Simple Things
by Te
June 1999

Disclaimers: They do not belong to me, I'm 
making no money, this is all just for fun.

Spoilers: Vague (very vague) reference to 
the pilot. 

Ratings Note/Warnings: R? PG-13? Some 
m/m affection, no deeper meanings. 

Summary: Benny does some thinking.

Author's Notes: Thanks go to Drovar for 
sharing the pilot with me, to Viridian for 
watching it with me, and to Spike and Rae
for audiencing MolassesTease!Te. And big
smoochies to Pretty Pretty Dawn Pares for
beta. 

thete1@earthlink.net 

*

He gets so close sometimes.

My body was comfortable with him, his scents,
motions... comfortable with *everything*, more
quickly than it had ever been for anyone. I 
remember spending time turning it over and 
over in my head... 
 
And I kept coming back to the fact that Ray 
spent a lot of time redefining the laws of 
personal space and then darting away again. 
After I finally accepted it, I spent time 
wondering what had taken me so long to 
accept the obvious.

It isn't that the other options that occurred 
to me -- we'd run in the same pack in some 
distant past, a police officer knows his partner,
etc. -- were all that implausible, it's just that I 
knew they were wrong.

But I still could not just say, "Ray gets so close 
sometimes..."

And the reason for *that* was that the 
explanation was much too simple. The thought
jarred something loose, I could feel it go. Once 
again, I was confused. 

Too simple. What was wrong with that?
 
After all, people's motivations were often 
complex, and so I shouldn't be at all surprised
that I couldn't accept a simple explanation right 
away. 

Thankfully, my mind took mercy on me at that
point and had the kindness to say the above in 
a vague simulacrum to Ray's Speaking To An 
Authority Figure Who Is Nonetheless Being An 
Idiot voice.
 
I couldn't just say "Ray gets so close sometimes," 
because then I'd have to accept the simple 
answer, which was bad because that just isn't the
way the world works. 

According to Ray.

And I put my head in my hands and something 
about the angle... I remembered the day we first 
met and the way he'd nearly rested his head on my 
shoulder while he was reading the computer screen
in front of us. 

I remembered, and then I caught myself tipping 
my head a little to make it easier for him to get 
closer, just in case he wanted to.
 
And it really didn't matter that I was all alone in 
my apartment at the time, that Ray was doing 
his weekly dinner at his family's home, that I 
was just... redirecting an event that had already 
happened.

It didn't matter because it was already and 
incredibly *familiar* motion to me by that 
point. 
 
I make it easy for him to get closer and... he does. 
That's all. Every inch offered is taken, easily. 
Gratefully? 

I was kind to myself, and resolved to ask why he
gets so close... So unusually close... I knew what 
I wanted it to be, but a lot of things I've wanted...

Well, I resolved to ask him. 

And when I did, he kissed me. 
 
That's not quite true. I asked him, he pulled the car
over fast enough to make Dief stumble a bit in the 
backseat, I looked around and felt my usual dismay
that so much of the city looked like so much of the
rest of the city without close investigation, he 
started to ask me what I was talking about, he 
started what sounded like four, possibly five 
different explanations including something about 
the demonstrative natures of some cultures, I 
settled in, he looked at me.

And then he tore off his seatbelt and kissed me.

And I opened my mouth, but instead of moving 
in the way I expected him to he jumped back far 
enough to bang his head on the driver's side 
window, at which point Diefenbaker came to his
aid. 

I feel as though I need this to be very clear in 
my mind. There is no room for mistakes here; I 
should remember everything in full detail so 
that whatever conclusions I make take into 
account the way his legs splayed out when Dief 
pounced. 

Ray managed to kick me several times while 
trying to convince Dief he really didn't need 
saving. All I could do was sit there. I think I 
must have been stunned. Or possibly the 
laughter was paralytic. After all, I'm reasonably
sure I wasn't supposed to be laughing and 
maybe the chuckles came with their own 
punishment. 

Karmic debt collection, Ray might have said. 

In any case, it took me a few moments to move, 
and then only to try to get one of Ray's legs 
from behind my neck before he injured himself.

Although Ray is quite flexible.

As I was struggling to bend Ray back into a 
suitable position, his trouser leg slipped up 
slightly. His sock was so smooth, my hand slid 
down along the almost frighteningly delicate 
curve of his ankle to his calf. I found myself 
cupping lean, warm muscle. Elegant in 
proportion, covered with crisp hair...

Many different things about Ray feel good to 
me, and now I had another. I did not so much 
think about the situation as I just caressed 
him, squeezed a little, ran my fingertips along 
his leg, and reached over to retrieve the other 
one from where it had landed in my footwell.

At that point Ray pressed his legs a little 
closer to me. I remember wondering, briefly, 
how much of this we'd be doing in the car, but 
it was far too bland a thought to remain in 
existence, as were most of the other thoughts 
demanding attention, analysis. 

My hands could only get so far, though, so I 
attempted to get to his belt.

At which point I noticed that Diefenbaker was 
still sitting on quite a lot of Ray, enthusiastically
congratulating him for being alive despite his
nasty altercation with the car door.

I was still laughing, and didn't stop until I saw 
that while Ray was holding Dief off in his 
typically futile way, he was also looking at me 
and his eyes were so large and dark...

And then Dief was jumping into the back seat, 
which means I probably told him to but before I 
could do anything else Ray had managed to fold 
himself upright again.

Ray was studying the road like a man who had to
walk it for several hundred miles and could only 
bring one pair of boots. I started to speak to him 
but he only shook his head.

So I sat back in my seat, away from him, and let 
him take me back to my apartment, and now I'm
sitting here trying to puzzle out if I'm more or 
less confused.

I can still smell the lingering traces of the sweat 
from behind Ray's knee on my hand, still taste it
a little. 

I'm hard for him. I know it will start to hurt soon 
if I don't do anything about it, but I will. I know 
he is hard for me, as well. He simply needs to talk 
about things, which is only to be expected.

This is very complicated, after all. 

When he comes to pick me up tomorrow, I will 
find a way to convince him to come upstairs, and 
then we will talk. 

I will also, however, prepare Diefenbaker for the
possibility that Ray will need protection from the
treachery of both my front door and my windows.

Just in case. 


End.