Colors

Domestic

I just...I have some domestic shit I need to get out of my system.

Jack scrolled through his phone, barely paying any attention. Mark would be home soon and he was counting down the minutes.

Despite all of that, he still jumped whenever the door knob rattled and in stepped Mark, arms full of groceries. Jack grinned, leaping up and striding over to his fiancé with a grin, taking a few bags and giving him a chasté kiss. "Hey love."

Mark laughed, a booming, amused noise. "I was gone 20 minutes and you missed me?" He teased. Jack nodded, unashamed as he set the bags on the counter and began to put away the food. Mark joined him, chattering about some strange woman in Wal-Mart trying to sell toilet plungers.

Bzzzz. Jack's head perked up suddenly, his goofy grin sliding away. Marks words had died on his lips as well and they both stood there, questioning their sanity.

But then they heard it again.

Bzzzz. "What the fu-HOLY SHIT IT'S A BEE!" Jack screamed suddenly, leaping back and colliding forcefully into Mark's chest. The American swore, barely catching Jack. They both moved back, eyes trained on the black and yellow insect darting to and fro in their kitchen.

"Mark, plan of action, go."

"Um, uh, fly swatter?"

"No, too big."

"Wasp spray?" Jack craned his neck back to cast Mark an incredous look.

"Does that look like a fucking wasp to you?!" See, all would be fine and dandy for any other couple, but Jack has this horrible fear of spiders, and to him, a bee is just as deadly. Mark, on the other hand, can not get stung or else he will need immediate medical attention as his throat will close up. Sorta like an asthma attack.

So there they stood in the kitchen, the bee buzzing along the ceiling. And then it swooped low to meet them. They both screamed, scrambling to get away. The noise only made the insect feel more threatened and frightened. It began buzzing frantically, searching for a way out, causing even more panic in the boys.

Finally Mark pulled himself together enough to dart into the pantry and grab the fly swatter. Jack had a rolled up magazine in his hand as was standing nervously on the couch, panicked cried escaping him whenever the bee flew too close.

"Mark, be careful!" Jack yelled, concern knitting his eyebrows together. "I kinda want you alive for the wedding!"

"Don't worry, I kinda want me alive to." Mark made his way into the living room, heart pounding. "C'mere you little fucker." Almost as if insulted the insect came straight for him. Mark yelled, viciously swinging his fly swatter. The bee evaded him deftly, leaving Mark to continue his dance of fear with the fly swatter.

"Come on babe! I believe it you!" Jack yelled from the couch, a small 'holy shit' leaving him as the bee veered toward him again before re-engaging Mark.

"A little help would be nice!"

"Fuck that!" Suddenly, it hit Mark. He ran as fast as he could, waving the swatter wildly behind him as he darted to the window. He threw it open, hoping to attract the aggravated insect away. Imagine his horror when two more flew inside his house.

He was quick to slam the window shut, and Jack was quick to leave the room. Mark didn't even have time to be disappointed in his fiancé, too busy fighting for what could possibly be his life as he cowarded beneath the black and yellow flying bodies of death.

Mark had just started to contemplate his odds of hitting one of the little fuckers with a knife when a shrill yell came from the stairs. "Hide your beautiful face! It's about to get ugly!"

Mark didn't hesitate, trusting Jack and diving for the couch, wrapping the blanket around himself. He heard an all too familiar war cry, more aggravated buzzing, the hissing of a can, and then heavy breathing. Or maybe that was his own. "You can come out now babe."

Mark emerged from his protective fortresses, taking in the sight of Jack, his chest heaving; the streaks of white all over the living room; the tiny bodies lying on the rug. Jack held up a bottle of wasp spray and Mark raised an eyebrow.

"Do those look like fucking wasps," he mocked in a horrible Irish accent, earning a glare from the mocked Irishman.

"I just saved your life. I think I deserve a thank you," Jack demanded, putting a hand on his hip. Mark chuckled, walking over to Jack and kissing him slowly, relishing the breathless look on Jack's face as he pulled away.

"Thank you Jackaboy."

"Fuck off."

Okie I'm good now :3