Emotional Baggage

I glance back at Sebastian. "Lead the way." I say confidently. He nods and we head back toward the site of our earlier 'preparations'. At the start of the trip Lucas is fairly quiet, but he soon starts talking again as we walk, "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is? I don't get carried like some drunken farmhand. I'm a vineyard manager! I demand to speak to the person in charge, your manager."

I laugh, "Sure, Karen. Be careful what you ask for, she's a stern mistress."

"Ah, well I can handle any woman!" he responds with some confidence.

I tighten my grip on his net squeezing his body slightly, "Sure like you 'handled' me."

"Ah she's got you their Lulu" Sebastian quips.

"LULU! LULU! Don't you dare call me that Seb!", Lucas shouts. I can feel his body shaking with frustration on my back.

"I don't know, it sorta suits you, Lulu." I respond joining in on the fun.

Lucas mutters, "Just shut up, you're already dragging me to who knows where. No need to mock me too." I feel Lucas hiding his face against my back.

I see a pained look momentarily cross Sebastian's face as he says, "I'm going to run ahead to set up the bedrolls".

Sebastian quickly runs ahead of us. I loosen my grip a bit to make the netting binding Lucas to make him a bit more comfortable. As we trudge behind, I ask, "That name, sounds like there is a story there, Lulu".

Lucas groans, "There... there really isn't."

"That groan didn't sound like a no-story groan." I chide him.

Lucas sighs, "Fine, when we were little, he'd call me Lulu, and I'd call him Seb. He stopped..."

"Why?" I ask.

"Why do you think, because it's cutesy and childish." he grumbles.

"And that would stop Seb?" I ask.

I feel his body tighten against my back as if he's curling up in pain. He inhales sharply, holds his breath for a tense moment and says, "No, it wouldn't stop Seb."

"Then why?" I ask.

He lets out a small, strained laugh against my back. "I never really minded, but my parents were another story... can't have the chief's son having a weak name. One day... they made me make him stop calling me that... it was... ugly"

"Oh" I respond.

"Oh, is right, doesn't mean anything now anyways. Only thing worse than a weak name is actually being weak... they'll never take back." I feel his arms clench in frustration and the rope of the net groans. His breathing is shaky, and I hear him mutter under his breath, "He'd never take me back."

I stop walking and squeeze Lucas's arm. I feel his ragged breaths against my back and hold his arm till his breathing becomes steady. Once, it does I turn my head to look him in the eyes.

Lucas's face is sullen, and his eyes are uncharacteristically glassy. I lightly trace a finger along the line of his jaw and lift his downcast face with my fingers, "You know, I didn't expect to hear that from you.” The scent of him -musky, woodsy, and just a hint of wine – is... compelling. I move my hand and trace my fingertips up his leg, "It takes balls to open up like that."

I wink at Lucas as my hand pulls away at the top of his leg and he scowls in response. He then lets out a held breath his face softening into a subtle smirk. "If you say so Sam."

“I do, and you're...” I tighten the net getting ready to finish our walk, “my prisoner”. I feel Lucas’s body relax as I step forward. His breathing is steady, and the fireman carry feels far more natural against my back. I swear I feel a slight stiffness pressed against my upper arm. I stop myself from making a quip as we arrive at the campsite, he’s had enough of a hard time already.