Southland Fic
I appear to have written a fic. This is what happens when I should be revising. Um. I think because the fandom is so small and there is nothing left to read, an so I had no choice but to write. And now to try to salvage the evening and STOP watching Zachary Quinto on YouTube. But everyone has seen ZQ in Off-Centre, right? Best. Thing. Ever.
Title: 21 Questions
Pairing/Characters: Ben Sherman, John Cooper, preslash
Rating: PG
Word Count: 923
Summary: The bar they go to is not somewhere John would choose, but the place is as free from pretentious assholes as any in LA.
Warning: Gratuitous Star Trek references.
A/N: This is what happens when you simultaneously get sucked into two new fandoms.
John shifts in his car seat again, in a failed attempt at comfort. It has been a long day, he is running low on painkillers and Sherman keeps throwing these little sympathetic glances his way and it is driving him insane. He swallows the irritated “What?” because they’ve been through this before, the kid will shrug and say nothing and John’s annoyance will not fade.
He knows that Ben is concerned, and a part of him is a little pleased at that, but mostly he just wants him to mind his own goddamn business.
When their shift ends, the longing for the limited comfort of his couch and a beer is damn near physical, and so he is a bit bemused to find Sherman loitering next to his car.
“Nice ride.” Ben says it with real appreciation.
And yeah it is, but Sherman has seen his car before and John thinks there is more to it than that, so he only quirks an eyebrow in response.
“Do you want to get a beer?” is all Ben says, economical as always.
And John does, though not in a crowded bar, but there is something in Ben’s gaze that makes him shrug and nod. He doesn’t think about the why.
The bar they go to is not somewhere John would choose, but the place is as free from pretentious assholes as any in LA and it is loud but the beer is cold and so what if they have to get a little closer to hear each other speak.
And they do speak. The alcohol is making Ben more responsive than normally. John finds himself keeping a steady stream of innocuous questions, which steers the conversations far away from things he doesn’t want to discuss. Like his drug problem. Or what is the motive behind his interest, because there is no doubt that he wants to know more about this rich kid who can shoot like a pro and incapacitate giants with two fingers. Yeah he has been wondering about that last one.
“So, how did you learn that Vulcan grip thing?” John asks casually, taking a deep swig from his Corona.
“Nerve pinch,” Ben automatically corrects.
John can’t help but laugh at this. “Yeah, that.” And Ben glares at him, which only makes him laugh some more. “It’s a useful trick,” John eventually concedes.
Ben watches him for a moment, from under his lashes, he looks pained in an endearing way, and John has to will away the sudden urge to ruffle his hair, not to mention other, less PG thoughts.
Eventually Ben seems to have found what he is looking for because he shrugs a little self consciously “After the break-in, I stayed with my uncle for a couple of weeks, he is,” a pause, “was a huge Star Trek fan. I remember watching it thinking that if I could do something like that, I could have protected my mom. Protected myself. It’s stupid, I know.”
“It’s not,” John says. ‘You protected me’ is left unsaid but tangible between them.
The silence stretches a little morose, and John wishes he hadn’t asked, because he is not in a position where he can offer words of comfort. As his brain searches for a change of topic an image of a poster flashes in his mind and he grins.
“The new Start Trek movie seems to have caused quite the buzz,” John offers. “You are not the type to have gone to the premiere all dressed up, are you?”
Ben flushes deeply but shakes his head. “Haven’t had the chance to see it yet.”
Of course not, with the way his training is going, it is likely Ben’s social life has faced quite the tumble.
After that the conversation is back on comfortable ground; not too personal, yet by no means small talk. They get yet another round of drinks. John is a little drunk, but in a way that makes him feel utterly relaxed. Ben talks about Star Trek and what it meant for him growing up and John nods, though he isn’t listening, not really. He lets the words wash over him, all his attention focused on Ben’s features, his expressive mouth is just a little distracting and it is only when Ben says something about how attractive the cast of the new movie is that John starts listening again.
The cast is hot, there is no doubt about that, but he knows there is only one woman in it, and this is likely a far shot, but John can’t help but wonder. He feels ridiculous even uttering the words, but Ben might just be drunk enough to answer and besides a conversation about Star Trek might not be how he envisioned his night, but he hasn’t thought about his back for a while. Against all odds, he is enjoying himself and Ben seems to be too, so he asks.
“And who is the hottest?”
Ben doesn’t seem to mind the interruption. He pauses, seemingly considering, and when his reply comes, it is slow and deliberate “Kirk is the typical response, myself, I prefer Captain Pike, there is something very appealing about an older man in charge.” Ben says without looking away. He appears to be aiming for defiant, but his eyes are wide and shine from the alcohol and it comes across as more vulnerable than anything.
“Spock is more to my taste,” John says smoothly, though his heart is beating like he’s been chasing down a suspect.