It might be red, but it wasn't flashy. Dark red, really, and with the dull look of a surface that had been exposed to the elements for too many years. No sparkling paint job or shiny reflectiveness built into this vehicle's exterior. It had never been new, not since Hunter owned it, and probably not for some time before that.

The truck was long past secondhand, moving rapidly through the last stages of just plain old. They would have to get rid of it eventually, he supposed. But as much as he knew that day would come, as much as logic said they should at least donate it to someone if they couldn't trade it in or sell it... he just couldn't see it gone. It had been with them for so long, such a part of their relationship that he couldn't imagine being without it.

Hunter had gotten it back in the chaos that followed Lothor's defeat, restored ninja academies and old students with new teachers and nobody really knowing what anyone else was doing. It had been so hard to keep in touch with each other, and the truck had been nothing compared to the shattering news that seemed to come in waves, week after week. But he still remembered the first time he had seen it, parked out on the access road outside the Wind Academy site.

It hadn't been particularly impressive, even then. But it had made him smile, seeing the bike supports in the back and the jury-rigged CD player in the front, knowing how much it meant to Hunter and a little flattered that he got no lecture on proper treatment of the doors or restrictions on music selection. He had seen the logging roads through that windshield more and more as the months went by.

When the Academies became too restrictive for their continuing relationship, more things began making a permanent home in the back of Hunter's pickup. Backpacks, extra food, spare clothes... sleeping bags. They got away so infrequently, it helped to know that they didn't have to go back right away. The truck parked in town, at the beach, sometimes just deeper in the mountains. Sometimes they stayed with it. Sometimes they didn't.

Back when we were young, Cam thought wryly. Back when "truck bed" was a thing to be appreciated, instead of an oxymoron. They knew every bump in the back of that pickup, every ridge and scrape and scratch--including the ones they had put there.

It had stayed with them even when they left the ninja academies, following Hunter to his apartment for a brief time before he joined Cam closer to the university. Hunter had finally taught him to drive a stick shift, and the vehicle unofficially became "theirs." Even when Hunter was gone, he had left the truck behind--a promise to return, maybe, or just a way of acknowledging that whatever was between them had meant something after all.

It had been a long time, sitting there in the parking lot. Cam had been reluctant to drive it after a while, disturbed by the memories it held. Finally he avoided it altogether, pretending it wasn't even there. Until the night the phone rang, and he didn't hang up until the sky had started to lighten and the birds were singing in the dawn. He had taken the truck to pick Hunter up the next day.

They had taken to considering the truck neutral ground. Especially when it took them to places that one or the other of them didn't want to be. How often had "I'll meet you at the truck" been their compromise between going and staying? A cell phone on the front seat meant whoever had left didn't want to talk, didn't need a ride, and would find their way back home on their own. Only once had Cam left his cell phone behind when he ducked out of one of Hunter's engagements.

More often, whoever left last would simply call the other, pick them up, and together they would rate the likelihood of ever repeating the event in question. After what little they shared in common had been stripped away by their departure from the academies, they had both had to work harder at maintaining their relationship. Their separation only made Cam more willing to try. He thought it had done the same for Hunter.

It hadn't been easy, but so few things worth doing were. Now he could look back and honestly say that Hunter was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Funny how they came full circle, back at the Academy after all this time... an interim stop after their return from Nepal, but they were training and teaching and he couldn't help reliving some of the old days.

He hated to owe Lothor anything, after all the man had done. But would he and Hunter even have met if the academies hadn't been attacked? The romantic in him wanted to believe that they would have, but his practical side refused to consider it: they had met, they were together, and "what ifs" didn't matter.

He heard footsteps behind him, whisper-soft but audible to any trained ninja. A hand settled against the small of his back, and Hunter's voice was quiet and curious in his ear. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"The truck," Cam answered absently.

"Forget it." There was no room for argument in Hunter's voice. "We're not getting rid of the truck."

Cam shrugged, deliberately casual even as he smiled to himself. "Okay."

End of discussion.