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August 6, 1989.
Brooklyn, New York City, New York.
Ben’s hand is warm on the small of his back.
The thick, soupy weight of the air and crowds of sweaty, laughing people surround them, bright lights flashing in Tony’s eyes and children’s shrieks echoing in his ears. He looks up at Ben.
“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” he asks as he leans into the pressure of Ben’s hand, feels the heat seeping through the thin fabric of his cotton band t-shirt, runs a hand through his hair to loosen the sweat collecting in his curls.
“Because you had no childhood and you deserve to experience this just once before your teenage years are gone entirely,” Ben answers easily, thumb twitching slightly to guide him into turning left, weaving them expertly through the crowd. Tony watches as a pint-sized little girl sprints by holding a stick of cotton candy larger than her head and grins.
“Hey, Benny–”
“Yes, angel, we can get you cotton candy.”
“Mm, you’re the best boyfriend,” Tony says, just to watch the blush on Ben’s face. He wants to hold Ben’s hand, to press more into his side, to kiss the wide smile on his face. He settles for turning, brushing a subtle kiss to Ben’s bicep, and murmuring, “Love you.”
Ben glances around, leans down, drops a kiss to the crown of Tony’s head, then straightens up. “I love you too.”
“So what’s first?”
“Can’t have a trip to Coney Island without a ride on the Cyclone.”
Ben’s pinky skates over his spine and Tony looks up automatically, following Ben’s outstretched arm to where it’s pointing at a spiralling collection of bars curving into a steep drop. His face splits into a grin wide enough that the muscles hurt, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Yes!”
Tony runs towards the line of people outside the rollercoaster’s entrance, Ben’s hand dropping from his back for a split second before he slows down to let Ben lead him around a cluster of junior-high students with gentle taps and brushes of his fingers across his back. “You’re gonna get run over, angel,” Ben teases as they take a spot in the line behind a young woman holding a toddler on her hip. Tony elbows his ribs gently, watching the little boy in front of them as he chews on a strand of his mom’s hair, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, making sure Ben’s hand stays in place.
“I’m not small enough to get run over!”
“Whatever you say,” Ben hums. Tony huffs. Ben taps one of the ridges of his spine, skims his palm up and down, presses his thumb lightly into the dip of his shoulder blades. “Wish I could kiss you.”
“I know–me too.” Tony looks up and winks. “Don’t worry, handsome, I’ll let you hold my hand if you get too scared.”
Ben laughs, head tipping back, eyes crinkling in the corners, mouth opening wide in a grin that takes over his face. Tony’s chest fills with a warmth, a warmth that wells up into his mouth and tastes like citrus, tastes like home, tastes like Ben. The lights of the rides around them blur together and reflect in Ben’s eyes, hazel speckled with gold and dancing with neon LEDs. The noises of overlapping chatter fade to background music supporting the symphony of Ben’s laughter. Tony’s heart sings when Ben’s nose scrunches, the barely-there patch of freckles sprinkled across his skin like stardust almost disappearing with the movement. Ben’s hand doesn’t leave his back, the pad of his index finger rubbing tiny circles. He’s filled with the overwhelming urge to drag Ben behind the stand for the shooting game next to them and kiss him senseless.
Ben’s ring finger taps his back twice. “You okay?”
Tony blinks, then smiles softly, voice gentler than he means it to be when he speaks. “Yeah, I’m with you.”
A bright flush climbs up Ben’s neck. “You were staring. Oh, do I have paint on my face again?” he asks, other hand already coming up to scrub over his face, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheekbones, the dimple on his chin, all places Tony’s teased him for the flecks of paint that somehow appear there.
“Uh–yeah,” Tony lies, because it gives him the chance to go on his toes, to reach up and cup Ben’s face, to touch his skin and the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. He feigns rubbing a bit of paint off Ben’s forehead with his thumb, lingering on his tiptoes for a few seconds longer to take in the love in Ben’s eyes.
“Angel,” Ben whispers, a warning darkening the gentle word, clouding the easy-going smile on his face, building tension in the lines of his shoulders. Tony drops back to the balls of his feet, turns to look at the line in front of them, grins at the toddler, and Ben rubs his back in thanks, nudges him into moving forward, hums casually like they have nothing to hide.
“Sorry,” Tony says, after a few minutes spent in silence as they inch their way towards the ride entrance.
“Don’t be. We’re okay, no one saw.”
Tony exhales slowly, because Ben’s voice is sure and strong, his eyes are soft, and the tension has eased out of his shoulders. “Okay.” Ben’s hand slides up his spine to squeeze the back of his neck quickly before slipping back down. “I just got distracted, you know?”
He can tell without looking that Ben’s brow is crinkled in confusion. “By what?”
“By your handsome face, handsome.”
Ben’s neck reddens again, climbing up to his cheeks this time. “I understand that, I get distracted by your beauty constantly, angel.”
Tony bites back a smile and just hums, pressing a little closer as he watches a young man join the woman in front of them, take the toddler from her, press a kiss to her cheek, and step out of the line. The boy giggles and pats his cheek, the woman smiles at them both and says something that the crowds around them swallow up before it can reach Tony’s ears. He looks up at Ben and says softly, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Ben says back just as softly.
The line moves again, Ben’s thumb brushes over his back, and suddenly they’re at the front. Tony clambers into one of the middle cars, the pressure leaving his back as Ben’s hand falls away but moving to his hand as Ben laces their fingers together. Tony squeezes his hand gently, relishing in the feeling of Ben’s leg pressed against his, Ben’s arm against his, the most contact they’ve had all day.
Tony jerks as the ride starts to move, as he starts to hear metal clicking underneath them, as Ben’s grip on his hand tightens just slightly. The crowds of people grow smaller beneath them, the lights of the rides and signs blurring together, the noises of the park growing quieter.
Things slow to a standstill as they reach the top. “Ready?” Ben asks.
Tony nods. Then they drop. And he forgets to scream.
All he sees is the wind in Ben’s hair. All he hears is is Ben laughing. All he feels is falling, and falling feels like flying, falling feels like when he first met Ben, falling feels like I love you and angel and Ben.
His heart doesn’t stop pounding until they come to a stop under the shaded pavilion where people are waiting to take his and Ben’s places. They let go of each other at the same time and Ben helps him out and guides him down the steps to the exit. Tony doesn’t wait for Ben’s hand to take its place on his back again. Instead he grabs his arm, tugs him into a sheltered corner, twines his arms around Ben’s neck, tangles his hands in Ben’s hair, kisses him hungrily. Ben’s hands land on his waist, squeezing gently, tugging him closer, pressing their bodies together. Both of them ignore the sticky heat of the air and the way their closeness makes sweat roll down the back of Tony’s neck, the side of Ben’s face.
“I love you–I love you–” Tony pants into Ben’s mouth. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Ben gasps back, “I love you too.”
They stay like that, trading kisses in secret, sharing air, breathing each other in, until their lips are swollen, until their faces are red, until they can’t kiss anymore from smiling too much.
Ben pulls away first. “Want to get that cotton candy now?” he asks softly. At Tony’s nod, he settles his hand back on the small of his back, leading him through the masses of people and towards a small cart with sticks of cotton candy in bags hanging off the sides.
Tony gets blue, Ben gets pink, and they steal bites from each other, mouths sticky with sugar and wide with grins. Ben plays a shooting game and loses all three times; Tony tries once and wins Ben a stuffed polar bear. They go on the Cyclone twice more and Tony forgets to scream both times, try the Wonder Wheel and kiss at the top where they’re high enough away from prying eyes, ride the Thunderbolt which makes Ben scream until he’s hoarse and Tony laugh until he can’t breathe.
When the sun goes down, colors streaking across the sky in a sunset that Tony knows Ben’s fingers itch to paint, the city around them lights up.
Tony spots a photo booth tucked in between a beanbag toss and a dart-throwing game and nudges Ben gently. “Wanna get our photos taken, Benny?”
Ben grins and takes his hand, the park empty enough for their love not to be hidden, tugging him towards the dinky-looking metal booth. Tony laughs, pulling out his wallet to feed a couple quarters into the slot on the side and shoving Ben into the booth, plopping into his lap and tugging the curtain shut behind them.
There’s a flash before they’re expecting it. Tony laughs harder at the shock on Ben’s face.
The second flash goes off when Ben tilts his head up and presses a kiss to the corner of his smiling mouth. The third goes off when Tony turns and winks at the camera. The fourth goes off when they meet halfway in a kiss that’s as soft as it is deep.
Ben taps his back gently with all four fingers after they hear the beep of the camera and Tony breaks the kiss. “Today was fun,” he murmurs. Ben smiles and Tony traces the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“Yeah, it was. Love you.”
Tony kisses his nose just to see it scrunch. “Love you too.”
Laughter makes its way to their ears from outside the booth and Tony gets off Ben’s lap, slips outside to grab their photos, grins at the kids waiting their turn, waits until Ben’s hand is on his back again to walk away.
The photos are blurry, but their love is clear.
Ben’s smile is clear in his voice. “Those are great.” His hand slips into Tony’s back pocket as they walk.
“You tryin’ to cop a feel, handsome?”
Ben pinches his ass in response.
“No, I’m grabbing this–” He holds Tony’s wallet in front of his face, plucks the strip of photos from his hands, makes a show of tucking it in between the folds of bills, grins wide when it fits perfectly. “For safekeeping.”
Tony feels a rush of love, tasting citrus again.
“For safekeeping.”
January 3, 2014.
Manhattan, New York City, New York.
Tony’s going through a box of old things from his college days, scavenged from the wreck of the Malibu mansion and mailed over by Pepper three days ago with a note taped to the top labelling it urgent, when he finds it.
The photo strip is tucked in the pocket of an oversized MIT hoodie. Tony picks it up with trembling hands. The left corner is bent, the glossy sheen to the paper is scratched, the center is creased from being folded too many times.
The love in Ben’s eyes is the same.
Tony bursts into tears.