Work Text:
There was truly, and honestly, nothing that sounded less appealing to Ricky than whatever he was doing at 9:12 P.M on May 12th of his Senior year.
That, of course, was standing at a snack table, fiddling with his tie, at the most boring prom that had probably ever happened.
The aroma of the room had high notes of sweat mixed with the cheapest perfumes and colognes a room full of seventeen year olds could afford. Ricky couldn’t say he was any better. He’d walked here from Skeeter’s house not even an hour ago, not before spraying whatever semi-masculine scent Skeeter had had on himself.
The musk of the gymnasium was nothing compared to the assault on his eyes. Of course, the women looked beautiful, and of course, the guys looked fine. The lights flashing above them were nearing blatantly painful, but it was tolerable. The sight was ruined by a lack of a certain person. Or, couple, Ricky supposed.
“I feel like the Hindenburg disaster was probably worse.” His thoughts were interrupted by the squeak of the gym floor, and the words spoken loudly beside him.
“I- what?” His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes met the sight of Skeeter.
She poured a ladle of strangely colored punch from the bowl behind her. “You said,” She sipped. “”This is the worst.” But I feel like dying in a blimp explosion would be fairly dreadful.” Their expressions synced. An unfocused grimace.
“Har har.” Had he said that out loud? He was totally out of it, and he hadn’t even had any of the “definitely not spiked” totally spiked punch behind them.
“I’m hilarious, I know.” She leaned on the table, matching her posture to that of Ricky’s. “You doing alright?”
Was he? He didn’t know. He nodded. He knew how to do that.
He felt a firm pressure hit his chest. “Hey,” She drew back her hand. “You look great, Rick. And I’m not just saying that because I dressed you.” Her earnest expression drew a slight smile to Ricky’s mouth.
“You, too, Skeet Skeet,” Her face fell at the nickname. “Honestly, you look fantastic. I'm sure there’s a wo- person out there who'll be lucky to have you.” A copy and paste compliment, but one that was completely true.
They had spent around two hours getting ready beforehand. Any stereotype Ricky had heard about lesbians being “un-feminine” and “low-maintenance” had been thrown out the window. Skeeter spent about an hour in front of the mirror, styling her hair with cancer inducing hairspray fumes infecting the air, and dressing up her face with colorful makeup. He hadn’t minded, though. As sappy as it was, Ricky knew that this was a big step for Skeeter in her healing journey, and he was proud of her. Of course, he drew the line at Skeeter trying to pad some strange powder on his face. That line, however, was drawn in sand, as he easily caved.
Really, he couldn’t blame her all too much. He’d spent no less than twenty minutes adjusting his tie, only for it to be ruined by his consistent fiddling. He’d become so zoned out he’d almost forgotten why he was so fidgety in the first place. Or, he’d like to have forgotten at least.
“No sign of him yet?” Skeeter asked. Him, not them. Though, it was definitely going to be them. Of course it was. Couples go to prom together, weirdos go to prom alone, and he fell somewhere in the gray area.
He shook his head. “No.” He muttered through his teeth, his head still but eyes still searching.
Skeeter huffed, munching on whatever pastry she had grabbed. Her lipstick was smudged, but it was clear she didn’t care. More similar than different, Ricky wondered if she was just as disappointed as him.
“We haven’t danced at all.” She paused, scooting closer. “That might seem suspicious, or something, I don’t know.”
Ricky chuckled. “God, can you stop being irredeemably in love with me for five minutes?” His lip snarled unattractively. Skeeter laughed.
“I just can’t help it. You’re irresistible, Richard.” A hand met her forehead weakly as she fainted onto his shoulder dramatically. “I just want you. What does Brookie have that I don’t?” She asked the last part quieter than the rest. “Actually, don’t answer that. Yuck.” She sprung off of him, propelled by a light shove from Ricky.
“I’ll have you know, that I…” And just like that, he trailed off as his eyes and the rest of his known bodily senses were interrupted by a sight. A prophecy, a vision, and a nerve striking, breath halting view.
“Wow,” Both said, in perfect synchronization.
“Heh, jinx.” Skeeter said. Ricky simply kept his eyes fixed forward, the lights dancing on his agape expression. His body went limp, his bones propping him up. For the time being, at least, before they turned to marrow mush.
Standing across the gym from them, was a newly arrived pair. Ben and Lola. Ben. Lola. Here. Now.
“Holy fuck.” Black vest. Blue flower. Red tie. Pretty. Gorgeous. Amazing. Far. Skeeter. Talk. What?
“Are you gonna go say hi?” She nudged him with her boney elbow.
“Ow. Christ. Fine.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
“Hey! Let go!” He dragged her, ignoring her whining. “Ricky, c’mon.” The floor squeaked as she dragged her feet. He ignored her. If he was about to approach the sun, then by God, Skeeter was going to burn with him.
The long, treacherous journey took an aching twenty seconds before he was at the feet of the mighty one.
God, if Ben could hear how Ricky thought about him, his head would grow four sizes.
A smile. “Oh! Hey, Ricky!” Lola chimed, gripping onto Ben’s arm with sudden force. “You look nice.” She spoke, her voice bouncing in the walls of Ricky’s brains. Ben’s head turned, facing Ricky head on. He felt exposed. He felt vulnerable. He felt ill. He felt, well, hard.
“Not too bad yourself!” His personality shifted, matching the wavelength of the pair in front of him. The couple, he reminded himself, as he shifted closer to Ben. The brunette kept his eyes fixed on Ricky. “Well?”
“Well what?” Ben asked with a faux fierceness embedded in his tone. Ricky fluttered his lashes. Ben rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess you don’t look too bad, shitbird.” He grinned down. Ricky’s heart skipped a beat.
“You look really handsome.” Ricky blurted, then backed away suddenly, nearly losing his footing. Real smooth, Rich. Real smooth. The tips of his ears reddened as he noticed Ben’s do the same.
“I, uh. Yeah, you too.” A pause. Ben exhaled. “You know, I’ve been meaning to-”
“Ben, come dance with me! I love this song.” Lola interrupted. Her hand running up and down Ben’s now-rumpled white undershirt. His mouth was left slightly open.
“I, uh, yeah let’s go.” With that, she dragged him to the floor. She looked gorgeous. Her makeup looked like it took hours, longer than Skeeter’s did, and it was worth it. Her dress complimented her hair perfectly. Blue on blue. Dress on woman. Hand on hips. Lips on lips.
Ricky wanted to vomit.
“Ricky, you want some air?” Skeeter asked, her face wrinkled in concern. She must have picked up on his heavy breathing.
“Let’s dance.” He said.
“I was just kidding earlier. You don’t have to.” She chuckled.
His eyes were still fixed on the dancing couple. “No, let’s go.”
With that, they were off. Toes on toes. Insult on insult. Ricky didn’t care. He came here with a few missions, one of them being to deflect the rumours. He could do that. He could dance with Skeeter. If he closed his eyes, it was almost like he wasn’t. Almost.
Ben looked content. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor. He was gentle with Lola. Why wouldn’t he be? You’re gentle with your lover, and you’re rough with your friends. That’s what Ricky was, his friend. Nothing more.
As the pairs waltzed further apart to the tune of the slow music, Ricky felt his stomach drop even further down.
“Hello, teens. Ladies and gentlemen. We’ve arrived at a very special time of night. For this next song, and this next song only, please switch your dance partner! And please don’t force me to suspend anyone for any fights that may break out. If your friend doesn’t want you to dance with his girlfriend, don’t! Anywho, here we go.”
The couples around them traded and switched dancers. Girls switching their boyfriends, mostly, with a few pulling a practical joke.
“Ricky, don’t kill me, m’kay?” Skeeter said.
“What?” She pulled her hands away, walking towards Ben and Lola. He arched an eyebrow. Oh. She was going to dance with Ben. That was fine. He’d dance with Lola. That was cool. He turned his head, expecting to see a pretty young lady approach him.
Instead, he was greeted with the sight of Ben. Behind him, Skeeter chatted with Lola. God, he loved Skeeter.
“What- what’s up, Brookie.” He smiled, desperately trying to hide his awkwardness. He shares a bed with this man, for God’s sake.
“You look really good, Ricky.” Ben spoke, low and tender. Huh? “Really good.” The look of sincerity was too much for Ricky to handle. He swore, his collar fit fine a moment ago.
“Uh…” He stammered, his sweat racing down his neck. “Right back at you, Brookie.” His hands were clammier than an oyster.
Ben shook his head. “Sorry, but I mean it. You look fantastic.” Ricky was pretty sure he’d die right then and there, in the middle of a gymnasium, in front of children he probably shared classes with. The last bit of his composure crept away when Ben came closer, grabbing his hand.
“Wanna dance?” Ricky nodded quicker than the speed of snot. Or something. Holy fuck.
Ben came impossibly closer, placing his free hand on his shoulder. Ricky shuddered.
What about Lola? What about the others? What about his reputation?
Then, without prompting, Ben answered the questions he asked himself.
“I don’t care.”
The dance went by far too quickly. It was a joke. Ricky knew this. It was a gimmick. A part of him told him it wasn’t. The part that registered that Ben was still holding his hand.
They pulled away.
No one was pointing. No one was mocking. They just were. They existed in whatever form they were in.
“Come with me for a second, shitbi- Ricky.” Ben smiled at him. God, where did this Brookie come from and can this Brookie stay?
He allowed himself to be dragged away through the broad doors of the gymnasium. There was no Lola looking back at them, trying to stop them. No, she was enamoured with whatever Skeeter was saying. Or maybe she wasn’t. He didn’t care.
He hadn’t realized how far they’d walked until he heard a loud click and felt a blast of cool air on his face.
He looked over at the boy dragging him, his face facing the other way showing he wasn’t done. They stopped behind a pillar, Ben pushing himself up against it. If Ricky were in such a position, he'd be jonesing for a smoke. But not today. He couldn’t care about tobacco when Ben was there.
“So,” He broke the silence. “What’s going on?”
Ben huffed, deciding on what to say as his answer. “I… holy shit is that my tie?”
Ricky looked down. “Is it?” He questioned. “Wait, no, Skeeter gave me this, what are you on about?”
He looked up, only to be greeted by the sight of a plush, cheeky smile. Ricky wanted to kiss the smile off of him. “You dick.” He shoved him slightly. Ben pushed himself off the wall, inching ever closely to Ricky.
“Ah, Skeeter, right. Your date.” Ben shook his head. “She’s really pretty.”
“It’s not like that.” Ricky blurted. Ever the charmer and thinker, he was.
Ben looked down, rubbing his hands together to warm them. Hands Ricky desperately wanted to hold again. Hands that would fit perfectly on his face, cupping his cheeks-
“Lola and I broke up.”
What.
“What?!” Ricky said, louder than needed. “You broke up with her at prom? Dude, I- huh?”
“No no no, we broke up before. She said she wanted other things, but that she still wanted to go to prom for the hell of it.” He paused. “I think she had enough of me. I can’t blame her. I was a really shitty boyfriend.”
Unsure of what to say, Ricky said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He shook his head.
“No, I was. I was terrible. I never kissed her or put in effort, or really anything a boyfriend should do. I was really shitty, and I honestly feel terrible about it.” He elaborated. Ricky nodded dumbly. “I think, she finally had enough after she picked up on something.”
His heart sputtered. “I, yeah, at least you’re aware.” Awkward laugh. “I, uh-” Another laugh. “Realized what, exactly?”
Ben flushed, Ricky did in turn.
“Ricky, I don’t know if I should tell you.” The atmosphere shrunk into a disheveled, aluminum ball of sharpness. The words pierced his ear drums with such intensity.
“Brookie.” He uttered, his words coming out in a huff.
“Ricky.” He echoed.
“What do you think I would do?” He asked, in earnest curiosity and genuine fear.
“You look really great tonight, Ricky.” He looked up at him with soft eyes and plush everything.
Ricky finally understood.
He rushed forward in a swift movement, laying one hand on his shoulder and the other to his face. A small thump sounded as Ben’s head hit the rock pillar behind him, but he didn’t seem to mind. His eyes and attention and every part of him were focused on Ricky’s next movements.
“Brookie.” He swallowed hard. Their air mingling together. “Please tell me.”
He pushed forward and nuzzled his nose into the side of Ben’s. It was strange, but it was contact nonetheless. Contact that Ricky was desperate for.
“Ricky.” Ben said softly. His voice neared a whimper. Ricky trailed his nose to his cheek, where he placed a firm kiss on the soft, freckled skin.
“Please.” Ricky pleaded as he followed he brushed his lips against the sharp edge of Ben’s chin. “Please, Ben.”
“I love you, Ricky.”
Bingo.
Ricky wasted no time in hurrying to press their lips together. The flame on his lips spread to every inch of him. He stood there for a moment in pure ecstasy, melting in the cool, May air.
Ben was the first one to start moving. He tilted his head to adjust his head to the situation at hand. The gorgeous, electrifying situation that Ricky held in both of his hands. Ben brought his arms up to wrap around Ricky’s neck. He readjusted the hand on his cheek to the back of his head, threading through Ben’s caramel hair.
He felt Ben sigh contently against his lips. In a flurry of emotions, Ricky slowly and deliberately prodded his tongue onto Ben’s plush lips. He swallowed the gasp that Ben left out with eagerness as he continued his action. It was warm, and comfortable. It was everything that Ben meant to him.
Ben moved his hands to Ricky’s face as he licked into his mouth. He tasted beautiful, because he tasted like Ben. His Ben. Not Lola’s Ben. His.
He wished he could have continued for hours, disregarding the outside world. The sensation that vibrated in every part of him was magical. He couldn’t believe the boy he was tragically yearning over earlier the same night, was the same boy who was moaning every so slightly whenever he bit his bottom lip.
A small ruffle in the bush by them caused them to pull apart with urgency.
“What was that?” Ricky said, looking towards a bush.
“A deer or something.” When Ricky looked back, Ben was giggling. He wanted to bottle the feeling he felt. He bent down and placed a kiss on his cheek. Then another. And another.
“Ricky.” Ben pushed him away slightly. “You didn’t say it back.” Ricky, in response, placed a kiss to his cheek with a small laugh. “Say it back.” He pleaded, in genuine, patient sincerity.
Ricky grinned, wide and toothy. “I love you, Brookie Cookie.” He placed a kiss to his lips. Before he could escalate it, Ben pushed his chest slightly.
“Later.” He said. “I’m tired. I’m gonna go let Lola know then head out.” He turned his heel and started for the door. Ricky appreciated the view. “You coming?”
Ricky nodded and followed.