[fanfic] milk; savages, ben/chon/o; r
Aug. 6th, 2012 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kricketstitle; rating: milk; r
fandom, pairing; count: savages, ben/chon/o; ~930
notes: missing scenes + post-film (extremely vague spoilers for both savages and kings of cool by don winslow)
Humans.
They talk about the most useless shit sometimes.
Grocery lists.
2% or skim?
Ben scans their massive fridge for other needed items.
"Whole," Chon insists, to which Ben rolls his eyes, a conversation they've definitely had before.
And Ben won.
O spoons in a mouthful of cheerios, her third bowl that morning. "Wet," she says, her voice muffled behind toasted whole grain.
Practical.
"I fucking hate grocery shopping," Ben says, a rare moment of complaint.
"Who doesn't?" says O, a half-laugh at the back of her throat.
"And why are we not paying someone to do this?"
This, from Chon.
They look at him, thinking.
He's got a point.
-
Ben's first kiss with O is not long after they first meet, not long after he and Chon saved her from that dickhead jock. She's drunk and it's sloppy and he remembers afterward her confessing how cute she thinks Chon is.
Maybe that's when all this started, because she holds Ben's hand and runs her fingers over his jawline and begs him to agree, to which he concedes.
He tucks her into her bed, proper gentleman that he is, and kisses her forehead, pretty sure she won't remember a thing in the morning.
"Goodnight, fair Ophelia," he calls her by her proper name.
"Goodnight, fair Ben." She pulls his hand to her lips, kisses his knuckles, thinks that if, when morning comes, she does remember?
She'll keep it to herself.
-
The thing about Chon is that he never really lets anybody in.
Except them.
But even that's a battle, because it always feels a little like admitting that he's not strong enough without them.
And the truth is?
He's not.
But it being true, and admitting it, are two entirely different things.
He has nightmares and he screams out loud, and they come to him.
This is what they do.
They're family.
Some nights, he can't fall asleep without the both of them there.
"Chon," O whispers his name, her lips brushing over his temple. "We're here."
Ben is curled at his back, his fingers laced in Chon's.
Ben says nothing.
Exactly what he needs.
Chon shivers.
-
It's a long time after the whole mess that O lets anybody touch her, really touch her.
When she does, it's Ben, sweet Ben with the soulful eyes and the soft fingers.
It's movie night, and they're on the couch, Chon sitting across from them in the dark, TV flickering its blue light, Chon not saying a word as he watches them. Ben's thumb brushes over O's clit and she comes quietly, uncharacteristically, and it feels more like a sob. Ben swallows it with a kiss.
Later, O crawls into Chon's bed.
"I'm sorry."
She doesn't know why she's apologizing.
"I just needed,"
Ben.
Chon shakes his head. "I know," he says, moves one callused thumb over the corner of her lips, kisses her forehead.
O closes her eyes, falls asleep in Chon's strong arms.
-
The boys sometimes argue about business.
The plan was to go cold turkey, but when you're in the kind of business that Ben and Chon are in, even if you almost lost everything because of it, things are never that simple.
O knows that better than anyone.
Still, she pounds her fist on her bedroom door, shut tight, and locked, to show her disapproval.
"O," Chon says. "Come on, babe. Open up."
"I swear to God," Ben follows. "It's almost over."
O sits in the middle of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest.
Horse shoes and hand grenades, she thinks.
-
When O disappears again, she leaves a note.
Ben finds it on the keyboard of his laptop.
"I need to figure some stuff out," it says, and nothing else, not even a signature.
Chon puts his fist through a wall.
-
For a while, O being gone undoes them.
Both of them.
Ben gets deeper into the business, even though the plan was to get out.
Chon finds any excuse he can to bust heads.
But it only makes them feel worse.
Only makes them miss her more.
Only makes them miss each other more.
(Because they haven't been together since she's been gone, and the months of avoiding it hasn't stopped them from wanting it.)
One night, Ben comes home late. The house is dark and Chon pushes Ben against a wall and then down to the floor. He pulls Ben's shorts to his knees, and after a minute he presses in with a handful of spit and a mouthful of swears. Ben closes his eyes, reaches down to tug himself off while Chon fucks him from behind. Chon closes his eyes, his hips tearing into Ben's until he sees white.
"O," Ben says, breathless.
Chon bites down on Ben's shoulder, rolls over onto the floor.
"I know," he says.
-
O was never too good at keeping secrets, at being a loner.
She finds all that a little bit easier now.
-
It's past dinner on Christmas Eve at a diner outside of Edinboro, Pennsylvania.
A waitress with a name tag that reads Ophelia pushes her hair back, tying it up into a loose bun, reaches into her pocket and pulls out her pad and pen, dirty white sneakers looking back at her.
"What can I get you?" she asks without looking up when she gets to the booth, doesn't even bother wishing the occupants a fucking happy Christmas.
"Two milks," says a familiar voice.
"Whole," returns another. "None of that two percent shit."
Ben.
Chon.
O doesn't look up, just smiles into her hand.
"Coming right up."
-fin
fandom, pairing; count: savages, ben/chon/o; ~930
notes: missing scenes + post-film (extremely vague spoilers for both savages and kings of cool by don winslow)
Humans.
They talk about the most useless shit sometimes.
Grocery lists.
2% or skim?
Ben scans their massive fridge for other needed items.
"Whole," Chon insists, to which Ben rolls his eyes, a conversation they've definitely had before.
And Ben won.
O spoons in a mouthful of cheerios, her third bowl that morning. "Wet," she says, her voice muffled behind toasted whole grain.
Practical.
"I fucking hate grocery shopping," Ben says, a rare moment of complaint.
"Who doesn't?" says O, a half-laugh at the back of her throat.
"And why are we not paying someone to do this?"
This, from Chon.
They look at him, thinking.
He's got a point.
-
Ben's first kiss with O is not long after they first meet, not long after he and Chon saved her from that dickhead jock. She's drunk and it's sloppy and he remembers afterward her confessing how cute she thinks Chon is.
Maybe that's when all this started, because she holds Ben's hand and runs her fingers over his jawline and begs him to agree, to which he concedes.
He tucks her into her bed, proper gentleman that he is, and kisses her forehead, pretty sure she won't remember a thing in the morning.
"Goodnight, fair Ophelia," he calls her by her proper name.
"Goodnight, fair Ben." She pulls his hand to her lips, kisses his knuckles, thinks that if, when morning comes, she does remember?
She'll keep it to herself.
-
The thing about Chon is that he never really lets anybody in.
Except them.
But even that's a battle, because it always feels a little like admitting that he's not strong enough without them.
And the truth is?
He's not.
But it being true, and admitting it, are two entirely different things.
He has nightmares and he screams out loud, and they come to him.
This is what they do.
They're family.
Some nights, he can't fall asleep without the both of them there.
"Chon," O whispers his name, her lips brushing over his temple. "We're here."
Ben is curled at his back, his fingers laced in Chon's.
Ben says nothing.
Exactly what he needs.
Chon shivers.
-
It's a long time after the whole mess that O lets anybody touch her, really touch her.
When she does, it's Ben, sweet Ben with the soulful eyes and the soft fingers.
It's movie night, and they're on the couch, Chon sitting across from them in the dark, TV flickering its blue light, Chon not saying a word as he watches them. Ben's thumb brushes over O's clit and she comes quietly, uncharacteristically, and it feels more like a sob. Ben swallows it with a kiss.
Later, O crawls into Chon's bed.
"I'm sorry."
She doesn't know why she's apologizing.
"I just needed,"
Ben.
Chon shakes his head. "I know," he says, moves one callused thumb over the corner of her lips, kisses her forehead.
O closes her eyes, falls asleep in Chon's strong arms.
-
The boys sometimes argue about business.
The plan was to go cold turkey, but when you're in the kind of business that Ben and Chon are in, even if you almost lost everything because of it, things are never that simple.
O knows that better than anyone.
Still, she pounds her fist on her bedroom door, shut tight, and locked, to show her disapproval.
"O," Chon says. "Come on, babe. Open up."
"I swear to God," Ben follows. "It's almost over."
O sits in the middle of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest.
Horse shoes and hand grenades, she thinks.
-
When O disappears again, she leaves a note.
Ben finds it on the keyboard of his laptop.
"I need to figure some stuff out," it says, and nothing else, not even a signature.
Chon puts his fist through a wall.
-
For a while, O being gone undoes them.
Both of them.
Ben gets deeper into the business, even though the plan was to get out.
Chon finds any excuse he can to bust heads.
But it only makes them feel worse.
Only makes them miss her more.
Only makes them miss each other more.
(Because they haven't been together since she's been gone, and the months of avoiding it hasn't stopped them from wanting it.)
One night, Ben comes home late. The house is dark and Chon pushes Ben against a wall and then down to the floor. He pulls Ben's shorts to his knees, and after a minute he presses in with a handful of spit and a mouthful of swears. Ben closes his eyes, reaches down to tug himself off while Chon fucks him from behind. Chon closes his eyes, his hips tearing into Ben's until he sees white.
"O," Ben says, breathless.
Chon bites down on Ben's shoulder, rolls over onto the floor.
"I know," he says.
-
O was never too good at keeping secrets, at being a loner.
She finds all that a little bit easier now.
-
It's past dinner on Christmas Eve at a diner outside of Edinboro, Pennsylvania.
A waitress with a name tag that reads Ophelia pushes her hair back, tying it up into a loose bun, reaches into her pocket and pulls out her pad and pen, dirty white sneakers looking back at her.
"What can I get you?" she asks without looking up when she gets to the booth, doesn't even bother wishing the occupants a fucking happy Christmas.
"Two milks," says a familiar voice.
"Whole," returns another. "None of that two percent shit."
Ben.
Chon.
O doesn't look up, just smiles into her hand.
"Coming right up."
-fin