Gun Shy

By: Emma Hillman

A SEALs at the Ready Story


“Guess who forgot to pay the electricity bill before we left?”

Drew let his bag drop in the middle of the hallway and blew out a breath. “It was your turn!”

Scott, his fellow SEAL and roommate, shook his head at the usual response. He squinted in the semi-darkness as he tried to decipher the notices that had been waiting for them. Another black letter return, he groaned inwardly, already bemoaning the lack of hot water. He’d been looking forward to a steaming hot shower for days, ever since they’d had to dive into the frigid waters of the Caspian Sea. “Fuck! They shut off both the gas and the electricity.”

“Nice. Welcome back, soldier.” Drew saluted him as he picked up his bag again and turned toward the staircase.

“We need to do something about this. Seriously, man.”

“We just got here!”

“I know,” Scott growled back. “But we can’t keep doing this. Every time we come back from a mission, something’s gone wrong.”

“What? You’d prefer living on-base?”

They both shivered at the thought of the gray barracks waiting for them there. No, thank you! “I like this house, I do. But we need to come up with another plan, because live and let live isn’t cutting it any longer.”

“I’ll think of something,” Drew promised. “Right now, I want a shower.”

“No hot water, remember?” he called out as his friend took the steps two-by-two.

A loud “Fuck!” rang through the house.

Scott smirked. With some luck, that’d get Drew to move. Nothing motivated a diver more than to have no water.

* * * *

“Someone else? You’re breaking up with me?”

Scott bit back a curse then thought better of it and flipped his friend off. “Someone has to be responsible.”

“You’re responsible enough for the two of us, bro.” Drew leaned back in his favorite leather armchair, his beer bottle precariously plopped onto his stomach.

“We need someone else here. Someone who won’t be leaving on mission with only a few hours’ notice.”

“But there are no extra rooms.”

“Sure, there are. You can move all the gym equipment to the garage.”

“That’s harsh, man. Harsh. If you think I’ll change my routine for another man, you’re dead wrong. No one’s touching my babies.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “What about a woman then?”

“Oh, no.” Drew jerked to a sitting position, his palm slipping around his beer just before it would have ended up all over him. “We agreed years ago. No woman is allowed in here. Ever!”

“That’s what we need though.”

“I know you’re tired of your own hand, man, but go get laid and it’ll pass.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah. But seriously, Scott, no women. They screw everything up. You know that.”

“What about someone we wouldn’t be attracted to? She could take care of all the stuff you hate. You know, paying bills, gardening, cleaning…”

“Screw cleaning,” Drew added emphatically.

“See my point, man?”

“I see it. I see it. I don’t have to be happy with it though.”

“Tough. I still think it’s our best solution.”

“Damn.” Drew kicked his legs over the chair’s arm and leaned down until he could stare at the ceiling. For once, he noticed the cobwebs strung everywhere. They’d always been there, and he usually didn’t care. After all, if he cared it’d mean he’d have to do something about them. He and Scott had divided the chores around the house, but between their Platoon-1 training and the various missions that took them all over the world, they barely had enough time to relax as it was. The last thing he wanted to do when he came home was dust the place! Still, his friend’s plan made sense. Shit.

“Okay then,” he finally said. “But we choose the plainest, dorkiest girl we can find. No bombshell, no bimbo.”

“No one we would ever fuck.”


“You’re on.”

They clanked bottles and congratulated themselves on a job well done. They had a plan of action, and a tight one at that.

When Drew sat back down, he was smiling. No more fucking cleaning!

* * * *

Scott leaned back against the front door and watched his friend wave goodbye to the latest SEAL bunny that had applied to be their new housemate. He was pretty sure Drew had accepted the woman’s phone number, probably planning a hot session under the sheets the next time they came back from mission.

He couldn’t hate on his friend. The woman had turned up for their meeting wearing a barely there skirt and an even shorter top. They’d spent the past twenty minutes watching her unrestrained tits bounce under her shirt every time she moved. And boy, did she move a lot.

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