A/N: Welcome back everyone! Hope your holidays were fantastic! If you didn't see, I posted a story over the break called Falling Snow...it's really just a fluffy Jimmy/Ben piece...at least, I think it's fluffy. I got some writing done over the hiatus, not nearly as much as I wanted to, damn holiday festivity family time stuff...but I got to chapter 40, and I'm close to the part of the story where Tom comes in and then I reach the 1/3 done marker and this is where I remind you that I said this was going to be a ridiculously long story...
Right. Thank you to the reviewers for being so awesome, and to the silent readers as well, for waiting so patiently.
Thank you to Greg for beta-ing, he had a hectic holidays, and he's been working on his own fanfic. If you haven't checked it out, it's titled "Ice Blue", go read and review for him.
XXV.
It took a little less than an hour for the four rookies to clear out the grocery store. Jimmy kept an eye on his watch, checking it every five minutes on the minute, even as he mentally ticked off the time in his head, counting the seconds in rounds of three hundred, pacing his steps in rhythm to the numbers rattling through his brain. It gave him something to focus on that wasn't Ben keeping watch at the other end of the shopping center, apparently sulking because Jimmy forgot to mention the possibility that the other unharnessed teens had the same abilities as him.
Roman approached Jimmy when the grocery store was cleaned out, the other three hanging out by the truck.
"What's next, brat?" he greeted.
Jimmy sighed, wordlessly stalking back towards the others. Ben was sauntering their direction as well, though he stopped short a few meters, keeping ample distance.
"Roman, Gia, I want you both to keep watch now, while the rest of us check out the convenience store, then we'll switch it up, Doug and Kelsey will hang back while we look into the liquor store. On watch, you need to keep your gun at the ready. You'll each pick a direction; walk about forty paces from the shop entrance. You'll walk twenty paces from the wall, stop and sweep your eyes across the perimeter from one end to the other. Twenty paces back towards the store stop and sweep the perimeter. Turn round, march out twenty paces, stop, sweep. Repeat. Gun is always at ready," Jimmy rattled off hasty explanation. He gripped the rifle strap slung over his shoulder and looked expectantly at the four staring blank faced back at him, "Any questions?"
"Yeah. This kind of seems obvious but…uh…what do we do if we see anything?" Gia asked.
"Signal your partner, fall back to the store entrance and alert the fighters inside," Jimmy answered, "From there, me and Ben'll handle things."
Kelsey, partially hiding behind Roman, tentatively raised her hand. A small shiver raced Jimmy's spine as he glanced at the seemingly anxious young girl.
"Yeah, what?" he prompted.
"What's the signal?" she whispered question.
"Work that out with your partner," Jimmy replied easily, "Should be something subtle, like a whistle or bird call. Something quiet, common, that won't attract the enemy but that your partner can easily hear and understand. Anyone else?"
The others shrugged, remained silent. Roman had his gaze fixated on the horizon, a bored expression on his face, a strange smirk in the corner of his mouth. Doug examined his rifle barrel, as though it had some great joke written across its metal tip. Gia brushed absently at the fine baby hairs around her face. Kelsey chewed her thumbnail, tearing off a sliver and flicking it to the ground.
"Right. Let's go," Jimmy muttered, leading the way to the convenience store.
At the entrance, Ben busted the door open, Roman and Gia followed Jimmy's instructions on watch, counting off their paces as they broke opposite directions. Jimmy waited for Kelsey, Doug, and Ben to slip into the store before ducking in after them.
The store looked to have been somewhat ransacked, possibly by the previous owner, it was obvious that essentials had been taken, but a lot of other useful though not readily apparent as essential items remained. The store itself wasn't very large, so the four teens each headed down separate aisles, quietly scanning the shelves. Jimmy headed to the back, skimming the pharmaceuticals and hygiene products. He glanced up momentarily at the sound of footfalls nearby, and smiled faintly at Ben, who met his eyes but didn't return the expression.
Jimmy sighed, furrowing his brow and studying a bottle of pills, not really recognizing the name written across it, 'Arnica D6'.
"It's homeopathic…useless crap," Ben mumbled, plucking the bottle from Jimmy's hand and placing it back on the shelf. He motioned to a few of the other bottles, some were multi-vitamins, others were labeled specifically as things like 'B12', or 'Fish Oil', "We should probably take most of these though. Dietary supplements, all the nutrients of a balanced dinner in a handful of pills."
"Yum," Jimmy muttered, "I guess I'll go get a basket or something…"
"Yeah," Ben agreed, waiting at the shelves while Jimmy wandered in search of a vessel for the bottles. He found a cheap, flowery tote in one of the aisles and brought it back, holding it open as Ben dropped bottles inside.
"It's kind of weird," Jimmy confessed and Ben perked an inquisitive brow at him. He lowered his eyes and shrugged, anxious, "Nothing…it's just…the day of the invasion I had stopped at a convenience store kind of like this one. It's weird thinking back to then…knowing now that it was the last time…the last time I would ever be normal inside of a place like this…shopping for soda and candy, browsing the cheap 'Made in China' crap for the hell of it, just killing time and goofing off with my friends until a movie started."
"Yeah, I guess that is weird," Ben agreed, he smirked vaguely, "Know what else is weird?"
Jimmy glanced at Ben, the other boy scanning the bottles thoughtfully before tossing them one at a time into the bag.
"I went to a convenience store the morning of the invasion too. My dad and I had to pick up my asthma medication, a new inhaler…you know…" Ben fidgeted somewhat with a bottle of One A Day's, wrinkling his brow anxiously as he spoke as though discomforted by the memory of his old life and his illness long since healed by the harness, "There was a convenience store next door, so I went to look for the new issue of…uh…some magazine I used to read while my dad waited on my prescription to be filled…"
"That's not so weird. I bet half the 2nd Mass was at a convenience store the morning of the invasion," Jimmy joked.
"Maybe," Ben conceded, grinning suddenly and adding, "And the other half was probably at Starbucks."
Jimmy laughed and Ben smiled at him.
Vitamin shelf cleared, Jimmy handed Ben the flowery tote and wandered down the next aisle, aware that the other boy was trailing a few paces behind him. Much of the shelves were filled with laxatives and bath salts, things of that nature. Jimmy paused to pick up a white bottle with another label he could barely read. He handed it to Ben, who briefly skimmed it and put it back.
It was kind of an odd feeling that settled over Jimmy as he perused the aisles with Ben. Despite it being the post-apocalypse, there was something almost domestic about the scene. His mind wandered back to their conversation in that bed now days since passed, and Ben's melancholy fantasy about a future that could never happen. Jimmy vaguely wondered if this is what it would've been like – sans the 'looting', the two of them strolling around a convenience store shopping together for basic necessities, hygiene products and multivitamins. He imagined they would probably argue over silly things, like which body-wash to buy, or whether their milk should be 'whole' or '1%', not about who forgot to tell who about the other super-powered kids in camp or about dangerous late night alien hunting trips that one didn't think the other capable of handling. No, just mundane arguments that weren't all 'do or die'. It would be like this, a calm and lazy walk through shelves overflowing with chips or hair products. Sometimes, he imagined, Ben would drag him behind a shelf, out of view of other patrons and security cameras, to steal a kiss or to whisper something nauseatingly sweet in his ear if only to bring a blush to his cheeks.
Jimmy frowned, running his fingers across a shelf full of perfume bottles and coated in a thick layer of dust. There was one glaring downfall to that 'fantasy' life that Ben had conjured up: prying eyes. In the post-apocalypse, there weren't other customers wandering the store, scrutinizing the boys' every action, there weren't millions of people hustling along the streets looking for anything, any cause, no matter how irrelevant to themselves, to pour their energy into; instead, there were only the couple hundred or so members of the 2nd Mass, who were themselves too concerned with their own survival to bother with what two young boys got up to in rare periods of reprieve.
In that other life, Ben and Jimmy would constantly be forced to check themselves. They couldn't walk as close as they did, their shoulders lined up and arms brushing comfortably, pleasantly together. They couldn't stop, lean into one another, and whisper conversations, without an entire store of strangers watching them, curious and mal intentioned. The boys could be more careless in their interactions. Jimmy hadn't even realized he'd slipped his hand into Ben's as they walked, twining their fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, until Ben casually paused at one of the shelves, tugging Jimmy to a halt. It took him a few seconds to realize why their hands were clasped and the forwardness of his action, and then Jimmy hastily ripped his hand back, flustering and dropping his eyes so that he completely missed the confused, if not slightly hurt look that creased Ben's features.
"Sorry…I…I didn't mean…" Jimmy stammered; absently fidgeting with that impudent hand of his and glancing away, color in his cheeks.
Ben readied a reply, his expression unreadable, but it died on his tongue at the sound of footfalls rounding into the aisle. Doug appeared, paused and looked at the two boys expectantly.
"We're done in here," Doug announced.
"Okay, we'll swap with Rome and Gia and check out the liquor store then we'll check in the bookstore for anything useful," Jimmy said hastily, hurrying towards the store exit, without another word or look Ben's direction.
Outside, Gia and Roman swapped places with Doug and Kelsey. Then Ben led the way into the liquor shop.
"What do we need booze for, anyhow?" Gia complained once inside. Jimmy sighed, feeling certain she might be revving up for a morality lecture and unsure how to derail it, but Roman simply smirked at her.
"Because war is hard and men need to unwind," the older boy proclaimed, sounding like he might only be half-joking. Jimmy smacked a hand over his face and shook his head, not that he had any room to comment, and after all, he got drunk often enough. Gia wrinkled her nose, unimpressed.
"Don't you mean you little boys need something to forget how scared you always are," she spat out.
"Actually, we're mostly looking for hard liquors, anything with a high alcohol content that Dr. Glass can use to sanitize injuries and sedate patients," Ben spoke up and Jimmy had to hide the smile twitching in the corner of his lip, ever the adorable dork with his rational explanations.
"Oh," Gia mouthed, piping, "That makes sense. You know, Mason, you might not be half-dumb," then she jerked her head Roman and Jimmy's direction and grumbled, "Not like these two."
"Um…thank you," Ben mumbled uncertainly.
"I didn't even say anything," Jimmy complained.
Gia sauntered away down one of the aisles at that, every so often picking up bottles and reading their labels along the way, scrunching her nose apprehensively. She obviously didn't know anything about liquor.
"He just doesn't know how to have fun, Gee," Roman called after his departing friend, and then he shot Ben a dark, hard look, and grit out, "Must be an alien thing."
"Roman," Jimmy hissed warning and the older boy smirked at him.
"What's the matter, brat? We all know he's part alien."
"Stop talking to him like that," Ben growled suddenly. He stepped forward to stand in front of Jimmy and leered threateningly out at Roman.
Jimmy stumbled, startled, backwards a step and shot a curious, slightly confused look to Ben. Jimmy could understand if Ben had felt personally insulted by the comments but Roman had said nothing particularly cruel or untoward of Jimmy himself.
"Talking to him like what?" Roman demanded. He smiled at Jimmy, that devilish curl of his lip that sent ominous shivers along Jimmy's spine, and asked, "I'm always nice to you, aren't I, brat?"
Jimmy flushed, "I wouldn't say always."
"Will you just go away asshole," Ben seethed.
"You're not the one in charge," Roman shot back, taking a menacing step forward, "And I don't think I like the way you talk to him."
Sensing that things were about to turn ugly and fast, Jimmy squeezed his way past Ben, positioning himself between the other boys, but immediately regretted the move, feeling suddenly like a small shack caught between two torrential windstorms. Gia had paused in one of the aisles and was watching the exchange curiously from a distance.
"I don't like the way either of you are talking right now, so shut the fuck up, both of you," Jimmy snapped. He darted a meaningful look to Ben and then Roman and hissed, "Both of you turn around right now and walk away."
Neither moved, not that Jimmy was surprised that they weren't about to listen to him. He took a deep breath, decided it more prudent to focus on calming the one boy he knew he should have at least a little influence over.
"Ben, please…" he started.
"No, I'm not going anywhere. He needs to walk away," Ben bit out and Jimmy flinched back from the force of his words. Right, Jimmy thought, maybe he didn't have as much sway over Ben as he thought.
"Okay…fine…Roman…could you please just turn around…" Jimmy stammered.
"I guess. If that's what you want," Roman muttered, taking a small step back, but still eying Ben warily. Jimmy furrowed his brow at the oddity of his statement.
"Yes. It's what I want," he returned sharply, making a slight, awkward shooing motion with his hand, "Go. Look for…" he scrunched his nose at the peculiarity of his next instruction, "…alcohol. Please. Thank you."
Roman shrugged, turning away and catching up to Gia. They fell in line together, glancing over the bottles interestedly and talking in low whispers. Jimmy wheeled his attention round to Ben, the other boy pacing agitatedly down the aisle. Jimmy sighed.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" he softly questioned, "Were you seriously considering exchanging blows on an op? You know, Weaver put you on probation for a reason…"
"Was it him?" Ben demanded haughtily and Jimmy faltered, furrowing his brow, heart thundering in his chest against the multiplicity of intentions in that single question.
"Was…what…him?"
Ben motioned the side of Jimmy's face, where the bruising was faded but still evident. Jimmy shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned at the ground.
"I told you to forget about that," Jimmy murmured.
"How'm I supposed to forget about it when it's staring right at me?" Ben demanded, "It was him, wasn't it? What happened exactly? Did he attack you?"
"We had an argument; blows were exchanged," Jimmy mumbled explanation, "Could you relax?"
"Jimmy…" Ben started, haggardly, clearly not planning on relaxing anytime soon.
"Look, it's not the first fight I've ever gotten in. I mean, hell, Ben, you and me have gotten in fights together plenty of times, against others, against each other, or have you forgotten how well our second patrol went?" Jimmy said and Ben faltered, "So I got in a fight with him. It's not that big a deal, in fact, it's a good thing. I won and now he knows I'm not a pushover. You know, I can handle myself."
"That's not what I…"
"I know, I know, you think very highly of my capabilities," Jimmy grumbled sarcastically, moving past to wander down the aisle in search of anything worth looting.
"Stop that," Ben complained, falling in step beside him, "I know that you can handle yourself. But I don't want you to ever have to…that's all."
"You can't protect me, Ben, and you don't have to, and it's not your job. Shit, I don't need a bodyguard…or a…hero…or whatever," Jimmy said quietly.
Ben stopped short, and Jimmy wandered away a few steps, looking curiously back. Ben wore an expression akin to someone who'd been suddenly and smartly slapped across the cheek.
"I wasn't trying to be…" Ben stammered, when he'd broken from the stun of Jimmy's proclamation.
There was a mysterious kind of pain in Ben's features that Jimmy wasn't entirely certain how to read, so he let it go, furrowing his brow and picking a bottle from the shelf; it was made of frosted glass, the liquid inside perfectly clear, its label was black, silver writing, with crimson red trim.
"Russian Standard," he recognized, turning it over in his hands and quietly remarking, "I had a friend who was obsessed with this stuff," he smiled distantly, a memory rushing into his mind as if he had only lived it yesterday, "He got a bottle of it once, snuck it from his old man's stash. Me and him and one of our other friends snuck out late night and met under the university bridge. We played a drinking game with a deck of cards and got shit-faced. We talked all night, you know, about the kind of stuff that seems important when you're drunk but you can't remember the next morning?"
Jimmy looked expectant at Ben but Ben only shrugged confused. Jimmy winced, fidgeting with the bottle. Of course Ben wouldn't know, the first and only time he'd been drunk in his life had been with Jimmy in the woods behind a cabin and though that night had been poignant for Jimmy – laying back on the damp forest floor, a calloused hand across his eyes, and warm, bittersweet lips molding against his own – it may not have been for Ben.
For Ben, the morning after and his torrential fight with Hal may have been far more memorable, either that or the punch in the gut Jimmy dealt him shortly after, by turning away and pretending their first kiss never happened. It was a gut-wrenching reminder of how different the two boys' lives from before had been from one another.
Jimmy cleared his throat and twisted the bottle anxiously around in his hands.
"Yeah…well…it was the first time I saw the sunrise…so…" Jimmy mumbled, then smirked vaguely, flashed the bottle at Ben, and asked, "Want to try some tonight?"
Ben wrinkled his nose, hesitant. He took the bottle from Jimmy's hands and skimmed its label.
"Vodka?" he murmured, and then peered up at Jimmy, "How do we…do we just drink it or mix it with something or…?"
"We should probably get you a chaser at the very least," Jimmy said wisely, grimacing as he recalled his first experience with that burning liquid and then Ben's lack of experience with hard liquor altogether. Not to mention, Ben was the world's lightest light-weight. One shot of Russian Standard would probably knock him flat on his ass. Jimmy sighed resignedly. He plucked the bottle out of Ben's hands and carefully set it back on the shelf, "On second thought…maybe we ought to grab wine coolers instead."
"What? Why?" Ben wondered innocently, "I want to try it."
"It's not a good idea," Jimmy returned, shoving his hands in his pockets and wandering away. Ben lingered a moment, eyeing the bottle of Vodka enviously before falling in step behind Jimmy, "We got to build up your tolerance a lot more. Keep you on girly drinks for a while, the kind of shit with more sugar than alcohol in it…maybe a beer every now and then until you can finish a couple without getting faded."
"Oh," Ben mumbled. He was quiet for few seconds as they moved through the aisle, then he made a small noise in the back of his throat and said, "So…tonight is a…yes?"
Jimmy smiled distantly, shrugged.
"I guess," he whispered. Ben grinned, that eager puppy dog look in his eyes, and somehow the entire store felt brighter.
"Great. I have the perfect plans for tonight then," he exclaimed, "There's this place I wanted to check out…"
"We're not just gonna go to the bus?" Jimmy wondered, a perked brow, and Ben's features fell a little.
"You just want to go to the bus?" he returned, sounding disappointed.
Jimmy startled, he sort of figured they would be spending that night the way they'd spent most of their recent nights, inside of one another's pants. After all, lately it had seemed since that first time when Jimmy opened a door to the unknown and still vastly unexplored world of 'sex' that they had crossed a threshold from which there was no coming back. He'd started to feel as though that was the basis of their interactions now, a prelude to carnal desire. The prospect of going somewhere – anywhere – alone with Ben that didn't assume sex from the get-go had become almost foreign in a way.
"I…well I thought…" Jimmy mumbled, then furrowed his brow and affirmed, "No, I don't. I kind of thought that you…wanted…but…"
Ben smirked, looking far too pleased with himself, "And you always call me a pervert…"
"Well that's because you are," Jimmy murmured, mock-indignant. He pushed onward down the aisle and Ben followed after.
They perused a few more shelves of various alcohols, Ben picking up a few with interest and Jimmy responding by either wrinkling his nose in disgust or shaking his head warily at Ben, always putting them back.
"There are probably some crates behind the register we can use to gather up some of the harder liquors," Ben mused, and Jimmy made a small noise of agreement. Ben volunteered to find something to start sticking the bottles into and Jimmy continued to wander. He thought Ben had returned rather quickly when he heard the pattering of footsteps approach, only to spin round and find Roman standing there. His heart cinched, heat rushed to his head. Gia was still wandering the aisles somewhere across the store and Ben was poking around the registers in search of crates.
Up close and with a moment of peace not have to play mediator between Ben and the other four, Jimmy could now get a pretty clear view of the damage left behind on the older boy by their scuffle. The left side of Roman's face had swollen considerably, there was discoloration around his eye, and his lip was split, possibly because he bit into it when Jimmy's knee connected. Altogether, he looked a sorry mess and Jimmy couldn't say he felt all that guilty over it.
"If you're here to complain about Ben, just turn around and walk away now," Jimmy greeted harshly.
Roman tipped his head to the side and smirked humorously at the ground, "About our fight…"
"Now's not really the time for revenge, if that's what you want," Jimmy hastily whispered, heartbeat quickening and eyes darting to where Ben was still rummaging behind a register counter.
"I'm not sure it would be wise to fight you again," Roman laughed, and then a dark look passed over his features, "Besides, something tells me your razorback wouldn't sit and stay like a good boy and let us duke it out," Jimmy flinched, bristling at the remarks, but Roman ignored the obviously irritated reaction, continuing, "You know, I woke up on the floor of that classroom yesterday with a splitting headache and no clue what happened. And you know, brat, it's killing me, I just got to know, how'd you manage to knock me out?"
Jimmy blinked once, taken aback, and shook his head at the ground. It wasn't what he expected after their squabble, for Roman to demand a play-by-play, but then, he hadn't expected Roman to praise his teaching skills to Weaver either, or for their lessons to continue, so he was starting to think he ought to just stop expecting things. Jimmy took up walking down the aisles again, scanning the freezer section and the various beers lined up behind the window doors: Shocktop had a mild flavor that he thought Ben might like, but Budweiser had less alcohol, which meant a less drunk Ben.
"You ignoring me, brat?" Roman prodded. Jimmy shrugged, considered the older boy a moment.
"No. I'm just choosing not to answer. It was a stupid question," he decided.
"What?" Roman seethed, "And exactly what was so stupid about it?"
"You just assume that you should've beaten me," Jimmy explained nonchalant, "Why is that? Because of what the Skitters did to you?"
Roman ruffled at the intonation, a sudden flash of anger cross his eyes. For a moment he looked ready to advance with violent action, but he held his ground, stewing in his own frustrated juices.
"Lately," Roman grit out between tightly clenched teeth, "When I hit someone, and I mean just once, they tend to stay down. I hit you three times."
"Yeah, I remember," Jimmy murmured, absently running his thumb across the faded bruising on the side of his own face. It still smarted a little, Roman wasn't joking about packing a hefty punch.
"But you didn't stay down," Roman pointed out the obvious, "Is your face made of steel, or something? How did you manage that? And how did you beat me?"
"Why do you care so much?" Jimmy returned.
Roman dropped his gaze, taking a purposeful step towards Jimmy. Subconsciously, Jimmy stepped back, eyeing the older boy warily.
"I never really liked you; you know," Roman confessed, "I figured you were the type to get in the way."
Jimmy remained silent. It was a fair assumption, most of the time he was the type to get in the way.
"I had heard you were a tough kid. People talk a lot, you know, nothing better to do," Roman continued, his tone harsh and resolute, "I thought they just said those things because you carried a rifle around, tagged along with all the hardcore fighters in camp, just some snot-nosed brat pretending to be a soldier. Another casualty of stupidity waiting to happen. I was convinced that the warehouse mission, that it was a fluke. You probably weren't even in that warehouse, probably weren't the one to bring it down, they just said it so we'd all be gung-ho about going back for you, because you're Weaver's pet and who'd play fetch with him if you were gone?"
Jimmy scowled, said nothing. He darted another Ben's direction and his frown deepened. Ben hadn't found any crates, but it seemed he'd finally noticed Roman and Jimmy were having a conversation, and from across the store, Jimmy could feel the heat of Ben's rage. This wasn't going to end well if he couldn't cull Roman's curiosity quickly.
"Then you walk through the door in that classroom and, of course, I think Weaver's been jerking us around for so long and now what? He's playing a whole new game with us? Sending us you because you were the only person in camp that would come anywhere near us, right? Because you play nice with that one," Roman gestured Ben with a quick jerk of his head, "And since we're all the same according to all of you, you'd probably play nice with us too, and we'd be just so grateful of it, we'd never realize you were just some useless brat."
Jimmy winced, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ben was stalking back towards them, his expression promised nothing short of violence.
"Except now you lay me out. Me. I got at least forty pounds of muscle on your scrawny ass, and a punch that'll knock out a grown man in one hit. And now I got to wonder, now I just got to know, is it a joke? Or is Weaver for real?" Roman pressed.
"You really want to know how I won that fight?" Jimmy suddenly questioned.
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
Jimmy rolled his eyes up to meet Roman's, an icy glare that froze the older boy to the spot.
"You're stupid is how. You rely too much on your strength. You throw all of your body into your punches and just hope one lands and takes out your opponent right off so you don't have to actually fight," Jimmy rattled off quickly, "You're slow and you're slow to recover, slow to counter."
Roman glared at him, stunned by the candidness of Jimmy's hastened explanation, "That it?"
"No. There's one other thing."
"And what's that?" Roman scoffed, "You're better than me?"
Jimmy strode forward towards the advancing Ben. He could feel those hawk-eyes on him, watching his retreat and causing the hairs on the back of his neck and along his arms to prickle
"No," Jimmy hissed over his shoulder as though it should be the most obvious thing, "I got lucky."
When Jimmy reached Ben, he slunk his arm round Ben's waist, pushing and pulling the vehement boy insistently back towards the registers.
"Come on, Ben, forget it. It was nothing. He just had a question," Jimmy gently coaxed, "Let's go find crates."
"What kind of a question?" Ben demanded.
"The stupid kind," Jimmy answered coolly, "Come on; let's hurry up here so we can go to the bookstore. Find you some new big book to read."
"I'd rather find a new big book to bash over his head," Ben muttered, letting Jimmy drag him by the shirt as his eyes remained pinned on Roman, drilling neat little pinholes into the older boy's face.
Jimmy sighed, "He's an asshole, I get that, but don't you think the level of hate you got for the guy might be a little unnecessary?"
"He hit you," Ben returned plaintively, agitated. He gave up his glaring contest with Roman, turning his attention forward and falling in line beside Jimmy as they headed back towards the registers.
"No, you hated him long before you knew he was the one I got in a fight with," Jimmy retorted.
"Well…I just…I don't like…the look of him," Ben stammered. Jimmy frowned, unable to help noticing Ben's reasoning was exactly the same as Roman's reasoning for hating Ben.
"You do know that appearances aren't everything," Jimmy said evenly, perking a brow, "You can't tell me a bookworm like you has never heard the saying 'don't judge a book by its cover'."
"I don't like the way he looks at you," Ben seethed.
Jimmy flustered, his heart suddenly jackhammering in his chest at the implications in that comment, "What…what are you…what way…? He doesn't..."
"And maybe I really don't like the way you're being right now," Ben added, his tone tinged with pain.
"What do you mean by that?" Jimmy demanded, haughtily, "How exactly am I being?"
"You're defending him," Ben bit out, then clicked his tongue disgustedly and muttered, "Don't know why I'm surprised…"
"Because I always take everyone else's side?" Jimmy grumbled sardonic, scanning under each of the register counters as he swiftly moved past them in search of some boxes or crates or anything they could use to hold multiple bottles, "I'm not defending him, Ben, I'm just…"
"Really? Not defending him," Ben scoffed, "What did you just say not even two fucking seconds ago, 'don't judge a book by its cover'? And that's not defending him? Why do I even need to come up with reasons for not liking him? I don't like him, but you seem to so much, why don't you go hang out with him when we get back to camp and I'll stick with my original plans."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jimmy cried, a sudden sharp pain in his chest, "I don't like the guy. I can barely stand being around him."
"Yeah, I see that," Ben drawled sarcastically.
Jimmy paused, staring at Ben in stun. His heart thumped a few times, his brow perked. He opened his mouth, closed it, and tilted his head to one side as if trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at. Ben folded his arms over his chest, glared expectant at Jimmy.
"Are you…" Jimmy started, faltered a moment, furrowed his brow and tried again, "Are you jealous right now?"
Ben's eyes fell slightly, a sudden sheepish expression crossing his features. Jimmy's brow darted up in surprise. He took a small step forward, a slow smile struggling against the frustrated frown on his lip.
"That's what this is about? You think that…he…? And that I…?" Jimmy fumbled for words, his head spinning as new interpretations of Ben's recent behavior started coming to light, "Shit, Ben, you have got to be kidding me."
Ben scowled, but said nothing.
"This has got to be the stupidest…"
"Oh, great. So now I'm stupid," Ben grumbled under his breath.
"Not what I said," Jimmy muttered, "You're just…you're wasting your energy on something that is completely…"
"What? Impossible?" Ben challenged, and then bit out with a strange quiver in his voice, "You know, you haven't even made an attempt to deny it yet."
"What's there to deny? The guy makes my skin crawl," Jimmy spat out, "And he likes me about as much he likes you."
"Really? I thought he was always nice to you," Ben jeered.
"He's not exactly my type," Jimmy returned.
"Really," Ben scoffed, "And what exactly is your type?"
Jimmy shook his head, continued searching for crates. He couldn't understand, let alone name, the emotion swarming inside of him at that moment, "What the hell do you think of me, Ben? That half-aliens turn me on or something? Seriously, you got me, asshole, you figured it out. I'm all about the super charged Skitter freaks. That's what I go for. You know, thank God this alien invasion thing happened, otherwise …"
"Shut up," Ben groused.
"You ever think that maybe I'm just trying to keep you from getting in a fight with him because I don't want to have to go back to camp and explain to Weaver why you beat up one of the rookies on a practice op?" Jimmy snapped.
"Please, Jimmy, like you would really get shit for something I did," Ben griped.
"Yes, I would, because Weaver made me lead on this assignment, Ben, which means I'm responsible for everyone out here and their actions and that includes you. And…you know, fuck, did you ever stop for a minute to think that maybe that was important to me," Jimmy continued, furiously, "My first assignment calling point. You know how hard it was for me to gain the respect for this. Why are you trying to fuck it up for me?"
"I'm not trying…"
"And the whole responsibility of training those four in the first place, do you have any idea how big a deal that was for me? Weaver gave me this huge assignment, he could've – he should've – given it to a fighter with more experience, someone who was older, more capable, better than me, but he gave it to me. And maybe it's mostly because of you that he chose me, thinking they'd be more willing to learn from someone whose best friend is 'one of them', but maybe I still wanted to prove that I was the right choice regardless," Jimmy went on, he lowered his voice and whispered, "Maybe I needed to prove it…to Weaver…to myself…"
"How the hell was I supposed to know that's how you felt? You never told me," Ben quietly pointed out, glaring at the ground.
"I don't know…I guess I kind of thought you knew me better than that," Jimmy murmured, "Instead, you think I…what? Have a crush on that asshole? Hell, Ben, the only reason I'm putting up with him in the first place is for you."
Ben darted his eyes up to meet Jimmy's, his brow drawn together, "For me? How exactly is training them something for me?"
"I don't know. It just is," Jimmy muttered, taking a step back and, dropping his gaze to the floor, he caught sight of pale particle wood under the nearest counter and dispassionately noted, "Found some crates."
Ben sighed, shaking his head, but he didn't push the subject farther. He moved forward to help Jimmy pull out the crates, and silently they retreated towards the others to start loading up on alcohol.
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A/N: Right, got to be quick...running late. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, and I have to go back to work. T_T
More of the shopping trip. I didn't much like the convo between Jimmy and Rome, mainly because I cut and pasted it from the original write-up I did of this story that was following a different plotline, so the context was different when I originally wrote it, but I needed it in this story...oh well. That and, look, look, Ben and Jimmy talked about stuff! Sort of. Yes, they're fighting.
Reviewers: WhisperMaw, always good to hear from you! Wow, that is scary, having a kid taken custody for threats and the cops staked out. What is the world coming to? Yeah...I'm well aware that Jimmy's lost a bit of his edge - and I've been waiting for you to say something, most of it is because of Ben and his uncertainties there, it's more difficult to be devil-may-care when you got something to lose, but I promise, we'll see him back with a vengeance eventually...Sassysavanna190, lol, hahahahaha...yes, yes, I am a terrible person doing that to you. And it isn't for a few more chapters, so now the suspense has to kill you for several more weeks. I love your reactions, hope to hear from you this chapter! JDMlvr1, I make no promises. Roman is a prick, and Ben really does want to protect Jimmy, and Jimmy really didn't think of mentioning the superpowers. Typhoonboom08, I'm glad you dropped in...hm...we already talked about it, and I'm glad you found my perspective on it agreeable. Thrilled you're still loving it, and they will stop fighting eventually, but don't wish them too happy just yet, cause when that happens, you know I have to make them miserable again. IcicleLilly, I know, right, poor Ben. Not that he learns to watch his mouth after he finds out about their hearing...yeah, Jimmy'll get there...eventually...one day. I'm looking forward to Tom's return too...who said anyone was going to tell Tom about Ben/Jimmy? Cookie97, wow, you may be the only one who liked Kelsey. She will definitely be talking more in coming chapters. Her character is not who Jimmy first thought she was. I think Ben will be glad of the support. He is fighting himself, I'm glad you spotted that.
Thank you guys for all your wonderful insights! I'm looking forward to hearing from you all in the New Year!
See you guys...probably Sunday? My goal is to finish writing this story by the end of this month...let's see if it happens. I'm laughing on the outside, crying relentlessly on the inside.