Camsten (One Shot)

Camsten Hawaii Imagine pt 2

Mexico was colourful. It wasn't just that Kirsten had never been, it was that stitching into Cameron had left her a little more sensitive to everything. The cab ride to the hotel had been interesting, Camille was apparently fluent in Spanish and had accused the driver of charging them twice the going rate. Kirsten understood the whole conversation, having been partially raised by a nanny Ed hired, a Panama native named Pilar. But she kept that to herself. She was distracted from Camille's conversation, which had somehow ended up as a discussion of their mutual hatred of Donald Trump, when they pulled up outside the hotel. Linus whistled.
"Holy crap." He swore, swinging the door open before the car had come to a complete stop. He stumbled out onto the pavement, staring up at the towering resort. Camille followed him out, locating the nearest bellhop and exchanging a few words before he began to unload the cab.
"Wow." Kirsten jumped, not realizing Cameron had come up behind her. "Maggie went all out." She hummed in agreement. The main building of the hotel was massive, a couple stories tall and covering at least a city block or two. As they made their way inside she saw that the entire thing was done in marble, tall ceilings arching into an open courtyard, and one of what she assumed were multiple pools.
As she was staring at the artwork on the wall, she bumped into a maid.
"Lo siento." She apologized. The maid did the same, then offered her a glass of water from the jug she was carrying. Kirsten refused, but Linus appeared beside her and downed half a glass in one gulp.
"Man, you should have killed yourself ages ago." Linus joked. The others seemed to be able to do that, joke about it, but the pain in Kirsten's chest flared up again. She reached out without knowing what she was looking for, but calmed when she felt Cameron's hand slip into hers.
"Should we go check out our rooms?" He asked. Kirsten glanced at the front desk.
"Shouldn't we check in first?"
"Camille already took care of that. Come on." He lead her through the expansive lobby to where the elevators were. "How are you feeling?" He whispered. She forced a smile.
"This helps." She nodded to their hands. For the first time since the plane, he smiled genuinely at her. Their room was on the eighth floor, which turned out to be the penthouse.
"No way." He mumbled, stepping out of the elevator. Kirsten held fast onto his hand, and he dragged her with him as he explored. The elevator opened directly into the suite, which seemed to take up the whole floor. The back wall was entirely glass, a panoramic view of the beach beneath them. It was furnished like a high end apartment, traditional finishes and a vibrant colour scheme somehow blending into something relaxing and homey.
Kirsten frowned.
"So it's just one room then?"
Cameron stared at her.
"It's basically a house. Come on." He pulled her through the kitchen (stainless steel and granite), an entertainment centre (white wall with a projector), the main bathroom (carved marble) and finally wound up down a hallway that seemed to branch off into a set of bedrooms. "Wait." He let go of her hand, sticking his head in one door, and then the other.
"What?" Her hand had gotten a little sweaty, even though the air conditioning in the penthouse was on full blast. She wiped her palm on her thigh.
Cameron turned back to look at her, disappointment on his face.
"There are only two bedrooms. It looks like they've done double masters." He explained, gesturing at the doorways. Kirsten strode forward, checking them out for herself. He was right. Both rooms featured a massive California king, a big screen tv and a door that she could only assume lead to an en-suite bathroom. But the third door off the hallway was a linen closet. It looked like Maggie hadn't thought this through. Even if she knew, and somehow miraculously approved of Camille and Linus's on again/off again romance, they were still one room short. She surveyed what appeared to be the slightly bigger room, then turned to face Cameron, hands on her hips.
"This one's ours." She said, pointing inside. He gaped at her.
"What?"
"Well there's only two. We're going to have to share. And this one's bigger." She informed him, making her way inside to check out the bathroom. She could hear his flip flops slapping against the hardwood as he followed her.
"Say again, Stretch?"
She rolled her eyes.
"There are only two rooms. We're here for 6 nights, and I certainly don't want to sleep on the couch for that long. Besides, that bed is huge." She didn't add that the plane was the first time she'd slept without nightmares since he'd stopped his heart. Need to know. It was becoming her new policy. "Wait." She swiveled to face him. He looked like he was still processing their sleeping arrangements.
"What?"
"Where's our luggage? Shouldn't it have beaten us up here?" She asked. They both wandered back into the main living area, then circled the entire suite one more time. Their luggage was nowhere to be seen.
There was a ping as the elevator doors opened, and then a familiar pair of arguing voices. Kirsten stood in the hallway waiting, arms crossed over her chest. When Camille and Linus rounded the corner, they stopped.
"Kirsten? What's wrong?" Camille asked. Cameron cleared his throat.
"Where's our luggage?" Kirsten asked innocently. Camille looked around.
"Probably up here somewhere?" Kirsten shook her head.
"Mmm no. It's not. Tell me, did you actually check to see whether that guy you handed all of our things to worked for the hotel?" She asked. Camille's mouth fell open in horror.
"No." She said, eyes wide with panic. "No, no, no!" She dashed back into the elevator, dragging Linus with her. His voice carried into the living room as Kirsten retreated to the couch.
"I told you to just carry your own bags, but nooo. Primadonna over here just had to have someone else do it for her. Why can't you just-"
Kirsten and Cameron were spared the rest of that argument when the elevator doors slid shut. She shifted in her seat, rubbing her forehead in irritation.
"So." She said, throwing her hands in the air. "What do we do now?"
Cameron considered that for a moment.
"The bar?" He suggested. It was the best idea Kirsten had heard all day.
It was there that Camille found them later, both already a couple of very strong Pina Colada's deep.
"Soooo." She smiled angelically at them. Kirsten stared at her expectantly.
"Did you find our things?"
Camille's smile widened. It looked painful.
"Yeah....they're gone." She said. Kirsten sighed. Behind her, Cameron dropped his head onto the bar top.
"So we don't have any clothes?" Kirsten asked. At this, Camille actually seemed to perk up.
"Actually, the hotel is claiming responsibility since that guy was wearing a hotel uniform. So they've agreed to pay to replace all our stuff. Which means," She grabbed Kirsten by the arm. "-that we've got some shopping to do." Kirsten glanced helplessly at Cameron as Camille dragged her away. He shrugged, looking apologetic. He would pay for that later.
After what seemed like hours of shopping in the hotel's boutique, Kirsten staggered out of the elevator, nearly collapsing under the weight of their purchases. A pair of hands appeared, taking some of the bags and allowing her to stand up straight.
"What did you buy?" Cameron looked afraid at the sheer volume of their packages. Kirsten couldn't blame him.
"I didn't buy anything. Camille bought, well, everything." She dumped the rest of the bags on the floor and dropped onto the nearest couch.
"Hey." Camille strode in behind her, carrying another load of clothes. "Half of this is for you."
Linus walked in from the kitchen, having changed from his orange shirt into a pair of swim trunks and a green polo shirt. Clearly they hadn't been the only ones shopping.
"Well." He said, sticking his face in a couple of the bags Camille was carrying. "Now that we've all got our bathing suits, how about we hit the beach?" Camille grinned and raced toward the bedroom, a bikini in her hand. Kirsten turned to the pile of clothes that were apparently hers, and began rifling through them for a bathing suit. Cameron sat down beside her.
"How are you doing?" He checked in. She had a feeling this was going to become a regular occurrence. The thought didn't bother her as much as it once might have.
"I was great when I was on my way to being drunk." Kirsten said, finally finding a bathing suit and holding it up. It looked like the lingerie she'd bought after stitching into the party girl who'd been murdered. She continued to look through the bags, but all the other suits she found were just as bad, or worse. She stared at the one in her hand, sighing. "Now I'm painfully sober." Cameron coughed.
"Is that legal?" He wondered, eyeing the suit. She shrugged. They were on vacation after all.
"I guess we'll find out."
She locked herself in the en-suite bathroom to change, throwing a plain blue shift-style cover up that cost more than her computer over top of the bikini.
"Alright." She emerged to find the rest of her companions waiting for her. "Let's go."
The beach was beautiful, and exclusive to resort guests, so they had no problem finding a spot close to the water. Staff milled around the guests, setting up cabanas and umbrellas and bringing out trays of drinks. Kirsten managed to snag someone long enough to request a bucket of beers. She was beginning to miss her buzz from earlier.
Camille stripped off her cover up and ran for the waves, Linus close behind her.
"Into the drink, Stretch?" Kirsten closed her eyes as Cameron lay on the lounge chair next to her.
"What's wrong with me?" She asked him. His chair squeaked as he turned to look at her.
"I don't know." He said honestly. She bit her lip.
"Why can't I let this go?"
"I don't know." He said again. Their waiter appeared with two buckets of Coronas. Kirsten thanked him and gave him a generous tip. "That's a lot of cervezas." Cameron observed. She reached into the bucket and handed him one. They were both quiet for what Kirsten assumed was a few minutes. She finished her first beer well before he did, and squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. It was hotter than she was used to, even in LA, and they had opted not to get a cabana. She had lathered herself in sunscreen before they left, but she'd forgotten how doing that could trap the heat. She felt like she'd been laminated. She sat up, tugging the shift over her head and breathing a sigh of relief as the fresh air hit her skin. She folded it over the top of her chair, and turned to get another beer.
"You want another?" She asked. When she didn't get a response, she glanced behind her. Cameron was staring, lips parted, beer hanging carelessly from his fingers. The way he was looking at her curled heat in Kirsten's stomach. She'd almost forgotten what she was wearing. The suit was one of Camille's picks, a black two-piece with less fabric than most of Kirsten's socks. The bottoms were held together at the hips with silver hoops, and the miniscule triangles that made up her top was held in place with a double set of straps that crossed her back. She felt like an extra in a 1990's music video. Cameron, however, didn't seem to mind.
Unsure of how long he'd been staring, she waved the beer at him again.
"Cameron?" He snapped out of it, looking away as red flamed across his cheeks. It seemed to go all the way down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his t-shirt.
"Nope." He muttered. "Nope, thanks, I'm good." She shrugged, prying the cap off and taking a sip. He could pretend he wasn't affected, but then so could she.
Feeling immensely better as she finished off her second beer, Kirsten had an idea.
"I'm going to go for a swim." She said. As she got up, she held out her hand. "And you're coming." He hesitated, but took her hand. She made a noise of impatience.
"What?"
"Are you going to wear your shirt in the water?" She asked. He glanced down, like he'd forgotten. His hand hovered at the back of his neck, but he didn't pull off his shirt. Kirsten dropped his hand to place both of hers on his face. "Cameron. It's just a scar." He avoided her eyes.
"It's just...not exactly attractive. People always stare. I thought I was over it, but then I saw you and-you're perfect." His words stirred something inside her, a need she couldn't identify. Not lust exactly, but something. A different kind of intimacy.
"You just can't see my scars." She said quietly. "And there's nothing unattractive about this." She ran her hand over his shirt where she knew it sat over the red line. "It just means you're a survivor. And I think these days that's something I need to be reminded of." Their eyes met, and he nodded. As he pulled his t-shirt over his head, Kirsten was intensely aware that he was doing it for her. She felt a pressure behind her eyes. It would be ridiculous to cry, so she clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms until the pressure went away.
The water was deliciously cool as they dove in, and it woke her up from the haze she'd been carrying around for the past few months. There was something about the sun on her face, the salt on her lips, the cool water lapping at her neck that pulled her back into herself. She hadn't realized until then how far inside the darkness she'd retreated. An arm snaked around her waist, dragging her toward the deeper water. She lifted her feet from the sand, content to let Cameron pull her. A sense of peace washed over her, and she stroked her thumb across his forearm. He said something behind her, and she moved to plant her feet so she could turn around, but they were in deeper than she thought. Her head plunged beneath a wave, feet digging for a floor that wasn't there. Unconcerned, she popped back above the surface with one swift kick. The arm around her waist tightened, and Cameron's face came into focus as she blinked away the salt water.
"Shit, I'm sorry." His concern was so familiar that it soothed her.
"I'm fine." She waved her hand as if to demonstrate. When she looked back at the beach she realized how far out they'd come. He must have been swimming for at least ten minutes. "Oh." She murmured. The people on the beach looked like ants.
"Right." He groaned. "Temporal dysplasia. I guess I forgot." She smiled at him.
"Me too."
They floated around for a while, treading water. Cameron chattered about cooking and she just listened to the sound of his voice. She'd never really understood the appeal of beaches, but this, like everything else she did with Cameron, was good in a new way. It felt like they were completely alone on the planet when she turned to face the ocean. It was just them and miles of water.
"Cameron." She interrupted his thoughts about a new recipe for butternut squash.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry if what I said earlier hurt you." He was quiet, eyes unreadable.
"You didn't mean to." He finally said. She could hear that he believed it.
"Does that matter?" She wondered. "It hurts all the same." Suddenly he was right beside her, she could feel his legs bump against hers as they both kicked softly to stay afloat.
"Are we still talking about me, Blondie?" His lips were nearly touching her ear, and she shivered despite the heat.
"I'm not sure." She admitted.
"I'm sorry," He said slowly, arms circling her waist. She held her breath. "I'm sorry that what I did caused you so much pain. I was trying to protect you." She could hear that he meant that, too.
"I know." She murmured, a little breathless.
"We should head in." He said, suddenly breaking away. "You're starting to look a little pink." Her gaze followed his, taking in the subtle flush on her pale skin. She grabbed his hand, placing it back around her stomach.
"Pull me." It was a demand, not a request. He laughed, but obliged, towing her back to shore.
The rest of the night was a blur. They all showered and changed, deciding they were too tired to go anywhere but the hotel restaurant for dinner. The food was good, and the music was excellent, but all Kirsten really registered was how content she was to be there. The peace she'd felt earlier hadn't disappeared, and she rested her head on Cameron's shoulder as they rode the elevator back to the penthouse.
"Mm sleepy." She mumbled into his clavicle. His chest vibrated beneath her as he laughed.
"Okay, Stretch. Time for bed." It had been a long day, and she was more than ready to crawl into bed. If she was being honest, the knowledge that Cameron would be right beside her only made it more appealing.
"I mean we could hit the clubs though. It's only midnight." Linus suggested. For some reason he was the only one out of the group who wasn't completely exhausted. He seemed to be glowing with energy. Kirsten just groaned, Cameron along with her.
"What? No way man. Count me out." He grabbed Kirsten's purse and headed towards their bedroom. Linus turned to Camille.
"Come on, what do you say? I know you like to dance." He winked. Camille frowned.
"If I say no, are you going to go by yourself?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. It was a loaded question, Kirsten hoped he was smart enough to realize that. He barely paused before answering.
"No. Of course not."
Camille grinned.
"Well, alright then. How about we go to bed?" She asked, her smile turning devious. Kirsten groaned, internally this time. Whoever had designed this penthouse with the bedrooms so close together had clearly never travelled with a friend like Camille. She bid both of them goodnight, then went to find Cameron. He was sitting on the bed in a pair of boxers, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read something on his phone. Her heart gave a little kick, not painful like the others, almost electric. He looked up when she came in.