01 The One I Want - 21. Best Laid Plans

Chapter 21
Best Laid Plans

"Ben?"

He paused, a thought racing across his mind that if he just stayed silent maybe she'd give up and go away; but, no can do. This was his best friend he was talking about. They'd known each other since high school. Still ....

"Ben?" Her voice grew sharper and he knew she'd spied the garden hose attached to the side of the house. "What the hell are you doing?"

Grimacing, Ben sat back on his heels. Water from his bare feet soaked his shorts and he sighed. The wait wasn't long before the boat swayed and Shelly's head popped over the side. Her long, dark hair was gathered back into a simple braid today and she had on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt that was obviously not hers.

"Get off this boat this instant!"

He bit back a snippy retort, knowing that she was just doing her mother-hen thing again. "I'm fine, Shelly."

"Like hell you are!"

"Thought you were trying to stop swearing?"

"Screw you, Ben!"

"You know, I --"

"Save it!" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. Interesting how a woman so small could look so imposing kneeling in inch-deep, soapy water. "Are you fucking out of your mind? You've surgery tomorrow!"

"So?" He lifted an eyebrow and looked back calmly, knowing how much she hated when he wouldn't fight with her. She preferred to scream and rant and rave until she ran out of steam. Then it was over and everything forgotten. Doug held grudges, but overall the method seemed to work for them. Ben just couldn't stop himself from pushing their buttons when offered the opportunity.

"You're supposed to be taking it easy! Jesus, Ben! Do you want people to think you're nuts?"

He scowled. "A little late for that, isn't it? Fucking police seem convinced, huh?" Angrily, he snatched at the sponge in the bucket, sloshing more soapy water over the side. He got a perverse satisfaction when Shelly swore again at the splatters.

"That doesn't mean you should go acting like an idiot!" She refused to feel badly about bringing up the previous day's police interview. They'd put them off as long as they could, but Lance had insisted it be done before Ben's surgery. After all, the day he was scheduled for release he'd be going to San Diego for a wedding. If he was well enough to do that, he was well enough to handle being pumped for information.

"What difference does it make, Shelly?" He refused to look at her, scrubbing furiously at the wheel well.

"Would you stop that!" Shelly lunged around Ben, snatching at the sponge. He elbowed her in retaliation, knocking the bucket over as she shoved back. Minutes later they were both drenched, Shelly's hair had come free of its braid, and Ben winced around his laughter. Wrestling had released more of his pent-up tension than the work had.

"Idiot," Shelly said, shaking her head even as she met Ben's eyes and giggled some more.

He stuck his tongue out at her and flopped onto his back in the sunshine. The day was unusually warm for late October. The whole season was acting weird. Warm one week, freezing the next, and then warm again. His arm throbbed, fingers slipping on the plastic he'd wrapped around the cast as he tried to hold it steady.

"I'm getting too old for this," groaned Shelly, sitting up and wringing out her t-shirt.

"Getting too old?"

"Oh, shut up!"

Ben laughed and flicked water back at her.

"Just keep on laughing, old man! No matter how old I get, you'll always be older!"

"Oh, yeah, by like twenty days!" Ben rolled his eyes.

"Still." She reached towards him, jerking back a little as Ben flinched back. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Ben pushed himself up with his good arm. "What?"

A little slower this time, Shelly reached over and checked the wrappings on his arm, looking to see if the cast had gotten wet. She pursed her lips.

"What, Shelly?" he repeated. He couldn't pull away with her holding onto him, but he did give her his best Look.

She didn't look at him. "I'm still your best friend, aren't I?"

He sighed. "Yeah. Why? Oh, Lord, you're not still going on about Rick being some kind of stalker, are you? Shit, Shelly! I thought you liked him!"

"I do!" she protested, letting him go to cross her arms defensively over her chest. Her jaw stuck out stubbornly.

"But what?" Ben pressed. He was more than a little tired of the increasing drama between the two people he cared the most about.

"Nothing!"

"Shelly."

"I like him, okay!" She tried to stand but Ben grabbed her wrist, holding her down.

He held her eyes. "You know you can't lie to me," he said softly. "You've been acting weird ever since I got here. What is it?"

Her mouth turned down into an unhappy pout. Her eyes flicked up at him and then away. When she pulled away, he let her go, but she made no attempt to resume cleaning up, instead popping a couple of nearby soap bubbles.

"It's just ... I never see you anymore. You don't call, we don't hang out, we don't spend hours making ridiculous food for Doug to eat, just ... I dunno." She looked at him then and Ben was shocked to see her on the verge of tears.

"You're my best friend," she whispered.

Ben gathered her into a one-armed hug, kissing her forehead lightly. "You'll always be my best friend."

"But what about Rick? Now you've got him, you don't seem to need me."

"I need you --"

"But you told Lance you want Him to be your POA now."

"Is that what's bothering you?" Ben backed up a little, waiting until she met his eyes with guilty brown ones. "Shit, Shelly. I just thought, he's taking care of me already. Shouldn't it be official?"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "But that's exactly what I mean!" Irritably, she brushed the tear away, but more took its place. "I've always taken care of you. Me and Doug. And Hunter. We're your family."

Ben pushed a lock of hair back behind Shelly's ear. "You are," he agreed solemnly. "But so is Rick."

"But --"

"Shelly, you have Doug and Ollie to look after. Rick doesn't have anybody, and I need him. I love him."

She nodded unhappily. "I know, but I feel like he's taking you away from me."

"No, oh, Shelly, no. Can't you see? He's bringing me back."

She looked at him long and hard, but could see no deceit or hidden in those clear, blue eyes. They were still so solemn and serious, but ... She cocked her head, brushing back hair stuck to his forehead. Ben looked older. The trials of the past months had aged him, but, as she looked closer ...

"Are you sure this isn't some kind of Florence Nightingale thing?"

Ben smiled and shook his head. "I've never felt this way," he confessed, understanding that she was close to accepting his faith and willing to be absolutely truthful if that's what it took. "Not for anyone. I love him and he loves me."

She was silent a moment, digesting that. Then she shook her head sadly. "We're not going to be the Three Musketeers anymore."

A smile lifted Ben's lips. "But the Three Musketeers weren't really three, they were four."

"Chris O'Donnell is much prettier."

"Rick could take that pretty boy any day."

"I don't think they allow tackling in duels."

"Meh, they're illegal anyway, Athos."

She blew him a raspberry. "Put a sock in it, Porthos."

"Ooh, I'm gonna tell Doug on you!"

Laughing, Shelly shoved him playfully, laughing harder as they both slipped on the wet fiberglass and wood deck. "Bastard!"

When they'd gained control over themselves and gathered up the scattered tools, Shelly hosed off the deck. Ben leaned on the rail, watching.

"What the devil are you doing out here, anyway?"

Ben shrugged. "Developing a hobby."

"What?"

"Hey!" he screeched, ducking as the cold spray from the nozzle soaked him again.

"Oops, sorry."

"You shit! You are not!"

"Watch your mouth."

"Je -- Geez, okay, okay. That water's cold."

"Wimp."

"Bitch." He yelped as the hose turned his way again. "Aaah, fuck you, Shelly! Yes, I said fuck! Fuck, fuck, fu --" And then he was laughing too hard to speak, Shelly grappling with him to shove the nozzle into his already soaking wet shorts.

Until the water abruptly stopped that is.

"Now, children," came a voice from below them, prompting another fit of giggles.

Genny sighed and shifted the baby on her hip. "I thought you were gonna bring him inside?" she called up to Shelly. "Not coerce me into babysitting!"

"Hot date tonight?" Ben teased, sticking his head through the railing to leer at his sister.

"As a matter of fact --"

"Let me guess: this man has a fascination with something as incomprehensibly weird as his name is long."

Shelly giggled as she appeared next to Ben and Genny scowled at them both, forgetting how pleased she should be to have her older brother teasing her about the men she dated.

"I'll have you know I've got my pottery class this afternoon."

"Oh, a potter." Shelly nodded seriously at Ben. He winked back. "Sounds dreadfully ordinary to me."

"Are you sure he's smart enough for you?" Ben added.

"He's gay, damn it!"

Ben and Shelly broke down in chuckles.

"Oh, shut up."

"Oh, yeah," snorted Shelly when she'd gotten her breath back. "Genny brought your mail. You have a box."

"A box?" He leaned over to look at his sister again. She nodded, only not frowning because she was bouncing a fidgety baby and making faces at him. "You know you look ridiculous doing that, don't you?"

"Kiss my -- ah," she paused, feeling Shelly's glare, "my behind."

"Oh, yeah, that was so what you were going to say."

"Screw you!" said Genny in a sing-song, baby voice that had Shelly and Ben cracking up again. Amidst more horsing around, they all finally got back inside and into dry clothes.

Ben sorted through his mail, thanking his sister for going to fetch it for him. He could tell she was busting at the seams to see what was in the box. Women and jewelry. That combination was almost worse than women and shoes.

"Isn't that Jon's store?" Shelly asked as she joined the siblings. She glanced speculatively at the box.

"Yep."

"Thought they'd already gotten the rings?"

Ben shrugged and reached for the scissors. "Who knows what Jack and Roger are thinking?" He grinned a little as he said that, eagerly wondering what was in the box, too.

"So, what is it?" Genny asked, leaning forward around the baby in her lap.

Ben had frozen with his hand lost within the styrofoam peanuts. He withdrew his hand and closed the top. He'd just remembered what was in this box.

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit." Shelly was not going to let a mystery box change the mood just like that. She reached for the box, yanking it out from under Ben's hand.

"No!"

Shelly stared at the soft, velvet box in her hand. "Geez. Ninny --" She stopped, staring at the ring inside, her mind spinning. White and yellow gold, twisted around the outside, a diamond-shaped jewel in the center with chips at the four elongated points like a star.

"Oh my God."

"Hey." Genny had the invoice. "This is in your name, Ben." She looked up, puzzled.

"Give it!" The box snapped shut in Ben's hand. He pressed his lips together tightly, ring clutched to his chest. He closed his eyes, but they came open again as he heard Shelly rustling around in the box again.

"Hey! Damn it!"

The second ring was just the gold twists.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Shelly asked.

"What?" Genny demanded. "What's going on?"

Ben's lower lip trembled. "Yeah? Well, it's kinda pointless now, isn't it!"

"Ben?" Shutting the jewelry box, Shelly leaned over, but Ben avoided her touch. "Ben, what's wrong?"

"I -- I'm Frankenstein!" Ben wailed, curling over to hide his face in his bent arm. "Who'd ever want to marry meee?"

Scooping her jaw off the floor, Genny shook herself into motion. She and Shelly reached Ben at the same time.

"Hey," said Genny soothingly. "Frankenstein got a bride, remember?"

Ben's "Fuck you," was a bit muffled but no less distinct. He didn't look up, missing the look shared between the women. "What'm I going to do?" Ben sobbed. "I look like crap and I'm a nutcase! I can't ask him to marry me now! I'm a freak!"

"You're not," said Shelly decisively. Genny nodded.

"Huh?" Ben sniffled.

"Come on, get dressed. We're going shopping."

"Shopping? But Rick said --"

"Screw that!" Shelly smacked Ben on his good shoulder. "You need a make-over, stat! Let's go, chop, chop! Genny, call Hunter."

"What?" Ben sat up, forgetting his tears as the two women started jabbering at each other. "Oh, no, no, no!" He hated shopping, and he'd sworn to never let Shelly make him over ever, ever again! Add Hunter to the mix and this was shaping up to be a nightmare.

"Well, you can't go to a wedding looking like that!" Genny sniped, tugging on an over-grown, wet strand of hair. "I certainly won't get a brother-in-law with you looking like a drowned rat."

"I am not a rat."

"And, besides, you'll need a tux."

"I do not!"

"Yeah, Rick's a classy guy." The baby swapped hands as the women put their heads together. Then Hunter's voice came over the speaker phone.

"Oh, God," Ben groaned. "I'm going to hell."

~ * ~

They pulled up in front of the main building at the chosen wedding villa early Friday afternoon because Rick wanted to have enough time to rest prior to the rehearsal and dinner. After that, most of the others were going to a Halloween party in the Gaslamp District of San Diego. Ben had tried convincing Rick to go as well, but he had papers to grade and didn't want to leave his boyfriend alone in a strange place. The surgery had gone well and with no complications, but Ben was slower to bounce back than they'd expected.

He stepped out of the door and waved to the two men hurrying towards the car. Ben was still woozy from the painkillers and sedatives; he had to be helped from the car, swaying and leaning heavily against Rick.

"Wow!" Roger exclaimed, pulling up short and staring at his partner. "He wasn't kidding when he said he looked like crap!"

"Rog!" Jack hissed, surprised himself but having the restraint to think before speaking.

"Yeah? Fuck you, too," said Ben, squinting to focus on the shapes blurring and wavering across his vision. He would have flipped them off if Rick didn't have his arm. Morons could have changed who was officiating. He'd told them to. It was their damn fault if the pictures came out horrible.

"He just needs a little sleep and we'll all be fine," said Rick soothingly.

Ben made a non-committal grunt. His feet felt disconnected from his knees and the jackhammers in his arm switched places. "Mn."

"Rog." Jack gave his partner a shove towards the house. "Take them up. I'll get the bags."

"Oh, thanks." Rick tossed his keys to the man. "Appreciate that."

"We put you next to the elevator," said Roger. "This way."

Ben tucked his face against Rick's chest and let the bigger man steady him all the way into their room. Eased down onto the bed, he closed his eyes, tired and hurting and trusting Rick to take care of things.

"Rehearsal's at five-thirty," said Jack, dropping two small suitcases by the bed and hanging up the garment bags. He glanced to Roger, hovering worriedly in the doorway. "Dinner after."

"It's going to rain," muttered Roger.

"It'll be fine," said Rick. He tucked a pillow under Ben's elbow for support and kneeled to pull off his shoes. There was a moment's heavy pause and he looked, recognizing the worry and concern.

"We'll be there," he promised. "Don't worry, it'll be fine."

They didn't look convinced, but they let themselves be herded out without complaint. Rick shut the door with a sigh of relief. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he brushed loose bangs out of Ben's moist, pale face. He really didn't look good.

"How's the arm?"

"Hurts."

"Sorry." His fingers undid the first few buttons of the old, flannel shirt of Rick's that Ben wore. Rick had rolled up the sleeves to allow for the cast. "Pants?"

Still with his eyes closed, Ben nodded, biting his lip. "Hurts," he groaned again to distract himself while Rick pulled off his pants. "Why today?"

"It needed done." Rick worked quickly to undress his lover and tuck him under the covers. First thing that morning the orthopedic surgeon had confirmed Rick's suspicions: the swelling had gone down enough that a new cast was necessary. They dared not let the bones rattle around over the weekend, not with the new plate and screws holding Ben's arm in place.

"Could've waited."

Rick's voice came from the bathroom where he filled up a glass of water. "No, it couldn't."

Ben groaned. His arm was disgusting and heavy and throbbed clear down into his toes. It was like something alien had latched onto his shoulder and was slowly devouring his arm, to slowly digest over a thousand years.

The doctor had showed them x-rays and had a long explanation of the injury, but Ben could have cared less. He was in pain from the surgery and re-casting, happy enough to let Rick handle everything.

"C'mon," said Rick, coming back to the bed with pills and water. "Sit up."

Ben turned his head away, lips firmly closed.

Rick sighed. "It's just ibuprofen." His lips twitched with amusement under Ben's suspicious stare. "Promise."

"Masochist," grunted Ben, struggling up on his elbow.

"Sadist."

"Whatever." He accepted the pills and took a couple swallows of water. "I hate you."

"Mm-hm. Drink." He wiggled the glass meaningfully.

"Blech."

"All of it. That's it."

"If I throw up, I'm blaming you."

"Yeah, yeah." Smiling, Rick helped ease Ben back into the pillows. He kissed the moist brow. "Get some rest."

"Fuck you." His eyes fluttered closed almost against his will, but he managed to find and curl his fingers around Rick's hand, drifting to sleep with the ghosting impression of fingers along his cheek.

~ * ~

If a bad rehearsal meant a good wedding, then the next day would be perfect.

Rain chased them indoors that evening, Jack punched one of the groomsmen for being a drunken asshole, the flower girl wouldn't stop screaming, and Roger flipped out when the kitchen caught fire. Then there was the photographer who insisted on catching everything on film against his client's clear wishes.

Roger mellowed after a few drinks, however, and the group departed early for the party, dressed in all manner of outlandish attire. Ben was just happy to snuggle up against Rick, listening to the drone of the TV, the rain pounding against the roof and windows, and Rick muttering to himself while he shuffled papers around.

He was up early the next morning, grabbing an egg, potato, and sausage-filled burrito to munch on as he wandered around the gardens. The morning fog and chill felt good, the breeze lifting his hair and swishing the leaves on the trees. Birds chirped, as ever enduringly cheerful, and the groundsmen talked as they dried furniture and set out the decorations.

Ducking under a low-hanging vine, Ben shivered as water droplets trickled under his collar. The cold, wet grass was odd against his feet through his sandals, but the air was sharp and clear, like being on the mountains, but still heavy with the taste of salt and the cries of seagulls. If he stopped for a minute of two, he could hear the crashing of surf at the bottom of the cliffs.

There were trees enough to block the worst of the breeze coming off the ocean, but enough of a view remained to make an amazing back-drop. The owners of the place had even built a small pagoda (painted white and draped liberally with roses) at a spot perfect for catching the sunset in pictures. The whole thing dripped sentimentality enough to satisfy even the most self-absorbed celebrity.

All the roads were either brick or dirt, and there was a carriage house for the symbolic horse-drawn carriage ride. The house itself was something out of a Victorian novel. Why that period was always equated with romance, Ben didn't know. He didn't particularly care, either. He fervently hoped that Rick wouldn't want something so ostentatious.

On one side of the house was a huge patio, with a separate area for the band, and a grass dance floor underneath vine-covered trellises. Even at this time of year there were blooms, and lights hung below. The bulbs were small, white Christmas lights that, if Ben remembered correctly, turned the gardens into a fairy-land at night. The tables began adjacent to the dance floor and extended back into the surrounding gardens. The cake had its own place of prominence, and, by the size of its table, would be able to feed a horde.

He took another look at the display, shaking his head as he counted the tables. A horde was right. Had Jack and Roger invited the whole city?

Wandering into the gardens, Ben happily lost himself amongst the twisting paths, noting the benches set in secluded nooks, the birdbaths and fountains adding to the pleasant atmosphere, and the high hedges muffling the noise at the house.

Standing in the center of the path, looking up at the lamps hidden in the boughs of the trees and the fog all around, Ben dragged his fingers lightly over the cast. With luck, he wouldn't need another, and Rick had written his name in big, block letters from elbow to wrist ....

"So that every time you look at it, you'll see me, and not him."

There were also some grotesque, misshapen hearts, but Ben smiled anyway. In his pocket, the rings were wrapped in one of Rick's handkerchiefs. He drew them out, careful not to drop them, and wondered for the thousandth time if this was the right thing to do. Maybe he should wait.

He returned to the house in time to hear Jack yell, "You are not throwing a jock-strap!" as Ben walked down the hall. Rounding the corner, he jerked back as a small, blue-ish, lacy missile pinged off his forehead.

"A -- Ow! What the fuck?"

Rick scooped up the garter with a blush. "See?" he asked the two soon-to-be newlyweds. "Just like a rubber band."

Jack and Roger glanced at each other, smirking. "Neither of us wear garters, Rick."

"It's traditional," he argued, blushing a little darker. His jaw set. "Your other choice is to make one of the bridesmaids give up her flowers."

Jack and Roger glanced at each other again with identical grimaces. They shook their heads. "Garter it is."

"Then everything's settled." Rick dropped the garter into Jack's hand. "Now, the photographer gets here at one, so go find something constructive to do."

"What about candles?"

"No! Now get out of here." Rolling his eyes, Rick swore under his breath.

The frustrated grumble made Ben smile and he walked over to kiss a scruffy cheek, wrapping his good arm around his boyfriend's waist.

"You're up early," Rick remarked, returning the kiss.

Ben snorted. "All I do lately is sleep. Left a note."

"I saw it. Thanks for that." He pulled up Ben's chin for a longer kiss.

"Mmm. What's that for?"

"No reason. You just look delicious this morning. What's this? A blush? Hmm, you're making me think naughty thoughts."

The whispered invitation made Ben shiver, the first indications of desire coiling in his gut. "Rick?" he began, tracing the curve of the broad jaw.

"Mm?"

He couldn't look up, speaking softly in uncertainty, "Do you ... I -- never mind."

"No." Rick's arms tightened to keep his lover from escaping. "No, it's okay." He had to grab Ben's chin to get him to look at him again. "Tell me. Please?"

"Are you happy?"

"What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" He had Ben back in his arms, alive and getting well again. He even saw bits and pieces of the man everyone else was in love with. The sweetness coupled with mischief and self-confidence was a heady mix.

"Well ..." Feeling bold even with the trembling in his fingers, Ben sketched the hardness poking his side.

Rick drew in his breath in a rush, startled and incredibly aroused, struggling with the desire to push for now. It about killed him to lift Ben's hand away; their sex-life had been pretty much non-existent lately. "I'm perfectly happy. We can wait, until you're ready."

"I always had to top," Ben said softly, his gazed turned inward, thoughts far away.

Rick blinked as he registered that with everything he knew, and added another line to his mental list on why he hated That Man.

"Ben," he said. "He's not getting out of there for a long time."

"I know." He plucked at Rick's t-shirt. "But --"

"No buts," said Rick firmly and hugging Ben as tightly as he dared. "Will's very ill, Ben. That's what Lance said, remember?"

"Yeah, but there had to be a reason he --"

"Ben." He cupped his lover's face in hands that made the older man seem small and vulnerable. "He stabbed one of the nurses. With a fork. There's no reason --"

"He's not crazy!" Ben snapped. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation. If I could just talk to him --"

"No!" Rick felt Ben jump at the harsh tone and immediately drew him back into a hug. "No, Ben." That was something everyone had agreed on. "I'm sorry, but, no." They had dropped the request for a restraining order when Will was admitted to the psychiatric hospital.

"Trust me. Please? Please, Ben. Promise me you won't go anywhere near that man. Let the doctors help him now, okay? Okay? Promise me!"

"But, Rick, if I, I know I could help."

"Please. Promise me."

Ben looked away from the hurt-puppy look he had no defenses against, grimacing as he felt himself cave. There were uncomfortable parallels between his previous and current relationships. He'd never felt that so strongly before now, despite the prodding of his shrink.

"Ben, please."

"I --" He nodded finally, unhappy but unaccountably relieved, which was confusing as hell.

Rick choked back a sob, cupping the back of Ben's head and holding him tight. Thank God, he kept thinking. Thank God. Cupping the back of Ben's head, Rick drew Ben towards him to kiss him deeply. He meant nothing by it, leaving enough give that Ben could back away at any time. He was human enough to want to press the advantage, but honest enough to hold back. Until, that is, a hand not his own popped the button of his shorts.

"Wait," he said, withdrawing slightly and panting from sudden lust.

Ben yanked his hand back, blushing. He'd gone too fast. "Sorry."

"It's not that," said Rick quickly. He caught Ben before he could retreat. "What do you want?"

That earned a frown. "I thought it was pretty clear!"

"I don't mean what you think I want," said Rick, shaking his head. "I would love to, you know I would, but ..." He shook his head, struggling to connect two thoughts together. "What do you want? I don't want you to do anything you don't want."

"What the hell, Rick?" Why did he always have to stop and talk? Good sex would chase away the depression that always lingered following talk of Will.

"I mean --"

The smile felt real, warming something deep inside as Ben struggled not to laugh at the embarrassed blush creeping over Rick's face. Ordinarily, he'd just get annoyed by the obvious attempt to pander to his perceived fragility, but Ben was only amused. And curiously touched.

So he just smiled, pulling away only far enough to catch Rick's hand in his own and lead him back upstairs. Lying back on the bed, Ben undid his fly, slipping his hand inside as he toed off his sandals. Another, larger smile pulled on his lips as he heard Rick's quick intake of breath, his body warming under the wanting stare.

The ache in his arm faded and, dick in hand, Ben started to feel really whole, for the first time in what felt like forever. He closed his eyes and let his neck arch as he bit his lip, giving his stiffening cock a couple experimental tugs. Pleasure billowed around him and he gasped, rocking hard into his hand.

Rick's groan was the perfect accompaniment.

He wasn't quite able to lift his hips enough to reach his balls, but Ben knew he wouldn't need any extra stimulation when he felt lips hovering uncertainly over his own. His tongue darted out to lick, teeth grabbing Rick's lower lip to nibble and suck on.

The light kisses dissolved in an instant, Rick's mouth moving to dominate, tongue plowing forward, and Ben laughed. He relaxed, his skin welcoming the slide of the larger body against his own.

"I love you," Rick whisper-growled, almost roughly shoving Ben's hand out of the way. "And you will be loved. I'll --"

"Shut up." Ben tangled his hand in brown hair, pulling their mouths back together. The rings dug into his thigh, but he didn't care, moaning as Rick caressed him exactly how he liked best, his mouth alternately pillaged and worshiped.

He felt the heat building up and up and up, and did nothing to stop it, letting go to let his body writhe as it pleased, letting Rick do the work and not worrying.

Rick let go of Ben's lips as he felt the unexpectedly quick orgasm threaten. He smiled for the disappointed mew, drinking in the sight of Ben, cheeks rosy, eyes clenched tightly shut in pleasure, and head bent back awkwardly. Light kisses to cheeks and chin caused Ben to moan louder and blink rapidly, swearing.

"Fu-uh! Uhn!"

And Rick watched the flush deepen as Ben's body went rigid, the flesh in his grasp pulsing rapidly. He continued to watch as the tension melted away and Ben blinked drowsily at him, a contented, triumphant grin on his lips even as he fell asleep.

~ * ~

Rick almost didn't recognize the couple that walked into the reception hall. He coughed as his drink went down the wrong way, and then hurried forward to greet them.

Shelly's brown-black hair tumbled freely around her shoulders in long curls, and the cream and green dress set off her skin and eyes beautifully. Doug, in a sharp, dark-gray suit, made Rick wonder what he'd looked like ten years ago.

"No baby?" asked Rick, shaking Doug's hand warmly and giving Shelly a kiss.

She grinned back. "Got the grandparents babysitting. Where's Ben?"

"Upstairs." Rick's smile was decidedly amused. "Making himself pretty."

"Still?" Shelly glanced at her watch, shaking her head with a frown. "He's going to be late."

Doug shrugged. "Not like they can start without him."

Rick laughed, holding up his walkie-talkie. "No squawks from Trace, so we've got time yet." Trace was the best man, shepherding Jack and Roger through the chaos.

"Hm. I'd better go check on him."

"How about a drink?" Rick asked, throwing an arm around Doug as Shelly headed towards the stairs.

She guessed which room was the right one, and only needed two tries. When Ben answered the door, a hand over her mouth wasn't quick enough to smother the snorted giggles.

He scowled back. "What?"

"Ben! You're orange!"

"I am not."

Shelly shouldered her way into the room, closing the door behind her. "Yes, you are. Who gave you make-up?"

"No one. Hey! What're you doing?"

Shelly shoved Ben back into the bathroom and proceeded to thoroughly clean his face. "I'm helping you."

"You're gonna kill me, get off!" Bad enough she was laughing at him, did she have to take his face off, too? "I just want to be normal in the pictures!"

"And you will be," she promised. "So hold still and let me do this."

"Ungh! Bossy bit -- bleagh!"

"Well? Close your mouth then." Long exposure to Gran's evil eye gave Shelly a thick skin. She ignored Ben's glares.

The Ben who finally appeared downstairs looked as if he'd stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. Rick stared, mesmerized, not even noticing Shelly standing right next to him.

He'd known that Ben had gotten his hair cut, it was hard to miss, and Shelly had called to tell him she and Genny were taking Ben out. Although he'd fretted, Rick couldn't argue with the results. Ben's hair wasn't quite as short as it'd been when they first met, trimmed to hide the damage to his face and the shaved part of his skull. The blonde and brown streaks were back as well. The overall look was of deliberate messiness, and Rick wanted to run his fingers through it, giving Ben color in his cheeks to match the hair.

The bent left arm hid most of Ben's front, but wore what looked like a fairly standard tux, only with fancy buttons instead of a tie.

The black pants clung to the curve of his ass, dropping in solid, unbroken lines to the tops of shoes so shiny Rick thought for sure he'd be able to shave with them. The ocean-blue cummerbund obscured the waist, but in the black jacket Ben looked healthy and trim rather than worn and thin. The jacket gave his shoulders an unexpected definition, and had a carefully contrived, built-in sling, Ben's left arm held snug across his chest where it belonged without requiring the ugly hospital-issue contraption. Rick could see where the strap emerged from the right shoulder, ran across the back to cup the left elbow.

The tux ended perfectly in the back just over the curve of Ben's ass, and Rick only realized he'd moved when his hand traced the satin-smooth cloth. He breathed in deeply of the scent he'd first encountered in North Carolina, the one that went straight to his groin.

Ben's color went high on his cheeks as Rick whispered in his ear, lips touching the diamond stud once again gracing his ear. The blue eyes looked impossibly wider and even more blue, the blush deepening to reveal the bashful Ben that Rick so seldom saw. This, he imagined, was what Ben must have looked like as a teenager, and he badly wanted to rewind the clock and be the one to see all this for the very first time, to show him love, to cherish him forever.

"Hey, hey," said Shelly, laughing. "Break it up, you two, we've a wedding to attend. Here."

"Oh!" Rick grinned as Ben turned a darker shade of red, plucking the boutonniere from Shelly's fingers to pin on Ben's jacket. Then he kissed him lightly, drawing away before he could be tempted and wrapping his hand around Ben's.

He knew he'd be chasing off every single man and woman in the area all night, and wished he had something definite and visible to show that Ben was his and therefore not available. He knew that a lot of the looks their direction were harmless, but they still made him bristle.

"Oh, this'll be fun," Shelly whispered to Doug as they watched Ben and Rick move around the guests. She smirked.

Doug sighed, following as the staff began to usher folks out of the house and towards the cliff side where the wedding would formally take place. They took their seats, chatting with people they knew, mostly those whom Jack and Roger had met through the agency, and met the unknown, the two men's family and friends.

Ben stood at the front, inside the pagoda, and pulled out a slim book from the inside pocked of his jacket. There weren't many words, and he could ad-lib, but Roger would have a heart attack and Ben wanted something solid to hold onto. Rick's steadfast gaze burned and made him feel both weak-kneed and incredibly sexy. He had to do something to distract himself because he didn't want to explain a hard-on in the other couple's wedding photos.

The sun had burned away the morning fog and pounded down upon all their heads, accompanied by soft flute music and the crash of the tide. Ben at least had shade, and although the temperature was not hot, being November, many in the crowd began to fan themselves with their programs.

Finally, the clop-clop of horse hooves alerted them to the arrival of the wedding party. It was fairly standard, the parents escorted to seats in the front row, the groomsmen and bridesmaids escorting each other down the aisle, followed by the bored-looking ring-bearer and churlish flower girl.

Then the last carriage pulled up and the music changed for the two grooms. They walked hand in hand, and Ben's heart sped up as he watched them.

With smiling professionalism, Ben led them slowly through the ceremony, doing his best to ignore all the cameras. There were three prayers, three people chosen by the grooms to speak, Ben's scripted sermon regarding love and marriage, that again they'd chosen, two songs sung by Jack's sister Mary, the exchanging of the rings, and, finally, the vows.

To Ben's surprise, they were short and to the point, only a few sentences each. He glanced at Rick and had to smooth out an answering grin. Rick looked exceedingly pleased with his surprise.

"I love you," Roger began. "I love you with a love that shall not die. Never until the sun grows cold, and the stars die in the skies."

Jack said, "There's no bell until you ring it, no song until you sing it, and love isn't love until you give it away."

Then Ben led them through the traditional "Do yous?" and "I dos," and they were done. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he announced. "Jack and Roger Conner-Malone."

The newlyweds turned, kissing to cheers and clapping, and Ben was able to step back out of the spotlight. He lingered in the little pagoda as the wedding party filed out again, climbed into their carriages, and took a ride around the grounds while the staff ushered all the guests to the reception area.

Rick found him skulking inside and helped rid him of the wireless microphone. "Happiness," he quoted, wrapping his arms around Ben and whispering into his ear, "is knowing that you are loved."

Ben, caught in those brown eyes, felt a thrill surge up his spine. The words were on his tongue, but they were stuck. The rings burned a hole in his pocket.

Rick couldn't resist. The slightly glazed eyes, parted mouth, and rapid breathing screamed for more, but he settled for the lightest of barely-there kisses.

"I love you, too," he whispered.

Neither saw the photographer crouched on the stair.

~ * ~

The pictures took forever, as wedding pictures always do, and sunset was in full bloom as the party really started. The food was surprisingly good and Ben ate too much, but worked it off dancing. He knew Rick had slipped him a painkiller at some point, but the exuberance of the evening made it impossible to be angry with the man.

Ben danced with both grooms, with Shelly several times, and offered his hand to anyone else he saw sitting idly by to the nineties rock band. Ben himself couldn't sit still to U2 or Metallica or badly-rendered versions of Weezer and Eric Clapton.

He laughed with everyone else as the ring-bearer broke out his kiddie break-dancing moves, forever staining the pants of the mini-tux, and let Rick pull him back into the throng. Rick didn't have much class, but he let Ben lead, and they earned a respectable distance from the other dancers.

Ties were loosened and shoes removed as the party spilled out into the night. After cake and champagne, the guests of honor opened gifts and took their traditional first dance, and the guests started to drift away.

Rick found himself walking hand-in-hand with his lover by lantern-light, surrounded by the flowers of the gardens, and uncertain how he got there, but content in just walking. The music swirled around them, but separate and far-away.

He sat when Ben sat, and worry knotted his stomach at the unease reflected in his boyfriend's face. "Ben?"

Ben held up his hand, drawing up a leg to make turning and facing Rick easier on the marble bench. His mouth was dry, his hands sweaty, and for long moments he couldn't figure out how to work his mouth.

"It's been six months since we met," Ben began. "I --" Words again failed and he cursed. "Dammit! I had all these things I wanted to say. Look ... shit."

Confusion and worry and a very real fear that the day's stresses had just been too much, Rick's mind didn't register what was going on. Ben slipped off the bench and kneeled on Rick's foot, which made him wince. Shifting to help Ben back up, he almost gave himself a black eye when Ben raised a fist.

The fingers opened on a silver and gold object that glittered under the lights as Ben's hand shook.

"Please," he croaked, the only thing he got out before his heart leaped into his throat to choke him.

Rick stared at the open palm, then down to Ben's enormous, pleading eyes, and back again. Ring, his mind supplied.

"Ring," he echoed, shoulders straightening with a snap as if someone had poked him. "Oh, my God." His eyes went wide, and he couldn't speak. Did this mean what he thought it did? A man didn't go down on one knee with a ring unless it did, didn't it?

He opened his mouth, closed it again on a sob. The most important moment in his life, and Rick couldn't think of anything to say. Tears marked his cheeks, blood rushing in his ears, and the world narrowed down to just their tiny bit of dark garden.

Ben's heart fell with his arm and he looked away, numb. He knew it. Who would want to marry me?

"Do you mean it?"

He looked up again, and away. He nodded, fist clenching around the ring tight enough to impress the design into his palm. He closed his eyes.

"I love you." Rick's hands closed over Ben's to lift his arm, caressing the fingers open. "Yes. God, yes. I do, I will, I --" he choked, tears plopping down on their joined hands.

The kiss to his scarred and still tender hand made Ben look up. He stared intently, scanning Rick's face, wary, but he couldn't decipher the strange expression. He cupped his hand around the ring, slowly turning his hand over to hold it between finger and thumb.

Rick offered his hand, spreading his fingers.

Watching him all the while, Ben pushed the ring over the third finger on the left hand, rewarded by a stunning smile. He smiled back, hesitantly, and Rick's fingers curled around him, the metal strange and cool against their skin.

They stood together and kissed, passionately but not as all-consumingly as they normally did. Their fingers stayed entwined, the kiss as much a promise as all the unspoken words behind the vows said hours previously. A lifetime and more passed.

Then the kiss deepened, Rick's hands creeping up to hold Ben's head to take the kiss further.

"I want you so much right now," he breathed, holding their foreheads together while they panted.

Ben's hand found his inside pocket again. "Wait. H-here."

The second ring was smaller than the first, plainer, and Rick blinked stupidly for a minute, and then dove in for another kiss as he understood.

"I'll put it on this hand for now, okay?" He cupped Ben's palm with one hand, the ring poised in the other.

Nodding, Ben held his breath as the ring settled against his skin. It felt so foreign there, like it did and yet did not belong.

"Is this okay?"

He shook his head. "Y-yeah." The hand curled to a fist, then bent at the elbow and tucked his fist between chin and chest, closing his eyes for a minute.

"Ben?"

He wanted to say it! He was going to say it!

"I ... practiced, I did! I ... want to!"

"Shh." Rick caught and held Ben's head steady enough to kiss him. "Don't," he murmured, smiling. "Don't force yourself. I know you'll tell me one day."

"I ... I do! I really do."

"I know." And he did, really understood, blown away by the hidden struggle that he'd completely missed all these months. You couldn't just go out and by rings like these, perfectly sized to his hand. This was planned, maybe for a long time.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know!" He wiped at his eyes with his shirt-sleeves, laughing and crying at the same time. His hands came down to rest on Ben's shoulders. "Thank you."

An eyebrow quirked, half in irritation, and half in confusion. "For what?"

"Nothing. For being you. I love you so much."

"Yeah, okay." Why people ever got married more than once was a mystery to Ben. Love made people do stupid, stupid things, like spout nonsense and spend thousands of dollars on a thirty-minute ceremony that you stood in line for hours to get permission for.

In the quiet of the night, with the stars overhead and their arms around each other, they heard the opening strains of the last song of the night. The guitar and keyboard danced a haunting melody, and they swayed together gently, listening to each other's hearts and breathing, the music just another piece of the night.

It was perfect.

~ END ~