#thread: ben

in all his years, he’s never had a more frustrating week in his life. even during the years of law school, his first few years of teaching at the university when he was still trying to figure everything out, and trying to find a way to actually reach his students rather than have them stare at him blankly as he droned on and all about first degree murder and injunctions. he would gladly take some jackass challenging him in class and chasing up homework from his undergrads over this kind of frustration. it’s only been a week, a week and a half tops since dominique had walked into his classroom that fateful day and informed him that she was going to be his TA and ever since, he’s found it difficult to keep his focus where it belonged. most of his lectures he’d been able to get through without being too distracted, but in quiet moments he’d found his eyes glancing to her far too often. his gaze had lingered, and once, maybe twice, he’d lost his train of thought in the middle of a lecture because she’d moved a certain way, caught his eye and his mind had gone straight back to the night at that house, remembering what her body looked like and the noises she’d made.

he doesn’t even want to think of how many times this week he’d thought of her in the shower and hadn’t bothered to turn the water to cold. 

he can’t fucking believe it. since he was in his early thirties, he’s spent his spare time selling drugs on the side. he has a network, has people he knows who tell him about parties and gatherings he could easily sell at. all this time, he’s gotten away with it without any consequence to his actions. never once had he run into any trouble, always able to carefully avoid the law. it was why when he’d walked in this morning, the first day of the new semester, he’d very nearly dropped his coffee when he saw her. he’s not usually good with names, but her face would be one that’s hard to forget, not to mention the neckline of her top that he’d spent an ungodly amount of time mouthing just a few weekends ago. truly unforgettable. 

he spends most of his lecture trying to remain unfazed, focusing purely on his work, but there’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. he feels dirty, and a little bit guilty. he makes it a rule of thumb not to get involved with his students, especially with how many undergrads seemed to have some sort of kink that he wasn’t interested in. it’s too messy, and he’s not desperate enough to stoop so low. mind you, it hasn’t stopped him outside of his students, but within these walls he was a respected professor. he played by the rules, as far as the dean knew anyway, and he was damn good at his job. wasting such a reputation on a good fuck had never really seemed worth it to him, but with dominique, the deed had already been done.

@kylo-wrecked sent: The table was built from thick walnut, its surface broad enough to seat six without anyone feeling crowded. Ben had left the grain uninterrupted, letting dark rivers of chocolate and honey sweep the length of the top in ribbons. Every edge had been eased until there wasn't a single sharp corner to catch a sleeve or bruise a hip, and the finish carried a soft satin sheen that invited touch instead of reflecting it. Clean joinery fitted so precisely the seams seemed to disappear into the wood itself. It was the sort of table destined to collect coffee rings or candle wax. The sort that grew more beautiful as it was used. After he’d unloaded it from his truck and they’d torn the kraft paper, Ben said, “Happy birthday,” then quietly took in every flicker of Tony's expression.

Tony didn't make a big deal of his birthday. Most of the time, he didn't think of his birthday at all. Tali marked the day on their big calendar, and Tony would inevitably get a card with a sloppy message written in three languages, but that was the most his birthday was acknowledged. This. This was more.

Tony knew he was staring. He felt like his gaze could bore through the table, determine exactly what the meaning behind this gift was, discern what Ben's motivation was. His gaze could analyze every sliver of this table and he would magically understand what Ben was doing.

Only that wasn't how things worked.

Tony stepped closer, running a hand over the table, aware of just how much work went into making something like that. Evenings bunkering in Gibbs' basement as he worked to cater his boss's favor ran through his mind. He'd spent years watching Gibbs build boats with nothing but manpower and determination. He knew Ben did something similar.

But Gibbs' boats never got much of an emotional reaction out of Tony. He didn't look at a boat and see all the meals he would serve on it. This table, though. Tony could see himself making feasts for Tali and her friends, teaching her how to make pasta, watching her get ready for her first day of high school. He could see Ben, sitting to his right, eating something Tony had spent hours making. He could see his big canning pot and jars of sauce.

@kylo-wrecked sent: I've been checking on you every hour. You keep telling me to go home. I keep not going. { ex!ben for tony }

"It's just," a cough wracked his body, making his shoulders shake with the tension held in them, "the flu. You don't need to get sick too."

He fell back against the back of the couch, his home for the last three days. The flu always took it out of him, especially when it started to affect his breathing. Tony had already done three breathing treatments and he felt like another one would leave him feeling physically unstable. He finished coughing, looking up at Ben through one cracked eye.

@kylo-wrecked sent: 🥀 Kiss the receiver as if it is for the very last time. { ex!ben for tony }

It wasn't the kiss itself that set Tony's nerves on edge. There was hunger and desperation in the kiss, yes, but Ben always kissed him that way, like he was never going to see him again, like he had to convince himself that this was real. The kiss wasn't why Tony grabbed onto Ben's arms, holding the other man close to him.

No, it wasn't the kiss.

It was the way Ben's hands grabbed onto his waist, the way he could feel fingers digging bruises into the space right below his ribs. It was the way Ben stepped closer, cornering Tony against the counter, their bodies pressed together almost as if Ben was trying to morph into him, to truly become one. That was different.

Ben was not a man who held onto someone like they were going to disappear into a fine mist if he let go. He cringed away from most touch. Tony had spent ages trying to get him used to touch. But initiating it? Ben never did that.

@kylo-wrecked sent: “No, I wasn’t staring. I was… observing. For reasons.” { ben as if he hasn’t had a thing w/ tony for like over a year now }

Raising an eyebrow at Ben, Tony stretched just a little extra, knowing that it emphasized the work he'd been putting into staying fit since moving to Nevada. He was clearly middle aged now, but he kept his body in shape, mostly by hauling heavy crates of wine and chasing a teenager around. He was proud of it, his ability to stay in shape, and seeing Ben appreciate it did wonders for his ego.

@kylo-wrecked sent: [ HIDE ] : sender shoves receiver out of sight in order to hide them and keep them safe. { u noe who }

They hadn't been in the city long, only a few hours, when suddenly Ben was pushing Tony down, into an alley and behind a dumpster. Tony, after years of police service, was on high alert immediately, glancing around the dumpster to see what it was that Ben had seen. When he spotted the gang of men with hands on their guns, he swore, pulling Ben down next to him.

His knife was in his boot and he pulled it out, holding it carefully and pushing Ben behind him. A knife wasn't a suitable weapon in a gun fight, but Tony knew he could disarm someone with it and turn one of their guns onto them.

"Don't move," he whispered to Ben, carefully rounding the dumpster. "I'll be right back."

The gang of men was closer, one of them pulling his gun out. Tony launched himself at him first. His legs kicked out, knocking the man to the ground, and Tony wrestled the gun away from him, turning it on the other men. There was something about the men that he couldn't put his finger on, but they were almost familiar.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," he told the other men, carefully moving the gun from one to another. "I might not be able to take all of you, but I can take enough of you down to make it worth it. What do you want?"

"We've come for your partner," one of the men, a young man, said nervously. "We have no business with you."

@kylo-wrecked sent: 🧠📖 { about ben ~}

Tony hasn't put a name to the way he feels about Ben, what he thinks about Ben. It's complicated, and consuming, and so very frustrating at times. He knows he cares deeply for Ben, would be bereft without their relationship, but it isn't an all consuming need the way he thought love would be. It crept up on him, this feeling. It's comfort, and it burns like a hot cup of tea on a cold day. It's a presence that is there at all times, never letting him go. He feels it even on days when Ben isn't there.