'Rook, what is this?'

Rook grins as he bats away Ben's finger with the ladle of the spoon. 'Oleander noodles. But if you try to distract me, they will burn and we will both be sorry for it.'

Ben makes a face. 'If you say so...' But he continues to eye the broth doubtfully.

Rook shakes his head and continues to stir, narrowing his eyes and bending his knees slightly to check that the flame below the pan is the right kind of blue. It's a pain, cooking in something that is big enough to totally eclipse the gas ring beneath, but cooking in something smaller tends to encourage him to add less water than he otherwise would, with the result being a sauce that reeks a little too strongly of all the alien spice Ben finds distasteful.

Ben, meanwhile, continues to stare at the red whirlpool forming beneath Rook's strokes with an intensity that Rook believes is commonly referred to on Earth as 'boring a hole' through something. Though honestly, Rook thinks, that might only be true if Ben were to take on the form of Jetray.

'Staring will not cause my cooking to curdle,' he informs his partner dryly, 'but it is still rather annoying all the same. Not to mention insulting.'

Ben flushes a little guiltily and backs off. 'Sorry, sorry, it's just...aren't Oleanders poisonous?'

Rook cocks an eyebrow the way he always does when Ben unveils some new facet of knowledge he didn't expect him to have, and he can't quite keep the quiet chuckle from his voice. 'I have no intention of murdering you. And the sauce is not actually made from the Earth plant it derives its name from.' He turns to give Ben a swift, fond look, before his attention reverts back to the sauce and his expression takes on a new frown as he notes the bubbles beginning to pop along its surface. 'This recipe is from an infamous chef, Belmny Atra, who took a fancy to the sound of the syllables the word Oleander makes, as well the deep red colour it can sometimes grow as in the wild.' He can't help but toss Ben another fond look at this explanation, sappiness stealing into his smile as he adds, 'your Earth names can sound just as odd to us, as ours do to you, sometimes. Like a form of complicated poetry.'

Ben doesn't seem to be appeased by this. Instead he folds his arms and snorts. 'Uh-huh. And what exactly is this Belmny guy infamous for?'

Rook winces. 'He, ah...' he coughs and makes a show of adjusting the control dial on the gas ring, wincing at the heat radiating from the spokes supporting the pan on their curved rungs above. Their shape is reminiscent of the top part of a birdcage, ironic, given how trapped he now similarly feels. 'He had a tendency to get excitable when inventing new formulas for sauce. Unfortunately some of the alien fruit he used was susceptible to static discharge and since he was a Gimlinopithecus, the results were either explosive or ended up affecting the delicate p.H balance of the plant. So much so, that the recipe it was involved in became slightly toxic.' He thinks for a moment, keeping his eyes firmly away from the smothered laughter coming from his right. 'A little like how the clumsy preparation of the fugu fish on this planet can result in death for the consumer.'

Ben giggled. 'One of Shocksquatch's species? Figures.'

Rook sighs and buries a large fork into the simmering mixture in front of him, knocking aside a few large walnut-sized peppercorns as he does so, though they're not called that on their own native homeworld, of course. Feeling his face delve down into a frown, his concentration overtakes him as he rakes through the faintly glowing blue swirl of the Pattersonea dumplings that bob to the surface as a result of the movement, their consistency resembling the faint mush of an Earthen pear, and his mouth waters slightly at the faint aroma they knock out. Honestly, he's surprised Ben hasn't sputtered out a single complaint about them yet.

'Dude, those better not be radioactive,' Ben mutters at his shoulder. 'I know what the climate's like there. And I don't really want to grow seven feet tall and start glowing in the dark.'

Rook rolls his eyes. It seems that as with many things, he 'spoke too soon.' Or in this case, thought.

'Your body goes through far more disturbing changes than that on a daily basis,' he points out firmly. 'And like I said before, I am not trying to poison you. These have been thoroughly neutralised before being sold at the Undertown market, I assure you; I checked with the scanner on the Proto-Tool myself.'

Ben chuckles and Rook relaxes slightly as he feels the familiar twist of those sleeved arms wrap around his torso. Or the bottom half of his chest at least – Ben is still horrendously small compared to other people, enough for Rook to sometimes worry about crushing him when they make love. It's a stupid and irrational impulse given that Ben's arms are a lot more toned than they used to be, especially since he's actually seen Ben hold his own in a fight with only the body he was born with to use as a suitable defence; but, well. Habits die hard.

Ben pushes his nose into the shirt in front of his face, rubbing hard enough for Rook's fur to pick up the fine lines of his cheek and forehead, even with the barrier of fabric in the way.

'It smells good,' he admits and Rook smiles privately to himself, lifting a thin purple string of noodle up for inspection. 'I'm sure I'll be able to choke some of it down. And it makes a change of pace; I can't be the one to cook up spaghetti bolognaise or pancakes all the time.'

'Your cooking repartee is somewhat limited, yes,' Rook agrees.

Ben gives him a warning squeeze, just enough to hurt and Rook wonders how long it will be before he has to actually worry about Ben landing a hit that will make him stagger back in their practise sessions.

''Snot my fault if my taste-buds are actually normal.'

'What a compelling point you make,' says Rook in a bored tone. 'But look! The food is finally ready.'

Ben steps away and lifts the plates out of the cupboard, settling them on the table with a heavy clink. And Rook smiles again as he dishes out, watching with a rising sense of hunger as both noodles and broth swirl out into the plates with a jelly-like slop.

Ben makes a face but obligingly shoves a fork into Rook's waiting hand and sits himself down, eyeing the noodles that rise and swim through the red surface of sauce like he expects them to transform into blue worms and erupt towards his face with a vicious set of teeth. He probably does, reflects Rook with more a sense of wry amusement than actual hurt, and he gives Ben a thumbs up before he shovels his first mouthful between his jaws.

Ben shakes his head in token protest and shrugs before opening his own mouth and diving in. Rook waits eagerly, feeling the grin rise to his lips as Ben lets out a hum of appreciation and gives him a surprised look in return.

'You see, there are benefits in broadening your horizon, Ben,' Rook tells him, trying hard not to let the smugness creep into his tone. But judging by the slightly scornful look Ben throws his way, he is not entirely successful.

Just then, Ben's phone rings. And Ben sighs, making a big show of dragging it out onto the table before his thumb slams down on the screen.

'Her-llo?' he asks between mouthfuls.

'Sorry to disturb you, Ben.' His grandfather's voice comes out over the speaker in tired tones and for a moment, Rook wonders whether he should excuse himself, pick up his plate and leave the two of them to their privacy. But then the next words Max says makes this thought rush out of his head entirely. 'But your...future self has turned up at Headquarters. And he's demanding to speak to you.'

Ben groaned. 'Ser-rous-ley? It's myeh day orf!'

'Don't try to talk with your mouth full, Ben,' says Max, though he doesn't sound particularly angry, Rook notes. 'And I'm afraid he's being rather insistent. It's all I can do to keep him from charging over to you.'

Ben sighs and makes an effort to swallow. 'Fine, fine. We'll be there. Just...give us ten minutes, okay?'

Rook frowns. It won't take them that long for him to change out of casual clothing, before they can ask Blukic and Driba to fire up the teleporter for them, but Ben is giving him the same sort of quelling look Rayona used to give him, with that classic faintly wrinkled brow and narrow 'don't-move-if-you-know-what's-good-for-you' glare. So he remains seated, cheeks bulging and mouth full.

Ben sighs and ends the call. 'Weird,' he says, cocking an eyebrow at Rook. 'Especially if Paradox isn't there. Last time I checked future me couldn't time-travel at will. Um, I think.'

Ben's right, Rook notes absently, it is rather strange. 'Why did you ask for ten minutes?' he asks, deciding to favour a different sort of curiosity. 'You know how quick I am at putting on the Proto-Armour.'

'Yes,' says Ben grimly. 'And I also know you fight better on a full stomach than an empty one. So eat up.' He taps the side of Rook's plate with his fork, wincing a little at the dull clank that rings out. 'It might not take you ten minutes to eat, but it will take you five minutes to clear up that plate without getting indigestion from rushing.' He nods firmly to himself then proceeds to ignore all his own advice, swirling a fork down into his own set of noodles and lifting it to chomp down with ferocious speed. It seems doubly unwise given that the action sends sauce spilling everywhere.

But Rook shakes his head and picks up his fork nonetheless.


When Ben first sees Older Him, he bursts out laughing.

'Dude!' he manages between gasps. 'What are you wearing?!'

Older Ben straightens self-consciously. 'It's a re-model of something that wouldn't fit me any other way,' he says moodily. 'Don't judge.'

But to be fair, Rook thinks, under the bright lights and next to the grey-green hue of the consoles in Plumber headquarters, he does look...well, awkward. His biceps look trapped, caught and wound round with tight white straps, like he's had a nasty run-in with a skipping rope, and the slender colour of them appears almost obscure next to the pink gleam of his skin. The same pattern is repeated with his legs and chest, though over that wide expanse of his t-shirt they tend to form the sort of criss-crossed barrier he's seen on people wearing a parachute harness.

Ben sucks in a gasp. 'Hoooo boy...I keep expecting our Mom to show up any minute to grab hold of those baby-reins!'

Older Ben's face twists into a grimace. 'I can't believe I was ever this obnoxious. And these are not baby-reins,' he adds, seizing hold of the corded extensions that run off the harness, extensions which, Rook is forced to admit, look very much like the Earthlings' restraints for unruly children. 'They're for supporting the bio-feedback! You can't just send a human body back in time without them! Not unless you want a bunch of weird effects...' But he does look a little embarrassed as he trails off, so Rook takes pity on him.

'We are getting off track,' he tells his Ben, nudging him firmly in the shoulder. 'Perhaps we should ask what has brought you to this time.'

Older Ben lets out a breath, hand clenching slightly. 'Yeah, okay.' He shakes his head, a bitter smile drawing the line of his mouth up. 'You're always good at dragging my attention back to the point at hand, no matter what time period we're in. It's nice to know some things don't change.'

His eyebrows draw down on this last word to successfully cut off all the softness the twist in his smile is giving; and it's as though someone's shut off Rook's understanding of his expression. Because sure, this Ben's face is older, more angular, and hardened by age, but it still shakes Rook to the core to realise that this Ben has grown beyond him and the easy familiarity they've developed. He knew it, knows it intellectually, but to see actual evidence of it before him...it's scary.

'Change?' Clearly his Ben has picked up on the emphasis the older one is giving this word, because he frowns and steps forward. 'Is this some weird Time-War nonsense again?'

Older Ben shakes his head. 'I wish.' Then he glances down, a strange sort of nervousness tugging at his expression with the way his eyes briefly dip down to his boots in an way Rook is still keenly familiar with, before the older man steps forward and clasps his younger self on the shoulder.

'Where's K-kai?'

Ben stiffens, not so much at the touch, but at the queer, tremulous tone his other self paints her name with.

'I don't know,' he says, though suspicion is starting to tinge his voice. 'Out somewhere collecting artefacts I guess.'

Older Ben runs an eye over his frame thoughtfully. 'You're...I can't be much older than eighteen, right now, judging by your size. So yeah, that makes sense; she was doing a lot of work in Egypt at the time...'

Ben casts a look at Rook for help.

'Is Miss Green in trouble?' the Revonnahgander asks, stepping forward and offering out a hand. He's not exactly sure what to do with it, but Ben is wincing, indicating that his older self is exerting a little too much pressure on the young bones buried beneath his palms, so, as respectfully as he can, Rook carefully closes his fingers round one of the large wrists in front of him, and feels the cool glide of the future Omnitrix, or at least half of it, slipping beneath his fur. Older Ben stares at him for a moment, frowning in confusion as Rook's fingers tighten, just enough for them both to make out the tense line of a tendon as it tightens into a bulge beneath. And then Rook, with the same sort of care he would give a disturbed criminal, drags the wrist away from his partner.

'I understand you are in distress, or at least you believe Miss Green to be,' he says gently. 'But please do not take it out on my partner.'

But his eyes aren't on Older Ben as he says this. They're fixed on his beloved and the way he winces and rolls his shoulder. And before he knows it, Rook's free hand is coming up partway between them, either to stroke or soothe the bruised muscle, he's not sure which. Only before he can do so, he happens to glance back towards Older Ben and sees the other staring at him in such a peculiar, almost frightened fashion, that his hands instantly drop away from both of them. And he lets out an embarrassed cough.

'Right,' says Older Ben, sounding more panicked by the second. 'Look, just call her, make sure she's alright!'

Ben makes a face. 'I dunno. She's been kinda pissy with me now that I...' he trails off and blushes, feebly rubbing the back of his neck.

Older Ben narrows his eyes. 'What did you do?'

'Nothing!' Ben bursts out indignantly with. 'That's the point! She's being crazy!' He spreads his arms out wide as though to indicate the size and scope of said 'crazy' and older Ben's eyebrows slam down like a set of heavy black hammers in response.

'Ben...' says Rook appealingly. But he cannot stop the slight happy jitter that runs through his stomach when Ben glares back at Older Ben, completely undeterred by the snarl he's been given and says defiantly, 'she's sulking! All because I wouldn't cheat on Rook!'

And yet the instant he utters this last word, Ben's eyes widen as though he's made a terrible mistake and he looks startled, hand clawing over his mouth as though it can stuff this mention of having a boyfriend back in. But it's too late; Older Ben is reeling, rearing back as though Rook's name has dealt him an invisible slug in the chest.

Rook swallows. It's strange; he should feel grateful that that particular bomb is out of the way. But he's never been good with seeing other people in pain. And besides...

'She didn't ask you to cheat, Ben,' he says, letting the full weight of exasperation colour his tone. 'She just asked for an explanation when you covered your mouth as she leaned in towards you.'

'She was going to kiss me!' Ben proclaims in a near squawk, hands flapping about as though he can brush away Rook's correction. 'I should know, she's done it before. She gets this happy little glint in her eye when she's about to land one on-' he winces, nose creasing with a crinkle that for some reason Fistina has never found cute. Oh well, her loss and Rook's gain as one of those numerous Earth sayings would probably say.

'Well,' Ben mumbles, 'you probably don't want to hear about that.'

'No,' croaks out Older Ben, 'I don't.' He looks sick. 'H-how...' he trails off and starts indicating the two of them with uncertain hands. Rook has time to make out a tremble affecting one, before Older Ben abruptly catches his eyes and hides it within a clenched fist. But oh, that look on his face, the way it draws sparks into his eyes along with that sizzling surge of mistrust, mistrust that hurts because Rook has never ever seen it directed his way, not from any Ben that knows him.

Rook turns his attention back to his Ben, feeling an odd lump jump up into his throat. And Ben steps closer, his glare still fixed on his face as he moves his body partway between them, almost protectively

'Ooh, I see what's going on,' he says a long sneering hardness in his voice. It stretches out inside each syllable like the quiver of anger that beats there beneath his tone. 'This is like the time with Spanner, isn't it? Look I'll help you with whatever the problem is with Kai, but I'm not going to get her to be my girlfriend, no matter what you say.'

Older Ben closes his eyes as though the fight has fallen out of out him. And he laughs.

'Is this why you didn't show up Paradox?' he mumbles, more to himself than the people in front of him. 'Because you suck at playing cupid? Or because you knew that there was nothing I could do, no bad guy to beat up?'

'Rook's not a bad guy!' Ben protests and Rook refrains from pointing out that that is far from what his Older Self said. 'C'mon you said so earlier! What's the big deal?'

'The big deal?' Older Ben looks at him. 'The big deal is that my wife has disappeared, erased from my life because of this choice you have made.' He throws the word 'choice' out there like it's a dirty word and despite himself, Rook feels his hackles rise. 'And according to all the personalities inside Alien X – oh yeah, more of them are gonna pop over the year and they're even more annoying than Bellacious and Serena, have fun with that-' he adds in a nasty, almost viciously thrown out aside to a now startled-looking Ben. –'according to them all, this sort of choice is affecting my life because you're the one who came to our time to help trap Maltruant in his repeating time-loop and that's sort of fixed you to me-'

'Then won't you change?' interrupts Rook, working hard to keep his tone steady and even. This man's world is falling apart, quite literally after all. 'If the life Ben makes for himself in the here and now, will one day be your life, then shouldn't you be changing, adjusting somehow to accommodate this? I find it hard to believe Miss Green, or I suppose Mrs Tennyson, is dead. Surely she has reappeared in your own time living out her life the way it would have unfolded had she not married you.'

Older Ben pauses, rocking back onto his heels as though he's desperate for air. 'I didn't even stop to think,' he whispers. 'Maybe I should have done, but she was gone, I saw her disappear right in front of me and I couldn't-' he stops, his gaze watery before he bends over, just far enough to let his hand come up to cover his brow.

And Rook hurts for him, he does. He can't imagine watching Ben fade away in front of him and actually stopping to think about what to do next.

Even his Ben, he notes, now has his frown washed away, replaced by a soft line of sympathy that creases his face into a small almost-smile. 'Kai's tough,' he says. 'There's no way she's dead. In fact, without me, err, you around she's probably living it up in some tomb somewhere.'

'She may not be dead,' says Older Ben, an odd coldness in his voice as he starts to straighten, 'but what about my son?'

Rook freezes and to his side see the implications of Older Ben's statement dance across his Ben's face, drawing his mouth and his eyes out into one wide and horrified glance.


Notes: DUN, DUN, DUUUN.

Also, bear in mind that Ben's a biased narrator here, one that's prone to dramatics. So it's probably not that Kai expected him to 'cheat on' Rook here as he described, so much as she was giving him an impulsive kiss the way she sometimes delivers in canon. But given that he was on the receiving end of such a thing, it probably felt that way to him from an emotional standpoint.