(Untitled)

[theguthries]

Characters: Sam & Wee!Ben
Date & Time: long ago and far away
Setting: Las Vegas, Nevada
Summary: You see, there are birds, and then there are bees...
Rating: PG-13 for content
Status: Closed

If you had asked Sam Guthrie five years ago what he would be doing with his life at this point, he'd reply honestly and admit that he'd likely be working in the coal

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[staticsnap]

The thing that no one told you about the dessert was that it was cold. Not just button-up-your-parka cold but real, honest temperature drops that could turn nasty if one got lost overnight and was forced to stay out in the vast, unbroken plains that existed beyond the edges of the city. Ben had spent a night out there once, camping with Jay and Sam. The entire concept had seemed a bit strange to the born-and-partly-bred city slicker: why on earth would anyone sleep outside? Especially willingly? When it required thermal sleeping bags? That was insane, even if the stars had burned like a thousand torches, spectacular and bright.

He'd adjusted to this strange new life but that didn't mean that the young boy had adapted to the startling chill that crept into the rooms during the lurching, early hours of the morning. They froze even his nightmares and it was easier just to stay up until the first tendrils of dawn trespassed through the curtains and then fall hard into sleep. Usually he could pass out until mid-morning, although if he slept too close to noon Sam or Jay usually prodded at him to check if he were ill.

But not today. Today, Ben was too cold and too impatient to deal with the tedious routine. He'd had to listen to certain nocturnal activities that were definitely not conducive to a sound sleep and he was nursing a dark mood, aimed mostly toward Sam.

Sam who, conveniently enough, was slouched in the kitchen when Ben entered. His feet scuffed across the lino, the pebbled bottoms of his slippers providing much needed traction. Ben narrowed his eyes at the back of the man's head but survival came first and Sam, damn him, was always warm. He'd be the first to strip off his jacket, even when the air was too chilly for the rest of them. Snuffling a bit as he shook off the cobwebs of sleep, Ben unceremoniously barreled into the man's side and wormed his way underneath one of his arms.

"You smell," Ben said by way of greeting. He blinked owlishly, hair standing on end in all directions. "What happened to your sock?"

[theguthries]

It was a good thing that Sam was a guard, and not a spy; because the fact that he didn't hear, or care that another person was attacking, and then attaching themselves to his side would have meant death. The coffee was almost done however, and Sam had his priorities. Even with Ben attached to his side, Sam continued to slowly move about the kitchen in a semi-robotic fashion. Slowly he poured a cup for himself, a diluted cup for Ben (he was 11, the boy didn't need the black mess that Sam drank) and started the oven, letting it heat up for whatever he decided to throw in it later.

"I haven't showered yet." Came his first reply, several minutes after the first attack and questions. Adding after a moment and checking his own feet to be certain that it was his socks they were referring to.

"Happens at night.

It wasn't much of a defense, but it would do. Especially at this time of morning.

[staticsnap]

Ben was getting good at this. Since Sam was more or less a zombie until his third cup of coffee, there was no reasoning with him. If Ben wanted to grab anything from the kitchen, it was either abandon the warmth provided by the other man's body heat or use his cunning reflexes to snatch what he needed as they passed. It was a bit like lining up a bow to a target. Ben's aim? Was pristine.

The boy deftly grabbed the sugar bowl as Sam took down two mugs, then snagged a spoon from the cutlery drawer as they passed, not relinquishing his grip on the rumpled, grimy t-shirt that Sam was sporting. Once they came to a stop, Ben squinted down at the elder Guthrie's mismatched feet. "Huh," Ben huffed. He'd never heard of socks going on night maneuvers but it explained a lot. They always seemed to come back from the laundromat with uneven numbers.

While Sam sipped sluggishly at his coffee, Ben began the process of spooning the rough equivalent of an entire field of sugar cane into his own mug.

"Peggy said to say goodbye," Ben suddenly informed Sam. He made a face of barely-restrained contempt and rolled his eyes. "Well, actually she blew a stupid goddamn kiss but m'not relaying that message. What the heck do you and alla these hussies talk about, Sam? Because she didn't even know what a Lincoln was so she clearly isn't one of those college girls."

[theguthries]

Peggy. That was her name. While it may not have been spelled directly with an 'ie', the sound was there. He was close enough at the end of the day with that.

There needed to be a sugar invented that didn't have the same properties as actual sugar, because if that exist Sam would have bought up so much stock, the bosses would be impressed. As each spoonful of the white crystal was added to Ben's mug, Sam could see more, and more wired-ness enter the boy. Before long he'd be bouncing, possibly literally.

"Talk?" Sam finally asked, having found his seat at the kitchen table to claim. If he'd been more awake, perhaps he would have caught himself. At least, he'd hope later on that he would have.

[staticsnap]

God, mornings were really, really, really not Sam's forte. Ben huffed impatiently and then frowned, tiny pink tongue poking out between his lips as he concentrated on ferrying his coffee in both hands to the table. The added sugar (sixteen scoops) had pushed the volume right to the rim but somehow he managed not to spill a drop.

"Can I get a chinchilla?" Ben asked as he clambered into his chair and sat there, lifting up on his knees to bend over his mug and slurp at his coffee. It wasn't sweet enough. Alas, the distance between the table and the counter, where the squat sugar bowl still sat, was too far to journey across alone. He'd surely freeze. So instead, Ben manned up and dealt with the inferior cup o' joe. "You're doing something with 'em, Sam. Make enough noise that they prob'ly hear you in fuckin' Detroit. They're crepuscular rodents."

[theguthries]

This was too much to ask for. Not even Shaw was cruel enough to call his employees in before ten, never mind the sort of quizzing that Ben took to. He was not positive, but it appeared that Ben was trying to have two conversations at once- a daunting task, even on eight hours of sleep.

He took his time then, staring down at the blackness within his mug, trying his hardest to decipher the two apart, to make sense of them each in turn. In the end, he called it a flop, and merged them back into one train of thought, as god intended.

"No. I wasn't talking to Peggy about a chinchilla. ...are we really that loud?"

At least he knew he was doing something right at least.

[staticsnap]

The thwack of a small hand hitting a small forehead echoed in the kitchen. Ben peered at Sam through his fingers and shook his head, ever the long-suffering ward. It was a good thing that patience was a quality which he sort of almost possessed, since this was clearly going to take a while.

Ben made sure to speak slowly and address one thing at a time. "I, Ben-sometimes-Jack, am gonna get a chinchilla. Because chinchillas are the anti-cat. Chinchillas are fun. Chinchillas are good. Christmas, Sam. That's a hint. I promise to take care of it."

With that particular ball put into play, Ben moved on to the root of his sleeping problems. Guileless blue eyes captured Sam, almost accusing but tempered by a fondness that wouldn't allow for his total crucifixion. Not yet, at least.

"Oh, Sam. Sam. Sam, oh, oh, yes, oh!" Ben pitched his voice high and breathy, flailing a bit in his seat. "Oh-ohhh my G-god, oh God, yes!"

Lofting his brows, Ben took a neat sip of coffee.

[theguthries]

If nothing in the world would wake up Sam, a ten-ish year old boy mimicking one of his conquest in climax would. He literally (sad as it is) spat out his coffee across the laminate table.

As appropriate timing like this requires, a little 'ding' went off from the oven, pre-heating no longer required. Shooting up like a bullet, Sam made his way over to the stove, desperate to find something to throw in there and distract himself.

Sorry Ben, but the thoughts of an anti-cat Chincilla have all been thrown out the window.

"You hear that?"

[staticsnap]

"Told you it was loud," Ben replied easily, perched in his chair with a smug bastard smile as he watched Sam skitter about he kitchen. It was far more entertaining than any Saturday morning cartoon would ever be. Sympathy wouldn't let him sit still for long, though, and so when he'd decided Sam had floundered enough, Ben scooted off his chair with a sigh to lend a hand.

Taking advantage of the man's flustered demeanor, the boy rummaged in the freezer and pulled out a frozen poundcake. He divested it of it's packaging and offered it helpfully to Sam to put in the oven. "Don't worry, you didn't sound like half as much an idiot. You just kind of...growled a lot. Is that 'cause she was giving you fell-a-tio? It's gotta go in for twenty minutes, Sam. Can we have eggs, too?"

[theguthries]

It was too, too early for this shit. Far too early and already, Sam had a decent idea where this conversation was going, and never before did he miss his father so much. Mind, his mother was the one who gave him a 'talk', but no way in hell did he want Lucinda Guthrie to know what all he'd been doing; fellatio or otherwise.

He tried to keep his cool, 'try' being the optimal word, turning slowly from the fridge to regard the kid. He knew that it was not a word he had taught them, nor something that would have come from their lessons. He should have figured however, that living in Sin City would give the younger two a learning experience he had never had the chance at.

"Ben... where did you learn that word? Was it in a book?"

[staticsnap]

That was weird. Talking about sex had somehoe paralyzed Sam, which was ironic considering he`d definitely been mobile last night. It was good information to have though, for the future. A card to keep in his back pocket and pull out as a distraction. Ben liked having a varied arsenal at his disposal and considering the (usually innocent, often well-intended) mischief that he and Jay got up to, he needed every negotiating weapon that he could get his grubby hands on.

"Yup. It`s sort of a weird word, but I guess everything sounds dumb when you say it all sciencey. Blowjob`s pretty awful, too, and inaccurate," Ben chirped. Sam didn`t seem to be taking the hint with the cake, too caught up in their conversation, so Ben nudged him out of the way and fished out a baking pan, plopping the yellow pastry on and shoving the whole thing into the oven. "That I learned from Valerie-Ann."

There were remarkable educational benefits to having an older brother associated with the Hellfire Club, one of them being friendships with some very interesting, entrepreneureal women.

[theguthries]

"Do you even know what that means?"

Sam was desperate, trying to remember back when he was Ben's age, what he knew of sex. He had an idea, considering he grew up on a farm, having to learn again, and again, and again that his mother was pregnant. But the schematics? The details?

He made a mental note to talk to Valerie-Ann, to remind her that while both Jay and Ben had witnessed rather horrid things, they were still kids. And kids that Sam was trying to raise in as normal of a childhood as he was possible. Giving them lessons in the fairer sex, was not included in that list.

[staticsnap]

Sam was an excellent teacher. He had a natural patience about him that seemed to be almost sentient, reaching out to envelop those he cared about in a warm, assuring hold. He was the sole reason that Ben was now reading near-about at his grade level and actually almost sometimes nearly enjoying it. He'd loved Treasure Island, had even read it a second time on his own just because.

One thing that the boy had learned from his Kentucky-born guardian was that actions spoke louder than words.

Ben smiled sweetly and stuck his finger in his mouth, crooking the tip and drawing it along his cheek so that it pulled out with a lewd, hollow pop.

"Yup," Ben said. And alright, maybe he was being a little crass but Sam deserved it for keeping him awake, goddamnit. "And it's disgusting."

[theguthries]

"When did Valerie-Ann talk to you about this?" Sam's voice cracked for the first time in the last ten years, crackling around the word 'talk'. He had to nip this in the bud, even when the weeds were already well planted. God forbid, forbid that Jay had already learned this, and worse- had informed their mother all that she had learned on her travels. Not that it would be enough for her to be brought home; but the ear-ripping that Sam would receive...

He finally, somehow, found his way back to the kitchen table, nursing the half-mug of coffee as if it was the only container of his salvation. Please stay asleep Jay, please. "What all do you know about... sex." the last word was supposed to be a question, but somehow it didn't exactly come out that way.

[staticsnap]

Ben ignored the first question. There was no reason that Sam needed to know his conference times with the ladies, because then there was a risk of him interceding and putting an end to what had become one of the highlights of the boy's week. Instead he snagged the sugar bowl and a banana from the bunch on the counter and returned to the table.

He offered a wicked little smirk and hitched a shoulder up in a shrug. "Easier to ask what the fuck don't I know about sex," Ben said, heaping a spoonful of sugar granules into his mug. He was enjoying this. Waving his spoon about in the air, he added, "I know the whats and hows but what I don't get," Ben stabbed the bowl of the utensil in Sam's direction, "is why."

[theguthries]

Ben's answer was rather bittersweet. Why seemed to be so much a better of a question than how, because he knew that if he was to explain that answer, he'd have to do such to his sister as well... a talk he was not looking forward to.

"Why people have sex?" He finally asked, hoping praying for clarification. Did he want the biological? The metaphysical? The emotional? Ben was a eleven year old boy, shit knows what he was seeking.