- the quarry oneshots -

dylan - don't be that way

gender-neutral reader || word count: 2,620 || warnings for: foul language || 2nd person pov

         this... is bullshit.

It was a rather simple morning: wake campers up, get dressed, and head to breakfast. You always chose to make your own alarm while having the sound system blare Dylan's morning announcements— to prepare your own self— but today felt... difficult.

"Alright, campers!" Dylan's cheery voice vibrated through your skull and ripped apart your brainwaves. Yeah. He was loud, "rise and shine! Today is another wonderful day at Hackett's Quarry, so make it a good one for yourself."

The machine clicked off, leaving you mildly bewildered. The other kids didn't seem to notice, rushing to dress themselves and prepare for the day ahead.

But you noticed.

Every day, without fail, Dylan performed his morning announcements: a much better fate, he told himself. He wasn't good with kids (self-proclaimed) and felt more comfortable sitting in a booth all morning, afternoon, and night. That way, he thought, he didn't have to worry about helping little children with cuts and bruises or being a leader amongst feral goblins (again, his words). You knew all of this, of course, because you'd gotten to know him well the first few weeks camp had been open.

"I'm telling ya, Y/N, this is the dream." He'd rest his arms behind his neck, propping his legs up on the small ottoman in the staff room, "no worrying about little humans doing things they're not supposed to 'cuz none of them should be where I'm at!"

You'd merely roll your eyes with a chuckle, "sure, sure, whatever you say, Dyl."

He was so excited about his job. Being the "tech guy" was an honor for a nerd like him (self-proclaimed, again. He preferred being a nerd than a geek) and he valued the position Mr. Hackett put him in.

Which is why the morning announcements on that quiet Tuesday morning left you unsure of how your friend was doing.

You chose to shake off the weird feeling in your gut and readied your kids to take off to breakfast.

"Everyone ready?" You yelled out.

"Ready, Y/N!" They yelled back, big smiles on their faces.

"Let's go," you nod as you walk them out the door, meeting Kaitlyn with her campers, "Kait! How are you today?"

"C'mon, c'mon guys let's get a move on," she sighed, then meeting your gaze, "Y/N! Hey! I'm alright, a bit exhausted from last night, but it's a new day! Or— whatever Dylan always says."

You giggle, "a new day."

You follow along with her group, looking back constantly to make sure your campers and hers don't mingle. They get lost that way (too many times).

As you enter the lodge, you are greeted by the aroma of delicious pancakes, created by the wonderful Nick Furcillo, of course. Your campers line up behind Kaitlyn's group, trays in hand and eager to taste what awaits them.

As you, yourself, get your own tray, you notice an individual lingering in the back of the kitchen. His head bops to the beat in his brain, and his eyes are shut.