"JOEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!" The shrill cry broke the silence of the woods. "JOEY!!! Where the FUCK are you???" The voice became more desperate, more hysterical, as the cries added one on the other, and echoed into the distance. Fuck the Orange Blossom Trail. Stupid Florida wetlands. Who the hell needs them anyway? Stupid wild animals. Chris shuddered. Definitely didn't need the fucking wild life. Stupid Joey. Stupid stupid Joey.

The idea had merit. Playing around in the woods. Away from shrill cries from girls young enough to be Joey's illegitimate children. Away from the stares of their band mates, their best friends. Because, yes, damn it, Joey and Chris had gotten closer but Jesus, they didn't need to be treated like outcasts. This was new. It was hard. They needed support. And it was in short supply so far. Joey said to give them time. Time for what? Lance's Neo Nazi Christian upbringing to suddenly fade away? JC's jealous glares to subside? Justin's complete lack of understanding to just.. disappear? Sure. Right. And then the Rapture'll come and we'll go to hell. According to Lance anyway.

Chris violently shook his head, dispelling the memories of Lance's accusing glare. Better to concentrate on the surrounding foliage. Because he REALLY didn't want to end up itching in all the "special" places because he'd run into some poison ivy.

"JOEY!!! DAMN IT!!!!" Chris' voice at last cracked, and he knew that any other yell would remain unheard. His voice wouldn't carry anymore. He continued walking. He couldn't stop. Joey was out there. Somewhere. Stupid Italian. Wanted to see where the damn deer ran too. And Chris' stupid red converse tennis shoes couldn't keep up with Joey's hiking boots. Stupid wetlands and their fucking damp ferns.

Chris fell down another short hill, because of the stupid shoes with no traction. This time he didn't land on a bed of wet ferns, he landed on a bed of human. Joey human. And Joey was not moving.

"Holy fuck. What the hell?? Joe? Are you alright? Speak to me damn it!!" Chris' croaking frog voice was pushed past his lips, and straight into the ear of the younger man.

Chris felt for a pulse, checked for breathing. Both were fine. He felt around for bumps, breaks, gashes, anything that would indicate why Joey was unconscious. On the back of Joey's head, Chris found a bump the size of fucking Montana, and on his left arm was a three inch long gash, slowly oozing blood. Chris knew that was shallow, because it hadn't bled too much, and the edges were already scabbing over. It was the lump that he was concerned with. Chris had no idea how long he'd been out.

Joey began to stir as Chris sat staring at him, willing him to open his eyes. "Morning sweetheart." Chris croaked. A smile played on Joey's lips before his eyes opened and turned to Chris.

"What the fuck ran over me?"

Chris giggled. "A deer I think. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"45."

Chris folded the three fingers back into a fist and hit Joey's right shoulder. "Damn, you're good. Think you can sit up?"

"Yeah. My head hurts like hell."

"I know baby. C'mon."

"Okay." Joey allowed Chris to grab him under the arms and haul him up. The world spun a bit, but soon subsided, and Joey realized that sitting in wet ferns was a lot more comfortable than lying down in them. After Joey'd been helped up, Chris found the rock that gave Joey his lump. He picked it up and dropped it in Joey's lap.

"I think this is yours."

"OW!! What the he.. oh. Thanks. I guess." Joey picked it up and tossed it against a nearby tree. "Stupid fucking deer had a friend. A big ass buck with antlers." Joey put his hands to his head to demonstrate. "He wasn't attacking or anything. I don't think deer do that. He was just running, and I got in his way."

"Whatever. Joe, it'll be dark soon. We've gotta start heading back."

"All right. Help me up."

Chris helped Joey to his feet, and then swung one of Joey's arms around his own shoulder, to anchor him. They began a stumbling progression up the small pimple of a hill. Five shuffling feet later, Chris stopped abruptly, and then had to grab hold of Joey, who almost toppled.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Dude. Where's the trail?"

"The trail?"

"Yeah. Damn it. The stupid fucking Orange Blossom Trail. The trail that we've been following all damn afternoon. The stupid trail that you ran off of to go chase the damn deer. That trail."

"Oh. Right. That trail. I don't know." Chris rolled his eyes, attributing some, but not all, of Joey's vapidness to the lump on his head.

"Okay, Joe, were you ever in boyscouts?"

"Are you shitting me?"

"Uh, no."

"Yeah. Right. I can see myself now. Um, no, I wasn't."

"Damn. Okay, I've seen movies. They always tell you to stay right where you are. Right?"

"Sounds right." Joey mumbled. His headache was getting worse, and he wished Chris' croaking voice would just stop for awhile.

"We're stopping. Lois. that was her name right? The park ranger? I think so. Anyway, she knows where we are. Or she knows which trail we took."

Joey raised his head from its slumped position and gave a wasted smile. "She was hot."

"Shut up Joey."

"Okay." Joey's head slumped forward again.

God he was fucking heavy. Chris needed to stop, RIGHT NOW, and prop that boy up against a tree. Or a log. Or a big fucking rock. Anything. There. Nice log. Not too many ferns. It's all good. Chris stumbled over to the fallen tree and slowly lowered Joey to the ground, and leaned him up against the log. He pulled the day pack off of his back, and looked for matches, a lighter, anything to start a fire.

A thorough search of the pack produced a canteen half full of lemonade, an extra shoelace, four safety pins, a compass, a bandanna, and three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. No lighter. No matches. No anything useful to their present situation. Except maybe the food.

"Joey?" No response. "Jooooeeeeey?" Still nothing. "JOE!!!" Joey's head shot up.

"What?"

"Okay, no fire. And I'm not sure you should be sleeping. You might have a concussion. I think that's what they said on ER. I forget. But just in case."

"Damn it Chris."

"I know. I know, okay?" Chris sighed and slumped back against the log. "I don't know what else to do."

Joey hugged his arms to his chest. "Chris? I'm cold."

Chris' eyes softened as he looked at his boyfriend. Fuck. That word still scared him sometimes. The word did, but not what he felt. "C'mere Joe." He wrapped an arm around Joey's shoulders, and tried to push Joey's upper body into Chris' lap. It was an awkward struggle to say the least.

Joey grunted. "I don't wanna wrestle."

"Oh shut up." Chris finally got Joey's torso situated. He looked around at the darkening woods. What the fuck were they gonna do now?

Joey's voice came up from Chris' lap. "Sing to me Chris."

"Why?"

"So I know you're awake."

"I'm not going to sleep Joey."

"Chris.. please?"

"Joey, you do not need to hear me sing. I lost my voice okay? I'd sound like a damn mouse on crack."

"Chris, you always sound like a mouse. Damn it! Sing!"

Chris heaved a massive, long-suffering sigh. Then began to sing. "Jeremiah was a bull frog. Was a good friend of mine. Never understood a single word he said, but I helped him drinking his wine. And he always had some mighty fine wine. Joy to the..."

Whenever Joey's breathing slowed down, Chris would shake him awake. Chris' legs were falling asleep, and each shift sent a painful flash up his legs, so he just stopped moving himself, and only poked Joey in the cheek when he began to sleep. He kept one hand in Joey's hair, far away from the lump, and stroked his small hand through the thick strands. When he got tired of singing every song he knew, and some he didn't, he resorted to poking Joey every now and then.

Lois hiked in and found them the next morning. The sliding footprints of Chris' converse were not hard to follow, and she found them draped over each other, sound asleep. Stupid pop stars pretending to be woodsmen. A damn trained monkey could find its way on the Orange Blossom Trail. Oh hell, they were kinda cute, all sleeping and wrapped around each other like that.

Joy to the world.