My Darling Lies Over the Ocean (YouTubers AU)

22. You can't win together if you don't work together.

Though he could hear the softest sounds of commotion outside their shelter, Ken stays firmly wrapped around his husband. Sleep left him long ago, but the small brunette still snores softly, face relaxed for the first time in what may be days. The raven places gentle kisses in his husband's hair, not minding the tangled mess from sun and salty air.

Cry gives a sleepy groan, burrowing closer into his husband's strong chest as the noise outside penetrates their makeshift shelter. Ken just chuckles low, hands petting the smaller man's hair and rubbing his back. Striking blue eyes flutter open at the attention, meeting Ken's gaze with a yawn.

Despite everything that has happened to them, Ken can't help but notice how breathtakingly beautiful his husband is. Even with a sunburn creeping onto his cheek and knotted hair and dark circles beneath his eyes from a troubled sleep, Ken can only see the best parts of him: his smooth skin, brilliant eyes, adorable bedhead. Though he wishes they were somewhere else- a warm bed in an air conditioned house- he's grateful, at least, to be able to hold his husband.

"Morning, Cece," Ken offers softly, placing a gentle kiss on his husband's chapped lips. Despite the dried skin, they still feel utterly alluring beneath Ken's own mouth, and he has to remind himself to break the kiss before it gets too heated.

"Morning, Kenny," Cry offers in return, pink tongue ghosting over his freshly pecked lips.

Ken doesn't even try to hide his hungry gaze, stomach stirring at the simplest thought of being together again. He can hardly keep his hands off the brunette, rough palms sliding over his clothed back though desperate to feel bare skin.

"We should probably check on them," Cry mentions, eyes flicking to the outside world. Ken has barely noticed the rise in volume, bitter bickering an afterthought to his eyes when his precious husband lays in his arms.

"We should let them try," Ken offers, pecking his husband's lips once again. He wants to pull him in, kiss himself absolutely breathless and feel him shiver beneath his fingertips, but he has the decency to remember the noise from outside is other people: rather than, say, angry trees arguing over the best sunlight for their leaves.

"I don't think your intentions are entirely pure," Cry smirks, small hands gliding against the planes of his husband's chest.

"Are they ever?"

Cry chuckles, hand sliding around the back of Ken's neck to pull their lips together. Their lips meet in fiery passion, tongues curling together as they both release small groans from their throats. Ken deepens the kiss further, mouths molding together as he cups Cry's soft cheek. His other hand sneaks down to grab at his husband's bottom, smirking when the smaller man gives a deep moan at the groping.

"Cry? Ken?"

A accented voice pushes them apart, lips breaking contact as a head pops into their shelter. Jack's bushy eyebrows jump to his hairline at interrupting, his pinkened cheeks turning dark red. He coughs awkwardly, eyes focused anywhere else despite the fact that Cry has already began to pull away. Ken grumbles as the brunette untangles them, shifting up to give his attention to the Irishman.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Jack offers.

"It's no problem," Cry dismisses with a wave of his hand. "What can we do for you?"

"We're, uhm, having some problems out here," he admits. "We need some help."

Cry gives a nod. "We'll be out in one second."

Jack disappears again, returning to the low rumble of disagreement outside the shelter. Ken rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around Cry again and resting his head on his husband's thin shoulder. His lips are quick to find his neck, leaving wet kisses on his exposed skin.

Cry gives a pleased sigh, mind turning foggy. However, he shakes the haze away, pulling away from his husband. Ken lets him go, arms falling limply to his sides as his mouth puckers into a pout.

"Come on," Cry encourages, though he too would like nothing more than to waste the day away in each other's arms. "I'm sure whatever they need is important."

The raven gives a tight nod, the first nerves of tension settling into his shoulders. With a huff, he's crawling from their small space, joining the morning sun with a squint of his eyes. The warm, yellow sun sits on the horizon, just having risen from their nightly depths. The sand is still cool, though the temperature is creeping upwards.

"You can't even make a fire like that!" A voice snaps, laced with frustration and exhaustion.

Ken quirks an eyebrow, scrambling to his feet. Cry is a moment behind him, the other men already standing in a messy bundle. They're surrounding something, though whatever they circle is obscured by bodies. Ken gives Cry a sideways look, almost asking if he must deal with the other men, and Cry gives him a reassuring pat on the arm, leading them towards the others.

"Oh thank god," Felix is the first to sigh loudly, watching the two men approach their group. "Maybe now we can get something done."

The two push forward, joining the circle. They surround the dug out divot of sand, the ashes from yesterday's fire resting inside it. Fresh logs are stacked haphazardly across the makeshift fire pit, though there is no fire to speak of.

"What's going on?" Ken asks, wondering why it takes an entire team to light a fire.

"We can't get it," Ethan admits with a long sigh. Mark is to his side, black ashes covering his hands.

Ken raised an eyebrow, sending a confused glance to Cry before continuing. "Have you tried the matches?"

"I told you he used matches!" Felix demands, pointing an accusing finger at no one in particular.

"We can't find them," Tyler explains, arms across his chest. "And our other methods haven't been working out so well."

Ken just gives them a look of utter disbelief, gaze shifting between all of them as if realizing he's apart of the stupidest survival group in eternity. His patience is normally pretty thin, but here, it's nearly nonexistent. Cry has to grab his arm before he says anything, pulling him towards the washed up lifeboat. It's times like this when Cry remembers Ken got his position at the firehouse mostly from experience rather than leadership abilities.

"We'll get them," Cry promises, leading them away without looking back.

Ken's still completely awestruck at the incompetence, nerves about taking care of a clueless group running through his mind. He looks to Cry, who's soft face is in a deep frown. His eyes flicker to his husband's, blue gaze speaking first.

"Please, be nice to them. We won't be with them that long. I have a plan for today, and if you could just please hold it together for a little bit, then we can take a long break from the group, okay?"

Ken just nods, swallowing his grumbles at the thought of finally getting some alone time with his husband. At the lifeboat, they're far enough away from him to release a few displeased grumbles, dogging through supplies until he finds the plan sized, yellow container. With a quick flick of his wrist, it opens to reveal dozens of lifeboat matches.

"Be nice," Cry reminds him, giving him a peck on the cheek as he collects rations for the morning.

Ken frowns but doesn't argue, turning back to the group of men. They sit on the sand, defeated, surrounding an imaginary fire. The raven gives an exaggerated roll of his eyes, wondering if it's too early to take his part of the rations and run.