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Ivan places the last log and backs away, dusting his hands off. The firewood pyramid took a while to stack but it’s not like he has anything else to do on this godforsaken deserted island.
He tries to find small pleasures where he can. This pleasure is the fact that he spent so long stacking wood that he doesn’t have time to wash the bathrooms before dinner.
There’s a rustle in the bushes and Ivan turns to face the path. Rachel, Martha and Leah emerge from the bramble, huge grins plastered across their faces. Ivan opens his mouth to ask what’s got them so cheery on this miserable island.
Leah beats him to it and shouts, “Everybody to the control room!” And rushes through the doors to the bunker, Rachel and Martha in tow.
Ivan sees Scotty drop the clothes he was hanging up in favour of hurrying inside. Bo picks up the small pile before rushing after him. The others all show up from whatever they were doing and file in through the door. Ivan falls into line with Kirin.
“What d’you think’s got her panties in a twist this time?” Kirin nudges him with his pointy elbow.
Ivan shrugs, too anxious to say much. If Leah’s calling them to the control room, she must have important information. Likely bad news.
Kirin leans in close to whisper, “Maybe the flowers told her one of us is secretly Gretchen in disguise.”
The control room is actually the old surveillance centre for Gretchen and her goons. They covered the wall of TVs with a sheet and dragged the table and chairs to the center of the room. It’s where they go to discuss and deliberate any and all issues on the island. They spent a while in here trying to figure out the bed bug problem before just leaving the infested sheets out on the beach for a week and burning them when that didn’t work.
But if Leah was that worked up about it, Ivan’s worried it could be something more catastrophic. Like a hurricane or a meteor or maybe even zombies.
Once everyone is seated, Leah, Rachel and Martha stand at the head of the table. The tension in the air is palpable. The three girls look between each other until, finally, Martha speaks.
“We have good news.”
Fatin raises her hand and says, “Wait, then why are we in here?”
“We didn’t want this place to be a bad vibes zone, so we figured some good news would change the feelings we have about the control room.” Martha smiles as if her, Leah and Rachel didn’t almost just give everyone a heart attack.
“Yeah, it’s just, the tone Leah took was… not what we had in mind.” Rachel says.
Leah shrugs. “You guys said to get everyone’s attention.”
“And you sure did, that’s my girl!” Fatin blows Leah a kiss. “Hang on, what’s the good news?”
Martha’s smile gets even wider. “We found wild blueberry bushes!”
The group cheers. It’s been a long time since they’ve eaten anything but small game animals and roasted nuts. The nonperishable items in the pantry are used very scarcely.
When the islanders have calmed down on the celebrations Rachel says, “So, I was thinking we’d look for some baskets tonight and go berry picking tomorrow morning.”
The group agrees. It’s all anyone can talk about for the rest of the day and they all go to bed thinking of fresh fruit.
——•
The next morning the clouds are fluffy and the birds are singing. They’ve all gathered outside the bunker, beside Ivan’s glorious wood pyramid.
Martha claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, the field is pretty big so if we work in pairs I think we can get more done.”
“And we only found enough baskets for half of us, so…” Leah trails off.
Rachel starts tossing people baskets while Martha explains which of the berries can be picked and which ones can’t.
Rachel throws a basket and Josh dives to catch it, knocking over Ivan’s meticulously constructed log tower.
“Oh shoot! Sorry Ivan.”
Ivan lets out a breath through gritted teeth. “It’s fine. I’ll do it again tomorrow.” No bathroom duty. Small pleasures. Don’t rip the basket in Josh’s hands to shreds.
Josh rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe I can make it up to you while we pick some-“
He’s cut off by Kirin slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, J-Bird. You blueberry picking with me?” He sends Ivan a wink over Josh’s head.
Ivan hopes his expression is able to convey the immense gratitude he feels right now. He can think of some other ways to thank Kirin later to really get the message across.
Josh is well meaning, though he has a way of accidentally pushing Ivan’s buttons. But Josh gets on his nerves a lot less since stopping the macho-bro mini-Kirin shtick he was trying to pull off. Small mercies, Ivan supposes.
He turns to Henry. “Partners?”
“I prefer ‘significant other’ actually.”
Ivan doesn’t dignify that with a response and follows Martha as she leads the way through the forest.
The walk is long but it’s nice to get away from camp for a little bit. Ivan doesn’t typically exercise for fun, but maybe he’ll start joining Rachel on her morning hikes. Then he trips on a root and nearly faceplants. Yeah, never mind, he thinks, I’m not doing any more walking than I need to.
The group makes it to a sunny field, plush bushes reach all the way to the other side of the tree line. Scattered amongst the leaves are dots of blue, purple and red. It’s enough fruit to fill their baskets and then some.
Toni whoops and takes off with Shelby in tow, laughing along as she pops a berry into her mouth. The gang splits off into their pairs, taking different sections so as to not retread someone else’s route.
Henry and Ivan settle into a nice rhythm of parallel picking. The repetitive motion is soothing and Ivan loses himself a bit in the motions. It’s rare to find a moment of peace on the island. And it doesn’t last long.
“Hey, Jay, go long!” It’s Kirin’s voice.
Instinctively, Ivan turns towards it. His eyes meet Kirin’s from between the bushes. It’s a loaded moment before a blueberry hits Kirin on the cheek.
He turns away. “Oh, it’s on Joshy!”
Ivan forgets whatever he was doing in favour of watching the way Kirin’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. The other boy’s tan brings attention to the muscles in his arms. Going taught and then relaxed as he whips a handful of fruit at Josh. His natural blond highlights will be stained purple at this rate, but Ivan thinks Kirin could pull it off.
He’s snapped out of his trance by a berry making impact with his forehead.
“Earth to Ivan, somebody’s staring.”
He turns back towards Henry to see the other boy’s eyebrows graze his hairline. “Who, me? Staring, no. Not I”
“You get all shakespearean when you lie, you know.” Henry smirks. “That’s how I know you two are dating.”
Ivan sputters. “He peddles falsehoods! Goddamnit.”
He rolls his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone. But obviously nobody’s gonna care, like half of the island is gay.”
Ivan sighs, “That’s not the problem. Well there isn’t a problem, cause we aren’t even dating. I don’t think?” He resumes his berry picking to distract himself. “We’ve kissed, a lot. He hasn’t talked about wanting anything more though.”
“Have you said anything about wanting more?”
Ivan’s silence is answer enough.
Henry rolls a blueberry between his fingers before dropping it into the basket, now over half full. “Do you want more?”
“Well, I-” Ivan lowers his voice, “Yes. But, I don’t know if he’s ready. He’s spent his whole life being this caricature of a stereotypical straight jock. That’s not the kind of self-image you take apart easily. I just don’t want to pressure him if he’s not up for it.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t ask him.”
Ivan looks back to where Kirin’s wiping the blueberry juice off his hands with his shirt.
“That’s gonna stain, you idiot!” yells Dot from across the field.
Kirin just laughs, straight white teeth on full display. Ivan would like to rip them all out and put them on a necklace, that way he’d have a little piece of Kirin wherever he went. That’s kind of an insane thought, he thinks, we had better get rescued soon.
As if sensing Ivan’s dark whims, Kirin runs this tongue along his teeth and winks at Ivan.
Being caught staring, Ivan turns bright red and goes back to picking berries with renewed fervor.
After another hour or so, everyone’s baskets are filled. The gang heads back to camp, comfortable silence surrounding them until the bunker comes into sight. The jobs get divvied up quick. Washing, juicing and jamming the fruit are all pretty big jobs but not big enough for the whole group. Too many cooks in the kitchen and all that.
“Watch it!” Toni snaps, shielding the fire from Raf’s wobbly bucket of water.
He swerves away from the jam simmering on the flames and sloshes some right onto Scotty’s head.
“I’ll make a pie with some of the leftover berries!” Ivan exclaims before things get too heated. “It’ll be ready for you guys when you’re done, nothing like dessert after a hard day’s work, right?”
“I’ll help,” Kirin grabs a basket of fruit and swings his arm around Ivan’s shoulders. “Gotta make sure Taylor doesn’t burn the bunker down.”
Fatin looks unconvinced, “Uh huh. Ivan, watch him.”
With that, they find their way to the kitchen. Kirin walks a bit too close, bumping into Ivan every few steps. A little annoying, but it’s cute.
——•
The boys have settled into a soft quiet, puttering about the kitchen in tandem.
Ivan starts taking out pots and pans, looking for the right size. It’s a charming mismatch, strange for such a sterile environment. He never would’ve guessed that the control center for an unethical social experiment would have chipped ceramic dishes. Ivan spots a beaten-up stainless steel bowl and pulls it out.
Meanwhile, Kirin washes the blueberries in the sink. The diy plumbing squeaks as he tugs the pulley string to open the pipes. Henry and Dot had been extremely proud of their makeshift drainage system.
“So, you know how to bake?” Kirin asks.
Ivan dumps some flour into a bowl. “Sort of. I used to make all sorts of treats with my grandma when I was younger. The kitchen was her space, you know? It’s been a while, but I think I remember enough.”
“How come you don’t cook with her anymore? Oh wait, shit, is she dead?”
Ivan laughs and accidentally puts way too much salt. “No, I’m sure she’s alive and well. I wouldn’t know, though. She didn’t take the whole gay thing very well.”
“Oh.” Kirin bites his cheek. “Well, I’m sorry she’s like, homophonic. You’re pretty great, your grandma’s seriously missing out.”
“Homophobic. And thanks. I haven’t thought about her in a while but I guess we have nothing out here but time to think.”
Kirin nods, looking like he’s about to speak. He doesn’t say anything. Just pops a blueberry into his mouth and crushes it between his teeth. The juice squirts onto the wall somewhere.
Ivan snaps himself out of his trance and continues working on the dough. It’s definitely not going to be as good as what his grandma used to make. Especially with all that salt, he thinks, but it’ll do for a deserted island. He flours the counter and spreads out the dough, stepping out of the way for Kirin to roll it out with a fire extinguisher that he found – all these fancy gadgets and no rolling pin?
Kirin’s hands flex as he works the metal back and forth. He looks serene, flour dusting the side of his jaw. Some hair falls into his face. Ivan reaches out before he can stop himself. He tucks it behind Kirin’s ear. His hair’s gotten pretty long out here, Kirin always kept it short back home.
There’s a gentle smile on Kirin’s face, “Thanks, Taylor,” he practically whispers.
Ivan blushes and forces his attention to the small propane burner. There’s no extra gasoline to refill the tank, so the group’s been saving it. But this is a special occasion. Ivan flips the dial and a flame crackles to life.
He adds the fruit to the pot and stirs some sugar in slowly. The light blue peels turn a deep purple, juice bubbling at the sides. The sweet smell of cooked berries wafts through the kitchen.
Ivan turns the heat off to let the filling cool. He watches as Kirin presses the dough into the divots of the tin. His fingers are deft as they work it into the shape of the pie shell. There’s a furrow in his brow that Ivan wants to smooth out with his tongue. He’d be able to taste whatever it is that Kirin’s worrying about.
“Remember how we were talking about thinking?” Kirin asks.
Ivan decides this isn’t the time to be witty and point out that that was maybe ten minutes ago. He nods.
“Well, there’s kinda something I’ve been thinking about.”
Again, Ivan bites his tongue against a remark about the dangers of Kirin thinking. “What is it?”
“Like, me and you.”
“Okay. Honestly, same.”
Kirin takes a deep breath, “Ivan, what are we?”
“What do you want us to be?”
“I know what I want, I wanna know what you want. I asked first.”
Ivan glares for a second at him before biting the bullet. “I want to be an us. Like, together.”
“You mean… boyfriends?” There’s an adorable pinkness to Kirin’s cheeks that Ivan can’t think too hard about right now.
“Yeah.”
Kirin smiles, “Yeah? Cool, that’s what I want too.”
“Cool.” Ivan leans in to kiss him and Kirin meets him halfway. They don’t get very far before Kirin pulls back.
“I just-” He cuts himself off, putting his head in his hands as he leans against the counter. “I really, really, really like you. But, I don’t think I’m ready for other people to like, know.” He peeks at Ivan through his fingers. It’s a gesture so childish it’s endearing.
Ivan takes Kirin’s hands in his. He reflects on who he was before the plane crash. His hand twitches with the urge to thumb the one-dollar bill that kept him sane on the original island. It’s long gone now but he feels like he’s surpassed the need for that reminder. Be tender. He will – he wants to, for Kirin. It’s not a lie when he says, “No rush, we’ve got all the time in the world.”
“We better not, a real rescue team’s gotta show up at some point.”
Ivan laughs and lets go of Kirin’s hands. “Speaking of rush, we should get this pie cooking before the others get back.”
“Oops. Forgot to set aside some dough for a top.” (I’m sure there’s a joke in there about sex somehow)
“It’s alright, I’m not very good at lattices anyways, there’s a reason Shelby’s in charge of palm leaf weaving.” Ivan pours the filling into the pie tin and places it in the solar oven. He sets the portable timer and leaves it on the counter.
Kirin lifts the contraption onto the windowsill, making sure the sunlight hits the foil so that the pie cooks. Thank god for Henry’s boy scouts.
They idle for a minute, basking in the satisfaction of a well-used kitchen. Then, Kirin pulls Ivan in with a teasing hand on his waist. “I might not be ready to go public yet, but that doesn't mean I’m not ready for the next step…”
Ivan takes a sharp breath in as Kirin’s thumb finds its way to the waistband of his boxers. “What does ‘the next step’ mean to you?” He wants to make sure they’re on the same page before this goes any further.
“It means I wanna jerk you off. If you want.”
Ivan looks around the messy kitchen. Distantly, he can hear the rest of the group yelling about something outside. “Right here?”
Kirin huffs a small laugh into the side of Ivan’s head, “Yeah, right here. It’s just us and the pie,” He brushes his nose against the shell of Ivan’s ear. “Better hurry before the gang gets back.”
“B-but we’re in the kitchen.” Ivan sputters.
“So? We already made the pie. And like, we’ll wash our hands after or whatever.”
This is crazy, Ivan thinks as he turns his face to meet Kirin’s mouth. The other boy puts one of his hands onto the counter, crowding Ivan, boxing him in against the granite in a way he’s immediately obsessed with.
Kirin doesn’t let up, pressing in further until the ledge digs into Ivan’s back. With no warning, Kirin hoists him up onto the counter with one hand. I’m not religious but holy fuck, Ivan thinks as his legs sway, heels bumping the cabinets.
At this angle, Ivan’s a little taller than Kirin. He breaks the kiss for a second to take advantage of the added height. He holds Kirin’s chin as he uses the tips of his fingers to trace the freckles, scars, and flaky skin. A rosy blush creeps its way up Kirin’s neck and Ivan smirks. Who knew it was so easy to get Kirin O’Connor all flustered.
To hide the flush on his face, Kirin leans in to start kissing at Ivan’s jaw. He nips a little, teeth grazing the sensitive parts of Ivan’s neck. Ivan grips Kirin’s shoulders tight as his tongue trails down, tracing the bones under the skin. He gently bites the hollow of Ivan’s throat, staying there to place harsh, sucking kisses. Kirin loses himself in the rhythm, focused on the vibrations from Ivan’s pleased humming.
Ivan interrupts him with a light swat on the head, “Stop, you’re gonna leave a stain.” He runs his thumb along Kirin’s blueberry-purple lips.
Kirin blinks up at him, dazed, “Oh.”
Ivan laughs and tilts his head up further to lick into his mouth. He scrapes his nails down the back of Kirin’s neck, making him groan and sink his teeth into Ivan’s lip. Ivan runs his hands across Kirin’s shoulders, wishing he could mark the skin underneath the fabric.
Kirin seems to have a similar thought, he leans away to pull his shirt off. He then tugs at the bottom of Ivan’s. “Off.”
Ivan lifts his arms up, letting Kirin guide the shirt up over his head. “Better?” A grunt is his only response as Kirin leans back in.
Kirin’s hands squeeze Ivan’s thighs before drawing them closer to the edge of the counter.
What is he– Ivan’s thoughts are cut off by Kirin’s fingers ghosting over the tent in his pants. He quickly twists his hand before grinding his palm into Ivan’s – now fully hard – dick. He does it again. And again. And again. It’s been awhile since Ivan’s cock has been touched by anyone other than his right hand. So maybe he isn’t making the most dignified noises after just a bit of dry friction.
Kirin leans forward and rests his head on Ivan’s shoulder, maintaining the pace he’s set. Ivan matches it by tilting his hips into Kirin’s hand.
Kirin turns his head so that his nose is pressed against the side of Ivan’s throat. His warm exhales leaving goosebumps on the surrounding skin. Ivan feels him smile, teeth pressing into his neck.
“Didn’t know y’could make sounds like that.” He murmurs.
“Are you kidding, these are like, surface level moans.” The sass is undercut by how out of breath Ivan is, but he has an inability to let Kirin win.
“Sounds like a challenge. Let’s see w’kinda noise y’can really make, Taylor.” With that, he spits on his palm and slides his hand into Ivan's underwear.
At first, his touches are tentative, exploratory. This is probably the only dick he’s ever touched other than his own, Ivan reminds himself. Soon, Kirin gets more confident. He fully takes hold of Ivan’s cock and strokes. A few months ago Ivan would’ve sworn this would never happen outside of a rogue wet dream. But here he is, with Kirin's hand down his pants, stranded on an island. What more could a guy ask for?
Somewhere in the trees, a bird chirps. The wind tousles the leaves. The smell of warm pie permeates the air. The sunlight spills over the defined muscles in Kirin’s back. Ivan bites his lip as Kirin twists his hand in a particularly devastating way. If they never get rescued, maybe this could be paradise.
It’s embarrassing really, how easy he is for Kirin. This probably shouldn’t even crack the top ten best handjobs he’s ever gotten, but somehow – regardless of lack of skill and practice – this one tops the list. Because it’s Kirin. There have been plenty of guys but none of them had the same gorgeous hair, or reliable familiarity, or irritating attitude. This is special because of the boy in front of him.
Warmth blooms in Ivan's chest as their eyes meet. Kirin smiles shyly and Ivan swears his teeth sparkle somehow. His boy will be the death of him.
Ivan starts to feel that pull deep in his stomach and suddenly remembers that they’re going to have to do the laundry. He takes his hands off Kirin’s shoulders to tug his sweats down. “There’s no way I’m coming in my pants today.”
“What’re you–” Kirin pauses, hand stalling. He just stares at the dick in his hands.
Ivan flushes, now feeling bare. “Hey, Kirin,” he doesn’t look up at him, “Are you ok?”
Kirin takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, just, feels a little more real now, ya know?”
Ivan runs a hand through his blond hair, bringing his hand to cradle the other boy’s cheek. “We can stop, it’s alright.”
He quickly shakes his head, dislodging Ivan’s hand from his face. “No, no, it’s not bad. I wanna keep going, just didn’t expect it,” he looks back down and slowly strokes his thumb down Ivan’s length. “But it’s good. I’m good.” He reaches up to kiss Ivan, soft and sweet.
Before Ivan can question him further, Kirin proves that he’s good with a tight stroke along Ivan’s shaft.
By now, his dick has leaked enough precum so that the slide is smooth. Kirin uses his new visibility of the situation to smear it around, which shouldn’t be attractive but is. Sight has done wonders for Kirin’s handjob technique. Ivan can’t help but make sounds he never has before.
The pause in friction brought him away from the edge of his orgasm but Kirin works him back up to it easily.
“Kirin, I’m–” He feels every part of where they’re touching. Kirin’s hand on his cock, obviously. But also his knees bracketing Kirin’s hips, the way his fingers dig into the meat of the other boy’s shoulder, their lips brushing.
Kirin smiles into his mouth, “Yeah, yeah. Please.”
It would’ve taken an act of divine intervention to stop Ivan from coming right there.
Kirin’s eyes flit between Ivan’s eyes, rolled back in his head, and the warm wet dick softening in his hand. His gaze lands on Ivan’s lips, shiny and red. He plants a kiss there and waits for Ivan.
Eventually, he catches his breath. Only to lose it again when he pulls Kirin in for a heated kiss. The smell of sweet blueberries wafts around the two boys. Their mouths are hot and lazy against each other, not quite ready to break the spell.
After a while, the timer dings, startling them.
Kirin whispers, “How was it?”
“Top three at least.” Ivan nips his lip and hops off the counter. He grabs a dishcloth and wipes himself off quickly, tossing it over to Kirin for the mess on his hand. After pulling his pants up and putting on a shirt, he turns the solar oven away from the sun, taking a peek inside. The pie looks good, some of the blueberry juice oozed down the sides, making paths through the flaky pastry.
Lively sounds signal the return of their islandmates, juicing must have finished up just in time.
Kirin comes up behind him and smears blueberry juice on the front of Ivan's shirt. “There, now we match!”
Ivan spins around, incredulous. They only have so many shirts on the island. “What the fuck, what was that for?!”
“You had a little jizz on your shirt.” Kirin shrugs.
“Laundry day is tomorrow.”
Kirin scoffs, “We don’t have soap, Taylor, would you rather walk around with a jizz stain?”
Ivan levels him with a stern look, “First of all, stop saying jizz. Second, this is your fault in the first place!”
“What, my bad for making you come so hard I guess.”
Ivan’s retort is cut off by the return of the group, rowdy as they enter the kitchen. Before anyone can call him and Kirin out on how rumpled they look, Ivan exclaims, “Who’s ready for pie?”
——•
Once they’ve all had a slice (or two) the gang decides to decompress on the beach. The last of the sun slips beneath the horizon, waves bathed in the light of dusk, colouring the water a deep purple reminiscent of the blueberry juice they spent all day making.
“So,” Ivan speaks into the silence, “how was the pie?”
Fatin makes a pained face before responding, “It was a little… salty.”
“It was his fault.” Kirin points at Ivan.
This bitch. Ivan can’t quite bring himself to be mad though, knowing he can get back at Kirin some other time. For now, he’s content to laugh with the group about how awful his pie was while leaning into his boyfriend.