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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Teacher Bridgerton

2k Celebration Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU Benedict, primary school art teacher

Warnings: none... fluff, dad!Benedict

Word Count: 830

Authors Note: Last of my 2k follower celebration drabbles. This is for @guiltywaves with the prompt of art teacher Benedict (ask here). i had to end with some soft dad!Benedict, Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

“Is this right, Mr Brid-etun?” a boy holds a piece of paper aloft, struggling to enunciate the last name a little, wiggling in his tiny chair.

“Daniel, this is art,” Benedict explains softly as he drops to kneeling next to the little boy. “There is no right or wrong; just whatever you want to draw, do that. And please call me Ben.”

The boy looks at him wide-eyed, almost suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. I am your art teacher, remember?”

The boy nods solemnly and reaches across the low table for a crayon.

“Fank you, Ben,” he murmurs, a little peek of tongue at the corner of his mouth as he draws an arc in bright green.

Benedict smiles at the little boy and then stands back up to survey the cheery art room filled with 5-year-olds, preoccupied with crayons and their imaginations. It never fails to make him happy when Reception Year has its lesson every Wednesday morning. And not just because of one very special person it contains.

He never saw himself as a teacher, but a 2-month volunteering stint at summer classes on a whim became a temporary placement the following term that somehow became a job. That was seven years ago—he has never felt more content.

“Uncle Ben, I drew a cat!” a voice pipes up proudly, and he turns around to see Mary Bridgerton beaming up at him, holding a picture of what could possibly be a cat. It's a bright purple circle with rather demonic-looking red eyes and lightning-bolt yellow whiskers.

“Mary, that's very… colourful,” he offers diplomatically, bending down to ruffle her hair. “But remember, I'm just supposed to be Ben at school; I'm Uncle Ben at home,” he whispers as his brother's youngest child taps a finger to her nose with a wink, her pretty brown eyes shining as if agreeing to safeguard some grand secret.

“I want to draw a car,” Mary’s friend Lila sighs wistfully.

“You can do it, Lila. Here,” Benedict hands her a blue crayon. “Try with this. I can help if you get stuck. I’ll be right here. And look, it's blue, just like your Mummy’s car.”

Lila rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know, Daddy. I’m not colourblind like Uncle Colin,” she replies dryly, eliciting a peal of laughter from Mary. She is often far more mature than her years, and she is growing up so fast that sometimes it terrifies him.

“Lila!” he admonishes quietly. “Remember, you must call me Ben when we are at school! And Uncle Colin isn't colourblind; he is just clueless about how to dress himself,” Benedict adds with slight relish.

“But Mary just called you Uncle Ben,” Lila retorts, drawing a quite impressive version of a blue car for her age—Benedict's heart wells at the sight but schools his expression the best he can.

“It was a accident!” Mary pipes up, indignant.

“It’s okay, Mary,” Benedict soothes. “Just remember to call me Ben at school if you can.”

She agrees and returns to her art—starting on a quiet terrifying-looking green dog.

_____

“Mummy, look!” Lila runs up to you as you walk in from work after a long day, the delicious scent of garlic and herbs greeting you as soon as the front door opens.

She is holding aloft a remarkable drawing of a blue car. Very much like the one you just climbed out of.

“That's wonderful, Lila!” you compliment as you drop your work bag and take the paper from her for a closer look, kissing her cheek before she runs back to the kitchen table excitedly.

You wander in after her, admiring her handiwork, to be greeted by your husband feeding your baby boy in his highchair as dinner simmers away on the hob.

“Somebody is taking after her Daddy,” you smile indulgently, leaning in to kiss his jaw as you watch his face light up with joy, seeing what you have in your hands. He turns his head to capture your lips instead.

“I am so ridiculously proud; she's my star pupil. That's bad to say, isn't it?” he confesses over your lips, grimacing slightly in an utterly enchanting way.

You chuckle, nuzzling his face, enjoying the slight rasp of stubble. “It's just fine, Mr Bridgerton. I do believe it’s okay to play favourites if the class contains your own daughter.”

“I'm just glad she draws better than Mary,” he confesses, keeping his voice soft enough that Lila cannot hear.

“That bad, eh?” you laugh, dropping a kiss on your son's hair as he mashes banana into his own cheek, burbling happily.

“Stuff of nightmares,” he shudders, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I'm certainly not telling Anthony,” you warn, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his twine around your waist, pulling you into his comforting embrace. “Or Kate.”

“Yeah, me either; I’ll give Mary a gold star and lie at parents' evening,” he jests into your hair.

“Smart man, teacher Bridgerton.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #2k follower celebration

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chrisevansonly · 1 year

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Momma’s Special Surprise For Arlie (Little Duck au🐣)

pairing: Momma Evans (Female Reader) x Arlie Mae x Chris Evans

summary: Momma has a very special present for Arlie, and she got some help from some very special friends

warnings: none just fluffy goodness

a/n: i’m really excited about this little fic, i’ve been wanting to write it for a while so here it is🫶🏻

You had been planning this surprise for a few months now, Arlie was absolutely gutted when you couldn’t go see Harry Styles in concert when he was in the United States. Despite her best smiles, you knew it gutted her not being able to see her favourite singer, but thankfully you’d been talking to Chris for a while trying to plan something. Harry would start his last leg of Love on Tour in May, and you reached out to him right away asking if there was any chance he could find you tickets to watch his shows in London at Wembley Stadium.

“I really want to do this for her Chris, I know London is far, and it’ll be expensive…I think it would make her really happy”

Chris nodded, his arms around you as you sat out on the back patio

“Why don’t we make a family trip out of it?”

“Really?!”

You were elated, eyes wide as you looked at him, a chuckle escaping his lips

“Yeah why not, we haven’t gone anywhere in a while, Arlie’s well behaved, Wes is still small enough to keep close to us, you and duck can go to the shows and Wes and I can get up to some boy stuff”

Laughing you pressed a kiss to his lips, clapping in excitement because let’s be honest, you were just as excited to be going to see Harry Styles live on tour

“I love you, thank you baby”

“Anything for my girls”

That brought you to today, setting up the living room with snacks for an afternoon tea party at Arlie’s request, Canyon Moon playing softly throughout your home, Wesley down for a nap.

“Arlie my girl, everything’s all set up, and Momma’s got a surprise for you”

She came in the room helping Chris carry over the tea which was really organic apple juice

“S’upise for me momma?!”

“Yeah for you baby”

Arlie smiled and Chris set the drinks down on the table before she sat cross legged beside you, her eyes bright and full of excitement

“So momma and daddy have been planning something for us as a family, we were thinking of going away on a trip”

“Wike we did the beach?”

You nodded

“Exactly baby, but we aren’t going to the beach this time”

“Where we go momma?”

Chris had pulled out his phone to start filming secretly

“Well we are going to a city called London baby, it’s in a country called the United Kingdom”

Arlie blinked raising her eyebrows

“That the one with the big clock momma?”

“Yep, Big Ben baby, you remembered”

Arlie smiled, they’d been learning about landmarks at school, and she’d made a mental note about Big Ben, asking Chris to go through photos of it every afternoon after school

“Momma has a surprise for you though and why we are going”

“What momma!”

You swiped a loose strand of hair behind her ear leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead

“Well, who’s your favourite singer?”

“Harry Styles!”

She’d finally managed to get the R’s in Harry down after a long time of talking about him

“Mhm, well Harry and Momma have been talking, and we’re going to go see him in concert”

“MOMMA REALLY?! REALLY MOMMA!!”

You laughed as she squealed jumping up and starting to clap

“Yes my love! He wants to have you out, and he wants to say hello to you too!”

“We gonna see Harry daddy!!”

She ran over jumping in his lap to hug him, his arms holding her to his chest

“Yes we are duck! You excited? Was this a good surprise?”

“So good! I’m so happy daddy!!”

He pressed a few kisses to her cheeks before she bounded over to you and jumped into your arms

“Fank you momma”

“You’re so welcome my baby”

She remained in your arms beginning to talk about all the idea she had and everything she wanted to see, what she wanted to say to Harry. This was priceless to see, her pure excitement and happiness at the fact that she would be seeing Harry after thinking she’d need to wait for a while. You’d do anything for your Arlie girl, and felt more than grateful to be able to experience these beautiful moments with your family.

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thegroundsofbrooklyn · 1 year

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going insane over run away with me ben fank has the voice of an angel

#had it on loop for hours now it's . it's just so good #his voice HIS VOICE #going feral fr #ben fankhauser #the mad ones

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pigeonwit · 5 months

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usually kath & her doctor are toursies based. 2 me HOWEVER. i think it'd be silly if ben fankhauser was the david tennant of the au (because he came back 4 the proshot) so kath would be kara lindsay because. yeah

thats so fun actually. i can really see ben fanks davey and kara lindsays kath having that perfect ten and donna dynamic. mr and mrs spartacus. the harvey wallbanger debacle. 'OI watch it spaceman!!!' 'OI watch it earth girl!!!'. flawless no notes

#devouring all of dr whosies #any little tidbit #i will eat it #dr whosies #newsies

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larlarmojo · 30 days

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shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals <3

Fanks lovely xoxo

Somebody To Love - Ben Kim

I'm Your Doll - FKA twigs

i wanna be your girlfriend - girl in red

Danny Phantom - Medusa

Be Here Now - Mr.Gnome

(you did send this twice, I mass liked your answers in my 'post nap catch up scroll' because your playlist has a lot of my faves on it, I'ma still answer it though cause...i like music xoxox)

#fanks xoxox #ask game

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drinkin-cherryschnapps · 10 months

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im back on my ben fank shit

look at him

#ben fankhauser

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daveysjackie · 11 months

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ben fank appreciation post bc i miss him

#ben fankhauser #ben fank #newsies #livesies #davey jacobs #twentysomething #ben move i beg #i miss you

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loving-jack-kelly · 2 years

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i really did see the best newsies cast. joey barriero stephen Michael langton jack and davey supremacy

#just looked at a picture of sml and went yeah. he's my davey <3 #dont get me wrong i love fank #and i never saw jacob kemp but the clips I've seen of him have been good #but joey and stephen did it my favorite #i also saw corey and ben fank on broadway and they were fantastic i just.#smth abt joey's jack compells me more than any other stage jack #and sml just Understands what i love abt davey. he gets it.#anyway. i need to find a boot of them methinks #newsies #joey barriero #stephen michael langton

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day0walkersdrafts · 1 year

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Benny fucking hates New Jersey. Rightfully so. They’re New Yorks younger, stupider brother—and South Jersey was worse for some reason. They’ve an adapted version of his Queens accent, but nastier. An underserving amount of pride that they have gas attendants and that The Jersey shore was filmed on the Jersey shore (where the fuck else would it be filmed? Ben wonders, if not the fucking Jersey shore?) If you didn’t mind stepping on glass and getting harassed by people living under the boardwalk, the beach was—no. Benny fucking hates New Jersey.

There’s that classic saying; I left all my exes in dead in Texas. Well, Ben dated a girl from Ocean City for a minute and it was the worst minute of his life. So he has absolutely no love for Atlantic City, but an East Coast Tour for Ratspit doesn’t exist without a pit stop in New Jersey. Go figure.

But, overall, it wasn’t the worst night he’d had since joining security for the band. Tino ran such a tight crowd it was hard for things to go wrong; Xavier’s muscular handsome self by the stage looking menacing (when he wasn’t turning his chin over his shoulder and looking moony at Ratspits drummer). Ben was making sure front line row didn’t spill over and start climbing the stage to yank little Lark right off and snap him in two with horny Ratspit obsession.

Still. Ben was tired. He was fucking sore and his ears were ringing; because even the little pink plugs he’d gotten for himself didn’t drown out the music—that he did not care for—well enough. But he’d promised Xavier that he’d meet him at the bar anyway. And as much as Ben loved to break a promise—and often did—he found himself wandering to the airdropped location anyway. Grumbling as he went that Xavier was even lucky he had his phone on him to follow the directions. Even luckier that he was mostly just hungry enough for dive bar food.

Ben pushes the door open exactly as someone stumbles out, reeking of vodka. He watches them tumble down the sidewalk, their little intoxicated dance briefly amusing before he slips his lean body into the yawning open door. He’s met instantly by the stereotypical volume, all those horrible Jersey accents and the promising smell of terrible greasy food.

Xavier’s easy to spot. Had snagged himself a spot at the bar, long body hunched over a terrible looking mess of nachos. He sits directly under the television, eyes up and glazed over. Benny is not surprised that a hockey game is on. Xavier could go a fourteen hour shift standing on hot coals and find time for fucking hockey. Masshole loser. Ben dodges others in the bar, unafraid to put hands on people to slightly angle them out of the way or get him closer.

“Are they winning?” Ben asks, squeezing his way next to Xavier. A pretty blond girl momentarily looks to see whose shoving up behind her and then immediately looks away from Benny at the sight of his sneering grin. Benny turns his attention back to his friend and coworker; runs a hand right up from the nape of the red heads neck to the top of his head, shaking it back and forth a little as his fingers grip into Xavier’s hair. Xavier tilts his head to smile at Benny.

“Absolutely fucking not, dude. I’m miserable.” Xavier scoops a nacho and shoves it into his mouth. “Fanks for comin’,” he continues as he chews.

“Where’s your plu-plus one?”

Because Xavier had not asked just for company. He’d mostly cornered Benny after the show and all but begged him to tag along; because when he’d told Benji he was going to a bar after the show to watch his stupid game, Benji had declined to come. Normal behavior from that prickly bastard. Something about resting up before tomorrow, hanging out with the giant guitarist. No doubt the terror that was their bassist would find a way in on that; whole trio of terrifying in his opinion.

But when Benji had declined, his visitor had not. The new guy. Well. Not really. Not part of the band or crew; just a friend from the UK that was bored for the summer and decided to tag along on the tail end before they went back together. Which was fine, sure. But this was not just a friend.

Best friends, Xavier had said in a panicked voice, clutching Ben’s shoulders. Like, their parents knew each other before they were even born, best friends. And he wants to hang out with me. I can’t be alone with him, I’ll say something stupid.

Benny thought having nearly his entire throat columned in bruises from Benji’s lips and teeth made him look stupid already in front of the knew-each-other-since-birth best friend. But he’d agreed to come, because Maran was interesting. He was pretty and interesting—which were two very good combinations as far as Benny was concerned. And he’d not gotten a real chance to interact with him. Seemed like he was having a good time in America so far if the way Ratspit’s little social media manager looked stumbling from a supply closet had anything to say about it.

“He went to the bathroom a minute ago. He was drilling me,” Xavier mumbles to his nachos. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

“Nice,” Benny replies with a slippery grin that makes Xavier’s eyes roll.

“He’s—”

“Coming.”

“Nice,” Xavier says this time instead, nodding and grinning with all his pretty teeth. Ben’s turn to roll his eyes and lift a lazy hand to point toward the end of the bar, where Maran’s shaking hands out. He can see they’re a little wet—shitty bathroom probably didn’t have paper towels. Lucky if it had soap.

Maran doesn’t look out of place in the bar; which is odd because he’s wearing a faded Kirby t-shirt underneath an oversized black jean jacket, sleeves cuffed. Not really Atlantic City, New Jersey fucking fit. He feels like Maran should look out of place and not just because of the outfit. Like there should be a giant neon sign over his head that says BRITISH, or something. NOT PART OF THE BAND. JUST VISITING. JUST A GUY! He seems to part through a crowd effortlessly, squeeze himself in between people to speak to the bartender.

And she looks all too happy to help, leaned over close, ear bent his way as though the volume was that bad.

Benny rubs a hand over the back of his neck and looks away.

—

He gets stuck there with the bartender at first. Caught up in a real long conversation, with her leaning half over the bar to hear Maran better. Him sitting in the stool, an idle finger toying with a straw in a drink. Until the womans back up is huffing, puffing, practically pissing herself tending the busy counter herself—then when she slinks away, the man comes up.

Maran gets caught again. Xavier doesn’t seem to notice—not maliciously. His pond colored eyes stay up, flicker back and forth between the men on the screen, distracted enough that he nearly misses his mouth with another nacho. Ben’s more of a baseball guy, but that’s not the real reason he can’t seem to focus on the game. He stands beside Xavier with his back to the bar, elbows laid back lazily, and his head tilted toward the end.

It’s just—it’s very obvious by the mans posture. That half lean, that sort of hunch forward. He’s shorter than Maran and but he stands so he can be taller. He’s patted Xavier’s boyfriend’s best fucking friend no less than three times on the shoulder. So, it’s obvious that he’s flirting with Maran. It’s not obvious that Maran is flirting back. Or, as Benny watches, chewing the inside of his cheek, pale eyes hooded, it’s rather—it doesn’t seem like Maran is flirting at all.

Ben hadn’t shared more than one word with him. Well, Maran had shared a word. Alright? He’d said it when they’d almost accidentally bumped into each other backstage. Benny carrying those big rope dividers with a roadie (and he liked helping them out because no one fucking else did) and walking backward and him scooting around. Alright? In that accent, with that big smile on his face. Effortless. Easy going. Natural. I’m just a guy! Just here visiting! Having fun!

He’d not been able to say anything. Just kept walking, staring at Maran turning back around to continue on. Had left a strange feeling right up inside his rib cage.

Benny shoves his should into Xavier’s to pry his attention from the bar television. A quick glance shows that his team is losing anyway—which is good. Xavier in a foul mood could be good for Benny tonight. The red head lolls his head to the side, a nacho raised to his mouth and his eyes bored and sleepy.

“You—You think you could take that guy in a—a fight?” He gestures to the man down the bar, next to Maran. The one standing when Maran is sitting, the one whose been bumping his shoulder closer, whose been leaning in. While Maran has that sweet, humored look on his admittedly beautiful face. The stranger is thick in the shoulders, t-shirt tight enough to strain around his biceps. Xavier tilts his head back and forth, chews the nacho open mouth and obnoxious.

Then he smiles. Because his team is losing and he’s tired and he should have just stayed in with Benji.

“Yeah,” he answers confidently. Benny believes him.

“So—So if I get into a fight, you’re ba-backing me up, right?”

“Are you starting a fight?”

Benny unzips his bomber jacket and tosses it over the bar stool next to Xavier. Underneath, he’s thrown on some shitty printed loose fitting button up that cuts a little too short above his belt line. He makes sure the top few buttons are undone, yanks at the collar enough to show the scorpion on his neck. He takes the time to brush his hand back through his hair a few times, making the blond mop messy. Then he looks at Xavier and smiles. It’s not a mirror image because Xavier is handsome. He smiles with all his teeth and people swoon.

But Ben smiles like he knows the right color wire to cut for a bomb. And he isn’t going to fucking tell anyone. He smiles like he’s going to be a problem.

“Maybe.”

—

When he shoves his way toward them, people part easier than they had before. Benny knows he looks terrible. He’s got bruises under his eyes like someone pressed fingerprints there, and he’s pale to start. Under the bar lights, he’s even more washed out. His blue eyes don’t always look pretty, most of the time they look a little eerie—he’d made his hair look even worse, and even though he’s in clean clothes, the shirt’s print is off putting and his jeans have holes in the knees. He’s fucking covered in tattoos and none of them are artistic or pretty.

So when he gets there and immediately pushes his way between Maran and The Stranger to get the bartenders attention, the way the man flinches backward is not entirely surprisingly.

“Bud Lite, thanks.” It’s the same one that had been occupying Maran’s time before the man and she seems just as wary of Benny. But when he tilts his face to the side, Benji’s sweet visitor hasn’t moved all that much. Despite the closeness of their bodies, the way Benny is hunched over the bar between the two men, Maran hasn’t backed away. He sits with his hands wrapped around the edge of the stool, feet kicking a little rhythm on the stool bar. Fucking cute. Benny’s eyes trail up from those dirty white converses to his face.

Then he turns fully to face Jersey Shore.

“Go away,” Benny says simply, tapping his tattooed knuckles on the bar.

“The fuck?”

“Go.” He leans forward slightly, chin tucked down, pale eyes forward. “Away.”

And New Jersey gets angry then, starts talking louder, gesturing over Benny’s shoulder to Maran; who he hears laughs a little. It’s soft, under his breath, like maybe he’s trying to keep it contained. Benny can’t reply—well, he has a ton of retorts in mind. He could tell the guy to fuck off, die, your mother, all the good classic nonsense yelled back during verbal altercations. But ‘f’ and ‘y’ have always been problematic for him since he’d developed his stutter. And he’s trying for the persona route before Xavier has to get involved.

Because it’s usually easier to end fights before they start. It’s usually easier to look scarier than it is to actually enforce being scary.

So instead of saying anything he inhales deeply, exhales as he rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Then he snaps his fingers in front of the mans face a few times to get him to shut up, stunned and bewildered. With a quick side sweeping gesture, Benny throws his hand out toward the door.

“Go away,” Benny repeats instead of all the pent up insults he’d love to throw.

His pint of beer gets put on the bar top the exact same time he speaks. Benny goes for it, but before he gets a chance, Maran’s Stranger reaches instead. He swipes it toward himself and spits into the foam; then shoves it forward with a delighted, disgusted expression on his face.

“Fuck you, you fucking weirdo.” Benny recognizes the slur in his words. Drunker than he’d looked, underneath that Jersey Shore tan. His cheeks are ruddy and a bead of sweat rolls down from his temple. Ben leans against the bar with his hip, one of his flat to the bar. His fingers drum. The man glances down at them. BOOM, they read up until Benny takes the beer.

He makes sure to look the man in the eyes as he dips his tongue into the beer. He watches him flinch again, that wide eyed surprise of someone who just got involved with a person far, far, far more off the deep end than them. Then Ben tilts his head back and drains the entire pint. He slams the glass down on the counter and sighs out a long satisfied sound.

And luckily he’d drawn all that attention because the man is not even aware that Xavier has shown up.

“We havin’ a problem here?”

It’s Benny’s favorite version of Xavier. Technically, not true. He loves Xavier deeply, like a younger brother he’d accidentally gotten through Veterans Anonymous meetings years ago. He likes the guy when he’s dancing in clubs like no ones watching, he likes him even when he’s standing next to Benji looking desperate to touch him and only brushing the back of his hand over the drummers side. Loves him being kind to him, when Benny bristles at kindness.

But sometimes Ben wants to shake Xavier and ask where is he? Where is that scary man I know lives inside your fucking head? That guy looking for a fight? C’mon. No ones even all the time, Xavier. Let’s see you get mad. Let’s see Boston fucking Wolffe. Let’s go, Xavier.

The guy is shorter than Benny, so next to Xavier, he looks even smaller. Xavier, who stands with his shoulders tight, at his full height. Who only tucks his chin down a little to stare at the man. He smiles—not that I know the codes to the nukes and I’m taking them to my death! smile that Benny has. Xavier smiles like I’m pretty, I know I’m pretty and I win fights because no one can get a hit on this pretty face.

“Your fucking friend—”

“My fuckin’ friend, what?”

Benny isn’t facing Maran—nor does he turn too, yet—but he puts his foot on the leg of the bar stool and slowly pushes it backward to ensure he’s not too close when the fighting starts. Then he leans his chin over his shoulder to look at him. Maran’s looking back, eyes blinking a little. His hands are still wrapped around the stool between his knees, his dirty sneakers tucked into the legs of the stool. Ben tries not too—but he smiles.

Then he turns back and immediately ducks a punch.

New Jersey isn’t expecting quickness like that, so it makes him fall forward a little. But Xavier make’s it easy—slips his long arm around the mans neck and wrenches him to the side and then slams him to the sticky, alcohol soaked floor. And it probably would have ended there, except Benny feels his elbow yanked by someone and—turns out that the groaning man on the floor has friends to get involved.

“Uh,” Benny says a little stupidly, blinking a few times as another punch swings his way. An easy duck again, a step over the drunk man on the floor and then he pats Xavier’s side. A simple touch—he’ll watch that side. And then it dissolves into an absolute mess of East Coast fists and limbs and swears and violence.

—

After they’re kicked out and Xavier has examined Ben’s nose for an actual break, they find a taco truck. The nose wasn’t broken, but had bled marginally when someone’s elbow had snapped into it. Benny’s still sniffing at a coppery smell, but was relatively sure all the blood was out his facial hair by the time they eat.

They sit on the curb and eat the messy food—and Xavier and Maran seem to bond then. Seem to get onto some topic they can both talk about for far too long while Benny picks jalapeno’s off Xavier’s taco and tucks them into his. Ben mostly listens while he eats. Likes the cool one in the morning air tickling through his messy blond hair. Likes listening to the two men and their distinct accents; Xavier’s awful Boston one and Maran’s very cute Liverpool one.

Benny doesn’t feel outside of the two as they talk. The occasional time chimes in, he gets a pretty laugh from Maran or a snort from Xavier; or he dissolves into trying to tell Maran an embarrassing story. Benny likes not having to fill that void, even though he can talk too. He can talk worse than Xavier sometimes—it’s just hard with new people. Hard to get them not to cringe when he has to say a word again, or that inevitable moment when they try to finish his sentence because they think it’s easier somehow.

They have to make the walk back home then. Home being the tour buses parked in a Walmart parking lot. They have to be up in five hours to get on the road again; and Ben finds it almost impossible to sleep in a moving vehicle, so he’s likely to be annoyed and tired all day tomorrow.

Somehow Maran finds his way between the two of them. Xavier to his left, Benny to his right.

“Why’d you start that?” Maran asks, this first big direct question aimed at Ben. He blinks a few times, head turned as he walks with his hands in his pockets. It’s dark but there’s street lights every couple paces. So Maran is washed orange, bathed in darkness, washed orange, bathed in darkness. This pattern that makes his eyes shine; makes all those freckles look so nice. Benny’s eyes skate off him, around the ground and then forward.

“He w-was hitting on you—you. I don’t like New Jersey guys. Th-They’re bad one night stands, trust me.” Maran laughs. It’s this big sort of head tilted back, in the moment laugh that crinkles his eyes.

“He wasn’t hittin’ on me.”

Xavier and Benny stop walking at the same time, turning their heads toward Maran between them. He pauses after a few steps, takes one back in a comical gesture. He blinks, lifting a hand out of his jean jacket pocket and laughs. “What? Weren’t. Was askin’ me how the flight over was, s’all.” Benny looks at Xavier at the same time Xavier looks at him and they both burst into a laugh. His is more of a wheeze, but Xavier’s is loud enough to echo off the wide empty street in front of them.

Xavier slides an arm over Maran’s shoulder, pulling him in close and grinning. His cheeks are a little pink, both from the fighting earlier and the laughter.

“He ask you how long the flight was?”

“An-And how hard of a flight it was?”

They laugh again. Benny pats Maran’s stomach a few times as he starts walking again. He can see the man going slightly red under the orange glow of the streetlight out the corner of his eye. The blush looks good on him, underneath all those freckles.

Ben skips a little forward until he’s in front of them and then turns.

“Do—Do you wanna see a magic trick?”

“Aw, fuck no—Maran, don’t indulge this asshole.” Xavier sighs dramatically, head thrown back. His red hair has gotten all out of sorts, long and curling. Benny continues walking, backwards in front of Maran. Agile and lithe, like he could do this the whole way back to the tour bus. He tucks a hand into his bomber jacket and pulls out the deck of playing cards stashed in the lining.

Still walking, he cuts it and shuffles it and grins ear to ear like a knife slashed right through his face. Maran tilts his chin up a little. Coy about it.

“Alright,” he says and for a moment, Benny is back behind the stage, his arms full, watching Maran smile at him.

“Thi-Think of a card.” Benny holds up the deck. For show he licks one and slaps it to his own forehead. Gets a laugh out of Maran. “Thinking?”

“G’on.”

But Xavier has his arm slung over Maran’s shoulder still. For some reason, it bothers. Like—a burn sort of bother. Which is stupid because Xavier’s so fucking fused to Benji it’s like their atoms are going to splice together. Create a whole new creature; Bavier. Xanji. So, Benny knows Xavier’s arm isn’t lingering like that because he wants Maran. But his fingers brush over his shoulders anyway—and he’s got those long sort of arms that leave his palm dangling in a way that’s almost weirdly suggestive. They say ‘take my hand, hold my hand, it would be cute’.

So Benny shoves Xavier’s arm off Maran’s shoulders.

There is for the briefest moment that Boston Wolffe flash in Xavier’s eyes. That spark of anger; but it fades quickly, his hand slipping into his pockets. Benny would be scared of a guy like Xavier if he didn’t know him so well. Sometimes, he’s more surprised people aren’t scared of Xavier.

Benny leans in and puts his hand behind Maran’s ear. When he pulls it forward, a card is slipped between his two fingers. He points it facing forward.

“Nope.”

“Damn.” They continue walking, Benny still backward. Still upright, still balanced. He snaps his finger by the other side of Maran’s head and when he withdraws his hand there’s another card.

“Naw, mate, not that one.”

Maran is smiling wider and wider with each incorrect pull of a card. Benny swears, but it’s theatrical and dramatic until he stops walking altogether. The sudden pause of momentum makes Maran almost run directly into him. He stops in time, but they stand there, Maran still in the ring of the streetlights glow and Benny just outside of it. He sneaks his hand forward, up and underneath Maran’s jacket. He slides his hand along a toned, warm side. Feels the expanse of his ribcage widen as he draws in a breath. Benny keeps looking at him, in the eyes as he tucks his hand into Maran’s back pocket.

Then he snaps his hand back, a card there.

“Ki-King of Hearts?”

Maran’s eyes aren’t on the card. They look forward, at Ben. They’re the same height, he realizes—or rather, Benny has maybe an inch because of the thick soled combat boots he wears. His eyes finally sway from Maran’s to the card he’s holding.

“No?”

“If I said no, you’d try again, yeah?”

Fuck yeah I’d try all night. Try until the cards run out. All fifty two. You didn’t think of one did you? Just wanted to play.

“Oh, come on,” Xavier groans, hopping a little until he continues walking. Maran’s smile indents when he bites into his bottom lip. Benny has to force himself to look away, over his shoulder to the lanky red head continuing on. He feels Maran pass him, their shoulders brushing a little, so his eyes lift again.

“Got any other tricks?”

“Whole sle-slew of ‘em.” Benny matches Maran’s pace then, hands back in his pockets, deck of cards back in the lining of his jacket. “Sh-Show you next tour?” There’s a comfortable lull of silence where he supposes Maran is thinking about next tour.

I’m just a guy! Just visiting!

“Next tour, yeah? You’ll figure that card out, Ben, sure of it.”

#benny #maran #benny x maran #band au

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