Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time it happens they’re on a shoot in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, on a small Hawaiian island nobody’s ever even heard of.

There’s some kind of festival in town, and when they go to check in at the hotel, they find that there’s been a mistake with the booking. Only two of the three rooms they’ve booked are actually available. It’s not much of a discussion. Sam will be taking one of them, the film crew the other.

Adam and Ben pull the short end of the stick, by virtue of being Ben and Adam. 

It’s not the end of the world. If anything – at least that’s Adam’s humble opinion – they get to see a little bit more of this pretty unique place this way. Armed with Sam’s company credit card, they make their way through town, checking hotel after motel after B&B. It doesn’t take long before they find a place to sleep at, a quaint little thing called “The Princess Bed and Breakfast”, a few streets away from the hustling town center, with roses growing up the facade and colorful curtains decorating the windows.

Stepping inside, cool air drying the sweat on their faces, it is easy enough to ask the woman behind the front desk for a room for the night. A friendly smile and a quick look through a big paper folder later, she confirms that they can stay here, but not before apologizing profusely about there only being one room available. Adam is quick to wave her worries away, as he grabs Ben’s glasses – from his face – to read the fineprint on the surprisingly old-fashioned check-in form. No wonder they don’t have an online presence to book their rooms with – they just barely seem to have upgraded to a photocopier. 

“You always remember to pack a jacket for me on these trips, but not once have I seen you actually remember to bring your own glasses,” Ben grumbles behind him, no longer busy playing Angry Birds on his phone now that Adam has stolen his glasses. 

“I just need them for a moment, buddy.” 

Adam is so focused on the paperwork in front of him, he doesn’t even notice when the receptionist's apologies give away to silence and a meaningful glance between the two of them. Putting his name on the dotted line at the bottom, and offering their passports – both stored in the depths of Ben’s awfully loud and silly backpack – Adam returns his attention to the receptionist. Not even the exhaustion of twenty hours of non-stop travel is enough to dim the charm of his smile. 

Meave always says that his smile is deadly; so far Adam just thinks that it makes him irresistible to old ladies and drunk men at bars offering up life advice. 

“Here you go,” the receptionist says after looking over their passports, giving Adam an old analog key with the number five engraved on it. “If you go upstairs here, it is the second door to the left. Breakfast starts at 7 a.m and we ask our guests to please keep quiet after 10 p.m.”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, one Adam doesn’t fully understand until he opens the door to their room with a decisive turn of the wrist, only to be greeted by a small, very floral room virtually dominated by a king sized bed. One king sized bed. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, she totally thinks we’re banging.” Ben pushes into the room past him, shoulder checking him into the wall with his giant backpack. There doesn’t seem to be a worry in the world weighing him down, his sigh simply content once he lets himself fall back onto the bed – still dressed in his sweaty travel clothes.

“Ben. Not with the dirty street clothes—”

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“That she thinks we’re a couple. That you’ll have to share a bed with me tonight.”

Does it bother him? Adam looks at Ben, sprawled out over the bed they’ll share tonight, sweaty and disheveled and smirking. Adam’s never met anyone else who can smirk as effortlessly as Ben does.

It’s not a stupid question. Then again, Ben rarely asks stupid questions. He’s too clever for that. He might look like a silly guy, with his bright orange pants and the glasses that are just a tiny bit too big for his face, but Adam hasn’t allowed himself to forget the burning intelligence buried deep within those blue eyes ever since Ben completely stumped him during their first meeting.

It’s almost as if Ben can see straight through him, uncover what Adam would rather let fester away in the darkness. 

Thoughts and memories like these. 

This isn’t the first time anyone’s ever assumed he’s gay. Of course, it isn’t. Adam isn’t the biggest guy around, and even if he is taller than Ben, he’s thinner, more reedy looking. It doesn’t help that he’s got a pretty high voice and enough restless energy to drive even the most patient teacher insane with his fidgeting. 

Teenage boys come up with the strangest qualifiers for masculinity, and Adam never really fit into those rigid structures. Not as a teenager, and certainly not now. For all the troubles he got into as a kid, he never proved himself as one of the guys. Whenever he had to visit the principal’s office for being too loud, or asking too many questions, or being a pedantic know-it-all to his teachers, it mostly got him labelled as an annoying nerd. A bit of a wimp. Yeah, he never had any trouble finding a girlfriend – even someone as amazing as Maeve – but somehow that doesn’t mean it didn’t sting when boys during track called him slurs after he trashed them out on the field. It doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when Anna turned him down in ninth grade and then told everyone that he only asked her out so she could be his beard. 

He likes to think of himself as a pretty open-minded guy. He doesn’t want to be bothered by this.

(even if he is. maybe. if only slightly)

He swallows all of that back down before he answers.

“Of course, I’m okay with it.” 

“ Fan-tas-tic. ” Ben says, drawing the word out until it’s long overstayed its welcome.

“Unless you’re bothered by it?” 

They both know why Adam is asking.

Well, Adam at least is pretty sure they both know why.

Ben isn’t exactly the poster boy for masculinity either, but his deviation from the norm reads as more nerdy than anything else. Considering the guy loves bright colors, cute animals, and Sex in the City… Adam doubts that many people have questioned his heterosexuality. Which is weird, now that Adam’s really thinking about it. 

“Why would I be bothered by it? The only thing bothering me right now is you and your ceaseless nagging.” Ben somehow manages to sprawl even further, Adam already mentally changing the sheets to get the stink of airport travel out of them. “I just want a shower. And a nap.” 

“In that case, please take a shower.” Adam puts down his bag, making room for Ben to push past him into the tiny bathroom. “And don’t ever put your dirty shoes on our bed again. That’s disgusting.”

And that’s it. A smile and a shakingly delivered joke, a bad one at that. But they are both laughing and Adam knows they won’t ever talk about it again.

That night, head accidentally ending up on Ben’s chest, two surprisingly strong arms holding him in place (who knew Ben was a cuddler?), Adam doesn’t dream.

When a new vacancy opens the next day, they book a second room without consulting each other. If their business expenses look weird at the end of filming, Sam never mentions it. 

This should be the end of it.

(Adam really wants this to be the end of it) 

Somehow it isn’t.

Day Two-Three (???) of Circumnavigation, and they’ve been awake for more than fifty-two hours by now. Adam is pretty sure he can taste colors. Or maybe Ben is just sweaty and filthy enough that his brain is automatically translating every sensory input into taste in an ill-advised attempt to protect itself. In which case, Ben tastes horrible. Smells horrible. Whatever. It’s kind of hard to think right now. Adam really wants to get out of this heat. And into a shower. Always a shower. 

(that’s the thing none of them considered when pitching this show to Sam: grown men tend to develop body odor after so much time up in the air and down on the ground with no breaks in between to clean up)

(how two guys with mild to moderate mysopbobia could fail to pick up on this, Adam will never know)

The rest period started thirty minutes ago, but getting back to the hotel took longer than anticipated. Which is why they are only now entering the big lobby of the Mercure ICON, chilly AC-cooled air blowing into their faces like a gift sent from above. Which it literally is, considering the AC unit is built into the ceiling. Usually, they’d head straight up their rooms (or one singular room, as is the case today, since they used Sam’s company credit card to book a junior suite with two beds for surprisingly cheap) but Adam only got one keycard during check-in earlier, and they need a second one to lower the chances of one of them getting accidentally locked out. 

(most likely, even with these precautions, Ben will somehow manage to get stuck at the pool with no way to contact Adam, but, hey, at least this way they can say that they’ve tried)

It’s just a small request, so it shouldn’t be a problem. It usually isn’t.

The man behind the desk (polished marble with gold accents) looks at them with one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised. Adam steps closer. He knows how they look. Ben is fidgeting with his backpack right behind him, and Adam sends a silent prayer up in the hopes that the dried blood on his green pants is not visible from where the receptionist is sitting. They’re already filthy (and sunburned) enough to look like backpackers as is. And hotels like these really don’t like backpackers.

“Hi.” Adam makes sure to dial the brightness of his smile up to eleven.

“Hello. How can I help?”

“Earlier today we booked a room, and I was wondering if we could get a second keycard for it. I forgot to ask during check-in.”

The paper of the card sleeve sticks to his palm, when Adam shows him proof. The receptionist (Adam can’t find a name tag in all that sensible black cloth) doesn’t like them, that much is obvious based on the slight curl of his lips and the growing silence between all three of them. Exhaustion is mixing with the nausea in his stomach when he sees that look, apprehension quick to crawl up his throat. 

“I am very sorry, I cannot do that.” There’s not an ounce of remorse in Mr. Ethan Eng’s – Adam finally spots the namesign covered in gold filigree on his chest – voice as he checks something on the computer in front of him. “There seems to have been an error in our system. Your booking is no longer valid.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit!” 

Suddenly Ben’s right there, his shoulder pressed against Adam’s, as he leans over the counter. Warmth seeps into Adam, even if a part of him hates how much better he feels now that Ben is bewildered alongside him. 

“Please refrain from shouting-”

“But it’s bullcrap. I know we booked our room and I know the transaction took place because we checked it out earlier and everything was fine. We just want a second keycard. That’s all.”

Ben’s voice carries, even if he’s maybe half as loud as Adam is on a regular day. Even angry, Ben appears harmless. At least to Adam. Not that Mr. Eng seems to agree, considering the man is leaning as far back in his chair as he can without looking silly. 

Finally, Adam’s brain catches up with the scene in front of him, forcefully ejecting him back into the moment. “Please excuse my friend.” He places his hand on Ben’s back (damp and warm). “But he’s right. I booked a room earlier. Two queens in a junior suite for one night.”

He physically cringes the moment the words leave his mouth.

He did not just say that. Not now.

Judging by the barely stifled giggle he can hear coming from Ben, it’s already too late. One glance confirms it. Anger still darkening Ben’s cheeks, he is now biting down on his lip to keep from laughing out loud at Adam’s blunder. Schadenfreude has always been Ben’s Achilles heel. 

Mr. Eng, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow as if to loudly declare “you were saying”. And Adam? Adam is lost for words. Usually, he’d reach for his trademark charming smile, but right now he can’t find it in himself to turn every aspect of his personality up to max. There’s no camera pointed at them, no game to win.

There’s only this asshat at a random hotel in Singapore who won’t even man up and tell them why he’s denying them access to a room they legally booked. Adam’s pretty sure he knows the reason, can see it in the glimmer of Mr. Eng’s eyes, when he takes in their crummy appearance and physical closeness.

This is a hate crime, Adam belatedly realizes. He is being hate-crimed. No, discriminated against! For something he didn’t even do. Partook in? He’s not quite sure what language to use. 

His heartbeat echoes through his skull, his mouth awfully dry. He swallows. He’s so thirsty. They’ve had way too little water today, especially since long flights notoriously dehydrate you. He’s tired, soaked in sweat, and he hasn’t eaten real food since they left New York three days ago to get to Denver. 

This fucking sucks.

Ben isn’t going to solve this, especially since his buddy seemingly can’t decide whether he finds this horribly funny or just horribly enraging. He keeps threateningly squinting at Mr. Eng and something tells Adam that that simply won’t be enough. At least not enough to get them out of this hotel lobby and into a bed. 

A part of him wants to call Sam. Their friend (boss) probably knows how to solve a situation in which you are denied accommodations based on anti-discriminatory law. And if Sam doesn’t know, he’s at least friends with three people who do. But calling Sam would be giving up. It’d ruin the game, hell, the entire season. And by now they’ve put too much money and effort into making season two of Jet Lag: The Game to afford a setback like this. 

Before Adam can muster up the conviction to call Sam, he’s already convinced himself that it’s a bad idea.

And for once in his life he doesn’t argue. 

But he does barter.

“You know what? If we’re not welcome here—”

“Adam, what-”

“ If we’re not welcome here.” Adam repeats himself, using his hand on Ben’s back to pull him closer against his side (which should be impossible but somehow works). “We will not stay here. In which case I want a refund, a discount voucher for denied and dissatisfactory services, and preferably a conversation with your manager. This” – he makes it obvious that he means Ben and him – “wasn’t a problem when I booked a room earlier, so I do not understand why it is one now. In any case, we’ll be leaving a scathing review of this place online.”

And we’re YouTubers , he only just stops himself from adding on. 

They haven’t even uploaded a single video on the new channel yet, and all his writing credits on HAI and Wendover Productions probably wouldn’t qualify him as a legit online content creator in the eyes of Mr. Eng anyway. Plus, it sounds horribly douchey when people use their title as “YouTuber” or “Influencer” like this. Adam tries his best not to be horribly douchey. 

Even if he just pulled a Karen, as Ben would say. 

Adam’s directness startles Mr. Eng, who narrows his eyes at the spot on Ben’s shoulder where Adam’s hand is visible. Just for that, Adam tightens his hold. The noise coming from Ben sounds distinctly cat-like, slightly disgruntled and definitely confused, but Adam refuses to check in on him. The danger’s too big. One strange look from Ben, and Adam’ll be hysterically laughing, clutching his stomach to hold all the released tension in. 

It’s always been like this. No one makes him laugh quite like Ben. 

Especially considering how little sleep they’ve gotten. How much time they’ve spent with each other this past week. How they’ve slowly melted into one giant conglomeration of Star Wars references and nerdy Fun Facts, something Sam has once jokingly referred to as “Badam”, the true core of Team Ben and Adam. 

What he’s doing right now feels like a fever dream – or maybe he’s simply delirious. 

“I am telling you, there was a booking mistake in our system, Mr… Chase.”

“And I am telling you that I want a full refund and a meeting with your boss.” 

“Adam, I don’t think this is–”

“No, I want to resolve this. We spent a lot of money on this room, honey, and I won’t leave until we’ve gotten it back.” The nickname shapes strangely on his tongue, the taste of it wrong after years of calling Ben “buddy”. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of how he’s escalating the situation, knows the credit card (Sam’s) would probably refund automatically after not getting charged again, how this could be a non-issue if only he let it be. But instead, he doubles down even after realizing that Ben couldn’t care less about any of this, only desperate for a shower and not a moral high ground the way Adam is right now.

Mr. Eng and he are locked in a staring contest, Adam’s opponent not used to someone as high-strung as Adam. He’s a bit like a dog that way - once he’s gotten his teeth in, he won’t let go.

(Actually, a voice in his head piques in – it sounds a lot like Ben – it’s hyenas you’re thinking of)

The silence stretches on, time pulling apart like cooling molasses. 

Mr. Eng swallows, the only sign on his perfectly sculptured face that betrays any nervousness. And then he turns back towards his computer, and after typing a handful of letters, he looks back at Adam.

“It seems as if the system error has been fixed, Mr. Chase.” There is nothing in his eyes betraying what just happened. “You wanted a second roomkey? Can I please have the one already in your possession, so I can clone it?”

Adam is floored. Stumped enough that it’s Ben who steps in, untangling himself from Adam’s probably bruising grip, to pry the keycard out of his hand and give it to Mr. Eng. For once there’s no humor on his face, just simmering anger with nowhere left to go.  

Everything moves along quickly after that, as if nothing happened. But with the tension leaving the room, all that is left is the taste of stale air.

Minutes later they’re standing in the elevator bringing them up to their floor, lost in thought.

What the fuck just happened? Adam’s not quite sure. It already feels like a hazy memory, not just because of the adrenaline and sleep deprivation mixed together.

“We should do a video on the Boston molasses flood.”

“What?”

By now Adam should be used to Ben’s non-sequiturs, but it still catches him off guard.

“The molasses flood, you’ve heard about it. I’m sure. We should write a HAI video on it. I think we’d get a shitton of views.”

Sometimes Adam wonders whether or not Ben can actually read minds. Not that Adam was thinking about Boston. Or molasses. Or floods. But still, it feels as if Ben looked right into his head and plucked out something silly and inconsequential, as if to say “look, it isn’t that bad, is it?”. 

And, yeah, compared to the people in Boston in 1919, they are indeed quite well off.

“Did I do the right thing?” Adam finally asks, knowing that Ben will understand even if he doesn’t explain.

“What else were you supposed to do?”

“We should have talked to the manager. This was discriminatory action. Or I should– I have pictures of Maeve and me on my phone. I could have proven that we’re not— but that’s bullshit, isn’t it? Proving I’m straight doesn’t solve this guy being a homophobic asshat. I mean, I don’t even know what the laws in Singapore are on same-sex…”

Adam trails off. Too many words in too little time. 

The elevator reaches their floor (No. 11) just as he turns around to look at Ben, who has his thinking face on, full lips parted slightly as he breathes. 

“You’re overthinking this. Obviously the guy was just doing something impulsive, guided by his own messed up biases. You pushing back a little bit was all it needed. Though, if I can complain a little bit?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

And here it comes, Adam prepares himself for Ben telling him to back off. To stop hugging him as much, to cool it with the casual touches. They are close – Adam knows this. Most guys take extra care not to fall asleep on their buddy’s shoulder in public, and they definitely don’t refer to their weekly New York meet-ups as “cute little lunch dates” (that’s what they’re called in Ben’s calendar app). 

But Ben isn’t most guys. That’s why he’s Adam’s best friend.

“ Honey ? Really? Do I look like a Honey to you?” Ben turns around right in front of the door leading to their room. A part of Adam wishes this could wait until they’re finally safe inside, another part of him wishes he had the phone camera ready to film whatever insane stuff is about to come out of Ben’s mouth. “Excuse you, Good Sir, but I am a certified cutiepie . A sweetheart, even. Some might call me babygirl. Don’t you Honey me when you want to show up some motherfucker. I need to be recognized for my best qualities. And we all know that I’m a fucking snack .”

“Some would even say you’re truly goated with the sauce.” 

Ben narrows his eyes, considering whether he likes Adam’s witty response or not, before he starts grinning, repeating almost to himself, “Goated with the sauce, that is true. I am a Sauce Boy, after all”. 

Adam really wishes he had a camera right now, if only to prove to Sam later just how crazy Ben is. And to prove to himself that all is well. 

With the adrenaline slowly receding, his body remembers just how tired he is. How sweaty and shaky (and still a bit messed up after that bungee jump earlier). Ever since he jumped, it’s as if his head is screwed on wrong. It’s hard to comprehend just how insane the last fifty-plus hours have been. It’s even harder to understand what just almost happened. 

Once again proving just how attuned Ben is to pretty much anything Adam-related, he turns around as he opens the door, and says, “what if it really was just a system error?”. 

“What?”

“What if- what if the guy checked your name and keycard, couldn’t find you in the system and it was really just a technical error?” Ben’s trying really hard not to laugh.

“God, I fucking hate you. I am going to kill you.”

“I’m just saying— what if you wifey-fied me all for nothing! You made Badam happen over a misunderstanding! If this guy wasn’t homophobic before, he will be after meeting Adam Chase, the most aggressively gay straight man to ever walk through the doors of the Mercure ICON.”

“I will kill you dead.” Adam’s too tired for all of this, his laugh at least a little bit manic, a touch pained. “You know that’s not what happened.”

“I know.”

And that is all the acknowledgement he gets, before Ben vanishes in the second part of the room to claim his own bed and his own shower. Now all that is left is Adam. With his backpack and dirty sneakers, slowly unraveling after whatever the fuck went down in the lobby.

Did he make a mistake?

No, he doesn’t think so. That guy was definitely judging them for- for what, exactly? Their run-down appearances? Or their physical closeness? Could he see how much Adam relaxed the closer Ben got to him? Or was it a cultural misunderstanding based on PDA and not their perceived sexual orientation?

And why the fuck does Adam care?

(that’s a question that’s plagued him since he was a little boy, restless in a way his mother couldn’t satisfy, school couldn’t quench. He’s always cared too much. About whether things are fair, or rules followed, or laws broken. He’s been called annoying over it, and a pissant and a freak and a sell-out. It’s also what got him into Yale.)

(Maeve always says he’s the worst person to play boardgames with and yet she continues to play and laugh with him anyway – he and Ben have only ever played checkers)

He won’t find an answer to any of that today (he’s not even really sure what day it is anymore), so, instead he heads into the bathroom. The shower won’t wash his thoughts away, but at least it will finally get rid of all that dirt. If anything else gets swept down the gutter alongside it, good riddance. 

They never mention any of this to Sam; at least, Adam doesn’t. It feels too strange to put it into words. “Hey, I think, we almost got discriminated against for being perceived as part of a group we do not actually belong to” – yeah, there’s no way in hell that Adam’ll be the one to admit that. Especially after Ben’s successfully sowed doubt in his mind.

It doesn’t help that it’s hard to look back at himself, in that moment, and understand why he did what he did. Why it was easier for him to grab Ben and pull him close, than it was to calmly explain that Adam would not just take being kicked out of the hotel he’d already booked lying down. 

He’s man enough to admit that it bothers him a little bit when people spot him and Ben in public and immediately ask how long they’ve been together (and he’s always told himself that it’s because it showcases how narrow expectations of classical masculinity still are). Just as irks him when people at a party he goes to with Maeve assume that he’s gay and just there as her platonic Plus One (because she’s his girlfriend and some deep, ugly part of his heart wants people to know that). 

Usually, he laughs about it. It’s not as if he doesn’t know how he comes across. He’s too old to be confused by the stereotypes people place on him, especially after traversing the stuffy backrooms of New Yorker writer’s rooms. He knows his openly affectionate nature doesn’t read as sarcastic – apparently the only way real men are allowed to be genuinely nice to each other – and he isn’t old enough to embrace the flamboyancy of Off-Broadway legends in a way that reads as androgynous. 

So, yes, usually, he has no choice but to laugh about it and make a joke.

But in Singapore he did the opposite. He leaned into it. He called Ben honey (something Ben rightfully called him out for). He maybe ruined this receptionist’s day based on what could very well be a misunderstanding.

He hates how much it bothers him. 

Never before has he thought twice about hugging Ben or calling him buddy in front of friends or business contacts or strangers on the street – hell, Maeve regularly invites Ben over as his work husband, and so far he’s always laughed whenever she did.

But he’s sure as fuck thinking about it now. 

And he doesn’t like the way it feels when he does. 

Adam ignores Ben’s side eye the next time they have to book a room at the last minute, and Adam starts the conversation off by pretending to be on the phone with his girlfriend. It’s nothing really, he would just rather prefer not to experience yet another microaggression – and it’s not as if Ben didn’t comment on some “hot ladies” just a few minutes earlier in a way that felt incredibly left field and out of pocket. 

(and, no, Adam’s not just projecting)

In the grand scheme of things, it is just a short, insignificant moment. They’re in Alaska, it’s late and dark, and tomorrow they’ll head back to Colorado. Just another stop before he can finally get back to New York and his own bed. Adam’s not even sure why he’s obsessing so much over it in the first place. Probably because he’s aware of his own mimicry of masculinity. This sudden urge to be seen by others a certain way, to be considered normal and cool. You’re supposed to grow out of that need for group validation once you’re done with high school, but somehow it never stops. Adam’s always been loud, and his voice is still high, but now he’s loudly talking about his girlfriend, and it feels like a disservice to both her and him.

He never thought he’d be that guy.

He doesn’t want to be that guy.

And yet here they are. 

Ben never mentions it, but Adam still feels judged. 

He’ll have to try and be better. That’s the only path forward, isn’t it?

(only, following that directive is a lot harder if you have no idea how to start – and what the underlying problem even is)

It’s not Ben’s fault, after all, that Adam seems to struggle with this. There’s no reason to hesitate before a hug, and there’s no reason to be half a step behind Ben whenever they enter a restaurant together to get dinner. All of that is just Adam’s messed up head fucking with him. 

Even Maeve’s noticed something is wrong, and Adam’s pretty sure he’s a 100% normal whenever he’s with her. 

Being called gay hasn’t bothered him like this since he was seventeen – so why the fuck is he suddenly losing his mind? 

He sounds like an allegory for White Fragility when he tries to defend himself as not homophobic. Many of his friends and acquaintances are queer, dammit, he’s a theater kid in New York! But somehow, when applied to him and Ben, it becomes an issue. 

Adam will have to get to the bottom of this.

Step 1: Stop being afraid of this thing you and Ben have. 

(Step 1 is a lot harder to realize than Adam anticipated it to be)

There’s a hand on his head, slowly combing through his hair. It’s the first thing Ben notices when he wakes up from his nap, this soothing, rhythmic motion on his head, the tingling sensation on his skin. It’s almost hypnotic. He likes it.

Eyes still closed, it takes him a moment to realize where he’s at. Or even why he’s woken up.

“The two of you make a very cute couple.”

Ben doesn’t know the voice, has never heard it before in his life, but it sounds like a sweet old lady, the one you find in every grocery store in the Midwest or at the park feeding pigeons. And, apparently, in the frequent flyer lobby at the Denver Airport, while they’re waiting for Sam.

There’s no doubt in Ben’s mind on who is combing through his hair. He does faintly remember falling asleep on Adam’s shoulder, after all. At some point Adam must have shifted in his seat, because Ben’s no longer napping on his buddy’s arm. Instead, his head is comfortably resting on Adam’s lap.

He’s still half-asleep, with how distant everything feels, his thoughts delightfully languish and slow. 

“Oh, we’re n—” Adam stops before he can correct the SOL (Sweet Old Lady). “Thank you.”

Ben doesn’t get it. Between the two of them, Adam is the one who’s weirded out by everyone assuming they’re gay. At least, he’s the one who stopped hugging as much (and as frequently) after the clusterfuck that was Singapore. They never talked about it, so maybe Ben’s wrong, and Adam’s just not in a mood for hugs right now, but that doesn’t feel right.

Still, that might very well be it. Adam’s certainly never told him otherwise. Then again, Ben’s never met someone as touchy-feely as Adam before in his life. By now he’s probably gotten more hugs from Adam than he’s ever gotten from his own dad. 

Thinking about it now, bathed in the languish warmth of a lazy nap, this is the first time in recent history Adam’s touched him willingly and freely. And for it to happen while Ben’s asleep…

There’s a thought brewing at the back of his mind, but for now Ben lets it rest. You don’t have to wake every sleeping beast, especially if you’re not sure you can handle the answer. 

“I’m Carol, by the way.” The SOL says, her voice closer now. Ben’s pretty sure she just sat down on the chair next to Adam. A wave of floral perfume hits him in the face, his nose scrunching up involuntarily (his glasses are gone, Adam must have taken them when Ben fell asleep). “I’m waiting for my husband. His flight got delayed, but all those frequent flier miles have to be good for something, am I right? At least I get to wait in here and not down in the big hall.”

“I’m Adam. That’s Ben.” The movement in his hair stops for a moment, Adam quick to resume once he’s introduced himself. Probably to soothe his own nerves. He always does this. Half the footage Ben edits is just him cutting out hours of Adam humming or yelling or singing or making weird croaky noises deep down in his throat. There’s usually also a lot of hand movements. Ben likes those – they make Adam look silly, and it’s nice to not always be the only silly guy around. “We’re waiting for our friend. His flight’s also delayed.”

“Hah, they might be on the same one then!” Carol laughs at the coincidence, the joy in her voice weirdly infectious. “Do you want a sweet tart?”

“That’s— yes, thank you.”

“So,” and now Carol’s getting that conspiratorial edge, “how did the two of you meet?”

Ben should have known. Judging by the honey-sweet twang in Carol’s voice, it’s clear she’s not a woman who can resist a bit of friendly gossip. Especially not the kind of gossip shared in the liminal space of an airport lobby. There’s something special about the strangers you meet while traveling, delayed trains and flights a uniting force Ben’s just all too familiar with.

If Adam’s suffering weren’t so deeply entertaining, he’d stop pretending to be asleep right now. Between the two of them, Ben’s the better liar by far. 

But this is too much fun. Not to say, but Ben’s horribly comfortable right now. He didn’t even realize how much he missed Adam’s Adam-ness those past couple of months until now. Ben’s not the most open guy, but somehow he likes it when Adam invades his personal bubble to share a joke, or a hug, or a pat on the back.

It’s different when it’s Adam, and it’s cheesy to say, but he’s glad the casual touches are back.

“Uh, it’s a boring story.” You can always tell when Adam’s nervous, because his voice goes up. Right now it’s positively pitchy. 

“I’m sure it’s not. You don’t have to tell me, of course, but two strapping young men like you, I cannot imagine…” 

Unfortunately for Adam, his insane ability to charm just about anyone comes with a drawback: he has basically no immunity against lovely, nosey people who offer him sweets. Sure, between the two of them, Ben’s the one who would most likely get kidnapped on the promise of a chocolate fountain, but Adam is the one who’d help an old lady cross the street just to get robbed on the other side. He’s just too nice for his own good.

“It’s really not that- We met at a party in New York. I worked freelance for this comedy magazine and Ben – he was still in college back then – he’d written an article or two for them. I genuinely don’t remember why I first talked to him… probably just the fact that we were two of the youngest people at that party by literal decades.”

“Oh, so you’re funny distinguished young gentlemen.”

“We try to be. Not sure it always works.” Adam’s laugh’s genuine, and it’s surprisingly nice to hear Carol join in. “But, yeah, I started talking to him. And just— he was so funny. It’s unbelievable. At first I thought he might be a bit of an idiot” – Ben’s gut (and thoughts) churn at the warmth Adam puts into just that tiny word – “because he made so many Vine references it was almost painful.”

“But?” 

And it’s obvious Carol’s heard (and lived) a million love stories before, because she can read Adam just as well as Ben right now. 

(and Ben doesn’t really like the connotations of that) 

“But then he hit me with this great one liner about Rothko and the major. I don’t remember the details anymore, but it was something about red flags in politics. And I just— I lost it. Taught me to never underestimate him either. He’s humble enough to make jokes at his own expense and suffer the consequences with good humor and grace, but there’s something special about seeing just how- how brilliant he can be.”

“But that’s not the end of it, is it?”

Of course, it isn’t.

Because Ben remembers what followed next just as well as Adam does – Adam inviting him to co-write a piece for the magazine together, none of their projects ever quite working out, until one day Ben desperately needs an internship and Adam is the only one he can call to get him out of this mess. And then? The two of them working together, but this time for real.

So far, Adam’s only told the truth. Only it’s a truth that feels much more vulnerable and emotional than Ben expected. When Adam lied about them being together, Ben assumed something else would follow. Something outrageous and embarrassing, something they could both laugh about later.

Whatever this is, it doesn’t feel like something to laugh about.

No, if anything, it feels precious.  

Ben doesn’t like it.

“No, it’s not quite the end. I asked him if we could write something together. Because I thought we’d be hilarious if we put our minds to it. And somehow I got my best friend in the whole entire world out of this innocent offer. I’m still not quite sure how I did it.”

Adam sounds bashful as he admits that. It would be better if he lied – it’s hard to keep his eyes closed and his breathing even, with Adam saying all that just a couple of inches above him. It doesn’t help that Ben can feel the sincerity clinging to every word out of Adam’s mouth.

Carol positively coos. “Oh my God, the two of you are adorable! Harold – that’s my husband’s name – wasn’t nearly as smitten with me at first.”

“Oh?” The hand in Ben’s hair relaxes, the shift pretty immediate once Carol – thankfully – changes the subject. 

“Yes, I know! Apparently I was a bit too aggressive for him. We met at an Anti-War protest in the early 90s. I tried to get myself arrested on purpose and he thought I was undermining the cause. We fought about it at almost every protest rally we met at.”

And with that the story shifts, as Carol delves into a life far more interesting than even their insane one. They might travel the world and film themselves while doing so, but Carol’s been out in the streets. The more she talks the more Ben thinks they should make one of their Wendover documentaries just about her, if only because she sounds like the coolest person he’s never met. He drifts off again as Adam starts to ask questions, the urge to eavesdrop falling away now that they are no longer talking about him. Well, about him and Adam.

Only this time the thought at the back of his mind is growing louder. More pressing. Ben continues to ignore it. Or, well, he’s trying his best.

Maybe the reasons why Adam stopped touching him as much are much more complicated than Ben thought they’d be. 

He isn’t a mind reader, no matter what Adam says. It’s a blessing when his thoughts fall silent once more, the repetitive motion on his head enough to pull him back under. No matter how confused he is right now. 

Not much time has passed – probably, Ben’s not really sure – when Adam wakes him up, one firm hand on his shoulder. This time he opens his eyes, confused and bleary and a little bit disoriented. There’s a creak in his neck. His back hurts.

“Rise and shine, buddy. Sam’s plane just got in.”

Adam’s face is way too close to his, the smile just a touch too wide and friendly. 

“I’m up and running,” Ben declares, pushing himself up and away. 

He doesn’t want to be touched right now.

No, that’s not quite it.

He craves reassurance, but isn’t sure how to ask for it. Especially not from Adam, especially not right now. 

“You okay?” There’s only honest concern shining out of Adam’s eyes, nothing at all betraying his conversation with Carol or the way his hands had gotten tangled in Ben’s hair.

In the midst of this chaos – they are not the only people in the lounge currently collecting their stuff in order to get ready – Ben feels horribly off-kilter. He isn’t used to this, no, he’s usually quite proud of his ability to bounce back thanks to his rather easy-going nature. Almost automatically his own hand brushes through his hair, the realization that he’s retracing Adam’s movements a weirdly intimate one.

“Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

It’s not what he wants to say, but it’s the closest to normal he can currently get. 

Perversely, he watches Adam to see if he reacts to the hand in his hair. 

Nothing.

“Don’t worry, bud. You had a long day yesterday, I get it.”

The smile on Adam’s face as he gets up is the same as always, the efficiency in which he grabs their bags almost frighteningly familiar. How many signs has Ben ignored in the past? How much has he failed to see? 

Ben’s not quite sure why he asks “Where’d Carol go?” because it’s not funny. This isn’t one of his bits. And he knows that. Knows it even before Adam’s already pale face moves another shade or two closer to gray. 

This isn’t funny, but something urges Ben to push it even further.

“I’m just wondering, because the two of you talked for quite a while.”

“You were awake for that?” Adam’s gone silent, his hand resting on the jacket he just pulled from his backpack. He looks like a prey animal, caught in the gaze of a deadly predator. If he chose to run, Ben knows he’d never catch up to him.

Both metaphorically and physically speaking.

“For some of it. Well, half-awake, half-asleep.” This is his chance to pull back, to act as if he only overheard the last bit of conversation, where Carol talked about the Gulf War and all the crazy shit she and her husband pulled together. 

But for some reason he doesn’t want to.

It’s hard to explain. Adam’s his best friend. They hug a lot. Ben’s not stupid, has seen the looks people sometimes give them, has read the comments on their YouTube videos and the reddit thread on CrimeSpree. And ever since Singapore, Adam’s been behaving differently as well. It’s not as if the idea of people seeing them as a couple bothers Ben – but it definitely bothers Adam.

And now Adam’s discomfort has gotten a whole new dimension added to it. 

And suddenly Ben’s the one who’s bothered. 

It doesn’t make any damn sense.

Slowly, Adam starts working again, pulling his jacket on and the backpack up on his shoulders, before answering a carefully worded “Yeah, so it turns out her husband and Sam were stuck on different planes – Delta airlines, the gift that keeps on giving. She left ten, fifteen minutes ago.”

“I hope you got her number.”

“Why?”

“We could write an entire Nebula exclusive just about her and her husband. I’m not even joking.” 

“You’re—” Adam starts, his gaze piercing when he looks at Ben. “Is everything alright? If there’s something, you should—?”

They really need to leave. They have to get Sam, drive all the way to HQ, and then get ready for next week's shoot. They don’t have time for this. 

But Ben’s always been kinda shit at resisting his more impulsive thoughts.

“Are you in love with me, Adam?”

Chapter Text

“Are you in love with me, Adam?”

This sentence has been echoing through his mind ever since Ben stared straight into his soul in one of the most monotonous places on earth and completely destroyed everything Adam thought he knew about the two of them.

It’s been strange since then.

It’s not as if they’re not still friends – very good friends at that – but there’s a tension in the air that won’t go away. Tag Across Europe was a welcome distraction. But by now they’ve been back from the chaos of running across five different countries while being hunted (and developing increasing paranoia in Adam’s case) for a couple of weeks, and reality’s about to set back in.

When Ben asked that, it’d obviously been a joke. Fuck it, Ben had laughed seconds after asking the question! It wouldn’t help them any, if Adam continued to read too much into this whole exchange. If he let it grow and fester and consume every waking moment, like an incessant itch between his shoulders, too far out of reach to scratch. 

(of course, that’s exactly what he’s done in the weeks since it happened, lying away every night in Europe trying to figure out why the fuck Ben would ask him something like that)

It’s just— as much as Adam wants to think that this was just Ben trying out a new bit, he can’t. Adam was never that good at deceiving himself; one of the many reasons he so easily gets stuck in his own head. There was some truth to the question at least, some tiny inkling that pushed Ben to ask, some suspicion that made Ben joke about something he wouldn’t otherwise joke about, and Adam’s pretty sure his conversation with Carol is at fault. 

Not that that helps any.

Because what the fuck does it say about him, that both a complete stranger and his best friend came to the same conclusion when he told them the story of how they met? Especially considering the conclusion they reached was “Oh, yeah, Adam Chase is totally in love with Ben Doyle”.

He’s not.

At least, he’s pretty sure he’s not.

This uncertainty frightens him. 

His relationship to Ben is completely different from his feelings for Maeve. Maeve is his partner in life – Ben is his partner in crime. He likes touching Ben, but never once has he felt the urge to see him naked, or have sex with him. Yeah, the idea of another guy’s penis is doing nothing for him. 

(and it was a strange afternoon where he tried to figure out if maybe he was wrong about that)

When he’s with Maeve, he calms down. He becomes a different version of himself. Adam, from Maeve and Adam, likes to cook, go out and eat at new exciting restaurants all over New York, and visit comedy clubs and museums in his free time. He’s confident, charming, and even somewhat funny. Adam, from Ben and Adam, is a whole lot more nervous, and a whole lot faster too. He’s loud, cocky, and pretty damn intense. 

Those two versions of him are barely comparable, and yet the one thing they have in common is this: his respective partner centers him. Draws him back to himself and away from his racing thoughts. Makes him calm, when all Adam wants to do is scream in barely contained fury. 

In everyday life that is Maeve – but Adam has to admit (if only to himself) on Jet Lag that job definitely falls onto Ben. 

He loves Ben, he’s pretty sure about that at least. But in love? How is he even supposed to know? Loving Maeve is easy. It’s like breathing. Adam does it every day, every second, and he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. She’s his lifeblood, a heart steadily beating alongside his own. 

But Ben? 

Adam doesn’t fucking know.

Which is probably why he’s currently in the bathroom at Nebula (New York City, babey, the greatest city in the world!), splashing water into his face, instead of out in the studio to shoot the promo shots (and aftershow) for this season.

It’s the first time they are doing this, none of Adam’s worst fears when they first started this coming true. Yes, Jet Lag didn’t immediately change YouTube forever, but their first season was pretty well received. And now they’ve finished filming a third one and Dave Wiskus is going to host an aftershow – as if this is more than the side project of a guy in his mid-twenties and the two writers he hires to make his YouTube videos funny. 

Adam’s not used to being in front of the camera quite yet – and he’s not used to this.

The anxiety crawling up his spine is paralyzing; the idea of going back out there to sit next to Ben and joke? Terrifying. Everything he pushed down during the preparation and filming of the season is suddenly back on top. 

Yeah, he’s a nervous guy on a good day, but not like this. It’s easier when there’s a camera in the room with him – even if he’s the one holding it. But right now he can’t be “on”, he can’t pretend to be okay, he can’t act as if something didn’t fundamentally change between him and his best friend. 

But it’s not as if he has any choice.

Hence, the bathroom. Hence, the shaking hands splashing cold water on his sweaty forehead. 

(of course, that makes him think of Ben and the joke on male pattern baldness he told earlier and somehow that makes everything worse)

The door behind him opens, and it is Sam who steps into the room. Their eyes meet in the mirror. His friend looks concerned. Of course he’s concerned. Adam’s in the fucking bathroom having a mental breakdown instead of out there charming the CEO of the fucking streaming platform they work for.

“Everything alright?” Sam asks as if this is an everyday occurrence.

Adam’s weirdly thankful for that.

“Yeah, I just— I need a moment.”

“Does it have anything to do with why Ben sent me instead of looking for you himself?”

“What.”

“I have eyes, you know.” Sam’s lips twitch, his bigger frame blocking the exit by leaning against the bathroom door. For as much as they like to mock Sam’s awkwardness, the guy can be horribly socially intelligent. There’s a reason he has about one million friends, and is one of the best connected YouTubers out there. It just sucks when that skill is used to get under Adam’s skin. “You both act as if nothing’s wrong, but I’m usually in the room with you and I can tell.”

“You’re my boss, this isn’t really-”

“Well, it’s clearly affecting your ability to work. We’re at a work event right now, Adam, and you’re delaying the shoot.” It’s crazy how Sam can say stuff like this completely without judgement. This is just a statement of fact: they’re at work; Adam’s fucking up; Sam is his boss. And then, Sam reminds him of something else: “But I’m also your friend. You know that, right? If you wanna talk to someone, I’m here. And I won’t judge. Probably.” 

And it’s the truth.

He and Sam have known each other for four years now. Sam is more than just his employer, even if they both like to keep their relationship more professional than most people think is normal. Whenever Adam’s in a room with Sam, he’s no longer the most intense person in there – and as weird as it sounds, but that’s nice.

“If I tell you something, you have to promise me that it will never leave this room, okay? Because I am- I am asking as your friend.”

“Of course.”

Adam doesn’t have to look at Sam to know that he means it. There is no room for doubt in his voice. There is not so much as a weak bone in Sam’s body, and his promises are always true. He’s like a rock that way, perfect to hold onto in times of turmoil. It’s only a little bit weird that Adam’s the older one, and yet the one who needs guidance. Then again, Sam was nineteen when he hired Adam fresh out of college, so in many ways their relationship has always been at least a little bit unconventional. 

“I am—” he stops and swallows, his throat awfully dry, “I think, I’m- dammit. Fuck. Shit. Fucking hell. Okay. Give me a second.”

“I’m just glad we aren’t filming this. I don’t think you’d enjoy beeping every swear in the edit.” 

“Har Har Har. You’re so funny.”

“I know. Basically a comedic genius, I have no idea why I hired you to write my jokes.” The bastard’s not even smiling. 

And the thing is, it helps. It’s so silly and so stupid and so incredibly Sam, it calms Adam down.

“You see, the thing is… I think I’m going through a sexuality crisis.”

“Over Ben?!” 

The genuine confusion is honestly not necessary.

“Sam.”

“Sorry.” At least this once, Adam’s truly pulled one over Sam, it seems. His friend is taken aback, that much is obvious by the silence stretching on and on and on, until- “But Ben? Our Ben? Benjamin Doyle from Baltimore, Maryland?”

“You said you wouldn’t judge!”

“I am not! I am just– huh.” Sam pushes hair out of his face, as he searches for an answer. “Is this why Ben asked me if I think he’s homophobic while we were filming the season?”

“He what?” 

This conversation is so ridiculous, Adam’s stopped being nervous – no, he’s crossed that event horizon straight into pure absurdity. Nothing makes sense anymore, and just this once, Adam decides to enjoy the free fall (even if he’s afraid of heights). He can’t be bothered to go looking for a lifeline, transfixed by what is happening right in front of him.

“Uh, yeah. On the last day, the train to Stuttgart. He asked if he seemed like a homophobic kind of guy.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Well, I assumed it was because of some European teenager insulting him. You know that kind of stuff always happens to him. So, I told him that he’s probably okay, considering I’ve never seen him hurl any slurs at unsuspecting passersby.”

A quick look in the mirror confirms that his mouth is slightly agape, every quick-witted response wiped from his mind. What is Adam supposed to say to this? Nothing? Probably for the best. 

“But you’re right. That’s not what matters right now.” Sam is a god-sent, picking the thread back up when Adam’s pretty sure they’ve both lost it. “You’re having a crisis right now. And a crush on Ben?”

“No? Yes? Maybe. That’s what— Ben thinks so. Ben thinks I have a crush on him and it’s making me doubt myself.” The skin of his palms is damp, when he presses his hands against his face in frustration. “Oh God, that sounds so stupid. Why am I doing this to myself?”

“Ben thinks… how ?”

“He overheard me talking to someone else about him and apparently I sounded fucking smitten. And then he confronted me about it only to play it off as a joke. And I— I’ve never considered it. So how am I supposed to know?”

The faucet drips, drips, drips a couple of times, before Sam finds an answer, the look on his face steeped in concentration. “Have you talked to Ben about this?”

“Obviously not.”

“Well, as your boss, I’m telling you to do that. The both of you walking on eggshells around each other is going to affect the production of our show and the marketability of Jet Lag, considering the fans love Team Ben and Adam.”

“And what’s your real advice?” 

“Hey!” Sam allows himself a tiny smile. “That’s real advice! But, no, for real… talk to Ben. But more importantly, Adam? Talk to Maeve. Even if it’s just you getting up in your head, she needs to know. And from how you talk about her… she’s exactly the kind of person you’d want to help you through this kind of crisis. Better than me, for sure.” 

“I hate it when you make sense.” The thought of talking to Maeve about this makes him sick to his stomach. Doesn’t mean Sam isn’t right. She deserves to know about this. And she can probably help. She’s amazing like that. 

“You just hate to see me winning.”

“Hey, I won last season. And the one before that. If anyone here is winning-”

“Speaking of-” Sam steps away from the bathroom door, signalling that the time for real emotions is over. “You think you can go out there and talk about how you won Season 3 completely by accident?” 

“I put a lot of real effort into winning this and you know it!” Adam takes a deep breath, until his lungs are aching, and then he lets go. Of all of it. Squares his shoulders and marches on. “But, yeah, let’s do this.”

And they do.

Sometimes you fuck up.

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, this isn’t a lesson Ben learned suddenly at age twenty-four after accidentally accusing his best friend of being in love with him. 

No, it’s a fact of life Ben is almost frighteningly familiar with. 

That’s why he only got a driver’s license last year. Or why he takes anti-anxiety meds. Or why his first girlfriend burned pictures with his face in front of him when he was fifteen. Or why he got caught three hours into his first run while paying Tag. 

It’s also why he and Adam are currently not speaking. 

Well, “not speaking” is a very generous term, considering they’re on work calls together four times a week, and have daily meetings with Sam, putting the finishing touches on the next season of Jet Lag. It’s just… they used to text. A lot. Pretty much constantly. And they’d go on little lunch dates every other week, just to chat about everything and the world. Adam would never get bored when Ben started on his favorite video games or  artists – or his most hated ones. Hell, Adam listened to his entire Banksy rant and asked questions after!

But that’s completely stopped. Ben hasn’t gotten a text from Adam that wasn’t work related since they filmed the aftershow two weeks ago. And he’s going insane over it.

It doesn’t help that Sam keeps giving him these meaningful looks during their zoom calls (and why the hell does Sam know what Ben did?). It doesn’t even help that Ben knows exactly where he fucked up. 

They were fine for weeks after. Yeah, some conversations were a bit stilted after Ben ran his mouth and almost ruined everything, but- but not like this! Hell, Ben thinks they delivered some of their funniest material ever during Tag!

But for two weeks now: radio silence.

Next week they’re supposed to start shooting Battle 4 America (and for once they get to stay in New York City to kick off a season!) and how the fuck are they supposed to be Team Ben and Adam on camera when they can’t even be Team Ben and Adam in real life. 

It’s on him to fix this. Which sucks. 

Half of his easy-going charm is built on the fact that Ben is notoriously conflict avoidant. Exhibit A: all his failed relationships in the past. Exhibit B: that unfortunate series of panic attacks when he was a teenager. 

That’s his job on Jet Lag: to be the chill, quiet one to off-set Sam’s insane knowledge and Adam’s flood of words. It’s hard to get a word in edgewise, sometimes, but Ben likes it that way.

He’s funnier when he doesn’t get a chance to fuck it all up.

But, Adam is worth it. 

It’s been a while since Ben had a close friend like Adam (can’t quite remember if he’s ever actually gotten this close to anyone as a kid) and now that he knows what it feels like, he really, really doesn’t want to lose it. 

It’s not that Ben had no friends growing up – he was funny enough to get by – but most boys found him strange and off-putting. It didn’t help that he sucked at sports and most kids weren’t impressed by a boy of below-average height keeping a bean in his mouth for three days straight. That didn’t change until he was well into his teens, and even then only after some of the kids in his grade realized just who his dad was. Not that Ben ever welcomed that comparison. But even at a prestigious highschool like his, teenagers tended to be impressed if one of your parents had an IMDB page. And Ben was opportunistic enough to ride that small wave of popularity for all it was worth.

So, yeah, he didn’t get bullied, and most girls thought he was funny (if weird), but getting close to someone the way he and Adam had gotten close these past few years? Ben can’t lose that. 

Not now that he knows what it feels like to actually be known by someone. 

(And, yeah, Ben has friends these days. Good ones, even. Many of the writers he recruited to revive the Brown Jug are still close friends, and it’s not as if his social life’s lacking in any shape or form – but none of them are Adam. None of them make him feel the way Adam does.)

All that conviction doesn’t help him any when it comes to taking the first step though. He’s worried over his opening message for hours now, hours he should have been busy writing his piece for HAI. He’s sitting on the couch, trying to avoid the accusatory presence of his work computer and the half a dozen plants begging for some water and attention. He can do this. He has to do this.

So far he’s come up with “Wanna talk?”. Not his best work.

Probably not his worst one either, if we’re being honest. 

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it again, the swoop in his stomach not unlike riding a rollercoaster. This is nerve wracking. Ben hates it.

If they’re gonna talk… Ben’s been workshopping his apology for weeks now. Started writing it basically the moment they walked out of the frequent flier lounge in Denver to go get Sam. It’s shit. Unusable. He has no idea where to go from here.

There was a poetic version, a few weeks back, that talked about how Jackson Pollock created art in desperate attempts to drown out the chaos of the world, by birthing vibrant bursts of pure rage onto a large canvas. That sometimes Ben’s brain feels a little bit like that, a little bit lost, until only a sudden burst of chaos is left. 

He threw that one out pretty quickly. Too self-centered and pompous. There’s no need to prove to anyone that he got his degree in literary arts. Adam already knows that better than most.

Then there was the straightforward one, which simply focused on how Ben crossed a line he shouldn’t have crossed and that they should never talk about it again. Unless Adam wanted to, of course. But there’s no chance in hell Ben could manage to deliver that one without inserting a stupid joke or cracking up somewhere, so he deleted the file before he ever finished writing it.

There’s been others since then.

None of them good enough for the real deal. 

Adam deserves the best.

Even if he is actually in love with Ben.

Maybe especially then.

Ben doesn’t want to be cruel. He’s sardonic and edgy, but he’s never enjoyed being mean. It’s not funny to be cruel, and too much of his aspirations in life are built on being genuinely entertaining. That’s why he went into comedy. That’s why he blushes every time Sam or Adam tell him that he’s just naturally hilarious, that he’s the funny one. 

It doesn’t take long for his phone to ring, the caller ID intimately familiar.

His hands only shake a little when he picks up. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Want to come over?”

“When?”

“Now. I can order some food from that Thai place you like – it should be ready for pickup by the time you’re at my station.” 

That’s how they’ve done it for years – one of them orders and pays and the other one fetches it. It’s nice to eat in front of the TV, watching some AppleTV+ show or yet another political documentary, legs entangled, hands busy stuffing food into their mouths. More often than not, Ben falls asleep, their shoulders pressed against each other as Adam tries to keep the dirty dishes from ruining the carpet.

It’s only been a few weeks. Ben shouldn’t miss him this much. 

Adam hesitates on the other end of the line, before offering a surprisingly resolute “okay”. His voice doesn’t waver. 

Ben takes that as a good sign. Hopefully.

“Okay”, he echoes.

And suddenly everything’s set in motion.

He’s vacuumed the living room and washed the couple of plates left over from lunch by the time the doorbell rings. He’s not nervous. That would be preposterous. But still, sweat makes his favorite flower-print shirt stick to his back, his palms a bit moist when he dries them on his pants. 

There’s no mystery as to who the person on the other side of the door is, and yet Ben hesitates before he opens it to let Adam in. His friend looks somewhat worse for wear, not even his hat enough to protect his hair from the harsh October winds. The cold air brought a flush to his cheeks, and even though he is not smiling, Adam’s disheveled appearance is a comfort to Ben. Clutched between shaking hands, Ben sees the takeout, and before Adam can even offer a greeting, he picks it up – turning his back to Adam, and trusting him to come inside and close the door. 

“What do you want to drink?”

“A beer, if you have it. If not… a coffee’d be nice.” 

It’s mundane and stilted and wrong.

Dammit.

(on a normal day, Adam would have kicked off his shoes by now and searched through Ben’s fridge for something to drink. Me casa su casa, and all that bullshit)

When Ben comes back out of the kitchen, Adam’s still just standing there, a couple of feet away from the door, indecisiveness rooting him in his spot. The food is spread evenly on two plates, a bottle of beer pinned against his body, and suddenly Ben doesn’t know where to go either. Should they sit at his small table? They’ve never eaten there before, but the couch feels too intimate considering, well, everything. But maybe that’s a step in the wrong direction. Mostly, he just needs to put the food down before something unfortunate happens. The other beer’s still on the kitchen counter, next to the forks and knives he had no more free hands to grab. It’s a bit of a hassle, keeping everything upright. He doesn’t want to ask for help. He doesn’t know how to. 

He can’t think of a single thing to say.

“God, let me help you, for Christ’s—” There isn’t any time to react before Adam’s right there next to him, prying the beer out from underneath his arm, reaching for one of the plates the same way he always does when Ben refuses to ask. 

It’s a well-oiled machine. Usually. This time Ben startles. It’s enough to make Adam back off, the plate he grabbed tipping precariously. His superior reflexes kick in barely in time. Ben would have dropped everything – but Adam isn’t Ben, so nothing falls. 

Adam’s not the one who fucks up, Ben is.

They’re standing way too close now, only a couple of inches separating them. It’s hard to breathe, suddenly, the tension in the air too much for Ben to bear. If this was a movie, they’d kiss now. But it’s not. It’s real life. 

And even if it was, Ben’s not who you’d cast as your romantic lead.

(he lives forever in the category of neurotic comedic best friend character)

And so, instead of proclaiming his undying love for Adam (in a spectacle that would be wrong and fake and ultimately cruel), Ben takes a deep breath and says, “I’m sorry.”

Only, nobody hears it, because even in his panic, Adam is louder than Ben, “I don’t know. That’s the answer to your question. I don’t know whether or not I am in love with you.” 

“What?” His mouth is faster than his brain, his honest confusion clearly visible on his face – and audible in his voice.

“That’s- I don’t know. I genuinely don’t know. I’ve gone insane trying to figure it out these past few weeks and I cannot—”

It takes embarrassingly long for Ben to realize that this is Adam trying to clear the air between them by answering, well, that question. The one question Ben should never even have asked. 

Careful as not to drop the food, Ben untangles himself from Adam. They need space. The both of them. If they’re actually gonna be adults about this. If they’re gonna talk about this. They need space. 

He puts the food on the small table next to the big window, and then he repeats what he should have said immediately after opening the door. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know why I did. It’s none of my business–”

“But it is your business. If someone has a crush on you, it’s- it’s well within your rights to clear the air! To ask about it!” Adam’s doing this thing where his eyes get very intense and his face pinches up, just like in Circumnavigation when he refused to stop running the Pastry Mile even after throwing up.

“Obviously it was the wrong thing to ask, though.” Ben stops and bites his lip, “I mean look at us! I never meant for any of this to become an issue between us, and I certainly never wanted to make you uncomfortable. Or put you on the spot. So, I’m sorry .”

“Well, I won’t accept your apology.” It’s strange to see Adam angry. Food put on top of the couch table, his arms crossed in front of his narrow chest, he’s glaring at Ben. But not because Ben fucked up. But because Ben’s trying to apologize? The world makes no damn sense. 

“What do you mean you won’t accept it?”

“I don’t think you should apologize for that.”

“Well, I am.”

“And it’s fucking stupid.” 

“Why?” Ben wants a beer, if only so he can dramatically open it and take a swig to underline his frustration. “Please explain to me— I wanted to talk to you about this whole thing because you stopped talking to me. I thought you wanted an apology. Obviously. I’m the one who fucked up.”

“But you aren’t!”

“How the fuck am I not—”

“I’m the one who’s confused and messed up about all of this.” The redness of Adam’s face is no longer due to the brisk October air, instead it is his anger (and his conviction) increasing the blood flow. No, on second thought, Ben’s pretty sure Adam’s mostly frustrated. With himself. “This only happened because I let Singapore get into my head and then I– you just put something into words I didn’t yet know I had to ask myself.”

“Singapore? How on earth is this—?”

Ben stops. And remembers. After Singapore Adam stopped touching him as much. After Singapore Adam made sure to mention Maeve as often as possible when they were out in public together. After Singapore… well, at Denver Airport Adam lied about the two of them dating, only to talk about Ben as if he’d hung the moon. 

A horrible realization swaps over him, “Oh my god, I was being homophobic, wasn’t I?”

“No, that’s not—”

“My jokes about us fucking or you calling me sweetheart … that’s- dammit, I was being an insensitive asshole, wasn’t I? You had a personal crisis, and I made everything worse. Rule Number One of Comedy: never punch down. And here I am, making homophobic jokes like some neo-liberal frat boy. This is…” He sits down, head in hand, confusion and horror making for an uncomfortable mix in his stomach. The Thai food is slowly cooling on the plate next to him. “Fuck. I am really sorry.”

“But that’s not it! That’s just my own shit coming up!” Adam’s doing that thing where he mimics ripping out his own hair. Usually that’d make Ben smile, because it looks like something a cartoon character would do, but right now it just seems genuinely distressing. “I stopped being as affectionate because it was bothering me that everyone thought we were gay. And then it bothered me how much it bothered me. So, I tried to get over that. And- and while course-correcting I realized that I have no fucking clue how I feel about you. That I don’t even know myself well enough to figure out whether I fancy guys and not just ladies.” 

Ben allows himself to sit with Adam’s words for a moment. A part of him wants to react quickly, to shoot back that none of this makes any sense, but he’s trying to be an adult right now. He’s mostly failing – Exhibit A: the past five minutes – but he’s not given up hope just yet. 

Aware of Ben’s internal struggle, Adam gets his beer from the kitchen and fetches the one already on the couch table to give to Ben. Wordlessly they clink their bottles together, the unspoken words (and verbalized frantic feelings) hard to grasp in the post-explosion debris. 

Finally, Ben takes a deep breath and says, “I think there is an argument to be made here that we’re both fucking idiots.” 

Adam’s startled laugh is a welcome sound, the familiar cackle one Ben missed. 

“Oh, God, we’re so stupid, aren’t we?” His words are punctuated by small bursts of laughter, his eyes suspiciously bright. He’s taken the seat opposite Ben at the table, his hands playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. Suddenly, the table feels perfect for the conversation ahead. 

“It’s okay if you’re in love with me, by the way.” And Ben means it. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m not in love with you. And I wouldn’t want to duke it out with Maeve either way. She’d crush me.”

“Yeah, she would.”

“But it’s okay. No hard feelings. Or soft ones, I guess.”

This is what he should have said all along.

“How do you do it?” There’s a frightening sincerity in his eyes when Adam looks at him. 

“How do I do what?”

“How do you stay so chill when- does it not bother you when people assume you’re gay?” 

“Not really.” Ben shrugs. And it’s the truth. He mostly thinks it's a bit funny (and maybe understandable – he knows what he looks like, and he knows that people like to make assumptions). “Why does it bother you?”

“I don’t know. Well, I guess I do know. To a certain degree.” 

“And?”

Adam takes a swig from the IPA Ben buys just because he knows it’s Adam’s favorite. “I got called gay often enough in middle school – and later high school – that I can’t hear that word in- in association with myself without it feeling wrong. Like a pit in my stomach. And I never realized that because– Remember, I wasn’t afraid of heights until we went bungee jumping in Singapore. You know why? Because until I actually did it, my brain was convinced I would never fall off a ledge. I was convinced of my own ability to walk down a bridge or cliff or narrow staircase and not fall . And now that I’ve jumped off that ledge, now that I know what it feels like to be in free fall, every time I get up high, my body remembers that it is possible to just stumble and crash. That at any given point I could fall. This is what this feels like.” 

His hands are shaking, but his voice is strong. Maybe Ben isn’t the only one who pre-wrote what he should say today. Maybe the reason Adam didn’t call for two weeks was because he was searching for words. 

Adam continues, “When you asked me that question… that was me falling off that ledge all over again.”

“So, now you’re afraid of being in love with me?”

“I’m afraid of becoming something that I built my sense of self on not being.”

“I didn’t think you’d be—”

“This insecure in my masculinity? Me neither. You learn something new about yourself every day.” Leaning back in his chair, the smile on Adam’s face is sardonic. 

Ben doesn’t like it. Fuck it, he really hates the heartbroken look on Adam’s face and the way he’s so ready to crush his own spirits because of something like this. “Oh, that’s bullshit.”

“How so? I felt comfortable in being overly affectionate and somewhat effeminate as long as I was assured of my own straight-ness. The moment I had reason to doubt that, I crashed and burned like a teenage girl having her first crush.” 

“You’re in love with Maeve, right?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Well, bisexuality is in right now. We’re in New York – half the girls I match with on Tinder won’t even meet up if the guy isn’t bi.” Ben’s only exaggerating a little bit. But he has indeed played with the idea of adding ‘bi-curious’ to his dating profile once or twice, just to empirically prove that it makes a difference. 

Trying not to be an asshole publically has kept him in check so far. 

“As I’m not currently trying to date anyone new, I don’t see how that would be of any help for me. But thanks, Ben.” Adam deflates, the bottle in his hands the only thing keeping him somewhat upright. Their food is definitely cold by now. Ben’s microwave (old and approaching the end of its life) will have to come in a clutch, if they ever get to the actual eating portion of this meet-up. 

“So, you’re maybe in love with me, maybe bisexual and grappling with your internalized homophobia, and definitely in love with your girlfriend. What does she think?”

“That I’m overthinking everything.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Maeve.”

She’s definitely the more practically inclined person in Adam’s relationship. More of a doer and less of a thinker – something Ben’s quite grateful for because Adam needs people in his life who get him out of his head. 

On Jet Lag that’s usually him.

“Urgh, she’s been amazing throughout all of this. I talked to her and she was just so understanding. Hell, she’s kinda mad at me that it took you to text me for me to finally show up at your place.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Adam lets his forehead thunk against the table. It seems appropriate. “Really. Apparently she thinks we should just talk it all out. Give our emotions room, or something like that.”

Even Adam’s jokey ‘middle-aged comedian complaining about his wife’ persona isn’t enough to cover up the genuine affection in his voice every time he mentions Maeve. It’s a bit sickening. It’s not jealousy – but something twinges when Ben listens to Adam talk like that.

“Which we’re not going to do because we’re manly men who only drink whiskey and watch sports. That’s why we’re sitting here saying stuff like ‘I love it when the ball does that’ or ‘they kicked stuff real hard out on the field today’. And we’re certainly on opposite ends of the couch while doing that. None of that emotional bullshit. And no touching.” 

“Exactly!” There’s a bit more life in Adam’s voice now, even if his forehead is still resting on the – admittedly – somewhat dirty wood. “Why would we ever talk about our emotions when there’s balls?”

“Okay, but–” And Ben is grinning. “But that is maybe the gayest thing you’ve ever said in your entire life.” 

It’s strange how he knows that he can say that now – that Adam won’t be mad, that his joke will be laughed at and not scorned. 

And he’s right. Adam’s right there with him, shoulders shaking from the kind of laughter that only comes after a long exhausting day, in the midst of long exhausting weeks, in the middle of a year that’s already shaping up to be quite tumultuous. 

“You know what the worst part is?”

“No?”

“I tried to look up gay porn.”

“And?”

“It didn’t even do anything for me.” This time when Ben looks at Adam, he’s upright again, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes, straining against the redness of his face. Ben’s pretty sure those are good tears, the kind that comes from laughter. “I wasn’t disgusted by it or anything, but… just nothing. I kept watching and all I could think was ‘yeah, those are two dicks’.”

“Usually you’re a lot more descriptive than that.”

“You want me to describe to you how veiny they were?”

“Not really.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They’re silent for a bit, Ben’s stomach complaining loudly over the lack of food. It’s fair – some time has passed since he’s had lunch, and the Thai food in front of him is basically mocking him.

“Wanna eat this stuff and watch something? I heard ‘The Bear’s supposed to be really good.” It's the only thing he knows how to say. The only thing he can offer. Usually, Adam’s the one taking care of him. He likes it that way, enjoys how Adam fusses while he sits back and laughs over his friend’s need to fix everything – including Ben’s wardrobe malfunctions and global poverty. But right now, just this once, Adam needs someone to take care of him.

More importantly, Adam needs Ben to be normal. 

For them to be normal.

“Sounds good.” 

“I even have a few more beers in my fridge. We can make an evening out of it.” 

“Really?” It’s heartbreaking how hopeful Adam sounds, as if he hasn’t yet reached the same conclusion as Ben. Or, well, that he doesn’t yet believe in it: they’re okay. No matter what happens next, right now they’re okay. 

“Yeah, of course. And you know what?” Ben gathers up the dishes, ready to test if his microwave is up for the challenge. “I’ll even wear that stupid USA jacket for next season.”

“But you said nobody’d get the joke.”

“Oh, they won’t. But you love those damn jackets, and I’ll look adorable wearing them, so… jackets it is.” 

It’s a silent apology and they both know it. 

In an unprecedented act of grace, Adam accepts. “We’re gonna look so cool.”

It’s easy to pull Adam over to the couch following that, food and beer at the ready. If Adam’s the one falling asleep on top of Ben today, nobody says anything. Ben just watches Adam sleep, his arm wrapped around his friend’s boney shoulders to keep him close. To keep him safe. 

It’s strange, Ben’s never really thought about love like that. But right now, he’s contemplating. 

What does it mean to ‘not know’? What does it mean to always be there for each other?

The next day Adam wakes up suspiciously well-rested. At some point during the night Ben got up and put a blanket over him to keep out the chill. It’s surprisingly considerate, a small act of kindness Adam welcomes into his heart. A new day, a new chance to fuck everything up.

Only, the pit in the depths of his stomach has eased somewhat, the soft rays of sunlight breaking through the window above Ben’s kitchen table too picturesque for Adam to fall apart.  

Last night is a bit fuzzy when he thinks back on it, but he knows it was a peace offering, a non-verbal “hey, buddy, we’re okay” gifted to him by the one person he needed to hear it from most. Ben’s nowhere in sight, the shower running faintly in the distance. Adam’s glasses rest neatly folded on top of Ben’s collection of coffee table books (Letters of Note, Video Games Throughout The Ages, A Complete Collection of Kaminski’s Work) – at some point during the night, Ben must have gently pulled them off his face. Adam refuses to overthink this.

The longer he looks at the black frames carefully balanced on shiny hardcovers, the harder it gets to turn off his thoughts, to stop himself before he can turn this into a horror scenario or a failed… something or another. He’s prone to catastrophizing, he knows that, and just this once he wants to enjoy the calm before the storm. Wants to enjoy the soft morning hours before reality sets back in.

He wants to bathe in the balance he and Ben struck last night, when Ben accepted his confusion at face value without pushing or asking for more. It was explosive in a way their conversations usually aren’t, confusing and silly and a bit stupid. It was probably the most honest Adam’s been in years (to anyone besides Maeve). 

(He’s pretty sure the both of them know him better than he even knows himself. Case in point: this entire debacle) 

Right now, none of that matters. Right now, Adam’s glad that the pressing dread slowly crushing his heart has finally eased somewhat. He was growing sick of feeling bad. Especially now, with Battle 4 America right around the corner, he can’t afford to be off his game. He wants to win this (with Ben by his side) and crush Sam’s hopes and dreams once and for all. And to show Brian that his last win was little more than a fluke, Montana and the car rental place out to get them.

Ben’s apartment is familiar when Adam finally manages to leave the nest of cozy blankets and soft cushions behind, their siren song more effective on people with less conviction. His hip aches where the belt dug into his skin during the night, but otherwise he’s fine. No aching back, no creaky neck. The kitchen is clean when he steps through the archway, just as the fridge is empty. Ben doesn’t cook much, Adam knew that even before he took a look at the two beers and three condiments stored in there, but it will still always baffle him. 

Still, he searches through cupboards and cabinets, until he finds some poptarts. The coffee’s already brewing. It doesn’t take long for the shower to stop and Ben to find him, probably lured out of his bedroom/bathroom by the smell of hot caffeine. 

Wet hair frames a face Adam has, admittedly, stared at for a few too many hours (thanks to editing and a few other reasons), Ben’s eyes small and unfocused behind his giant glasses. 

“Morning.” 

Ben’s not much of a morning person, at least not until he’s had his coffee, so Adam offers a cup before Ben can ask for it. He knows how Ben likes it – just as he’s pretty sure that Ben could order for him in his sleep. 

“Good morning. Sleep well?” Adam leans against the kitchen counter, one eye on the toaster to see when the poptarts pop. 

Ben seems to consider the question, or maybe he’s just falling back asleep as he stares at his coffee. And then, “Like a baby.” It is a very Ben answer.

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Good.”

There’s another beat of silence, only interrupted by the sudden POP of the toaster. They both startle, look at each other, and laugh. It’s a bit silly what they’re doing right now.

It feels distinctly like the complicated song-and-dance people go through on a “morning after”, only nothing happened between them and Adam’s made coffee at Ben’s place one too many times to be considered a stranger in these hallowed halls. They’re putting on a show, and there isn’t even anyone in the audience to perform for. 

“Remember when bromances were all the rage?” It comes out of nowhere, but Ben looks at him as if Adam should have thought the exact same thing right along with him. As if this was the only logical conclusion to the weird tension in the air, and Adam’s the one missing a piece of context. 

“Vaguely. Why?”

“Maybe that’s what we have.”

“Really, Ben?”

“Yeah.” Ben nods to himself, a self-satisfied smirk pulling his lips up as he takes another sip of coffee. “I think we’re bro-mancing.”

“I don’t think that’s a word, buddy.”

“Well, it should be.”

It’s a bit, but it’s also the truth. And isn’t that just the beauty of comedy? 

So, Adam decides to play along, even if his heart beats a little bit faster than maybe it should. “In that case… Benjamin Doyle, will you do me the honors of becoming my Bro-Mate?” Putting down his own coffee, and bowing, Adam offers his hand to Ben. 

Who takes it. 

Ben’s grip is surprisingly strong, his voice surprisingly serious when he says “I do. To be your Bro-Mate forever. In sickness and in health. Until Bro-divorce or death do us part.” There’s a beat of silence, and then, “I just realized, I am just not a Bro kinda guy. It feels so wrong when I say that.”

“Yeah, that’s why I usually call you buddy.” The smile they share feels special, like something only the two of them have. It’s just a joke, but Adam’s insides are turning gooey, even if he tries to ignore it. 

“I think I’m bro-phobic.” Ben says, poptart already halfway stuffed into his mouth. It’s strawberry flavored, so Adam totally gets it.

“I’m just remembering college right now and you know what?” Adam grabs the second one. “I understand. I’m joining your bro-phobia movement.”

“Do you think we could get Sam to make a video on it?”

“On bro-phobia? Or the toxic masculinity brewing in Ivy League Greek life?”

And it’s as if nothing ever happened. They’re back, Team Ben and Adam ready to party! 

Only something definitely did happen. 

But without the wisdom of hindsight, Adam can only hope that it was something good. 

“We’d be outing ourselves as horrible venture capitalist nepo-babies, if we ever wrote a video on Greek life.” Ben rolls his eyes. “And the only baby I want to be called is babygirl.” 

“We really need to get you off the internet.” 

“Funny you mention that, Sam recently said something really similar to me.”

The laughter bursting from deep within his chest feels freeing, the mischievous twinkle in Ben’s eyes worth the dozens of hours spent tormenting himself. As long as he and Ben are still friends, everything else is worthwhile.

Even if Adam still doesn’t know – not knowing feels a lot less daunting now that Ben’s back on his side.

Sam never mentions their secret little bathroom conversation again, but Adam’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the satisfied look Sam shoots both of them during the post-production meeting shortly following the end of the season (once Ben and Adam have managed to get back from Alaska and the high from winning has subsided somewhat). Sam’s not the kind of person to outright ask, but sometimes Adam wonders just what he thinks happened between them. There’s the distinct possibility of an HR meeting in their (somewhat near) future; the thought alone enough to make him swallow. Ben’s gonna be horrible should that ever happen – Adam still remembers when Sam tried to get Ben to be less inflammatory on Social Media and it somehow ended with Ben being in charge of their marketing. 

Then there’s the fact that Adam’s pretty sure Maeve has seen the picture saved on his phone, the one Ben took of the both of them hugging in front of Lake Michigan. Adam doesn’t know what he’d say if she were to ask about it. On the one hand, Adam genuinely thinks it will look good in the final edit of the episode, and so he needs it at the ready should the motion graphics team ask for a copy to add to the finalized version. 

On the other hand, that answer feels like a lie. A cop out, if you will. And they’d both know it. Adam doesn’t lie to Maeve as a rule, but he doesn’t know what honesty would look like either. Maybe that’s why she never asks. 

(and it’s not as if Maeve has to fear the competition – not that there is any! – considering 90% of Adam’s camera roll are pictures of the two of them together, at parties, parks, and museums)

It’s easier now, spending time with Ben, being in love with Maeve, traveling the world with an unanswered question burning in his chest. 

One day he’ll have to answer it, but that day isn’t now. 

(the word doesn’t hold that much power over him anymore, only partially because he refuses to think it – there’s also something weirdly freeing about being explicitly allowed to exist in a gray area)

Right now he’s going on vacation with his girlfriend and wishing Ben the best of luck as he tries to find a date despite his ruined Tinder algorithm. He won’t have to worry about Jet Lag for at least a week, and he won’t worry about himself at all if he can help it.

It’s not as if he’s living a lie, and, really, in this day and age? Who even knows what the truth is anymore.  

(on some days there’s a pit in his stomach when he hugs Ben in public, but he refuses to let that fear win – so what? So what if they think he’s gay? So what if maybe he is queer but can’t admit it to himself? So what if he is straight but loves his guy best friend? He went to Yale. Why is all of this so damn confusing?)

Chapter Text

Ben looks pointedly from DAN to Adam, and then back towards DAN.

“I’m just saying it now, so it’s out in the open and we no longer have to think it in secret, but we’re not going to beat any of the gay allegations with this car.” 

Adam watches the whole thing through the rearview mirror, his eyes still firmly on the street up ahead. “Don’t insult DAN like that.”

“Oh, I love DAN. He’s cute as hell. I just wanted to put that out there.”

Ben’s right, of course. Adam can clearly see how they look, with their matching hats, Ben’s glowing green pants, and the bright red convertible. He kinda loves it. A part of him wants to turn to Ben and tell him that the car’s really fitting, considering Ben’s a cute kind of guy, but even after talking it out a few months ago, that’s not where their relationship’s at. 

(and it’s not as if Adam wasn’t especially silly today, with his excessive use of compliments at the Adrenaline Park, the comment on feeding Ben cream while out kayaking, and the dozens of shared jokes that will only ever stay between Ben, him, and the camera, to die a graceful death in the editing bay) 

Probably better that way.

There’s no need to make it any more confusing. 

“That’s not going to make the final cut.” Adam says instead, with a wink to the camera.

“But it would be very funny if it did.”

It’s the end of Day 1 of their Race To The End Of The World (Adam really thinks they should workshop that name some more) and they’re both terribly tired. And dirty. It’s been a long day. Adam’s voice still hasn’t recovered from the Okaihau railway tunnel, his arms hurt from their kayaking adventure in the Bay of Islands, ( Ben’s “I am tired, my back hurts, and I am filled with cream” still echoing through his mind) and Ben looks like a drowned rat after throwing up lake water. All in all they’re doing okay, Day 2 set to start with Sam and Toby in the lead (but only barely). 

With the game day ending – Adam checks his watch – five minutes ago, they can stop recording and try to find a place to sleep for the night. He’s still a bit giddy after exploring Waipu Caves together with Ben. If there wasn’t a game to win, Adam could have spent hours down there whispering in the dark as they watched the glowworms paint fantastic pictures onto a black canvas.  A night sky, Ben had called it, and he was right. Just made a little bit more magical with the knowledge that they’d been in the depths of a cave when they saw it. 

Now, Adam’s waiting for the first opportunity to escape the heavy traffic and turn back around towards Wellsford, the town their best chance to find quick and easy accommodations for the night. 

Cheap would be nice as well, not that they’re the ones paying for it. 

“I think I’d make a great sugar baby one day.” Ben’s statement should surprise Adam more, but mostly it just confirms his long harbored suspicion that Ben can read minds.

“More importantly, Sam makes for a great sugar daddy.” 

With the sun slowly vanishing behind the horizon, Adam can’t quite see the look Ben shoots him.

“Calling our boss daddy feels as if we’ve unlocked a new stage of capitalism.” 

“But could you imagine the look on his face?” Adam feels suspiciously relaxed, even though they are currently losing the game. Maybe it’s just that the game day is over, but so far New Zealand’s been one hell of an experience. “He wouldn’t know how to react.”

“To be fair, I wouldn’t know how to react either.”

“And that even though you love nothing more than using Sam’s credit card to pay for things.”

“Lies and slander.” Even without being able to see him clearly, Adam can tell that Ben’s flipping him off. “I would never do such things. And I certainly would never put room-upgrades on Sam’s credit card just so I’d have a bathtub in my hotel room.” 

“When’d you do that?”

As Ben starts telling the story, Adam drives. It’s easier now that they’ve turned around, traffic less heavy on the road back to Wellsford. The landscape’s almost painfully beautiful, even in the low light, and soon enough they’re passing the outskirts of Wellsford, following a few lone street signs to one of the three motels in town. 

The parking lot of the Castle Court Motel is pretty empty when they pull in, Ben just finishing his grand tale of how he made Sam pay 200 dollars extra (Sam totally knows Ben did this) for a room in Brussels coming to a close. 

“You’d wager we’re getting two rooms this time?” Ben asks, eyebrow coquettishly raised. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Only because you’ve asked so nicely.”

You’d think Ben would stop it with the double innuendos and wink-wink-nudge-nudge jokes after Adam ‘confessed’ his maybe-feelings, but somehow after everything, Ben’s jokes have only gotten worse.

Adam, weirdly enough, enjoys egging him on.

It’s hard to feel bad about yourself, when the people around you embrace you for who you are. 

(it’s not as if he’s just suddenly reached enlightenment – that’s bullshit. But it doesn’t feel like a lie when he’s sharing a joke with Ben or the night with Maeve, and fuck it, but isn’t that worth something?)

The lobby’s empty when they step inside, a bell on the reception desk telling them to ring if they need someone to attend to them. Ben rings it. This only slightly feels like the opening to a horror movie. 

“Does Sam automatically win if we get murdered?” Ben asks, eyes scanning the yellow wallpaper and ugly green carpet. There’s flyers for all kinds of attractions laid out on a small table; one look tells Adam that they’ve already seen most of them. 

“I’d like to think that Sam cherishes our friendship enough to give us a pity win if we die.” 

Of course, that’s the moment a motel employee steps out from the office behind the reception desk, shooting Adam only a slightly alarmed look when he hears what Adam just said. “Welcome to Castle Court Motel. How can I help you?”

“Hello. We’d like to book an overnight stay.”

“Ah, Americans.” The employee – funnily enough the name on his name tag declares him a Dan also – smiles. “Here on your honeymoon? Not many people make it to Wellsford on their vacation. Which is a shame, we have so many great spots close by. Ever heard of Waipu Caves?”

“We’ve just been, actually.” Adam’s well aware of Ben’s gaze taking in his every move. This is Ben trying to be considerate, to see what Adam does next, ready to follow his lead implicitly. Adam decides to turn up the charm. “But we’re not here on our honeymoon. We’re actually playing a stupid travel game with a friend of ours – it’d be amazing if you could warn us in case a tall, blond American suddenly shows up here.” 

To make sure Dan knows he is joking, Adam winks. People love being involved in silly little side quests, that’s why Keaundra helped them out in Delaware and why Rick drove them all the way to the Grand Canyon. Making sure people are in on the joke is half of what makes them want to help you, and Adam’s great at making people feel included. 

“Not sure I can do that legally.” Dan laughs. “But I will keep an eye out. You need one room or two for the night?”

“Two please.” 

“Does one of them have a bathtub?” Ben inserts himself into the conversation, eyes on the prize. “Because if yes, I’d like that room. Even if it costs a little extra.”

Dan looks at Ben, takes in the entirety of him (with the red coveralls gone, Ben looks almost like an adult) and shrugs. “We do have a few rooms with a bath. They don’t even cost extra.”

“Hell yeah.”

“In that case we’d like two rooms, one of them with a tub.” Adam laughs, sorting through his backpack until he finds their passports. 

Dan keeps sending them covert glances as they fill out the check-in forms, until he finally caves. “Should I know you from something?”

“Do we look that much like YouTubers?” Ben groans, nose scrunched up to keep his glasses on top of his nose while he’s leaning over the small desk to write better. 

“Do you want an honest answer to that?” Pushing two analog keys over the desk, Dan winks at them. “But for real… anything I should know you from?”

“We’re doing a travel game show.” Adam explains, and before they know it, they watch as Dan opens up his phone to search for them. It’s not the first time this happened, but it’s still so fucking weird.

Adam wouldn’t consider himself to be a person in the public eye. He’s certainly not famous. Yes, he’s worked for Sam for years now, but he was never the YouTuber. He was always just the writer. And now, suddenly, people recognize him on the street.

(Rarely, but it does happen – and isn’t that just fucking crazy?)

Who knew that obsessively checking the analytics page for their first video while on vacation in New Orleans with Maeve would lead to some guy in New Zealand comparing his face to the dramaticized shot of him in one of their thumbnails. That’s not quite the turn he imagined his life taking when he told his mom that he’d use his Yale education to go into comedy. 

A short goodbye later, and Adam’s alone in his room. It’s a single, the bed taking up half of the small space, the bright yellow duvet the only thing differentiating it from other motels just like this all around the globe. After a while they all bleed into each other, small insignificant things like the shape of the socket or the texture of the toilet paper the only thing cataloging the miles traveled. 

His feet hurt, his head’s achy. They picked up some snacks for dinner earlier, after Sam made them turn around to find a “ring” to destroy; but food has to wait a little. First, he needs an obscenely long (and hot) shower. Playing Jet Leg always leaves him with intense exhaustion clinging to his bones. The feeling reaches so deep that it takes weeks after getting back to the States for Adam to feel awake again. It doesn’t help that he usually sleeps like shit when they’re on the road.

Little sleep, lots of stress, and enough travel to wreak havoc on your bowels (it doesn’t help that they rarely have the time or luxury to eat food that actually tastes good – or is healthy); playing the game is pure torture. 

It wouldn’t be worth it if Adam didn’t love it this much. 

Freshly showered, today’s data safely uploaded to the cloud, and filled with greasy gas station food, Adam pulls the blankets tight as he huddles up in bed. He’s a bit cold, which is bullshit, considering it’s probably still 65°F out, even at 10:30 p.m. Scrolling through Twitter on his phone (and he should really delete that shitty app), he wonders what Ben’s doing right now.

Probably still enjoying his bath. Maybe he even took his Switch with him. Ben loves living on the edge – and he loves his damned Switch. 

To distract himself from that stray thought – and the TikTok he just saw of someone eating the world’s juiciest burger – Adam sends a text to Maeve. He’s too tired to calculate the time difference right now, but she’s probably glad to hear that he isn’t dead just yet. He adds a few pictures he took during the day, including one of them kayaking and one of Ben falling down at the Adrenaline Park. 

She answers right away.

From Maeve – 10:43PM
Looks like a lot of fun. Don’t break anything while I’m not looking – I don’t trust Ben to get you to a hospital ;D

To Maeve – 10:44PM
Falling to my death isn’t part of my plan. Would be pretty hard to win if it were

From Maeve – 10:45PM
How’s Ben? He looks pretty unhappy in that last one

To Maeve – 10:48PM
I’m sure he’s fine. You can ask him yourself if you really want to know.

(It’s a bit strange to see just how well Ben and Maeve get along, but whenever Ben joins them at the museum – or a party every now and then – he and Maeve end up somewhere in the corner talking comic books and modern art)

From Maeve – 10:49PM
You’re not sharing?

To Maeve – 10:51PM
Sometimes there’s actually enough rooms at a hotel for both of us to have our own bed.

From Maeve – 10:55PM
And you’re not lonely? You sleep better with someone else next to you.

To Maeve – 11:00PM
Are you trying to get me into bed with Ben? 

From Maeve – 11:01PM
Nah.
Maybe.
I just want you to get enough sleep to beat Sam and Toby tomorrow.

Adam’s not quite sure what to answer, can see Maeve doubt herself in the disappearing (and reappearing) typing bubbles indicating her indecisiveness. He doesn’t want to put her on the spot, doesn’t want to think too hard about what his girlfriend just insinuated, so he answers first.

To Maeve – 11:06PM
Who knew all those stories online were being written by my own girlfriend xD

From Maeve - 11:08PM
Har Har Har
I love you

To Maeve - 11:09PM
I love you too <3
Heading to bed now

From Maeve: 11:11PM
Sleep well! And win for me, baby! <3

He closes his phone and puts it on airplane mode, the darkness of the room only occasionally interrupted by the headlights of a lone car driving past the motel into Wellsford. His eyes are heavy, his skin tight, but he cannot fall asleep. The past day was a lot, so many new experiences in so little time. Meave’s teasing words certainly don’t help.

Is she right? Does he sleep better when there’s someone next to him?

Past data would correlate her statement. He’s usually a deep and heavy sleeper when he’s sharing a bed with Maeve, but that might just be because he’s sleeping in a bed he picked, in an apartment he rents, next to the person he trusts most in the world. What are other…? He sleeps quite well whenever he stays over at Ben’s place, but that could be thanks to Ben’s insanely comfortable couch and nothing else. Ben has an eye for comfort, knows how to make even the most hostile environment a little bit cozier. 

Maybe it’s really just the travel. Adam wouldn’t be the only person who sleeps badly while traversing the world. If anything, that seems to be a pretty common trait shared between a lot of people. 

Only, that doesn’t quite work out either. Adam sleeps great while on vacation with Maeve. Now that he’s really thinking about it, the only time he’s had a good night’s rest while on the road with Sam, was during one of their first shoots with Ben, when he was still just The Intern (not to Adam, never to Adam, but as a joke shared within their group) and they had to share a bed in that tiny little Bed & Breakfast somewhere in the Pacific. 

In a way, that’s where all of this started as well.

Adam’s weird non-crush and all that.

It’s not a sexual feeling, not really, but Adam craves Ben right now. Not his body, but his companionship. It’s strange, for once nobody pressured them to share a room or denied them entry, but suddenly Adam wishes he had picked a double for the night. Ben would have let him.

And maybe that’s the strangest part about all of this.

Ben would have let him. He wouldn’t even have complained. 

There’s a possibility that Adam’s simply lonely, his girlfriend half a world away, but something tells him that that’s not it. His need for Maeve makes him write late night text messages, and sing her serenades while on call – this new longing keeps him from reaching out, a little bit afraid of what he might find on the other side. He can’t just ask Ben to share a bed with him, to hold him close while they fall asleep, to be next to him but also so far apart. 

It takes a long time for him to finally succumb to the throes of sleep, and just this once, Adam’s pretty sure it’s not just the unfamiliar surroundings and uncomfortable bed. 

It’s a lot more than that, and Adam’s busy pushing it back down into a box. 

(the next morning Ben buys him a large latte without even asking how his night was – sometimes being known is frighteningly scary, and sometimes it tastes like shitty gas station coffee and a touch too much sugar)

Ben’s never been to a place more beautiful than this. And that’s saying a lot, considering by now he’s seen more of the world than most people ever will. Sometimes, when he’s less drunk than he is right now, he thinks about privilege and how weird it is to have all the privileges in the world and still fuck up with the frequency he does. 

Not that he’s fucking up right now.

Well, they are losing the game and Adam’s gonna be solely responsible for the both of them for the next few hours, considering Ben’s pretty out of it (he doesn’t even like wine!), but Ben hasn’t done anything outrageously bad recently. 

Mostly, he’s been trying to go with the flow. To let Adam lead and follow him wherever it takes them. If Adam needs room to find himself, Ben will give it to him. If Adam needs someone silly to joke around with, Ben’s the perfect guy. If Adam needs someone to understand all his weirdest ramblings and nervous breakdowns, well, Ben was born ready.

Which is why he lets the wind play with his hair as he stares out of the window of their convertible – and DAN is a delightful little car, Ben only wants to demolish him a little to see if there’s maybe space for some more leg room – at the soft hills of South Island, New Zealand. 

Fuck, they’re in New Zealand. That’s insane.

Having left St. Arnold’s behind (and Ben’s pretty proud of himself for doing that Math Minute while struggling to hold a pen), they’re on their way towards the coast, each mile bringing them closer to even grander beauty. Ben’s seen a lot of grand things in his life – in Singapore, it was the gardens, and in the Guggenheim Museum, New York, it was one of Rhotko’s Untitled paintings that he stared at for hours as he felt beauty grow within his heart – but something tells him that this is going to be life changing.

That’s an extremely cheesy thought to have, even drunk, and Ben smiles a little as he shakes his head to dispel it. 

“Everything alright, buddy?” 

Adam’s keeping his eyes on the road, but even so, Ben can tell that the worry is genuine. It always is. Nursing the water bottle Adam forced on him, he nods, his head too heavy for anything more.

“It’s just so damn pretty here.”

“It really is, isn’t it?”

“The entire world should look like this.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. For a number of reasons.” Adam laughs. “But I can see the appeal.”

“Are you really proud of me?” Ben’s not quite sure why he asks, only that no one’s ever praised him as openly and often as Adam does. Maybe his mom did, when he was younger (and she’s a pretty cool mom, if Ben may say so himself), but now at twenty-four, nobody’s falling over themselves to stroke the ego of yet another white boy.

Except for Adam.

Who always has something kind to say.

Apparently Ben has superior bird spotting abilities (Adam’s totally right about that one, maybe Ben should pick up bird watching as a hobby. It’d certainly be better for his attention span than TikTok) and nobody’s better at blind taste testing sweets. He also always goes out of his way to compliment Ben’s taste in literature, or to comment on how clever and funny he thinks Ben is. 

If anything, Adam’s bad for Ben’s ego.

“Of course, I am! You did that math minute really quickly.”

It’s easy to tell that Adam means it, since his cheeks darken a little bit under Ben’s attention and the bright sun above. They need to put on some more sunscreen soon, Ben realizes, because Adam’s ears shouldn’t be this red underneath his hat. 

“I think I’m a little bit in love with you, too.” Ben says it slowly, as not to slur his words. Yes, he’s drunk still, but he doesn’t want Adam to think he doesn’t mean it. There’s something nice about how alcohol lowers your inhibitions, even if Ben’s pretty sure he would have shared this truth sooner or later either way. 

Hell, it doesn’t even feel like a secret. Just something Ben knew and Adam deserves to know. 

“What?” Adam’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, a shot of anxiety shooting through Ben and sobering him up a little. Maybe doing this during a drive wasn’t the best idea. He doesn’t like being anxious in cars. Bad memories and all that bullshit. 

“I’m a little bit in love with you, too,” Ben repeats himself. 

“I’m- this isn’t funny, Ben.”

“Good. Because it’s not supposed to be.” Closing his eyes helps a little, the nausea in his gut nothing new. Acidic white wine for breakfast was a bad idea, but that’s a given. The sun is warm and bright on his face. This is what happiness feels like, even with Adam’s (intermittent) incredulous stare burning holes in the side of his skull. 

It might just be the alcohol, but the silence doesn’t feel suffocating. The air’s carrying the heavy scent of salt and seaweed, and Ben knows that at the end of this trip, they’ll have a fuckton of amazing memories to look back onto.

(even if his body’s complaining needlessly about the things he puts it through)

“Do you mean it?” Adam swallows halfway through his question, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. 

“Why would I lie about this?”

“To make me feel better.” 

“I respect you too much to do that.” It’s the truth, even if it feels wrong to put it this plainly. That’s the kind of thing you always think but never say out loud, because it is built on some innate sense of knowing. But maybe Adam needs to hear it today. 

“But what does it mean to be a ‘little bit in love with me’?”

“Are you asking me if I’m having a sexuality crisis?”

“Maybe.”

Ben laughs, and it’s not cruel, but it probably still feels like that to Adam. “No. I’m still as straight as an arrow. But wood can be bendy, you know?” 

“That’s a horrible pun.”

“If you think about it, straightness is really just a social construct.” It’s a stray thought Ben’s brain picks up because Adam’s question reminded him of something he read in college once. “What was that… I think in Undoing Gender they say it a little bit like, uh. Within the confines of societal expectations and the machinery of amatonormative heterosexuality, any defiance of the norm is to be considered queer, even if the individualistic interpretation of the subject's sexuality fits within the societal majority.” 

It only takes Ben three tries to say ‘amatonormative’ without slurring, and so what if ‘individualistic’ is maybe missing a syllable in the middle there as well? Adam’s baffled silence and the stunned look on his face are totally worth it.

“I’ve studied Literary Arts at Brown. Of course, I’ve read Judith Butler.” Ben grins, showing off his teeth. He’s okay with people constantly forgetting that he can be pretty smart, but sometimes it is nice to show off a little. Especially drunk. 

Drunk Ben for the win!

“I don’t think you’ve answered any of my questions with that.” Adam finally says, just a little bit croaky. “But if I understood you correctly… you’re queer but you’re straight?” They both hear the little pause before Adam can bring himself to say ‘queer’, his friend obviously afraid of saying something wrong or offensive or stupid. It makes a morbid kind of sense – the word gay hurt Adam so much growing up, it must be incomprehensible for him that someone might just enjoy being a little bit queer.

In both senses of the word.

Ben has long ago accepted that he’s a bit strange and off-putting.

“Pretty much.”

“How? I don’t—”

“Oh, Adam… we really need to get you online more.”

“I’m plenty online.”

“Yeah, but you’re on r/game design and Maeve’s favorite meme pages. That’s not really what the internet’s all about.” Opening his eyes and shielding them from the sun, Ben makes sure to look at Adam, to gauge if his friend is with him right now or far away.

(he really wants Adam to be with him right now, and not just because they’re driving)

“You’re drunk.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“This is not—” Fingers tapping a silent beat onto the steering wheel, Adam searches for words. “What does it mean for us if you’re a little bit in love with me and I’m- and I’m a little bit in love with you?”

“Whatever we want it to mean.” It’s a bit childish to throw his hands up in the air, but Ben does it anyway. It feels like the right thing to do. He’s just so alive right now. “Isn’t that cool? That’s pretty cool, right? We can be whatever the fuck we want to be.”

“I have a girlfriend.”

“And Maeve’s pretty damn cool, too.”

“She is. I love her.” It’s a bit sad to hear the conviction behind his words, the intense focus he’s directing at the street – and not Ben – turning his face to stone. “We’ve been together for five years. We live together. She’s— she’s a part of me. Of my life. That’s— whatever this is, it cannot hurt her. It cannot hurt us.”

“Do you want me like that?” And Ben really wants to know this time – he didn’t ask during their first (and only) conversation about this, and now it feels a little bit too late, but… well, better late than never. “Do you want to touch my chest and- and suck my dick, or—”

“Ben!”

“What! We should be honest with each other!” 

“You can’t just…” Adam takes a deep breath, before parking the car on the side of the road. They’ve only encountered a handful of other cars so far today, so he’s obviously not too worried about running into trouble for stopping like this. The motor’s not yet turned off, when Adam turns in his seat to look at Ben. Really look at him. “Ben. This is not a joke to me. I’ve beat myself up incessantly those past few months, because of feelings I am not sure how to quantify. I like you. I might even love you, as scary as that sounds. But this is not something I can just—”

And this is where Ben maybe fucks up. But he’s confused and scared, so he does it anyway. He didn’t say any of this to make Adam feel bad, didn’t ask because he wanted to joke, but because he genuinely wants to know. This isn’t him mocking feelings he knows Adam has; this is him admitting that maybe, those past few months, Ben has lurked on more than just a couple of subreddits and twitter threads and tumblr blogs to figure out just what the hell is happening between the two of them. 

(Three of them, because Maeve is kinda, weirdly, a part of this as well even if she isn’t here)

Adam’s in the middle of his angst-fueled, nervous rant, when Ben leans forward and kisses him. Dry, chapped lips against his own dry, chapped lips. For a moment their breathing matches up, both air and an eternity passing between them, before Adam pulls back. His eyes are wide behind his black-framed glasses, the stunned look on his face hilarious, if it weren’t for the tension in the air.

Nobody speaks.

Until finally someone does.

“Sorry.” Ben swallows. “But I wasn’t sure how to get you to stop talking otherwise.”

“What.”

“I meant it. I mean it. I’m not joking. Yeah, there’s a bit of liquid courage fueling me on, but… I mean it.”

“Do you want to suck my dick?” Adam looks as if someone had taken DAN and ran him over. As soon as his own words register, his eyes widen, Adam’s mouth open in bafflement at his own brashness. This isn’t the kind of language Adam usually uses. This isn’t the kind of words Adam just casually throws around.

This is a Ben question asked by the wrong person. They really are slowly mind-melting together. 

“Not really.” Ben shrugs. It’s not as if he can be embarrassed by the question, not after asking it first. “But I don’t have to want that in order to really fucking like you.”

“No? Then why’d you kiss me?”

“I’d say there’s a big difference between sucking someone’s dick and kissing another guy.”

“If I may-” Taking off his cap to run his hand through his hair, Adam looks unmoored. A part of Ben wants to reach out, but he knows right now his advances wouldn’t be welcome. “I don’t get it. You say you’ve got feelings for me, but you’re straight. You kiss me but it’s not about my body. You say we can be whatever we want to be, but there’s no words for what we are. Or at least none that you’re willing to offer.” 

“We’re best friends. We’re in love.” It’s a little bit frustrating to see Adam struggle with a simple truth that Ben just understands intrinsically. “You’re my Adam. You know… Adam, from Ben and Adam. Ben, from Adam and Ben.” 

“That was just a joke we wrote for a stupid video.”

“But it’s not.” The sun’s too bright overhead, the landscape around them just a touch too picturesque. The easy joy has left his body, a headache brewing behind his temples now that his body has started to process all the alcohol he’s consumed. “We’re a team. On camera and off. We didn’t talk for two weeks and it almost ruined us. No, I don’t want to have sex with you, but do I have to for you to take my feelings seriously? Is your relationship with Maeve only build on you fucking or—?”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“But she’s already involved.” Ben sighs, tension draining out of his body as he exhales. Slumping against his seat, he stares at the sun until his eyes tear up. It doesn’t take long. “Of course, she’s already involved, Adam. You’re in New Zealand next to a guy you’ve had a sexuality crisis over. She’s in New York texting me each day to see if you’ve made a move yet.”

“What are you talking about, Ben.”

“You’re living with that woman, Adam. She’s not blind. And she’s a better person than the both of us, for sure, considering she’s watched this song and dance for months now, waiting for us to figure our shit out.” 

Ben remembers it pretty well, Maeve calling him a few weeks after Adam spent the night at his, asking how they were doing. Ben's been honest back then, telling her what Adam told him (or didn’t tell him) while reassuring her that he had no intentions on moving in on her man. She’d taken it in good humor, and said that they could share custody, Ben as Adam’s work husband and her as the girlfriend. They’d both made a House, M.D. joke at the same time.

(pretty fitting, considering Adam’s definitely a Wilson if Ben’s ever met one)

Then, a few days ago, she texted him asking if he knew that Adam slept better with someone else in the room. It wasn’t nearly as subtle as Maeve had probably hoped it’d be. 

He hasn’t asked her what her intentions are, doesn’t really want to know if he’s being honest, but he won’t lie to himself and act as if she isn’t somewhat involved in what they’re doing. Especially now that Ben has essentially forced a kiss on Adam. Dammit. He’s doing this all wrong.

Him finally telling Adam that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he previously thought in this nebulous state of affection they’re sharing, it was supposed to be a good thing. A gift. A release of emotion. It was Ben admitting that he feels less lonely with Adam by his side. That what they share means just as much to Ben as it does to Adam. But, of course, he misread the room – the car, whatever – and ruined everything instead.

He didn’t even really consider Adam’s relationship with Maeve until Adam mentioned her, and now it is all he can think about.

It would be just like Ben for him to ruin something good – to ruin someone else’s relationship just by existing.

He wants the effortless beauty of the South Island countryside back. 

“I’m just so fucking confused.” The frustration in Adam’s voice is like a gut punch. Adam sounds close to tears – and a quick look confirms it, red-rimmed eyes staring back at Ben when he dares to face the man of the hour. “Weren’t the last few months enough? We were good. Great even. Why does it have to change?” 

“It doesn’t have to.” 

Even as he says it, Ben already knows it to be a lie. You can never go back. They can’t just erase their memories and act as if they’re just two guys with a pretty tight friendship. Not after Ben kissed him. Not after Adam stripped back wall after wall to reveal his vulnerabilities underneath. 

Adam knows it too. “But how can it not? This is just the logical conclusion of me falling off that ledge three months ago.” 

For someone so bad at deceiving himself (or the world), Adam’s surprisingly adept at keeping his eyes closed when it comes to his own hidden truths. 

“Have you ever considered jumping?” Ben remembers Adam’s words back then, remembers how hungry he’d been and how confused Adam had looked in the face of his own emotions. 

“Off a building? I’m not that far gone just yet.”

“Very funny.” Ben rolls his eyes. “No, I mean within the confines of your metaphor. Have you ever considered jumping? Because you said your feelings for me were like free fall – like stumbling over that ledge. But when we went bungee jumping, you didn’t stumble. You jumped. And the rope caught you. Nothing bad happened. You fell, but nobody got hurt.”

“My pride took quite the bruising.”

“But if that’s the worst that happened… why not try it again.”

Ben doesn’t think of himself as a very lyrical person, which might be strange considering all the writing he’s done in college, but sometimes – helped by a glass of wine or the ghost of a long dead poet possessing him – he’s struck with a bit of genius. 

Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he prepares himself to shelf this discussion – they are losing time and daylight in a competition he knows neither of them wants to lose – when Adam interrupts him.

“You want me to fall?”

“A little bit, yeah. I’m pretty sure I can catch you. If you let me.”

“In that case…” There’s a moment of hesitation, but Ben knows that face well. It is Adam shortly before he does something stupid and brave – something insane that will help them win the game. “Let me try.” He pulls in a deep breath and then says, “It made me happy when you told me about your feelings. But I won’t lie – it’s scary. More so with the knowledge in mind that Maeve knows about all of this. I know we’re friends. I know we’re best friends. And I know that this feels deeper and different to anything I’ve ever felt about another friend of mine. You said we could be whatever the fuck we want to be – so, what do you want to be?” 

Not waiting for an answer, Adam starts the car again, pulling back out onto the street as if he hadn’t just completely blown apart Ben’s world. He’s not smiling, intense focus pushing him forward. What keeps him going right now is his need to win the game – and his ability to push uncomfortable things to the side when they’re not useful. 

But Ben’s in the passenger’s seat, and for once he’s not looking up maps. “I’m not much for labels, you know that. But I guess, I’d like to be your partner in crime.”

“You are.”

“But not just that. I want to be important to you the way your girlfriend is.” It’s strange to phrase it like that. Ben doesn’t just demand things. It’s not that he’s not capable of taking up leadership roles (he was the editor-in-chief for his college’s humor magazine, after all), it’s just that he’s more comfortable following. Life’s easier when he can anticipate someone else’s action, instead of trying to preemptively figure out how they might react. 

“But you don’t want to date me.”

“I don’t want to be your boyfriend. I think there’s a difference.”

“What is it?” Adam’s keeping his eyes on the road in a move that feels weirdly deliberate. “That difference?”

“I think it’s about what’s okay. Like, you know, boundaries and stuff. No sex until further notice, for example. But… we already hug a lot. And I like cuddling. Kissing could be fun, I haven’t decided on that one yet. But I’m, like, not jerking off to you or anything, not that there would be anything wrong with that.” 

Ben’s still not sure if Adam ever resolved his sexuality crisis, now that he’s thinking about it. Did he figure out whether likes Ben that way or not? Maybe that’s part of the reason they keep missing the point. Too bad he has no idea how to ask that question. 

“It’s… fuck, I don’t know. It’s a want – no, more than that – it’s a need for you to talk to me. Spend time with me. Fall asleep against my shoulder and order coffee exactly the way I like it. It’s the fact that I am drunk right now, and not once have I felt unsafe. Because I can trust you. And there’s no one else in the entire world I can say that to and actually mean it.”

“‘We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone – but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy’.” It takes a moment until Ben realizes Adam’s speaking, his voice tiny and fragile, his words incredibly strong. “Walter Inglis Anderson. He’s one of your favorites, isn’t he?”

“I like him just fine. He reminds me of Sam.”

“Because he was a reclusive and loved bikes?”

“Yeah.” The amusement tugging at his lips is faint, true affection much harder to swallow down. “‘A bicycle seems to leave no room for other evils, or goods for that matter. It is an inclusive and exclusive wheel.’ Sam would have loved him.”

The hills surrounding them slowly ease up, giving room for more and more intertwined trees and bushes as they near the coast. Everything about South Island is so green, it feels as if someone has taken the color settings and turned the vibrancy up to max. They’ll reach the location for their next challenge soon, and Ben’s already dreading the moment they have to turn the camera back on. He’s not sure he can be “on” right now – there isn’t a funny bone left in his body, not even the dissipating alcohol enough to make him entertaining right now.

Adam’s silent, but Ben knows it’s because he’s thinking.

Sometimes it seems as if that’s all Adam ever does.

Thinking, and yelling, and running, and panicking and— loving .

Adam’s gonna be a great dad one day. The thought hits him out of nowhere, the heavy feeling threatening to pull him under almost too much to swallow down. Ben really hopes they’re still friends by that point so that he can watch from close by as Adam brightens yet another life and makes it better. 

He doesn’t want to lose this, and maybe that’s what makes it so scary. Not that he’s thinking this at all – Ben’s pretty sure most people are afraid of losing someone they love – but that he’s thinking it about Adam of all people.

You’re supposed to feel like this about your significant other, but none of the girls Ben has dated over the years ever made him yearn quite like this. He liked them, some he even loved, but most of the time he was the one who ended things after a while. Because something was always missing. Some innate feeling of rightness. 

When Adam sleeps over at his place or forces him to wear a jacket while they’re traveling or makes sure Ben’s favorite snacks are in their carry-on, Ben isn’t annoyed – he feels indulgent instead, because Adam likes to fuss and Ben enjoys being pampered. 

None of his past relationships have felt like this, and yet Ben’s very sure that he’s not interested like that in Adam. How can he want companionship and dates and shared experiences from Adam and yet not want sex? Especially since Ben’s usually someone who quite likes sex. It’s fun. But it’s not what this thing with Adam is about. 

And that’s… okay? At least, Ben’s pretty okay with that. 

Ben’s never been scared of not knowing – or, no, that’s not right. He’s simply learned how to grow comfortable with the feeling of free fall. If everything’s scary, nothing is.

“I think I want that too.” Adam’s admittance pulls Ben out of his musings and back into the present rather forcefully. They’ll be at the beach soon, ready to skip a rock six times or wait out their penalty in stifling silence. “And you’re right. It’s not the same thing I want from Maeve. And it’s not the same thing I’d expect from Sam or Amy or any of our other friends either.”

“I’m sorry I kissed you. That’s on me, Adam.”

“Yeah.” Adam pulls his hat straight, to better shield his eyes from the sun – and Ben. “But I’m not mad. I just— I really need to talk to Maeve about all this.”

“What do you want?”

“I just said—”

“No, you agreed with me. But—” He wets his lips, suddenly nervous. “In a perfect world, just- What would that look like? A world in which you don’t worry about absolutely everything. What do you want?”

“That’s a pretty hard question, buddy.”

“Try it.”

“Okay.” With a five o’clock shadow darkening Adam’s cheeks, and the glasses riding low on his nose, Adam looks horribly adult right now. Mature even. Theoretically, he’s just three years older than Ben, but sometimes that is hard to believe. Sometimes it feels like so much more. “Okay, I’ll do my best to answer your question. But then we really have to go back to playing this game. I won’t lose to Sam and Toby just because we couldn’t get ourselves under control.”

“Seems fair.”

“Okay, so…” Adam’s sigh is world-weary. “A perfect world? In which I don’t worry as much? Well, I guess, in that world, I’d have noticed my shifting feelings towards you and immediately told you that I no longer saw you as simply a friend. That way, you wouldn’t have made your own conclusions based on a conversation you eavesdropped on.” 

“That’s not right—”

“And then… I don’t know what you want to hear, Ben. In a perfect world, I would never have to sleep alone. Either because I’d be at home with Maeve, or I’d be on the road with you. In a perfect world, I’d hug you in public without counting to five inside my head to make sure people don’t read too much into every single interaction we share. In a perfect fucking world, I’d have Maeve and I’d have you and nobody would fucking care what we are to each other, only that we have each other.”

Finally, Adam gives him something raw. Something unfiltered that actually sounds real. Ben loves it. Grinning is probably not the best response to his friend sharing his feelings with him like this, but it feels appropriate. Because it’s what Ben wanted to hear – or, well, it’s close enough to what Ben wanted to hear.

It’s a confirmation that he isn’t alone with this burning ache pulling them together.

It’s proof that Adam wants – it’s frustrating how a person as driven and goal-oriented as Adam can get totally lost when it comes to his own needs.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.” Ben raises his hands to showcase his lack of weapons, physically and verbally. “I just think we had an emotional breakthrough just now.”

“This isn’t therapy, Ben.”

“Well, if it isn’t therapy, it’s a game. And to quote our dear friend, Sam Denby: ‘We are s-s-so back!’”

“Our relationship should not be tied to Jet Lag The Game like this. I refuse to—”

“Oh, so you admit that there’s a relationship.”

“I hate you.” He says it like he says ‘I love you’. They can both hear it loud and clear. “But, let’s be serious for just a moment.” Adam takes a deep breath. “I acknowledge that you are right. This did feel… important. But I have to call Maeve. And I have to… I have to sit on this and think. I can’t just jump straight in. It wouldn’t be fair to you. Or me. Or Maeve.” 

“That’s… yeah. Okay.” They’re getting closer to the beach, Ben’s already reaching for the phone so they can go back to recording every moment of the challenge ahead. “But while you think… can we keep being Team Ben and Adam?”

The silent part of that question is pretty damn loud. Can we keep hugging after successfully clearing a challenge? Can we keep buying each other sweet treats and coffees without a word said out loud? Can we keep fooling around, jokingly pushing each other’s buttons until one of us (usually Adam) explodes in exasperation? 

Can we keep falling asleep on each other’s couches, in the knowledge that we’d still be welcome there come the next morning?

Can we be all that and nothing more (and everything) while you take your time to think?

Adam doesn’t even hesitate before he answers. “Of course. I’d rather chew off my own leg before I stop being Team Ben and Adam.”

“Well, in that case… Team Ben and Adam should probably try and be funny again.”

“I did notice a lot of political signs on our drive here…”

“Yeah.” Ben sets up the camera. He laughed, dreamed, and suffered during the last half hour, whatever is left of that half a bottle of wine in his bloodstream heightening his emotions (and the nausea of being in a car) and making everything more intense. Now it’s time to be a better version of himself while the tapes are rolling – now it’s time to be funny, even if neither of them really feels it. “There was one about clowns, wasn’t there?”

But there’s no world in which they won’t at least try. They have a show to produce – and for one more day, everything else comes second.

Adam’s pretty sure Auckland’s the worst city in the world and he’s not just saying that because he and Ben are currently stuck here, unable to leave the country and travel back to the US.

Sam’s kindly allowed them to use his credit card – the company credit card – to pay for their unexpected extended stay, but even that can’t soften the blow of… well, Auckland. It doesn’t help that there’s still this tension between him and Ben, especially since Adam’s been trying to avoid thinking about them.

Thinking about the fact that he has to call Maeve.

Well, obviously he has called her since then. He had to tell her about their delay, after all, and he needed someone to cheer him up after they lost to Sam and Toby. They tried until the very end, but it simply wasn’t enough, and Maeve is one of the few people who really gets Adam in situations like this. Adam’s happy for Toby at least – she deserves the win, especially after she showed him the Jet Lag spreadsheet she created in preparation.

So, he’s talked to Maeve since then. But he hasn’t talked to her about that . 

It doesn’t help that every time he sees Ben, he’s reminded of the kiss. Yeah, he thinks about everything else as well, but the kiss… it’s one of the things he can’t quite push down. It’s especially hard to forget how happy Ben had sounded when he confessed only to get increasingly more nervous and stand-offish as the conversation continued. That’d been Adam’s fault.

Lately it feels as if everything is always Adam’s fault. 

He’s not stupid enough to consider what happened between them cheating. Ben kissed him, and Adam immediately put a stop to it. He knows the moral weight of that action rests on Ben’s shoulders – which doesn’t explain why he hasn’t told Maeve about it yet. Maybe because Ben admitted to Maeve talking to him. Maybe because she might know more than she’s let on. 

Adam doesn’t fucking know. And instead of figuring it all out while sitting on his couch next to his girlfriend, watching a cooking show and enjoying New York’s ambience charm of ambulances and vibrant exceptionalism, he’s stuck in Auckland.

With Ben.

Who’s currently sitting on the small sofa in Adam’s hotel room, playing Mario Party 8 on his Switch. They could both spend time on their own, but the weather is shit, and they already went off on their own yesterday. Now, Adam’s reading Poverty, By America sprawled out over the queen sized bed, as he tries to be subtle and sneak glances at Ben. Ben doesn’t even notice Adam’s here, it seems, he’s so focused on his game, nose scrunched up, mouth slightly open.

Adam now knows what it feels like to kiss Ben Doyle.

He’s not as revolted by this knowledge as he’d expected to be. Kissing Ben was a lot like kissing Maeve. Or Anna in 9th grade. Or Jenny during his freshman year of college. Or Deandra after prom in high school. Or the dozens of other girls Adam has kissed growing up. There wasn’t a firework going off in his gut, but there wasn’t complete silence either. 

It’d been… nice . 

Nothing more, and nothing less.

So, why can’t he stop thinking about it? Ben’s already apologized. Twice. And, compared to everything else they talked about that day, the kiss is somewhat insignificant and small. Adam promised that they’d always be Team Ben and Adam, and now he’s getting lost in his own head again.

He wasn’t lying when he answered Ben’s question of a perfect world.

It’s just— Adam’s not much of an optimist.

“Can you please stop staring at me?” Ben interrupts Adam’s musings without looking up. “I am trying to defeat King Koopa and you’re distracting me.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He’s not sorry.

Focusing back on his book, he makes it another couple of pages before he’s back to looking at Ben. Somehow, Ben’s managed to fold himself up even smaller, the way his body bends to fit on the small sofa, something that should not be humanly possible. The room’s silent except for the sound of pages being turned (occasionally), and Ben’s silent cursing as he fails (or wins, Adam’s not sure) at whatever game he’s playing. 

If Adam ignores everything contributing to his anxiety right now (their delayed flight, Auckland, Maeve, calling Maeve, talking to Ben, talking to Maeve, Auckland), he’s actually pretty happy. Or, well, as happy as can be. There’s a silent comfort in spending time with Ben like this, neither of them expected to talk or joke or be clever. There’s no masks being worn, just lives shared. 

This is what Ben wanted – this is what Adam agreed would be amazing to have. 

“Like what you see?” Ben puts the Switch away to stare at Adam, payback probably, for how unsubtle Adam’s being. 

“Maybe.”

“You’re impossible.” Rolling his eyes and untangling himself from the sofa, Ben gets up. 

“You don’t have to—” Adam starts. “I’m sorry. The book’s just more boring than—”

Ben stops him before he can finish that sentence just by raising one hand, before taking Adam’s phone and unlocking it. Of course he knows the passcode. “It’s okay. I get it. You’ve got a lot on your mind. But I’m going on a walk – and you? You’re calling your girlfriend.”

Before Adam can answer – or try to stop him – Ben puts the ringing phone back down. Right in front of him. Maeve, the caller ID proudly declares. Hand brushing against the hard plastic of the protective case, Adam reaches for his phone immediately, almost instinctively. When he looks back up, Ben’s already gone, the hotel room door falling close behind him. 

Fuck.

“Adam?” Maeve’s voice rings through the room like a harbinger of doom. She sounds confused. She has every right to be. If Adam’s math is correct, it’s damn early in New York.

“Sorry for calling so early.”

“No, it’s alright. I wasn’t sleeping well without you here, either way.” She sounds disoriented, a little bit lost. When Adam doesn’t answer immediately, she asks, “Adam? Are you okay?”.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

“Do you think it’s possible to love two people at the same time?”

Sheets rustle on the other end of the call, as Maeve gets up. This is probably not the kind of question she expected when she saw Adam’s name appear on her phone screen. “Why do you ask?” 

“Because I don’t know anymore. Or, well, I guess I’ve never known, if we’re being honest. I never had to ask myself that question before.”

“But now you do?”

“But now I do.”

“Ah.” She doesn’t sound surprised. Adam kind of expected that. “Is this about Ben?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s talk.”

And then they talk.

Ben comes back two hours later, and by then Adam’s dried most of the tears running down his face. Sitting on his bed, he feels… empty. But in a good way. Wrung out, and heavy, and so incredibly free. He hadn’t even noticed how much his own fears and worries were weighing him down until now – because they are gone now. Eased by Maeve’s kind words and incredible brilliance. 

Something within him clicked when they talked. 

He could feel himself grow lighter by the minute as he paced his room, their heartfelt goodbye at the end of the call drenched in positively cheesy promises of love. They talked about a lot.

Maeve talked about a lot.

She asked questions, explained some of her own doubts, confessed to calling Ben some months ago, and offered her support. She joked, and wished him the best. She demanded they all sit down once they finally made it onto that plane back to the States and talk it all out. 

She refused to let him hide.

Adam should have called her sooner.

Adam should have acted before his indecisiveness made Ben call her for him. It was cruel of him to force this on Ben. Just like last time, when it was cruel of him to force Ben to be the first one to reach out.

Speaking of, Ben’s standing in the doorway, looking surprisingly uncertain. Then again, he’s just had two hours to catastrophize and now he’s looking at an obviously emotionally wrecked Adam. Adam doesn’t want to know what kind of horror scenarios are currently haunting him.

“Please tell me I didn’t ruin your relationship.”

“Nah. Maeve and I are fine. Probably better than fine. We might even be great.”

“Really?” Carefully taking a few steps deeper inside the room, Ben moves closer to Adam so he can sit down next to him. Their shoulders touch. Adam leans against him, until the pressure is undeniable. Ben’s cold. Adam hopes he can lend him some of his warmth. 

“Yeah, really. Thank you for that, by the way. We really- I should have been the one to call her. So, thank you for pushing me.”

“I didn’t want to make anything worse, I just—”

“You couldn’t make anything worse, even if you tried, Ben.” Usually Ben’s the one to rest his head on Adam’s shoulder, but right now Ben’s too tense – so, Adam allows himself the comfort of letting Ben catch him. Physical exhaustion is making it easier to follow his impulses. “You helped me figure some shit out.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that you were right. We can be whatever the fuck we want to be. We can be Team Ben and Adam. And that can mean anything in the world.” 

“And what does it mean to you? To be Adam and Ben?”

“It means I am a little bit in love with you.” Adam closes his eyes. It’s easier to be honest that way. “It means I know what prescription your glasses have, and that you always forget to bring a jacket on trips. It means I know you want to eat glowworms for some godawful fucking reason, and that you have OCD, but you’re mostly okay these days. It means that I know how you like your coffee first thing in the morning, and how you refuse to buy jeans because they’re just not your style. It means… it means I want all of that to be something worth knowing. Because you are someone worth knowing.”

“Oh, fuck.” It’s little more than an exhale, filled with a lot of passion.

“What?” 

Adam looks up. It’s hard to see much from where he’s resting his head, but it’s enough to notice how Ben’s clenching his jaw. It looks painful.

“That’s like—” Ben’s careful not to dislodge Adam, when he pushes up his glasses to rub his eyes. “This is, like, the fucking kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Fuck. Adam. You can’t just—”

“You said for you this feels like trust, yeah?” Adam barely waits for Ben to nod before he continues. “I think for me it’s all about knowing . And I know you so damn well, Benjamin Doyle, how could I not love you?”

The chuckle escaping Ben sounds painful – and a little bit wet. “I’m supposed to be the emotionally suave one. I’m the one to push you towards- towards whatever the fuck this is.”

“And I spent the last two hours crying with my girlfriend, as she told me to get over myself and be honest with you. I think it’s okay if it’s your turn to be a bit weepy right now, buddy.”

Ben pulls Adam closer, until he can rest his chin on top of Adam’s head, the position not comfortable for either one of them, and not just because Adam’s usually taller. No, it’s a bit desperate, even if Ben’s grip isn’t nearly strong enough to be bruising. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saying that.” It’s obvious that Ben really means it. “And for getting to know me. For- for getting me this stupid job. And for indulging my whims and moods and stupid ideas. And, I guess, thank you for being a little bit in love with me.”

Adam lets himself be held – it’s surprisingly nice, even if his back hurts – and waits. The silence isn’t heavy, but it’s not easily broken either. This close, Ben smells like rain and sweat. He really must have gone for a walk, then. 

It’s a small eternity before Ben lets go of him, eyes red-rimmed but dry. Adam’s not even surprised – he’s always been the more emotionally expressive between the two of them, and he didn’t expect this to change that. Somehow, after all of this, they are still the same two people they were before. 

It’s Ben who asks, “And what now?”

“Good question.” Putting a little bit of distance between them, Adam lets himself fall back onto the bed. “We could– hm, we could order room service, ice cream and some beer, and just watch stupid shows until we fall asleep. And then hopefully, tomorrow, Auckland will finally let us go.”

“And then?”

“Then we go back to New York, you visit your mom to give her the gift you bought her, and I hug Maeve until she forces me to take a shower and then–”

“Yeah?”

“Then all three of us sit down to be adults about this.”

“That sounds horrible.” Ben lays down next to Adam, turned so that he can look at him. “I hate being an adult about things.”

“I know.”

“But I guess we’ll have to do it.”

“Yeah.”

Rain pelts against the window, the weather not yet calmed down. Adam has the strong suspicion they won’t be able to leave tomorrow either. It’s strange to just lie there and look at Ben, but in the face of this new thing they just started, Adam allows himself this luxury. Ben’s eyes are almost frighteningly blue behind his gold-framed glasses, long lashes painting shadows down his cheeks every time he blinks. They stay like this for the blink of an eye – or maybe half a millenia – before Ben gives up, a smile slowly growing on his face.

“Do you think Sam’ll be mad at us if we order lobster?”

“I don’t think they have lobster here.”

“I would kill for some lobster right now. Or champagne. This feels like a champagne kinda situation.”

“You don’t even like champagne.”

“No,” Ben freely admits. “But it does feel fitting.”

“One day Sam will have a stern talk with you about how you constantly upcharge his credit card.”

“To be honest, this is on him. He gave it to me. And he’s got the money.”

“I guess that’s true.” Adam laughs – and it’s the most honest laugh he’s shared with the world in a long fucking time.

“Aren’t you worried?” And it’s clear Ben’s asking about the future, about them, about Maeve, about Wendover and Jet Lag. All the things Adam usually worries about.

For once, Adam’s not even lying when he answers, “You know what, Ben? I don’t think I am. Right now, I’m not worried at all.” 

Many hours – and beers and feelings and episodes of NZ Survivor – later, they fall asleep intertwined. Ben’s head rests on Adam’s shoulder, the comforter half-hazzardly pulled up to cover their legs. The TV has long since fallen silent, only their matching breaths and the stormy weather outside offering a soundtrack to a moment so small and intimate, it feels almost forbidden. 

Half-asleep, Adam pulls Ben closer.

Something tells him that from now on he’ll sleep just fine while they’re on the road. 

Mostly, it’s a promise he makes himself.

You have to fight for great things – and when it comes to Ben, Adam has to learn just how to ask for it, how to demand the future he wants. How to fight for something he doesn’t even know how to describe.

For all of it.

For the two of them.

For the three of them.

For the comfort of being in love with your best friend, even if you don’t have the right words for it. 

(and for being okay with not knowing – that one might be the hardest for Adam)

When he drifts off again, he’s warm and cozy. 

Auckland might be horrible, but this decidedly isn’t.

The budget meeting for season 6 has been going on for hours. Adam’s pretty sure Ben’s playing Animal Crossing out of frame of the camera. From the irritated frown on Sam’s face, he’s not the only one who’s noticed. To be fair, Adam and Sam have been arguing over which equipment to buy for the last hour, Ben’s technical input boiling down to “as long as it’s compatible with our editing software I really don’t care”. It’s not even that Adam usually has this strong of an opinion when it comes to microphones, but it feels as if Sam isn’t taking his opinion seriously, so maybe he’s arguing more than absolutely necessary. 

Just as Adam opens his mouth again, to add something else to his seriously superior argument, Sam interrupts him, “What do you think, Ben?”.

It’s a dirty trick, something they’ve all experienced at least a dozen times during high school. 

Somehow it doesn’t faze Ben at all.

“I really don’t think I’m the one you should ask about this.” Ben shrugs, not even trying to be subtle as he places his Switch down just out of view. “At the end of the day Manni should have the last word. Otherwise, I’d go with whatever Adam’s been going on about.”

“Of course you’d say that.” Sam’s exasperation seems mostly good natured, at least. 

Still, Adam thinks it is necessary to defend himself. “What does that mean? ‘ Of course he’d say that’?” 

“I will be asking Manni about which of our two options he prefers.” Sam, the bastard, just ignores Adam. “Which brings us to the last point of discussion for this meeting.”

“Thank fuck.”

“That’s— Ben. ”

“Sorry.” It might even be a look of chagrin on Ben’s face, now that Adam’s studying his third of the screen a little bit more. “What else did you want to talk about?”

“As you all know, next season is going to be pretty expensive. We’re encouraged to slim our budget down wherever possible, if only to slightly increase the ad revenue. We barely hit even last season.”

Adam hates the nausea brewing in his gut at the thought. Of course, he already knows all that. Hell, out of the three of them, Adam’s probably the most familiar with their analytics page – and how fast the small numbers behind the scenes add up to something more. Jet Lag isn’t something they do to make big money, most of their budget comes out of the ad revenue for Wendover Productions and Half As Interesting. Now, with Jet Lag pulling numbers for Nebula, that might change at some point in the future, but right now their show – his creative baby – is mostly just an expensive adventure. 

“How tight are we speaking?” Adam tries not to worry. Judging by the raised eyebrow from Ben and the pursed lips from Sam, he’s failing.

“That’s not important right now. It’s actually about something else, well, something related but—”

Sam is fidgeting.

Sam rarely fidgets. 

This has to be about something embarrassing. 

Adam lets go of the breath he was holding in. There’s nothing wrong with the technical side of things, he’s pretty sure. Not if Sam is acting like this. Sam’s always been great at talking money – no shame, no fake reticence, no beating around the bush. Personal matters on the other hand? Oh, Sam’s horrible at that.

One time he tried to ask after Ben’s sisters and it somehow ended up sounding like a very creepy threat. Ben’s still mocking him for that one.

His and Ben’s eyes meet on screen, the both of them aware that whatever is about to follow is going to be absolutely glorious.

“Yes, Sam?” Ben pushes forward.

“I was just— I mean, in a larger sense it is none of my business. As the head of Wendover Productions I try not to meddle with my employees’ private lives. And as such–”

“We are friends, Sam.” Adam throws in, partially to see just how deep the blush crawling up Sam’s neck can get, and partially because it is true. They are friends. 

“Of course! Obviously! It is just- The budget. It’s a little tight next season, and I thought, maybe—”

“Yes?”

“Maybe-we-could-cut-back-a-little-if-you-and-Ben-shared-a-room-whenever-possible. Considering… everything.”

By now, Sam’s beet-red, and Adam’s not quite sure if he understood him right. They are caught in a shocked stand-still, Adam not expecting that to be Sam’s question, while the man himself is utterly horrified at himself for even asking. It is Ben who breaks them out of it, his guffawing laugh as choppy as Sam’s internet connection.

“Did you just ask if Adam and I wanna share a room together? Oh, that is soooo sweet, Sam.” Ben’s doing this thing, where he puts his chin on top of his folded up hands, in order to appear particularly cute and defenseless, his big blue eyes somehow even bigger thanks to the angle of the computer camera. Adam hates that it works on him. At the same time, it is very funny to see it work on Sam as well. “Why though?”

Ben’s a bastard.

Adam loves him for it.

“Uh…” Sam looks off somewhere to the side. “I just thought… again, it is none of my business. This is strictly a financial question. Would you be amenable to sharing a room when possible? For budget reasons. Of course.”

“Of course,” Adam echoes, nodding. 

It’s a little bit heart warming just how Sam Sam is being as he attempts to ask them about their relationship. He’s the one who pushed Adam to talk to Ben, and he’s the one who never once questioned their slightly insane hotel bill after Auckland (they did not order champagne but Ben did find some lobster rolls on the menu). At the same time, he obviously doesn’t know how to ask for details – probably because he respects them too much.

It’s sweet, really.

Sneaking one last glance at Ben (still mocking Sam with his parted lips and big eyes), Adam decides to answer truthfully. Or, well, as truthfully as a budget meeting with his boss-friend requires him to be.

“In that case… I think Ben and I would love to share a room whenever possible.” 

It’s strange to think that in the past (just a few short, short months ago), Adam would have worried incessantly over how his relationship with Ben looks to strangers, when all that really matters is this: his friends. Sam. Maeve. Ben.

The fact that he can be happy, now that he’s stopped worrying. 

And that is it. 

There’s no reason to ask for more.