Prompt 47: Into the firing line
AKA: The Wet Hot American Summer movie AU
A/N: For those of you unfamiliar with the movie I'm about to bastardize below, Wet hot american summer is a cult classic about the last day of a summer camp for a group of camp counsellors in the early 80's, made in the early 2000's the movie has resurged after Netflix released a prequel series with the same cast and name about the first day of the camp. I would recommend giving both a watch as they are funy and off beat and weird and I quite liked them. The character equivalencies are as follows:
Sherlock = Ben
John = McKinley
Irene = Susie
Greg = JJ
Mike = Gary
Lindsay = Molly
Apart from that all characters mentioned are actually movie characters with the exception of Debbie, who is just a name I picked out of thin air. I hope this doesn't confuse people anyway, it was an idea I couldn't get out of my head after watching the love scene between McKinley and Ben. If you watch nothing else of this movie, watch that FOR ONE USE OF THE WORD F*G IN 80'S ESQUE REACTION TO HOMOSEXUALITY
"Coop, the camp goat took a shit in the infirmary that I'm gonna need you to clean up, and John, there are four campers stuck in the rope course I'd like you to deal with, I meant to mention it to you yesterday. That's pretty much it, I know we're all looking forward to the talent show tonight so I'll let you go, Sherlock and Irene have a lot to do anyway, as do the rest of you. I'll see you later, I've got to look in on Henry's astrophysics class." Beth dismissed the counsellors to go and prepare for the final day of camp and all the craziness that entailed. She had a busy day ahead of her knowing full well that this would be the worst day of work, the counsellors were always doing their own thing on the final day and just keeping track of them was trouble enough. Looking at her watch, she gave it until 1pm before she lost track of them completely. Sometimes she wondered why she had decided to become a camp director in the first place.
Sherlock rolled his eyes as Irene made the performers reset the stage at first positions yet again, her obvious displeasure at their attempt to perform a simple enough number beginning to grate. Of course they wouldn't hold a patch on the performance of Electro City from the first night but they were all trying, something he was growing to appreciate more and more. The fact that their choreography was good and they hit their marks every time didn't hurt either, as producer he was pleased with his work, Irene was the one who had the issues.
"Maybe we should take a break? Let their voices rest until the show tonight, I mean, I know you had other plans besides spending your last day here in the theatre right Irene?" Sherlock asked innocently, mouth twitching at the crazed look Irene shot back at him before she took a second to breathe. He knew well enough that she had to pack still and that she was desperate to watch the capture the flag game, plus she had a very important appointment at the lake front to prepare for and him giving her an out, for whatever reason, was good enough for her.
"All right, we'll go over it once more and then break until the show tonight, I want full performance mode on guys, really sell it to me! A five, six, seven, eight."
John gently placed the last camper on the ground and watched as they scattered out towards the main body of the campsite and well away from the rope obstacles. Which, he supposed, was fair enough given that they'd spent a night tangled in it. To be fair,it was a bit funny to think of them being stuck, and when he'd come to free them he'd had to take a second behind a tree to compose himself before stepping into view.
"Hey John wait up!" Greg called to him, crashing through the forest with, surprisingly given how soon lunch would have to be prepared, Mike at his side.
"Hey guys, Not that it's not great to see you outside of the kitchen Mike, but shouldn't you be, I don't know, helping Gene?" Mike scoffed and rolled his eyes as they walked slowly through the trails.
"Oh, don't worry about Gene, he's not even in the kitchen himself, he's off fondling sweaters in his bunk." John's double take went by unremarked and he got the feeling that any explanation he got would be weirder than the original idea, so he didn't ask how Mike had come to be aware of that little tidbit.
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but her tongue has been down more throats than water bottles have been. I wouldn't set my heart on her is all I'm trying to say Mike, It's probably not the best idea. Back me up here John, Abbey Bernstein isn't right for our Mikey is she?" Greg joked, elbowing John affectionately.
"Nah,she's not for you, but I heard Gail's on the market again if you're looking, Mike. Although you might be stepping on Gene's toes a little bit there... maybe it's better for you to wait until we go back home before you try and hoodwink someone into being in a relationship with you." They laughed over Mike's grumbling, and John wished he had another summer to spend at the camp with these guys, six years of Camp Firewood summers, three of those as a counsellor and he wanted more than anything to stay. Sure they all lived in the city but they had other commitments, college and work and studying and other friends too, other lives entirely. It would never quite be the same as spending eight weeks each summer working, joking and living together. A gasp pulled him out of his own head and Greg's hand pulled him behind a for tree.
"Oh my God. Why haven't we been on the lakefront all summer?" He said in awe as six girls began to undress for an impromptu swim before their eyes. John knew for a fact that Greg was into Molly, a camper their age that had appeared out of nowhere and taken up the hot girl mantle next to Katie, but both of them were going for Andy rather than anyone else. The fact that she was there, bikini clad and smiling brightly meant that Greg couldn't help but stay, and Mike would be happy to remain as well. John however was not.
"Guys come on, we shouldn't be here, it's a bit creepy" he whispered at them but Mike just waved his hand.
"It's only creepy because you're whispering, talk normally and it's a fantasy coming to life." John shook his head and waved goodbye, very much aware of their eyes following him as he made for the trails back to camp.
Mike waited until John was out of earshot to speak again carefully watching to be sure he wouldn't be able to hear.
"What is up with him? This is literally a dream I've had." Greg shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the game of catch that the girls had started.
"He's always been like that, whenever anything sexual comes up in conversation he just kind of goes away, he's a pretty shy guy about that sort of stuff here, but I've heard stories about him back home that you wouldn't call him Three Continents Watson at school according to my cousin's friend's sister's aunt's new neighbour. Maybe he's having summer dry spells and he can't break the curse! You know what I'm thinking?" Mike shook his head and Greg wondered how exactly it was unclear but explained himself anyway.
"We've got to help him get the ultimate!" Mike frowned.
"What, like get Katie to break up with Andy and get with John? Because I thought I saw Katie and Coop earlier getting all friendly so the chances of us pulling that off are pretty slim."
"No dummy, we're gonna get him laid!" Greg exclaimed and started planning there and then, and when the girls finally got out of the lake they were long since gone, starting to put the wheels of their plan in motion. They scurried back to the bunks, completely ignoring John when they saw him heading towards the sports equipment shed.
Sherlock wiped a hand across his brow as he sat surveying the equipment shed he had just finished organizing, leaving everything back where it could be found next summer without his help. The wooden shed had been like a sanctuary for him, away from the pressure of Irene and the theatre, dark but cozy with it's single lamp light and his own territory even though he wasn't exactly sporty, his organisation skills were second to none. An inventory sheet pinned to the wall next to a birds eye map he was drawing the only way he could think of to try and ensure the job was done properly in the future and that his mark was left on the camp in the form of his system. It wasn't a massive thing but it was something for the camp to remember him by, a return of the fact that he would never forget Camp Firewood. He was just about finished his map when the sound of the door closing gently made him turn with a smile.
John stepped into his space and looked up at Sherlock's face, blue eyes bright as he inhaled the scent of him, and Sherlock returned the favour, dragging his eyes up and down John's body from his ridiculous red shorts that matched the cuffs of his tshirt to the quiet intensity of his gaze when their eyes met, there was no need for words between them. The sound of John's shirt hitting the floor and seconds later Sherlock's joining it seemed out of place in the midst of the silence, but Sherlock couldn't deny that the result, a bare chest pressed against his while John held him close was worth the small distractions the sound of their clothes hitting the wood made. John kissed him like he couldn't imagine loving someone more perfect, slow and reverent in the knowledge that he had all the time in the world.
"What about Debbie? She seems like she'd be down, and I heard that bunk seven girls are all looking for some action tonight, some sort of pact." Mike thought about it but then shook his head, scratching her name off their list of potential girls for John.
John's hands seemed magnetically attracted to Sherlock's curls, he couldn't seem not to touch them when they kissed, stroking and pulling and nuzzling into them with gentle hands and perfect pressure, as if his hands had always know where they were meant to be. Each curl was uniquely beautiful to him, and he had often said that he was jealous of the pillow that got to hold them all night when he couldn't.
" Nah, she talks a big game but when it comes to it she just isn't going to have sex with somebody she barely knows." Greg grunted and rolled onto his front in the grass, absently twirling a long blade between his fingers. Finding a girl that would be happy to do the deed just because it was the last day of camp and John was a fairly good looking guy was more difficult than he'd anticipated.
It felt like even from that first day Sherlock had finally interacted with him (there had been a few years where, somehow though they were both at the camp they'd just missed each other), both of them cast in the musical as zoot suit guys, he had known him. Known him deep in his soul like they were meant to be, electric and terrifying though that first kiss as the curtain was pulled had been, it was like he hadn't been alive until their lips had met. After the show they'd met around the back of the theatre and in the dark of that first night they came against each other, Sherlock had had bruises from the wooden slats of the back wall on his lower back that only disappeared the next week. The electric feeling of John's kisses never did.
"What we need" Greg sighed around a cigarette "is a girl who's a free spirit and doesn't give two fucks what people think of her, plus doesn't want a relationship or whatever and also wants to fuck somebody today as long as they're half decent looking and presumably a good lay." Mike snorted and read over their list again.
"Like that's so easy to find!"
Sherlock could feel the fact that John thought he was beautiful, each soft caress of his stomach, his hip, his arms the kisses, hot and lovely that peppered his back as John pushed into him, leaning against the wall of the shed in an approximation of their first night. If kissing him was electric, having him inside of him was like an explosion, completely overwhelming but for the fact that John was holding him, pressed against his back and anchoring him to the earth with his hands and his breath and his unrelenting pursuit of Sherlock's pleasure. He loved him, had loved him for what John said felt like forever, would love him for what actually was forever, and though Sherlock wasn't quite sure why that was, he knew undeniably that he loved John too. When he came it was to the sound of John's carefully whispered love confession in his ear and the knowledge that John wasn't far behind.
When he realised it Greg wanted to kick himself. They'd only been talking about the solution to their problems this morning.
"Abbey Bernstein, Mike! I'm sure she'd be happy to get John in her bunk, after all it's not like she's looking to get married or anything in the near future so she doesn't need to be in a relationship to have a good time, and with all the guys she's been screwing around with I'm sure that bagging John on the last night would give her street cred. Loads of the girls like him after all, but we're looking for a one time deal here." Dubious though he was at the logic, it was a fair point that Abbey seemed to be the only girl they could ask without getting slapped, and her general lack of fucks given might work to their favour. This in mind they set out to find her and hopefully get her on board.
Only when they were both fully dressed again, though not in the clothes they had been wearing when they came in, did they speak, John's smile eager and reassuring at the same time.
"You ready for this? I mean, I know it's not technically official or anything and I know it seems like rushing but I want to do this with you, here, you know?" Sherlock grinned back at him and nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.
"I want to do it too, and whether or not the government thinks so, it's official to me and to you and that's all that matters. Part of me wishes things were different, that I could tell the whole world about you and how much you mean to me, and one day maybe we'll be able to do that too but for now, I want to marry you, so I'm going to go down to the lake, and in ten minutes exactly you're going to follow me, and marry me in front of the only two people in the world that know about us and it's then we'll start the rest of our lives together." John's answering kiss was lightning and Sherlock almost didn't want to break away and leave, but he had to. John's desire to be with him in the most permanent way he could think of was the only reason he let him go, but the ten minutes he had to wait before following him were torture.
Greg and Mike watched with mouths agape as Irene led John into the woods by the arm, disappearing into the greenery with him in tow and heading, if they weren't mistaken, towards the lake.
"Well shit, I think John's beat us to it! Come on, let's go verify the deed is done before we abandon our efforts." Greg waggled his eyebrows at Mike and together they made their way discreetly into the forest after their friends, keeping a fair distance between them until they made it to the same spot they had been in that morning and hid behind the same tree. The sound of flute music drifted towards them and through the foliage Irene came into view, playing a pretty melody in the sunlight.
"This is so kinky oh my God." Mike whispered loudly and Greg couldn't help but agree, who got a girl playing flute music for them before they had sex? Intrigued, they poked their heads out from being the trunk and were astounded to see an entirely different scene playing out before their eyes.
Beth stood with her back to the lake, a crown of flowers on her head and tears in her eyes as she spoke to the men in front of her, both of whom wore flowers in their hair as well. Their hands were clasped tight between them and when Beth's mouth stopped moving, they embraced tightly, smiling at each other with no regard for the people around them and then they kissed.
"John and Sherlock are... are fags?!" He and Mike exclaimed in unison, utterly shocked, and they slipped away back to camp to decide what exactly, they were going to do about what they had seen.
"Do I look different to you?" John asked Sherlock as they sat side by side at dinner in the rec hall, close enough to talk privately but not close enough to be suspicious. Sherlock raised a brow at him.
"No, why?" John shook his head and took another spoonful of whatever it was they were supposedly eating into his mouth.
"Greg and Mike have been looking at me weirdly all afternoon and I don't know, it just seems like they know about us or something." The words were only just out of his mouth when the two walked in side by side and called to them over the noise of the evening meal.
"JOHN AND SHERLOCK, THIS IS FOR YOU." No one paid them much mind, weird things happened in camp every day but when he tensed John's hand found it's way discreetly to Sherlock's back, a life line against anything the two might say. For someone as self assured as he was, Sherlock was incredibly sensitive to homophobia, and while being tossed into the firing line at dinner had not been part of their plans, hearing it from people that were meant to be their friends would be even worse. Mike and Greg strode across the room with a box and Sherlock's bags in hand, and John's heart clenched at the flash of fear in his eyes when they reached their table.
"We know about what you two did today and we just want to let you know that we are outrage-" Sherlock and John braced themselves for it, the rant that would out them to the entire camp and ruin not only what should have been a perfect day but also two very good friendships. "-Eously happy for you guys! If you'd told us sooner Greg would have switched bunks with you ages ago! We figured that you should get to spend your last night here together so we gathered up all of your stuff for you Sherlock and you guys can have cabin two all to yourselves, Irene already agreed to him swapping in for you in her cabin, and Greg has plans with Molly anyway and I have them with Abbey so two'll be empty and we pushed the beds together so that it's bigger for you guys too. We'll go now, leave you to it and all that." Mike spat quickly, attempting to keep from drawing too much attention by moving away very fast. "Congratulations, didn't see it before but you guys kind of just fit, as weird as it is to think about, you make a good couple." Greg added at a whisper as he walked away, leaving John and Sherlock astounded with a suitcase and a blessing as a gift they couldn't hope to return.
"Do you think that means she doesn't expected you at the talent show tonight? Because if not I have a few plans about how my husband and I can put this generous gift to good use." John smirked as Sherlock attempted not to react to the hand on his thigh and the first official use of the word husband between them. In seconds he was up, suitcase in hand and moving out of the rec hall. John picked up the box and followed him, smiling to himself at the familiar sights that surrounded him and wondering how he'd been so lucky as to be sent to camp when he was 14, like fate somehow knew that this place would change his life. And later, when they were spent and sticky and incandescently happy, John too left his mark on Camp Firewood, carved carefully into the slats of the bed on the left hand side of cabin two was a notice for anyone that cared to look:
"John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, met at camp Firewood 1 June 1980.
Married at Camp Firewood 30 July 1982,
The first day of the rest of our lives