Chapter Text
Oscar remembers the exact day he fell in love with Logan.
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“Come on, Ozzy!” A 13-year-old Logan whines. “You’re gonna miss them!”
It’s over 90 degrees Fahrenheit and Oscar is hesitating at the edge of a river - a river in which Logan is already up to his waist in, net firmly grasped in his hands. Dalton's sitting at the shore and the Sargeants are setting up a tent as they had gone the opposite direction of them when they have parked. Mosquitos hum around his ear and speckle his vision, the river rushes quietly over the sand and stones underfoot.
It's peaceful.
Ironic for Florida, in Oscar's opinion. He was certain he'd see drama here but this is nicer.
Logan had managed to get Oscar to spend his winter (Logan’s summer) break with him in Florida. They’re had a lovely couple of days exploring Fort Lauderdale but upon learning that Oscar had never been camping, the Sargeants and Oscar had woken up at 5:00am to start their weekend trip to Ichetucknee Springs State Park, a park about five hours from Logan’s home in Fort Lauderdale.
Now, at 1:00pm, Oscar’s still a little bit tired from the car ride, watching the American highways for nice cars so you can imagine that he doesn’t exactly what to go knee-deep into a stream that’s probably freezing, but that’s exactly what Logan wants him to do so he knows he will.
Oh Logan.
Oscar can’t figure out why he’s so willing to do things like this for Logan - he knows he wouldn’t dream of it for his friends back in Australia.
“Why?” Oscar complains, even though he’s also in the process carefully placing his sneakers on a nearby stone and pulling on his rain boots. “It's probably like...uncomfortably warm.”
Logan, helpfully, doesn’t answer, instead peering into the water with a determined frown, the same one he has when he's karting. Logan's always quiet when he's concentrated unlike Oscar, who prefers being always quiet, well, always. He can't concentrate when there's excessive sound in his environment much to his teammate's past and present disdain.
"What, you think you're so high and mighty?" One of them had asked him when Oscar had nodded instead of verbally answering. "You think you're better than us or something, no speaking to peasants?" Oscar, awkward and uncomfortable hadn't said anything in return, which looking back didn't exactly prove them wrong.
It was a relief to then work with Logan, who was almost concerningly quiet when looking over data.
It had been a nice change. It felt safe.
A lot of things feel safe when Logan's associated with them.
Motivated by that thought, Oscar tries to scoot down the bank and immediately slips, almost landing right on his ass. Thankfully, Dalton reaches out and catches him. He's got proper water shoes on, unlike Oscar, whose got his beat-up runners. It wasn't his fault to be fair - he hadn't been expecting to be wading.
"Calm down hero." Dalton says, laughing. "Three points of contact."
Nodding sheepishly, Oscar carefully enters the river, where Logan is waiting impatiently. He’s got a ratty Bass Pro Shop baseball cap on, chipped front tooth, a stained NASCAR shirt, and something calls waders on, which are not as Logan had explained overalls but rather very proper hunting gear from Dalton that from Oscar’s viewpoint look a lot like overalls.
“We’re not going hunting.” Mr. Sargeant had assured Oscar, seeing his pale face that morning. “Logan just wanted to impress you.” That had brought an unnatural amount of happiness to Oscar - knowing Logan had selected his outfit simply to impress him.
"Finally," Logan grumbles. "It's just water."
Oscar's like 80% sure there's many things in this water, especially considering Logan literally told him he's going to miss them, whatever them are, but that's Logan for you.
"Be nice Logi-bear," Dalton says with a snort. "Oscar's new here." New to America? New to wetlands? New to their family dynamics, considering Logan's mom and dad had joined their eldest son at the banks? Oscar's not entirely sure, but he finds the wildlife so pretty, he's not going to question it.
The gentle current caresses his legs, not uncomfortably warm like he thought, but cool enough to be a refreshing feel beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the lush canopy above. The riverbed unveils a kaleidoscope of colors — the white sandy bottom contrasting with the emerald green aquatic plants that sway gracefully with the flow. Tiny fish dart between submerged rocks and Oscar's legs, creating ripples that reflect the vibrant hues of the surrounding foliage. The tranquil sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves blends harmoniously with the gentle murmur of the flowing water, creating a symphony of nature's melodies. There's songs Oscar's never heard before, but no less comforting than the ones back home.
The air, despite the mosquitos, is pure, carrying the subtle fragrance of the surrounding pine and remaining wildflowers from Spring. In this moment, immersed in the cool embrace of an offspring of Ichetucknee Springs, Oscar feels time seem to slow. It's delicate and simple and satisfying and--
“-I SEE ONE I SEE ONE!” Logan shouts, pulling Oscar definitively out of his head and making everyone’s head jump up as one just as what looks like a streak of brown flies through the river.
“What-” Oscar tries to ask but Logan’s already running as best as a human can in waist deep water which is to say a very dedicated waddle. If it weren't for his prized worn hat, Oscar would guarantee Logan would have dove into the water. He can almost hear Logan justify his wet clothes later due to it being quicker.
“You see one, Logi?” Dalton asks. Logan looks up, smile wider than an Australian sunset.
“Yeah! Yeah! Look, look Ozzy, Mom, Dalton, Dad: otters!” Oscar felt his breath vanish as indeed, an otter scrambles up the rock mere meters from Logan’s head.
Oscar had never seen an otter in person and frankly, they're smaller than he thought. Brown and furry with a slightly squashed face, the otter was about 100 centimeters long. Sleek and whiskers dripping with freshwater, the otter squeaks and Oscar immediately backs off. He's the only one who does so though.
“Hi!” Logan greets the otter like this is a normal occurrence.
Oscar almost wants to tell him to back off; if you’re ever that close to wildlife back home, you’re done for. Thankfully American animals must be nicer because the otter just squeaks back then dives into the water again, circling Logan’s legs.
"Logan loves otters." Dalton says from the shore. "And frankly, they've always loved him. We've always said they're his spirit animal."
It’s there, watching Logan gape and giggle at the otter whose now decided that Logan’s legs are his favorite swimming obstacle, that Oscar begins to realize that the happiness he feels when he’s with Logan may go beyond platonic.