Work Text:
"Fucking hell—"
Ben doesn’t curse on principle. He is an English Literature professor, living and dying by the meaning and context of words and the way authors use them was the bread and butter of his career. The thing that brackets every interaction he has. There are a million different ways to express hatred, pain, and shock in phrases and imagery that are far more devastating, and Ben is hardly going to encourage his own students not to explore the bounds of the English language beyond a four letter word. It’s like using the word “fire” when you could use the phrase “blazing inferno”. One of those words is far more powerful, more provoking imagery, and it wasn’t the former.
Unfortunately for Ben, there was really no better word for when your tiny kitchenette was currently only a little on fire.
“Shit, shit, shit!” he yelped, the towel in his hands doing nothing to subdue the tiny fire waving at him merrily from the inside of his favorite pan in his apartment. He stole it from Anakin’s home, actually, where Padme watched with a raised eyebrow as he hauled his weekender back to the car with a large lump that definitely wasn’t in there when he arrived. And now it was burning, and the smoke plume floating up towards the ceiling was enough to rival the first time Ahsoka tried making eggs without supervision. Ben wiped the sweat from his brow as he used the pan lid to try to fan the flames. They rose higher.
Why he even attempted to cook was a mystery at this point in the evening. He’d had a wonderful day to start with. Ben had given a wonderfully productive lecture that made him remember exactly why he loved teaching at a university. He’d had a delicious lunch with Professor Windu of the art department, and then Quinlan called and they had an argument about the season finale of the show they were watching separately but together. So why did that equate to being a decent cook? Ben burns cereal, let alone the recipe for stir-fry he found on the Holonet.
The fire alarm was going off now, shrill and obnoxious. Had been going off for a few minutes now and Ben could hear the other tenants on his floor starting to file out towards the fire exits with loud and concerned muttering just outside his door. He tossed the lid and towel down on the floor and let out a vehement string of curses that perhaps were the closest he could get to truly pushing the limits of the English language.
Ben slunk out the front doors of his apartment complex just as the sirens that had been approaching revealed a large fire truck, sailing down the damn avenue at top speed. He groaned, burying his face in his hands. He had coworkers who live here! Professors who would be very confused and gossipy about the whole affair. How was he gonna go into work tomorrow if he burned his apartment down?
The air was cool and far fresher outside the apartment when Ben stepped past the door in his house slippers. It helped him think a little, as he paced a track through the green in front of the building. What if the fire spreads? What if now Aayla’s place next door with her dog, or Kit’s place across from his, was burning down and Ben was the cause? He groaned at the thought, clutching his head in his hands and pulling at his hair.
Ben was so preoccupied with the pacing and the self-loathing he barely even noticed the firefighter standing in front of him until he crashed into the man, nearly toppling both in surprise and loss of balance. The man propped him back up with a strong hold around his shoulders, smiling warmly if not with a little concern in his eyes.
“Are you alright, sir?” The firefighter asked. Ben blinked owlishly at him. The firefighter was still holding onto his shoulders, and he was looking at Ben with warm brown eyes that were doing terrible, fluttery things to Ben’s stomach. “You just… I don’t know, you look more freaked out than anyone else here and you’re covered in what might be teriyaki sauce so I’m checking in?”
“I think I burned down my apartment,” Ben blurted out. The firefighter quirked an eyebrow at him. Ben buried his face in his hands again.
“Terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to word-vomit like that,” Ben said when he lifted his face, trying to resettle himself a little. “I attempted to make stir fry this evening and wound up frying my apartment and now I’m worried mine and my neighbor’s apartments are… why are you laughing?”
“That– was stir fry?” he said, little gasps of laughter coming in through his question. Ben crossed his arms defensively, which only seemed to make the firefighter laugh even harder. He looked… okay, Ben would admit this man was hot. Like, the “stir fry on fire” kind of hot. He had kind eyes, a scar that curled down the side of his face, and arms banded with muscle under the jacket he was wearing. Plus, him and his coworkers had just run into Ben’s slowly burning apartment which made him incredibly competent.
And incredibly Ben’s type.
“I shouldn’t laugh,” the firefighter said when he noticed Ben’s petulant frown. “But my brother, Rex, said it didn’t even look like food. We were making bets on which tenant didn’t know how to cook and it turns out it’s the very polite, very pretty man with a fancy accent. And a very interesting shirt.”
Ben tugged on the hem of his t-shirt to read whatever bizarre graphic he had pulled on as soon as he stepped into his apartment. As if the universe couldn’t get any crueler, it was the shirt Anakin had gotten Ben for his 30th birthday. The one that said “OVERWORKED AND UNDERFUCKED” in sparkly pink block text. Ben groaned and crossed his arms self-consciously, as if that would undo the damage. Bad first impressions were Ben’s least favorite social interaction. He was the poised, put-together English professor. Not the man in the stupid shirt with his apartment on fire.
“A gift from my obnoxious little brother that was never supposed to see the light of day,” Ben said, feeling weirdly desperate for this fireman’s approval. “I’m not usually this…discombobulated. I have a PhD.”
“Oh, so like, a mad scientist type of deal,” The fireman said, and Ben shook his head so adamantly it hurt. That startled another laugh out of the other man. Ben was surprised to discover how much he appreciated the sound of that laugh, just the right amount of ridiculousness that made the whole “hot firefighter who probably saves puppies for a living” thing a little more palatable. He stuck a hand out for Ben to shake. “Cody, Deputy Chief of the 212th. And I know a thing or two about obnoxious little brothers.”
He jammed a thumb in the direction of the other men and women leaning on and around the firetruck. One of them, identical to Cody save for the buzzed blond hair, was not-so-inconspicuously watching them talk. Ben snickered at the obvious and tragic attempt at subtlety.
He shook Cody’s hand with a cautious smile. “I’m Ben, English Literature professor. I hate to break the flow of conversation, but is my apartment okay?”
“Oh!” Cody’s eyes went round like saucers. “Yes, your apartment’s fine. That pan is toast, but other than that there was no harm done. Sorry I just— you’re very— yeah.”
Ben couldn’t help the way he threw his head back and laughed, half delirious with relief and just the slightest bit flustered from talking to Cody. There was something compelling about the firefighter, that easy balance of steadiness and humor that seemed to draw Ben in, grounding and welcome.
“No need to stress,” Ben said, feeling looser now that the weight of his whole apartment complex burning down had been lifted from his shoulders. “You’re very ‘yeah’ too. I think.”
They both glanced towards the rest of the tenants of Ben’s apartment, who were mostly sitting in the cool grass and talking. Aayla and Kit knelt together to pet her dog, Garen was listening to some kind of music. In fact, not a single person looked particularly bothered by the evacuation. With a clearer mind now, Ben could see that perhaps his concern over the destruction of his entire apartment complex was… misguided, at the very least. Anxiety created by a busy day and the mindset of a man who works with college students on the brink of breakdowns every day.
“Do you want to get dinner?” Cody blurted out. Ben turned to stare at him, jaw agape. A blush rose high on Cody’s face, and his hands snapped down to his sides as if to keep from fidgeting. Ben’s fluttering heart seemed to find this endearing. “Your stir fry is unrecognizable, and I know a good spot for sushi.”
Ben gestured to his hideous shirt and the flannel pajama pants he was wearing. “In this?”
“We can get takeout then, eat it at the station. But you’re really funny and fascinating and handsome and it would be a damn shame if I didn’t at least ask to go out with you.” Cody was standing ramrod straight now, looking as if this was the first time he had ever been so bold. And maybe it was. Ben turned his head back at his little apartment window, with all the tiny potted plants he had saved from Ahsoka’s irresponsible hands over the years. His head hurts just thinking about the papers he spends every night grading, alone in his apartment with a soap opera playing just to make him feel less isolated.
Maybe the routine and the loneliness was wearing on him. Work was full of friends to keep him busy, but somehow between moving away from Anakin and Quinlan moving to a bigger city for his investigative work, Ben was left with a rather lonesome personal life. Ben was a creature of community, he knew this to be true. And here was Cody, near begging him to go on a date with a cute fireman who thinks he’s funny and handsome even when he’s panicking about his own poor decision to foray into cooking. And when he’s wearing what might be the worst shirt he owns. To get sushi, which was a luxury when Ben had the time for it.
“Aren’t you still on duty?” Ben asked, one final test of the waters before he completely gave in. But Cody just rolled his eyes.
“I’m pretty sure Rex is going to murder me if I don’t ask you out.” Cody retorted, and stretched his elbow to Ben. “You coming or not, Professor?”
Ben shook his head fondly and padded across the grass to loop his arm around Cody’s. Together, they walked off towards the firetruck, ready for whatever adventure was to find them next.