Brady and Mark sat outside the grocery store waiting for it to open. It was an eerie feeling to be the only signs of life in an entire town for such a long time. It had been at least forty-five minutes, and still they waited.

"Maybe we should have packed up the campsite before coming here," Brady thought out loud.

Mark nodded lazily with his chin mounted between his knuckles, elbows on his knees, and leaning forward. "Uh-huh... Or maybe we should have had another swim," he said with a devious grin.

Recalling their time in the creek, Brady couldn't help but turn three shades of red. "Or maybe we could've gone back in the tent..."

"Ooh - you're dirty," teased Mark as he wiggled his left leg, which had fallen asleep and was now sending waves of tingles from his heel all the way up to his mid-thigh. "Shoot. I'm dying here! How long 'til this place opens?"

Brady shrugged. "No clue. I don't even have a watch."

"Really?" asked Mark in surprise. "You remember to bring all of that other stuff, but you forget a watch?"

"No one has a watch these days," replied Brady. "That's what iPods and cellphones are for."

"Yeah... but we don't have a cellphone, and my iPod doesn't tell time."

"Can I help you boys?" asked the sudden voice of a woman from behind them.

Both Brady and Mark twirled their heads around and looked toward the store's entrance to see a small, chubby, elderly woman standing in the doorway. "We're waiting for the store to open, Miss," said Brady after a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Oh?" replied the woman, adjusting the glasses on her nose as if she were trying to focus them. "Haven't seen you two around here before," she observed. "New to town, are you?"

"No, Miss," replied Mark, standing up and turning around as he shook his still-tingling leg. "We're here on a camping trip and need some supplies."

The woman smiled and flipped the 'Sorry, We're Closed' sign to "Open, C'mon In!'. "Well then, guess you two best come inside before your parents start to get worried."

"Oh! We don't have to worry about - ooph!" blurted Mark, who was interrupted by Brady's elbow to his gut. "I mean... They know where we are."

Brady rolled his eyes and then stared down at the ground as he followed the woman inside the store, attempting to avoid any suspicious inquiries. However, the woman didn't seem to care. Instead, she walked straight in behind the register and continued her morning routine of preparing the till and arranging miscellaneous items on the table.

Mark went straight down the centre aisle to explore, as Brady diverted to his left to grab a basket and strolled down to where he remembered the hotdogs were kept. Within ten minutes, the basket was filled to the brim and Mark was already working on basket-number-two. His, of course, was filled with marshmallows, chocolate, and soda.

When Mark brought his basket up to the front desk Brady giggled and took it from his hands. "Did you think to get some water?" he asked. "We need at least three cases."

"Holy mackerel!" replied Mark with wide eyes. "How're we gonna carry all that?"

Brady stared down at the two baskets and then turned towards the stacked cases of water piled next to the coolers. "Um..." he looked back to the woman behind the register. "You don't have water in two-litre bottles, do you?"

The woman shook her head. "No, sorry Dear. Only what we have there," she said, gesturing her eyes toward the 24-case stacks. "How far is your campsite?"

"Right now it's at the park, but we're hiking a half-day to the lake," explained Brady.

"Hmm," the woman contemplated for a moment. "Best I can think of is emptying them into shoulder bag to haul on your back," she suggested. "There's some backpacks on the back wall, if you like."

"Ummm," Brady rummaged through his pocket and pulled out their money. "We'll need to see how much we have left, first. Can we pay for this now?"

The woman smiled and immediately went into action tallying up the boys' total. "With three cases of water, it comes up to $92.84," she said, as Mark turned and ran to the back of the store, "Guess that means you're getting a bag?"

Brady smiled awkwardly. He had hoped to save enough money for two bus tickets home. But with the bag added on top of what they were already paying for, he feared that they would now definitely be stranded.

Within moments, Mark came back with a backpack and was already opening the cases of water and dropping the water bottles inside. Brady looked back at the woman, from watching Mark. "So, how much is the bag?"

"That's a grand-total of $110, even," she said. "After a tiny discount, of course."

Brady thanked the woman and helped Mark pack their water in the bag then awkwardly put in on his back. "Ugh - oh God," grunted Mark, feeling the weight of the water shift back-and-forth as he moved toward the door. "How far is this place again?"

"We can switch when you get tired," said Brady, trying to balance two large paper bags in his arms. "Hopefully this stuff will fit in our bags, though. Otherwise we're going to die."

"What do you mean, 'they're not a priority'?!" screamed Brittany to the dispassionate police officer in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dawson. Please try to understand. Most runaways come back within a couple of days," said the officer from behind the incident-report desk. "You can file a report, but runaways normally return within a couple of days," he explained. "Have you contacted their friends?"

Brittany felt her face heat to the point that she feared her entire head might explode. "He's WITH his FRIEND!" she cried in disbelief. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've been saying?! You... YOU..." Brittany clenched her fists into a ball causing her knuckles to turn white.

"Brittany," interrupted Natalie, placing her hand on Brittany's shoulder. "Let's just go. We'll just go back to looking on our own, okay?" she suggested, fearing that Brittany was going to get herself in trouble, while regretting her suggestion to come here in the first place.

Brittany shook Natalie's hand off and stepped toward the desk. "Who's in charge here? I want to talk to YOUR supervisor!" she demanded, shaking her trembling fists at her sides, using every ounce of will-powered strength to prevent herself from knuckling the man in the nose.

"Mrs. Dawson, calm down," said the police officer, barely batting an eye in her direction as he continued to strum on his keyboard. "If you just have a seat an officer will be with you shortly to take a statement."

Brittany turned her head to the side, her chin appearing to knock against some invisible wall and stopping as if it had been placed into a perfectly fitting socket. "Sit down? SIT DOWN!" Brittany's cheeks began to shake. "I've BEEN sitting for two BLOODY HOURS, you TWIT!"

Natalie could see it, Brittany's right arm lifting upward, but it happened so fast that she couldn't prevent it from happening. Brittany screamed with a borderline roar and swung her tightly-balled fist directly into the officer's nose. The man's head bounced back and then whipped forward as if he had just been in a car accident. His hands rushed to his face the moment it was still enough to grasp, and - for a brief second - Natalie could have sworn the large, grown man was about to cry. The thought of this, even through the surge of horrified-adrenaline, nearly caused Natalie to laugh. Instead, though, she lunged forward and grabbed Brittany's arm, who looked as if she were about to climb up over the officers desk.

"Brittany! OH MY GOD!"

"OH MY GOD! I'm gonna die!" cried Mark as he collapsed to the ground.

Brady carefully lowered the groceries down next to the tent and walked over to Mark. "Careful, dude! You're gonna burst all the water!" he said in chuckle as he grabbed the bag from Mark, who was attempting to roll out from the clutches of its straps.

"We're never gonna make it to the campsite with that, Brady. I feel like I'm gonna die."

Holding the bag in his hand, Brady moved it up and down contemplating its weight. "Well, maybe we can put some of them in another bag or something?" he suggested. "We can't stay here. There's no camping allowed..."

Mark rolled over and sat up, looking around at their tent and then the fire pit. "Umm - shouldn't you have mentioned that last night?"

"We didn't have a choice last night," explained Brady. "But we should probably get everything packed before someone sees us here."

Mark groaned and climbed to his feet. "This place better be awesome. I'm tired and hungry, and you're making me work."

"Are you always such a big baby?" teased Brady as he pulled one of the tent-posts out of the ground. "Come on, it won't be that bad," he said reassuringly. "We'll be there in no time, and then we'll be able to do whatever we want."

"Whatever we want?" Mark grinned and bent down to pull a post from the ground.

"Yup. Anything."

"Well then," Mark quickly circled the tent and tugged the posts out of the ground. "Guess that means we better hurry, 'cause I can think of like a hundred things that I want to do..." Mark's smile widened and his cheeks became red, "with you."

"HOLY CRAP!" squealed James, jumping into the back seat of the SUV. "Is Mum really in the slammer!?"

"James... Calm down," replied Peter as he started the engine. "No, she's not in the 'slammer'. She's on time-out."

"Time-out?!" James's forehead wrinkled. "Grown-ups don't get those!" he protested. "Me Mum's in the slammer!"

Peter sighed, giving up, and shifted into reverse. "Buckle-up. I don't need another fine for the police to pin us with."

James reached to his side and spun the seatbelt across his waist and secured it to its clasp. "Is Mum gonna get deported?" asked James in sudden seriousness.

"No." Peter couldn't help but to smile. "Your Mum's not getting deported."

"So..." James shifted in his seat impatiently, "what's gonna happen then?"

"Nothing, James. We're just going to pick her up, and then we're going to go back out to look for your brother."

"And Brady," added James, looking out the window. "Is Mark going to go to jail, too?"

"What?" Peter looked up at James in the rear-view mirror. "Why would Mark go to prison?"

"Because he stole Brady."

"Mark didn't steal Brady. They ran away, James," Peter tried to explain.

"Why?"

Peter sighed in exasperation. "I don't know. Maybe because they're confused."

"Why are they confused?"

"Because..." Peter stopped, unable to think of how to explain what was happening to an eight-year-old. "Because they think they love each other."

"That's a dumb reason to run away," decided James.

"I suppose it is," Peter agreed.

Enjoying a brief silence as he made his way onto the highway, Peter noticed James begin to stir in his seat again. "What is it, James? I told you go to the bathroom before we left."

"Dad?" said James, leaning forward in his seat and resting his head against the backrest of the passenger's chair. "Why do you hate Brady?"

"I already told you, James. I don't hate anyone. I just..."

"You don't like it when they kiss?" James finished for him.

Peter nodded, feeling uncomfortable. "Right."

"So - how come you can kiss Mum?" asked James.

"Because we're married, James. And because she's a girl."

James sat up in his seat. "But, Dad, you kiss me sometimes."

"That's different. You're my son, and that doesn't mean..."

"That you love me?" James frowned and threw his weight back against the seating.

"No," Peter sighed. "That's different. When you love someone it's okay to kiss them."

James looked confused and incredibly frustrated. "But... Doesn't Mark love Brady?"

"No - he just thinks he does."

"What's the difference?"

Peter braked for a red light and scratched at his forehead. "Can you just drop it, James?"

"No," James replied as-a-matter-of-factly. "You're just mad 'cause you think you know that Mark is being dumb."

"I think nothing of the sort," replied Peter. "I'm not mad. Your brother's making a mistake that he'll regret for the rest of his life. He's not thinking straight. He doesn't realize that what he's doing he'll end up hating himself for for the rest of his life." Peter turned in his seat to face James. "Now let's just stop talking, okay? We'll go pick up your mother, and we'll get back to finding Mark."

"And Brady," added James.

The path that Brady remembered had long-since grown over with branches and wild flowers. The past hour had been hell on them both. After packing up their campsite they had set out into the trees, following a long, narrow path that had become smaller by the minute until diminishing to nothing. At times, below their footing, they were able to detect traces of what used to be the trail, which served as Brady's only way of knowing that they were still travelling in the right direction.

Even after dividing the water and food into their other bags, Mark was still having a hard time keeping up with Brady. Regardless of his daily morning runs, his muscles just weren't prepared for the constant up-and-downs of the wilderness. "Dude, seriously, can we take a break?" whimpered Mark, already placing his bags on the ground. "I'm gonna die."

Brady turned around and looked at Mark as he fell limp to the ground. "We just took a break," Brady reminded him. "We're almost there."

"No we're not," replied Mark. "That's what you told me forever ago!"

"You mean fifteen minutes ago when we took our last break?"

"Nuh-uh!" Mark leaned against the trunk of a fallen tree and spread he legs out. "That was almost an hour ago, I swear!"

Brady took a moment to recall their last rest, but he couldn't be sure when exactly that was. His mind had been racing with thoughts and memories of every other time he had gone camping with his dad - to the place they were now only minutes away from.

Mark patted the dirt beside him and looked up at Brady. "Come sit down. Relax for a minute."

Looking through the trees ahead of him, Brady could already see the campsite in his mind. He was so close now that he could almost feel it pulling him closer, like it had formed some kind of magnetic energy that was pulling at his insides and encouraging him not to stop. Turning back to see Mark sitting alone on the ground, however, reversed the polar energy which left him hovering in the middle of all that was important to him.

Mark caressed the dirt as if it were a precious silk and smiled up at Brady. "Come on, Brady. It feels very nice," he said in a mock-erotic tone.

"Okay, fine." Brady placed his bags on the ground and went to sit next to Mark. "But only for a minute, K?"

Just as Brady had turned around to sit down, Mark reached up and pinched Brady butt. With a yelp, Brady jumped forward and rubbed at his bottom. "Hey!" he croaked in protest, "what was that for?"

Mark grinned and patted the dirt again. "Must've been one of those nasty butt-mites they have around these parts," he said as innocently as he could manage. "They have a thing for runaways, I hear."

"Uh-huh," replied Brady, reaching toward the tree trunk and lowering himself toward the ground, facing Mark to ensure that another 'butt-mite' wouldn't attack him again. "Pervert."

"Aww, that's not fair," Mark whined and giggled at the same time. The moment Brady sat down beside him Mark leaned his head toward him and rested it up against his shoulder. "I like it here. It's nice."

Brady turned his head and pressed his lips against the top of Mark's head, smelling his soft, blond hair. "It's even nicer at the lake."

Without moving, Mark looked up at Brady's chin. "Are we going where I think we're going?"

Brady shrugged. "Where do you think we're going?"

"To the same place where your dad..." Mark stopped himself, afraid that saying anything more would hurt too much for Brady to hear.

Brady didn't reply immediately. Instead he placed his hand on Mark's forearm and slowly slid his fingers back and forth. "No. Well, not exactly. It's pretty close to where it happened, but we were at a different campsite that day because someone else had taken our usual spot."

Although Brady couldn't see it, Mark raised an eyebrow. "What? I thought you said this was a secret place."

"It is," replied Brady, still circling his fingers on Mark's arm. "It's just - I guess - eventually someone else always finds out about someone's secrets. Kinda like us."

"I don't have any secrets," stated Mark.

Brady smiled at Mark for proving his point and kissed the top of his head. "Not anymore."

"Hey! No fair," Mark chuckled. "You totally set me up!"

"I did not," said Brady as Mark sat up. "That's just life. It's not my fault."

Mark turned himself around and reached for Brady's leg and grabbed it. "You did too!" he said and squeezed Brady's mid-thigh.

Brady squeaked in surprise, and his entire body jolted forward as Mark tickled his leg. His fingers poked and prodded to the underside of his leg, leading up toward his buttock, which caused Brady to squeal even louder. "Wait! Stop!" he demanded while trying not to laugh.

Mark's fingers were triggering every nerve in Brady's lower body to surge with an overwhelming sensation of tingles. In turn, as Mark's hand travelled further south, the attack caused his testicles to rise and his stomach muscles to tense.

"Say uncle!" demanded Mark, now on his knees over top of Brady's left leg. "Say it!"

Attempting to escape, Brady became trapped against the trunk of the fallen tree. His heals were scraping against the dirt, as he tried to push himself away, but Mark had him trapped. "No! Stop!"

"No?" Mark grinned even wider. "What do you mean, 'no'? You can't say NO!"

Just then, Brady felt Mark's knuckles graze against his scrotum, which immediately caused his centre to stir. "What are you doing!?"

Mark didn't answer. Instead he moved his right leg over Brady's left and sat on his lap, facing him. He then stopped tickling him and placed both of his hands on Brady's shoulders, pinning him against the tree and stared into his eyes. The sudden silence left Brady slightly confused, and he gazed up at Mark as if trying to read his thoughts.

Slowly leaning forward, Mark closed his eyes and tilted his head to the right, allowing his lips to gently caress Brady's. Shivers flowed from Brady's lips and travelled all the way down his spine, and he instinctively reached for the back of Mark's head, sliding his fingers up through his soft, silky hair, and pulled him closer. He could feel the warmth of Mark's breath against his chin as he parted lips and gently pinched them against Mark's in an attempt to greedily absorb the heat upon each exhale.

The moist, hot pressure of Mark's tongue slid along the curve of Brady's upper-lip, causing his jaw to lower and his lips to part. The moment this happened, the tips of their tongues met and cautiously prodded the other in uncertainty, until gradually sliding further in exploration.

Brady moved his hands downward and placed them against Mark's hips to locate the bottom of his shirt. Then, manoeuvring his fingers underneath the fabric, he slid his hands up the small of Mark's back, feeling his warm, smooth skin and slight bumps of his spine. While he did this, Mark had also lifted Brady's shirt to reveal the pale skin of his sun-deprived stomach.

Feeling Brady's hands reach his shoulders, Mark raised Brady's shirt to his neck and leaned down to kiss his chest. The moment Mark's lips touched against Brady, a wave of shivers spread across his torso, causing thousands of tiny little bumps to consume the once-smooth skin of his torso. Brady exhaled in a near-giggle but didn't make a sound, just as Mark slid the tips of his fingers down the centre of Brady's belly.

Mark sat up and moved back as his index finger traced along the edge of waistband of Brady's underwear, which just barely peaked up past the start of his shorts. This immediately caused an obvious bulge in Brady's shorts to twitch, which redirected Mark's attention. He smiled up at Brady, looking into his eyes for a moment, and then reached down and placed his hand on the centre of Brady's shorts and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Brady's hips involuntarily lifted as the muscles of his buttocks tightened in an attempt to increase the pressure of the sudden contact. Mark couldn't help but to explore further, and he slowly traced his fingers down the hardened length below his palm. Before he could complete this task, the object twitched and Mark's hand wrapped around it instinctively. Due to the presence of two layers of obstructing fabric, he couldn't quite tell how plump it actually was, but it was safe to assume that its length was quite close to his own.

With Mark kneeling over him and feeling his hand around his length, Brady stared past Mark's back at the curve of his behind, covered by his black, cotton shorts. He slid his hands down Mark's back until he reached the two soft mounds of his buttocks. In passing, Brady's thumbs hooked themselves on the elastic waistband of Mark's shorts, which he slowly pushed back to reveal the thin, blue fabric of his briefs.

Releasing the shorts just past where Brady could see the skin of Mark's thigh, Brady placed his hands on either cheek and slid his hands back to the white waistband of Mark's underwear. While tracing his thumb of his right hand along the its elastic, Brady slid his left hand down the centre of Mark's behind, allowing his middle finger to gently dip in between the two sides and right around until he could feel a soft, pillow-like warmth between his legs.

Soon after his shorts slid halfway down his legs, Mark could feel Brady's finger stroking the back side of his scrotum, which had caused shivers to spread across his body. In turn, Mark let go of Brady's erection and curled his fingers underneath the waist of his shorts and slowly pulled them downward, which Brady made easier by lifting his hips. Pulling the shorts down to his knees, Mark returned his gaze to Brady's black boxer-briefs. The fabric was made of a cotton and nylon blend, which allowed the thin material to stretch and become nearly transparent around the tip of Brady's arousal.

Mark ran his hand up the entire length, feeling the silk-like material against the palm of his hand. Then, feeling Brady's fingers sneak underneath his waistband and wanting to be first to see, Mark grabbed the sides of Brady's underwear and pulled them down in a single, rapid movement.

Staring down at Brady's naked centre, Mark didn't even notice when Brady slid his briefs down to his knees. Instead, his mind consumed itself with its new, much anticipated, view. Like Mark had suspected, Brady's penis was close to the same size as his own, which bordered five inches or so. In contrast, though, and much to Mark's surprise, Brady had been circumcised, which was something that he had never seen before. In fascination, Mark studied it, allowing the image to imprint itself deep within his mind.

Brady's erection twitched and bounced against his groin as he felt the cool day's air caressing skin that seldom saw the light of day. Although, for the first time, he was able to look and see Mark's naked body, he could not bring himself to move his eyes away from the burning stare of Mark's eyes. He was more excited than he had ever been in his entire life, but the sudden realization that he was now completely exposed to the one person whose opinion actually mattered he felt more self-conscious than ever. His mind flashed back to the first time he changed in front of Mark, then to his random thoughts from when he was tying his shoes to go on a run, followed by their shared time in the shower. Even earlier that day, in the creek, he was still safe, but now there was no escaping it.

Brady followed Mark's eyes down to his groin, past his standing erection, and directly at his embarrassingly-small collection of hairs that had gathered near the base of his penis. He couldn't help but fear that Mark was about to laugh at him or, worse, decide that he wasn't yet mature enough to continue. Suddenly Mark's eyes met with Brady's, and he smiled at him. At that moment, Brady nearly burst into tears and cowered away. However, before he could react, Mark's hand wrapped itself around his erection and squeezed.

Nearly gasping in relief, Brady reached upward and pulled Mark down into a hug. As soon as he could feel Mark's skin against his own, and his heart beating against his chest, Brady placed his lips to Mark's neck and inhaled his scent through his nostrils. Mark returned the embrace without releasing his hold on Brady's length, which he awkwardly stroked up and then down once to remind Brady that his hand was still between them.

Brady released Mark's shoulders, allowing Mark to sit back up on his lap. The boy's black shorts looked uncomfortably placed mid-thigh, which limited Mark's ability to move. Seconds after realizing this, Brady's eyes caught sight of Mark's exposed centre. His erection was slightly thinner than Brady's and its tip was nearly completely hidden by his foreskin, which intrigued Brady nearly as much as Mark's small patch of very faint, blond hairs that were hiding behind the base of his penis.

Before Brady could think to touch it, Mark released Brady's length and stood up. As soon as he was standing his shorts slid down to his ankles, and he kicked them to the side before lowering back down to sit on Brady's lap. With his legs straddled on either side of Brady's hips, Mark pressed his warm, hardened erection against Brady's stomach and watched as its tip poked itself against his bellybutton.

Accompanying the feeling of Mark's erection against his stomach, Brady could feel his own length touching between the mounds of Mark's behind and pointed up toward his back. Unable to control himself, Brady's hips began to slowly rise and fall, which encouraged Mark's to do the same. Their lips met without command, and their hands greedily explored the other's body.

Brady's hands found their way to Mark's buttocks and immediately began to massage the muscle, while attempting to pull the boy closer than humanly possible. In turn, Mark's movements became faster and more forceful, and with every forward motion his length seemed to glide with greater ease. Brady, on the other hand, was no longer able to move his hips and, instead, helped guide Mark's movement with his hands.

Even though Brady could not see, the knowledge of what was sliding against his stomach, and what was pressing against his erection, was becoming too much for him to handle. It had seemed like the sensations had only just begun, yet already he could feel the building pressure begin to stir from deep within. Mark, however, was beyond that sensation. His pace had more than doubled, and his muscles were now becoming stiff. Between them, Brady could feel the start of Mark's climax, as his heated-length began to twitch and convulse.

A hot, slick liquid jetted upward against Brady's abdomen, nearly reaching as high as his chest, and Mark's hips began to grind against him in short, erratic circles. Brady could feel the muscles of Mark's behind become firm, followed by a strange pulsating-quiver that tickled against Brady's erection, mid-length. Realizing what it was that had suddenly pinched at his sensitive flesh, Brady's mind became overwhelmed and his hips rose up off the ground, causing each and every one of his muscles to stiffen.

Unprepared for the height of the sensation, Brady desperately clutched his hands against Mark's shoulders and pulled him down as far as physically possible, until, finally, his muscles could not endure anymore, and the two boys fell limp.

The silence between them was becoming awkward, which caused Marks still-building emotions to erupt in an uncontrollable giggle. Brady looked up at him and blushed. "What?" he asked, afraid that he had done something wrong or even humiliating.

Unable to catch his breath enough to answer, Mark shrugged and climbed to his knees. He could feel something trickling down the small of his back, toward his butt, and swivelled himself in a semi-circle to try and investigate. "I'm dripping!" he said through a breathless-squeak and reddened face. "Oh noes!"

Brady reached a hand out toward Mark and placed it on the bare skin of his hip and turned him around. In front of him, he could see Mark's entire backside, from hips-to-heels and everything in between. Taking a moment to enjoy the unobstructed view, Brady reached for his discarded shorts and wiped the sticky liquid off of Mark's back. "Is that better?" he asked, looking around Mark's behind, to his face, for confirmation.

"Yup," Mark nodded as his giggles began to fade and allow him to catch his breath. "But your tummy's a bit shiny."

Brady looked down at himself and blushed again. For some reason he didn't want to wipe Mark's mess off of his stomach, which made him feel a little weird inside. "It's okay," he finally said. "I hear it's great for the skin."