Make Me Red For Real

Noah wheeled his way through the gym, searching for an open station. Though it was crowded, navigation was easy--people always moved out of the way when they saw him. He was used to the generous radius of personal space and the awkward looks. What mattered most was that he was at the perfect height to see every delicious, sculpted ass in the room.

He scooted his chair next to a weight station and paused, intently staring at a particularly nice rear.

Rex awkwardly shuffled his feet as he peered down at the weight station. He gripped the place where his right arm should have been. His left arm was much weaker than his right as it was off hand (although know it was his only hand). But he didn't have the courage to ask someone to spot for him for the fear of being mocked. He awkwardly ran a hand through his short hair, getting tangled up in his eyepatch (he'd forgotten about it) and then even more awkwardly adjusting it. He shifted his weight once more and decided he was just going to leave.

"Hey," said Noah, looking up at the face that belonged to the ass. "You wanna spot me? It's upper body day. Like every other day." He grinned, waggling his brows.

Rex turned, lips curled into a snarl. "Oh, is that fucking funny-" he paused as he realized the man who had asked him was in a wheelchair. "oh." he said quietly. Worse, as he actually looked at him he realized he was pretty attractive. Luckily, his face was already red from anger that his blush didn't really add much.

"I didn't-, but-" he stuttered uselessly, clutching the place where his arm should be harder.

He nudged him in the side with his elbow. "Come on, man--it was a joke! It's okay to laugh. Hey, don't you make missing arm jokes?"

He lifted himself out of the chair and onto the bench, beaming broadly. "Sounds like we already have something in common, anyway. We can chat about it while you spot me."

"My arm's not super strong....I mean, the arm I have left is..." his face was so red at this point his freckles were almost nonexistent. "Uhm, I'm...sorry?"

"So when did you lose your arm?" he asked nonchalantly, sliding weights onto the bar. "Or, I guess, how is the bigger question, right? I bet you're fucking sick to death of hearing that, huh?

"If you give me your number, I bet I could send you way more interesting questions. Like whether or not you like Italian." He winked, so quickly it was easy to miss.

Rex stared blankly down at the man. He could barely believe the luck of meeting another disabled person, let alone one so freaking attractive. It flustered him and his lack of socialization was becoming massively apparent.

"Recently, and..." he swallowed painfully as he recalled the incident. "...overseas." He averted his eyes and used his only hand to rake through his mop of messy red hair, pushing it so it covered more of the scarred right side of his face. "I don't exactly...have a phone yet."

"Then how am I supposed to call you about dinner? Maybe we had better just make plans here, huh?" He laid down on the bench, flashing Rex a toothy smile. "You free Tuesday night at eight, or what?"

"I mean yeah but I don't know, I just got back, I don't even have a job so I can't...really..." Rex cringed at how horribly awkward he felt. He really was just as useless and pathetic as his parents had always said he was. "I, uhm, this is a bad idea..."

"Oh, don't worry about paying--I'd never make a hot date pay for their meal. I mean, unless you were down for some kind of exchange of services, but that's entirely at your discretion. I'm not pushy." He laughed, and it was so loud and obnoxious that even people with earbuds in turned to look.

Rex suddenly felt the eyes on him and it made him excruciatingly awkward. Years as a sniper had taught him that this is the exact opposite of what he wanted at all times. He tried to quickly duck behind Noah but it didn't really work out.

"Okay okay just stop drawing attention over here!" he hissed, wishing that he could hide somewhere, anywhere.

"You have one arm and you're not used to attention yet? Okay, buddy. I'll pretend my legs work, you spot me.

"Where am I picking you up from?" He began to lift, his tan, freckled biceps bulging under the weight.

Rex was almost too distracted by Noah's arms to do what he was supposed to.

"I told you it was...recent," he grumbled. "I, uhm. I live in some apartments, I have the address written in my wallet I think..."

"Cool. Be ready at 8 on Tuesday, and we'll go. You said you liked Italian, right?"

"I mean, sure...I guess, but don't...hold your breath on it going well, okay?" he mumbled.