Sneak Peek of camp counsellor!harry (Patreon)

Hello! I started and restarted this about forty thousand times before I finally got it right and like where it's going! :) I hope you like it lemme know

_____________________________________________________________________________

i.

There weren’t many things that could get under Harry’s skin. 

He was an even-tempered, cordial kind of bloke when he wanted to be. Instead of barging against the waves, he much preferred to ebb and flow with the tide, slosh and plod peacefully against rocks, sand, boats, fish. Once his Nan had referred to him as the type a beaver would want around when the river its dam is built on is in spate; he came at things carefully, relaxed, and with a “slow, gentle voice that could guide a missile to a soft landing” (another quote from his Nan, who Harry had long since decided was his greatest confidence booster). When problems presented themselves to him, it was rare to see him fizzle or panic, and if a situation where tensions are quick to escalate, he is the one levelheaded enough to soothe the rigidity. Often, people would seek him out during parties for a multitude of reasons because he just made them feel better -- whether it be a bad trip, a shitty comment, or they were just shy to open up -- they weren’t sent his way, and Harry took care of them. He would take care of anyone if someone asked him to. 

But this summer camp. . .these camp counselors. . .Harry reckons they might make him break that calm exterior. 

It was simple, how he had gotten into this situation; Harry was naive his sophomore year of university and presumed that he could smoke off his mate’s pipe in a little nook of conifer trees by the library on campus without regard to the security officer that patrolled every hour. Maybe he could have made a run for it if he hadn’t been swinging slightly in a hammock that he had attached to two trunks and his “mate” had bothered to tell him that someone was coming (it was a girl he’d been sleeping with on-and-off at the time, he’d met her in his Intro to physics lecture and they made a bond over their mutual disgust for physics -- he fucked her in the bathroom, they exchanged numbers, so on and so forth -- she had no allegiance to him, they had only been at it for about two weeks, but he would have thought having his prick inside her would have incited even some sort of regard for his well being), but instead she made a clean break for it. 

He got caught, it went through the chain of command, and since he kept his grades high they decided that expulsion was a little too extreme for a considerably small slip (how the President had stated during their meeting, “Well, at least you weren’t snorting coke or summat, this would be far harder to maneuver”), so instead Harry had to sign some sort of deal with the school to better himself. He would attend a seminar about how pot was a gateway drug, meet with a therapist to see if he had any form of substance abuse (he wasn’t a serial smoker, more of a social smoker, so the most he would do it was once a week if not every other week or two, but they had him feeling like a full-blown addict), and he had to do extra volunteer hours for two years in order to keep his scholarship. The regular amount of hours was already hard for Harry to complete as is, because he worked as a bookseller for a little cottage-y shop a few blocks from campus, and if he wasn’t working, he was in lecture all day. There were not a whole of organizations that extended their opening hours past six in the evening, so Harry was at a loss for what to do. He reached out to the volunteering center, wondering what he could do to counter this. 

That was when they told him about camp, Mountain Meadows. 

For the better half of his summer, Harry would be wrangling children ages 5-12 through camp activities when he hadn’t even been through camp himself. He couldn’t tell you the first thing about being a camp counselor and didn’t necessarily want to do the week-long orientation to learn how to, but he wasn’t left with much of a choice was he? It was either suck it up and risk being one of the cast members in a horror film or get kicked from university and while neither were ideal, the latter was obviously a bit more severe. 

It wasn’t horrible, is the thing. The staff was kind to him, the woman who ran the camp didn’t treat him any differently (despite knowing why he was there), and when he finally meant the campers, they were fun. . .sweet and innocent still, living freely without regrets nor worries. The cabins they stayed in were nice enough, with air conditioning units installed, and rather than bunk beds, the counselors got their own twin size beds. Four to a cabin and they didn’t fancy a coed situation in that aspect, so the boys were with the boys and the girls with the girls. Harry had figured he could make some friends then -- he’d never had a problem making them before. 

Yet it turned out that the other counselors were prats. 

They were rude to him immediately -- Harry had barely even said hi to him before they had settled their opinion. Word got out for why he was there and while the camp in itself had no religious affiliations,  more than half the counselors had something short of a god complex, and the other half ridiculed him for other reasons. A few of them were pissed because they knew of him from their friends -- Harry had slept with quite a few of their friends and didn’t pursue long-lasting relationships so there was gripe about that. And even though that didn’t stop any of the other counselors from slithering into bed with him to fuck, they wouldn’t even bat an eyelash to them the next day. When Harry returned the gesture and disregarded them, they almost became nastier towards him. 

One of the blokes there tried to pass it off as friendly hazing when they tossed his clothes in the lake, but Harry considered it a reason for a black eye, so he punched him in the jaw, his knuckles a thudded impact on the bone. That was only his third day there, it turned out he was one of the favored counselors though, so some of them were arses to him over that but it was nothing Harry couldn’t handle. The lot of them just annoyed the fuck out of him, save for a few here and there who he sat within the mess hall, or drank with at the little gathering they all had while the kids were asleep. There was a mutual level of disdain on either end from Harry to most of the other counselors, but Harry was much less scared about acting on it, so they left him alone then (at least destroying his property wise). 

The thing that grated him the most was that they were all just smarmy rich kids, who hadn’t worked a day in their life, and didn’t have to care for or about anyone other than themselves. It was telling in how they interacted with the campers and each other. . .he was disgusted by them (that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck them though, and be their dirty little secret -- a hate fuck is a hate fuck though and he gives them something to remember), and by the end of the camp, he had never been more grateful to be away from someplace. 

But he has to do it again. 

And the worst of it? He hadn’t minded all that much when he got his cabin assignment and realized that he would have a whole cabin to himself. There were nine cabins in total, four with three girls each and four with three boys each, and Harry ended up in the overflow cabin because he signed up a bit late (though he reckons the staff just remembered how much trouble he’d had with the other counselors before). Which not only meant no more mosquito bites in weird places because Idabelle wanted to suck him off when the Mike revealed to her that he had a crush on Sharon, her best friend (it could be like a bloody soap opera there) or bark scratching up his palms when he cums and reaches out to grab something. Hell, he could sleep arse naked if he was very well pleased and nobody could say a thing about it. 

However, after a two-hour-long drive to the secluded location, signing himself in, getting his badge and trucking it to the overflow cabin where it lay a bit deeper in the woods (deep enough that ivy and vines overgrew along the siding, and Harry wouldn’t doubt the visitation of little critters so he would keep in mind to keep his cabin windows shut and locked at night), he comes to realize that there’s another suitcase at the foot of one of the beds. Whoever was accompanying the suitcase was nowhere to be seen, but his shoulders sunk and he was already irate. The one thing he could have looked forward to was stripped right from his damn fingers, and nobody had even bothered to tell him about it! 

“Oi, H,” a familiar voice calls for him, and attached to that voice is Mitch -- one of the other counselors. He and Harry got along well -- they had similar tastes in music (they could talk for hours about some of the shite they listen to), their opinions on different things matched, and they both had a mutual disliking toward the others. Plus Mitch had facial hair that easily aged him up a few years so everyone mistook him for being apart of the regular staff rather than a university student, so he’s gotten away with sneaking into the kitchen and stealing them pudding cups after snack time (late enough into the day that the kids would not be getting pudding). They hung out some outside the camp since Mitch went to a UNI only about thirty minutes from him -- they did shrooms, Mitch played him his guitar, and both of them passed out watching The Notebook, the first time they had spent time with each other so Harry figured they were a good match. He only wishes he could see him more often, and he could if not for work and school, but they message one another often, “I saved you one of the ‘welcome back’ goodie bags with the chocolates you like.” 

“Thanks man,” they hugged briefly, “How’ve you been? How’s Sarah?”

“Doin’ just fine. Nearly tricked her into coming to do this shite with me, but she was adamant in her refusal, so it’s just me, myself and I.” He peered into the cabin behind Harry, brows dipped inward, “Thought you had your own room?” 

“You and me both man -- maybe someone just put their suitcase in the wrong one. S’what I’m hoping.” 

Mitch stepped backward one, picking at the laminated pack of paper that’s attached to the outside wall, “These things ought to tell you, let me see,” he flips through the pages explaining the purpose of the camp and how the cabins work, landing on the back one, “Here it is -- says under cabin assignments, that your bed one and Y/N is bed two. . .that’s weird though, -- not one to judge gender based on names but the name’s written in pink, usually means it’s a girl.” 

Before either of them could question further why Harry would possibly be assigned to a co-ed room when they do not do co-ed rooms, there was a resounding crunch coming from around the backside of the cabin. It soon followed a girl, with her hair pulled from her face, not yet dressed in the standard counselor uniform (they offered several different variations of the top, from short sleeves to long sleeves and a multitude of colors), “Oh, hey! Are you my roomie?”