Day 007: Sugar & Spice
Summary: Cameron and Cookie dish up some sass before and after Martin makes an offering.
Date: 2016 May 09
Related: None, but Smells Like Team Spirit is referenced.
Cameron Cookie Martin 

Grounds — The Camp

With the removal of underbrush and a half-dozen small trees, there is now a tiny clearing around the dropship. It has begun to fill with detritus from the ship, including all of the seating, padding, and removable plates or bulkheads. Several tents have been set up within the clearing, set close together within the confines of the surrounding trees. A three-holer latrine is set up downwind of camp in the prevailing breezes, and the rough beginnings of a wall stretch between trees at the edge of the clearing, dropship plates and felled tree-trunks being stacked up as quickly as the Delinquents can manage.

The forest immediately surrounding the camp has been cowed into near-silence, but is still vibrant and green to a people used to stark metal bulkheads all around them.

Day 7

It's the day after the daring rescue, and things have settled back to normal, for at least one of the crew. Cameron spends most of his days foraging, for both food and medicinal supplies: every couple days he augments it with hunting. He does pretty good at both. The big difference today is Cameron's got no shirt on, and his left hand is bandaged and showing some blood. He lost the shirt the day before in the raid, and was /really filthy/, but has managed to carefully not get eaten by a giant snake while cleaning up early in the morning. Now, he's got some rag of some kind which has a big bundle of dandelions in it. He scored a decent sized yield of the yellow flowers. As always, he brings his loot over towards Cookie's: he has a dim view of anyone who hordes food for themselves. At his side hangs a machete from a bit of string he's managed to tweak together. He's looking content, even pleased, a bit of a grin on his features that just won't go away.

If she's not foraging, then Cookie is cooking or handling inventory. And when she's not doing any of those things — well, that's neither here nor there because she /is/ doing one of the aforementioned. When she catches sight of a shirtless Cameron, quite the grin starts to form. "Please tell me that walking around topless snagged you at least one pair of pants."

"Hey, I don't need to advertise the goods to make a sale. My /reputation/ for excellence closes the deal without me even trying." Cameron has two smiles: the usual one, a subtle grin that tends to make him look mischievous, and the big one that brings out the dimples. This dimples appear with this one. A bit more seriously, but still light, "I actually have a spare shirt, but its a gross grounder shirt, and I don't want to wear it until I can figure out how to wash it. It smells. Not like, Grade A Man Musk, but yeuch. Need to find a soap-substitute and a water supply that lacks the sea monster." Coming near, he sets his bundle of dandelions down, pulls one out, breaks it, and tries to slip it up behind Cookie's ear with a grin, "Hit the golden jackpot."

For her part, Cookie is amused. Probably because she's fully aware that Cameron has no shame and probably is enjoying strutting about like some strumpet. Alas, they were effectively raised as cousins, so she can't even really enjoy the show because that would be kinda gross. Yet, somehow, turning a golden jackpot comment into a golden shower quip is entirely ok. "Oh, yeah? Anyone I know?"

That done, Cookie snags Cameron into an affectionate snug — mindful of the machete — and gives him a fond squeeze because that's what family does. She then jokingly dry humps him hello — still mindful of the machete — because that's the kind of juvenile crap Cookie and Cameron have been doing since they were juveniles. (He'll take her cooties, thankyouverymuch, and he'll like it.) Besides, it's the least she can do. The man brought her flowers, even if the one he tucked behind her ear is now threatening to fall out in protestation over such antics.

With a grin, Cameron gestures to the flowers, "I meant the flowers, darlin'. Though I suppose they're more yellow then golden. Artistic license to exaggerate." But then he returns the hug, and as usual can't help but break out into a heavy laugh as he makes a feigned attempt at horror at the faux-humping. Then he goes in to try to pinch her behind in retaliation. The laugh fades into a snicker, "But as for anyone in particular, well, Morgan and I have been hanging out again." She'd probably have heard gossip from him that the two were 'friends' in the Skybox, with benefits when they could get away with it. Though not quite to the 'together' stage of things. Then in a much more sober voice, "He got hurt when the Grounders captured him, but they tended his wounds and he'll be okay."

When Cameron pinches her rump, she cracks, "Perv." As if she's not the one who started it. "I've definitely earned that bouquet now." With a faux airiness, she informs him, "You may place them with the rest of the oblations." Of course, she grins two heartbeats later and obliterates the effect of the affectation.

At mention of Morgan, though, her expression turns a touch sly. ORLY, NOW, CAM. YOU DON'T SAY. HANGING OUT. It sobers when Cameron's mood likewise sobers, and her eyes and mouth take a tender cast as she reaches to squeeze his free hand in a gesture of comfort. "I'll try to slip him a little extra something," food-wise, of course, "so you can slip him a more-than-little extra something," sausage is also food but right now is also a euphemism, "sooner than later." And she can't keep a straight-face at the last bit anymore than her 'cousin' can keep a straight you know what.

Lifting up the flowers, he goes and deposits them with the tribute. At the sly expression, Cameron can only grin, wickedly at that, though he does tilt his head up and puts on airs of noble purity, having to deal with the idle gossip of the commons. He even sniffs. And then breaks into another dimpled laugh. "Well, for the good of the camp, and not at all for any personal reasons— nope, honest— the wounded should get a bit more so they can get healthier faster. I wouldn't dream of taking advantage and draining his energy." There's a wicked grin at that. When she nabs his hand and squeezes, he squeezes back, but he's easily back into a light mood, "How about *you*, hmm? Anyone giving you an itch that you need help to scratch?"

The wry quirk of Cookie's lips should be an indicator that, no, she's not the least bit itchy. "Not on Team Trouser Snake," she wryly laments. "One or two of the girls are kinda cute, though." So it's a good thing that the chef is plumbing agnostic, as it were. "If you find a hot guy who you think will fit the bill, do let me know."

Leaning, Cameron regards Cookie with a wry grin, tilting his head to the side, "Mmm. Too bad the selection is only a bunch of eighteen year old horn balls. Maybe your issue is you need a man with class, maybe who can grow a facial hair or three, and don't like them young, hung and eager. Dad's ten years older then Mom. She always said she thought men her age were boring." But then his grin turns wicked, "Which girls? I can be your wing man. I'd offer to carve a present but I can't do it one handed."

"I do like men." It's a subtle stressing of the word, emphasized by a humorous twist of lips and a certain gleam in her doe eyes. Men, Cameron. Not boys playing at being men. "Hung's always welcome, but eager… That just sounds like some poor guy who blows his load well before he should, and I don't have time for that. Exuberant, though? Yes, please." Cookie even snaps her fingers and simultaneously side-tilts her head to drive home her point.

As far as the girls, the chef lightly shrugs. "Evie seems cool. Forages like a beast and appreciates boner jokes." But Cookie being Cookie, if it happens then it does, and if it doesn't, that's ok, too. She's pretty damn chill about her hook-ups.

A pause, then. Pondering. "Have you seen the Grounders up in the Box?" Don't hate her, Cameron, for she is only speaking the truth, but, "That is a man." Lawd have mercy lest she get the vapors. "Big ol' slab of man meat up in there. Could gnaw on him like a rack of ribs." Mmmm.

Cameron can't help it, he grins more as Cookie goes into her requirement; becoming an open, dimpled smile. "I like… /enthusiastic/. There's something about that hungry look that makes my spine itch. Though this hasn't been a problem in practice, in /theory/ if eagerness ends up going too quick, so what? There's no such thing as a wasted orgasm. We can just go again." He laughs and gives a shrug of his shoulders, "I saw him, I can see why someone would find him attractive, but no, I'm wouldn't if he asked nicely and bought me flowers first. Just does nothing." He gestures down, and makes a vague dismissive gesture, "Morgan can arch a brow and I'm willing, that Grounder of yours? Nope. You can have dibs if we can get him to talk and potty train him." That said, he purses his lips a moment, "Evie /is/ cute, though. And now I want to get into a foraging contest with her. Just because in these last five minutes you've called her a beast at providing and, in effect, /me/, not a /man/— twice, really!" There's a challenging look on his face at that last it, though his lips twitch and the grin /wants/ to come out.

"Done and done," is agreed about the Grounder, with a sly smile, as if said Grounder doesn't have any say in the matter. At least Cookie is cool enough to not look at him like she wants to slather him in a honey mesquite bbq sauce. Heaven forfend the captives mistake her for a cannibal.

To the rest, Cookie lets out a wicked "Ha!" with a wicked grin to match, that carries all the way to her big brown eyes. And then she tries to provoke the grin Cameron is trying to contain. "Please. You're a dainty flower, Camomile." Challenge issued.

"Pfft." Cameron uptilts his head again, doing his best to look both smug and cocky all at once — he can pull it off, too. "Bitch, please. Do you know who I am?" Except he can't keep the straight face, and breaks into a snort, followed by laughter, "Bah. I think if you single handedly kill a deer with one shot, you get to get your manhood card stamped. Once you're stabbed in battle, you get another stamp. And everyone knows getting laid is the third. I've passed all the tests. I'll file the paperwork and shove your face in it and you'll have to admit my great and mighty manhoodliness." Not that 'manhoodliness' is perhaps his best choice of words in context.

Oh. It's on. Cookie also can do cocky, and so she does. Why, she even steps to him. "Yeah." She knows who Cameron is. "You're my Main Bitch, bitch." Which he knows is a term of endearment, but the Maker of Yum-Yums nonetheless might look too impudently smug for the liking of his manhoodliness.

Cameron straightens, and takes keen advantage of the fact that he's got a few inches on her to look /down/ at Cookie, his expression suggesting that he should be unzipping and waving it around, because he's got the Macho Hat on, and that's what is done. He's not, of course, but its the look, right? It's hard to be too cocky looking -up-. Then again, Cookie can pull it off. So, Cameron stares a moment longer, fighting another snicker, and promptly resolves the situation by sticking out his tongue. And then stepping back and laughing, "Oh cook something, woman."

The sistah has sass. It's true. When Cameron sticks his tongue out, she rolls her eyes. "Bitch, please. We both know you're not gonna use it." Two ticks later, her mouth makes an amused quirk, and she quips back, "I will, when y'all bring me something to cook." She means you, Camomile. Go demonstrate your manhoodliness. "And then you can eat." And the wicked little look she has on her beaming face tells him just what he can eat once supper is served. (The answer is Morgan.)

There's been quite a bit of laughter over the last little while, and someone might have heard it on the approach. Cameron and Cookie are over in the Designated Cooking Zone, chatting it up, with Cameron having delivered a bushel of dandelions. For his part, Cameron hasn't managed to find a shirt, but he has managed to get himself almost all cleaned up. Mostly. Give or take a smudge here or there. He's rigged some string to his side so his machete can hang there from his belt, and his left hand is still bandaged— such as it is. He pffts indifferently to Cookie's command, leaning over against a wall or something and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm on foraging today. I need to either turn my knife or my new sword into a spear…" More seriously, "Turned out the reach of a spear works good for me, since I'm quick on my feet. It'll work extra good for hunting, so I don't have to get close enough to kiss a pigs ass to slit its throat with a knife to take it down." Granted, he might just be able to sneak up close enough to do just that.

Martin makes his way over to the cookie area and grins at the conversation he overhears. "Cookie, are trying to get a boar still? And you're using the pork for pork bit again?" He shakes his head in feigned disappointment. He leans over and nudges Cameron, "How about we both go together and get a boar and see what she does then?" He then makes his way over to see what sort of vittles might be available to munch on. "Spears are nice for distance, but I would think a sword can cause nastier wounds."

"Honey, I don't care if you give the pig a rim job, first. Bring me a hog and I'll be in hog heaven." Beatifically, she smiles at her "cousin". Which might account for why Cookie tells Martin, "The only pork Cameo is ever getting from me is the kind that comes from a pig." Beat. "Or a stallion." Because she will wing for him, always and forever. As far as the spears, the chef quips to Cameron, "You are such a size queen." Which he right well knows is a point they have in common.

"Mostly, the problem with getting a boar is that those things are nasty and fast, and if we spook it, it'll be a serious pain in the ass. Either by running away or tusk fucking us, which is not in any way a fun thing." replies Cameron to Martin with a mild grin, "You can do a loud hunt or a quiet hunt, as I understand it— I'm not an expert— and my skills are honed towards a quiet hunt. You sneak up and slit its throat and its dead before it knows you're there. Loud hunt, you go as a team, get someone loud, flush it out, it runs into some spears or whatever. Biggest production. I'm not so good at that. I'm not sure I'd contribute much to a loud hunt." He doesn't seem to mind this; he's quite confidant of his abilities, and part of that is knowing what he's good at. He adds, "A sword probably can do better damage, sure, but my first concern is my own safety. Not for selfish reasons: the less I'm hurt, the more chances I have of sticking the spear into the bad guy, the better I am to hunt, scout, forage. The distance the spear gives me lets me take advantage of my footwork. " Then he grins at Cookie, "Also bigger *is* better, though what really matters if you know how to work your… knife. But, I'll try for a pig, hon. I'll make it a priority. I'll organize a loud hunt if I have to. Maybe I can sneak-find one, come back, and arrange an ambush. Worked against the grounders."

Martin looks over at Cookie as he chews on whatever it is he found. He isn't that picky. He just has a broad grin on his face like the cat that ate the canary to Cookie. Like he knows something. But instead of revealing anything, he looks to Cameron, "That is a good point with the spear that is. As for hunting, I am poor at both. I have good survival skills, but I am no good at sneaking or killing things."

However much Cookie wants a boar — and believe, she really wants a boar — she soberly tells Cameron, "No tusk fucking for you. I'd rather have you safe and sound and cock fucking." Because family looks out for family.

As for what Martin is good at, the chef adds, "And finding ramps." And noticing the look on his face, she tacks on, "And perhaps other things." Amused, she flat-out, but good-naturedly, commands him, "Dish. That is the price you must pay. A tasty morsel for the tasty morsel you shoved in your mouth."

Cameron reaches a hand out to give a squeeze to Cookie's arm, "Hey, nothing's getting near me, let alone getting the drop on me. Don't worry, I'm careful. I won't even try unless I'm sure I can either get it or get away. That means probably a loud hunt, at which point I'll just be one of many people stabbing it with a spear at once." There's a curious look turned on Martin, with a slight arch of his brow at his look, Cam's own expression questioning. "Well, want to learn to sneak? You could teach me some survival skills, I could show you the ins and outs of sneak-fu. Really, between stealth and tracking, you're practically golden for hunting. You don't need to be an expert at the blade."

Martin keeps grinning, "Frankie and I found some ruins with some supplies. No food, but helpful items. She claimed almost all of it, but I convinced her to part with a few pieces." He eyes the cooking station then looks to Cookie with that impish grin, "How badly do you need a pot? A metal pot? One that can stand up to heavy boiling?" His green eyes focus on the other young man, "Sneaking and stabbing would be nice, yes. Survival isn't that hard. It's just learning what to eat, what not to eat, and some basic common sense about nature that you miss out on when living in a tin can in orbit. But I will happily teach you what I know. More ES nerds are always welcome."

Cameron squeezes her arm and Cookie pats his hand, gazing at him fondly with familial affection. It's not long, though, before she's back to teasing him. "Drop on you? Maybe not. Drop a load on you?" Oh, yes. Absolutely. The arch of her brow decrees it.

But then Martin is talking about an honest-to-goodness cooking pot and the chef's doe eyes widen and are all a-glitter like a child's. "How badly do you need delicious food?"

Cameron glances at Cookie and huffs, rolling his eyes and making a dismissive gesture even as he grins slightly, "Please, on me? As if I'd waste a protein shake. Especially with food so scarce." He doesn't have a single piece of him capable of embarrassment. Not one. Then he watches Cookie get distracted by a pot, and he offers one of his bigger smiles, the one that brings out the dimples. "Just so you know, Martin, if you don't deliver now after that tease, I can't promise you'll survive the week." he says with a grin, adding after a moment, "I'm a botanist by training, so the plants part I have down. It's tracking, survival skills like making things and stuff like that where I'm weak."

Martin raises an eyebrow, "Delicious food? I was hoping for at least some heavy making out." He chuckles before putting on Serious-Martin face. "It's not an actual pot, though. It's a metal pail, and it's kind of rusted, so it may be limited in what we can get out of it. But it's better than nothing. We also found some plastic buckets we can use for hauling water. Though, as part of the deal, Frankie trumps everyone if she needs to use any of this equipment to make booze." Booze trumps food, that is the natural order of things. He leans over a bit to spot Cameron around Cookie, "Well, then you already have the most important bits down. It's just getting you to stop thinking like you're in space still. That's the one that will come to you naturally over time even without training. Only way to know if something will kill is to either be told or to try it and see if you die."

Without missing a beat, Cookie concedes to Cameron, "You do love protein shakes."

But, oh. But, OH. Martin done gone went and played with her emotions. It's a rare sight for the jovial Maker of Yum-Yums to be deflated, but here it is, and it's something not even her cousin is used to seeing. It takes a moment, but she eventually musters a small, but sincere smile. "Thanks, Martin. A pail and buckets will be useful. I'll speak with Frankie about making arrangements."

"Favorite way to start a day. And end a day. And dessert for lunch… And… Etcetera." agrees Cameron easily to Cookie with a wry grin, but then he watches her get deflated over it not being a real cooking pot, and casts a slightly dark look Martin's direction. It's not like a 'You killed my father, prepare to die' look, nor something with a lot of heat in it. Just more a 'naughty, naughty you'. "Hey, maybe you'll be able to work up some kind of stew. I'm not sure what we'd eat it out of, but we can figure something out. Wouldn't that be great?" he says, encouragingly to Cookie. Pail's almost a pot. Almost. He does nod to Martin then, "Yeah, its mostly tracking and things like.. how to make shelter? Animal signs? Fire? Tools? That sorta thing that I need a serious refresher on. Just in case I'm in a situation that I'm not expecting, like, say, if I'm scouting out over night and need to survive on my own."

Martin also notices the deflation and scratches the back of his head, not realizing she would have gotten her hopes up so much. "Well, it's almost a pot, and it's metal, so now we can boil things. Don't worry, if we ever find real cookware anywhere, you're on the top of the list." Hey look! Cameron is serving as an effective distraction to how much of a heel he was. "Understandable. Maybe we should hold some refresher course on Earth Studies for everyone. This is stuff that all of us should be somewhat familiar with. Who knows if they'll get lost out there and need to survive on their own for a few days."

It's okay, Martin. Really. Will it help if Cookie says it aloud? Fine. "It's okay, Martin. Really." She even reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, offering an amiable smile. "The pail and buckets will be useful." She's not just saying that. Turning her attention to Cameron, she grins. "Looks like it's laundry day."

"Good idea with the refresher course. We should organize that, its probably better then just several one on one sessions." Cameron flashes a quick smile to Martin, then turns and blinks at Cookie a moment, "Laundry day? I'm missing something." He yawns briefly, and reaches up with his left hand to scratch at his chin, which causes him to wince. The wound, ow.

Martin eyes Cookie hesitantly, "Sure, you say that now, but I'm getting questionable additions to my food from now on, aren't I?" He gives her a smile and a little upnod, before straightening his posture and turning to head off. "Well, if you do laundry in them, that's fine too, but I definitely am not eating your shorts, Cookie." He looks back at her, "What's in those shorts, maybe." He looks back to Cameron, then and nods, "Sounds good. I will get on that and try to round people up." He raises his hand in wave to both as he departs.

Just like that, Martin is gone. It's cool. Cookie's pretty chill and not one to hold a grudge. Certainly not over something like this. She /is/ one to quip to Cameron about the possibility of her being on the menu. "Bitch be thirsty." And, /that/, Cameron, is why Miss Baker has no itches that she wants scratched. (Although she totally would absolutely consider chowing down on a certain slab of ribs were they made available.)

And Cameron may say he's missing something, but Cookie isn't missing a thing. Smirking, she says, "Uh-huh." Especially when he winces. "Just bring me your shirt and I'll wash it." Because he's being a shifty bitch and she knows it, and he knows that she knows it, but they also both know that he's /her/ shifty bitch. Family takes care of family, yo. "You're on your own with your draws, though."

"He's cute." Cameron grins slightly, "I have a thing for blonds, obviously, and he's got nice lips. He's not Morgan, don't get me wrong— god, Morgan's voice makes my toes curl and my fingers tingle. You know, because just him speaking is enough to make my blood flow vanish everywhere but important places. But, he's cute, don't get me wrong." He laughs softly, "He means well. He's a good guy, too. But I understand. You need your manly man who grunts and hits you with a club to show his manhood. I understand."

That said, he shakes his head slightly, "/My/ shirt is cut up in strips. I used it to try to save a Grounders life when we were tracking the captives. He was a lookout, dropped down, and they killed him from like three sides in a second." He gives a vaguely annoyed grunt, "I was all, hostages are good, guys? So we can trade? But he had three holes in his chest before anyone heard me, and I couldn't save him. I got one of the Grounders shirts later, but its gross. I don't /want/ it. I'm going to save the whole outfit and trade it for a proper Ark-shirt. I just /haven't/ yet. Its warm enough."

Hear that scoff? It's just for Cameron. Along with an eye roll. "Bitch, please. You're all about getting' hit with a club of manhood." But then he's going on and on and on, and he'll soon find a steadying hand upon him, gently squeezing. And should he look her way, he'll find a warm smile and kind eyes, too. Cookie waits a tick, because the events he's recalling are nightmare fuel, and then she smiles, fondly, "Your shameless ass would strut around half-naked in the heart of winter. Don't even." Front, that is. "And why not?" Her own shoulders roll back, as does her head, and she grins, "Flaunt it if you got it."

Despite these all being nightmare fuel, Cameron seems fine. He smiles at the squeeze, dimples showing lightly, but he's not bothered. He's unaffected, in fact. It might be that he's too unaffected. Or he's just dealing with trauma better then most. It's a little hard to tell where his mental state is, because being free on the ground seems to make it seem happier then he was even when they were young. That said, he barks out a quick laugh, "Hey, being shameless doesn't mean I'm okay with having my dick freeze off. I might not /mind/ walking around naked, I've nothing to be embarrassed about— but that doesn't mean I'm not practical. A shirt's practical." He pauses, then suddenly grins, "But, I'd rather have no shirt then a shirt that's gross. I like to look good. Is that vain?" He shrugs, "I don't care. When I need to do it, I'll cover myself in dirt and blood and anything needed. When I don't need it, I like to be clean and look my best."

Is it vain? "Yes," Cookie grins, but it ain't no thang. "You're too pretty to not look good, whatever you're wearing." Family also builds up family, yo. (And smacks them down when they're being damnfools, but that's neither here nor there.) "Maybe someone can knit you a cock cozy."

Cameron smirks, which always looks like he's up to no good on him. "I'm sure I can make a trade, I've just been preoccupied. I'm going to make a point of it tomorrow. But… ! I should get back out." Cameron steps forward and leans in to kiss Cookie's cheek, "Talk to you later, hon."

"That's right," Cookie says, accepting that kiss, "Gimme some sugar." She returns it, chastely because they are kin, y'all, and gives him hug before she shoves away, smacking at his ass as he goes.

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