Work Text:
Adam’s firm belief in life is that there is nothing better than a sudden afternoon off and a trip to his best friend’s apartment for food and gossip. This belief is affirmed every time it happens—rarely—and he gets to walk through New York City in the sun—more likely.
He’s doing it now, cutting through the familiar alleyways that will lead him to Ben’s run down building, and the five sets of stairs he will have to climb. It’s surprising that Ben, famous for hating long form physical exercise, chose to live on the fifth floor, but it’s less surprising that the consequences of this involve him rarely leaving the house. At least Adam knows he can show up whenever, and have Ben available to order takeout and play Mario Kart. One of the many perks of working online that Adam does not get to enjoy.
The main door is open when he arrives, so Adam walks straight in, heading for the stairs. It’s alarming how easy it would be to break into Ben’s apartment, especially considering his lack of care when locking his door. He is constantly talking about the good will of strangers, and conveniently ignoring the time someone on his floor got arrested for wire fraud. Adam makes a mental note to bring that up to him.
Adam announces himself as he enters with a loud yell and the scuffles of taking off his shoes and jacket. Ben doesn’t respond right away, so Adam walks the three steps to the living room. Sure enough, Ben is there, curled up in the corner of the sofa. He’s hunched over his phone which is usual, but is also smiling rather wide at it, which is less so.
“Ben? You okay?”
Ben lets out a rather undignified squeak, dropping his phone onto the couch. Adam laughs at him and the utter look of shock on his face.
“What do you want?” he asks, rather grumpily. If his smile hadn’t been so visible, Adam would have been offended. It is though, so Adam sits down next to him and smiles.
“I’m just saying hello! Can I not see my friend anymore!”
“Not if you’re going to scare me like that.” Ben punches his arm, already back on his phone.
“What are you doing?” Adam says, trying to lean over to catch a glimpse of his screen. Ben pulls away though, pushing himself further into the corner. He looks almost…nervous? Like he doesn’t really want Adam to know what he’s doing. Which is weird—he and Ben share everything with each other.
The nervousness still isn’t gone when Ben speaks. “I’m, uh… I’m messaging my boyfriend?” He sounds so unsure when he says it that Adam’s first thought is that he’s joking. But Ben doesn’t laugh. Now Adam is worried.
Ben’s dating history is tumultuous at best. His ratio of successful relationships (that Adam has witnessed) is currently two to eleven, and those two are debatable. Ben still maintains the separations were amicable, but Adam had seen the hurt in his friend’s eyes clear as day. Hell, his last relationship had left Ben so upset he had put off dating for eight months! Something that was previously unheard of for him.
So, maybe, Adam’s immediate reaction is concern for his friend. But his second reaction is excitement, and that is the one he chooses to voice.
“Your boyfriend? That’s amazing buddy!” Ben smiles at that, looking up from his phone so Adam can see it grow on his face. “How long have you been together?”
“Like, three weeks.”
“And what’s his name?”
“Sam,” Ben says simply. He might be blushing right now, which makes some of Adam’s concern vanish, if only a little bit.
“Just Sam? No last name?”
“Uh, I mean he probably does. He never told me it though.”
Never mind. Adam’s concern comes back immediately. If this is someone Ben has gone on enough dates with for the boyfriend conversation to have happened, then he would absolutely know his last name. By now, Adam would have expected a three page analysis of his life including parent’s jobs and potentially even medical records.
This all makes it sound like Ben’s a stalker. He’s not—Adam thinks. He’s just thorough. And dedicated. And spends a lot of his time online due to his very fancy online job.
Adam, like all good friends, has absolutely no idea what Ben’s job actually involves, only that it means he can stay at home a lot of the time. It works out for Ben, so Adam assumes it’s all going great.
The dating situation is less great though. Adam doesn’t want to assume his dearest friend is lying about having a boyfriend but, really, somebody’s gotta be the one to ask. Adam might as well make it him—Ben will forgive him the quickest anyway.
“You don’t know his last name? Really?”
Ben rolls his eyes. He puts his phone down, on purpose this time, conveniently turning it off before Adam can see the screen. “No, I don’t. I’m trying to take it slow with him.” He sounds far too relaxed, making each syllable stretch out until Adam wants to hit him. He’s far too dry, and lacking any of his patented Ben Doyle sincerity.
He’s, rather obviously, lying.
Adam has no idea why he would lie about this. If this was a bit, Ben would have dropped it by now, especially after Adam’s genuine congratulations. But he hasn’t, it’s still going. Ben is weird at the best of times, but even this is a step too far for him.
Still, if Ben’s going to stick with it, Adam doesn’t want to question him further. It’s best for them both to simply let this conversation fade into obscurity. Maybe, in a few weeks, Adam can bring it up and ask him why he was lying, and they’ll both be able to laugh about it.
Maybe.
—
Ben has shorts on, bare legs pressed against Adam’s sofa. Adam is wrapped in an unusually thick blanket for the summertime. Adam supposes that this is the duality of friendship.
“What else did you do today?” he asks, flicking through streaming services until he finds the one that’s calling to him this evening. He’s expecting Ben to say something about work and how much he hates it. Instead, there’s a definitive pause.
“Oh, not much,” Ben says, smiling. He’s practically daring Adam to press him for details, something Adam is very much willing to do.
“Really? Nothing at all?” He leans closer, attempting to kick Ben even as his feet are wrapped up. Ben tries to dodge, and ends up with his knee colliding straight into Adam’s foot anyway.
“Well, if you must know,” Ben leans in conspiratorially. Adam is practically on the edge of his seat. “I went on a date with Sam.”
“Oh.” Adam deflates. Is Ben doing this bit? Again? He figured he had gotten over it after the mess last month. Why the fuck was he trying to bring Sam back? “Really?” Adam says, confusion clear in his voice.
“Yes!” Ben says. “What? Do you think I’m lying?”
The tone of his voice tells Adam that Ben, in fact, does think that Adam thinks that he’s lying, and is desperately trying to bait him into admitting it. Adam doesn’t know how to tell Ben that he has already seen through his lies and would rather just hear an actual story about his life.
Adam tries to smile, but it’s definitely a bit strained. “Can I see a photo of you two together then?”
Ben blushes. “We didn’t take any. He doesn’t really like photos.”
Adam sighs. “And he has no social media?” This was something he had asked about after Ben’s first attempt at bringing Sam up, only to be met with no possible way to look for somebody with just a first name. Once probed, Ben had finally admitted that he was entirely offline. To Adam, it seemed like a rather obvious hole in Ben’s story; how could Ben “I need the internet injected into my veins” Doyle be dating someone offline?
“He lives in Colorado, Adam. It’s like a legal requirement to be off the grid.”
Now that hadn’t been brought up during Adam’s brief dip into Instagram searching/stalking. “Sorry, he lives in Colorado?”
“Did I not mention that?” Ben says. His story is falling apart at the seams. Adam doesn’t relish in that, and if he did then it would only be a tiny amount.
“No, Ben! You did not! How did you even meet him?”
“At a bar in Manhattan. He comes here for work a lot, so I still get to see him every few weeks. I’ve never done long distance before but…” he shrugs, looking around coyly. Adam is going to have to ask him where he does his acting classes. “It’s nice. We make it work.” That statement is followed by a wink, which makes Adam immediately lose all his other questions. Ben is his best friend in the whole world and if he has to think about him having sex then Adam will probably throw up.
Not that Ben is having sex with his fake boyfriend. Whose lore is getting weirder and weirder as this conversation continues.
“Okay buddy,” Adam says, patting Ben on the shoulder. It’s better for everyone involved if they just drop this now. Adam doesn’t have time to be thinking about Ben’s weird habits; they have a Netflix account to boot up.
Halfway through Black Mirror, Adam goes to ask Ben a question and instead finds him absorbed in his phone. Frankly, Adam can’t be bothered to hear Ben make up more inane lies, so he ignores it. He makes a mental note to ask his friends if anybody would be interested in a five foot seven guy who dresses like a highlighter and can’t go a day without his switch.
—
Technically, Adam isn’t supposed to be in Ben’s living room. It’s just that Ben is taking too long in the bathroom and Adam cannot stand in the tiny hallway any longer and Ben won’t even care.
So he’s standing in the living room, taking in the familiar sights of Ben’s apartment; laptop open on the coffee table, mugs still sitting on the floor; a stack of books that Ben has definitely knocked over at least twice. It’s all very normal; very Ben.
The problem is the hoodie lying across his couch. Adam thinks that it is a problem for many reasons, mostly because he knows Ben so well.
Problem one: the hoodie is black, and Adam is reasonably confident that the only black clothes Ben owns are underwear, and even that might not be a guarantee.
Problem two: the hoodie is several sizes too big for Ben, and while Ben has been known to enjoy the occasional oversized shirt, a hoodie that would fit better on someone over six foot two has never been his style.
And problem three: the hoodie has the words Aspen Ski Lodge embroidered across the front. This presents two smaller sub-problems, the most pressing issue of which is that Ben does not ski. At all. The slightly smaller issue is that somewhere, from the depths of his mind, Adam remembers that Aspen is in Colorado, the supposed home of Ben’s boyfriend.
He’s committing to this bit way too hard. Especially for Adam’s liking, who, even before all this, had been convinced that Ben was slowly becoming insane—or, more insane than usual. Now, he has actual physical proof that he’s right. Ben’s crazy.
“You ready to go?” Ben says, very much not in the bathroom anymore. He’s staring at Adam expectantly.
Adam doesn’t move, just keeps staring at the hoodie like it killed someone in front of him. In a way, it has. It’s killed Ben’s chances at ever seeming normal ever again.
Adam’s rather enjoying being dramatic. He feels it fits the situation.
“You get a new hoodie?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He realises too late that Ben probably wants him to ask about it, just so he can have an excuse to keep up his bit. Curse him for abusing Adam’s curiosity and also concern for his friends.
He’s proven right when Ben smiles. “Oh that! It’s Sam’s actually. He was over here just before you came.”
“And he left it for you?”
“Yeah,” Ben says, smile growing wider. “Said I could keep it until he next comes over.”
Maybe Ben’s been cursed. That feels like the most logical explanation to…all of this. And Adam can only think of one way to break this curse: force Ben to do something he absolutely won’t be able to fake.
“You two have been together for what…two months? And I’ve still never met him! We should all go out for coffee sometime!”
Adam is fully expecting to see Ben panic at that, but instead, his friend just grows more confident. Seriously, where the fuck are these acting skills coming from?
“That sounds perfect! He’s actually in town for the rest of the week, so we could do dinner on Friday? If you don’t have anything else?” Adam can do nothing but shake his head helplessly. “I’ll message him on the subway,” Ben says, before turning around and giving Adam no opportunity to ask follow up questions.
At least he’s going to get to go out with Ben. At least this bit will finally be over. Adam is going to make him pay for dinner after all the torture he’s put Adam through. It’s the least Ben can do.
—
Behind him, there’s a group of college students loudly discussing the morals of dating a 25 year old while they’re still in college. Adam doesn’t have the heart to tell them that 25 year olds are more interested in creating a fake boyfriend and driving their best friends to the brink of insanity than dating like a normal person.
Ben was meant to be here ten minutes ago, Sam in tow, but they are both nowhere to be seen. Or, at least, Ben is nowhere to be seen because he is late; Sam is nowhere to be seen because he does not exist. His long, blond hair and muscles that Ben won’t shut up about are absolutely fake. There is still no photo evidence of Sam. At this point, Adam’s quite grateful for that—if he had to look at a picture of a random man's abs while Ben waxes poetry about them he would probably do something drastic. Or at least, more drastic than usual.
The door opens. Adam looks up slowly, expecting to see yet another stranger, but instead, it’s Ben. And he’s alone.
Thank fucking god.
For a moment, Adam had been genuinely worried about Ben showing up with a man and disproving all of Adam’s theories. Luckily for Adam Chase, he has never ever been wrong in his life, and this moment proves it. Ben is finally, finally, going to have to sit across from him and confess that it has all been a lie. And Adam will get to ask him why the fuck he started it in the first place.
Ben pulls the chair out, sighing as he slumps into it. Adam knows he looks smug, but he can’t help it. “So? Where is this Sam you’ve been telling me so much about?” He leans forward. Ben’s confession is about to taste so sweet.
“He’s in a meeting. Again,” Ben says, properly falling over the table and burying his head in his arms. Adam feels like a carpet has just been pulled out from underneath him and given him horrible burns. Is Ben still going?
“What?” he says, extremely exasperated at this point. “Ben, you don’t need to keep—”
“He just works all the time!” Ben interrupts, seemingly not even listening to Adam. “I thought he was going to clear his schedule for this evening but he just couldn’t. And he flies back tomorrow so we can’t even rearrange.” Ben sounds so defeated. Adam’s mind is working overtime to try and piece this all together.
Ben invites him to meet ‘Sam’. ‘Sam’ suddenly can’t be here anymore. Ben is upset. Adam wants to make him feel better. The next step? Adam will buy Ben an overpriced donut from his favourite coffee shop. Ben has gotten out of this with a free donut and a continued bit.
Oh god. Adam’s played himself. He thought he was putting an end to this and yet, somehow, he’s made it even worse. He’s an idiot and he’s stupid and he needs to leave and Ben is somehow still talking.
Is he crying? Those are actual tears in his eyes. At a certain point, Adam should stop being mad and start being impressed. He hasn’t reached that level yet, but hey, maybe another month or two and he might be back around. (He really hopes this doesn’t go on for another month.)
Adam stands up, cutting Ben off. He holds out a hand to him. “Let's go get your donut.”
Ben just stares at him, confused. “What? Adam, what are you talking about?”
“Your donut? You’re upset, you need cheering up, I’m going to buy you food,” he says. It’s meant to read as irritation, but mostly it just sounds fond. Despite himself, Adam does genuinely care about his friends, even when they are being bafflingly annoying.
Ben smiles up at him, and Adam’s indignation lifts slightly. “Thank you, Adam.” As they’re leaving, Ben bumps his shoulder. “You’re a good friend.” The rest of the indignation lifts; he’s going to get a donut with his best friend, and they are going to talk about something other than their love lifes. It can still be a lovely evening.
He’ll get him next time. Maybe.
—
Adam and Ben are having a perfectly normal dinner. Ben had sent him a meal he wanted to try a few days ago, and now Adam is standing in the kitchen, desperately hoping he has enough ingredients and won’t have to make an impromptu trip to the store. He could always force Ben to go, but his friend looks rather comfortable sitting on the counter and talking about whatever comes into his mind.
A phone starts ringing—it’s Ben’s, because Adam doesn’t recognise the ringtone.
“Oh! One second!” Ben says, immediately abandoning the conversation.
“Who is it?” Adam yells as Ben runs out.
“Sam!”
Of course it is. Of fucking course it is, because Adam’s life is not simple. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand by and watch this mess—it’s interfering with their quality Ben-and-Adam time quite a lot.
Ben is taking the call in the living room, but his apartment is small enough that Adam can hear him clearly. At least, he can hear Ben’s part of the conversation which is…
“Yeah, hi! Yeah…yeah I think so. Yep, yeah. Huh, I think— Oh, yes. Yeah, yep yep.”
Seriously, what the fuck has gotten into Ben? Does he think this is what a real conversation with your partner is like? No wonder he’s had such bad dating luck.
“Yeah! Ok, yeah bye! I miss you too.”
Adam feels like ripping his hair out. He has to take the pan off the stove when Ben comes back into the kitchen because he isn’t sure he can yell at Ben while making sure their food doesn’t burn. He takes a deep, steadying breath before turning around.
“What the fuck was that, Ben?!” Adam says, voice extremely squeaky.
Ben doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty; he mostly looks shocked that Adam yelled at him. “What do you mean?”
“You just said yeah, like, twenty times! That isn’t a conversation!”
“What? I was just listening to him, Adam. I’m a great listener!”
It’s true, Ben is a very good listener. If you ask Adam, it’s one of his best qualities. But that’s not what’s important right now. All Adam cares about is getting Ben to stop bringing Sam up everytime they hang out. They’ve been ‘dating’ for nearly three months now—Adam’s pretty sure he saw Ben looking up anniversary gifts last week—and it feels like Adam is slowly being compressed in one of those industrial crushers that Ben keeps sending him TikTok’s about. He’s going to explode if it goes on for much longer.
There are several things he could do, but only one of them is readily available; it turns out that Adam is not above begging. “Just, please drop this bit already. It’s not even funny anymore. I don’t know why you’re still going with it. Please, Ben.”
“Drop what? Talking about my boyfriend because you don’t think he’s real?” Ben is still smiling, but it’s slightly strained now. Adam keeps going anyway, because he is often incapable of shutting his mouth.
“He’s not! I know that you’re just making it up!”
The mood visibly changes. Adam watches Ben’s face drop as he walks into the living room, not even bothering to respond. Adam feels bad. Really bad.
Finishing off dinner gives him a chance to think about what he said, and regret shouting at Ben. His friend is very clearly upset at having Adam work it out so quickly, and probably also at being yelled at. Adam should ask him if there’s anything else going on in his life that could have caused this reaction. Maybe that would explain the compulsive lying.
Adam plates up the food, carrying it out. Ben is pressed into the corner of the sofa, still looking a bit depressed.
“I’m sorry,” he says, holding the plate out to Ben. His friend takes it right away, but he ignores Adam’s apology. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. And for saying your boyfriend isn’t real. And for being a dick about it.” Just because Adam still believes he’s right doesn’t mean the apology isn’t real. He really didn’t mean to hurt Ben.
Ben sighs, deflating against the couch and finally acknowledging Adam, who breathes a twin sigh of relief. “It’s okay. Let’s just eat.”
“Let’s,” Adam agrees. Their friendship has survived much worse things than a rogue, indecipherable bit. All they need is a three hour long conversation and some good food. Ben even brought them brownies. They will get over it.
Even if Adam still doesn’t believe him, he can put that aside for now. They’ll deal with it one day.
—
Adam is once again going over home security features that Ben needs: security cameras, an alarm system, remembering to lock his fucking door, to name a few. Adam hasn’t been invited over per say, but he was bored and that meant that Ben was probably also bored. And Adam had hoped that beating Ben at Mario Kart would greatly improve his day and reduce both of their boredness.
So he’s standing in Ben’s tiny hallway, once again. He feels like he spends more of his life here than anywhere else. It’s a rainy Saturday afternoon, meaning Ben is either in his bedroom or the living room. Adam checks the bedroom first and finds it empty, meaning his only option is the living room. Oh how he loves the process of elimination.
The door is closed, unusually, and Adam can hear weird noises coming from behind it. It doesn’t sound like a game he recognises, or a show he and Ben have watched together. Then again, Ben does know how to work his TV, even when Adam isn’t over. He dismisses the noises, pushing the door open.
He should not have dismissed the noises. He very much, 100%, should not have dismissed the noises. He should have heard the noises and ran, very fast, back to his own apartment and never dared to look at Ben or his couch ever again.
The back of the couch isn’t very tall, giving Adam a perfect view of Ben pushed against the arm of it, a tall, blond man kneeling over him and kissing him. Adam realises, very belatedly, that this is Sam. Sam is real. All six foot three and shoulder length hair of him. Probably also all of the muscles, but Adam doesn’t want to think about that now. Really, he doesn’t. He wants to wash his brain out with soap, followed by his eyes, followed by his ears.
Or maybe he should start with his ears, because suddenly the noises turn from wet kissing to Ben moaning and Adam is fumbling behind him for the door. They are no longer kissing, they are making out. And Ben looks like he’s enjoying it. He pulls Sam even closer, until he’s practically on top of Ben. The practical part of Adam’s brain wonders how Ben isn’t being squished to death right now.
Adam finds the door, stumbling on something as he leaves but entirely confident that Ben—and Sam, who is a real fucking person—is too preoccupied to notice. He takes the stairs two at a time, shoes banging the whole way, desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and his friend.
His mind is stuck on the fact that Sam is real. That, despite Adam’s insistence, Ben has not been doing a bit for the past three months. God Adam has been such a dick; he’s going to be groveling for at least a month. Because Sam is real, and a person that Adam could very well meet. He doesn’t know if he wants to right now, but at least he knows it’s actually an option. And Sam is—
Well. He’s Ben’s boyfriend. But Adam still has eyes.
Good for him.
One quick run home and minor freakout later, Adam messages Ben.
Adam: sorry for not believing you about your boyfriend. he very much seems real to me now. I will buy you both lunch as an apology
Ben: what the fuck did you just see
Adam: you both still had clothes on
Adam: if that helps
Ben: oh thank god
Adam: sorry for thinking you were doing a bit
Adam gets a thumbs up in response. It’s fair enough.