A little cold camping (Patreon)

Soft and sweet for the cold weather!!

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“Y-you didn’t check the weather before this, did you?” 

A month ago, a weekend camping trip had seemed like an endearing, bonding experience that Y/N and Harry could enjoy together. It was a little cold outside when the idea struck, sure, but it was supposed to warm in the coming weeks, Harry had time off and Y/N could work it around her own schedule. They had never gone together before but Harry had always spoke fondly of camping trips he’d had as a child, how much fun they were and the delightful memories that accompany them. Yeah, maybe Y/N new little about camping but she figured it would be a fun surprise! So she gathered everything they could need, told Harry to keep his schedule free for the specific weekend she booked the grounds, and planned for it the best she could. 

Had she known that there would be a full on snow storm, then she might have planned a little differently… or maybe she wouldn’t have planned it at all. 

Everything started normally; when Y/N had revealed that they would be camping Harry had regarded her with a cheek widening grin, sliding his arms around her and dragged her towards his chest, squeezing her almost too tight, “You sorted all this for me?” She nodded, Harry dipped closer to her head and pushed a loud, dramatic smooch to the side of her head, “Thank you, Baby, this means so much.” 

She’d been so proud of herself for it, craned her neck to pucker her mouth at him, “You can say it, I’m the best girlfriend in the world, aren’t I?” 

“Hmm, we’ll have to see how well you make smores and then we’ll chat.” 

Harry drove them in his range rover early Friday morning, neither of them paying mind to how chilly that it had been. Their only reaction to it was to stop by the store, buy an extra set of thermal underwear and hand warmers, before continuing their way to the campsite. It was about an hour drive, they danced to his playlists, professed a mutual excitement for their small weekend get-away, and the popcorn popper that Y/N impulse bought prior to telling Harry about their trip. Harry shared more stories, about how once when they were on their way to a site just north of Bristol, Harry had muttered his first swear word beneath his breath at the tender age of eight and how he’d gotten in trouble for it. 

“It wasn’t even a swear, technically --” he defends himself still, “I said ‘bollocks’ cos I overheard Gem saying it to her friend on the phone.”

He also shares a story of how he’d been the only one awake and heard a scuttering around an unauthorized site they’d visited during a hike with his step father’s side of the family. Harry had been the one to unzip the fold in their tent for the netted window, revealing that there was a bear poking around their open cooler, tearing through the plastic of sandwiches his mum had prepared, “Nobody believed me, baby, not even Gem would get up and see I was tellin’ the truth.” 

(Y/N pouted her lip at him sympathetically, though she wonders if a ten year old Harry might have mistaken a vivid dream for reality.) 

They arrived at the grounds at 11AM, lot 12 on the east side of the area where there was a rumored hot spring that they could indulge in. Y/N had visions of them tiptoeing into the heated water, entering a bubble of warmth that shut them from icy air, skin-to-skin, if they were alone she could nip at his bottom lip and coax him back to the tent. She’d always wanted to know what it would be like to fuck in a tent and she knows if she askedh im he would be more than willing to appease her wondering, but she witholds from it for now. For now, this was a sweet, wholesome trip that they could look back on and want to do again, even if it were cold and the sun had disappeared behind an overcast of light grey clouds.

Setting up the tent was far more difficult than it looked when Y/N searched videos online, but it turned out that Harry was something short of a connoisseur in his tent building. He instructs her in what to do, aids her when she’s struggling with the flopping, lengthy poles and explained to her what an alligator clip was. It turned out that Y/N had purchased one of the harder versions to construct, however Harry had done it in the past so he does so with an ease that she could only describe as expertise. It makes her heart stutter and a filthy thought or two slip through her mind; she doesn’t know if it’s the domesticity of the act or how his biceps bulge when he counts to three and they lift an end of either pole to secure them into the ground, or the way he praises her after she shoved her end of the pole through the grommet without dropping it like she had two times prior. Whatever it was, she was feeling particularly in love with him, enough so that she wanted to smother his face in kisses and ride him until her thighs burned. 

Harry ventured just a little ways away to gather stones and sticks for a fire while Y/N cleaned up an area for it and fill the tent with a cushion at the bottom and their blankets and sleeping bags in an effort to make it more cozy. She went to the car to retrieve the cooler and a few other things they had forgotten, and by the time she returned, Harry appeared from where he’d been in the trees, settling down the stones and sticks quietly before he ushers her over, with his finger pressed to his lips. Y/N places the items down beside their tent and tiptoes her way towards him, mouthing ‘what is it’ a few times but only being met with a big smile.

For a moment she had begun questioning if the universe had given Harry the bear that he’d wanted to prove had ransacked his family’s old campsite, but instead of a gruff, dark furred animal capable of biting her hand off -- there were two deer. They were both female, white patches spotted near their tail, twigs snapping beneath their hooves as they chew off a little gathering of plants not far off from her and Harry. It is beautiful, and oddly reminiscent of the opening scene of Twilight (minus all the lush greenery) but dazzling nonetheless. 

She felt Harry’s hand slip into the back pocket of her jeans, sliding her phone from it and swipe up on the camera so that he could get a picture. The shutter was on, a resounding click echoed against the trees and Harry’s small gasp in spite of it makes Y/N choke on a laugh. She’s still trying to be quiet because the deer haven’t ran off yet, but it proves to be difficult when there’s barely a coo or shutter of other noise around them. Her palm flat against her mouth as she struggled, but soon her giggle fit bounced onto Harry who was letting little puffs of laughter through a smile, sucking hard on his bottom lip. When he finally gives up after three or so pictures that he determined were good enough, they retreated back to their tent where they allowed themselves to cackle and chuckle freely. 

“God, I’d hate to have you ‘round in a situation it was necessary to keep quiet,” he teased her, crouching down to arrange the stones, “You’d be shit in A Quiet Place.”

The fire is built and it’s half past one, Harry shows her how to brew tea over it and they eat the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that Y/N prepared that morning. Y/N entertains him with a story of how she’d slipped and rolled down an eight meter hill when she was in grade five, and how she’d been certain she was going to keep rolling forever but a stranger’s dog had made himself a wall that stopped her in her tracks. This led into Harry’s history of being clumsy, all his slips, falls and tumbles, whether that be on stage, at home, somewhere sunny or somewhere cold, in a building or outside -- Y/N tells him he needs shoes with better traction but he isn’t so convinced that would help. 

As the day went on, the sky grew dimmer, and the air colder -- it was necessary that they begin to add more layers to their bodies. They both slipped into their thermals and traded their jeans for thicker, cozier sweatpants. At some point Harry had nestled a knitted hat over Y/N’s head, pressing his hands over the yarn that covered her ears so that he could guide her cheek to his mouth, “Before your ears start hurtin’.” He told her, fitting his own hat over his. 

It wasn’t until the first few flakes of snow landed on Y/N’s knees that she understood where this was headed. 

What had started as a few, ended up as a flurry that soon made itself known as a full snowfall. It snuffed out the fire that had been burning since midday, it wet their skin when the flakes had hit them and their disbelieving laughter at their poor luck was muted as the windchill began feeling like needles. 

By 7PM, they were confined to their tent, bundled in their winter coats and snuggled in their sleeping bags, both of them visibly shivering as their teeth audibly chatter. That’s when Harry asks the question, through his shuddered breath, his nose nipped a cherry red from the wind’s icy slap to the face. “Y-you didn’t check the weather before this, did you?” 

She had, is the thing! Maybe it had been a few days since she did last, but she did check it prior to coming! She guesses on Tuesday they weren’t seeing the makings of a blizzard being a problem greater than a 20% chance. Though this doesn’t help the guilt that has wormed its way through her body at her forgetfulness, especially when she had assured Harry time and time again not to worry about any other aspect of the trip apart from getting there. 

“Don’t stress over the weather, the supplies, the area, the reservation -- none of it! I’ve got us all covered.” 

Her spirit turned solemn under his gaze and if she weren’t sure her tear ducts had frozen over, she thinks she could have cried. “I- I’m s-sorry,” she holds her arms across her body, unable to look him in the eyes, “I th-thought it w-would be fine.” She felt stupid, her regret insurmontuable because what could have been a beautiful, fun first day and first camping trip together was not tainted because she hadn’t double checked the weather, of all things. What might be the most important thing to keep tabs on when you’re planning on sleeping outside. 

Y/N wonders if he could see the dejection written all over her face, because there’s a soft sigh that she can barely hear over the whistling wind before she hears his sleeping bag begin to unzip. When she looked up toward the noise, he’s motioning her over, “C’mere, baby, let’s have a cuddle,” he invites her in and Y/N shows no hesitance as she unzips herself from her sleeping bag and shuffles over to his. Harry drops the fabric back over her, dragging the zipper up so that she was confined within it with him. He then unzips the front of his coat, and then hers -- to which Y/N gasps -- but allows it. Harry worms his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly to him. No matter the chilled weather, Harry still managed to be a furnace in his own right, “Sweet lil’ thing,” he murmured, “It’s okay, weather can be unpredictable.” 

She shook her head, burrowing deeper into his chest and reveled in the warmth of his body, “I was stupid.”

“Shh,” he murmured, pushing a kiss to the top of her head, “Don’t say that, no you aren’t.”

She’s reluctant to believe him but doesn’t press it any further; only she does peel back from him for a second when she gets an idea. Harry whines, “Baby, you’re my coat —“ but he pauses as she grabs her purse from where it was a short way from them, grabbing the hot packs and begins to tear them open, shoving them into the sleeping bag with them, “Ohhh,” he grabs for her, tugging her close again, “See you’re a smartie, look at that,” he peppers kisses to her forehead, down to her cheeks, the cold tip of his nose brushing against her skin, lips slightly chapped but Y/N lets her eyes flutter close to relish in it, “Now m’all toasty. Are you?” 

Nodding her head, she snuggles deeper into his side, “Sorry,” she muttered again, her breath warm at his throat which puffs back onto her, “We can leave t’morrow if you want.” 

“If you don’t stop apologizing, I’ll give you a reason to be sorry Darling,” he murmured, tutting his tongue at her, “We’ll discuss it tomorrow, yeah? I had so much fun with you today, I wouldn’t trade it for the world -- no mind a little snow.” 

She nods, humming when Harry’s hand slides down to her bum and drags her even closer, fitting his thigh between hers, “S-sucks,” she uttered, feeling herself slip into slumber, “Was g’na suck you off -- bought tablets that numb your throat so that I would be able to take you in my throat.” 

A shiver racks through him for a separate reason than the chill. 

“Be careful,” he advises her, “Unless you want frostbite on your bum, I wouldn’t tempt me to take off your clothes.”