My Dirty Little Secret

Secret Ninety-Four: 50 (Vintaker) Shades Darker

It was dark. There was not a drop of light here, nothing to even hint at what would come next. It was strange, odd, it felt so foreign. The Undertaker panted. Why was it so hot? Why was he so hot? What was going to happen next? He couldn't feel much, only the warmth of Vincent next to him. This shouldn't be as painful as it was. He should be used to this by now, however, the feeling of Vincent's breath mingling with his own was far too much to handle. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to set himself free. The darkness, the closeness, the small bead of sweat sliding down his own forehead. When would this be over? 

The answer was never, it was too late for him to be set free.

"I swear, you are the only person who forced me to sneak onto a plane in a coffin," The Undertaker complained.

"Well, I had no choice. This was a bit of a spontaneous adventure, I didn't have the time to buy the tickets," Vincent stated. He knew someone, who owed him a favor, that individual got them onto this plane, so they could get to Las Vegas for free.

"This is insane," The Undertaker stated.

"I know it is! Isn't it grand? We are going to have the best memories!" The Undertaker could almost feel Vincent's smiling face, but he had other things to be concerned about, like the fact that he couldn't breathe.

"Right, whatever you say Vincent," the silver-haired male shifted, trying to get more comfortable. It was useless, you can't get comfortable in a plain old wooden coffin. Everyone knew that. Couldn't Vincent have chosen something a bit more high class? Although, it isn't often that everyone travels on a plane in a coffin. Why was this coffin even here to begin with?

"Stop being so negative! Think of what it'll be like once we are married!" Vincent tried to assure The Undertaker that it would all be fine, but the lack of air left in the tight space was just causing the stripper to panic. It wasn't like he hadn't been in a coffin before, but for some reason sharing a coffin was a bit unnerving, on multiple levels. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. How is it that a feeling such as this one exists?  

"Do you even have any money on you? How are you going to pay for the certificate? Or even get us back home? Don't tell me we are doing this on the return trip too. I won't be able to handle this a second time. Is the air getting thin? Is that just me? Oh. God. Vincent. Why did you decide this was a good idea? We are going to starve in Vegas on the streets, and there isn't anything you can do about it. Why did I want to marry you? What was I thinking? You're insane. This is insane," The Undertaker spoke quickly and softly. He felt faint. Was this how they were meant to die? Suffocating in a coffin on a plane to Vegas together?

"Uny," Vincent wrapped his arm around the male, bringing him closer (if that was even possible). The Undertaker held onto Vincent, as if the blue-haired individual could save him, "we are going to be fine," his voice filled with an empty promise, false assurance, was still comforting. The Undertaker could feel Vincent move his arm. Was he going to open the coffin? Was that safe? Would they be caught? The Undertaker rested his head against Vincent's chest, he could hear his heart-rate, it was increasing. Was Vincent just as concerned as he was? But why did he seem so calm? The heart continued to beat, quicker, with every minute, the coffin's door still wasn't opening. They really would die here...

"This is the end," The Undertaker muttered. Vincent moved once more, his hand knocking on the wooden frame next to his head, checking to see if there was something in front of them. This was a cheap coffin, only made from thin pieces of wood and a few nails. He should be able to punch a hole in the wood. Right?

Clenching his teeth, forming a fist, Vincent punched the wood. Sure enough, he was strong enough to make a hole. The two closed their eyes, squinting at the light. A cool breeze entered the coffin, calming The Undertaker a bit. At least he could breathe better now, but how long would they have to stay in here? How much time had passed? When would they reach Vegas?