Safe and Sane

Ben had been waiting for life to return to something resembling normal before seeing Beth. Then he realized that having a baby meant that his life was never going to be normal again and settled for a time when Katie was with her other set of parents and he'd had a meal, shower and nap without being interrupted by the demands of a very small person.

He left a message on her voice mail, and then headed for the club. Once he got there he settled down on a sofa to wait. He hoped she'd show up, either accidently or because she'd gotten the message. When she *did*, his smile was warm and relieved and he stood to greet her. "Beth."

"I am so glad I'm gay and, more importantly, not living with my child's mother." Ben? Was sleep deprived, his shirt was spit up on, and he was thinking seriously about running away from home.

( Ben )

( Jon )

( John )

( Gus )

I'm at the hospital. Baby's on the way.

Beth didn't usually go to the club mid-week. Beth was wired, and buzzing, and needing.

She went up to the nearest person she knew, settled next to them, and tried out her most beseeching expression. "Darling, I know it's a terrible imposition and a great deal to ask, but would you please tie me up, hurt me until I scream, and call me filthy names? I'm quite willing to beg if that would help at all."

Sara pounced someone she recognised from behind in the main lounge of the club and kissed the back of their head with a smacking sound before she let go and dropped back to her feet. It was something of a miracle she hadn't knocked anyone (or anything) over.

"Whoa there, cowboy," Ben said, and held up both of his hands as he pivoted out of the way of someone who seemed in a really, really big hurry to get into the lounge. "Everything okay?"

Beth had meant to go home after the talk with Rupert. She really had intended to go home, finish her housework, have a long hot bath and a glass of wine, and go to bed.

She even got as far as driving midway home before pulling over with a sigh, fishing her phone out of her handbag, and dialling Ben's number.

When Jon found Ben, Jon had just finished a scene. He was a little sweaty, his shoulders hurt from using the flogger, and he was grinning. He'd returned his sub for the scene to her regular dominant and now he was hyped. He kissed under Ben's chin lightly, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Come take a shower with me?"

Carl grinned a little wider as he spotted Ben at the club. He wandered over slowly, sliding one arm around his shoulder. "Can I get you a drink or something? I'm about to grab a soda."

Jon sat down with Ben on the couch, put his legs Ben's lap and smiled, "Hi, sweetheart."

His hair was a mess, his tie was undone and he looked flat out tired.

Maybe Drake was right. He had to be some kind of emotional masochist to live in a back room with his unrequited love, let Lin curl in his arms and talk about how he's going to break his girlfriend's heart. Really clever, Carl.

Carl rubbed at the back of his neck and grabbed himself a soda, settling in one of the chairs in the club. He'd gone for a soda because, really, if he started drinking something here, he was just going to keep going until he was as blindly drunk as Lin had been that night.

He was so lost in thought he hardly noticed when he wasn't alone, and when he finally did, he gave the guy a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Was completely lost in my own world there."

Dear Ben,

This is meant to be a love letter, but I think it's going to be unsuccessful. It's not lack of feeling, by any means- any means. I'm constantly startled and a little amazed at how much I feel for you. I liked you, at first, before. I didn't really think that asking you out would lead anywhere. We're quite different. But now, I see where we mesh, the fine lines that draw me to you and vice versa. The way we fit, as improbable as it seems.

And now we're making a life together. Keeping the way we fit together constant, repeating. Learning each other for decades instead of weeks or months.

It's terrifying.

But so fucking amazing it makes me breath catch.

I don't know what to say except that I'm honored and privileged that you want to share your life with me.

All my love,
Jon

Monday afternoon, and Lin had figured that the uni was on holidays like most of the rest of the world. Meant he could call on Ben, see if he'd got some baby-free and Jon-free time.

This once, he was staying clear of the club. Clear of Sal's, clear of most places Carl knew of. He'd arranged to meet Ben in a roadside cafe about five miles out of town, on the excuse they did the best damn coffee in the whole state.

Had the advantage of being true.

He wasn't early - Lin didn't do early - but he was prompt. No sign of Ben's car in the lot, so he went on inside, gave Betty his sweetest smile, and got recommended cherry pie for his pains. When Ben arrived, Lin was already settled in a booth, ice cream melting on his pie, and coffee cooling at his elbow.

Ben spotted Jon at the club, padded over and got down on *both* his knees. He kept his eyes up and on Jon's face. "I love you," he said, once he was sure he had Jon's attention. "Will you marry me?"

"Okay," he said, as he sprawled into a chair. "I can't let my entire life become consumed by parenthood prep. Or by the fact that my boyfriend is suddenly my partner and that freaks me out just a little. So, I need a new hobby. What do you do in *your* free time?" He paused, consideringly. "Do you have free time? And for that matter what do other members here do?"

Gossip. It was a hobby. Just a neglected one.

"Hey sweetheart," Ben murmured, sliding onto the couch beside Jon. "How hard's work sucking?"

Wednesday night again. Fall past, and winter setting in with a vengeance. The outside tables had been cleared away, and the cafe was doing a brisk trade in hot chocolate, hot soup, and hot tea.

Only one problem.

The coffee maker was broken.

For one night only (because the repair man had been threatened, on pain of pain, to get the damn thing up and running again before opening time the next morning) the cafe was a coffee-free zone, and the staff were already looking stressed.

Auri had a newspaper and a glass of milk, curled up in a chair. Her glasses were on top of her head and her shoes were under the chair. She was, unsurprisingly, grumbling, settling in her chair. She had a red marker and was pointedly correcting the New York Times.

Everyone had a hobby.

There were balloons and streamers still up from the party the cafe had thrown the previous night. The staff though, the staff were still enthused, still bouncy, wandering through their jobs in Obama tee shirts, pins, big sparkly hats.

California's proposition 8 had put a dint in everyone's enthusiasm, but. Not much. They had freedom fries on offer in the cafe in a completely non ironic way for the first time ever.