Chapter Text
Bennett carefully removed his coat and shoes as he entered the door, trying to fight down the blush that threatened to make its way to his face. He watched as Ajax rushed inside, going to the thermostat to try and raise the heat, warming the limbs from the rough wind outside.
They might not be in Russia, but winters are still winters.
“Sorry, my place is a bit…” Ajax started, bending to take his shoes off, before pausing in front of Bennett, who had tangled his hand in Ajax’s hair. Bennett had a soft smile on his face, and as he scratched idly behind Ajax’s ear, the older man let out a puff of air. “It is a bit messy.”
Bennett giggled as Ajax’s accent thickened, something that seemed to happen only when the man was extremely flustered. He watched Ajax stand up straight to his proper height, and felt himself crowded back against the front door. Ajax’s hands found their way to Bennett’s waist, and Bennett’s moved to cup the ginger’s jaw.
“Hello, Ajax,” Bennett whispers, feeling his face warm as Ajax brings his face closer, moving Bennett’s hips to press against his own.
“Hello, bunny,” Ajax purrs, and Bennett feels his breath hitch. “You look nervous.”
“You look like you’re going to eat me,” Bennett replies, fingers moving along Ajax’s face and tracing down the scar over his eye. Ajax closes his eyes instinctively, and when he opens them, Bennett is met with those dark blue eyes again, rings in them making them seem bottomless. His right eye is cloudier, but Bennett still finds it beautiful.
“Are you afraid I will?” Ajax asks, moving to nuzzle Bennett’s neck, and Bennett freezes when he feels teeth scrape at his skin. “Do you think this wolf will finally devour his prize?”
“If it’s you--” Bennett starts, extending his neck, and Ajax locks in place, “if it’s you, I wouldn’t mind.”
Ajax growls low in his throat, and Bennett gasps as he feels his neck bitten. “What are you playing at, Beshenka?” Bennett just grins, pulling lightly at Ajax’s ear and melting against the door.
“ Eat me. ”
In the dark of Ajax’s room, bathed in cool light from the street lights by the window, Bennett is truly and completely taken apart.
In the glow of the aftermath, he is carefully put back together by Ajax’s gentle hands.
Bennett finds himself sitting on Ajax’s waist later that night, wearing nothing but his underwear as he traces the skin of Ajax’s chest and stomach. The ginger is on the bed below him, one arm over his face as he hums gently.
“Bennett,” he finally says, moving his arm and resting a hand on Bennett’s thigh.
“Hm?” Bennett hums, seeing his opportunity to reach up, fingers gently feeling each of Ajax’s scars, moving gently under Ajax’s blind eye. He moves to Ajax’s lips, touching a deep indent there, before moving down to the ginger’s jaw, making sure not a single scar escaped his touch.
“You know what I do, bunny, yes?” Ajax asked, and Bennett snorts.
“Of course,” Bennett says, before looking up at Ajax, meeting his eyes with furrowed brows. “Of course I know. I’m not stupid.”
“Why do you care for me, then?”
Bennett is shocked by the question, and more shocked when Ajax uses the opportunity to flip them over, crowding into Bennett’s space. Bennett can’t seem to find an answer, but Ajax’s mouth finds his, and doesn’t let up, even as Bennett begins to whine, even as fingers hook into his underwear, even as he is filled again by Ajax.
The ginger doesn’t let Bennett speak, until the boy is asleep under the sheets, and Ajax sits on the edge of the bed, one hand tangled in his own hair as the other raises a cigarette to his lips.
It wasn’t fair, Ajax thinks as he takes a drag from the cigarette, that Bennett would be so perfect. Bennett could look him in the eyes and tell him that he knew Ajax was dangerous and it didn’t stop him from reaching for him. Ajax feels greedy, wants more, wants Bennett to never leave.
Selfish , he admonishes himself. Ajax feels the smoke burn his lungs, releases it slowly.
With a deep sigh, he looks over at the smaller man as he sleeps, blowing the puff of smoke from his lips as he laughs, softly, maniacally.
“Shit.”
Ajax, ever the gentleman, opens the door for Bennett to leave the car. The smaller boy giggles, grabbing Ajax’s hand and pulling himself out. He’s pulled against Ajax’s chest, and he can’t help but press feather light kisses against Ajax’s neck. It feels like it burns, and his heart bubbles over with the affection he has for the man. The ginger groans softly, as Bennett’s lips reach right under his ear, making the white haired boy laugh.
“Ajax,” he coos, nibbling Ajax’s ear lobe. Ajax takes a deep breath and pulls away, moving towards his front door, pulling his keys out of his back pocket as he goes, one hand still holding Bennett’s tightly.
Bennett is escorted inside by one of Ajax’s hands on his back, pushing gently against his spine. Once they’ve made their way inside, Ajax is quick to push him against the closing door, pressing cold lips to cold lips as Bennett giggles, wrapping his arms around Ajax’s neck, hanging off his boyfriend with a smile.
“Bunny,” the Russian growls, nipping at Bennett’s lip as the boy drags his hands through the ginger’s hair, tugging near the scalp. Bennett just hums and tips his head back against the door, a saccharine smile on his face as he trails one hand to gently cup Ajax’s cheek, fingers trailing lightly over Ajax’s scars again. Ajax watches Bennett’s movements carefully, but there's a dark haze settling in his gaze. Bennett just laughs softly, and tilts his head as he looks into Ajax’s eyes.
“You look as if you are waiting for something,” Ajax whispers, nipping at Bennett’s fingertips as the boy traces the scars on his lips. Bennett hums, pressing tight to Ajax, making the man take a stuttering breath.
“Maybe,” Bennett says, continuing his tracing of Ajax’s face. “Maybe I’m waiting for you.”
Ajax’s face morphs into a couple emotions, before he schools it into something blank. He moves his head into the juncture of Bennett’s neck and shoulder, before taking a deep breath. Bennett’s brow furrows, about to open his mouth to ask what was wrong, when suddenly Ajax’s tongue was licking a stripe up Bennett’s neck, and teeth were biting at the skin under his ear. Bennett’s words are cut off before he can speak them with a moan, and Ajax continues to play him like the world's gentlest composer for the rest of the evening.
Bennett wakes to the sound of Ajax’s door opening, having been a light sleeper for nearly all of his life. He’s about to rise, letting the man know he’s awake, when he hears Ajax begin to speak.
“‘Zushi?” Ajax asks, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Why do you insist on speaking in English when it’s just us?” Bennett hears, and he immediately freezes. Scaramouche?
Ajax chuckles, and Bennett hears him move to the side, letting the smaller man in. Bennett is hidden under the covers, continuing his faux sleep, but he can see a little bit of the living room of the studio apartment through a small crack in the blankets. He watches Scaramouche enter and sit on the couch like he owned the place, like he’d been here millions of times before. With a pang in his chest, Bennett remembers he has . He recalls, chest tightening, that Scaramouche was Ajax’s ex. His ex .
So why is he sitting in my boyfriend's house, as my boyfriend makes him tea in the kitchen?
“That pet krolik of yours is here, no?” Scaramouche asks, and Bennett feels his heart pounding in his chest as the small man’s eyes find the lump of the bed. He reaches a hand over his mouth to lessen the sound of his breathing, trying to keep an even pace to seem asleep.
“He is,” Ajax responds, moving in the kitchen, and while Bennett can’t see that area of the room, he knows Ajax is reaching into the cabinet and pulling out mugs from the sound alone. A sound he had heard so many times when it was just them two in the morning light. “Please, try not to wake him.”
Scaramouche scoffs, before rising and moving to the closet, opening it and rummaging around.
“So,” he begins, voice soft even though he doesn’t truly care about Bennett’s sleep. It must be because Ajax asked him. “Where did you put it?”
It’s silent for a moment, all that Bennett can hear is the sound of water being poured into cups, and finally Ajax sighs.
“I will get it,” Ajax replies. “Must you really do this now?”
The small man replies in Russian, and though Bennett had been practicing with Ajax, he still can’t seem to grasp the way the two talk with each other, as if they’re using a certain dialect or code that Bennett’s beginner level Russian can’t understand. The ginger simply sighs, before moving to the living area, placing the two mugs on the coffee table and beckoning Scaramouche back over. The man does as Ajax asks, and both he and Bennett watch as Ajax reaches behind his neck, undoing a necklace strap.
“What’s this?” Bennett asks, one finger idly tracing the cord that seems to constantly be tied around Ajax’s neck. The ginger never takes off the simple pendant even when he showers, so it was worn, and the string was dark from use.
“A… show,” Ajax tries to explain, but from the way Bennett’s face scrunches, he must know he’s done a bad job, and he chuckles a bit. “It is weird to explain. It is from my senior in the Fatui to me. A show that no matter what, we will have each other constantly. I would trust him with my life, and he does the same. It was… A very special gift.” Bennett watches as Ajax’s face morphs into something sad, and almost wishes he hadn’t asked. “I have had it for many years, but I received my half in the mail not long ago. I am assuming he will want his back soon, though I can only hope the time will not come yet.”
Bennett watches, frozen, breath hitching, as Ajax undoes the cord for the first time in all the time he knew Ajax. He watches as Ajax, pained, places the pendant in Scaramouches open palm. He watches, heart breaking in his chest, as Scaramouche leans forward, and presses the ghost of a kiss against Ajax’s lips. He watches, wants to scream, as he watches Ajax— his Ajax — lean forward, as if wanting more, asking for more, but Scaramouche leans back, hand clutched tight against his chest, and leaves without so much as a glance back. Bennett watches as Ajax sits on the couch and sips at his drink, eyes locked on the other mug until finally, it grows cold.
Bennett slowly walks into the studio flat, knowing Ajax wasn’t going to be in for a while longer. He had called out of work at the last minute, and while he knows Ajax would find out eventually, he also knows he has a few hours to himself until then.
He looks into the house from the doorway, leaning back against the wall as he toes off his shoes, and takes a deep breath.
He walks into the kitchen, eyes hooded and brain wandering. He looks inside cabinets and drawers, and finally starts seeing the signs.
Open. Two bowls, two plates, two small dishes. Close. Open. Two cups, two wine glasses, two mugs, two tiny demitasses, looking like a set, with matching plates. Close. Open. Two forks, two knives, two spoons. Close. Open. Two placemats. Close. Open. A cookbook, Meals for two . That explains why Ajax seemed to always make the perfect amount for the two of them, or always had left overs otherwise. Close. Open. There. The dishes Ajax had bought for Bennett. It was all from a single set, and had small, hand painted rabbits on each dish, cup, plate. Bennett had been overjoyed. Now he knows it's because Ajax couldn’t bear to see someone else using the matches to his plates. Close.
He moves to the bathroom next, and flicks on the light. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment and can almost feel the ghost of Ajax behind him, arms wrapping around his waist and face nuzzling into his hair. He shuts his eyes and looks away. Medicine cabinet. Open. Products he’s never seen Ajax use a single morning, noon, or night spent here. Expensive brands he’s heard Ajax make jokes about. Face cleansers and moisturizers, serums and face masks, mists and skin rollers. Close. Under the sink. Open. A plethora of hair care. Shampoo, conditionair, leave in cream, hair masks, hair spray. There’s even small clips in bags and in jars. Ajax had apologized when Bennett had to bring his own hair stuff every time, since Ajax used three-in-one, and Bennett refused to use something that could clean his ass on his hair. Bennett had waved it off, lugging his bathroom bag to work most nights so that he wouldn’t have to deal with Ajax’s terrible hair products. Close.
Bennett walks out in a daze, not even bothering to turn off the light, the sound of the fan whirring bouncing against the walls, buzzing in Bennett’s ears as he opens the closet door, and pushes aside the coats Ajax doesn’t let him move, and there he sees it. A small cardboard box. He pulls it out and places it on the bed. Open. Pictures. Dozens of polaroids. Each one is of Scaramouche, all in various states of undress and in various positions. Some of them are just of him sitting on the couch, wearing one of Ajax’s sleep shirts, one that he remembers wearing. Ajax had flushed redder than anything he had ever seen, and devoured Bennett whole, mumbling praises and words in russian that Bennett was too fucked out to understand. Sift. A small photo frame. It seems to be of a younger Ajax. He’s surrounded by a group of people; a beautiful woman wearing a tight fitting dress, a man in a sick mask, a man with a pleasant smile and small rimmed glasses, and six other people, all pressed together for the photo, but Bennett’s eyes lock on the two in the middle. Scaramouche, holding Ajax in a chokehold as his fist presses against the top of Ajax’s head. He looks pissed, but the Ajax in the photo is laughing. His face is unblemished, no scar over his eye, and Bennett stupidly wonders if it looked just like the other, or if maybe, in a time past, there may have been flecks of other colours in the iris. He places the frame back. Sift. A small black bag. Velvet, with a drawstring to close it. Bennett opens it and tips the contents over into his hand. Ah. The matching pendant. He looks at the plain back for a moment, and flips it. Small, hand etched words circle it, and Bennett takes a moment to read the cyrilic before blanching.
To die for you would be my greatest honour.
Bennett shoves it back in the bag. Close. Back in the closet. Close. He rushes to the door, shoving his shoes on his feet, and grabs the handle. Open. Close.
Three days later, Bennett is about to knock on the door when it’s yanked open, and Ajax stares blankly at him as Bennett stands frozen, fist still in the air. He drops it to his side, and watches as Ajax looks him over, before moving further in, allowing Bennett to pass inside, closing the door behind him. The white haired boy walks further in, and stands frozen stiff as he spots a man sitting on Ajax’s couch. It’s the man in the sick mask from the photo , Bennett realizes, and feels a stone in his stomach as he realizes he’s in the presence of another Harbinger.
“ Do you speak Russian? ” The man asks, and Bennett feels Ajax stiffen behind him. It takes the young boy a second to realize it was he who was being spoken to.
“ Very little, ” he replies meekly, accent thick. The man nods and pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, pulling down his mask. Bennett feels like he wants to vomit.
The entirety of the man’s lower face is scarred, badly . A chunk of skin on his cheek is so thin that it looks like it’s close to tearing apart at any second, and his lips are nonexistent, lost in the sea of scars that line the man's face. Even the tip of his nose seems to be scraped off, leaving a formless lump that shows two large holes for nostrils. The man places the cigarette in his mouth and lights it, before turning to look at Bennett, beckoning him closer. The boy hesitates for a second, but then, Ajax’s hand is at his back, pushing him forward. The push forward is not reassuring.
“ Do you know the trouble you caused the other night? ” The man asks, and even though he is speaking slowly, Bennett still takes a second to process the words. He hears Ajax shift, about to open his mouth, seemingly to translate, but the scarred man raises his hand, stopping the ginger. “ I am speaking to him just fine. He understands. ”
“ I… I do not know what trouble you mean, ” Bennett replies, and Ajax tenses behind him. Bennett can almost hear the way his fist clenches.
“ You did not go to work. ”
Ah. So, it was about that.
“ No, ” Bennett replied simply.
“ And I assume you ignored Childe’s messages on purpose? ”
“Why do you care whether I ignored Ajax?” Bennett replies in English, fed up with the odd line of questioning.
“You ignored Childe, eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, for three days and three nights, and expected the man to not immediately think the worst?” The man says, speaking also in a language better for Bennett to understand as he takes a drag of his cigarette. “We were forced to scatter troupes, looked all over the city, and even flipped your house inside out, and you were nowhere to be found.”
Bennett freezes. The Fatui? Inside his house? He clenches his fist tightly, and glances back at Ajax, who wouldn’t look him in the eye. That had been something Ajax had promised him. No Fatui would ever enter his house while they were together.
“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” Bennett states harshly, glaring daggers at the floor, unwilling to look up at the smoking man anymore. “If Ajax felt inclined to look for me, and sent his troops to do it, what’s it matter to me?”
“ Beshenka ,” Ajax hisses, but the masked man raises his hand again, making Ajax press his lips into a thin line. He stands and walks over in Bennett’s direction, his feet directly in the younger boy’s line of sight, and he presses two fingers under Bennett’s chin, making him look up.
“My name is Il Dottore,” he says suddenly, making Bennett blink at the sudden change of topic. “It means Doctor , but as you must know that is not my profession.”
“ Zandik ,” Ajax says, but he is shut up by a single glance from the elder Harbinger, who scowls at the ginger. Bennett feels his heart hammering in his chest.
“ Do not interrupt me again, Tartaglia ,” Dottore warns, once again speaking their mother tongue. “ Krolik , can you tell me what you think my job in the Fatui is?”
Bennett couldn’t open his mouth, and if he did, he knew his words would be stuck in his throat. He shakes his head, making Dottore smile, a horrifying sight that makes Bennett feel faint.
“I was tasked of torture and rehabilitation.” His fingers glide from under Bennett’s chin, up his jaw, until they tangle into the hair at the back of his head, yanking it back, making Bennett yelp. “It is my job to make sure everyone knows their place. It is also my job to make sure nobody forgets their lessons. You must have noticed my beautiful work on Childe.”
“That is enough,” Ajax says, stepping between Bennett and Dottore, making the older man let go of Bennett’s hair and hiding the smaller boy behind his back. Once he was freed, Bennett wasted no time pressing himself against Ajax, pressing his face against his shoulder blades. “You were not to scare him. I was promised he would not be touched.”
“I am only making sure he knows what will happen if he once again wastes our time and resources,” the doctor says casually, moving away to press his cigarette against the table, putting it out and pulling his sick mask back on over his lower face.
“ Even if he were to disappear a week, a month, a year, and I were to waste millions trying to find him, you are not to touch him, ” Ajax growls, and Bennett’s hold on his shirt tightens. “ He is not a member of our family. He is not to be touched. ”
Dottore watches them curiously, for a moment, before he shrugs, walking toward the exit where the car Bennett saw outside was waiting for him. “ It will not be up to either of us. This, you know. ” He says. “ The Tsaritsa— “
“I will risk myself for him,” Ajax says in English. “I will not let any of you touch him.”
“Ajax…” Bennett whispers, his heart swelling in his chest as he presses more fully against Ajax. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are red.
Wait, wasn’t he being threatened right now? This is no time to be blushing!
Dottore pauses at the door, and says one more thing in Russian that Bennett can’t understand, but it makes Ajax stiffen. The doctor leaves silently after that, and the two stay pressed against each other in the middle of the living room, until Bennett finally pulls away, moving back a step. Ajax spins around and catches his wrist, making Bennett freeze, green eyes locking on the ginger’s blue ones, searching them silently.
“You had promised me,” he whispers. “You said no Fatui would go to my home.”
“You were missing, Bunny,” he pleads, and his grip tightens. “You would not answer your phone, no one knew where you were, your job had not heard from you— be honest, what was I to think?!”
“Why would you even care!” Bennett cries out, trying to tug his wrist back from Ajax’s grip. “So what if I go missing?! You can go back to your— your most trusted confidant. What was it you called him? Zushi? ”
Ajax’s grip slackens just enough for Bennett to rip his hand away, and they stare at each other in silence for a long, terrible moment.
Was I right? Bennett can’t help but think. Am I just a short timed replacement until he can get Scaramouche back?
“You think…” Ajax starts, his chest shaking with unsteady breaths. “You think I want to be with Kunikuzushi?”
“I saw him,” Bennett whispers, “when he came here. I saw you give back the necklace you said was from your most important person. I saw him kiss you!”
“You… You were not asleep?” Ajax asks.
“That is not the problem!” Bennett snaps. “He kissed you! And more than that, this house… It was his, too, wasn’t it?”
“…”
The silence feels like a brick to the chest.
“Don’t look for me,” Bennett whispers. Ajax’s eyes snap up to him, and he opens his mouth, as if to protest. “No, Ajax. Just. Just give me a little time. Let's take a short break. It’s obvious you have things to think about—“
“ Bunny, ” Ajax pleads, but Bennett keeps talking.
“—and I do too, I think.” Bennett reaches up to touch the skin of his chin that Dottore had touched, moved it to follow that same path. He shivered in fear. “You are a dangerous man, surrounded by dangerous people, and I… I’m smaller than that. I don’t know if I’m made for the life you live. Please, do this for me? Don’t look for me.”
“… I won’t.” He replies, though his accent is thicker than anything Bennett had heard before. The white haired man nods, making his way to the door. “Bennett,” he calls, and Bennett pauses despite himself, hand reaching for the knob. “I will not look, but I will wait. Just like you had waited for me.”
“… I know.”
And Bennett walks out of the home he had so desperately wanted to make his own, too.
“So,” Kaeya starts. He is holding a glass of lemonade mixed with some sort of syrup and vodka. Next to him, Diluc is frozen stiff. “The man you were avoiding while you were here was…”
“… Childe,” Bennett repeats, words hardly a whisper. “Tartaglia.”
“The fucking Fatui ?” Diluc chokes, and Kaeya takes a deep breath through his nose.
“You said you met him at work,” Kaeya says, his hand only shaking a little as he raises his cup to his lips. “What happened there? The fuckin’ Fatui work at Seven Eleven now?”
“ No ,” Bennett admonishes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He was a customer.”
“A member of the Fatui Harbinger’s came into your Seven Eleven,” Diluc hisses. “Why did you not immediately, oh, I don’t know, call the fucking cops? ”
“Well , because I thought it’d be funny,” Bennett says, blankly, making Kaeya and Diluc frown. “Obviously, I didn’t know! ”
“But you found out later!” Diluc insisted, rubbing a hand down his face. “And, it got dangerous enough that you didn’t feel safe at your home—“
“Ajax would never hurt me,” Bennett insists. “It’s not that I felt unsafe , I just. I didn’t know what to do.” Diluc looks like he’s about to open his mouth, seems like he’s going to try insisting that Bennett should have called the cops on Ajax the second he found out about his mafia affiliation, but Kaeya puts a hand on his shoulder, making the red haired man close his mouth as he looked at him.
“The letters,” he says, staring at Bennett, watching him fidget in his seat. “They were from him, weren’t they?”
“… Yes,” Bennett whispers. “He told me to wait for him. He wrote to me every time he had a spare moment, to make sure I knew he was alive.”
“And you waited for him,” Kaeya says. Bennett nods, words sticking to his throat. “What changed?”
“His ex,” Bennett starts, then pauses, shaking his head. “I think it’s his ex. They lived together, and he… yelled at me.”
“Ajax?” Diluc questions, fists clenching against his knees. Bennett rubs the bridge of his nose.
“… Scaramouche…”
“ The Balla-fucking-deer?”
“He said I took Ajax,” Bennett says, ignoring Diluc. “That Ajax had already had a powerful lover, only to pick some random store clerk, and he wanted to know how I… seduced him, I guess.”
The scene was burned into his mind. The fear he had felt, how helpless everything seemed. He had smelled like beer for days, and the scent of the drink still makes him feel sick. The letter was smudged and taped back together haphazardly.
He had never told Ajax.
Kaeya sighs softly. Diluc looks like he’s ready to punch someone. Bennett isn’t sure if the person should be him or not.
“So, what’s the plan then?” Kaeya suddenly asks. “You’re here to ask us something, right?”
“Why are you so perceptive?” Bennett asks, woefully. “Is it some sort of sixth sense?”
“Out with it,” Diluc interrupts.
“No need,” Kaeya says, looking deep into Bennett’s eyes. “He told his Harbinger ex to not look for him, and avoided going to his own home. He wants to crash on our couch and work at Angel’s Share.”
“Kaeya, you’re seriously creepy sometimes,” Bennett tells him seriously. The blue haired man shrugs. Diluc looks like he wants to keep questioning Bennett about the situation, but Kaeya’s hand on his wrist stops him.
“Fine,” he says, gruff. “You can stay. And work at the bar with me. But, I swear to Barbatos, if you bring any Fatui to my bar—“
“I won’t! I swear.”
Not on purpose, anyway.
“… You’re hired.”
The first night at the bar made Bennett break down in the back room while Kaeya rubbed his back soothingly. Albedo was called in to take over the rest of his shift.
At the week mark, Bennett stopped feeling bile in the back of his throat at the scent of beer.
After a month, Bennett could work half a shift on his own, with the other half assisted by Albedo, Kaeya, or Diluc. He always noticed that when Diluc was on shift, a small boy with braids in his hair always performed, and then sat at the bar and demanded Diluc to give him every ounce of attention.
Three months in, he started to miss his night shifts at the Seven Eleven.
Three months and two days in, he realized it wasn’t actually the shifts he missed.
It wasn’t until six months had passed that he had noticed them come in. A tall, dark haired man with small glasses and an unimpressed smile, fur lining his coat, and a light haired man wearing a sick mask.
Bennett feels nauseous immediately. Albedo had just texted him that he would be late to join him on his shift.
A crash appears to have halted my bus , Albedo had stated. Bennett stared at the Harbingers at the door. I apologize for my late arrival.
It didn’t take long for them to make their way to the bar, and Dottore waved Bennett down with a crinkle in his eyes.
“ Privet , Bennett,” Il Dottore says cheerfully as Bennett makes his way to them. “So, this is where you have been.”
“You should not be here,” Bennett hisses, ignoring the ball of anxiety in his gut. “The owner of this bar does not like the Fatui.”
The man with glasses lets out a nearly shocked laugh, his eyebrows raising as he watches Bennett carefully.
“ Dottore, you did not say he was so rude ,” he says in Russian, and Bennett finds himself shocked at how such a deep voice could come from a man that looked like he did.
“He is not rude, Pantalone, just unaccustomed to how to treat us,” Dottore says, looking Bennett in the eye, until Bennett finally breaks eye contact, staring down at the bar table.
“ What can I get for you,” he asks in his broken Russian, choppier now from his time away from Ajax, his main companion for learning the language.
“We are not here to drink,” the dark haired man, Pantalone , states, just as Dottore answers “A White Russian for me, and for him, a Moscow Mule.”
Bennett and Pantalone stare at him.
“What? It is funny. ” Dottore says.
“We are not here to drink, ” Pantalone repeats.
“Speak for yourself. Both for me, then.”
Bennett gets to work on making the drinks, though he’s sure if Diluc, or Kaeya, or literally any of the other employees were here, the two men in front of him would surely be escorted out. No matter how high ranking they were in the Fatui, here at Angel’s Share, they were simply unwanted guests.
The two men watch Bennett silently as he pours the drink, pushing both of the cups in Dottore’s direction. Dottore takes the White Russian, and, without a word, Pantalone the Moscow Mule.
“ Told you ,” Dottore mumbles.
“ Shut the fuck up,” Pantalone rebukes.
“What are you doing here?” Bennett asks quietly, watching the two men curiously. They were clearly not here on a job, though Bennett could never be sure. He could only tell for sure if Ajax had come to the Seven Eleven after a job when he was covered in—
“We were looking for you,” Pantalone says, casual as ever. Bennett’s eyes turn to slits. “For a man with no affiliations to a particular organization, you certainly know how to fall away from the radar.”
Bennett doesn’t grace him with a response. He notices Pantalone does not seem to speak as accented as the other three harbingers he’s met, and chews on his lip. He feels anger bubbling in his chest, the idea that Ajax ignored his request making his blood boil. He’s about to open his mouth to tell them to fuck off (politely, since they could still kill him), when they get interupted.
“Benny boy,” a guest calls from down the table. Looking towards the voice, he recognizes the twin braids framing the boy’s pretty face. It’s Diluc’s usual guest. “I’d like to order.” Bennett makes to move away from the two men, when suddenly Dottore speaks.
“I am afraid we are not done with the bunny yet,” he states, eyes glancing over at the other guest, lowering his mask to reveal his scarred skin as he lifts his glass to his lips, taking a sip. “He will assist you later.”
The men have an evil aura about them, and the boy with the braids down the bar seems to sense it. He looks at Bennett, searching his eyes for any sign of distress. When he finds none, he bites the inside of his cheek, but turns to look at his phone anyway.
“ Let us make this quick. ” Pantalone starts speaking in Russian, aware of a few gazes plastered on their backs. “ We were looking for you.”
“So you said,” Bennett replies, brow furrowing. “ I told Ajax I did not want him to find me.”
“ He is not the one looking for you.”
The bar seems to go quiet, as a new voice joins the conversation, and another one of the Fatui harbingers sits at the bar. It seemed that now, none of the patrons could truly ignore the men. Bennett’s insides are churning as he watches Scaramouche take the Moscow Mule from Pantalone’s hand and take a drink.
“ Scaramouche, I told you to wait outside,” Dottore reprimands. “ Now, look at the attention you’ve brought to us. ”
“As if two harbingers alone could not garner this attention,” Scaramouche snaps. He puts the drink down, and turns to look Bennett in the eyes. Purple meets green and Bennett feels his stomach fall out of his body to the ground.
“You—“
“He misses you.”
Bennett’s mouth snaps shut at Scaramouche’s words. He blinks wide eyes and leans back from the bar top.
“What are you saying?” Bennett questions, and Scaramouche rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Do not act like you no longer speak English , krolik .” He brings his fingers up to his eye line, feigning indifference by checking his nails. “He misses you. Why? I do not know. What I do know is he works, goes home, drinks himself stupid on cheap, American beer, and then passes out. Sometimes on his bed, sometimes on the couch. More than once on the floor of his kitchen or bathroom.”
Bennett feels his shoulders rise to his ears. “What’s that matter to me?”
The sound of a fist slamming against the wood of the bar top makes Bennett jump, but Pantalone and Dottore don’t even flinch, simply sipping at their drinks as they watch two of Ajax’s loves speak to each other.
“ Do not act indifferent, now that you’ve left him!” Scaramouche barks. “Do not pretend you do not care, not when he can barely remember to eat on his own, not when I have been the one cooking him meals and making sure he stays conscious long enough to shower, and still, the one he calls in his sleep is you! The one he wishes would come see him is you! ”
Bennett feels frozen. His fingers twitch.
“You do not get to pretend you never loved him,” Scaramouche hisses, and Bennett finally begins to shake. “You do not get to pretend like he meant nothing when he still hopes you will come home to him!”
A large hand comes down on Scaramouche’s shoulder, and all four men freeze. Bennett looks up and sees Diluc glaring daggers at the three Russian men in his bar.
“I think it’s time for you gentlemen to leave,” Diluc says, tone frosty. Scaramouche scowls as he shakes Diluc’s hand off his shoulder and stalks out, not even bothering to look back at Bennett. Pantalone follows silently, and Dottore sighs, chugging the rest of his drink before grabbing Pantalone’s, downing that one as well, covering his mouth and nose after. He moves his hand to his pants, pulling out a wad of cash and planning to leave it on the table, but Diluc grabs his wrist.
“We don’t accept dirty money here,” Diluc spits venomously. He tries pulling Dottore away from Bennett’s area, but the doctor is stronger than he appears, and he wrenches his wrist out of Diluc’s grasp with relative ease.
“It’s for the krolik ,” he says, sickly sweet, and moves his hand closer to Bennett. Despite the burning glare he can feel on his face coming from Diluc, Bennett takes the money, whispering a quiet thanks. Dottore’s eyes crinkle again, the illusion of a smile, and he walks to the door, exiting silently.
Diluc is still glaring at Bennett when the small boy with the braids jumps from his chair, launching himself at Diluc and grabbing at the red head’s arm.
“Oh, Master Diluc, that was so scary!” He whines, hugging the arm against his chest tightly. “I’m so glad you got here quickly!”
“Thank you for the message, Venti,” Diluc says, finally letting his eyes leave Bennett’s face. “I was able to get here and get them out quickly. Unlike what might have happened if you weren’t here.” His glances at Bennett from his periphery, a deep frown making its way to his handsome face.
“Sorry…” Bennett apologizes, but Diluc just shakes his head.
“Go to the back, Bennett,” he says calmly. “I’ve got the rest of your shift until Albedo gets here, then, I’m taking you home. You’re not working tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
It’s winter again by the time Bennett finds himself in front of Ajax’s house again. The boys at Angel’s Share were hosting a party, but Bennett had said he felt tired, and wanted to rest at home. Diluc had squinted, but still was dragged away by a bouncing Venti, while Kaeya laughed behind them, smiling at the pair as he mentioned how Albedo was waiting for them all at the bar. Bennett bid them all farewell and waited fifteen minutes before finally shoving his shoes on his feet, throwing on a coat, and making his way to the bus stop. He fidgets the whole time in his seat, and wrings his hands as he walks to Ajax’s door. When he’s about to lift his hand up to knock, he hesitates, and lowers it.
Maybe this is a bad idea , he thinks, chewing his lip. Maybe it’s been too long. I don’t even know if he’s home, for archons sake!
Last year, Ajax had promised that he would take Bennett with him to Russia the next year, so he could meet his entire family.
“Teucer will be so happy,” Ajax sighs, a smile on his face. “We will have to bring him many toys.”
“I can't wait to meet him,” Bennett replies, giddy. He had never told Ajax what comfort his letters had brought him, how he had dreamed for months of joining Ajax in Russia, and meeting his mother, his father, all of his siblings.
“Tonia is at the age of wanting a little husband all her own,” Ajax continues, and then his smile turns mischievous. “She might try to steal you away.”
“Don’t be silly,” Bennett replies. “No one could take me away from you.”
The memory hurts his chest. He raises his fist and knocks.
There’s a shatter of a plate dropping inside, and loud, Russian cursing. The stomping of feet. The door knob turns.
“Kunikuzushi, I told you I do not want fucking company— “
Ajax stares blankly at Bennett.
Bennett stares back at Ajax.
Ajax slams the door shut in his face, and wails from inside.
“Archons, have I been so cruel to deserve this?” He sounds like he’s walking away from the door, going further inside the house. “Am I drunk already? Zushi will murder me if I am wasted so early in the evening.” Bennett goes to knock on the door again, but notices that Ajax hadn’t locked it, so he twists the handle and lets himself in.
The house is… It’s… Well.
The house is disgusting, but it was obvious Ajax had been in the middle of a sad attempt at cleaning. There were three trash bags, scattered around the studio— one in the kitchen, one in the living area, and one near the bathroom. The one in the living room was full, and Bennett could see the bed was unmade, sheets striped and laying in a pile on the floor. Ajax was bent over in the kitchen, a broom in hand as he attempted to sweep up the mess he had created by the shattered glassware. Bennett joins him in the kitchen and kneels, picking up larger shards and placing them in the dust pan. Ajax’s breath hitches as he pauses.
“…Bennett?”
“…”
Bennett doesn’t respond. He doesn’t think he can. The words he had thought up on the bus ride here were no longer readily available in his mind to recall, and there was a heavy guilt in his heart, seeing Ajax’s house in this state. It made him ache.
“Are you real?” Ajax suddenly asks, and he reaches out a finger, going to poke at Bennett’s cheek, but he stops just before touching him. and curls his finger back toward himself. “Actually, I don’t want to know. Even if you are fake, Beshenka, I would love to spend my holiday with you.”
The words only made Bennett feel guiltier. He stood slowly and went to the living room, grabbing the bag in there and moving around, grabbing beer bottles and take-out containers and stuffing them in the bag. Ajax was silent for a moment, unmoving, but then he also got into motion.
They worked like that for two hours. Silence filled the apartment, but neither of them wanted to break it— Bennett out of guilt, and Ajax in fear that Bennett would disappear if he was acknowledged.
By the time the apartment was cleaned up, and the trash taken out (which Ajax had done, barely able to take his eyes off of Bennett as he had grabbed the bag from him), they were both exhausted. This was how, sitting on the couch, in front of the now made up bed, covering his eyes with an arm, Ajax started to speak.
“I want you to be real,” he whispers. Bennett takes a deep breath.
“Are you so convinced you’ve gone nuts that you really think I’m not?” Bennett asks, and Ajax lets out a humourless chuckle.
“Beshenka, I have dreamed of you laying in bed with me,” he says, moving his arm to look Bennett in the eye. The white haired boy is struck by the tired lines he finds under his eyes. “I have dreamed of coming home and seeing you in my kitchen. I have walked into my empty house and sworn I could hear you in the shower. I have woken up and thought I smelled your burnt eggs in the morning. My mind has not been kind to me, in your absence. So, please, forgive me if I am weary to the idea you are here with me, helping me clean.”
Bennett has no response to that. He takes a deep breath and chews on the inside of his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” they both say at the same time.
“What?” Bennett asks, bewildered. “Why are you saying sorry?”
“I should have reassured you right away that I was not going to return to Kunikuzushi,” he says, sitting up and reaching for Bennett, cupping the boy's cheek with his big, warm hand. “I should have not hesitated. It was not that I had feelings for Scaramouche, I was just… Processing. The things you were saying, the things you were feeling.”
“No, Ajax, I’m sorry,” Bennett interrupts, grabbing Ajax’s hand with his own, pressing it further against his cheek. “I shouldn’t have accused you of what I did. I was scared. I couldn’t help it. And before… Well—“ Oh, shit, how should he say this. “I had— a few days before—“ Ajax waited patiently, thumb brushing under Bennett’s eye soothingly, watching the white haired man with gently furrowed brows. Bennett took a deep breath.
“I searched your house,” he whispers, and Ajax’s brows shoot up to his hairline. “I had seen Scaramouche here, and I watched you give him your pendant, and I watched him kiss you, and the way you acted… It made me curious, and worried! And, Ajax, all his stuff was still here. He was everywhere. In the bathroom, in the kitchen, in your bed. You have the box full of his photos and his pendant is in there too, and I’m sorry , I know I shouldn’t have looked but I was so scared and—“
“Beshenka, dyshat’ ,” Ajax begs, and Bennett complies, taking a deep breath. Bennett stares into Ajax’s eye, watching his good eye move over his face, while his blind eye sits in the socket, movements seemingly delayed compared to the other eye. His eyes raked in the sight of Ajax’s scars, his freckles. He watched Ajax’s eyebrow twitch, and the way it furrowed after, his lips pursing into a small frown.
“Ajax, I didn’t know if you were still in love with him,” Bennett breathes out, and Ajax’s eyes close. “And I was scared that I would lose you, and so I… I ignored you. And then, I left.”
“You did not need to leave,” Ajax whispers.
“It felt like I did,” Bennett replies, just as quietly. “I was scared to be hurt, and so I hurt you first, and I’m sorry. ”
“Don’t apologize, bunny,” Ajax says. “I forgive you.”
“And I forgive you. ”
The words seemed to have broken a dam, and the two crashed into each other with a hug like waves on a shore, surging and breaking, creating a powerful surf between the two as they tumbled off the couch, and Bennett couldn’t help but laugh, choked up behind his unwept tears, and Ajax laughed back. Bennett was on his back on the floor, and Ajax hovered above him. The white haired boy lifted his arms and wrapped them around Ajax’s neck, bringing him down so that their breaths intermingled, breathing in each other's warmth.
“Beshenka,” Ajax whispered. “ I think you are beautiful .”
Bennett’s breath hitched, his mind flashing to the first time he heard Ajax say those words, in an impromptu Russian lesson in a Seven Eleven, drunk after a job. Bennett hadn’t known what they meant then, but the same is untrue now.
He pulls Ajax down, pressing their lips together, and for the first time in a year, Bennett truly feels like he’s at home.
Sitting outside the apartment, Kunikuzushi wraps his arms around his knees, waiting for the car to pick him up. He had a bag of food he had spent the afternoon cooking for Ajax, but it sat next to him, and not in the refrigerator it belonged in, after he had attempted to open the door to his old home and heard his old bed creaking with a body that did not belong to him. He had turned around and walked down the steps, phone already composing a text to Zandik.
He covered his eyes with a palm and tried to take a deep breath. For ten minutes, he sits there, waiting, until there is the sound of footsteps that stop right in front of him, and a voice speaks, muffled by a sick mask.
“You should have known better than to come, Kunikuzushi.”
“Shut up, Zandik,” Kunikuzushi replies, but he doesn’t move. “How was I supposed to know? It’s been months since we last saw that stupid rabbit.”
“I know,” Zandik replied, sitting next to Kunikushi, his hands clasped together between his legs, leaning his elbows on his knees. They stayed silent for a few moments, until finally, Zandik spoke again. “You knew it would happen eventually, Kunikuzushi.”
“Don’t,” the purple haired boy tries, but his word is cut off with a sob, making the rest of the sentence stick in his throat. He presses his palm further against his eyes. “Please, just take me home.”
“Rosalyne and Pantalone are at my place for the holiday. Why don’t you join us?” Zandik asks, and finally, Kunikuzushi brings his hand down from his eyes, turning to glance at his old front door with a frown. He lets out a broken sigh, and nods, turning his gaze to the man sitting next to him.
“ You know what? I would like that more than being alone.” He says, and Zandik’s eyes crinkle.
“ I know. Let’s go drink ourselves stupid. ”
Kunikuzushi and Zandik stand, and the Balladeer grabs the bag of food he had cooked. He thinks for a moment, before deciding to leave it, placing it by the door without a knock to indicate it has arrived. They would find it eventually.
Goodbye, Ajax, he thinks as he follows Zandik to the car. And goodbye to that little bunny of yours, too.