He didn’t expect to sleep very well in the tent. Even with the sleeping bags to act as a cushion, the ground was still uneven and lumpy. There wasn’t a forty-four thousand dollar mattress to offset it and make sleeping as easy here as it was at home. But Tony wasn’t counting on the power of a warm, Justin-filled sleeping bag.

Instead of tossing and turning all night, he fell asleep in the comfortable circle of Justin’s arms and didn’t wake up until an unfamiliar voice was talking about bears and psychopaths. It jolted him out of unconsciousness, and for an instant, he was thoroughly confused. The strange man’s voice. The odd, shaking weight on his back.

It wasn’t until he’d woken up a little further that he realized the man was Justin’s father, there were no unforeseen forest dwelling dangers, they were not under attack, and the low level earthquake was actually Justin laughing against him. He kept his silence for a moment, head buried in his pillow, but curiosity won out against the nonsensical attempt to be silent in the hopes that Justin’s father hadn’t seen him and would continue not to see him, a la a T-Rex from Jurassic Park.

“Justin,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Is your dad here or am I still dreaming?”