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garbagevanfleet · 1 year

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Pink Lemonade (series)

PART NINE

Pairing: Sam x female!reader

Word Count: 18k words (my longest chapter of anything, ever)

Summary: Being a counselor at your childhood summer camp had been your dream since you were little and you had a specific vision of how it would go when it finally happened. You had not, however, planned to make an immediate enemy.

WARNINGS (this chapter): EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT - 18+ ONLY, tobacco use, feelings, suspense, talk of drugs.

Editor in Chief (and creator of the moodboard on each chapter): @gardenvanfleet

MASTERPOST

Special Playlist here

You were living in a state of bliss - puppy love, sun-kissed bliss. If your infatuation for Sam weren’t all-consuming, you’d probably feel some form of regret for rejecting this kind of thing all throughout your teenage years - all the missed opportunities. But, as it were, he was all you could think about. You found yourself staring longingly at him across the table at breakfast the next morning, as if your pillow didn’t still smell like him from the night before.

With a little work, you were able to convince him to hang out with you at the lake that day, which served as the perfect excuse to show off a swimsuit you’d packed for camp that was just barely on the wrong side of modest. The Rayban’s he’d worn hid his eyes pretty well, but it pleased you to imagine they were glued to you as you laid out next to him in the sun.

The end of your break was quickly approaching; soon, the grounds would be swarming with kids and counselors again, so you took every opportunity you could to be physically close to him. When the break had started, the five days felt like they’d stretch on endlessly, but you knew everything had an end, so you tried not to mourn its passing before it was even over.

For once, the need to clean the sunscreen and sweat off your skin had outweighed the desire to be intimately close to him, so when you were done at the beach, you and Sam agreed to part ways to shower in your separate cabins with the agreement that you’d meet up again before dinner. You were toweling off when you heard your phone buzz on the lip of the sink, the vibrations sending it sliding into the basin.

You’d been expecting a text from Sam - maybe a check-in from Josh - so you were a little puzzled to see it was from the director, asking you to report to his office for a meeting at your earliest convenience. You immediately threw your hair up and assured him you’d be there in just a few moments.

When you knocked on the director’s door, it only took a few seconds for him to call you in. You had those butterflies you’d get any time you were summoned by authority, but nothing about his body language seemed to be out of the ordinary yet. You sat in the leather chair in front of his desk and offered him a smile when he greeted you.

“How is this summer going for you?” he asked, though you couldn’t tell if it was just small talk, so you kept your response brief.

“Very well, I think. I’m really enjoying it the more I get comfortable with the role.”

He nodded curtly. “You’re doing an excellent job.”

You were aware that he wasn’t the type of man to dole out undue compliments, so you let yourself feel pride in his praise as you thanked him.

“I called you in today because there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you. Has Sam made you aware of his situation?”

Your stomach sank, leaving you with a sharp panic. You tried to shove the feeling down. Though you were terrified he was going to address the very obvious relationship you’d gotten swept up in, he could just as well be checking up on Sam’s performance.

“No, sir,” you declined, shaking your head to sell what technically wasn’t a lie.

He hummed. “I had suspected as much. Normally it would be strictly against my policies - personal and otherwise - to share personal information about a counselor, but I think you’ll agree that this is an exception.” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his folded hands on his desktop in a way that told you he wished he didn’t have to have this conversation. “Sam is here as a condition of legal sentencing. Obviously, I won’t disclose any more information about the crime itself, but he’s a counselor with us this summer because he’s serving a sentence.”

It wasn’t tough to keep a straight face since he hadn’t given you anything you didn’t already know, but you braced yourself as you nodded for him to continue.

“I speak regularly with his parole officer - a check-in to ensure everything is going as planned, and from what I’ve seen thus far, he’s been a perfectly adequate counselor. Having had a closer eye on him, would you agree?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed instantly. You knew Clarence Graywater well enough to know he valued professionalism above anything else, so you tried to approach the subject with a sterile tone instead of gushing the way you’d become accustomed to. “Sam is actually a great counselor. Every cycle of kids has loved him and he’s been a great partner to have - very easy to work with.”

The dark humor behind the situation wasn’t lost on you; if he’d asked you the same question a few weeks ago, who knows how you would have responded.

“Very well,” he allowed. You might have been able to convince yourself that this was nothing more than a routine evaluation of Sam’s work if it weren’t for the way the director’s mouth tightened at the corners.

He fixed his eyes on the desk for a beat as he seemed to consider his next words. “Since we can’t very well monitor his behavior for the court if he isn’t here, another condition of Sam’s parole is that he be strictly forbidden from leaving the camp grounds.” After a brief pause for you to process what he was saying, he continued. “That being said, did you and Sam leave the grounds yesterday?”

You tried as hard as you could to keep the disappointment from your face, but you knew he could see it. Your stomach was in knots as you swallowed back the nervous lump at the back of your throat and nodded. “We did.” You had to force yourself to cautiously ask, “What’s going to happen?”

The director wasn’t one to let his emotions get the better of him, but for the first time since you’d known him, the frown he was wearing showed genuine sympathy for your situation. “I’m sure you understand how serious this is. I don’t see any other choice but to report this back to the proper authorities. Please get yourself prepared to proceed without a partner for the last two cycles - we’ll split his future campers up amongst other counselors.”

You liked to think you could handle a lot. You’d always been able to stay cool under pressure, but you could feel your bottom lip starting to quiver pathetically. Unable to fully control your volume, you blurted, “No, wait. Please - this isn’t Sam’s fault.”

“Then who would you place the blame on?” he asked, though hadn’t seemed to make a firm decision, leaving you to hope that you could reason with him.

“Me. I was the one that asked him to go to town with me. We went there to get supplies for the campers - little stuff like snacks and prizes for the games we play with the kids. I asked him to go because I thought he’d know what to pick out for his boys better than I would.” Again, not technically a lie.

“Sam was well aware of the conditions of his sentencing,” the director replied, shocking you by still keeping a sympathetic approach.

“But I was the one-” You cut yourself off in frustration before trying again. “You have to agree that there’s a power imbalance between us - even though we’re both new counselors here this summer, I’m the one that’s familiar with how everything works. I’m positive he felt as though he couldn’t say no. He may not have even really considered it ‘leaving the grounds’, since we were going to get supplies for the campers here. It’s a moral gray area at best.”

He was visibly struggling with the decision as he stared at nothing in particular. “What would you have me do then?”

You let your eyes slip shut as you tried to banish the emotions that were swallowing you up. “Please. Please, consider not reporting this. He’s more than halfway through this summer. I don’t want to have to do this alone, and I don’t want to have to get familiar with a new partner.”

He remained stony-faced with his eyes fixed on you. “You’re proposing I let Sam break the terms of a legal sentence?”

“Please. This is my fault and I’ll take full responsibility for it,” you stated. “I never break rules, but I can’t see the harm in letting this one slide. You’re the director of this camp; if you feel like you must report this to his officer, you could explain that you assigned us to get supplies and he was monitored the whole time by a trusted member of your staff - because he was. I was with him every second that we were away from here.”

A few long seconds passed by, marked by the rhythmic ticking of the antique standing clock against the far wall of his office. You held your breath until your lungs started to ache for air as you awaited his final judgment, and finally, he cleared his throat to speak.

“I’m not going to report this, but believe me when I say I don’t enjoy being put in this position. If anything like this happens again, I won’t hesitate to take action.”

This time you didn’t even try to disguise the relief you felt as you heaved out a breath. “Thank you so much.”

“Find something for the two of you to do as adequate punishment,” he instructed, leaning back in his chair as the heavy cloud hanging over the room dissipated. He waved you out with a little smile, letting you know he still had a soft spot for you as a counselor. Still, you didn’t waste any time getting out of his line of sight, lest he change his mind.

It wasn’t until you got out of the building and onto the dirt path that you started to feel it - this crippling anger weighing you down. It was different than the frustrated jealousy you’d felt not that long ago at breakfast. This felt more like true betrayal.

You let yourself soak in it on the walk back to your cabin. Sam was conveniently standing just outside his door, so clearly unsuspecting as he stamped out his cigarette with a pleased smile. “There you are. I was wondering where you could have snuck off to.”

You reached past him and opened his cabin door, planted a hand on his chest, and guided him inside, all without saying a word; you knew there weren’t a lot of people around, but you didn’t want to risk the off chance that someone would hear you lay into him.

“Sam, I just got back from the director’s office,” you stated firmly.

Instantly, you could see it click into place for him as a worried frown formed over his features. Still, he had the audacity to ask, “What- Why?”

“You know why,” you snapped, not bothering to dampen the acid in your tone.

He bit into his bottom lip and muttered a curse in dread for what you were about to say to him.

“Why would you do something like that?!”

He flinched just slightly at your volume, but you could see his posture hardening in defense. “Why the fuck would he have called you in and not me?”

Ignoring his question, you demanded, “Why would you put me in a position like that? Why wouldn’t you have just said no when I asked if you wanted to go into town?”

“I don’t know, you just looked so hopeful-”

You shook your head. “No, don’t you dare put this on me. You could have just told me you weren’t allowed to leave the fucking grounds - that you were breaking the fucking law!”

“It’s embarrassing,” he reasoned with a deep-set frown. “I honestly figured that since everyone was gone and we were on break, no one would notice if I was gone for a couple of hours.”

“That’s stupid, and you know it.”

He didn’t bother denying it. Instead he just quietly asked, “So, I’m leaving then? They’re sending me back?”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “No, Sam, you’re not. You’re not, because I talked him out of reporting it - because I took responsibility for it.”

You’d been expecting him to look relieved, but instead, he adopted a frustrated expression. With a tight-set jaw and a quiet kind of outrage, he asked, “What?”

“I took responsibility for your stupid choice,” you snarled unforgivingly. “I’ve worked hard to earn the director’s trust and I’m so humiliated, Sam.”

Behind his eyes, you could see him sorting through his emotions, trying to figure out how he should feel. You were hopeful for a second that he’d come to his senses - that he’d apologize and thank you profusely and recognize your sacrifice for what it was, but your stomach sunk as his eyebrows threaded together in a deep frown. He snapped, cold and petulant, “No one asked you to do that. I don’t need you to speak for me, nor do I want it.”

The response felt like a kick in the teeth, forcing you to take a second to gather your thoughts back up. When you could speak, you found that it came out as a jagged cry. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be going to fucking jail, Sam! The very least you could do is thank me and apologize, but honestly, I’d expect something closer to groveling.”

There was a fire burning in him, making his normally soft, brown eyes look sharp and spiteful. “I’m not a fucking child. I didn’t ask you to take the fall for me - you did that all on your own. I made my choice and you made yours.”

You just stared at him, slowly shaking your head in disbelief. The few seconds of silence in the room was crushingly heavy as all the fight drained from you, leaving you feeling empty. You couldn’t see the point in wasting any more emotional energy on him, so your voice was calm and small as you told him, “You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my life. I guess this is for the best.”

The sudden lack of hostility seemed to sober him. Once the outrage cleared and he got a look of just how disappointed you were, he softened, ripping his eyes away and casting them elsewhere. In your infinite naivety, you gave him a couple of seconds to apologize - to make it even a little bit better - but, he faltered.

You decided you didn’t want to wait for him to slap together some pitiful explanation. He called your name as you turned around and left him there, but you answered only by shutting the door hard behind you. You hoped that the lack of closure would haunt him. Just a few hours ago, he’d had access to nearly every single part of you, but the one thing you weren’t willing to give him was the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

❀❀❀

The next few hours felt like months - they crawled by with a frustrating reluctance as you sat with your back against the headboard of your bed and your face buried in your bent knees.

Just like that, you’d run the entire gamut of a romantic relationship - start to finish. This was just the bookend. The after.

You knew there were people in the world that experienced real tragedy, but this hurt. In that moment, the only thing you could feel was the ache - the loss and betrayal, leaving you without any perspective on just how mundane an issue it actually was.

You were able to find a little comfort in reminding yourself that Josh would be back sometime the following day, and whether it was true or not, you assured yourself that he’d know how to help.

He showed up early the next day, some time shortly after breakfast (which Sam was predictably absent for). When he knocked on your cabin door, you’d had a fleeting moment of hopeful panic that it would be Sam.

Josh was wearing a little smile when you opened the door, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coral-colored shorts as he absently rocked on his white sneakers. He greeted you with a side hug, and you hadn’t been intending to, but you pulled him in fully, a little too tight to just be casually happy to see someone.

The truth was that it was such a relief to not be alone with your thoughts, and the comforting presence of your best friend was exactly what you’d needed.

There was the slightest hesitation, like he was trying to figure out if he was missing something, before he gave a confused laugh and hugged you back. “It’s nice to see you too,” he joked, but he tensed entirely when you pulled away and he got a good look at you.

Josh’s brown eyes scanned over your defeated posture, his expression slipping into one of concern when he recognized the state you were in. “Are you alright?” he asked, following you back to your room.

With how tight your throat felt, you knew you couldn’t trust your voice to not make a fool of you, so you settled for shrugging at him. It obviously wasn’t a satisfying answer, so he repeated the question, a little more pointedly as he sat next to you on your bed.

After deciding there was no point in lying to him by playing it off, you pursed your lips and shook your head.

There was a genuine sympathy behind the way he cautiously placed a hand in the center of your back, between your shoulder blades, reminding you that this was your friend - that he was just about the safest person on earth to confide in.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he prompted, using a tone of voice that gave you an out in case you wanted to say no.

It took a few good seconds for you to gather enough courage to speak after you parted your lips. You couldn’t quite meet his eyes, so you fixed them on a knot in the hardwood floor boards as you admitted to him, “Everything fell apart.”

“With Sam?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Josh hadn’t known you for that long, and going through heartbreak together was uncharted territory; there was a bit of uncertainty in guessing how you liked to be comforted. It was clear that he wasn’t sure in his decision to hold out his hand for you, but you took it without hesitation, using it to pull yourself closer to him until your side was pressed to his.

You felt him let out a little breath in preparation before requesting, “Tell me what happened.”

“He’s just so fucking-” You started off with a harsh, bitter tone, but cut yourself off instantly - despite how he’d hurt you, Sam was still Josh’s brother and it didn’t feel right. When you spoke again, it was more restrained and collected. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to leave and so we went into town on a date- I asked him if he wanted to and he didn’t tell me he couldn’t, Josh.”

He stiffened next to you, wearing a frightened look when you met his eyes. “Fuck. Is he okay- Is he still here?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. For some reason, the thing that suddenly choked you up was that you’d never heard Josh swear like that until it came to concern for his brother.

Since the fight with Sam, you’d been counting down the seconds until you could talk to Josh about it, but now that the moment was upon you, all you could muster was a weak, flat tone of explanation.

“Yes, he’s still here. Graywater called me into his office yesterday to question me about it. He was going to report it, but I convinced him not to.”

Josh’s features sloped into a puzzled frown as he cautiously asked, “Sam’s not in trouble at all?”

You breathed a humorless laugh and shook your head. “No.”

You tried not to feel upset at the relieved exhale Josh gave upon hearing that confirmation. “You took the blame for him?”

“Yep.”

There was a silent pause before he chanced, “And how did he take it?”

“Not well, Josh,” you stated sourly.

Josh let his eyes slip shut as he let out a long, frustrated sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and, in an exasperated whisper, he breathed to no one in particular, “Oh, no...Sam.”

“He was genuinely angry.” You waited a beat before admitting, “Granted, I was fucking mad at him for not telling me and putting me in that position in the first place, but I’m fucking stupid for expecting him to apologize.”

He shook his head at you, half-pleading, “Don’t do that to yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

You swallowed back a sob; you’d been carrying around so much guilt, that hearing him absolve you of it was like the snap of a rubber band. When he heard it, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“It’s okay.” A deep frown was audible behind the assurance as he offered it to you.

You shook your head as best you could with your cheek against his shoulder. “It’s not.”

“Listen, I know this hurts - I can only imagine, but take a deep breath,” he requested, waiting until you did so to continue. “You’ve got a choice to make now. You can pack it up and walk away from whatever it is you two have - no one on earth could blame you for that. The summer will come to an end, you’ll go home, and you probably won’t ever see him again. This’ll all just morph into a fond memory some day.”

You should find that idea comforting, but instead, after a couple of silent seconds, you prompted, “Or?”

“Or, you could forgive him.”

You huffed exasperatedly. “It’s kinda hard to forgive someone that doesn’t understand how he’s fucked up.”

Josh shook his head and warned, “No, no. Don’t mistake his stubbornness for stupidity - he’s not stupid. I promise you that Sam knows exactly what he’s done. I’m willing to bet he’s sitting in his cabin beating the shit out of himself right now.”

“I don’t care,” you informed him flatly, prompting him to hum in amusement.

“I don’t either,” he agreed, making you crack a smile that he couldn’t see thanks to the position you were sitting in, leaning against him. “But, my point is - he does care. Despite his very poor choices, he cares about you a lot, which lands you on the very short list of people that can claim the same.”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, feeling the ache of grief at the thought. “Sometimes I think he only cares about himself.”

“I didn’t ask him to stay with you that night of the party,” he admitted after a silent moment of consideration, wearing a little smile. “I am guilty of some meddling between you two, but not that.”

You frowned, pulling your cheek off his shoulder so you could look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I asked him to walk you back to your cabin that night because I was trying to see how much he’d do for you. I knew he was soft for you, but I wanted to know just how bad it was.”

“Did he tell you he liked me?” you tried, grasping for something to help you understand.

Josh snickered at you. “C’mon - he didn’t have to. I’ve seen the way he treats people he actually dislikes. If you genuinely don’t like someone, you go out of your way to not be around them. If you don’t like them, you don’t pick on them. All you two ever did was just rough flirting, as far as I could tell.”

Your eyes narrowed accusingly as you felt your face flush pink. “There were times when he was genuinely kinda mean to me.”

He rolled his eyes fondly, but you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or Sam. “That’s because he’s lousy at letting people in. I think he panicked when he realized how close he was to getting what he wanted.” He paused for a second and then pointedly added, “Which is obviously you.”

You stared at him as you tried to process what he was saying, but when you realized you didn’t have the energy or time necessary to do so, you asked, “So...the party?”

“Ah, right. So, when I asked him to walk you back to your cabin, I was hoping maybe it would help him realize that he had feelings for you, but I never expected him to stay with you,” Josh explained and then snorted a laugh. “You should have seen his face - the moment when he realized you’d told me he lied and said I made him stay. I swear to god he was ready to physically fight me if I brought it up to him, but I never did.”

“Are you gonna talk to him now?” you asked carefully, dreading the answer. The last thing you wanted was to create tension between the two of them, and you knew Sam would take that confrontation even more poorly than he had with you.

“No,” he assured. “I’m going to try as hard as I can to stay out of it unless he directly asks me for advice, but he won’t.”

You hummed, considering. “What if I never want to see him again? Can you and I still be friends?”

He frowned and then took your hand to give it a little squeeze. “Of course. We were friends before him.”

Offering him a smile was really all you could think to do. The truth was that you didn’t know how you wanted to proceed with Sam, but it made you feel full and warm to know that you’d always have a friend like Josh.

He did an excellent job of keeping you distracted for the rest of the day. You decided that, for your punishment, you’d work on cleaning up the beach; it wasn’t like people actively littered, but things would fall off boats or blow out of trash cans, make their way into the water, and inevitably end up strewn about the sand. Josh walked with you, picking up an odd piece of garbage here and there and tucking it into the bag you were carrying when you held it open for him.

As nice as it felt to be doing something good with a person that always made you feel at ease, the weight of your problems had a physical effect on you, and that grew tenfold, the moment you’d gotten back to your cabin. The knowledge that new campers would be showing up in the morning was like a looming fist hanging over you - not because you didn’t want to do this job, but simply because that meant you’d be forced to interact with Sam again.

The time came too soon. Counselors started getting lined up right after breakfast was finished, ready to be debriefed about the upcoming cycle of kids, but Sam didn’t show up until the last minute. You pointedly didn’t look at him directly, because, frankly, you didn’t want to know how he was doing.

You weren’t sure whether or not he’d hold his head high and pretend like nothing had happened, or if he’d look a little downtrodden, maybe even apologetic, but you didn’t care to know. You told yourself it wouldn’t make a difference anyway - you’d be able to maintain your coldness towards him, no matter what he appeared to be feeling, but you knew it was a lie. You knew that if he did look sad, it would only leave you with unwarranted guilt, and you refused to let that happen. As Sam took his place beside you, you glanced up at Josh to catch him giving you a sympathetic, tight little smile that you forced yourself to return.

The children were sweet and excited, which helped a great deal; it was hard to be angry when they were beaming toothy grins at each other. It served to remind you that, no matter what drama you were experiencing, it wasn’t fair to the children to let them shoulder the burden with you. They were there to have a fun, educational two weeks, and you decided then and there that you were going to set aside your issues with Sam whenever they were around, but that quickly proved to be easier said than done.

For the first couple of hours, you were able to go off on your own with your girls, getting acquainted with them, but that could only last so long. One timeslot before dinner, you were set to do a forest foliage activity as a whole team, and the entire day, you kept looking at your schedule like it would magically change. You tried to hype yourself up on the walk to the meeting place. You told yourself it would be okay - that all you had to do was remember how shitty he’d been to you, and it would be easy to stay hating him, but you were fucking wrong. You kept your eyes anywhere else but on him as you approached the group of boys, but it didn’t matter how justified your anger was - the second you met his gaze, you lost your grip on it.

He was standing with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, his hair tied back more carelessly than he usually opted for. If you hadn’t spent so much of the last few weeks studying his features, you surely wouldn’t have noticed the slight bags under his eyes. His face was void of an expression, but not in the controlled way he used to wear to convince you of how bored he was by it all - now, he just looked spent. He looked like a child’s toy that was nearing the end of its battery life.

When he met your stare, you realized that Josh was right - Sam was visibly perfectly aware of how he’d hurt you.

Naively, you’d been praying you’d look at him and feel disgusted. You’d sincerely hoped that you’d see his face and find that you didn’t want him anymore. You wanted the pain he’d inflicted to be enough to override the infatuation that once consumed your every passing second - but it didn’t. He let you hold his eyes for a few seconds before ripping them away to fix his focus on the ground, and that hurt so much worse than anything he’d done up to that point.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting - it wasn’t like he was going to rush up to you and pull you into his arms. It wasn’t even reasonable for you to expect that he’d apologize - not in front of all of these unknowing kids. Still, you were learning, more and more every day, that emotions don’t abide by the rules of logic. It didn’t make a difference - it still hurt.

You introduced him to your girls as the boys’ counselor but didn’t speak a word to Sam directly as you walked them through the ins and outs of regional wild plants. You barely had to consult your manual to teach them what was poisonous and some history about what certain things were once used for, all the while, reminding them that it was never okay to eat anything you found in the forest. Sam seemed more or less content to just let you take over, which, stupidly, also upset you. It was starting to become clear that there was nothing he could have done that wouldn’t piss you off - you’d have been seething if he’d chimed in without prompting.

At the end of the activity, you left any parting nicety unsaid and headed off to dinner separately. True to “first day” form, your girls stuck close to your side, carrying on a riveting conversation about iceberg lettuce as you lead them through the food line, and when it came time to pick a table, you breathed a sigh of relief to find that Josh was alone at a table with a few of his boys, working on opening milk cartons and sauce packets for them.

“Can we sit?” you asked him, receiving a slightly-confused smile back.

“Of course, make yourselves comfy.”

Quiet enough that only a few kids and Josh could hear, you added, “I guess I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to sit with Sam.”

He took on a sympathetic expression as he flicked his eyes across the room. You followed the direction to see Sam, sitting with his boys pooled around him towards the back corner of the hall. Another counselor you didn’t recognize was at the table too, but they weren’t interacting with anyone but their own campers.

Deep, deep within you, you felt bad, but you put on a cold expression, deciding to say nothing, lest something truly mean accidentally slip out. You were sure that it would only be a couple of days before his campers were off on their own and Sam was back to eating in his cabin.

For the rest of the meal, he went unmentioned. Instead, the Maple boys excitedly told you and your girls all about the farmette activity they’d just had with Josh, melting your chilled heart by gushing excitedly about the baby animals.

You leaned across the table towards a couple of them. Employing a playful, hushed tone as if it were a secret, you asked them, “Josh didn’t steal any kittens, did he?”

Josh let out a gasp of faux offense, putting his hand on his chest to exaggeratedly object. “I would never. How could you accuse me of something like that?”

Just as you’d hoped, that sent the group of kids sitting around you into fits of giggles, and for the first time in too long, everything felt okay.

❀❀❀

For the remainder of that week, you were successfully able to avoid speaking to Sam directly. Every day, he became less of a main character in your life, and every day, the anger subsided a little bit more.

You were still upset, of course; what he’d done had been shitty and wrong, but it wasn’t weighing you down like it once had. It used to feel like that fight had left you with a kind of heartache plague, but you found yourself going whole days without thinking of him unless your eyes were on him directly.

Your logical brain thought it would be efficient to plan it all out - if you kept letting go of a little anger at a time, you’d likely feel perfectly okay by the end of the summer. You still expected it would hurt when you dug into the memory of it, but that’s all he’d be - a memory.

Except, shit never works that way, and you, apparently, never learn. During a free period, you were getting some of your things organized in your room when there was a gentle knock on the door.

In honesty, you had such faith in it being Josh, that you hadn’t even considered you’d answer the door to see Sam standing in front of you in a pair of jean shorts and his yellow camp shirt.

“What?” You shocked yourself with how sharp your tone was, and you were suddenly grateful that all your girls were off on their own - they didn’t need to see you act like this.

In the opposite direction, he used a sheepish demeanor that was so unlike him that it took you off guard. “Hey,” he offered simply. “Should we go pack for the trip?”

You let your eyes slip shut in exasperation. In the pursuit of getting him off your mind, you’d forgotten all about the camping trip - it had slipped your thoughts so thoroughly, that you assumed he was there to apologize.

Instead of actively addressing the fact that you’d forgotten, you just shook your head, just on the wrong side of bitterness as you declined. “No, I’ll do it alone in a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow at you and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He pulled his eyes from your to roll them tiredly. “You’re really going to do all this work by yourself because you don’t want to be in the same room as me?”

“Yep. How does it feel?” you spat back, clearly referencing how he used to do the same to you.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t the way his shoulders slumped. You’d never seen him look so dejected, but it was pretty easy to deduce that he wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty - he was just past the point of being able to hold back his guilt.

“Bad,” he admitted simply. “But I’m not going to let you pack all that shit alone.”

Just like that, the fire was lit again. Your hands balled into fists as you sarcastically drawled, “Oh, you’re not going to let me?”

Shocking you, yet again, Sam offered no hostility to match yours; if he was angry, you saw no evidence of it. He put his hands up in surrender.

“Listen, let’s just go do this and get it over with. You don’t have to like me - you don’t even have to be cordial, but I’m here to help.”

As much as it pained you to acknowledge, even in your own head, he was right. But, who the fuck was he to suddenly be acting like a responsible adult? That’s what you’d wanted from day one, but the character development now?

It felt like a slight.

You let out a suspiciously tight scoff, and you rolled your eyes dramatically to hide the fact that they were starting to water.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll meet you down there in fifteen,” you informed him coldly, turning on your heel and shutting the door in his face.

You heard his shoes crunching up the rocky dirt as he walked away from the cabins, and you waited until the sound was faint enough before letting out a choked-back sob. You counted yourself lucky that it was solitary - you were able to push everything else back after you dabbed at your eyes.

You considered standing him up as you surveyed yourself in your bathroom mirror, just to make damn sure he wasn’t clued into how that interaction had affected you. In the end, you decided it would be beyond childish - you were still a counselor, this was still your job, and he was still your partner, no matter how deeply and thoroughly you lamented it.

When you showed up to the dining hall, he was already in the kitchen, pulling down the familiar red cooler from the shelves. The only acknowledgment you received upon entering was his eyes flicking up from his task to meet yours, and only for a split second, but that was fine by you.

The room was tense and uncomfortable as you both silently packed. You made sure to be conscious of where he was so you could keep a good distance between the two of you, but you must have lost track of him at some point - you turned to grab the ice packs out of the freezer and ran directly into him. Your chests collided, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending the ice packs skittering across the tile with the solid impact.

It was exactly like that first day of camp, except this time, he was the one wearing an apologetic grimace, waiting for you to snap. He had ahold of your arms as he steadied you, but you pulled away from his touch out of panic and stumbled back against the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, causing you to exasperatedly shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you dismissed flatly, nodding your chin towards the door. “Go. I can get the rest.”

Out of your peripheral vision, you could see him staring at you in disappointed uncertainty for a few prolonged seconds before exiting the room. To your deep dismay, soon after he was gone, you found that it didn’t feel as satisfying to be alone as you hoped it would.

The next day was the worst you’d had on the grounds of Camp Forest Springs. From the moment breakfast was over, you were stuck with Sam. He was with you while you collected the packed coolers, and he brought up the rear on the walk out to the campsite. He was there, falling into the routine of crafting a fire in the pit and right by your side as you prepared the food, and you were forced into learning a tough lesson: All the progress you’d thought you’d made with unraveling your feelings for him was simply because you’d been able to create physical distance between the two of you. You hadn’t had to see him. Or hear his voice. Or smell him when he was close enough, but suddenly, it was like you were bound to him.

The entire time you were out there, you’d been dreading bedtime. On one hand, going to bed would mean that this experience was almost over. On the other, it meant you were nearing a milestone; for the past three cycles, you’d met him outside in the middle of the night. It had become an unspoken tradition that you once looked forward to.

But, as you slipped into your sleeping bag, the only thing you could think of was the conversation you’d had with Josh when he got back from break. You had a choice to make. Foolishly, you hoped maybe Sam wouldn’t do it - that maybe he’d spare you the burden, but there was no such luck; about an hour after you’d gone to bed, you heard the tell-tale rustling sound of him sneaking out of his tent.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pursing your lips anxiously. Multiple times, you considered going out to talk to him - just because you would meet him out there didn’t mean you’d have to forgive him, right? You could have it both ways - you could keep your dignity by staying mad and still go out to see him, right?

It was nothing but a pretty lie you were trying to convince yourself of. You wanted to forgive him - you missed him and the way he talked and his unguarded, goofy laugh, but you had to protect yourself.

With your face buried into the fabric of your pillow, you tried to keep quiet as you cried, but it became increasingly difficult when, after about twenty minutes of waiting for you, he made his way back to his tent and slipped inside. You weren’t sure how long you laid there, struggling to breathe through your choked sobbing, but one thing was for sure - you’d certainly made a choice.

❀❀❀

You couldn’t bring yourself to meet Sam’s eyes the next morning, but he didn’t seem to be going out of his way to get your attention. Maybe he was hoping you hadn’t heard him last night, either to spare himself the embarrassment of being rejected or to hold onto the hope that everything was still going to work itself out.

The guilt ate you alive to the point that you texted Josh to come to your cabin during your first free period the following day. He arrived chipper as usual but his expression fell the second he realized you’d been crying again.

You did your best to explain it all to him, but he had to put in some effort to make out certain parts when you got too choked up to speak properly.

“I feel so fucking bad,” you told him once you felt like you could catch your breath. “How do people get through this and still function?”

He hummed through a sympathetic smile. “Love’s just like that. But, I would like to also point out - you’re getting through it and functioning.”

You barked out a humorless laugh. “Barely. If you could call this ‘functioning’.”

“Well, I’ve yet to see you let the quality of your work slip. But, maybe you should think about what this means. Maybe you feel this bad right now because you don’t want to let him go.” While he spoke, he rubbed comforting circles into your back with a firm palm.

You groaned, tipping your head back in frustration. “Don’t tell me that.”

There was an amused little tilt to his lips as he replied, “I don’t think I have to. I think you already know.” He paused a second before cautiously continuing. “It hurts this bad because you love him.”

You shot him a look that was supposed to be an accusatory glare but ended up as a pleading frown. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I’m not saying you have to or even should. I’m just saying - I think you should hear him out.”

“Okay, but first he would actually have to apologize.”

“If he apologizes,” Josh agreed with a nod. “But I have a feeling that he will.”

You weren’t as sure, but in the moment, the affirmation helped ease a little of the ache, so you let it slide.

❀❀❀

Sam stayed true to his unspoken stance on letting you eat your meals in peace, even when your and Josh’s kids started branching off on their own, leaving open seats at your table. Even you had to admit, it was kinda sweet. Whenever he’d avoided eating meals with you in the past, it was so he could be alone in his cabin, but he surprised you by sticking by his kids, letting them plant themselves next to him for every mealtime.

More to his credit, even with you giving him the coldest possible atmosphere every time he was within twenty feet of you, he stayed cordial - open, even - to your attention, should you choose to give it to him. The dynamic stayed like that for a couple of days, but you could feel the tension starting to build.

It didn’t feel hostile at all - at least, not on his part. You could feel him looking at you, either staring absently or sneaking quick peeks when he thought you were focused on something else.

The dam finally broke on the last day of that cycle. The special activity was making tie-dyed t-shirts with your kids, and while it was fun to watch them get really excited about all the possible colors, you knew the second they announced it that it was going to be a monumental mess. Everyone was given rain ponchos and medical gloves, but that didn’t help with the kid that accidentally splashed lime green on your face as you were bent over to help her.

She had obviously not done it on purpose and she was immediately apologetic, but you were left trying to wipe the little dots of pigment from your cheeks in the camera of your phone. You were so focused on yourself on the little screen that you hadn’t realized Sam was standing right in front of you until you heard him speak.

“You should leave it - I think it suits you,” he suggested with a little smile, far too playful for what the nature of your current relationship called for. You lowered your phone to find him visibly questioning whether that was an okay thing to say, and it took everything in you to pretend it wasn’t charming, because you sure as fuck wished it weren’t.

As punishment for cracking your resolve so easily, you kept a blank expression as you stared directly into his eyes and let him stew in the tense uncertainty for a few long seconds before asking, “What do you want?”

He worried his lips together at your sharp tone before he worked up the courage to meekly joke, “All business these days, huh?” When he realized you were only going to stare impatiently for a few more fleeting moments before he would lose his chance, he cleared his throat and softly asked, “I’m just hoping- Can we talk?”

Despite Josh’s words about “hearing him out” ringing in your head, before you could stop it, you snapped, “No.”

He frowned for only a second before breathing a nervous laugh and trying again. “Okay, can I talk and you listen?”

After wrestling with yourself, you let out a long, relenting sigh. “Talk,” you allowed through an impatient tone.

Looking genuinely relieved, he glanced around to make sure no campers were within earshot, but all of them were preoccupied, having spread out and spilled over into other groups to socialize.

He briefly gathered his thoughts and then admitted, “I miss you. A lot.”

It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, and you would have found it repulsively unacceptable if it weren’t for the genuine emotion behind it. It was quiet and breathy. Humble. He was lowering himself to you in a way he never had before.

It didn’t make everything right, but it did get your attention. Still, you weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily, even if he did look particularly lovely with his hair freshly washed and wavy as the summer breeze brushed the tips of it against his collarbones.

“Did Josh put you up to this?” you asked, keeping your tone from letting on that a part of you desperately wanted to forget every undesirable thing he’d ever said or done.

He drew in a slow breath as he figured out how he wanted to answer. “I was under the impression that the right way to approach the situation was to leave you alone. Y’know, since you really seemed like you wanted to be...left..alone.”

The explanation was choppy as he pulled the thought from his lagging brain.

“I just wanted to show you that I could respect that,” he continued, finally answering your question before adding, “But he told me that was ‘fucking stupid’ - his words, not mine.”

That was what did it. You weren’t quick enough to stop the smile that broke your façade but seeing it seemed to give him a cautious optimism that was almost worth it. You schooled your expression back to something serious just a second later to press him further. “Okay, but were you just not going to apologize to me?”

“Honest to god, I really thought you’d see me coming to you to apologize as selfish - like you think I was only doing it so I could rid myself of some of the guilt.”

You scanned his features for sincerity, not rushing yourself, even though he was visibly anxious. When you decided he was being genuine, you stated, “That’s also ‘fucking stupid’.”

A tired little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he nodded. “Yeah, he said the same thing.” After a beat of him realizing you were waiting on him to continue, he hurried to add, “So, I intended to come over here today to just apologize to you - I was going to tell you that you don’t have to be nice to me or forgive me, but- Well, I’m bad at this. So, when I opened my mouth, that’s...obviously not what came out.”

You huffed a humorless laugh and rolled your eyes. “It still hasn’t come out, and I’ve been listening to you talk for like two minutes - which is a hell of a lot longer than you deserve.”

He quickly nodded. “I know. I am sorry, but I don’t think I can give the heartfelt apology you deserve without attracting some attention. So, I was hoping we could talk again tomorrow. In private.” He paused for comedic effect and then playfully finished with, “Y’know, in case I cry.”

He was right - if you were ever going to get the emotion from him that you were owed, you were going to have to have the comfort of privacy. Just because you didn’t want him thinking he was off the hook, you rolled your eyes, though there was a shade of fondness buried in the gesture despite your wishes. “Fine.”

The breath he let out was visibly relieved as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jean shorts. You nodded at the bright purple dye splattered down his upper arm, visible due to him having ripped the sleeves off his t-shirt at some point in the past.

“But, you’re probably gonna wanna wash that off sooner rather than later.”

He glanced down to the spot and a genuine smile spread across his mouth, like he was tickled-fucking-pink to be talking about literally anything else. You figured that was a pretty good time to make your exit, before he could coax any more niceties out of you.

❀❀❀

You spent the next morning seeing your campers off, making sure to not meet Sam’s eyes from across the dirt pick-up area - you didn’t want him assuming he had any place in your thoughts, even though he was all you thought about half the time.

He hadn’t given you any specific time he was planning to stop by, so after getting back to your cabin, you took a long shower, deciding that you weren’t going to plan your day around him. As you washed off all the sweat and dirt, you tried to mentally prepare yourself for whatever was going to spill out his mouth, and at the end, you had a renewed sense of confidence. You reminded yourself that he was just coming over to apologize. You were under no obligation to forgive him or even treat him kindly, even if he was making an honest effort.

He finally showed up about halfway through the day, giving you a tight little smile as you swung open the cabin door. Instead of greeting him, you stepped aside as a prompt for him to enter, and he did so wordlessly.

You leaned back against the shut door and stared at him until he figured out that you were waiting for him to speak, and upon that realization, he started in a haste.

“Sorry that it took me so long. I wanted to give you time to enjoy being child-free again,” he explained and then continued with cautious hopefulness. “I think you’d be proud of me - I already took all the laundry down to be washed.”

“I suppose I would be if circumstances were different,” you admitted, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. “But they’re not.”

He let out a long breath, cast his eyes to the knotted wooden floor and then nodded. “You’re right.”

“You know, it’s not even about you not telling me you weren’t supposed to leave the grounds - that was obviously shitty of you, but I could have forgiven you easily enough. But, having you get angry at me for trying to help fix your fuck up was fucking heartbreaking, Sam.”

“I know,” he spoke softly, but you just shook your head at him.

“No, I don’t think you do,” you objected, starting to feel your sinuses sting with the threat of tears that you immediately worked to fight off. “I thought we were so far past that. We’d been spending so much time together and everything felt so easy with you for the first time. I finally didn’t feel like I was walking on eggshells to try and stay in your good graces.”

After taking some time to process what you were saying, he finally looked you in the eye and, in the most sincere tone you’d ever heard him use, he told you, “I’m sorry. You deserved better than that. There’s really no suitable excuse, so I won’t try to make one up, but I hate knowing I hurt you like that. I regretted it instantly but I was too much of a prideful jackass to apologize before you left.”

You were pretty sure he was done speaking until he seemed to remember something and then sucked in a quick breath before adding, “And, thank you. I know I would be sitting in a jail cell right now if it weren’t for you sticking your neck out.”

Admittedly, you weren’t sure what to say. You’d been worried you’d be tempted to forgive him instantly - without question, but you found no such temptation. You nodded at him, offering only a little “okay”.

He looked just a little disappointed in this interaction ending this way, but he was making an honest effort to hide it, which you appreciated - you couldn’t handle having to feel guilty on top of everything else. Thankfully, he left without another word, only tossing you the same tight smile he’d been wearing upon entering your cabin.

❀❀❀

When you told Josh all about what happened, he seemed earnestly happy for you and Sam both that the worst part was behind you. “It’s all uphill from here,” he’d said, but you weren’t so sure. Sure, maybe the worst part was behind you, but that didn’t mean anything past that would be pleasant.

Sam stuck true to his word - you never felt like he was trying to butter you up or work his way back into your good graces. He actually hadn’t even addressed you about anything other than work until the day before this cycle’s camping trip.

When he showed up at your door to ask if you were ready to pack up the food, he’d offered to meet you down in the kitchen like you had last time, but you declined. After all, it was silly to make you each walk there separately when you were headed to the same place at the same time.

Neither of you said a word as you paced the trails, but it wasn’t uncomfortable the way it had been before. Finally, after months of this, he felt like your co-worker. Just your co-worker. It was what you’d thought you’d wanted from the beginning, but you found you didn’t like him like this very much either. Which left you with an odd dilemma. You hated having Sam as your adversary, but you didn’t like having him as a friend either - not after everything you’d experienced with him. It felt incomplete.

But, you didn’t know if you had it in you to truly forgive him. Or to let yourself love him again, not in the unbridled way you had before.

As you pulled food from the cabinet and set it on the kitchen island to be sorted and packed away, for the first time in a while, you heard him let out a quiet sigh. You couldn’t see his expression because he was facing the fridge, but it was quick, as if he were preparing himself for something.

He spun around on his heel and met your eyes, wearing a smile that didn’t quite cover the concern in his eyes. “I have something to say.”

“I can see that,” you noted with a nod, keeping your tone a little flat but not cold. “Say it, then.”

His eyes flicked around as he sunk his top row of teeth into his bottom lip. “Look, I’ve never been good at talking about my feelings. I’m kind of notorious for it actually,” he unnecessarily informed you with an anxious-sounding laugh. “I always trip myself up thinking that I’m not going to be able to put my thoughts to words so I just don’t even try.”

He saw your features slip into a slight frown in your confusion, so he rushed himself to figure out how to continue.

“I guess I’m just trying to say that the thing we do on the camping night - where we slip out of our tents and meet- It’s something I...didn’t realize meant something to me until you didn’t show up last time and I guess I just wanted to know if we could...go back to doing that.”

As you fixed your eyes on the floor, you licked your lips absently, having to use every bit of your brainpower to not show him what that question had done to you; you were feeling butterflies again. You’d really convinced yourself that you wouldn’t feel that way about him again, but it was always a lie and you knew it. The proof was in the way your heart was racing.

You’d been expecting him to walk it back as soon as he’d seen your hesitation, but, to his credit, he just waited patiently for your reply.

You opened your mouth to tell him you weren’t sure, but what came out was a rather struggled admission of, “Sam, you’re fucking killing me.” It shocked you to have said it, but it shocked him enough that he sucked in a sharp breath and then let the stainless steel fridge door hold his weight as he concernedly but cautiously asked, “What do you mean?”

As you stared at him, you could feel your eyebrows knitted together in a deep-set, distressed frown. “Do you really think I want nothing to do with you now? You think I went from wishing you were my honest-to-god boyfriend to suddenly actually despising you?” The tone of your voice came out desperate, but you didn’t have the capacity to care as his eyes widened.

“Sam, it has taken everything I’ve got to keep you at a distance. Aside from the fact that we work together in close proximity every single day, I fucking miss you too.” In your despair, you’d said it all but the one thing that you’d been keeping for yourself, but you realized, at that exact moment, that you could never move forward until you told him, “I loved you, Sam. I- I still do, but I don’t think I can go through that again. I know it’s dramatic and it makes me sound crazy, which is why I decided to bury it all, but I’ve never experienced anything that hurt the way that did.”

He looked like he was barely breathing as he ran his hands through his hair, his breathing suddenly choppy and labored.

“You’ve taught me a lot of hard lessons, Sam, and I am currently trying my very fucking best to learn them.”

It fell silent between the two of you for just a second before he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Please don’t let that be what you take away from this.” He gestured between the two of you with his pointer finger.

The laugh you let out was tinged with just a shade of bitterness as you asked, “What do you want me to take from it?”

Even though it seemed like the logical next step in the conversation, the question took him off guard. He stared at you in silence for a few prolonged moments as his bottom lip hung open an inch or so. The moment he decided on an answer was visible, but even then, he had to take a quick breath before admitting, “Me.”

Unsure as to what he was implying, you naturally took on a puzzled expression, forcing him to clarify, “I want you to take me with you. Even as ‘just a friend’.”

You pursed your lips together as you held his gaze - you were hoping to find some kind of deception behind his eyes so that you could reject him and still feel like you did the right thing, but the only thing you found was sincerity. Even though the shade of his eyes was altered by the harsh, fluorescent lighting, it was still Sam - the soft Sam that he’d accidentally let you get to know.

It hurt. You suddenly felt so choked that you had to work on shoving back the lump in your throat. You shook your head at him, unsure to your very core about what your next step should be.

“I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know if I can be ‘just your friend’,” you informed him sorrowfully.

“Will you try?” he asked, the hope evident in both his eyes and his cadence. He was doing everything right - he wasn’t putting guilt or pressure on you. Nothing he was doing felt manipulative or as if there were an ulterior motive behind it. He was speaking with you in the most respectful manner possible and that realization put a sour look on your face.

“Why couldn’t you have just done this in the first place?” you lamented, gesturing to him with an open palm. “Absolutely none of this would have had to happen if you’d just been this person with me. Why does it seem like this honesty is coming to you so easily now - after you’ve already done the damage?”

He seemed to take the question to heart. He let his eyes slip shut and his head tip back as he took a deep, shaking breath, finally past the point of trying to control your perception of him. “I can’t take it back, babe,” he informed you apologetically but as soon as the term of endearment slipped from his mouth, he looked you over to make sure you didn’t react negatively. When he realized you were going to let it go unaddressed, he continued, “But you have to know I regret it, right?”

“Of course, you do,” you agreed with a firm frown of grief, leaving all the rest unsaid.

The room fell silent, save for the whirring sound of the refrigerator, leaving the two of you to feel the weight of the words you’d shared. After a while, he let out a sigh of surrender and anxiously scratched at the back of his neck.

“Look, I’m going to be honest - I’m not sure what to do here. I don’t know where the line is between ‘communicating my regrets and trying to make amends’ and ‘being a fucking nuisance’ so...” He trailed off before starting again, his tone even more gentle this time. “I’ve laid it all out for you. You know I still want you - however you’ll take me. The rest is up to you.”

He didn’t wait for a response before offering you a weak but honest smile and turning back to the task of collecting the condiments. For the next moment, he busied himself to show you he could respectfully move on from the moment, but you remained stagnant, just taking him in like this.

Obviously unsure as to why you were just staring at him, unmoving, he snuck a look at you out of the corner of his eye and then curiously pivoted to face you again.

You weren’t really sure what you were going to say when you opened your mouth, but it just naturally slipped out anyway. “I’ll think about it, Sam,” you stated, more confidently than you felt as you nodded tightly.

You could see the way your assurance changed his posture - defeated and droopy to pulling in a hopeful breath until his lungs were full. Just because you felt like he’d truly earned it, you quietly told him, “And thank you. For trying.”

As much as he was trying to downplay it, a wistful smile found his lips, effectively melting the ice you’d built around him in your mind just a little more. He gave you a nod and this time, when you both went back to packing, it didn’t feel quite so heavy.

The trip out to the campsite felt easier this time around. It wasn’t as fun or exciting as it would have been if you were on the same terms with him as you’d been at any point before the fight, but it also didn’t feel like a grim death march like the last time either so you counted it as a win.

He wasn’t as timid with you anymore either, which, to your deep surprise, was a relief. You’d thought it would be upsetting to look at him and not see him looking like a guilty puppy, but it wasn’t at all. That’s why, as you tucked into your sleeping bag for the night, you didn’t zip it - “just in case”, you’d told yourself.

It felt a little like deja vu as you lay awake, waiting with bated breath as you strained your ears. The night was calm and quiet, but you were irrationally afraid you were going to miss it - you weren’t sure you even wanted to meet with him that night, but you didn’t want to be robbed of the decision either.

You hadn’t realized you’d started to doze until you were swiftly pulled from your sleep by the familiar rustling, and the second you heard the sound of his footfall on the dirt, you started to shrug out of your sleeping bag.

Sam was sitting on the same log you always found him on, but he clearly was not expecting you - when he heard you slip through the tent flap, his head whipped around to show you his surprised face outlined by the moonlight. You kept a relatively flat expression as you sat next to him, leaving a few inches in between the two of you; then you just folded your hands in your lap and fixed your eyes on them.

You could feel him studying your face, charmingly trying to figure out if it was safe to let himself feel hopeful, but the relief was audible, even through a whisper as he admitted, “I can’t believe you came.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and cautiously allowed your lips to turn up into a little smile. “No? Do you think I shouldn’t have?”

He immediately opened his mouth to reply but then stopped himself abruptly. After taking a second to chew it over, he let out the most sheepish laugh you’d ever heard from him, breathy and nervous. “I don’t think that’s for me to answer. Do I think I deserve whatever you’re giving me right now?” he asked rhetorically, and then instantly answered himself, “Probably not. But I’m...indescribably happy to see you.”

There was something you had to get off your chest, but it was a struggle to get yourself to say it. You bit your lip and dug deep inside of yourself to admit, “I’m self-conscious that I’ve overreacting.”

Once he realized what you were suggesting, he shook his head so quickly and fervently that you could only deduce that he was afraid to even let that idea hang in the air. Sam took a big, risky chance; without hesitation, he planted his hand on your jaw to turn your face to him, forcing you to look directly into his eyes and there was absolutely no way for you to voice what that did to you.

The wind picked up just then, graciously muffling the sounds of your voices and eliminating the risk of the kids hearing you over the rustling of debris and leaves.

“Don’t,” he half-pleaded, innocently leaning in a little closer to you so you wouldn’t miss what he was saying. “Don’t do that. I hurt you. I knew how much this job meant to you- means to you and I still risked leaving the grounds without telling you what we were risking, and that’s bad enough.” He paused, grimacing as he considered the right words. “But, then, you put out the fucking fire for me. I can just hear you talking to the director in that way that you do - diplomatic and informed, reasoning with him to spare whatever punishment I undeniably deserve.” There was a hint of a dreamy tone under the desperation and haste to get it all out and the sound of it suddenly had you struggling to choke back tears.

“Just- Please, don’t blame yourself for this to justify wanting to forgive me. I hurt you. I’d love for us to be okay but that’s not the way to do it.”

You held his stare for too long, waiting for your tongue to speak without you having to come up with the right words. When that didn’t happen, all you could do was rasp out, “Okay.”

His eyes darted back and forth between yours like he was searching for a thread - anything to give him clarity as to what that meant for the two of you, but even you didn’t know. You let him struggle for only a couple of seconds before cracking a smile that instantly softened him further.

“Okay?” he tried, hopeful despite himself.

You nodded at him, slowly reaching to brush a strip of hair from where it had fallen from the lazy bun he’d tied it into. To your surprise, it didn’t hurt as much as you’d thought it would when you whispered, “I forgive you.”

He froze as you watched him visibly wrestle with the choice before deciding to use his hand under your jaw to guide you to him. You held your breath, your heart racing as you realized he was probably about to kiss you, but he didn’t. He spared you the burden of having to make a split-second decision about whether or not it was appropriate for him to rush you into something so romantically intimate, and instead, he met you in the middle to lay his forehead against yours.

You could feel him preparing to say something meaningful, but the moment slipped past in silence. The two of you stayed like that for a few prolonged moments until he pulled away.

This time, looking at his face was different. It was almost as if speaking the intention to forgive him had magically pulled it into existence. Out of everything that had happened between you since your conversation in the kitchen, none of it made sense to your logical brain, but that was just another perfect bullet point for the lesson you were learning about how lawless emotions are by nature.

“So, there’s this building on the edge of my hometown,” he started, piquing your interest with his casual tone. “And you know how every town has that one decrepit place that’s famously forbidden and you’ve heard twenty different stories about it? It’s always like ‘a guy went crazy and murdered his family in that house’ or ‘a kid got lost in this old mine and they never found him’.”

You hummed an agreement, giving him a confused look that caused him to chuckle, pursing his lips to muffle it lest the two of you get too loud.

“So, in my hometown, that obligatory location is this shack-like building out in the woods. There’s so much bullshit lore that locals have tied to this place but the one thing we know is that it was a tiny church a long time ago. It hasn’t been maintained for decades - like, the wood siding is covered in moss and shit or has just degraded completely in some places. The windows are boarded over and it smells like mold inside and there’s broken glass and loose nails all over.”

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh at the absurdity of the situation, and he matched it, obviously finding amusement in stringing you along blindly.

“Well, that lovely place I’m describing is apparently the perfect venue for parties, but the land it’s on is owned by the city now and the city is pretty serious about keeping people away from it because it’s obviously not a structurally safe place for anyone to be, let alone a bunch of drunken young people, but there’s no real way for the city to prevent people from partying there because any amount of money spent on security would be a waste. So, I’m sure you’re wondering why they haven’t just torn the shit hole down, right?” he prompted.

Either Sam was just a great storyteller or the story itself was out of place enough to catch and hold your interest, but either way, you were invested. You took the moment to tease him by playing along and cheekily asking, “Sam, why haven’t they just torn the shit hole down?”

You weren’t expecting it, but as he smirked at your antics, he took your chin between his fingers to hold you still as he answered. “Because, next to the church, there’s a little bitty cemetery. There are two slabs left that are obviously headstones - completely unreadable - but who knows how many people are actually buried there. In order for the city to be able to clear the lot, they’d have to find records of the bodies and remove them very carefully and then there’s the issue of how the fuck they’d even locate and get in touch with the families of these people- Anyway, the city just tacks up ‘No Trespassing’ signs all over the property and nails the door shut every now and again to discourage people from snooping, but other than that, they just leave the place alone and hope that the church will decay enough that it collapses of natural causes.”

He let go of your chin somewhere in the middle of that last part of the explanation, but you could still feel the effects of being handled by him like that, making it difficult to function in the way you wanted to. You struggled to find the impressed tone that you were looking for, instead stumbling over the statement, “Wow. You know a lot about this building.”

His pink little smirk stretched into a satisfied smile as he nodded. Using an intentionally pointed tone, he sounded beyond pleased to inform you, “Well, I ought to, because I burned the place to the ground last year.”

Before you’d even decided if you’d heard him right, your fingers anxiously found your lips as your eyes widened. “Oh my god,” was all you could think to say.

He nodded, and there was a distinct lack of regret behind it.

“Why?!”

“I want to say it was all just bad luck, but that’d be a lie and, per Josh’s suggestion, I’m trying this new thing where I take responsibility for the shitty things I do,” he teased, making you breathe a laugh despite your shock. “So, a friend of a friend was having a going away party because he was joining the military. Or...maybe it was that he just got back from deployment? I can’t remember because I didn’t want to go, but I do remember thinking that it was a really bad idea from the start. Everything was really dry last summer - like we were nearing ‘drought’ territory during this period, and here these assholes were, lighting a fucking bonfire in the middle of this crispy-ass grass, surrounded by a dry forest. It was a tinderbox. Smokey the fucking bear couldn’t have come up with a better scenario for a fire-related mishap. And, I know you’re clever enough to figure out what happens next.”

You shook your head, giving him an expectant look. “I mean, obviously a fire breaks out, but was everyone okay?”

“Yeah, mostly everyone bailed. It’s the rural Midwest, so I’m sure a lot of people had hard drugs on them or in them that they didn’t want to get caught with.”

You were stunned silent for a few moments. “You were worried that I was going to find your arrest boring?”

He nodded coyly, a bit too matter-of-fact for that to be the end of it.

“Getting arrested for burning down a church is maybe the most interesting thing I can think of,” you argued, struggling to keep your voice low in your state of disbelief.

“Well, that’s because I didn’t get arrested for burning down a church,” he informed you, making your expression fall flat quickly and dramatically enough to pull a laugh that threatened on “full volume” from his lips.

“What the fuck do you mean?”

With a faux-innocent smile as your own consolation, he stated, “I got arrested a month later for driving high.”

You narrowed your eyes to stare at him accusingly. “Then what the fuck was the point of that whole long-ass story?”

“Because I told myself if you met me out here tonight, I’d tell you what I got arrested for, but getting arrested for driving high is boring, so I thought I’d lead with the most interesting story I could think of - which is 100% true, by the way.”

Yet again, you wanted to be angry with yourself for finding the whole thing charming, but before you could say a word, he added, “Plus, I’ve missed being this physically close to you and I’m, admittedly, kind of selfish so I wanted to draw this moment out as long as possible.”

Still in a state of disbelief, you sat up straight, fighting to keep a shocked smile from your lips and failing miserably. You shook your head at him disapprovingly but there wasn’t a single shred of hard feelings to grab at anymore, making his next line unnecessary.

“Remember how you used to fish so hard for information about me? Well, you got some,” he stated, smirking. “And there’s plenty more to fish for if you’d still like to keep me around- As a friend.”

He’d added the last bit as an assurance, making sure you knew he wasn’t expecting anything from you, but you were digging your fingers into the meat of your leg to keep from touching him.

Your throat was tight, giving your voice a rasp as you told him, “I don’t wanna be your friend.”

His expression had just started slipping into a showcase of his disappointment when he realized what you were actually implying. You could feel him staring at you and how your eyes were fixed on his lips, making him sound a little desperate as he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

You glanced over your shoulder towards the tents, but you wanted it just as badly as him, so you didn’t have to think about it too hard when he framed your face with his hands and half-pleaded, “One kiss isn’t going to hurt anything- Please.”

You nodded at him fervently but you didn’t wait for him to make a move; instead, you just leaned in and pressed your lips to his. It was a little rough, but you weren’t complaining because the rush of serotonin through your veins felt like a wave of warm water. You chased the feeling by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and found that, somehow, that felt even better.

He didn’t show any signs of objection as you broke the kiss to hook your chin over his shoulder, feeling his nose nuzzle into the hair by your ear. You sat and soaked in the moment for a few long seconds before sitting up so you could look into his eyes.

You had to work to school your face into a serious, stern expression as you informed him, “If you ever hurt me like that again, I’m going to fuck your brother.”

Just like you were hoping for, a deeply shocked smile found his lips, but before he could make any kind of quip, you added some comedic relief by clarifying, “Not Josh - the other one. Josh 2.”

A hand flew up to catch a sharp laugh as it fell out of his mouth. “Jake, but okay. I guess that’s fair,” he informed you in the fondest tone.

“Damn right,” you agreed and then stood, holding your hand out to pull him up too. “Well, Samuel, this was a shockingly pleasant way to kill half an hour or so, but we should get to bed.”

He offered you only a smile in allowance, but you pulled him into another hug when you reached the tents that he returned in a way that you could only describe as grateful, but you’d only hugged him so you could press your lips to his ear. “Find me again when the kids are gone this weekend,” you instructed and felt his fingers flex against your back in a very uncontrolled way.

You placed a kiss against his cheek that you could only assume he found frustratingly chaste and then slipped into your tent.

❀❀❀

You arrived to dinner before Josh the next evening, giving you plenty of time to think. As your eyes scanned over the bustling dining hall and saw how many of the campers had formed their own groups, leaving their counselors to eat with their coworkers, you couldn’t help but feel the sting of the realization that it was almost over. In just a couple of weeks, you’d have to start looking for a different job - one that could never, ever compare.

You tried to push the feeling down, lest your eyes start to water in such a public place.

Luckily, you weren’t alone for too much longer; just a moment later, Josh opened the doors for his kids and ushered them all in with a sweet smile, pointing them towards the food line despite them having gotten the routine down a week and a half ago. His boys scattered to sit in their own little clusters but Josh could always be counted on to take the seat across from you.

“So, how was the camping trip?” he asked, and something behind his chipper tone told you he was somehow more informed than he ought to be.

You offered him a fond smile and shook your head. “It sounds like you already know how it went,” you replied before popping a slice of an orange into your mouth.

“I have a hunch,” he allowed cheekily.

“How? How do you seem to know everything before I do?”

He shrugged, though he looked proud despite his casual response. “A couple of reasons. One - neither of you are as difficult to read as you think you are. And, two - Sam asked for my advice on the subject.”

“Oh?” you pressed, eliciting a nod of his head.

“Well, I guess I kind of forced my advice on him, actually,” A grin spread across his lips and he split his dinner roll to butter it. “If I didn’t practically kick his butt after your fight, I’m not sure he would have made any moves to fix it. Not that he didn’t want to,” he quickly added. “I just know that, when he fucks up socially, he tends to remove himself from the equation so he can’t make it worse.”

“Or, perhaps because he’s too ashamed to confront it,” you suggested, trying to sound flat but accidentally letting a scolding fondness taint the words.

“Sure,” Josh agreed, endearingly struggling to get the little packet of butter open. “I have no doubt that was part of it. All I’m saying is, I know he wanted to make it better - he just didn’t know how, so I gave him a...let’s say ‘gentle nudge’.”

You breathed a laugh. “Well, thank you. And, yes, things feel better,” you agreed, after a moment, adding, “I missed him a lot.”

A smile, maybe too pleased for someone mostly unaffected by the situation, spread across his lips.

When Sam walked in just a minute later, all his kids in tow, he met your eyes for only a second before helping his boys through the line, leaving you in your infatuation over what a good counselor he’d become over the last few weeks. He sat across from you, next to Josh, and you were relieved to find that it instantly felt comfortable, thanks to Josh’s flawless sense for directing conversation.

The special activity for that cycle ended up being a hike out to a special location on the campgrounds that you’d always loved as a child, called Blueberry Bog. It was a glacially-formed kettle bog; the water was covered in soft, vibrant green moss that acted almost like a trampoline. The kids were pretty underwhelmed until they were informed that they didn’t have to stay on the wooden boardwalk - that they could go out onto the moss and explore. You watched with the kind of satisfaction you’d imagine a parent would have, listening to the kids squeal as their feet squished into the plush surface.

The following day was supposed to bring rain, and it didn’t disappoint in that regard. When you’d woken up to your alarm, you could hear the sound of thunder in the distance, and when you’d gotten out to the main room of your cabin, a few of the girls were already at the windows, watching the lightning streak across the sky. You’d all raced down to the dining hall with your coats over your heads to keep as dry as you could, and after breakfast, that was where their parents came to pick them up. The “goodbyes” were getting harder and harder, and this time you had to take deep breaths in between children to prevent yourself from crying.

All of Sam’s campers were gone before the final stragglers of your group had been picked up, so you met his eyes across the room to share a look that he’d accurately interpreted as an invitation.

He showed up at your cabin just a few minutes after you’d gotten back with a softness behind his eyes as you opened the door for him.

You leaned against the doorframe, blocking his way in so you could playfully inquire, “Would you like to come inside?”

He nodded, breathing a curious laugh.

You hummed in consideration, smirking along with him as he realized that you were intentionally keeping him out in the rain. “Ask nicely.”

He appeared to chew it over before smugly declaring, “No.” Sam placed his hand in the center of your chest and guided you out of the way with ease, despite your efforts to anchor yourself in place with shocked giggles spilling from your mouth.

“You’d think you’d be doing whatever you possibly could to win me over again,” you scoffed teasingly, crossing your arms over your chest as a statement.

He shut the door behind him and wrapped his hands around your biceps so he could move you, yet again. When he had your back against the door, he was wearing a fond expression to note, “I suspect I already have.”

You’d been intending to take the joke further - to play along for as long as he’d allow - but you couldn’t seem to find the drive after that. The ache in your chest reminded you just how much you missed interacting with him like this again. As awful as the admission was, you were suddenly aware of just how different your summer would have been without him - borderline boring, if you had to guess.

You cupped his jaw in your hands, your voice cracking a little as you admitted, “You never really lost me.”

As easy as it would have been for him to kiss you then - to lead you into a sexual tryst - instead, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours like he had at the campsite.

You let the softness of the moment settle over you as you matched his breathing. The silence remained until you broke it, in the most cautious way you could manage.

“Sam, what’s going to happen when the summer’s over?”

He withdrew just enough that he could see your face as a pensive expression masked his features.

“I’m not sure.”

Your stomach sank just a little. You tried again, “In the kitchen, you said that you wanted me to take you with me.”

While he pressed the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed into a troubled look. “I want to keep seeing you - of course. I just haven’t worked out the details yet.”

As unsatisfying as that answer was, you knew it was as much as he could offer you at that moment, so you let him know there were no hard feelings by pecking a kiss on his thumb.

“Well, no need to try and sort it all out right now.” You looked him up and down, putting on a little smirk as you suggested, “I think we have some catching up to do, Sam.”

The breath he let out held a surprising amount of relief - like he’d been waiting for your cue. Without wasting a second, he gripped your waist, spinning you around and pointing you towards your bedroom door with a nod of his chin. You huffed a laugh, reaching to thread your fingers through his so you could lead him, but he pulled his hand away before you could.

He only let you feel the sting of rejection for a split second before he was wrapping his arms around your chest from behind, playfully lifting you, mid-step. The surprise of it drew a pitchy squeal from your grinning lips, but he never pulled you fully off your feet. The gesture was simply meant to be a teasing prompt to rush you along, though you had a suspicion that he was only half-joking.

You’d thought he’d want you on the bed immediately, but you’d barely made it into your room before you felt him anchor you in place. The heat from his mouth as he pressed his lips into the crook of your neck made you physically melt, relying on him to help hold your weight as you leaned back against him.

You reached over your shoulder to wind your fingers in his hair, deciding then that he must have washed it earlier that morning, as you were able to rake through the silky strands with ease. He let out a soft, absent hum that vibrated against your neck as you gently scratched your nails over his scalp.

The edges of his teeth dragging over your delicate, thin skin made you shiver as goosebumps rose down your arms. His fingers were slipping around your body, dipping under the hem of your shirt to tease along your navel, which only worsened your sensitivity.

You didn’t want to pull away from him, but you wanted to see his face. You used to see his angular features as intimidating, but you’d gotten lucky - lucky enough to have seen the truly soft side of him. Looking into his eyes used to leave you feeling utterly insignificant, but you could feel your chest swell hopelessly at the depth behind them now; even in the dim, cool light of the grey sky filtering in through your bedroom window, there was a warmth. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt the spark in your chest as if you were experiencing it for the first time, all over again.

Facing him now, you pressed your body flush to his, planting your hands on his chest as your fingers grasped at his shirt. You realized that being able to feel his body heat - his skin on yours - felt right. Like a muscle memory.

He directed you to sit on the edge of the bed and then bent at the waist to kiss you. You were distracted enough by his tongue swiping out across your bottom lip that you didn’t realize he was sinking to his knees until you felt his hand on your stomach, gently pushing you back.

You were going to give him a questioning look until you felt his fingers unsnapping the button on your pants. It was setting in, what was about to happen, and you had to take a few deep, controlled breaths to try to still your pounding heart as he slid your panties down.

His fingers almost felt cool when he stroked them over your skin, using a gentle, mindful touch. He gave you plenty of time to get comfortable, directing your focus on where his lips connected with your thigh. You could feel the pleasant burn when he sucked the muscle into his mouth, no doubt intending to leave you with a fuschia-pink bloom to remember this moment by.

After seemingly avoiding the area up until then, it was the pointed tip of his nose brushing against your clit that made you gasp. Your fingers twisted into the duvet as his considered dipping into you, just barely sliding in to the first knuckle as a tease before withdrawing.

Sam’s tongue was hot as he ran the flat of it over your skin, slow and languid like a dance. He opted to not use much pressure at first, but instead, letting it build with each lap over your clit.

Your teeth were sunken into your bottom lip, mindlessly rolling it between your bite until it was tender. A dreamy hum or two escaped you as you pictured the scene behind your eyelids, but when you decided that wasn’t enough, you sat up, propping yourself on your elbows to take it all in.

He looked lovely with his face buried between your thighs and when he saw you watching him, he met your eyes, planting his hands on the small of your waist to keep you in place.

Despite the obscenity of the situation, he looked so soft and sweet that you didn’t think twice before reaching to tuck a strip of his hair behind his ear. To your surprise, he careened into the touch absently, pulling his mouth from your pussy so he could press a chaste kiss to the meat of your thumb.

Before you could retract it, the fingers of his left hand wrapped around your wrist as he sucked your thumb into his mouth, and the fingers of his right hand finally slipped into you to the hilt. A tide of warmth spread through your abdomen as he worked the digits into you to the hilt, but you had to suck in a sharp gasp when his tongue flicked over your clit again. It felt like an electric shock that had your eyes squeezing shut, so you couldn’t protest when he coaxed you into laying back again.

You wound your grip into his hair, trying to remain mindful of being too rough, but you couldn’t quite reach the thought. You knew you were tugging too harshly on the strands as he seemed to decide to draw you to the edge, but you couldn’t care, because you were peering over it in a matter of minutes.

You were entirely lost in the sensation; it was all-consuming as it dragged you down into it. The resulting orgasm had you panting as you rode it out, barely conscious of your hips moving to grind yourself against Sam’s tongue.

At the end of it, all of your muscles untensed at once, allowing you to let go of Sam’s hair as you sunk back into the mattress from your rigid position.

A content hum slipped from Sam’s lips as he pressed a kiss to the spot on your thigh he’d been bothering earlier, and you could tell by the warmth of the sound that he was smiling proudly.

He didn’t let you say anything as he guided you further up the bed, which was good, because you weren’t sure you could form an intelligent sentence - at least, not for a couple of minutes.

He stripped down, not spending a lot of time on the show of it until he realized you were watching him. Once he had your eyes, he stroked over himself a couple of times for you.

As he settled over you, he helped you sit up enough that he could slip your shirt off, leaving you both entirely unclothed. A warmth spread over your face when you realized you could taste yourself on his tongue, but he effectively erased the thought from your mind by parting your legs and slipped himself in between them.

Your lips were connected in a kiss, but that didn’t stop you from moaning into each other’s mouths as he slid in. He had clearly been intending to take it slow and let you adjust, but he couldn’t seem to help himself from instantly falling into a rhythm with his little rocking motion. Luckily, you were more than ready.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down onto you, feeling almost cozy under the weight of him. The heat of his body perfectly mirrored the warm feeling you were left with as he slid in and out of you. You tried to bury your sounds into the crook of his neck, but you knew he could hear them perfectly, even over the sound of the relentless rain and the occasional rolling thunder outside.

Over your head, his arm reached to anchor himself on the edge of your headboard, giving him more leverage to work his hips against yours without having to pull away from you much. Without your conscious permission, your teeth nipped into the skin of his bicep, spurring him into a rougher motion that you instantly fell in love with.

The sound of his breathing, quick and labored, made your eyes roll back into their sockets. You could tell he was getting closer to his end as his movements became less controlled, and even as present as you were in the moment, you took the opportunity to recognize how lucky you were to get him like this - so unguarded and raw.

His eyes were squeezed shut, letting out an almost pained little whimper as he came and you could feel the shudder through his whole body. You cupped his face, thumbing over his cheekbone and enjoying the blissfully peaceful moment as he grounded himself again. Once he was conscious enough, he rested his forehead against yours, sweetly nuzzling his nose against yours.

“I missed you,” he whispered under his breath. There was a vulnerability to the admission - just by the tone of it, you knew it was one of the most honest things he’d said to you thus far.

“I’m right here,” you stated in return.

❀❀❀

The next two weeks were unspeakably pleasant.

You realized that, for the first time since the beginning of the summer, interacting with Sam was truly easy. As much as you’d love to say it felt like there had never been any bad blood between you and him in the first place, that wasn’t quite true; you could feel the scar tissue of a wound fully healed, but that made it even more satisfying, knowing that you’d worked through it together.

On the last day of the last cycle, you were proud to admit that you made it through the process of parting with your campers, completely tear-free, even though you caught Josh getting a little watery-eyed with every crouched hug he gave.

After the campers were gone for the year, the counselors got to stay on the grounds for the remaining two days of the weekend, with the promise of a celebration that Saturday evening. Not everyone stayed - there were some counselors that saw more value in getting home, and you couldn’t blame them, but you were desperate to milk this experience for all it was worth. After all, even though you’d have to be dead before you’d miss doing this again the following year, you’d never be a first time counselor again.

You and all the other counselors were informed that there would be fireworks after sundown, and you were free to go wherever you’d like on the grounds to watch, but Josh was quick to inform you that he already had the perfect spot.

He led you and Sam on quite the hike that afternoon, and even though there was a vague trail to follow, it was clear people didn’t take it very often.

As a branch of thorns grabbed onto your bare leg, you let out a hissing curse and then annoyedly asked, “Josh, where the fuck are we even going? There’s absolutely no way this spot is worth it right? I’m sure we could have seen perfectly fine from the beach.”

He snickered, glancing back over his shoulder to remind you, “I told you to prepare for a little hike.”

“This is not a ‘little hike’, you jackass,” Sam muttered, cautiously side-stepping a sharp-looking branch.

“You’re bitching now, but I promise it’ll be worth it,” Josh quipped back, completely unbothered, if the grin he was wearing was anything to judge by.

“Oh, yeah? Then why did Ashley opt out of this trip?” you challenged.

“Ah, because in the midst of the drama between you two,” Josh started, pausing to gesture to you and Sam. “You missed her whole story arc. I think she’s kinda been seeing a guy from Birch.”

You tried not to sound too disbelieving as you asked, “Really? Because I honestly thought you’d end up hooking up with her?”

Josh snorted, flashing his white teeth. “Absolutely not. Unlike the rest of you, I know how to keep things professional.”

Either not buying his story or not willing to let the dig slide, Sam snarkily retorted, “Don’t worry, Josh - I’m sure you’ll get one next year.”

The sun was mid-way through setting when you finally reached your destination. You’d been able to tell you were hiking at an incline on the way up, but you weren’t expecting for the woods to open up and show you a view of the grounds from one of the surrounding bluffs.

The entire perimeter of the lake was visible to you, completely unobscured. Seeing your favorite place on earth spread out for you on a platter like that almost choked you up until you felt Sam’s hand on your lower back, giving you a knowing smile when you met his eyes.

“Okay, Josh. I’m not too proud to admit when I’m wrong. This is a primo spot,” you surrendered, prompting him to beam at you proudly as he pulled a folded blanket from his backpack to spread out over the grass.

“Thank you, thank you.”

“Yeah, except I think you’re both forgetting that we’ll have to navigate our way back down in the dark,” Sam informed you smugly, but Josh just waved him off.

“Let’s worry about that when we get to it.”

The three of you got comfy on the blanket, settling into each other in a little bundle as you prepared for the show.

“So, when are you coming to visit?” Josh asked you, and your confused little smile caused him to elaborate. “I mean, I just assumed you’d be coming to stay with us for a while, right?”

You and Sam shared a blank look before you admitted, “I honestly hadn’t thought about it.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll be able to go off to school for the fall semester,” Sam half-agreed, sounding like he was weighing the idea in his head.

“I’m sure you’ll get there next year,” Josh assured without concern. He finished with a sly grin, “Y’know, assuming you can change your hardcore criminal ways and not land yourself in jail.” He met your eyes and teasingly informed you, “Did you know that Sam was arrested for trafficking exotic animals? When the FBI caught him, he was trying to smuggle a pangolin across the border.”

“Oh, wow, dreamy,” you quipped, playing along as Sam lovingly rolled his eyes.

“I already told her all about it.”

Josh hummed, looking pleased with the development. “I figured, but I had to try.”

After a comfortable pause, he put on a playful grin and asked, “So, Sam. Think you’ll come back next year?”

Sam looked like he wanted to say no, if not just for the principal. You could only imagine that they’d had this conversation a few times before, and Sam had given him a firm declination, but there was a hint of a smile to Sam’s tilted lips now as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, tilting you towards him until you laid your head on his shoulder.

“We’ll see,” he replied, pulling a contented hum from his brother’s upturned mouth.

There was a certain kind of peace you’d come to know when you were a camper at Forest Springs - the kind of happiness you can only get from the bliss of a responsibility-free childhood. Those two weeks in the summer always simultaneously felt like they went on for months and flew by in a single breath. You couldn’t put a price on the freedom to do whatever your little heart desired and the comfort of knowing you were safe and sound under the care of an adult. To say you missed that feeling would be a criminally-steep understatement. You ached for it.

Somewhere, deep, deep inside, you had come back to Camp Forest Springs this summer in hopes of feeling it again, but you were wise enough to know that no matter how badly you wanted it back, that time in your life had passed, and that was truly okay.

Instead, you’d get to pack up and end your first year as a counselor with three different prizes - a love, a new best friend, and the knowledge that you’d been able to gift that same feeling to your campers.

That was more than enough.

_____________ I just wanted to say a whole-hearted thank you to everyone that stuck with me through this story. It was a big challenge to write believable pacing and dialog, but I’m proud of us for sticking it out to the end!

As always, your comments, tweets, replies, and asks mean the world, but if you feel like you’d like to show your appreciation in an even more meaningful way, you could always buy me a coffee <3

Thanks again, Alana

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#pink lemonade #sam kiszka fan fiction #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka fic

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watchingovergvff · 9 months

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Tiny Dancer- Danny Wagner

Summary: Home alone, sick, and slightly crazy. Your day takes an interesting turn after your lovely boyfriend, Danny, returns home early.

Genre: Established Relationship. Fluff and Angst.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst, Sickness, and Embarrassment.

A/N: I love to hear feedback, so please don’t hesitate to do so. Thank you for all the love and support <3333

——————————————————————————

Singing along, you can’t help the extra pep in your step. ‘The Indigo Streak’ by Greta Van Fleet plays throughout your living room.

You bring the laundry basket closer to you on the coffee table. Folding clothes normally bores you to no end, but the music is helping. Since it's laundry day in your household, you dawn a scraggly t-shirt from your lover’s drawer and little heart pajama shorts.

You had been lazied around the house all day, not bothering to step foot outside. Danny has been doing interviews all day and last minute preparations for the tour, leaving you at home alone today. It's been such a boring day, that you're doing chores for fun.

The boy’s new album, Starcatcher , had only been out for a couple of days now. Danny had been very open and willing to share the music throughout the entire creative process with you, but you wanted to wait until release day. So, now that the entirety of the album is out, you're enjoying it to the fullest extent.

Hearing Danny count them in at the beginning of Frozen Light , immediately made your knees weak. Jumping out of your seat on the couch, you throw the crumbled shirt back into the basket. Being alone has its perks, especially when you want to embarrassingly dance to your boyfriend’s music.

Attempting to match Josh’s vocals, you screech to your best ability. You stomp around, hopping along to the beat. Abusing the extra alone time and Danny’s busy work day, you revel in the freedom of being weird.

Speak of the devil.

Apparently, Danny had come home early. The interviews had ended quickly and tour meetings were short, so he happily made his way home to you. He expected to find you still asleep in your shared bed, but instead he was greeted with karaoke and a dance party. He was clearly not invited.

Leaning against the archway of the living room wall, Danny watches you whilst giggling at your obliviousness.

Hopping around, your party comes to a screeching halt when you catch a glance of a certain someone in the doorway. You holler in shock, not expecting someone to be in the house, much less your boyfriend.

Danny is basically bent over laughing, mostly at your reaction but also the silliness of it all. You quickly find your phone, pausing the music as quickly as you can.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you look up at him, irritation and embarrassment gracing your features. The house is no longer filled with loud music, but with Danny’s laughter. Your face flushes red in embarrassment and slight anger.

“Danny, that's not funny. Stop laughing.”

He’s still chuckling deeply, trying to sit up enough to look at you. Stomping your foot like a toddler, you roll your eyes at him.

Finally he meets your eyes, fully sitting up at this point once he notices just how embarrassed you are. Trying to reach out and comfort you, he winces when you push his arms away.

“Honey, I’m not laughing at you.”

“Yes you were.”

“No, I was laughing in surprise because I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Expecting what?” you menacingly ask.

Waving his arm around, trying to conjure up the right words. “Well, you being out of bed for one. But also your little dance party.”

You scoff at his words.

“Wow, I didn’t realize I seemed that lazy to you.”

Danny’s eyes widen in panic, not sure where to go from here. “No sweetheart, that's not what I meant–” “Well what did you mean then?” you interrupt him. Sighing, he continues, “What I meant was, I was surprised you were out of bed because you weren’t feeling well when I left this morning. We both know the last thing you are is lazy.”

“Oh, well–” your voice trails off, not sure how to respond to his kindness.

“And, I wasn’t laughing at you for having a dance party. I think I was more surprised that you were having a dance party to my music,” he smiles at you. “You must not know me well, Daniel. I’m your number one fan first and your partner second,” you allow the smile to grace your lips, grinning at him.

Fanning his face, Danny smiles at you and makes his way toward you. Opening your arms, you fall into his broad chest.

Wrapping your arms around one another, both of you finally breathe the other in. Being close to Danny immediately brings a calming wind throughout you.

Swaying back and forth, you silently apologize and he silently forgives. No words needing to be exchanged, just the closeness is enough to understand each other. “Hi,” you whisper gently into his ear.

“Hi, my love,” he squeezes you tighter. “Are you feeling better?”

Mumbling into his neck, you respond, “I think so. I have been a bit lazy today, but I got bored and started doing laundry. Which quickly turned into a dance party, not much laundry got done after that.”

“That's alright, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it. Have you taken some medicine?” Danny questions whilst rubbing your back.

Shaking your head no into his chest, he finally pulls you away to look at your face. Caressing your face gently, Danny hisses under his breath. “Honey, you're burning up. You need to take something now.”

You shrug your shoulders at his words, having felt fine earlier. Dragging you back to your shared room, Danny instructs you to get back in bed while he retrieves your medicine. You groan at the growing ache in your head, having not noticed it moments ago.

Minutes past and you can’t help the urge to get up in search of Danny. Starting to get out of bed, you immediately fall back in as soon as Danny appears through the door.

“Hey, where are you off to?”

“I was about to come find you, actually,” you mumble. “I was just in the kitchen,” he reassures you, while also sitting you up to take some medicine.

Quickly throwing back the meds, you settle back under the covers. “I know, you were just taking too long.” Danny chuckles at your quiet response. “Need anything else, love?”

“You. Come lay with me please,” you plead, holding out your hands to him.

Ignoring your grabby hands, he smiles at you silently nodding at your request. He walks away, closing the bedroom door and clicking on the ceiling fan. You huff at his slowness, not quite liking his speed.

Smiling at your impatience, Danny hastily changes his clothes into something more comfy. Deciding to poke fun at you a little bit, he meanders a while longer. “Danny, you think you're so funny, don't you?” you say, trying to not let your smile appear.

Slinking over to you, Danny rolls onto the spot next to you on the bed. “Sometimes.”

Smiling across at him, you allow him to pull you closer into his chest. “Ugh, you're hot.”

“I know.”

Wacking his arm lightly, you groan at his cheesy joke. “Not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“Maybe a little bit. It helps that I’m in love with you.” “Me too, silly.”

Groaning at his words, once again you choose to ignore him.

“I love you, my tiny dancer.”

——————

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!!!!

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ageofbarbarians · 2 years

Text

35 High // S.F.K

AgeOfBarbarians

Summary: Y/N comes home from a long day of work. The whole day was genuinely a series of unfortunate events, but the worst of the worst happens when she gets home.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Anxiety Attack, Oral (m&f receiving), Fingering (f receiving)

Word Count: 5.6K

M A S T E R L I S T

You pushed your way through the sea of people, all trying to leave their day jobs, but you were also trying to do the same. You were trying to get home as quickly as you could since today has been absolute hell and you were just one small inconvenience away from having a complete and utter breakdown.

You worked at a small hole-in-the-wall diner a couple of blocks away from your apartment. The money was decent, enough to pay bills and have a little extra saved to the side in case you needed it. There were typically older people who came in to enjoy breakfast or an early lunch. You had a lot of regulars and when they came in they just seemed to make the days more enjoyable. But today was the definition of hell.

You had a couple of tables that gave you a one-dollar tip, or that had completely stiffed you. One snotty group of teenagers came in and while you were delivering food to another table, decided it would be hilarious to trip you. They did end up getting kicked out but you still had food and coffee spilled all over your work clothes. A couple of tables had bitched at you for things that weren’t your fault but just couldn’t grasp the fact that it was on the kitchen and not you. This morning while you were doing your hair you burnt one of your fingers really bad, you were completely out of coffee, and your milk had gone bad so you couldn’t even eat breakfast. It was one of the worst days you had in a while.

You were walking home, trying to calm yourself down, trying as hard as you could to enjoy the last little portion of your day. You had a whole plan set out to watch a couple of movies and order some Chinese food since you were in no mood to cook tonight. As you were walking down the street a lady who was paying more attention to her phone than her surroundings hit your shoulder causing you to drop your phone and the drink you just bought.

“Watch where you’re going, bitch!” She turned to you and flipped you off like it was your fault that she wasn’t paying attention.

“Get your face out of your phone and pay attention cunt!” You yelled back at her. She gasped and stormed off, not wanting to deal with the confrontation. The people who were around you looked at you like you had a third arm or horns coming out of your head. You huffed, picked your phone up, and walked away. There was no saving your drink.

You finally reached the doors to your apartment building. It was one of the largest apartment buildings in the city, it being at least sixty-five stories high. You lived on the forty-sixth floor so you have an amazing view of the entire city. As crazy as it seemed, you always took the stairs. Forty-six flights of stairs seemed crazy to most people, but you just considered it your daily dose of cardio. Not to mention the crippling fear you had of elevators. It was extremely rare that you took the elevator, and today was one of those rare days. You didn’t want to take the time to walk up the stairs when you could be up to your floor in seconds.

Surprisingly the lobby was pretty empty this evening. You walked up to the elevator and hit the upward arrow and waited for the doors to open. You took in a deep breath through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. Seconds later the elevator doors opened. You stepped in and hit the button next to the forty-six. The button lit up and you leaned against the back wall waiting for the doors to clothes. They began to shut and it was only a split second away from shutting completely before they opened again.

A boy who looked to be about your age stepped in and he seemed like he was out of breath. He pushed the button for the forty-fifth floor and it lit up. He gave you a small smile and leaned against the wall right next to you.

Really dude? Out of all places it had to be right next to me? You thought to yourself. You let out a huff and pulled out your phone trying to pull up your Instagram. Of course, you weren’t getting any single so nothing was loading. But with how the rest of the day had gone, you weren’t surprised.

You stood there in silence, your eyes locked onto the elevator door just waiting for them to open. The boy next to you hummed to himself and you couldn’t tell why but it was driving you a little nuts.

“I’m sorry, but do you mind?” You snapped, turned your head towards him and he looked at you with a raised brow.

“Sorry?” He looked confused and after observing his features you felt bad. Really bad. His eyes were a beautiful shade of brown, long brown hair that was pulled back into a messy bun, a jawline that could cut diamonds, and lips that were oh so perfectly pink they were almost kissable. He was in a black suit that was tailored to fit him perfectly, but he didn’t have a shirt underneath the suit jacket. Some of the skin on his stomach was exposed revealing the way it slightly glistened, but you didn’t stare too long. Everything about this man was stunning.

“Sorry I just,” you paused and rubbed the bridge of your nose with your thumb and pointer finger. “I’ve had the worst day and the humming is kind of annoying if I’m being honest. I didn’t mean to snap, that was rude of me.” You said the last part quietly and looked down at your feet, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s alright, doll. I guess it can be quite-“ he stopped talking as there was a loud thud and the elevator suddenly stopped. It shook for a second and you instinctively grabbed the boy's arm next to you. You realized what you had done and removed your hands from him. You mumbled a sorry before that there was a potential that your biggest fear had just hit.

“Are we stuck?” Your eyes went wide at the realization that you were no longer moving, and the red numbers indicating the floor number were stuck on thirty-five.

“I think so, it shouldn’t be a problem though,” he shrugged casually and you immediately sank to the floor with your head going between your knees.

“This is my worst fucking nightmare.” You whispered to yourself. Suddenly, it felt like there was hardly any air left in the small space and your chest became tight. You took in a deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth to try and calm yourself down but it wasn’t working. You could feel your body begin to shake and tears brimmed your eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?” The boy next to you crouched down and gently sat his hand on your shoulder. You looked over at him and there seemed to be genuine concern on his face. A few tears slid down your face and you continued to shake as you wiped them away quickly.

“T-this is one of my worst fears. I’ve had a day from hell and this is just the cherry on top. I don’t even know what to do.” You began to panic more and your breathing started to pick up. You were on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Look,” He stood up and pushed the emergency call button that all elevators were required to have. It rang a couple of times before a voice picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, yeah, we’re currently in Clemming Heights, our elevator is stuck, we aren’t sure what happened.”

“How many people are in your elevator?” The voice came through the speaker.

“There’s two of us.” He replied and looked back at you. Your hands were shaking violently and more tears slid down your face. You tried every trick in the book to calm your nerves but everything you did just seemed to make things worse.

This was the worst day you’ve ever had by far. Maybe you should’ve just taken the stairs. If you did you wouldn’t be trapped in this metal box that could just plummet to the very bottom at any moment.

“Okay, we’re sending a technician over now. It should be about an hour before it’s fixed.”

“Thank you.” That was all he said and then he came back and sat next to you.

“An hour!? I-I don’t think I can be in here for an hour.” You started to hyperventilate and you tried your hardest to calm down but everything you knew just wasn’t working. You didn’t want to be having an anxiety attack in front of a total stranger, a handsome one at that. The whole thing was embarrassing. Today genuinely could not get any worse.

“It’s okay, I promise we’ll be okay. Hey, look at me.” He sat his hand on your shoulder again before he scooted in front of you, legs crossed. You looked up at him and he has a small smile on his face trying his best to cheer you up.

“What’s your name, doll?” He asked softly.

“Y/N,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand. Your breathing was still unsteady and your chest was still tight, feeling like it could just explode at any given moment,

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Sam, or Sammy, whichever you prefer. I live on the forty-fifth floor. Do you wanna talk about your day? Get your mind off this?” Sam introduced himself and it was nice that you could finally put a name to a face. You were hesitant but something was comforting about him, so you went on about how terrible your day was and he just sat there and listened, nodding his head now and again. You went through your entire day, from the time you woke up, up until now. He never once interrupted you, he just sat there and listened. It was nice.

“That sounds like a lot. Just think about it this way, today is almost over. Once we get out of here, you can go home, make some tea, binge on some snacks, watch a movie, or whatever it is you want to do and you can just relax. Tomorrow is a new day, and you can start fresh, yeah?” Sam spoke softly and his words were reassuring. You were silent for a moment, staring into his chestnut eyes. You scanned his face, but you didn’t know what it was you were searching for.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled lightly, looking at the floor of the elevator. You had noticed that you were finally calmed down despite ranting about the shitshow of a day you'd had. Maybe all you needed was somebody to talk to about what had gone wrong. Ranting about everything today had cleared your mind and it made you calm down about being stuck. Even though it wasn’t the most ideal situation, you were glad that somebody was here with you instead of being alone.

“I’m on forty-six.” You spoke up again after a moment of silence. Sam looked at you slightly confused before remembering he had told you what floor he lived on.

“I’ve never seen you around before.” You could feel his eyes burning into you. You shifted and averted eye contact with him. He wasn’t intimidating but he was just so attractive that it felt like he was intimidating.

“Well, it is a big building…” You responded with a bit of sarcasm in your voice. You looked up again and Sam's smiled with a light laugh and nodded his head, looking at the ground.

“I guess you’re right. I just figured I’d remember seeing a pretty girl like you.” He looked up at you again and you felt your cheeks go hot. The compliment was so unexpected and it honestly caught you off guard. You had been in here for only fifteen minutes and he was trying to flirt with you. Not that you had minded, you did need a little excitement in your life, but Sam was definitely out of your league.

“I don’t know about that, I never take the elevator. I usually take the stairs,” you shook your head and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his compliment.

“Seriously?” He asked with wide eyes and his eyebrows raised, slightly dumbfounded. You shook your head. All you could do was nod, not too sure of what to say.

“I bet your legs are killer.” He laughed to himself and then stopped once he realized what he said. Sam wasn’t trying to make the situation sexual in any sort but the comment just kind of slipped out. He wasn’t wrong though, because of doing it almost daily you did have really nice legs. They were toned and had just the perfect amount of muscle to them.

“Sorry, that came out a little more sexual than I was expecting it to.” Sam awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and you couldn’t help but laugh. You observed exposed skin and wondered why he was so dressed up but also why he didn't have a shirt under his suit jacket. Even sitting down you could tell how toned he was and honestly, it was quite sexy. You bit your lip and your eyes met his. You tried to play it off but he had a smirk on his face. The comment about your legs was still playing in your head and you didn’t really know why. Maybe it was because you were getting hit on by an attractive guy? Or the fact that you never really got hit on in general? You looked away for a moment trying to avert your eyes elsewhere.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked with a slight raise of his brow. Your eyes met his again and you could feel a bit of heat creeping onto your cheeks from the fact that he caught you staring.

“Don’t get cocky, Sammy.” You shook your head and scanned him once more. A part of you was just trying to fuck with him but another part of you genuinely wanted to just check him out. You began to wonder what he looked like without the suit jacket on, how his muscles and abdomen flexed, and what he looked like without almost anything on.

Your thoughts started getting the best of you and you shook your head slightly as a way to try and rid of them. You pressed your legs together, heat building at your core, trying your hardest not to make it noticeable.

“Cocky is my middle name, babydoll,” Sam said quietly with a tone that you couldn’t quite read. It was sexy and dominant but you really couldn’t tell what he was going for. The pet name that he had called you a couple of times already sent shivers down your spine and you bit your lip once more with a smile across your face. Even though he had called you 'doll' previously, there was just something about the subtle difference.

The two of you gazed into each other eyes, not sure what to even say. Your eyes flickered back and forth between him and his lips. He was doing the same and you could just tell the sexual tension was rising between the two of you.

In a split-second decision, you decided to just lean forward and kiss him. It wasn’t like you to make the first move, hell you had never even made the first move, but there was just something about Sam that was so captivating and you were determined to figure it out why he was making you feel this way.

Moments later it finally dawned on you that you were kissing a total stranger and you didn’t have a drop of alcohol in you. You had your fair share of hookups but they never happened if you weren’t drinking. You never had the confidence to initiate something like that. You pulled away and your hand came up to touch your lips. Sam had a look of surprise on his face but you couldn’t exactly read it. The silence grew heavy and you suddenly felt embarrassed.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry that was really-“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Sam's lips connected with yours again. One of his hands cupped the side of your face while to other rested right above your knee and your arms wrapped around his neck. You felt his tongue graze your bottom lip, in a way that was requesting permission for him to enter and you opened your mouth a little bit wider to allow access. His tongue fought with yours and he bit down on your bottom lip. Your hands pulled on the hair at the nape of his neck as Sam groaned and you could feel it through the kiss. The noise alone sent fire to your center and you scooted closer to him. You didn’t want to cross any boundaries, especially because you had only met him not even twenty minutes ago, but he removed his hands from your face and pulled you onto his lap.

“Is this crazy? This is crazy.” You pulled away, not realizing how deprived of oxygen you were until you took a deep breath. You stared into Sam's eyes and a wide grin flashed across his face.

“I like crazy,” Was all he said before kissing you again. You moaned quietly, hoping he didn’t hear it but from the way he sighed and started kissing along your jawline and neck, you knew he did. You leaned your head back, exposing more of the skin on your neck, allowing him access to wherever he pleased. He bit at the skin behind your ear and smoothed over it with his tongue. You pulled harder on the hair at the nape of his neck. He had found your sweet spot and the longer he stayed there, the more you were melting into his touch. You knew there was going to be a lilac mark.

Sam moved down your neck, eventually reaching your collarbones. He left a few chaste kisses across them but then licked a stripe up the front of your throat and connected his lips with yours. That simple action was almost enough to make you come undone. You adjusted your hips and as you did so you could feel Sam's hardened length under you. He hissed at the movement and you couldn’t help but smirk. You rocked your hips once more and he pushed up into you before grabbing your hips to hold you still.

“I want to take you home, Y/N,” Sam said between the kisses. The thought made butterflies run through your stomach.

“Lemme turn your day around. Let me make you feel good,” He attacked the other side of your neck, and his words made you moan. You tried to move against him, hoping to relieve some of the pressure that was building up in your core but Sam was quick to stop you.

“Words baby, use them.” He commanded.

“Please,” was all you managed to get out. He smirked and it just showed how cocky he really was.

“Please what?“ He stared at you intently, waiting for you to say exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Fuck, please take me home Sammy, just do something,” you moaned, and honestly, it was almost pathetic.

“Gladly,” Sam grabbed the underside of your thighs and stood up as he pushed your back against the elevator wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist and he began to kiss you again, this time with a little more force. With one hand he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above you, not allowing you to touch him.

You loved when somebody was dominant towards you. You liked being told what to do, being thrown around, and even being punished. You were into the rougher sex but it never seemed like anybody could seem to satisfy you with what you were looking for. Sure it was good enough in the moment, but you just needed… more.

Your legs tightened around Sam's waist and you tried anything just to feel some sort of friction against him to release some of the pressure. You pushed your chest up against him and moaned quietly into his mouth.

“If you don’t stop I may just have to fuck you in here,” Sam's voice was dominant and demanding. You flashed him a devilish grin before you rocked your hips up against him again.

“What if I want you to fuck me in here, Sam?” You asked with one of your brows raised. Your words alone looked like they could’ve sent him over the edge. Sam swiftly popped the button on your jeans and slid his hands into your pants, rubbing his fingers over the dampened cotton.

“Look at you, so wet for me already,” His forehead leaned against yours and a breathy moan slid past your lips. His fingers circled over your clothed clit and he smirked as he watched your face slightly contort with pleasure.

“Please,” was all you could say but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Fuck, there were lots of things you could’ve been begging for right now.

“Please what? What do you want, pretty girl? Do you want my fingers? My cock?” His movements slowed down and you shifted, trying to feel his touch. You didn’t want to admit it but you were already nearing your release just from him rubbing his fingers along your clit. You didn’t respond and Sam removed all contact from your core, just waiting for you to answer him.

“Shit, I want your fingers, please,” You whined pathetically. Sam smiled at you before dipping his hands back into your jeans. He moved your cotton panties to the side and his thumb brushed over your clit. Your back arched slightly and you took your bottom lip in between your teeth. You could feel Sam's fingers run through your folds, collecting your arousal on the tips. He removed his hand once more and wrapped his mouth around his fingers, tasting every little bit of you. He closed his eyes and moaned, swirling his tongue around his digits.

“You taste like honey, babydoll” he groaned and went to stick his hands past the material of your jeans and he huffed.

“These, they need to come off.” He put you back down onto your feet before he sunk onto his knees. He curled his fingers around the belt loops and swiftly pulled your jeans down, helping you step out of them. You were left in your t-shirt and dark green cotton underwear. They were pretty cheeky, but they had just the perfect amount of coverage and the straps were thin on your sides.

Sammy observed you for a moment before planting a kiss on your clothed core. His fingers hooked around the thin straps and pulled them down, throwing them with your jeans. His hand slotted between your legs, causing you to spread them before he dipped his head forward and licked a thick, bold stripe up your center. Your mouth formed into an ‘o’ and your knees felt weak. One of your hands flew to his hair and tugged on his wavy brown tresses.

“Fuck, Sammy I want your fingers, please,” you moaned out. Even though his mouth did feel amazing, you so badly needed some sort of release.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Sam grinned up at you before he entered two fingers into you, curling them upwards. Your knees buckled and you sat your free hand on his shoulder, trying your hardest not to fall. Sam watched your face twist with pleasure for a moment before he attached his mouth to your clit.

“Shit,” you gasped and tugged on his roots again. From the way, his fingers curved in and out of you to the way his tongue flicked and sucked on your clit you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Moans left your lips and you tried not to be too loud even though it didn’t really matter since you were still stuck.

“Do you like that, baby? The way my fingers fuck you?” Sam applied a kiss to your abdomen and you whimpered at his words. You nodded your head but that wasn’t enough for him.

“Words. Use them.” His fingers stilled inside of you and raised a brow waiting for you to say something.

“Fuck, yes Sam, please don’t stop, I’m so close.” You moaned and he picked up his pace again. Sam attacked your clit with his mouth again, sucking on the swollen bundle of nerves trying to get you closer to your climax. Your eyes screwed shut and a loud moan flew past your lips. You could feel yourself clenching around his fingers and that familiar feeling of a rubberband on the verge of snapping in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck, Sammy, I’m cumming,” you moaned and looked down at the explicit scene below you. Sam shook his head and you gave him a slightly confused look.

“Not yet baby, hold out just a little longer for me,” He kissed the front of your thighs and used his free hand to rub quick circles along your clit.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” you moaned and you could feel your legs begin to violently shake. You were on the brink of exploding but the longer you held back, the worse the feeling felt. That pit in your stomach was burning and you just needed a release

“You can and you will. Hang on for me,” Sam added a third finger and your vision was going in and out as more obscenities flew past your lips.

“Sam please, please let me cum. Oh my god, I’ll do anything. Please, I’m begging,” You gasped and you could feel your legs wanting to close but Sam held them open with his elbows, his movements quickening.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Cum for me baby. Look at me or I’ll stop,” he threatened. You looked down at him as you struggled to keep your eyes open. You focused on the boy below you who was destroying you with his fingers. You sunk slightly as your orgasm tore through you. You moaned loudly and bit the back of your hand to try and suppress it. Your eyes screwed shut from the feeling being too overwhelming. Tears brimmed your eyes and you swore you could’ve passed out from the amount of euphoria you were experiencing.

Sam groaned as he rode you through your orgasm. He slowed his pace before his mouth connected with your heat, lapping up every last drop of you. Your legs shook and every time his tongue passed over your clit you couldn’t help but whine from the overstimulation.

“God you are fucking beautiful,” Sam stood up and roughly connected his lips with yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you didn’t even mind, it just made it so much more arousing. Sam placed one hand at the back of your neck while his other hand tangled in your hair and pulled at the roots. Your head tilted back and your mouth opened but no words came out.

“I’ll make you cum again if you let me, just say the word, babydoll.” He whispered into your ear before nipping at your earlobe with his teeth.

“Yes, please,” you whispered. His words sent shivers down your spine and the thought of him making you cum again sent a new wave of heat to your core. He pressed another kiss to your lips, this one a lot gentler than the last.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly.

"Much better," You nodded your head and applied one last chaste kiss to his lips.

As soon as he pulled away the elevator shook and you noticed the numbers starting to go up again. You cursed under your breath and quickly grabbed your jeans, unsure of where your underwear went. You looked around the small space and you were absolutely dumbfounded.

“Looking for these?” San asked, holding them up. Before you could grab them he shoved them into his pocket and you didn’t even know what to say. You quickly slid your legs through the tight jeans and buttoned them. Seconds later the elevator door opened on the forty-fifth floor. There was a mother and her two small children waiting to enter the elevator. She looked at you and Sam with a disgusted look on her face. Sam grabbed your hand and lead you out towards his apartment. You were still slightly out of breath which means your face was probably red and Sam's hair was unruly from you pulling on his locks, but he didn’t even seem to mind.

“Are you hungry?” Sam asked as you followed him down the hall before stopping in front of one of the many doors. He pulled out a key and unlocked the door, allowing you to enter first. You stood directly next to the door, not wanting to overstep any boundaries of some sort.

“I was going to order some Chinese when I got home.” You said, on the quieter side. It was so strange that he had just gone from fingering you and eating you out to acting like nothing even happened and asking if you were hungry.

“Chinese it is.” Sam closed the door and lead you into the living room while he started to call a local Chinese restaurant. Before he could start the call you stopped him.

“I can pay for it,” you offered and he shook his head.

“Let it be my treat, you had a shit day. I told you I wanted to make it better.” He smiled and put the phone up to his ear. His words replayed in your head and you clenched your thighs together at the thought of potentially hooking up with him later.

“Needy are we?” He spoke from behind you and you turned around to see him almost hovering over you. You didn’t even know what to say. You cross your legs and gulp.

“Patience is a virtue, darling.” He smirked and came and sat next to you before turning on the television.

“What if I don’t want to wait that long?” You raised a brow, trying to challenge him.

“Good girls get rewarded.” That was all he said before he stood up once more and made his way over to the kitchen.

“And if they aren’t good?” You question him. All he did was shrug. You didn’t know how to feel about this little game he was playing but it was driving you mad, sexually. You sighed and looked over the back of the couch. He poured some whisky into a glass and held the bottle up to offer you some after he realized you were looking at him. You nodded slightly and he poured you a glass, bringing them over. He sat down on the couch and handed you your glass and sat his hand on your thigh.

Sam's eyes were fixed on the tv while he took small sips from his drink and all you could do was stare at his side profile. You quickly chugged your drink, the bitter taste coating your lips and mouth. You could feel the heat fill your chest and you sat the glass down on the table. Sam looked at you with a confused look before you swung your legs over his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I want you. Now.” You commanded. Sam met your lips as he kissed you hungrily. He leaned forward and slid off his suit jacket, leaving his chest exposed. You placed your hands on his stomach, your fingers toying with the waistband of his suit pants. You breathed heavily through your nose, a quiet whimper escaping as Sam bit your bottom lip.

Sam flipped you over so your back was against the couch and he hovered over top of you, one of his knees slotted between your legs. He pinned your arms above you like he had done previously in the elevator and he bunched up your shirt in his free hand. He trailed kisses from your lips, down your neck, over the swell of your breasts, and across your stomach. He stopped at the waistband of your jeans and unbuttoned them again. He slowly unzipped the zipper, trying to toy with you in any way he could. He slipped his hand passed your jeans, his fingers just barely hovering over your center that was once again dripping with arousal. He put pressure down on your clit before he released from the kiss, looking at your pleasured expression.

“As I said, good girls get rewarded.” He drug his fingers through your arousal and brought his slick fingers to his lips. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and he removed his knee from in between your legs. You layed there, defeated and out of breath with your core throbbing. He answered the door and you heard the rustling of bags when he reappeared with the food. You weren’t even hungry anymore.

“Hungry?” That was all he asked before he started taking food out of the bags as if nothing had even happened. All you could do was stare at him in disbelief.

You weren’t even hungry anymore.

***

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Tag list: @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordierama @greta-van-chaos

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theintelligenceoflove · 10 months

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Love Isn’t Greed; a Sam One Shot

Summary: You (mreader) and Sam have been togeather for a couple years. You Think everything is going well until Sam sits you down to have a conversation, a conversation that feels very much like a break up. OR the one were I make Sammy Nonbinary bc this is FICTION it’s FICTIONAL!

Pairing: Sam/MReader

Warnings: none

A/N: This fic is for my tiny following of non-cis GVF fans I’ve amassed in the last few days but specifically for @puzzle-gvf for taking me in and being a friend.

If you don’t think gay men can date/have relationships with non-men without having to change their identity you don’t know gay history and I, as someone who is about to defend his MA thesis about gay men am here to tell you you’re wrong.

You hadn't seen Sam this nervous since sitting you down and talking about the reality of being in a relationship with a closeted rockstar. Sam kept pushing hair back and shaking it back down, more restless than you'd ever seen Sam.

"Babe?" You asked; this wasn't unlike how Sam had acted before that other hard discussion. Sam had sat you down and drank almost an entire cup of coffee before finally launching into a monologue about how it would suck hiding, but it would be worth it. Thankfully the two of you wouldn't have to do anything groundbreaking; Sam's oldest brother Josh and his partner Randy had written the blueprint. All the two of you had to do was follow it.

"Sammy," you said when Sam hadn't responded yet, "what's wrong?" slowly, thoughts of the worst crept in. Although it had been hard, Sam had finally decided it was too hard and was done trying. The relationship, the stress of keeping it private, was too much, and Sam wanted out.

"I like it when you call me that," it was the first thing Sam had said since asking you to sit down as soon as you went home. Home, it was Sam's house; you had an apartment not too far away. But you spent most of your time here with Sam, the dogs. You had a toothbrush on the bathroom counter and the two bottom drawers of Sam's dresser. You had left books and records and all kinds of things here. It was home; you didn't know what you would do if Sam was gearing up to tell you you were no longer welcome.

“You hate being called Sammy.” You said but were met with a head shake from Sam.

"Not when you say it," You smiled; it was slowly feeling less and less like you were getting broken up with. Still, Sam didn't stop looking so nervous.

“Do you need a hair tie?” You asked as Sam huffed as hair fell down out of the twist.

“I need a cigarette.” Sam said not watching you wrinkle your nose. You hated that Sam smoked but had long ago decided that there were worse drugs for rock stars to be doing.

"I don't have a cigarette but I do have-" You held up your dab pen but were met with another head shake.

"No after if- if you're still here we can smoke I've got-" Sam huffed, and now you were twice as confused, not sure what Sam could possibly tell you that would have you leave. Only for a moment as fear settled in your stomach. Rock stars had access to all kinds of drugs, but they also had a near-unlimited supply of casual sex. You had never been jealous of fans, or the attention they got, knowing Sam was always coming home to you, but suddenly, it wasn't the fans, not the real fans, it was the other ones, the groupies always following Sam, more than even you could, that came to mind.

Sam, however, didn't offer anything. Leaving you spiraling, when you had taken a couple quick breaths and still Sam hadn't said anything, you stuttered out, "Sammy did you-" but you weren't sure how to ask if the love of your life had cheated.

"Did I-" Sam's brow furrowed before a shocked look crossed Sam's face. "I didn't cheat y/n, I wouldn't."

You nodded, relief flooding your body. You didn't need to hear anything else. You trusted Sam more than anyone else in your life. You trusted that you would be told if Sam had cheated, so all you needed was to be told there hadn’t been cheating.

“So you didn’t cheat, I don’t think you’re breaking up with me, so-”

“No, jesus christ y/n why would you think I was breaking up with you?” Sam looked less nervous just then, more shocked than anything else.

"Well," You started, fears being relieved even more as Sam reached across and held your hand. "You sit me down as soon as I get here and tell me you have something to say. You look more nervous than I've ever seen you; even when we started this journey together, you weren't this nervous. So unless-" You suddenly felt cold as Sam squeezed your hand.

“Unless someone found out.” Again a head shake from Sam.

"No, I think if that happened, the whole band would be here. If that happened, I'd need my brothers; Josh would know what to do." You nodded, not surprised that Sam relied so heavily on Josh in this and all other matters. The youngest had always looked up to Josh more than the others. You'd thought about that often, what would happen if someone had seen you two. It might be a weight off your shoulders; you and Sam could be public, and Josh and Randy would likely follow. How much easier it would be if it was Josh and Randy forging the path for Sam and you. But no matter how much easier you thought that might be, you couldn't imagine the strain it would put Sam under; no matter how much you wished to hold Sam's hand walking down the street, you didn't wish for that to happen.

"Then what's wrong, babe?" You asked; it was your turn to squeeze Sam's hand, your other hand coming up to cup Sam's hand in both of yours.

"Being a gay man is so important to you," Sam said, voice cracking. This was true; half of the conversation at the official beginning of your and Sam's relationship was the difficulty of you returning to the closet, at least a little. You had never once hidden your sexuality, fighting too hard to be seen and seen as equal. It was occasionally a sore spot; you couldn't understand what kept Sam in the closet. There were plenty of gay musicians, hell, Freddie Mercury had done it in the 70s and 80s, and Elton John was still doing it. Only once did you ever storm out of Sam's house in anger, and it had been after shouting those exact things at your partner.

"Yes?" You dared not get your hopes up that maybe, just maybe, Sam was thinking about going public. Josh would know what to do, you thought; Sam would never make that decision without Josh right there as well.

"What if-" Sam's hand was clammy between yours. All the nerves were back, and you still couldn't imagine what Sam might say. You didn't know how much longer you could handle this before you told Sam to say what needed to be said. "What if you weren't in a relationship with a man."

You blinked at Sam momentarily, your hands tightening on Sam's. You watched as Sam tried not to show any emotion, but you saw, as Sam blinked, a tear forming. "If I wasn't-" You breathed and thought about how far you and Sam had come.

Your little local band had gotten a spot at a rock festival a couple years ago, one that Sam's band was headlining. You didn't really think you'd get to meet Greta Van Fleet, worried they would think your band was stealing their gig, being an old rock-style band. Granted, you and your band were trying for a more southern rock sound than the hard-hitting rock that Greta had. Sam had been interested, though, and had sought you and your band out after the show. And that was the beginning of a relationship you could have never dreamed up. It had been hard; Sam wanted you to give more time to your music and thought you and your band could be bigger and better if you applied yourself more. It didn't help to point out that Sam had spent the important early years of Greta living with parents who paid rent and fed them. You and your band had no such luxury though you had become popular locally, had hired an agent, you all still had other jobs, and the band hardly paid for itself. But still, Sam supported you, even as Greta also needed attention.

"Would I still-" You took a breath, thinking about what you wanted to say. At first, you thought maybe Sam was breaking up with you, as if Sam thought your not being in a relationship meant you stopped being gay. But that was silly, and Sam had already said this wasn't a breakup. Your heart was beating wildly as you took another breath.

When you met Sam, there had been a softness; at first, you thought it was the hair. You'd lovingly called the mess of shoulder-length waves "glen frey" hair. But there had always been something else to the softness, the way Sam would sit, the daintiness that neither Jake nor Josh had despite similar body types.

You caught Sam's eyes; there were tears now. So you pulled yourself out of your thoughts; you took the hand that had been on the top of Sam's and reached forward, wiping away a tear.

"I love you more than anything Sammy, I don't need you to be a man for that." You said; a sob ripped itself out of Sam's chest. You wished you weren't at the table, that Sam had sat the two of you on the couch so you could pull this beautiful human into your arms. Instead of that, you stood up, never letting go of Sam's hand. You walked around the table and pulled Sam up into your arms.

"Shhh, shhh." you wrapped your arms around Sam as the sobs kept coming, Sam's face pressed into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You ran your hand through Sam's hair; though you had been given no verbal confirmation, you were sure you were right, at least in part. You couldn't know exactly, not until Sam calmed down enough to tell you, but it didn't matter right now.

“Come on Sammy.” You pulled back a little, pushing a stray strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. “Lets go sit on the couch.”

Wordlessly, Sam nodded, so you took Sam's hand and walked from the kitchen table to the living room couch, pulling Sam into your lap.

"I love you so much Sammy." you said as Sam wrapped arms and legs around you. Again Sam's face was in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so you kissed Sam's temple. "It was never for your gender; it was your heart, your mind, and-" You tipped Sam's head up by Sam's chin, smiling down, "you are the hottest in the band.” Sam smiled at that.

"I love the way you care about your family, the way you look up to Josh is, it makes me wish I had been a better older brother for my younger siblings. I love the way you care about your music, and how you genuinely think your music might help make the world a better place." You leaned down, kissing Sam, soft and sweet.

"I love you y/n," Sam said, voice shaky. "I don't- I don't know where to start."

You took Sam's face in your hands. "Where ever you want Sammy, it's okay, I'm right here, not going anywhere," you promised.

You had about a million questions, just related to Sam; none of them even began to touch what this meant for you; Sam was right. Being a gay man did mean a lot to you; it was maybe the most important identity you held, even more than being a musician. But here, the person in your arms was as important. Reckoning those two things would happen. You could not imagine a world where they clashed so hard you had to choose one over the other.

"Josh knows," Sam said, having wiggled out of your hold. Sam was sitting across from you, staring at where your knees were touching. "I told him last year. I'm sorry I didn't-"

"No, shh." You reached out where Sam was picking a loose thread on the couch, covering nervous hands. "Don't be sorry about that." Sam nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I told Josh and he- I think he suspected for a while, but. I told Jake and Danny and they were- well of course Danny was okay with it, and I didn’t think Jake wouldn’t be okay with it it was just-” Sam trailed off. You didn’t say anything this time, letting Sam organize what needed to be said.

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” Sam held a finger up to your lips when you went to interrupt and say it was okay. “I’m not apologizing, I'm telling it so we can get to your questions.” You smiled and kissed Sam’s finger loving the blush that spread across Sam’s cheeks.

"I didn't mean to keep it from you, I was scared, and then." Sam smiled. "And then Randy told me I should break up with you because you kept misgendering me. When I told him that I hadn't told you yet, he told me if I was that worried about your reaction I should break up with you and I realized he was right."

You felt, not for the first time, your stomach drop. Sam must have realized what had been said, speaking so quickly it was hard to understand.

“So I told you.” Sam finally said so you could understand. “I realized that Randy was right. I should decide if your reaction was so scary that I couldn’t tell you and I decided it wasn’t. You’ve always been kind about Danny’s partner, never once misgendering them, hell, your fucking drummer is a transman and you talk about being queer as much as being gay so I just-” Sam took a breath that wavered at the end, like crying was on the horizon.

"I want to use they/them pronouns." Sam said, their eyes closed tight. "Sometimes I think about using other pronouns, I've tried some others I- Once Josh used 'she' for me and I-" Sam's voice wavered and cracked.

“I’m not a woman y/n I swear I just-”

"I did drag in college." you said, "Nellie Young, I wasn't very good" Sam looked at you, unsure where you were going. "I used she/her pronouns in drag, and I know for me it's not the same, but I hung out with a lot of drag queens, and some of them are men, some of them aren't men, most of them use she/her some of them don't."

Sam nodded, biting their cuticle, nervous, but at least they knew where you were going. "Sammy, if you told me you were a woman," You took a deep breath, "I would have a lot of reevaluating to do, but I know my queer history, I know that gay men have always fucked around with gender, and they have always fucked around with people who fuck around with gender and it never once made them less gay."

Sam smiled, the first real, un-nervous smile all night, so you took their hand in yours so they stopped biting at their nails, kissing their hand before holding it over your heart. "I love you, Sammy."

“I love you too y/n.” Sam said, looking relaxed. “I liked when Josh used ‘she’ but I didn’t know- I’m not a woman, but I’m not a man, I like nonbinary it’s a kind of freedom to be whatever I want.”

You nodded, urging Sam on. “I really like my name, I love when you call me Sammy.” You grinned, pushing hair back behind Sam’s ears.

"So," You said, loving how relaxed and happy Sam looked; you had no idea how you had never realized the weight she was carrying keeping this from you. "Sammy, my partner who uses they/she pronouns." You watched Sam grin.

"I already call you beautiful," you said, loving the way Sam blushed. "But how do you feel about handsome?" Sam wrinkled their nose, so you nodded, you could only think of one time you'd ever called Sam handsome, and you'd both thought it was so out of place you'd started laughing uncontrollably.

“I like all the pet names you use.” Sam offered, and you nodded. Sam’s finger came back up to her mouth as she thought. You carefully pulled their hand away as they smiled shyly. “I think that’s it.”

"If you think of anything else, we can talk about it then." You promised, putting your hands on Sam's hips and dragging them into your lap before you leaned forward and kissed them. The kiss said more than you could probably say with your words. I love you. I support you. I'll always be there. You knew this would change things. Likely in ways you never could imagine. But, as you settled back into the couch, the weight of Sam on top of you, you knew it would be for the best and would bring the two of you closer together.

#sam kiszka fanfiction #Samuel Kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fan fiction #samuel kiszka fan fiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #sam kiszka #samuel kiszka #Greta Van Fleet

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basiccortez · 2 years

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Me and Your Ghost ➢word count: 4.5k ➢warnings: smut, mentions of suicide, unhealthy coping habits, mentions of past character death, excessive drinking, hacking ➢ || Ghost masterlist || S&S masterlist || playlist ||

THIS IS AN AU. A complete work of fiction. Nothing in here is a reflection of how the boys act or how they are. It is purely an act of fiction.

“Fuck christ- you feel so good!” The brunette, who he had yet to learn the name of, moaned as he fucked her against the door of his private room.

He took a swig from his bottle of tequila, pressing his fingers to either side of her jaw and squeezing. She took the hint, opening her mouth and taking as much as she could of the tequila he spit into her mouth. She swallowed whatever landed between her lips, the rest spilling down her chin.

Sam realized the bottle was empty the second he went to take another swig, and groaned in frustration. He pulled out of the girl, and tucked himself back into his jeans, moving her to sit on the couch before heading for the door. He turned back for a moment, muttering an order for her to stay where she was before closing the door behind himself.

He made his way to the bar, tapping on the bottle as he reached the bar, signalling the bartender to replace his empty bottle with a fresh one. Most if not all the bartenders at the club had caught on to Sam’s antics these past years that they knew all the cues from him. The two switched bottles, nodding at each other before Sam turned around, bumping into a short redhead, his eyes immediately drinking her in as she apologized for not watching where she was going.

Within minutes Sam was leading her back to his private room. He took a long pull of the tequila as the girls eyed each other from across the room, and he ignored them both, sitting down on the couch and shimmying his pants down just enough for him to pull his still hard cock out before spreading his legs. He turned to the girl he had previously been fucking against the door, “Suck.”

She blushed a deep crimson before moving to kneel in between his knees and took his dick in her mouth, her tongue circling the tip. Sam sucked in a harsh breath, one of his hands gathering her hair to hold it back from her face.

“Good girl,” Sam muttered and then looked over at the redhead he had pulled in from the bar. He lifted his finger, motioning for her to come closer. Once she was in reach, he lifted his hand to wrap around her throat, pulling her down far enough to whisper in her ear, “Ride my thigh for me won’t you sweetheart.”

Six years ago, Cambridge MA…

Sam sighed, taking in the familiar sight of the busy college campus. He had been counting down the days until he could come back to Cambridge. He missed the crisp, sweet smelling fall air. Even though he had only spent a year here, Cambridge felt more like home than Nashville ever could. Danny’s eyes were elsewhere, falling on the young freshman girls that walked past them. Each of them would shyly look at him, and Danny would send them a smirk, making them giggle and blush.

“Don’t you just love fall semester?” Sam said, “The trees changing, the cool air-”

“The fresh girls,” Danny cut him off. Sam rolled his eyes, “Hey, not all of us are super nerds, okay. We need a little extra. . . one on one.”

“I’m excited for the girls too, but I’m excited about being away from everything,” Sam sighed, running his hands through his long hair.

The stress of the family business had hit him hard this past summer. After having that taste of normalcy being able to go to college, Sam had longed for the day his parents would drop him off in Cambridge, however, he didn’t expect the near assassination of his parents to happen right in front of his eyes. His parents almost forbid him from going back to MIT, primarily for his own safety. But Sam had threatened to hurt himself if he didn’t. Mrs. Kiszka couldn’t bear to look at the pain in her son’s face as he held the gun to his head. They reluctantly agreed to let him go back, only if Daniel went with him.

Sam wasn’t sure what time he had gotten home, or how he had gotten home for that matter. All he knew was that it was late, and he was drunk. It had been Sam’s recurring theme for the past three years; wake up late, stare at the computer screen, go to the club, get drunk and fuck someone. Except Sam had forgotten that he usually ended up crying or throwing up on himself in the middle of all that. Danny was the one who always made sure Sam had gotten home safely and was asleep on his side when he was too far gone to care about himself.

Sam had somehow managed to get himself home safe and sound. Danny had only woken up when he heard the loud giggles and Sam was trying to shush the females he had brought home with him. Danny wasn’t surprised when he walked into Sam’s bedroom the next morning, seeing him shirtless with two naked girls on either side of him. Danny walked right over to the curtains, pulling them open, letting the sunlight hit all three drunk humans.

“Ah, what the fuck, Daniel,” Sam groaned, covering his eyes with his hand.

“You’ve got work to do,” Danny said, and looked at the two girls in his bed, “Get the fuck out.”

“You can’t talk to us like that,” One of the girl’s said to Danny. Danny looked her up and down, staring at her naked body, and then looked at Sam.

“Since when are you into plastic surgery and fake tits?”

“Hey!” She scoffed, feeling offended by his words, “You gonna let him talk about us like that?”

Sam looked at his best friend and then to the girls on either side of him, “You heard him, get the fuck out.”

Both the girls mumbled under their breaths as they gathered their clothes and walked out of Sam’s room, slamming the door shut. Danny waited a second before speaking up, looking over to see his best friend already laying back down, his head underneath his pillow. Danny rolled his eyes, and walked over, grabbing the pillow.

“Dude, what the fuck!”

“No, you what the fuck! I thought you were done with this . . . playboy party shit?”

“I agreed to stop day drinking, I never said I was gonna stop partying.” Sam mumbled, “We all grieve differently, okay. Josh buries himself in work, you bury knives in people’s chests, and I bury my cock into whores.”

Danny crossed his arms over his chest, “We’ve talked about this Sam, it’s been three-”

“I fucking know how long it’s been!” Sam yelled, and ran his hands through his hair, “It’s been three years since Jake, but six years since her. I just. . . I need more time.”

Danny frowned looking at his friend. A lot has changed in Sam over the past six years, not only physically but emotionally as well. Sam wasn’t the same baby faced, long flowy hair, care free person he once was. Sam’s smile wasn’t as bright as it used to be, and his eyes didn’t get that twinkle anymore. His eyes were cold and dark, much like Jake’s were before he found the love of his life. Sam had gone into survival mode, numbing himself with drugs and alcohol so he didn’t have to face the monsters of the day. The second the buzz was gone, the moment everything around him came flooding back in. Danny knew people healed in different ways and it wasn’t always linear, but he was tired of watching his friend destroy himself.

“Well, burying yourself in a new whore every night isn’t going to help you heal. If anything it’ll probably just give you gonorrhea.” Danny sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, “Get yourself cleaned up. Josh wants to meet with us about something. Be in the office in half an hour.”

Sam nodded and watched as his best friend left his bedroom. Sam flopped back down on his bed and looked over at his bedside table. The picture of him, Danny, and the woman he loved sat on his bedside table. Sam picked up the frame and gently ran his fingers over the dusty glass. Her smile looked just as bright and warm in pictures as it did in real life. Sam looked at himself in the reflection in the glass, and frowned, setting it back down on the table, and pulling himself out of bed.

Six Years ago, Ireland…

Y/N followed her father and brother through the hallway, interrupting any chance the two of them had of starting up a conversation, even going as far as wriggling her way between the two of them as they walked into her fathers office. Galen was growing annoyed by her constant interruptions, almost as if she had tattooed the words to the college brochure on her eyelids. She was much like her mother in this way, pushing and pushing until she got her way.

“Please dad! I can’t keep doing school online, I want the full experience. I want to go to class, hang out in the library to do my homework,” She slumped onto the chair across from him at his desk, “I want to make friends.”

Galen watched as his daughter impatiently waited for his response, picking at her nails as she held her laptop over her legs. He knew she probably already had the dorm room application open, as well as everything else she could use as a bargaining chip to convince him to let her go, but the look on her was enough for him to cave, as per usual when it came to his precious little girl.

She was always his soft spot, his kryptonite, which was part of the reason he didn’t want her going across the ocean. Not many outside of their family knew she existed for the simple reason that she could be used against Galen so easily. The moment she was placed in his arms twenty some years ago, he knew there wasn’t a single thing in the world he wouldn’t do to make her smile. It had terrified Galen how easily he was willing to lie down and take a bullet for her, but if it meant not seeing her in pain, it was worth it.

“Fine,” He sighed, watching as her eyes immediately lit up, “but Cillian is going with you to move you into your dorm.”

Her grin was wider than he had ever seen it, her head nodded ferociously as her gaze flipped between her father and her brother, “Deal!”

“And you have to bring two guards of my choosing.”

“So I need to call… everybody apparently,” Josh mumbled, shuffling around the papers on the dining room table, once again on whether to hire live entertainment, or to just have a playlist. He was exhausted, overworking himself in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the overwhelming emotions that had plagued his life in the past few years. He was in charge now, he had to be strong for his family, for his business, for himself, or he would crumble, and he would not recover.

It was times like these he wished he still had Jake around, to ask him for advice, for his guidance on what he should do. Even though Josh had handled the promotional side of the business for years, it was always nice to have someone to decide on final things for him. Josh also missed Jake’s wife, knowing that all of this would’ve been done and handled if she was still here. She always ran a tight ship, knowing exactly what needed to be done and when and how much it was going to cost. Josh had been struggling to get the speakeasy open that she had been working on before her untimely death.

This ball Josh had been planning was something Jake actually had in the works years before when he was set to marry the Santiago daughter. He knew that he would need to do something to bring all the mafia members together and do a show of dominance, making it known that the Kiszkas were untouchable now. Josh had been putting it off for awhile, trying to get a handle on the day to day things before he took on a task like this. But his father was pushing him to do something. They were sitting idle, not in danger but not comfortable either. It was time for them to show the mafia world that the Kiszkas hadn’t died with Jake that day, that they were still there and alive.

Danny wandered into the room with a stack of files, immediately laying his eyes on Josh, who looked like he was about to punch a hole in the wall. Danny had moved from just being head of security to also helping out with promotional duties. Sam was no less than useless at this point in time, so the Kiszka mafia really fell onto Josh and Danny’s shoulders. Danny walked over to where Josh was standing, peeking down at the messily written notes in front of him.

“I think we should do live music, better atmosphere.” Danny said with a shrug, earning a sigh from Josh, who quickly picked up his pencil and crossed out the playlist option, “Preferably strings. You know those old time mafia men are going to want something classical being played while they drink their whisky from the 1800s.”

“Thanks Dan.” Josh muttered, sliding his chair out from the table and turned to face Danny.

“I saw these on the ‘to do’ pile, figured I could find some of these fuckers to send invites too. I’m not as savvy with the whole tech shit like Sam is, but I can do what I can. We should probably start sending them out if we want replies before the fundraiser happens,” He said with a chuckle, handing the folders and a small pile of invites to Josh, who cracked a small smile.

“I’ll get Sam to do the rest of it, he needs to do something besides stare at the security footage and sleep. Besides, it’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack with some of them,” Josh said, standing from his chair and stretching away the ache that had settled deep in his bones from sitting for too long.

“Or going to the club, sometimes it’s like he spends more time there than he does at home. Not sure when the last time he’s detoxed either,” Danny agreed, Sam’s habits as of late were a bigger issue than anyone wanted to admit. He had shut himself off from everyone, the only emotion he openly shared was lust, and that was reserved for the ‘catch of the night’ as Danny had begun to call them. He drank till he was numb, and ruminated in it until Danny or Josh forced him to go home, take a shower, and go to sleep.

If he wasn’t at the club, he was burrowed in his office, all the lights turned off as he sat in his chair, wrapped in a robe that Josh and Danny were convinced he hadn’t cleaned since the first time he put it on after Jake's death. He just sat and watched the security footage of the mansion, looking for ghosts that weren’t there, threats that lurked in the dark, but there were none. The Kiszkas had basically been silent since they buried the two lovers three years ago.

Since the shift in power from both the Kiszkas and the Santiagos, nothing had really happened on either side of the world. It was like everyone was waiting for the moment either one of them would fall. The Santiagos were admired for their strength, Paulo was praised for how well he handled taking over the family when Rafael stepped down. Josh had also received praise for stepping up and successfully completing the gun deal with Paulo. The Kiszka and Santiago mafias were now one of the biggest and most powerful families in the world, but they sat in silence, reeling from the deaths that brought them their power.

Josh walked into the office first, taking in the sight of his little brother passed out with his head resting on his desk. He shook his head as he continued on walking to the kitchen. He smiled at Emile as she was already brewing a pot of coffee and making the extremely hungover boy something to eat. Josh had been thankful that Emile decided to stay around after everything. Their mother couldn’t handle staying in the states for very long after they buried Jake. Sam needed the love of a mother, but Mrs. Kiszka was simply incapable of doing that. Instead, Emile stepped up, washing the vomit off his clothes, and picking him up from his own puddle of urine. She loved him like a son, and it showed in the way she was putting up with his antics. She knew that his heart was broken, she had seen this happen before.

Danny looked again at the list of names Josh had scribbled down. Most of them didn’t sound familiar, being Mafia families from around the US, Europe and South America. One name in particular stood out to him, as his breath caught in his throat. He ran his fingers across the dried ink, looking around the office, before folding the file and walking briskly out of the room. Danny ran up to his room, and shut the door, locking it. He sat on his bed, and pulled the file open. He picked up the black and white mugshot in his hand, her smile was still bright and warm even in a picture.

“That fucking clover. . .”

Y/N’s eyes were wide as she took in the sight of the buildings around her, so vastly different from the large open fields she was used to. This would be the first time she had gone to the states without her father by her side. The first time she would be able to explore by herself. Usually coming to the States was strictly for business, and she didn’t dare go anywhere that wasn’t with her father or a handful of guards by her side. She was so zoned out that she didn’t even realize the car had stopped, only refocassing when Cillian blocked the view from her window, opening the door for her.

She took the hand he had outstretched for her, sliding out of the car and taking a step forward, once again looking around at the buildings, and the students bustling around the dorm buildings, many doing the very same thing she was there to do. She could also spot the guards that were around, trying hard to blend into the surroundings, but was useless against her watchful eye. She rolled her eyes before grabbing her purse and putting it on her shoulder.

Cillian watched as she gawked at the sheer amount of people around her, until her gaze locked on a tall brunette standing across the quad with someone he could only assume was his friend. It was now Cillian’s turn to roll his eyes at his little sister, watching as the brunette man sent her a smile and she turned almost as red as her hair.

Cillian walked up to his little sister, snapping his fingers in front of her face a couple times, “You’re here for an education, not to have fun.” His tone pulled her attention back to him, noting the way he attempted to remain hard in the face, despite the mild taunting undertone in his statement.

She watched as Cillian turned back to the car, reaching into the trunk, “Is there a reason I can’t do both?” She had a smug smirk on her face as Cillian pulled a bag from the trunk, tossing it at her, “Besides… only the good die young, right?”

Her eyes drifted back to the tall boy across the quad, and much to her surprise, she caught his gaze. A blush crept over her cheeks, causing him to smile as she bowed her head to look at the man that was helping her unpack the trunk.

Danny had followed his friend’s gaze, seeing him smile shyly at his shoes, before peering back up at the girl who was talking to a boy next to her. Sam was determined at that moment to get to know her. He put the pamphlet back down on the table and fixed his flannel, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by Danny’s hand on his chest. Sam scoffed and looked at his friend who just shook his head.

“You know Sam,” Danny said, pulling Sam from his daze, “there are better looking women than a redhead. You know what they say about them right?”

Sam’s eyes were straining as he watched the bright computer screens in his dark office. After Jake’s death, Josh had moved into his office, leaving Sam alone in the other one. Danny hardly had a need for an office, so he rarely came into Sam’s. Sam had monitors set up all around him with various camera shots from different locations throughout the city and even the world. With just a simple click of a key Sam could look at the stock houses in Argentina, or the clubs in Paris, or the old mills in Kansas.

Sam looked over his shoulder, before hitting a key and turning all the cameras to various areas of the MIT campus. He would occasionally flip the screens to look over the areas he once roamed in search for that familiar red hair and green eyes. He’d recognize her anywhere if she would just show her pretty face. Instead, it was just random college students milling around, drinking in the front yard of Frat Houses, running naked across central campus.

“You know, in most law cases this would be considered stalking,” Josh said leaning up against the door. Sam quickly shut the screens down and went back to looking at Kiszka Enterprises property, “Don’t need to hide from me, baby brother. I know you’ve been watching that campus for years. Wouldn’t she have graduated by now?”

“Not if she's working on her masters. . .” Sam mumbled, “She said she wanted to get her doctorate in computer programming. So she’d still be there. . . if she’s even alive.”

Josh sighed and sat down in a chair across from Sam. No one had really ever talked about how this life affected Sam. Sam was the baby of the family, the most sheltered from everything and he liked that. Josh had slowly seen the bright light slip from his brother’s eyes over the past couple years. Nothing made him smile, nothing made him happy. He was obsessive over finding this old ghost, and it had only gotten worse since Jake’s passing. Jake could keep Sam busy enough so that he didn’t have time to sit and stare at security footage all day, but Josh was a different leader than Jake.

“I think she’s still alive,” Josh said.

“What makes you say that?” Sam asked him.

“Don’t you think if a student showed up dead on MIT’s campus, it would’ve been a headline somewhere? You would’ve seen it Sam, you would know.”

“Okay, and if she is alive. . . she might not even remember me. I mean, I was there one day and being dragged onto a plane, drugged out of my mind, the next,” Sam explained. Josh could remember that because he was the one that pressed the needle with anesthetic into his brother’s neck so they could get him on the plane back to Nashville easier.

“I’m sorry I did that Sam,” Josh said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Sam just shrugged in acknowledgment, “You two were pulled apart Sam, that doesn’t mean she just forgot about you, she probably did the same thing as you for a long time.” Josh stood from his chair, walking towards the door of Sam’s office before turning his head back to his little brother, “Who knows, maybe she’s been watching you this entire time and you’ve just been to blind to see it.”

Sam rolled his eyes, letting out a small scoff at the implication, “I highly doubt that.”

“Do me a favor, find these old bastards,” Josh said, tossing down a list of names in front of him.

Sam nodded and Josh patted his shoulder on his way out, shutting the door behind him and leaving Sam once again in the darkness of his office, the only light coming from the monitors. He fell back into his usual activity, staring at the screens, flipping through security feed, which now included the feed for the fundraiser location. Sam turned to one of his screens, pulling open an old coding document that he had been working on as far back as when he was at MIT. He started it just before the start of his third year in school.

He skimmed through it, easily identifying lines that he had written, and finding spots where she had taken over, correcting his errors, or making improvements to the code he had already written. By the time he reached the last few lines of code, he noticed his mouse twitching, scrolling back up without his input.

It was only after he stopped trying to fight with his mouse, that his eyes caught the inconsistency on the screen. Sam had opened the document since his time in MIT, but he never really added much, and what he did add was without fault, a conscious improvement to the work he had started years prior, but there was one line that stuck out from the rest, a simple line of code placed in exactly the wrong spot. His hand touched the mouse once again, hovering over the line.

Then it all blacked out.

His room was flooded in darkness for a split second before being engulfed in a dull green light, the code suddenly spreading over every monitor he owned, and at the end, he watched as the line of code corrected itself. Sam’s jaw dropped as he looked around his office, his mind freezing for a split second. He had never had a breach in his security like this, he wasn’t even sure what to really do. Instead, he stared at the caret as it blinked for a few seconds before dropping to a new line.

[I’ve been waiting years for you to notice that error ☘]

Sam frantically reached for his keyboard, but by the time his fingers brushed the keys, his screen blacked out once again, coming back as the security footage he had pulled up beforehand. He opened the document once again, seeing the corrected line, but no additional text, and no evidence on his computer that anyone else had access to his system. Sam took a couple deep breaths, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

Someone or something had breached his system, and there was only one thing on his mind. Sam shut down his systems, leaning back in his chair, watching as everything shut down. He looked around his office, his brown eyes landing on the half bottle of tequila on his desk. He stood up, and picked up the bottle, dropping it in the trash before walking out of his office.

Note: blame it on the vibes, or whatever or the fact that I have finally finished this fucking series. but its back and if you saw me post this before. . . you didn't. but let me get one hate anon/hate post, ONE, and this will be taken down. I have a ZERO TOLERANCE for hate

taglist: @myownparadise96 @gretavanbitches @jakeyboiiiiiii @mywaygvf @maverick-rose @oldermensimp @baguettejuliette @josh-iamyour-mama @weightofdreamz @gabs-gvf @callmebymym @st4rdust-ch0rds @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @caravelsparrow @kissthekiszka @allieboop @strugglingtodoshit @peacfulfuckinarmy @tlexx

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#greta van fleet #Greta Van Fleet imagine #Greta Van Fleet fan fic #Greta Van Fleet fan fiction #gvf fan fic #gvf fan fiction #gvf imagine #sam kiszka #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiszka imagine #sam kiszka fan fic #sam kiszka fan fiction #sam Kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x oc #mafia!sam kiszka #sam gvf

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littlemisslipbalm · 2 years

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A billion light years from here

A Homesick Alien Josh Kiszka AU

A special thanks to @ofthecaravel without you none of this would have been possible. My brain couldn't have expanded upon Josh potentially being an alien without you lol. More installments to come, potentially. There's just so much evidence to suggest the Kiszkas are aliens...Also I'm so soft for homesick alien josh you guys !!!

gif credit to @edgeofgreta (not sure if shes still on here but I found this on pinterest and saw the bottom right and wanted to tag!)

Word Count: 3.1k | Warnings: swearing, brothers being brothers, idk alien stuff, sci-fi inaccuracies, mythology/constellation alien names, dw about it i think... no reader just bros vibing

Enjoy! and as always pls reblog and let me know what you think

Josh and his brothers had been on Earth for a long time now. Assimilating had been relatively easy for Sam and Jake. They loved this planet, especially compared to their home. Josh wasn’t sure he agreed with his brothers.

He missed the high mountains with crystals that swirled around their tops. He missed the beach with its silver water lapping at his toes. He missed the stars he could see so clearly from his home planet. Ones that didn’t even appear in the Earth’s night sky. He missed his cosmos and the vibrations of the matter on his planet. He missed its rings that were perfect for skating on top of. He missed being understood.

No terrestrial language could encompass some of his thoughts. He always attempted to be understood here but found that he ended up confusing more people. It’s why it stung when people said they couldn’t understand what he was saying in their songs. It was the closest he could get to explaining what it felt like when he was home.

On Earth, he’d often find himself sitting on beaches and tops of mountains, attempting to replicate the locations he found comfort in on his home planet. His toes resting in sand or tall grass. His eyes cast upon the night sky, searching in his mind the image of his home, a billion light years from here. He longed for the familiarity of his home, as welcoming as Earth had been.

He loved that his brothers had found solace on this planet. It had taken them a long time to settle on Earth. But Sam had been insistent and like the youngest sibling he was, he managed to win over his brothers.

Frankenmuth was chosen due to its easy accessibility with their spaceship. The woods were a great place to hide it. The weather in the Midwest also was the closest to their home planet’s climate. Cold. Certainly not as cold as the home planet, but they wanted to go where people were on the Earth. English had also been the easiest language for them to learn. Josh just always had trouble perfecting his midwestern accent, always sounding a little different than the rest. Sam’s was perfect. Jake had watched a few to many western cowboy movies in preparation making his voice raspier.

In their terrestrial youth, Jake had quickly learned about the existence of the guitar and found it endlessly entertaining. He enjoyed making music so much that he preferred to occupy his time with playing rather than interacting with humans. Sam just liked the earthly pleasures, he liked that he could do whatever he pleased when he pleased. It also helped that he found humans so fun to play with, either judging them to be worthy of his time or finding them amusing for their stupidity.

When he had met Daniel, he had quickly brought him home and told his brothers that he had found a ‘human pet.’ The twins were quick to correct Sam and tell him that you were supposed to call them ‘best friends.’ Sam had nodded and Danny had smiled nervously before laughing hysterically when Sam explained that he had only been confused since they were all aliens and ‘best friend’ wasn’t a term in their native language. After years of trying to explain to Daniel that they were serious, the Kiszkas gave up and just laughed along with him when they mentioned alien matters.

When Jake decided to start the band, the rest of the brothers agreed to make him happy. Family was everything to them. When the band took off, Josh was happy he got to dress up because he could make his stage outfits resemble their home planet's clothes. Growing up on Earth had been confusing for Josh for a multitude of reasons, but he never really got a handle on their fashion and had trouble with dressing himself. Eventually he grew content to have his daily wardrobe consist of five articles of clothing with multiple replicas of them. He found most comfort in the white t-shirt, khakis and yellow jacket combination. The only time he felt truly like himself was on stage in the jumpsuits. His body swaddled like the planet’s clothes. Safe and secure and sparkly with stardust. Except Earth didn’t have stardust, just sequins and rhinestones. He made do.

With many of his clothes he also added the insignia of what essentially was their family crest from the home planet. The triangle with lines through it. It calmed him to be surrounded by the symbol, reminding him that he was a part of something greater than himself.

Still, the ways he attempted to mute his homesickness were not quite enough. He hadn’t been home in almost 27 Earth years. Sam was lucky, he thought, he had been too young to go first, making Jake and Josh journey there first and then have Sam be sent to them. It meant he had been at home more recently than his older brothers.

An Earth week before the anniversary of Jake and Josh’s arrival on the planet, Josh decided to ask his brothers for something he had been thinking about for a while. A way to placate his homesickness.

“You know, our arrival anniversary is coming up and I’ve been thinking,” Josh starts, quietly, nervously.

“Birthday, Josh,” Jake corrects, head facing the ceiling, body sprawled on the couch.

“Whatever, same thing,” He sighs. “I was thinking, you, me and Sammy could go on a road trip.”

Sam’s head turns to the conversation now that he’s heard his name.

“Oh,” Jake’s ears perk at the idea of an adventure. He loved to travel. “Where to?”

“Home.” Josh says, voice still soft, pleading.

“You want to road trip to Frankenmuth? That’s so boring, Josh,” Sam whines.

“Why not somewhere we’ve never been before?” Jake tries to reason.

“Not Frankenmuth,” Josh stops them from coming up with some fantastical earthly roadtrip. “Except to get the ship. I mean our real home.”

“Oh…” This gets Jake’s attention. “Josh. Are you sure?”

“We haven’t gone home in almost 27 Earth years, Jacob. That’s almost a million years at home. I miss it so fucking much it hurts.” Josh puts his hand over his chest, where his heart beats, where it aches.

Jake can feel it. They were alien identical twins after all, more connected than any Earth twins ever could be. There’s no more discussion because he understands.

“Alright,” Jake nods, looking his brother deeply in the eye. The very same eyes as the ones in his own head. “Roadtrip home coming right up.”

“But!” Sam begins to protest.

“Shut it, Sam.” Jake stands and shoots his younger brother a look. “It’s our arrival anniversary, our wish. You’re coming.”

Josh beams, feeling like he was already flying over the moon. Sam huffs and grumbles a little before stalking off, but deep down he knows he’d do anything for his brothers.

One week later, the three of them are trekking into the woods behind their Frankenmuth adolescent home. Josh is grinning at the sky as he walks ahead of his brothers, just one little backpack on his shoulders.

Jake is carrying a guitar case with his acoustic on his back and a duffel in his right hand. He couldn’t bring the Les Paul. The electrical currents on their home planet would blow out the strings if he even tried to strum it when it was plugged into an amp. He had also brought his harmonica in case something went wrong with the acoustic. On his head sat his favorite black hat, wide brimmed enough to cover his face from the harsh rays of the suns at home.

Sam was still the least happy about this journey to their home planet, dragging his feet as they walked. His backpack was packed to the brim with things he hoped would get him through this. Namely, enough edibles to keep him blissfully high throughout the trip. Another reason he loved Earth, recreational cannibus use. If only they could grow it on their home planet.

“Are we sure Daniel can’t come?” Sam asks for the hundredth time as they walk upon the clearing where the spaceship was stored.

“He wouldn’t be able to withstand the atmosphere there, Sam,” Jake sighs. “Do you want him to die?”

“No,” Sam grumbles and kicks a shoe at the ground, his sneaker kicking up some dirt. “I just feel bad that he thinks we didn’t invite him to go to the Caribbean with us.”

“We’ll be back before he knows it. Two weeks there is just a day here. The only reason we’re going to be gone for an Earth week is all the travel time,” Josh reasons, finishing uncovering the entire machine that had brought them here in the first place.

They walk up into the ship and begin to get settled. It looked the same as it did 26 years ago, completely maintained. Sometimes Josh would come out and visit it when they still lived in Michigan, sitting inside and pretending like he was flying home. He’s the one who kept it clean.

Jake climbs into the pilot’s seat and Josh sits beside him. Sam stays in the cabin, never allowed to go near the cockpit after his fifth arrival anniversary.

Jake fiddles with some switches after getting comfortable, making sure his hat was on just right and his braid was in place.

One last switch is flicked by his left hand, it turns a glowing red and the ship hums to life. He grins, the sound welcoming and familiar. Josh watches his twin, clearly pleased by his behavior.

“Captain Jacob Thomas Kiszka, reporting for duty,” Jake says into the intercom, the smile never leaving his face as he looks to his twin and hears Sam’s groan. “Let’s hope for smooth sailing.”

Josh fiddles with some switches on his side and the radio buzzes to life. Jake requests something and Josh shuts his eyes and concentrates. Soon enough the radio hums with static and then the song Jake wants is playing.

When the ship touches down on their home planet, Sam blinks the sleep from his bleary eyes and looks out the window. Seeing it for the first time in 24 years is a little shocking even for him. When he left, he felt no sorrow for what he was leaving behind. Certain that Earth was superior to this quiet planet, but seeing his first true home once more left him breathless. It was tranquil and vast. The landscape unlike any place on Earth, the colors more vibrant than any artificial color produced by those companies on Earth that were quickly ruining it. He found himself unexpectedly smiling, just a little bit. He still would choose Earth over here every day of his life.

Once Jake had parked them in the ship lot on the silver sea, Josh rushed out of the ship first. His eyes are as wide as could be and they sparkle in the fading light of the first sun of their planet. He turns around himself looking at everything and anything before beginning to ramble, immediately slipping back into their native language now that they are home.

Jake quirks a brow, almost instinctively going to stop Josh from speaking it, but realizing that it was fine. It’s actually calming to him to hear Josh speak in his native tongue, his thoughts more ordered than in English. Even if Jake usually knew what Josh meant in English, it was nice to hear his brother relaxed in his speech.

Sam heard it too and shook his head before swearing in English, “I’m not speaking that shit, even if we’re here. It’s not necessary, everyone here probably knows Earth English by now.”

Josh sighs, continuing in their native tongue, “You don’t know that. It’s just because you’re rusty, wee one.” Little shit wasn’t exactly a term in the language.

Sam rolls his eyes.

They arrive at the resort they decided to reside at during their two week long visit after going through intergalactic customs. It wasn’t very official but the ones who lived on this planet who had been to Earth before thought it was an interesting concept to have when traveling to different countries and had implemented one on their home. It was mostly just to make sure that travelers who arrived on the planet knew what they were doing and how to get around.

Sam got in a bit of trouble with the customs agent when he tried to refuse to speak one of the accepted languages, but Josh stepped in for him.

“He’s a part of our family. Forgive him, he’s rusty at the language. We’ve been on Seven for many moons.”

The agent understood and nodded before asking, “Names.”

“Jacob Thomas Kiszka.” Jake says confidently before frowning. “Oh. Forgive me. Pollux Geminorum Zaskkis.”

“Castores Geminorum Zaskkis,” Josh says easily before elbowing Sam to speak.

“Regulus Aries Zaskkis,” He huffs and rolls his eyes again, hip jutting out with his arms crossed as he stands beside his older brothers.

“It’s so classic that your names here would have a pretentious meaning on a planet one billion light years apart,” Sam says as they walk away.

“And yours doesn’t?” Jake quips.

“Things are connected very mysteriously, indeed, Sammy.” Josh replies.

Sam smiles at his brother still using his Earth name and for that he is grateful.

Josh was happy to go off on his own for the majority of their trip, visiting all of his favorite places. The crystal mountains, the rings, the forests, the ice caps, all of it just as beautiful as he remembered. Mid-week on the planet, he insisted that Jake and Sam come with him to the beach.

“You guys love the beach, come on! The water is silver,” Josh adds as if that is the biggest attraction of the beach.

Jake and Sam agreed, albeit begrudgingly, if only to placate their brother and have a chance to be shirtless once more. On the home planet they were required to wear jumpsuits. Josh loved the safety, but Jake and Sam were rather put off by them. Constricting as fuck, they both put it. Hence why they reveled in going shirtless on Earth so often. It also helped bring down their body temperatures on Earth, their blood running hotter than humans. Danny always mentioned it when standing beside the Kiszkas. Human furnaces, he’d say and the brothers would laugh.

At the beach, they were able to shed the uniforms which was relieving, but the pair still sat there unhappily watching as Josh hung out where the sand met the silver. He swore it was the best place to watch the star fights happening just beyond the small atmosphere of the planet.

Jake had his big black hat low on his head, half-moon glasses pushed against his face as well. On the beach it was hot, hotter than anywhere else on the planet. It made his already hot blood uncomfortably warm. His red shorts were hiked around his thighs attempting to allow himself to potentially tan.

At least they had margaritas to cool them off, he thought, as he watched Sam return from the beach bar. The drinks in his hands were in huge mugs with curly vibrant colored straws in them. Jake grimaced at them.

Sam sat beside his older brother after handing him his drink. They had matching red striped beach chairs, the one to Jake’s left was vacant with Josh off on his own. Sam slumps after a sip of his margarita.

“This doesn’t help,” He sighs after sucking down half of it. The straw hat that adorned his head sat hard on his head, pointy and prickly from disuse. He had to buy one at the tourist shop when he realized he forgot to pack a hat. Now who’s laughing at my hat, jackass, Jake had said when Sam had returned from the store. Deciding something, Sam sits back up and rummages in his tote bag he had brought before producing a soda can.

Upon further inspection one would realize that this was a drinkable Sam had brought from Earth. As he cracks the tab, a thought flashes in his mind about pressurization, but the thought is seconds too late. The drink is exploding from the small opening and Jake is cackling with laughter as it flies directly into Sam’s face.

Sam, ever the youngest sibling, opens his mouth and attempts to get as much of the liquid in his mouth as possible as the pressurized liquid continues to pound into his face.

Only five minutes later, Josh is returning to his brothers from the water, skin glistening silver from his swim. Droplets falling around his body as he shakes his head like a dog.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asks the drenched version of his little brother sitting beside a still chuckling Jake.

Sam’s hair is wet and his straw hat is now limp, but his eyes are droopy and he has a bit of a content look on his face. Even if the pressurization was different on this planet, so was the way weed affected them. He was already unbelievably stoned.

“Space boys make do,” He grins lazily, his right hand making a finger gun at his oldest brother.

This time, Jake falls out of his beach chair in laughter, yelping slightly from the warm sand but still too caught up in Sam’s behavior.

“Drinkable,” Jake finally responds after clambering back into his chair.

Josh nods understandingly. “Just smoke joints Sammy, like an adult,” He says as he goes to sit beside his twin.

His hair is already drying, the curls scrunching up from the long form they had been in from the water. He looks over at Jake and the sleeping Sam beside him, the cosmos laid out just behind them on the beach. Other residents mingled around the beach but for the most part, Josh felt like he was alone on the planet with his brothers.

He breathes the fresh air deeply. “I love you both so much. Thank you for doing this with me. I am happy to have come back.”

Then he looks up at the sky directly above him. “I will be happy to go home, though.”

Jake smiles beneath his hat and then glances slightly at his brother, watching him contemplate the universes.

“This will always be home too, Josh. They both will be.”

They grin at one another for a careful moment before moving in tandem, telepathically deciding to play a prank on their little brat of a brother. The twins surround Sam’s chair and his sleeping figure, before tiptoeing with him to the shore. A big splash is heard and then in English, a roaring yell of “What the fuck?!”

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gretavanfleas · 2 years

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WHO WROTE THE SAM FIC ‘TO THE BONE’???

WHERE CAN I FIND IT?? HELP ME

#greta van fleet #sam kiszka fan fiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #sam kiszka

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gretavangroupie · 3 months

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Exposure

Word count: 11.3k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking. Smut: Kissing, Stripping, Photo Exhibitionism, Touching, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Oral M!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Oh! Didn't see you there! Happy February! Welcome to the very first installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy this first story in the set of four. We can't wait to share the rest with you! See you real soon!

You pull your jacket snug against your chest, your camera bag hanging heavy on your shoulder as you make the trek up to the front door of the house. You can hear music coming from the basement already, likely the bands warming up before the show starts. You sneak through the front door, breezing through the mostly empty house in search of the basement. Following the noise, you walk down the stairs and into a small swarm of people all bustling and busy trying to get things set up before the show. How you got roped into shooting a basement show on Valentine's day of all days is beyond you, although it’s not like you have anything better to do.

Your eyes search around for any sign of your friends but you know they’re probably either running late, which is not shocking, or busy unloading their gear outside. You typically never shoot events like this- well, this small, but a favor for your best friend was long overdue. You stand at a small table loading the film into your camera, her one begging request of her set being captured on film, about to be fulfilled. You look around for any other photographers but you see no one, and it’s then that you realize just how small of a gig this really is.

You did your best to blend in tonight, donning the industry standard of black, but realizing now that it almost wouldn’t have mattered what you wore. You kept it simple with a black long sleeve shirt, and a pair of black leather pants, adding a heeled boot to give yourself a little extra height behind the lens.

You grab an extra roll of film and shove it into your pants pocket before placing your camera bag beneath the stage for safe keeping. People are quickly starting to fill the small basement, and you’re thankful for this weeks’ cold snap, knowing that this basement would be sweltering otherwise. You pull your phone from your pocket checking for any signs of life from your friends, laughing as you see a ‘we’re running late’ text. Shaking your head you put your phone back in your pocket and start to check your settings, adjusting to the lowlight of the room.

The basement is fully packed at this point, the first band stepping on to the stage and starting things off with a blaring guitar intro. The lights dim even further, causing you to adjust your settings again, and you wonder if you need to grab your flash attachment. You feel a tap on your shoulder, a rush of nerves in your chest as you spin around to see who it could be.

“Are you shooting film?” A pair of dark brown eyes asks, a look of genuine curiosity painted across the irises.

You smile and hold up your camera, “Yeah, I am! How did you know?”

A smile sweeps across his face, his long dark hair hanging well past his shoulders, but partially obscured under a red beanie. His cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold outside, the alcohol in his system, or the weight of his cable knit sweater. “I’m a bit of a hobbyist. Specifically film. I recognized your camera.”

“You did? This thing is pretty old.” you say, pulling your hair from beneath your camera strap.

“Yeah, I have the same one. Mines the silver version though.” he says, leaning in closely so that you can hear him over the loud music.

You look up at him, and nod, leaning back in towards him as you respond. “Oh really? Does yours have the battery door issue?”

His hand lays softly against your shoulder as he leans in closer, ready to respond but your attention is ripped away as you see your friends in your peripheral.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, my friends just walked in and they are actually supposed to go on next.” you say holding up your camera to show your purpose of being here in the first place.

“You’re fine, go ahead.” he smiles, pulling away from you and taking a sip from his seltzer.

You send him a soft smile, taking a final look at him before turning to meet your friends. As you walk up to meet them you can’t help but to look over to where you were just standing, finding the mystery man gone. You scan the room as your friends talk at you, looking for any sight of him, but you’re snapped back to the present as they are called up to the stage.

With a hug from your best friend and a kiss on the cheek she darts up the small stairs with a smile. “Wish us luck! And make sure you get my good side!”

You make your way towards the front of the stage, checking your settings one more time as the band starts to play. Admittedly, they sound a lot better than they did the last time you saw them perform, and the crowd behind you really seems to be into them. You even notice a few people wearing their merch and wonder when that happened. Had you really been that absent?

You duck down as you work your way across the front of the stage, snapping photos of your friends as they play their hearts out. You quietly apologize to the people you block with your camera, taking a quick glance behind you with each step you take. About two songs into their set you’ve made your way to the opposite side of the stage, looking behind you only to catch a glance of your mystery guy, standing against the wall with his drink.

You try to pretend you didn’t see him, but it’s no use as you trip over an electrical cord and make a complete spectacle of yourself in the process. However, when you don't collide with the concrete of the basement floor and instead are met with a pair of warm steady hands, you feel a sigh of relief hoping that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t see you trip after all. Turning to face your hero, you’re met with none other than your hobbyist.

A grin spreads across his face as he helps you to stand, one hand in his, and the other firmly planted on your camera.

“Falling for me so soon? At least tell me your name first…” he jokes, letting go of you as you steady yourself on your feet.

“Y/N…And thanks, I– guess they ran out of Gaff tape and I found the only cord not taped down.” you laugh.

He smiles and shakes his head in faux disgust, “Rule number one, always carry an extra roll in your gig box for the ladies. I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Well, Sam, thank you for not letting me fall in front of all of these people.” you laugh.

“Oh, I was actually saving the camera… Precious vintage...” he winks, pursing his lips together.

“Oh, of course. Yeah.” you stammer, suddenly feeling ridiculous.

As if he can sense your distress he places a hand on your arm, “Wait no, I was kidding. Of course I was saving you. Let me– Can I get you a drink?” he asks, trying for a peace offering.

“I think I’m kinda out of hands…” you laugh, snapping a photo as you focus through the viewfinder.

“I’m not…” he counters, “Whad’ya want? I’ll grab it for you…”

You lick over your lips, deciding maybe a drink assistant wouldn’t be too bad. You turn over your shoulder as he leans close letting you talk into his ear. “A seltzer, I don’t care what flavor, surprise me.”

He gives you an understanding nod and turns on his heels, disappearing into the crowd.

You watch your friends start to close up their set and you compose another set of photos you think will be the shots of the night.

“A drink for the lady…” he says, as he holds a drink up in front of the lens. You lower your camera and spin around to grab it from him, watching him crack the lid open before he hands it to you.

“Prickly pear, huh…” you pause, taking a sip of the fizzy drink. “Did you know that was my favorite or just a lucky guess?”

“Well, I figured… you have great taste in cameras…” he trails off, taking the drink back from you so you can continue to shoot.

You feel him lean into your shoulder, his warm breath on your neck. “The red light really does nothing for photos, does it…” he laughs.

“No, and I’m half convinced that’s why they do it.” you retort.

“Oh, it definitely is. Trust me. That and it looks badass.” he laughs, stepping back again.

As the set ends you watch your friends leave the stage, ready to drink and party with the rest of you. The room quiets to a dull roar as the next band starts to take the stage, ready to set up their equipment. You lower your camera around your neck, letting it hang freely as you turn back to Sam.

“You get the shot?” he asks, sipping the same Prickly Pear Topo Chico.

“I think so, looks like I’ve got…” you pause, checking your dial. “Two left on this roll. Should probably change over before the next act. Here, smile.” you say, holding the viewfinder to your eye.

He blushes a little, holding both of the drinks in his hands and giving you wide open mouth smile.

You capture those last two images and hear the winder start to spin. “That’ll do it!” you say, dropping your camera around your neck and pulling the extra black film cartridge from your pocket.

“Oh here, let me help you. You have your drink…” he offers, holding out your can.

“No! You don’t have to do that, it’s totally fine, I’ve got it. Just need to find a table or something so I can–”

“I know I don’t have to, I just– want to. I wanna help.” he says, his eyes sweet and genuine.

You think about it for a second, and consider that you really don’t have anything to lose. He wouldn’t be offering if he didn’t know what he was doing.

“Okay, sure, I’ll hold your drink now.” you smile.

His eyes are focused as he works to remove the used film, replacing it with the new roll as quickly and efficiently as he can, making sure not to expose the roll. He clips the door shut and makes sure it's secure before placing the camera strap back over your head, pulling your hair out from beneath the straps as gently as possible.

“There. Perfect.” he says, a warm smile on his lips.

“Thanks Sam.” you answer, offering his drink back to him.

“You can call me Sammy. All my friends do.” he says, accepting the wet can.

“Oh, are we friends now?” you ask playfully, all the while thinking that you might want to be a little more than that.

“I’d like to think so. Or– I hope so. I think you’re cute, film camera girl.”

“Do you?” you murmur, holding the can to your lips.

As if feeling a little shy, he ducks his head a little and licks his lips, “I do.”

Before you can reciprocate his sentiment the third band starts, and somehow they are even louder than your friend's band previously. The drums are blaring loud and you can tell they need their mics turned down about three notches. You take a few photos, figuring you can never have too much in your portfolio, but after a few shots and the crowd becoming a little too rowdy, you quickly decide you are done ‘working’ for the night. You lower your camera down and spin to talk to Sam, but you find he’s gone.

Your eyes scan the crowd for him, but again, you see no trace of the cream colored sweater or his red beanie in the sea of people. You do, however, spot your best friend off in the corner of the room being hit on by someone you know to be exactly her type. You lock eyes with her, raising a brow and she just smiles at you as she continues to talk to the tall dark haired man.

Letting her have her time with him, you make your way back to the stage to grab your camera bag. You head up the stairs, grabbing a new drink from the bar area and again searching for any signs of him. You mingle with a few strangers, making pointless small talk about work and the latest gossip before excusing yourself to the bathroom to pee. As you wash your hands you sigh at the missed connection with such a thoughtful and good looking guy, but chalk it up to being Valentine’s Day and not wanting to fall into that stereotype.

With your new friend gone, you decide to seek out some of your old ones. With your gear bag slung over your shoulder, you head towards the thick crowd in the main living room. As you make your way through, your neck cranes around the bodies in your way, searching for a familiar face. Looking out the back window, you see your friends near their band’s van. You push open the squeaky screen door and are greeted with a harsh gust of freezing cold wind. You retract, and before you can regain your senses, you hear someone calling your name from a little ways away.

When you get your eyes open, Sam is standing against the side of the house, exhaling a puff of smoke. He’s giving you a sweet, closed lipped smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. You feel a few butterflies in your stomach as you take in his sweet face, relieved that he’s happy to see you hasn’t disappeared like you thought. You approach him with a sweet smile, holding on to your bag strap with both hands while your main camera hangs around your neck.

“It’s cold as fuck out here.” You say honestly, suppressing a grin. He nods, taking another inhale off the cigarette between his fingers, his smile making it a little difficult. “I thought you left.” you add while he exhales the smoke away from your face.

“What, without you?” He says with a quirked brow and a playful smolder. You laugh, stunned silent by his charisma. He realizes and laughs it off, reaching towards you. “You need a hand taking that stuff to your car?” He asks, dropping his cigarette onto the lawn and stepping on it. He offers you a hand and you willingly offer up your bag, even though you really don’t need to.

“I didn’t really feel the need to get any more photos of the third band. I didn’t think the headache was worth it.” You say, a little tongue in cheek as you walk. Sam laughs loudly once, like it slipped out, then shakes his head looking at the ground in front of him.

“I was trying not to be too judgmental but, yeesh. They’re really something, aren’t they?” You laugh and pop open your trunk and he sees inside as he puts your bag in.

“You have a Pentax too?” He asks, seeing the other bag you left in the trunk.

“I do. I have a couple lenses for it, I use it when I shoot… bigger stuff.” You say, not trying to sound braggy.

“That sucker is heavy though. You must be jacked if you’re holding it up for an entire show.” He jokes, reaching for your bicep and squeezing twice. You flex a little, giving him a wink before you break character and laugh with him. You pull your camera from around your neck and slip it into its case.

“No but, I uh, I have a couple lenses too. I have a pretty big collection… It’s actually getting a bit out of hand at this point. If you ever want to borrow anything...” He mentons, helping you close the trunk. When he reaches up, his sweater rides up a bit and reveals that he’s got a white shoestring laced through the loops of his pants like a belt.

“I’d love to check it out,” you say honestly, rubbing your arms to try and warm up. The wind is brutal but the conversation is worth freezing for.

“This may be a bit forward… but the weather sucks, this music sucks… We could go have a drink at my place and I could show you?” He offers, shrugging a little bit.

“Well…” you start, looking over at the van on the other side of the yard. Your friend seems to be deep in conversation with the guy who was helping her load up, so you’re sure she won’t miss you if you slip away. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

“Two things, though. One, we have to take your car, since my friend was my ride. Two, I’m driving, because you’ve had a few.” He says, giving you a boyish smile and holding out his hands so you can put the keys in them. You eye him with playful suspicion for a moment, but then figure you’ve got nothing to lose.

“Fine.” You flick open your car key and offer it to him between two fingers with a grin.

As he gets in, you can’t help but micromanage his actions with your car as you buckle your seatbelt. “The emergency brake is down by your left foot, and just ignore the light on the dash.”

“I guess I should have told you that I have, indeed, driven a car before. I’m qualified.” He says, starting it and adjusting the mirrors. He’s a good bit taller than you, so he cranks the rearview upwards quite a bit. You roll your eyes at his comment, letting the radio play quietly rather than anything from your phone for fear of judgment.

“There aren’t any street lights on these back roads. You should put the high beams on.” You comment, looking over at him for a moment, taking in his side profile. He cracks a wry smirk and flourishes his hand, turning them on.

“You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?” He asks, not looking away from the road. You snicker softly.

“When I want to be.”

Before he can say anything in response, his phone starts to buzz in the center console. He reaches for it, swiping quickly across the screen to answer the call from a contact named Danny.

“Daniel!” He shouts, putting the phone on speaker. Without hesitation, you take it from him so he can use both of his hands and drive. He doesn’t object as the voice from the other end of the phone pipes up.

“Where’d you get off to?”

“Uh, I left. Are you good to get home?” Sam answers, flipping the brights off when a car drives by on the opposite side of the road. He puts them back on once the coast is clear.

“I’m fine, yeah, just checking in. Didn’t know you left. You bag that chick you were chatting with?”

You huff a laugh and look over to Sam shaking your head. Is this really how guys talk on the phone?

“Daniel, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell…” he jokes, sending you a wink.

“Right, are you going to that event tomorrow?”

“I had forgotten about it until this very second, but yeah. I said I would. Are you?” Sam says, and you pick up a bit of an accent. There’s a long A in forgotten where the second O should go. You smile softly as you watch the road and listen to them talk.

“Hell no. Neither is Jake. You’re stuck with Josh and his girl. So, have fun with that.” Daniel says, and you can hear him getting into his car on the other end of the line.

“Fuck. Alright, get home safe.” Sam says, sighing. They end the call and you’re more than tempted to ask him the meaning of all that, but he’s pulling into his driveway and the nerves start to take over, shutting you up. “Sorry about that,” he says, parking your car in his driveway next to his own.

“Do you live by yourself?” You ask, getting out of the passenger seat. The wind is still strong and it chills you to the bone. Sam sees and picks up his pace as he leads you to the front door.

“Yeah, it’s just me.” he says, looking over his shoulder as he puts his key in the door. It’s warmly lit inside his house once he steps inside and flips on the lights. There’s an array of musical instruments scattered about as soon as you enter, amps and drums and guitars either hanging on the wall or resting against each other. You raise your brows, looking over at him.

“You’re a musician, too?” You ask as he puts your keys on the cabinet near the front door. There are sliding doors across the front that are opened just slightly to reveal a substantial vinyl collection.

“I have many hobbies.”

You smile as you follow him through the house, looking around at the art covering his walls. It smells like incense and it’s warm- a little warmer than you would keep your house, but it’s cozy.

“I keep everything in here,” he starts, flipping on the lightswitch in one of the bedrooms. It’s furnished with a daybed, like a guest bedroom, but the opposite wall has a desk and shelving full of cameras, cases, lenses, accessories, attachments galore. You raise your brows, surprised, but mostly impressed.

It’s a solid half hour that you spend going item by item, gently looking over everything he’s collected, from vintage to like-new, functioning and under repair. He makes a point to tell you where he got each one, the quirks and intricacies of them all.

“That one’s really my favorite for portraits,” he says as you look over a lightweight film camera with a noisy lens, clicks filling the room. “She’s got a way about her that makes everyone look good, you know?” You nod, looking it over, peeking through the viewfinder.

“I dunno, I might be a lost cause.” You say, a little self deprecating. He sucks his teeth at you in playful disappointment.

“I just mean that, you know, as photographers, there aren’t many photos of us. I don’t think I’d know how to pose myself for a portrait.”

“Well, you don’t pose yourself, silly.” He says, looking up at you, not lifting his head and moving only his eyes. There’s a little smirk on his lips. “We should try it.”

You give him a suspicious look, laughing nervously.

“I look like a mess from the wind and… I’m hardly wearing any makeup..” You say, starting to rattle off excuses as your cheeks heat up.

“So? You look perfect. I don’t want to take… fuckin’ headshots. I want to capture you. This version of you, the pretty photographer that I’ve spent my evening with.”

The two of you lock eyes for a moment, his honeyed irises so warm and kind and sweet that you probably can’t say no to him if your life depended on it.

“Okay.”

That’s how you end up in his sunroom, sitting patiently on his couch as he gets set up, sipping a glass of wine. The room is full of plants and you brush your hand against the burnt orange velvet upholstery of his couch underneath you. You watch him move around the room, pushing the ottoman out of the way, adjusting the throw pillows on the opposite end. He reaches behind his head and pulls his thick sweater off, his shirt riding up to show that little shoestring belt and this time, a light dusting of hair above the waistband of his pants. He tosses aside the sweater, leaving him in a white t-shirt. You swallow a gulp of your wine, feeling a little warm.

“I like how you said, ‘as photographers,’ like you looped me in there with you,” he muses. “You’re a professional. I don’t belong in the ranks with you.” He says, grinning as he uses an app on his phone to mess with the lighting from the lamp in the room. It’s a hazy, warm light when he’s done, absolutely flattering to the eye, so you can only imagine how it’s going to look when he captures you.

“If you take pictures, and you enjoy it, you’re a photographer. I don’t think it’s fair to gate keep art of any kind, or… something that brings people joy, you know?” You say, watching as he grabs a cream colored, cable knit throw reminiscent of his sweater and drapes it behind you.

“That makes sense. Not all photographers are as humble as you, though.” He says, looking down at the camera and making some adjustments. He holds it up and looks at you, then he pulls it away. He looks again, then he hums like he’s thinking about something.

“This black shirt is kind of one-dimensional. I feel like it’s swallowing you up, you know? I feel like there's too much contrast with the colors in the room.”

You sip your wine and think for a moment, looking around. He’s probably right.

“What do you think about green?” you ask, leaning forward, placing the wine glass on the table in front of you.

“Do you have another– oh…” he starts, but is effectively silenced when you start to pull your shirt over your head. Underneath, you’re in a sage green longline bralette, the band of lace under your chest covering a good two inches of your waist. It’s not too revealing and from the shoulders up, it probably looks like a shirt. You shake out your hair and look up at him, tossing your shirt aside.

“Does that look better?” You ask, smirking at his reaction, pretending to be all business. He looks at you through the viewfinder and you hear him clear his throat.

“Much better. Yep. Uh huh.” he says, hiding his face behind the camera, but you know he’s looking at you. “Sit up for me?”

You adjust the way you’re sitting, sitting up straighter. He lets the camera hang around his neck as he approaches you, reaching out to gently position you. He puts your hand in your lap, then gently pushes some hair behind your shoulder. The other side, he wraps around his finger once, making sure it lays in a flattering way. He looks at you, not scrutinizing you, but deciding what he wants to do with you. His touch makes you feel like you’re on fire, his hands warm and so gentle, his motions purposeful and confident despite the delicate way he handles you.

He crouches down in front of you, holding the camera to his eye, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. You suddenly feel exposed in front of the lens, and it must be evident on your face as he moves his finger from the shutter release and lowers the camera from his eye. “You feel nervous.” he states with the nod of his head.

You shrug ever so slightly, finally feeling the nerves your clients tend to feel. You try to shake it off, but Sam, ever perceptive, pulls the camera from around his neck and sits it next to you on the couch. He pulls his own shirt over his head, leaving him in the same state of undress as you are. “There. Even?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

You smile and nod, doing your best not to stare at the small smattering of a happy trail at the top of his pants. You bite your lips together before looking back into the lens, hearing the shutter click and the film wind. He brings his hand up to your chin, tilting your face to the side with the gentle touch of his index finger. He pulls it back quickly, returning to the shutter button and snapping another photo. He hums from his place behind the lens, standing quickly and scanning the room for something.

His heavy footfall pads across the room, snatching something from his piano bench before returning to his place on the floor in front of you. In his hands is a multicolored jewel tone pashmina, soft and worn, and clearly a staple in his wardrobe.

“Can we try this?” he asks, holding it up against your skin.

“Let me see…” you answer, grabbing it and draping it over your chest. With your torso completely covered you reach beneath it, pulling the green bralette over your head as he watches you with wide eyes. You toss it to the floor next to him, and reposition the fabric to just cover your chest as you lean back into the couch.

He swallows nervously as he stretches up towards the couch, adjusting the fabric how he sees fit. Your stomach shows beneath the edge of colorful fabric, the curve of your breast just peeking from the top.

“I– I think this is gonna be a good shot.” he says, looking at you through the lens. “Lean your head back a little more, and turn it to the side, just a touch.”

You follow his instruction, knowing the angles of this shot have to be incredible from his place on the floor.

“Perfect, I just…Didn’t want any shadows on your throat…” he whispers from behind the camera. You hear the shutter click, and a murmur of ‘fuck’ leave his lips.

You stay where you are as he lowers the camera, his breathing picking up a little bit as he tries to remain calm. “Your skin is so…pretty…” he breathes, letting his eyes sweep over you.

Your eyes connect with his, and in an act of insanity you pull away the pashmina, letting it pool at your side. His eyes can’t help but to flick down to your chest, his jaw dropping slightly before he notices and looks back up at your eyes.

“We don’t have to–”

“Do you not want to?” you ask, settling back onto the couch.

“No, I very much do.” he answers a little too quickly.

“So go ahead. Capture me.”

He takes a deep breath, holding the camera to his eye and lowering it back down. He grabs your hand and places it gingerly over your chest, letting your fingers rest just over your nipple. He brings the camera back to his eye, and takes the photo. “Fuck you’re gorgeous.”

Your cheeks blush and you hear the shutter click again.

“Sorry, but I think that's the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.” he says.

You smile and shake your head, letting your hand trail to the button of your pants. You slide the button through the loop and pull the long zipper, until just the smallest glimpse of your thong is visible.

You watch him swallow nervously again, focusing the camera on your hand as it lays across your stomach. As he captures the photo, you watch him try to recenter himself, knowing that he is probably just as turned on by this as you are, if not more.

“Take them off…” you suggest, watching his eyes flick up to yours.

“You sure?” he asks again, making sure you’re still comfortable.

“Very. If you are, I mean.”

“Lay across the couch. On your stomach.” he instructs, moving himself to sit on the edge of the chaise to your left. You position yourself against the plush couch, propping yourself up on your elbows, as you look back at him sitting behind you.

“Yeah, just like that. Stay there. Look at me, beautiful.” he says, growing more confident.

He leans forward, swiping your hair over your shoulder, giving him an unobstructed view of the curve of your back. And just as your eyes connect with the lens, he presses the button.

“Perfect.” he breathes, lowering the camera again. He stands from his place behind you, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, pulling them gently down your hips until they rest at the apex of your ass. Your thong is fully visible now, only the floral lace resting against your hips.

He moves back and you feel the couch dip as he kneels behind you, straightening the seam of the pants to rest perfectly in the center, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. You feel the goosebumps rise, and you hear the shutter, smiling as you know he’s caught the moment.

“Are you always this responsive to touch…” he asks, sliding your pants further down over your ass, pulling each leg free until the leather fabric is in a pile on the floor.

“No. Only when it’s really good…” you answer.

“Lift your hips up for me, rest on your knees a little, and arch your back.” he says, kneeling on the edge of the couch. His hand slides down your back to assist you, and slides back up, stopping at the hem of your panties. Two fingers hook into the fabric, pulling it down just slightly as you hear the camera shutter.

You can feel your arousal between your legs, not too far from where his fingers linger, but he releases your panties, sliding them back into place and letting his hand drift over the curve of your ass. He stands up in front of you, and you drop back down, stretching fully across the couch. You lay your head on your hands as you look up at him, watching him crouch down in front of you. He pulls a few pieces of hair over your shoulder, and moves your arm further up to reveal the swell of your breast as it presses against his couch cushion.

“Pop your hips up just a touch...” he breathes, holding the camera to his eye. “Look at me, baby.”

You bat your eyes as you look at him, seeing the photo in the reflection of the lens as he takes it.

His chest is heaving as he pulls the camera away, crawling towards you on his knees as he dusts his fingers over your spine. “You make an incredible muse…”

“A good photographer knows that seeing isn’t enough. You have to feel it.” you answer, melting into the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I think I feel it too much…”

He slides his hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to a sitting position. He reaches for your wine glass, turning back to you and placing it into your hand. You bring it to your lips, but as you tip the glass a stream of red wine trickles down the stem, dripping rapidly onto your stomach.

His eyes flick to yours, then down to the small streak of red against your skin, leaning his head forward and letting his warm tongue lap at the spilled alcohol.

Your eyes close on their own, a breath leaving your lips at the feeling of his lips on your body. He pulls back from you, waiting for your eyes to open, and as they meet you can see he’s asking for permission to continue.

You open your legs allowing him to move closer, and he takes that as his consent to move between them. He pulls the camera from around his neck, placing it gently on the couch next to you, before grabbing your wine glass and placing it on the coffee table behind him.

His hands slide up your thighs, his eyes examining every inch of your skin until he meets the edge of your panties. His eyes meet yours and you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on your skin again.

He hooks his fingers through the fabric and pulls them over your hips, tossing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He takes in a deep breath, lowering his face to your heat, but never breaking the eye contact he has with you. You let a hand slide through his silky waves, silently telling him you wanted this, and he obliges, pressing a kiss to your groin.

You feel his tongue swipe up through your center, long and slow, hot and soft against you. You fist his hair at the contact, a hum leaving his lips as they vibrate against your clit. Your legs open wider, allowing him to hook his arms beneath your legs, pulling you down the couch to meet his mouth. His tongue works at your clit, flicking back and forth as wet sounds fill the air in the room. His cheeks are flushed as his wet lips suction around you, his brown eyes fluttering closed with every pointed lick.

You can hardly tear your gaze away from him, your chest heaving as he brings you closer and closer to your release. Your hand reaches out to grip into the cushion, instead landing on the body of the camera next to you. It feels cold against your hand, and as you look at him you realize you might feel it a little too much, too.

Grasping it in your hand you pull the viewfinder to your eye, positioning him in the frame as he continues to work you towards your orgasm. As his eyes flick up to you, he's met with the camera lens, hesitating momentarily before pulling an elastic from his wrist. He doesn’t cease his actions as he pulls his hair into a messy bun, resting low on the back of his neck. He places his soft hands on the insides of your thighs, looking up into the lens with his blissed out eyes, ready for you to capture the scene below you.

Hearing the shutter, he grips into you harder, sucking your clit into his mouth with more force, desperate to get you there. His fingers brush your entrance, and with a carefully timed swipe of his tongue he presses them forward until his thumb replaces his tongue applying pressure to your clit. His fingers work inside of you until your legs start to shake with desperation. He replaces his thumb with his lips once more, the warm, wet sensation inching you closer and closer.

You take a few more shots, hoping to capture the way his dark lashes kiss his cheeks, and the way his nose brushes against you so delicately. Knowing the most vulnerable shots are usually the best.

He ruts his hips into the couch, desperate for some relief and the groan that leaves his chest is all it takes to push you to the edge. You drop the camera to your side, pulling his face to your body as your orgasm rocks through you. A pathetic sounding whine leaves your lips as his mouth slows, he pulls his fingers from you as gently as possible.

You’re left a panting mess as you ride the waves of your high, but as you open your eyes and see him licking his fingers, you reach for the camera once more, capturing the act forever on film.

He stands, offering you his hand with a smirk. You can’t help but to notice that his fingers are still pruny and soft as you place your hand in his, letting him pull your shaky body from his couch. He bends over and snatches the camera from the couch cushion before pulling you down the hallway towards his bedroom.

As you step over the threshold into his bedroom, you’re met with the dark walls and rich earth toned bedding. He drops your hand, and checks his film, before setting the camera on the edge of his bed. He grabs your hand again, and pulls you into him, snaking his other hand around your waist and pulling you close to his body. His eyes search yours before his lips crash to yours, a heady mix of cigarettes, red wine, and you.

Your tongue tangles with his as his hands grip into your hips, his hardness pressing against your bare stomach. You pull away, locking your eyes on his as you fall to your knees in front of him. You slide your hands up his thighs until you reach the thin white shoelace at his waist, pulling the tip until it unknots itself and slides to the floor. You feel him reach for the camera, letting it hang around his neck once more as he watches you.

You unbutton his pants, feeling the brush of his length against your hand. You work quickly to pull the pants and boxers to the floor, letting him step out of them as you take in the sight of him bare in front of you. You lean forward to kiss at the smattering of hair at his happy trail but you’re quickly stopped before your lips ever make it there.

He grabs your chin in his hand, placing his thumb over your swollen pink lips, pulling the plump flesh down to expose your bottom teeth as the camera snaps the image above you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can think of nothing but the feeling of your mouth around him.

Unable to wait any longer you grab him in your fist, stroking him a few times back and forth as his eyes study your movements. You wet your lips in preparation for him, letting your tongue dart out to lick a hot stripe up the underside of his cock.

He pulls the camera to his eye again, “Stay like that. Just like that baby. Look up at me.”

He rests the tip of his cock in your open mouth, snapping a few shots as he leaks onto your tongue, before tossing the camera to the bed. “Fuck, are you sure you’ve never done this before? You look so fucking gorgeous.”

You smile around him, closing your lips and humming in response. You let your tongue slide up his length, taking him as far back as you can the first few times before working into a steady rhythm. Your eyes are locked on his, a look of awe and desperation written into his features.

His hand finds grip in your hair, moving with you as you work him, gentle whines falling from his lips as you swirl over his tip with each upward stroke.

Swallowing around him he sucks in a harsh breath, letting you slide back up before repeating the action. You tense around him as you gag, your eyes blinking away tears wanting to continue. Your eyes roll back as you taste the saltiness on your tongue knowing he is nearing his release.

He pulls away from you, cupping your face in his big warm hands, his thumbs swiping away errant tears.

“I– You’re– Get on the bed for me, sweetness. Wanna ruin that pretty cunt before I cum.”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly, a little shocked by the side of himself he just showed you. You take his hand with a grin as he offers it to you, standing and hopping up onto his bed, laying yourself back on his pillows. He follows you, leaning over to reach for the camera on the nightstand before doing so. He leaves it on the pillow next to your head, focusing all of his attention on you for the time being.

He’s tender for a moment, leaning down to kiss you briefly before he situates himself between your thighs. He kneels above you, looking down at the sight before him. He traces a gentle line down your sternum, then back up, dragging lightly against the expanse of your clavicle, then back down once more. His eyes seem to roam over every inch of you while you wait patiently for things to advance.

“You…” he starts, a breathy laugh leaving his throat, like he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “So gorgeous.”

“You’re sweet.” you respond, parting your thighs a bit more for him. He hasn’t stopped his feather light touches just yet though.

“Is that how you like it?” he asks, catching you a little off guard. Your eyes flick up to his and you can’t help the way you squirm a little at his directness.

“I…” you start, but he promptly silences you with a pinch to your nipple, pulling a wanton moan from the depths of your chest.

“Ahh. There she is.” He says, smiling. He lets go and leans down to give it a kiss. “Just trying to get a read on you.”

He palms your breast as he pushes back up, unable to take his eyes off of you. You watch the wheels turning in his head as he squeezes firmly, his eyes cutting to the camera next to your head.

He picks it back up, adjusting it with lightning speed. He looks through the viewfinder once before reaching for your tit again, your nipple slipping between his long fingers. He snaps a photo, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration while the aperture adjusts, the settings on auto now to save time.

“That artistic part of your brain just doesn’t turn off, huh?” you ask, reaching up to run a hand down his stomach, your patience running out.

“Blessing and a curse.” he mumbles, reaching forward into his nightstand. As he’s leaning over you, you can’t help but take a moment to place a few wet, searing kisses to his jaw and throat. You know they’re appreciated when he bucks his hips against you, his dick dragging against the inside of your thigh.

He sits back up, tearing the foil of the condom with little difficulty and flipping it over once or twice to check which way is right. He eventually distinguishes top from bottom and starts to slide it on, looking down in concentration.

After he’s done, he leans down towards you, placing hungry, wet kisses wherever he can find purchase. He reaches between your bodies, taking himself in his palm and brushing the head of his cock through your folds.

“Wait…” you say, and he rests his head on your chest for a moment, looking up at you with patient eyes.

“Yes, sweetness?” he says, pulling back, unsure if you’re about to call the whole thing off. You take a deep breath, reaching down to touch him gently.

“Can we take this off?” You murmur, your hand waiting to pull it off the moment he gives you the green light.

“God, yeah,” he says enthusiastically, a little chuckle leaving him as you haphazardly pull the condom off of him and toss it by the wayside. “Absolutely. Fuck. I want to…” He trails off, like he’s about to say something else, but once you slip the tip of him inside of you, he can’t get a word out.

He pushes in about halfway, stopping to settle and watch your reaction. You gaze up at him, reaching up to play with one of your nipples. He takes in a sharp breath at the sight before pulling out a little before he pushes all the way in, slowly.

“Oh… oh my god,” you manage to get out, unable to help the way the words scratch their way out of your throat. Sam’s eyes are glued to your center, watching himself enter you.

“Everything about you…” he says, taking a trembling breath, “...is fucking picture perfect.”

You smile at the compliment and watch his face for a moment, the way his dark lashes move quickly with his blinking eyes trying to process everything at once. He starts to move slowly, the drag of him making your breath hitch.

He fucks into you slowly, deeply, your head swimming at the sensation. It’s good, but it’s not quite enough, and you can’t help but speak up.

“Sammy…” you begin, calling him by his nickname, like he asked, affectionately. “Harder. Please.”

He snaps his hips into you in response, giving you a dirty smirk from above.

“You’re a backseat driver in the sack, too?” he quips, moving back on his heels a little to change the angle and give himself more range of motion.

“Shut up and fuck me. How’s that?” you bite, grinning up at him. Before you can even prepare yourself, he snatches your wrists, pinning them above your head in just one of his big hands, your slender wrists slotted between his lengthy fingers.

He looks like he’s about to snap back at you, but then his eyes narrow a little. He reaches for the camera again, holding it against the side of his body to flip the switch and open the aperture. He lifts it to his eye and snaps a picture of his hand pinning your wrists together, the strap of the camera falling a little bit into the frame.

Once he’s done, he drops the camera again and braces himself with his free hand, picking up an almost brutal pace. You can’t complain, because it’s what you asked for, and god did he deliver. The sound of skin on skin, his body meeting yours, rhythmically bounces off the walls of his bedroom. You cry out at the feeling of him, reeling at the sensation of him so deep inside you. Warmth starts to build in your stomach, your head getting dizzy.

“Are you getting close?” he asks in your ear, slightly breathless. You whine in the affirmative, spreading your legs further as if you need him even deeper. He lets go of your hands, sitting up a little straighter but still thrusting into you hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. Your eyes start to flutter closed, your back arching, and you feel his hips stutter slightly as he moves a bit on top of you.

There’s some clicking and you know what he’s about to do, but you can’t be bothered to change a single thing about what you’re doing. You reach for your chest, holding your tits steady as he pushes you towards the edge, waiting for the moment.

“Gonna cum…” you warn, your brows knitting together.

“Come on, beautiful. I’m ready.” he coos as it hits you, your lips parting, your head tilting back as you gasp for breath. You don’t register when the shutter sounds, but you feel the camera hit the pillow again and Sam’s got both of his hands on your waist, so you know he must have gotten the shot.

He slows his pace, allowing you to catch your breath and come back down to earth. His hand slides up to your throat, running his thumb over your lips in the same manner he did earlier, but this time instead of letting him tug at your lip you suck his thumb into your mouth.

“Fuck…” he curses under his breath, pulling his hand back and slowly pulling out of you. “Turn over for me.”

You blink up at him, a little bashful, your eyes darting to the camera, then back to his. You try to suppress a grin and give him a little shake of your head.

“Do you trust me?”

Feeling a little giddy, you roll over, pulling your hair over your shoulder before propping yourself up on your knees. You keep your face in his pillow, your eyes watching the camera laying near you as he presses inside you, the position allowing him somehow deeper.

His hands find your hips and as he starts to move, the grip tightens, pulling little hiss from between your teeth. You’re glad he doesn’t hear because you’d hate it if he stopped.

“Gotta be careful…” he mumbles, his voice strained. “Feels a little too good.”

You hum, a little laugh leaving you. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met, and definitely different from anyone you’ve ever slept with. His playfulness mixed with the dominance that peeks out on occasion is a potent combination you can’t seem to get enough of.

He uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into him, his pace slower, but the feeling of him nudging at your cervix with every stroke makes up for the change in speed. He rubs a hand over the curve of your ass as he slows down and releases his grip.

“Goddamn, that’s beautiful.”

The camera disappears and you push up on your forearms, suddenly shy and nervous and feeling like a shot of that isn’t quite as artistic as the rest of your photos. You look at him over your shoulder, a little suspicious.

“No, no no. Your back, your hair on the pillow,” he reassures you, a warm hand on your back. You giggle a little, laying back down. He splays your hair across the pillow, then taps your arm. “Move this up under you.” You do as he says, one arm and hand under you, the other hand above you, fisted in the sheets. His hand drags slowly up your back before he speaks again. “Arch a little more. Like you were before. Yeah, perfect.”

Click.

It lands on the bed, then he starts to move again. He groans, a bit louder than he has been, and you know he’s hanging on by a thread.

“Are you… Are you on birth control?” He asks, his voice slightly boyish in this moment. You can’t help but laugh softly.

“What, you don’t want to knock me up on Valentine’s day?” you joke, and he freezes. You wonder if you said the wrong thing for a moment, but then he speaks softly.

“I’m confident you won’t like my answer, sweetness.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means, and when you do, you can’t stop the words that fall from your lips.

“Try me.”

He pushes himself deeper into you, so much so he leans over and braces himself on his palm next to your face. He’s closer now when he speaks, his breath hot on your shoulder.

“I’d love nothing more than to knock you up on Valentine’s day.”

Holy shit.

“So no plans in November, then?” you quip, grinning as the weight of him pushes you into his pillow.

“Mm, nothing too big, just a world tour.” he responds, thrusting a few more times. “Super flexible.” he grits out. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, feeling him start to twitch inside you.

“The answer is yes, by the way. About the birth control.”

“....It’d be cooler if you weren’t, but alright.” he jokes, his voice straining as his hips start to falter. You can hear him breathing through clenched teeth as his grip on you tightens. You tighten around him, arching your back just a touch more and as you drop your head between your arms, you see his hand frantically reaching for the camera one last time.

You can feel the tension in your stomach tightening, his hand sliding up to your shoulder to pull you back to meet him. “There you go, baby. Keep squeezing just like that. I’m right there.” he says, and you can tell by the lilt in his voice he is waiting for you.

You rock back, your bodies slamming together with a lewd smack, the sound itself just enough to tip you over the edge. You feel the rush wash over you as he pulls you in, wrapping his arm around your waist as his hips continue to move. He lets out a small grunt with each forceful spurt inside you, and you feel a wave of euphoria sweep over you as you realize he wasn’t joking after all.

“Fuck…” he whines, pulling out of you. You can hear him adjusting the lens of the camera and you’re so caught up in your own bliss you couldn’t care less that he is documenting his work. You feel him rest his hand on your ass, palming your cheek to the side for a better view as he leaks down the inside of your thigh.

The camera clicks, and just as you start to lower yourself down, you feel his fingers swipe up through the warmth dripping down your leg, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to look at him, his eyes completely fixed on you as he slides his cum covered fingers inside of you.

“Just for good measure, huh beautiful?”

You hear the shutter click a few times, a few indiscernible mumbles of praise from his lips, and finally the thud of the camera as it lands next to you on the sheets. He pulls his fingers from you, tapping your ass softly as an indication that you’re good to relax.

The mattress shifts as Sam gets out of bed, his footsteps heading towards the bathroom. The light shines for a moment accompanied by the sound of running water as you wait patiently. He’s back soon after with a warm, wet washcloth, and he gently parts your thighs to start cleaning the mess he made.

It’s quiet as he tends to you, his breathing slowing down as he does. Once he’s done, he slips into bed behind you, pulling your back to his chest.

“So… what are you gonna do with those pictures?” you ask, the smile on your face audible as you speak.

“Well, get them developed, I guess. But aside from myself and the poor person at the film lab, nobody will ever see them. Cross my heart.”

“And me,” you remind him.

“Yes, yes. And you, sweetness.” Silence hangs over the two of you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Will you stay?” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. You wrap your arms overtop of his where he’s holding you tight, nodding.

“I don’t think you could force me out of this bed.”

–

You’re woken by the warmth of sunshine on your face. Blinking and trying to remember where you are, you refamiliarize yourself with Sam’s bedroom in the daylight. Your eyes clear and focus on the camera sitting on the nightstand.

Sam is in a deep sleep, snoring softly with his mouth open, a few strands of his hair stuck to his face. You can’t help but smile at the sight before slipping out of bed and quietly sneaking through his house to collect your clothes strewn about.

You peek into his bedroom once you’ve gathered all of your belongings and he’s still out cold, only his feet poking out from beneath the sheets. Your eyes are pulled to the camera again, and then an idea forms. You tiptoe inside and carefully grab it, doing your best to remain quiet.

Needing darkness, you head for the bathroom and wind the film. You duck into his other bedroom on the way and grab an empty film canister. Hoping it’s quiet enough to not wake him, you close the bathroom door behind you and wait a moment before taking the roll out and putting it in the black container.

Once you’re done, you retrieve your keys from the cabinet by the door and grab an old receipt he must have just pulled out of his pockets when he was putting his keys in their usual spot. There’s a pencil on the music stand of the nearby piano, so you snatch it and leave him a little note. You write out your phone number, draw a little heart, and put the camera over the corner so you know he’ll find it. You silently sneak out the door and lock it from the inside behind you.

The drive back to your home proved to be shorter than anticipated, the light of day giving you a better sense of your location. You glanced over to the rolls of film laying in your passenger seat, taking mental stock on how many bottles of developer and Blix you had sitting on your shelf. It was times like these you were grateful for your little makeshift film lab, knowing that Sam said he would probably send these rolls off somewhere, and that some poor guy would have to see every lewd act appear right before his eyes.

You snatched the rolls from your seat and grabbed your camera bags from your trunk before making your way inside to your warm house. Feeling grimey, you ran yourself through a quick shower, eager to see what was waiting for you on these rolls of film.

Stepping into your lab you place the film rolls on the table, grabbing your Patterson canister, your chemicals, and your scissors to start the process. You trim the leads on the film rolls, smiling as you see your roll next to Sam’s. With the leads trimmed, you flip the light switch in your completely blacked out guest room, leaving you in total darkness as you pry the bottoms off of the rolls of film.

You load the long slippery strips of film into the plastic spools, screwing the lid back onto your canister before flipping your lights back on. You grab your chemicals and make your way to the kitchen, running the faucet to heat the water bath. It’s been a while since you’d done this yourself, but the process was ingrained into your memory, and you were careful to not miss a single step. You drop your bottles of Developer and Blix into the water bath, grabbing your thermometer from your junk drawer.

Your phone buzzes on the counter as you wait for the temperature to rise, your heart pounding as you see a new number flash across the screen. You make your way back to your lab, grabbing the canister off the table as your chemicals reach temperature. You carefully pour the developer into the canister, agitating it every few seconds while you read the message on your phone.

Unknown:

9:12am: Off so soon? And with my film? Should have known I’d never see those beauties. 😏

Your timer goes off letting you know it’s time to move on to the next step, so you set your phone down, ready to pour the developer out of the canister. Satisfied with yourself for not making a mess, you pour in the Blix, leaning away from the fumes as they waft through the air. You do your duty, agitating the chemical as directed, waiting the allotted time until it's ready to pour out.

You debate answering him right away, trying to leave just a touch of mystery in the air. You decide that you’ll wait until the film is done, teasing him with a photo for his eyes only.

You rinse your film with water to rid it of the chemicals, knowing there’s only a few more steps until you can see just how talented of a photographer Sam really is. You pour in your stabilizer, letting it sit for a minute, biting your lips together as you suppress the urge to text him back immediately.

With a deep breath you pour out the stabilizer, and unscrew the lid, ready to see if the evidence of your night came out in the wash. With shaky hands you pull the film strips from the spools, seeing 36 clear images appearing on the transparent roll of sepia film. A huff of laughter leaves your chest, seeing the negative image of your body in the tiny rectangles.

You suck your teeth as you hang the rolls of film to dry, knowing that in about an hour or so they will be ready to scan into your computer.

—

It seems like it’s taking longer than usual for the film to dry, at least it feels that way as you check for the hundredth time. An hour and some change later you’re dashing back to your computer with the film, scanning it into Lightroom to start inverting the images.

Your breath is stolen straight from your lungs as you see the first image. Your cheeks flame red at the sight of yourself, spread below Sam. You continue to click through the negatives, completely shocked at how good his composition is. You knew he was a hobbyist, but you start to wonder if maybe he missed his calling. You swallow harshly as you continue to look through them, but then you realize just how beautiful the photos actually are. You almost feel bad that you stole them away from him.

You work through each image, inverting the colors until they appear as they really are. You note the vintage look on the film and check the empty roll for the date. You smile as you read ‘86, knowing he shelled out a good amount of cash for that roll, and he decided to use it on you. The film comes out warm and grainy from the low light, but you feel that it adds to the photos, and you can’t think of a better turnout.

Your eyes catch on one photo, and after inverting the colors your suspicion is answered. The long finger shaped outlines on your hips were forever cemented in time. The memory of his grip burned into your mind. His body is connected to yours, and you can almost remember the feeling of him inside you as you look at the photo. You feel a rush wash over you, and you grab your phone tapping a few buttons on the screen until the camera opens. You bring it to the screen and snap the photo before attaching it to a text.

You

10:47am: *Attachment*

10:47am: I had something… pressing…to tend to. 😉

You snicker at your comment, hoping he will get the joke as you add his contact to your phone. You bite your bottom lip in concentration as you continue to work on the images, fixing the coloring and resizing them to the appropriate proportions.

As you reach the beginning of his roll, you start to see images of daily life, with people you don’t know, but are clearly happy to be having their photo taken by Sam. Bright smiles and warm moments captured by his keen eye.

Sammy

10:53am: Wow, um…

You

10:54am: I think they turned out pretty good, what do you think?

10:54am: *Attachment*

You attach another image of yourself draped across his couch, his pashmina spread across your body, the light hitting your throat exactly how he planned.

Sammy

10:55am: You’re so gorgeous, I don’t even know what else to say if I’m honest. I have to see the rest.

10:56am: Do you…Need help? I normally send my film off to be developed but it would be cool to watch.

As you click to the next image you sit in shock, trying to place the face next to Sam’s on his couch. You drop your phone to the table in front of you, trying to focus. You’re going positively crazy running through faces in your mind until it hits you. You take in the features and realize the man sitting next to Sam is the guy your friend was flirting with all night. Your heart starts to race as you make the connection. Is that the friend he left last night? Did she go home with him?

You blow out a deep breath and finish up the last photo of Sam and another long haired man, drinking foamy beers in what looks to be a foreign country. You smile at the bubbly mustaches on their lips and grab your phone to reply to his message.

You

11:02am: You’re a really great photographer, Sam. These shots are really, really good. All of them.

11:03am: If you really want to see the process you’re more than welcome to, kind of makes you feel like a mad scientist haha. I don’t have much going on at the moment, probably going to work on this next roll if you want to join.

Sammy

11:05am: What are you up to tonight? I have a work event I have to go to, but I’ll probably dip out early, especially if I have a good reason. 😉

You

11:06am: I have to shoot a show tonight, but I’m free after that…

Sammy

11:06am: So…

You

11:07am: Bring your film and a bottle of red. I just might have a few rolls we can use while we wait. 😏

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shimmerwindow · 24 days

Text

I Never Really

Part Nineteen

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Marijuana use

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To your absolute dismay, it no longer felt right waking up in Sam’s bed. You felt guilty, somehow. Immediate anxiety flooded your veins the moment sunlight hit your eyes and you rolled over to stare at his sleeping form. He was already awake, godlike and radiant with the light of the sun playing off specks of gold in his eyes.

Motions that had once felt so natural felt odd and foreign to you now. You had become so used to waking up next to him, and he would wrap his arms around you, and you would curl your body against his chest to revel in his warmth. The embrace of his arms never came, his hands tucked beneath the pillow. You were wracked with guilt, certain that you should have never spoken to him last night. Tears were already threatening to fall from your eyes before a word had even been spoken between you.

“We should probably talk,” he rasped, his voice still broken from sleep.

“Right now?” You weren’t sure you had the capacity to have this discussion, especially immediately upon waking up.

“Maybe not this very second. But some time today.”

It felt like you were about to be scolded by your mother, or berated by your boss. Your anxiety over this situation ran so high for a moment you thought you might actually vomit, but you managed to hold yourself together. “I’m sorry,” you said, tears spilling from your eyes and your head starting to ache. “For…everything.”

“Save it.” There was fire behind his eyes, a flame you’d seen many times before, when he was annoyed with his brothers or frustrated over school. He was actually angry with you, something you’d never seen before, and it scared you a bit. Not that you were frightened of him, but you were frightened of what it would mean for your future, what it would mean for you. “We’ll talk later. In my room.”

The remainder of the morning whisked by through your tear-blurred vision. He checked to make sure the house was empty before rushing you outside, out to his car, and back to the dorms. As you closed the front door behind you, you had taken one last long look at the inside of that house. It would likely be the last time you’d see it, with its creaky floorboards, chipped paint, eclectic furniture, and welcoming aura. A piece of you would remain there forever, and you knew that.

He ushered you up to his room, though with how high your nerves were, it felt like you were being escorted to the electric chair. You may as well have been – to live without him was a metaphorical death sentence. His dorm had gone through some changes between semesters, adopting his typical maximalist style more so than before. Posters you recognized from his room at the house adorned the walls, and the window sill was lined with as many plants as it could hold, all of them lush and green.

“I hate to say this,” he began, taking a seat in the corner of his bed with his back against the wall. He picked up a lighter that had been stashed on top of the soil of one of the plants, fidgeting with it. “But I’m more disappointed that you lied to me than anything.”

You sat across from him, as far away as possible, and you realized why this felt so familiar. Your positions now were identical to the way you'd sat with him the last time you’d had a conversation of this nature. Full-circle, as always. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry, but…” he sighed, eyes trained on the little pink plastic lighter as he twirled it between his fingers. “Sorry won’t fix this.”

“What about you?” You couldn’t fight the urge to immediately go on the defensive. “You were with that other girl last night. Had you still been talking to her the whole time I thought it was just me and you?”

“No, actually.” He looked at you, and you could see truth in his eyes. “Hadn’t talked to her in ages. Probably shouldn’t have called her at all.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“Mistakes?” He scoffed, turning his eyes away from yours. “Is that what you’d call it? A mistake?”

You realized he wasn’t talking about his own actions. “Listen, I know you’re not happy with me. But why are we talking about this at all? I fucked up, and I know that. So we should just drop it, drop all of this, drop each other.”

“You know neither of us can.”

“Maybe we should learn, then.” You spoke softly, hoping your voice would not reach your own ears.

“Or maybe, we could just…keep some distance.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

He pulled his shirt collar aside, scratching at his shoulder. Just to the side of his collarbone, a circular bruise had blossomed, in the shape of your teeth. The sight of it made you ache, a feeling you knew would not be sated for a long time – if ever again. He didn’t respond, clearly trying to gather his thoughts, yet failing.

“I’m not tainted, you know,” you mumbled. “I’m not ruined because I…did that. And you’re not innocent, either.”

“I know you’re not. It’s about the trust. You lied to me.”

“You never made it official.”

“I didn’t think I needed to.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And you made it clear you wanted to wait, anyway.”

It dawned on you that perhaps you’d also been the one to put him in a difficult position. To expect him to stay perfectly faithful, when you had betrayed his trust and lied to him about it, was incredibly unfair.

“And I didn’t think about it from your perspective.” He fidgeted nervously, trying to work it out in his head. “It probably looked like I was leading you on. But I didn’t realize you’d go running to the one guy I kinda made off-limits to you. But, also, it was unfair to make someone off-limits to begin with.” He shrugged, twirling the lighter between his fingers.

“We’re both guilty.” You stared down at your hands in your lap, your eyes tracing over the remnants of the scar still present on your palm. A reminder of the love you’d shared so briefly, much more permanent than the finger-sized bruises on your hips.

“Space, then. We need to step back.”

“God, I don’t want to do that.” You whined it like a petulant child, squeezing your hands into fists.

“Do you love me?” He turned to face you, his eyes boring deep holes into you. With the gloomy sunlight hitting him, you could see the bruise on his face much more clearly. His brow was still a bit swollen, the remnants of a dark circle present in the yellowish color marring the space under his eye.

“I do.”

“Then we need to.” He held out his hand for you to take, entangling your fingers gently. “I can’t lose you permanently. Take some time to heal and I’ll do the same.”

The idea that you had to heal from anything – especially the wounds you gave each other – was mortifying. It brought you to tears, though you had none left to let fall.

“How am I supposed to live like this?” You asked.

“When you figure it out, let me know.” He tried to give you a smile, though it didn’t convey anything but sadness. “We just have to suck it up. No contact. I won’t text you, and you won’t text me.”

“No more walking to class together.”

“No more dinners together, either.”

“What if I run into you at the plant sale this week?” You said, a smile forcing its way to your lips.

“Just pretend I’m not there.”

* * *

The two of you managed to successfully avoid each other, for the most part. For a week, you didn’t see much of him, only the occasional glimpse between classes as you passed on the walkways. You’d always pretend as if you hadn’t seen each other. It was painful, but less than you'd anticipated, in all honesty. It was not a soul-crushing sadness that consumed you, but something more like a sense of relief. It was nice to finally prove to yourself that you would be okay without him, and to finally have time to reflect on your actions.

You were able to admit to yourself that you had, in fact, slept with Jake as some form of revenge. It hadn’t been conscious at the time – you'd been so deep in lying to yourself about everything, it felt natural to add another tangle to the web. But Jake had never been someone you’d wanted to pursue, not until you realized how badly it would hurt Sam if you slept with him. Neither of them had deserved any of it.

By the second week, something started to shift. You’d taken the time to own up to your actions in your own head, and the guilt that once crushed you began to dissipate. When you saw Sam, you’d stop, say hi, make up some excuse to talk – maybe you remembered some random knickknack you left in his room, maybe he remembered you still had one of his shirts, though it was always a lie. And both of you knew it.

At the third week, on one Friday night, he texted you. Something simple, only saying hello and asking how you were. You’d told yourself not to reply, fought with yourself typing and deleting paragraphs declaring your love over and over, until you wrote an equally bland response. Things continued this way for weeks, the occasional talk, the random texts, all of it cordial and simple.

Until one night, when you’d had a bit too much out of the wine you’d snuck into your dorm, and he’d been feeling a bit too bold. You’d texted him something a bit too risky, and within minutes, you heard a knock at your door. That had been the first night you’d broken your own rules, and it seemed to be a constant cycle from there.

Space was not something you could successfully keep. Not when you would “accidentally” run into each other on your way back from class. Not when he would stare at you with those eyes the color of Venus, smile at you with a mouth of perfect teeth and pink lips. Not when you would visit him in his dorm, with the intention to help him with an assignment, a code both of you learned quickly. Every time, it would end with your clothes on the floor, your naked body against his, your head on his chest as he held a smoldering joint between his teeth. Today was one such day.

“We really shouldn’t keep doing this,” he said, absently brushing his fingers through your hair. “Probably not good for us.”

You were quiet for a minute, listening to the crackle of paper burning as he took another hit. “But it’s so nice, isn't it?” You grinned, even though he could not see your face, playing the part of the devil on his shoulder.

“Sure is.”

You watched smoke curl up and away from you, sucked out the window by the gentle breeze. Spring was nearly here, midway into April, the chill finally gone from the air until the next batch of snow came. Spring in the midwest was a fickle thing. It was too cold at night to open your window, but you still always did – there was something about that smell of spring you couldn't resist. The buds on the trees, the first of the flowers poking their heads out of the ground, the birds returning, all of it was breathing new life into you. And, with any hope, breathing something necessary back into you and Sam.

It had been almost a month now of this song and dance between the two of you. It was almost as if nothing had changed, but you came closer to more arguments than before. You never fought, not outright. One of you would always back down before things could escalate too far. In all honesty, you wished the two of you could fight. There were plenty of things you needed to hash out, but you never quite could bring yourselves to bring it up. You’d both call it protecting your peace, but it felt like you were only doing more damage. You’d talked it all through to death, your mutual apologies numbering in what felt like the thousands. There were no hard feelings anymore, but the scars still lingered.

They’d started playing shows more frequently as of late. The venues had gotten bigger, cover charges had turned into ticketed events, and on a few occasions down in the city, lines had formed outside. You heard whispers of some guy down in Nashville, something about albums. It was bizarre, and didn’t quite seem to be sinking in for any of you. At the end of the day, Sam was still the wonderful, corny weirdo you’d fallen in love with. Even as you watched from the wings while women and men alike screamed and cheered for him and his brothers. The band even had a name, now. A strange one, but somehow it fit perfectly.

“There’s a show at the house tomorrow,” Sam remarked, his calloused fingers tracing shapes into the soft skin of your back. “Want to come?”

“Of course I do,” you replied. “But will that be…awkward?”

He shrugged, the motion making your head bob a bit. “It wasn’t too bad last time.”

You hadn’t seen the other guys much in the past month, only once, when you’d “happened” to run into them at a bar. The whole space thing between you and Sam had made for an interesting night. The two of you kept an almost ridiculous amount of distance, not even making physical contact once, sitting at opposite ends of the group, barely interacting at all. His brothers hadn’t quite known what to do with the whole situation, all of them glancing awkwardly between the two of you the entire night. Ultimately, they left it alone, knowing better now than to get between whatever you had going.

“I’d have to disagree,” you replied, pulling closer to him.

“For all they know, we’re still on that healthy distance kick.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“You know how I get after your shows.”

“I’m well aware.” He laced his fingers into your hair, absently playing with a few strands. “What is it about that, anyway? Does people screaming the wrong lyrics get you going or something?”

You laughed in sync with him, rolling off of his chest to lay on your elbows, looking at him. “It’s your hands, mostly. The way your fingers move…” you imitated the way his hands would fly across the strings of his bass.

“Really? These things?” He held the joint between his teeth and wiggled his fingers at you. “All calloused and fucked up?”

“That’s the best part,” you grumbled.

“Guess I just don’t get it.” He reached behind him to stamp out the end of the joint, every curve in his body a masterpiece to your eyes. “So are you coming to the show or not?”

You pondered it for a moment, turning the idea over in your head. It seemed like a perfect recipe for disaster. But the days were getting longer, the sun shining warmer on the days it didn't rain, and a part of you was aching for a drunken night of music and joy. “Sure,” you sighed. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

#sorry this one took so long it was so hard to write omg #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #inr #i never really #sam kiszka #greta van fleet sam #gvf sam #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka fan fiction

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samkiszkasfacialhair · 10 months

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Show of hands, if I were to ✨hypothetically✨write a historical fiction mini series about cowboy Jake or Sam (undecided) falling in love with Y/N- a rich, sheltered, young woman who only learns what it means to live and love after meeting him- who would read it?

Update: The series has begun! It’s called Rollin’ and Tumblin’. It follows cowboy Jake however cowboy Sam will be making an appearance.

#greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet imagine #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fan fiction #jake kiska fic #jake kiszka smut #sam kiszka smut

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aflame4goinghome · 5 months

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Kay’s Fic Recs !!!

all of these fics are 18+ and contain smut! read at your own discretion ;)

Josh:

Confession by @thewritingbeforesunrise

The Art of Life by @gvfgal

Brightest Blue by @garbagevanfleet

I See Hell in Your Eyes by @joshsindigostreak

Uncharted Territory by @ficthots

Little Fantasy by @jake-kiszkas-smirk

No Hands by @joshym

Valtava by @gretavanlace

Jake:

Covet by @jakeyt

Imperfect Moments by @abeautylives

Le Morte d’Arthur by @joshym

Cream & Sugar by @sacredthefran

Sémillante by @profitofthedune

Last Call by @milkgemini

The Red Medallion by @earthlysorrows

Capital Vices by @builtbybrokenbells

Pedagogue by @profitofthedune

Dear Patience by @ageofbajabule

Tending by @zm-gvf

Mirror of the Damned by @alwaysonthemend

The Professor by @jakekiszkasmommy

Crimson Lace by @meetingthestarcatchers

Sammy:

Pink Lemonade by @garbagevanfleet

It’s Called Being Nice by @gretavanfleetposts

Locked Out by @sparrowofthedawnsworld

A Need That Goes Unspoken by @neverwanttofallasleep

How I’m Imagining You by @geminisecrets

Seven by @garbagevanfleet

Danny:

Stretch You Out by @gvfgal

Black Swan by @holybananafuck

Struck by @gretavangroupie

Little Bird by @gretavanlace

Red by @vanfleeter

Stroke Me by @hyperfixated-gvf

Twins:

Poppins by @gretavanlace

Kismet by @gretavangroupie & @sacredstarcatcher

What Is And What Should Never Be by @sinsofstardust

Down The Hall by @milkgemini

Skin Deep by @streamingcolors-gvf

Forbidden Twins

Vigilance by @gretavangroupie & @gretavanmoon

A Beautiful Riff by @sparrowofthedawnsworld

Janny:

Valor by @gretavangroupie & @gretavanmoon

Greta Van Fleet

Fire in the Water by @gretavanfleetposts

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #jake kiska fic #josh kiszka fic #sam kiszka fic #danny wagner fic #fic recs #reading list #greta van smut #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van angst #greta van fluff

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garbagevanfleet · 1 year

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Pink Lemonade (series)

PART FIVE

Pairing: Sam x female!reader

Word Count: 7k words

WARNINGS (this chapter): very light hearted talk of suicide by poisoning, tobacco use

Editor in Chief (and creator of the moodboard on each chapter): @gardenvanfleet

MASTERPOST

Special Playlist here (highly recommended as it fits the vibe immaculately, made in collaboration with @mountain-of-the-suns <3)

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Sam was quiet at dinner that evening. After having to be waved over by Josh, he hadn’t made a whole lot of eye contact for the duration of the meal, leaving you to wonder whether or not he was still feeling the hangover.

Were you supposed to be making fun of him for it? He’d made a point to complain about your state earlier that morning when you’d first woken up, and so it felt a little out of character for you to hold anything back.

Still, it felt like low-hanging fruit, so you pushed the thought aside until dinner was over. Sam had finished and left well before you or Josh, so you took the opportunity to finally exchange phone numbers with the boy that you were starting to think of as your best friend. You agreed to meet up with him for a movie a little later under the condition that you would get to bed at a reasonable time so you felt well-rested for the morning, and then you’d gone your separate ways.

The night was cooler than you’d expected on the walk back to your cabin; every once in a while, the lake-chilled breeze would rake over your skin and leave you with a smattering of goosebumps. Hundreds of frogs filled the night air with a cacophony of low, droning croaks that somehow managed to be both comforting and eerie in their collective constance.

You almost made it. You had your hand on the doorknob to your cabin, and if you would have just forced your head down and not let your eyes catch on the light through the boys’ cabin window, you would have been able to put the whole thing from your mind. But you didn’t.

Instead, before you could put any proper thought into it, you turned on your heel and knocked on his door, loud enough that he’d be able to hear. After a few seconds, you could hear him padding across the creaky wooden floor with his feet that you knew were bare.

He pulled the door open and then let out the most exasperated breath. Instead of greeting you in any way, he just stared at you, and it instantly felt as if he could dig through the layers of your soft tissues with his eyes alone.

After a long second, you remembered you should probably say something, so you anxiously cleared your throat

“Hey. You were looking a little rough tonight - you gonna be ready for new campers in the morning?”

Without letting any real emotion seep into his voice, he flatly answered, “No.”

For whatever reason, that made the corner of your lips lift into a crooked smile. “I didn’t think so. Is there anything I can do? You seem...”

“What?” he prompted with his dark eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I seem what?”

You shrugged, unsure of how to navigate without running yourself aground. “I don’t know. It’s normal for you to be an asshole, but right now you just seem...deflated, I guess.”

“Why do you waste so much energy on stupid shit like this?” he sneered, but it didn’t sting as badly as he was intending.

A few seconds passed as you tried to collect the right words. “Well, I think it’s just because, despite your best efforts, I consider us to be friends. At least acquaintances.”

“Well, don’t,” Sam scolded, dumbfounded by this news. You weren’t sure how you could possibly respond to that, so instead, you just smiled stubbornly, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

Once he reached the conclusion that you wouldn’t be offering any more, he let out a restrained breath that sounded a little closer to surrender than anything he’d said to you thus far. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t true, obviously. You’d never met a person generally less “fine” than the one standing before you, but deciding you’d already given it all the effort it deserved, you forced a smile. “Okay.”

As you turned around on your heel to head to your cabin, you bid him a goodnight and were shocked to hear him reciprocate in a muted voice. You thought about it as you readied yourself for bed - you wished that you could just grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he let go of whatever it was he was holding on to, but you knew there was no use in trying to force anything from him, especially since he seemed to be hell-bent on having a bad time.

❀❀❀

The next morning proved your point exactly. Sam was absent for breakfast - a fact that did not seem to concern Josh in the slightest. He spent the time chatting easily to you over scrambled eggs and coffee about how he hoped this cycle of kids would stack up to the last.

In fact, you didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of Sam until you were already in the process of lining up to be introduced to the campers. He was lucky enough that Director Graywater was distracted by a couple of particularly excited children, leaving Sam free to slink over to take his place next to you without the threat of detection.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught him shooting a wink to Josh, who had a disapproving look locked and loaded.

After a few moments of staring down at the grass below your feet, you chanced a look over at Sam. The tips of his long hair were resting on his clothed collarbones, and despite the fact that he’d started wearing it down with a bit more frequency, it still always felt a little strange to see him that way - a little too casual.

“What, no comment from you?” Sam quipped under his breath, obviously able to feel you surveying him, even with his eyes trained forward.

You let out a little scoff, though you had to admit to yourself that you were relieved that he seemed to have put the worst of his bad attitude to rest, if only for this morning. “You can’t seem to decide what you want from me, Sam. Do you want me to tease you or not?”

He met your gaze and released a humored breath through his slender nose. “I go back and forth.”

You put on your most unamused tone to retort, “More than anyone I’ve ever met.”

The rest of that day was spent just getting acquainted with your new girls. You led them around the grounds as if they were your ducklings, answering any questions that popped into their heads, and by the time dinner rolled around, everything felt pretty comfy. They stuck to you like glue in the dining hall for the next couple of meals, but before you knew it, they were branching off and forming little groups of their own.

As the midwestern summer crawled forward, the weather started to become a little less forgiving. On the third day of that cycle, you were met with a muggy, dragging kind of morning as you stepped out for breakfast, and by the time you and your girls made it down to the archery range, sweat was already starting to bead along your brow.

Sam and his campers had beaten you there by a minute or two, and you tried to stamp out the warm and fuzzy feeling you got when you caught Sam on his haunches, helping one of his boys get his safety gear on correctly.

You counted yourself lucky that the activity was guided, giving both you and Sam plenty of leeway to dip in and out as you fancied. He’d been surprisingly...well, not upbeat, but he seemed to have been falling into a comfortable rhythm for the past few days, so you weren’t surprised to find he didn’t react poorly when you sought out where he was leaned against the side of the equipment shed, watching the kids figure out how to string their bows.

He didn’t greet you, but he was wearing the ghost of an amused expression as you asked, “Wanna sit?”

Before he could reply, you slid down the wood siding to the ground, not finding it in you to be bothered by your shorts getting dusty. After a second, he joined you, folding his long legs one over the other, crossing at the ankle.

All of his visible skin was tanned from the touch of the summer sun, contrasting deeply with the yellow camp shirt he’d chosen to wear. He was rolling the sleeves up as he cleared his throat.

“So, since it’s so fucking hot, they’re not going to make us haul all that shit back out into the woods tomorrow, right?”

“I’m afraid so,” you replied, but you’d only put on the sympathetic tone for his sake - you’d always loved the camping night, even when the conditions weren’t ideal. As you met his eyes, you were reminded of the last time you’d had to endure the experience with him.

He frowned annoyedly. “They’re not worried we’ll die of heatstroke?”

“If you can sit through the wilderness safety course they make us take and still die of something as preventable as heat stroke, I think they’d count it as natural selection,” you quipped in return, pulling your knees up to lean forward on.

He hummed, replying, “I could only be so lucky.”

“Oh, c’mon, Sam,” As you peeked over at him, your cheek brushed against the skin of your forearm and the slight sting was a tell-tale sign that you’d sweated off your sunscreen and were starting to burn. You fished the travel-sized bottle from your pocket to reapply as you finished, “Surely being here can’t be that bad. I imagine it must be better than prison.”

Despite himself, you could see him fighting to keep a smile from forming on his angular features. “You really think they’d let me out of a felony with community service? Especially working with kids?”

It was perfectly clear to both of you that you had been joking, but you were hopeful that maybe by prodding at the edges of the subject, you might stumble upon something worth knowing. “It was worth a shot,” you said with a shrug, tapping some of the sunscreen into the high points of your face with the pads of your fingers before offering the tube to him. Possibly just to surprise you, he accepted it, popping the cap before delivering his retort.

“If you’re going to dig for information, at least try for something plausible.” He rubbed the lotion into his skin in a circular motion, putting on a faux frown to scold you, “I really thought you were smarter than that.”

“Ha. I knew it.” As much as you tried to make your boasting sound like jesting, you found yourself genuinely flattered - not that you could ever let him know such a thing. He didn’t respond other than to smile forward, fixing his eyes on the kids.

For the first time you could recall since you’d met him, you felt as though you could take the silence that fell over you for what it was - it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. You were able to put it all out of your mind as you snuck a peek over at him, just as he was resting his head back against the wooden boards. You weren’t naïve enough to fool yourself into thinking that everything was going to be smooth sailing from there on out, but you couldn’t see the harm in pretending as his eyes slipped shut in favor of tipping his freshly protected face to the sun.

❀❀❀

“I’ve decided we’re going to do banana boats this time,” you informed Sam before you could even greet him. You’d agreed to meet him in the kitchen after breakfast, just like the last time you’d prepared for the camping trip, but this time, he seemed a little less miserable as you casually brushed past him through the doorway.

“You really want to carry all that extra shit out there?” he questioned, giving you an unconvinced expression as you pulled the coolers from the storage under the counters. After you nodded at him, he added, “Well, then that’s all on you. I’m not getting roped into your masochism.”

You rolled your eyes through a chiding smile. “C’mon, Sam. The kids will love it. As much as you try to convince me of the contrary, I know you like the feeling of making your boys happy.”

“They’re a lot easier to please than you seem to be aware of. They’re perfectly happy roasting hotdogs and sleeping in a tent like a homeless person for a night. Why add more work for everyone involved?”

Instead of responding to his stupid question, you just offered him a triumphant grin as you started to neatly pack handfuls of bananas into the cooler. “What are you gonna put in your banana boat?”

He met your teasing tone with a huff and roll of his eyes. “Cyanide capsules.”

“I don’t think the camp keeps those stocked. They seem like kind of a specialty item.”

“I keep a couple on me at all times for just such an occasion,” he assured, though he seemed to fully surrender to your idea as he pulled out a jar of peanut butter and a bag of milk chocolate chips from the pantry.

As he’d so tactlessly predicted, the hike out to the campsite wasn’t fun. The humidity from the lake seemed to be trapped in the density of the woods, leaving the surrounding air feeling thick as it filled your lungs with each breath. This round of kids were slightly better listeners than the last, but it was still only marginally - they still managed to make it feel like attempting to herd cats as you reminded them to stay on the trails.

To his credit, Sam didn’t complain in front of the kids about having to carry the extra supplies, but he made it a point to shoot you an unamused look as he slid the heavy cooler onto the wooden table. Luckily, you’d been able to gather that he was a lot stronger than his wiry frame would suggest.

This time, when you went over safety guidelines, you avoided setting the strict rules you’d drawn up last time, instead just firmly reminding the kids to be careful and aware of where they were in relation to the campsite at all times. As you watched Sam help the children gather firewood for the second time, you suddenly found yourself grateful that you hadn’t been assigned a younger age group - you think Josh might have been the only person you’d ever met patient enough to walk a group of six and seven year olds through this process. As it were, Sam happily accepted the little twigs and too-long sticks, all perfectly inappropriate for building a fire, and he let anyone who wanted to gather around and watch as he got the kindling ready.

Trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, you observed him through dinner too. You watched him help the kids get their hotdogs on the skewers, and even cook some of them for the ones that were too nervous to get close to the fire. He even graciously applied the ketchup for a kid upon request, wearing a fond kind of smirk as he did so. You could only imagine the apathetic humor his inner monologue had suddenly shifted to.

You’d been considering it since the previous day, but it was because of these newly displayed, amiable behaviors that you decided you felt comfortable approaching him after dinner, holding a hollowed-out banana in a cradle of tin foil. When he spotted it in your hands, he huffed a laugh that was supposed to sound inconvenienced, despite the fact that his attention had been occupied by nothing more than watching the kids consume their treats from the sidelines.

“What do you want on yours?” you tried again, earning yourself a raised eyebrow. “I couldn’t find the cyanide.”

“I’m boycotting the bananas,” he stated, folding his arms over his slender form in defiance, though it did still seem playful.

“Are you sure? Because you’d think you’d want to reap the benefits of all your hard work.”

After a moment of studying it in consideration, he snatched it from your hands. “Fine. But I certainly don’t need nor want your help making it.”

Feeling a surge of bravery in the moment, you teasingly suggested, “Well, what if I just stand by you and comment on the way you’re making it?”

“Yeah, that’s much better,” he agreed, shoving forth the most sarcasm a person could use without it sounding cartoonish. “Not annoying at all.”

You’d had no intention of following through with your threat, but you did find yourself feeling unreasonably validated as he ate it by the fire with a white plastic fork, listening to a couple of your girls talk about their lives back home. It was almost charming to watch the same man that bit your head off the first time you ever laid eyes on him entertain a conversation about horse lessons.

You’d be lying if you were to say that it hadn’t crossed your mind throughout the day, but as you started settling into your tent for the night, you couldn’t clear your head of the first night - that first time you’d trekked all the way out here with him. As you fluffed your pillow in an attempt to make the next few hours even slightly more comfortable, you thought about how that was the first time he’d called an unspoken truce for the sake of the moment. It was the first time you felt that, now familiar, cautious optimism in his presence.

The consuming heat throughout the day had done a number on the kids; each and every one of them was out like a light in record time. After that, you laid on the hardwood floor of the tent and fought to keep your eyes open, which you instantly recognized as a stupid idea. You had no clue as to whether or not Sam was going to pull that same “smoke break” stunt again, and even then, there was absolutely no guarantee that you’d know if he did.

You strained to hear through the taut canvas, focusing on each and every little sound that felt out of place as if you were a prey animal. The edges of your thoughts were starting to blur, and you could feel your consciousness sinking inward as you were dragged toward sleep, but just before you lost it completely, you were snapped awake by the crunch of leaves and debris. The night sounds nearly swallowed it up, but the uncertain pattern of the steps was enough to catch your attention.

You’d opted to use your blankets as padding underneath you rather than sweat through the night, so nothing hindered you from scrambling from your spot on the floor. Pushing aside the flap of your tent, you found you couldn’t move an inch past the entrance before being met by a long pair of legs, bare from the thigh down.

You gathered the courage to lift your eyes until you were staring at the outline of Sam’s face in the dark.

As you stepped your bare foot out into the dirt, you saw his fingers twitch before he stuffed them into the pocket of his sleep shorts. You could almost convince yourself that he’d been intending to lend you his hand but thought better of it, and since there was no way he would catch it, you felt comfortable rolling your eyes exaggeratedly at his façade.

Once you were able to straighten out your tight muscles, you followed as he slowly led you back to that same log you’d sat on last time. Even once you were seated, leaving plenty of space in between, you were hesitant to speak, suddenly irrationally afraid that you’d open your mouth and accidentally misjudge your volume.

Still, as the moments passed by, it became apparent that he wasn’t going to be the first one to break the silence. You watched him reach behind his ear for a loose cigarette, pull a white lighter from his pocket, and take a first drag before you finally decided to chance it.

“Why were you standing outside my tent?” you asked under your breath, earning yourself a cool tone painted over his reply.

“Because I knew you were still awake and waiting for me.”

For a second, you considered not pressing the matter further, but before you could put any real thought into it, you blurted, “How?”

Equally as flat as his last statement, he uttered a simple, “I just did.” You weren’t entirely sure how you were meant to respond to the thought, but luckily, he didn’t force you to sit with the uncertainty for long before he finally looked over at you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “I’ve told you before that you’re almost too predictable.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, feeling a slight sting in the center of your chest. Pointing with your thumb over your shoulder towards your tent, you challenged him, “Should I just go back to bed then?”

Sam held your stare as a little smirk spread across his lips. “You’re bluffing.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right, but once he’d voiced it, you felt you had no choice but to prove him wrong. You stood and turned, but just before you could take the first step to head back, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist. You hadn’t been expecting him to touch you. You could have expected a snide comment or a smug kind of “good night”, but you never would have guessed that he’d touch you intentionally.

It was done and over so quickly - he withdrew his hand almost instantly, but you couldn’t see a shred of apology on his features. Instead, he sounded annoyed, though you had your suspicions that it was mostly just to smother his embarrassment.

“Just sit.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Then scrap every shitty little remark you have loaded for me.”

“What, all of them?” he asked, and though you could only see his profile, obscured by the shadows, you caught the sudden warmth coloring his tone.

“Yes. Talk to me like a normal human being, Sam.”

He hummed amusedly. “Like you’re a normal human being, or like I am?”

“Both!” you laughed incredulously, mentally scolding yourself for letting your volume creep up.

“What do normal people even talk about? I’ve been in this circle of hell so long, I think I’ve forgotten.”

A scoffing laugh left your parted lips as you rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so melodramatic. Despite your efforts, I think you’re enjoying yourself here.” His head snapped over so he could look at you, but before he could find a way to turn that into an insult, you added, “And all of our kids obviously love having you here. Maybe it’s okay for you to let yourself have a nice time.”

“No,” he declined, the sharp simplicity of it bringing you to suppress another laugh.

“Y’know, Sam,” you started cautiously, keeping your demeanor playful as you edged around the subject. “You might be here as a punishment, but if you actually end up liking it, then it’s not really a punishment at all, is it? You get to get away with...whatever it was scot-free.”

A snicker made the shape of his shoulders shake next to you. “You’re absolutely relentless.”

The fact that he’d seen right through to your real intentions didn’t deter a grin from spreading across your lips at his mock-scolding, especially since he couldn’t seem to keep it from sounding admiring.

“You really want to know what I did that bad?”

You nodded at him, not feeling a shred of the shame you once did about your curiosity.

“You know you could just look it up, right?” Since you were undoubtedly donning a confused expression, he graciously added, “All criminal proceedings are public record. And, since we’re living in the year 2022, you could look it up on your phone and know within seconds. You could know right this second.”

The way he pointedly separated the last three words caused you to swallow back an unexpected lump in your throat. You were far too embarrassed to vocalize that you hadn’t come across that idea naturally, but it must have been perfectly obvious.

You hadn’t even been trying to come up with a response in the few long seconds that passed; all of your brain power was being used to process each unspoken implication of him telling you this - and, of you not coming to the conclusion on your own.

He took the silent moment as an opportunity to turn his body towards you on the log, just a little more, so he could really make a meal of it as he asked, “So, are you going to do it? Since you want to know so bad.”

Without having to think about it for even a second, all you could do was slowly shake your head.

“Why not?” he pressed, leaving the question dripping in an obvious faux confusion. He stubbed out his barely-smoked cigarette on the bark of a tree until none of it was left burning and then turned around to casually toss the butt into the firepit.

There was no answer you could produce that would satisfy him, so you just shrugged weakly, offering a smile of surrender in hopes that would be enough.

The moment could have dragged on forever; there were so many forms it could have taken. Instead, you both silently decided to let it die. It wasn’t long after that he stood, prompting you to do the same. He led the way back to the tents, and just as you wrapped your fingers in the canvas, you risked bidding him a soft “good night”.

His stride faltered a bit as he peered back over his shoulder at you, and for a moment, you held your breath in fear that it would go unacknowledged. You couldn’t tell if he was debating what he wanted to say, or if he was trying to figure out if you’d said anything at all - it had been quiet, somewhat eaten by the sound of a lively forest at night.

Finally, with an undeniable fondness, he uttered, “Go to sleep.”

❀❀❀

As it reached the end of the first week of the second cycle, your kids started gaining confidence. Like the last batch before them, day by day you were accompanied by fewer and fewer of them any time they weren’t required to be by your side, but that bittersweet feeling found itself diluted by the appreciation for privacy.

You were back to being able to openly chat with Josh over meals without the fear of saying something inappropriate for little ears. His counseling partner, Ashley, very clearly seemed to be spreading her wings as a social butterfly; it wasn’t uncommon to see her sitting at a table of counselors you’d never learned a single thing about. Sam, however, remained the opposite. In the three weeks you’d known him, you’d only witnessed him a handful of times talking to someone other than you or Josh, and he seemed to be perfectly content that way.

He was accompanying Josh when they walked into the dining hall on the evening of the ninth day of the second cycle. You’d gotten there a bit early, hungrier than usual because you hadn’t liked what they’d served at breakfast that morning, and you hadn’t gotten around to asking Sam if he still had pop-tarts, though you hadn’t really stopped dreaming about them throughout the day.

“Boys,” you noted in greeting as they slid into the seats across from you. “Josh, you’re really starting to turn pink.”

He lifted his eyes to you from his tray to offer a crooked smile. “I always do - every summer.”

“I packed enough sunscreen to share, if you want. Otherwise, I know the camp has plenty ready upon request.” Glancing over the rosy stripe across his otherwise-tanned face, you counted yourself lucky to not be stuck with it - it looked like it would sting.

“I have some,” he declined gratefully. “I just always get busy and forget to reapply it throughout the day.”

Tone a teasing kind of chiding, you replied, “Do you need me to send you reminder texts periodically?”

Sam had his expression schooled to look bored beyond an attention span as he ran a fork through his pile of mixed vegetables, but you could tell that he was listening by the little roll of his eyes at your offer. Since there wasn’t really any way you could confront it without turning the whole conversation on its side, you decided to let it go.

“Did you see what the special activity is for this cycle?” Josh asked, making an admirable effort at containing his anticipation to tell you. You let a laugh slip as you shook your head.

“Well, on the way over here, we saw camp faculty unloading a huge trailer full of canoes down by the docks, so I’m guessing it’s that,” Josh informed the group of you as a whole, earning an impatient expression when he gently smacked Sam’s bicep. “Isn’t that so exciting, Samuel?”

There was a strange kind of smug quality to his prodding, something teasing but not lacking in his usual warmth. You’d imagine it would drive you to rage if he were your brother, but since he’s just what you’ve come to consider a best friend, it was inching towards endearing.

The next line from Sam’s mouth was so weighted with sarcasm that it came out as more of a drawl. “I’ve never been more excited in my whole life up to this point, to be honest, Joshua.”

As your eyes flicked back and forth between them, you decided that it could only be a good idea to shift the focus from Sam, so you fixed your eyes on Josh, waiting until you had his full attention before jesting, “So, you don’t even really know if that’s what our special activity is - you just saw some canoes and made an assumption?”

He flashed you a grin. “Seemed like a safe bet to me.”

After chewing it over in your head, you nodded in agreement. “That does sound like it has the potential to be a lot of fun.”

“Right?” Josh half-gushed at the sentiment, thrilled to have you on board. “I hope the canoes are still around when the campers leave because I wanna take one of those things solo.”

“Yeah, like a night excursion!”

“Should we?”

Sam let out a dry laugh, absently tapping his fingers on the tabletop as he remarked, “It sounds like you two are begging for some kind of tragedy.”

“Oh, now you want to take the moral high ground on safety?” Josh jested him, causing Sam’s eyes to flick over at you.

You could assume that Josh was referencing whatever mysterious thing had put Sam here in the first place, and with that in mind, it wasn’t hard to figure out that he was gauging your reaction to it, trying to surmise whether or not you had clued yourself in on the secret.

Of course, you hadn’t. It had evolved into such forbidden knowledge in your head - in the mythos of Sam, it was borderline folklore to you. You were certain that simply “googling” it would remove all the fun of trying to find out, in a way that Sam telling you personally would not.

You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly. It was clear as day to you that he was fighting back a smirk, but once he regained his grip on his composure, he let out a breath and stated, “Even I wouldn’t do something that stupid.”

There was a very unserious self-righteousness to Josh’s quip as he teased, “Well, then consider yourself uninvited.”

Sam scoffed, unscrewing the cap of his camp-branded, metal water bottle. “That doesn’t mean a whole lot to me since I didn’t know I was invited in the first place,” he retorted, firmly cementing your theory that he’d annihilate the competition for the camp’s most passive aggressive award, if such an ill-intentioned thing existed.

As if he were barely a part of the conversation at all, Josh stood without warning, offering you a vaguely apologetic expression as he nodded across the room to where Ashley was sitting with a group of their kids. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to just make sure everything’s okay.”

You couldn’t help but notice that his tone wasn’t really what you’d describe as concerned. Glancing in that direction, you saw them all wearing smiles as they chatted around a circular table, some of them even visibly laughing. “Josh, I think they’re fine-”

Before you could finish the thought, he cut it short, waving you off with the casual assurance, “I’ll be back before my food gets cold.”

Without a shred of haste, he followed a path through the dining furniture and children, even slowing to warmly greet people that recognized him as he went. It all felt a little out of place to you, which was why you still carried the remnants of suspicion as you brought yourself back to your present company - whom you had briefly forgotten was Sam with all the sudden distraction.

You cleared your throat once you remembered what it was you were even talking about. “Anyway. Of course, you’re invited,” you stated once you met his eyes again. “I think that was all mostly a joke though. I cannot imagine Josh would paddle out in the dark on an open lake, but then again, I don’t know him like you do.”

You’d thought that since the conversation with Josh had felt so light and playful, you could just pick back up on it, but Sam’s sharp features molded into an expression of irritation. When you realized he wasn’t going to say anything, you parted your lips and bravely chanced, “Do Josh and I make you feel left out? Because, if you wanted to do stuff with us-”

“I don’t,” he stated confidently, setting his fork down in its slot on the tray as if he were preparing for a quick getaway.

You smiled at him, finding genuine amusement for the situation as a whole. “Right, obviously,” you quipped with playful sarcasm, letting your eyes scan over his guarded posture. “If it makes you feel any better, I just assume that you’ll be tagging along with Josh for anything we plan.”

This time, when he lifted his eyes to yours, you were concerned to find that there was something genuine behind the angry frown he was wearing. Out of all the negative interactions you’d ever had with him, the worst it ever got was “deep irritation”, but you’d accidentally touched a nerve, and the evidence was being poorly disguised in his features.

“Well, shocking as it may be to you, it does not make me feel better to know I’m seen as an inconvenience that you have to deal with when you want to see my brother,” he declined, impressively managing to keep his tone level despite how tight his jaw was.

You shook your head quickly, naively hoping you could bring him back to you. “I didn’t say that, Sam. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Do you think I’m too stupid to understand implication?”

You could lay awake in your bed all night long fantasizing about how you’d respond to certain scenarios, but living them in real time was different. There wasn’t any room for you to think about what you were going to say, since you knew it was only a matter of time before he removed himself from the situation - because, to his credit, he was fantastic at that. That lack of retrospect and time sparked a sense of panic behind your ribs, and that was what caused you to snap at him.

“Why do you always do this, Sam? Things finally start to feel a little better and then you start looking for something to get pissed off about. The only reason that came out wrong was because I never know where the fuck we stand from day to day - sometimes even moment to moment.”

His muscles were pulled taut as he listened to you air your grievances, but you couldn’t tell if the lack of picturesque rage was because he was winding down, or because he was so angry that he couldn’t even emote properly.

“It’s so fucking exhausting to be around you because I never know if you’ve decided to be an adult that morning or not.”

The second it left your mouth, you wished you could suck it back in. In real time, you watched as he grit his teeth, his fingers curling in on themselves until his knuckles were white, and that’s exactly how Josh found you when he made it back to the table. He’d had his mouth open to make a joke as he got nearer, but he correctly decided against it once he’d gotten a taste of the new mood that had settled in his absence.

As he slowly sunk down into his seat, his wide eyes curiously flicked back and forth between the two of you.

After a second, he pursed his lips, worrying them together before cautiously asking, “Oh boy. This got worse, didn’t it?”

“It’s fine. I was just leaving,” Sam stated coldly, gripping both sides of his tray a little too tightly to look natural.

“Of course, you are.” The familiar hurt in your chest gave the pointless remark a biting quality as you finally pulled your eyes from him, folding your arms over your chest as he stood.

He didn’t say anything else, or even look back as he dumped the remainder of his food in the bin and then headed out the doors, but you could only imagine what kind of lamentations and curses were bouncing around in his skull.

You were a million miles away from your body, staring through the top of the table as the adrenaline made your mind race. In your head, you were picking through every interaction you’d had with Sam up to that point as if they were index cards, barely aware that Josh was surveying the process while he bit a chunk out of an apple.

It was then that you began tugging on a thread in your brain. The night of the party at Birch faded from your memory after a certain point, but if you focused all your energy on it, you could recall pieces of the walk back to your cabin with Sam. Since you weren’t really familiar with them, you couldn’t be certain that the memories you were resurfacing weren’t false, but some of it was tangible enough.

Josh opted for silence as the atmosphere in the room depressurized, and once he decided you’d had enough time to process, he caught your attention to say, “I’m sorry that went in a bad direction.”

You lifted your eyes to acknowledge that you’d heard him, but your mental queue was too full to piece together a reply. You stared across at him for a few dragging seconds before feeling collected enough to speak.

Keeping your volume low so that only he could hear it, you cautiously stated, “I think I might have accidentally let myself...like Sam.”

Josh stared at you blankly for a long moment before his lips finally turned up into a sentimental, wistful smile. As he planted his elbow into the table and let his chin settle into his cupped palm, he dreamily declared, “I love camp.”

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