Chapter 1: I
Summary:
Calum Hood, logistics.
Well. That'll be Calum, then.
Notes:
welcome to chapter one of this fic!! boy am i nervous and excited to share it. i'm on the clock here because i did in fact draft this one month ago to the day and it's 11:10pm which means if i don't post this before midnight the draft will be DELETED ENTIRELY and that is my explanation for why the chapter title is just the number of the chapter! there may be a real title in the future, yall know i like my song lyric titles, but given that this fic has seventeen chapters i'm giving myself a pass for now. i have a full time job. be serious.
anyway. that's all. presenting: summer camp boys
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Calum Hood, logistics.
Well. That'll be Calum, then.
He reads the sign underneath his own name: Alex Gaskarth, administrative assistant. As he enters the room, it becomes apparent that this Alex is already here, if the shit strewn across the floor is anything to go by. He's claimed the front room, which is fine by Calum.
As if on cue, a voice at the door behind him says, "Hey, are you Calum?"
Calum turns around to a guy with a floppy fringe of brown hair pushed back by a bandana, grinning. "Yeah. Alex?"
The guy — Alex — nods, and his grin doesn't falter. "You're logistics, huh? Sheesh. Sucks to be you.”
"Does not," Calum says defensively.
"No, I mean, more power to you, man. I respect the grind, but I could never do that. Way too much physical exertion."
Calum cracks an uncertain smile. "Well, ah, physical exertion is my area of expertise, so."
"I can see that," Alex says, gesturing to the duffel bag hefted over Calum's shoulder. "Are you gonna, like, put that down?"
"Oh. Yeah." Calum drops the duffel on the floor in the back room and dusts off his hands.
"Is it cool that I took the front?" Alex asks.
"Yeah, yeah. I don't care.”
“I’ll probably need to be up earlier than you,” Alex explains. “Didn’t wanna wake you every morning walking through your space.”
Surprisingly thoughtful for a guy whose first words to Calum were sucks to be you.
“Thanks,” Calum says. He glances around at the space, seeing no evidence that Alex has actually moved in. "You've made good progress unpacking.”
"Unpacking is for suckers. I just dig around in my bag until I find what I need." When Calum looks horrified, Alex snickers. "I'm kidding, holy shit. Can you imagine?"
"I'm already fearing for my mental state and we've been roommates for two minutes," Calum tells him.
"Good," says Alex. "I look forward to reinforcing that fear."
Calum can't help but like Alex, which is probably, he muses, going to be his downfall.
"When's lunch?" he asks.
"There's food set up in the mess hall," Alex says. "I think it's just gonna stay there indefinitely."
"Have you been to this camp before?"
"Yeah, I was a camper a couple years back, and I worked here last summer.”
“Doing what?”
“Oh, same as this summer. Office shit.” Alex lifts a shoulder. “I don’t want to work with the kids, and I seriously doubt Feldy wants me working with them either. I wasn’t what you’d call a model camper.”
Calum raises an eyebrow. “And they hired you back anyway?”
Alex shrugs. "I'm good at my job. And charming."
"Are you?"
Alex grins, all teeth.
"I like you, Calum Hood," he says grandly. Lightly, he sings, "I can tell that we are gonna be friends."
Oddly enough, Calum can tell that too.
Staff orientation goes off more or less without a hitch. The main thing that Calum retains — apart from how to set up and tear down speakers for Friday night sing-alongs — is the names of the other members of the logistics team. There’s his supervisor, Rian, who’s the friendliest person Calum has ever met in his life and has a gleaming smile to match. Then there’s Ashton, who’s almost intimidatingly energetic, and Ashton’s roommate Zack, who is neither energetic nor exceedingly friendly but does have a sort of quiet charisma that makes Calum instantly like him. They get along exceptionally well, and before the campers have even arrived Calum feels confident that the summer will run smoothly as long as nobody interrupts the logistics flow.
There is, of course, the matter of the other support staff teams.
“Support staff” means basically anyone who isn’t a counselor. That means logistics — the people who set up all the A/V equipment, do all the heavy lifting, and collect all the supplies that counselors need to run activities — but also kitchen staff (self-explanatory) and administration, more colloquially known as just “office,” for the people who answer phone calls from parents and keep track of all the paperwork and camper information.
Personally Calum thinks he’s got the best job by a long shot. The logistics office isn’t especially clean or organized, but it’s one of the only places at camp with a functioning air conditioning unit, and with all the shit they have to carry around all day under the blazing July sun, a five-minute break in the A/C, Calum quickly learns, is a lifesaver. Sure, the main office is air-conditioned too, but they have to spend all day in there, sitting at desks, taking calls, and clacking away at computers. It sounds like Calum’s worst nightmare. He supposes someone has to do it, but he can’t fathom applying to work at a summer camp knowing he’ll be doing something he could just do from the darkness and privacy of his own bedroom.
And as for kitchen staff, Calum will stick with his aircon, thanks. He’d entered the kitchen once, on an unofficial tour of the camp led by Alex, and had nearly melted in the total lack of ventilation.
Still, the quality of the jobs doesn’t reflect the quality of the employees, as Calum discovers upon meeting the office staff. As Calum’s self-appointed “spirit guide,” Alex takes it upon himself to introduce Calum to everyone, so on the third and final day of staff orientation — the day before the campers are slated to arrive — he pulls Calum into the office and loudly announces, “Guys, this is Calum.”
Everyone looks up, interrupted mid-conversation, and gives waves with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
“Hi,” Calum says awkwardly, waving back. “I’m on logistics.”
“Oh, this is Calum,” says one of the office staff members. Calum sort of recognizes him from seeing him around — it’s hard not to remember someone whose hair is black with one blue stripe off-center. “Alex said this is your first year. I’m Jack. Welcome to the team, bro.”
Calum refrains from saying that they’re hardly on the same “team,” since Jack is in the office while Calum’s doing logistics, and instead smiles. “Nice to meet you.”
“Guys, introduce yourselves,” Alex says, sitting unceremoniously in Jack’s lap. “Don’t be rude.”
“Hi,” says a dirty blond from his spot in one of the chairs set up for people to sit and wait. Calum leans against one of the panels enclosing one of the desks. The office has about six cubicles, or cubicle-like enclosures, short enough to see over but still high enough to give the illusion of privacy. It seems like a decent setup, at least. “I’m Luke.”
Calum waves. “Calum,” he says unnecessarily. “Did you ever go here?”
Luke shakes his head. “First year.”
“Really, at all?” It’s Calum’s first year too, but all of his co-workers have been here before as campers (Ashton) if not also employees (Zack and Rian), and so far Calum has yet to meet someone who’s new like him. But Luke nods.
“Michael’s new too,” Luke says, gesturing towards the remaining office staff member, who’s seated on Luke’s right and has been looking at his phone this whole time. He glances up briefly when his name is mentioned, clearly only interested in the conversation now that he’s been brought up. “Right, Mike?”
“I’m…Michael,” Michael says, perplexed. He looks first at Luke, then up at Calum. “I’m Michael,” he repeats.
Calum laughs despite himself. Michael’s good-looking, though probably the most eccentric of the bunch, with Jack coming in close second. His hair is dyed in a way that somehow blends blue, purple, and black seamlessly into each other like an abstract galaxy, and he’s got some of the greenest eyes Calum’s ever encountered. It’s almost alarming how clear they are, even in the fluorescent lights of the front office.
“I got that,” Calum says. “Luke said you’re also new.”
“Oh. Yeah. I am. To here, anyway. I worked at a different camp last summer.”
“Also in the office?”
“Yeah, basically. It’s not the same exact job, but close enough.” He shrugs. “You’ve worked one summer camp front office, you’ve worked ‘em all.”
“But he loves this summer camp the best of all,” Jack says cheerfully, kicking with difficulty at Michael under the cumbersome weight of Alex sitting on his thighs. “Right?”
“Oh yeah,” Michael says, smirking. “This one is the best one ever. For the next month and a half it is, anyway.”
“I can tell you’re really passionate about your job,” Calum says.
“And you’re what?” Michael asks, before giving Calum a once-over. “Logistics, I bet.”
Obviously Michael hadn’t been tuned into his surroundings when Calum had given his brief introduction. “Yeah.”
“Mike, I literally told you about Calum,” says Alex.
“Did you?” Michael asks. Understanding dawns on his face. “Oh, you’re Calum, Alex’s roommate.”
Calum isn’t sure whether he should roll his eyes or laugh. In the interest of being friendly, he chooses the latter. “How many other Calums have you ever heard of?”
Michael makes a face. “I figured you were logistics on my own, thanks. You’re muscly. All the really strong ones are on logistics.” He turns to Luke. “Have you seen them?”
Luke shakes his head as Jack interjects, “Not true, some of the kitchen staff are pretty buff. Liam?” A quick glance to Alex for confirmation. “Is his name Liam? That kid’s got arms.”
“Yeah, Liam,” Alex says. “Basically it’s just office staff that’s full of us pale skinny lazy fucks.”
“Speak for yourself,” Luke protests. “I’m not that pale.”
“You’re less pale than anyone else on office staff,” Calum says decently. Alex snorts. “Well, maybe tied with Jack.”
“Not for long, baby!” Jack says, wrapping his arms around Alex’s middle and squeezing until Alex goes oof, dude! “I’m actually going for a record for least amount of time spent in the sun by an employee at a summer camp.”
“You’ll lose,” Alex says. “Michael’s going to win that.”
“Fuck yeah I will,” Michael says, already back on his phone but obviously still listening. “You’re on, Jack.”
“Fine,” Jack says indifferently. “Second-least. Point being I will be avoiding the sun as much as possible. By sending Michael to get breakfast every morning.”
“I’ll just send Luke,” Michael says.
“Try it,” Luke says, oddly threatening.
“Get breakfast?” Calum asks, frowning.
“We have to be in the office all day,” Alex says. “So we can’t go to meals with camp, so we send someone to get us a tray of food from every meal to eat here.”
That sounds alright, honestly. Calum’s not really looking forward to eating with all of camp. Even though he gets to sit at a staff table, there are going to be kids everywhere, and Calum really dislikes kids. Hence the decision not to work as a counselor.
“I could get it for you,” he offers.
“No,” Jack says vehemently. “We are sending Michael.”
Michael just flips him off. For someone who’s three days new, he seems remarkably comfortable with his co-workers. “To quote Luke, ‘try it.’”
Luke snorts. Just then, Calum’s walkie-talkie — courtesy of being on logistics, with strict instructions from Rian to “use responsibly or not at all” — crackles alive.
“Calum, Calum?”
It’s Ashton, Calum’s pretty sure.
He tugs the walkie off his waistband and holds it to his mouth. “Yeah, go for Calum.”
“Where are you, mate? I’m coming to get you, we’re going to the Pavilion.”
“Main office,” Calum says, aware that everyone in the room is watching him.
“Cool,” comes Ashton’s reply. “Be there in fifteen seconds. Back door.”
“Okay,” Calum says, and clips the walkie back to his jeans. “Better go, then, I guess.” He lifts a hand in farewell. “Nice to meet you guys.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jack says, smiling impishly. Even without trying, Jack exudes mischievous energy, which makes Calum slightly afraid for what it would mean to be his friend, though not quite enough to discourage him.
“I’m sure I’ll see you all around,” Calum says. “Or, er, you know.”
“You’re always welcome in the office,” Alex says, spreading his arms wide. “Air conditioning and Wi-Fi.” That’s one of the biggest draws of the main office: the Wi-Fi is stronger in here than anywhere else at camp.
“I’ll be back for sure, then,” Calum says. “See you.”
“Bye!” Luke calls out. “Nice to meet you!”
“Yeah,” Michael says. “Bye.” He smiles but Calum can’t tell if it’s sarcastic or not.
Then he’s out the door, sliding into the passenger side of the golf cart Ashton’s idling in with a smile.
Notes:
see ya in the next chapter! whenever that is! (probably in two weeks) also as always my tumblr and the fic reblog link xoxo
Chapter 2: II
Summary:
Michael makes an approving face. “Alright,” he says, pulling a hand through his hair and somehow further mussing it up. He leans into the golf cart, arms resting against the roof above his head. “How’s the logistics stuff going?”
Calum laughs nervously. This may become a problem. Michael’s going to be a problem, because Michael’s hot, and Calum’s so bad at talking to hot boys, especially ones as cool-looking as Michael.
Notes:
hey gang. it's been a little over a week and i lost track of time, so here's the next chapter. putting it out there: liam's not in this one but he's introduced in the next one and is a minor character throughout this fic. he is preserved here as he exists in my memory: warm and wise and silly, colored by deep fondness and nostalgia. rest in peace, liam. you're gonna live forever in me.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Opening Day — or Hell Day, as the rest of the logistics team calls it — is chaotic, to say the least.
To begin with, they’re given a list of shit that needs to get done the day of, instead of in advance. Calum goes to bed with an alarm set for seven in the morning, already dreading it, and sure enough when it wakes him the following morning he’s tempted to turn it off and go back to sleep. Instead, he groans and kicks the covers off his bed before setting his feet on the floor and trudging towards the bathroom for a shower.
Alex is already up and out — Calum can tell, because his bed is made. It’s a strange tableau, all of Alex’s clothes and various crap strewn across the floor surrounding his perfectly-neat bed. They’ve only been here four days, but in camp time that feels like a long time already, and Calum has yet to fully crack the mystery of Alex.
He’s got some time. Putting that train of thought aside, he takes his shower and then heads for the logistics office.
The moment he steps into the office, it’s a whirlwind. There are tents to raise, blockades to strategically place so that various vehicles driving through don’t accidentally steer themselves the wrong way, speakers and projectors to set up for the campwide welcome ceremony later in the evening, and about a dozen other miscellaneous tasks that Rian distributes as needed throughout the day. They have two golf carts — one commandeered from the infirmary — but it never feels like enough, not when the various assignments keep sending them in four different directions. Calum is pretty sure he’s going to like doing logistics, and he enjoys being occupied and feeling productive, but Hell Day (as he rapidly takes to calling it) makes him genuinely question how sure he is.
When, finally, all of the newly-arrived campers are assembled in the mess hall for dinner, and Calum gets his first longer-than-one-minute break since waking up, his feet direct him to the main office.
The blast of cold air that greets him feels like a gift from up above. Within, someone — Calum can’t quite see who yet — is sprawled across all the waiting chairs at the front, and Jack has forgone chairs entirely and is just laying face-down on the floor, head pillowed on his arms.
Nobody reacts when Calum comes in, but that’s fine. He’d just come for the air, and maybe to commiserate. None of his co-workers seem as totally drained as Calum, but it’s comforting to know that he’s not the only one.
“Who are you,” Jack asks the floor.
“Calum,” Calum says. He collapses into the swivel chair at the desk he knows to be Alex’s, wondering where exactly Alex is.
“Oh. Hiya. How was Hell Day for you?”
“You call it Hell Day too?” He’d thought that was just a logistics thing.
Jack snorts. “Bro, everyone calls it Hell Day. Fucking upper staff call it Hell Day. Only person who doesn’t call it Hell Day is Feldy, and that’s because it would be bad for morale and he’s the director of camp.”
“You don’t have to be lugging shit around all day, though,” Calum says, a bit affronted. “Why is it Hell Day for you?”
“Are you kidding?” comes the voice of the mysterious converse-clad legs at the front of the room. It’s Michael, Calum is pretty sure. He peers over the panel, and yup, that’s Michael’s unmistakable multicolored hair. “Do you know how many motherfucking campers we just had to check in? How many parents we had to talk to? How many fucking complaints we just fielded?”
“Yeah, your job’s way more physical,” Jack says, “but we just had to talk to people for, like, ten hours straight. You try it.”
Calum has to admit it doesn’t sound appealing. Between the two options, he’d choose logistics in a heartbeat.
“Okay,” he concedes. “That sounds pretty brutal.”
“It’s awful, ” Michael says emphatically. The door to the office opens, revealing Alex holding a tray.
“I come bearing gifts,” he announces. “Meaning dinner.” His eyes land on Calum. “Hey, Cal. Leeching our A/C, really? So soon?”
“More the company than anything,” Calum says. “Rest of logistics went to dinner.”
“And you were, what, not hungry?” Alex raises an eyebrow. “You can’t eat ours, you know.”
“No, I know. I’ll— I’m just—” Calum sighs. “Too tired, and…just wanted a few minutes of quiet. I’ll go in a bit.”
“Leave the man alone,” Jack says. “He was looking for mine and Michael’s delightful company, and he got it.”
“Where’s Luke, by the way?” Alex asks, setting the tray of food down on a currently-unoccupied desk. Calum shrugs, even though the question definitely hadn’t been directed towards him.
“Taking a nap,” Michael reports. “Or so he said.”
Calum does a double-take. “You can just…take a nap?”
“Apparently,” Michael says. “I don’t see why he had to leave the office for it, though. Jack figured it out just fine on the floor.”
“Come on,” Alex says. “Jack. That’s fucking gross. This floor is not clean.”
“Whatever, I’ll shower,” Jack grumbles. “It’s cold , that’s the important thing.”
“You haven’t even left this room today!”
“Not true, I had to run across camp to hunt down a camper who forgot to check in her meds,” Jack says, heaving a long-suffering sigh. “It was exhausting.”
Calum rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but bite back a smile. Jack is ridiculous, but he must know that he’s ridiculous, and it makes his absurdity bearable.
“Get up, you nasty freak,” Alex insists.
“ You get down here,” Jack counters. Calum can’t see Jack, which makes it all the more amusing when Alex huffs and just disappears from Calum’s line of sight.
“Sucker,” he crows. Alex had explained the night before that he, Jack, Rian, and Zack had all been campers the same year, and their history is clear in the way they interact, kind of like they’re bullying each other but also deeply in love. Sometimes Calum genuinely doesn’t know which one is closer to the truth.
He’s pretty sure they’re all just friends, but it’s hard to tell. Everyone here acts kind of…close. Everyone is awfully physical.
(Alex has promised that Calum will be acting the same way before the end of the week, and Calum isn’t sure if he should be dreading that or not.)
“The things I do for you,” he hears Alex mutter. Interested, he peers over the panel to see Jack and Alex both lying on the floor, but this time with Jack’s head pillowed on Alex’s stomach.
“Wow,” he says. “That’s true love.”
“It sure the fuck is,” Alex says, like he’s annoyed, but by his expression he’s just the opposite.
The first week with the campers is a lot of trial and error.
It takes a few misses to figure out who’s best at doing what. Zack, for example, very much favors refilling the water coolers every day over having to stand at the supplies storage and hand out toilet paper and trash bags to campers in the mornings.
“I think I scare them,” he tells Calum, and Calum can’t really blame them. Zack’s nice, but he’s also really tall and ripped and has a few too many tattoos to put children at ease. And he doesn’t talk much, especially not to the kids, so Calum can’t fault them for feeling apprehensive.
Calum doesn’t love doing supplies, but between the four of them they work it out. Rian and Ashton are both way better at interfacing with kids anyway, and they don’t seem to mind handing out supplies. So Calum finds himself in the golf cart with Zack most mornings, driving around to various hotspots to collect the coolers and fill them back up with the hose at the back of the mess hall. The mornings are usually busy with menial tasks, cooler runs and supplies and collecting the resources requested by counselors for running activities. But after about noon, things start to calm down, and Calum learns that there’s actually a surprising amount of free time, with this job.
“Cal or Zack, Cal or Zack,” his walkie beckons, in what Calum thinks is Rian’s voice.
“Yeah,” Calum replies, feet kicked up onto the cluttered desk of the logistics office.
“You and Zack did coolers this morning, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You missed one.”
Shit, did they really?
“Sorry,” Calum says. “I can go do that now.”
“I’m coming to get you, where are you?”
“Logistics office.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes.”
“See ya,” Calum says, and then sets his walkie down on the desk and closes his eyes. The day is hot, but the office is reliably cool, and Calum has been taking a breather, having already put the pipe cleaners and uncooked spaghetti requested by one of the counselors into a bucket for easy retrieval. He has no idea, honestly none, what they intend to do with pipe cleaners and uncooked spaghetti, but it’s not his business to know, and he truly doesn’t care.
Two minutes later, Calum sees the golf cart roll up. He gets up and steps out of the logistics office.
“Oh, Calum, have you met Zayn?” Rian asks. There’s someone else sitting in the golf cart — presumably Zayn. Lots of unfamiliar names have been thrown around Calum recently, but they’ve all sort of gone over his head, so he’s not quite sure who this is.
“No?”
“I’m kitchen staff,” Zayn says, smiling at Calum. “Rian’s my roommate.”
“Ah, makes sense,” Calum says. “Well, hi. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, same to you,” Zayn says, getting off the golf cart. To Rian he says, “Thanks for the ride, mate.”
“Anytime,” Rian says. Zayn lopes off towards the staff motel where they all live (lovingly known as such because, well, it basically resembles a motel), and Calum takes his place in the cart. “So how are you doing?”
“What? Me?”
Rian makes a show of looking around them as he kicks the golf cart to life and reverses enough to turn around. “Yes, you, genius. I know it’s — like, it takes adjusting. I’ve been in your shoes. Especially if you never actually came to camp, it can be weird getting used to how it, like, runs. And I feel like everyone is friendly, but then again I was a camper. So, I don’t know. I’m just checking in.”
Rian might be the nicest, most thoughtful supervisor Calum will ever have.
“I’m okay,” Calum says honestly. “I mean…obviously a lot of you guys know each other, but like you said, everyone’s friendly, so it’s not so bad. And anyway, Michael and Luke are also new, so at least it’s not just me.”
“That’s true,” Rian says. His smile is brilliant, even under the sun. The wind whistles through the cart as they cruise down the dirt road. It occurs to Calum that he’s not sure where they’re going — he’s still not totally sure where all the coolers are — until Rian steers them up towards the arts shack.
“Plus, there’s a lot of time to chill out,” Calum adds. He spots the cooler on the picnic table in front of the art shack. “Oh, fuck, I completely forgot about this one.” Five, there are five coolers. Not four. The cooler run had felt short this morning.
“No worries, that’s because it doesn’t always need a refill,” Rian says, parking the golf cart and twisting the top off the cooler to peer inside. “Yeah, but it’s empty now.” He lifts it up and into the bed of the cart, then reclaims his driver’s seat and steers them towards the mess hall. “Really only need to refill that one every other day or so. I mean, there’s not a lot of dehydrated kids at the fucking art shack. But it’s always good to check.”
“Right,” Calum says, making a mental note. They roll up to the mess hall, parking at the back dock. Around the front, Calum can hear campers clamoring as they line up for lunch, counselors shouting over them to get them to quiet down. Not for the first time, he thanks every single deity whose name he can remember that he’d had the presence of mind not to apply as a counselor.
“You can go to lunch if you want,” Rian says after Calum’s gone to turn the hose on. “After we finish refilling it, I mean. I can take this back to the art shack.”
Calum shakes his head. “I’ll come.”
He’s had to come to meals every day by virtue of having no access to food otherwise — apart from the selection of chips and candy he’d brought with him and stored in his room, but that’s hardly a meal — but they don’t get any better with the passing days. They’re always loud and full of campers pulling annoying stunts to get the attention of various girls, boys, or counselors they’re crushing on. And the food is decent, surprisingly good for a summer camp, but it’s a chore always having to wait for the announcements to be done before they can eat. The office have it pretty good; they just come, take a tray, and leave again, to eat in the peace and privacy of their desks.
“If you want,” Rian says. “Go turn the hose off.”
Calum does, and together they return the cooler to the art shack. It’s heavy, but between the two of them they replace it easily. Rian brushes his hands off and heaves a satisfied sigh. “Job well done.”
“Hey, can I drive?” Calum asks. Around his neck is his own golf cart key, but he’s the most novice employee, so he tends to defer to his senior co-workers and supervisor. Rian just smiles, though.
“Go for it,” he says.
Calum takes the driver’s seat and removes his lanyard, twisting the golf cart key into the ignition. Ignition is a generous term for what’s actually an on-off switch — the only thing the key does is turn the actual vehicle on, Calum’s pretty sure. The other key he has is the one that actually matters; it unlocks the gas tank at the front of camp to refuel the golf cart when it’s running low, which hasn’t happened to Calum yet but is bound to eventually. Naturally, the golf cart doesn’t actually have a gas gauge. That would be too easy. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to be able to tell when he needs to fill the gas except by, like, guesswork and intuition.
When Calum parks the golf cart, he doesn’t get out. Rian does. Then he halts.
“You coming in?”
“Yeah,” Calum says. “I’ll be in in a sec.”
Rian nods. “I’ll save you a seat,” he says magnanimously.
Calum chuckles. “Thanks.”
The hubbub from inside the mess hall escapes through the open door as Rian enters, then mutes again when it closes. Calum stays in the golf cart, drumming his fingers against his knees, mentally preparing himself to be assaulted by noise when he goes in. It’s just lunch, and it’s not a big deal, but still. What Calum would give for the opportunity to take his food and leave.
At least he’s not a camper, bound to arrive at the start of the meal and stay until it’s over. He only has to be there for as long as it takes him to finish eating.
“Hey.”
Calum starts, turns. It’s Michael, slowing to a stop as he reaches the golf cart. “Oh, hey.”
“Loitering outside the mess hall?” Michael smirks. “You know the food’s inside, right?”
“Fuck off,” Calum says, though he smiles. Michael’s in torn-up jeans and a blink-182 singlet, looking unfairly good for someone working at a summer camp. Benefits of working in the office, Calum supposes; you don’t have to worry that your favorite clothes will be ruined by your work. “I’m psyching myself up.”
“For…lunch?”
“For going into a room full of loud, annoying children and teenagers and barely being able to hear myself think while I eat.”
Michael laughs. “Oh. Fair enough.” He spreads his arms. “Hey, should’ve worked in the office.”
“I know,” Calum says, even though the benefits of logistics far outweigh the one or two of the office. And Calum would probably die if he were stuck indoors from morning to evening, the way the office staff are. “Whatever, no big deal. I’ll go in in a minute.”
Michael makes an approving face. “Alright,” he says, pulling a hand through his hair and somehow further mussing it up. He leans into the golf cart, arms resting against the roof above his head. “How’s the logistics stuff going?”
Calum laughs nervously. This may become a problem. Michael’s going to be a problem, because Michael’s hot, and Calum’s so bad at talking to hot boys, especially ones as cool-looking as Michael.
“Good,” he says, half hoping that Michael will slide into the golf cart and strike up a real conversation and half praying he leaves it at that and goes inside. “Productive. You know. Just making camp go.”
Michael laughs. It’s a whole staff schtick, one John Feldmann, camp director universally known as Feldy, has been pushing: let’s make camp go! It’s stupid and cheesy, but Calum takes a bit of solace in the fact that Feldy obviously knows it’s stupid and cheesy.
“You’ll have a hard time making camp go if you’ve got nothing to run on yourself,” Michael says meaningfully.
Calum scowls. “It’s not that I don’t like eating, bro —”
“I’m teasing, I’m joking!” Michael quickly holds his hands up in defense. “Just kidding, seriously. I don’t care if you eat. I mean— I care if you eat. Obviously, like. I’m not a piece of shit. I just don’t care— whatever, you get it.”
“Yeah,” Calum says, almost giggling. He raises his eyebrows. “You’re not here to chat me up, are you?” Immediately he regrets his own phrasing. Chat me up? Come on. “I mean, shouldn’t you go in and get food for the office?”
“Nah, I’m gonna let them starve. Lazy bastards.” He grins, a quick, cheeky thing. “Yeah, I’m going in.”
“I’ll come in, then,” Calum says. He pulls out his golf cart key and puts it back around his neck as he gets out of the cart.
“That’s the spirit. I’m really feeling your enthusiasm.”
“Shut up.”
Michael snorts a laugh, and together they walk into the mess hall. The roar of noise feels less oppressive, knowing that Calum’s not walking in alone, and when Michael splits off to head for the kitchen instead of the staff table, he shoots Calum a small smile. As usual, Calum can’t quite tell if it’s a real smile or just something wry and ironic, but he gets the feeling this one is just for him.
Notes:
drafting and posting this at 1:30am..........back on that bellawritess grind. catch ya in the next one. btw - there is a staff motel at my camp. lived there for two years. no A/C and very poor wifi. support staff life baby!
Chapter 3: III
Summary:
There’s a motley crew assembled in their room, spread out over Alex’s bed or sitting on the floor, variously in each other’s laps or shoulder-to-shoulder. Calum recognizes Alex, Jack, Rian, and Michael. The rest are strangers. No — that’s Zayn there, sitting on the floor between the legs of somebody Calum doesn’t know. When Calum comes in, they all look up at him.
“Oh, hey, Calum,” Alex says. “Is it cool if everyone hangs out in here?”
Notes:
shuffles awkwardly into the room. haha heyyyy everyone. it's been (checks watch) a mere ten months since i updated this fic! and for that i apologize. but never fear. i just got back from my summer at camp once again and it reminded me that this fic exists and that i love it and that i am way overdue updating it, so here i am again. in repentance i will be posting a few chapters, mostly because i want to share more of this fic asap. hope that's cool with everyone xoxo
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s Friday, and Calum is exhausted.
He’s pretty regularly exhausted, to be fair. The job is tiring. Calum likes that about it. He enjoys climbing into bed and falling straight asleep. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t slept this well in years. It’s just that he also doesn’t sleep a lot, because often nighttime activities go as late as half eleven, and Calum has to be there to tear it all down and put everything away. And he doesn’t want to seem like he’s tapping out because he’s tired when he doesn’t see anyone else on logistics doing the same. This is a job, and he has to earn his position on the staff. Sure, it’s a fun job, with great company, but at the end of the day, Calum is being paid to do something, and he’s going to earn every penny.
That doesn’t mean he’s not exhausted, though.
On the bright side: it’s Friday. Saturday is when camp gets to sleep in, and as a result so does support staff. Everything starts later, including wakeup. Calum is really excited for that part. Late wakeup really just means nine-thirty instead of nine for him, but that extra half-hour makes all the difference.
He trudges up the stairs to the second and top floor of the staff motel. There’s chatter coming from one of the rooms. As he pushes open his and Alex’s door, he realizes the chatter is here.
There’s a motley crew assembled in their room, spread out over Alex’s bed or sitting on the floor, variously in each other’s laps or shoulder-to-shoulder. Calum recognizes Alex, Jack, Rian, and Michael. The rest are strangers. No — that’s Zayn there, sitting on the floor between the legs of somebody Calum doesn’t know. When Calum comes in, they all look up at him.
“Oh, hey, Calum,” Alex says. “Is it cool if everyone hangs out in here?”
“Sure,” Calum says. He wonders if it’s rude to say as long as you’re all quiet. It probably is, but it’s also kind of rude to be making a racket in someone’s room when it’s past midnight and they’re obviously about to go to sleep.
“You wanna hang out?” Alex continues. He waves a hand around. A few of them have returned to their conversations. The bloke enclosing Zayn with his legs laughs loudly. “I’ll introduce you.”
Calum swallows. He wants to say I’d actually rather go to sleep, but he catches Michael’s eye and Michael gives him that indiscernible smile.
“Alright,” he says.
“Come sit,” Alex says, patting the bed, so Calum obligingly goes.
“Thanks for finishing up with the cords and shit,” Rian says as Calum settles himself at Alex’s right. It involves a bit of shifting around to fit, but they make it work.
“No problem,” Calum says. All he’d done was finish coiling and putting away the last XLR cable from the speaker setup. Mostly he’d been surprised they’d trusted him enough to handle that, but he’s learning quickly. Even teardown hadn’t been too tricky today, apart from several (literally) crossed wires.
“Okay, who don’t you know? Anyone on kitchen staff, right?” Alex asks, scanning the room. He points at the boy behind Zayn. “So that’s Louis and in front of him, Zayn.”
“Yeah, I met Zayn,” Calum says, giving them both a nod. Zayn returns it.
“Brilliant, another new face,” Louis says with a dry smile. For some reason, his accent takes Calum by surprise. “Seems every time I think I’ve got a lock on everyone there’s always another. What was your name again?”
“Calum.”
“Calum, nice to meet you,” Louis says. “This is Zayn, like Alex said, and over there at your right —” He points to the guy separating Calum from Jack and Michael, whose long legs are stretched out in front of him. “That is Harry, and over there is Liam —” pointing to a brunet with a red-sleeved white baseball tee chatting with a blond, whom Louis subsequently introduces: “And Niall.”
“And you’re all kitchen?”
“Well, they outsource us, don’t they?” Louis says. His smile has that same quality as Michael’s, where Calum can’t quite be sure if it’s genuine or mocking. His eyes betray him, though; where Michael is unreadable to Calum, Louis is an open book, kind bright eyes. “Bring us over from the UK camp.”
“There’s a UK camp?”
“Yeah, like, and a Canadian one,” Zayn says. “Though I don’t reckon they had much success with the Canadians or else I can’t imagine why they’d have come for us.”
Calum takes this new information in stride. “Huh.”
“Yeah, but this one,” Zayn says, smacking Louis’s knee sharply, “should have never been hired, he’s absolutely useless in the kitchen, just makes a shitload of noise, and, like, distracts —”
“Oi,” Louis protests, smacking a hand over Zayn’s mouth. “Don’t you dare lick me, Malik, I know where you keep your pants.”
Zayn’s eyes widen, and he shoots a betrayed look at Rian. Rian, who’s been watching with quiet amusement, guiltily turns away.
“It’s called underwear,” Jack says, which is the first thing Calum’s heard him say, though he knows Jack and Michael have been mutually on their phones discussing memes, most likely, or whatever else interesting there is to see. The only thing worse than the Wi-Fi at camp is the cell service, so unless they’ve got memes saved to their phones, Calum has no idea how they’re communicating. And leave it to Jack to make his first contribution to the conversation some cultural linguistic nuance.
“They’re called pants,” Louis says, making a face at Jack.
“If you threaten my pants, I’m going to assume you mean my jeans,” Jack fires back. He shakes out his legs a bit to demonstrate exactly what he means by jeans. “And that’s not a good threat, bro.”
“Then you won’t see it coming when I deface your pants, not trousers,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.
“Why is everyone threatening to ruin each others’ pants?” Calum asks, bewildered.
Louis’s hand falls away from Zayn’s mouth, obviously bored now that Zayn’s not struggling. “Just a good prank, innit? You like pranks?”
Calum squints suspiciously. “If I say no, will that stop you from pulling them on me?”
Louis laughs.
“No,” Zayn says.
“It fucking will!” Louis seems affronted. “I’m respectful of people’s wishes.”
“Until it comes to pants,” Zayn mutters.
“Nobody touch anybody’s pants or trousers or underwear or anything,” Alex says.
“Who’s talking about pants?” This from the blond one, Niall, whose conversation with Liam must have reached a natural pause. “Louis?”
“Why do you just assume it’s me?”
Liam claps a hand around Niall’s neck and gives Louis a significant look. “Well? Is it you?”
“Technically it’s a group discussion,” Louis says weakly.
“I haven’t said anything,” Michael pipes up. Calum turns to look at him. He’s draped across Jack’s legs with his head in Harry’s lap, and Harry, apparently unconcerned, is playing with Michael’s hair. “Until now.”
“And what a helpful contribution it was,” Calum says. Michael, upside-down from where Calum is, sticks his tongue out.
“I’ve also not said anything,” Harry says, the first time Calum’s heard him speak, “but they’re called pants, and the matter’s closed. The more important issue is hiding them from Louis anyway, he can’t be trusted anywhere near anyone’s pants.”
This is apparently very entertaining to Michael, who snorts a laugh.
“Title of his sex tape,” he says under his breath, just loud enough for Calum to hear, as well as Harry. Calum breathes a laugh as Harry reddens.
“You can’t even argue that, man,” Jack informs Louis. “You literally just threatened Zayn.”
“Well, he’s a bloody tosser,” Louis scoffs. “As are you. My only ally is…” He scans the room. “Niall.”
“Huh?” Niall looks up from his phone. “I’m your what?”
“Ally.”
“Oh.” Niall shrugs. “If you need, I s’pose.”
Louis huffs, self-satisfied. “That’s alright, then, long as I’ve got Nialler.”
“Everyone else is against you,” Alex says. “Literally everyone.”
“Again,” Michael says, “I literally do not care.”
“Shut up,” Harry says, looking down at him. “If you don’t care, you’re on our side.”
Michael inclines his head. “Okay, if you want.” He rolls his head until his cheek’s pressed against Harry’s thigh. Calum watches with bitterness on his tongue. Then he stops watching.
“Hey,” Liam says suddenly. “Who wants to hear what Niall did before lunch today?”
“Don’t,” Niall insists, but Liam ignores him and launches into the story. Louis and Zayn have already started giggling — evidently they’d been present for it — and everyone else falls silent to hear about how Niall almost locked himself into the walk-in freezer. Calum doesn’t realize how stiffly he’s sitting until Alex slings an arm over his shoulder and pulls Calum closer, and he yields, sinking into Alex’s side. Alex is probably the only person Calum is comfortable with enough to cuddle at this point, so if Alex is offering, Calum’s not going to say no.
He must fall asleep at some point, lulled by the muted conversations around him, but nobody rouses him, and when he wakes up it’s quiet. The only voices he can hear are Alex and Jack, speaking in quiet voices to Calum’s left.
“...bet’s on Louis and Zayn,” Jack is saying.
“No way,” Alex says, shaking his head. “They’re being way too friendly. Louis and Niall.”
“And Niall? ” Jack scoffs. “Louis’s my roommate, bro. No way. I’d know. I’m telling you I’d know.”
“I’m not saying they’re hooking up now,” Alex says. “Just that they will be soon. Come on, have I ever been wrong? I even called you and Zack last year.”
Jack shakes his head. “That was so— I basically talked about him nonstop for two weeks, obviously you called it.”
“Yeah, but I called it early on, right? Didn’t I? Totally did. I’m calling Louis and Niall.”
There’s a beat. Calum keeps his eyes closed and tries to maintain the pretense of being asleep. He’s heard about the hookup culture at camp in passing, here and there, but it’s one thing to know about it in the abstract and entirely another to hear his friends placing bets on who will end up with whom.
“Fine,” Jack says. “I don’t believe you, but. I will admit you have good instincts. What about this one?”
It takes Calum a moment to realize they’re talking about him.
“Hard to say,” Alex says, humming. “What do you think?”
“Michael or Luke,” Jack says immediately. “Newbies get with newbies. They always have.”
“Well, it won’t be Michael anytime soon if we’re right about him and Harry,” Alex points out.
Something in Calum’s chest clenches. If they’re right about Michael and Harry? What do they think is going on between Michael and Harry? And more importantly, are they right?
“True,” Jack says. “But on the other hand, six weeks is plenty of time to hook up with more than one person. I mean, us last year.”
“I only hooked up with two people last year,” Alex says defensively. “And one of those was you.”
“Still more than one, though.”
Alex hums. “If Ricky had had his way, you’d have had three.”
“Well, what can I say,” Jack says solemnly. “I’m a man in demand.”
“You’re not a man. You’re a boy. A baby boy.”
“I am a boy,” Jack confirms. “A man-boy, though.”
“Man-child, more like.”
“If I was a child, there’d be a lot of problems in this relationship.”
“There’s already problems in this relationship. First of all that we’re in a relationship. You are the problem.”
“Please,” Jack says dismissively. “You’re as much of a problem as I am.”
There’s a quiet laugh. “This just in: all your faves are problematic! Boyfriends included.”
“Boyfriends especially.”
“Yeah,” Alex says, and then the unmistakable sound of a kiss. “Boyfriends especially.”
Calum decides it’s probably best to wake up now, before they start making out or something. He had suspected, but in fairness he suspects it a bit with everyone here. The lines between friendship and something-else are far too blurry here, more blurry than Calum’s accustomed to or comfortable with.
“Mm, morning,” he says, not faking the tiredness in his voice. “What time?”
“Morning,” Jack says, patting Calum’s hair. “It is one-thirty in the morning. I should probably go back to my room.”
Jesus. Calum’s pretty sure he’d fallen asleep sometime around quarter to one, which means he’s been asleep about forty-five minutes.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Sorry, Alex.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Alex says, sounding like he means it. “Everyone left like twenty minutes ago. Jack and I were just gossiping.”
Calum presses his lips together. “About?”
“We like to place bets on who’s gonna hook up,” Jack says. So not a secret, then. It would’ve been a badly-kept secret anyway, the way they’d been talking about it, but Calum is still glad he hasn’t eavesdropped on a private conversation. “What do you think?”
“Uh,” Calum says. “I don’t really know anyone well enough to say.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Alex says. “Well, I can tell you Rian won’t hook up with anyone, and neither will Zack. So unless Ashton’s the type, you might need to seek drama outside of logistics.”
Calum wouldn’t have guessed that Ashton’s the type, but then again he wouldn’t have pegged Zack as the type either, and Zack had apparently hooked up with Jack the previous summer, so now Calum’s really not sure what to believe. All rules go out the window at camp, it seems.
“What about you?” Jack asks slyly. “Eye on anyone?”
Calum huffs. “No,” he says. “I only just got here. I barely know, like, six people.”
“Give it time,” Jack says.
“No pressure,” Alex adds.
“Yeah, no pressure. But also, if you’re gonna hook up, camp’s like the best place to do it. Call it a camp relationship, end it before Closing Day, clean hands, no one gets hurt.”
“That’s what Jack’s planning to do with me,” Alex says dryly. Jack makes an offended noise.
“I’ll be ending our relationship way earlier than that. You think I can make it to Closing Day stuck with you?”
“So,” Calum says, a bit too tired to wonder if he shouldn’t ask, “are you guys hooking up?”
Alex chuckles. “No, no. We're the exception.”
“Well, we are hooking up,” Jack says. “But that’s just a symptom of our big-boy relationship.”
“You’re a symptom,” Alex responds lightly, without feeling, as if this kind of out-of-pocket comment is standard, which Calum figures it must be. He wonders how Jack and Alex, of all people, broke the mold of hookup culture and landed themselves in a real relationship instead.
As if reading Calum’s mind, Alex adds, “I know that goes against everything we just told you.”
“I don’t…” Calum sighs helplessly. Alex squeezes his shoulders. “I’ve just given up trying to understand the rules.”
“Oh, that’s your first mistake,” Jack says sweetly. “Thinking there are rules to understand. Camp’s a lawless land, baby.”
Calum is kind of getting that.
Notes:
gang, the hookup culture at summer camp is REAL. trust.
Chapter 4: IV
Summary:
Calum’s not sure if he likes having a social butterfly for a roommate.
On the one hand, he enjoys his time alone. He’s not an introvert, but also definitely not one of those extroverts that can spend ten hours straight with people and still be energized. There’s a limit to how much socializing Calum can do, and he feels it’s a pretty standard limit.
But on the other hand, without Alex’s constant company, Calum would probably not have friends.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sunday finds Calum alone.
Ashton is doing supplies by himself, because Rian and Zack have been summoned to handle some technical difficulty in the drama center. Everyone will probably be back soon-ish, but nobody has refilled the coolers yet, and Calum knows there’s a golf cart outside that nobody’s using.
He ruminates on this for another minute and then goes out and kicks it to life. The coolers are heavy, but Calum’s strong and strategic, and he can definitely handle them by himself. Maybe he’ll fuck up his shirt, but it’s not like it’s a valuable shirt. This is something he can do.
As he’s reversing the golf cart to turn around, he hears someone call his name and turns.
“Luke?”
“Yeah!” Luke beams. “What’s up?”
“Just going to refill the coolers,” Calum says.
“Oh!” Luke stands there for a moment, then says, “Can I come?”
Calum frowns. “Don’t you have…office…things to do?”
“Whatever, they can deal without me for ten minutes.”
“It’ll probably be closer to twenty.”
“Please? I’ve never been in a golf cart. Plus I want to see what your job is like.”
Luke looks so eager that Calum can’t come up with any decent reason to crush his spirit. “I mean, sure. If you want to.”
“Fuck yeah!” Luke slides into the empty seat next to Calum. “Step on it.”
“I’ll step on it when I want to.”
“Fine. Don’t step on it.”
“Stop giving me orders!”
Luke laughs. “I’ll just sit in silence. Sorry. Your majesty.”
Calum huffs, but he’s smiling. Luke is funny and totally shameless. “Thank you,” he says wryly, stepping down on the acceleration and guiding the cart to the tennis courts. “Hey, how strong would you say you are?”
“Not very.”
“Awesome. We can carry the coolers together, then.”
“Sick.” Luke doesn’t seem bothered to be enlisted as a temporary logistics employee. Calum parks the cart and gets out. Luke also gets out, but when he sees that Calum has a handle on the cooler he reclaims his seat.
“They’re not heavy when they’re empty,” Calum explains as he sets the cooler in the bed with a metallic clang. “When we bring it back and it’s full, that’s when I’ll need your help.”
“And I will be happy to,” Luke says cheerfully.
They drive to the pool to collect the next cooler. “So how is the office? How can you just leave for twenty minutes?”
“Everyone else is there,” Luke says. “And anyway I’m just compiling camper information. It can wait.”
“Not a bad job,” Calum concedes, grabbing the cooler from the pool and putting in the bed next to the other one. “So you like everyone else working in the office?”
Luke’s response is immediate and enthusiastic. “Yeah, they’re great. I was worried it’d be hard getting adjusted but it’s actually been really easy. Everyone’s so friendly.”
“Yeah.” It’s the same in the office as it is on logistics, then. That’s nice. “Have you met all the logistics staff?”
Luke shakes his head. “Just you, I think. There’s four of you, right?” Calum nods. “Well, I obviously met everyone for a second during orientation and stuff, but I don’t remember anyone’s names or anything.”
“I’ll introduce you,” Calum offers, pulling up to the back of the mess hall. “What about kitchen staff?”
“Yeah, I know all of them.” Luke laughs. “Harry’s my roommate. He forced me to meet everyone. But on the bright side, I know where they keep the ice cream.”
Calum gasps. “Seriously? You have to show me.”
“I can’t just give away state secrets like that. What’s in it for me?”
“Well,” Calum remembers, “I know where the swag closet is. I mean.” He snorts. “The merch. Camp merch. Everyone calls it the swag closet.”
“That’s a great name.” Luke grins. Calum hands him the hose and instructs him to point it into the cooler, then goes to turn it on. “Fine. I’ll show you where the ice cream is if you show me the swag.”
“Deal.” Calum matches Luke’s grin with one of his own. When the coolers are both full, he gestures at Luke to turn the hose off, and then he navigates them back to the sports shed and the pool. Luke is stronger than he gives himself credit for. Between the two of them, putting the coolers back is a breeze.
“Logistics, logistics.”
Calum unclips his walkie and speaks into it. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Where are you?”
It’s Rian.
“Uh.” Calum looks at Luke, who just shrugs. “Refilling the coolers.”
There’s a pause. “By yourself?”
“...Kind of?” He doesn’t want to get Luke in trouble by admitting Luke is slacking off to ride around with Calum in the golf cart.
“Uh…okay. Could you go to G-14 and grab an HDMI? We think the drama one is broken.”
G-14. Formerly a girls’ bunk, G-14 is now where all of their A/V equipment is stored. Because of course they don’t have a real, weather-protected place to stash their expensive technological gear. This is a summer camp.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Thanks.”
Luke sighs. “You should probably bring me back to the office.” Calum had been about to say the same thing. “This was fun, though.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty alright.”
“And you get a walkie, which is neat. We just have to use the office walkie.” They’ve been called a few times by various upper staff members, asking office, office to provide them with information on a camper’s allergies or whatever. The walkie is alive for most of the day, but Calum tunes it out unless someone is asking for him or his team, otherwise he thinks he’d go insane.
“You don’t exactly need a walkie, though,” Calum says, pressing down on the acceleration to drive them back to the office. “Everyone you need is right there in the room with you. Logistics is always in like six places at once.”
“There’s not even six of you.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Luke laughs. “I guess? Still cool, though. You look really, like, professional.”
Calum bites back a smile.
“Thanks,” he says, though Jack’s voice is ringing in his head, declaring that if Calum would be hooking up with anyone it would be Michael or Luke. Is Luke thinking about that? Is Luke flirting, or is he just a nice guy? Is there a difference here?
“Thanks for letting me come with you,” Luke says when Calum parks behind the office. He slides out of the cart but turns back to look at Calum. “Your job is kinda fun. I’m glad I don’t have to do it all the time, though. It’s fucking hot out.”
“Yeah, well.” Calum lifts his water bottle where it’s sitting in the cup holder of the cart. “Gotta stay hydrated.”
Luke grins. “See you later!”
“Yeah, see you.” Calum waves until Luke goes inside, and then he steers the cart towards the girls’ bunk area.
Calum’s not sure if he likes having a social butterfly for a roommate.
On the one hand, he enjoys his time alone. He’s not an introvert, but also definitely not one of those extroverts that can spend ten hours straight with people and still be energized. There’s a limit to how much socializing Calum can do, and he feels it’s a pretty standard limit.
But on the other hand, without Alex’s constant company, Calum would probably not have friends.
Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it’s not a big one. More nights than not, Calum finishes tearing down whatever needs tearing down and returns to his room, only to find Alex and anywhere between one and seven other people. Alex always asks if Calum wants to hang out, and sometimes Calum says no, sorry, too tired — but sometimes he says yes.
(Usually when Michael’s there, but for all anyone knows that’s a coincidence.)
Tonight it’s Alex, Jack (Calum is pretty sure Jack’s in their room more often than his own), Michael, and Niall. Alex is lying down on his bed, head on his pillow with Jack’s head (clad in a black bandana Calum’s certain had been stolen from Alex) resting on his stomach. Michael and Niall are on the floor on opposite sides of the room, facing each other.
“Hey,” Alex greets him, barely turning his head to see Calum come in. “Wanna hang out?”
“Yeah, sure,” Calum says, pretending not to look at Michael as he says it. He glances around. “I, uh…where should I sit?”
Niall slaps the floor between his outstretched legs. “Right here, lad.”
“Or here,” Michael offers, legs also sprawled in front of him.
Calum looks between Niall and Michael, aware that the longer he hesitates the weirder it’ll be. Is it suspicious to sit with Michael? Does it mean anything that they’re both offering to let Calum sit between their legs? Isn’t that kind of a come-on? But then again, Niall’s offered, and Calum has it on good authority (secondary source Alex Gaskarth, who heard it from Jack) that Niall and Louis are either hooking up now or are well on their way to it, just like Alex had predicted. Maybe he’s reading too much into the whole thing, and nobody’s flirting, and Calum’s just standing here like a paralyzed moron making everything more awkward than it needs to be.
He sits in front of Michael, tentatively leaning back until Michael drapes his arms around Calum’s neck to rest his hands on Calum’s chest. Michael doesn’t say anything else about it, so Calum determinedly follows suit.
“Anyway,” Jack says, evidently picking up where he’d left off before Calum had come in, “I know I’m gonna lose, because obviously Luke’s way nicer than me, but either way I’ll love the feedback.”
“Jack made a bet with Luke,” Michael explains, voice low in Calum’s ear. Calum tilts his head back, but he can’t really see Michael, so he gives up and just stares straight across the room. If he turned his head a bit, he could probably hear Michael’s heart. “To see who gets the best ratings on their phone…manners, or whatever.”
“Ratings?” Calum frowns. “From who?”
“From people calling,” Jack says.
“I didn’t know you got rated.”
“We don’t,” Alex says wryly.
“We’re just gonna ask at the end of every call. ‘How would you rate this call from one to ten?’ Nothing wrong with that. We’ll tell them we’re doing a survey. Customer satisfaction.”
“But they’re not customers, they’re parents.”
“They are giving us their money in exchange for a service,” Jack says dismissively, as if he’s already had this debate. “Ergo, customers.”
“You know the word ergo? ” Alex asks. “Impressive.”
“Anyway, like I said, I’m definitely gonna lose. But who cares. It’s just Luke. He’s not ballsy enough to give me any cool punishments for losing.”
“Well, in other news, Zayn and Liam are definitely hooking up,” Niall contributes, and the energy of the room refocuses like lightning to a rod.
“What?” Jack says, as Alex says, “Just hooking up?”
Michael says nothing, and neither does Calum. Niall looks a bit smug, obviously bursting to share his insider knowledge. Michael doesn’t seem rattled, although nothing ever really seems to rattle Michael. Maybe Michael had already known. Calum isn’t certain, but he’s pretty sure Michael and Niall are roommates, so it would make sense that Michael would hear it first from Niall.
“Yeah, Liam told me,” Niall says. “Not saying much about it, lads, but I recommend you stay away from bunk B-12 tonight.”
“Wait a second,” Alex says, while Jack snickers. “I thought Zayn and Liam were, like, a thing. Aren’t they together or something?”
Niall furrows his brow. “No? Not that I know about, anyway, and I know them pretty well.”
Alex hums. “Well, they will be.”
“If they’re hooking up that means they almost definitely won’t be,” Jack protests. Michael starts tapping out an irregular rhythm against Calum’s chest, and Calum can feel it disrupting his heartbeat, as if Michael is trying to rewrite the pace of Calum’s pulse.
“Wait, why not?” Calum says, stubbornly set on Not Acknowledging This. Even though he can see Michael’s hands, pale and tattooed, and he’s literally dying to ask about the X on his finger. And also to, like, kiss his knuckles or something. “Couldn’t hooking up be, like, step one?”
“No, dude, it’s like…” Alex pauses. “I don’t know. It’s just never a good idea to get with someone you actually wanna be with. It throws it all off.”
“So you and Jack didn’t…” Calum trails off. He hopes Alex and Jack aren’t supposed to be a secret, because if they are he’s just blown their cover, but Alex doesn’t seem to mind.
“Nope,” he says. “Not until we were already together.”
“Unfortunately not,” Jack adds, deadpan. “If I’d known how bad he was going to be I’d never have—”
“Hey, asshole,” Alex interjects. Calum can’t see their faces, but he can only imagine what they look like. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Point is,” Jack says, apparently taking up Alex’s case, “don’t hook up if you want to, uh…link up? We should make up a saying for that. I feel like it’s relevant a lot.”
“Nah,” Alex says. “It’s something you have to learn by doing, man. And, hey, it’s not always true.” One of his arms makes a sweeping gesture. Calum realizes he’s trying to point at Niall as he says, “Example: Zayn and Liam are going to be together by this time next week, mark my words.”
“Al, we literally just said that the fact that they’re hooking up means they won’t be together.”
“They’re the exception that proves the rule!”
Jack huffs. “You’re going to be so wrong.”
“I don’t think so,” Alex says airily. He yawns. “Man, I’m fucking tired.”
Calum’s also tired, but his position right now is far too comfortable to disturb. Though Michael looks like he’s going to be sharp angles, he’s actually quite cozy, and Calum feels warm even though he’s sitting on the chilly floor, cuddled up to Michael like this. Telepathically, Calum sends a message to Alex not to say anything more and kick out the company, but of course Alex doesn’t hear it.
“Alright, Niall, Mike,” he says. “I’m going to sleep. Clear out.”
Niall stands up with little complaint, but Michael makes no effort to move. Possibly because Calum’s made no effort to move.
“Sorry, Alex,” says Michael dryly. “I’m trapped.”
“You’re comfortable,” Calum protests.
Michael pats Calum’s stomach gently. “So I’ve been told.”
“Get out,” Jack says, though Jack also hasn’t moved, so he’s really in no position to be giving out commands. Alex hadn’t said Jack’s name, though; he’d only explicitly kicked out Niall and Michael, so maybe Jack is staying?
“Come on, Cal, get up,” Michael says. Calum figures he’s pushed his luck as far as it’ll go, so he heaves himself to his feet and then turns around and holds out a hand. Michael looks up at him, a small smile — or smirk? — at the corner of his mouth. He takes Calum’s hand, and Calum pulls him upright. “Thanks.”
“Payment for using you as a pillow,” Calum says graciously.
“No payment necessary as long as I can count on you as a pillow in the future,” Michael says, still wearing that infuriatingly indiscernible smile-smirk. He pats Calum’s cheek once then steps past him towards the door, spinning around to walk backwards. “Goodnight, Alex, ‘night Jack.”
“No goodnight for me?” Niall says in mock-indignation.
Michael snorts a laugh. “You’re coming with me, idiot.”
With a final wave, he and Niall disappear out the door, and Calum is left looking down at Alex and Jack. Jack’s eyes are closed, and he looks no more inclined to move at all than if Alex hadn’t even spoken.
“I think I’ll just sleep here,” he says.
“You can’t sleep here, babe.”
“I could.”
“There’s really not enough space.”
“I’m gonna go to sleep also,” Calum says, because now that Michael is gone he can’t really find a reason to hang around in Alex’s half of the room. He feels a little bad about it — it’s not that he doesn’t like Alex’s company, or Jack’s — but he’s also too tired now to bother feeling bad about it for very long. Tomorrow he can parse through his feelings and guilt himself to death, or whatever. Not tonight.
“G’night,” Alex says, and Jack repeats it, and then Calum repeats it back to the both of them and retreats to his own side of the room.
The pattern Michael had tapped against his chest has cemented in his mind, and as Calum finally gets into bed it lulls him to sleep.
Notes:
going back through this fic to post it like four and a half years after i first wrote these chapters is absolutely insane, by the way. so many things about this were things that were true about my experience my FIRST year working at camp. half of them are still true now, and half of them aren't at all!! crazy to think about. does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes
Chapter 5: V
Summary:
“Was that a hickey?” he whispers to Rian, who’s returned to messing with the sound board. At this he glances up, turning to watch Michael approach the counselor.
“Dunno,” he says, shrugging. “Probably? Isn’t he hooking up with Harry?”
The gears in Calum’s brain grind to a halt.
Notes:
HAD to put a little mirry flavor in this. just had no choice but to do it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The Pavilion is having audio problems, so Calum and Rian are on the scene.
Calum wonders how this ended up his responsibility. Prior to this summer, he’d never been anywhere on anyone’s list of people to call for tech support. Applying to work at this camp had been a bit of a long shot in Calum’s book given the expectation of technical proficiency, but when he’d explained this in his interview with Feldy he’d been met with the reassurance that he wouldn’t need to know anything before arriving at camp — everything he’d need to know would be taught on-site. So far, that’s been true.
Still, troubleshooting makes him nervous.
It’s comforting that Rian is here too. As the supervisor, Rian has plenty of experience dealing with problematic equipment, and he’s charismatic enough that the campers and counselor who had been anticipating a fun dance activity aren’t pissed off about the malfunctioning speaker.
“Just give us five minutes,” he tells the counselor whose name Calum does not know, offering her a friendly smile, and she nods and returns to her collection of children. As Calum turns back to the sound board, he can hear her starting up a game of Ninja.
“You know, I’m glad I’m not a counselor,” Rian tells Calum as he crouches to peer inside the bottom of the stand, “but man, kids are easy to entertain.”
There’s a sudden uproar as twelve games of Ninja simultaneously begin.
“Yeah,” Calum says. “But also monsters.”
Rian laughs. “Yeah, well. That too.” He straightens up. “Everything’s on and plugged in.”
“Maybe it’s something with the audio jack?” Calum suggests, reaching for the counselor’s phone, which is plugged in. “Or maybe her phone just doesn’t work with it.”
“Let’s find out,” Rian says, unplugging the counselor’s phone. He sets it aside and then steps back, gesturing. “Plug your phone in and play something.”
Calum plugs the audio jack into his phone and opens up his Spotify. The app informs him that he’d stopped listening halfway through ‘Teenagers’ by My Chemical Romance, so he hits play.
Belatedly, he realizes that ‘Teenagers’ is probably not the best song to blast at a summer camp full of children who don’t know swear words and actual teenagers whom Calum is supposed to at the very least tolerate.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately because it means the speaker’s not broken, Gerard Way’s voice begins blaring out of the sound system wired into the Pavilion, a grating sentiment of teenagers scare the living shit out of me screeching across the grassy fields separating them from the pool. Calum fumbles with his phone in an effort to get the song to stop as Rian bursts into laughter. They could care less, as long as someone’ll bleed, Gerard Way continues unhelpfully. Finally Calum successfully stops the music, but not before everyone in the Pavilion has turned to stare at him.
“Sorry,” he says uncomfortably to them, holding up a hand for no reason. “Sorry about that. Just, uh, testing the system.” He waves awkwardly at the speaker. The counselor has a small smile on her face. “It’s not broken. So.”
The stark silence from pausing the song only accentuates Rian’s hysterics. He claps a hand onto Calum’s shoulder as Calum turns back to the sound board.
“Holy shit, man,” he says to Calum, grinning broadly. “That was. God. That was really fucking hilarious.”
“I didn’t think,” Calum says, although Rian doesn’t seem mad. In fact, he’s still laughing.
“Of all fucking songs,” Rian snickers. He unplugs Calum’s phone and hands it back to him. “Okay. Clearly it’s a phone problem, then.”
“Hey!”
Calum and Rian lean in tandem over the edge of the Pavilion. It’s Michael, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, smirking up at them. “‘Teenagers’?”
“I didn’t think,” Calum repeats in his defense. “It’s the last thing I was listening to!”
“You’ve got good taste,” Michael says, holding out a thumbs up. “You wanna come work in the office? Alex plays Katy Perry at every opportunity. I love Katy Perry, but a man can only take so much.”
Calum laughs. “Just play MCR over it.”
“You think I haven’t tried that?” Michael says wryly.
“What are you doing all the way over here?” Calum asks him. “Speaking of the office.”
Michael seems to remember that he hadn’t shown up just to socialize, and he jogs up the steps to the Pavilion. This structure is one of the newer ones at this camp, according to Rian, and it had originally been christened the Dance Pavilion, but once the staff realized it could be used for more than just dance activities, it lost the designation and just became the Pavilion.
“Have to steal a camper,” Michael explains when he reaches them at the top of the stairs. “Her mom called. Any chance you know which of these kids is Rachel Barnett?”
“You think we know the names of any campers?” Calum raises an eyebrow. Up close and out of the sun, Michael looks as attractive as ever, strands of black and purple hair clinging to his forehead from the sweat. It’s as hot today as it’s been for the whole week, and Michael seems particularly built as an antithesis to sunny weather. Or maybe it’s just that he’s dressed to work in an air-conditioned office, not to spend any time under the sweltering rays. His all-black getup probably isn’t doing him any favors, no matter how well he wears it.
Michael makes a face at him. “Then you’ll have to excuse me,” he says, patting Calum’s shoulder. He cocks his head at Calum, squinting a moment, and then brushes past him to go speak with the counselor. It’s just long enough for Calum to notice —
“Was that a hickey?” he whispers to Rian, who’s returned to messing with the sound board. At this he glances up, turning to watch Michael approach the counselor.
“Dunno,” he says, shrugging. “Probably? Isn’t he hooking up with Harry?”
The gears in Calum’s brain grind to a halt.
“Huh?” he says dimly. “Harry?”
It’s not like he’s surprised, but that’s somehow worse. Harry’s cute and charming and has great hair and a very deep gravelly voice — he’s so obvious, and Michael doesn’t seem like the type to go for the obvious one. But Calum can’t blame him, much as he’d like to.
After all, this is camp. That’s the game.
“According to Zayn,” Rian rectifies. “I assume they all just gossip in the kitchen.”
“Probably,” Calum says. “What else would they do? Cook?”
“Woah, support staff actually doing their job? Slow your roll,” Rian says dryly. Calum huffs a laugh. “Speaking of which. It’s probably something about Ashley’s phone.” Ashley, her name is Ashley. “It’s about time we get some Bluetooth at this camp.”
Calum scoffs. “And have our technology be up-to-date? Slow your roll.”
“Touché.” Rian starts waving to get the counselor’s attention. “Ashley! Come here.”
Ashley approaches them just as Michael returns with a camper in tow. Rachel Barnett, presumably. Her eyes are on the floor and she seems deeply disinterested in her surroundings. Calum has no idea how old this bunk of campers are, but the girl seems maybe thirteen.
“You figured it out?” Ashley asks. Rian starts explaining the phone problem, but Calum is pulled out of it by Michael.
“Hey,” he says, “are you busy tonight?”
Calum looks at Rian, but Rian is still occupied exchanging words with Ashley. “Me?”
“No, the other Calum,” Michael says. “Yes, you. I’m gonna go for a midnight swim tonight, if you wanna join.”
Calum just barely stops himself from asking if Harry will be present. He’s not going to be that guy.
“Uh. Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”
“Sick,” Michael says. “You can come whenever you finish with your logistics stuff. Gotta go, catch you later!”
And then he’s gone, with Rachel Barnett trailing listlessly behind.
Calum is left wondering what the fuck to do with that. He wants to ask Rian, but Rian is busy with Ashley, and besides, Calum doesn’t want to seem obsessive. He knows he shouldn’t read into it, because if Michael’s really getting with Harry then there’s no way it’s a come-on, but he can’t help it a little.
Calum puts the invite out of his mind. He’s supposed to be problem-solving. That’s his job. He’s not at camp to crush on a boy, no matter how cute that boy is or how desperately Calum wants to earn a genuine smile out of him from beneath the ever-present smirk.
That’s not the point. It’s not.
He turns back to Rian and Ashley and listens to them work out the phone problem, but his gaze keeps flitting across to the pool.
"Are we actually allowed to be here?" is Calum's first question. The answer should be evident from the fact that he's just watched Michael climb over the pool fence to get in, rather than open the gate — which, Calum sees now, is locked — but it doesn't hurt to ask anyway.
Or maybe it does. "You don't want deniability?" Michael jokes, that permanent half-smirk affixed to his face. Calum waits. "Nobody's told me that we're not allowed to be here. So. Yes?"
"That defense will not hold up in court," Calum informs him. He climbs over the fence anyway, because he doesn't care that much, and besides he doesn't want to seem lame. Michael graciously offers a hand to Calum, which Calum accepts equally graciously.
Michael's hands are soft. Calum processes this information against his own will.
"Alex said he and Jack might come a bit later, but not to bet on it," he says, following Michael to the edge of the pool. A towel is already spread out on the concrete. As Michael tugs off his shirt and kicks off his shoes, those things join the towel. Michael himself takes a running jump at the pool before Calum has even set down his own towel. Water splashes everywhere, including quite a bit on Calum.
"You fucking piece of shit," Calum accuses, pulling off his shirt and dropping it carelessly to the ground with his things. Michael grins.
"Get in, the water's nice," he says with a grandiose gesture. Calum rolls his eyes. There's no way he'll get the splash that Michael had, but he gives it his best effort anyway.
The water is not nice. The water is bloody cold. If Calum hadn't already committed to submerging completely, he'd retreat, but now that he's in it'll only be colder to get out. Frigidity soaks into his skin; it feels like stepping into the kitchen's walk-in freezer.
As he breaks back above the surface, he gasps and pushes his hair off his forehead. "Fucking hell that's fucking cold. This pool is fucking cold. Holy fuck it's cold."
"Isn't that what I said?" Michael says innocently. Calum splashes him. He shifts on his feet to keep himself warm, though it's a futile gesture. "I wasn't expecting Jack or Alex to come. They were making plans for tonight anyway, in the office earlier."
"Plans? It's a fucking summer camp." Calum arches an eyebrow. "The fuck kind of plans?"
Michael shrugs. "Gazebo date? Beats me."
"If they're having sex in our room right now," Calum begins threateningly, and Michael snorts.
"That's where your mind goes? You're a twisted man, Calum Hood."
Calum Hood sounds excellent in Michael's scratchy voice. Calum tamps down that thought and says, "I'm a realistic man."
"You can be both."
"That's true. I contain many multitudes. I'm like Bob Dylan."
"Whatever that means," Michael says.
“It’s a song,” Calum says. “‘I Contain Multitudes.’ By Bob Dylan. It was a reference.”
“Obscure reference.”
“Is it?”
Michael only shrugs a shoulder. "It’s fine, obscure references are cool. I'll give it to you."
"Thank you very much." Calum inclines his head. He bobs in the water. It'd be warmer if they were moving more, but that's not very conducive to conversation. Hypothermia just might be worth it to chat with Michael like they're friends.
Christ. Calum is arguably down bad.
"No, it's admirable, really," Michael says, tilting his head thoughtfully. At first Calum thinks he’s calling Calum’s obscure Bob Dylan reference admirable, but he quickly realizes the subject has changed. The hickey Calum had noticed earlier in the day looks ghastly in the stark pool lights. "I mean, camp's like, hookup central, right? Good for them for choosing love."
"Choosing love," Calum echoes dryly. Michael had sounded a bit ironic saying it. "Hey, you know what, Michael, that's really unfair to hookup culture. Sometimes hooking up is choosing love."
Michael barks a laugh. "Yeah, right. Well, not for me. More power to you."
Huh.
Well.
If Calum wanted an opening, it doesn’t get better than this.
"So," he says conversationally, "Harry?"
He doesn't want to ask, but he does want to know , probably out of some fucked-up sense of masochism. Or because he's nosy. It's not the end of the world that the boy Calum finds cute is hooking up with a different guy. It really isn't.
Michael looks surprised. Maybe he hadn't expected Calum to be so blunt.
"I'm not 'choosing love' with Harry, if that's what you mean," he says wryly.
Calum had figured. Hoped. But it's nice to know for sure, not that it means much. Alex's theory only needs to be wrong once.
"But you are hooking up with him," he says. "I mean. Right?"
"At the moment," Michael allows, sinking lower in the water. Briefly he disappears, dunking under, then he resurfaces and shakes out his hair. "Uh, yeah."
"Not judging, mate," Calum says. "Honestly. Good for you."
"Well." Michael wrinkles his nose. "Pretty sure Harry's more of a one-night-stand type, anyway, so it really remains to be seen whether or not it was a one-time thing."
"Would you do it again?"
Michael shrugs. "Sure. I guess. But if he doesn't want to, that's fine too." He grins, self-aware. "I'm an easy-going guy."
"I can tell," Calum says. His gaze skips over the water, reaching as far as the light does. "Well, uh. Good luck? I guess?"
Michael laughs. "Thanks."
For a moment, Calum doesn't even care that Michael's cute and attractive and potentially the perfect boyfriend. Floating in the pool with him and gossiping about boys, Calum thinks that if friends is all they ever are, that would probably be enough.
"You?" Michael asks, giving Calum a critical glance. "While we're on the subject, I mean. Anyone you've got your eye on?"
Calum nearly laughs at the irony of it all.
"It's complicated," he says. Which is not strictly false.
Michael raises an eyebrow. "How's it complicated? It's not Alex, is it?"
"God, no." Calum shudders just thinking it. "Even ignoring how much I don't fancy Alex, that would also make me the world's worst homewrecker."
"Well, that was my concern," Michael says, smirking a bit. It might be the lights, or Calum's optimistic imagination, but he thinks there's a hint of a real smile under there. Hidden in the corners. "Fuck, seriously, though. Jack and Alex know something that they're not sharing with the rest of us."
"About romance?” Michael nods. "Yeah. Tell me about it. I live with Alex."
Michael exhales loudly. "If anyone ever treats me the way Jack and Alex treat each other, I'll know I've made it. If those two break up, there's no hope for the rest of us."
"That's an awful lot you've got riding on two boys in their early twenties," Calum says. "Not that I disagree, but I feel like if Jack and Alex are the gold standard for romance we might all need to reexamine our priorities. As a society."
Michael grins. It's hard to tell how real it is, but it feels like an honest reaction, for once.
Warmth spreads through Calum, improbable given the chill of the pool. In an effort to get his blood moving again, he dunks his head under, flipping once and then stilling.
He could go back up, but…not yet.
Blinking against the chlorine, he looks around. The lights under the water blur through the rippling pool. Everything feels hazy and dreamlike, from the bluish tint on the both of them to the inky blanket of the midnight around. Whatever real world exists, it stops at the edge of the pool; here, suspended in the fuzzy half-lit shallow end, it's just Calum and Michael.
If Calum reached out, he could touch Michael. He almost does it, too. Almost.
Instead he surfaces, catching his breath.
"I thought you'd never return," Michael remarks.
"Don't need to sound so hopeful," Calum says. Michael laughs and splashes him.
"Fuck off," he says. This time, Calum's absolutely certain that the smile on Michael's face is genuine.
“Not to keep talking about it, but I am pretty certain Alex called you and Harry,” Calum says.
This seems to pique Michael’s interest. “What? What does that even mean?”
“Uh, a couple weeks ago,” Calum says. “I don’t know. He and Jack were kind of making bets — or predictions, I guess — on who would get with who. I didn’t hear the whole conversation but they were convinced you and Harry would.”
There’s no reason to be telling this to Michael except that if it were Calum he would want to know. That, and maybe he likes knowing something Michael doesn’t, something unexpected.
Michael laughs. “Shit, that obvious? I didn’t even know until, like, the day it happened.”
“Well, I’m also working on a theory that Alex is psychic and/or a time traveler,” Calum says seriously, “so keep that in mind.”
Again Michael laughs, and this time Calum laughs with him.
“So what’s on the logistics roster for tomorrow?” Michael asks, jumping backwards into the water and then swimming towards Calum.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I never know what the day’s work is gonna be. People just make their requests or walkie for our help and we deal with shit as it comes up, mostly.” Calum shrugs. “Although what’s today, Thursday? Tomorrow night is the sing-along thing, so we’ll have to set that up. Other than that, I dunno.”
“It sounds like you kinda do know,” Michael says, chuckling. “Is it hard? Logistics?”
“Depends what you mean by hard.”
Michael pauses. “...Challenging. Difficult. Not easy.”
“Fuck off,” Calum says, rolling his eyes and smiling crookedly. “I mean, it’s not easy, no. I feel like I’ve been put through a speedrun course learning all this shit, like what’s an XLR cable and what’s a 3.5mm audio jack and all the different reasons why a speaker might not be working, and that’s just the technical stuff. There’s also all the, you know. Carrying shit around.”
“Yeah, it looks like a lot of heavy lifting,” Michael says distastefully. “That’s why I’d never do it. I’m not so bad with A/V stuff but between an air-conditioned office with constant access to the internet and having to be out in the sun all day doing physical labor, it’s a no-brainer.”
“Yeah,” Calum says. He laughs. “Well, that’s how we’re different. I like the time in the sun. And the physical labor really isn’t so bad. We’ve got golf carts, which makes it easier.”
“True,” Michael says wistfully. “Man, I wish I was allowed to drive a golf cart.”
“You can take the logistics one,” Calum says. He doesn’t even think. That’s how pathetic his situation is. “If we ever hit a lull in a day, I mean. I’ll ride with you. It’s easier than driving.”
Michael grins. “Nice. Thanks.”
“But I like it a lot,” Calum says, jumping back to his original sentiment, which he’d never quite wrapped up. He purses his lips and nods. “Yeah. I’d rather have this job than any other one here, for sure.”
Michael hums. “Well aren’t you a model employee.”
“I am. I’m being paid to say this.”
“You literally are, you know.”
“Uh, not yet I’m not.” Calum smirks. “Still waiting on payday.”
“True. So there’s a chance you’re being authentic.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Calum says. Michael nods dutifully, like he’ll take this secret to his grave. It’s a gag, but Calum likes that Michael is running with it. “What about working in the office? Do you like it? Is it hard?”
“Depends what you mean by hard.” Michael grins at his own joke. “No, it’s really not hard. It’s a bit boring at times because a lot of it is just, like, sorting forms and hunting down camper information and answering calls where I just have to tell the parents that no, they can’t actually speak to their kid unless it’s an emergency, or they ask a really dumb question and I have to explain to them that Google exists. But it’s alright for the most part. Everyone’s nice. Never a dull moment with Jack there, you know. Plus, air conditioning.”
“There’s air conditioning in the logistics office.”
Michael makes a face. “I think ‘office’ is a generous word for whatever is going on with the logistics, like, post-apocalyptic storage room.”
That’s fair. There’s very little organization in the logistics office. Calum and Ashton have been meaning to tidy it up, but every day proves too busy to get into the swing of it. Maybe Ashton would be willing to sacrifice a few Saturday hours to tackle it. Saturdays are their idlest days by a long shot. Calum makes a mental note to ask him.
“We have the best snacks, though,” says Calum defensively. “Skittles. Doritos. Definitely stale ones, but they exist.”
Michael laughs. “Snacks aren’t an argument for the quality of an office. It looks like a hurricane ran through it.”
“Well maybe that’s how we like it.”
“You spend so much of your free time in the main office anyway,” Michael adds. “So the air conditioning can’t be that good.”
“I come to the main office for the company, you dick,” Calum says, splashing water at Michael. His shoulders are catching the chilly nighttime breeze and it’s making him shiver. “My friends work there.”
“Okay, alright,” Michael concedes. “Well, you’re my only friend on logistics, so that works out.”
Calum’s stomach flips. In his mind, he and Michael are friends — if they hadn’t been before, they are now — but it’s different to hear it aloud. “Really?”
“I get on with everyone else, but I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” Michael says. “Although Ashton’s growing on me. He also spends a lot of time in the office, but I’m pretty sure that’s because he fancies Luke.”
Calum’s gasp is only half-fake. “Seriously?” The drama just keeps cropping up. Calum will have to ask Ashton about that. Respectfully, so it doesn’t seem like he’s digging for dirt, even though he totally is. The nice thing about camp gossip is that it’s generally harmless and therefore extremely fun to indulge.
“Well, I’m no Alex,” Michael says, huffing a small laugh, “but then again I don’t think Ashton and subtlety have ever been introduced.”
“Probably not,” Calum says, thinking of the way Ashton smiles with his whole body and always seems to have a spring in his step. He really likes that about Ashton, that he wears his heart on his sleeve. There’s a determination to his never-ending optimism, but when logistics is weighed down with tasks and it’s looking bleak, it’s nice to have someone like Ashton clapping them on the back and reassuring them that they can do this. “You’re gonna need to monitor this situation, Mike. Give me regular updates.”
“I’ll be glad to,” Michael says. “If you watch Ashton, I’ll watch Luke.”
“Deal.”
A shiver runs through Calum, and Michael laughs. “You cold, Cal?”
The nickname sinks its teeth in. Calum jumps from foot to foot. “Only if you are.”
“I’m cold,” Michael decides. “About time we head back, anyway. If you’ve got all the work you say you’ve got tomorrow you’ll probably want a good night’s sleep.”
“So nice of you to be concerned for my health.”
“Well, I’m a nice guy.”
“You know,” Calum says, “you really, actually are.”
Michael blinks. He seems caught off-guard, but in a good way, which had kind of been the goal.
“You know, Calum,” he says, “you really, actually are too.”
Calum smiles, slow and warm, biting his lip so it doesn’t overtake his face.
“Race you to the end of the pool,” he offers.
Michael squares his shoulders. “You’re on.”
(Michael loses by a country mile, and Calum makes fun of him the whole way back to the staff motel. His skin is damp despite his best efforts to dry off, but he doesn’t even feel the cold.)
Notes:
justice for teenagers by mcr. one of the top 5 mcr songs ever. maybe even top 3 <-- guy who doesnt listen to mcr
also obligatory note that you are absolutely not allowed to be in the pool at camp without a lifeguard present. but also that that has never stopped me before. and also that i went for a midnight swim my first year on staff at camp and i got in trouble with the assistant director for it, so maybe this was my way of rewriting history
Chapter 6: VI
Summary:
Currently, ‘Dammit’ is soundtracking Calum’s deep-dive into the corner of the office. In addition to the pair of toilet plungers, he’s unearthed a plastic bin filled with lollipops, two walkie charging bases without cords, a (very stale and half-melted) bag of M&Ms, and a stack of mini plastic construction cones. This is far more interesting, though less practical, than the shelf he’d been clearing before it, which had been mostly loaded with rolls of toilet paper and paper towels. These are responsible for Calum’s myriad trips to storage. He’s just about sick of storage.
Notes:
welcome to the logistics office. this chapter represents a beautiful world where the logistics office is the type of room you can tidy up and make livable again, rather than (as in my experience) a fuck ass room with a foundation leak and consequently a carpeted floor that is always slightly damp, with an everpresent smell of mildew. everything mentioned here can also be found (or has been found in the past) in the actual logistics office at my camp, so. now you know that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Why the fuck do we have two toilet plungers?”
Ashton turns around. “You know what they say. Two plungers are better than one.”
Calum throws a marker at Ashton and he ducks, laughing. “I’ll plunge your mum.”
“That’s horrible! Don’t say that.”
“Where do these go?”
“I don’t know, storage?”
Calum sighs. “We have too much stuff in here that belongs in storage.” But he marches out of the logistics office anyway, a plunger over each shoulder, to return them to their rightful place.
It’s Saturday, and Ashton has agreed to undertake the gargantuan task of organizing the logistics office with Calum. Rian and Zack have agreed to be first responders for the minimal logistics calls for the day, conceding that being able to actually locate items in their office is enough of a priority.
For the past hour, Calum and Ashton have made quite a dent in the disaster zone of the place. The floor is flecked with dirt, flakes of rubber, bits of broken plastic, and probably some staples and such, but vacuuming is going to be their final job. When they started it had mostly been about emptying the shelves and deciding what stuff would go where. Ashton had insisted on labeling each container and had spent a good while doing that while Calum had been testing out markers to see which ones were dried out.
It’s been a lot of tedious, repetitive bullshit, but there’s no doubt they’re making progress.
Now that many of the smaller pieces have been sorted into bins and baskets and plastic cups and placed on their designated shelves, Calum has turned to the perimeter on the other side of the room. Between the two of them, they’ve definitely broken, or possibly created, a record for “most batteries found in places where batteries should not be.” Namely, the floor.
Neither of them have any idea how to dispose of batteries, so they’re filling up a plastic container on the table in the middle of the room, to be Dealt With Later.
It’s been nice, though. Spending this much time with Ashton has just made Calum realize how much he likes Ashton. And how much his and Ashton’s music tastes overlap. They’re listening to a Green Day radio from Ashton’s phone and they’d taken a very dignified three-minute break from the tidying efforts when ‘Basket Case’ had come on. Some songs just demand an air guitar solo.
Currently, ‘Dammit’ is soundtracking Calum’s deep-dive into the corner of the office. In addition to the pair of toilet plungers, he’s unearthed a plastic bin filled with lollipops, two walkie charging bases without cords, a (very stale and half-melted) bag of M&Ms, and a stack of mini plastic construction cones. This is far more interesting, though less practical, than the shelf he’d been clearing before it, which had been mostly loaded with rolls of toilet paper and paper towels. These are responsible for Calum’s myriad trips to storage. He’s just about sick of storage.
“Bug spray,” Calum announces. He straightens up and whirls around; they’ve definitely got a bug-spray-and-sunscreen shelf, and it’s quickly filling up. “Man, if there’s ever a plague of mosquitos or something, we will be armed.”
“Like locusts?”
“Does bug spray work on locusts?”
“Dunno,” Ashton says. His side of the room looks pretty nice, though to be fair, it’s mostly just metal cabinets stocked with art supplies. At the moment he seems to be writing out yet another label. “They’re bugs, aren’t they?” Pause. “Are they? I’ve never actually seen a locust. Or if I have I didn’t realize it.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re bugs?”
“In that case, yes,” Ashton says confidently. “If we’re plagued by locusts or mosquitos we will be armed to the teeth.”
“Or the sun,” Calum says, glancing at the many bottles of sunscreen. “Somehow.”
Ashton chuckles at this.
“Alright,” Calum says, stretching his arms to the ceiling. Some of his joints make noises that are very concerning for joints. “I’m done with this corner. Hey, what’s the deal with the printer?”
The focal point of the logistics office is the desk against the back wall, facing the door. A large, outdated desktop computer sits atop it — technically it turns on, but that’s about the extent of its abilities. The screensaver is a very unflattering picture of Feldy, though, which is a laugh at least. To its left, resting on a higher shelf of incongruous color, is the printer.
Calum is one hundred thousand percent sure the printer doesn’t work. He’s convinced it never has. Its presence in the office is thoroughly incomprehensible.
“It’s a printer,” says Ashton without turning away from his task (gathering scissors). “You never seen a printer?”
“Fuck off, I can see it’s a printer,” Calum says. “I’m wondering what it’s doing in here. Does it work? Does it even turn on? At least the computer turns on.”
Ashton shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably not, but it’s just — it’s the logistics office printer. I dunno, it’s just a feature of the office.”
“Also probably true of the plungers,” Calum points out. “Maybe it’s time for the printer to go. Or maybe we should get a working printer.”
“You think camp is going to spend any of their already-stretched budget on logistics? ” Ashton laughs.
“But it’s not like we need a printer,” Calum persists. “Logistics doesn’t print shit out anyway, and if we do we just ask the office. No, seriously, Ash, why don’t we just chuck the printer?”
“Bro, it’s cool with me,” Ashton says. “I don’t care what happens to the printer. Chuck the printer. Throw it out a window for all I care.”
Calum raises his eyebrows. “Can I?”
“Do not throw it out a window,” Ashton says. His head is bent, but Calum can see a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Holy shit, Calum, the barest amounts of judgment, please.”
“It was your idea!”
“You can chuck it, safely, however you like, as long as you’re willing to collect all the shattered plastic afterwards,” Ashton says lightly. “While I watch from the sidelines in a golf cart, ready to make a quick escape in case any of the upper staff hears.”
“Such a supportive co-worker,” Calum deadpans. “I’m lucky to call you my friend, truly.”
Ashton laughs loudly.
As the place starts to take on the appearance of an office, rather than the aftermath of a natural disaster, Calum’s progress slows. The music has kept spirits high, and other than a few brief visits from Dream Team Zack and Rian to grab supplies or whatever, it’s just been him and Ashton all afternoon. Finally, when all that’s left to do is vacuum, Calum sits down on the floor with his legs outstretched and takes a long drink from his water bottle.
“I don’t think I’ve had water this entire day,” he says, smacking his lips. “It’s not hot in here. I just forgot.”
“You know, I don’t think I have either,” Ashton says. He also opens his water bottle as he sits across the floor from Calum, leaning against the closed door of the metal cabinet.
“A job well done,” Calum says, glancing around. “If you ask me.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Ashton says. “We made this room our bitch.”
“I think we should get the rest of the day off,” Calum declares. “Just for doing this.”
“I’m so glad it’s done,” Ashton says. “I feel like my brain can finally relax.”
“Oh, what’s that like?”
Ashton snorts. “Uh, check in later, it hasn’t kicked in yet.”
They both laugh, and a comfortable quiet settles over the pair of them, punctuated by the muted sounds of Good Charlotte singing this is the anthem, throw all your hands up. Ashton closes his eyes. If Calum hadn’t just spent nearly two hours moving around and taking trips to storage, it would be too cold in here, but as it is the temperature’s pretty ideal. Calum smiles to himself.
He likes being in the sun, but there is something to be said for kicking back in an air-conditioned room.
As if summoned by the thought of the outside world, the door to the office swings open.
“Oh, you’re on the floor,” says Luke. “Holy fuck, it’s clean in here. Well, not clean, but like.”
“Yeah,” Calum says. “Close the door, you’ll let the air out.”
Luke steps inside and shuts the door behind him, at which point he spies Ashton, who’s staring so lamely at Luke that Calum feels like he should look away. “Oh, hey, Ash. Also on the floor, I see.”
“We’re starting a religion,” Ashton says. Calum is impressed by his coherence. “Feel free to join in.”
“A religion?”
“Yeah, we’re really big on sitting on the floor. That’s the only commandment.”
“Also chucking printers,” Calum puts in. “Big on that too.”
“That’s Calum’s branch of the religion,” Ashton tells Luke, who has, obligingly, sat cross-legged on the floor. “He’s protestant. I’m really more of a floor-sitting purist. We don’t care for chucking printers.”
“What the fuck goes on in here,” Luke wonders aloud.
“Wouldn’t you love to know,” Calum says, grinning. “Did you need something, or were you just paying a visit?”
“I needed something,” Luke says, “but now that it’s this neat I might have to come by more often.” He glances at Ashton. “For the company.”
For fuck’s sake.
Ashton beams. “Well, we’ll never say no to your company.”
Christ almighty. Calum is starting to understand what Michael had meant about Ashton being unfamiliar with the concept of subtlety, not that Luke is any better. Those two are made for each other.
“What do you need, Luke?” Calum asks, trying to be helpful and do his job and also say hey, I’m still in the room all at once.
Luke turns to Calum, who moves to stand. “No, oh my God, don’t get up. Just point me in the direction of the staples, the office is clear out.”
“They’re in here,” Ashton says, smacking a hand against the cabinet behind him. He holds out a hand. “I’ll get out of your way, just help me up.”
“I feel like I’m doing all the work here,” Luke says, taking Ashton’s hand and pulling him to his feet. Ashton makes a face that elicits a laugh from Luke. He yanks open the cabinet, displaying Ashton’s beautifully organized set of shelves, and pulls down from the top one a basket full of boxes of staples.
“It’s like Halloween,” he says. “Take a handful.”
Luke snorts a laugh as he pockets a box.
“Thank you very much,” he says. “I’ll now be indebted to the logistics team until I die.”
“You already were,” Calum says. “I let you drive in the golf cart with me.”
Luke screws up his face. “Hmm, but you didn’t actually let me drive, so…”
“Really, you wanna do that?”
“No, no,” Luke giggles. “I’m joking. Riding with you was sick. And it looks great in here. And…you guys are killing it as usual. Alright. I’m heading back to the office now.”
And with two thumbs up, he departs.
Calum laughs. “Holy fucking shit, Ashton. Do you know you basically become the heart-eyes emoji around him?”
“I do not!” Ashton protests. “Fuck you, man, I’m trying to be dignified and cool here.”
“And you are failing,” Calum says. “Horrifically.”
Ashton groans and sinks back against the door of the cabinet until he’s on the floor again. “Well, I was dignified and cool before they fucking hired Luke. Fuck.”
“It’s kind of cute, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you.” Ashton winces. “That was so rude, sorry. I just mean, like, fuck. I don’t want to be this guy. Like. When I was a camper here, I was never one of the ones who fancied anyone. Everyone else would be in their gossip circles, but I wasn’t involved. I honestly thought I was immune. But now Luke? And, like?”
He drops his face into his hands, which seems to be the logical next part of his sentence.
“This is so incredibly lame,” his muffled voice concludes.
Calum laughs. “Bro, it’s just a crush. It’s not lame. Luke’s cute. Not really my type, but I’m not about to judge.” Not when I fancy the far less conventionally attractive and much more impossible-to-read office staff member.
“Well, I think it’s lame,” Ashton says. His picks up his head and shakes it out. “Okay. Enough. I don’t want to talk about Luke anymore. He’s probably gonna hook up with Michael or something.”
That’d be the worst of both worlds. “I doubt it,” Calum says, mostly for his own benefit. “Their personalities don’t seem hookup-compatible. Not that I would know, but.”
Ashton shrugs. “I’ve decided not to care. I’m gonna not care, Calum, how does that sound? Let’s talk about anything else at all.” He picks up a coin from the floor. “Like how much we need to vacuum in here.”
“So much,” Calum agrees. “It’s tragic.”
Ashton sighs and leans his head back against the cabinet door.
“Shit,” he says dazedly, “this summer has fucking blown by. Can you believe we’re halfway done?”
Calum had managed to put it out of his mind, but now it comes flooding back, bitter and sweet twisting over each other until it’s impossible to separate the one from the other. “It feels like it’s been so much shorter, but also a million times longer.”
“Camp time,” Ashton murmurs. “The days are like weeks and the weeks are like days.”
The phrase is more like a mantra, and Calum has heard it more than once since arriving, but he’d never realized quite how much it would ring true. Every day here has felt like a week, and the effort to recall anything from before the past couple of days is astronomical — but at the same time it feels as if no time has passed at all.
Everyone had warned Calum, but there’d been no anticipating the actual feeling: like only yesterday he’d been arriving with his duffel bag and rucksack and now they’re halfway through the summer.
“Well, it’s not over yet,” he says. If the next three weeks race by as fast as the past three have, it will be soon, but Calum decides not to think about that. He and Ashton can set a record for Most In Denial, while they’re at it. “The first half was the bad half, anyway. Now is where shit gets good.”
Ashton laughs quietly. “And you would know, as a veteran of this summer camp.”
“Yes, exactly. Everything that’s happened up ‘til now has been shit. You’ve been doing Trashy Camp. Now we can get Awesome Camp started.”
“You’re full of shit,” Ashton informs Calum, a silly smile on his face. But it grows a little, warming up, and he adds earnestly, “I’m really glad you’re on our team this summer. I’m happy I met you.”
This is another phenomenon of camp, Calum keeps finding: in spite of his initial efforts to keep his distance and dignity, there’s something in the air that makes him want to fall in love with everyone.
Not fall in love in a romantic way; moreso in the way that you can meet someone and just tell you’re meant to know them for the rest of your life. Calum’s been feeling that way practically since he arrived, since Alex had introduced himself on that first day and charmed his way into Calum’s heart, leaving the door open for the rest of the logistics staff, office staff, and even, to a certain degree, kitchen staff to trail in after. There’s no hope for getting them out now that they’ve made themselves at home, and Calum wouldn’t want to.
When the time comes to say goodbye, Calum is going to regret the love he’s immersed himself in. For now, it makes camp a much nicer place to be.
“I’m glad they hired me,” Calum finally says, smiling back at Ashton. “I almost didn’t apply because I didn’t think I would like working at a summer camp for kids. So. Thank God I did.”
“Thank God you did,” Ashton repeats. The moment gleams between them. Then Ashton adds, “So now I’ve got someone else to vacuum for me.”
“Dream on,” Calum says, laughing along with Ashton, but when they’ve both finally gotten to their feet, it’s Calum who reaches for the vacuum.
Notes:
if you've ever been to summer camp, you know how true it is that the days are like weeks and the weeks are like days. nothing truer has ever been said about summer camp.
fun fact for your personal enjoyment: a couple years ago, one of my logistics staff started affectionately referring to the logistics office as the "logoff" and now that's what we all call it :)
floralcipher on Chapter 1 Thu 10 Oct 2024 12:44PM UTC
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bellawritess on Chapter 1 Sat 19 Oct 2024 04:39AM UTC
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27_royalteas on Chapter 1 Sat 12 Oct 2024 04:06AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 12 Oct 2024 04:07AM UTC
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bellawritess on Chapter 1 Sat 19 Oct 2024 04:40AM UTC
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cxmp on Chapter 5 Sun 24 Aug 2025 05:29AM UTC
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