Lost in the Desert

“This is your fault!” Jack yelled at his newly-wed husband. Who had wanted to go to Nevada for their honeymoon? Bruce did. Who decided they should take the hummer that needed gas every thirty miles because it only got five miles to the gallon? Bruce did. Who failed to read the map right? Bruce James did. Who forgot that Jack was from Blue Earth Minnesota, and therefore not used to the heat of the Nevada desert? You're right, Bruce. Bruce was dead. Dead as in his head mounted on Jack's wall dead. Why? Because the idiot had gotten them lost in the middle of August in the Nevada Desert! That's why! Although that would mean he would have to drag the brunette law students head through the desert, not appealing, especially since preserved corpses stunk, the pre-medical major reached up and ran one of his hands through is red-slash-orange hair, he really didn't want to think about what an unpreserved head would smell like.

“How many times do I have to say that I'm sorry?”

“You, Bruce James, are dead to me.”

“Just don't eat me.” Bruce's lightheartedness was grating on Jack's last half a nerve. That was the last straw.

“You know what? You can just find your way out on your own! I'm done. I am not going to put up with you and your stupid, stupidness!” The fact that he could not find a word to use killed the seriousness of what he was saying, not that Bruce wasn't nearly busting a gut trying not to laugh at the way his husband was waving his hands around like a lunatic. “Don't you stand there and smirk at me!” Jack was getting red in the face from more than the sunburn on his cheeks.

“I'm sorry.”

“No, you're not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Don't you try to placate me, Bruce.” Jack walked of in a huff, Bruce following him. Jack would just hurt himself when he was like this, it was best to stay out of his way and watch him so the damage he did himself was minimal.

“Jackie, I really am sorry.” Jack crossed his arms, his back still facing Bruce. “Promise.”

“You make a lotta promises.” Bruce placed his hands on Jack's shoulders. The sides of Bruce's mouth quirked up in a pseudo-smile.

“Yeah, I do. Whatchya gonna do about it.”

“Hit you in the head and hope it knocks some sense into you.”
Bruce slipped his arms around Jacks waist, his pseudo-smile turning into a full one. “You can try, I don't think it will do anything.”

“Yeah, you've got a pretty hard head.” Bruce could tell just by Jack's tone that he was pouting now. Most likely just to spite Bruce. Jack was a child like that.

“We'd better get going, the road should be just up ahead.”

“Gimme the map. You are the reason we are lost.”

“Not a chance.” Jack never had to know that Bruce had gotten them “lost” on purpose.

“Hand it over or else.”

“Or else what.”

“Or else you can consider yourself single. That 'or else.'” Jack was very convincing when he wanted to be.

“I can read a map, Jackie.”

“First off, do NOT call me Jackie. Second, it's your fault we got lost out here in the middle of No-Where, Nevada in the first place.” Bruce mumbled something. “What?”

“I said, we were never lost.”

“What do you mean never lost, Bruce Aaron James.”

“I mean that we were never lost. I knew where we were this whole time.” The squeak his voice became at the end would have been funny if Jack wasn't so mad at him.

“You mean that you knew where we were this whole time and you let me think we were lost?!”

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds really bad.”

“Because it is really bad! I thought there was a real possibility of dying out here! You know what, Bruce, forget it. Just forget it. My mother told me marrying you was a bad idea.”
Bruce went pale under the tan he had picked up. “Jack.”

“Leave me alone Bruce.”

“Jack, sweetheart. I'm sorry, okay.”

“No. Sorry does not even begin to make this right.”

“Jack, just, please.”

“Bruce, you let me think we were lost out here, when you knew full well that we weren't. And on our honeymoon, too, Bruce. It's different when you are just pulling pranks on your brothers or on your other family members, or when you stuff my car full of tulip petals. Bruce, this is our honeymoon, and so far this has been horrible for me.”

“I know Jackie, and I really am sorry. I just figured that it was some time for just the two of us, alone, camping. Really, baby, I'm sorry.” Bruce kissed Jack's temple. “The road is just a mile or so that way.” He pointed to their right.

“You should carry me. My feet hurt.”

“Okay.” Bruce supposed he got off easy. He slid one arm under Jack's knees, and placed the other behind his shoulders, deciding it would be best to not make it seem as if lifting Jack was a challenge for Bruce, especially considering how upset Jack was.

“I hate you.” It had only been five minutes. “I really really hate you Bruce.”

“I know.”

“No, I don't think you do mister I'm-from-Nevada-and-this-a-rather-nice-day. It's way too hot, it's way too bright, and all this sunburn is going to be peeling for weeks. It's on my face, Bruce, my face! All the skin on my face will be flaking off!” Bruce paled under the pink beginnings of sunburn on his cheeks. Jack was from Minnesota, and he had been born in Scotland before his family moved to the states. “You better be willing to rub aloe vera cream all over all of my sunburns, or so help me.” Jack's voice pulled Bruce out of his thoughts. There was a moment of quiet before

“Bruce?”

“Yeah, Jack?”

“It hurts.” Bruce didn't have to look down to know that Jack was sporting his trademark kicked puppy look, or that his pout was one that could make all five year old's bow down to their almighty king. Bruce put Jack down, pulling his backpack off of his shoulders as he did so. He hoped he remembered the aloe gel. If he had forgotten it, there would be hell to pay. Plus Jack would be sniffling and borderline crying the whole way to town. He also hoped he could get reception out here, or that he had a satellite phone on him somewhere. Ah ha! Found it, the aloe gel. He squirted a bit onto his palm and started rubbing Jack's red face down with the cooling gel. He could feel the heat radiating off of Jack's face and got worried. Jack had lived in colder climates his whole life. Bruce felt like he brought the phrase “not the sharpest tool in the shed” to a whole new level. He fished out a water bottle, giving it to Jack, who tried to drink it all at once. Okay, so, yeah, Bruce now felt like the the dimmest bulb on the tree right now. How did he get a full scholarship to law school again?

“Slow down, Jack.” Bruce pulled the water bottle away from Jack.

“Hey!”

“Don't want you to choke, that's all.” He picked Jack back up, the road was just a few minutes away, there was a taxi on it's way, he had found that his phone had reception and called for one. Next vacation they were going to Alaska, no if's, and's, or but's. There was little chance of dehydration and cripplingly painful sunburn in Alaska, or so Bruce hoped, as his cousins Mustang pulled up next to them. Maybe they would just stay at his parents the next time they went on vacation. His parents loved Jack. Yes, his parents lived in nice, safe, cloudy Ireland. Not so different from Scotland, really. Well,he hoped, anyway. Jack's sense of nationalism could beat the most patriotic of Americans.