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starlitangels · 8 months

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Campfire Songs

Pre-romance. Listen, I was raised by a guitarist. Certain things have to happen when we go camping 2.0k words

—

"Oh—my God!" Elliott exclaimed, swatting at the air. "I swear if I get one more mosquito bite I'm going to lose it."

"I told you to put on bug spray."

"I did, sunshine! It doesn't matter to them!"

I laughed. "Well, you can't blame them for finding you delicious," I retorted. "What was it you said to me a couple weeks ago? You're a... mm... 'legit snack' or something?"

"Shut up," he muttered, dragging his camp chair closer to the fire in hopes that the smoke would drive off the mosquitos. I kept laughing. He rolled his eyes.

We sat by the fire as the last of the sun's rays vanished from the sky, plunging the woods into complete darkness.

Elliott got up from his chair. "Now that it's officially nighttime, it's time for the one last surprise," he said.

I watched him leave the ring of firelight in the direction of his car, my eyebrows scrunched.

He returned with a long, black leather case. Distinctly-shaped. He sat down again and set the case gently on the ground, starting to undo the buckles.

"I didn't know you play guitar," I said.

He shrugged. "I don't play often. My..." He cleared his throat. "My brother taught me how. Our dad had a guitar that he never used. When he died..." Another shrug. "Aaron kinda took custody of it. He taught himself. Then taught me the older I got. Once I was big enough to wrap my hand around the neck." He pulled the acoustic out of its case by the neck and slung the strap over his head, tucking it under his other arm. "I had to learn how to play right-handed though. Because Aaron's right-handed. And it was too much of a hassle to restring the guitar for my left-handedness every time he taught me." A faraway look passed over Elliott's face. "I think he still has Dad's. Took it with him to Dahlia when he moved out for college." He cleared his throat and shook his head. "I learned how to play left-handed after I bought my own guitar." He smiled sadly. "And it kinda feels more natural, but it's also not what I'm used to."

He tuned the guitar, keeping one ear toward the body of it, as he twisted the tuning pegs.

"You can tune by ear?" I asked.

"Eh. Kinda. I'd rather tune by ear than have one of the little tuning things clamped onto my guitar's head, telling me what to do." He laughed, and I joined in. "Not perfect, but I make do."

"You should bring that to my parents' place sometime. My dad would love to jam with you."

He scoffed. "And embarrass myself in front of a professional? No thanks."

"Eli," I chided. "You know my dad. He's not like that. He'll be so proud of you just because you're playing at all."

"Well why don't you play?"

"Oh, he tried to teach me. But he's so good and natural at it that he couldn't understand why I was struggling so hard. So ultimately it just never happened. We both got too frustrated with the other." I chuckled. "Still a good memory, though."

That faraway look flitted across Elliott's face again, his violet eyes unfocusing. "Your dad knows I admire him a lot, right?"

"My dad sees you like his own son, Eli," I returned. "He knows."

Elliott chuckled and started plucking out a simple pick pattern. “Your dad is a good guy, sunshine.”

“I think he’s personally offended on the grounds of dadhood that your dad was such an ass,” I remarked. “And he’s determined to dad you better.”

Elliott laughed. “That’s not hard. The bar is already so low it’s a tripping hazard in Hell.”

I burst out laughing. “Well. My dad will raise it for you. He’s the kind of dad that little kids who aren’t comfortable with stranger adults like immediately. He’s just got friend energy. Or dad energy. Like. My neighbor’s granddaughter doesn’t like adult men at all. She was pretty isolated her first couple years of life due to a sickness and never got exposed to many people. She loved my dad immediately at a neighborhood barbecue and was attached to him all night. Her mom was amazed. It was cute.”

Elliott smiled. “I don’t doubt any of that. Including the raising the bar thing.” He shifted his fingers on the guitar’s neck and started a different pick pattern. A particularly famous one. I smiled. “Come on, sunshine. Let me hear that voice of yours.”

I smirked and cleared my throat. “I close my ey-eyes. Only for a moment—and the moment’s gone…” I sang. Elliott’s eyes immediately closed. A small grin tilting the corners of his handsome mouth. “All my dreams… pass before my eyes a curiosity.” I paused for the music cue. “Dust in the wind… All they are is dust in the wind…”

Elliott joined me on the harmony. “Same old so-o-ong… Just a drop of water in an endless sea… all we do… crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see… dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wi-i-ind… ahhh-ah-ah.”

We smiled and swayed gently as he kept picking at the guitar strings. Most of Dust in the Wind was that same pick pattern.

The musical interlude passed and I picked up the next verse. "Now. Don't hang o-on... Nothin' lasts forever but the earth and sky... it slips awa-ay—and all your money won't another minute buy-yyy..."

Elliott grinned at me.

We sang the whole song while Elliott played, just snickering between lyrics. Then moved on to a different song, and another, and another. We went on until night had well and truly fallen. The last few shafts of sunlight vanished and inky black-blue overtook it.

When there was a high sky of thousands of stars overhead and we'd gone through every camping song my dad used to play on these trips, he took a deep breath and sighed. "Time for bed, sunshine?"

I pursed my lips and nodded. "I think so."

He slung the guitar strap off over his head and started to gently tuck the guitar into its case. He handled it with such gentle care. For a single, quick flash, a fantasy shot through my head of his long fingers cradling the back of my neck with the same tenderness as his guitar neck as he kissed me.

Ohhh no, no, no. Shut it down, moron, I thought sharply. Elliott is your Best Friend. Nothing more. No more of those thoughts. No kissing.

We got up from our camp chairs. "You go brush your teeth and get ready," I said. "I'll put out the campfire."

He gave me a sarcastic salute. "Yes, captain."

I flipped him off as he walked off to the tiny public bathrooms down the parking lot from the campsite. He laughed and stuck his tongue out before disappearing behind a tree. I rolled my eyes and started to shovel some dirt and sand onto the fire to smother the flames. Elliott would probably be back before I got finished. I considered staying out in my camp chair until he went to sleep in the tent before turning in myself.

Sometimes I wondered if it was just me, or if Elliott noticed the way our gazes lingered on one another. If he noticed the way he touched me slow and gentle, and I did the same for him. We'd become such good friends in such a short amount of time. It felt like he'd always known me, and yet I'd only met him last week. I'd already memorized most of his details. The strange violet hue to his eyes. The tiny nick of a scar on his lower lip from tripping and hitting a sprinkler head as a child. The birthmark on the bone of his wrist that he tended to hide under his leather bracelets. That one dirty blond curl in the middle of his forehead that hung looser than all the others. The exact shape his lopsided smile took when he was up to no good.

I wondered if he memorized things about me. If he'd taken pieces of me and woven them into his heart the way I'd done for him.

Elliott returned while I was still putting out the fire. But instead of turning in and going to sleep, he stayed out with me and helped me finish up.

We turned in. We'd borrowed my parents' five-person tent, our sleeping pads—not full air mattresses—and sleeping bags jammed into opposite corners, with our bags scattered about the middle. Elliott's guitar case joined the clutter.

"Goodnight, sunshine."

"G'night, Elliott."

—

Several Hours Later...

—

I hadn't stopped shivering since I got in the sleeping bag, huddled up on myself, even in my thick pajamas. I just could not get warm. Goosebumps covered my skin and my toes were numb in my socks. I'd tried everything I could think of to warm up, and none of it lasted.

"Psst! Eli!" I hissed, just to see if he was awake.

I heard him make a noise of confusion. "Mm—wha? Sunshine?" He sounded groggy.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

He smacked his lips in thought. "Not really." He sighed as though about to fall back to sleep. Then a sharp rustle of fabric showed him sitting up across the tent. The moonlight through the trees and tent canvas plenty enough to make out his silhouette. "Why? Are you okay?"

"I'm freezing!"

He swore under his breath. "I'm so sorry. I thought you'd be warm enough."

"I'm trying. I just don't have a lot of heat to hold in."

A long silence broken only by the noise of the wilderness stretched between us.

Then Elliott's sleeping bag unzipped. "C'mon. Come share with me."

"What?"

"I'm not going to let you get hypothermia. We're adults. We can be mature about this. Just come share my warmth, yeah?"

I thought about it. "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Of course not."

I slipped out of my sleeping bag and dodged across the tent as fast as humanly possible, letting Elliott welcome me into his. I burrowed down, relishing the warmth that he'd already filled it with, but trying not to touch him. No matter how much I wanted to.

If I let myself touch him, I'd never be able to get enough ever again.

He scooted back down beside me, that crooked smile visible in the darkness. "Better?"

"Mmhmm," I grumbled.

"Can I have your hands?"

"Sorry. I can't detach them from my wrists."

He scoffed in a way that sounded like he was rolling his eyes. "Let me see your hands, sunshine," he insisted.

I shuffled enough to hold them closer to him. He took each of mine in his own. His were warm, throwing my frigid skin into sharp contrast.

He hissed and swore. "You weren't kidding. You are freezing. Come here." Before I could protest, he'd let go of my hands and pulled me flush against him, holding my head to his chest.

I could have cried in relief at his body heat.

"Thank you, Eli," I whispered.

"Of course, sunshine."

I was so exhausted from shivering that I slipped into sleep within moments.

And I dreamt of Elliott. That crooked smile lit by firelight and his curls shining in the light of thousands of stars overhead. Plucking at his guitar strings and sitting on a picnic table in an open field with a fire pit right there, while I sat on the bench of the table near his leg, looking up at him. Singing old rock songs together like there was no one else in the world to see us but each other.

—

Tag list: @pinksparkl

#my husband is a mosquito magnet i had to start this that way lol #Redacted ASMR #fic #Redacted Elliott #Redacted Sunshine #Redacted Audio #Starlit Fic

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advertisement23244 · 4 months

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