"We are not put on Earth for ourselves,
but are placed here for each other."
- Anon -
"So I was thinking..." Riley started a few weeks later, laying on the floor as he went through his home exercises. His new grown hair was limp against his head from the exertion, his leg sore as all hell. He'd finally gotten the cast off just a week after he was released, and begrudgingly Riley had started up the therapy to regain full strength and mobility. He hated being trapped in the wheelchair, so while he hated the daily torture that was the therapists manipulating his limbs, he would admit he felt better for it.
Ben teased, "That's never a good thing." He smirked then and leaned back, looking just as wrung out and tired as his friend, having been helping Riley through his routine.
"Ha, ha. I'm laughing on the inside."
"What have you been thinking about?" Ben asked after a moment, his signing still not perfect, but living with Riley meant he was immersed in it and they were able to understand each other well enough. He reached down to grip Riley's ankle, giving the younger man a minute of warning before bending Riley's leg at the knee and pushing back.
"For one, this sucks." Riley went limp as soon as Ben laid his leg back onto the floor, letting his hands go flat to the hardwood. He savored the coolness beneath his skin for a second, then went on, "I think you should kiss me." He smirked as he spoke and laughed when the blush rose from the collar of Ben's shirt up to his hairline.
"I don't know, Riley," Ben replied while he sat back on his feet, propping his back up against the couch and sighing. He'd wanted to go slow, wanted to really get to know Riley in ways he hadn't known any of his prior partners; he didn't want to doom their relationship from the get-go the way he had with Abigail by assuming things, by thinking he knew her. He still regretted their moving in together just weeks after they'd met, dreaming of marriage and children and a passionate life together, and discovering his ideas for the future and hers didn't match.
The face Riley made was followed by a stern, "Ben, kiss me."
And with a laugh at the demand, Ben nodded and reached out to take Riley's hands in his own and hefted the man upright, bringing them face to face. He shifted forward, settling Riley's thighs over his own and resisting the urge to pull the younger man completely into his lap.
It didn't escape Ben that he was sitting in perhaps the most romantic setting in his life with the room lit by firelight from both ends, the French doors flung open to let in some of the crisp spring air, and wine already out on a nearby side table in preparation of their evening movie. Less romantic was the fact that they were dressed in work out gear – jogging pants, tee shirts, and holed socks – and sweaty, their underarms and backs damp.
Still, Ben couldn't help the thought that popped into his head and he braced his hands on Riley's back, two sets of blue eyes watching the other. "Beautiful," Ben murmured, glad that Riley couldn't hear him issue the compliment, and finally pressed his lips to Riley's.
The kiss slowly evolved. Their lips, closed at first, parted at nearly the same time and Ben felt the tip of Riley's tongue against his own. His heart beat a bit faster as he realized that Riley was as nervous as he and maybe, a little scared. It eased the ache in his gut, the worry that Riley was using him for a mental rebound, because rebounds didn't normally concern themselves with such things.
"More," Riley mouthed a moment after they parted. His hands roved under Ben's shirt, rubbing tight circles around Ben's hips and his cock began to harden.
Whimpering into the next kiss, Riley closed his eyes tight and savored the taste of tea and cranberries underscored by something so perfectly Ben. 'Mine,' he thought to himself, growing bolder and sliding his hands down past the waistband of his lover's pants.
"Whoa!"
Abigail's declaration broke the relative silence of the great room, and both men separated from the startling. Each looked decidedly guilty, causing the woman to laugh and remind them that she was no innocent in the room. "Just put a sock on the doorknob next time," she teased, bending over the couch back.
She'd come by to drop off the medication refills Ben had asked her to pick up on her way home from work, using her key to slip in with the intentions of leaving them in the foyer. However, not hearing the television or computer keys clicking had made her curious and she'd walked through the kitchen and dining room before finding the two men otherwise occupied on the floor.
"I left his meds in the kitchen," she grinned and as she turned to leave, she tossed out, "For the record, that was hot," with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. The door clicked behind her, and Ben's stomach untwisted and the ball in his throat dissipated.
He started thinking over what she had seen, mind jumping like an acrobat from thought to thought and he lifted his hands to speak only to have Riley clasp them in his own. Poole pulled them around his waist, waiting until Ben stopped trying to take them back and then moved both of his hands up to Ben's face. Their third kiss was soft, almost chaste and lasted only a few seconds, Riley nuzzling at his cheek and nipped at the warm skin there.
"Ri...christ, Riley!"
"What?" He asked, annoyed by the hand in the middle of his chest.
Ben cocked his head to the side and said, "Slow. The hands grabbing my ass? Not slow." He managed to keep his lips in an even line, not wanting to give away how much he'd enjoyed it. Sneaking one more quick kiss, Ben moved enough to get his feet under him and stood, "Come on, let's put on our movie."
Instantly, Riley began to pout. He was certainly not interested in a three hour long documentary on Benjamin Franklin when he could having the namesake and he said as much, not bothering to keep the leer off his face. He was quickly, lovingly rebuked; he countered with, "Then can we go to bed?"
"Bed? At eight?"
He nodded, never saying a word out of concern that he would reveal that he knew Ben was sneaking into his room at night, crawling into bed with him when Ben believed him asleep. He enjoyed being wrapped into his friend's arms, spooned together until nearly dawn when Ben would slip from the room to avoid being discovered, unaware that he'd already been detected.
"You feeling alright?" Ben asked as soon as Riley was on his feet, itching to feel his forehead for fever.
"Just tired," Riley lied, immediately caught if the look Ben gave him was anything to go by. His face twisted with frustration and he admitted, "I like when you get in bed with me."
Ben, truthfully, felt dumbfounded – he thought he'd been so careful about it. He hadn't wanted to scare Riley with the need to be close, wanting to stick to his desire to get to know Riley before they took anything further. Cuddling in the dark had seemed so tempting, so perfect, when Riley was asleep, like taking a bite from the forbidden fruit while there was no one there to see. "You knew?"
Riley shrugged in place of an answer and with a false start, told the other, "I don't really handle love well. My biological parents... well, they sucked at everything including love and my adoptive parents weren't big on it either. They thought that a pat on the head was just as good as a hug or a good job or a fucking I love you. But you don't freak me out like other people do, Ben. I don't know if it's because we've known each other for a while or what, but I like it when you touch me."
There was a moment of silence between them and Ben let Riley's words sink in. A warmth grew in the pit of his belly as he accepted what Riley was saying, his hand coming up to cup Riley's neck and pulling him close. His lips closed around the curve of an ear and Riley shivered from head to toe, thrusting hard against his lover's leg.
"Bed," Ben murmured and parted, creeping toward the messy guest room.
While nothing more intimate happened that night, Riley knew their relationship had certainly been taken to a new level. He fell asleep with that in his mind, his mouth curved into a happy smile.
"Moving on is a simple thing,
what it leaves behind is hard."
- Dave Mustaine -
They could have blamed it on the tragedy of Ben's students and appointments with a team – team – of doctors and specialists. They could have blamed it on not knowing for sure that the elevator was fixed. Hell, they could have blamed it on pure laziness.
But both men knew why they'd waited to clean out Riley's apartment and it had little to do with outside forces. No, it had everything to with Riley being unable to face all the things that represented his former life.
In the weeks after his release, Riley had managed to avoid all need to go back to his home by purchasing new clothing, books, and in one notable instance, a laptop (which Ben made him return on the principle that Riley already had seven plus four desktops). He'd sold off the Ferrari which meant that they had only Ben's car to rely on when Abigail wasn't around – no extra car (despite the lack of packing space anyway) meant that unless there was an unexpected class cancellation and Riley had a gap in his therapy appointments, the apartment would remain on the backburner. And his rent was done electronically, direct from his bank account, thus no need to bring over cash or checks.
"Ben's parking the van. He'll be up in a second," Abigail told him as he started fumbling with his keys. There'd been so many added to the small keyring that finding his own was a lesson in deductive reasoning. He cursed under his breath, making a mental note to organize them better later.
Slowly, body thrumming with tension and hesitation, he popped the door open and only stared, as though fearing the interior.
"Riley," Abigail said.
His reply was succinct, "Let's just get this over with." He didn't want to be there, didn't like the way it made him feel, and hated that he couldn't have gotten away with paying someone to do this for him. Both his psychotherapist and Patrick had said it was something he had to do himself; Ben had been more than ready to hire a moving crew, relenting after a stern lecture from his former girlfriend.
It was, as he knew it would be, exactly as he'd left it that afternoon. There were dirty dishes sitting in the sink, papers spread out all over his coffee table with three laptops buried beneath it all, and from the glow of his stereo, Riley could see his Mozart CD had cycled endlessly, currently on track three. Clarinet Concerto Adagio, his favorite.
He marched over and stabbed at the power button, irrationally happy when the LED screen blacked out. He reveled in the feeling for a moment and when it at last left him, Riley glanced around at the bookcases, CD towers, and the overladen desk in the living room.
He had already decided to donate most of his furniture, but for a few pieces of personal value that Ben had promised they'd find room for, and the charity would come by themselves to pack it up the next day. The rest had to packed, padded, and stacked in the U-Haul which they would unload slowly over the following long weekend. Of course, his clothing and computers would be brought into the house first so Riley could finally have his home office set up.
"Riley, stop stalling," Ben told him when he walked into the room. He waited a moment, grinning when Riley stuck out his tongue and then moved back the hallway to drag an intermingled stack of cardboard boxes with Eggs and Amy's Kitchen written on the sides into the apartment before flinging the door shut.
"I am not stalling!"
"You know all you need is to stomp your foot and you'd look like you were twelve." He yanked one of the boxes free and passed it to Abigail who quickly disappeared into the bathroom, as he lifted his hands to speak, but was cut off when Riley turned his head away.
Ben sighed and started in on the kitchen, leaving Riley on his own though he knew it would result in an argument later.
The hours went by quickly, Riley never really noticing when his friend and his lover jumped from room to room, getting most of the small apartment squared away while he sat fingering the jewel cases. He'd sworn up, down, left, right, and center that he would be alright with it, alright with letting go of music – something he had enjoyed for the link it gave him to his parents.
Each year, Christmas had meant a trip to hear the New York Philharmonic play at Lincoln Center. It was the one time of the year where he could truly remember feeling that they loved him wholeheartedly, holding his mother's hand while they skated in Rockefeller before they made their way to the symphony. His father would wrap his own scarf around Riley's neck and wrap an arm over his shoulders to share stories and advice.
Saying goodbye to his collection was like saying goodbye to his parents all over again with the letting go of his Mozart and Bach and Pachelbell. Contrary to what he told most people, it wasn't the night his parents died, it was the nights: his father had died on the ambulance ride to the hospital, having taken the brunt of the crash when the BMW had been t-boned by the semi. Why he hadn't died right at the scene, Riley only knew because he had known his parents well, and his father would have forced himself to live until he knew his wife was safe even if he was unconscious.
His mother had hung on several more days until her heart finally gave out, the internal bleeding never really stopped and the strain of it on her body too much for her to handle. He'd been with her at the end, humming a contrasting melody of the Hallelujah Chorus against the grim flatline, knowing it was her favorite part of Handel's Messiah.
Riley hadn't been able to listen to it for years afterward.
One by one the CDs he wasn't ready to do away with were placed neatly into a small box, his heart twisting with each. The rest were thrown into a black garbage bag in preparation for what he felt would bring him some closure, a carthesis of sorts.
"Should we tell him?" Abigail whispered, holding a box full of knick knacks wrapped in rags and papertowels.
The full boxes were set beside the door along with several of the smaller pieces of furniture, ready for Ben to begin the arduous task of packing the van. Riley's right arm had healed beautifully, only to wind up spraining it the day he received the all clear to start whittling down his physiotherapy, so he wouldn't be able to help too much and Abigail would try. At least she would until she got frustrated that Ben wasn't doing it her way and would go off to find something else to do.
"No," Ben decided. "He knows we won't leave him and I don't know why he's been focused on those discs the way he has, but it's got to be important – how often have we seen Riley sit still for anything?"
"Good point." She reached out for the nearest box and heard the sniffle first, the sob second.
It was a mild shock to both she and Ben to hear Riley cry, something he hadn't done once since the assault though he had more than enough reason to do so, and both stood rooted to the spot. Together they watched as Riley lifted a jewel case to his ear, holding it there as if it were a seashell and he could hear the phantom noise of the ocean within.
Ben's heart thudded faster, feeling like it were pounding against his ribs, and he forced himself to move, kneeling down behind Riley. Slowly, he shifted until his legs were straight along side his lover's, pulling Riley's back to his chest and holding on.
He hugged Riley tight when the younger man lisped, his voice different than it had been the last time he had spoken months earlier.
"Ev'ry mountain and hill made low, the crooked straight, and the rough places plain."
Note: The epilogue to this fic is rated adult and as such is not appropriate for due to their guidelines. Should you like to read it it is on my livejournal community, cjs own. Thank you.