Fact and Fantasy (Wilson x Reader)

Enough Talk, Go!

Right. Winter. That thing you were preparing against. That story of the ant and grasshopper easily come to mind....
"We should also come up with some food preservative. Freezing stuff is great until you try to cook it later,"
"Oh! I actually thought about that last night! I was thinking of making a meat drying rack with a furnace attached. The smoke would go through a small tunnel that we could place our tent over to keep us warm!"
You nod, picturing it in your head before you pause.
"Our tent? Us warm?" You feel your face start to flush. It's one thing to share a campsite. But living quarters, sleeping quarters?
"What?" Wilson pauses his train of thought, having finished his explanation. It takes him a moment to realize what you're asking "Oh! Um, well, I mean, or, didn't mean-" he starts frantically waving his hands in front of him, turning just as red as you "slip of the tongue. Sharing quarters with a young lady would be most ungentlemanly of me. I mean if we can't get you your own situated by snowfall, well, I really don't want either of us sleeping out here in the cold."
"Right... right." You rub your arm, soaking up some of his embarrassment like a sponge. "So we have find birch nuts, willow trees, and some extra wood on the agenda. I can do that,"
"By yourself?"
"Yeah. You still need to rest,"
"But-"
"The only butt I will tolerate is yours, sitting, and here at home."
Here at home? Gosh, you hope he doesn't notice... You glance over and see that Wilson hasn't really reacted. Outwardly, at least...
"Yes, ma'am..." he sighs "Let me see your map. I know where some trees are and I don't want you getting lost."
"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself," you grin, getting up to grab your book any way.
"I know, but if you want me resting, I can't spend that time fretting that you won't come back," Wilson fidgets his hands before taking your book from you and using what little charcoal he had left from earlier. "Let's see..." he looks your map over "What's this little green splotch here?" He points to a little spot amid a forest you've drawn.
"Oh, well, it's a bit of a long story. I'll tell you when I get back, okay?" You try to avoid the subject of your friend, the Green Man. Wilson doesn't exactly believe in such things and you don't want to debate him on what exactly your friend is.
"More secrets..." you hear him mumble as he marks a few areas on your map. A couple drawings of a little nut, and some different trees for willows. "These are only rough locations, but they should get you near where you should go."
"Thanks, I'll be back soon," you turn and make your leave, walking a brisk pace as you hear him call from behind you
"Be safe, dear!" You feel your neck heat up as your blood rushes to your cheeks.
Something feels different in the way he said that. It wasn't the curt, polite, or even dismissive 'my dear,' that he usually does. This felt more... sentimental.
Of course, you could be projecting. That's probably what it is. Projecting your silly little thoughts and feelings onto this poor man. Even then, the risk of fall out if things didn't exactly work wasn't promising.
What if he hurt you?
You shake your head and adjust your inventory bag before taking a look at your map. You aren't too far from the first symbol. You'll need to keep an eye out. Not to mention making sure you find enough branches to finish this drying rack Wilson's thought up. It was going to be a long day...

"Thanks, I'll be back soon," He watches as she closes her book and turns to head out. Before she's too far, he quickly calls out.
"Be safe, dear!" He fidgets in place, a little nervous. Wilson had called her 'my dear' before, but without the extra word it felt different. Maybe she didn't notice? Probably not. She has a lot to do today and he can't go distracting her!
Gently, he stands on his crutch and in a firm grip carries what few dishes they had used down to the river bed. You don't need to stand to do dishes.
It took a little bit to find a more stony spot than mud, but he quickly set to work. The water chills his skin as his mind starts to wander.
We would need some more rods for the rack. Maybe we could make some spears too while we're at it to catch some fish. He'd have to find a spot where fish actually are. Preferably without too many river weeds. Those had to be hard for her to wash out, but the look on her face-
He freezes mid dish scrub.
The look on her face when he towered over her. How pretty she was, despite all the river weed he'd just shoved in her hair. The way her smile shifted from joy to a look of shock.
Gosh...
He'd been a big booby.
He smacks his forehead in agony of his stupidity and rubs his face in disgrace. Maybe spear fishing was not a good idea.