𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐓

“Naw, never really saw many stars until I joined up. San Antonio is too light polluted, and I never got out much.”

It’s much darker than Benny anticipated, both faces framed only by moonlight. He convinces himself that this is just a normal thing that happens, that the progress of events leading up this were natural, and that he indeed does not have to freak out. Joey would flip his shit if he ever recounted the night to the man, actually, he’d probably call him an idiot. And he was. Majorly.

It won't be entertaining for long.

"Wouldn't be the first time y'kept me up."

Graves settles, legs stretched out before him, with his head tilted up to look out into the clear night sky. There's not much of note going on out there: a smattering of stars, a few rolling clouds. It's not why he's here, anyway, but maybe if Benny doesn't feel eyes on him, he'll stop wringing the blanket to self-soothe.

"Y'ever seen Charlie Brown?" He shakes his head with a laugh. Benny probably doesn't even know what he's talking about. "Nevermind."

As for the perception were this ever to get out to the rest of the Shadows? It's a toss up between resentment for Benny for being chosen, or resentment for selling out. Graves doesn't worry about it for a second when he outstretches his arm for Benny to get closer.

He has a choice, he can deny, shake his head and ask to head back to base. Or he can take the arm. One thing becomes increasingly clear to Benny; he doesn’t even like Graves. Not as a person. Sure, he’s handsome and incredibly charming. None of that is why he scoots closer, hip to hip with the other man. It’s the warmth it brings, a body against his own. The desire to make the man next to him happy continues to outweigh any of those other hundreds of conflicting emotions.

Maybe if he’s happy the debt will be paid. Maybe if he’s happy he won’t have to spend his life wondering if this is what’s really good for him, if it’s all he deserves. When Benny looks up it’s like seeing him for the first time again, all smiles, a hand clapped to his back in welcome. He had told him that he’d fix him right up, give him a family and a sense of belonging. Technically, that had been true. He used the Shadow Company as a place to run from what had been really eating at him, and it worked for a long time, but shit is still shit no matter how you dress it.

Benny settles himself into the passenger seat, seemingly settled from just moments ago when he was grasping at straws in attempt to gain back some of his dignity. It starts to slowly chip away as Graves makes turn after turn down dark roads that he’s never bothered to learn the names of, most places he doesn’t recognize. It certainly wasn’t the way back to base.

“Where’re you taking us?”

Benny doesn’t expect an answer. ‘they’ll get there when they get there.’ And there’s no use in pressing, lest he wants to irritate the man across from him. When they finally come to a stop down a small clearing he sits up, peeking out of the window. There’s nothing around but them and the trees c and maybe an occasional squirrel. There goes his head tilting to one side, if he had ears they’d flop.

"I don't know shit about stars."

One of the only truths Graves has told in the past 24 hours. Graves has found himself closer to it in this short amount of time with Benny, good or bad. The idea of it is dangerous. Some part of Graves likes the idea of playing with fire, but his need for control squashes it so far down.

"D'you?"

Once his boots settle in the grass, he grabs a blanket stored behind the driver's seat - for situations exactly like this one. The door clicks shut, and Graves allows the cool air to settle some itch beneath his skin.

“Naw, never really saw many stars until I joined up. San Antonio is too light polluted, and I never got out much.”

It’s much darker than Benny anticipated, both faces framed only by moonlight. He convinces himself that this is just a normal thing that happens, that the progress of events leading up this were natural, and that he indeed does not have to freak out. Joey would flip his shit if he ever recounted the night to the man, actually, he’d probably call him an idiot. And he was. Majorly.

“Why d’you think I’m up every mornin’ at 4am? All my time and energy goes into these dogs cause I’d go crazy otherwise. Think I still am..”

As embarrassing as it was to admit his crush like some school boy, it’s arguably more embarrassing to stare across the table at Graves with something akin to heat. For all his upsets, all his doubts, he finds it increasingly difficult to convince himself that he wants nothing to do with him. His body betrays his mind, yearns for that touch like he needs it to breathe, and for the direction that tells him what to do and when to do it. He thinks his life would completely fall apart if not for it.

“Speaking of, we should head back to base. It’s getting pretty late.”

But if Benny wants to go, Graves will relent. If only for the moment. Their leftovers are boxed up and their check gets paid (courtesy of the company credit card, it's a business meal after all), and Graves starts the walk back to his truck past Mack and the stoned teenagers.

"Past your bedtime? You'd think it'd be me sayin' that."

Too bad the commander has no intentions of taking them back just yet.

"Tell ya what. I'll let ya have a late start tomorrow."

Benny settles himself into the passenger seat, seemingly settled from just moments ago when he was grasping at straws in attempt to gain back some of his dignity. It starts to slowly chip away as Graves makes turn after turn down dark roads that he’s never bothered to learn the names of, most places he doesn’t recognize. It certainly wasn’t the way back to base.

“Where’re you taking us?”

Benny doesn’t expect an answer. ‘they’ll get there when they get there.’ And there’s no use in pressing, lest he wants to irritate the man across from him. When they finally come to a stop down a small clearing he sits up, peeking out of the window. There’s nothing around but them and the trees c and maybe an occasional squirrel. There goes his head tilting to one side, if he had ears they’d flop.

“.. y’r just tryin’ to rile me up is all.”

Benny’s finally able to breathe once Graves pulls away, leaning back in the booth with a more controlled rise and fall of his chest. It isn’t all air up there, he knows the game the blonde plays. He’s seen him play it multiple times, maybe not with the same intentions— then again, he couldn’t sure of his exact intentions now. Take him home? Tease him until he’s begging then drop him back on base? He couldn’t tell which one would be more humiliating, and for some reason, he didn’t absolutely hate that feeling.

Friend.

His boot knocks against Graves’s; once then twice.

Truthfully, the answer is no. This is Graves' soldier. He'd be damned if he let someone else put a leash on him. But on the other side of the coin, this little game would end the second he gives Benny what he wants.

"Eat y'r food."

Graves hooks his boot around Benny's ankle to pull his leg to his own side of the booth. A distraction while he decides how he wants to play his hand.

“Why d’you think I’m up every mornin’ at 4am? All my time and energy goes into these dogs cause I’d go crazy otherwise. Think I still am..”

As embarrassing as it was to admit his crush like some school boy, it’s arguably more embarrassing to stare across the table at Graves with something akin to heat. For all his upsets, all his doubts, he finds it increasingly difficult to convince himself that he wants nothing to do with him. His body betrays his mind, yearns for that touch like he needs it to breathe, and for the direction that tells him what to do and when to do it. He thinks his life would completely fall apart if not for it.

“Speaking of, we should head back to base. It’s getting pretty late.”

The thread he’s following snips off right as he’s about to unravel the end, brain shutting down as his chin is gripped up. The forced eye contact brings his lip forward into a pout, shoulders rounding out to hide his ears and the way they burn a hot pink. He just can’t seem to manage keeping himself from doing so around the man, that innate desire to roll over and show his belly clawing at his throat any chance it was placed in front of Graves.

“I ain’t—“

It comes out grunted through the pout. A hand reaches up to grip Graves’s wrist, gently, pulled back with just enough clearance to slip his head down until that same hand is on his cheek. He nuzzles it, in his devotion, like a prayer to the other man.

“.. just wish you weren’t so concerned about my love life. Gives a man the wrong impression..”

"Aw, Benny boy. Y'r all worked up."

Condescension drips from his mouth right into the hand caressing Benny's face with a pinch to his flushed cheek. Notably, Graves doesn't drop his hand. He shifts it, instead, to thread through curls before returning to his coffee cup.

Graves doesn't dare take another bite now that he's enthralled with his game, lest he almost show his true self again.

"What's a friend tryin' t'help ya out? Bet y'r not thinkin' about anythin' else right about now. So, it's workin'."

Some small voice in his brain notes that the warmth of a coffee mug in his hand doesn't compare. Graves shoves it down with a long sip.

“.. y’r just tryin’ to rile me up is all.”

Benny’s finally able to breathe once Graves pulls away, leaning back in the booth with a more controlled rise and fall of his chest. It isn’t all air up there, he knows the game the blonde plays. He’s seen him play it multiple times, maybe not with the same intentions— then again, he couldn’t sure of his exact intentions now. Take him home? Tease him until he’s begging then drop him back on base? He couldn’t tell which one would be more humiliating, and for some reason, he didn’t absolutely hate that feeling.

Friend.

His boot knocks against Graves’s; once then twice.

[[closed rp with @soapandsuds ]]

the knocks caught him off guard, cloth slipping from his fingers to land on his little desk. johnny presses his lips together in a thin line and sits up straight, taking his time to put the pistol back together before pushing himself out of the desk chair and walking towards his door. he hesitates, briefly, fingers wrapped around the handle; opening it after a few breaths.

It tumbles out in response before he can stop it, immediately wincing in regret. There’s that line, the one he stands at waiting to see what is and isn’t okay anymore. There’s hopelessness in his gaze remains, grappling with both his feelings for the man in front of him and the situation itself. Beside him, the dog shifts forward, sniffing at the air in Soap’s direction. It snaps Benny out of his staring, running a hand nervously through his curls.

“This is Rover. I trained him up for you cause I know you’ve been havin’ a time. You don’t have to take him, I know dogs are a lot of work, but he’s trained to detect migraines and oncoming episodes.”

Benny takes a glance around the room behind Soap, nervous teeth chewing at the bottom of his lip. Out of everything he’s ever fucked up, this is the last thing he wants to ruin. Guilt sticks to his insides like sludge, the heavy weight in his stomach causing that thin lipped expression, like a dog attempting not to vomit.

‘general shepherd sends his regards.’

he shakes his head, pulling himself from his own thoughts. johnny barely regards the canine next to benny, only letting out a small grunt of acknowledgement that it even exists before he takes yet another step to the side.

Benny takes his time entering, making sure to mind where he steps. The bed doesn’t seem appropriate, and he’d rather not stand there awkwardly the entire time. He finds a place on Johnny’s desk, sitting carefully while Rover takes his place at the other’s feet.

“.. there ain’t no use in me sayin’ sorry anymore. All I can tell you is I ain’t know anything until it was happenin’, but that ain’t an excuse..”

The only time he’s ever felt this sort of guilt before was years ago, back when he had lost Fox and his best friend within the span of a week. He can’t help but stare, taking in the details of his face.

“I know that there’s nothin’ I can do to make any of this better. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to be in your life. Even if it ain’t in the way I had hoped.”

“ya have t’get used to no being in peoples lives if they don’ wan’ ya in them, ben. is no a choice ya can change. it's theirs.”

two, for now. he shakes the small tablets in his fist, only taking a moment to ready himself for the bitter taste once they hit his tongue. they're thrown into the back of his throat, and he dry swallows them, only letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding once they're clear of his throat. he turns his attention to the man that now sits on his desk while the hand that held his pills lifts and presses against the scar at the center of his forehead, eyes flicking down and an eyebrow raising as if to say why the hell are you sitting there?

“I know..”

It’s a struggle to get out, voice clipped. When he stands there’s a bit of a stumble, regaining his footing to shuffle away, standing in the corner like some shitty house lamp. There plenty to say there at the tip of his tongue. He wants to apologize again in hopes that it would land this time, tell him that he’s spent his entire life fighting to be in the life of those who want nothing to do with him, and how it’s never really quite worked out how he planned it. But none of it would have any worth voicing out loud.

“I’m not a field operative, not anymore. I know you’re aware of that, but that night, I wasn’t out there on the field. I was at an evac point for the dogs. Wasn’t even told why they were needed, just that they were. You think— you think if I knew that any of you were being hunted I would have agreed with it?”

Benny shifts uncomfortably, chin tucked to his chest.

@sgt-riot

[[closed rp with @soapandsuds ]]

the knocks caught him off guard, cloth slipping from his fingers to land on his little desk. johnny presses his lips together in a thin line and sits up straight, taking his time to put the pistol back together before pushing himself out of the desk chair and walking towards his door. he hesitates, briefly, fingers wrapped around the handle; opening it after a few breaths.

It tumbles out in response before he can stop it, immediately wincing in regret. There’s that line, the one he stands at waiting to see what is and isn’t okay anymore. There’s hopelessness in his gaze remains, grappling with both his feelings for the man in front of him and the situation itself. Beside him, the dog shifts forward, sniffing at the air in Soap’s direction. It snaps Benny out of his staring, running a hand nervously through his curls.

“This is Rover. I trained him up for you cause I know you’ve been havin’ a time. You don’t have to take him, I know dogs are a lot of work, but he’s trained to detect migraines and oncoming episodes.”

Benny takes a glance around the room behind Soap, nervous teeth chewing at the bottom of his lip. Out of everything he’s ever fucked up, this is the last thing he wants to ruin. Guilt sticks to his insides like sludge, the heavy weight in his stomach causing that thin lipped expression, like a dog attempting not to vomit.

‘general shepherd sends his regards.’

he shakes his head, pulling himself from his own thoughts. johnny barely regards the canine next to benny, only letting out a small grunt of acknowledgement that it even exists before he takes yet another step to the side.

Benny takes his time entering, making sure to mind where he steps. The bed doesn’t seem appropriate, and he’d rather not stand there awkwardly the entire time. He finds a place on Johnny’s desk, sitting carefully while Rover takes his place at the other’s feet.

“.. there ain’t no use in me sayin’ sorry anymore. All I can tell you is I ain’t know anything until it was happenin’, but that ain’t an excuse..”

The only time he’s ever felt this sort of guilt before was years ago, back when he had lost Fox and his best friend within the span of a week. He can’t help but stare, taking in the details of his face.

“I know that there’s nothin’ I can do to make any of this better. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to be in your life. Even if it ain’t in the way I had hoped.”

[[closed rp with @soapandsuds ]]

the knocks caught him off guard, cloth slipping from his fingers to land on his little desk. johnny presses his lips together in a thin line and sits up straight, taking his time to put the pistol back together before pushing himself out of the desk chair and walking towards his door. he hesitates, briefly, fingers wrapped around the handle; opening it after a few breaths.

It tumbles out in response before he can stop it, immediately wincing in regret. There’s that line, the one he stands at waiting to see what is and isn’t okay anymore. There’s hopelessness in his gaze remains, grappling with both his feelings for the man in front of him and the situation itself. Beside him, the dog shifts forward, sniffing at the air in Soap’s direction. It snaps Benny out of his staring, running a hand nervously through his curls.

“This is Rover. I trained him up for you cause I know you’ve been havin’ a time. You don’t have to take him, I know dogs are a lot of work, but he’s trained to detect migraines and oncoming episodes.”

Benny takes a glance around the room behind Soap, nervous teeth chewing at the bottom of his lip. Out of everything he’s ever fucked up, this is the last thing he wants to ruin. Guilt sticks to his insides like sludge, the heavy weight in his stomach causing that thin lipped expression, like a dog attempting not to vomit.