Chapter Eleven: Camping and Cooties

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   Tony mumbled to himself, dragging a tent behind him.

"You should get out more. You should go camping. Get some bonding time," Tony mimicked his physiatrist in a high pitch voice. "Bonding time my ass. I never bonded much with my old man camping."

Tony tsked, slamming the trunk. "Okay, kid. Hop in."

Peter called shotgun, and jumped into the front seat excitedly.

Tony leaned down on the window, his arms over the rim. "Someone's excited." He smirked.

"I haven't gone camping in forever. I wish I could've done Boy Scouts, but.. you know." Peter shrugged. "No 'girls' allowed," he said, referencing his trans past.

   "Hey, we're gonna have one hell of a boys' weekend to make up for that. Sound good?"

   Peter grinned. "Yeah, Tony. Sounds perfect."

"Good, cause we are going to have the time of our lives," Tony said in a sarcastically happy tone.

Peter gave a genuine yet slightly cocky smile. "Don't we always?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Alright, squirt. Buckle up."
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Tony pulled into the campsite.

Clint and Stephen were already pitching their tents.

Tony hopped out of his truck. "Hey, guys."

"Sup." Clint nodded his head.

"Tony." Stephen greeted him with a firm handshake, which Tony turned into a hug.

Peter and Tony set up their tent.

"You guys wanna go fishing?" Clint asked. "Cooper and I really enjoy it."

"I've never fished before," Peter admitted.

"It's okay, I can teach you."
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"And... cast." Clint nodded his head in affirmation. "There ya go! Good job!" He gave Peter a solid pat on the back.

"And now we wait." Peter watched the water impatiently. "How long until I catch a fish?"

Clint chuckled. "Patience, kid. You've just gotta wait it out. And when you feel a tug, start reeling that bad boy in."

Peter's shoulders slumped. "Right.. patience."

Peter sat for about fifteen minutes before he grew restless again.

"Clint, are you sure this bait is good?"

"Yes, Peter. You've only been waiting fifteen minutes."

Peter frowned grumpily. "Okay, okay." He turned to the others. Stephen waited patiently, the pole trembling from his injured hands. Tony was currently napping in his chair, pole slammed through what was once his cup holder. Clint looked right at home.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Peter said.

"K," Clint said.

Peter walked into the men's restroom. He stopped dead when he caught sight of a girl, who looked suspiciously like MJ.

"MJ?" Peter asked, carefully.

"Come here often?" She asked, smirking.

"Uh-, I-, oh my god, is this the women's restroom?" Peter's eyes opened wide. He stopped using the women's restroom years ago.

"Yes, because women's restrooms have urinals in them," MJ said sarcastically, motioning to the urinals.

"Phew." Peter paused. "Wait, why are you in here?" He asked suspiciously.

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