Bail is adept at things (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
consortofalderaan) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tramitem_log2020-08-08 07:23 pm
consortofalderaan) wrote in tramitem_log2020-08-08 07:23 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Bail and Ben
What: Bail invited Ben over for dinner, Ben finally realizes how rich Bail is, awkwardness ensues
When: Saturday evening
Where: Bail's home
Rating/Warnings: Fairly tame, adorable
Bail had the table set already by the time seven rolled around. He’d already prepped and had the cabbage salad served up next to each place setting. Tostones with dipping sauce and maduros were on serving plates on the table already, too.
He just needed to finish plating the chicken mofongo.
But when the doorbell chimed, he was at a place where he could leave the stove for a moment to answer the door.
Franklin came with him, excited on his heels to see who was at the door.
With a smile, Bail opened the door to welcome Ben inside.
**
Ben’s a little shell shocked before he even gets inside, but he also has a bottle of good white wine. He’s dressed relatively decently - jeans and sneakers, but also a button-down, purple, shirt, so there’s that. Still feels really, really under-dressed and… out of place.
He smiles anyway and steps to the side of the door so he can take his shoes off and hands the bottle of wine over. “It smells fantastic in here.”
He’s… trying?
***
“Thank you,” Bail said, taking the wine.
“This is Franklin, he’s anxious to say hello.” The golden retriever was indeed happily wagging his tail at the newcomer.
“Come in,” Bail said, also a bit anxious. He wanted this to go well. “Help yourself to the tostones and maduros on the table.”
***
Ben got far enough inside for the door to close, but then stopped to greet the dog. He probably didn’t need to, but crouching down and digging his fingers into soft fur helped steady him in the face of being--
Way out classed.
Oh, he’d visited some nice places - some really nice ones - stayed in fancy hotels, eaten at five star places - but that really, really wasn’t the same. That wasn’t… life of a partner.
He stood up after a moment, giving Franklin’s head a final stroke and nodded. “Just point the way. I should wash my hands, but is there anything I can do to help?”
***
Bail didn’t catch on to the emotions Ben was experiencing.
He pointed through the kitchen, to where the first floor bathroom was located. “There’s a bathroom through there. When you’re done washing, you can help with the wine.”
***
He glanced that direction, went into the bathroom and washed and dried his hands, then came back out to find Bail. “Corkscrew? Glasses?”
***
Bail moved to show Ben the correct drawer and right cabinet. But after pointing them out he moved to Ben directly.
“I’m really happy you’re here,” he said and leaned for a kiss.
***
He paused in his reach to grab what he would need to help with the wine, to rest a hand on Bail’s chest and return the kiss. It was a good moment of connection and he almost wanted to cling to that moment just to steady himself.
But didn’t.
“I’m glad I am too. Let me get that wine for us.”
Alcohol would help, right?
***
If the food wasn’t ready to be plated, Bail would have stay in that moment, too.
But with a smile he stepped back to the stove to finish what he started.
“How was your day?” he asked while he worked.
***
“It was pretty typical,” he said, focusing on opening the wine, and then carefully (carefully!) retrieving the glasses and filling them. “Had coaching, then a couple of classes. Thought about adopting another cat. Nothing too out of the ordinary on my end. You?”
***
“Another cat?” Bail said, raising an eyebrow. “How will Elsa feel about that?”
He had two plates in his hands, full of chicken mofongo and was heading towards the table.
***
Ben picked up the glasses and made his way to the table, where he set a glass at each place. “She’ll either love it or protest pee on everything I own. I haven’t quite decided which is more likely. Hence the considering.” He managed a smile, for that one, at least.
***
Bail snorted. “Pets are wonderful, aren’t they?”
He placed one plate in front of Ben and then moved to his place.
The table wasn’t big, and they were sitting close to each other.
“This is chicken mofongo- have you had Puerto Rican cuisine before?”
***
He took his seat, put a napkin in his lap and picked his fork up very carefully. “Once or twice.” He was already uncomfortable enough to be… super careful with that answer, like somehow it’s going to be the wrong one.
***
The truth was, there was no wrong answer.
“I hope you like it. But,” he said with good humor, “if you don’t, I won’t be offended. I promise.”
He placed his own napkin and took a bite. He was just starting to notice a certain carefulness to Ben’s movements, but he brushed it off as just a matter of this being new for the both of them.
***
He took a couple of bites and said, “I like it.” He meant that, at least, though he was way more interested in his wine at the moment, and that showed when after two bites he stopped and took a fairly large drink of the wine.
Seriously, alcohol would help. One way or the other.
***
Bail couldn’t miss the way Ben was working at his glass.
He reached over a hand towards Ben.
“Are you alright?”
***
He looked up and met Bail’s hand almost automatically, but he looked a little… deer in the headlights at the moment, and a little pained somehow, too. “Yes?” that was a question.
***
“Ben,” Bail said gently, wiping the smile off his face and letting his expression turn calming.
“What’s going on?”
***
He really hated that expression on Bail’s face, because it felt - in the moment - like running into a wall. A Professional wall. “I’m just overwhelmed.” Which was true enough. Minus the just. “This is… a lot more than I was prepared for.”
***
That concerned him.
Bail’s brow knit together. “What do you mean?”
***
He took another swallow of wine for course and then kind of looked around and back to Bail. “I mean there is a large economic disparity here and it’s… More than I expected.”
***
Bail was quiet for a moment as realization hit him.
He fought through the initial instinct to object, let the embarrassment wash over him until he could talk.
“I’m sorry, I should have said something sooner. I … wasn’t thinking.”
He’d had all the time in the world to wrap his mind around their economic disparity, as Ben had put it. And he had given Ben no time at all. No heads up.
***
He watched Bail’s face and reaction and had to resist the urge to apologize for making things uncomfortable, but after that urge had (temporarily) passed he smiled a little.
“It’s okay. For you this is just home.”
And he got that.
***
“Yes, it is.” He couldn’t deny that.
“But I could have done more than just spring it on you. I know better than that.” And that was the truth, too. In all the ways he’d experienced inequality, he should have intuited how this would make Ben feel.
“I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable. I didn’t intend to do it, but I have.”
***
“Okay.” He smiled, slightly, and then went back to his food. “Apology accepted, and now I know. There’s a dog here. It’ll be okay and I’m sure I’ll settle down.” A pause. “Maybe a tour after we’ve finished eating?”
***
Bail squeezed Ben’s hand before letting it go. He just wanted to make sure Ben was actually alright. Not just saying that he was.
“Of course,” he said. He actually really did want to show Ben around.
“Anything I can do to help you settle down?”
***
“You can show me around?” He’s still pretty uncomfortable, and Bail feels like… someone else in a way, just for the moment, but- “Then we can settle down somewhere together, spend some time together and maybe just… I don’t know, talk.” He’s trying to help but mostly he thinks it’s just going to take some time to wrap his head around it, even enough to have questions or how to work on it more. He was making an effort though. “Delicious food is a good start.”
***
Bail could see the effort Ben was making, and it helped. He could back off a bit, fought the urge to say he didn’t look at Ben through the lens of rich verse poor- because that would just not help. Ben did see things through that economic disparity, and that’s what mattered.
And what he also heard from Ben was ‘give it time, give him time.’ Which Bail could do.
“Do you really like it?” He took another forkful of his own plate as a gesture of what he meant.
***
And Ben wasn’t even particularly poor, at least by his own standards and before being confronted with …this as a comparison.
“I really, really do.” He was focusing on food rather than just alcohol now. “Where did you learn to cook?”
***
“This dish specifically?” Bail asked, “My grandmother, when I was a child. Before she passed away. My father learned from her as well and taught me also- More than Puerto Rican food. It’s something I do now with Elizabeth now. We try to challenge each other with it. And,” he smiled again. “I unabashedly cling to this activity we share, and will do so until she’s a new teenager and suddenly hates me because that is the way of teenagers.”
***
He would have taken any answer, but this one was a good one. He did stop and refill his wine, even though he wasn’t leaning on it quite as heavily. “That sounds nice. Hopefully the suddenly hating thing won’t last too long. She sounds like a kid with good parents and a good head on her shoulders.”
***
“I joke about it now,” Bail said. “But I will probably be a complete wreck inside when the time comes. I just have to survive until she makes it to college and she remembers that she is a good kid with great parents who love her. But that’s normal human development… that’s so hard to watch happen in my own life. At least that is still a few years away.”
Seeing Ben relax a bit helped Bail relax again and dinner from there was much less tense.
Bail got up and quickly cleared away their plates. He could rinse them and put them in the dishwasher later.
He came back to the table quickly.
“Would you like that tour now?”
***
Ben was much less tense, thanks in part to a couple of glasses of wine and at least having discomfort in the open. Conversation that was a little more… normal for them. Still not entirely at ease but okay for the time being and wrapping his head around things.
He stood up when Bail did and was basically standing there when he got back to the table.
“I would very much like that tour now, please.”
***
He reached for Ben’s hand.
“You’ve seen the kitchen and the back sitting room.”
Next he took him up to the second level- the actual dining room and family room. The third floor with his own bedroom and office. The Fourth- wear his daughter’s room was (only pointed out, the door remained closed) and the guest bedrooms. Then to the roof. As a brownstone row house, Bail’s home was connected on one side to the neighboring home, but up on the roof, a trellis solidified the demarcation between the two homes. From here, they had a good view of the city.
“We can sit up here and talk or go to the basement,” because yes, there was one more level he hadn’t shown. “That’s where the game room lounge is.”
***
When Ben was on ice, he was expansive and vibrant in a way that made him seem larger than life and that drew people’s attention to him, even in the absence of a spotlight or even it being a ‘show’.
The exact opposite happened over the duration of the tour. He was there, he wasn’t tensed up and miserable but he actually managed, somehow, to draw in on himself in a way. If he’d been like that at an event or a party, he would have blended in with the wallpaper.
The only clear thought in his head, starting somewhere around the third story of the tour, was that he really, really, did not belong here.
At the offer and options, though, he looked up at Bail and smiled. “I like the view. It’s romantic and seems like a comfortable place to settle in and spend some time?”
***
There was a seating area where they could sit.
It was somewhere between the third and fourth floor that Bail had noticed Ben not be… Ben. And it concerned him. But he really should have expected it. After all, he had just thrown this at Ben.
After sitting, he said, “I’ve overwhelmed you again, haven’t I?”
***
“Maybe a little.” Ben opted not to sit in a chair, but instead sat on the floor (roof?), close enough to lean slightly against Bail’s legs. “But I enjoyed the tour, and it’s a very nice house. Thank you for showing me around. You’ve given me fodder for conversations with my mom that will last months..”
***
Bail really wished there was something he could say that would magically make this right again.
But he knew there wasn’t. The best thing he could do was be patient.
“Oh really? Gossip or design ideas?”
***
He can feel the internal… pressure and unease in Bail, but he didn’t want to draw attention to that. He didn’t even want to acknowledge that. He reached up and around, took Bail’s hand and put it where he wanted it - which was in his hair.
“Design information. She’s not particularly into gossip, but what these Brownstones are like on the inside has been a source of speculation for her for as long as I can remember.”
***
Bail relaxed a little when Ben reached for his hand and deposited it in his hair. He understood the message and slowly he carded his fingers through Ben’s hair.
Everything he thought to say sounded grating in his mind.
So he went back to a topic they’d barely touched.
“What kind of cat were you thinking of getting?”
***
At least it couldn’t be said that Ben wouldn’t ask for what he wanted. The drag of Bail’s fingers through his hair felt good. Soothing and right and more so when Ben had literally grounded himself -- by sitting on the ground.
He leaned a little more, into Bail’s leg and made a low, thoughtful noise. “I don’t know. I just keep visiting kittens for adoption. I’m a little afraid of the amount of visible cat hair that would be all over the place with anything darker colored, but I might suck it up, anyway. Presuming Elsa is a fan instead of horrified.”
***
Bail kept his fingers moving, slowly, but surely. The extra lean into him was reassuring.
“It sounds like you’ve already decided,” he said affectionately. “Additional pet hair will just have to be endured. Have you ever owned two cats before?”
***
He still felt… out of place, but less. This conversation is more normal, and if he can just focus on the fingers in his hair and warmth against him, it was better. Because it was just them. He laughed, in a quiet and still somewhat subdued way. “Elsa’s the first pet I’ve had at all, so no. And I haven’t quite decided anything beyond what I might like. There are still other considerations. I guess we’ll see, though.”
***
Bail laughed. “You’ll be in for a surprise. No two animals are ever the same.”
He curled his fingers a bit before going back to simple movements.
“What other considerations are there?”
***
“I’m sure I will be.” He hoped he would be, it was in some ways part of the appeal.
He shot Bail a slightly pained look, though careful not to dislodge the hand in his hair when he looked up. “Elsa. ...Money.” Wry and dry, that one. Since-- well, everything. He didn’t want to leave it there, though. “And my schedule.”
***
Bail smiled through the awkward moment. Because… well, everything.
“Franklin needs to be walked at least twice a day. Do cats need the same kind of attention?”
***
He started to answer the question, but then instead asked one of his own: “Do you realize you revert to asking questions when you’re uncomfortable?”
***
Bail nodded, “Yes. But you’re also answering my questions. You can ask the next … how many questions would be fair?” Oh, another question, but really, he could help that one.
**
Ben looked up and this time less carefully. His expression was pure, clear, bewilderment. “What?” Because that - “That wasn’t the point. I’m not trying to even some scale. I’m concerned about you.”
***
Okay, no questions.
Bail took a deep breath. “I like you, more than I guess I realized. I’m just worried that now I’ve pushed you away. I don’t want to do that.”
***
“You’re worried that you’ve pushed me away by… having more money than me?” He blinked, and the confusion was real. “I’m not comfortable.” No sense lying about that, “but I’m leaning on you for reassurance. We’re okay, Bail. It might take some working around things, but it isn’t unworkable.”
***
“Yes, because of that and you’re not comfortable.”
He paused and then asked a question- purposefully, but gently, because he wanted to know. “Tell me what this means for you?”
***
He is silent a bit, still leaning against Bail but looking out over the city instead of up at Bail while he works through his own thoughts -and feelings- in a fairly… mindful way. Trying to get past the superficial to the actual causes. “I feel… inadequate and out of place, but that’s just surprise and lack of familiarity, I think. What it means in a bigger way and the thing I think we might need to be conscious of is… power imbalance. Great in the bedroom, kind of shitty and unfair - to you, too- in life in general.”
***
Bail nodded. “I see what you mean and I agree.” Bail didn’t bring up the age gap between them and how it had made him cautious. It seemed like Ben had gotten there.
“I never want to hurt you- outside what you want me to do in the bedroom.” He smiled a little at that.
“What… would help you feel like I’m conscious of that power imbalance and am not using it against you?”
***
Ben frowned at Bail, still upward. “...Not using it against me?” He shook his head, just a little. “This is still just a time thing, I think. Let it sit, give it time, if it becomes a bigger issue instead of fading with time I’ll let you know.”
He had gotten there on the age difference, but overall-- He still was pretty confident, even with the discomfort. Though - “And I still get my half of the date planning and paying.”
***
“I can give you time,” Bail said. Time, be patient- these were actually things Bail was very good at.
And, “I’ll go wherever you want to take me.”
***
That got Ben to laugh, in a much more normal tone - more confident. “Don’t write blank checks or I’ll take you skydiving.” That part is a joke, but he gentles down immediately. “Overcompensating won’t help, either, and we… actually seem to do pretty well together. We just need to keep doing that.”
***
“If you really want me to go skydiving,” Bail started to say, a smile touching his eyes. “Give me a heads up so I make sure my will is up to date.”
The more Ben relaxed, the more Bail did, too.
“I really do like what we have,” he said, still smiling, though a touch more serious.
***
“All right. I’ve decided that once or twice a year is reasonable. I’ll let you know when the schedule rolls around to it again.”
He settled back against Bail’s legs.
“Keeping what we have and knowing what we like will make the rougher parts easier.” For a while, anyway. Long term… who knew. This would be an issue again then, but it wasn’t now and he wasn’t going to borrow that trouble in advance.
***
Bail only laughed through the ‘once or twice’ remark, maybe secretly hoping Ben was kidding. But he didn’t ask, partially because confirmation might hurt, partly because a surprise was good every once in a while.
He resumed threading his fingers through Ben’s hair. Enjoying the simplicity of that kind of touch.
“Do you need anything right now? We left the wine downstairs. I can go grab it.”
***
“Actually, why don’t we both go down. Grab the wine and find somewhere really comfortable to curl up together. There has to be somewhere in the house.” Right? It was huge. There had to be somewhere that family time happened. Like the small table that they ate it, which wasn’t the dining room.
***
“There is,” Bail confirmed. He held out a hand for Ben to leverage himself up.
“I haven’t shown you the lounge in the basement. The couch is very comfortable. And i’d like to curl up with you on it.”
***
Ben took the hand and held onto it while he stood up and kept holding it while they made their way down… way too many flights of stairs. Enough flights of stairs that he’s actually limping slightly by the time they get down there, and wincing faintly.
He is not particularly trying to hide it since it isn’t a big deal. It’s a welcome distraction, at least. “Nearest bathroom?”
***
Yes, five flights of stairs was a lot. Bail would agree with that. He made sure to grab the wine and glasses on their pause on the first first floor.
Once in the basement, he pointed out where the bathroom was and then claimed a seat on the large sofa in the corner, leaving a Ben-sized space to his side.
He poured them both another glass while he waited.
“How’s your foot?” he asked when Ben joined him.
***
He took some time cleaning up his ankles in the bathroom, washed his hands and came back out pretty quickly.
It didn’t take anything more than the invitation of open space for Ben to curl up against him. He also wanted the wine though so he uncurled to pour and pass a glass to Bail, and then settled back into place.
“They’re fine.” Both of them, he means. “New skates don’t like to bend, and things get… rubbed.” And bruised. “Stairs just irritated it again. It’ll be fine in about two minutes.”
***
Bail was a bit more concerned after hearing this.
There was no way to avoid a question, or three here. “What do new skates do to your feet?”
***
There was nothing wrong with asking questions in general, Bail! Just sometimes they felt a little professional and evasive.
“...are you asking what’s wrong with me now, or asking for a physics discussion about the interplay and long term effects between human flesh and rigid leather?”
***
Bail leveled a look at Ben for that sass. Though it was with a smile.
“I’m concerned about your feet, because you’re clearly injured. And I care about you. So please, tell me about the physics of the interplay and long term effects between human flesh and rigid leather, and let me be concerned for your wellbeing.”
***
“In that case-” He doesn’t do that, though, he really doesn’t. “They’re bruised around the edges and a little scabbed and not pretty at the bend of my ankle between my foot and lower leg. Nothing serious and really nothing that counts as an injury, Bail.” Concern is nice and it’s nice to feel cared about, but- This is just not worth it. Sass. It is worth sass and he will be returning to that soon.
***
Bail quirked a brow at Ben. “What does count as an injury to you?” Because that all sounds like an injury to Bail.
***
He looked back, a little bit blank because he didn’t understand the expression on Bail’s face. “Something unexpected, acute, and that requires either medical intervention or an alteration in my behavior or movement?”
***
Bail was amused, and it showed. He took a drink of wine, but it wasn’t to hide what he was thinking.
“I think you can be injured over time, and by your own decision to engage in the activity that injures you. But I’ll believe you that this isn’t something to worry about. How often do you have to break in new skates?”
***
“There are overuse injuries,” Ben admitted, “and I’ve had them. They’re still somewhat unexpected, at least in the moment.” There’s a slight smile with that, then shrug and him curling up closer to Bail, so he can sip his wine without losing the contact. “Maybe once a year. It’s not a big hazard.”
***
Bail relaxed further into the couch when Ben settled in.
“I admit I’ve never thought about how fast a figure skater goes through equipment. Once a year seems low- or is that just what you go through as an instructor? Do professionals go through more?”
***
“I’m going to skip pretending to be offended that you’re not counting me as a professional for teaching.” It absolutely did not offend him, he was joking and he moved on quickly. “Once a year is fairly fast. Most people recreationally skating will manage for years with one pair, but even teaching I’m wearing them somewhere between eight and 12 hours most days. That means they get ‘comfortable’ fast, but the line between being comfortable and no longer providing support is relatively narrow and since I’m still doing some exhibition skating and my own practice I still need some pretty hefty support for landing and anything that’s pairs.”
***
“How did you get into skating?” Bail asked. He could tell how much Ben loved skating.
***
He smiles, faintly. “My mom took me to one of those classes for little, little kids just before I turned four. I just really liked it, and was lucky enough to have parents well off enough to keep doing it. I never stopped. Not much of a story.”
***
“Tell me what you love about it,” Bail said. “I like hearing you talk about it.”
***
That makes him feel warm and -- he isn’t sure, but it’s a good feeling. It also makes him a little self-conscious. He answers, anyway. “It’s just the right combination of… free and dangerous, and controlled. It feels good. Physically and psychologically. Almost like flying under my own power.”
***
Bail laughed softly. “Dangerous? Hmm.” He was remembering Ben’s antics at the ball. Bail was more comfortable with them now, having seen Ben perform. Though part of Bail would always think everyone should remain solidly on the ground.
“Are you already planning your next performance?”
***
He grinned a little at the ‘dangerous’ remark but didn’t comment. “No. I probably won’t have anything to worry about that way for a good month. Start up in September, perform in October.” Probably. Ideally? It’s always a bit hit or miss. Which is why his steady income comes from teaching.
***
“Elizabeth thoroughly enjoyed your performance,” Bail said. “She didn’t develop a desire to learn aerial ribbon gymnastics- which I won’t lie, relieves me greatly, but she had a good time and was impressed.”
***
He laughs. “I’d claim to be disappointed at failing to be inspirational enough, but it’s more important to me that she had a good time and I’m glad she’s not going to give you a heart attack just yet.” He means that, and takes another hefty drink from his wine glass. “Does my job not being a career bother you?”
***
“Absolutely not,” Bail said, concern written on his face.
“I started dating you knowing what you do- I didn’t understand exactly what you meant about performances, I didn’t know they could involve that much physical danger. But even if I had, I would have still accepted the invitation.” He’d been back to that hotdog stand a number of times already, and every time made him think about their first not-date in a way that brightened his day.
“You clearly love doing what you do. Why would that bother me?”
***
“It doesn’t have to bother you, if it doesn’t then I’m glad. I was just thinking about… this disparity.” The economics, he means. “I do have a degree, an internship, and a much more lucrative career I’m actively choosing not to pursue right now.”
***
Bail was thoughtfully quiet for a moment, parsing Ben’s meaning.
“I don’t think you need to change anything about yourself that you are content with. I like all of you. Have from the start. And if that career wasn’t what you wanted to do, and you’ve picked something else you thoroughly enjoy- then I want that for you, too. You’re clearly happy with your life and I don’t want you to change that. Aside from not taking dangerous physical risks two feet away from me.” That last was a playful jab about the night at the ball.
***
“I promise to be absolutely conservative and boring when we go skating.” He was relieved by that answer, at least for the time being. Would it stick? He didn’t know yet, but for now it was good.
Because he did like his life, even if he was currently feeling it was a bit… pathetic.
***
“I hope there’s some flare,” Bail said. “You said we would go fast, and I intend to try to keep up.” Emphasis on ‘try’, Bail was already resigned to the fact that Ben was far more spectacular than he was.
***
“Oh, you’ll keep up,” Ben promised. “All you really have to do is hold on.” Yes, even with the size difference.
***
“When do you want to go?” Bail asked. “I look forward to you pulling me around wherever you want to go.”
***
“I don’t know. Next day you’re free.” It was pretty easy, really, for him. He lived in the skating rink, in some ways, and that left his schedule more open. Heck, so did not being a parent.
***
“I’m free tomorrow,” Bail said. His schedule did get complicated with having a daughter. But this was his off week.
***
“Then let’s plan on going out early tomorrow. We can have the place to ourselves before I have my classes and have a good time with it -and the sound system for that matter.” He was suddenly much, much brighter and more content. Only some of that was that he was very slightly drunk, now.
***
Bail did like Ben relaxing even more and hoped it was more to do with the conversation than with the alcohol.
He started tracing and idle finger through the hair just above Ben’s ear.
“Alright,” Bail said. “Do I get to pick any of the music?”
***
Ben tilted his head down a bit, giving Bail more access to skin with a soft, happy, moan. “Sure,” he agreed, easily. “What kind of music do you like?”
***
Bail laughed again.
“This is where I lean into my age and say Nineties hip hop and grunge. But I’m not picky.”
***
Ben lifted his head again and stared. Silently. With something like disbelief. “...Grunge?” He stopped a moment and looked around like he was looking at the whole entire massive house at once and then back to Bail. “Ok.” You want it, you got it, but his mind has just been shattered.
***
“What?” Bail asked, his turn to look caught off guard. “What’s wrong with Nineties grunge? Everyone in the Nineties liked it.”
***
“There isn’t anything wrong with it, it just. It’s grunge.” And you’re… Bail.
***
Bail shook his head, though it wasn’t out of anger- more confusion and amusement.
“I don’t follow. Please explain.”
***’
“What part of you or your life would you normally describe as ‘grunge’ or ‘grungy’?” He’s kind of amused at himself now, too. “I don’t know, I half expected you to give me a classical composure. I think I like you even more now, and I’m surprised that’s possible because I liked you an awful lot to begin with.”
***
Bail laughed even more.
“Oh,” Bail said, “I see… My music tastes can be described as grunge,” he pointed out with amusement. “Obviously. Believe it or not, I was a young man in the Nineties and like most American youth, I turned to the pop culture of my time, which happened to include grunge music. But if it helps, I do like a handful of classical and operatic composers.”
***
“No, no, I like the idea of discovering you have things I’m completely unaware of. I’ll find some Nirvana for you. It’ll be fun to skate to, I’m sure. How much do you know by the way. I know you’re steady. Can you spin? Jump?” Where’s the line and what can he show you?
***
Bail found that he liked surprising Ben like this.
“I just realized we haven’t watched a movie together yet.” There were probably some surprises to be learned on both sides of that activity.
“I know and can do the basics. But no jumps or spinning.”
***
“We need to rectify that and I cannot wait to teach you how to spin. And do an easy jump. You’ll have fun and be safe, I promise.” He just wanted, desperately, deeply, to play with this man, suddenly. Like really, really, deep down needed it after being so out of sorts.
***
“I think I’ll able to manage the spin, but a jump might push it. But I’ll try.” And he really would, because he’d be with Ben and he really liked making Ben happy. This was hardly a steep cost for that outcome.
“Are you staying the night? Or are we meeting up in the morning?”
***
“Jumps are harder than they look. If you can manage to move on one skate you can manage what I’m thinking about,” he promised.
Then he went quiet because that question was hard. Harder than he wanted it to be. In the end desire to stay with Bail won out, but only barely and he sounded tentative. “I can stay here. It’ll make the morning easier on both of us I think?”
***
Bail had steeled himself for the answer that Ben planned to go back to his home and they would meet up in the morning. It would have been a perfectly understandable answer. With the added benefit that they would still be seeing each other in the morning.
He understood why Ben was hesitant.
“I think I may even have some yogurt I can throw at you in the morning.”
***
That got a slight laugh out of him. “Perfect. Try to throw underhand, my motor control and coordination first thing in the morning can be a little questionable, I’d hate to miss and make a mess.”
***
“I’ll shelve my yogurt fast ball for your sake,” Bail promised.
“Did you want to watch a movie?”
***
“...if we can do it down here.” Is he going to turn into some sort of creature that lives in the basement? ...Maybe.
***
“We can stay here all night,” Bail said. The couch was big enough. There were blankets he could grab. If it made Ben comfortable to stay here, Bail saw every reason to do it.
He leaned forward, having to disengage from Ben for a moment, to grab the remote. But then settled back quickly.
“What are you in the mood for?”
***
He comes within an inch of making a lewd remark about what exactly he was in the mood for but recognized that was his discomfort reasserting itself in the form of being a smartass and opted for cuddling back up to Bail - tightly - immediately. “I don’t know, something with music and a light plot?” Comfort viewing, basically. “Definitely nothing where anyone dies.”
***
“Okay, songs and no one dies,” Bail said, turning on the streaming service. “Disney comes to mind- Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast,” he thought about it a moment, ruled out The Lion King and Mulan for the ‘no one dies’ part. “The Little Mermaid, the Junglebook. We have options.”
***
“Aladdin.” He wasn’t actually all that concerned about it. He was more concerned about picking up Bail’s arm and moving it so it wrapped around him. Then slid his arm behind Bail’s back allowing him to get even closer. Good luck with the remote?
***
It took some special maneuvering, but Bail managed to click all the right buttons and start the movie.
“You look so comfortable already, but do you want me to grab blankets? A snack? More wine?”
***
“If you even think about moving right now, I will bite you.” It’s said pleasantly, warmly, softly, and gently, but right now - no, absolutely not, and he would bite. “I want you to hold me. So hold me.” That bit was a little… embarrassed almost, but at least it was direct.
***
Bail was sure that was all said seriously, and that Ben would, in fact, bite him if he tried to move. But he chuckled anyways.
Though he didn’t move to get up.
Instead he set the remote on the back of the couch, freeing up his hand and arm to tighten snuggly around Ben’s shoulders. He also settled further back into the couch, pulling Ben with him.
“Still comfortable?”
***
He nuzzles and gently bites Bail’s chest, tucks his other arm around the top of Bail’s waist. “I am perfect now.”
Still clingy but had enough contact to relax fully and feel safe, which was not… a thing he’d anticipated needing tonight but he was going to take it.
***
Despite it being a gentle bite, Bail still gave a small, “Hey,” from shock. But nothing more outwardly beyond that. Inwardly he considered all the ways he was falling for this ridiculous, yet completely wonderful man.
“Good,” he said.
What: Bail invited Ben over for dinner, Ben finally realizes how rich Bail is, awkwardness ensues
When: Saturday evening
Where: Bail's home
Rating/Warnings: Fairly tame, adorable
Bail had the table set already by the time seven rolled around. He’d already prepped and had the cabbage salad served up next to each place setting. Tostones with dipping sauce and maduros were on serving plates on the table already, too.
He just needed to finish plating the chicken mofongo.
But when the doorbell chimed, he was at a place where he could leave the stove for a moment to answer the door.
Franklin came with him, excited on his heels to see who was at the door.
With a smile, Bail opened the door to welcome Ben inside.
**
Ben’s a little shell shocked before he even gets inside, but he also has a bottle of good white wine. He’s dressed relatively decently - jeans and sneakers, but also a button-down, purple, shirt, so there’s that. Still feels really, really under-dressed and… out of place.
He smiles anyway and steps to the side of the door so he can take his shoes off and hands the bottle of wine over. “It smells fantastic in here.”
He’s… trying?
***
“Thank you,” Bail said, taking the wine.
“This is Franklin, he’s anxious to say hello.” The golden retriever was indeed happily wagging his tail at the newcomer.
“Come in,” Bail said, also a bit anxious. He wanted this to go well. “Help yourself to the tostones and maduros on the table.”
***
Ben got far enough inside for the door to close, but then stopped to greet the dog. He probably didn’t need to, but crouching down and digging his fingers into soft fur helped steady him in the face of being--
Way out classed.
Oh, he’d visited some nice places - some really nice ones - stayed in fancy hotels, eaten at five star places - but that really, really wasn’t the same. That wasn’t… life of a partner.
He stood up after a moment, giving Franklin’s head a final stroke and nodded. “Just point the way. I should wash my hands, but is there anything I can do to help?”
***
Bail didn’t catch on to the emotions Ben was experiencing.
He pointed through the kitchen, to where the first floor bathroom was located. “There’s a bathroom through there. When you’re done washing, you can help with the wine.”
***
He glanced that direction, went into the bathroom and washed and dried his hands, then came back out to find Bail. “Corkscrew? Glasses?”
***
Bail moved to show Ben the correct drawer and right cabinet. But after pointing them out he moved to Ben directly.
“I’m really happy you’re here,” he said and leaned for a kiss.
***
He paused in his reach to grab what he would need to help with the wine, to rest a hand on Bail’s chest and return the kiss. It was a good moment of connection and he almost wanted to cling to that moment just to steady himself.
But didn’t.
“I’m glad I am too. Let me get that wine for us.”
Alcohol would help, right?
***
If the food wasn’t ready to be plated, Bail would have stay in that moment, too.
But with a smile he stepped back to the stove to finish what he started.
“How was your day?” he asked while he worked.
***
“It was pretty typical,” he said, focusing on opening the wine, and then carefully (carefully!) retrieving the glasses and filling them. “Had coaching, then a couple of classes. Thought about adopting another cat. Nothing too out of the ordinary on my end. You?”
***
“Another cat?” Bail said, raising an eyebrow. “How will Elsa feel about that?”
He had two plates in his hands, full of chicken mofongo and was heading towards the table.
***
Ben picked up the glasses and made his way to the table, where he set a glass at each place. “She’ll either love it or protest pee on everything I own. I haven’t quite decided which is more likely. Hence the considering.” He managed a smile, for that one, at least.
***
Bail snorted. “Pets are wonderful, aren’t they?”
He placed one plate in front of Ben and then moved to his place.
The table wasn’t big, and they were sitting close to each other.
“This is chicken mofongo- have you had Puerto Rican cuisine before?”
***
He took his seat, put a napkin in his lap and picked his fork up very carefully. “Once or twice.” He was already uncomfortable enough to be… super careful with that answer, like somehow it’s going to be the wrong one.
***
The truth was, there was no wrong answer.
“I hope you like it. But,” he said with good humor, “if you don’t, I won’t be offended. I promise.”
He placed his own napkin and took a bite. He was just starting to notice a certain carefulness to Ben’s movements, but he brushed it off as just a matter of this being new for the both of them.
***
He took a couple of bites and said, “I like it.” He meant that, at least, though he was way more interested in his wine at the moment, and that showed when after two bites he stopped and took a fairly large drink of the wine.
Seriously, alcohol would help. One way or the other.
***
Bail couldn’t miss the way Ben was working at his glass.
He reached over a hand towards Ben.
“Are you alright?”
***
He looked up and met Bail’s hand almost automatically, but he looked a little… deer in the headlights at the moment, and a little pained somehow, too. “Yes?” that was a question.
***
“Ben,” Bail said gently, wiping the smile off his face and letting his expression turn calming.
“What’s going on?”
***
He really hated that expression on Bail’s face, because it felt - in the moment - like running into a wall. A Professional wall. “I’m just overwhelmed.” Which was true enough. Minus the just. “This is… a lot more than I was prepared for.”
***
That concerned him.
Bail’s brow knit together. “What do you mean?”
***
He took another swallow of wine for course and then kind of looked around and back to Bail. “I mean there is a large economic disparity here and it’s… More than I expected.”
***
Bail was quiet for a moment as realization hit him.
He fought through the initial instinct to object, let the embarrassment wash over him until he could talk.
“I’m sorry, I should have said something sooner. I … wasn’t thinking.”
He’d had all the time in the world to wrap his mind around their economic disparity, as Ben had put it. And he had given Ben no time at all. No heads up.
***
He watched Bail’s face and reaction and had to resist the urge to apologize for making things uncomfortable, but after that urge had (temporarily) passed he smiled a little.
“It’s okay. For you this is just home.”
And he got that.
***
“Yes, it is.” He couldn’t deny that.
“But I could have done more than just spring it on you. I know better than that.” And that was the truth, too. In all the ways he’d experienced inequality, he should have intuited how this would make Ben feel.
“I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable. I didn’t intend to do it, but I have.”
***
“Okay.” He smiled, slightly, and then went back to his food. “Apology accepted, and now I know. There’s a dog here. It’ll be okay and I’m sure I’ll settle down.” A pause. “Maybe a tour after we’ve finished eating?”
***
Bail squeezed Ben’s hand before letting it go. He just wanted to make sure Ben was actually alright. Not just saying that he was.
“Of course,” he said. He actually really did want to show Ben around.
“Anything I can do to help you settle down?”
***
“You can show me around?” He’s still pretty uncomfortable, and Bail feels like… someone else in a way, just for the moment, but- “Then we can settle down somewhere together, spend some time together and maybe just… I don’t know, talk.” He’s trying to help but mostly he thinks it’s just going to take some time to wrap his head around it, even enough to have questions or how to work on it more. He was making an effort though. “Delicious food is a good start.”
***
Bail could see the effort Ben was making, and it helped. He could back off a bit, fought the urge to say he didn’t look at Ben through the lens of rich verse poor- because that would just not help. Ben did see things through that economic disparity, and that’s what mattered.
And what he also heard from Ben was ‘give it time, give him time.’ Which Bail could do.
“Do you really like it?” He took another forkful of his own plate as a gesture of what he meant.
***
And Ben wasn’t even particularly poor, at least by his own standards and before being confronted with …this as a comparison.
“I really, really do.” He was focusing on food rather than just alcohol now. “Where did you learn to cook?”
***
“This dish specifically?” Bail asked, “My grandmother, when I was a child. Before she passed away. My father learned from her as well and taught me also- More than Puerto Rican food. It’s something I do now with Elizabeth now. We try to challenge each other with it. And,” he smiled again. “I unabashedly cling to this activity we share, and will do so until she’s a new teenager and suddenly hates me because that is the way of teenagers.”
***
He would have taken any answer, but this one was a good one. He did stop and refill his wine, even though he wasn’t leaning on it quite as heavily. “That sounds nice. Hopefully the suddenly hating thing won’t last too long. She sounds like a kid with good parents and a good head on her shoulders.”
***
“I joke about it now,” Bail said. “But I will probably be a complete wreck inside when the time comes. I just have to survive until she makes it to college and she remembers that she is a good kid with great parents who love her. But that’s normal human development… that’s so hard to watch happen in my own life. At least that is still a few years away.”
Seeing Ben relax a bit helped Bail relax again and dinner from there was much less tense.
Bail got up and quickly cleared away their plates. He could rinse them and put them in the dishwasher later.
He came back to the table quickly.
“Would you like that tour now?”
***
Ben was much less tense, thanks in part to a couple of glasses of wine and at least having discomfort in the open. Conversation that was a little more… normal for them. Still not entirely at ease but okay for the time being and wrapping his head around things.
He stood up when Bail did and was basically standing there when he got back to the table.
“I would very much like that tour now, please.”
***
He reached for Ben’s hand.
“You’ve seen the kitchen and the back sitting room.”
Next he took him up to the second level- the actual dining room and family room. The third floor with his own bedroom and office. The Fourth- wear his daughter’s room was (only pointed out, the door remained closed) and the guest bedrooms. Then to the roof. As a brownstone row house, Bail’s home was connected on one side to the neighboring home, but up on the roof, a trellis solidified the demarcation between the two homes. From here, they had a good view of the city.
“We can sit up here and talk or go to the basement,” because yes, there was one more level he hadn’t shown. “That’s where the game room lounge is.”
***
When Ben was on ice, he was expansive and vibrant in a way that made him seem larger than life and that drew people’s attention to him, even in the absence of a spotlight or even it being a ‘show’.
The exact opposite happened over the duration of the tour. He was there, he wasn’t tensed up and miserable but he actually managed, somehow, to draw in on himself in a way. If he’d been like that at an event or a party, he would have blended in with the wallpaper.
The only clear thought in his head, starting somewhere around the third story of the tour, was that he really, really, did not belong here.
At the offer and options, though, he looked up at Bail and smiled. “I like the view. It’s romantic and seems like a comfortable place to settle in and spend some time?”
***
There was a seating area where they could sit.
It was somewhere between the third and fourth floor that Bail had noticed Ben not be… Ben. And it concerned him. But he really should have expected it. After all, he had just thrown this at Ben.
After sitting, he said, “I’ve overwhelmed you again, haven’t I?”
***
“Maybe a little.” Ben opted not to sit in a chair, but instead sat on the floor (roof?), close enough to lean slightly against Bail’s legs. “But I enjoyed the tour, and it’s a very nice house. Thank you for showing me around. You’ve given me fodder for conversations with my mom that will last months..”
***
Bail really wished there was something he could say that would magically make this right again.
But he knew there wasn’t. The best thing he could do was be patient.
“Oh really? Gossip or design ideas?”
***
He can feel the internal… pressure and unease in Bail, but he didn’t want to draw attention to that. He didn’t even want to acknowledge that. He reached up and around, took Bail’s hand and put it where he wanted it - which was in his hair.
“Design information. She’s not particularly into gossip, but what these Brownstones are like on the inside has been a source of speculation for her for as long as I can remember.”
***
Bail relaxed a little when Ben reached for his hand and deposited it in his hair. He understood the message and slowly he carded his fingers through Ben’s hair.
Everything he thought to say sounded grating in his mind.
So he went back to a topic they’d barely touched.
“What kind of cat were you thinking of getting?”
***
At least it couldn’t be said that Ben wouldn’t ask for what he wanted. The drag of Bail’s fingers through his hair felt good. Soothing and right and more so when Ben had literally grounded himself -- by sitting on the ground.
He leaned a little more, into Bail’s leg and made a low, thoughtful noise. “I don’t know. I just keep visiting kittens for adoption. I’m a little afraid of the amount of visible cat hair that would be all over the place with anything darker colored, but I might suck it up, anyway. Presuming Elsa is a fan instead of horrified.”
***
Bail kept his fingers moving, slowly, but surely. The extra lean into him was reassuring.
“It sounds like you’ve already decided,” he said affectionately. “Additional pet hair will just have to be endured. Have you ever owned two cats before?”
***
He still felt… out of place, but less. This conversation is more normal, and if he can just focus on the fingers in his hair and warmth against him, it was better. Because it was just them. He laughed, in a quiet and still somewhat subdued way. “Elsa’s the first pet I’ve had at all, so no. And I haven’t quite decided anything beyond what I might like. There are still other considerations. I guess we’ll see, though.”
***
Bail laughed. “You’ll be in for a surprise. No two animals are ever the same.”
He curled his fingers a bit before going back to simple movements.
“What other considerations are there?”
***
“I’m sure I will be.” He hoped he would be, it was in some ways part of the appeal.
He shot Bail a slightly pained look, though careful not to dislodge the hand in his hair when he looked up. “Elsa. ...Money.” Wry and dry, that one. Since-- well, everything. He didn’t want to leave it there, though. “And my schedule.”
***
Bail smiled through the awkward moment. Because… well, everything.
“Franklin needs to be walked at least twice a day. Do cats need the same kind of attention?”
***
He started to answer the question, but then instead asked one of his own: “Do you realize you revert to asking questions when you’re uncomfortable?”
***
Bail nodded, “Yes. But you’re also answering my questions. You can ask the next … how many questions would be fair?” Oh, another question, but really, he could help that one.
**
Ben looked up and this time less carefully. His expression was pure, clear, bewilderment. “What?” Because that - “That wasn’t the point. I’m not trying to even some scale. I’m concerned about you.”
***
Okay, no questions.
Bail took a deep breath. “I like you, more than I guess I realized. I’m just worried that now I’ve pushed you away. I don’t want to do that.”
***
“You’re worried that you’ve pushed me away by… having more money than me?” He blinked, and the confusion was real. “I’m not comfortable.” No sense lying about that, “but I’m leaning on you for reassurance. We’re okay, Bail. It might take some working around things, but it isn’t unworkable.”
***
“Yes, because of that and you’re not comfortable.”
He paused and then asked a question- purposefully, but gently, because he wanted to know. “Tell me what this means for you?”
***
He is silent a bit, still leaning against Bail but looking out over the city instead of up at Bail while he works through his own thoughts -and feelings- in a fairly… mindful way. Trying to get past the superficial to the actual causes. “I feel… inadequate and out of place, but that’s just surprise and lack of familiarity, I think. What it means in a bigger way and the thing I think we might need to be conscious of is… power imbalance. Great in the bedroom, kind of shitty and unfair - to you, too- in life in general.”
***
Bail nodded. “I see what you mean and I agree.” Bail didn’t bring up the age gap between them and how it had made him cautious. It seemed like Ben had gotten there.
“I never want to hurt you- outside what you want me to do in the bedroom.” He smiled a little at that.
“What… would help you feel like I’m conscious of that power imbalance and am not using it against you?”
***
Ben frowned at Bail, still upward. “...Not using it against me?” He shook his head, just a little. “This is still just a time thing, I think. Let it sit, give it time, if it becomes a bigger issue instead of fading with time I’ll let you know.”
He had gotten there on the age difference, but overall-- He still was pretty confident, even with the discomfort. Though - “And I still get my half of the date planning and paying.”
***
“I can give you time,” Bail said. Time, be patient- these were actually things Bail was very good at.
And, “I’ll go wherever you want to take me.”
***
That got Ben to laugh, in a much more normal tone - more confident. “Don’t write blank checks or I’ll take you skydiving.” That part is a joke, but he gentles down immediately. “Overcompensating won’t help, either, and we… actually seem to do pretty well together. We just need to keep doing that.”
***
“If you really want me to go skydiving,” Bail started to say, a smile touching his eyes. “Give me a heads up so I make sure my will is up to date.”
The more Ben relaxed, the more Bail did, too.
“I really do like what we have,” he said, still smiling, though a touch more serious.
***
“All right. I’ve decided that once or twice a year is reasonable. I’ll let you know when the schedule rolls around to it again.”
He settled back against Bail’s legs.
“Keeping what we have and knowing what we like will make the rougher parts easier.” For a while, anyway. Long term… who knew. This would be an issue again then, but it wasn’t now and he wasn’t going to borrow that trouble in advance.
***
Bail only laughed through the ‘once or twice’ remark, maybe secretly hoping Ben was kidding. But he didn’t ask, partially because confirmation might hurt, partly because a surprise was good every once in a while.
He resumed threading his fingers through Ben’s hair. Enjoying the simplicity of that kind of touch.
“Do you need anything right now? We left the wine downstairs. I can go grab it.”
***
“Actually, why don’t we both go down. Grab the wine and find somewhere really comfortable to curl up together. There has to be somewhere in the house.” Right? It was huge. There had to be somewhere that family time happened. Like the small table that they ate it, which wasn’t the dining room.
***
“There is,” Bail confirmed. He held out a hand for Ben to leverage himself up.
“I haven’t shown you the lounge in the basement. The couch is very comfortable. And i’d like to curl up with you on it.”
***
Ben took the hand and held onto it while he stood up and kept holding it while they made their way down… way too many flights of stairs. Enough flights of stairs that he’s actually limping slightly by the time they get down there, and wincing faintly.
He is not particularly trying to hide it since it isn’t a big deal. It’s a welcome distraction, at least. “Nearest bathroom?”
***
Yes, five flights of stairs was a lot. Bail would agree with that. He made sure to grab the wine and glasses on their pause on the first first floor.
Once in the basement, he pointed out where the bathroom was and then claimed a seat on the large sofa in the corner, leaving a Ben-sized space to his side.
He poured them both another glass while he waited.
“How’s your foot?” he asked when Ben joined him.
***
He took some time cleaning up his ankles in the bathroom, washed his hands and came back out pretty quickly.
It didn’t take anything more than the invitation of open space for Ben to curl up against him. He also wanted the wine though so he uncurled to pour and pass a glass to Bail, and then settled back into place.
“They’re fine.” Both of them, he means. “New skates don’t like to bend, and things get… rubbed.” And bruised. “Stairs just irritated it again. It’ll be fine in about two minutes.”
***
Bail was a bit more concerned after hearing this.
There was no way to avoid a question, or three here. “What do new skates do to your feet?”
***
There was nothing wrong with asking questions in general, Bail! Just sometimes they felt a little professional and evasive.
“...are you asking what’s wrong with me now, or asking for a physics discussion about the interplay and long term effects between human flesh and rigid leather?”
***
Bail leveled a look at Ben for that sass. Though it was with a smile.
“I’m concerned about your feet, because you’re clearly injured. And I care about you. So please, tell me about the physics of the interplay and long term effects between human flesh and rigid leather, and let me be concerned for your wellbeing.”
***
“In that case-” He doesn’t do that, though, he really doesn’t. “They’re bruised around the edges and a little scabbed and not pretty at the bend of my ankle between my foot and lower leg. Nothing serious and really nothing that counts as an injury, Bail.” Concern is nice and it’s nice to feel cared about, but- This is just not worth it. Sass. It is worth sass and he will be returning to that soon.
***
Bail quirked a brow at Ben. “What does count as an injury to you?” Because that all sounds like an injury to Bail.
***
He looked back, a little bit blank because he didn’t understand the expression on Bail’s face. “Something unexpected, acute, and that requires either medical intervention or an alteration in my behavior or movement?”
***
Bail was amused, and it showed. He took a drink of wine, but it wasn’t to hide what he was thinking.
“I think you can be injured over time, and by your own decision to engage in the activity that injures you. But I’ll believe you that this isn’t something to worry about. How often do you have to break in new skates?”
***
“There are overuse injuries,” Ben admitted, “and I’ve had them. They’re still somewhat unexpected, at least in the moment.” There’s a slight smile with that, then shrug and him curling up closer to Bail, so he can sip his wine without losing the contact. “Maybe once a year. It’s not a big hazard.”
***
Bail relaxed further into the couch when Ben settled in.
“I admit I’ve never thought about how fast a figure skater goes through equipment. Once a year seems low- or is that just what you go through as an instructor? Do professionals go through more?”
***
“I’m going to skip pretending to be offended that you’re not counting me as a professional for teaching.” It absolutely did not offend him, he was joking and he moved on quickly. “Once a year is fairly fast. Most people recreationally skating will manage for years with one pair, but even teaching I’m wearing them somewhere between eight and 12 hours most days. That means they get ‘comfortable’ fast, but the line between being comfortable and no longer providing support is relatively narrow and since I’m still doing some exhibition skating and my own practice I still need some pretty hefty support for landing and anything that’s pairs.”
***
“How did you get into skating?” Bail asked. He could tell how much Ben loved skating.
***
He smiles, faintly. “My mom took me to one of those classes for little, little kids just before I turned four. I just really liked it, and was lucky enough to have parents well off enough to keep doing it. I never stopped. Not much of a story.”
***
“Tell me what you love about it,” Bail said. “I like hearing you talk about it.”
***
That makes him feel warm and -- he isn’t sure, but it’s a good feeling. It also makes him a little self-conscious. He answers, anyway. “It’s just the right combination of… free and dangerous, and controlled. It feels good. Physically and psychologically. Almost like flying under my own power.”
***
Bail laughed softly. “Dangerous? Hmm.” He was remembering Ben’s antics at the ball. Bail was more comfortable with them now, having seen Ben perform. Though part of Bail would always think everyone should remain solidly on the ground.
“Are you already planning your next performance?”
***
He grinned a little at the ‘dangerous’ remark but didn’t comment. “No. I probably won’t have anything to worry about that way for a good month. Start up in September, perform in October.” Probably. Ideally? It’s always a bit hit or miss. Which is why his steady income comes from teaching.
***
“Elizabeth thoroughly enjoyed your performance,” Bail said. “She didn’t develop a desire to learn aerial ribbon gymnastics- which I won’t lie, relieves me greatly, but she had a good time and was impressed.”
***
He laughs. “I’d claim to be disappointed at failing to be inspirational enough, but it’s more important to me that she had a good time and I’m glad she’s not going to give you a heart attack just yet.” He means that, and takes another hefty drink from his wine glass. “Does my job not being a career bother you?”
***
“Absolutely not,” Bail said, concern written on his face.
“I started dating you knowing what you do- I didn’t understand exactly what you meant about performances, I didn’t know they could involve that much physical danger. But even if I had, I would have still accepted the invitation.” He’d been back to that hotdog stand a number of times already, and every time made him think about their first not-date in a way that brightened his day.
“You clearly love doing what you do. Why would that bother me?”
***
“It doesn’t have to bother you, if it doesn’t then I’m glad. I was just thinking about… this disparity.” The economics, he means. “I do have a degree, an internship, and a much more lucrative career I’m actively choosing not to pursue right now.”
***
Bail was thoughtfully quiet for a moment, parsing Ben’s meaning.
“I don’t think you need to change anything about yourself that you are content with. I like all of you. Have from the start. And if that career wasn’t what you wanted to do, and you’ve picked something else you thoroughly enjoy- then I want that for you, too. You’re clearly happy with your life and I don’t want you to change that. Aside from not taking dangerous physical risks two feet away from me.” That last was a playful jab about the night at the ball.
***
“I promise to be absolutely conservative and boring when we go skating.” He was relieved by that answer, at least for the time being. Would it stick? He didn’t know yet, but for now it was good.
Because he did like his life, even if he was currently feeling it was a bit… pathetic.
***
“I hope there’s some flare,” Bail said. “You said we would go fast, and I intend to try to keep up.” Emphasis on ‘try’, Bail was already resigned to the fact that Ben was far more spectacular than he was.
***
“Oh, you’ll keep up,” Ben promised. “All you really have to do is hold on.” Yes, even with the size difference.
***
“When do you want to go?” Bail asked. “I look forward to you pulling me around wherever you want to go.”
***
“I don’t know. Next day you’re free.” It was pretty easy, really, for him. He lived in the skating rink, in some ways, and that left his schedule more open. Heck, so did not being a parent.
***
“I’m free tomorrow,” Bail said. His schedule did get complicated with having a daughter. But this was his off week.
***
“Then let’s plan on going out early tomorrow. We can have the place to ourselves before I have my classes and have a good time with it -and the sound system for that matter.” He was suddenly much, much brighter and more content. Only some of that was that he was very slightly drunk, now.
***
Bail did like Ben relaxing even more and hoped it was more to do with the conversation than with the alcohol.
He started tracing and idle finger through the hair just above Ben’s ear.
“Alright,” Bail said. “Do I get to pick any of the music?”
***
Ben tilted his head down a bit, giving Bail more access to skin with a soft, happy, moan. “Sure,” he agreed, easily. “What kind of music do you like?”
***
Bail laughed again.
“This is where I lean into my age and say Nineties hip hop and grunge. But I’m not picky.”
***
Ben lifted his head again and stared. Silently. With something like disbelief. “...Grunge?” He stopped a moment and looked around like he was looking at the whole entire massive house at once and then back to Bail. “Ok.” You want it, you got it, but his mind has just been shattered.
***
“What?” Bail asked, his turn to look caught off guard. “What’s wrong with Nineties grunge? Everyone in the Nineties liked it.”
***
“There isn’t anything wrong with it, it just. It’s grunge.” And you’re… Bail.
***
Bail shook his head, though it wasn’t out of anger- more confusion and amusement.
“I don’t follow. Please explain.”
***’
“What part of you or your life would you normally describe as ‘grunge’ or ‘grungy’?” He’s kind of amused at himself now, too. “I don’t know, I half expected you to give me a classical composure. I think I like you even more now, and I’m surprised that’s possible because I liked you an awful lot to begin with.”
***
Bail laughed even more.
“Oh,” Bail said, “I see… My music tastes can be described as grunge,” he pointed out with amusement. “Obviously. Believe it or not, I was a young man in the Nineties and like most American youth, I turned to the pop culture of my time, which happened to include grunge music. But if it helps, I do like a handful of classical and operatic composers.”
***
“No, no, I like the idea of discovering you have things I’m completely unaware of. I’ll find some Nirvana for you. It’ll be fun to skate to, I’m sure. How much do you know by the way. I know you’re steady. Can you spin? Jump?” Where’s the line and what can he show you?
***
Bail found that he liked surprising Ben like this.
“I just realized we haven’t watched a movie together yet.” There were probably some surprises to be learned on both sides of that activity.
“I know and can do the basics. But no jumps or spinning.”
***
“We need to rectify that and I cannot wait to teach you how to spin. And do an easy jump. You’ll have fun and be safe, I promise.” He just wanted, desperately, deeply, to play with this man, suddenly. Like really, really, deep down needed it after being so out of sorts.
***
“I think I’ll able to manage the spin, but a jump might push it. But I’ll try.” And he really would, because he’d be with Ben and he really liked making Ben happy. This was hardly a steep cost for that outcome.
“Are you staying the night? Or are we meeting up in the morning?”
***
“Jumps are harder than they look. If you can manage to move on one skate you can manage what I’m thinking about,” he promised.
Then he went quiet because that question was hard. Harder than he wanted it to be. In the end desire to stay with Bail won out, but only barely and he sounded tentative. “I can stay here. It’ll make the morning easier on both of us I think?”
***
Bail had steeled himself for the answer that Ben planned to go back to his home and they would meet up in the morning. It would have been a perfectly understandable answer. With the added benefit that they would still be seeing each other in the morning.
He understood why Ben was hesitant.
“I think I may even have some yogurt I can throw at you in the morning.”
***
That got a slight laugh out of him. “Perfect. Try to throw underhand, my motor control and coordination first thing in the morning can be a little questionable, I’d hate to miss and make a mess.”
***
“I’ll shelve my yogurt fast ball for your sake,” Bail promised.
“Did you want to watch a movie?”
***
“...if we can do it down here.” Is he going to turn into some sort of creature that lives in the basement? ...Maybe.
***
“We can stay here all night,” Bail said. The couch was big enough. There were blankets he could grab. If it made Ben comfortable to stay here, Bail saw every reason to do it.
He leaned forward, having to disengage from Ben for a moment, to grab the remote. But then settled back quickly.
“What are you in the mood for?”
***
He comes within an inch of making a lewd remark about what exactly he was in the mood for but recognized that was his discomfort reasserting itself in the form of being a smartass and opted for cuddling back up to Bail - tightly - immediately. “I don’t know, something with music and a light plot?” Comfort viewing, basically. “Definitely nothing where anyone dies.”
***
“Okay, songs and no one dies,” Bail said, turning on the streaming service. “Disney comes to mind- Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast,” he thought about it a moment, ruled out The Lion King and Mulan for the ‘no one dies’ part. “The Little Mermaid, the Junglebook. We have options.”
***
“Aladdin.” He wasn’t actually all that concerned about it. He was more concerned about picking up Bail’s arm and moving it so it wrapped around him. Then slid his arm behind Bail’s back allowing him to get even closer. Good luck with the remote?
***
It took some special maneuvering, but Bail managed to click all the right buttons and start the movie.
“You look so comfortable already, but do you want me to grab blankets? A snack? More wine?”
***
“If you even think about moving right now, I will bite you.” It’s said pleasantly, warmly, softly, and gently, but right now - no, absolutely not, and he would bite. “I want you to hold me. So hold me.” That bit was a little… embarrassed almost, but at least it was direct.
***
Bail was sure that was all said seriously, and that Ben would, in fact, bite him if he tried to move. But he chuckled anyways.
Though he didn’t move to get up.
Instead he set the remote on the back of the couch, freeing up his hand and arm to tighten snuggly around Ben’s shoulders. He also settled further back into the couch, pulling Ben with him.
“Still comfortable?”
***
He nuzzles and gently bites Bail’s chest, tucks his other arm around the top of Bail’s waist. “I am perfect now.”
Still clingy but had enough contact to relax fully and feel safe, which was not… a thing he’d anticipated needing tonight but he was going to take it.
***
Despite it being a gentle bite, Bail still gave a small, “Hey,” from shock. But nothing more outwardly beyond that. Inwardly he considered all the ways he was falling for this ridiculous, yet completely wonderful man.
“Good,” he said.