A/N:I have no idea where this came from. Or, well, I do – it was inspired by a certain tea-related comment by my current English teacher – but I have no idea what to make of it. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer:I own nothing. Except for the wannabe-plot around the tea-remark.

Warning:Fluff? Maybe pre-slash – at least if your mind works similar to mine.

Starts with Tea

Neil Young – codenamed Eagle when not on leave, as he currently was – looked up, surprised, when the doorbell rang. He had not been expecting any visitors – Luke and Quinn had already returned to active duty with the SAS two weeks before, and the other people that had come to see him (or rather, check up on him) after he got shot in the leg seemed to have grown tired of doing so during the second week, probably thanks to his constant whining about being more or less grounded like a naughty child.

Any change of pace was welcome for him, – hell he would even be grateful for some door-to-door-salesman by now - and he would have happily skipped over to the door, if it had not been for the ever-present twinge in his leg still colouring his steps with a faint stiffness. Turning the key in the lock with fingers tingling from the anticipation of the desperately bored, he opened the door to find the familiar face of Ben Daniels in front of him.

"Heeey," Neil drawled out, lips spreading into an wide grin at the side of his 'traitorous' friend. "To what do I owe the rare honour of your presence?"

"Hey, Neil," Ben returned the greeting flatly, voice and gaze without much inflection, then lapsed into a short, vaguely fumbling silence, like he was suddenly unsure of what to say, and either unable or unwilling to conjure up some of his spook poker-face magic, "Um, well I heard you managed to get yourself shot..."

"Three weeks ago, yeah," Neil answered, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow mockingly, "I'm fine, though, just two more weeks of physio and I'll try and pester the sergeant into letting me come back. I'm bored out of my mind, stuck here."

He made an exaggeratedly grand gesture to motion Ben inside, then shut the door behind his former team mate and made him sit on the couch after having moved the books, comics and magazines that were strewn all over it to the already crowded coffee table, not bothering to apologise for the messy state of his flat. That was nothing new, after all.

"So it's nothing lasting. I'm glad," Ben said, relief shining only very faintly in his voice. He was being honest, Neil had no doubt about that, but there was a heavy weariness weighing down his whole demeanour. Ben was not really acting like himself at all.

"You know me, Foxy, it takes more than a bullet to the leg to get me away from the action for long," he replied easily, trying to re-stack the items on the low table into neater piles to prevent them from sliding off.

"You know I'm not with the SAS anymore," Ben pointed out in a weak protest, not even dwelling on the teasing variation. "Don't call me by my old codename."

"Well, to me you're still a part of the unit," Neil shrugged, unimpressed. "We need our baby after all. I don't think I can stand being the youngest any longer."

"You were always acting like the youngest anyway." The jibe sounded half-hearted at best.

"Oh, shush you," Neal lightly poked Ben in the side in retaliation. His face gained a more serious expression when not even that would a rise out of the other.

"Mais, dis donc*, there's something up with you, Fox." - not even an exasperated shy from Ben at that - "MI6 treating you bad, spy boy?"

"Nah, it's all right," Ben shook his head slowly, almost sluggishly. "Just got back from a two-months assignment. And I'm a little worried about Alex, I guess, but that's nothing new."

"Cub can take care of himself. I'm sure he's as fine and feisty as always..." Neil stated, brushing off Ben's concerns for the moment – not that he could not understand them, he knew enough about Cub's involvement with the wrong sort of people to see where Ben was coming from, but right now there were more immediate things to be taken care of, things they could actually do something about. "You, on the other hand, are exhausted. You're not even cracking those weird half-smiles of yours."

Ben stared at him blankly, not even bothering to try and smile. His dark brown eyes were dull with fatigue, and Neil wondered briefly if he had come to seek comfort rather than give some (as well as some much needed entertainment). Even the best therapists the suits had to offer could not always compare to a friend with an open ear and an open heart, after all. Maybe it was a bit of both.

"I'm making you a tea. Don't move." Ben didn't. The lack of protest at the order felt odd to Neil, and he sighed mentally, preparing himself for some light-hearted interaction with ulterior motives – he was not a self-declared master at cheering others up for nothing.

When Neil returned from the kitchen, a steaming mug in his hand, Ben did not even seem to notice him. He was not sure if it was one of his little tricks or if he had genuinely let his guard down for once and allowed himself to relax. With a bit of pride and satisfaction in the trust Ben showed by it, Neil decided that the second one applied: Ben was actually surprised when he leant down to him to push the drink into his hand. Neil let his own hand linger on Ben's for a moment, stalling his motion of lifting the mug to his lips. He searched for the younger man's eyes and held his gaze for a silent, sober second before straightening up, letting go of Ben's hand on the cup.

"Now, remember, tea is a happy drink. You must smile while you drink it, or it will become poisonous!"

Ben gave a wry smile, lips curling ever so slightly along the rim of the cup, and sipped the hot beverage gratefully, any remaining tension in his frame falling off him like a heartfelt sigh. Neil shot him a full-fledged grin in return and plopped down beside him, casually throwing an arm over the headrest behind his friend's shoulders and letting his hand slip down to lie on Ben's upper arm, tracing a tiny circle with his thumb – little gestures for big meanings, those were the ones his friend had always understood best.

"We're missing you, you know?" He murmured, only grazing the comfortable silence that had settled between them, not truly breaking it. "I still don't get why you ran off to the dark side. Do they have cookies or something?"

Ben let his eyes slip shut with the slight reluctance of someone trying to fight the sleep that he knew was inevitably creeping up on him after a caffeine or adrenaline high. Neil gently pried the tea from Ben's grip before it loosened too much and the remaining liquid spilled, placing it on top of one of the smaller stacks of books on the table. He pulled his half-asleep friend just a little closer, another shade of in-between supportive and intimate, counting on the halves, as he had not been able to do since the day Ben had left them.

"I'm not completely sure myself, actually..." Ben answered quietly, letting an uncharacteristic incertitude shimmer through, replacing the confidence and determination he usually displayed when it came to his new job. "I miss you, too, though..."

"Then remember to take a break every once in a while and visit your old mates more often, spy boy." Neil ran his hand through Ben's dark hair, neither in a caress, nor in a friendly ruffle. He succeeded in coaxing his friend into resting his head on his shoulder and making himself more comfortable. "Now catch a kip, you're no fun when you're like this."

"Thanks," Ben whispered almost inaudibly, not a hint of sarcasm in his tone, letting the other know that he was not referring to the last remark.

Neil smiled.

"You're welcome, Ben."

A/N:*credit to Neil being bilingual (English and French) goes to SamayouTamashi, and the translation would roughly be something along the lines of "but, tell me,"