Oregonal Sin

Having the chess-set at his place made things much, much - easier for John. It's presence, when combined with Ben being willing to play with him, meant that there was something they could do. There was a reasonably safe way for them to spend time together - without one of them being half-dead or completely miserable.

Quite the opposite: It was fun, and it was, in a very real, sense of the word, play. It overrode the winter's affect on John's throat, it overrode boredom and worry and the deep seated but unexamined awareness that if Ben had been less restrained, John would have been more so. It was... easily the best present John had ever gotten.

So, when Ben showed up to check on him, give him more cough syrup - the chess set was out, the lamp was lit, and there was tea going. Made it easy as heck to pour a couple of mugs, hand Ben his and settle down at the table and make that first, ridiculously bold, move. In response, of course, to Benjamin's restraint.

It may very well be a trend that continued. Or not. Who-the hell knew. Either way? It was going to be a night.

Left on John's table, while he slept: a very finely crafted chess game. A white pawn has been moved forward two squares in a clear invitation to play.