#open up just the tiniest bit & calling him lonely was just trying to wriggle open that door just a crack but Dream would never allow it

[secondjulia]

Lord Morpheus' Curls: A short film

Happy holiday, friends! Have you had the opportunity to appreciate Tom Sturridge with curls yet?

From Effie Gray (2014).

[forestwater87]

Sometimes, Ch. 4

Read the first three chapters here

Safety Net

David doesn’t mean to worry anyone. He never does.

He always tries to be the most helpful he possibly can; he tries even when the campers or his coworkers don’t always want it. He can’t help it, though -- his mother always taught him to lend a hand, because everyone has struggles and he has a gift for seeing the bright side, and he’s always worn that as a badge of honor but sometimes it feels a bit more like a burden, when no one around him will try to see the bright side and he’s forced to hold the silver lining onto every dark cloud when the glue’s coming loose and no one seems to see it anyway and he’s --

He’s just tired, sometimes.

But while people never seem to notice his attempts to stay positive, they sure can tell when he stops, even for just a second.

“David?”

“Mr. David, where are you?”

“The fuck’s up with camp man?”

He takes a deep breath and draws his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead on his knees and blocking out the distant babble of voices.

They’ll be fine.

He’s allowed to need a minute.

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door to the shower stall, making him jump. “I, uh, know this isn’t appropriate, but you aren’t like . . . jerking off in there, are you?”

David sighs, lifting his head and tilting it back against the water-softened wood. “No, Gwen. I’m not.”

“Okay.” He hears the scuff of her boots on the dusty floor, and the corners of his mouth twitch because he can picture her perfectly. “I’ll just, um, go get Jasper for you.”

He wants to tell her not to bother, but he knows better. Knows that telling Gwen to do anything is an exercise in futility, and knows that it’s impossible to keep Jasper away if he has even the tiniest inkling that something might be wrong, and knows that he can’t spend the rest of the day in the showers anyway, because he has a job to do and people depending on him.

He hears the door to the bathrooms open, the unintelligible murmur of Gwen’s voice. Then there’s a gentle knock, and a pair of pristine white sneakers with neon shoelaces appear under the stall door. “Hey, Davey? Having a shower party with the spiders?”

(He also knows that Jasper’s voice is a cup of tea, warm and comforting, and just a few words have the knotted muscles in his shoulders unwinding. He knows better -- knows that Gwen knows him well enough to realize his boyfriend is exactly what he needs.)

David reaches up and unlatches the door, his arm dropping to his side like a rock into the lake. Everything feels heavy, even his tongue, but he doesn’t have to say anything as Jasper slips into the narrow stall -- too small for two people to fit in comfortably; they’ve tried -- and plops down onto the grungy tile next to him. “My butt is gonna be soaked,” he says, no real complaint in his voice as David turns his face into the warm, sweet-smelling dip where Jasper’s shoulder meets his neck. He wraps an arm around him, tugging him closer, and they’ve snuggled like this a hundred thousand times and David is always a little awed by how well they fit together, like the crook of Jasper’s neck was made specifically to accommodate his bony face.

Ever since they were kids, when Jasper was still the camp darling and Davey was the resentful brat who too frequently stained homesick angry tears into the shoulder of his tentmate’s pajama shirt by night and refused to acknowledge him by day -- before they were even friends, they slotted together neatly like this.

He’s not sure their relationship makes sense, but he’ll never stop being grateful for his constant, perfect Jasper.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jasper asks, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “Or about something else?”

He shakes his head, not sure to which part of that question. “The Millers called,” he said, sniffling. “Th-there’s a lot of paperwork to . . .” His throat closed, a painful golf ball lodged behind his adam’s apple, and he took a raw breath that scraped past the lump, just enough space to force the words out. “Transferring Mr. Campbell’s . . . everything. To me. I have -- have to go into the ci-hhity t- !”

A thousand words build up behind the golf ball, things about setting up a low-key camp for his CBFLs to run while he’s gone and how he needs two separate forms of identification and whether the campmobile will survive the trip to Camp Corp. (who are generously supplying a meeting place in order to facilitate the relinquishing of Camp Campbell as quickly and smoothly as possible), and how they have to scrape together enough money for an overnight stay if it goes too long because his eyes aren’t very good in the dark anymore from staring at too many campfires and how lonely he’ll be without them, how he hasn’t had to fall asleep without the weight of Jasper’s arm across his chest or over his side and he’s wanted the camp back but it’s too much -- too big and too scary and too much, and this is what Gwen and Jasper are good at and so he just wants to leave them to it so that he can play in the dirt and teach the campers about the forest and sleep --

He . . . hasn’t been sleeping well, the last few nights.

“Oh, Davey.” Jasper sighs, turning his head to press a stubble-scratchy kiss to his forehead (David feels a pang of guilt; he must’ve been getting ready when Gwen found him).

Heat prickles at his eyes, and he squeezes them shut, taking a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be bogus.” He snorts softly, his hair bouncing against David’s temples as he shakes his head and mutters, “Nah, I can’t pull that off.”

“Sure you can,” he replies automatically, because his boyfriend can do anything he puts his mind to.

Jasper kisses the top of his head again, and David can feel the way his mouth is curved into a smile. “Radical, dude.”

There’s a knock at the door and they both jump, causing the wobbly shower head to jolt and cascade a handful of cold droplets onto their heads. “You guys okay in there?”

David starts to wriggle out of Jasper’s arms, opening his mouth to tell her they’re fine and will be out in a minute, but Jasp tightens his embrace and says, “Get in here, Boss Santos. It’s an emergency.”

“Oh, that’s not nece --”

“It’s very necessary,” Jasper says, louder. “Ignore him.”

If Gwen’s surprised to see them sitting in a small puddle of water on the floor, she doesn’t show it. Jasper graciously -- if clumsily -- tugs off his dark blue hoodie and drops it onto the ground for her to sit on, waggling his eyebrows.

“M’lady.”

She rolls her eyes and slides down to sit across from them, her back against the shower wall opposite and her feet awkwardly splaying to fit between their bodies. (This shower is even less suited to three people than it was two.)

There’s a moment of silence, where David tries to avoid Gwen’s piercingly curious gaze. Jasper, of course, breaks it after only a few seconds.

“So . . . this is nice!” He sounds a little bit like David when he puts on that falsely chipper voice, though he insists he’s not doing it on purpose. “When’s the last time the three of us hung out in a cramped, unhygienic space like this?”

“Literally every day, Jasp.”

“Sure, but there’s usually fifteen screaming kids as well. If we tried that here it’d be a regular phone booth challenge. Speaking of which . . .”

“I’m using my daily veto on that.”

Jasper grins at her, a smile that never fails to make David’s stomach flutter. “You sure about that? Breakfast isn’t even over yet. I could have a lot more bad ideas you’ll wanna shoot down.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

David snuggles into Jasper’s shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed. For the first time in what feels like weeks, he’s actually sleepy. Warm and surrounded on all sides and soaking up the voices of his two favorite people in the entire world, he suddenly wants nothing more than to block out everything else.

He’s almost dozed off when he hears a change in Gwen’s tone, softer and more serious. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” Jasper’s fingers comb through his hair, and David tilts his head into the touch. He’s too tired to open his eyes, but that’s okay. “Just stressed about the whole camp thing. And going into the city tomorrow is freaking him out.”

She snorts -- louder than she intended, he can tell, because her next words are almost a whisper. “That’s fucking stupid. Why is he going alone?”

Jasper shrugs, the movement almost jolting David out of his drowsy half-aware state. (He shifts, tucking into the crook of Jasper’s neck so he won’t be jostled as much.) “You know what he’s like.”

“Fucking stupid,” she says again, and David wonders if he’s just imagining the warmth in her voice.

They’re quiet again, the soft drip of the shower and the distant shouts of the campers the only sounds in the muggy air. It wraps like a damp blanket around them, heavy and cozy.

“Why don’t you go with him?”

“To the city?” He hums thoughtfully, and David knows that if he was still wearing his hoodie he’d be playing with the drawstrings on it. “What about you?”

“Please. I’ve been running this camp before you started here,” she says, the disdain in her voice making David smile even in his barely-awake state. “If I have to, I’ll get QM to scare the shit out of ‘em. They’ll be good.”

“They’ve never been good.”

She sighs, long and heavy, like she’s just barely holding back her irritation. “We’ll be fine.”

“If you say so. Just let me ask him.” Jasper lightly shakes David’s shoulder. “Hey, Davey? I’m gonna come to the meeting with you tomorrow. If that’s okay with you, just keep sleeping.”

He should say something; it isn’t really fair to leave Gwen with the campers all day by herself. But opening his eyes feels like too much work, and so does the thought of pretending he doesn’t want Jasper there.

So a few seconds later when Jasp murmurs, “There, all settled,” David allows himself to let go of his guilt, just this one time.

It’s okay if he’s not ready to run things alone, because he’s not alone.

He has a safety net.