Two years ago. . .

.

The end of the day had been close. Ben could hardly wait to arrive at HQ and head home to get some proper rest.

Contrary to what he'd been thinking –prior to the encounter with that Fistrick 'bro'– the night had actually hold quite a few thrills for him. However, it still hadn't been the same, and that particularly exciting part of the night was already over anyway, so the owner of the Omnitrix firmly believed he had each reason to be as bored as an Amish kid. Looking out the Proto-TRUCK window didn't make time run any faster and certainly didn't make the road more entertaining, but at least Ben could tell, depending on which buildings came into view, how far they were from their destination.

A quarter of his attention had been caught by a passing chubby dog when his new partner broke off with the heavy silence. "We did pretty well today, do you not agree? I think we are an formidable team," Rook commented enthusiastically after five everlasting minutes of awkward tension.

Ben turned to him with the same stoic expression and glanced at the tiny smile playing at the edge of the blue alien's lips, then rolled his eyes back to the window. He rested his elbow on the door and leant his cheek on the palm of his hand. "Sure. Your combat skills are... Okay," Ben answered indifferently, not intending to take the conversation further for the sixth time that night. But no matter how curt his scarce words came out, Rook didn't seem to take the hint.

The smile twitched downwards for a second. Rook sent the shorter boy a fleeting, concerned look before fixing his gaze on the road ahead once again, only then considering the possibility of Ben not being in the mood to talk. "I apologise for faking after I got shot. I truly believed it was a good distraction," he insisted.

Ben didn't even turn this time. "No problem," he said, his voice a little muffled. "I kinda knew you were faking."

"How strange. You sounded overly worried."

Another roll of eyes plus a huff. "Well, yeah, I'm not a monster." Ben moved his hand to the back of his skull, throwing his head back and settling his dull gaze on the current driver as he massaged his scalp. "And it's not like I was that worried."

The bitterness in his tone didn't go unnoticed. Rook tried for real to let it slip, but not a trace of the previous smile managed to persist. "You are not content with our partnership in the least, are you?"

"No, it isn't that." Ben straightened his neck and sighed at the mild yet obvious hurt tone. His features softened at the sudden lack of mirth in Rook's face. Maybe he had been a little too harsh. "Not my intention to offend. Don't take it personal. From what I saw, you're a rather... Cool partner and all," he explained, sounding genuinely sorry, not visibly showing it. "It's just -I was looking forward to going on solo, you know."

"Yes, I am aware. Forgive me for changing your plans."

"Chill out, what's done it's done. I'll get used to this eventually, I guess."

Rook nodded in spite of not being convinced, his eyes losing brightness in deep dejection. Ben's reluctance honestly was a shame. He halted the truck at the nearby red light and released the steering wheel, taking the opportunity to face the younger teen and speak his mind. "As time goes by, Ben, I am sure you will realise that teamwork can be better than being alone."

"Dude. . ."

"Especially now that we are partners. I take this seriously; helping you is my main task. No matter what, as long as I am by your side, I will always stand up for you."

Ben wasn't looking back at the Revonnahgander, but eyes weren't necessary to sense Rook's determination. In fact, perhaps that was what pushed Ben to lock gazes with him. "It sounds like a promise, and you shouldn't make promises you don't know you'll be able to keep in the end."

"I will keep it, Ben. Trust me."

The young hero opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again shortly after, defeated. There was just something impossible to deny behind Rook's words, not to mention that everything about him as he spoke like that was simply... breath-taking. Ben shook the weird thought away. "Whatever," he said stubbornly.

Rook bit his lower lip and feigned to lay hold of the steering wheel before dropping both hands to his thighs. "What about you?"

Ben raised a questioning eyebrow. "What about me?"

"Yes." The Revonnahgander leant his upper-body closer for a more intimate atmosphere, his afflicted eyes desperately searching for a vague trace of acknowledgement into Ben's. "Perhaps we are not so familiar, but I still cannot help wondering... Are you going to do the same for me?"

Ben felt a weak pang of guilt somewhere between his rib cage. "Geez, Rook, what's with that question?" he asked, sounding a little aloof despite the unusual feeling, his disinterested eyes flickering past the front window.

"Ben," Rook called out in a soft, anguished voice, successfully retrieving the hero's vision. They stared into each other for a brief moment until Rook finally gathered enough encouragement to ask, "Will you always stand up for me?"

Ben's lips parted slightly. Those gentle eyes looked hopeless, as if Rook were prepared for a negative answer. The sight alone made Ben feel like a bad guy. If only he could leave an emotionally harmless explanation, everything would be easier. But he barely knew this alien; it had been four days since Rook introduced himself, since Max, wise and good-intentioned Max had placed this burden on Ben's shoulders. Future was clearly out of his control, Ben just didn't. . .

He pressed his lips together and turned his head quickly. "I don't know," he said sternly, looking out the window. "Maybe this won't last, maybe our partnership is temporal." Ben rested his elbow on the door, his chin on his palm and repeated, colder than before, "I don't know."

In his peripheral vision, the young hero saw his partner go still, as if he were struggling to process Ben's words, until the light turned green. Rook slowly straightened up, placed both hands at each side of the steering wheel, and pulled off carefully.

They were silent for the rest of the road.

.

Fate could prove oneself wrong in the most ironic way sometimes.

Ben squeezed his eyes shut at the distant memory and shoved his hands onto his face, digging his head further into the pillow.

Almost two years had gone by since that regrettable conversation, and he still wasn't capable of getting over it. Instead of putting his pride first, Ben should have at the very least admitted his obvious worry, as well as he should have admitted, through the last couple of years, other certain issues that were currently beginning to cause too much overwhelming inner trouble.

On the surface, Ben didn't have any reasons to complain about life. He was a hero who willingly hadn't had a girlfriend for more than a year, with an enjoyable, thrilling, well-paid job which, thanks to the rest of the Plumbers guided by his grandfather, offered enough lazy moments to spend playing video-games, hanging out with his parents and grandpa Max, meeting Gwen and Kevin on weekends and lounging around with... The coolest partner... Right after kicking some evil butts.

But Ben's principal conviction was that life without a burden to carry around wasn't real life. Everybody had issues, no matter how small, and the wielder of the Omnitrix wouldn't be the exception just because he was the famous hero.

Ever since middle-school, Ben had believed that nobody knew him better than himself, and that his personal identity would never be called into question, let alone if he thought those key facets that shaped his character had been absolutely accurate during adolescence. Deep inside, though, after pondering about it and looking back in time like he regularly did, recalling an infinity of moments with each recent woman to whom he had been romantically linked, then somehow ending up comparing them with random moments in Rook's company, Ben gathered enough courage to stop living a lie.

True realisation hit him very late, and he finally understood, and more importantly, accepted why his relationships with both Ester and Kai hadn't work, why he covertly hadn't wanted them to work. The track leading him to who he really was had long become unclear. Ben had thoughtlessly made the bad decision of ignoring each doubt and letting the signs pass, and now his acts were taking their toll. Restlessness increased and hidden feelings grew unbeatably stronger, until he started failing at denying them in the most miserable way possible.

The fact that he had spent almost a whole year alone, the sudden loss of interest in having a girl by his side – it all had an explanation.

Benjamin Kirby Tennyson, teen idol, iconic world hero and protector of the Omnitrix, had been gradually falling for his partner. His strong, handsome, irritatingly polite partner.

And it hurt. It hurt an awful lot. It hurt even more than any prior beating, ached a thousand more times than each broken up relationship.

It had been nearly two years ago since he'd opted for disregarding both the odd pressure on his chest and the uneasy churning within the pit of his stomach whenever he spotted Rook before a new mission. Nearly two years of countless nights shaking away those mildly suggestive, short-lived dreams in which he would wake up panting if stuff appeared to be getting out of control; nearly two years without acknowledging the warm, pleasurable feel that racked his entire body whenever Rook got closer than necessary.

Two years of trying to avoid the unavoidable.

Ben should have known better. One just didn't mistake friendly affection for a crush. How was it that a lame argument like 'I only feel way too comfortable around him' had been enough to believe his own lie so blindly? Ben didn't know who he was anymore. He had never took interest in men before and now... He liked a male? A male alien? Was he still attracted to women? Or did he like men and women?

Heck, did he even like humans?

Everything was confusing, unexpected, harrowing. Not only had he developed a presumable crush on a friend of the opposite sex, no. He had developed a crush on a straight male friend he met practically every single day of his life. There was nothing to expect. In the end, if Ben was willing to acknowledge these feelings didn't matter.

So what if he admitted those feelings to himself? After a whole year embracing them, Ben wished to confess and take that heavy weight off his chest. But he couldn't face Rook and tell him such weird things. Accidental stares with glorious adoration shining in his eyes as though Rook were some sort of saint was already creepy enough. A confession would turn the air overly awkward, would ruin their priceless friendship, their unique partnership. What if Rook insulted Ben or shied away from him? God, what if he decided to change partners to wriggle out the dense tension? Ben wouldn't handle losing him. The mere thought mirrored the pain of a terminal disease, much like this pointless thinking!

Ben's personal crisis always boiled down to one heart-breaking conclusion: in romantic aspects, unless someone else appeared, nothing was awaiting him ahead.

Ben had to get used to the feeling for once, had to get used to hold his tongue and bottle up each detail without exploding and blurting out the delicate fondness he was experiencing. If he had managed to keep his usual 'dude-attitude' towards Rook since the very beginning and throughout this last year of partnership, then Ben was definitely capable of controlling and repressing his emotions, however painful, in order to protect this perfect bond.

It was all about limits. For their partnership's sake, Ben would begin to silently enjoy those tingly moments in which their shoulders touched while watching random videos on the internet, to take advantage of the Omnitrix and tease Rook during a friendly training just to see that frowning, lovely expression, and to relish those idle hours in Undertown that flew by as they hung out, sharing a laugh, brushing legs, and now and then, perhaps, arguing a little bit. . .

Clinging to all those small details that slowly brought them close and learning to face this upsetting reality seemed like the best idea. The relationship had to stay professional and comradely on Ben's side, because before anything else, they were partners and a couple of good friends. Never mind emotional distress, never mind fluttering butterflies in his stomach. No one in the universe had the ability to make Ben feel so fully at ease, and he wouldn't, by any means, risk such a valuable person.

"...Are you going to do the same for me?"

So many words he could have picked up, so many ways to explain. Ben felt his heart shrink, wishing with all his being that he had answered differently. A promising 'I'll try', a smile and a flattering 'dude, with your awesome hand-to-hand combat skills, no one has to stand up for you'. Anything would have better than looking away, distant and ungrateful.

He looked into the sparse cracks of his room's ceiling as if he might find solace in its dark pattern.

The compromising question echoed through his mind one last time.

"Will you always stand up for me?"

Ben shifted onto his side and squeezed his aching chest.

"Yes," he whispered, "I'll always stand up for you."