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“Can my husband please get out the boarding passes?” David couldn’t stop smiling as he leaned in for a kiss.
“Certainly, if only my husband would let go of me,” answered Patrick, but he kissed David back.
“Well maybe my husband should stop being so sexy and remember that his cousins have been staying with us for the last week, and I have many pent-up desires.” David snuck one more kiss.
The middle-aged women behind them coughed impatiently. “Um, let me guess, honeymooners? Congratulations. The agent over there is waiting for you.”
Though normally fluent in sarcasm, David had lost his radar in the 24 hours since the wedding.
“Thank you!” he gushed. “We just got married yesterday. We’re on our way to a resort in the Dominican Republic. The trip is a wedding present from my husband’s parents!” He squeezed Patrick’s hand and beamed.
The woman’s face softened. “Have a great time, you two. But can you keep the line moving?”
David didn’t mention that the resort pretty consistently got three stars on TripAdvisor, and that they had a “garden view” room which was probably a euphemism for a parking lot. This was his first vacation in five years, and he was going rub sunscreen on Patrick’s shoulders, and drink pina coladas in the pool, and have so much sex. So very much sex. Wedding stress had put a damper on things, and he intended to make up for lost time.
Patrick handed their boarding passes and passports to the agent, who gave them a brief glance and directed them to one of the security lines. “No flammables, no liquids over three ounces, please take out all laptops.”
David hadn’t flown in a few years, but he still knew the drill. He smartly stepped out of his slip-on shoes and smiled at Patrick struggling to unlace his sneakers while balancing on one foot. David placed their shoes and keys and wallets in the bins and lined up their carry ons on the conveyor belt.
Patrick had been grinning nonstop all morning, but he seemed to grow a little distracted as their bags slid down the belt of the x-ray machine.
David looked at him fondly. “Are you nervous about the flight, honey? Remember what we said, we’re going to order you a vodka tonic, and you can squeeze my hand as hard as you need to during take-off.”
“Thanks, David,” said Patrick. “It’s just that...well, it was going to be a surprise, but I guess I should tell you…”
Suddenly, David heard a buzzing noise coming from the x-ray machine. He startled. “What is that? Patrick, you don’t think someone has a bomb in one of those suitcases, do you?”
The word “bomb” resonated in the air. Everything happened fast. TSA agents muttered into walkie-talkies and gathered around the video monitors. Parents grabbed children and looked at each other with alarm.
“David, uh, maybe we should go!” said Patrick in a strange yell-whisper.
“Go?” asked David, bewildered. “But our bags are in the machine! And we don’t even have shoes on.”
Patrick’s face grew redder and redder. “I mean it, David, let’s just…”
“Ma’am, is this your bag?” demanded a stern-faced TSA agent of the woman next to them, the same one who wished them a happy honeymoon.
“No, that’s my husband’s bag!” said David proudly. He couldn’t imagine ever passing up an opportunity to say that word. But why did Patrick look like he was going to throw up?
The agent glared at Patrick. “Sir, please come with me.”
That’s when David realized that the buzzing was coming from Patrick’s carry on. Oh, fuck. What had his husband done?
Patrick gave David a look of deepest apology before following the agent over to a large metal table. The agent placed Patrick’s bag on the table, and the sound of the buzzing was magnified tenfold against the metal.
David raced through the scanner and grabbed his shoes, not even bothering to put them back on, to get to Patrick’s side. The TSA agent—David could see from the badge that his name was Jackson Frederick, never trust someone with two first names—said to Patrick, “Now sir, is there anything flammable or explosive in here?”
“No,” croaked Patrick.
“Then I’m going to ask you to open it for me.”
The blush on Patrick’s face rapidly reached his ears and down the open collar of his shirt. But he obediently unzipped the suitcase.
The agent reached in a pulled out a large butt plug. It was blue and violently vibrating, and David had never seen it before. Jackson Frederick turned it around in his hands. “Uh, sir, how do you turn this off?”
Patrick squeaked inaudibly.
“I’m going to need you to repeat that, sir.”
Patrick winced and looked close to tears. “It...it has a remote control!” he yelled.
Well holy shit, Mr. Brewer. Look who was going to be a take-charge guy on his honeymoon! Patrick had never really shared David’s interest in toys, but clearly, he was swinging for the balcony to score a touchdown—David wasn’t totally sure if that was the expression, but close—to start married life. David was positively grinning until he remembered their current predicament.
“Could you please find the control, sir?” asked Agent Frederick. He placed the butt plug on the metal table where it buzzed and bounced alarmingly while Patrick desperately clawed through his packed clothes.
A crowd gathered around them, drawn by the cheerfully quivering blue toy. Everyone seemed to be collectively wincing along with Patrick. When he finally found the remote control and turned off the vibrator, a small cheer erupted.
“Oh honey,” said their friend from the line, who David now realized looked disconcertingly like Marcy Brewer, “You have to take out the batteries before you pack it.” She gave David an ‘am I right or what?’ look, and David glanced back knowingly before he caught himself.
Agent Frederick donned a pair of latex gloves to comb through every inch of Patrick’s suitcase.
“Sir, I’m afraid that this is over the three-ounce limit.” He held up a large bottle of David’s favorite Pjur Back Door Silicone Anal Lubricant (with jojoba). David could see Patrick swallow, but he didn’t say anything
Then Agent Frederick rustled through Patrick’s suitcase one more time before holding up the biggest metal dildo David had ever seen.
Not-Marcy Brewer gasped and gave David a wink. “You got a keeper there!” she stage-whispered.
“And I’m afraid, sir, that I’m going to have to confiscate this, um, object. It is what we classify as a baton-like item and can be used as a possible weapon on board.” He demonstrated by giving the dildo a little swing, like a cricket bat.
Well, that was it. David had reached his absolute limit.
“Yes, excuse me sir, hello. My husband” —here he forgot himself for a moment and smiled proudly at Patrick before remembering that he was in disgrace— “and I are catching a flight for our honeymoon, and it seems he got a little carried away with packing. Are you going to detain him?”
“What?” Jackson Frederick cracked a smile. “Of course not. This is nothing. Believe me, you don’t want to know what I’ve seen in people’s bags.”
“Actually, I would very much like to know, but I’m afraid we have a flight to catch. Come on, Patrick.”
Patrick, still crimson, was trying to stuff his clothes back in the suitcase. Not-Marcy called out as she wheeled her suitcase away, “Don’t forget to take out the batteries, dear!”
“I’m so sorry, David!” said Patrick as he wrestled with the zipper. “It’s just...I love you so much, and I wanted to make our honeymoon really, really special.”
David slipped behind him and bent over to rest his chin on Patrick’s shoulder. He murmured in his ear, “Despite this ridiculous situation, I appreciate that you went outside your comfort zone for me. But, um, what were you planning with that ‘baton-like’ item?” David gave him a quick kiss on the neck. “You know what, never mind. Maybe it was all for the best.”
He helped Patrick zip his suitcase and put on his shoes, and the two husbands ran to their gate.
David didn’t mention the three vibrators—batteries removed—in his carry on. There would be time for that later.