Two, four, six, eight.
Just barely making it in underneath the wire for on__impulse's 8th challenge (word list: bright, magic, violence, cold, silence).
Summary: Ben isn't the first person to be intrigued by Brian and Justin's 'relationship'. Set during early/mid-season two. Rated PG-13.
New Flame, Old Trick
*
Michael expects it pretty much as soon as he brings Ben to Babylon to meet his friends. There's the obligatory introductions, followed by the obligatory dancing and consumption of alcohol. And of course, in between it, everyone silently feels one another out (and not, for once, literally), which the alcoholic beverages assist with a great deal, actually.
Michael can't help but notice the way Ben's gaze is continuously drawn to Brian and Justin, either. He's long become accustomed to his best friend drawing stares, but Brian and Justin, the couple, is still a bit of a mystery to him. He suspects it's still a bit of a mystery to Brian, too, this small, blond kid who just kind of showed up one night and never went away.
He watches Ben watch them; even across the crowded Saturday night dance floor at Babylon, there's a kind of magic, an infectious energy between them. It's so palpable that Michael's heart beats a little faster just to think of it.
"So there they are," he tells Ben later as they walk briskly down Liberty Avenue towards the apartment he's just recently reclaimed co-ownership of with Emmett. The night is crisp and cold, illuminated by a series of brightly lit streetlamps, like the one Brian found Justin under that fateful night. It seems fitting that Michael would be thinking of that now, somehow.
"I like your friends, Michael," Ben replies. His smile is simple, and Michael appreciates the non-complexity, the genuity of it. And yet, he still can't quite get himself to take someone on their word, alone. Rather, he recognizes his inherent naivete and is looking to overcompensate for it. And also, he admits to himself begrudgingly, he's genuinely curious to know what his new flame thinks of his oldest friend (purely in a longest-time-known and completely honorable meaning of the word, of course).
"Really? You're not just saying that?" he asks hopefully. "Because they're a great bunch, but more than a little exclusive," Michael continues, rambling before he realizes that Ben isn't asking him to make excuses for the people he loves. "Especially Brian," he prattles on. "I mean, David -- my, uh, my last boyfriend -- he and Brian couldn't stand each other."
Ben congenially, well, smile-grimaced. "I didn't feel any searing looks of hatred from his general direction," he said, grinning more easily now. "But tell you what, I'll play it by ear."
Michael tosses their coats over the back of one of his dining room chairs once they shrug them off inside of the apartment. It's then that Ben finally pops the question, so to speak. "So Brian and Justin are ... 'together'?" he insinuates, making air quotations with his hands.
"Yeah, you could say that, I guess," Michael snorts. He must sound sort of disgruntled, because Ben furrows his brow in slight confusion. "I mean, yeah, they're 'together'," he amends, mimicking the hand motion with his own fingers. "But not like boyfriends. And not really like friends, either. It's ... it's complicated." It is, he thinks, and it's getting moreso everyday. If someone had asked him a year ago who Justin was, he would have been able to denounce him easily as just another trick. Even when Justin had moved in with Brian, moved back out (and into *his* old room, no less), and kept hanging around, Michael had held onto the notion - the delusion, really - that Justin was just a temporary fix, a toy that Brian liked just a little more than all of the others, and would eventually tire of Justin like he did everyone else.
Except he didn't. He never gave Justin a "get lost" memo that actually worked, and never seemed all that fazed that the kid stuck around. Michael used to hate it; he hated Justin, both for what he represented and what he had weasled out of Brian - that is, his sexual, and quite possibly romantic inclinations, the one facet of his own relationship with Brian that had gone unfulfilled for more than fifteen years. Justin had barely been alive as long as Brian and Michael had been friends, and Michael had been trying to come to terms with it ever since.
Ben continues to look pleasantly curious, and Michael realizes that being lost in his own thoughts has given way to a small silence. "Sorry," he says, apologizing too much like he's prone to doing when he's nervous, like he is now. "I didn't mean to go all cryptic on you. I just ... Brian doesn't really, you know, do boyfriends."
"But he does Justin?" Ben follows the lead-in jokingly. Michael can't help but laugh at the double-entendre, both in genuine amusement and relief. Any anxiety he has seems to dissipate completely in the face of one of Ben's easy-going smiles. Michael kind of adores that about him.
"You could say that," he nods. "I mean, that's how it started - Brian picked him up and then dropped him off at school - fucking high school, 'cause he was only seventeen at the time - all freshly fucked the next day. And he just kept coming back, even though Brian told him to fuck off - I'm talking like, full-on stalking here," he griped. Ben simply looked amused.
"Anyway, he kept doing this and I don't really know why Brian put up with it. But for some reason, he did, and they got ... not close, but like, used to each other. Like somewhere along the line, Justin became more than this apparently really good fuck or something."
"Is that so hard to believe?" Ben chuckles. "I mean, everyone craves affection, Michael. It's human nature."
"Yeah, well, it's Brian's nature to crave orgasms," Michael replies dubiously. "Which he was getting from Justin and half of Liberty Avenue pretty much on a nightly basis anyways."
"So what do you think changed?" Ben asks seriously.
Michael thinks about this. "I think that Justin started showing Brian that he was special. Like, there was this King of Babylon contest, and he not only won, but he stole Brian's latest trick out from under him. And ... there was the Prom," Michael adds hesitantly, kind of realizing belatedly that he shouldn't have mentioned it at all. It's still too personal to use as casual conversation fodder.
"Whoa," Ben exclaims, eyebrows nearly up to his hairline. "Brian went to Justin's Prom? I'd say that's a pretty deep level of commitment, great fuck or not."
"He showed up at the end," Michael says. "After celebrating his thirtieth birthday by trying autoerotic asphyxiation for the first time."
"Nothing like living dangerously," Ben whistles.
"Yeah, and he almost didn't live to tell the tale. I was the one who found him at the last second, practically hanging from the ceiling." He sobers. "But anyway, then he went to Justin's Prom. And they danced and walked out to the parking garage together. And then this little fuckhead who'd been following Justin around and harassing him all year waited until Brian was in the car and bashed Justin in the head with a bat. Brian called me from the ambulance," Michael finishes. He didn't feel it was prudent to mention David's and his relationship as part of the story - even though he and Ben had already had the old flame discussion. And even though he'd always felt that, if Brian hadn't hated the thought of him moving to Portland so much, he might not have celebrated his turning thirty alone. Things may have been different - Brian may not have nearly choked himself to death. But at the same time, Chris Hobbs' not-so-random act of violence towards Justin may have had an even more grim consequence had Brian not been there. He figured it was pretty useless to dwell on it - best to live in the now, as Ben was prone to say. Michael liked that about him, too.
Remorse flickers across Ben's face at the end of Michael's recollection; instinctively, he reaches out a hand and places it on Michael's shoulder as a soothing gesture. Just as instinctively, Michael leans into it. "You know, that probably brought them ten times closer than they already were," he says softly. "Experiencing a traumatic event together can make the victims' healing process shared. Oftentimes, they rely on each other for support and can help one another along." His hand slides to the back of Michael's neck, and his fingers squeeze softly.
Michael smiles and takes up Ben's other hand in his own. "Did I ever tell you how much I love hearing you intellectualize things?" he murmurs as their mouths draw closer together, the heat between them making up for any that may have been lost in the chilly night air outside.
*
(Cross-posted to my personal journal. Feedback is orgasmic.)
Summary: Ben isn't the first person to be intrigued by Brian and Justin's 'relationship'. Set during early/mid-season two. Rated PG-13.
New Flame, Old Trick
*
Michael expects it pretty much as soon as he brings Ben to Babylon to meet his friends. There's the obligatory introductions, followed by the obligatory dancing and consumption of alcohol. And of course, in between it, everyone silently feels one another out (and not, for once, literally), which the alcoholic beverages assist with a great deal, actually.
Michael can't help but notice the way Ben's gaze is continuously drawn to Brian and Justin, either. He's long become accustomed to his best friend drawing stares, but Brian and Justin, the couple, is still a bit of a mystery to him. He suspects it's still a bit of a mystery to Brian, too, this small, blond kid who just kind of showed up one night and never went away.
He watches Ben watch them; even across the crowded Saturday night dance floor at Babylon, there's a kind of magic, an infectious energy between them. It's so palpable that Michael's heart beats a little faster just to think of it.
"So there they are," he tells Ben later as they walk briskly down Liberty Avenue towards the apartment he's just recently reclaimed co-ownership of with Emmett. The night is crisp and cold, illuminated by a series of brightly lit streetlamps, like the one Brian found Justin under that fateful night. It seems fitting that Michael would be thinking of that now, somehow.
"I like your friends, Michael," Ben replies. His smile is simple, and Michael appreciates the non-complexity, the genuity of it. And yet, he still can't quite get himself to take someone on their word, alone. Rather, he recognizes his inherent naivete and is looking to overcompensate for it. And also, he admits to himself begrudgingly, he's genuinely curious to know what his new flame thinks of his oldest friend (purely in a longest-time-known and completely honorable meaning of the word, of course).
"Really? You're not just saying that?" he asks hopefully. "Because they're a great bunch, but more than a little exclusive," Michael continues, rambling before he realizes that Ben isn't asking him to make excuses for the people he loves. "Especially Brian," he prattles on. "I mean, David -- my, uh, my last boyfriend -- he and Brian couldn't stand each other."
Ben congenially, well, smile-grimaced. "I didn't feel any searing looks of hatred from his general direction," he said, grinning more easily now. "But tell you what, I'll play it by ear."
Michael tosses their coats over the back of one of his dining room chairs once they shrug them off inside of the apartment. It's then that Ben finally pops the question, so to speak. "So Brian and Justin are ... 'together'?" he insinuates, making air quotations with his hands.
"Yeah, you could say that, I guess," Michael snorts. He must sound sort of disgruntled, because Ben furrows his brow in slight confusion. "I mean, yeah, they're 'together'," he amends, mimicking the hand motion with his own fingers. "But not like boyfriends. And not really like friends, either. It's ... it's complicated." It is, he thinks, and it's getting moreso everyday. If someone had asked him a year ago who Justin was, he would have been able to denounce him easily as just another trick. Even when Justin had moved in with Brian, moved back out (and into *his* old room, no less), and kept hanging around, Michael had held onto the notion - the delusion, really - that Justin was just a temporary fix, a toy that Brian liked just a little more than all of the others, and would eventually tire of Justin like he did everyone else.
Except he didn't. He never gave Justin a "get lost" memo that actually worked, and never seemed all that fazed that the kid stuck around. Michael used to hate it; he hated Justin, both for what he represented and what he had weasled out of Brian - that is, his sexual, and quite possibly romantic inclinations, the one facet of his own relationship with Brian that had gone unfulfilled for more than fifteen years. Justin had barely been alive as long as Brian and Michael had been friends, and Michael had been trying to come to terms with it ever since.
Ben continues to look pleasantly curious, and Michael realizes that being lost in his own thoughts has given way to a small silence. "Sorry," he says, apologizing too much like he's prone to doing when he's nervous, like he is now. "I didn't mean to go all cryptic on you. I just ... Brian doesn't really, you know, do boyfriends."
"But he does Justin?" Ben follows the lead-in jokingly. Michael can't help but laugh at the double-entendre, both in genuine amusement and relief. Any anxiety he has seems to dissipate completely in the face of one of Ben's easy-going smiles. Michael kind of adores that about him.
"You could say that," he nods. "I mean, that's how it started - Brian picked him up and then dropped him off at school - fucking high school, 'cause he was only seventeen at the time - all freshly fucked the next day. And he just kept coming back, even though Brian told him to fuck off - I'm talking like, full-on stalking here," he griped. Ben simply looked amused.
"Anyway, he kept doing this and I don't really know why Brian put up with it. But for some reason, he did, and they got ... not close, but like, used to each other. Like somewhere along the line, Justin became more than this apparently really good fuck or something."
"Is that so hard to believe?" Ben chuckles. "I mean, everyone craves affection, Michael. It's human nature."
"Yeah, well, it's Brian's nature to crave orgasms," Michael replies dubiously. "Which he was getting from Justin and half of Liberty Avenue pretty much on a nightly basis anyways."
"So what do you think changed?" Ben asks seriously.
Michael thinks about this. "I think that Justin started showing Brian that he was special. Like, there was this King of Babylon contest, and he not only won, but he stole Brian's latest trick out from under him. And ... there was the Prom," Michael adds hesitantly, kind of realizing belatedly that he shouldn't have mentioned it at all. It's still too personal to use as casual conversation fodder.
"Whoa," Ben exclaims, eyebrows nearly up to his hairline. "Brian went to Justin's Prom? I'd say that's a pretty deep level of commitment, great fuck or not."
"He showed up at the end," Michael says. "After celebrating his thirtieth birthday by trying autoerotic asphyxiation for the first time."
"Nothing like living dangerously," Ben whistles.
"Yeah, and he almost didn't live to tell the tale. I was the one who found him at the last second, practically hanging from the ceiling." He sobers. "But anyway, then he went to Justin's Prom. And they danced and walked out to the parking garage together. And then this little fuckhead who'd been following Justin around and harassing him all year waited until Brian was in the car and bashed Justin in the head with a bat. Brian called me from the ambulance," Michael finishes. He didn't feel it was prudent to mention David's and his relationship as part of the story - even though he and Ben had already had the old flame discussion. And even though he'd always felt that, if Brian hadn't hated the thought of him moving to Portland so much, he might not have celebrated his turning thirty alone. Things may have been different - Brian may not have nearly choked himself to death. But at the same time, Chris Hobbs' not-so-random act of violence towards Justin may have had an even more grim consequence had Brian not been there. He figured it was pretty useless to dwell on it - best to live in the now, as Ben was prone to say. Michael liked that about him, too.
Remorse flickers across Ben's face at the end of Michael's recollection; instinctively, he reaches out a hand and places it on Michael's shoulder as a soothing gesture. Just as instinctively, Michael leans into it. "You know, that probably brought them ten times closer than they already were," he says softly. "Experiencing a traumatic event together can make the victims' healing process shared. Oftentimes, they rely on each other for support and can help one another along." His hand slides to the back of Michael's neck, and his fingers squeeze softly.
Michael smiles and takes up Ben's other hand in his own. "Did I ever tell you how much I love hearing you intellectualize things?" he murmurs as their mouths draw closer together, the heat between them making up for any that may have been lost in the chilly night air outside.
*
(Cross-posted to my personal journal. Feedback is orgasmic.)