “I smell whatever seasonal candles they have inside,” He deadpanned.
Ethan ignored him and finally found the setting in the app to unlock the door.
The door opened to warmth.
Not metaphorical warmth. Actual, blessed, heated floor, climate controlled warmth that wrapped around them the second they stepped inside. The space was all soft wood tones and cream colored furniture, a stone fireplace painted white flickering lazily along one wall with a flat screen television opened to a welcome screen mounted above the mantle. A thick knit blanket was draped over the back of a couch that looked like it had never known discomfort in its life. Everything part of the manicured decor was too perfect. It looked like a fucking showroom.
Beyond the living room, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the lake, frozen over and dusted with snow, trees standing tall and quiet around it.
Sam stopped just inside the doorway.
“…You rented a white woman’s vision board.”
Ethan set the bags down, shrugging as if he were trying to look casual. He did not. “It had good reviews.”
“There’s a wine room.”
Sam’s arm extended out towards the all glass room annexed off near the kitchen, filled floor to ceiling with what they could only guess were bottles of too expensive wine.
“We’re from a winery,” Ethan defended. “It would’ve been disrespectful not to.”
Sam laughed again, softer this time. He stepped closer, pressing himself against Ethan's back and slipping his hands into the front pockets of Ethan’s coat. He felt his husband hum in contentment as he pressed a kiss against the wind chilled nape of his neck.
“You’re such a fraud,” he teased fondly.
Ethan pulled one of Sam’s hands out of his pocket, running his thumb over Sam’s cracked knuckles before pressing his lips against the perpetually dry skin. Then, Ethan was turning around to face Sam, a lopsided grin spread across his face.
“Maybe,” he chuckled. “But you love me.”
“You’re gonna say that until I say it back, aren’t you?” Sam rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, yet the smile spread across his face broke the facade.
“Maybe.”
Sam leaned in, brushing their noses together before kissing him slow and easy. No rush. No cold wind biting at their faces. Just warmth and the quiet hum of a cabin that was absolutely not roughing it in the woods.
“Okay,” Sam murmured when they pulled apart. “So what’s first, Mr Outdoorsy?”
Ethan glanced around at their surroundings, squinting his eyes as if he were assessing the cabin for optimal survival strategy.
“Hot chocolate.”
With a quick peck on the lips, Ethan disappeared into the kitchen like a man on a mission. Completely abandoning his overnight bag in the process. Deciding they’d deal with the unpacking later that night, Sam placed their belongings at the bottom of the lush wooden staircase winding up towards the second floor.
Sam kicked off his shoes before deciding to follow his husband at a much slower pace. He shed layers as he went—jacket abandoned on the coat rack by the door, the thick wool sweater underneath it slung over one of the sleek stools sitting beneath the breakfast bar. The cabin was warm enough that his sweater felt unnecessary, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt.
“You know there are packets in the cabinet, right?” Sam asked, leaning against the counter as Ethan rummaged through drawers like he was searching for survival supplies.
Ethan shot him a look over his shoulder. “I live on a farm.”
“You live at a winery.”
“Semantics.”
Sam smiled to himself and wandered back toward the living room while Ethan clanged around behind him. He claimed a corner of the couch, tugging the thick knit blanket over his legs as the fire crackled lazily against the white stone.
Outside, snow had started to fall again. Lazy, thick snowflakes tapping against the oversized windows peaking out to the lake. The kind that made the world feel smaller. Safer.
By the time Ethan joined him, two oversized mugs in hand and looking entirely too pleased with himself, Sam had already sunk into the cushions.
“Careful,” Ethan warned, handing one over. “It’s hot.”
Sam wrapped his hands around the mug and hummed contentedly as Ethan settled beside him.
Then closer.
Then even closer.
Until there was no space left between them at all.
Sam was spread across the length of the couch, one leg dangling over the edge to touch the area rug, the other against the cushions as his husband settled between his legs.
Ethan practically melted into his husband despite the fact that his feet hung spectacularly off the arm of the couch, head resting against his heartbeat as they fell into some cheesy romcom Sam had playing on the television. Sam’s arm came around Ethan’s shoulder to rest flat against his chest, rubbing slow circles against his red flannel.
For a while, there was nothing but the soft crackle of fire and the faint hum of the heater.
“This is nice,” Sam murmured, tracing idle circles with his thumb over Ethan’s flannel covered chest.
Ethan hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss against Sam’s jaw. “Yeah.”
A beat passed.
“Man,” Ethan sighed dramatically, staring out at the snow gathering against the glass. “I really thought we’d go ice fishing tomorrow.”
Sam didn’t even lift his head from where it rested against the arm of the couch. “No you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You absolutely did not.”
Ethan shifted under the blanket, attempting to look offended. Of course, the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him. “I was going to chop a hole in the lake. With, like… an axe or whatever.”
“Mmhm.” Sam sipped his cocoa. “And what were you going to do when you realized you don’t own an axe?”
Ethan paused, mouth ajar as he tried his best to come up with a retort.
“…We could borrow one.”
Sam laughed then, soft and warm and content, and leaned down to press a slow kiss against Ethan’s head.
“Okay, Mr Outdoorsy,” he murmured fondly. “But you know you’re not leaving this couch tomorrow.”
Ethan glanced up at him, the flicker of the fire in the hearth reflecting softly in his eyes.
“… yeah, I know.”
And as the snow fell heavier and the fire burned low, neither of them felt any particular need to go anywhere at all.