buffy summers (thebuffster) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-09-14 01:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, ben reilly / spider-man (616), buffy summers |
Who: Ben Reilly (616) & Buffy Summers
When: Tuesday, September 9th, before the Spider House dinner
Where: Buffy's apartment
What: After this conversation and this invitation, Buffy and Ben have a talk.
Rating:
This was a bad idea. But that had never stopped Ben before. If it went well, dinner would be just that little less awkward with the celebration dinner being some sort of weird multi-date night. Same amount of smiling and nodding with an extra scoop of worrying about glaringly single Kaine. Emphasis on the glaring. If it didn’t go well… he’d just have to push it down and smile all the harder. This hadn’t been his plan. He was going to wait a few more days. Hope he could gather himself up enough to put on that usual show that was needed again. But then MJ wanted this dinner and MJ wanted Buffy to come and… Anything to make them stay happy. They had enough to deal with. They always had enough to deal with. He could act like everything was peachy keen and right as rain for a night every week. MJ had said it best anyways. He didn’t get to decide what he deserved. So, he was here. At the door. Because if he had learned anything from their conversation, it was that he didn’t want to deal with whatever attacks and questionings of his reasons the new suit might bring up. So, at the door. Stalling. He didn’t know what to expect here. What he could even do or if he should even try to say anything. He ran a hand through his shorter hair. Maybe he should’ve made the effort to redye it instead of just cutting the blond strands off… He just couldn’t bring himself to care enough about it. He took a deep breath before rapping the knuckles of his free hand against the door. Sure, he could get in with his ID if he wanted, but now really wasn’t the time to take advantage of that privilege. Buffy wasn't pacing. She hadn't spent thirty minutes figuring out what to wear and what kind of figure to cut. There was a thought of wearing one of the new things she'd gotten off fashion week, but was this even that big a thing? Was it a dress kind of thing? Did she need more make-up? Higher heels? Was she even going to go? She didn't really understand what had come over Ben lately. She didn't know if she was hurt by the length of time it had been since she'd seen him or since she'd just spoken with him. The White Event -- as it was being called -- had taken up a lot of everyone's time recently, but there was still always a moment or two for a text, a call, a visit usually. Buffy had a tendency to go out of her way when she in a relationship. Angel's mansion had never been on the way home, after all. The pacing escalated. Maybe this was just it? Maybe they'd reached that point in their relationship where they just weren't going to move anywhere but backwards. Maybe she wanted more from him than he wanted from her. (That was a scary thought.) The idea that Ben could be more or less done with the relationship was daunting. Even though it was expected, even though she knew it was coming, she still jumped a little, trying to cover the tiny squeak she let out. She straightened out her skirt as she made her way to the door, drew in a deep breath, and straightened her shoulder. Buffy should not have been surprised at the man on the other side of it either, but she was. She was expecting that head full of blonde hair, not the brunette and for a second she thought it might be Peter there. "I -- Ben. Your hair." She blinked. One hand was drawn into the apartment to indicate that he come in. "Sorry. I just haven't seen you with brown hair." Yeah, maybe redying should’ve happened. If just to hopefully avoid this little bit of awkward. Well, when there was awkward… “Not on my head at least,” he pointed out with a tilt of his head and raise of his eyebrows before he pressed his lips together in a tight line. That probably wasn’t the best joke to make considering everything… Clearing his throat, he ducked his head and teetered his weight back and forth a moment in the doorway. A flash of wariness caused him to hesitate. Stupid, he knew it, but considering part of the argument, stepping into the apartment felt like a trap. He blew out a sigh and let his forward teeter shift his weight more and carry him into the house. He held out the half pound box of chocolates he’d picked up. “You look nice. Going to a club?” Buffy looked down at her dress. Okay, so it might have been more formal than just dinner at someone's family's house, but it wasn't as if she'd had a lot of chances to wear it. And MJ was a model in their world. It just seemed weird to show up in a t-shirt and jeans. Of course, now that he'd pointed it out, Buffy took a step backwards and out of her shoes. For the moment, the awkward was forgotten in favor of clothing panic. It was better than the alternative. "What do -- is it too much? I knew it was too much--" she mumbled as she let go of the door and began to wander toward her bedroom. Maybe not a t-shirt, but a nice blouse and a pair of jeans. Just not high waisted ones, those made her look weird. "Make yourself at -- um, you can put that down anywhere? Kitchen?" Ben blinked a moment in surprise. Too much? He shook his head and let out of whoosh of breath as he headed to the living room. “It’s not too much,” he called out. “It was a compliment. It’s just dinner down in the club. Good times, reason to celebrate by eating lasagna. Very Garfield like.” And maybe if he kept telling himself that, he could convince himself it was just that. Not some start of pretending that the family dinner thing was still a thing. Well, at least it might be until the key faces not present got to them with that too. Better not to get attached to the idea again. Even if it had been his to start… Sitting down on the couch, he put the box of chocolates on the coffee table. “The chocolates are going to live in the living room. Because, well, the name fits. And they can tempt you better for snack times here.” "Not if I'm coming with you to dinner," she called from the bedroom. The door was left open as she tugged the dress over her head. The illusion of what goes into making a woman look perfect from the outside would be shattered, with the slip and the undergarments. The whole look appeared disjointed and pieces together, like a Klimt. She peered through her closet for something more appropriate, took a set of jeans off a hanger, tossed them on the bed. Now to find a blouse that would go with the style she'd done for her hair. "No chocolates." Stalling. This was dumb. Were they going to do that as long as they could? Because she wasn't going to go if they were still awkward. Okay, still flat out not-sure-where-they-stand awkward. A little we're-not-sure-how-to-behave-now-that-we-f “I could always just carry them around then,” Ben supplied with a shrug. “Make the box talk. Be all ‘Buffy, Buuuuuuuuuffy, have a chocolate’. But then you might have to battle everyone else for them. It’ll be a free for all once Kaine hears the box talk. He’s bad about stealing sweets.” Why was he still talking? Why was he even talking about this? Like everything was still the same. God, he was an idiot. Little bit of awkward and he just settles right back into this whole happy family act. He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. He scrubbed his fingers across his face before threading them up through his hair. “So…” Buffy stood in the doorway in her slip, two blouses tossed over her arm and another on a hanger in the other hand. None of them were on her mind, though, because now that she'd steered the conversation back to them, it didn't matter what she wore. If they didn't fix them, she wasn't going to a family dinner, no matter how awkward or not it was for Ben. "You and me. What's the story?" It was hard to ask if the reason that he hadn't contacted her was because he was over it, and them. It had been over a year, and they were hitting the Buffy Summers threshold for long term relationships. At this point, she'd just be happy if he didn't die or run off with the military, never (exaggeration) to be seen again. "Are you -- we -- does this not make you happy anymore?" Ben’s brow furrowed in confusion. Those weren’t the questions he was expecting. Granted, he hadn’t known what to expect, but he figured it would be something along the lines of the previous argument about him living on the streets. Not… This was his life, wasn’t it? When it rains, it pours. His hands falling away, he shook his head as he looked up to where Buffy stood. “What? No… That isn’t…” He blew out a breath with another shake of his head. “Why would you think that?” He knew he’d been absent more recently, his mind elsewhere and doing his best to keep himself as busy as possible to try and stop that elsewhere from turning even darker, but he’d thought they were ok. Well, at least up until the weekend. They’d been ok. Unless… “Are you not happy?” Was she happy? She had been. He made her laugh, she didn't have to hold back her strength with him. They could walk outside in the sunshine. Everything should have been roses, but the last few weeks, she could tell that something was bothering him. Now she knew that the Spider house was no more. For how long? Long enough to turn the house into something for homeless people. How long was that? "You've been -- and then the homeless thing. You'd rather be homeless than stay here for a few days or whatever. You picked the streets over me." Buffy hadn't realized how much that negative reply had hurt her. She'd hoped that one day, they'd be on the same page where they would live together. She looked forward to that day, but he'd made it sound like such a terrible idea. She blinked back her emotions. "I was just offering -- but…" His mouth open and then just as quickly snapped closed. Better not to say he’d lived like this before. That he knew the kind of lows that he went to whenever his world got upended and taken away and it was better to just ride it out this way. Better not to mention that he couldn’t handle getting dumped right into another place that’d try and drown him everyday in expectations. It’d just hurt her more whether he meant it or not. And he’d get the same as before, right? Jerk, idiot, something obviously wrong with him, crazy, selfish. Which he knew well enough already, so… A small, apologetic smile tilted his lips. “But I was a jerk. It happens. And…” Push through, it’d make her happy. “... I made a mistake.” That was kind of the problem, though, wasn't it? Ben didn't usually make these kinds of mistakes. He always thought of everyone else first, which was a sure sign of something bad in Buffy's book when it suddenly turned. Not because he should be focusing on other people, but because that meant whatever happened -- whatever he wasn't saying -- was so bad that he didn't want to tell anyone. "But what happened? Why aren't you guys living together anymore? What happened that you're living on the street?" Ben shrugged as he leaned forward to push the box of chocolates around the table. “It was too painful to keep living in the house,” he said, going with the right answers and half-truths this time. “Everyone agreed. With May and Aracely gone, there weren’t any good reasons to stay. So…” Another shrug followed by a shake of his head. “Everything was so busy with getting the house squared away and work and patrolling, I just hadn’t gotten around to looking for a place. It was just a constant circle of motion, y’know?” His hand raised and his finger moved through the air in a general path of his route through the city. “Work, house, patrolling, work, house, other work, patrolling, work, house, wash, rinse, repeat. Didn’t really have that much time to do the full 8 hours thing anyways.” That didn't explain a whole lot of sense to Buffy. Okay, sudden need to move, got it. It was hard living on Revello Drive after her mother passed away, but it was all they had and who could leave Sunnydale when there was so much evil there? Being too busy for house hunting, okay, she'd never experienced it, but she could understand. He didn't want to tell her, okay. Fine. She knew that people had secrets, and in some cases it was very healthy to keep them. It was just that -- it seemed like he wanted to tell her the other night. Or maybe that's why they'd fought, because she'd dug too deep and he didn't like it. What did she know? Just what Ben had told her, which wasn't much. She turned to the bedroom to lay out her shirts to figure out which one to wear. "'I'd rather live nowhere than somewhere.' That's what you said. What does that even mean?" A deep breath let out in a heavy whoosh as Ben settled back against the sofa. He leaned his head back against the top of the couch, his eyes focused up on the ceiling. Why had he thought that’d be a simple answer that’d explain everything? It made perfect sense to him, but the last time he had tried to explain it, it just ended in Buffy getting mad at him and questioning his sanity and it all just going downhill from there. Was there was way to have it make sense without the same reaction? Probably not… “I was being a jerk and it sounded like something good and clever to say at the time,” he supplied, hoping it was a good enough answer. With her back to him, it was easy enough to glance down at the array of clothing with her true emotions unchecked. Buffy didn't really want to go to this dinner celebration anymore. Whatever he'd been trying to tell her the other night, he'd clammed up for good. Maybe she could have salvaged it then, but now he just wasn't going to budge. He was just going to keep on blaming himself. That was fine. She'd go to the dinner, smile, and then come home after. She wasn't going to linger or ask anymore questions, and then she'd just see what happened. (Not something she was good with). She slipped her jeans on under the slip before stripping that over her head. Something brown would do, nice and fall. "Okay," she answered with a shrug. "That's -- all right. It didn't sound like something a jerk would say. It sounded like someone who was upset would say." Ben closed his eyes, his head bobbing back and forth without leaving the back of the sofa. “Not upset… just…” Just what? Tired? Resigned? Done with everything? None of it sounded quite right and none sounded like something that wouldn’t get questioned. He was just too used to the feeling. It’d just been a long time since it had hit so hard. But then it’d been a long time since he felt like he’d lost so much. He pressed his lips together in a tight line, the train of thought rustling up a memory of one of the few episodes he had watched before the whole Angelus fiasco. Kaine sitting him down and forcing him to watch it… “Season two. The finale,” he puffed out. “The end of it. Not… not the main stuff, but… the very end of that episode. Do you remember what that felt like?” Buffy froze. Did she remember what that felt like? Oh yeah. There wasn't a way to not remember it. She'd left town. She's experienced it -- again -- at the end of what would have been her fifth season. After her mom died, Riley left her, and she thought she was going to lose her sister. That sinking feeling of nothing and no one mattering, that all she did was cause pain in the lives of people around her. Buffy also remembered the serenity that came with realizing that she could save Dawn, that there was one last gift she could give her. "When I'd lost everything," she answered quietly, her back still to him. "I felt like I lost everything and everyone I cared about." Another nod, even if Ben didn’t move from his seat. He knew it wasn’t the same by far. Buffy had to kill someone she loved dearly to save the world when it was obvious they’d saved him, just too late. His situation didn’t compare by a long shot and maybe it was an insult to even imply that the feeling was the same, but it was a feeling he knew too well and it’d been building. The loss of his home and the family they had just sent all the rest tumbling down. Reilly leaving. Back in his world, alone, free to skulk around in the shadows with no one having a clue who he really was and Kaine as his only family. He’d always been wary about the house thing. Maybe he should’ve taken a page out of his son’s book instead of rushing on ahead with the idea. Then Janine… Just a friend this time around, but still the third time in losing her, knowing she’d be rotting away in a jail cell, thinking he’d abandoned her because she was stuck waiting for a visit that’d never come. And then May and Aracely… and many others… Johnny hurting because he lost Kitty. Kaine hurting over losing his ward and a girlfriend that actually seemed to be working out for once. JD hurting over losing her friends and age comrades. Peter and MJ hurting over losing May. Again. And we know why they lost her the first time. All the circling what ifs. If he’d just been strong enough to beat Norman in that fight. If he’d been strong enough to handle Gaunt on his own. If he could have just been good enough to not need Pete to rush in and help. If he had just handled the skeleton situation better so that JJJ didn’t call Pete and MJ back and let the city get their claws back in them. If he had just been able to let go and not fallen for Osborn’s bait of Aunt May dying… If that’s even how it really went. He didn’t even know how much of what he remembered still existed. What would his memories be like now? Would Pete and MJ even care without that new life around? Sure, he would’ve looked after MJ, he remembered being her friend, but there was a difference between friend and wife. There would’ve been no reason to take her to Seward Trainer to make sure she and the baby were ok. No extra doubt thrown in about who was the clone without the odd readings from the baby and concern over what they’d need to worry about for her sake. No future uncle. No need for Peter to change his life focus. No need for him to hang up the webs. No reason to force him to stay home. No talks of godfathers and no need to clean out the attic of Aunt May’s house. What were they even in that part of Peter’s memories? And that was only the tip of the iceberg. Swirling around non-stop, only kept quiet by moving and doing things and just being in the moment without any attachments or thoughts. “I’d rather live nowhere,” he said softly. “It hurts less…” It was a good thing Buffy had been watching from the door. She wasn't sure what had triggered this melancholy in Ben, but it was clear by the anguish on his face that something had hit him and hard. How had she not seen it? She felt as if she'd failed in in some way, let him down. Xander was just like this, always cracking jokes so no one else saw what was eating him up. She should have known. Thoughts swirled around in her head, and not all of them were complimentary, of course. There was a tiny part of her that was like, "But you haven't lost anything. Most of them are still here. And what am I? Chopped liver?" That kind of thinking hadn't gotten her anywhere before, and the truth was that obviously he felt that way, regardless of how different the circumstances were. Buffy shuffled out of the bedroom and behind the couch where he was sitting. Leaning over him, she slipped her arms over his shoulders across his chest and just held him tightly for a moment. It was obviously hard for him to admit any of this, even if he hadn't said everything. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn't have a home and nowhere to turn to. "Baby," she whispered, her cheek against his. "Here's the thing about running away: no matter where you run to, it still hurts and it still doesn't change anything. Hurting doesn't change that you were happy, and it doesn't lessen how you felt in the moment. It also shouldn't stop you from trying to touch that again either." Ben tensed slightly. Just for a moment. He couldn’t help it, the contact coming from behind with his eyes closed, but obviously not any type to be worried about considering his head was still clear. The touch was still a jolt to his system though considering his train of thought, a swirl of his own and the usual old hits. Don’t deserve it. She can do better. Just end up hurting her. What else did he have to give. Human contact was always hard at times like these. But it was ok. He’d get back into the groove eventually. Get lulled back into the cycle of it. Because he knew running away too well. He’d done it for over five years after all. He breathed out a sigh as he pressed his cheek against hers. “Like going to this dinner?” Buffy wasn't an idiot; she knew that all was not fine and dandy. It was going to take some time for Ben to get reaccustomed to whatever it was that had happened. That was the thing about human beings, they always adapted and found new ways to make themselves miserable. In the meantime, she'd have to find a way to shove down her own insecurity with the situation. If he'd rather live nowhere, would he rather be with no one? Being hollowed out by love wasn't on her to-do list. "Like going to this dinner." She pressed her lips to his temple and lingered there for a moment, with her arms around him. Her first instinct was to tell him that she loved him, that they'd get through it, but that was part of the problem wasn't it? It wasn't perfect, and she wasn't even sure he would take her up on the offer of just for tonight. "And maybe after, letting me help you forget for a little while." Ben took in a deep breath in through his nose. Dangerous territory. Not because of Buffy or anything she was doing, but all because of what was swirling in his head. Five years on the road and there were plenty of things he did that he wasn’t proud of. Most of them done during these downswings of extreme self-doubt. He didn’t want to put Buffy through any of that. Especially not that just using their sex life as some weird reassurance that he was human and alive. But he also wanted Buffy to feel better than she was. To feel happy. Happy with him. His hands slid up to rest over Buffy’s on his chest. He tilted his head farther back over the sofa cushion until he got the right angle to brush his lips against hers. Different sort of upside down kiss, but hey, more versions of that were always a good thing. “Sounds like a good plan to build on.” Buffy knew better than anyone that you could be completely alone in a crowd, even with your family and your best friend. Maybe she couldn't understand what it was like not to have your own identity the way that Ben experienced it, but she knew what having your life dictated by someone else and having everything stripped away because of who you were felt like. The only thing she could really do was just be there for him. If he didn't want that, then he could tell her, but she'd be damned if she was going to let him think she abandoned him too. She smiled at the kiss, though, and tried to shove down the lump of emotion in her throat. "Hey," she whispered quietly after, "I just want you to know I'm not going anywhere. In case you haven't noticed, I kind of love you. And when you hurt, I hurt, okay? We're in this together." “Only kind of? I must really be in trouble.” An obvious joke from the playful tone in his voice to the small smile quirking his lips. Maybe not the best joke, but an attempt to try and lighten the mood. Especially since it looked like they might actually be going to the dinner. “I love you too,” he said softly as he squeezed her hand. |