Masterlist - Read on AO3
Word count: 448
LADS!Polycule x Fem!Reader
Summary: You didn’t expect your volunteer trip to a lakeside camp to turn into anything more than nostalgia, sleepless nights, and fights over who does the dishes. Same as every year before this one. But the week takes an unexpected turn.
Bonfire confessions, late nights, and tense mornings trip the group into intimate territory. Casually sharing stories of desire, spicy conquests, and buried feelings become the norm. Lines blur, butterflies emerge, and by the time the last ember starts burning out, something strange has grown.
They face a choice as bags get repacked much messier than they once were.
Walk away or throw a new log on the fire?
Author's note: Hello hello everyone! It has been a while. I was planning on getting this story out during summer but now that autumn is in full swing, I needed a lil something to take the edge off. I do have to warn everyone that I am quite busy with school, but I'll try my best to get these chapters out weekly <3
Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains swear words, mentions of alcohol, drinking, and smoking, sex, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.
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'Have a nice day, ma’am,' the front desk girl chirps as she hands over the keys to the woman's vehicle. She had been a pain from start to finish, claiming she was getting ripped off because it was determined she needed new breaks. It wasn't anyone's fault but her own that they had gotten so bad.
Sylus leans against the front desk booth, arms crossed and covered in grease and dirt, sweat glistening on his skin. He's sure he doesn't smell like flowers, but the girl at the front desk isn't complaining. Not that she'd be looking anyway. He's not quite her style.
However, he is waiting for something. That sweet, sweet moment when the pretty smile of his front desk girl turns to its original scowl and judgmental state. The way that woman plays customers is an absolute art.
'Jeez, I thought she'd never leave,' she groans, leaning back in her chair dramatically. Sylus tries to hide the grin on his face, but there's not much he can do to stop it.
'I've told you before, you're allowed to be meaner.' A death glare to Sylus, so mean it almost makes him shiver. Almost. If it wouldn't have amused him so much.
'Sylus, I am a fairly attractive woman working the front desk of a garage. I get the most abuse out of anyone here,' she sneers at him.
'I know, Simone.'
She grumbles something under her breath before retrieving a note from her pile of papers, handing it over to Sylus without really looking at him. 'Rafayel called.'
'About the camp?'
'About what else? He doesn't drive.'
Sylus nods, sticks the note in his pocket, and returns to his work.
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Hours later, with a glass of whiskey in hand, Sylus presses the call button on his phone and listens to it ring. He doesn't have to wait long, about two tones, until he hears steady breathing on the other end but the other person doesn't speak.
Sylus smirks, ready to play. 'Want me to pick you up again?'
"No 'hi, hello, how are you'? Just straight to business?"
'That's what you called for, isn't it?' Silence. 'You should really get your driver's license. How old are you now?'
"That doesn't matter." Sylus’ smirk morphs into a grin. "Don't smile. It doesn't suit you."
'What are the benefits to being your driver this time around?'
"What do you want?" His tone changes subtly, but not subtly enough to get past Sylus. His grin widens. He likes this little cat and mouse game they play.
Masterlist - Read on AO3
Word count: 7.3k
LADS!Polycule x Fem!Reader
Summary: You didn’t expect your volunteer trip to a lakeside camp to turn into anything more than nostalgia, sleepless nights, and fights over who does the dishes. Same as every year before this one. But the week takes an unexpected turn. Bonfire confessions, late nights, and tense mornings trip the group into intimate territory. Casually sharing stories of desire, spicy conquests, and buried feelings become the norm. Lines blur, butterflies emerge, and by the time the last ember starts burning out, something strange has grown. They face a choice as bags get repacked much messier than they once were.Walk away or throw a new log on the fire?
Writer's note: Damn, first chapter is finally here. I hope ya'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Next week Wednesday is the second chapter. My timezone is UTC so technically, I made my deadline. If only just barely <3
Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains swear words, mentions of alcohol, drinking, and smoking, sex, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.
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Gravel crunches under the tires of Sylus’ way too expensive, way too old car as it rolls to a stop on the parkinglot in front of the campsite. Rafayel had tried to fight him on taking the car, but Sylus claimed his Corvette C2 Stingray was the only one drivable of his cars at the moment as he was working on the other two. Not that it would've made much of a difference. His current other cars are a Aston Martin DB4 and the other a Lamborghini Espada.
The engine rumbles warmly before turning off, leaving only the sound of chirping birds and the wind passing through the trees. Rafayel stretches out like a cat in the passenger seat, arms over his head, yawning. 'Finally. The scenic route took forever.'
Sylus smirks as he takes the keys out of the ignition. 'You could've walked if you were in such a hurry. Besides, you slept most of the drive. It's almost like you didn't want to go with me.'
Rafayel rolls his eyes and grumbles something about putting in the work before they left, but he doesn't directly argue with Sylus. They get out of the car and Sylus takes the liberty of handing Rafayel his duffel bag. Rafayel normally travels with a suitcase, but after a few years of gravel and dirt messing up the wheels of his favorite one, he finally had to admit a duffel was more accommodating to this kind of travel.
They walk towards the counselors’ dorm, Sylus takes a bundle of keys out of his pocket and unlocks it. They head inside to claim their beds. The same ones they always take. Inside the cabin it's stuffy and smells like wood, but that is to be expected. It's the same every year, after all. Almost feels like home.
The dorm is split into three sections. Two rooms, both with five bunkbeds, and the bathroom which has three showers, two toilets, and two sinks. The bunkbeds are located on the left, front and back of the room, with the two remaining ones with the heads against the right wall pushed together to create something of a double bed with an uncomfortable metal edge between them.
Rafayel walks into the first room, the one closest to the front door, and places his bag on one of the two bottom bunk beds that are pushed together. He looks up at Sylus with an unreadable expression. Sylus looks back at him and then down at the empty bed next to Rafayel's.
He isn't too sure what Rafayel wants. The game between the two of them had always been casual, but last year when Rafayel admitted attraction for another camp counselor there was a bit of tension. Yet, when Sylus came to pick him up this morning all seemed fine. More than fine actually. Mind blowing. Maybe it would be fine with a third player in the game too. Or a fourth, because admittedly Sylus has his eye on someone as well.
But this one thing will never change. Sylus sleeps next to Rafayel.
When he puts his bag down on the bed, it almost seems like Rafayel is letting out a breath he had been holding. Almost like a silent agreement between them.
Sylus approaches him slowly, his hands landing gently on Rafayel's hips almost as if they're waiting for approval. Rafayel reaches up and wraps his arms around Sylus’ neck. The slightest twitch of a smile plays on Sylus’ lips, but Rafayel doesn't see it. He's already leaning in. The kiss is soft, short, but longing for more.
There's no real time to keep dwelling on it. Too much to do before the others arrive. And so they separate and head outside. Sylus tosses Rafayel a second set of keys which he catches effortlessly. 'Why don't you go unlock the other cabins while I check the boiler and backup generator.'
'Bossy,' Rafayel teases.
'And yet you listen.' Sylus shoots back. Rafayel huffs in response, but does as Sylus says with a suppressed grin and rosy cheeks.
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The sound of a sputtering engine announces the next arrival. Xavier's Peugeot 107 rolls onto the parking lot like a fussy cat, barely making it up the last incline with how slow he's going before parking crooked in the back of the parking lot.
'I swear this car is hanging on by a threat,' Jeremiah mumbles as he gets out of the car. Xavier ignores it, taking the keys out of the ignition and walking to the back to unlock the booth.
'At least it has aircon.'
'That only blows hot air,' Jeremiah counters and sighs. 'Maybe ask Sylus to look at it.'
Before they can continue bickering, the sound of Rafayel's voice breaks the “friendly” banter. 'Xavier! You made it without passing out behind the wheel. Impressive,' he shouts from the porch of the main building.
Xavier gives a half-hearted salute, but Jeremiah responds before he can say anything. 'Barely.' Xavier huffs in response and grabs his guitar case and bag from the trunk.
'You're on bunk duty,' Rafayel calls out before disappearing back into the cabin.
Jeremiah sighs. 'Will that man ever clean the bunks himself?'
'Probably not.'
They head towards the counselors’ dorm first to open the windows and air it out a bit. The children are coming tomorrow, but they have to sleep in that cabin tonight.
'Do you think things will be different this year,' Xavier asks Jeremiah with his head down.
'In what way?'
Xavier sighs: 'I don't know.'
Jeremiah opens the door of the cabin, then stops seeming to realize what Xavier meant. 'You mean between you and-' Xavier shushes him quickly, looking panicked. Jeremiah frowns. 'It should be fine if you can keep your hands to yourselves.'
He pushes the door open further and steps inside, leaving Xavier on the porch. 'Yeah, but that was the whole problem last year.'
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Your so called "shitbox" drives smoothly on crappy gravely, half-paved, half-asphalt road through the woods towards the campsite. It’s not a bad car and it's not even that old (1992). The thing has character, and you love your Toyota Land Cruiser Turbo.
The only reason Zayne does not like to drive in your car is because he's not behind the wheel and you have an affinity for driving fast. A "need for speed" if you will. You like pulling up fast and taking sharp turns, but only when you're alone in the car. In fact, you've only driven like that with him in the car once. Just when you first picked up the car with him and were feeling the masculine energy of having a car with the word Turbo on the back.
Nevertheless, Zayne's hand is gripping the door handle and keeps grumbling mean things. 'This thing is going to fall apart before we get there.'
You shoot him a glare, but Caleb responds in a mocking tone. 'She's sturdy. And vintage.'
'Vintage is a nice way of saying "held together by duct tape",' Zayne counters. Suddenly, the car comes to a halt, scaring the life out of both Caleb and Zayne. You've just made a stop because you've had enough.
'Then why is your car in the shop and not mine?' Silence. Your tone had been tipped over from playful annoyance to actual irritation with a snappy undertone. They'd gone too far and they know it.
Zayne knows your car is perfectly safe, and he knows how hard you work to keep it that way. He knows you spend countless hours under the hood with Caleb. Just like you had with the car before this one, and the one before that. The only reason you've had three cars in as many years is because you like to flip them. Buy a car that doesn't drive too well, fix it, and sell it for profit.
You seem to have a natural knack for engineering, but you prefer to study art. Just like Caleb pretends he doesn't have a notebook full of recipes, but studies aerospace engineering over culinary arts. It's something that Zayne has never really found for himself. He only knows how to study to be a surgeon. That's his only goal in life. He has a hard time enjoying the smaller things.
'I apologize.' Zayne's voice is soft, yet apathetic. You don't respond, but he sees your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel as the car slowly starts to move again, eye focused on the road. He already knows what you're going to say. "Don't just say it. Feel it." He takes a deep breath. 'Truly, I'm sorry.'
'Me too. I'm a dick and I deserve dishwashing duty for at least two days.' Caleb tries to lighten the mood and, unsurprisingly, it works.
'You do. You both do,' you grumble in response, but Zayne sees your death grip on the steering wheel loosen. A few moments tick by and the mood seems to lighten up until you finally speak again. 'How is Gideon getting to the cabin by the way?'
'Oh, he's driving with Simone and Tara.'
Zayne looks back at Caleb. 'How does he know them?'
'Simone goes to his gym and Tara knows Simone.'
'Wait. How is he going to fit in Simone's Mini?'
Just a few minutes later the cabin comes into view and you park your car with expert precision. Zayne wonders why he ever doubted you. He's not even sure he knows a better driver than you.
The three of you get out of the car just as Rafayel approaches with a playful grin. Caleb spots him right away and his eyes widen as she sees the twinkle of mischief in Rafayel's eyes. He rushes up to him right away under the guise of giving Rafayel a hug.
'Ah, the death trap arriv- Shit, that hurts Caleb,' he snaps as he receives a “gently” love tap of Caleb's elbow to his ribs. However, when he sees how everyone is looking at him, he quickly swallows the remainder of his complaints. 'Anyway, go get yourselves settled. We're just waiting on Gideon, Simone, Tara, Yvonne, and Greyson. Xavier and Jeremiah are readying the counselors’ dorm.'
'Sounds great,' you grumble as you pull your duffel out of the trunk and swing it over your shoulder. Without looking at Rafayel again, you make your way to the cabin.
'She didn't even hug me,' Rafayel whines to Caleb and Zayne who just stand there looking slightly guilty. Raf catches on right away and changes his stance from whiny to full on judgment time. 'What'd you guys do?'
A few seconds tick by with both Zayne and Caleb looking like guilty dogs and Rafayel gasps. 'NO! Did you guys insult her car again? Oh great going.'
Caleb makes his best overdramatic insulted expression: 'Oh, as if you weren't about to do the very same, you shameless hypo- Fuck!' He yelps, having just received an elbow to the ribs from Zayne, similarly like he just delivered to Rafayel.
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As you walk into the counselor's dorm, you take a quick peek in the men's dorm room. Things are as they always are. Sylus and Rafayel's bags on the bunks closest together. Xavier and Jeremiah are just putting their things down and having a friendly argument about Jeremiah's wakeup techniques. Aka, kicking Xavier's bed above him until he hears a semblance of life. You greet them warmly.
'Hey guys!'
'Oh, hey! How have you been?' Jeremiah turns to you with a friendly smile whilst Xavier throws his bag on top of the bunk.
'I've been good. School's been kicking my ass, but what else is new,' you joke, 'but we'll catch up in a bit. I have to get the kitchen ready.'
'Alright, see you in a bit.'
You look past him at Xavier, who looks stuck in place, and smile brightly at him. 'Good to see you here again, Xavier.' He looks up, his eyes brightening and his smile dazzling.
'Same here.'
You quickly walk into the women's room trying to hide your blush and are punched in the face by the stuffiness of the room. You quickly move to open the window before even thinking of putting your bag down. It's always the same, but it'll pass. It's a sunny, comfortable day without too much moisture in the air. With the gentle breeze moving through the trees, it shouldn't take too much time before it's breathable in here again.
After taking a quick look around, you decide on picking the bottom bunk closest to the door, directly to the left of it. With only four girls on staff, all of you can get a bottom bunk and a top bunk for storage. Except for Yvonne. For some reason, she likes sleeping on the top bunk. The freak.
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The kitchen is cool and dim, carrying the old wood smell in from the rest of the cabin and the faint scent of cleaner. You run your finger over the countertop and notice the faintest layer of dust despite the clean look. As any other year, you find the packing slip from the grocery delivery stuck on the fridge with a duck shaped magnet. You grab the paper and put the magnet to the side, already feeling yourself shift into the familiar, comfortable gear of getting everything ready for the week.
'Look what the cat dragged in!' You hear Tara before you see her. Her voice warm as a hug, carrying a friendly melody of recognition. She sweeps through the room, her smile bright, and pulls you into a tight embrace. 'Missed you, Chef.'
'Missed you too,' you murmur into her shoulder with a grin on your face. The tenseness you felt from the drive finally seems to slip away at her touch. Behind her, standing in the doorway, stand Gideon and Simone.
Simone winks at you and walks over when Tara lets go, hugging you as well. Though not nearly as tight as Tara. 'Heard you gave Caleb and Zayne a stern talking to.'
You roll your eyes as you separate. 'Honestly, they were asking for it.'
'Wouldn't have guessed any differently,' she smiles.
She can barely move away before Gideon near jumps you, wrapping his arms around your waist to lift you off the ground effortlessly and spin you around. 'I have missed you and your coffee so, so, so much!'
You laugh and swat his arm until he sets you down. 'Is that all I'm good for to you?'
'No, also your cooking.' You roll your eyes and wave your hands to shoo them out.
'Go on you two. Go help Caleb with inventory.'
'On it!' Gideon salutes you and ducks out, Simone following close behind and suddenly it is peaceful and silent once more. Safe for Rafayel's exasperated sighs from the main hall as he checks the supplies.
Tara rolls up her sleeves, eyes sweeping over the stacked boxes. 'Alright, Chef. Where do we start?'
You fall into an easy rhythm. Sorting all the ingredients per day and ticking them off the list to check if everything has been delivered, then storing everything in their proper place and labeling where necessary.
At some point, you notice a shadow looming in the doorway. You turn your head and see Sylus leaning against the doorpost, arms crossed in lazy relaxation, watching the two of you with the slightest of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His presence instantly alters the atmosphere in the room. 'Look at that,' he says, his voice a low rumble. 'You kept it.'
You look down, suddenly hyper-aware of the soft, brown knit sweater you're wearing with the sleeves rolled up just under your elbows. But it's not just any sweater. It's Sylus’ sweater. The one you were debating on giving back to him but ended up wearing on the drive because it's absurdly comfortable. A flush creeps up your neck. 'Oh, yeah... I- uhm... I was meaning to give this back to you.'
He takes a few steps into the kitchen, his gaze warm and intent. 'You look better in it.'
The compliment feels as if he's caressing your cheek. Your hands still, your breath catches in your throat. All you can manage is a small, flustered nod.
Sylus’ smirk is subtle, just a quirk of his lips, before he turns his attention to Tara with a respectful nod and a tone change when he speaks. The thick tension suddenly dissipates into nothingness. 'I was just going to warn you ladies that I am coming to check the stove in a bit. Probably in like 45 minutes to an hour. I'm doing the bathrooms first.'
'Thank you, Sylus,' Tara replies, her voice dripping with playful innocence.
'Oh, and let the tap run for a bit. The pipes haven't been used in a while.'
'On it,' she says with both her thumbs up and a big, fake smile.
With a final lingering look you try to ignore, he leaves. The moment he is out of view, Tara whirls around you, her eyes wide.
'You look better in it?' She repeats, fanning herself dramatically. 'Whew, the temperature in here just shot up.'
You laugh it off, grabbing a tea towel off the counter and playfully hitting her with it to hide that your ears are bright red. 'Oh, stop it.'
'Stop it? Honey, that man looked at you like you were a five-course meal and he hadn't eaten in a month.' Tara leans against the counter, arms crossed, grinning. 'So? Details? What happened last year that ended with you in his sweater?'
'Nothing happened,' you insist, though the memory of the last night of last years camp floats through your mind. The fire had burned out, it had gotten colder, but you insisted on stargazing because it was such a beautiful night. He offered you his sweater and in the chaos of the cleanup the next day, you completely forgot to give it back.
Though you try to suppress the part where you cuddled up against him and he had so gently pressed a kiss on top of your head. The part where his hands were caressing you like you were made of glass and honey. The part where he whispered sweet nothings to you when he thought you had drifted off. Because: 'We just spent some time stargazing together last year and he leant me his sweater. Forgot to give it back.'
'Right,' she drawls, 'and I'm just here for the free food.' Tara laughs, but drops it after that. No use kicking up a fuss at the very start of the camp.
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With the two last arrivals, Yvonne and Greyson, getting right to work everything seems to be going smoothly. Zayne pulled them to him right away to help check all the safety and first aid equipment, and Greyson was more than happy to do so. Yvonne, however, did a round to greet everyone first.
She finds Rafayel looking defeated in the main building, hunched over dried markers, pieces of cut paper, and empty paint tubes. 'How's it going?' She asks, her voice calm and collected, her hand gently on Rafayel's shoulder to soothe him.
Rafayel looks up at her and sighs dramatically like only he can. 'Catastrophe, but that's nothing new. Seems tradition at this point.' She smiles and sits down with him, starting to help sort through everything with practiced efficiency. 'You're a lifesaver. Greyson would've glued himself to his chair.'
Yvonne's lips twitch in a faint smile. 'He means well.' Her gaze drifts past Rafayel, through the open door of the main hall, to where Simone is chatting and laughing with Gideon.
Rafayel follows her gaze, his expression changing into something akin to knowing. 'Ah, I see.'
Yvonne's eyes snap back to him, a faint blush on her cheeks. 'You see nothing.'
'Of course not,' Rafayel agrees smoothly, turning back to the craft supplies. But his mind goes elsewhere, weaving threads of connection. He wonders how he never saw it before.
How Xavier always tries to cuddle up to the lovely Chef under the guise of her smelling nice and being warm.
How Sylus always seems to be picking on Zayne but seems triumphant when the aspiring surgeon becomes flustered as if it was his goal from the start.
How Gideon always stumbles over his words when he tries to talk to Yvonne and Simone and has them convinced he just gets hot easily while it's obviously him blushing.
How Jeremiah and Greyson always seem to gravitate towards the kitchen though neither of them are big eaters nor heavy coffee drinkers and being scolded by Chef is one of their biggest fears.
How Zayne always seems nearby when Xavier does something that could potentially harm him.
How Sylus seems to have a magnetic pull and he just can't stay away...
Wait... No. This is all just speculation. Surely, he's just making things up. He's an artist. He romanticizes things all the damn time. That's what this is.
He caps a dried marker with a definitive click. “It's just conjecture, nothing to worry about.” He tells himself as his eyes drift to the kitchen. A devious plan manifests in his head. "Let's shake things up a bit."
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The final box of dry goods slides into place with a satisfying thud. You step back, surveying the work with a critical eye before grabbing your notebook and a thick marker from your pencil case.
It is time for the sacred ritual of closing the kitchen to the plebs.
Tara watches as you write down in thick, capital letters: "KITCHEN STAFF ONLY" underlined twice. She walks with you to the wall outside the kitchen and chuckles as you tape the sign to the wall next to the kitchen doorway.
'The barrier is erected,' she announces playfully, giggling to herself. 'Let's see if they learned to read this year.'
'We can only hope,' you joke back with a smile as you both reenter the kitchen. 'By the way, I never got to ask you this last year, but what's up with you, Jeremiah, and Greyson?'
Tara quickly bussies herself with sorting utensils, a task that had already been completed by you when you came in and she knows it, as a faint pink tinge colors her cheeks. 'Nothing. We're friends. They're... sweet.'
'Sweet,' you question, the word dripping of your tongue with friendly skepticism. 'Is that what we're calling it now? Jeremiah looks at you like you personally hung the moon and Greyson trips over his own damn feet every time he sees you.'
She chuckles. 'Pot, meet kettle,' she says as she gestures from herself to you with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. 'You wanna talk about it? Sure, let's talk. What about Sylus practically eye fucking you while I was standing right here? Hm? Or should we talk about last year?'
'Let's no-'
'Hey,' Caleb hovers just over the threshold of the kitchen doorway, his gaze flicking from you to anywhere else in the room. You figure he heard what Tara said and that plain fact sends shivers down your spine. 'How are you ladies doing? Got any snacks?'
'Out,' you state with a definitive point to the doorway.
Caleb's shoulders slump. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy. It's kinda cute... 'But-'
'Out,' Tara and you state in perfect, flat unison.
He retreats, grumbling.
'Oh, that reminds me,' Tara notes, 'what was up with the chill between you, Zayne, and Caleb?'
Touchy. Painful. You pick at a loose thread on Sylus’ your sweater. 'They were insulting my car again and it got to me. Feels like they don't see the work I put into it.'
Tara's expression changes into one of understanding and softness. She walks over and puts her arm around your shoulder. 'Men... I swear... But we both know they don't mean it. Zayne is just worried and wants you to be safe and Caleb wants to make you smile, but is reckless with his words sometimes.'
'I know that, but that doesn't mean it can't hurt me.'
'I didn't say that.' Tara takes a breath. 'Did they apologize at least?'
'They did. It was genuine too. I just need a little time to get over it.'
'That's-'
'Cheeeeef~ The markers are a tragedy,' Rafayel whines as he swoops into the kitchen like a whirlwind. He drapes himself against you, almost pushing Tara away in the process, his arms around your shoulders like ivy.
Used to his dramatics, you don't even stagger under his weight. 'Then find someone who wants to drive you into town and get new ones. And while you're at it, take a poll. See if someone forgot to pack a toothbrush or something. Now shoo. You know you're not supposed to be in here.'
Rafayel pouts but detaches himself from you, walking out with a sigh that could've powered a small wind turbine.
Not five minutes later, after you and Tara have gotten back to your work, Zayne appears looking weary. 'Is the coffee in here?'
Tara points past him to a table just in sight through he kitchen doorway. 'Pot's on the table. Help yourself.'
He opens his mouth, likely to argue the coffee you make exclusively for him always tastes better, but one look at the resolute looks on both of your faces has him nodding curtly and turning away.
'Why do I get this feeling we're getting made fun of,’ Tara mumbles to herself. You simply shrug in response, but you have to admit it's weird the way they're all coming in one after another with some excuse to stay.
It has not even been ten minutes after that when both Sylus and Xavier walk in together, not saying a word. Sylus’ gaze is low, watching Xavier with a focus that borders on obsessive when Xavier lifts himself on the countertop. A silent conversation is had while you and Tara stare them down in confusion before Tara finally speaks up.
Hand on her hip, looking like an angry mom, she points a wooden spatula their way. 'Are you both illiterate?'
Xavier looks at her, confused. 'Illiterate? No. Why?'
You pinch the bridge of your nose. To be fair, you had a feeling Sylus put him up to this and Xavier has a soft spot for most anyone who looks at him the way Sylus can. 'Xavier, baby, there's a sign outside the doorway. Kitchen is closed to non-kitchen staff.'
'We're just admiring the view,' Sylus responds, raking his eyes over Xavier first and letting them wander over to you. Just a second too late to see you chucking a kitchen towel at his head. It hits him square in the face.
The action breaks the tension so much so that both Tara and Xavier, and anyone watching from outside the kitchen, breaks out in a manic fit of laughter. The kind that makes your cheeks hurt and your eyes water. And just when you think it's subsided, it starts up again.
However, you manage to keep your cool. 'Admire from the other side of the border.'
A ghost of a smile is revealed when Sylus pulls the towel off his face. 'Feisty,' he mouths to you before he walks out. Xavier quickly trails behind.
Tara turns to you with wide eyes. 'What the fuck was that?'
'I wish I knew.' Tara sighs loudly. You nod in response. 'You know what, let's distract ourselves by prepping for tomorrow. We could get some fruit cut.'
She points at your aggressively. 'That. That is a great idea.'
For tomorrow, there's watermelon and strawberries on the menu for snack times. Actually, those two are on the menu most days. Most children like strawberries and watermelon, so it's an easy choice between those and any other type of fruit. Of course, there's also apples and bananas for them, but those don't need prepping.
When you head out for a second to go grab your Bluetooth speaker, you see a group gathering around one of the tables. They're all giggling and laughing to themselves, but become quiet when you pass. There most certainly up to something, but you can't be bothered with that right now. You've got shit to do.
However, when you get back to the kitchen, Jeremiah is standing there. Quite obviously flirting with Tara. You scrape your throat loudly to get their attention. It's quite a cute sight, two little deer in the headlights, eyes wide, mouths ajar, coming up with excuses.
'I expected this from you,' you say to Jeremiah, but then you turn to Tara, 'but this is betrayal of the highest order.'
'I- I just came to get some bottled water.'
'Really? Say Tara, didn't we put bottled water on the table right outside the kitchen?'
'We did,' she grumbles, defeated.
'So Jeremiah, help yourself,' you say with a graceful gesture to the doorway.
His shoulders slump in defeat, shooting Tara an apologetic look before leaving. Tara scowls at you for a split second, but she dares not do more than that. After all, there's a reason you're the chef. As you've been told from multiple sources, you can be real scary.
'Meany,' Tara mumbles, but all is forgiven quickly. That is until you both hear a ruckus out in the main hall.
'No, Jeremiah's time doesn't count! Chef was not there,' Rafayel's loud voice booms through the room with dramatic effect.
'We never said both of them had to be in there,' Greyson argues.
'It was implied,' Zayne disagrees with a stern voice.
'I think he was playing smart, going in there when the only one in the kitchen has a soft spot for him,' Sylus teases.
The argument continues far longer than it should until you and Tara look at each other before bursting out in laughter.
'A bet,' you sputter out.
Tara almost doubles over. 'They made a bet on how long they could stay in here!'
∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘
Eventually, everyone settles and gets back to work.
Outside, Caleb, Simone, and Gideon are organizing the storage shed and checking if everything is still in good shape with a smile on their faces. The three are whirlwinds of energy and don't let a chance to pass a good volleyball go. It's almost more like big child playtime than actual work.
Inside the main building, the mood is more somber. It's almost like walking into a funeral as Rafayel holds up another tube of dried out paint. 'A moment of silence for the fallen,' he intones dramatically, looking every bit the mourner. Yvonne, practical as always, makes a list on her phone for every item Rafayel declares dead.
Meanwhile, Zayne and Greyson make rounds through the campsite with methodical precision to check all the safety equipment. Fire extinguishers, smoke alarms, carbon monoxide alarms, hoses, the first aid kit, etcetera. Doesn't matter that firefighters check them yearly, Zayne prefers to know that everything is good than to find out in a time of need.
In the dormitories, Jeremiah and Xavier work under the sweet sounds of heavy metal music to "keep them pumped" according to Jeremiah. Jeremiah flings all the windows open and wipes down the windowsills, while Xavier sweeps the rooms in a surprisingly calm fashion considering the music playing.
And in the kitchen, Sylus – aka the only sanctioned invader – is checking the gas stove while you watch leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed. Tara ran off somewhere you don't know, but it doesn't matter. You wouldn't want her to see you indulging in staring at Sylus’ arms as he works. Frankly, it's very distracting to have guns out like that.
With all kitchen tasks completed, you head into town with Tara to get pizza and replace some of the art supplies. The drive is about twenty minutes, not too bad. Together, you enjoy the playlist you made the first time you went to this camp together and have been adding to each year after.
∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘
After dinner, a comfortable chaos descended. True to their word, Caleb and Zayne began the monumental task of washing the dishes, their bickering a familiar soundtrack from the kitchen.
The women migrated to the grassy bank that sloped down to the lake, settling on a large blanket to soak up the last golden rays of the sun. The spoken reason was the warmth of the evening sun. The unspoken reason, exchanged in sly glances and small smiles, was the view of the men testing the structural integrity of the old dock in their swim trunks, their bodies silhouetted against the shimmering water.
Sylus stood chest-deep in the water, his focus entirely on the dock’s underpinnings, his engineer’s mind assessing every beam. The scene on the dock, however, was anything but focused. Jeremiah, bored, executed a lazy backflip into the water. Xavier and Greyson followed with more cautious jumps. Gideon, ever the instigator, decided it was time for a grand finale. He took a running start and launched into a wildly ambitious flip, cannonballing into the water with a colossal splash that drenched not only Sylus, but Rafayel, who had been perched elegantly on the dock’s edge.
Rafayel shrieked, scrambling back from the waterline. “You oaf! I was staying dry!”
Sylus, wiping water from his eyes, didn’t even look up. He simply reached out, his hand closing around Rafayel’s ankle, and yanked. With a yelp of surprise, Rafayel tumbled into the lake, emerging sputtering and indignant.
From the blanket, the girls erupted in laughter. It was this sound that drew the men’s attention, turning them from their own games toward a new, more enticing target.
The retaliation was swift. Simone saw Gideon coming and took off like a shot, her laughter trailing behind her. He caught her easily, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. As he passed Yvonne, he paused. She met his gaze, sighed with mock resignation, and stood. He hauled her over his other shoulder without breaking stride, marching them both into the water amidst their shrieks and laughter.
Jeremiah and Greyson made a beeline for Tara. She put up a token resistance, flailing her arms dramatically before collapsing into giggles as they lifted her between them and carried her, queen-like, to the lake’s edge.
Liz, watching the friendly carnage, smiled to herself and lay back on the grass, closing her eyes. Peace. It was nice that no one was coming for her.
The sudden shadow blocking the sun made her eyelids flutter open.
Oh.
That’s why.
Caleb and Zayne stood over her, freshly changed into their swim trunks, their dish duty complete. Caleb’s grin was wolfish. “Thought you could hide?”
Before she could protest, he bent down and scooped her up as if she were weightless. Liz let out a small, involuntary gasp, her arms instinctively locking around his neck. “Caleb, put me down,” she demanded, her voice tight, though she clung to him.
“As you wish,” he said, his voice a low rumble near her ear. He waded into the water and set her down gently. But the shock of the cool water on her sun-warmed skin made her shiver violently, and she didn’t let go, pressing closer to his solid warmth for a second longer than necessary.
Laughter and splashing echoed around them, but for a moment, they were in their own bubble—Caleb’s hands steady on her back, her fingers still curled against his damp skin.
Then a new presence joined them. Sylus appeared behind Zayne, his large frame crowding them both. “She’s shivering,” he stated, and without ceremony, he wrapped his arms around both Zayne and Caleb, pulling all four of them into a tight, squishing group hug, with Liz at the center.
Liz groaned, her face buried between Caleb’s shoulder and Zayne’s chest. “I’m being crushed! This is not helping!”
But her complaint was muffled, and the blush creeping down her neck betrayed her. Zayne, meanwhile, had gone completely still. Sylus’s chest was a solid, warm wall against his back, the damp fabric of his swim trunks rough against Zayne’s skin. He could feel the power in the arms encircling them. He hated to admit it, but his breath had caught for a reason that had nothing to do with the cold water. He’d spent far too much of last years camp stealing glances at Sylus, at the quiet strength and the unexpected softness in his hands, and the feelings had not subsided in the slightest. They’d only grown stronger, more complicated, and infinitely more dangerous.
∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘
A fire was erected to get everyone warm and dry. Over the hours, a warm, woozy feeling fell over the group. People started piling together and sharing blankets for more warmth, but everything still felt strangely tense.
Far too quickly the last embers of the campfire had faded to ash, and the group began to disperse into the cool night air, their laughter softening into tired, contented murmurs. The day’s accumulated heat and humidity clung to their skin, making the promise of a shower the most pressing thought on everyone’s mind.
‘I’ll lock up the main building and the kids’ dorm,’ Zayne offered. No one questioned it. Being the most responsible one here, it seemed like a natural thing for him to do but his reasons are nowhere near responsible. He needed a moment of quiet, a chance to let the frantic rhythm of his heart settle after the… incident in the water. The feeling of Sylus’s solid chest against his back felt like it was burned into his skin, overwhelming his senses.
He moved through the main hall, methodically switching off lights, the darkness swallowing the space in chunks. The final click of the kitchen light plunged the world into near-blackness, lit only by the silver moonlight filtering through the windows and doorway. He turned, and froze.
Sylus was leaning against the doorframe, a seductive silhouette, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d been waiting.
'All secure?' Sylus’s voice was a low purr in the dark.
Zayne’s pulse, which had just begun to calm, kicked back into fifth gear. 'Yeah, just need to lock the front door.' He tried to move past Sylus but Sylus shifted, blocking his path effortlessly.
'You seem a little... tense,' Sylus murmurs, stepping closer. Zayne involuntarily steps back, his back bumping against a pilar. Not quite cornered, but also not quite scared enough to run away. 'Something on your mind?'
'Nothing,' Zayne replies, his voice a little tighter than he intended. Sylus is so close he can feel the heat radiating off his body. 'Just tired.'
Sylus chuckles, a deep, warm sound rumbling through the empty hall. He dips his head, lips brushing the shell of Zayne's ear. 'Liar,' he breathes out in a whisper.
Then his mouth was on Zayne's neck. Hot, open-mouthed kisses trail a path from the crook of his neck up to his jaw, sending jolts of pure electricity buzzing down Zayne's spine. His eyes slam shut, trying to block it out as he feels the twitch in his pants.
"This is a terrible idea," he reminds himself. "It's reckless, unprofessional, and I don't need all that right now." But for one devastating, breathless second, he lets himself feel it. The scrape of Sylus’ teeth on his throat, the wetness of his tongue, the way Zayne's entire body seems to be on fire. It feels good. Too good.
By the time his brain catches up with the action, Sylus’ hands are already sliding down from his waist to his jeans, hooking his thumbs through the beltloops to pull Zayne against him.
Zayne's hands shoot up, planting firmly on Sylus’ chest and shoving him. It wasn't like Zayne was stronger than Sylus. He had no way of pushing Sylus off if Sylus decided this was happening, but Zayne knows that Sylus respects consent and feels his body step away. 'We can't. Not here. Not now.'
Sylus’ eyes gleam in the dim light. He isn't offended, isn't hurt, isn't angry. In fact, Zayne would say he looks... pleased? As if Zayne's resistance is just another part of the game.
'Not now,' Sylus repeats, his voice rough, 'but some other time then.' It's not a question. It's a promise.
He turns and walks out, leaving Zayne alone in the dark, leaning against a pilar. His head is hammering against his ribs so hard he fears it might break his bones, so he starts doing some breathing exercises until he feels himself steady.
∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘
By the time Zayne arrives at the counselors’ dorm, the bathroom is filled with steam and laughter.
The girls had gotten to the showers first and are doing their skincare in front of the mirrors above the sinks, leaving no space for the men who want to brush their teeth after their showers.
'Come on, how long does it take to put goop on your face,' Gideon whines.
'It's called self-care, you neanderthal,' Simone shoots back, not even turning around as she gently pats her eye cream into her skin.
Caleb, spotting an opportunity, slips through the chaos and comes right up behind you. Before you can protest, his hands are on your waist and he lifts you effortlessly and suddenly you're sitting on the edge of the counter. He steps between your legs, caging you in with his hands on either sides of your thighs as he leans in with a dramatic pout.
'It's not fair,' he whines, trying his best to look pitiful, 'you get to have all this and I'm just out here with my... regular skin... It's discrimination.'
You laugh, shoving his chest. 'You have perfectly fine skin you big baby. Get off me.'
But Caleb's complaint lit a mischievous spart in Tara's eyes. 'You know what? He's right. it's unfair.' She reaches in her overflowing toiletry bag and pulls out a handful of colorful foil packets. 'Face masks for everyone!'
The protest of the women hogging the sinks is suddenly gone and replaced by fear. It was no use trying to run though. Within minutes, the bathroom transformed into a spa. Foil packets are ripped open and goop was slathered onto unwilling participants of the spa treatment. Unwilling with the exception of Rafayel, who expertly put a charcoal facemask on himself.
In the midst of all the chaos, Caleb steps out from between your legs to admire his bright blue face in the mirror. The second he steps back, Xavier slips seamlessly into the space he vacated between your legs. He leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper only meant for her, only heard by her.
'All this pampering is lovely,' he murmurs, his eyes soft yet intense despite the ridiculous mask, 'but I think I need a different kind of goodnight ritual.'
You don't miss his hint to last year's nighttime ritual. It was strange, but at some point halfway through the week the guys got kisses on the cheek from the girls each night. It was one of those things that made sense then but seems weird now and you have no desire to bring it back. It'll only revive feelings you have buried deep down.
But Xavier is looking at you so sweetly, and you've never really been able to deny him. Not when he asks for a hug, or cuddles, or... a kiss on his cheek.
Quickly, you look around to check if no one is looking. It seems everyone is too busy with themselves and the hope in his gaze is so cute. With a soft sigh, you lean forward and press a sweet, soft kiss to his yellow cheek.
'Night, Xavier,' you whisper.
He pulls back, smiling so brightly his mask cracks slightly at the edges. 'Night... You should wipe your lips though.'
You turn to look in the mirror and laugh when you see the yellow spots on your lips.
As you wipe them off, you realize something.
The tension is already so high and the camp's not even started properly. If last year was tough, this year will be hell.
