This ones for C.E. Hobbit, who wont have internet all weekend. I hauled my cheerios to get this up early for you! Hopefully you're here reading it.
Extended disclaimer: Daft Punk and Queen are one unto themselves. I just dig their songs. Not beta'd again- blah blah. Goldie (the doorbell) is in italics.
II
The first time the doorbell rang with someone else besides Riley in the house, Ben was just fixing him and the younger man lunch.
Riley was sitting on the counter next to his friend, legs swinging. His heals thud-thudding the cabinets underlying Bens litany of a History Channel program he had watched a few days ago.
"And then they claimed that it was the French that- What is that?" Music started and Ben turned to look at his friend.
Riley sat smirking, hands under his thighs and leaning ever-so-slightly forward, lips moving; singing silently along with the loudly playing song. He swayed lightly, bobbing his head and upper body to the music.
"Ooh you make me live. Whatever this world can give to me, it's you, you're all I see."
"Riley!" Ben raised his voice and Riley raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah Ben?" Still doing his sitting-dance, he fought not to laugh. How appropriate of Goldie. Another perfect song. Riley wondered if he should wonder about that.
The look on Bens face, however, decided for him: Wonder later about an electronic fish knowing him so well, enjoy the song here and now.
He bit back the threatening laughter and hopped off the counter.
Ben looked around the kitchen. "What is that, and where is it coming from?"
"Well Ben, I'm no classic rock aficionado, but I'd say that's Queen. They're from your time, aren't they?" Riley thought that might not have been the best thing to say, but Ben merely sighed. He must be used to the age difference jokes by now. Riley made a mental note to think up other ones at a later time.
"I know what band is playing, but why is it playing in my kitchen?"
"I haven't the slightest clue," Riley shrugged and popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.
Oh you're the first one when things turn out bad… You know I'll never be lonely, you're my only one and I love the things…
He also wondered who was at the door; he wondered if they'd ring the bell again. Mostly he wondered if who ever it was could hear the music. There's no intercom there, but it is playing in the entire house and backyard… the ringer should hear something.
"You're lying." Ben said it simply and Riley almost chocked on his tomato; coughed a few times.
"No. No I'm not." He leveled a look at Ben, donned his best 'you're crazy, and I'm innocent' look. Ben didn't look impressed.
You're my best friend… Oh… Oh you're my best friend. Ooh you make me live. Ooh you're my best friend.
They stood in the kitchen as the last guitar note played. A few seconds of wondering/stunned-Ben- and amused-Riley- silence. Then apparently the person at the door was persistent enough to try again. Or they heard and liked the first song and wanted to see what would happen next.
Riley placed his bet on the latter as a synthesized beat blared all around them. Ben's eyes narrowed and Riley found himself tapping his foot and bobbing his head again; trying not to dance to the addicting beat. After a while an equally synthesized voice proclaimed:
Work it, make it, do it, makes us: harder, better, faster, stronger.
Riley couldn't keep the cheeky grin off his face as Ben eyes widened at the lyrics. So the lyrics, to a dirty mind, could easily be dripping innuendo. To Riley they were fully raining. There must be some dripping to Ben too.
He also couldn't not dance to this song. Now Riley's in no way a dancer. But alone, while trying to find back doors into government organizations he sometimes needed something to work to. To focus his mind on something else cause more often then not the answer was just right there only he was concentrating to hard.
And the song, in his opinion, was freakishly hard to ignore once on. So, for the first time since that one Club Incident in college, Riley had found himself grating and swaying and dancing to that techno beat. He was a closeted in-the-mirror-around-the-house dancer.
Sue him.
The song was now one of his favorites, and he was halfway dancing to it in Ben's kitchen while the other man was-
Crap. While the other man was starting at him. Riley swallowed and said, "It's a catchy beat!" defensively. Or it would have been, if he hadn't blushed.
Ben almost seemed in a daze, but that was crazy. He could sit with rapt attention on the History Channel for hours and Riley's dancing made him zone out! He wasn't even really dancing, just swaying his hi- Oh. Oh.
He really didn't want to think about Ben staring at his hips. No on top of everything else. At least, he didn't want to think about it at the moment. He had a feeling it would hurt his head if he examined it right then.
Riley sighed.
"Go answer the door Ben," he finally said, snapping his friend out of whatever state he'd been in.
Defeated so soon and all because Goldie had to play a damned catchy song.
Ben shook his head and with one last glance at the younger man went off in the direction of the door, no questions asked.
Riley followed a few steps behind. It was a good plan while it lasted.
He watched Ben pull the door open right before the song ended.
"Good timing, Ben," he mumbled to himself and stood on tiptoes to see over Ben's shoulder.
"I- I'm looking for a Miss Abigail Chase?" The mailman looks a little off-kilter. Riley's grin-and good mood- grew back. Good. At least someone else was effected to.
"She's not here. Is there anything I can help you with?" Ben's tone was polite, like nothing strange happened.
Nope, just a normal afternoon, and a normal Hifi Mega ringtone: doorbell style.
"I have an envelope she needs to sign for." The mailman looked down at the list. "A Benjamin Gates could also sign…"
"Well then," Ben smiled, "Good thing I'm here." And signed the offered clipboard.
"Have a nice day, sir." The mailman hurried away, zipping his coat up higher.
"What's in the envelope?"
"I haven't the slightest idea." Riley glared.
"Funny."
"But true."
Riley found he didn't know what to say.
So he just waited for the Ben style third degree.
Waited while Ben opened the envelope, announced it was tickets for the three of them to a Christmas party a week from Friday. Explained that it was a fancy dress, tux's and high heels type event.
At least that gave Riley something to say. He lifted a knee and pulled up the ankle of his jeans, showing off his tattered old Converse.
"I have the tux, Ben. But do you think Abi's high heels will fit me?" Ben looked down at the foot and laughed.
"I think she'd let you try wearing a pair of her high heels before she'd let you wear those with a tux another time."
"I've always worn the shoes she demands of me!" He said indignantly. He put his foot back down. And so what if it stamped the teeniest bit?
"Only after you argue for an hour about it," Ben turned and walked back to the kitchen.
"And I always let her win," Riley reminded him. He stood in the doorway and watched his friend finish fixing their lunches.
"Yes, I know you do." Riley frowned in his direction. Ben turned back, as if feeling the look, and offered a soft smile. "You bullshitted Ian into letting you take his car to Atlantic City for a weekend."
"That was all in the smile and my ass, Ben." Riley rolled his eyes and walked over the counter, taking another tomato. "Neither of which have an effect on Abigail. You almost finished? I'm starving."
Ben didn't say anything, just nodded. Riley didn't know if he was nodding in agreement or acknowledgment.
In the part of his mind he stuffed the Things To Wonder About list, he added 'What exactly Ben thought about his smile and ass having an effect on Ian.' He already knew Abi only liked him cause Ben did. Knew his BS ways wouldn't get him anywhere with her.
Oh sure, Riley thought as he took the club sandwich Ben handed him, he could get a Jag from a rich criminal, but couldn't get a say in his wardrobe from a blonde historian.
Didn't that just suck.
Nope, not over yet. If I say one more, it might be true… Ian's Jag? Club Incident? Why do I always set myself up for companion pieces?
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