Back to Part One.
He doesn’t meet Kurt’s stepbrother Finn until he’s back at Kurt’s house, setting up the couch into a makeshift bed. It’s pretty cozy actually but not much of a sleeping place when a lumbering giant plops down on the couch, giving him a quizzical stare.
“Hey. You’re not Blaine.”
“What gave it away? That I’m almost half a foot taller than him or that we look nothing alike? Unless private school boys look all the same to you. Which is offensive.”
He's only gotten more sarcastic thanks to rooming with Kurt and really, he has to spread the wealth.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean, hey, wait a minute. You’re not Blaine.”
“Right,” Ben says, feeling a little bad since clearly Finn must be a little (or a lot) slow. “I’m Ben. Kurt’s roommate. At school.”
“Why isn’t Blaine here?”
“The question you should really be asking is why isn’t Blaine in Kurt’s pants?”
“Ben!” Oh damn, he forgot that Kurt had only gone up to his room to have a fashion-related chat with Mercedes, some emergency over something tragic coming back into style. Ben doesn't get this mysterious “Fashion” with a capital F. Outside of the school uniform, he’s battered jeans and t-shirts with the occasionally hand-me-down flannel.
He thinks it must make Kurt’s soul weep a little to see what Ben willingly wears when not forced into Dalton’s finest dorkery.
“Hey Kurt. Can you convince your stepbrother that I’m not Blaine and that Blaine isn’t like, hiding in your pants?”
Glaring at Ben, Kurt says, “Ben’s staying over tonight because we need to get a few things for his car before we head back to Dalton tomorrow. Blaine is probably at his house, where he lives, and why are you sitting on Ben’s temporary bed?”
“Oh,” Finn says, looking at the folded comforter that he’s sitting on. “I thought this was a new pillow or something.”
If looks could kill, Finn would be a smoldering heap right now.
“So uh,” Finn begins as he gets up, easily towering over him. It makes Ben really miss Sam. Not even Ben's final growth spurt made him eye level with Sam and apparently, Finn.“You’re just his roommate, right?”
“Well, I know that we’re young but I could propose to him if you want. Hey, Kurt? You want to play Left 4 Dead?”
“You play video games?” Finn asks excitedly at the same time Kurt says, “I’d rather hear you sing Black Sabbath’s entire oeuvre.”
“I can only play video games while singing Black Sabbath.”
“Hate you,” Kurt says as he climbs the stairs.
“He’s just saying that,” Ben confides to Finn. “I think he’s gotten used to me.”
“Okay,” Finn says, confused as ever. “You’re not like, secretly dating Kurt or anything, right?”
“You don’t…want to date him?”
“I’m straight. Hey, if this is how you’re going to interrogate potential boyfriends you better step it up. I’m not even shaking in my boots.”
Finn looks down. “But you’re not wearing boots.”
“Well, not on my feet.” He then gives Finn his most winning smile, which he knows has earned a few well-deserved sucker punches because he learned it from Dean and it’s a fucking antagonizing smile.
Alas, poor Finn, he only takes it at face value, breaking into his own wide smile. “Oh, okay. Cool. So do you want to kill some zombies?”
“Only the video game kind, man. The real ones are a bitch to kill and you can run out of silver stakes with a quickness and it sucks cutting off heads. Gets real boring and that’s when the zombies get into a bite-frenzy.”
Finn laughs because he thinks Ben’s joking. If only.
Ben does a very good job of not being that guy. You know. The one who clearly has a screw loose in the bad way, spends a little too much time fitting the loner profile, maybe plays with matches or talks longingly about weapons.
He doesn’t do any of that because it lets him actually be the real version of that guy, the one who knows the way the world’s really made of scary shit and sometimes you’ve got to etch a few symbols where no one will notice for protection’s sake. Sure he might have gotten a tattoo while underage, but the chicks dig it, so no one ever asks what it means. Keep it secret, keep it safe.
Fuck, he got that from Lord of the Rings. Whatever, that movie’s badass.
So he almost gives the whole fucking game away when he’s woken up by someone he does not identify as family or friend (and really by friend, he means Kurt, because he’s the only other person he’s shared a sleeping space with). Natural instinct kicks in and he tackles the intruder to the ground and pulls out the knife he secretly keeps in his pillow, almost bringing it down to the intruder’s throat before he looks down and oh, fuck it all to hell.
“Blaine! You’re uh, here early.”
Well. He’s royally just fucked himself.
“It’s ten a.m. Any reason you’re trying to stab me to death?”
“Oh,” Ben says with a fake laugh, dropping the knife on a coffee table. “I lived in Detroit for a while? Not the safest place to be and uh, I know how to hunt. Animals. Because you know, deer meat is tasty.”
It’s kind of true. Although he can’t freaking stand deer meat.
“You could get off of me,” Blaine suggests.
“That’s a good idea,” Ben agrees, rolling off and situating himself back on the couch. “Sorry about that, I’m a touchy sleeper.”
“Among other things.”
“Dude, don’t be a dick.”
“Sorry, Ben, I’ll do better next time someone almost stabs me and be more polite.”
“That’s your problem.”
“You think it’s cool as long as you’re polite. Newflash, douche bro, just ‘cause you think you’re nice doesn’t mean you’re not an asshole.”
“So you decided to stab me?”
“I would’ve stabbed anyone.” Ben doesn’t mean to sound petulant but it’s hard when Blaine clearly has the higher ground here. After all, he could’ve gotten himself stabbed just for not realizing Ben’s kind of a secret freak. “I don’t like being woken up by surprise.”
“Obviously. Look,” Blaine begins, “I know we hate each other—”
“We do?” Ben’s kind of proud of his mock surprise face, it catches Blaine off guard and he almost smiles for a second before Blaine comes to his senses.
“I don’t like you, but I like Kurt. So, as long as you never pull a knife on me—seriously what was that?—we could at least be civil to each other. For Kurt’s sake.”
Ben considers this proposal for the amount of time it deserves, which is approximately two seconds. “No way.”
“Hey, you know more about me than I know about you. But what I do know about you isn’t all that awesome. You’re fake and scared of doing what’s hard and you’re jealous as fuck about me and Kurt, even though the only thing that’s ever gonna happen there is maybe Kurt might admire my awesome ass. But that’s as far that goes. He could be admiring your ass,” and here Ben looks around because that’s a great line for Kurt to come charging in but clearly Kurt’s elsewhere so he might as well milk this for all it’s worth. “But he’s not. Because you don’t want him to—”
“I don’t,” Blaine cuts himself off, frustrated. “It’s complicated. I want Kurt to be my friend.”
“Boat sailed on that a long time ago, I’m guessing. Or you wouldn’t hate my fucking guts.”
“Well considering you almost spilled my guts, I don’t have much reason to like you.”
“There you go. Stuck on the past. That was minutes ago.”
“I’m going to excuse that based on the way you were brought up.”
Ben really, truly does not meant to hit Blaine. Really. He doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t really hit Blaine so much as open-hand slap him. A bitch-slap if you will, which is probably rude and totally out of line but Blaine did just diss his family and no, that’s crossing the line.
“What the hell?”
Oh. Of course that’s when a wild Kurt appears, clearly post-whatever complicated ritual he undergoes on weekend mornings to face the day.
“Um, Blaine was being an asshole about my family.”
“He tried to stab me!”
“Dude, let it go!”
“Why,” Kurt says, evenly, studying the scene before him, Blaine standing up, holding his reddened cheek and Ben dressed in his ragged t-shirt and boxers, “is there a knife on the coffee table?”
“I sleep with it?” Ben doesn't mean to phrase it as a question, but it's a hard sell.
“Oh, it’s that knife,” Kurt says dismissively. “Okay so, Blaine, why are you here this early?”
“Finn let me in, Kurt, he tried to stab me.”
“You knew about the knife?” Ben asks.
Both answers were shouted at the same time but Kurt hears them both. “Um, okay, that was nice of Finn to not let me know, and of course I knew about the knife. I was cleaning our room a month ago and it fell out of your pillow. I figured it was your security blanket.”
“You were okay with having some guy keep a knife in your room?” Blaine asks and hey, not cool taking his anger out on Kurt. “Do I even have to tell you how illegal that is?”
“Safety is never illegal.” Ben says which might not have been the best thing because damn, Blaine can work an angry look even with his hand still over his face.
“Says the car thief.”
Kurt sighs, walking into the room and yanking down Blaine’s hand to inspect the damage to his face. Quietly he says, “You’ll be fine.” Then he adds, “Ben, you shouldn’t have bragged about stealing a car.”
“Hey,” Ben says, “I wasn’t bragging. I was almost banned from ever getting a car after I pulled that stunt.”
“You brag about everything,” Blaine bitches, which is rare, Blaine letting loose his full bitch monster in front of Kurt. “You make everything sound amazing and perfect when you’re just…an asshole who keeps messing with my—”
“Yes? I believe the word you want is—”
“Stop it, Ben,” Kurt says, not even bothering to turn around. “You’re not helping. I think Blaine and I need to have a talk in private. Maybe you should get dressed.”
“Fine,” Ben says, snatching his bag behind the couch. “Maybe I’ll take a walk around the block too. You guys need a hell of a lot of time to catch up. I’ll give you a topic. Boyfriends. Why the fuck aren’t you two idiots dating?”
It’s not Ben’s proudest moment, storming out of that living room, but at least he has the wherewithal to grab his knife so Blaine doesn’t feel an urge to try running after him with it.
Maybe it’s a little pathetic calling his dad but fuck it, Ben almost stabbed a dude, then bitch-slapped him, and finally set about pissing off one of the few friends he actually has in the world.
“Been a while since you’ve made a call to me. What, you remembered your old man?”
“Nah, I just woke up in the middle of nowhere after twenty-four hours playing poker and called the first number I had in my head. Car’s gone too. Lost it in a bet.”
“Try harder at giving me a heart attack next time. That’s weak.”
“You’re right, I’m awesome at poker.”
“Yeah, you keep on believing that. So what’s up?”
“Boys are real fucking dumb.”
“Uh. We gonna have this chat? Because maybe Sam—”
“I might’ve cried about Noelle dumping me,” and Ben can only admit this to Dean since he’s the one who witnessed Ben’s tears after all, “but I’m still ladies only. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Oh. Well. Uh. You know I’m not real good at this stuff.”
“I’m not either. Just calling to check up. Things good there?”
“Real good,” and Ben can picture Dean’s full smile, the kind that’s real rare when it’s offered, but a hell of a sight to see. “We miss you but we’re gonna make it up there before your next break. Maybe make a thing of it with your mom. Who I bet you haven’t been calling.”
“I’ve been sending my postcards. Like always.”
“How many Ohio postcards can one person get?”
“A little. We need to get better at checking in.”
“Well, soon I’ll be with you and Sam—”
“What? Do you want to talk about college? Because I thought Sam was supposed to be buttering me up to sign up for four more years I don’t need.”
“You’re angry,” Dean says bluntly, his level voice alone making Ben ashamed for snapping at him. “But not about that.”
“No. I might’ve done some damage to a couple of people. One of them might be a friend. Sort of. The other guy’s a dick.”
“Huh? Is that all you’re gonna say?”
“Well. Sometimes the people we think are dicks are, y’know, people. Hate to say it, but you can be a dick sometimes too. You’re my kid and all.”
“Maybe you don’t like the guy because he reminds you of someone.”
“Or maybe he’s a dick. Point is some people are dicks. You just gotta deal with it.”
“Thanks for the words of wisdom.”
“Well, I’m awesome, so suck it, kid.”
Ben laughs and he’s glad that Dean joins in. When he says his goodbye, it’s with feeling and he promises that he’ll see him and Sam come next break.
“Hey guys,” Ben says, not bothering to knock since the door is freaking open, “Look maybe I’ve been kind of a jerk but—oh, shit! Sorry.”
Ben’s walked into a few things he regrets seeing. He’s gotten very good at blocking out the life-scarring visuals on a near-daily basis. But still, seeing Kurt and Blaine sprawled on the couch, tongues warring for supremacy isn’t a memory he’s ever gonna cherish.
Though it does totally make him right—fuck talking there are at least two other things that can be done better with mouths—and there’s nothing finer than a little self-righteousness when it’s earned. “See? It’s so much easier to not to repress and get your ya-yas out. Well. I’m not really sure what it’s supposed to be called when it’s guy on guy.”
Kurt’s the first one to scramble to a standing position and hey, he’s totally pulling his sweater over his crotch. Classy. “Shut up, Ben. I’m still mildly angry at you.”
“But you’re smiling,” he points out.
“So?” Kurt huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Happy people can’t be angry.”
Blaine, still trying to make himself look decent and man, his hair is hilarious when it’s freed from his used car salesman oil slick, turns to Kurt and asks, “Why didn’t I notice before that he never makes sense?”
“Because you were crazy in love with me and denying it for the sake of our friendship?”
“Wow, you guys really went through a lot since I’ve been gone. Good job.” Ben’s high five is left hanging and he slowly lowers his arm. Finally he says, “Okay, this is a long time coming, but uh, Blaine? I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Blaine asks, warily.
“Um…all of it?”
“That’s not really an apology,” Kurt admonishes, sitting back down next to Blaine, their hands glancing against each other before they move apart and finally close together. Aww, they’re at the holding hand stage. Even Ben’s a little jealous at that, sickeningly adorable as it is, so he decides not to mock them.
“Sorry I almost stabbed you and hated you because you’re kind of annoying.”
“What? I’m being honest. He is annoying. You’re just too in love with him and don’t notice when he’s being a douche.”
“Oh, I do,” Kurt says while Blaine jerks his head, looking so offended that for a moment, Ben legitimately likes Blaine. “Admittedly, I’m not perfect either.”
That’s kind of amazing coming from Kurt Hummel.
“I’ll consider accepting your apology,” Blaine says tersely after an intense staring contest with Kurt.
Ben makes a mental note that he should check into any potential telepathy at the school (and man, now that he has the time he really needs to solve the mystery of the slow-motion hallway) and nods. “Hey when you guys aren’t sucking face and doing other stuff, we can totally double date.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I can always get a date. I’ve been a little busy trying to get my roommate and his stupid boyfriend to admit how stupidly in love they are, but yeah now that I have free time, sure. I am open for business. Which, speaking of business, I hope you guys are open for each other. In love I mean. Not just in your pants.”
Blaine actually blushes at that, which is impressive because he’s still got the faint handprint of Ben’s slap outlined against his cheek. Maybe Ben should add that to his apologies and he does. “Hey man, I shouldn’t have hit you.” Because it’s nicer than saying sorry about the bitchslap.
“I shouldn’t have insulted your family. You, well, Kurt’s told me it’s complicated, but that they really care about you.”
“We care about each other, yeah. That’s what a family’s supposed to do.” Ben kindly does not mention saving the world. Not every family can be as awesome as his.
“I thought about running away once. Not because I was searching for my father, or because I was looking for answers, but because I was tired of—”
“Hey, I get it,” Ben says, hand waving the needless angst Blaine’s clearly desperate to spill to him. They’re not that close. Yet. “People can be real dicks. Especially to people who are different.”
“You are wise beyond your years.”
Kurt’s insulting him but Ben’s appreciating the higher ground so he stays on it, ignoring the dig.
“Yeah, well, I take after my old man. So, we gonna blow this joint or do you need a little more time to blow—”
“Ugh, shut up, Ben. You’re ruining the moment.”
“Okay,” he says cheerfully, diving towards them and before they know what’s about to hit ‘em, he’s got them wrapped tight in the most awkward, longest hug that ever existed possibly in the entire world. Ben’s been told he’s a good hugger and he’s pretty sure it isn’t weird to snuffle his face in between Kurt and Blaine’s heads, except how it totally is but he’s got to at least get one last time of messing with these guys in before they realize that he genuinely likes them.
Well. He’s still not all that sure about Blaine.
When Blaine and Kurt both inform him how much they hate him, Ben knows everything’s going to be all right.
The last few months of Ben’s final year of high school are interesting, to at the least.
No, he never figures out what the hell’s going on with that damn hallway.
Yes, he continues to avoid the Warblers, now that he no reason to stalk their rehearsals although he does make the fatal mistake of getting caught doing karaoke with Blaine (shut up, at least Blaine appreciates Immigrant Song for its epicness) and has to politely and repeatedly decline auditioning.
Don’t be shocked that Ben’s secretly awesome at singing; of course he is, especially when he’s drunk.
No, he’s still not over Noelle but he figures time heals all wounds and shit. If he backslides and maybe drunk-dials her one night, well fuck off, at least she answered and gave him more of a reason why they broke up other than her chasing her dreams in sunny California. He’s not the only one who’s a dumb teenager, okay?
Yes, he has two good friends now. People that want to hear him share stories of adventures on the road with Dean and Sam, though he does edit out a lot of the good stuff. Blaine apparently is kind of a chill guy now that he’s sorted out whatever the hell was making him such a psycho, and he even laughs when Ben jokes that being almost stabbed did him a world of good.
When he’s got the time, he heads to Lima, not to hang with Kurt, because dude, cockblock much, but to whip Finn’s ass at whatever game they’re playing. Yeah, maybe he sharks a little at the local pool hall, but what’s wrong with earning a little spending money?
Life’s good and he’s almost not craving hitting the road every chance he slides into his car. At least he doesn’t want to take off once he gets his hands on the wheel, so yes, he’ll count that as progress. Sometimes he’s gotta drive and there’s nothing wrong with a midnight drive when he knows how to sneak around curfews and make his way back in the dorm undetected.
It’s the perfect crime and man, he’s exhausted, and as he vaguely thinks about getting into bed he notices that Kurt and Blaine are totally breaking the don’t get caught hooking up rules, spooning in bed under the covers. Well, Ben has to sit down and watch that, admiring his handiwork.
Man, Kurt’s chair is like super comfortable. So it’s no surprise that he wakes up after completely passing out in Kurt’s awesome chair, his pants around his ankles. Hey, he did plan on dressing down for bed.
“I wasn’t jerking off” probably isn’t the best way to explain how he wound up that way but come on, he’s not the one sitting in bed stark naked totally post-coital. That’s not allowed if Ben’s brief review of Dalton’s rules is accurate.
Because, seriously, while he and Blaine have mended their ways, especially once Ben learned Blaine can rock a mean actual guitar, he’d rather share a bed with a slew of creepy things that go bump in the night before waking up next to Blaine. He’s got explicit proof that Blaine’s a cuddler and Ben is not down for that.
“Oh god,” Kurt moans. “What time is it?”
“Late,” Blaine offers, muffled by the t-shirt he’s yanking over his head, pointedly not looking at Ben.
Ben is slightly jealous of Blaine’s chest hair. He will never admit that, even under pain of death.
“I can explain.”
“No,” Kurt decides, pushing his matted hair off his forehead. “No explanations. Just go to your bed, I don’t care how, if you waddle over there, just go there and go to sleep, Ben.”
“Can I take off my pants?”
“I’m going to pretend I’m dreaming,” Blaine decides. “I feel it’ll be less life-scarring.”
“And you were worried that he’d seduce me,” Kurt says. Then he adds fondly, “Idiot.”
“Your chair is cursed,” Ben says, the only possibly answer to this madness. “It was touched by a siren and uh, makes people sleepy. Wait. Sirens make people want to have sex or fight. Man, why didn’t I think of getting a siren? Eh, it probably would’ve made you guys fight.”
“Ben,” Kurt says with the patience of someone a moment away from a stone-cold throttling, “do you remember how you were worried that I was going to be insane?”
“You’ve driven me to that point. I’m going to set your car on fire.”
“Not cool, man. After all she’s done for you.”
“I don’t want to know,” Blaine says, throwing himself back into the bed, nearly smothering himself with a pillow. Then deciding better, he peels it off his face. “You do know that sirens aren’t real, right?”
“Right,” Ben lies. “Vampires, zombies, demons, witches, gypsies, tramps, and thieves. All fake.”
He’s rewarded with two pillows thrown with deadly accuracy to his face but at least Kurt and Blaine aren’t still glaring at him like he’s a life-ruiner.
How could he possibly be? He’s a damn hero.
The last postcard he sends while he’s in Ohio is a hasty scrawl that bears a striking resemblance to his handwriting at the tender age of thirteen. Fuck it, he’s in a rush and he’s only got a couple of hours before Dad and Sam show up and it’s a long way to California, so he’s gotta head out soon after he’s done explaining a few things.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing to Mom,” he answers, not surprised at Kurt sliding into his passenger seat. Kurt fiddles with the stereo, shutting off the CD to switch on FM and man, Kurt’s lucky that he’s totally Ben’s best bro for life, because that is not okay according to the rules of the road. Even though the car’s parked.
“Planning on running away?”
“Hey, I graduated.”
“You finished your finals. There’s a difference.”
“You wanted to see me in the cap and gown, huh? Kinky.”
Kurt doesn’t let Ben change the subject, his hand warm on Ben’s wrist, grounding him. It’s not a time for jokes or evasive tactics. Still, Ben’s gonna try.
“Ben. What are you doing?”
“Making a fool out of myself.”
Kurt makes a noise in his throat, all too knowing. “California.”
“A guy can dream.”
“Yes, that’s what worries me. You’re still not over her. Even with your questionable conquests as of late.” Put it to Kurt to make Ben’s dating life sound so sketchy.
“It’s something I gotta do, okay? Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing. You’re kinda crazy about love, too.”
Kurt’s eyes narrow. “I’m not crazy.”
“Totally bonkers.” Ben looks down at his postcard, the only thing missing is his usual love you, Ben. The words have never scared him or the power behind it, just how easily it can be thrown away. “I’ve been lying to you the whole time I’ve known you, by the way.”
“Let me finish. You know, what my dad and Sam do? It’s not all fun and games, journeymen traveling the road. It’s real important stuff. And I’m gonna do it too, maybe even if I do go to college or try to hold down a 9 to 5. It’s like…when you know what’s going on, you can’t just turn a blind eye to it.”
“It sounds like you’re in the mob. Or a spy.”
“Spies are cool,” Ben admits. “But I’m not a spy.”
“You’d make a terrible spy. If Blaine wasn’t so oblivious, he’d have figured out what you were doing, trying to flirt with me in front of him.”
“I always liked Indy over James Bond.”
“So you’re an archeologist?”
Ben can’t say it. He can’t do it to Kurt, let the walls of his imperfect reality come shattering down for good. Because yeah, people can be dicks, but there’s so much worse out there and it’s not Ben’s job to tell him how it is. It’s to protect him, protect the world, and fuck his selfishness, he’s gotta be the bigger man.
“Yeah. I’m a regular Indiana Jones.”
“So you’ve got to run off on your mission to profess your love? That doesn’t sound very Indy.”
“It’s not,” Ben says, smiling. “It’s me.”
Kurt rarely initiates hugs. He’ll suffer Ben when he tackles him, say something aggravated to Blaine at the cruel indignities he’s been forced to bear, but to lean over and hug Ben, no that’s never happened.
He’s a good hugger; he should do it more. Hell, he probably does it a lot with Blaine and that’s just selfish. Kurt better spread the wealth.
Ben tells Kurt as much and Kurt’s kindness meter has clearly run its course as he swats him.
“You better call me. To check in, at least.”
“I will drunkenly text Blaine explicit tales of my victorious reunion with Noelle. At least.”
Kurt laughs. “Excellent.”
“Hey,” Ben says, since this could very well be the last damn time he’s ever gonna see Kurt in person. “You’re all right.”
“You’re obnoxious, irritating, and utterly classless. I don’t entirely hate you.”
“Taking that as a victory.”
“You should,” Kurt says. Then he digs into his satchel, pulling out a CD case. “I know how terribly old-fashioned you are so I put together, well, a mix tape of sorts.”
“It’s not on a tape though.”
“Ben,” Kurt says seriously, “don’t disrespect my gift.”
“How much Lady Gaga is on it?”
“One song and I know you like it. I’ve seen you dance around to it when you thought I wasn’t looking.”
“Well. Uh. This isn’t goodbye, but it’s like, maybe I’ll see you again?”
God, Ben can be really shit at goodbyes.
“I took the time to throw you a going away party once I realized why you were moping during finals, so you’re going to come back into the senior commons with me, accept the wonderful a capella treatment I’ve arranged for you—of a song you will not hate, I can assure you—and you will pretend to be surprised.”
“Man. You’re evil. You put that guilt to good use and you can rule the world.”
“I’m counting on it,” Kurt says smoothly, sliding out of the car. “Now get your ass in gear, Winchester.”
“See? I have rubbed off on you.”
Kurt blinks at him for a moment before shuddering. “Sorry. Your innuendos have ruined me for normal conversation.”
“Dude, you’re taken and missing a few essential parts. I knew you were kidding. Plus, I’m not about to give you the full Ben Winchester experience.”
“On second thought, I’m canceling the party.”
“Yeah, that’s gonna happen,” Ben says, locking up the car and following Kurt back into the school.
It should be a stupid idea, not getting the fuck out of Dodge before the cavalry arrives (because there’s no way he’ll be able to sneak out once Dean or Sam figures out he’s about to pull a dumbass teen move) but Ben’s pretty lucky, all right? Things tend to fall in place, and if there’s anyone who’s gonna see what summer will bring and maybe have things work out for him in the end, then it’ll happen to him.
“Hey I realized you’ve never met my dad and Sam.”
“I am curious what they’re like in person,” Kurt admits as they avoid the slow-motion hallway, a mystery that will have be solved by a person with a hell of a lot more time on his hands. “Also a little worried that they’re like you, only older.”
“Nah, I’m an original. Dad thinks I’m a chip off the block, but I’m totally cooler. And taller.” Then Ben realizes he can totally scare the crap out of his old man. “Hey you guys still know the lyrics to that really gay song, right?”
“You know, you can’t use the ‘I have two gay dads’ excuse when you say stuff like that, right?”
“Whatever, I mean the song you and Blaine sing when you’re being all love-y and ten seconds away from totally screwing in front of everyone.”
Kurt makes a small motion with his hand to signify that yes, he knows but makes no further reply.
“When they get here, it would be cool if you could dedicate it to my dads.”
Smiling, Kurt nods. “That’s really sweet.”
Also it will totally send Dean into a spiral of confusion and mortification since he’s not fond of show choirs and Sam will need to distract him in ways Ben is so very not going to think about. That’s plenty of time to get Ben a little headway on the road.
“What can I say? I’m nothing if not awesome.”
“You are something, all right,” Kurt agrees as they stand in front of the oak doors. “Okay, big surprised face in one, two—”
Maybe shrieking in horror was a little heavy-handed, but Ben’s never not going to give it his all.
There are more postcards he sends to his mom, a trail spreading from Ohio to California, countless calls and texts to anyone who cares to listen, just to check in, to say with meaning that he’s fine, that he’s taking care of himself, that no, he is not a crazy person, what the hell, it’s romantic, not creepy, who asked you, Blaine?
You did. came the text back and oh yeah, drunk-texting Blaine isn’t always the best idea when he’s feeling a mite bit nervous about his prospects.
But it doesn’t matter. The road can stretch out forever and there might be some real sons of bitches out there spoiling for a fight but Ben’s a Winchester through and through. Got stubbornness in his blood and there’s no end to his story, only a whole lot of really weird and badass beginnings.
Soundtrack with accompanying art by ignited posted here. || Additional Story Notes posted here