Gay Sex & Smut For The Gayiest of Ships

What a Shakey Little Spoon.

Day three of my head injury I was laid against a pile of pillows smoking out of my large office window. I had barely left this perch, everywhere else in the house feeling foreign and filling me with anxiety. With Frank being out of town this was often the only place I did feel safe, but I always usually made my way up to our bed. Ever since my sudden brush with mortality the weight of life had settled in my bones producing a calcification of anxiety that limited my want and ability to function. I often found myself losing myself on this silent perch, forgetting the words to my favorite songs, no longer able to follow an episode of even friends on late night television, and Frank was starting to worry that I didn't remember our late night phone calls. With him being on a tour I had refused for him to cut it short to come take care of his clumsy boyfriend. With a lot of hesitance he had compromised as long as I agreed to actually listen to him from miles away. Landing myself in the ER handfuls of times only to be "needlessly" poked and prodded on. The dozens of tests that they did always brought the emergency room staff to conclude that I was drug seeking. Drugs being the last thing I wanted, as part of me afraid of not feeling the pain. Numbness reminded me of the roaring that erupted in my ears right before I collapsed. A shiver shot down my spine as the limited memory I have of the incident washed over my brain. Pulling my flannel clad legs to my chest my knees started to knock together like they did when I rewatched the surveillance video of me collapsing. A phenomena that was being explained away with phrases like heat exhaustion, dehydration, and heat stroke. Doctor after doctor didn't believe that I feel something incorrect knocking around in my machine of a brain. Somewhere a gear or spark malfunctioning just enough to keep me in a constant fog.  I could hear the feet of our dog and cats outside of the door. No doubt afraid of the hermit I was becoming and probably even more afraid that I wouldn't force myself upright long enough to feed them even if it took all of the energy I had. Neither one being true, the only truth being that was I was afraid of leaving one of the only places I felt safe. In here I felt like nobody had to worry about me, I was safe because little can go wrong with your head propped up by vintage cotton with the summer San Diego air washing over you. My mom had filtered in and checked on me leaving me precooked meals that I'd just have to "nuke". A favor that I would forget off and on, only to remember half way though trying to heat up a can of raviolis on the stove. A sharp pain erupted through my temples making me shiver and grind my teeth together. My eyes scanned over my desk, my array "medicines" scattered in front of my keyboard. A bottle of liquid Tylenol with codeine, a bottle of same only I. tablet form, and three different medical marijuana bottles with varying strains. My bong, grinder and a small white lighter was strewn beside it all as I tried to take inventory of my day. In an attempt to not only see what meds it was time for, but to try to convince myself I wasn't losing it completely. Stretching my hand out in front of the dimly candlelit room I began to go through my day using my fingers as if I were counting the amount of times I had almost died. Things were still foggy earlier than 2pm, but I considered it progress to remember what I had for dinner at 12am while I waited on my husband to call me after his last show that had ended hours ago.
I flicked my cigarette butt out of the window into the over sized Home Depot bucket I used as an ash tray, and slowly opened my door to the parade of animals staring back at me. I couldn't help but smile at their little faces. It wasn't their fault that I kinda fall apart when Frank leaves I thought to myself. It wasn't their fault I couldn't even stay on my own two feet while getting dinner at subway. I had opened my mouth to say extra spinach and the next thing I knew two old women were standing over me screaming about how they had just watched me die.

"Here kiddos." I hummed vertigo waving through me each time I bent down to lay their bowls on the ground. Turning toward the fridge I played with the idea of eating only to end up grabbing a sports drink that Frank had insisted on having delivered upon the mention of dehydration. The sweetness filled my mouth as I did a once over on ever lock in the house before returning back to my candle lit hideaway to load a bowl.

My eyes fluttered open to the sound of the door cracking open sending me in an upright panic that caused me to grab my head begging it to stop pounding. As my eyes focused and the throbbing in my right temple died down I saw  his small tattooed hand pushing open the door  the way a child's does. "Baby." I breathed as the dim light illuminated his face and stood up quickly to run into his arms only causing me to crash backwards knocking my head slightly on the window's glass. Making haste over the carpeted floor he kneeled in front of me laying the back of his right hand in my cheek.

"Don't you think you've hit your head enough for one week?" He laughed leaning up in a mysteriously graceful way to kiss me. His lips sends my brain into overdrive and my body out of shock. "Why dont we get you up to bed ya pot head?" He teased gesturing to the bong in my desk as he laid my arm up in his shoulder and hoisted me upright. Thanking myself for being an old man and refusing to buy a house with stairs we made it to our bedroom quicker than I remembered the trip being the last time I had tried to make it. As I crashed onto the bed silently and repeatedly thanking him as he lifted my legs and tucked my weak body in before crawling in the bed and rolling me onto my side, wrapping his arm around me. Our laughter filled the room as he leaned into my ear and whispered "See I told you that you're the little spoon"

Without thought I responded with chuckle filled "I love you." As I snuggled back into his warm chest that smelled like home.