When Eddie Munson asks you on a camping trip with Corroded Coffin, you expect fun and mayhem, and not a single thing that’s actually coming your way, accompanied by the acoustic strum of a guitar.
Songfic: Lifehouse – "Hanging by a Moment"
Word count 2100
The van is packed full. Eddie drives, obviously, humming along to the heavy metal blaring from the stereo, while Freak, being tall, takes the front passenger seat. You are shoved in the back with Jeff, Gareth and two more girls, squished between tents, sleeping bags, mats, and the rest of the gear. You wobble on top of a cooler full of marinated meat on the bumpy road, trying to keep a hold on a 24-pack of beer. Jeff is hugging a bag full of liquor.
Summer just started, everything is bright green, and you’re excited for the first camping trip of the season.
Being the new manager, bartender, and waitress at the Hideout, after Bev just moved to Florida, has been a whirlwind. You love the chaos, the noise, and the music, but taking this job was a massive leap of faith. Your family expected you to stay put, keep quiet, and settle into a predictable, safe life. Stepping out on your own was terrifying, but you wanted to prove you could build something for yourself.
Eddie dreams just as big; you always catch him after Corroded Coffin's sets talking about sending out demos and touring far outside Indiana. When he invites you to go on the camping trip with them, you realize you didn’t take time off in a long time.
“Tell me about the place,” you ask Jeff, trying to kill time over the rumble of the engine.
It’s not just a campsite. There’s a hiking trail, a waterfall, and an old abandoned mine with some local chupacabra legends attached to it. Just what you need—all scary movies start like this. The guys will get drunk, go explore with flashlights, scare the shit out of everyone, and someone will end up breaking a leg. Or someone eats last night’s spoiled meat and spends the rest of the trip in the bushes.
When you arrive, the place is breathtaking. It’s hard to believe such untouched nature is only two hours from Hawkins.
The van stops, and you’re eager to get out. Jeff starts hauling the heavy gear out of the back while Eddie hops out of the driver's seat and holds a hand up to help you down.
“What’s that for?” you ask, smiling. You’re still getting used to him; even though you manage the venue where his band plays every week, Eddie Munson is still a force of nature you're learning to navigate.
“What if you got a sleepy leg or something?”
You are a bit dizzy from the ride, so you take his warm, broad palm for balance and step down out of the back of the van.
The trees are as tall as skyscrapers, framing a bright blue sky. You look up in awe.
“Like what you see?” Eddie asks smoothly, his dark eyes lingering on yours a second longer than necessary.
Eddie steps back to stretch his arms, scouting the campsite. “Yeah, this is the place. Creek’s over there, and the trail goes up north. These are the marks from last summer,” he says, tapping the bark of a nearby tree.
You're helping Jeff unpack when you hear sudden laughter and heavy thuds. When you look over, Eddie is wrapped up in his own tent like a sausage, and Gareth and Freak are threatening to drag him away. A weak voice from inside the canvas narrates about a poor hobbit trapped by a giant spider.
You lean against a tree, giggling as you watch the chaotic scene unfold. Finally, Eddie breaks free and unwraps himself.
“Need a hand? For real?” you offer as he tries to fix his messy hair, looking flushed and giddy.
“Yeah. At least you won’t stab me in the back like these dwarves.”
“Hey, I read the book. Consider me an elven princess.”
“Wow,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t know the new Hideout boss read the Professor.”
“I did. And I still have one question: why didn’t they just summon the eagles right away?”
Eddie scratches his chin dramatically. “Nah, see, everyone asks that, but the eagles aren’t a taxi service.”
You laugh and help him pitch his tent, the back-and-forth easy and natural.
By early evening, camp is fully set up. The fire is roaring, the beers are cracked open, and everyone sits around the clearing while Eddie and Jeff arrange marinated meat on an iron mesh grill. Gareth plays soft rock ballads on his acoustic guitar. The twilight thickens around the trees, and fireflies begin to blink mysteriously through the shadows.
It doesn't take long for the rest of the guys to suggest going to check out the abandoned mine.
You refuse immediately, offering to stay behind and hold down the fort. To your surprise, Eddie chooses to stay too.
“Someone’s gotta guard the camp from bears,” Eddie announces calmly.
“Wait, there are bears?” one of the girls asks, suddenly looking nervous.
“No worries,” Eddie says, entirely unbothered. “I know how to handle a bear. First, throw shit in its eyes...”
You roll your eyes and crawl into your tent to double-check where your bear whistle is. By the time you find it and step back outside, the rest of the group has headed off into the dark. It’s just you and Eddie. He nurses a beer, watching you curiously from across the fire.
“So," Eddie begins, leaning back with that familiar lopsided grin that usually meant he was trying to charm his way into extra stage time.“Taking over the Hideout. Taking on Hawkins. That was a big move.”
“It was,” you admit, sitting on a log near the flames. “Everyone thought I’d stay home, play it safe, never push past the town line. But I wanted to prove I could do something real. On my own.”
“I get that,” Eddie says, his gaze intensely focused on his boots. “People like to put you in a box. Decide who you are before you even get a chance to figure it out yourself. It takes guts to break out of it.”
“What about you?” you ask genuinely caring for his band. “With the music?”
“Oh, I’m getting out,” Eddie says, a sincere smile reaching his eyes. “One day, Corroded Coffin leaves this dirt town in the dust.” He pauses, suddenly looking right at you. “Though... having you running the Hideout makes staying around here a whole lot more interesting.”
Your heart gives a sharp thud against your ribs.
“What are you doing?” You ask, scared of where the conversation is going.
“Wrapping potatoes in foil," Eddie mutters, suddenly very focused on the task. “So we’ve got baked potatoes for breakfast.”
“Let me help.”
You kneel by the fire pit, and Eddie uses a sturdy stick to roll the glowing coals aside. When you stand back up, there’s a streak of dark campfire dirt across your bare knees. Eddie pulls his bandana out of his back pocket, steps closer, and carefully wipes the dirt away.
“You’re doing great, you know,” he whispers, looking up at you with deep, dark eyes. “There. All clean.”
You swallow hard, the tension between you humming louder than the crickets in the brush.
The rest of the group is gone for a long time. You and Eddie finish packing away the food, and he sits back down, idly fumbling with his guitar while you wrap a thick shawl around your shoulders and listen. He strums soft, lingering chords—a melody that feels less like heavy metal and more like a rock ballad, suspended in the cool summer night air.
His long fingers gently pluck the strings matching his humming to the music.
Desperate for changing
Starving for truth
You are this close to getting up and checking his temperature but you brace yourself and lean closer.
I'm closer to where I started
I'm chasing after you
His voice turns dreamy and sweet, wrapping around you like a blanket. You notice he’s watching your reaction and you look away, afraid of what would follow if you meet his eyes. Eddie stops playing, holding the note, like he hasn't finished composing it.
The silence between you is easy, comfortable, yet charged.
“Wanna see the waterfall?” Eddie lights a cigarette, shielding the flame with his hands. His cheekbones and jaw look more prominent in the low light.
“It’s dark already, I don’t want to get lost.”
“It’s really close. I’ve been there a few times. No way we lose the trail.”
Eddie is already up and offering you his hand. You take it, allowing him to pull you up.
The forest is magical. There are more stars in the sky than you’ve ever seen in your life. The path is uneven, and a few times you feel Eddie’s arm supporting your elbow to catch you.
At the clearing, you're left speechless. The waterfall cascades into a small, secluded pool shimmering in the starlight.
“Care to join?”
You turn around and gasp. Eddie is already stripping off his clothes and leaving them on the bank. Droplets of mist shine in his dark curls as he glides into the water.
“You’re missing out,” Eddie calls softly, dipping so only his head sticks out. “C’mon. Don’t you want to wash off the road dust?”
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie grins, his doe eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s pitch black out here. Nobody’s watching.”
Fuck it, you think. You’ve spent your whole life being cautious, doing what was expected.
“Fine. Don’t look.”
“Promised.” Eddie turns toward the other side of the pool.
You quickly shed your clothes, leaving them stacked on a dry rock, and plunge into the water. It’s biting cold at first, making you squeak, but as you submerge, a wave of pure adrenaline and freedom washes over you.
Before you know it, Eddie is swimming back toward you.
“I knew you had a bit of a rebel in you,” he says, his voice thick and low.
He comes to a stop right in front of you, the water swirling around your chests. Eddie reaches out, his fingers gently tucking a stray, wet lock of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers on the back of your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline before he pulls you in.
When his plush lips brush yours, it’s soft at first, testing the waters. But as you open with a soft sigh, melting into his mouth, the kiss deepens. His hand cups the back of your head, holding you close as his tongue glides against yours. Your knees turn to jelly in the water, and you instinctively reach up, grabbing his shoulders for support.
The world shrinks down to the sound of the falling water, the cold pull of the stream, and the scorching heat of Eddie’s mouth on yours.
When you finally break the kiss to catch your breath, your chest is heaving. You look at him, breathless under the canopy of stars. Eddie leans close and hums very quietly against your temple:
I'm falling even more in love with you...
Letting go of all I've held onto...
I'm standing here until you make a move...
I'm hanging by a moment here with you.
“Eddie...” you whisper, voice trembling slightly in the cool night air.
“Okay, confession time," Eddie says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I may or may not have engineered this entire thing specifically so you'd end up stranded out here with me."
“Am I that easy?” You smile into his lips.
He kisses you again, tenderly this time, and continues:
“Well if you resisted the skinny dip I had planned, s’mores and getting lost on the hike together were my last resorts.”
“Am I still getting s’mores?”
“Absolutely, I’ll roast a perfect one for you.”
“Considering the meat, does perfect mean burnt?”
“Well done.”
“Was the mine a part of the setup too?”
“Oh.” Eddie chuckles softly. “The mine’s been blown shut for two years. Gareth, Jeff and Freak just wanted to show off for the girls.” Eddie pulls you closer.
After a long, quiet moment wrapped in each other's arms in the water, Eddie guides you back to the grassy bank. You step out onto the shore, shivering slightly in the crisp night air. Eddie picks your shawl and drapes it over your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you from behind to pull you against his warm chest.
“I’m not implying anything, but if you get cold or just can’t sleep, I can help, you know? Just for warmth and security…”
Together, you sit on the soft grass near the edge of the water, wrapped up together, watching the mist rise off the pool under the stars until you ask:
“Your tent or mine?
@dreaming-of-black-clouds camping with Eddie SFW version
for every fandom i go through there always seems to be that one super long slow burn camping au fic that's the most perfect fucking thing to grace the earth
Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Female Reader
Warnings: Fluff, mild awkwardness, mentions of work stress, soft vulnerability, light teasing, no explicit content
Summary: Robby isn’t exactly known for slowing down—but when he takes you on your first camping trip together, it’s clear he’s trying. Between slightly-burnt marshmallows, awkward tent assembly, and quiet conversations under the stars, the trip becomes less about getting away and more about letting someone in.
The first thing you notice is that Michael “Robby” Robinavitch has absolutely overpacked.
“You brought… three flashlights?” you ask, holding one up with a raised eyebrow.
Robby doesn’t even look embarrassed. “What if one dies?”
“We have two more.”
“What if those die?”
You stare at him. “Are we expecting a flashlight apocalypse?”
He huffs, grabbing the bag from your hands. “You’ll thank me when we’re not stuck in the dark.”
“You mean when you’re not stuck in the dark,” you tease, bumping your shoulder into his.
For a second, he softens—just a little smile, barely there. The kind he doesn’t show at work. The kind that feels like it’s just for you.
---
The campsite is quieter than you expected. Tall trees, a small clearing, the distant sound of water somewhere you can’t see. It feels… far away from everything.
From the hospital. From the chaos. From the version of Robby that never stops moving.
“Good?” he asks, watching your reaction a little too closely.
“It’s perfect,” you say honestly.
His shoulders drop a fraction, like he’d been bracing for something else.
---
Setting up the tent turns into a disaster.
“This goes here,” he insists, holding up a pole.
“That is clearly not where that goes,” you argue, trying not to laugh.
“It literally is.”
“It literally isn’t.”
Five minutes later, the tent is lopsided and threatening to collapse.
Robby stares at it, hands on his hips. “…Okay. Maybe we should read the instructions.”
You grin. “Wow. Growth.”
He shoots you a look, but there’s no bite to it. “Don’t get used to it.”
You end up fixing it together—his hands brushing yours more than necessary, both of you laughing when it finally stands upright like it’s supposed to.
---
By the time the fire is going, the sun is starting to dip.
Robby sits across from you, poking at the flames with a stick, quieter now.
“You okay?” you ask gently.
He shrugs. “Yeah. Just… not used to this.”
“This?”
“Being still.” He glances at you. “Being… here. With someone.”
There’s something honest in his voice that makes your chest ache a little.
You scoot closer, knees brushing his. “You don’t have to be good at it.”
“Feels like I should be.”
“You’re good at a lot of things,” you say. “You can be bad at camping.”
That earns a real laugh out of him.
“Wow. My girlfriend has so much faith in me.”
“Hey, I didn’t say bad bad,” you grin. “Just… tent-challenged.”
He nudges your leg with his foot. “Rude.”
---
Later, you’re both wrapped in blankets, the fire low, the sky full of stars.
“Do you come out here a lot?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “No. Thought I should try something different.”
“Why?”
He hesitates, then looks at you instead of the sky.
“…You make me want to.”
Your breath catches a little.
Robby isn’t the type to say things like that casually.
So when he does, it matters.
You reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “I’m glad you did.”
He squeezes your hand once, firm and grounding.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”
---
When it gets colder, he insists you take his jacket.
“You’re freezing,” he says, already shrugging it off.
“So are you.”
“I’ll survive.”
You roll your eyes but take it anyway, the fabric warm and smelling faintly like him.
“You’re kind of a softie, you know,” you tease.
“Don’t ruin my reputation.”
“What reputation?”
He smirks. “Exactly.”
---
That night, lying side by side in the tent, the world feels smaller. Quieter.
“Hey,” he says into the dark.
“Yeah?”
“…Thanks for coming.”
You turn your head toward him, even though you can barely see him. “Thanks for asking.”
There’s a pause.
Then his hand finds yours again.
He doesn’t let go.
---
By morning, you wake up tangled in blankets—and half in his arms.
He’s still asleep, breathing steady, looking softer than you’ve ever seen him.
For once, there’s no tension in his face. No urgency. No rush to be somewhere else.
Just… him.
And you.
And the quiet.
You smile to yourself, settling in a little closer.
Dr Jack Abbot / FTM Boyfriend - Camping Poll Winner / The Pitt MasterList | Trans AU MasterList | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Tip Jar💰| 2026 Trans Pride MasterList
Warnings : Ftm Reader / D@ddy Kink / MLM / Tent F*ckin / Sm*t / Dr. Abbot has depression / Regulating via F*ckin / Wilderness / Camping AU / C*m K+nk / Morning w00d / Oneshot Short Fic / situational b0ndage / BDSM. / Good Boy Kink / Older man younger man / restriction kink / 18+
“You have morning breath.” You murmur as your lips move on his freckled chest, his little red hairs tickling your cheeks.
If you could only do this forever. Runaway from all the day-to-day stress, turn away from your job and responsibilities.
And lay in the middle of the woods in this man’s embrace.
“Liar, I smell delicious,” Jack flirts back, and you can hear his smile. But you try to hide your face, the tent is just a little chilly from the forest air. Morning dew out on the grass. The birds still slumber, not even chirping yet.
“You’re too full of yourself.” You answer, but the erection leaking against your thigh tells you his response before he says it.
You shouldn’t have shared a sleeping bag, but Doctor Abbot was a chronic cuddler.
“You're about to be full of me.” He grumbles, and you're being moved onto your back. How is Jack always so much stronger, his prosthetic leg is outside of the tent, and still, he’s flipping you like you weigh nothing.
“I’m still holding your cum from last night, god can’t you let me sleep in a little?” You complain, but his cock is bumping against your still sticky pubic hair as he owns you.
“Shhh, baby boy, don’t worry, Daddy’s gotta cum in this tight cunt. You can’t blame me. You're all naked and wet wrapped around me all night, you're lucky I don’t use your ass in your sleep.” He threatens playfully and leans on his good leg as he fists his dick. He aligns it with your pussy and just slips the tip in, a gob of cum leaks and dribbles down to your ass crack.
It makes you shiver, your body waking for Daddy.
The sleeping bag and blankets droop down to his hips; those gorgeous pecks you could motorboat are in your face.
His arms over your shoulders on both sides of your head, ready to take you like you were his personal cum dump, a fleshlight in the woods.
Your eyes open now, dilated and turned on.
“When you told me you’d take me camping, I thought it would be a weekend. Are we running from the law? Am I a homestead husband now?” You say, and then bite your cheek as he pushes an inch further inside of you.
“The cooler is packed for a month, sweetie. I told you I took time off. I was too stressed, and-ghh.” He made a choking noise as he was halfway inside of you, and you used your muscles to clamp down on him.
The sexy man with his scruffy, unshaven face glares at you, but you sink yourself down another inch, and the wet heat that encases him makes him puddy in your hands.
“You thought you wouldn’t be so depressed if you fucked me like a wildman in the woods?” You answer for him and then move your hands to his neck, ready for him to jackhammer into you.
Already so sore, but as cum leaked out of you, new gobs of semen leaked from Jack inside.
He wheezed before gaining some composure back, loving how wet and swollen you were inside.
“You said you liked ‘Broke Back Mountain’?” He questioned, then bottomed out, his balls slapping your body as you deserved it.
Fuck just last night you’d sucked on them, loving the salty taste of Jack’s sweat.
“I didn’t know that meant you were kidnapping me in the woods for Pride Month. And it was a movie.” You say and then hiss as Jack’s tip bumps your cervix like he’s kissing it. Putting his stamp with every jolt.
You pull your hips up, and he thrusts harder, each time letting a tiny moan and groan out.
“Such a good boy, out in the woods learning how to make fire and fish with Daddy. See, we’re spending time together.” He adds and kisses your cheeks and down your neck, savoring you.
“I’m not a Boy Scout.” You hiss as his dick throbs inside of you, pushing against your swollen hole as you leak uncontrollably with semen and cum.
“You didn’t mind the knot tying I taught you, now did you?” Abbot reminds and lets his teeth bite down on your shoulder, you hump up on instinct to chase his high. To swallow every drop of what he blasted inside of you.
“You mean when you tied me up to the tree and fucked me?” You ask, your nails digging into the back of his neck.
Jack let his meaty dick slide out, even under the blankets and sleeping bag, you could see how his shaft shone with all your slick.
His eyes cast down as he pushed back into you, harsher this time, your back arched, body tired but unable to deny him.
Jack’s dirty little smile made you angrier, your hands slid to his biceps, your nails moving to pierce his muscles.
“You thought I was bringing all those chains for ‘outdoorsy’ reasons.” He threw his head back laughing, a full-body laugh so irritating that you glared. Then started to army scoot away from him, pushing his cock out of you.
Taking the moment for your great escape.
“Whoa whoa! I ain’t done with you yet sweet boy! Where you think you're going without Daddy?” Jack yelled in the tent, and you cocooned, wrapped yourself in the blanket and tried to inch worm out of the tent.
But his big arms wrapped around your middle as you violently wiggled and bellowed at him.
“LET GO OF ME! YOU SEX CRAZED OLD MAN, I’M OUTTA THIS TEND, Go fuck a tree!” You tease him, and he’s giggling and moving the blanket, a little survivalist training you hadn’t listened to earlier.
But the emergency doctor makes a sort of straight jacket blanket situation for you, causing your arms to be trapped.
No changed of getting out, your worm like state not lessening.
Then Abbot shifted the blankets up your hips as you lay on your tummy to try to inch out.
Your ass and cunt are making full contact with the cool air.
You yelp as Jack's hand comes down hard on your ass. You buck and hump at the air, ass going up even further, begging for another from Sir.
“I’m not done with your cunt yet. Be a good boy and stay still.” Abott grunted and took your hips in his hands from behind.
Making sure you couldn’t get to the zipper flap of the tent.
You're drooling now, face down in the blankets and your mouth opens wide as Jack's thick cock pushes into your opening curely, loving how you look slowly being split open.
Spit dribbled down your lips, and you gasp as he bottoms out.
Then puts all of his weight on your back, lying completely ontop of you.
Your moans are getting higher pitched, more distraught the longer he makes you wait to cum.
Abbot reaches behind himself, fiddling in the tent until he finds the object. An orange bungey cord, he takes the hooks and connects them, proceeding to loop it over your head, positioning the rope material into your mouth.
Then yanking, like it was some bridle and you were the horse.
“Bite baby, Daddy’s gonna take you for a ride.” He says, and you obey biting and moaning as Abbot thrusts you hard and fast without a care in the world.
His weight is trapping you down, and making his dick push impossibly further into your womb.
Grinding in and out, again and again, with your g-spot. While your poor clit practically got rug burn from the sensation of Jacks balls then the sleeping bag.
You began to scream and buck faster, causing Abbot to fist the bungey cord harder back, your body arching as your toes curled.
You saw white.
Almost blacked out, squirting across the blankets for the seventh time this trip. Jack had to work to stay inside of you as your whole body spasmed, inside and out.
His cock in a vice grip as your pussy milked him deeper, swallowing him and every bit of seed he could ejaculate inside.
Your screams died in your throat as only grunts lingered, each thrust in and out making you hit another excruciating wave of ecstasy.
Jack's voice finally broke through to your ears.
“Take my cum, go on, boy. Daddy’s got you. Fuck that’s why I gotta fuck you in the woods like a man. Teach you how we do it out here, fuck yeah baby. Just keep milking me. God, this is Daddy's pussy, yeah big boy, that’s it. Your trapped under me and still my cock whore. Ain’t you, baby? Daddy’s good boys love being fucked raw in the woods.” Jack finally shivered hard, his balls pulling to his body once, twice, and the last spurt painted your insides, and then his body gave out.
A little extra weight on your body pancaking you further into the soaked sleepingbag and quilt binding.
Jack lifted his dead arm to pull the bungey chord off you and unhook it, slinging it into the corner. Your jaw hurt from biting down so hard, but you didn’t complain, laying your face down in your spit-soaked blanket.
“You with me, boy?” Abbot questioned, not moving off of you. The aftershocks of both of your twitching were welcomed, as was the weight keeping you safe and constricted.
“That help your depression?” You wheezed out, and Jack snorted.
“It certainly didn’t hurt it.” He answered, and you let out an approving noise.
Neither of you is in a rush to detach, but Jack's cock couldn’t go anymore. Poor thing going limp inside of you.
“Thanks for going camping with me. I needed to be away from it all.” Jack whispers his head near your ear. The sweat forming on your bodies pressed against each other.
“I appreciate a man who can pitch a tent.” You murmur, mouth dry from all the screaming and drooling.
“Is that a euphemism for being inside of you,” Abbot chuckles and finally starts to shift off of you.
“Shut up, I want pancakes and coffee.” You grumble, irritated now. Jack may have gotten rid of his morning wood, but you still needed your coffee.
“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Abbot cooed and kissed your head as he helped you out of the blanket bindings. The doctor quotes, and you elbow his ribs painfully once you are free. He smirks and grabs his white tank from where you’d flung it last night in the tent.
You burrow under the dry bit of blanket with your naked body sore and a nap not far off.
“Coffeee…” You whine and grab the pillow, hiding it over your face to try to get more sleep.
“Of course, my happy camper.” Abbot adds, unzipping the tent for his prosthetic leg, lying by the opening.
Today, he’d take you hiking and stand up at the tallest point and breathe in. It would be a million times better than playing with the edge of the emergency room ledge. Because you would be there, and the air would be clean, and the trees would make him feel as if purpose was real and attainable.
No, Abbot wasn’t going back from his sabbatical for another few weeks, and tonight he’d get you to skinny dip in that big river with him.
Modern AU | humour| camping AU | pure bickering chaos
— Aaaaarthur! Arthur, wake up!
— Mm.
— Arthur!
— What’s happened?
— Wake up already! And move over!
— Move where? There’s barely any room. Hell, it’s not even dawn yet!
— I can’t sleep there. Something’s moving on my sleeping bag. I woke up because something crawled on me.
— What? Where’s the flashlight? Right—got it.
— Look, it’s already gotten inside! If it’s a bloody snake, I’ll kill you!
— Don’t panic. I can’t see anything. And there aren’t any snakes here—I was joking. You’re too jumpy. You imagined it.
— I did not! I saw it.
— Well, I don’t see anything. Go back to sleep before you wake the whole camp. We’ve got to hike to the waterfall tomorrow. It’s probably just a lizard. It’s more scared of you than you are of it.
— Oh God, it’s moving again!
— Lift the edge, I’ll shine the light.
— You lift it. I don’t want that thing jumping on me.
— Emrys, it’s just a frog… A tiny frog. You woke me up over a bloody frog.
— Disgusting! Is it slimy?
— Pick it up and find out!
— I’m not touching it! What if it carries something?
— Just tip it out of the bag—out of the tent. Honestly, what’s the problem?
— It’s dark, it’s cold, and it’s drizzling. It’s horrible.
— Seriously? Whose brilliant idea was it to bring you along? Unzip it and hold it open. I’ll get it out.
— Thanks.
— You’re welcome. There. Can we sleep now?
— Arthur? Can I borrow your jacket?
— Why?
— Mine’s too short, it doesn’t cover me properly. I’ll freeze.
— Why do you need my jacket? Just zip the bag up and sleep.
— I’m not sleeping in a bag that a disgusting frog climbed into. What if it’s sick?
— You’re the one who’s sick. Here—cover up and shut up. Why did you even come on this hike if you’re this squeamish and skittish?
…(croaking outside; Merlin wriggles on his sleeping bag)
— Arthur?
— …(an irritated huff)
— Arthur, are you asleep?
— Trying to be. You should try it too.
— I can’t.
— What is it this time?
— The frog is croaking.
— And?
— I can’t fall asleep.
— And you decided I shouldn’t either? Wrap yourself up tighter, count sheep, and sleep.
— Your jacket’s thinner than mine. I’m cold. And the frog is annoying.
— Put your hat on.
— I don’t have one.
— You did earlier.
— Must’ve lost it somewhere.
— Are you planning on keeping me awake all night?
— …
— There’s a knife in the front pocket of my rucksack. Get it out and hand it to me.
— Arthur, why do you need a knife? I’m sure you can just scare the frog off, it’ll hop away. Croaking isn’t a crime.
— I’m not going to kill the frog, you idiot.
— Then why are you cutting open your sleeping bag?
— We’ve got two options: you go and sleep outside, or we share. Your sleeping bag is too narrow for me—I won’t fit. But if we use mine, we can lie down together and tuck the edges in, one on each side. Come on, lie down next to me—what are you staring at? Give me your jacket, I’ll put it between us. There. Now we’ll shove our feet into your bag, and use my jacket over the top. That’s it. Warm. Now sleep. I’m turning the flashlight off.
— Okay.
— Merlin!
— What?
— Stop staring at me in the dark. Turn over and don’t breathe in my face.
— I thought that would make it less awkward… Do you want to be the big spoon?
— We are not spooning, you idiot! Just turn over!
— Why not just say that, then? Why call me names?
— Why go on a bloody hike if you’re scared of frogs and can’t sleep in a tent?
— I’ve never been hiking before, you arse—how was I supposed to know I wouldn’t like it?
— Next time my sis offers you something, just say “no”.
— If I’d refused, you still wouldn’t have slept. Sophia would’ve crawled into your tent, wouldn’t she.
— Probably, and I’d have spent the night with a pretty girl, instead of sharing my sleeping bag and jacket with a scrawny little wretch who’s afraid of harmless amphibians.
— …
— And Merlin—if you tell anyone about how we slept tonight, I’ll kill you. Is that clear?
— Crystal.
And of course Merlin didn’t tell anyone.
Not that he’d been the one to smuggle the frog into their tent in the first place. Not that Arthur had fallen asleep with his nose buried in the back of someone else’s neck— and that arrogant prat had turned out to be the big spoon in the end.
So apparently posting this image of Louis right before they recorded was a bad idea guys.
BUT CONSIDER: THIS TIME CAN WE HAVE A CAMPING TRIP AU INSTEAD OF BEACH EPISODE? Please please please I need to put them in the WOODS
