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A Plague On Both Your Houses † 5

"You ready?" 

  I turn around slipping on Caleb's mom's red leather fingerless gloves. 

  "Yeah," I say. 

  Her dark jeans hang low on my hips, as I make my way over to Caleb, her Black Sabbath t-shirt looking more like a midriff shirt with each move I make. Caleb looks down on my grunge rocker clad form, placing his hands low on my hips where jean hugs bone and in his eyes is reverance. It makes me feel adored and much more loved. Not one to leave him out of being loved when he's loving me, I lean up and pull his lips in between mine kissing him sweetly. 

  "Come on," I say pulling back, as I drop my hand from his arm.

  "Before we go," he says, holding up a finger and takes my hand, pulling me out of the room and down the hall to his room. 

  Upon first walking in, I notice that compared to all the other rooms in the apartment his is the most lived in. Pictures of Caleb with friends and other models around the world cover a wall in collage fashion. Swords line above his bed like a headboard in rows against jean blue walls. Souvenirs from Caleb's travels, magazines, and books stack on a bookcase beside a round fluffy swivel chair in a corner. 

  "Over here," Caleb says, bringing me back to task.     

  I stoop down in to his closet next to him and he moves around a neat row of boxes to reveal a long wooden case hidden behind them.

  "My mom used to tell me I would never find a woman to marry me because of my collection," Caleb says, as he lifts the lid off the case and reveals an assortment of handheld weapons strapped in rows inside the case.

  My eyebrows lift in to my bangs. 

  "Wow." I breathe, my astonishment catching in my throat. I catch myself and turn to see Caleb staring at me. 

  A light blush warms my cheeks at his surprised stare catching my closeted appreciation for weapons and I can't bring myself to look at him. 

  "No. My mom can now eat her words," Caleb says, admiring.

  I smile, the blush in my cheeks dying down, and I look down in to the case. A lone gun, magazines, knives, and metal short staffs stand out amongst the bunch. 

  "I thought about what you said, what if they are holed up there?" Caleb asks, passing me a pair of brass knuckles. "It wouldn't be wise for us to go in there empty handed, then I thought about this." 

  I reach down and take the gun out of the case, slipping the magazine from it's  chamber and slide it back in to place, passing it to Caleb. 

  "That is damn sexy," Caleb comments, taking the gun and slipping it in to the waistband of his jeans.

  "Daddy wanted his little girl to know how to put men in check," I kid snarkily and Caleb chuckles at that.

  I turn around to Caleb's bed, an idea coming to mind and look up at the row of swords above his bed.

  "Are those sharpened?" I ask.

  Caleb turns around following my eyes to the swords.

  "I wouldn't collect them if they weren't," Caleb answers me.

  I stand and walk over, grabbing a sword off the wall with an orange hilt.

  "What's that for?" Caleb asks.

  "You never know they might actually bring a sword to gun fight," I reply, swinging the sword strap over my shoulder.

  Five knives pocketed and three magazines stocked later, Caleb and I are walking out the door.