valarltd | Shell-Shocked for Lainey

For those late to the program: Sean is a disabled Iraq vet who supplements his government checks by writing romance novels. He has a bad case of PTSD and two artificial knees. Gabe is a double amputee phone psychic. He and Sean met at the neihborhood clinic.

On Friday, Sean started a new novel. He'd seen a lot of westerns in Gabe's DVD collection, so he decided the next story would be a western. He'd been kind of mulling the idea over for a while, and he started typing.

"The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed,” he read back. “Ah shit,” he grumbled to no one in particular, “I'm channeling Stephen King." He erased it and typed a while. “He rode easy out of the sunset, a tall thin man in black, his lone arm holding the horse's reins and his hat pulled low over his eyes." He nodded at his ghost-image in the
word-processor screen, “Much better. Now, get going and make it sexy.”

When he closed the word-processor at supper-time, he had seven pages of a one-armed gunslinger hired to defend a lone rancher. It was almost pure formula western, except for the way the late coffee had turned to kisses in the kitchen. This was going to be good.

After dinner, he finished work on the pack, making sure it was reinforced and padded so Gabe would be comfortable. He tried it on a few times, making sure the weight was mostly on his hips and not his shoulders.

At nine sharp Sunday morning, he rang the bell for admittance to the Donald's lobby and informed Gabe it was his new pedi-cab service come calling. Gabe laughed and buzzed him through. Upstairs, Sean set out the backpack and showed Gabe how it worked.

"You,” Gabe said, kissing his nose, “are brilliant. We have to test this." He gave a half-smile. “I need groceries.”

Sean nodded. “Now I can wear this on the back or in front. You want to try it here in the apartment?”

Gabe was already climbing in. “Yeah. See how easy or hard it is here first. See if I'm too heavy for you." He settled himself in the pack.

"Is that comfortable? I tried to pad it some." Sean looked it over critically.

"It's pretty good, yeah.”

Sean backed up to the chair. “I'm going to try it on the back first." He slipped his arms into the straps and buckled the waist belt and sternum straps. “Brace yourself.”

"Okay. Don't let me kill your back here.”

Sean stood up, the pack and Gabe on his back. He didn't stagger under the weight, but it was close. Gabe was heavy. “You still okay?”

"Yeah. This is nice." Gabe wrapped his arms around Sean's shoulders and kissed his neck.

"I like that,” Sean smiled back at him. “Kinda heavy, but I'll be okay." He circled the room. “You're not gonna get seasick and barf down my back are you?”

Gabe just laughed and squeezed him a little. “No. Not the seasick type. And now we even have four hands to carry our stuff.”

"Yeah, but only my lone pair of borg legs to carry it up.”

Gabe kissed his neck and shoulders. “We can stop as often as you need." He kissed Sean again. “I really like this.”

"All right." Sean shot an impish look back “If you're set, Master Yoda, let's go shop.”

"Forward, Sean Skywalker!” Gabe laughed all the way to the lobby.