Gabriella
The pounding in Max's ears was oceanic. He kept waiting for time to start again, for Noah's hand to slip off of his neck and back to his side and for this moment to be just another odd moment to add to their growing collection of odd moments. 

Or for Noah to kiss him.

And then for the earth to open up and swallow them both, since that seemed about as likely to Maxwell. 

Noah broke their held gaze, locking instead on something just beyond them. Max felt Noah's muscles tense before he heard the wet, carnal sounds.

That was when Max made the mistake of turning his head to look. The color drained from his face. Lead filled his stomach. It was amazing the command even reached him.

There was a delay of half a second as Max translated the noise into a word. 

'*Run.*'

Maxwell did not argue with Noah. But neither did Max intend to let Noah play hero, if that was what he intended to do. Unthinking, on impulse, despite the heaviness of his limbs and the fuzziness of his head, Max gave one terse nod, snatched up Noah by the wrist, and bolted down the path, catching himself as he nearly slipped on the blanket of pine needles.
Donald
If Max was worried that Noah intended to stay behind to stand their ground, he need not have bothered. But even in panic, Noah couldn't help thinking it was awful sweet of him to snatch his wrist up to haul him along too. 

They could have run faster if they were not attached, but that would run them the risk of separation. Maxwell was lighter, probably more nimble, while Noah was longer but thicker, built sturdy and certainly more heavily. Max might have dashed through the woods with nary a flower disturbed underfoot, like the pretty and wild sort of thing that belonged there. 

Noah could not, and barreled through overgrowth and across fallen foliage, unable to tell if the crush and crack in his ears was flora underfoot or the thing behind them, spry and ambling on those legs that didn't look like they should support an ounce of weight. 

His lungs screamed for air before he dragged Max off the beaten path, into a pocket of thick green, shoving him down to the blanket of crisp grass and dry leaves and tumbling after him, into the wide hollow of a tree he knew well as one he'd used for trapping many a time over. 

It was blessedly empty now, save for them, the sheriff's body stretched over the length of Maxwell's, pinning him to the cool, dry curve of the trunk, ribs cutting into him with every muffled pant as he tries to steady his breath to listen.
Gabriella
Not for a *Moment* Did Max consider the prospect of disconnecting from Noah to run ahead without him. There was no time to consciously weigh his options; this was *Instinct.* Even instinct instructed him, clear as day, to remain conjoined with him. 

Max couldn't think about where he was running. The world was a blur; his vision pulsed with his heartbeat; he couldn't place the moment when he stopped leading the sprint and Noah took over - only that one moment they were on the path, and in the next they were tumbling through the overgrowth, into the open mouth of a tree hollow. 

So. They'd been swallowed up by the earth after all. 

For a snap of a second, maybe less, the thing that was *Not* A deer dissolved from the younger Morton's mind altogether - short-sighted, naive, *Stupid*. But there was no room there for the not-a-deer, not in that instant, because Max blinked into the present moment to reorient himself and his mind and his body and his spirit alike all zeroed in on *Noah, on top of him.* His weight. His heavy breathing. His smell - the lingering hints of the breakfast they'd shared mingling with the fresh sweat from the frenzied scramble. 

Max wanted Noah to put his hand back where he'd had it just a minute ago, wanted Noah to kiss him like he thought he might've done on the trail, wanted him to push his free hand under his shirt, wanted to call him '*Sheriff*' even though he couldn't place what, exactly, coaxed the impulse to his gut... 

Only Max would have made some sort of sound into Noah's mouth that he knew he would not be able to stop short. The creature would hear them, if it was around to hear. 

That might be okay. Maybe it would be alright to kiss Noah and then die for kissing him. How was Maxwell Morton supposed to go on living afterwards anyway, if he did a thing like that which would turn the world so completely upside down?
_ _

Max did not make a sound. Max did not break eye contact with Noah. Max focused very, very hard on not looking at Noah's - *The sheriff's* - lips.
Donald
In another world, Noah thought it was possible that they were meant to enjoy this moment where their bodies were a tangle of limbs and a rush of heat. 

Maybe he could enjoy swallowing up the soft, sweet sounds he was bound to coax forth, maybe his pants wouldn't feel so uncomfortable as he fidgeted in an attempt to mask the feeling, and maybe he could slide a hand down to hook under Max's knee, drag it up to hitch on his hip, and–

A soft *Crunch* Caught his first steady breath short in his lungs as his eyes spied Max's soft, full mouth in the half-light. 

Listening. 

But there was a skitter, a chitter – some forest rodent. Nothing lumbering. No drip of red or whiff of iron. No chattering. 

He did not know how long they'd been folded into their alcove but he was nearly certain they were alone. "You hurt?" His voice came in a whisper, a breath against Max's lips that stemmed as much from his fear of being heard as his unwillingness to sacrifice their closeness. 

"I don't want to move." Another whisper. A distinct truth. In no small part because he didn't want to wiggle free to find that thing nearer than he thought. But equally because he didn't want to budge from the knot they'd woven.
Gabriella
Noah was so close, Max could taste his words. And he was awful glad they'd opted for a morning walk. That meant Noah's words didn't yet taste like shine.

"No - no, I ain't hurt," Max whispered back, though his breathing was still shallow.

*Then don't move. Stay here, always. You don't have to kiss me. We don't have to touch more'n we are. We can stay here and breathe and I'll trick myself into thinking it's enough until I believe it all the way.*

Max would have begged. He wasn't above it, especially not when his adrenaline was spiked like it was. The only thing holding him back was the dreadful thought of Noah thinking less of him.

"We don't have to move 'til you're certain it's safe."