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Benji has lost count of how many times he and Ethan had been married.
There was a first time, a more elaborate one where the mission depended on the mark believing that Ethan and Benji were madly in love newly weds. Back then, having to sell being in love while pretending to not actually be in love with Ethan was torture.
He remembers when they rehearsed their backstory and practiced the level of intimacy they should be at with each other. He told himself it’s strictly professional. He pulled out every ounce of acting he had in him. He could do this. He was good at this. He knew he was.
He remembers Ethan being so tentatively careful. Hands that would fall on him in a display of public affection, but never wandering further than the boundaries they had discussed prior. Pulling him close, but always with just enough space left that Benji could easily maneuver away if he wanted to.
Benji was the same way back. Calculated touches that never linger more than they should. Practiced ease in their lack of personal space in which he never allowed himself to relax. No one could tell looking at them, of course, but they knew. They were all but too aware.
Ethan had never felt more out of reach than in those agonizing hours trying to get the mark to take interest in them.
Then the mission went wrong, because it always does, and they escape the mansion the party was held at by the skin of their teeth.
Maybe it was the euphoria of being alive, maybe it was the wine that he admittedly drank more than he should’ve, but sitting there, huddled at an abandoned bus stop with Ethan, finally out of danger and waiting for Luther to pick them up, the simple wedding band on his finger was suddenly the most hysterical thing Benji had ever seen in his entire life.
He laughed, and he couldn’t stop. Ethan looked at him in amusement, and soon he was laughing, too. The absurdity of that instance, of two grown man laughing themselves silly in the middle of nowhere, only added to the fire of Benji’s mirth. He felt himself relax, and felt the tension leave Ethan’s body next to him.
By the time Luther showed up, they were leaning into each other, sharing knowing looks as they kept giggling, and both shrugged in answer to Luther’s raised eyebrow.
They didn’t talk about it.
But things shifted after that, somehow.
It’s their go-to cover story now. They know each other well enough to pretend to be married. Shared enough near death experiences and trauma and memories that most married couples do. Know the comfort level the other has to never cross the line. It’s practical.
A pet name thrown out when the museum staff catches them where they shouldn’t be.
An arm tossed over the other’s shoulder to pull into a close embrace when the target they’re tailing looks their way.
A hand taking the other’s as they bluff their way up to the guard they’re going to incapacitate.
A kiss, not on the lips, never on the lips, but just close enough to look real to the child who isn’t supposed to be there, who they’re going to have to figure out a way to get to safety without exposing their identities.
Sometimes it’s Ethan. Sometimes it’s Benji. They’re both dancing on the line until the line had somehow disappeared.
Until Benji finds himself reaching for Ethan’s hand in the quiet darkness of their hiding spot, alone together, and Ethan doesn’t pull away.
Until Ethan plops himself down next to him on a couch in a safehouse, not bothering to keep any distance from Benji, and Benji leans into him in response.
Until standing in close proximity to each other feels like the most common thing in the world, where once upon a time Benji’s heart might have beaten itself out of his throat.
Until……until. Until.
It’s early morning, and Benji is standing on the rooftop of some hotel in Budapest. It’s the fifth one this month, and he aches for home.
But it’s not so bad, he supposes. All the more so when a familiar presence takes its spot next to him.
Ethan touches his shoulder to Benji’s. Benji lets himself place a hand on Ethan’s arm. They stand in silence as they watch the city wake up beneath them.
For once there’s no urgency to start the day. The mission is behind them and their plane isn’t due until noon. There’s something very calming about choosing to wake up early instead of being forced to. The colors of the sky brightens with each passing minute, and Benji takes a deep breath.
He feels a hand over his. He turns his head and sees Ethan looking at him, a small smile on his lips. Ethan’s thumb rubs gentle circles into the back of his hand. Benji smiles back.
In the end, leaning forward and kissing Ethan is the easiest thing he’s ever done.
He pulls back, but Ethan chases after him, and they’re kissing again. Deeper. Longer. Words that Benji never said swirling at the tip of his tongue as he drinks in the silent promises spilling from Ethan’s mouth. It’s earth shattering in that it’s mundane. It’s extraordinary in that it’s plain.
Of course they ended up here, Benji thinks. It’s the natural progress of things. Two marbles thrown into a basin that were always destined to meet in the middle.
Inevitable.
They break apart for breath. Benji beams at Ethan, and allows himself a second to lock the look of pure joy on Ethan’s face into his memories. He plants another quick kiss on Ethan’s cheek, then steps away from the metal fence lining the edge of the roof. Ethan follows, and they leave the city skyline behind, hand in hand.
They’re dancing together now and will be until the end of their time. Benji knows it in his soul.