Work Text:
Harsh raindrops pattered down on the windows of Ben’s apartment, setting the mood for a perfect night in Ben’s eyes. He had taken the opportunity to start a new painting, letting the atmosphere take control over his brush strokes as he worked. It was early in the evening, about 7 P.M, and Ben was off in his own world.
He found himself always wandering somewhere in the back of his mind, the subject of Ricky Collins. He wondered if he would be coming over tonight, not that he would care if he didn’t, considering the rain. He knew that he would’ve hated it, getting his beautiful hair which he insisted on taking forever with each morning wet.
When he had first pulled up that week on his stupidly disruptive motorbike, Ricky was nothing more than a nuisance that made him giggle on occasion, he would be anything more than that. That the two of them sharing a bed for the night didn’t mean much. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
He felt crazy thinking to himself that he had enjoyed his company more than usual. He had started out thinking Ricky was a typical greaser with no business other than fucking around and causing havoc, but as he saw more of him, the more in depth he seemed.
A soft, romantic soul with a shocking talent for poetry. It was something he never would have expected, but then again he probably never would’ve expected sharing a bed with him for the past year, having him open up and cry in his arms, him dropping his facade of being some thug and showing a side of him that was reserved for Ben.
Only Ben.
He smiled at the thought, his hand stilling as he zoned out, picturing Ricky’s shit-eating grin in his mind and letting the image linger.
Ben’s mind was changed in an instant when he whipped around at the sound of the window opening.
Ricky held his sopping wet jacket above his head, dripping along with the mud from his boots seeping quickly into the floor as he climbed awkwardly inside, hissing curses to himself.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ben leapt up from his stool, scowling at the puddle forming underneath him. “It was raining! I’m not responsible for the weather, Brookie!” He spat back, lowering his makeshift hood.
“I don’t care—you can’t just come in here sopping wet!” Ricky ignored him, inspecting his jacket and clothes to see how badly the rainwater had gotten into them, his hair almost completely dry except for a few wet strands. Ben sighed distastefully, of course. “Give me that.”
He snatched the dripping jacket from Ricky’s hands, the fabric feeling uncomfortably waterlogged as he held it. He turned on his heel, leaving Ricky puzzled as he began following behind him. “Where are you going?” “Going to hang this up to dry. Get in the bathroom, shitbird. And take off your shoes.” Ben ordered, stamping off before Ricky questioned his demands, trying to keep his footsteps quiet so as to not wake anyone else in the house.
“You don’t have to be so mysterious and brooding all the time.” Ricky sneered behind him, but following the direction he had been given.
It’s too late for this bullshit. Ben thought, sighing to himself before heading out to hang up the jacket to keep it from dripping on him any longer. Luckily, not a lot had spilled onto the hallway floor.
He came inside, heading to the bathroom and being met with Ricky staring at himself in the mirror, running a hand softly through his hair to ensure it was still intact. His shoes were in the corner, fading mud tracks in the doorway.
“You should’ve stayed out there, it would’ve washed the gel out of your hair for you,” he quipped, watching as Ricky turned the sink on and started to roughly rinse his hair. “Oh, shut up, Brookie,” he glanced at him, giggling a little at the comment. How does he ever manage to wash all of that out anyhow?
Ben bit back the thought from leaving his mouth, lightly hitting him over the head with a towel in a playful manner, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ”Maybe you need to learn to shut up.”
“You don’t have to be so mean all the time, y’know,” Ricky said teasingly, lifting his face from the sink and stealing the towel from Ben to dry his hair.
He had the glimpse of a thought of how every night he noticed how good Ricky looked with his hair down, but shoved it away immediately.
Ben dismissed his comment, rolling his eyes as he spoke, “I’ll be right back.” He left Ricky in the bathroom, walking carefully downstairs to not risk anyone finding him awake.
He went into his bedroom with two hand towels, finding Ricky with his hair now dried and brushed through looking curiously at the painting Ben had been working on previously. He turned around at the sound of Ben’s footsteps, a somewhat surprised expression on his face that shifted quickly as he walked over to take one of the towels from his hand.
They cleaned the floor in comfortable silence, the rain only coming down harder with small drops leaking through the crack in the window.
Ricky paused in his work, looking up at Ben and meeting his eyes before speaking, “I’m sorry about… all this.” He gestured between the two of them, a slightly sheepish grin on his face.
“It’s alright. It could’ve been worse.” Ben shrugged, standing up when he got the last spot of water off of his floor.
“You mean if my hair was wet as well?” Ricky laughed at his own joke, twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers.
“No,“ Ben sighed heavily at his point not getting across, “I mean that you could’ve been sleeping out in the rain. I would rather you make a mess here than go to bed on a bench absolutely soaked.”
He didn’t add the fact he never got any sleep without him. That he was like an anchor that kept him from tossing and turning in the night.
Ricky smiled at him as their fingers brushed when he handed Ben back his towel. It was one of his gentle smiles, not the ones with lurking mischief or teasing behind them. One of the ones that showed his appreciation for Ben. One of the ones that made his heart unnaturally skip a beat.
“Let’s get to bed, shitbird.” He said, trying to ignore the thudding in his chest. The one he found himself always having to ignore.
Ricky had never been that good of a sleeper. Even while sleeping in the comfort of an actual bed consistently for the first time in ages, he could barely bring himself to sleep an entire night without the tiniest noise waking him up.
So there he was, in the dead of night, taking in the noises of the rain and shrill wind, and the sight of Ben’s sleeping body facing him.
He always knew Ben was pretty. He rarely ever mentioned it as much as he thought it, even if he had called him beautiful before and used “pretty boy” as a way of teasing, but it consumed his every thought. The beauty of him that Ricky knew he would never have to himself, the beauty that he would never deserve.
His eyes were the first things he noticed about him, when he had come stomping up to him complaining about his ruined painting and how his eyes flared with a strangely beautiful anger.
Now those eyes were shut in his sleep, his face content rather than his usual bored expression, the one he put on for everyone, every stranger, every other student, every teacher.
Except Ricky.
Suddenly, he saw Ben slightly stir in his sleep. Shit—Ricky quickly closed his eyes, snapping out of the trance Ben’s pretty face had put him in and realizing how freaked out he would be if he noticed him staring at him in the middle of the night.
He listened closely to Ben’s movements, a skill he had learned from listening to his father’s footsteps. I should just go to sleep. There’s no point in staring at me like some creep-
He heard Ben mumble some nonsense in his sleep, his fingers subconsciously trailing up his arm. Ricky felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears, a sense of nervousness creeping over him at his touch.
Ricky went completely still as he felt Ben shift in the bed, suddenly having an arm wrapped around his waist and being pulled closer to him.
“Brookie, what are you doing?” He hissed, feeling his cheeks flush a tremendous red. “I’m just cold, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleepiness.
It took every piece of Ricky’s willpower to not make a big deal out of it. Ben’s head on his chest, cuddling into the crook of his neck, his arm slung around Ricky’s waist, fingers lightly clenched onto the back of his shirt.
He couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming.
He heard Ben mutter something inaudible, pulling him in closer and getting rid of any possible space between the two.
Despite the grip being loose, Ricky felt like he was suffocating, drowning in his own emotions. The feeling that he might have to savor this moment because there was a chance he could never have anything like this again.
Ricky slowly moved his arm to wrap around him, trying to control the thoughts running through his head. He let his hands run gently through Ben’s hair, hearing him let out a small sigh and lean into the touch. “You’re a nice heater,” Ben let out a small chuckle under his breath.
He’s just cold. It’s whatever. But even if it wasn’t for the reasons he wished they were, Ricky didn’t want to let the moment go to waste. He smiled, resting his head lightly on Ben’s before his eyes fluttered shut.
When Ricky awoke the next morning, the sound of the pouring rain had stopped, only left with the light tapping of drops plinking down off the eaves of the rooftop.
He had managed to get some good sleep, trying his best to ignore the fact he slept better cuddled up next to Ben. He suddenly realized that he was still cuddling him. Still with his head against Ricky’s chest, arms wrapped around him tighter than they had been when he fell asleep, as if he didn’t want him to slip away into the night.
As much as a good chunk of his brain told him it would be okay to stay for a little while, the more rational part of it felt differently. He remembered last night, his fear of Ben waking up to him staring. He didn’t want to risk having to explain a situation like that, already picturing his awkward stammering and immediately wanting to push away the thought.
Freeing himself from Ben’s grasp, he slowly rose from the bed, stretching and rubbing his eyes to adjust to the faint daylight coming through the window.
He scampered as silently as he could to fetch his jacket from where it had been hung up to dry. It felt okay enough to wear for the day, but the damp leather clung to him uncomfortably. He cringed, but knew he would need to work with what he had. Stealing leather jackets didn’t come easily.
Ricky made his way back to the bedroom, knowing that it wouldn’t be safe to go through the front door.
He peered out the window as he opened it, being hit with the moist air and the smell of the past rain, only seeing large, distant puddles in the streets.
He glanced over at Ben due to habit, the new dawn highlighting his features, making it seem as if he was glowing. He found it impossible at times to not stare at him. He was so effortlessly beautiful, it drove Ricky mad.
Stop it, Rick. Just leave.
Just as he was able to tear his eyes away and was about to head through the open window, he heard Ben’s voice merely above a whisper.
“Shitbird?”
Ricky turned back around to him unexpectedly, watching as he shifted in his sheets, seemingly trying to grab onto something while half-asleep. He kept his mouth shut, only counting the still seconds leading up to the moment Ben spoke again, “where’d you go?”
His murmured words were heavy with something he rarely heard from Ben. A sense of longing behind his voice. Maybe Ricky was driving himself crazy, maybe he was just trying to search for any reason to crawl back to Ben.
But the side of his brain he considered irrational won over him that time.
Ricky’s shoes were off in an instant, the mud stains from the other night not as clear anymore. He slipped back under the covers, brushing his hand against Ben’s skin accidentally, until the sudden contact made Ben realize he was there again. He pulled Ricky closer with unnecessary force, bringing them face to face.
He thanked every God that could ever exist that Ben’s eyes were closed and that he wasn’t able to see Ricky’s bright red face at the moment.
Calm the fuck down. It’s just because Brookie’s cold. This isn’t for me.
He hesitated a second, his thoughts racing, before resuming the position he woke up in. Him holding Ben while he slept soundly against him. Something he probably could’ve never fathomed actually happening before then.
His eyes flickered to the clock on the small table next to the bed before they shut.
Despite him noticing it was past the usual time he was supposed to leave, he could spare a few more moments in that bedroom.