Summer Camp - 2. Heart Strings

Paddy was brought out of unconsciousness by a number of contradictory sensations. Firstly there was the warmth of another person along his side, the deep satisfied ache within his body that can only be achieved having been well and truly fucked, and the comfort of knowing in the back of his mind his search was over. On other hand he was aware there was grit and small stones digging into his skin, and quite possibly twigs in his hair. The latter overrode the former, and Paddy opened his eyes to find himself sprawled on the floor of the cabin with half a blanket over and under him and Troy snuggled against his side.

He sat up groaning. His mouth was dryer than a dust bowl, and then he remembered the cabins had no plumbing. There was no way either of them had been organised enough to take water from the mess hall before taking off.

“Bollocks.”

Troy’s ice blue eyes flashed open.

“Well good morning to you too.” He sat up too, and lifted himself onto the balls of his feet. He had much more grace than anyone naked and dusted with mud and bits of pine tree should have possessed.

“H-hey…” Paddy stared openly at his lover. Things had been way too rushed the previous evening to actually take stock of his mate. Now Paddy allowed himself the luxury of looking. Troy was narrowly built, but not thin. He had muscles under pale skin dusted with blond wiry hairs. The freckles that were so prominent over the bridge of his nose didn’t stop there. His shoulders, arms, back and sides all bore the markings, some of which were much larger in size than just a few pin pricks. He was well put together, and Paddy couldn’t help but stare at the nestled shape of his soft cock remembering that a scant few hours ago, they’d fucked with abandon in the woods.

“Fuck, I hope naeone heard us.”

“You were rather loud,” Troy smiled when he spoke, and offered a hand to the big guy on the floor. “Come on, the day’s starting and we both need to get in the shower.”

The word ‘shower’ stuck rather in Paddy’s brain and he was up, rooting through his kit bag for towel and toiletries. He grabbed one of his pairs of khaki combat shorts and one of his collection of mismatched madly coloured t-shirts. Only then did he brush bits of grass and pine tree from his chest.

“Uck.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of dirt.” Troy had wrapped his towel and around his hips, heading for the door.

“I’d rather it stayed out of the house,” Paddy muttered before catching up, “I just can’t believe I found you here.”

The shower block was deserted and semi-dark in the wan early morning light. The two young men dumped their stuff on the little bench and Troy began to feed tokens into the shower.

“I never figured you’d be a guy.”

“What!?” Paddy stood at the entrance to the big shower cubicle, stunned, even as Troy dropped his towel and went to stand under the jet, “Ye what?”

“I never figured my mate would be a guy.” Troy stopped washing twigs out of his hair to stare at the big man, “Will you get in here already?”

Blinking hard, Paddy stepped into the cubicle and shut the wooden door behind him, making sure the deadbolt locked. Troy was using some sort of herbal smelling scrub to washing the dirt and grit from his skin, but Paddy instinct to touch him was currently at war with his head.

“Why wouldn’t ye think ya mate w’be a bloke?

“I’m not gay.” Troy said the words as though they were throwaway and didn’t matter. Paddy found himself laughing.

“Naeone spends the nite balls deep in another man and declares tha they are nay gay afterwards.”

“Well I’m not gay,” Troy’s voice had a hard edge to it, and he did not want to be argued with, “It’s just you. Now will you please get over here so I can touch you again?”

“But…” Paddy stood rooted to the spot. The idea his mate wasn’t gay was too confusing. Paddy had been gay his whole life. From the second his dick could think, his dick had thought about guys, and while he’d always shared his father’s view that his mate was out there somewhere, he hadn’t spent his whole life simply waiting for him to come along. If Troy had never been with another guy before, ever, then he’d never been fucked, probably never danced shirtless surrounded by heat and bodies and throbbing bass beats, and almost certainly had no idea what the word ‘versatile’ even meant.

“Just leave it for fuck’s sake,” Troy hissed, “Patrick!”

Something about the way the man said his name made Paddy’s self-control crumble away like so much sand under the force of an oncoming tide, and he crossed the space to wrap himself around Troy. The smaller man melted against him.

“That’s better,” He words were soft and warm, murmured into Paddy’s skin as his mate burrowed into him, “I hate not touching you.”

“Me too.” Paddy decided Troy’s not being gay might not matter, at least for now, because he had the man in his arms, and nothing was going to get between them. Troy used his oatmeal coloured scrub on Paddy, and they washed each other until the water ran out.

“That is the most enormous,” Paddy raised an eyebrow as Troy gaped, “Towel I’ve ever seen. Good god, where did you get it?”

Paddy rubbed the massive fluffy bath sheet over his head, rubbed himself down and wrapped the vibrantly yellow cloth around his hips like a kilt as he exited the shower cubicle.

“I like big fluffy soft things.”

“Oh yeah,” Troy tied his own towel around his waist as he followed, “You did say you were a bear. What colour?”

“Mam’s family are all blacks-”

“But shifter traits only pass through the male line.” Troy said as he hunted for his toothbrush.

“Wi ye stop interrupting us like? Mam’s family are all blacks, but I get the bear from me Da’s side. He’s spectacled.” Paddy sighed, seeing Troy’s very blank expression, “Spectacled bear? Black wi blond-white face markings? Naemind, you’ll see for y’self soon enough.”

Paddy found his tooth brush and started to make himself feel marginally more normal. Now he’d touched Troy again, he felt less tense, like somehow the line cast between them was a little bit slack. He bumped the other man with his hip, just to make contact, and felt the instinct gripping his heart grow stronger, but grip less tightly. Well that was interesting.

“You know, for a bear, you’re not very hairy.” Troy was grinning around his own toothbrush, his eyes smiling.

“It’s cause a Da,” Paddy spat in the sink, “I barely hae ta shave. You’d think wi turning twenty-one next month I’d at least hae some kinda five a’clock shadow.” He rubbed his smooth chin, “Nae luck.”

Troy finished with his teeth and run his fingers through the mess of his hair, which by the looks of it, was all he ever did.

“Can I?” Paddy laid down his toothbrush and took his natural bristle hairbrush from his bag. His father had made it for him from the guard hairs of their summer moults for his eighteenth birthday, and the idea of using it on Troy made him strangely excited.

“Morning early birds.”

Paddy dropped the brush and scowled. It was too early in the day to be up, let alone be forced to share his mate with people. Realising he was being deliberately miserable, Paddy smiled at Noah Wilson and allowed the stocky guy to smack his hand in an early morning five.

“Y’know I think that bed is gonna kill my back before the summer is over,” Noah stretched and examined himself in the mirror, “I swear my mattress is filled with some mad combination of rocks and straw. What about you two?”

Paddy glanced at Troy, then Noah, who was clearly waiting for an actual answer.

“We-”

“Mine was so bad I ended up on the floor,” Troy cut in, “But my roommate can apparently sleep on anything.”

Right then, Paddy sighed, gathering up his stuff and pulling his t-shirt over his head. So we’re not telling people. He put his combats on from under his towel, slung the terry cloth over his shoulder, and trudged back to cabin number four with his bootlaces undone. It had felt like Troy’s words squeezed his heart in the most painful manner imaginable and Paddy had no idea why or how it had happened. No one had ever said anything bad about finding your mate, and Paddy wanted to kick himself for believing it was all going to be sunshine and lollipops.

“Oh Great Spirits.” Paddy pulled on two mismatched socks before retying his boot laces. “Please show me what I should do”. The cabin was a bit of a mess, and pretty much all his stuff was still either in his kit bag or strewn over the floor. A quick glance at his phone told him he still had ten minutes until breakfast and the start of his official work day. Paddy did what he did best. He made himself at home.

Of all the things he’d brought with him two objects were most important. His clan tartan breacan-an-feileadh great kilt which was neatly rolled to avoid creases and the quilt his mother and her family had sewn for him when he was a cub. The quilt showed the view from the window of his grandparents’ house and the mountains and lake where the clan played every spring when the waters ran thick with fish. Paddy spread the quilt across his bed and re packed all his other clothes neatly, storing his spare hiking boots right by the door to avoid any more of the cloying yellow-white road dust getting into the main part of the room. He brushed all the dirt from their night time activities back out of the door and had the place finally looking clean and fluffy-sock friendly when Troy showed up. The sight of the other shifter made his heart ache in a way he’d never known was possible.

“Paddy?” Troy instantly came across the room to touch him, and the ache backed off a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” You really wanna start this off by lying to him and pretending everything’s alright all of the time? “I didn’t like what you said to Noah.”

“What? He won’t work anything out.” Troy shrugged and Paddy put an arm around his waist, finding the gap between old t-shirt and cargo trousers to touch his skin.

“That’s my point. I’m nae ashamed of bein wi ya. I want ta tell people.”

Troy blinked up at him.

“I don’t think that’s wise. We don’t know them, they don’t know us. We should keep quiet for now.” When Paddy looked crestfallen, Troy took the taller man’s face in his hands, “They won’t understand Patrick, how could they? To them we are two regular guys who barely know each other. We need to be careful.”

“They can’t discriminate against us because we’re gay.” Paddy said sternly. He was pleased when Troy didn’t argue with him, at least about the definition of his sexuality.

“But they can make our lives uncomfortable. I took this job to make friends, not enemies.” When Paddy didn’t reply, Troy smiled at him and took his hand quickly, “Come on, let’s go have breakfast.”

“Wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss ya first?”

“God I thought you’d never ask.” Troy bit his lower lip and grinned, “Let’s see if you kiss as good in daylight eh?”

The press of the smaller man against his chest, the paired softness and roughness of his lips was enough to make Paddy go weak at the knees. When he finally pulled away, Troy seemed just as blown away and out of breath.

“Yeah,” Troy seemed to be speaking to himself, his eyes glazed, “That’s good.”

Though Paddy hated to let him go, he dropped Troy’s hand as they left the cabin and headed across the green to the mess hall. Levi, Sean and Noah were already there, and Nic came stumbling in behind them, groaning.

“Hard night for you was it boss?”

“Shut up Wilson,” Nic sank into his chair and set his sunglasses over his eyes, “Somebody bring me some fucking coffee.”

When Levi got up with the intent of fetching some, Sean shook his head vehemently.

“It’s his own damn fault. He always drinks too much the first night in. Likes to think he’s still nineteen and able to consume his body weight in beer.” Sean banged an enamelled cup against a tin plate and Nic winced.

“Breakfast time!” He hollered out of the door, “Come get it!”

“After today we eat with the kids’ right?” Troy had taken a dish from the stack of mismatched plastic plates and was piling it high with all manner of meaty breakfast items.

“Yeah,” Sean was pouring mugs of tea and coffee from the huge upright kettle, “When the kids are in, we eat all our meals with them over in the big marquee; breakfast, lunch and dinner. We serve them too. It’s actually a nice way to bond.

“Urgh…” Nic looked like bonding was the last thing he wanted to do with anyone.

“Hae much di’ he drink?” Paddy asked warily.

“Well you- Where did you two get to last night anyways? You left really early.”

“Long journey. Bed.” Paddy replied, “What’s for breakfast?”

“Full English.”

“Ye havenae got any kippers have ye?” When Sean frowned at him Paddy shrugged, “I’m a pescatarian.”

“I’ll make sure I do fish at weekends eh?” Sean smiled, “Sorry, I think someone,” He glared at Nic, “might have forgotten to tell me about the teams dietary requirements, so I did a standard fry up and a vege version.”

“Naemind. I’ll just have toast and cereal, an a big heap o’them beans.”

“Did someone say food?” Ava bounced in through the door, “Hiya boss!”

“Go away…” Nic had found a baseball cap and pulled the brim down over his eyes, “I can feel pieces of my brain falling away like a wet cake…”

Paddy arranged his breakfast on the low table and took up the sofa next to Troy, purely so he could brush his leg alongside the smaller man’s.

“Your breakfast looks funny,” Troy said, munching his way through a sausage like he had a grudge against it, “Your bacon is missing.”

“I daen’t eat meat,” Paddy explained, “It’s wi pescatarian means. Fish and vegetables, cereals, nuts, beans. Nae meat.”

Troy looked down at his own plate which was almost entirely made up of fried pork products.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Well I think you’re a definite improvement on who you were being yesterday.” Alexia Franco took the seat near enough at the head of the table, holding a singular slice of plain brown toast and a mug of steaming water with herbs in, “No skirt and no meat, even if you are a hypocrite who eats fish.”

Paddy sighed. It was rather obvious Miss Franco had views, on everything.

“You’re a vegetarian?” Ava asked around a mouthful of beans and toast.

“I’m a vegan,” Alexia announced in the way one might imagine royalty doing, “Animal products of any sort are destructive to the digestive, bad for the skin and dangerous to the planet.”

“Riiight…” Sean had finished serving and sat down with his breakfast, “You did put this on your personal and medical information form?”

“What?”

“There’s a section where it asks about dietary requirements.”

“Oh…”

“I’m gonna need to phone the wholesalers and tweak the order a bit aren’t I? Central office won’t be pleased. Hey Paddy?”

“Aye?”

“You’re strong. Come down to the hub with me to pick up the order. I’ll see what swaps we can make with the other fields.”

Paddy finished up his breakfast, washed his plate and bowl in the deep sink and left the stuff sitting on the drying rack. Their main source of transport turned out to be a little John Deere green open topped pick up, with two gears and headlights which apparently only worked some of the time.

“Here’s how it goes: The kids come with their teachers, on camp for usually five days four nights, sometimes a day less, and we get the weekends ‘off’ except for equipment checks and tent repairs, that kind of thing.” Sean used his hands a lot when he spoke, using his knees to grip the steering wheel in a manner Paddy found rather worrying. “When the kids are here, all our food comes from the kitchen at the hub. They make industrial portions of everything and we go down and collect our lot. All the cleaning supplies, toilet roll, etcetera comes from the hub too, but the teachers and kids have to supply their own.”

“An’ when the kids are nae here?”

“I’m your cook. Central provides us with food for three meals a day, and we have much wider choices without the kids and civvies around. ‘Course, some people go home, or folks might go into town for dinner, but apart from rare occasions, I’ll make your food.”

They parked up outside of the hub building, a site which had once been some kind of military bunker from its shape and low height. In the last twenty years an extension had been put on the top and side, with big steel extraction fans from the kitchens.

“I niver thought it wid be so complicated.” Paddy remarked as they went in through the double doors.

“Six Trees is a big site, and there are seven teams like ours total, up to six hundred kids on site at any one time. And we are booked this year, that’s for sure.” Sean lead the way into the main store room where he took a clipboard from a peg on the wall labelled ‘River Road Two’ and started to walk along the aisles of supplies, checking things off and directing Paddy to start making a pile on a flat bed trolley.

Mostly it was cleaning supplies, a couple of brooms, a huge block of toilet roll, sponges, plastic wash basins and hand soap. Paddy pushed the load back out to the truck where they made a slightly precarious pile. He was fitting the wash basins into a gap between the loo roll and dish soap when he felt his heart squeeze painfully. What rope had been tied between himself and Troy, it had run out of slack. A connection measured in distance and time, and now all Paddy could think about was getting back to his mate as fast as he could. It hurt like getting punched in the gut, an ache so painful it was almost sweet. Paddy didn’t want to think about the implications this had if he had to spend any time at all away from his lover. He drove back like a madman, Sean hanging onto the seat and the dashboard, whooping.

“You can drive every time bud!” Sean laughed as Patrick stalled the little pick up and jumped off.

Paddy barely heard the man, because his senses pulled him across to the big field where various large flat bits of fabric showed a spot of tenting was taking place. Troy was there, holding a flexible tent pole in his hands, rooted to the spot. One look and Paddy could tell the other shifter was using all his self-control not to race across the field at him. Paddy had no such self-control, he ran. Troy’s growl was low, but warning enough, and the pain increased evermore as Paddy forced himself to stop short, walk the last three paces to his mate and take the tent pole from his hands. Troy touched his hand when he did it, and it was enough, just, to ease the clenching spasms of his heart.

“I wasnae even gone for long.” Paddy was panting, trying to cover how utterly relieved he felt to be within sight and scent of the other shifter again. He threaded the pole into the tent and took Troy’s hand as he swapped sides. The smaller man was shaking, his pulse racing under Paddy’s fingers.

“That was fucking horrible.” Troy appeared to be focusing rather hard on not throwing up, “How are we supposed to manage all summer if we can’t be away from each other?”

“I hae no idea,” Paddy fitted the end of tent pole into the slot on the tent and the main arc popped up. “Let’s git the rest o’ tha tent up aye?”

They’d both been through induction, and they both had plenty of experience building tents to get the shell of the tent up within minutes. These tents were designed to sleep eight people, were tall enough for someone slightly shorter than Paddy to stand up in and would stay up all summer, weather permitting. Just like it had been at High Rocks, Paddy safely assumed one of their jobs would be to move the tents around the field every weekend to avoid killing certain patches of grass. They set it in well, and Troy gathered up the interior fabric and ducked under the half open flap. Paddy followed him quickly.

With the shell over them, everything in the tent seemed slightly green, and Troy seemed pale and sickly as he turned to Paddy. There wasn’t even time to breathe before the Scandinavian man pressed himself right up against Paddy as close as they could be while still clothed. Paddy nuzzled into his messy hair, wrapping his arms around his mate.

“Harder.” The words were muffled into his shirt, and Paddy felt the vibrations of need running through his partner. He squeezed. “Patrick.” Troy suddenly melted against him, emitting a happy purring noise, and Paddy smiled into his hair.

“It cannae be liek this all the time ye ken,” He murmured, “Naeone’s ever said it w’d be this hard.”

“Someone’ll notice. Come on, we still have to fit this damn thing out.” Troy pulled away from him again, but this time, Patrick paid attention to the sensation. It wasn’t a tug, or a pull, but as they began to pin the insides of the tent with its three compartments in place, Patrick realised he had a heightened sense of where the other man was.

When it became time to put up the next in the line of tents, Paddy picked up the two rubber peg mallets and made sure he was never more than a few feet from the man he was mated to.