Day: October 13, 2015

apocalypse-patisserie:

(I think the og image is from here.)

Dean Smith hits bars up with his coworkers sometimes– the yuppie bars, anyway, the ones downtown, around work, the ones that sell too-expensive middle-shelf cocktails and things like The Starbucks brand Mochatini and piss-poor beers in short glasses for ten dollars. Or sometimes they toss their ties over their shoulders and hang out at the Applebee’s too long because the marketing accountant underexecutive or whoever needs to talk to him and wants a heart-smart steak dinner and to keep a creepy, too-close eye on his secretary laughing with her friends four tables away.

And he gets sick of it. After everything, he’s really sick of those settings. Sick of his own office. Sick of his own apartment sometimes.

Restless, he breaks his diet and heads out to a bar alone. One nearer to the outskirts of town where his Prius sticks out like a sore thumb and he has to roll up his sleeves and ditch the suspenders.

That’s where he meets Benny. It’s not a terrible bar, but it still has its share of sleaze and Benny does him the favor of hiding him from view with his own bulk on the next barstool.

He introduces himself, curious as to what a guy like Dean – so obviously privileged, so neat and tight – would be doing essentially roughing it.

Dean feels all kinds of out-of-sorts lately. That Sam kid left town a couple days ago. He went to go meet the Ghostfacers in person and he decided to go change his life. Dean’s still working off his last two weeks at Sandover and he has no idea–

Just NO idea what he’s gonna do next.

Every time he pulls up his account on Monster he ends up staring at the word “Monster” more than he ends up using the search tools or cleaning up his resume.

He cuts out and goes back home the first time. But the second time he comes to the bar, he’s officially unemployed and Benny’s there again. Doesn’t mind that he wasn’t very open last time, is still curious, and, even now, he’s eager to know what Dean’s gonna do with himself.

Dean doesn’t rightly know. He tries to smile through it, down another beer.

Benny insists on buying since he’s out of a job. Dean’s far from destitute. He’s got all this money he doesn’t know what to do with, now. (Except maybe track Sam back down. Track the Ghostfacers back down. Find out what else is out th– no.)

Benny keeps buying. He’s quite generous. And calling Dean a cab to get him home turns into him crawling over and straddling Benny’s lap in the back of the cab. Turns into them being tossed out of the cab. Turns into them walking the last two blocks to Benny’s place.

Benny must be some kind of executive refugee, too. His house is tidy. Dean almost worries he’s gonna earn himself the title of ‘homewrecker’ but doesn’t actually see any evidence of a wife. There’s no pale shadow on Benny’s ring finger–

And Benny tosses him around like it’s men he’s used to taking home.

Further questioning is delayed by Benny shoving Dean’s body over to a bend, stooping behind him, and licking inside of him.

In the morning he creeps out of the bedroom to shower. Out from under the warm band of Benny’s arm. He doesn’t want to go silently. So he palms Benny’s scruffy face and kisses his mouth and gets nothing more than a settled sigh for it.

Dean finds a pristine closet with a pristine set of towels. He leaves his clothes in the bedroom where Benny tossed them hours ago.

When he’s clean, he decides to investigate further. The house is neat, orderly, like his own. But it feels a little more lived-in, a little brighter. There are stark whites and steel appliances, but there are also dishes in the sink.

Dean feels lazy and luxuriant there in the warm kitchen, pulls the towel from his waist to scrub his hair dry and thinks about this image: Benny in nothing but an apron, flipping pancakes. He doesn’t know enough about Benny to even know if pancakes are his thing.

He didn’t ask. Actually, he hadn’t asked anything. Benny had been doing all the wondering in the bar, had simply sat and listened with open ears.

Maybe Benny deserves attention this time. Dean glances around for a coffee machine to get something started. Breakfast in bed for him, maybe.

But when he turns, there’s Benny, blurry and blinking at him, smile curling up the corner of his mouth as he takes in the lines of Dean’s naked body.

Dean feels himself smirk and doesn’t know why. He’s not used to being this comfortable, certainly not nude.

“Want me to make you something?”

Benny shakes his head. “Nah.” His focus falls back on Dean’s ass, even as he half turns to bring the towel back around himself. “You brought my favorite. You just bring that right on back to bed and I’ll make a feast of it.” He twirls his finger, points toward the bedroom.

Dean shrugs and leads the way. He drops his towel at the door. Benny drops his boxers. Then eats Dean’s ass out until it’s almost too late for lunch.