Chapter Text
Hiking was… a lot easier as a kid.
It’s why when Black finally sat down on the log he’d placed for himself, he nearly fell backwards from how tired he was. When he stabilized, he sighed and stretched before checking his surroundings.
The sun was setting slowly, painting the sky the colors of melted rainbow sherbet. From where he was resting though, he couldn’t even see the sun itself over the vast valley of trees, their branches knitted together like miles of intertwined fingers. By now the birds were starting to grow silent as crickets took over nature’s song, chirping all the same.
Earlier, Black had used his monocular to locate a suitable campground. This trip was purely recreational—he’d specifically requested time off in advance—so he didn’t have to, but he had decided to brush up on some of his stealth camping skills. This had meant bringing an arsenal of handy gear he hadn’t used in a while, like his Trangia burner as a campfire alternative, or his tarp as a tent alternative.
It’d been fun throwing a bunch of random forest debris onto the tarp’s camo netting, though with the way his back cracked, he’d probably overdone it in his excitement. All alone out here, Black could give himself a pat on the back at how well he did. If you came from the south, which led back to civilization rather than further into the woods, you wouldn’t be able to distinguish the tarp at all.
Taking a few more sips of water from his thermos, Black started to pack some of his used gear away and stuff it under the tarp, though his photography gear had to be hidden in the vegetation instead. It was the time of year where the Perseid Meteor Shower would grace the Earth, so Black planned to grab some photos for his folks back at home.
When Black was young, he and his parents would go out camping every once in a while. His mom had trained him on what plants were edible or dangerous, and his dad had shown him the literal ropes—knots, traps, setting up camp, how to start a fire—the works! When all was said and done, they’d make s’mores and get ready to watch the meteor shower. It was a great bonding and training exercise they’d kept up for years.
But ever since his dad’s injury, their hiking trips switched to board games and activities that could accommodate him. Even if Mom asked if Black wanted to go, just the two of them, he couldn’t stand the thought of camping without Dad. No man left behind.
By now, decades later, Black had long come to terms with the circumstances. Mom was now too old herself to make the hike anyways—but he could at least get a photo. Maybe she could frame it in the living room, placing it next to the small porcelain dolls and other family photos. Since they couldn’t come, he’ll bring the shooting stars to them instead.
And so, with a small yawn, Black placed his boots upside down near the entrance of the tarp and snuggled up under his space blanket. It wasn’t ideal for the summer heat, but in the hypothetical that he was being hunted, the Mylar blanket would obscure his thermal heat from detection.
He hoped being hunted at the moment was a hypothetical, but considering his rival, he could never be too careful. Black had done his damnedest to hide any signs of this trip from White, but that little rat could needle his way into anything; it was an infuriating two-way street for the both of them. If White ruined this trip for him, Black swore to god he’d ruin White’s upcoming trip to Japan… well he was planning to follow regardless but that was besides the point.
Black huffed in annoyance, waving away the thoughts of his nemesis to take a nap. The peak time for the meteors would be extremely late, so it’d be best to rest up before then. He closed his eyes, feeling the way sweat meshed with the camo paint on his forehead.
“EEYAH!”
The scream startled Black awake, and he yelped as the tarp fell on him in his haste. He quickly repositioned the stick holding it up before he scrambled to his feet, shoved his boots on, and grabbed his flashlight and pistol. He rushed towards the sound of distress with a mixture of annoyance and delight; he knew that yell like the back of his hand.
“Look what the cat dragged in!” he sneered, aiming the light at White’s face. The man in white flinched, shielding his eyes from the light.
His rival looked absolutely frazzled, caught upside down in the snare trap by the ankle like a scared rabbit. Black had practiced setting up various hunting traps around the campground as well, and while he was hoping to snag a wild animal to eat, White himself was a great catch.
Black casually eyed the ground where White’s gun had fallen, slowly putting his own pistol away. “Clearly you’ve been snooping,” he whistled, picking the rifle up to check out the night sight scope on it. “You really came all the way out here for lil ol me?” he teased, pressing his eye against the scope and looking at a petrified White with night vision. Honestly he might steal this.
All the cockiness left his body as he pulled the trigger, causing the scope of the trick gun to blast a blinding light straight into his eye. Black shrieked as he dropped the rifle and flashlight, frantically rubbing at his eyes under the sunglasses. Perhaps the shades dulled the flash slightly, but one eye still saw nothing but white afterimage. He covered it with his hand and only looked through the eye that’d been closed while aiming, leaving a painful contrast in his vision. It was disorienting, but luckily there was only the flash and not the bang, so he stood his ground well enough. He glared up at his archenemy, only to realize he was staring down the barrel of White’s handgun.
Risky as it was, Black stomped out his flashlight and ran. The muzzle flash sparked through the trees like a phantom flare, gunshot tearing through the quiet night like a blade. He could already hide in the shadows with his black clothes, but with the camo body paint, he melted in like a drop in the inkwell. Taking out his black anodized dagger, he cut the rope and sent White crashing onto the forest floor with a groan, though the man remained conscious.
Black pounced and wrestled White to the ground, hearing the branches crunch underneath their combined, thrashing weight as he tried to stab his nemesis. The non-reflective metal came close to piercing White’s chest before he slammed Black’s wrist against the sharp bark of the tree behind them, causing him to drop the blade. No longer tethered to the tree but with the rope still looped around his ankle, White took the opportunity to wrap the loose cord around Black’s neck. Black barely managed to slip his forearm through the loop in a nick of time, gasping in discomfort within the knot White speedily tied and yanked. Heart thumping in his ears, Black quickly chomped down on White’s hand like a feral dog, hearing his enemy yowl and kick him in the stomach.
Blood faintly danced on Black’s tongue as he toppled backwards, using the momentum to tug the rope as hard as he could. It jerked White by the ankle and made him fall on his ass before Black advanced, rapidly punching the wits out of White’s stupid skull while slipping out of the noose. White struggled, teeth gritted and nostrils filled with blood as he tried to block the incoming blows, only for Black to grab his wrists. Black swiftly tied them, looping the rope up White’s arms like ribbons before tightening the cord, forcing White to curl into a ball from how his bound ankle was pulled upwards. The unrestrained leg was still kicking until Black managed to grab it, pushing it backwards; White hissed in pain as his hip joint gave a small pop in protest. Black made sure the leg was painfully lodged against White’s chest, helplessly hooked over his bound arms and unable to come back down.
The two spies panted heavily, catching their breath as they shared the mutual understanding that the battle had reached its end for now. Black finally groaned, leaning back to check his battle wounds. Nothing too bad: just some bruising, splinters on the back of his wrist, and his eye was still trying to recover from the flash. Then he examined his newfound captive, who was wriggling and rather offended by the bound position. White’s nose was dripping blood on his already dirty white clothes, and his hat was long gone somewhere, replaced by the leaves and sticks caught between his blonde locks. The leg wedged up between his chest and the arm binds kept him from leaning forward to gnaw at the ropes, and the cord anchored to his other ankle prevented much maneuvering. Alright, it seemed like the threat was neutralized.
The problem now was what to do with White. Black stared at the other man writhing as he thought of the possibilities. Shoot him? Then he wouldn’t have to worry for the rest of the night. Roast him alive over a fire? That would be fun. Let him live?...
Black was snapped out of his musing as White spat a lob of saliva right at his face. “EW, YOU FUCKING DOUCHEBAG!”
White snickered until Black grabbed him by the hair and dragged his ass back to camp, tossing him near the tarp with a huff. Growling on the ground, White cradled his bitten fingers. “You’re gross! What the hell is wrong with you? I bet you have rabies.”
“And you probably have a million STDs,” Black muttered, wiping the slobber off his lenses.
Throwing a tantrum, White flopped around furiously like an ungraceful roly-poly. Black wouldn’t have cared—it was amusing—until he heard the sound of something starting to fall out of the bushes.
“MY CAMERA!” Black shouted, leaping onto the ground as if catching a baby as the set fell on him.
It made an awful clattering noise against his head, causing it to throb as he sat up in a daze. Getting over himself, he frantically unpacked everything to check its status, though without his flashlight anymore it was hard to see only using starlight.
“Camera?” White parroted curiously, trying to right himself in order to see.
Black had to refrain from punching him, “D-do you have a flashlight?”
“Can you untie me?”
“No.”
“Then no, I don’t.”
Pissed off, Black spent the next 5 minutes squabbling with and frisking White to try and find the hypothetical flashlight. Shoving White firmly on his back, Black jammed his hand down the other’s coat pockets. There were a few minor setbacks, like when his finger got clamped by a mouse trap, but eventually he managed to procure a flashlight from White’s endless inventory before pulling away. White grumbled death threats while Black ignored him to perform a maintenance check on the equipment, which was miraculously still intact. He released a sigh of relief.
“White…”
“What?” his rival gritted out, though White laid at attention.
“I…” Black looked down at White’s flashlight. “Can you behave yourself for just one night?”
“Don’t talk to me like that; I’m not a child.”
“Fine,” Black clicked his tongue, crouching down to be eye level. “Let’s make a deal: you don’t try anything, and I’ll let you go scot-free in the morning.”
White didn’t look swayed, “And if I don’t take the deal?”
“I’ll kill you,” Black said matter-of-factly, though he wasn’t sure of his own confliction. Logically he should just get it over with.
If White caught on to his bluff, the man said nothing, instead nodding silently and sitting back with a blank expression and sniffling through the bloody nose. Black knew it was far too easy; his rival was just waiting for a good opening. While searching through the man’s pockets, he’d thrown all of White’s weapons into a pile to disarm him completely. Black picked it all up and chucked them into the river, much to his enemy’s dismay.
“I said I wasn’t going to try anything!” White whined, leaning against a tree grumpily.
“You think I’d believe you?”
“You tied me up yourself, you know I’m in no position to do anything…” White’s eyes flicked to the sky. “What the?—”
Black excitedly looked up to view some of the meteors streaking through the sky. He yanked up his sleeve to check the watch he stole from White, seeing that it was about 1AM. “Oh! I need to set up!”
White was perplexed as Black rushed around in a hurry, “You… came out here to take photos of the meteor shower?”
“Yes.” He noticed the gears in White’s brain turning and jumped to clarify, “It’s for my parents, not a mission.”
“Oh,” White acknowledged, voice softening in surprise.
Even though the splinters were giving him a fierce sting, Black ignored it to prepare the camera gear. Next, he got to work making the s’mores; can’t forget the s’mores! He’d brought enough to feed 10 men—intending to have them all to himself—but as he lit the Trangia burner and sat on the log with the first marshmallow stick, he heard White’s stomach rumble. Reluctantly he glanced at White, who awkwardly avoided his gaze, looking starward instead.
After expertly cooking the first five marshmallows, Black formed them into delectable s’mores and stacked them on the small tray with the fifth one valiantly above the rest. Black left the plate on the log before collecting his camera gear and going on the short walk up the hill. He occasionally threw wary peeks at White, who was still just laying there, before he made sure the tripod was in place. He checked the camera settings to ensure things were perfect before he locked the shutter button down with tape. The camera would be taking continuous photos for at least a good two hours by itself, so hopefully he aimed at a lucky patch of space, or else he was wasting an egregious amount of film.
With their unsteady truce, Black picked up the s’mores before grabbing the back of White’s shirt to pull him up the hill. White initially squirmed in unease but stopped when Black propped him against a tree stump into a sitting position. Black placed the tray on the stump before grabbing the first s’more for himself and biting into it. It’d gotten a little cold in the delay, but he didn’t mind. He audibly hummed in contentment eating the squishy delight before wordlessly offering one to White.
His rival cringed away from his hand, “What are you doing?”
“Not hungry?”
“Hrm,” White glared at Black’s camo-painted fingers. “If you untied me instead of feeding me.”
“Fat chance,” Black smugly ate the second one. Somehow eating it in front of his rival made it taste even better. “If you want, you can try and use your mouth,” he half-jokingly suggested, pointing at the tray.
“Of course not! It makes sense that you’d suggest that, I bet you liked fetching newspapers in your mouth you—”
Black shut White up by roughly shoving a s’more in the man’s mouth. White made some jerky movements, reminding him of a seagull angling its head upwards to swallow something whole. He could only assume White wanted to keep the chocolate and crumbs from getting on his uniform, but it needed a wash by this point anyway.
Satisfied, Black ate the fourth one before motioning the fifth at White’s face like a handkerchief.
“I hate you,” he grumbled, gingerly taking hold of the treat between his teeth and sliding it in with his lips and tongue.
Feeling a bit warm, Black tried not to stare. Instead, he stared longingly at the empty plate. “Ungrateful. Didn’t eat dinner?”
“I didn’t have time to prepare because I wasn’t sure where you were going.” White licked the chocolate from the corner of his mouth, “... You make s’mores better than my old scoutmaster.”
“You were in Boy Scouts?”
“For a time, yes. One of the best, if I do say so myself,” White bragged, relaxing against the stump. “My knots are better than yours.”
Black retaliated to the jab by tightening the knot of White’s bindings. The two bickered back and forth for a while until Black got up to roast more marshmallows. He refilled the plate and came back over so the two could enjoy them hot off the presses. White kept shifting around in discomfort against the stump, and Black was almost tempted to untie him, but this was for the best. In the low lighting, Black could sort of pretend his enemy wasn’t tied up and being held captive—White was here sharing s’mores and enjoying Black’s favorite celestial event with him.
It’d been years since he’d seen the meteor shower like this, their beauty unhindered by the city’s light pollution. They shot through the sky sporadically, like iridescent threads following a magic sewing needle piercing the darkness. A sudden idea came to mind that one day in the future, if he was lucky enough to have a space mission around the same time, maybe he could catch one to give to his parents. The thought of sneaking a meteor home in a small plastic baggy made him smile.
Snap!
Before Black could react to the sound, White hit him in the back of the head with the metal tray.