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asphaltcowgrrlBeholden (adjective)
be·hold·en [bih-hohl-duhn]
adjective
obligated; indebted: a man beholden to no one.
--
Wes had been raised with the warning that to be obligated was to be a slave to another man’s whims. For thirty plus years, he’d managed to never owe a soul as much as a penny or the tiniest favor.
Until now.
Word count: 251
Finding himself without any other logical recourse, he’d been relegated to asking for help. Wes loathed not having all the answers and having to turn to the likes of Travis Marks – his aggravating partner – only fueled that fire. Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.
Even though Travis had promised – hand to heart – that he wouldn’t ask for anything outrageous in return, Wes didn’t quite trust him to stick to it. Which is how he found himself here, on a Thursday evening, helping the therapy women decorate for Dr. Ryan’s surprise birthday party.
“Why are we here again,” he whispered once Dakota had walked away.
“They asked me for help,” Travis explained, “and then they all gave me those big, wide eyes and…”
“And you caved,” Wes finished for him.
“I did,” Travis agreed, “and you owed me.”
Wes was quiet for a moment, holding the end of the streamer so his partner could tape it to the wall. “And this must be what my father meant by ‘trading in favors ends in misery’.”
“Can it and hand me the balloons.” Travis cackled, loving having Wes at his mercy.
“Never,” Wes growled, “will I ask you for another favor. Ever.”
“Oh, time will tell, Mitchell. Time. Will. Tell.”
be·hold·en [bih-hohl-duhn]
adjective
obligated; indebted: a man beholden to no one.
--
Wes had been raised with the warning that to be obligated was to be a slave to another man’s whims. For thirty plus years, he’d managed to never owe a soul as much as a penny or the tiniest favor.
Until now.
Word count: 251
Finding himself without any other logical recourse, he’d been relegated to asking for help. Wes loathed not having all the answers and having to turn to the likes of Travis Marks – his aggravating partner – only fueled that fire. Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.
Even though Travis had promised – hand to heart – that he wouldn’t ask for anything outrageous in return, Wes didn’t quite trust him to stick to it. Which is how he found himself here, on a Thursday evening, helping the therapy women decorate for Dr. Ryan’s surprise birthday party.
“Why are we here again,” he whispered once Dakota had walked away.
“They asked me for help,” Travis explained, “and then they all gave me those big, wide eyes and…”
“And you caved,” Wes finished for him.
“I did,” Travis agreed, “and you owed me.”
Wes was quiet for a moment, holding the end of the streamer so his partner could tape it to the wall. “And this must be what my father meant by ‘trading in favors ends in misery’.”
“Can it and hand me the balloons.” Travis cackled, loving having Wes at his mercy.
“Never,” Wes growled, “will I ask you for another favor. Ever.”
“Oh, time will tell, Mitchell. Time. Will. Tell.”
