"Reflections"
Title: "Reflections"
Word Count: 1,120
Rating: PG-13 for language and mature themes. You know, Rent-y things.
Pairing: Benny-centric. Benny/Alison, mentioned Benny/Mimi
Genre: General
Summary: Post-Rent. A day in the life of Benny Coffin. Written for this situation prompt.
Warnings: Language and mature themes. A moment of sex-imagery.
Thanks: _chibidragon_ for the prompt. Damn, this was fun.
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent, or the characters.
It’s not until he’s brushing his teeth that Benny really wakes up. Everything else to this point has been comprised of blinking through near-blindness and drunken stumbling. But now, after splashing some water on his face and staring down at the trickle of water running into the sparkling silver sink, he gains a little more consciousness. He likes brushing his teeth, for some reason; the ordered back and forth movements, the bristles rough against the inside of his mouth as the toothpaste foams. And the tingling sense of cleanliness afterwards. Benny looks in the mirror and flashes his teeth at his reflection.
It’s another mirror, this time one that is longer than him so he can see everything as he dresses, can double-check to make sure he’s wearing matched socks as he arranges his tie, can make sure his shoes shine the right way as he smoothes out any wrinkles. And in the background of the Benny in front of him he can see Alison sitting in bed, sheets over the knees that are being hugged to her chest.
Benny can see her arms tighten around her legs before she speaks. “Do you think you’ll be working late tonight?”
Mirror-Benny’s eyes meet his own, and he stops, hands freezing over his tie. He has a brief vision of Mimi’s legs wrapped around him, in the air, as his back strains and glistens. Detached, the point of view of the ceiling. As if this had never really happened but was simply a scene in a movie that he never told Alison about because she hadn’t wanted to watch it.
His hands move again. “I don’t know,” he says.
*
Blah blah blah blah. Blah. Benny, blah blah blah.
Benny feels like a dog who cannot understand his master. Or one of the kids in the Peanuts cartoons, the teacher droning strangely and annoyingly. He has to stand there and nod, though, watching his father-in-law’s lips flap as he speaks earnestly, spit sometimes flying out of his mouth. Benny has to hold back a wince and look at one of the pie charts instead, or the paper with the zigzag on it like lightning striking down to the ground. Maybe the words are a blur, but Benny knows the man is angry.
He really couldn’t give a shit. Above every other noise in the room, a symphony is playing in Benny’s head, note for note. Something he heard on the radio when he was young. One of Roger’s old songs. The flickering of Mark’s film, images passing by that he has never seen. He knows Mark finished the film, because Mark knows how to finish things. But Benny has never seen it. He would like to. He’d like to see more of that Angel person, as much as he could.
Benny cracks a smile, and the man across from him bellows.
*
It is really stupid, Benny acknowledges this. It was stupid to decide to walk home and leave the car at work, and it is even stupider to go almost an hour out of his way so he can walk by the Life Café on his way home.
For all of the stupidity it exhibits, Benny ends up doing this a little more often than he likes to admit to himself. Sometimes Mark is there, sitting at a chair in the back and hunched over a notebook. Benny never goes in.
This is another one of those nights.
The light spills out onto the street in front of Benny - one more step and his shoes would be bathed in the yellow. But he just stands there, staring at the familiar outline until he starts to feel a little bit like a creepy stalker. Then he turns away and starts walking again.
By the time he gets home it’s not just evening dark but the black dark of coming home late. Benny hesitates before entering the yellow light of his home, peering out into the street. He remembers the first time he met Mimi.
He had been walking past the loft, not long after getting married, when he first started wondering just what it was he had gotten himself into. And he’d glanced down the alley to the side of the building and there had been this delicate-looking girl dancing, all by herself in the middle of the street. Twirling with her arms in the air as if there were no way in the world someone could ever see and laugh. In fact, she had turned around, catching Benny’s eye and stopping, her arms frozen over her head and eyes widening just a little, and then she had burst into laughter.
Benny didn’t love Mimi, exactly. But he loved what she was.
*
It’s late enough when Benny gets home that Alison is already done eating dinner, is lying on the couch reading and tells him she’ll be going to bed soon. She doesn’t ask where he’s been.
After eating the meal kept warm in the oven, Benny heads upstairs, legs and eyes feeling heavy. It didn’t seem like it was that late, but somehow exhaustion has hit anyway. When he enters the bedroom, his wife is already under the covers on her side of the bed, facing the wall.
Benny climbs in, not expecting Alison to turn around and face him. He’s not even sure if that’s what he wants, anymore. But he lies so he can see her, on his back but with his head turned. His left arm is lying flat next to her back, close enough to feel warmth coming from her. He can remember when they first met, when he really loved her. Sure, he knew the money would be good, would make life incredible, but then he didn’t know that he would get a share in it any time soon. He hadn’t met her father yet and she never mentioned if he knew about Benny - so it was all exciting. They were in love, they were forbidden, they were Montague and Capulet.
With the hand not trapped between their bodies, Benny reaches across himself to Alison. When they announced their engagement, her father had looked pissed but offered Benny a job. Both Benny and Alison had been shocked by this level of acceptance. And then Alison’s parents helped them buy this house, and as they settled into the routine of married life all the rules and impressions needing to be made became more apparent. And even scarier was Alison’s obvious need to cater to them.
Benny caresses Alison’s shoulder and upper arm, letting his fingertips brush over her skin. There’s no reaction. She could be asleep.
It’s a yawn, not a sigh. Benny closes his eyes.
Word Count: 1,120
Rating: PG-13 for language and mature themes. You know, Rent-y things.
Pairing: Benny-centric. Benny/Alison, mentioned Benny/Mimi
Genre: General
Summary: Post-Rent. A day in the life of Benny Coffin. Written for this situation prompt.
Warnings: Language and mature themes. A moment of sex-imagery.
Thanks: _chibidragon_ for the prompt. Damn, this was fun.
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent, or the characters.
It’s not until he’s brushing his teeth that Benny really wakes up. Everything else to this point has been comprised of blinking through near-blindness and drunken stumbling. But now, after splashing some water on his face and staring down at the trickle of water running into the sparkling silver sink, he gains a little more consciousness. He likes brushing his teeth, for some reason; the ordered back and forth movements, the bristles rough against the inside of his mouth as the toothpaste foams. And the tingling sense of cleanliness afterwards. Benny looks in the mirror and flashes his teeth at his reflection.
It’s another mirror, this time one that is longer than him so he can see everything as he dresses, can double-check to make sure he’s wearing matched socks as he arranges his tie, can make sure his shoes shine the right way as he smoothes out any wrinkles. And in the background of the Benny in front of him he can see Alison sitting in bed, sheets over the knees that are being hugged to her chest.
Benny can see her arms tighten around her legs before she speaks. “Do you think you’ll be working late tonight?”
Mirror-Benny’s eyes meet his own, and he stops, hands freezing over his tie. He has a brief vision of Mimi’s legs wrapped around him, in the air, as his back strains and glistens. Detached, the point of view of the ceiling. As if this had never really happened but was simply a scene in a movie that he never told Alison about because she hadn’t wanted to watch it.
His hands move again. “I don’t know,” he says.
*
Blah blah blah blah. Blah. Benny, blah blah blah.
Benny feels like a dog who cannot understand his master. Or one of the kids in the Peanuts cartoons, the teacher droning strangely and annoyingly. He has to stand there and nod, though, watching his father-in-law’s lips flap as he speaks earnestly, spit sometimes flying out of his mouth. Benny has to hold back a wince and look at one of the pie charts instead, or the paper with the zigzag on it like lightning striking down to the ground. Maybe the words are a blur, but Benny knows the man is angry.
He really couldn’t give a shit. Above every other noise in the room, a symphony is playing in Benny’s head, note for note. Something he heard on the radio when he was young. One of Roger’s old songs. The flickering of Mark’s film, images passing by that he has never seen. He knows Mark finished the film, because Mark knows how to finish things. But Benny has never seen it. He would like to. He’d like to see more of that Angel person, as much as he could.
Benny cracks a smile, and the man across from him bellows.
*
It is really stupid, Benny acknowledges this. It was stupid to decide to walk home and leave the car at work, and it is even stupider to go almost an hour out of his way so he can walk by the Life Café on his way home.
For all of the stupidity it exhibits, Benny ends up doing this a little more often than he likes to admit to himself. Sometimes Mark is there, sitting at a chair in the back and hunched over a notebook. Benny never goes in.
This is another one of those nights.
The light spills out onto the street in front of Benny - one more step and his shoes would be bathed in the yellow. But he just stands there, staring at the familiar outline until he starts to feel a little bit like a creepy stalker. Then he turns away and starts walking again.
By the time he gets home it’s not just evening dark but the black dark of coming home late. Benny hesitates before entering the yellow light of his home, peering out into the street. He remembers the first time he met Mimi.
He had been walking past the loft, not long after getting married, when he first started wondering just what it was he had gotten himself into. And he’d glanced down the alley to the side of the building and there had been this delicate-looking girl dancing, all by herself in the middle of the street. Twirling with her arms in the air as if there were no way in the world someone could ever see and laugh. In fact, she had turned around, catching Benny’s eye and stopping, her arms frozen over her head and eyes widening just a little, and then she had burst into laughter.
Benny didn’t love Mimi, exactly. But he loved what she was.
*
It’s late enough when Benny gets home that Alison is already done eating dinner, is lying on the couch reading and tells him she’ll be going to bed soon. She doesn’t ask where he’s been.
After eating the meal kept warm in the oven, Benny heads upstairs, legs and eyes feeling heavy. It didn’t seem like it was that late, but somehow exhaustion has hit anyway. When he enters the bedroom, his wife is already under the covers on her side of the bed, facing the wall.
Benny climbs in, not expecting Alison to turn around and face him. He’s not even sure if that’s what he wants, anymore. But he lies so he can see her, on his back but with his head turned. His left arm is lying flat next to her back, close enough to feel warmth coming from her. He can remember when they first met, when he really loved her. Sure, he knew the money would be good, would make life incredible, but then he didn’t know that he would get a share in it any time soon. He hadn’t met her father yet and she never mentioned if he knew about Benny - so it was all exciting. They were in love, they were forbidden, they were Montague and Capulet.
With the hand not trapped between their bodies, Benny reaches across himself to Alison. When they announced their engagement, her father had looked pissed but offered Benny a job. Both Benny and Alison had been shocked by this level of acceptance. And then Alison’s parents helped them buy this house, and as they settled into the routine of married life all the rules and impressions needing to be made became more apparent. And even scarier was Alison’s obvious need to cater to them.
Benny caresses Alison’s shoulder and upper arm, letting his fingertips brush over her skin. There’s no reaction. She could be asleep.
It’s a yawn, not a sigh. Benny closes his eyes.