Courtesy or more than that? 3
Synopsis: The journey begins, but not in the way Neteyam expected. Forced to leave behind his checklists and supply boxes, the Sullys' "perfect son" must learn to trust Tsawke's organized chaos. From the red earth of Misiones to the golden wetlands of Santa Fe, the miles traveled begin to dismantle Neteyam's barriers, revealing that the true destination isn't a place on the map, but the freedom to be himself alongside the girl who smells of jasmine and the open road.
Warnings: Human AU, fluff, slow burn, slight mentions of Sully family dynamics, Neteyam being an "overthinker."
The sun was just beginning to tint the horizon of the reserve in orange when the roar of Tsawke's Jeep shattered the morning silence. Neteyam, who had been awake since five mentally reviewing a twenty-point checklist, stepped out of the house carrying two tactical backpacks, an extra thermal sleeping pad, and a supply box that seemed to hold enough food for a month.
He was focused, moving with that military efficiency Jake had instilled in him, trying to wedge the third backpack into the Jeep’s narrow trunk when a firm hand, covered by the sleeve of a technical jacket, rested on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
“Sully, stop.” Tsawke’s voice was low, tinged with sleep but carrying that natural authority that always managed to disarm him.
Neteyam turned around, still holding a high-altitude sleeping bag. “I’m just making sure we have what’s necessary, Tsawke. Patagonia isn’t the northern sector; the weather there is…”
“The weather there is cold, not the zombie apocalypse,” she interrupted with a lopsided smile. She took a step closer, invading that personal space Neteyam no longer tried to protect. She began pulling out half of the things he had just packed from the back of the car. “You’ve got emergency rations for ten days, three sets of tools, and… seriously, Neteyam? An industrial water purification kit?”
“You never know if the cabin filters will be…” he tried to justify himself, feeling the heat rise up his neck.
Tsawke let out a soft laugh and set the box down on the dirt ground. She crossed her arms, leaning against the side of the Jeep, and looked him up and down. Neteyam had his braids perfectly gathered and was wearing a jacket that still smelled of clean laundry—a total contrast to her, who wore her usual "ready for chaos" look.
“Listen to me, perfectionist,” she said, closing the distance until Neteyam could smell the coffee she had just finished. “We’re going to see glaciers, not found a colony. If you fill the Jeep like this, there won't be any room for us to stretch our legs when we have to sleep in the seat because the rain won’t let us pitch the tent.”
She reached out and, with an almost distracted gesture, adjusted the strap of the backpack he was still wearing, her fingers brushing against his chest. Neteyam held his breath.
“Take half of that out,” she ordered, but her brown eyes sparkled with a tenderness that contradicted her tone. “Leave room for what’s important.”
“And what’s important, according to you?” Neteyam asked, regaining a bit of his confidence and lowering his voice.
Tsawke shrugged, hopping into the driver’s seat with enviable agility. “The sound system, my camera, and you not being so stressed that you forget to look at the landscape because you’re too busy checking the GPS. Get in, Sully. Either leave the dead weight behind, or stay here doing inventory with your father.”
Neteyam looked at the boxes on the ground and then at her, as she was already starting the engine. He let out a sigh. “Can we negotiate?” Neteyam asked, checking the boxes.
“Fine. Calculate four days' worth of supplies in those boxes because I’m already carrying the rest… and you’re not taking your tools unless it’s the basic survival kit, because I’ve already got the other stuff,” Tsawke determined, looking at him from the driver's window.
With a mix of resignation and an euphoria he couldn't hide, he left the extra boxes by the side of the road (Lo'ak would deal with picking them up and mocking him later) and climbed into the passenger seat.
As he closed the door, the space inside the Jeep felt small, intimate, and dangerously private, yet there was enough room to move or sleep. Tsawke shifted into first gear, and as they left the reserve, Neteyam realized that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t care about not having a Plan B. With Plan A—which was her—he had more than enough.
Several hours passed before the change in the road began to show. The landscape of the reserve disappeared in the rearview mirror, replaced little by little by the vastness of the open highway. During the first hour, the silence in the Jeep wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged.
Tsawke drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the window, rhythmically tapping the frame to the beat of an indie-rock song that filled the space. Neteyam, for his part, tried to concentrate on the digital map on his tablet, but his eyes kept returning to the warmth of her profile.
“Are you going to keep analyzing that screen, or are you going to admit you’re a little afraid of getting lost?” she asked without taking her eyes off the road.
Neteyam locked the tablet and set it on the dashboard. “I was just thinking about the tire pressure sensor being stable. The extra weight…”
“Sully,” she cut him off, this time with a real smile, not a mocking one. “Relax. Look outside.”
He sighed and forced himself to lean back in the seat. For the first time in years, he didn’t have to report to his father, nor mediate a fight with Lo’ak, nor watch over Tuk to make sure she didn’t fall into the river. It was just him, the asphalt, and the girl who smelled like the freedom he had never dared to ask for.
“In a little while we’ll enter Corrientes; I might detour toward the wetlands… I don’t know if it’ll be our first camping stop, but it’s a nice place to have lunch and rest before continuing on the route.”
Neteyam nodded, letting his body finally sink into the Jeep’s leather seat. The idea of the Esteros del Iberá fascinated him; he had read about the area's biodiversity, but seeing it through Tsawke’s eyes—who seemed to know every corner of the map as if it were her own backyard—was something entirely different.
“Iberá sounds good,” he murmured, allowing himself to close his eyes for a second. “I’ve seen photos of the channels, but I guess nothing does justice to actually being there.”
“Not even close,” she replied, turning up the music a bit. “Get ready, Sully. The ground there is water disguised as grass. If you sink, don’t expect me to use my Jeep to pull you out; I’ll leave you there with the capybaras.”
Neteyam let out a soft laugh, the first of many to come on this trip.
Two hours later, the suffocating humidity of the Iguazú jungle began to give way to an open, windier heat. The red earth of Misiones gradually faded into a paler ochre as they crossed the provincial border.
Tsawke turned the wheel with skill, veering off the main highway to head down the roads leading into the wetlands. The Jeep bounced rhythmically over the uneven terrain, and Neteyam had to grab the ceiling handle to keep from landing on her lap (though a part of him didn’t think that would exactly be a problem).
“Look at that,” Tsawke said, pointing toward a mirror of water stretching to the right of the road.
Neteyam leaned out the window. The landscape was surreal. Thousands of hectares of shimmering water, covered in water lilies and lotus flowers, where the wildlife seemed to be the true owner of the place. A group of capybaras lounged in the sun, completely indifferent to the Jeep passing by.
Tsawke stopped the vehicle near a small natural pier, where a lone willow tree offered generous shade. The silence of the place was interrupted only by the birdsong and the hum of dragonflies.
“Technical break,” she announced, jumping out of the Jeep before the engine had even finished cooling. “Pull out one of your 'negotiated supply' boxes, Sully. Let’s see if you packed anything decent.”
Neteyam climbed down with more relaxed movements. While she pulled a plaid blanket from the trunk, he looked for some food. As he approached her under the willow, he noticed Tsawke had taken off her technical jacket, leaving her in a black tank top that revealed her tattoos under the light filtered through the leaves.
They sat on the blanket, sharing sandwiches that Neytiri had prepared at the last minute and a thermos of cold water.
“See?” she said, pointing toward the horizon where the sky and water merged into an infinite blue. “This is what you were missing by counting how many spare bandages you had in your inventory.”
Neteyam looked at her. She had a small blade of grass in her hair and a lost gaze in the landscape, a peace she rarely showed at the reserve.
“You’re right,” he admitted, lowering his voice. “Though the inventory is still important.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed, giving him a playful shove with her shoulder that made him lose his balance. “But I guess that’s why I invited you. Someone has to make sure we don’t forget to eat because we're too busy looking at the birds.”
Neteyam smiled, feeling the knot of responsibility he always carried in his chest loosen a bit more. Corrientes was just the beginning, and he already felt that this trip was going to change his definition of "home" forever.
The passage through the Subfluvial Tunnel left Neteyam in a contemplative silence. He had gone from thick jungle to driving beneath the bed of one of the largest rivers on the continent. By the time they emerged on the Santa Fe side, the sky had become a vast, pink canvas, without a single mountain to interrupt the horizon line, bathing the Paraná River in a metallic gold tone. Tsawke decided they wouldn't continue to Córdoba that night; the driver’s fatigue was starting to show in her shoulders, even if she refused to admit it.
“We’ll look for a spot near the river,” Tsawke said, consulting her physical map as the Jeep moved along the route. “There’s a campground near Cayastá that’s usually empty this time of year. It has good trees and, most importantly, firm ground for the setup.”
They detoured toward a natural park near the coast, an open space with 4x4 access where the brush was low and the ground firm enough for the Jeep.
They arrived as the blue light of twilight began to dominate the landscape. The campground was a wide area, surrounded by weeping willows and the constant sound of water gently lapping against the shore. Tsawke maneuvered the Jeep with a precision Neteyam couldn’t help but admire, parking it under the protection of a cluster of trees.
“Alright, Sully, this is where you’ll see why I didn’t need your ten supply boxes,” Tsawke said with a spark of pride in her eyes as she killed the engine near a group of willows overlooking the river.
Neteyam got out of the car, stretching his back with a crack. He watched with curiosity as she nimbly climbed onto the roof of the Jeep. With a few precise movements, Tsawke released the latches of the robust rooftop tent. In a matter of minutes, the structure unfolded upward like an accordion, and then she let down the heavy canvas extension that reached the ground, creating a closed, private room right next to the vehicle.
“It’s… impressive,” Neteyam admitted, stepping closer to help secure the folding ladder. The “ground floor” of the tent served as a perfect refuge against the mosquitoes and the river wind, while the main sleeping area remained elevated on the roof of the Jeep.
“It’s efficient,” she corrected with a wink. “And it keeps us off the damp ground. Go up and drop off the sleeping bags while I set up the kitchen.”
Neteyam climbed the small metal ladder. The interior of the rooftop tent smelled like adventure and clean canvas. It was a small space, but perfectly designed for two people. As he laid out the sleeping bags side by side, he felt his heart hammering against his ribs. The intimacy of the Jeep was already a lot, but the mere thought of sharing this elevated refuge, isolated from the world, took things to a level his mind still didn’t know how to process.
When he climbed down, Tsawke had already lit a small camping stove, and the aroma of coffee and reheated stew began to float through the cool Santa Fe night air.
“Everything ready upstairs?” she asked, handing him a metal mug.
“All set,” he replied, sitting beside her in a pair of folding chairs.
They stayed in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the river and the distant croaking of frogs. The air in Santa Fe was different from Misiones; it was lighter, more open. Neteyam looked at Tsawke, whose silhouette was outlined against the light of the small stove. The hanging lantern cast soft shadows against the canvas walls, isolating them from the rest of the world. For the first time, he didn’t feel like the heir to the reserve, nor she like the rebellious scientist. They were just two people, lost in the middle of the road, with thousands of miles ahead of them.
“Tomorrow we cross into Córdoba,” she commented, breaking the silence. “Get ready, Sully. That’s where the air starts getting serious.”
“You know,” Neteyam said, while stirring a simple noodle stew in the pot, “I never thought I could feel this much peace being a thousand miles away from home.”
Tsawke, who was sitting on a toolbox starting to check her camera, looked up. The lamp's light highlighted the orange in her curls. She stared at him for a moment in silence, letting the sound of the river and the soft bubbling of dinner fill the space.
“It’s because here, no one expects you to be 'Son of the Year,' Neteyam,” she said with an honesty that caught him off guard. “Here, you’re just a guy on a road trip. And I like this guy better than the one who always has a clipboard in his hand.”
Neteyam didn’t respond with words. He simply leaned back and allowed himself to enjoy the moment. He looked down at the food, trying to hide the smile that threatened to give him away.
That night, under the Santa Fe sky, the tent extension felt much larger than it was, as if those canvas walls could hold all the things they didn’t yet dare to say out loud.