Scott had decided to take a break. A real one. No emergencies, no missions, no “Scott we need you right now” from anyone at the mansion. Just a week off where the world could keep spinning without him.

And somehow, you were the only person he trusted enough to go with.

Packing had been simple since you both already had most of what you needed. Tents, supplies, food, gear. You left early enough that nobody was awake to argue or ask questions, which Scott clearly preferred. No long goodbyes, no interruptions, just the road and the quiet between stops.

He didn’t even tell you exactly where you were going at first.

All you knew was: camping. Deep woods. No signal. No responsibilities.

Honestly, you weren’t mad about it.

You liked camping. And camping with someone who could actually pull their weight instead of dragging the whole trip down? Even better.

By the time you reached the site, the forest was already thick and peaceful around you. Scott picked a clearing tucked far enough in that nobody would stumble across it easily. Like he was trying to make sure the world forgot you both existed for a while.

You set up together without much talking. Two tents spaced apart, a fire pit carefully arranged, supplies organized into a clean little system that felt very “Scott Summers.”

The day was good. Hiking trails, stupid jokes here and there, the kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward. Just comfortable. By the time you got back to camp, the sky had already started to turn gray.

Rain came in later that night.

Not a storm. Just steady enough to settle into everything.

You were half-asleep when Scott shifted outside. A few seconds later, the zipper of your tent opened, then closed again. Heavy footsteps followed, careful but familiar.

He didn’t say anything at first.

He just climbed in.

Your air mattress dipped slightly as he settled beside you, warmth immediately cutting through the cool air. Close enough that you could feel him exhale, slow and tired, like he’d finally let himself stop holding everything up.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you mumbled.

“My tent has a leak,” Scott said simply.

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“It is,” he agreed, already settling in anyway.

The space was tight with both of you inside, but neither of you moved to fix it. After a moment, Scott pulled the blanket up properly, like he’d done it a hundred times before, and his warmth slowly replaced the damp chill in the air.

He didn’t say anything else. Just exhaled quietly, the tension he usually carried finally easing out of his shoulders.

You glanced at him in the dark. “You’re really just going to invade my tent like this, huh?”

“If I asked, you’d say no,” he replied.

“That’s not true.”

A beat.

“…You’d think about saying no,” he corrected.

That earned a quiet snort from you, and after a moment, you shifted slightly closer without thinking about it. Scott didn’t comment. He just adjusted the blanket again so it covered both of you properly.