He takes note of Justin taking off their shoes and files that away under what to do when camping. He hadn’t been sure about it. It’s outside, so it seems like they should stay on, but it’s also in a tent, so maybe that’s inside enough to qualify. Of course, there’s still a possibility that a bear or a machete-wielding psychopath will attack in the night and maybe wearing shoes would be a good idea. Of course, if either of those things happened, Tony suspects that they would have more to worry about than stepping on stones or pokey sticks.

If they do decide to do this again, he agrees with Justin. They will need a bigger tent. It doesn’t have to accommodate six people or actual furniture. But it should probably be a little bigger than this one. At least if they plan to spend any amount of time in it that isn’t spent sleeping. If they’re just going to sleep in it, a cozy little number like this is all right.

Really all right, he thinks, as Justin slides up against him and kisses him. It’s more than all right. It’s perfect. And suddenly the too small tent is just right.

There’s enough room to get his leg hooked around Justin’s hip and trap him against him, which is precisely what he does. And there’s enough to get his arms halfway around him before he realizes that there’s too much fabric between his hands and Justin’s skin. He doesn’t stop kissing him, at this point, that would be tantamount to not breathing, instead fumbles at his waist until he can shove the shirt up and out of the way.

At that point he pulls back, but only for a moment. It’s difficult to talk between kisses, but he tries anyway. And he keeps it brief. “Shirt. Off.”