#fishben

“–hand,” Benny mutters, not even completely breaking away from the kiss. “Give me your hand.”

Something about this big guy and his low voice make Frankie cave, always. Especially when Benny sounds so sweet, needy, already sucking Frankie’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging on it. Like he can’t get enough. Maybe he really can’t get enough.

Frankie holds out his hand, the one he reluctantly pulled away from Benny’s hair, and a dazed smile spreads on his face when Benny rubs his cheek into his palm.

The smile turns into a bitten lip when Benny starts guiding their intertwined hands down, along his neck and the rumpled tshirt, slow, so damn slow over his stomach, flexing his muscles because he knows it makes Frankie twitch in his shorts, and then down the front his sweats. 

Rubbing. Pressing, making Frankie’s fingers wrap around the thick outline of his hard cock.

“You feel this? Feel how hard I am for you?”

Benny tightens his grip around himself and Frankie's hand, tentatively palming himself, groaning when he gets back on top of Frankie. Slotting so perfectly between the thighs of the older man and trapping his hand between their bodies, between their straining cocks.

“Say it, Morales,” Benny murmurs, his voice honeyed and scraping before he gently nips on Frankie’s earlobe.

“Dios, I feel it.”

He gasps, the air knocked out of his lungs when Benny cages him in between his arms and starts grinding against him, against his hand, against his own hard-on. Frankie can’t move his hand, all he can do is feel how Benny rolls his hips back and forth, pushing the whole length of his clothed cock over Frankie’s palm and further until he feels Frankie’s finger curl over his balls.

Benny grunts with his face hidden in the crook of the other man's neck, then pulls his hips back and slowly pushes forward again. The same pace Frankie likes to set to feel Benny writhe and plead. Faster, oh god, baby, please, just a lil’ faster. He never goes faster. Nice and slow ‘till the end.

Frankie knows that there will be no faster for him tonight. It’s just this. Torturously slow. High friction. Back. And forth. Back again. Until one of them starts cussing and begging. 

He gives in. Pinned down under Benny’s body he surrenders. Next time it will be his turn again. 

“Guapo,” Frankie moans softly, answering Benny’s movements with his own, canting to feel more. “So pretty for me.”

Benny chuckles, breathlessly, burrowing his flushing cheeks deeper into Frankie’s shoulder. Perhaps there’s a stutter in the ebb and flood, his back and forth. 

Back and forth.

“Mírame.” An order, a loving one. Frankie’s free hand tugs on Benny’s hair until their eyes meet. Blue framed with strawberry blonde, flecks of gold littered over his skin, all over his body; Frankie knows this, familiar with every freckle his love has.

“Pretty boy,” he says, tongue and lids heavy, weighted down by the heat and longing between them.

Benny’s hips stutter again, every praise making him lose his rhythm. Flustered that Frankie can still make him blush like he makes the girls blush.

“Stop it,” he mutters but soon is silenced by Frankie thumbing his bottom lip. Hips snap forward, eyes widen, Frankie’s thumb pushes between Benny’s lips.

The muffled moan resembles the one that fills their four walls whenever Benny is nestled between Frankie’s legs to make them both forget about their day. Lips puckered, tongue lapping, hollowed cheeks. The same praise.

“So good for me. Just like that, baby…”

Frankie sets the pace now, pushing his finger deeper into Benny’s hot mouth and pulling back out. Benny’s movements mirror Frankie's, the back and forth, faster now because he can’t tell his needs apart. His mouth is needy, his cock is, too. Both messy, both leaking.

Frankie knows the look on Benny’s face, he’s gone, chasing release, grinding himself against the heel of Frankie’s palm, moaning around his finger, drunk on the man beneath him.

“Gonna come for me?” Frankie purrs, just as close but not ready yet. “Gonna let me feel how desperate you are, hm?”

Benny whines, spit sticking to his beard when Frankie replaces his thumb with his index and middle finger instead. Nodding his head and ignoring the tingle in the back of his throat when he sucks the fingers deeper into his mouth.

“Already making a mess for me…” Frankie tuts, relishing in Benny’s rutting growing sloppy. It’s not even back and forth anymore, just desperately canting into Frankie’s hand, now that he found the exact spot that will send him over the edge.

“That's it. That's my pretty boy. Show me, I wanna see you.”

He hooks his thumb behind the waistband of Benny’s sweats and with the next movement they are getting tugged down enough for him to understand. Frankie’s fingers slip from his mouth when Benny sits back on his heels, pushing his sweats and boxers down just enough.

It doesn't take much for Benny. Just a few hasty and hard strokes and the sight of Frankie licking his lips and pulling his shirt up to bare his stomach, and he is spilling all over his fist and Frankie’s exposed skin. 

His whole body jerks when he pulls his hand away, a shaky laugh escaping him when he hears Frankie mutter a gorgeous.

“You always get me with those damn praises,” Benny huffs softly and unceremoniously pulls down the other man’s shorts. 

Frankie's cock springs free, leaking, sensitive from the grinding and humping, his balls, heavy and full, already tight and tucked high. With that boyish smirk of his, Benny slots between Frankie’s thighs again.

The flat of his tongue moves up, from Frankie’s balls over his cock and through the sticky happy trail, relishing the moans and the hand in his hair and the taste of his cum mixing with Frankie’s. Benny grins, like a cat that got cream, and licks up his own spent before he finally, fucking finally, wraps his lips around Frankie’s sensitive tip.

The fingers in his hair tighten when Benny starts bobbing his head and hollows his cheeks again. And before Frankie can start uttering out his praise, Benny reaches up and offers his still sticky fingers to him.

Two, then three fingers get sucked into Frankie’s mouth with a low moan. Hips snapping in the same rhythm as the fingers get pushed between his lips. A steady back and forth.

It has always been about Benny's hands and fingers. Plucking on Frankie’s heartstrings or the drawstrings of his shorts, curling around his cock, carding through his hair at night.

Or holding hands while he makes Frankie come in his mouth. Cupping the man’s jaw with licked clean fingers. Caressing his cheek when he pushes himself up so they can share a kiss and their flavors.

“That was nice,” Benny whispers, sucking the last bit of salty taste from Frankie’s lips.

“Yeah, it was.” Frankie smirks, wiping the corner of Benny’s mouth with his fingertip. “Should we start the movie over?”

every time someone likes queer content a homophob gets horny in public. help them out, support queer artists!

also: let me know how I did with my first ever attempt at FishBen, preferably with words, thanks! 🫶✌️

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Frankie can’t pin down when he knew, or even what he knew. There weren’t words for it, not in that place and time, remembers looking at other guys in locker rooms, in showers in the chow line, in boot camp and past, never thought much of it, never let himself think much of it, the breadth of shoulders, of corded necks. Told himself it was the same as admiring a marble statue, appreciating a piece of art, same as looking at a pretty girl walking down the street. Assumed that everyone else thought the same. There was one boy in high school, senior to his sophomore, on the varsity team while Frankie was a jV bench warmer. He hadn’t been trying to make an advance, not in the way he understood it, hey, I really like you, can we be friends? What are you, some kind of fucking faggot? And that desire had scabbed over like a wound, something to scar over and ignore.

“Jesus, Ben, you gotta start being more careful.” Dabs Benny’s split eyebrow with iodine. “C’mon, Fish, I kicked that dude’s ass. Ow! Shit!” Flinches away when Frankie superglues the wound closed, skin pinched between his gloved fingers, blows across the skin to help the glue cure faster. “What about the next dude? And the one after that?” Smoothes over the cut with steri strips just to be sure, tracing the curve of the younger man’s brow. “You’re gonna get hurt, Benny. Really hurt, not just cuts and scrapes, and I won’t—“ “M’okay, Cat.” Benny lightly grips Frankie’s wrists, pulls his worried, fretting hands away from his face, “Promise.Pinky swear.” Frankie laughs, and links his pinky finger with Ben’s, holds those warm blue eyes for maybe a beat too long.

After. After everything went sideways. After Redfly’s blood pooling on the split rocks, eyes fixed on nothing, heart took a few seconds to get the message, blood squeezed out in an idiot halo. After the lawyers brokered the deal, after the NDA signed, after they all took separate flights back home to avoid suspicion, tried to settle back into the rat-run of their daily lives, Pope off to Australia to meet up with his girl and good for him. And for Frankie? It’s back to child support payments that he only just meets, doing maintenance on the light aircraft and gliders that make this sad, oft patched runway their home. License suspended pending review, but Christ knows how long that will take. Keeps his head low, the weight of what happened scrapes him raw, had to attend Redfly’s funeral, Molly holding her daughter and eyeing them stone faced because she knew their cover story was bullshit, Will rested a hand on her arm to offer comfort and she’d drawn back as if burned. The three of them clustered out back of the funeral home, taking nips of whiskey from Will’s flask, melted away into the noise of their own lives. Pope still gone and no one sure if he was ever coming back.

Fish still helps Benny get ready for his fights, wraps his hands, queues the pre-fight playlist that hypes him up in the grotty locker room of whatever high school or fire hall is hosting off hours for a quick cash infusion, AC/DC blasting out through a tinny wi-fi speaker.

“I fucking love these guys,” Benny tells him, “Like, they’re a rock band and all of their songs are about fuckin rock-n-roll and partying and shit. Like KISS, they do the same shit—“

“Mama used to tell me KISS was the Devil’s music, it stands for knights in satan’s service-“ Benny laughs, bright blue eyes turned up in crescents and Frankie’s heart squeezes, it’s been so long since he’s seen Ben laugh, really laugh—

“Are you serious? KISS is so tame—“

“Not to her they weren’t. Francisco Patricio Joseph Morales," his voice pitches up in an imitation of his Mama, “You turn that off right now!” Benny grins bright and laughs, but even so, Frankie can see the shadow in his eyes, the darkness that lurks behind, the darkness that drives him in the ring. Always fought fair before, but now?

“You get fouled one more time and they’re not going to let you fight—“ “Who gives a fuck—“ “I give a fuck! It’s like you’re trying to get fouled, like you’re tryin to get hurt! You’re reckless, Ben! It’s like you’re tryin to die—“ Benny shoves him, hands planted against his chest, hard enough to rock him back against the lockers, blunt bits of combination locked latches digging into his back, “He blames me, okay? I lit that fucking fire, with my fucking fuck you money and look where that got us—“ “That wasn’t your fault-“ “I got Tom killed—“ “That fuckin kid was tracking us the second we left that village.“ “Yeah? Well tell Will that-“ “Fuck Will! We all played our part! If its anyone’s fault it’s all our faults!” Frankie reaches for Benny, cradles his bruised and bloody face and holds those blue eyes to his, “You. Me. Will, Pope and Tom! We went there together! We were all in—“ “It hurts, Fish,” Benny’s voice small and choked, tears overspilling his lashes, sluicing clean through fresh oozing blood, and Frankie feels his own eyes scrimned over, and there’s nothing he could ever say to make it better. Frankie moves before he can think better of it, pulls Ben into the circle of his arms and kisses him, chaste press of lips, feels Benny’s in-drawn breath, closes his eyes and drops his hands, rests his forehead against Benny’s, braced for the rebuke, for the accusation, for the shove and the get the fuck off me faggot.

Benny grips his hair, and kisses him hard, all teeth and tongue and peeling him open, and all Frankie can do is wind his arms around Ben’s middle, let himself be pushed against the lockers again, open his mouth and kiss back, pressed so close together he can almost feel the younger man’s heart through his shirt, and when they break apart Benny buries his face in Franki'es neck. Frankie cups the back of Benny’s head and draws him in closer, as if his hand was made to press him close and keep him safe.

They keep it quiet. An eye roll, a shared glance, a quick dropping of intertwined hands when Will or Pope comes back to the table with the next round of drinks. “I don’t know if Will would understand,” says Ben, the two of them pressed together like spoons in a drawer, Frankie wrapped around him, belly to spine like a protective wall, face tucked into his nape, breathing the warm, sleepy smell of him. Frankie slits his eyes against the morning light through the windows, not ready to kick the blankets off and start his day, not ready to leave the steady rise and fall of Benny’s breath, his warmth, not just yet. “Why’re you so scared about it?” “I don’t know. I wanted to be just like him, you know? Tough. Strong. I spent so long trying to be just like him, what happens when he finds out I'm not?” “He loves you, Ben, he’s your brother.” “Yeah, but not like he thought. I’m not like him, Fish.” “You’re like you,” Frankie murmurs into Benny’s hair, “Go back to sleep, Baby. We got nowhere to be.”

“I know who I’m going to kiss,” Yovanna, “Este hombre feo-“ “I make up for it in other ways,” Santi grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “Fuckin dork,” says Benny, “Can’t believe you fell for Pope’s bullshit, ‘Vanna,” “He fell first,” she grins, “Silly man.” Times Square in on the TV screens above the bar, counting down the minutes. “How bout you, Will?” says Pope, “That lady cryin into her whiskey sour looks desperate enough-“ “Fuck you, Pope,” says Will, but there’s no real venom in it, “I got three minutes to figure that shit out.” “You gotta kiss someone at midnight,” says Benny, “It’s bad luck if you don’t.” “So who’re you gonna kiss?,” asks Will. “I’m just fuckin around,” says Benny, and doubt and dread spike deep in Frankie’s belly, together half the year but still haven’t found the courage to speak of it. Frankie knows that Pope suspects, he pokes at the two of them whenever the opportunity arrives, casts his eyes in Santi’s direction, hoping that he’ll dummy up. “Kiss your man,” says Will. “My man?” “You two aren’t exactly sneaky,” says Will. “You knew?” says Fish. “Of course we knew,” says Pope, “You start smiling like idiots whenever you’re within five feet of each other. I know what love looks like, ‘fish.” He glances at Yovanna when he says this and she dimples back at him. Frankie feels tension roll off him, shoulders dropping for the first time in a good long while. “Now let’s see if Will can smooth-talk whiskey sour lady in the next 1 minute and 37 seconds.”

Four three two one, and they kiss, soft press of parted lips and gliding tongues, as the bar erupts into cheers, strains of Auld Lang Syne from the TV and all the raised voices sing along, should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind, they stand stone still in the festive chaos, foreheads pressed together. Hallelujah kicks up on the juke because of course it does, hands find hips just like at prom, palms pressed together, Benny leads and Frankie tucks his face into the join of Ben’s neck and shoulder, lets himself be held, lets himself breathe in Benny’s solidity and warmth. Feels Will and Pope and ‘Vanna clap their backs and throw their arms around them in a drunken huddle. “Took you assholes long enough,” says Pope.

From the moment Frankie stepped foot into Retrograde last night, he knew he was getting laid. That’s generally why men come to Retrograde, after all. It’s one of the seedier gay bars in the area. Not because of the clientele but because the space had been converted to a bar from a garage. There were still oil stains on the floor and the hydraulic lift stood seven feet high in the center of the dance floor. Cement floors and a high ceiling made the thumping house music move in waves around you, trapping you in an endless but ever changing swirl of drum beats and brownian motion. There was a row of bathroom stalls against the far wall that were used for pissing as much as they were used for fucking. Frankie had gotten off more than a few times in those bathrooms. The black painted walls and floors made the space feel smaller than it was so that you always ended up tight against your new friend, breathing them in, the sweat and semen and urine pressing heavy around you both. 

When Benny slid into the open space next to Frankie at the bar, Frankie knew it was all over. Without a word of hello, Benny ordered two shots of tequila and pushed one in front of Frankie. Frankie tilted his head back just enough to let the chilled, sharp liquid slide down his throat. He kept his eyes on his new friend who tossed his hair out of his face before taking his own shot. The bob of his Adam’s apple moving slowly up and back down the long expanse of his neck. Frankie wanted to wrap his fingers around that neck and feel the pulse beneath it flutter. Before he could do anything he was being pulled to the dance floor. 

“I’m Benjamin Miller. Most people call me Benny.” Was what Benny said into Frankie’s ear as they found a spot on the dance floor just big enough for the two of them to fit, pressed chest to chest against one another. 

Frankie couldn’t help smile at the introduction. Strangely formal for the setting and even more incongruous with the child-like grin on Benny’s face as he begins to move his hips in time with the music. 

“I’m Fransisco Morales. Most people call me Frankie.” 

Benny moves like he means it. He backed his ass up against Frankie crotch and grinds against him with a fluidity Frankie has only seen in professionals. Which of course made Frankie wonder if there was a monetary proposition waiting for him on the other side of this dance. Not that Frankie would have cared at that point. He was so hard under his jeans that when he asked Benny to come home with him it was less because he didn’t want to wait in line for the bathroom and more because he was going to blow his load any moment if Benny didn’t slow down. 

The six minute cab ride from the bar to Frankie’s house was a blur of Benny’s tongue. It reached into Frankie’s mouth, it licked up his neck and caressed the hollow of his ear. All the while Benny’s hand slowly moved over Frankie’s bulge. The wonton sounds that slipped out of Frankie’s mouth were so embarrassing that when they finally reached their destination he apologized to the cab driver and gave him an extra ten dollars on top of the ten dollar fare. The cabbie just nodded his head in thanks and said have fun, boys as the two exited the cab. 

In a space without strobe lights, Frankie realizes Benny is younger than he though originally. No way he’s on Frankie’s side of 30. Frankie wasn’t about to ask. He only had one question for Benny.

“How can I make you feel good, baby?” 

The words were whispered over Benny’s bare skin. The white linen shirt he was wearing already on the floor and Frankie’s fingers were already pushing down the black athletic shorts to join them. Frankie almost choked on his own tongue when he gets the man bare in front of him. Does he sleep at the gym? Frankie thought men who looked like this were a trick of the camera. An aesthetic meant only to make him and every other Joe Shmoe feel terrible about their own sub par physique. 

Benny was blissfully unaware of Frankie’s internal monologue. His eyes were closed, long lashes fluttering as Frankie stroked his hard cock. 

“Anything you want,” Benny stuttered out. 

Frankie pushed blond strands away from Benny’s face. 

“That’s not how this work, pretty boy. I need you to use your words and tell me what you like. Can you do that for me?” 

Frankie’s voice was soft. It drifted over Benny, loosened all his muscles until he sighed and relaxed into Frankie’s grip. 

“I want to suck on you. And then I want you to fuck me.” 

Benny’s eyes opened and he looked down at Frankie. That frail blue gaze searching Frankie’s face for approval.

“Good boy. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Benny grinned at the praise and shook his head. There’s an innocence to the gesture, one that’s not tied to age because Frankie is sure it’s an innocence he himself never had. But Benny wears it naturally, like skin that has never been bruised or burned or marred in any way. Frankie doesn’t know why his ball tighten as Benny sinks to his knees and gives him that same innocent look. The dichotomy between the person and the act. But maybe Frankie was just over thinking it. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Benny’s mouth on his cock drew a groan from Frankie’s chest. His hand immediately went to Benny’s head. He ran his finger’s through the thick mane, down the back of Benny’s neck where they settled and gripped the long locks tightly. Benny worked to take Frankie deeper. 

“So fuckin’ good, baby,” Frankie said. “Perfect mouth taking me so well.” 

Whatever Benny wanted to say is only a hum that buzzed over the head of Frankie’s cock and warmed his abdomen. Frankie knows if this goes on much longer he won’t be able to hold off his orgasm. 

With a tug he pulled Benny off his cock. Spit slick, Frankie could feel it dripping down his shaft. Benny’s lips were full, pouting up at Frankie like a puppy without a toy. 

In Frankie’s bedroom he guided Benny onto all fours in the center of the bed. He slid on a condom and lubed his fingers up first. He reminded Benny to use his words, to which the man only moaned and Frankie gently pressed a finger into his tight hole. Frankie quickly learned just how much talking Benny can do. An almost constant string of begging and whining spilled from his mouth as Frankie worked him over. In between Benny’s pleading Frankie continued to praise him. Meant every word of it too. Something about the man. The curve of his spine where it met his ass, angled up as Frankie watches his own cock slide in and out of Benny’s puckered hole. Benny’s face pressed into Frankie’s sheets, his pale, smooth skin taught and flush with his impending orgasm. The cock that rested heavy in Frankie’s hand as he massaged it, keeping time with his own thrusts. All of it made Frankie want to trace his lips over Benny’s body, whispering mine, mine, mine. Instead he just tightens his fist as he feels the pulse through Benny’s cock followed by the sticky spend leaking from him. Benny’s anguished cry as he comes breaks Frankie’s inner thoughts. The shuddering of Benny’s body nearly pushed Frankie over the edge with him, but he holds on just long enough to grip Benny’s meaty haunches and lose himself in a frenetic pace, hips slapping against Benny’s ass until his own orgasm over took him, sending him forward onto Benny’s back. Both men collapsed into the mattress. 

There was a quiet moment of clean up before Benny pulled Frankie back toward the bed. Naked limbs entangled over the sheets and Benny’s mouth finds Frankie’s. Slow, earnest kisses against Frankie’s full lips. Benny’s fingers traced along Frankie’s ribs until he got goosebumps and pulled the comforter around them. The last thing Frankie remembered before he slipped into sleep was Benny lips pressed in the spot just below Frankie’s ear like he knew the spot was waiting for him. 

And now the man in question is breathing softly, pretty face half buried in a pillow. His broad, unblemished back on display where the covers have pulled down and tangled around his waist. Frankie is torn between wanting to touch the man and wanting to avoid an awkward goodbye. His sensible side wins out and he gently rolls over and slides off the bed. He heads to the bathroom figuring a long shower will both clear his head and give Benny the time he needs to depart. 

What Frankie doesn’t anticipate is Benny entering the bathroom, without so much as a knock, and stepping into the shower with Frankie. 

“Morning,” is all Benny says before he’s kissing Frankie. 

It’s slow at first, languid lips under the shower spray until Benny gets restless. His tongue demanding entrance, pushing past Frankie’s teeth. It isn’t until Benny backs Frankie against the cold tiles that he even realizes what’s happening. 

“Last night wasn’t enough?” Frankie jokes. Anything to get a hold of his rushing blood. 

“Last night was perfect,” Benny says between kisses. 

The man hasn’t even touched Frankie’s cock yet and already it’s bouncing against his stomach like Frankie needs the reminder. 

“That’s why I’m so eager for more.” 

Benny is back on his knees, water soaking his hair, his tongue licking up the side of Frankie’s cock before Frankie can respond to that. 

Ten minutes ago if you had asked Frankie if he could come again after last night he’s have laughed at you. At 36 he figured the days of two orgasms within 12 hours were behind him. But Benny’s mouth moving slowly over him seemed driven to prove him wrong. Frankie’s hips press away from the tiles, searching for more. In response, Benny grabs Frankie’s hand and positions it behind his head. Then he looks up at Frankie, blinking wet eyelashes, drops of water rolling down his cheeks, curving away from where his lips are stretched around Frankie’s thickness. 

Frankie lets his fingers grip the back of Benny’s head. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” His hips thrust forward again. And then again. “You want me to fuck your pretty little mouth?” 

Benny nods and presses forward, his nose meeting the thick, wiry hair on Frankie’s pubic bone. 

Frankie keeps one hand tight on the back of Benny’s head as he fucks him faster, deeper till he can feel the back for Benny’s throat contract. The other hand sits softly against Benny’s cheek, his thumb brushing the water from his face. 

Frankie can feel himself losing control in away he doesn’t allow himself to do any more. It exposes him, this raw need. This desperation to fill another person, to be needed back. It’s dangerous and last time he felt this way it nearly destroyed him. So he knows he should push Benny away. He should let his come leak down the man’s throat and then send him on his way. 

But he doesn’t. His orgasm burns through him, buckling his knees so it’s only Benny’s strong hands on his waist that keep him up right. Then he watches Benny suck him dry and swallow him down with a smile on his face. 

Frankie pulls Benny up and lets the man crash against him. His tongue digs into Benny’s mouth, tasting his own spend there. Frankie’s hand comes to grip Benny’s erection. He pumps it slowly, pressed between their bodies. Benny’s hard abdomen that ripples with tension as Frankie slides his palm over the head of Benny’s cock and back down to it’s base. He presses the hard shaft against his own softer belly. 

“Look at me, baby.” 

Benny’s forehead is pressed against Frankies and when his eyes pop open they are crystal clear rings of ice around his blown black irises. They stare straight into Frankie’s deep brown eyes. 

“Wanna see that pretty face when you come.” 

Benny nods, his mouth hangs open as Frankie’s hand works faster and faster. His whole body squirms beneath Frankie but Frankie keeps his body pressed against Benny’s, keeping him pinned against the shower tiles and Frankie’s chest. 

“Tell me what you need.” 

Benny’s chest huffs. “Just, don’t stop,” he manages to get out. 

Frankie has no intention of stopping. Even as his wrist tightens up he doesn’t stop and he doesn’t take his eyes off Benny’s face so he sees the exact moment the man breaks. The way his head tilts, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. Hears the soft moan that escapes his mouth. Feels the sticky come over his fingers and his belly. 

Benny’s forehead comes back to rest against Frankie’s. For a moment the two men are silent. Their heavy breathing and the rush of water the only sound. Except inside Frankie’s head it’s loud. That voice reminding him of what happens when he gets in to deep. He tries to rationalize with himself. It’s been one night, how could that possibly be too deep? But the problem with talking to yourself is you know all of your own tells. And Frankie is well aware he’s being suckered into something that is one-sided. He needs to wrap this up and get this man out of his house. 

When he steps back Benny is grinning at him like he just won a prize. 

“This is a really nice shower.” 

Frankie doesn’t think his shower is particularly nice but there is no trace of sarcasm on Benny’s lips. He’s just squeezing shampoo onto his palm and lathering it between his hands only to start rubbing it in Frankie’s hair. The overly familiar move surprises Frankie so much he actually pulls away. 

Benny’s face falls. “Sorry, did you wash it recently? My hairdresser is always telling me not to wash my hair so much, Like, only once a week? But I can’t do it. Maybe every other day. But once a week?” 

Frankie hasn’t moved and Benny just keeps massaging his fingers into Frankie’s scalp. 

“This smells really nice,” Benny continue, oblivious the Frankie’s discomfort. “You smelled really nice last night. Not like cologne or anything, just clean. I like that. Means you take care of yourself and your space and the people in your life.” 

Benny pauses there, like he just realized he was talking too much. 

“So, what do you for a living?” He asks as he helps to rinse the soap from Frankie’s wet curls. 

“Um, I’m a pilot.” 

“Oh cool! Like for an airline?” 

“No,” Frankie says, his mouth speaking more or less without his permission. “Medivac. I um, I fly the emergency helicopter for Tampa general.” 

“No way!” Benny’s arms fly up, knocking into the shower curtain and spraying water all over. “I just got a job as a paramedic there!” Benny shakes his head in dumb wonder. “What are the odds?” 

“You’re a paramedic?” Is the only thing Frankie can manage to get out of his mouth as his brain reels around this situation he’s rapidly losing control over. 

“I just finished my training,” Benny says as he starts smoothing conditioner through Frankie’s hair. 

Frankie closes his eyes, momentarily lost to the soothing sensation. 

“It took me a little while to finish school because I had to work part-time.” 

The disconnect between Frankie’s brain and his body finally fully materializes as he watches himself squeeze soap over his loofa and begin to scrub Benny’s body with it. 

“What were you doing for work?” 

Benny smiles as Frankie as he runs the soapy sponge over his biceps. “What do you think I was doing?” 

There’s a lightness to Benny’s tone that makes Frankie laugh. 

“How offended will you be if I say dancer?” 

Benny shakes his head like a wet dog. “Only a little, since it is true.” 

“I knew there had to be a good reason for all of this,” Frankie circles Benny’s well-defined abdomen with his hand. 

“Well yeah, that and I was an athlete in college. So I just kept up the training while I danced.” 

Benny shrugs but then wrinkles his face, a shadow of doubt drawing over his delicate features. “I hope it’s not the only reason you like me, because I’m not planing on keeping it up now that I started the new job. I really miss carbs,” he laments. “Pizza, I really miss pizza.” 

Frankie finds Benny’s hopeful gaze locked on his as he looks away from the man’s six pack. 

“I like pizza.” 

Benny smiles again and Frankie likes it. Really likes it. Especially the knowing that he caused it. Wants to do it again. Shit, he wants to do a lot of things again with Benny. 

“Can we go get some? Lucia’s is only a few minutes from here.” Benny grabs Frankie’s shoulder, shaking him just a little as if that will convince him.

“You wanna eat pizza for breakfast?” 

“It’s gotta be almost eleven. That’s basically lunchtime.” 

And then he presses his hands together and those pretty lips mouth please. And well fuck. Frankie is goddam goner and he knows it.  

The thing is, Frankie doesn’t know how to do this anymore. Anything past taking a guy home and calling him a cab before the sun comes up makes Frankie’s skin itch. 

“It sounds to me like you’re just being a little bitch about the whole thing.” 

Tess leans back in her chair as she makes this assessment. The plastic chair squeaks as she shifts, crossing her legs under the picnic table. They’re at their favorite taco truck near work, a common meeting ground for lunch for hospital staff. 

She tosses a crumpled up napkin on to the now empty plate. Frankie’s not sure she even took a breath between the three tacos she just inhaled. He also knows from experience that if he doesn’t finish his third one quickly she’ll polish that one off too. 

For now her arms are crossed over her chest and she is looking at him like he just forgot her birthday.

“I am not being a little bitch,” Frankie says. 

The arch in Tess’ eyebrow says otherwise. 

“It’s been two years,” Tess says. “Its normal for you to be dating someone.” 

“We’re not dating.” 

“How many times have you been out to dinner?” 

Frankie pauses to think. “Four,” he reluctantly answers.

“And those were actual dinners? Not just like take out after sex?” 

Frankie gets her point and this conversation doesn’t need to continue but it will because Tess likes to make sure he knows he wrong. 

“Technically one of them was take out before sex. But we also watched a movie so I think that probably counts as a date.”

Frankie runs a hand through his hair before he presses his baseball cap back on his head. The brim low on his forehead like he can hide from Tess (he can’t). 

“Just so I have this straight. You’re going to torpedo a relationship with a really nice, really hot guy because your ex was an asshole?”

“How do you know he’s hot?” 

“Blond hair, blue eyes, built like a quarterback?” 

Frankie squints at her. She might be a witch. 

“He’s heading this way.” 

Frankie turns to see Benny approaching their table. He waves at Frankie.

“Oh, that boy is smitten.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d fuck him,” Tess says just low enough that Benny can’t hear as he gets closer. 

Frankie flashes Tess a look of sheer disappointment, not that Tess cares even a little bit. 

“Hey,” Benny says as he slides onto the bench next to Frankie. He plants a kiss on Frankie’s cheek. “I didn’t know you were working today.” 

There’s no accusation in the question. There never is. It’s one of the things Frankie has learned about Benny over the last few weeks. He’s earnest. If he’s upset about something he just comes out and says it. 

“Pat came down with a bug, I’m covering his shift today.” 

Benny nods and turns his attention to Tess. 

“And who’s the hottie you’re having lunch with?”

“Oh, see, I like him. I’m Tess.” She reaches a hand across the table, “Frankie’s best friend.” 

“Self-proclaimed,” Frankie amends. 

Benny laughs and shakes Tess’ hand. 

“You guys look like you’re just finishing up,” Benny says. 

“I am,” Tess says as she stands. “I have to scrub in at 1, so he’s all yours.” 

She throws her trash away and tells Benny it was nice meeting him before she smacks Frankie on the back of the head as she makes her exit. 

Benny’s face forms a question. “You piss her off?” 

“Almost always.” 

But Benny’s more astute then most people give him credit for. 

“If this is moving too fast for you, you can just tell me,” He says. “I really like you, but I know I can be a lot. People tell me that all the time.” 

Frankie’s chest tightens around those words. He wants to know who said them so he can make sure they never say them again.

“I don’t think that,” Frankie says.

He grabs Benny’s hand and folds it into his own. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you. I have my own shit I’m trying to work through. Tess thinks I should work faster.” 

“I don’t want to” —

But Frankie shakes his head. “She’s right. She usually is. Don’t tell her I said that.” 

Benny smiles and Frankie feels his whole body relax. That smile is like a balm on his sun soaked skin. Frankie kisses him gently. 

“I have an ex who kinda, messed me up,” Frankie explained. “Sometimes I get in my own head about it.” 

Benny nods, his nose brushes against Frankie’s cheek. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“You’re doing everything right.” He kisses Benny again, this time with a little more force. Trying to make up for the words he can’t seem to find. 

“Are you working late tonight?” Benny asks.

“I’m on call until eight.” 

“Can I come over after?” 

“I would like that.” 

“Can I finish your taco?” 

Frankie laughs at Benny’s cherubic face. All of his innocence somehow magnified when he wants something. Frankie pushes the plate in front of Benny who quickly starts to eat. 

Maybe he does still know how to do this. 

He tells himself that he wandered off my mistake. He didn’t know about the male dancers in the backrooms of the strip club Santi dragged him to, had no way of knowing what he’d find when he crossed over the beaded curtains covering the threshold. In fact, Frankie had meant to turn around and walk out back to the area where he belonged but— The drinks are stronger here, he overhears from one of the men. And if there is one thing Frankie loves it is a strong drink. 

Gotta make his money’s worth, after all. 

That is all that is— Strong drinks and the burgundy velvet couch that looks a lot more comfortable than the one in front of the house. He doesn’t care about the men on top of the stage, or the broad and well muscled men that fleet from one side of the room to the other. He certainly doesn’t care about the tall blond that stalks across the center stage wearing just a pair of tight boxers and combat boots, his muscled chest covered in body glitter shining in the strobing lights as he parades a smaller, skinnier man on a leash. 

And Frankie certainly doesn’t stop to think about what the blond’s thick neck would look like on a leash of his own. 

• Masterlist • Word Count: 4.6k+ • Avaliable on AO3 •

The stereo hummed in the background as the room was overtaken with peals of laughter. Tom was practically falling off his seat as his grip loosened on the near empty beer bottle. Will had to pull on the fabric of his shirt to keep him up right, Frankie buried his head in his hands as to keep his poke face on; which was admittedly a task.

Ben rolled his eyes before massaging at his temple, letting the hysterics in one ear and out the other “OK it's not that funny, it was kinda traumatizing actually-” Will cut him off before Ben could finish speaking.

“I'm sure it was, as if I didn't warn you warn you that April was drunk.”

“No you did not-”

“Ben, you were too shitfaced to remember half of anything that night.”

Tom had finally stopped cackling enough to interject “So she literally just projectile vomited on you? Did it- any of it get in your mouth or?”

“No thank god!”

Frankie finally broke, letting out a husky snort "that's severely fucked up, is that why you stopped seeing her?”

Ben cleared his throat, eyes shifting momentarily away as something bubbled beneath his rib cage. “That was a part of it…” he shrugged, rolling the neck of the bottle slowly. “She cried for like an hour after. She kinda apologized but was way out of it. Then started crying about her ex… and tried to call him.”

Tom let out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

Will cringed, “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

Frankie lifted his head to grimaced, his face was red, eyes glassy; finally abandoning whatever composure he had left as his eyes flicked to Ben. Expression amused, lips still twitching from laughter. “That's some shit show.” he said almost unkindly.

Ben huffed out a laugh. “Tell me something I don’t know.” Their gazes lingered a second too long before Ben looked away again, taking a swig from his drink and Frankie couldn't help but notice. He always did– It was stupid, he knew it was but something about the way Ben had leaned back into the couch, shoulder brushing his, felt deliberate. Either way he couldn't be quite sure.

The stereo shifted songs, the low hum filling the brief lull. Tom had already launched into another story, but Ben only half listened. His attention kept drifting back, caught on the way Frankie’s knee knocked against his and neither of them moved to fix it. He even caught the way the corner of Frankie’s mouth curled when Ben glanced over, like if he knew. If only he did.

Ben swallowed, the familiar ache settling somewhere beneath his ribs. Longing was too dramatic a word for it but it fit all the same, a quiet and persistent ache. He tipped his bottle back, almost leaning away from Frankie– now pretending the closeness didn’t mean anything at all.

The room glowed faintly with an amber tint as the sunlight seeped through the thin living room curtains; it almost placated the drunken atmosphere with a lullifying warmth that none could unfortunately bask in. Not even Ben as he stirred awake as blanketed by the warmth of another body as he laid too close for comfort– well, almost.

His blurred vision was met with Frankie's sharp features that were accentuated by the morning light. Ben almost pulled back, startled at the proximity and attempted to sit upright. The air hung silently, nothing was heard but the faintest of snoring from Tom and Will; who the previous couldn't be bothered to sleep in a more comfortable position, head resting on his arms as he leaned on the kitchen table and still sitting in that same chair from the night before.

Tom laid limp on a recliner on the other end of the room, mouth slightly agape with a faint trickle of drool tailing down his cheek. Ben and Frankie had fallen asleep on the hard wood floor, heads resting on an over-sized bean bag chair. The events that lead to the sleeping arrangements failed to ring clear for Ben as he stretched his limbs. He sighed in mild anguish at his stiff bones, trying to release the tension quietly as possible.

The position wasn't ideal but he's been in worse– It wasn't a big deal, he would just get up and start his day like he does every morning but Benny hesitated. His eyes followed a faint beam that framed Frankie’s face– abnormally perfectly. It was a hidden spot light, highlighting his facial features with precision. The line of his nose, the faint crease between his brows like he’d fallen asleep mid-thought.

Ben hated that he noticed things like that.

Frankie then shifted barely, a low breath leaving him as his arm tightened in its sleep. Not quite around Ben but close enough that it felt that way. The weight of it, the heat from his skin– it crawled up Ben's spine before he could realize.

He froze as Frankie’s hand twitched, brushing the fabric of Ben’s shirt. Probably an accident but it lingered a second too long that made Benny suck in a breath through his teeth, worried that any wrong sound might wake him. His heart thudded loud enough that he was sure Frankie could hear it even asleep.

Ben thought this was stupid; Nothing was happening. It was just proximity, just body warmth and alcohol and he told himself that it meant something– yet he didn’t move. He should’ve pulled away. Done anything other than stare at the slow rise and fall of Frankie’s chest. The room felt too small all of a sudden, the air heavy with the quiet of morning. The stereo that accompanied them a few hours ago is now mercifully silent and absence was louder than it had any right to be.

Frankie had murmured something barely audible under his breath, more vibration than words. Ben’s name might’ve been in it– Or maybe he just wanted it to be, either way it made his stomach twist.

Ben carefully shifted his weight, testing the space between them. Frankie thankfully didn’t stir and encouraged Ben enough to lean back just enough to breathe a little easier– that's when he felt it; Frankie’s knee nudging his hip.

It made his pulse spike “Shit,” Ben whispered, more to himself than anything.

As if summoned by the sound, Frankie’s eyes fluttered. Not open but not closed either. Just enough to make Ben’s chest freeze.

Frankie hummed softly, brow knitting as his hand moved. His palm rested flat against Ben’s side, warm and solid. Ben went rigid, every thought screeching to a halt. It felt real as they stayed like that for a breath, then Frankie sighed and Ben swallowed hard as he stared at the ceiling. Jaw clenched, trying to get his body to relax. This probably meant nothing. It couldn’t. Frankie was half asleep, probably dreaming about something else entirely– or someone else and Ben was just… there.

Eventually, painfully slow, Frankie’s breathing evened out again. Whatever awareness that was there flickered away, just gone. Ben waited another minute before gently peeling himself free. Frankie groaned quietly at the loss of warmth, face turning into the bean bag seemingly unaware. Maybe.

Ben stood, stretching with a wince while looking down at Frankie as he curled into himself, hair falling messily over his forehead. Now he could pretend this didn't happen but the tension followed him anyway, clinging tight beneath Ben's ribs as he stepped into the kitchen– The tension felt unresolved, he was now very much awake but unaware of Frankie’s gaze lingered on him as he walked away, missing the warmth that once was.

Ben winced as he leaned back into the passenger seat, shifting till he felt just comfortable enough to reach for his seat belt. “Jesus- here let me.” Frankie spoke, already pulling the belt out of Ben's hands before he could protest "I'm not a baby man, I had it.”

“Didn't say that, just don't want you messing up that arm more.” Ben's fight that night had been rather intense. Sure he won but his opponent wasn't eager to lose, almost beating Ben to a pulp and neatly dislocated his arm. It was hell for Frankie to witness– He couldn't remember the last time he felt so panicked, even afraid for someone.

When Ben finally stumbled out of the ring, fainting ignorance and opted to gloat then concern himself with Frankie's frantic worry. Even as he was rushed back to the lockers, his uppity attitude persisted to Frankie's dismay. Now even as they drove Ben's dismissive nature teetering Frankie ever so close to his limit, most of the time he found it assuming– even enduring at times; except for whenever he had to act like Ben's mother of course.

“Frank, I'm fine.”

“I know.” He fastened the belt into the seat buckle. “And don't call me that.”

Frankie finally looked up at Ben, eyes immediately locking as his face was far too close than it should’ve been. Ben felt it before he thought it– the weird pause. The slight hitch in the air between them as Frankie hovered close, one hand still braced against the seat belt strap, the other resting on the console. The car smelled faintly of coffee and air freshener a combination that shouldn’t have worked but somehow did.

Frankie’s brows were drawn, jaw tight, eyes searching Ben’s face like he was checking for something that couldn’t be seen. “You good?” Frankie asked quietly. Ben scoffed, the sound coming out weaker than intended. “I told you. Yeah.” Frankie didn’t move and he didn't buy it either.

“You almost went down hard,” he said. “Harder than you usually do.”

“That’s flattering.”

Frankie’s mouth softly twitched despite himself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you're still here.” Ben tilted his head just slightly and that did it. Frankie huffed a breath through his nose, shaking his head as he finally pulled back enough for some space and it made Ben acutely aware of how warm it had been. Aware of the ache in his shoulder when Frankie was that close. He made him mutter something under his breath that Frankie chose not to hear.

The radio had been crackling in the background, and Frankie couldn't help it off. His voice hesitating, “You scared me,”eyes fixed on the windshield. Ben blinked. “I-”

“Don’t,” Frankie cut in, softer now. “Just… don’t joke about this time.”

The lightness drained from Ben’s chest, replaced with something heavier. He shifted, careful of his arm, and gaze dropping to his lap. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” Another pause. Less sharp, more fragile as Ben glanced over. Frankie’s hands were tight on the steering wheel, There was something familiar, the need of control held a little too firmly. Ben felt an urge to say something unhelpful, maybe reckless but Frankie beat him to it, snorting sharply “You did good back there. You were very intimidating, even if you were on the floor.” Ben deadpanned.

Frankie finally looked at him then, an eyebrow lifting. “You’re lucky you’re injured. I would've beat your ass for being so reckless.”

“oh, is that a threat?” Ben huffed

“...maybe.” Ben smiled despite himself, small and slow. The tension didn’t vanish, but it shifted, more charged; Like a wire pulled between them.

As Frankie pulled the car into traffic, his elbow brushed Ben’s accidentally. Neither of them moved to fix it. Frankie’s jaw clenched; Ben’s breath hitched barely. The contact was nothing, just an inch of fabric, a sliver of skin but it sent the same familiar crawl up Ben’s spine from that morning on the floor.

Frankie cleared his throat. “Do you need anything when we get back?”

Ben considered the question longer than necessary. Voice light but eyes steady on him. “No…I'm ok mom.”

Frankie’s head snapped toward him, then back to the road just as fast.“ Oh Shut it,” he muttered. Ben leaned back, smiling to himself as the car sped on, the unspoken sitting comfortably, now dangerously between them. Especially when Frankie can feel his eyes on him; It makes his ears burn red– flustered even. He hated it but not really. It was strange but a welcomed unconfort. Ben had a tendency to stare, at first he thought it was just a tick of his but after a while. Years actually, it was never the same with anyone else– just for him.

It was like this for the next few minutes. Frankie figured it best not to say anything. He never did, he just had a hunch. Grasping at straws he thought– stupid thoughts. It figured that for a long long time. Why else would Ben act the way he did? Always close, lingering around him whenever he could. Heck– in their young days Ben was like a lost puppy, clueless and looking for guidance. Especially from Frankie. It was really cute. The new guy in the unit immediately gravitating towards him and Will already being well acquainted was a convenient excuse. At some point it didn't need to be and they were always together. They even thought if one went down, they would go together.

The tension didn’t cease when they pulled into the complex parking lot. Ben remained oddly still, gaze averted and stayed silent for a moment. “You want a drink?” He said simply

“yeah..”

“I honestly thought you were gonna tap out back there.” Frankie had grown tired of the quiet and needed something to talk about, even if it was at Ben's misfortune.

“Wow, you were ready to give up on me, huh.?” The response was mostly a tease but there was something else behind it. “No no, that's not what I meant. I was just worried. I was tempted to jump in and force you out myself.”

Ben tisked, nearly chuckling to himself as he slowly shook his head. “Alright man just don't get your dick tangled now, quit being such a parent I'm fine.” he chugged the remaining of the bottle and tossed it to the bin a few feet away. It was a perfect shot.

“Careful.” Frankie added, gripping the neck of the bottle that had barely been drunk. “There you go again. Can you just relax for a minute, damn.” Ben quickly stood up, making his way back to the fringe for another bottle. “It's hard sometimes when it comes to you.”

Frankie muttered lowly but not faint enough to miss Ben's ears, closing the fridge door harder than intended. “What was that fish?”

His tone rang an octave louder, Ben sucking at his teeth before commenting “I don't think you'd be so worried so much if you weren't on my ass so much.” There was a faint eye roll from Frankie, a husky snort that let Ben know he wouldn't be backing down. “That's rich coming from you.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” And that was it for him. Normally he wouldn't have said anything about it. He always figured it was nothing but there was always the question in the back of his mind. If it really meant anything and it wouldn't hurt to know for sure. To have concrete proof that it meant nothing.

“As if you're not literally on my ass way too often. Following me around, getting all close- sometimes- No, it always feels intentional.”

Ben couldn't meet his gaze, almost stepping back to avoid what felt like a confrontation. It wasn't, not really and he knew that but he didn't think it was an option to admit it to him. “I- I have no idea what you're talking about? OK so you're upset that I've accidentally gotten too close, I didn’t realize-” Frankie cut him as he wasn't having it. He needed to know.

“Nah, don't try shifting this. It's frankly a shitty defense and not a convincing one at that Ben.” he said in a firmer tone and it made Ben swallow, jaw working as he set the bottle down hard on the counter. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m tired,” Frankie shot back. “Tired of guessing. Tired of pretending I don’t notice.”

“Notice what?” Ben snapped, finally looking back at him– but immediately regretting it. Frankie was too close again.

“That you look at me like that, that you hover. That you get reckless when I’m watching and careless, That you freeze up the second I call you out on it.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Is it?”

Ben laughed sharply but there was no humor to be found. Not here anyway. “You’re reading into shit that isn’t there.”

Frankie shook his head slowly. “I don’t think I am.”

Silence pressed in thickly and so unforgiving as the fridge hummed behind them. It was so irritably quiet that the busy traffic in the distance could be faintly heard.

“Say it then,” Frankie said quietly.

Ben frowned. “Say what?”

“That I’m wrong.” Frankie’s voice didn't waver. “Just look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel anything.” Ben didn't say a word, his jaw tightening.

“You really want me to spell it out?” Frankie asked, his voice was low again but he was losing control. “Because I will. I just want to make sure you’re ready to hear it.”

“You always think you know everything.” Ben finally cut back in, his fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, knuckles almost whitening. “You’re reading into it.”

“Again, Bullshit. You don’t do this with Will. Or Tom. Or anyone else,” Frankie continued, pacing a step closer before stopping himself. “It’s always me. It’s been me for years. And I need to know why.”

Ben swallowed hard. “You don’t need to know anything.”

“I do if I’m not imagining it,” Frankie snapped. “Because if I am, then fine—I’ll shut up, I’ll back off, I’ll pretend I didn’t notice. But if I’m not, then you need to say it.”

Ben shook his head “Frankie, just- drop it.”

“No.” The refusal was immediate, it made Ben let out a shaky breath, something between a scoff and a groan. He had opened his mouth but closed it just as quickly. Ben's eyes darted away, finding anywhere else to look but him.

Frankie exhaled sharply through his nose. “Nothing to say now?”

“Fuck you,” Ben muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “You don’t get to-” Ben stopped himself. His shoulders were tense, drawn up like he was bracing for something “Why?”

“Because if I’m wrong, I need to know,” Frankie said. “And if I’m not… then you owe it to me to stop pretending.”

Ben scoffed weakly. “You make it sound so easy.” Frankie’s gaze softened. “I know it’s not.”

Ben laughed again, breathing almost heavy, he was bordering on panicked. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered before exhaling hard, hands fisting at his sides, squeezing his eyes shut. “You want me to say it? You want me to say the stupid thing out loud so it’s real and awkward and ruins everything?” Frankie didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Ben blew out a breath, shoulders slumping like he’d lost a fight he never trained for. “Yeah,” he said, voice barely above a mumble. “I have feelings for you. Happy?”

The room felt like it tilted as he spoke, “I didn’t plan it,” he blurted. “I didn’t wake up one day and decide to be like this. It just– happened.” he kept going, words tumbling out and he couldn’t stop them. “I tried to ignore it– For years. Told myself it was nothing, that you were just… you. That I was projecting or bored or lonely or whatever the hell excuse worked.”

Frankie didn’t answer right away, it made Ben immediately backtracked. He was mortified. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that like— I didn’t mean it like I expect anything. I know you don’t- I know this is probably uncomfortable and stupid and-”

“Ben.” He stopped mid-spiral reluctantly as his face burned red as he finally looked up. “What?”

“You can breathe.”

Ben huffed, “Don’t tell me to breathe.”

Frankie almost smiled. Almost. “So,” he said carefully, “you’ve just been… carrying that around?” Ben nodded once, “Regretting it daily.”

“Idiot,” Frankie muttered and Ben bristled. “Hey–”

“You should’ve told me.” Frankie’s mouth twitched, but there was something earnest in his eyes now.

Ben let out another humorless laugh. “Yeah? And risk blowing up one of the few good things I’ve had for years? No thanks.”

That earned a quiet exhale from Frankie, something almost like a laugh. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.” He took a few steps back to plop down on the plush couch, he signed mostly in relief but also mild frustration.

“Yeah- so if you could just— forget I said anything, that’d be great.” Ben added quickly

Frankie snorted. “Not happening.” Ben groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “I hate this.”

“You don’t,” Frankie said gently. Ben peeked at him through his fingers. “I really do.”

“You’re flustered.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“You can sit down, you know.”

“Frankie-” Ben looked down and realized he was shifting his weight like a teenager caught doing something illegal, it made him curse under his breath. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe a little,” Frankie admitted. His hand crept off his lap, landing on the empty space next to him. Ben blinked, he didn't have to say anything and carefully he waddled over, settling himself down slowly like the couch would brake under him.

The silence continued, more lighter but still charged. Ben cleared his throat, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “So, uh,” he said. “Great… Awesome… Super normal conversation.”

Frankie chuckled under his breath. “You’re doing great.”

“Shut up.” Frankie reached out before he could overthink it, fingers hovering near Ben’s wrist before moving to his hand and it made Ben scoff, flustered all over again.

“How long have you known?”

“Can't say I've known for sure, or how long…” he hesitated “at some point it had a feeling something was up for a while. I just wasn't entirely sure. Just a feeling.”

“Are you serious…” ben grumbled “All that over your fucking feeling?” He wanted to pull away in shame but couldn't bear to do it again after so many times. When Frankie's warm hand was on his, Ben didn't wanna lose it.

“Yep. Feelings all around it seems.” He chucked, letting out that signature lopsided half smile that made Ben's face numb. So many times he'd witness that face made women weak at the knees every time he flashed it. For the longest time he was envious that it wasn't meant for him– until now that is.

“God stop looking at me like that.” Ben relented. As much as he loved it, it made him feel vulnerable. It weakened more after he just spilled his heart out and now this; Frankie's sweet gaze was unwavering and it was torturing.

“You're cute when you like this.” Frankie finally spoke.

“Don't call me that-”

Ben interjected again for the 100th time tonight but it did nothing to persuade Frankie. Even as Ben finally broke away, trying to stand up; Instead it emboldened Frankie to keep ahold of his hand. Rubbing his thumb on his knuckles that caused Ben's breath to hitch. Looking back down at him with wide eyes and an almost quivering lip. That was it for him, after trying so hard to keep his walls intact, Frankie chipped away at them enough to peek at Ben for what he really was. He'd always known him better than anyone else and Ben knew that, but he still tried to mask around him anyways and failed miserably.

Frankie simply lied back on the couch, letting go of Ben's hand knowing he wouldn't walk away now. Frankie shifted till he felt comfortable enough to lay his head on the arm rest, never breaking eye contact. “Is it ok if I stay the night?” Ben stared at him like the question had knocked the air out of his lungs.

“Stay…?” he echoed dumbly, as if the word itself needed clarification.

Frankie didn’t rush it. He stayed exactly where he was, stretched along the couch, hands folded loosely over his stomach, eyes soft. No “Yeah,” he said. “If that’s okay.”

Ben swallowed. His throat felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with how gentle Frankie sounded all of a sudden. He nodded once, but quicker this time like he needed to convince himself it was real. “Yeah. I mean- Of course.”

Frankie smiled warmly as Ben hovered for a second, awkward and unsure what to do with his hands, his body, and everything else really. Then Frankie shifted slightly, scooting down the couch and leaving space on top of him this time. Another open invitation without words.

“You don’t have to,” Frankie added quietly “I’m good either way.”

Ben scoffed under his breath. “You’re terrible at pretending not to care.”

Frankie chuckled. “You’re one to talk.”

Still, slowly Ben eased himself down carefully again, settled on the air on top of Frankie, leaving a careful inch between them that felt louder than the silence earlier.

They stayed like that for a moment till Frankie moved first. It was subtle, just a shift of his arm, his hand resting near Ben’s forearm, not quite touching. A question more than an action. Ben glanced down at it, heart thudding embarrassingly loud, before he shuffled closer without looking back up. Their arms brushed, it made Ben freeze but Frankie didn’t. He simply adjusted again, slower this time, his arm coming around Ben’s middle. He was light at first, like he’d pull away at the slightest resistance. Ben sucked in a breath, then let it out shakily as he leaned back just enough to make it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Okay?” Frankie murmured.

“Yeah,” Ben whispered. “Yeah, that’s… fine.”

Frankie’s arm tightened just a little, solid and warm. Ben relaxed into it before he could stop himself, the tension draining out of his shoulders like he’d been holding it there for years. His head tipped forward, then sideways, until his cheek rested against Frankie’s chest. He stilled, waiting. For what exactly? He didn't know.

Frankie’s free hand came up hesitant, before settling gently between Ben’s shoulder blades. He started to rub slow, absent circles through the fabric of his shirt.

Ben exhaled long and deeply, like his body had been waiting for permission. “This is… weird,” he muttered, muffled slightly. Frankie hummed back. “Bad weird?”

Ben shifted closer, his knee bumping Frankie’s thigh and staying there. “No,” he admitted. “Just… new.”

“I can do new,” Frankie said softly before they fell quiet again, but it was easy this time– oddly comfortable. The kind of silence that didn’t demand anything from either of them. Frankie’s heartbeat was steady beneath Ben’s ear, grounding him in a way Ben hadn’t realized he needed. After a minute Ben spoke again, “You know I’m gonna overthink this later.” His voice was barely there.

Frankie smiled into his hair. “Yeah.”

“And probably freak out a little.”

“Also yeah.” Frankie couldn't help but remark every time.

Ben shifted, one hand cautiously gripping the front of Frankie’s shirt like he needed proof this wasn't going to vanish.. “You promise you won’t disappear on me Fish?” Frankie’s arm tightened around him, firm now, certain. “I’m not going anywhere, Ben.” He relaxed fully then, curling in closer, his body fitting against Frankie’s like it had been doing this all along. Frankie adjusted instinctively, angling himself so Ben’s injured arm was supported, his chin resting lightly against the top of Ben’s head.

They stayed like that, tangled and quiet, the world finally shrinking down to just the couch and the low hum of the apartment around them. Frankie didn’t move, not even when his arm started to go numb. He just held him, smiling softly to himself, thinking This feels right.