He still has access to the plumber base, the familiarity of the green lights that flash and read his DNA feeling no less weird than the last time he stepped in here with both his arms firmly attached. And if he notices people staring at him a little too closely as he walks through the steel-plated corridors, well then, that's their business. It's not like he's really friends with anyone here, though sure, he gets on with some of them when he talks, trading tips over video game levels and other small inconsequential stuff in the same way he offered up meaningless words to people in high school - but at the end of the day, it's simply not the same.

And just as he's wondering if he should ask them all to take a photo to make it last longer, Jerry from inhuman resources brushes by his knee, his beady little eyes wide with whatever new emergency the accounting division has rung up for him.

'Hi Ben!' he exclaims breathlessly, giving his knee a quick pat. Then, after looking heavily embarrassed at his daring, he simply waves his hand up in Ben's general direction, sighing to himself as it accidently bangs against Ben's leg again. 'Urgh, bye Ben.'

Ben watches him scurry off, amused and feeling at least ten pounds lighter. 'Bye Jerry,' he calls after him and continues his search for Rook.

Who...is not in the canteen. Or at the main monitors. Or even in the rooms where all the fiddling with machines and tinkering with blasters take place. And inside the training rooms, a favourite haunt of his, there is simply not a trace.

'You're seriously telling me he's off-duty?' Ben mutters to himself, before shrugging and beginning the long trek to Rook's quarters.

'Hello?' he calls out, rapping at the door and making a face at all the shiny screws and bolts wedged into its surface. How Rook manages to live somewhere that seems to leech all the colour from the surrounding walls, Ben will never know. 'C'mon man. Don't tell me I had to endure all those probing stares from the other plumbers for nothing.'

At this, the door whooshes open and Rook peers out at him, looking particularly blearily-eyed. And also, in only his underwear. Huh, okay, that's definitely new.

Ben smirks, carefully keeping his eyes on Rook's face. 'Now look at who's all refreshed and raring to go?' he teases.

Rook groans weakly, rolls his eyes, and turns, abruptly plodding back to his bed where he collapses onto the sheets with a sigh. Ben frowns as he follows him in, waiting for the door to slide shut before he decides to speak. 'Guess the lightning took a lot out of you, huh?'

'I may be suffering a bit of a delayed reaction, yes.' Rook's voice comes out, muffled by the pillow as he slumps down harder into the sheets. 'I feel...listless. Magister Tennyson was kind enough to allow me the day off.'

Ben snickers. 'Dude, you don't have to refer to him so formally in my presence.'

'Forgive me,' says Rook dryly, rolling over to expose his face to the green light flickering above. The he winces, eyes scrunching shut as though it's all a little too much for him.

'Um...you have been to the medical bay, right?'

'Of course. I take my health seriously. I am just a little dehydrated and sore, nothing major.'

Ben hums, eyeing the nearly depleted glass of water on the floor, before scooping it up and trudging to the bathroom. 'The water here's safe to drink, right?'

'Yes, Ben. Given the different species inhabiting this station, the water system has a very firm distillation process in place. You would know this if you ever actually bothered to read up on the history of this place.'

Ben smiles, glad to hear the tired fondness seeping through Rook's tone. Then he sticks his tongue out, attempting to prop the glass up above the latticed spokes of the plughole, jiggling it around until he can wedge it above the stainless steel rim so that the metal flashes out beneath like a supportive coaster. He smiles, satisfied, before he takes his fingers away to turn on the tap. And though the glass shudders a little, buckling under the strain, it still manages to hold firm, the water bubbling up within its sides to tumble out into a makeshift waterfall over its edges.

Ben feels like pumping his fist at the sight, as though he's achieved a high ranking game score. But he manages to rein the urge back, silently re-entering the bedroom a minute later and bending down just as Rook struggles to sit upright, all so that he can place the glass firmly into that waiting hand.

'Ah. Thank you.'

Ben watches him gulp down the water hungrily, and then glances round the room to glare at its rather Spartan settings.

'You know, you could do with a mini-fridge or a freezer in here. That way you could keep a few ice-cubes or a proper ice-pack, or something.'

'That is...actually a good idea.'

Ben scowls. 'You don't need to sound so surprised.'

Rook grins bashfully, before he carefully places the glass on the floor. Ben envies him his long reach sometimes, he really does.

'You want me to go out and get you a smoothie or something?'

'I think I can survive without one,' Rook mutters, though his voice, Ben notices, sounds a little cracked at the seams, the words chipped at their ends by the faint croak that runs through them.

'Dude,' he says, frowning again as he settles himself on the edge of the bed. 'You sound messed up. Seriously.'

Almost unbidden, his hand rises up and stokes through the spikes of black hair that pool out from the stripes Rook usually tries to settle them inside. They poke against his skin, hardened with the caked-over crispness of dried sweat before Ben rubs them between his fingers, half-smiling as they peel apart and emerge into individual strands. Maybe if he works them long enough, they'll soften down into tuffs instead of spikes.

'Aww, you're like a messy lion cub. You ever seen the Lion King? There's this one scene where Simba's mom starts...' Ben trails off at the look in Rook's eye and quickly removes his hand, smiling sheepishly all the while. 'Sorry, sorry, I know. You're only cat-like.'

Rook sighs. 'No, I do not mind hearing you ramble on about an animated film. Which I have seen by the way. And yes, I do believe I know which scene you are referring to. In which case, I have to say that you are no Sarabi, though your fingers, I would wager, make for a superior substitute than her tongue.' Then, with a rather mechanical tug of his hand, Rook seizes Ben's wrist and plonks it on top of his head again. 'That is my way of asking you to continue,' he adds, rather unnecessarily, Ben thinks. But he grins and continues to stroke, all the same.

'Soo...' he drawls, 'while I've literally got you under my thumb...'

'Go on.'

'I wanna ask you something...'

'Yes?'

'Can you please, please answer Gwen's calls?'

This seems to pull up Rook short. Because he frowns and glances off to the side thoughtfully.

'Come on, I mean I get why you're mad at her and stuff, I do, it's just, well, if she hadn't said anything, we probably wouldn't be here. I...' Ben pauses, genuinely not sure where he would be. 'Maybe I'd still be sulking,' he concludes.

'Mmm,' hums Rook noncommittally. Which isn't really an agreement as such, but isn't exactly an outright 'no Ben, I'm sure you'd have bounced back eventually' either.

So Ben scowls, his fingers halting in their admittedly gentle assault of Rook's scalp as he ignores the slight whimper of protest beneath. Only cat-like my foot, he thinks as Rook leans up and practically head-butts his palm.

'Look Rook, there's another thing I need to say.' He takes a breath, ignoring the curiosity in the expression below him. 'Thank you. For a lot of things, I guess. I mean saying 'for everything' doesn't quite seem to cover it, you know?'

He can feel his hand slipping down, shoved aside by Rook's sudden movement in his struggle to sit upright, which means Ben only has a few more seconds to get the words out before he's confronted by that earnest heart-felt stare and whatever sweet thing Rook's gonna throw out there to make him feel better.

'So look,' he says in a rush, 'I'm gonna pin-point one thing in particular I need to thank you for-'

'Ben, there is no need-'

'Let me finish! That weird ball thing, it...it kinda came in handy last night. So yeah. I wanna thank you for that.'

Silence. Then-

'Ahh.' It comes out slightly low and unrushed, with a hiss of breath that almost makes Ben flinch. Almost. Instead he gives Rook a level stare in return, his eyes easily meeting the other's own thanks, in part, to the slight curl in the spine that balances the Revonnahgander's lower back against the mattress. But the rest of Rook's face is rigid, grim, and all too knowing.

'I thought so. You like to keep the most tiresome things to yourself.'

'It wasn't tiresome!' Ben protests. 'There was nothing anyone could do about it, except feel guilty and bad! Stuff like this just happens! And there's only ways to manage the pain, rather than outright stopping it, so what good would it have done, telling anyone?' Then he pauses. Rook's angry look is doing nothing to quell the storm of words inside him at all. 'How did you know, anyway?' he asks slowly. 'I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm not that bad an actor. But if you saw through it, then I need to know where I slipped up. 'Cos if you know that, then maybe Grandpa and Gwen do, and oh man, the media-'

He's rambling he knows, and in a way he often tries not to, not about this kinda stuff, but this is Rook he's talking too and the guy's face is already creasing in sympathy, the kind that makes Ben's gut curl. Not in an angry way or even in a knotted heap of fluttery nerves kinda way. No, just in the usual, shit, someone actually cares kinda way.

'Ben. I did research.'

Ben's brain comes to a halt.

'I did not know,' stresses Rook, his thumb coming up to move against the human knuckles that are now pressed lightly against his chest fur, each of them edging more into the purple territory than white. Ben stares down at the part where his hand has fallen, feeling the gentle warmth being inscribed on the bumps of his bones as Rook's thumb traces out a symbol that could either be a figure of eight or stand for the symbol for infinity. Or perhaps it's just some strange loop-the-loop letter from a Revonnahan alphabet. Ben's not entirely sure.

'I just knew there was a possibility of you experiencing some residual pain where your arm used to be. And, unfortunately, since I also have experience of you withholding information from me when you are in emotional distress, I chose to assume that you might have been doing the same then. My gift to you could easily have proven to be worthless. I simply took what you call a 'leap of faith,' yes?'

'Yeah,' mutters Ben. 'Sounds about right.'

'I have heard applying warmth to the affected area can help,' Rook continues, his voice taking on a much gentler tone. 'As can acupuncture. Surely asking for help would have been better than suffering?'

Ben shakes his head, mute. You don't understand, he wants to say. How could you? But he bites his lip, instead. 'Is that what you did with Gwen?' he asks. 'When you told her about, you know, caring about me? Were you asking for help?'

Rook's face closes off. And his thumb draws to a halt in between Ben's second and third knuckles. 'In a manner of speaking,' he says stiffly.

'You know, she's asking me for help, right now, right? C'mon man, she misses talking to you.'

Rook looks at him wearily. 'Ben,' he says warningly, but he does not drop his hand, or shove him away. Which Ben naturally takes as encouragement.

'Come on,' he wheedles. 'You're nice. You got a date and a kiss out of her 'help', right?'

Rook looks at him, stonily-faced. 'Will I get more? Even if I do not 'make-up' with her? '

Ben frowns. 'I'm not a tease. And I dunno if you know this about me, but I'm not a masochist either. I didn't go out with you because...' he pauses, stuck. 'I wouldn't go out with you, if I didn't at least like you, okay?' he says, at last. 'But I can't really promise you anything beyond that.'

Rook shakes his head, the rest of his hand moving round to tighten on Ben's own. 'I do not want a promise,' he says, the sudden fierceness in his voice surprising Ben. 'I simply desire a possibility. You, of all people, have taught me how strong such a thing can be.' Then he laughs. 'But I can be selfish as well. If it will make you more amendable to my desires, more willing to be with me, then yes, I will speak to Gwen.' Then he pauses. 'Gwendolyn,' he amends, smiling a little, as Ben gives him a congratulatory beam in return.

Honestly, Ben thinks, they're both suckers for each other. Which he is, if he thinks about it, more than a little okay with.


As it happens, Rook is a little too eager to hear all about the stuff they want to plant inside his shoulder. Really, Ben's about two seconds away from just ringing up Doctor Bluebell and asking if Rook can attend his next appointment in his place.

'Fascinating,' breathes Rook, his eyes glued to his tablet, as his fingers cross the screen, flicking through tab after tab of complicated text and diagrams that look as though they've been airlifted from the pages of Ben's old biology textbooks. They even have that same two-tone, grainy illustration feel to them, simple and with no cross-hatching, as though the artist had originally sketched everything out on a chalkboard.

Ben shakes his head and glances down at the glass of water on the floor, amused despite himself. It seems that in his excitement, Rook has forgotten the fact that he's supposed to be dehydrated.

'So in theory, and with a little practise, you could perform just as well as any able-bodied person,' the guy chatters on excitedly and with such animation, that Ben is reminded of his younger brother.

'Yeah,' says Ben, 'that's the way I understand it. At least then I'll be able to finally dress myself.'

That seems to drag Rook's eyes away from his precious tablet long enough for him to rake a critical eye over Ben's face.

'Yes, I imagine that must be taxing.' He hesitates. 'When is the surgery?'

'Tomorrow. Figured I'd get it done sooner rather than later. Less time for me to chicken out that way.'

'Hmm.' Rook presses his lips together. 'And they will not only be placing these electrodes in your shoulder, but fitting in this new arm as well? It seems like you are having an excessive amount done in so short a time. Will that not put your body under a lot of strain?'

Ben snorts, leaning close enough to bang his shoulder against Rook's arm, the one now cradling the tablet protectively against that large white chest.

'Make up your mind, dude. First you want me to hurry up and get on with things, and now you want me to draw back.' He waits for Rook's face to scrunch up a little, for an indignant look to cross over into the guy's eyes as that mouth opens, probably to fire off some witty retort, before Ben decides to smoothly cut him off. 'Isn't your gadget going to get smudged if you lean it against your chest like that?'

Rook's eyes instantly widen, the indignation dying out like a doused fire as his hand flips his tablet up in front of his face. 'Oh Brallada,' he curses, before turning an annoyed look on Ben. 'This is what I receive for worrying about you?'

'What, did you want another kiss instead?' Ben mocks, before his mouth snaps shut as his words catch up to him. 'Uh...'

Rook raises an eyebrow and casually slides his tablet off onto a nearby desk, his finger flicking across the 'off' option more from muscle memory than anything else. It must be that, for his eyes never leave Ben's face. And Ben feels himself flush the way he did hours before, back when he had Gwen's voice battering his ear. Only now it feels worse, like he's roasting under the sun, his skin burning instead of merely peeling.

'Uh...' he says again.

He's not sure how to feel. He's the one who started all this, after all. The invitation to a gay club, the let's-talk-about-our-feelings deal, the suggesting of a date, the kiss on a cheek...all him. All of it. It's like his brain has been trying to tell him something and he's been refusing to listen, just content to sit back and enjoy his time with Rook. He hasn't felt stressed, or pressured, or even desperately tried to cut back on their interactions the way he suspects he would have done had it been Kevin in Rook's situation. Jeez.

And now, and now, his brain just has to slip up, has to push out that stupid innocuous jab, to remind them both of his own stupid, girlish action. It's like Gwen has come to roost in his imagination, her glasses perched snidely on the bridge of her nose while she lectures him on Freudian slips.

'Urgh,' he finally lets out, tempted to just be done with the whole thing except...except, well, Rook's looking at him. Holding him hostage with that soft, dewy look in his eyes, the one it's all too easy to get charmed by.

'If you want a proper answer to your question, than yes, I believe another kiss would serve as a decent compensation for my inquiry,' Rook says, looking more amused by the second. 'But given the obvious regret on your face, I will not hold you to it.' But he doesn't seem particularly downhearted by the prospect, in fact, he's almost jubilant. Add to that the fact that Ben doesn't think he's ever seen the guy shove his tablet aside so quickly before, barring emergencies.

But then again, perhaps Rook believes in Freudian slips the same way the Gwen in his imagination does.

Ben stares off into the distance, remembering a time in his life when everything was simpler, back he received kisses on the cheek instead of giving them.

'Oh man,' he says, without really thinking, 'I'm turning into a girl. Kevin's gonna love this.'

'You are...what? I do not think that is possible.'

Ben turns to Rook, noting with a faint sense of detachment that the guy's looking more displeased than actively confused.

'I take it this is not some strange earth expression either? You are just being...weird.'

'No, no,' Ben squawks, flapping his hands as though the action might somehow drag his words back. 'I meant, I'm acting like your girlfriend. Like a girl. Not a guy. I mean, I've got kisses on the cheek all the time, from girls. But I've never actually given anyone one...' he trails off, mostly because Rook is looking distinctly unimpressed.

The Revonnahgander gives a tired sigh, muttering something about 'trite Earth gender norms,' which Ben thinks is a little rich, considering the fact that he once called Julie a 'helpless female,' but then Rook fixes him an exasperated look.

'You are not acting like my girlfriend. I should know; I have actually had one of those before. You are simply acting like Ben.' Rook's lips twitch slightly. 'This moment in time, more than proves that actually. A kiss on the cheek, as you should know, signifies gratitude and possible romantic interest. It does not act as a prelude to a change in gender.' His smile turns a little dopey at the corners and Ben watches warily. 'Your action last night, felt very like you. If I wanted someone who wasn't comfortable enough to express themselves in a way that according to you is somehow less masculine I would be dating...' Rook's expression falls, a slight trace of discomfort on his brow.

Ben smirks. 'You're getting uncomfortable just running through a list of possible examples in your head, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

Ben smirk grows wider. 'Was Fistrick one of them?'

Rook chokes. And Ben bursts out laughing. 'Aw, man, the look on your face! Sorry, sorry,' he says, under Rook's glare. 'But still, it's pretty funny.'

'Glad to be of amusement,' Rook says dryly. 'Though the truth is, finding said example is hard work. I am not often attracted to others. There has been Rayona, Isocoles' – here he shudders, - 'and you.'

Ben shakes his head. Rook is a weird dude. A funny, endearing dude, but weird, all the same. And oh man, no wonder he didn't appreciate the invitation to the gay club.

'I'm flattered,' he says, trying to gentle his tone as much as possible. 'But I'm still not sure if I can actually-'

'Offer me what I want?' Rook finishes for him, his own tone just as gentle. Then he sighs. 'Perhaps a bit of experimentation, then? You cannot be sure if you do not try.' He wedges a finger under Ben's chin in a timid jab of pressure that tenderly touches the part where the jawbone slides away into flesh. 'I propose a kiss. One not on the cheek this time.'

Ben swallows. But instead of running for the hills like any sane teenager would, he simply asks, 'no tongues?'

'Not unless you offer.'

Ben breathes. 'Okay.'

'Okay,' Rook echoes him and gently angles his mouth down into the closed line of Ben's own.

And there's nothing electric about it. Ben can catch a glimpse of the bend of Rook's neck, remembering the blur of purple even as his eyes become caught up in the white and black of the fur pressed close to his nose, his chin, and his mind gets distracted by the dim flick of wetness nudging his own lips. Not quite a tongue, but the slight cleft of an opening caught between skin and fur and breathing out into his own furless mouth.

Slowly, almost ponderously, Ben opens his own. And that's when the electricity catches. Ben lurches forward, a sudden hunger in his movement as his body uncoils, rising slightly from the bed as he presses himself forward into the chest and the arms that he knows will catch him. He ignores the resulting growl that hurts his ears, not caring if it's meant as a warning or a groan, feeling a soft force envelop his chest as he casts his one remaining arm shakily around Rook's neck, all the better to steady himself.

It feels. It sings. Like a feather on his tongue.

He almost laughs. He's making no sense, not even to his own mind. He's just interested in chasing the heat that's touching his mouth, his teeth, that's playing with his muscles. He knows kissing can be intense, even the quick accidental brushes with Kai were nothing compared to his heavier sessions with Julie, filled with emotion, and with actually caring for the person in his arms-

That brings him up short. But Rook is growling and Ben realises that his tongue is poking out of his mouth into Rook's own. And that the other's arms are snaked round his waist. He pulls away with a wet slurp that rather hysterically reminds him of a well deserved break at Mr Smoothies.

'Oh, man, I'm sorry,' he gasps. 'I was the one who was all like 'no tongues' and then I messed it all up.'

'Do not apologise,' Rook murmurs, his fingers sweeping across Ben's back in an idle stroke. 'I did say that you could offer.'

Ben stares at him.

'What time does your surgery finish tomorrow?' Rook asks suddenly, almost as if they had not fallen into a heavy make-out session. 'I wish to be there when you wake.'

Ben raises his eyebrows. 'What? For more experimentation?'

'No,' Rook answers simply, his fingers reaching up to yank on Ben's cheek teasingly. 'Simply for you, my boyfriend, who does not act like a girlfriend...whatever that distinction may entail.'

There's really nothing Ben can say to that. Not a protest, not a complaint. He's been preparing to accept the label of 'boyfriend' ever since he had to summon up his courage to address the fact with Gwen over the phone. And even then, the word didn't crop up in the conversation, not once.

He swallows. Chases down his nerves by flicking Rook in the forehead quickly, before the guy can zone in whatever weird expression his face is currently making.

'Sap,' he says, and leaves it at that.


Notes: Wow, rude, Ben.