"I'm scared," John said. They'd found a small cave, full of soft dead leaves. The two of them were buried underneath the heap, panting quietly.
"Don't say that!" Rodney said. His mouth felt strange and rubbery, like half an hour after a dentist visit when the novocaine was mostly worn off but things still didn't work right. "I'm scared too! If they catch us, they're only going to shoot you. I'm the one who's going to be enslaved for the rest of my life, possibly tortured on a regular basis, unless I get rescued, which admittedly is a reasonably good possibility, except you'll still be dead and I'll still have post-traumatic stress disorder and get shipped back to Earth to spend the rest of my life cowering under my bed, so that still doesn't exactly make for an appealing scenario. Also there are probably slugs in this pile of leaves. I hate slugs. My sister stuck one in my bed when I was twelve and I screamed so hard I wet myself."
John looked at him. "They didn't bother actually drugging you, did they?"
"Yes, they did!" Rodney said. "What, you think I'm confessing bedwetting occasions to you of my own free will? I am seconds away from telling you stuff I would never tell anyone, which is exceptionally humiliating given that I've had a crush on you for four years now."
"Huh," John said. "I hadn't noticed."
"Yes, there's a revelation," Rodney said bitterly.
"I'd sleep with you," John said, after a momentary struggle where he tried to keep his mouth from moving. There was a pained expression on his face.
"Oh," Rodney said. "You would? Actually, that's affirming to an embarrassing extent—"
"Well, except for getting fired," John said.
"In case you hadn't noticed, we're probably going to be caught and killed-slash-enslaved any minute now," Rodney said. "Worrying about your career seems pretty secondary."
"Rodney, we're in a pile of leaves in a cave hiding from people who are trying to kill us," John said. "You want to have sex here and now? Because I'd go for it," he added, and frowned.
"Look at it this way, at least it'll keep us from talking," Rodney offered, squirming closer.
"Good point," John said.
= End =
Written for le_mousquetaire!
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