01 The One I Want - 9. Talk About Politics & Religion

Rick pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. Quietly, mindful of his sleeping passenger, he exited the car and grabbed the bags from the trunk before heading inside. Genny had been by regularly to tend to things; any mail not bills had been brought to the hospital for Ben. Although he'd thrown most out, there were a few cards he'd saved, and a wedding announcement he'd waved smugly at Rick.

"That's a weekend in Palm Springs, courtesy of Riley," he pronounced.

The silver-haired man had looked up at them from the sofa. "What?"

"Meg and Dean're tyin' the knot! Ha! And you said I couldn't do it."

"Do what?"

"Only convince two of the most stubborn people ever," said Riley, looking over the card, "that they're madly in love with each other."

"Are they?"

"Of course they are!" scoffed Ben. "Only been making lonely moon eyes at each other for months, picked out dates that looked like the other, and generally made fools of themselves."

"So what was the hang-up?"

"Politics."

Rick looked from Ben to Riley, certain they were playing a joke on him. "Politics?"

"Meg's on the Governator's staff, and Dean's one of his most outspoken critics." Ben grinned.

"Getting them together in the same room," Riley added, "requires hard hats and flak vests."

"But they're getting married ...?"

"Yeah, in'it great? That's one I'm going to. When is it?"

"Next spring," said Riley. "I'll double the wager they don't last a year."

"Oh ye of little faith," Ben replied. "I'll take your bet and raise you one of those Mexican cruises."

"Done."

"Awesome. Rick, you're a witness."

"... Sure."

"Hey," called Genny, sticking her head out of the kitchen to interrupt Rick's thoughts. "How was traffic?"

"Fine." He dumped the bags in the bedroom. "Something smells good, what are you cooking?"

"Nothing yet, just finishing the marinade. Just got the potatoes to do now."

"Let me get Ben settled and I'll give you a hand."

"No rush, the gang's not due until four."

Back outside, Rick opened the passenger side door. He crouched down, taking one of Ben's hands and patting on the back of his wrist. "Hey, Ben, time to wake up, we're here."

Tension shot through Ben as he woke. His grip was a lot stronger than it had been, but still not enough to make Rick wince. He kept a pleasant smile on his face while Ben's eyes dashed around before settling on him.

"Home."

"Yep. Ready?"

"Yeah," sighed Ben. He released the seatbelt, accepting Rick's arm to help haul himself out of the car. "Sss!" he hissed, teetering as the world spun.

Rick waited, hands loosely at Ben's waist. Over his head, he saw one of Ben's neighbors, watering one of the plants hanging on the porch. She waved and Rick nodded. "You okay?" he asked.

"Just tired," Ben replied. He rubbed at his eyes.

"Well, plenty of time for a nap before the party."

"Right. Right."

Rick leaned down a little to peer into Ben's face. "We can still cancel."

"No. We're having this damn party." He took a small step away from the car. "God, my head's spinning!"

"Well, hang on, wait for me."

Getting from the car to the bedroom sapped what strength Ben had remaining. He sank down onto the mattress, asleep again before his head hit the pillows. Rick pulled off shoes, pants and shirt, but didn't bother untucking the sheets, just folded the bedspread around him. Back to the car for the last odds and ends, he returned to tuck Sherbert in next to Ben and carried the plastic bag of medicines into the kitchen.

"Out like a light," he told Genny.

She slid a shallow-bottomed, foil pan into the refrigerator. "You look like you could use a nap yourself."

"Rough night," he replied. "I'll be fine."

"Bullshit, but okay. Want a beer?"

"No, thanks." Genny handed him a cheese grater and a bowl, and they stood side-by-side grating the two pounds of cheese that would be mixed into the potatoes, along with an assortment of spices that Rick wasn't sure he could name. He listened to the casual chatter while they worked, but his thoughts were miles away. Back home, to be exact.

"Hey." Genny nudged him with her elbow. "Wow, you're distracted. What's on your mind?"

"Just ..." He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Uh-huh. Well, I've got things well in hand here, so why don't you go lay down? Go on, I'll wake you in," she glanced at the clock, "say an hour?"

He sighed. "Fine, but make sure you wake me and not Ben."

"Yeah, yeah. Go."

Not turning on the light, Rick closed the bedroom and bathroom doors. He folded his clothes to place on the dresser, then slithered under the covers with a blissful groan. If he'd almost forgotten the insane pleasure of high thread-count sheets, then a real bed was pure heaven. Knots in his back and shoulders loosened and before he knew it, Rick felt Genny shaking his shoulder.

She gave him a sardonic smile. "You gonna get up this time?"

"Huh? This time?"

"I've roused you -- or at least thought I did -- twice now."

He yawned. "Guess I was tired. Okay, I'm up."

"Gran's here, and Shelly and Doug, getting the rest of the food out."

"Gotcha," Rick mumbled through a yawn. "No wandering around naked."

She wiggled her eyebrows. "Hey, wander all you want, I won't be complaining."

"That's ... slightly disturbing, Genny."

Muffling laughter behind her hand, Genny retreated, leaving Rick to wake up Ben, who hadn't moved at all. Rolling onto his side, Rick ran a finger along Ben's jaw, then leaned over to make sure the blanket was loose and not confining. He interlaced his fingers with Ben's, pulling the hand up across his chest to a more comfortable position. He tugged.

"Ben ... Ben ... Time to wake up, Ben."

Ben groaned, hand tightening around Rick's. "Where ...? Rick?"

"Right here. You're home, Ben, nothing to worry about, right?"

He let his gaze roam, taking in the familiar curtains, his chest of drawers, closet, the framed painting that had been a gift ... That more than anything else convinced him he was really home. "Yeah," he agreed softly, giving Rick an almost contented smile. "Yeah, home."

Rick kissed the available shoulder. "C'mon, then, let's get cleaned up. Party's starting soon."

Finally home. He should, he reminded himself, be happy with this turn of events, but a big hand on his shoulder and another dragging a washcloth down his back were a little distracting.

Rick dropped the soap in surprise when Ben snuggled into his chest. His skin shivered with want as Ben's fingers trailed down his spine. "Ben," he warned, "don't be starting anything you can't finish."

"Who says I can't?"

"You can barely stand upright."

"Mm-ngth!" Ben stuck his tongue out, then licked the water pooling on Rick's chest against his cheek.

Rick's legs trembled. A month. He hadn't gone a month without sex since he'd gotten out of the military. "B-Ben!" he protested. "You're not well."

"Well enough." It was just sex. Wasn't like it was going to kill him. "Not made of glass, you know."

Too-knowledgeable hands scraped nails along the outside of Rick's hips. He grabbed Ben by the upper arms and pushed him back, panting. Rick had to take a couple deep breaths to calm himself. Ben sagged in the strong grip and just smirked.

"Freak-a-zoid!" Rick muttered. He kissed the scar forming over Ben's left eye. "You'll fall asleep and miss the party."

Ben sighed. "Right. Well, later, then."

For a moment, as the usual grin-and-bear-it expression settled back over Ben's face, Rick though he saw true regret there. But then it was gone and Rick wasn't sure he'd even seen anything. He just nodded, neither voicing their doubts that Ben would last through the afternoon, let alone into the evening.

Ben braced himself on the wall, too uncertain of his balance to wash himself yet. He could have, and probably should have, run a bath, but a shower was faster, and he still had Rick to help. Certainly sexier than sponge baths at the hospital. Smelled a good deal better, too. He stole a glance at the taller man from under his arms. Rick was a dream, but ... the sooner Rick got back to his own life, the better off they both would be.

Rick tapped on Ben's arm with a finger. "Hey. Earth to Ben? You in there?" Ben blinked and Rick brandished the soapy washcloth. "Here, do your face."

Grabbing Ben carefully, they negotiated back under the warm stream. Ben scrubbed his face and ears while Rick cupped water with his free hand to help rinse him off. Ben's right side was still very red and slightly engorged, tender to the touch. The knife wound and subsequent surgeries were going to leave a couple nasty scars. The smaller incisions from the laparoscope and chest tube had healed better. He was healing, however, his muscles only weak from disuse. The more Ben moved around normally, the faster he'd regain his strength.

"Stop it."

Rick paused, straightening. "Stop what?"

Ben's hand splayed protectingly over the wound. "Staring."

"Sorry. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"I ... you probably don't want to know."

Ben pushed out his jaw. "What?"

"It's just that," Rick's fingers walked up, ghostly impressions on his skin, from the bottom of Ben's scar, "if you hadn't turned, he'd have cut straight up, probably glanced off the ribs, here, before lodging in your breastbone. You'd have bled to death before the ambulance even got there."

"If I didn't drown in it first," said Ben, frowning. He'd overheard the cops talking to Shelly and Rick after he gave his statement. That had been bloody hard to do.

"You're either the luckiest or the damnedest, most stubborn man in the world," Rick continued, cupping the back of Ben's head and pressing their foreheads together.

"I'll take lucky." He grabbed Rick's cock, giving the impressive hard-on a squeeze. "And so are you."

"Oooh, Ben, if you sh-should fall ...."

"You won't let me." He draped his other arm around Rick's neck to stay upright as Rick staggered to put his back against the tile. Stretching as tall as he could reach, he whispered to Rick's ear, in his deepest, most gravelly voice, "'Impressive. Most impressive.'"

The laugh exploded from Rick's chest in a burst of deep, hearty tones. Holding Ben to one side with an arm across his back, Rick lifted Ben's chin to kiss him deeply. Released, Ben teased a nipple with teeth and tongue, Rick's groans and pants music to his ears. He had to move quickly, because he tired easily, but time was not something Rick needed. He came hot and fast, fingers digging into Ben's armpit.

"'There is a great disturbance in the force,'" said Rick, opening his eyes to Ben's cocky grin.

"'I have felt it.'"

"Join me," Rick returned, scarcely above a whisper, "and together we can bring order to the galaxy."

Ben frowned, turning to rinse his hand. "That's not how it goes."

Rick's smile faltered a bit. "Yes, well ..." What if that's not what I was asking? "... I don't have the movie memorized."

"That scene," said Ben, "is one of the greatest moments in movie history. Vader goes, 'There is no escape. Don't make me destroy you.' And then, 'Luke, you do not yet realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me, and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy.' After which he tells Luke he's his father and Luke tumbles into the garbage chute." He grinned. "Good thing the walls are curved, huh?"

"That's cinematic physics for you. So. Star Wars fan?"

"How'd you guess? But don't talk to me about the prequels."

Rick steadied Ben as they stepped from the shower stall. "'Greed can be a very powerful enemy.'"

"Yeah, okay," laughed Ben. "Qui-Gon was cool, wasn't he?"

"You know," said Rick, fluffing Ben's hair with a corner of his towel, "you should let your hair grow. I like this look."

"Uh-uh, it goes all poofy on me, Either got to keep it long or short and there's far too many awkward stages in growing it out again. It'll be a relief to finally go bald."

"You want to go bald?"

He slicked and held his hair back from his face. "What? You think I won't look good all smooth and hairless?"

"It's kinda hard to picture," Rick replied, deftly avoiding the question.

Ben laughed, and then pointed to his razor in its housing. "Hand me that, would you? Thanks." Arranging his towel in his lap, Ben leaned to view himself in a mirror and flipped on the power.

Rick surveyed his own jowls, and then went and retrieved his overnight kit. They finished grooming in comfortable silence, listening to the light rumble of voices that filtered through the doors.

"Smooth as an android's bottom, eh?" Ben remarked, caressing Rick's cheek as he helped him back into the bedroom.

"Don't tell me you watch Star Trek, too!"

"Well," Ben shrugged, "Next Gen, anyway. It was kinda the thing in the nineties. I have seen all the movies, though. Are you a fan?"

"Huge. Do you know they teach Klingon at some schools as a foreign language?" He opened the closet and gestured within. "What do you want to wear?"

Ben shrugged. "I don't care, pick something."

"Hmm, well, if it's my choice, how about your birthday suit?"

"My birth ...? Oh, very funny."

Rick lifted an eyebrow. Damned if he was going to let himself go down that road, not that Ben seemed to notice what he was doing. Was this how it had started with Will? The thought gave him the creeps.

"Give me the black jeans and the navy blue turtleneck from my dresser."

"I still think your suit would've been better," said Rick with a cluck his tongue, but tossed the named items at Ben, along with a fresh pair of boxers and socks.

"Asshole." Ben ignored the other man and Rick dressed as well, in his usual cut-offs and sleeveless tee. He sat down on the corner of the bed.

"Ben?"

He was fussing with his hair again. "Yeah?"

"I need to ask you something."

"That sounds serious. You're not going to ask me to marry you or anything, are you?"

"No ...."

"Good."

"I submitted my thesis," Rick hedged. "Waiting for some final critiques, then a last revision before I have to defend, end of next month."

"That sounds great. Congratulations."

"Bit early for that, but the prognosis is good."

"So what's the verdict?"

"The verdict?"

"Didn't you say your thesis has something to do with how fiction mirrors history? Or history and fantasy? Or something ...?"

"The effects of literature on --"

--KNOCK KNOCK--

Ben jumped, hand going to his side as the sudden move jarred the injury. Rick slid over quickly, to cradle Ben against his chest.

"Just a minute!" he called. "Just breathe," he coached.

"I'm breathing, I'm breathing! Shit!" He gulped for breath. "Fuck! I can't do this!"

"Breathe, Ben. Yes, you can. You wanted to do this, remember?"

"I've changed my mind! Oh god, oh god, oh, ow, owow."

"Easy, easy. They're all your friends, come to see that you're all better. To celebrate. No one's going to hurt you, and I'll be right there."

"Promise?" he asked, inwardly wincing at how utterly pathetic he sounded. If he didn't need the damned man, then why were his hands fisted in Rick's shirt?? But he couldn't let go.

"Promise." Rick kissed the scar on his cheekbone, the one that Ben said looked like a gecko. "We'll get some food in you, you'll take a pain pill, and everything will be just fine. You'll smile and say hi to your friends, we'll say a couple toasts, and Jazz is bringing some of that cake you liked so much. You'll have a great time and when you're tired, I'll bring you back in here and sit with you until you fall asleep. Sound like a plan?"

Ben nodded. He let Rick draw him to his feet, drawing enough quiet strength from the other man's confidence to put his game face back on.

The party pretty much went exactly how Rick described. Music played from upstairs, and the guests mingled freely on both floors. Ben snagged a stool by the bar where people could only approach from one side. He had Rick to run interference if somebody got too close, but being so close to the food, they could all see him, but were forced to move on again quickly to keep from clogging movement around the laden table.

He soon realized that he'd been correct. He needed to do this, both for himself and for all those who depended on him. While he wasn't amused with Riley for posting a bulletin about him on the website, he couldn't fault the logic. Ben was always there. The agency was his life. Some of the folks he regularly chatted with online Ben hadn't seen in months or even years. If nothing else, getting stabbed was worth it to bring all his old friends and acquaintances back together again. He toasted the couples who had managed to stay together, commiserated with those who hadn't, and spoke freely to everyone who asked for advice.

It was the first time Rick had ever seen him work and he found it both fascinating and sad. This was supposed to be a party, and yet everyone but Ben seemed to be enjoying themselves. Most everyone assumed Ben had a picture-perfect life (someone who always knew just what to do must be perfect), but, like most in the biz, Ben's personal life was, if Rick was forced to be blunt, hell. He quickly noticed that Ben never talked about himself, and, really, no one wanted to hear it, anyway. He knew Ben had to be getting tired, and he saw the way he twisted the cloth napkin around in his hands, but no sign of the strain showed on his normally expressive face. Rick wanted to just wrap him up in velvet and hide him away forever, but the notion was both ludicrous and completely unrealistic. The closer he tried to get, the harder Ben seemed to push him away.

"Man, it's like a wake out there."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Hey, Jazz."

The slim, black man in his dreds sipped his beer and leaned against the windowledge next to his friend. "Thought you said this was a party? Where's the music and the girls?"

Glancing at his friend, Rick shook his head, chuckling. "You're hopeless! Aren't you married?"

"You know damned well I am, but, seriously, my parents know how to party better than this."

"It's just not their style." Honestly, he couldn't really imagine Doug or Shelly or Ben, for that matter, shaking it at a club. Hunter, possibly. That guy was crazy. He was also upstairs playing the pool shark.

"Like you'd know," scoffed Jazz. "You've hardly taken your eyes off him." He nodded towards the guest of honor and took another swig of his beer.

Rick gave his friend a sheepish look. "Yeah, I know, but this could go real bad real fast."

"Want something a bit stronger to drink?"

Rick shook his head. He was fine with his diet soda. "I'm too tired."

"Well, 'least you're home now and can get some decent sleep." He gazed around the packed room. "You should really try to have some fun."

"This isn't for me."

Jazz snorted. "Man, these people are here to gawk at you just as much as him."

"What do you mean?"

"If you really haven't noticed all the eyes on you, you really are tired. Huh. Look, there, that guy in the whatever color of orange that is. He's checking you out. So's the girl standing next to him. And those two, over there. Cougars, man, who'd have thought?"

Rick popped him on the shoulder. "And what does that say about you? What if I did this?" He threw an arm around Jazz's shoulders, leaning in close.

Jazz elbowed him. "Get off me, Skipper! There's a reason I don't go clubbing with you, you know, man."

"You didn't use to mind."

"Well, yeah, but I used to think you were straight. It's just too weird for me, man, you know that. Just because we're friends doesn't mean I'm comfortable with you macking with another guy." He took a quick gulp of his drink to disguise a grimace of distaste.

Rick conceded, dropping his arm. "That's true."

Jazz watched Rick's eyes turn back to the blonde at the bar. With the untrimmed hair and dark clothes, Ben seemed even smaller and younger, if that were possible. If Jazz had to pick a single word, he'd have to go with 'thin,' as in worn thin. He'd lost color as well as weight, but that wasn't what made him appear fragile. Jazz wasn't sure what it was, and he sighed to himself. He really ought to be happy for Rick, he knew that, but all he could see was the potential for heartache.

"So," he asked. "You still going home this summer?"

"No. No, I don't think so."

"What? You've been talking about it all year. Thought you had your tickets already?"

"I do, I just ... I promised to be here for the Fourth, and, I don't know, I don't think they want me to come anymore."

Jazz coughed. Breathing and swallowing just weren't meant to happen at the same time. "Why not?" he gasped, blinking. "You haven't been home in three years, man, thought they couldn't wait to see you? Isn't this, like, your last free summer?"

"Yeah. Yes, I know all that, Jazz, but ..." Rick swirled the dark liquid in his glass. "I told them."

"Told them what?"

Rick just looked at him, pain written all over his face.

"Crap, man." His gaze flipped to Ben and back. "Does he know?"

"It's not his problem, I --" Sagging against the windowsill, Rick rested the side of his glass against his forehead. "I've never wanted anything so much in my entire life, Jazz! What'm I going to do?"

"You're frickin' crazy. Why do you do this to yourself?"

"It had to be done."

"Well, I agree with you there, but now?" He shook his head. "Your timing sucks."

"I love him."

Jazz choked, snorting some of his beer and coughing. He stared at his friend. "You fucking serious?" he demanded in a hiss.

"If not love, then what else could it be?"

"God. Life's not a Shakespearean play, you know."

"I know, but he's going to tell me to get lost --"

"If he does that, then he's an idiot." Jazz tossed a glance over at the man in question and frowned. "Skipper, you sure about this?"

Rick rubbed his head with the heel of his hand. "I don't know. I think so." He wanted it to be so, to make that ache in his chest actually mean something. It scared him, too. He'd thought he'd have more time than this, to date around and see different kinds of people, now that he could freely do so, but he couldn't seem to help himself, not when Ben looked at him with those big, blue eyes so open and trusting. Even if he was scowling half the time.

"I still say you could do better," sighed Jazz, but he knew it was a lost cause. He doubted Rick had even heard him, his friend's gaze riveted on the person making his cautious way in their direction. Jazz could certainly feel Rick's tension as the big man forced himself not to rush forward and sweep him off his feet.

Jazz sighed again and drifted away. Totally whipped. Who'd of thought?

Ben was almost there when his legs decided they'd gone far enough. "Oof!"

Rick caught him "Whoa! Easy there, Sunshine."

Ben turned red in a heart beat, face screwing up into a scowl, but just before he could snap, Rick leaned in and captured his lips, grinning to himself. If Ben was a cat, his fur would fluff out when pissy; he was adorable.

The fight drained completely out of Ben as they kissed. He dangled in Rick's arms, fingers clenched around the collar of his shirt, pulling the fabric completely out of shape. Around them were whistles and claps, but Rick ignored them all. He searched out every last inch of Ben's mouth, trying to tell him everything without using words.

Ben shivered and held on tighter, hearing nothing above the blood rushing in his ears, smelling only Rick, feeling only the strong, lean body against his own. Oh, God! It just wasn't fair! He was going to give Rick a piece of his mind, damn it!

Across the room, Doug and Shelly grinned at each other, shared a kiss, and continued circulating.

"Dinner and a show," said Riley when he joined them for a minute. "Think we should break it up?"

"Hell, no!" Genny popped up beside them, leaning on Doug to stare at her brother. "God, it's like watching porn."

"Genny!"

"I've never seen porn like that." Riley winked at Shelly, who grinned.

"Well, yeah, there's usually less clothes involved."

"Shelly!"

"Don't be such a scrooge, Doug," Genny scolded him. "Look at them. It's beautiful."

Doug sighed. "Well quit gawking, it's rude."

"They're the ones sucking face in front of everybody," Genny retorted, but she turned away obediently. God, I wish somebody would kiss me like that!

"Rick?" Ben had finally been let up for air. He slumped against Rick's chest, a little dizzy, but in a good way.

"Mm-hmm?"

"I'm tired."

Rick looked down, pulling up on Ben's chin to see his mischievous smile. "You are?"

"I am. What say we ditch this shindig?"

"It's your party."

"And it's not really a request. I'm horny as hell and it's all your fault."

"My fault?" There had to be something between them, didn't there? Or why else would Ben look at him like that?

Ben blinked at him. "Well, it's not my fault."

Rick almost laughed, didn't because it would hurt too much. He should have recognized the blitzed look in the older man's eyes. Oh, what was he doing? This was insane!

Rick drew him into another kiss, telling himself he'd chastize himself later. He left Ben for a moment to grab the pill container Genny had thoughtfully filled earlier, then collected Ben to help him navigate to the door. Genny saw them and wormed her way over to wait.

"Skipping out, are we?"

"Just getting some air," said Ben, with an 'innocent' look that only had Genny lifting her eyebrows and shaking her head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

"Well," she held out a set of keys, "if you get it in your heads to sneak away, take my car. Yours is blocked in."

"That's very thoughtful," said Rick, accepting, "but how will you get home?"

"I'll be here. Took the day off. Just bring it back in the morning." She swooped in to give Ben a quick peck on the cheek. "Love ya, Big Brother."

They got out without further ado and, laughing and staggering like drunks, made their way to the car. They sobered up a bit when they arrived at Rick's complex.

"I forgot about the stairs," said Ben, looking up.

"No problem at all." Rick grinned. "Get on my back."

"Are you serious?"

"You have ridden piggy-back before, haven't you?"

"Not since I was, like, five."

"Come on. The only other way I can do this is over my shoulder and I don't think that'd be good for you. Of course, if you've changed your mind ...."

Ben frowned. "No. Haven't changed my mind. Oh, God, fine."

"It's not like you're being executed or anything," quipped Rick, bracing himself on the trunk of the car. It took a bit of finagling, and they were both laughing again by the time Rick had a firm grip on Ben's legs around his waist. "There, see? Not so bad."

"Mush!"

"I'll 'mush' you," Rick grunted, taking a little hop.

Ben yelped, Rick choked, and they lurched sideways a step or two before Rick could regain his balance. Laughing again, hard enough to actually hurt, Ben nibbled on the back of Rick's neck, making him shiver.

"I'm never," he panted, "going to ... get up these stairs ... you keep ... on doing that."

"Aw, take all the fun out of it."

"Fun? You call ... carrying ... a good two-thirds ... of ... your ... body weight ... up a flight of stairs ... fun?"

"No, but the riding part is! Besides, you should be used to it, G.I. Joe."

"I think you ... over ... h'estimate ... my capabilities."

"For your sake, I sure hope not. Come on, hurry up! You're so slow!"

Rick dropped him at the door, pushing Ben up against the wall. "I'll show you slow!" he whispered roughly. "I'll make you beg me to finally come, I'm going to --" His eyes fell on the screen door, and the figure standing there, staring out at them.

"Mom?" He straightened up, keeping one arm around Ben for support. "What the hell are you doing here?" How had she even gotten inside his apartment?

The metal screen swung open, barely missing Rick, to slam against the wall. Ben jumped, hands to his ears, wide-eyed. The woman in the entranceway had stylishly short, brown hair. Devoid of make-up, the face was a more feminine version of Rick's features. She was as tall as Ben, with Rick's strong, wide shoulders. Brown eyes sparkled furiously through the tiny slits provided by the scowl she wore.

"You watch your mouth!" Beatrice snapped. Her eyes went to her son's companion, her nostrils flaring as she took in their, ahem, compromising position. "Who is that?"

"Mom," said Rick cautiously, stepping away from the wall and drawing Ben with him. "This is Ben. The guy I told you about? He's my boy --"

Quicker than a blink, Beatrice's hand cracked against Rick's cheek. He staggered. Ben tightened his grip on Rick, sliding slightly behind him, fighting for control.

"Sh-sh-shit!" he murmured, clawing Rick's shirt and clinging to his back. His stomach heaved and he shivered as the cool, night air hit his suddenly moist, sweaty skin.

Stunned, Rick's hand went to his face. He couldn't at first speak. His eyes grew a little wider when Stephen Carter stepped up beside Beatrice, face even more stern.

"Do not repeat such filth," he instructed. "It is blasphemy, a disgrace before the eyes of God."

"No, I --"

"Rick, sweetheart, we know you've had a hard time." Beatrice stepped out of the doorway. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Tell you what?" he asked, feeling Ben trembling against his side. He backed up as his mother approached, Stephen behind her. In a brief moment of silence, Tyler meeped dejectedly from somewhere inside the apartment.

"We all go through phases in our lives where we don't know which way's up and which way's down. You just have to trust in the Lord and --"

"Mom! This isn't a phase I'm going through! How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Don't talk to your mother like that, son."

Rick snarled at him, "If you'd ever married my mom instead of just fucking her --"

"Don't you dare! Not marrying Stephen was my choice!"

"Oh, so you can be all self-righteous in jumping down my throat, but when it comes to actual fornication, it's okay?"

"We are one in the eyes of God."

"That is such crap!"

"You can still seek forgiveness, son."

"I'm not your son!"

"Well, thank God for that!"

"Stephen!"

"Finally! Something we agree on! I was never good enough for you! Always the bastard child. Well, it made it alright to cheat on Marion, didn't it? Already spoilt, what was a little more?"

Three voices shouted in unison; two bodies moved.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Crumpled on the floork Ben shook his head, immediately wishing he hadn't as the world spun even harder. He just had to find his stomach again and he'd be fine.

Rick dropped to one knee beside Ben, hands shaking. "Ben! Are you okay?"

Ben pushed him off, one hand to his cheek, but both eyes sparking with malice for the man whose fist he'd stepped in front of. "Mother fucker. Get off me, Rick, shit!"

"Rick, honey." Beatrice stepped in front of Stephen. "Sweetie, if this is due to something that happened out in the desert, you can tell us. It's okay."

Confusion banished outrage, for an instant, and then Rick flushed again. He stood slowly. "This has nothing to do with Iraq, Mom. You can't blame everything on the war. I was a good soldier. I can't say I enjoyed it, but it was an honor to serve. You shame me."

Stephen laughed, bitterly and with no humor. He turned to Beatrice. "I thought you said your father was a good influence on your boy?"

"My father --"

"You leave my grandfather out of this! God rest his soul, he was an asshole, but --"

"The Thad Wengstrom I knew would've beat the fag right out of any of his boys."

Rick's face darkened even further. What did his mother see in this bigot? He struggled to hold onto his temper, never so close to striking anyone as he was right now to knocking that homophobic preacher right over the railing!

"He never whupped me without my first deserving it," Rick ground out through his teeth.

"Then he obviously didn't do a good enough job if you liked it."

Ben lurched to grab Rick's fist. He shook his head when Rick looked down.

"You can't 'make' a person gay or straight," growled Rick. "I love Ben, and if you can't handle that, then leave."

"Don't look at me," said Ben, shaking off his own shock when two pairs of eyes turned their death rays on him. "I'm not his first ass-fuck."

They stood there a moment in frozen suspense.

"How long?" asked Beatrice. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since I popped a woodie in Mr. Feldman's history class."

She flinched. "That's disgusting."

"If you had the balls God gave you, you'd have confessed your sins then."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole!"

"Ben --"

"I've never understood how God can be all good and loving, but only to one, tiny-assed group of people. Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"Ben, please, you're not helping."

"See how Lucifer works?" Stephen insisted. "Seduction and promises, but they'll all be broken in the end. Just look at yourself! Look at him!" Ben's eyes narrowed. "First sodomy, then pederasty --"

"Hey!"

"You will burn in hell for --"

"Fine!" Rick shouted. "I'd rather an eternity in hell with the one I love, than a single day in heaven with you!"

"Two men can't love each other."

"So, what, Jesus couldn't love John? Or David love --"

"Brotherly love! Comrades! Not ..." Stephen waved his hand towards Rick and Ben, at a loss for descriptive enough words.

"First Samuel," said Rick, feeling a wave of calm wash over him. "Chapter eighteen, verse one: 'When David had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.'"

"Don't quote scripture at me!"

"Mom." He turned away from Stephen. "Didn't you tell me that love knows no bonds? No boundaries, be they time, distance, or flesh? What matter the shape of this vessel?" he gestured to himself. "It's more than just physical intimacy. Didn't you tell me that, too?"

"You were so heartbroken when your first crush moved away." Uneasy and confused, Beatrice wrung her hands, glancing back and forth between her lover and her son.

"It wasn't Alice I missed, Mom. This isn't sudden or a whim or a -- a mid-life crisis."

"When you said you wanted to make a change, this isn't what I imagined."

"I know, Mom. It wasn't easy, but I wasn't happy."

"And you're happy now?"

"Yes. I am. I'm finally being me. Can't you understand that?"

"No!" she cried. "You were supposed to come home a hero! Marry Louisa, not choose this sinkhole of humanity!"

"He is a hero!"

"Ben." Rick squeezed his lover's shoulder, facing his mother squarely. "Mom, Louisa and I have had an understanding for many years now. We never planned to get married. We never loved each other as more than friends. Only you and her mother refused to accept it."

"No! No, I'm not listening to this!"

"Mom. You came all this way, at least hear me out."

Stephen stepped forward. "We came here to bring you back into the fold. Bring you home. If you repent --"

"There's nothing to repent!"

"Rick, sweetheart, I only want what's best for you."

He ducked his head, finding Ben's hand in his own. He took a deep breath. "If it's not 'I love you,' then I don't care what else you have to say. If you c-can't ... can't accept me for who I am, then, please, just leave."

"We're not finished here."

"Yes. We are." Rick stared the older man in the eye until he looked away. "Go on! Get out! Go back to that narrow-minded, stereotypical redneck town and think up new ways to convince yourselves you're superior to everyone else! I'll be right here if ...! If you ever change your minds."

"Rick ...."

He took her gently by the shoulders and kissed each cheek. Then he stepped away. "Goodbye, Mom. Please pass along my regrets. I won't be coming this summer."

"Rick ...."

"Let's go, Bea. We'll pray for your soul, son."

"Yeah, you do that," said Ben. "Meanwhile, we'll be fucking our brains out."

Rick watched his mother and Stephen down the steps to their rental car. He leaned his forearms on the railing as they drove away.

"I'm sorry."

He glanced over his shoulder to where Ben still sat, arm protectively around his waist, half his face red from the clocking he'd received. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

Ben frowned and looked away, biting back the words, 'For making you fall in love with me.' He hadn't meant that to happen. It was all just supposed to be a little diversion to get his family off his back. Now, what was he going to do?

"You told them because of me, didn't you?"

"Yeah. So?" Rick sighed, massaging his temples and watching the tail lights on his mom's rental disappear out of sight.

"So? So, if I wasn't about ready to pass out, I'd scold you for handling that so badly, but I can't think straight."

"My mother's fucking an asshole. That would have ended badly no matter what I said. Here," he knelt down, "let me look at that."

"Ow. Ow, Rick! Stop it! Or I'm going to ralph on you."

"Very romantic." He sighed. "We should go have that x-rayed."

"No."

"Ben --"

"If I broke it again, it's broke. I'd rather get my brains fucked out than sit around in an ER all night."

"Fine, but I'm calling Genny --"

"Ugh, don't call Genny!"

"Someone's got to take you to the hospital. I've got class in the morning. Come on, up you get." Rick got Ben to the couch and then fetched a glass of water to go with the painkiller from the pillbox. "Here, chug."

"Yuck. Ooh!" One hand cupped his jaw. "Damn, tell the docs to put me out again." He tenderly poked at the raw strip of skin on his cheekbone. "Aw, it's not going to be a gecko anymore."

"You want a lizard on your face?"

"Yeah, c'mon, just imagine the conversation: 'Oooh, nifty scar!' 'Yeah, shoulda seen it! It had me in it's coils --'"

"Coils?"

"Duh. Hunting anacondas in South America. One fang here," he pointed to his cheek, "and the other here." His forehead. "What other kind of snake has a mouth that big?"

Rick's mouth twitched. "I'm sure I don't want to know. They don't look like snake bites to me."

"You're just not using your imagination. Here, just imagine this! Two intrepid explorers, on a quest for the largest and most deadliest snake in the world! Battling natives," he brandished his arm, pulling up his sleeve, "and Jurassic-era crocodiles!"

"And I suppose you wrestled that crocodile all on your lonesome?"

"Hell, no! I get to be the screaming pansy who got dragged off, waiting for my Amazonian, former-Rambo commando to come and save me. I'm the smartie; you're the muscle."

"That's not fair. Bet I know more about snakes than you do."

"Yeah, but who's more believable in the role?"

"Speaking of believable, that looks more like a shark bite to me, not alligators."

"Crocodiles."

"What's the difference?"

"Something about the way their teeth hang out? Dunno. Not like I would stick around to figure it out."

Rick laughed. Turning sideways on the couch, he threw his arms around Ben, leaning his head against his back. He shook, the painful chuckles morphing into deep sobs.

"I'm sorry."

"That's all right." Ben curled his arms around the one about his chest, patting Rick soothingly. "We are who we are. At least now it's out of the way."

"She kept trying to insist Ben was short for something in Italian."

"Huh. That's a first. When did you tell them?"

"Last week." Rick sniffed.

"Why? Why now?" Silence. Ben frowned, and then he shrugged. "That's okay, it's none of my business."

"I just ... I knew if I waited until I got there, that I'd chicken out again. I was going to tell them when I went home after my last tour, but they were so happy, so proud of me, I couldn't bear to shatter their perfect little image of me. So I just told them that being in Iraq had made me do a lot of thinking, and I wanted to make a change in my life. A big change. You'd have thought I'd of just admitted to starting the war myself."

"Stupid, pointless --"

"Don't. Don't, Ben. I don't want to talk about it."

"Sorry. You know I'm a Democrat, don't you?"

"Never talk about politics or religion. It's one of the rules of good etiquette."

"I guess I can agree to disagree."

"Ben, the things I saw over there still give me nightmares. Maybe we went in there for the wrong reasons, but, if they didn't have nucs, they sure were tryin' real hard to pretend otherwise. And there's no doubting they need us now."

"I just don't see how we can be so egotistical as to believe we can end thousands of years of bloodshed, just by telling the people they're in a democracy now. It's insane."

"I thought we agreed not to talk about this?"

"Right." He patted Rick's arm. "Right, then. Didn't we come here for something? I want you in me before I'm passed out and drooling."

Rick chuckled weakly, but he didn't move. "I just ... I knew they were going to react that way."

"Don't dwell on it. It'll only mess you up further. Plus, it'll give you wrinkles. Shh, come here." He kept pulling until he had Rick's head in his lap. Leaning back against the sofa, Ben combed his fingers through Rick's thick hair, closing his eyes. "Is it really there?"

"What?"

"That passage about David? I'm guessing you meant David as in David and Goliath? That's the only David I know of. In the bible."

"Oh. Yes, that David. He's described as a musician and poet and a warrior. He was a shepherd when first brought to the king to soothe his slumber. Saul, that's the king, had been having nightmares. Then, when the Philistines arrived on the Jews' doorstep, for battle, Goliath challenged them, every day, to end the conflict by selecting a single warrior to do combat with. Winner take all."

"I remember that."

"So, David accepts the challenge. He wins, and Saul takes him into his house, so to speak, adopts him, makes him a general in the army, gifts him with treasure and stuff, but he soon gets jealous of David's popularity. Tries to kill him. Jonathan is one of Saul's sons."

"A prince."

"Mm-hm." Rick smiled. "Saved his life. Several times. Jonathan saved David, I mean. Tried to get him to run away, too. Even after Saul marries David to one of his daughters, the two remained close. They defied everything and everyone to stay together. David even said that he loved Jonathan deeper and closer than any woman."

"And they say there's no romance in the bible."

"I always liked church."

"Somebody has to, I suppose."

"There was a gay boy, at my school," said Rick slowly. "Small, feminine."

"I know the type."

"Yeah, well, I made his life hell. Me and my friends. And the whole time, I was so afraid, that one day everyone would look at me the way we all looked at him. That they'd just ... know. And so I tried harder and harder and ...."

"It's okay."

"My grandfather would have killed me. He said, often enough, that if he'd been that boy's father, he'd have grown up to be a man. Or else. I was so freaking scared! Even at his funeral, I still couldn't say anything. He was a bastard, but ... he was the closest thing I had to a father."

"What about your father?"

"My parents were never married. He married someone else, years later. Navy man, remember? I got letters occasionally, and money, when he remembered my birthday. I just wanted him to be proud of me. All of them."

"They may never acknowledge it," said Ben, "but it was a very brave thing you just did."

"Then why do I feel so awful?"

"I think everyone knew before I did," Ben answered, "but it was still nerve-wracking to finally admit to it. To tell Gran, and Uncle Charlie. Even knowing that they loved me, I was afraid, afraid if I told them, that they'd stop. But there was always a little sliver of hope that said they'd still love me, no matter what, that got me to finally tell them."

"Yeah." Rick rubbed his eyes. "Well, so much for hope."

"Just give them a little time. It's as much a shock to them as it was to you, when you first realized. Right now, they're trying to figure out what they did wrong. Your mom probly thinks she made you that way, a lack of a father-figure, or something."

"But ...."

"I know, it doesn't make sense. And, they also feel betrayed, that you didn't trust them enough to tell them earlier."

"Yeah, so they could throw me in an institution? I --"

"I understand, it's okay. What we've done in our past makes us who we are." Opening his eyes, he looked up, to see Snowball staring down. "If," he went on, quieter, "we'd done just a single thing differently, what's to say we'd be where we are now? We can only accept our mistakes as part of us, good or bad, and move on."

Rick lay there silently for a minute. "I think I like you on drugs."

"Heh, he-ah! Mmm, don't make me laugh. Oooh."

Rick sat up, taking Ben's head in his hands and kissing him softly. Ben already had an unfocused look to his eyes and a loopy smile, but he dug his fingers in Rick's shirt and kissed him back hungrily.

"I'm floating!" sighed Ben when Rick released him to flop back on the couch. "God, I feel so good."

"Now, now, after all that, you can't fall asleep now." Tossing Ben's arm around his shoulders, Rick hefted him to his feet, mostly carrying him towards the bed.

"Not sleepy," Ben corrected him. "Just high." He giggled. "Erg! Ow ...."

Rick lowered him to the mattress. "Shall I kiss it and make it all better?"

"Fuck yeah. Magic kisses, mmm!"

Hands under his arms, Rick lifted Ben to slide him all the way on the mattress. He pushed up the thin shirt to lave kisses on Ben's navel. The subject of said affection shivered, squirming, and then yawned.

Rick cradled him tenderly, pulling the slimmer, older man in snug against his side. Ben turned toward him, blinking sleepily.

"Rick ...?"

"Shh. Just sleep."

Leaning over him, Rick kissed him again. He kissed over the scars with care and held on as Ben's breathing evened out into actual sleep. Only then did he get up, undressing them both and folding their clothes before going and releasing the cats from the bathroom. He soothed them with cat treats, puttering around his little apartment for awhile before switching off the lights and heading to bed himself.

He rolled Ben onto his back and propped a pillow under his knees to take the strain off his stomach. Arranging sheet and blankets over them, Rick lay on his side, head in his hand. He dropped a kiss or two on lax lips, touching his skin with hopeless wonder.

"I love you," he whispered.