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Which is more embarrassing, Benji thinks to himself: the fact that his coworkers figured out his birthday without even asking him, or Ethan suggesting they go out for drinks on his birthday, or that he was thoroughly drunk when Ethan was barely buzzing and Luther was sober as a judge?
Luther is gracious enough not to tease him in such a low moment, but there’s something about Ethan that makes Benji feel as if this is almost a mockery of him. Maybe it’s because that even in the early stages of drunkenness, it’s obvious to Benji that it was Ethan who found out when his birthday is and that it’s his big four-zero this year. And Ethan only smirked into the rearview mirror when Benji grumbled, “I don’t even know how old you lot are,” in the car.
It’s all this that motivates Benji to flip over his empty shot glass and say, “Ethan, you bastard.”
Ethan glances over at him. “What?”
“Why would you do something like this?”
He furrows his brows and sends him an inquisitive grin. “Celebrate a friend’s birthday?”
Maybe Benji sounds like an asshole, because it isn’t bad being with the two of them. Quite the opposite, actually, because both veered strongly towards staying lowkey when out in public, and that’s just Benji’s pace. But he blames their presence anyway for why he nervously downed one drink and then another until his head was spinning, not much unlike a bird feeder caught in a lethargic breeze.
But drinking has never been a strong suit of Benji’s, either. And even though Ethan is shorter than him, he assumes Ethan can hold his liquor better than him through the pure power of the jock-slash-army veteran stereotype. Oh, he’s mocking him, he has to be.
He tries to swallow down the vague feeling that the bar has turned onto a boat at sea and focus in on Ethan.
“You can’t take me out for my birthday and then expect me not to feel obligated to take you out, too.”
“Luther’s here too, you know,” Ethan says.
“So?”
“So this isn’t obligating you to take me out for my birthday when there are two of us here. Consider it a joint effort.”
Over Ethan’s shoulder he can see Luther shake his head. Of course he’s only confirming what Benji already knows, but his mind is too clouded to come up with any articulate response. Instead he settles for catching Ethan’s gaze, which twinkles merrily even in the dim light of the bar, withholding the reason for why he even bothered at all to find Benji’s birthday and then choose to celebrate it.
“You’re older than 40,” Benji says suddenly, and it comes out much more matter-of-factly instead of the question he meant to pose.
Ethan nods his head.
A laugh forms in the back of Benji’s throat. 40, that’s so old. But Ethan looks so young still, and Luther has no issue keeping up with him, and Benji – well, he doesn’t feel a day over 35.
Luther looks like he’s laughing, maybe not, but all Benji can think about is that he’s that woozy after two shots and two whatever the hell Luther had suggested to begin with.
Against his better judgement, he orders another shot, winces as it goes down, and says, “At least tell me your birthday. As a birthday present?”
“I told you he was going to do this,” Luther says. Ethan only laughs. It’s not loud, not boisterous, but one of gentle agreement.
Benji’s stomach flip-flops and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or not. He keeps his eyes locked on Ethan as the world shifts around him. Ethan, his smile, the creases that form around his eyes. There’s Ethan.
He feels sick but in a way that makes his fingertips shake with excitement. 40 is so old but he feels like he’s 13. The sight of Ethan keeps him from tipping off the barstool and onto the floor.
Luther suddenly gets up and heads towards the bathrooms. Ethan starts saying something – Moscow, blah blah, not a single word processing in Benji’s mind. It doesn’t take long for Ethan to notice.
“You okay?” he asks him.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Ethan grins and says, “Too much to drink?”
“The alcohol content had to be…” Big? A lot? What word does he want?
The grin softens. “My birthday is August 18th.”
“What?”
“You asked. It’s August 18th.”
The date settles into Benji. August 18th.
“Don’t go around telling everyone,” Ethan teases.
Benji’s stomach flops again and his eyes flit to Ethan’s mouth. Oh, he thinks. Fucking hell. He’s suddenly in year ten again, and he’s sitting in maths, and his eyes are locked on Alan Kessinger in the row in front of him, only this time, it’s Ethan. That’s what this felt like.
“You’re only telling me because I’m drunk.”
“You said it could be a birthday present.”
There’s a part of him that wishes that Ethan would lean away, because all Benji can do is notice how gorgeous he is, how he much he wishes he could—
He lets out a breath. Ethan seems unfazed. Expectant, even. He only looks away when Luther comes back and taps him on the shoulder.
~ ~ ~
Today, Benji’s job is to sit in back of a van that clatters worryingly with every turn and acceleration through Minsk and try his best to keep Ethan alive through nothing but a small screen monitoring all his movements. It’s easier said than done as he fights to stay upright versus being tossed around haphazardly. This situation is less than ideal, as it makes monitoring Ethan more chaotic than it already is, but Benji’s not about to demand the IMF agent driving today to be careful.
He pounds his keyboard, quickly pulling up access to various security checkpoints around the area. “I got it, Ethan,” he says. Pause. “Ethan?” But nothing but silence greets him.
“Ethan?” His tone becomes more urgent. “Ethan, where are you?”
Benji switches between programs with fervor until he finally settles on the one he uses to monitor Ethan. He’s nowhere in sight.
Panic begins to settle in his chest. Stay calm, that’s what he’s supposed to do, but Ethan has disappeared.
Benji thinks back to what he was doing before pulling up all the security access codes. Talking to Ethan, of course; who else would ask for that kind of access? That was only a few minutes ago.
He tries to recall every second that had passed between the last time Ethan had spoken and now. How he could disappear so quickly and without notice is completely baffling, but the alarm building in his body overrides any other opportunity for him to marvel at Ethan’s ability to throw unexpected wrenches in mission with ease.
A half a minute passes without a response. “Ethan, can’t you hear me?” Another half a minute. Benji pounds on the window separating him from the driver – Yanez, was that his name? – and shouts, “Ethan, I can’t contact him.”
He receives a response, but just as the van makes a sharp turn onto a new street. “What was that?” he calls, but this time, there’s no answer. Oh, how he hated sitting in the back. Having no way of telling what’s happening was his least favorite part of any mission where he’s relegated to the back of the van, but Ethan disappearing only worsened the experience.
“Ethan?” Benji says again. He swears under his breath when the line stays silent. “Where are you?” He’s running tests, now, to make sure that it wasn’t just a connectivity issue. But nothing comes back.
The van makes another turn, wheels squealing against the pavement. They have to be nearing their destination, now, and still Ethan hasn’t responded. Benji knocks on the window again. “Where’s Ethan?”
Through the windshield, Benji can see the van enter a tunnel and swerve around a car. But it seems like they’re slowing down, now, especially when their blue sky greets them again and they make an exit onto a different road. A part of Benji lets out a sigh of relief; the other part remains tense. He licks his lips nervously and sinks back onto the floor. His screen remains blank.
A few minutes pass before the van gradually comes to a halt. Benji stays inside, keeping his eyes on his screen, until the driver throws over the back doors.
Joshua, Benji remembers. That’s the driver’s name.
He squints in the bright sunlight and slides his body towards the back doors. Joshua shows no sign of distress; to anyone outside of the IMF, he looks no different than any other person taking a casual drive around the city.
Benji climbs out, looks around. “This isn’t our destination,” he remarks.
“Didn’t you hear me in the van?”
“I couldn’t hear anything back there.”
“Change of plan. Ethan wants us to meet him here.”
“Ethan?”
Benji glances back at the road, and then at the building nearby. Ethan isn’t anywhere in sight.
“How’d he tell you that?”
“Over the com.”
“How? I couldn’t contact him at all. He disappeared completely.”
Joshua nods towards the road. It’s only then that he notices the motorcyclist approaching them. It’s Ethan, looking very scuffed up but also very much alive.
“Ethan!” Benji exclaims when he slows to a halt. “Where the hell have you been?”
Ethan parks, gets off the motorcycle. “Change of plans.”
“That’s what he—” Benji starts, but he’s interrupted by Joshua.
“Ask questions in the van. We have to get going again.”
Josh waits for the two of them to entre through the back of the van before shutting the doors behind them. Ethan winces as he settles down, and then again when Joshua makes a quick exit back onto the road.
“What happened?” Benji asks. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you? You went totally missing from my—”
“Benji.”
That’s Ethan’s gentle cue that means, I don’t need you lecturing me like my own mother right now. Benji settles back against the van.
“I definitely heard you.”
Despite the weariness on Ethan’s face, his eyes are as alert and playful as ever.
“I kept trying to tell you I was fine. Josh could hear me.”
“Huh,” he says. “I couldn’t.”
“I was aware.”
That simple sentence makes Benji’s face go rosy. The number of times he said Ethan’s name in only a matter of minutes runs through his head. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly.
But if Ethan’s annoyed by it, he can’t tell. It’s just the same Ethan, as amiable as ever, if a bit tuckered out from another mission spent sprinting to the nearest motorcycle. Speaking of which—
“Mind telling me where the motorcycle came from, at least?” He scoots closer to Ethan as the van begins to rattle again.
“From a lackey.”
Before Benji could say anything else, he hears a muffled, “Hold on” from the other side of the glass. Then the van makes another turn, sudden enough that it causes him to topple over. Ethan’s quick to grab his shoulder and hold him steady.
“Fucking hell,” he grumbles as he tries to find his balance again. “I thought the worst part of this shit mission was over.” He raised his chin to discover that he’s only inches away from Ethan’s face, now. The van is steady enough again that he could clamor away if he wanted to, but he stays where he’s at and meets Ethan’s gaze.
“You don’t have to worry so much about me, you know,” Ethan tells him softly.
His hand is still on his shoulder, but it’s much looser, now. Loose enough that nothing is stopping Benji for leaning forward, closing the gap between them as they fell into silence again.
“It’s part of my job description, actually."
He furrows his eyebrows. “Personal babysitter for Ethan Hunt?”
“Spot on.”
Ethan grins and his stomach flutters. It’s an odd feeling to have after all the adrenaline, but Ethan’s eyes are dark and warm and driving him absolutely mad. Somewhere inside of him there’s a hope that the van will make another sharp turn again, just so he can fall forward, have an excuse to be so close to Ethan, to be able to hold onto him.
But Ethan pushes away from him. The turn never comes.
~ ~ ~
It’s after midnight when Benji pulls up to a random motel somewhere in Oklahoma. He gets out with ease, even if a bit sluggish, and starts for the door. He doesn’t notice how Ethan stumbles when he places body weight on his right ankle. It’s the audible sound of Ethan sucking air in through his teeth that causes Benji to turn and look at him.
“Jesus, Ethan,” Benji says as he rushes back to catch him. “You expect me to carry you back to Brandt and Luther tomorrow?”
His half-hearted attempt at a joke makes a smile ghost across Ethan’s lips, but it dies away the next second as he limps forward. Ethan closes his eyes and bites back a moan.
“Is it broken?”
Ethan shakes his head. “No, I think I just sprained it.”
Benji glances up at the motel. “I’m sure there’s an ice dispenser around here somewhere. I can get some for you.”
Ethan doesn’t say yes or no, but attempts to move forward again. He balances himself against Benji, moving in time with him, until they make it inside. Normally, in last-minute fixes like this, Ethan was great at checking in to hotels with fake names and stories. But now it’s Benji’s turn to check-in, and he realizes that he’s unsure of really what to say or do. And for that matter, he doesn’t know when he and Ethan are supposed to leave tomorrow, when they’re supposed to meet with Luther and Brandt again.
He takes a breath and approaches the counter, pulling out one of the IDs for his various aliases, and manages to get the key to a room. He thanks the worker at the front desk and helps Ethan upstairs. Then he heads back down and collects some ice for his ankle. When he returns, he sees Ethan lying on a bed with his ankle on the side table next to him and his shirt crumpled on the floor. In the faint light of the lamp, he gets his first real look at Ethan since their quick departure. There’s a long cut going down Ethan’s left cheek. Bloody knuckles curled upon his bare chest. Dirty face.
“You look awful,” Benji says.
Ethan’s eyes peak open. “Thanks.”
Benji crosses the room to the backpack he had thrown on the floor near the bed. “Here, I’ve got some stuff.” He opens the bag and digs through its contents until he finally finds a small first aid kit. “I had a feeling you’d eventually need this.”
The weariness on Ethan’s face fades into something more inquisitive. “How long have you had that for?”
“A while, but usually the IMF gets to you before I can.” He sits down on the bed and pulls out some antibiotic cream and a wrap. “Wait,” he says, and then he goes to the bathroom, where he finds a washcloth and dampens it. Then he returns, settles down again, and gently wipes it across Ethan’s face.
“I can take care of myself,” Ethan murmurs, but his green eyes glisten with gratitude.
“If you could, I wouldn’t be assigned to constantly watching you.”
For a moment, there’s silence; then Ethan says, “Benji?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you ever going to give me the ice?”
“Oh!” He drops the washcloth and bends over the bed to grab onto his bag of ice. “Post-mission brain,” he muses as he hands the bag to Ethan.
“Thanks.” Ethan bends forward and grimaces as he sets the bag of ice gingerly on his ankle.
Benji gestures at his knuckles. “Mind if I…?”
Ethan holds his hand out. Benji grabs his washcloth again and wipes his knuckles clean of dried blood before grabbing the tube of antibiotic cream.
“It’s never until after missions that I realize how tired I am,” Benji says. “Or how hungry I am.”
“I’d suggest we go eat, but I don’t want to move again for the night.”
“I can’t blame you.”
Benji skims his thumb across Ethan’s knuckles. Their eyes meet.
“Do you want a bandage at all?”
“I’ll be fine.” His response is barely louder than a whisper.
The quietness of his voice makes Benji hesitate as he moves back to Ethan’s cheek. He dabs the cut with the washcloth, doing anything to avoid the fact that Ethan’s eyes are boring into him. There’s a faint smirk on his lips, the same one that makes Benji feel a bit breathless every time it appears. That bastard.
He sets the washcloth down and then swipes cream across his cheek. “There you go,” Benji mumbles. “All set.”
“Thanks, Benji.”
He bends back to say you’re welcome, but his response is thwarted when he finally gets a look at his face. Ethan’s seated in a way that a shadow is cast across his cheek, but he’s still so – don’t say beautiful, Benji thinks, but there’s no other word that’s going through his mind. The air is terse with something, only interrupted when Ethan reaches out and runs his thumb across Benji’s cheek.
“You had some dirt or something,” he explains softly. “Goodnight, Benji.”
He leans back on the bed. Damn him.
~ ~ ~
Ethan died, if only for a few seconds. Benji would have died if it weren’t for Ethan. He can’t help but wonder where he would be if Ethan wasn’t there. Would his life be worse? Better? How would it be like if he came to work every day and didn’t see that face so familiar to him that it feels like he’s known him for his entire life?
It’s after the majority of the fuss has died down that Benji realizes that he thinks of Ethan as more of a friend, and it’s a terrifying thought. He craves being around him. He hates being around him. It’s great being around him.
When Ethan came back to life, his lips sparked with an urge he hadn’t felt in a long time. When Ethan saved his life, he knew what he wanted. He could have thrown his arms around his neck. He could have kissed him like his life depended on it.
It’s on his mind every morning when he wakes up, on his mind whenever he sees Ethan. What a terrible affliction to have.
~ ~ ~
In Berlin, Ethan disappears. Despite the fact that the mission had come to a lull and there’s no immediate harm being posed, Benji’s heart still skips a beat when he realizes Ethan is nowhere to be found after the symphony they attended comes to an end.
Benji heads around to the entrance where Luther waits. “Where’s Ethan?” he asks as soon as he’s in close enough proximity for Luther to hear.
“You didn’t see him leave during intermission?”
He frowns. “No.”
“He’s alright, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Benji would trust Luther to the end of the Earth, but there’s always that anxiety that comes whenever Ethan goes out of view. “Why’d he leave, then?”
“There wasn’t any need for him to stay,” Luther tells him. “He’s kind of down tonight.”
“Why?”
Luther pauses, and then says, “He and Julia used to live here.”
Julia. Ethan hadn’t mentioned her in years. Or at least not around Benji. The look on Luther’s face says something else.
“Oh.” That’s his only response. His mind reels for a moment, and then he says, “This sounds heartless, but we still have a task we need to accomplish. Maybe it’s good to find Ethan?”
“You don’t have to find him, I already know where he’s at.”
“Where’s that?”
“That bar we passed on our way here.”
Benji knows the one. Ethan had dawdled around the front of it for a while. Memories, something like that was Ethan’s excuse. Now Benji understood. “I’ll go get him, then.”
Luther agrees to report back all information they had to the IMF before Benji parts from the concert hall and into the street. It’s absolutely freezing outside, making him swear under his breath as he hurries down the street in the direction of the bar they had seen a few hours prior. He doesn’t get halfway before he catches glimpse of Ethan on the other side of the street.
He crosses quickly and jogs up to Ethan. “There you are.”
Ethan glances back at him. “Show over?”
“Thought I’d come find you before Luther and I headed back.” Beat. “It’s fucking cold. What are you doing out here?”
“Just wanted to clear my mind a bit.”
“And get hypothermia while at it?”
“Is there anything wrong with taking a walk?”
“When it’s this cold outside, yes.”
If Ethan’s feeling melancholy, it’s difficult to tell. He looks more placid than plaintive. “Did Luther tell you where to find me?”
“He’d said you’d be at a bar.”
“That’s where I just came from.” Beat. “I guess he told you then.”
He struggles to find something to say, then settles on, “I forgot you lived here for a bit.”
“Feels like a century ago.” Then a small smile overtakes his lips. “But we’re been working together for even longer, haven’t we?”
“Huh.” So they had. “I’ve never thought too much about that.”
“Over a decade, right?”
“Has it really been that long?” He rubs his eyes. “Am I that old?”
“Don’t try to retire.”
There’s a smile on Ethan’s face, but it feels forced. A moment of silence passes.
“I’m sorry,” Benji murmurs. “For all that happened, I mean.”
“Nothing much I can do about it now.”
Benji waits a second, and then says, “We don’t have to head back now. We can walk around a bit, if you want.”
“Not if you’re too cold.”
“I’m okay. Unless you want me to leave.”
“No, you can stay here.”
He’s happy to receive the invitation, but any attempts at conversation have all but run out. For a moment, he stews on what to say; then he considers that maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all.
So he follows Ethan through the streets wordlessly, finding that with each step, the awkwardness of hanging near him without conversation disappeared. It’s nice to be with him, silent, just enjoying the sights of Berlin. And Ethan never stops, never points out anything, never makes a comment about Julia.
“I like Berlin,” Ethan says after a number of minutes. “It still feels familiar after all this time away from it. Then again, I think I like cities in general. Much different than my hometown.”
“Where are you from?”
“Born in Wisconsin, raised in a tiny town in New York. Never thought I’d ever be doing anything like this for my career.”
“Me neither.”
He catches Ethan remove his hand from his pocket, flex his fingers next to him. Then he gently sticks his hand back into his pocket, leaving Benji to wonder for a moment if maybe, it was for him, an offer to hold his hand, or if he’s being too hopeful.
Ethan eventually stops in a plaza near their original meeting point. “I’m guessing Luther took the car back to our hotel.”
“Unfortunately.”
“That’s alright.” He leans against a building. Benji huddles closer to him without thinking. “Sorry to put a damper on the evening.”
“You haven’t done anything like that.”
“Still, you had to…” He pauses, and says, “You didn’t have to come looking for me.”
“What else was I supposed to do?”
Ethan glances up at him, smiles. “You could have just left me alone.”
“What kind of friend would I be, then?”
He stays quiet, looks out at the street. The city is just as alive as ever. It’s nice to be in the shadows, separated from the rest of everyone else, too busy with their own affairs to pay attention to the likes of them standing in the cold.
“I’m sure Luther has heard enough from me,” he starts. “That’s why I decided to just come out and take a walk.”
And what did Luther ever say, he thinks, because he’s at a loss for words now. I’m sorry? I’m sure it’s hard?
“Thanks for being here,” he says.
You’re welcome? I’m glad to be here? I completely want to kiss you?
Their eyes meet again.
“I guess we better head back now,” he suggests.
The moment has passed. Benji follows him again.
~ ~ ~
The first thing Ethan does once they make it back to the United States from Kashmir is ask if Benji would accompany him to his apartment. His excuse is that his ribs are still too sore for him to do too much movement. Not that Benji needs an excuse, anyway, but he’s glad to accept.
Ethan lives in a studio apartment that’s only sparsely decorated. He’s quick to lie down on the couch, groaning as he situates himself and drapes his arm over his eyes. “Sorry,” he says to Benji. “I’ll get up in a moment.”
“Take your time. What do you need me to do?”
“Get some painkillers, maybe?”
“Right. Are they in your bathroom?”
He catches the nod of Ethan’s head. Benji enters the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet. After getting the pills, he heads to the kitchenette, where he fills a glass of water and returns to the couch. “Here you go.”
Ethan sits up and accepts the cup and pills. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
It sounds like a joke, it sounds sincere. Either way, Benji’s mouth goes dry. He licks his lips, shifts, and says, “What’s your plan for the rest of the night?”
“No idea.”
“Might as well stay for supper then, if that’s alright with you.”
“You can do whatever you want.”
In the sunlight through the window, Benji can suddenly see the dark circles underneath his eyes. He frowns when he sees them. “You need all the rest you can get,” he tells Ethan.
“I’ll be back in the field by the end of this month, probably.”
“I hope not. I mean, I’d love to see you again, but—I mean, you—”
He’s interrupted by Ethan’s gentle laughter. Benji lets it drop.
For a few moments, they sit in silence. Then Benji says, “Odd that we ran into Julia, huh?”
Ethan’s grin falters and he glances away. Oh, bloody hell, Benji thinks, he knew he shouldn’t have mentioned her. But he had never known what to believe about Julia prior to now, whether she was alive, whether she left him. And he had certainly never expected to see her on a different continent in the climax of a mission. Now is as good of a time as any to talk about her.
“It was nice seeing her,” Ethan says at last. “She seemed happy. I like seeing her happy.” There’s a way that his body relaxes that communicates that he means it.
“I’m sorry it couldn’t work out between you two.”
“Well,” Ethan sighs, “that’s the way it is when you work for a secret agency.” He looks back at Benji. “What’s got you talking about her?”
“The fact that you never do.”
“If she’s happy, what is there to say?”
“She was your wife.”
“And we went our separate ways.”
“Alright, so she’s happy. Fair enough. How about you?”
It comes out before Benji fully thinks it through. Stupid, he thinks, I’m so stupid, how do I take something like that back?
Ethan sits up a bit straighter and wraps his arm around the back of the couch. “How am I feeling?” He winces as he bends forward a bit. “I’m getting too old for this, that’s what I’m feeling.”
A breathy laugh comes from Benji. Ethan, old. He knows it, he knows they’re both old compared to all the new recruits nowadays, and yet Ethan is better than any of them. Ethan’s old and he’s old and they just saved the world in Kashmir, and the thought makes him laugh. Then Ethan is laughing too, for no reason but that he can, and it feels so good to see Ethan laugh, to hear Ethan laugh, to be reassured that they can have fun when they’re with each other, until, suddenly, Ethan puts his hand around the back of Benji’s neck and lightly tugs him forward.
The laughter slows, fades away. They’re left looking at each other, at their lips, hovering near each other with uncertainty for a moment, before Benji finally closes the gap.
It lasts for one second, two. They part, wait, breaths baited, hearts beating, because both of them knew it was going to end like this, but it’s still surprising anyway. Benji leans forward again, this time kissing a bit harder, and then again, until Ethan parts his lips and Benji digs his fingers into his forearms. Oh, this is heaven, this is something he can’t put into words, something he’s warded himself off of for years, but now that he has it, it feels so fucking good, so fucking incredible.
Ethan’s kissing him back, as hard as he can without straining his ribs, with the frenzy of someone who’s waited too long to do this, and Benji wonders, oh god, has he wanted this too, all along? And he knew it, he’s always known, but it catches him off guard anyway. He kisses him and kisses him until their lips part again and Ethan takes a breath. They’re both so old, Benji thinks, but yet he feels so young.
“Stay for supper?” Ethan whispers, and it’s half a question and half a command.
“Yeah,” Benji answers. Ethan kisses him again before he can say anything else.