"Jamie," Bennett said, turning off the television. They'd spent a lazy day together, half-dressed and tangled up on each other's arms, watching stupid shows and drinking coffee and making out until Jamie's face was bright red from Bennett's stubble.

"Hmm?" Jamie said, wriggling to look up at him. They were laying on the couch together, Jamie nestled into the crook of Bennett's shoulder. The roads had long since been plowed, and the city was slowly returning to business as usual—enough for them to order a pizza that afternoon when Jamie loudly began complaining he was going to starve to death—but they hadn't discussed when Jamie would be leaving.

"Will you—will you stay tonight?" Bennett asked. "Unless—if you need to get home, I understand—"

"Are you kidding?" Jamie said. "You'll be lucky if I ever leave."

"I washed your clothes this morning while you were sleeping, so if you don't mind just wearing those—"

"Wait, I can't wear your sweater to class?" Jamie said, his eyes wide-eyed and innocent. Bennett raised an eyebrow. "Oh, calm down, you know I’m joking. But—thank you."

"Of course," Bennett said, craning down to press a kiss to Jamie's forehead. "But—also—I…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. He'd spent an entire episode of some medical drama they'd found gearing up to say the words, but now they wouldn't seem to come.

Jamie sat up, sensing Bennett was trying to say something important, watching him so patiently, so lovingly.

Oh Jamie, Bennett thought.

"I… want to tell you about… what happened," he said haltingly. "How I got my scar and… everything."

Jamie reached out and grabbed Bennett's hand, squeezing it hard. It reminded him of Peter—I'm here, you're safe, the gesture said.

"You don't need to," Jamie said softly. "If you're not ready."

"I think after last night, I owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything," Jamie said.

"Well, I'd like to. Just—forgive me if it takes a while."

Jamie sat there quietly, but Bennett quailed under his gaze, his eyes glowing amber in the dying afternoon light.

"God, this is embarrassing but—I don't think… I don't think I can do this if you're looking at me," Bennett said, his cheeks burning. How immature—how humiliating—and yet, he knew it was the only way.

Jamie scooted a little further away and lay down on his side, resting his head on Bennett's lap, so he was looking towards the now dark television.

"What about this?" he said. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," Bennett said, bringing his hand to stroke Jamie's hair. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations of his body—Jamie warm in his lap, hair silky under his fingertips, the warmth from the heater, the rich smell of the leftover pizza.

The sun sank lower and lower, and at last, the words came.

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Bennett said. "Most of us were. I was on an assignment and ran an errand on the wrong day, and then suddenly my whole life was shattered."

Jamie's breathing was soft and even, but Bennett knew he wasn't asleep.

"I… don't know how much you read or heard," Bennett said. "And… if you want more details, I… don't care if you look up the event. It was a major news story, and there's lots of information out there. Their goal was to take the embassy hostage in exchange for the release of members of their group the U.S. government had detained."

He brought his other hand to Jamie's side, and quietly Jamie tangled their fingers together, giving his hand a squeeze but saying nothing.

"One minute I was standing there, talking with someone about extending my visa, and the next minute we're lying on the ground with assault rifles at the back of our heads. It was… complete chaos, and to be honest I don't think they had much of an idea of what they were doing. They were volatile and scared and posturing, and those of us that were smart kept quiet and did what they said."

Bennett could still remember the raised voice of one American tourist, outraged, and the shocking blast of a gun echoing against the tile of the room, could still remember the pool of blood, lurid red, footprints tracking through it across the floor.

"After a while, they took us—the other tourists, the people without any power—I think they thought I was a tourist, too—down to this… basement. There was no light, nothing, just a big concrete storage room that had been cleared out. We had no idea what was going on, only that it was bad."

Bennett's breath was ragged, and he brought his attention to Jamie's hand in his to keep him tethered.

"Everything that could go wrong for them did—it was supposed to be a few hours, I think, and it ended up dragging on for months. And almost the whole time, we were down there, in the dark. That’s—that's what happened last night. I woke up and it was pitch black, and for a moment it felt like—it felt like I was back there. I knew I wasn't, logically but—"

He trailed off, swallowed and started again.

"There was a woman," he said. "From Tampa, Florida. Charlene. She'd just retired and was on vacation with her husband. They'd saved up for years and were traveling around the world. Wrong place, wrong time. We used to… when one of us was doing worse than usual, we'd find each other in the dark and hold hands, and it was… it kept me sane, I think, or at least kept me from totally losing it."

The words were coming quicker now, leaping up his throat and into his mouth like little frogs.

"They killed her," he said. "Towards the end, things got worse—we could tell how frustrated they were, how scared and angry they were—they'd lost control of the situation, and they got more and more violent."

Bennett realized he was shaking, but he couldn't stop now—didn't want to stop. He was on the verge of something, something like absolution.

"They chose at random—just… plucked us out of the dark like they were fishing. I don't know why I survived and Charlene didn't, or Ed, or the others. It was all so fucking pointless, so arbitrary—"

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, waiting for that familiar dark tide of anger and helplessness to subside.

"I remember some things so clearly and other things not at all," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "I don't remember getting shot, actually—a bullet ricocheted and caught me in the leg. I do remember, though, lying on this cot as they bandaged it and looking up at the ceiling—I can still see it so vividly, like I'm looking at a photograph—there were fluorescent lights, and there was a moth crawling around in one of the tubes. They did a shit job, though, and it didn't heal properly. When I was… back home, the surgeon had to break it and reset it, pins and all."

His mouth was dry, but he could feel something being set in motion inside him, and the little clockwork wheels and gears in some part of his brain that had been collecting dust for so long began to shift and grind.

"I don't remember when we were released, but I do remember the plane ride back to the U.S. It was late as we got in, and I remember looking out at the city—we were flying into D.C.—and wondering if they'd get us fast food. I had this insane craving for a burger and a strawberry milkshake of all things—I never even liked those before—and I couldn't explain why I was cracking up. It was just the funniest thing, somehow, being on a plane and hoping someone might buy me a milkshake."

Bennett trailed off, lost in thought. The memories of his homecoming were fragmented, but not quite as painful as the rest, and he sifted through them in a way he hadn't before.

"It broke me, though," he said. "It broke Michelle, too, all the waiting and worrying, and it broke our marriage. I came home and wasn't the same person I'd been when I left. We tried to make it work for a while, but she had to go, and I could hardly blame her."

The wellspring of words was drying up, and Bennett felt himself coming to the end.

"I think… I spent the first few years thinking my life was over. Thinking that Bennett Marlowe had died in that basement, that I was just piloting the body that used to be his. But… I don't want it to be like that anymore. I want to… want to be alive again. Be me."

He fell silent, feeling strangely calm for the moment.

After a while, Jamie shifted, sitting up. He looked at Bennett, face inscrutable, and then pressed a soft kiss to Bennett's cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered in Bennett's ear. He wrapped his arms around Bennett, pulling Bennett into him, and though it was a little uncoordinated because of their height difference, the tenderness of the gesture was as warm as the spring thaw.

Bennett let Jamie hold him for a long time, just staring into space and drifting, his mind oddly blank. When he came back to himself, the sun had set, and they were sitting in semi-darkness.

"Thank you, Jamie," he said.

Jamie untangled himself from around Bennett.

"I really have to pee," he said, laughing, getting up off the couch. He dashed into the bathroom and Bennett got up, turning the lights on and shutting the blinds for the evening. His leg was doing okay, surprisingly—it had hurt when he'd been fucking Jamie that morning, but he'd been more than willing to move past the pain in the moment. He felt stiff, though, after sitting still for so many hours, but he realized that that was probably more due to getting older.

Jamie emerged from the bathroom and wrapped his arms around Bennett's waist, nuzzling against his chest.

"Are you hungry?" Bennett asked. "We could order something if you're tired of pizza."

"Nah," Jamie said. He looked up at Bennett, grinning impishly. "Think I could convince you to fuck me again, though?" Bennett could feel Jamie's cock stirring against him.

Bennett laughed. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to be young and constantly horny.

"I suppose you could convince me," he said, steering Jamie backwards towards the bedroom, nipping at his neck. "It's a bit of an imposition, you know—can't say I'd enjoy it—but if you twist my arm—"

When they got to the bed, he spun them around, sitting down and pulling Jamie down on top of him.

"You'll need to be on top this time, though," he said. "It's—it's a bit hard on my leg sometimes. The other way."

Jamie pulled back sharply, clapping a hand over his mouth.

"Oh my god," he said. "I'm so sorry—I didn't even think about that earlier—"

"It's okay, really," Bennett said, sitting up and beginning to peel off Jamie's shirt—well, his shirt that Jamie was wearing, which Bennett hadn't grown tired of seeing. "I would have stopped or shifted if it was too much."

Jamie looked unconvinced.

"I promise," Bennett said, reaching between Jamie's legs to palm his cock. Jamie's eyes fluttered and he smiled. Bennett nuzzled against Jamie's neck, whispering in his ear. "And I really want to see you riding my cock."

"Okay, fine," Jamie said, laughing. "I suppose you could convince me."

* * *

Bennett had expected things to be more difficult, now that he and Jamie were together—boyfriends, as Jamie had insisted. But, oddly, he found that life was much simpler. While they were on campus, he still couldn't touch Jamie, kiss Jamie, wrap him up and run away with him the way he wanted to, but it was easier now that he knew he just had to wait until they were alone, rather than trudging through the misery of indefinite pining as he had before.

Jamie, of course, needed a little work on being discreet, and the next day in class after the snowstorm, Jamie had been giving him such heated, needy looks that Bennett kept losing his train of thought mid-sentence.

"You can't do that," Bennett hissed after class, as the students trickled out.

"Do what?" Jamie said, and his face was pure confusion instead of that fake, impish innocence he sometimes had. Bennett remembered the pen-sucking incident and sighed.

"You… were making bedroom eyes at me the whole time," Bennett said, flushing slightly, glancing at the last students still in the room, though they weren't paying attention.

"I was?" Jamie said, and he burst out laughing.

"You were," Bennett said, frowning. He leaned in, his voice low. "It's not polite to give your professor a hard-on in the middle of a lecture."

Jamie's eyes went a little glassy.

"Maybe you should punish me then," he said, wriggling his eyebrows lasciviously. Bennett groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face as his cock perked up.

"Jamie," he said. "Please."

"Oh, all right, all right," Jamie said. "Can I come over again tonight?"

Bennett hesitated and Jamie's face fell. Bennett couldn't quite explain what he was feeling—it wasn't that he didn’t want Jamie. Quite the opposite in fact—he was overwhelmed by his need for Jamie, swallowed whole by it, and he was afraid of losing himself in it.

He didn't know how to articulate that, though, and judging by the look on Jamie's face, Jamie had completely misinterpreted Bennett's reluctance.

"It's not that I don't want to see you," Bennett said. The door fell shut behind the last student, and they were alone, so Bennett stepped closer, catching Jamie's hand in his. Jamie looked up at him, shyly, hopefully. "I've just… spent a lot of time on my own the past few years. It's… an adjustment."

"Right," Jamie said with forced cheerfulness. "I get it."

"Besides," Bennett said, squeezing Jamie's hand. "You already have me. You don't need to worry about losing me. I’m your boyfriend, right?" He knew Jamie could tell Bennett was humoring him with the word, but Jamie rolled his eyes and his smile was genuine this time.

"Fine," he said. "If not tonight, then when?"

"Friday?" Bennett said. "Maybe you could… bring a change of clothes. Stay the weekend."

Jamie beamed at him.

"I'd… really like that."

"It's a date then," Bennett said, and he stole a chaste kiss before Jamie had to dash off to his next class.

* * *

He'd been planning on using his time alone to try and center himself, to pull himself back from the dizzying edge of the cliff how much he felt, how much he wanted. It was as if six years of repressed emotional energy were channeling themselves into his heart—and his cock—with the force of flood water.

Instead, though, Bennett found his door unlocked, Peter on the couch, and a truly unholy amount of sushi spread out on the table.

"Oh, hello," he said.

"Hello," said Peter. "That new sushi place opened up so I thought we'd try it out."

Bennett sat next to Peter and looked at the offerings. Some of it looked more like small alien baby hatchlings than food, but all of it was strangely appealing.

"It's funny you turned up," Bennett said. "I was going to call you."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"What's that tone of voice for?" he said. "You're making me nervous."

"I… have something to tell you."

Peter twisted around so he was facing Bennett, suddenly alert.

"Did you get tenure?" he said eagerly.

"No—well, I mean they won't decide for a while—but—" Bennett took a deep breath. "We slept together. Jamie and I, I mean."

Peter's jaw dropped—a rare moment where he was speechless.

"So… yes… that… was what I wanted to tell you," Bennett said uncertainly.

Peter blinked several times and then a slow smile spread over his face.

"It's about—damn—time—" he said, punctuating each word with a light punch to Bennett's arm.

"Hey," Bennett said, leaning away.

"That boy has been pining for your cock for months now—"

"Okay, that's it, I'm kicking you out of the house—"

"Fine, fine—" Peter said. "So? Tell me about it. God, I'm so pleased." He was in fact smiling triumphantly. He grabbed his phone. "Can I tell Mo? Please?"

Bennett sighed.

"I suppose," he said. "It can't go further than that, though, for… obvious reasons."

Peter waved a hand dismissively as he texted his husband. He tossed his phone aside.

"All right. Tell me everything."

Bennett scrubbed a hand over his face.

"We were grading in my office—"

"I assume grading is a euphemism for depraved sexual acts—"

Bennett glared at his friend and Peter shushed himself.

"Thank you," Bennett said. He was blushing already. "We didn't notice the snow falling and… he lives all the way over in East Linfield so… I just suggested he stay with me for a few hours until the roads cleared—"

Even as the words were coming out, he knew how ridiculous they sounded, and sure enough, Peter was laughing.

"That is the most shameless pretense—"

"That's it, we're not friends anymore—"

"Oh, stop it," Peter said, swatting him. "You know I've been solidly Team Jamie since the night you two met. So, keep going."

"I really—I swear when I offered I wasn't… angling for anything. I mean the last thing I wanted would be to trap him in my house in a snowstorm and hit on him—"

"That was probably his dream—"

"Peter. You know what I mean, though—I just… I really did want to make sure he was… safe. Warm. What? What's that face for?"

Peter was wearing an odd, tender smile.

"It's just… sweet, Bennett. It's been a long time since you… cared so much about someone."

"Anyway," Bennett said, brushing his friend's comment aside. "I made it clear nothing would happen—stop laughing—and we had dinner and then he fell asleep on the couch."

"Bennett, you know that sleeping in the same house doesn’t count as sleeping together, right?"

"I swear to god I'm going to kick you out into the snow if you don't let me finish, Peter," Bennett said.

"Fine, fine."

"That was the night the power went out," Bennett said haltingly. Peter knew all Bennett's demons, had seen him in far worse places than the state Jamie had found him in, but it was still hard to admit to his friend what had happened. "I woke up and it was pitch black and—it just—it instantly took me back there."

Peter, mercifully, did not comment this time. He reached out and squeezed Bennett's hand once.

"I was trying to find my phone to get some light, but I was panicking and I knocked a glass on the floor. It shattered and must have woken Jamie up, because he came in and found me—well, you know how I get."

Bennett swallowed, his throat suddenly tight at the thought of Jamie's calm, steady kindness, how safe he'd felt in Jamie's arms.

"He walked me through it," Bennett said. "Held my hand and helped me breathe and… stayed with me until it was over. And then… I must have fallen asleep, because then it was morning and he was in my arms and… I couldn't wait anymore. Suddenly, he was the most important thing in the world—good god, Peter, are you crying?"

Peter sniffed, wiping his eye as he grinned.

"Just a little," he said. "That was… the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say, Bennett."

Bennett grumbled.

"Seriously, though," Peter said. "After what happened with Michelle, you've just been so closed off—and not that dating someone is the end all, be all of happiness, but—I'm glad you have someone like Jamie. Someone to take care of you."

Bennett grimaced, but he knew Peter had a point. He'd all but given up on finding love again. He'd assumed he was too broken—he was sure he could find someone who'd want to glue his shattered pieces back together, but he wasn't so sure they'd stick around once they realized he was fine leaving said pieces in disarray on the floor.

But with Jamie—Jamie was different. Jamie made Bennett want to heal. Made him feel like healing was finally something he could do.

"I… told him about it," Bennett said. "About what happened."

"How was that?"

"It… was good," Bennett said after a moment. He was still trying to process how he felt about telling Jamie, how he felt about Jamie knowing. "Good, I think. Difficult, but… I feel like it shifted something in me. Like… maybe now it'll be easier to talk about or write about."

"I'm glad to hear that," Peter said softly, smiling at Bennett. They looked at each other for a moment, and Bennett could feel every year of their long friendship between them, bonding them together.

"So… I have a twenty-one-year-old boyfriend now," Bennett said, needing to break the weight of the moment.

Peter snorted.

"Sugar daddy," he said, and Bennett shuddered. "So how was the sex?"

Bennett groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Oh, come on," Peter said. "You know everything about my sex life—"

"That's because you tell me," Bennett said, uncovering his face and raising an eyebrow. "Not because I ask."

"I'll just ask Jamie, then, the next time I see him. I'm sure he'll be happy to tell me—"

"Good god, the two of you together are bad news for me," Bennett said, though he didn't admit how much he liked the idea of the two of them becoming friends. "But—it was good."

"Good?"

"It was amazing, okay?" Bennett said, glaring at his friend. "Best sex I've had in years. Ridiculously so."

"There we go," Peter said, clapping his hands together triumphantly. "I'm so proud of you, my boy."

"I can't believe we're friends," Bennett said.

"You'd be lost without me," Peter said. "Now, come here." He grabbed Bennett's phone and unlocked it—because of course Peter knew Bennett's lock code. He pulled up the camera. He threw his arm around Bennett and flashed a cheesy—and still disarmingly handsome—smile. "Take a picture with me."

"Why—ugh—" Bennett said, glaring at the phone. Peter snapped the picture and began tapping away. "Whatever you're doing, don’t—"

"Please?" Peter said, holding up the phone for Bennett to see, his finger hovering over the send button.

>>BENNETT: I'm very happy for you two. Bennett's being grumpy but he misses you. –Peter

The picture was actually quite funny—Peter looked charming as ever and Bennett looked incredibly put upon. It was a good summation of their relationship.

"Fine, you can send it," he grumbled, and Peter grinned. He handed Bennett's phone back to him.

"So I assume that you'll have to keep the dating… under wraps until the semester ends?" Peter said, sitting back.

"Yes," Bennett said. "Probably best to keep it quiet next semester, too, if it last that long." Peter rolled his eyes. "I… don't love the idea, only because it's just one more thing to juggle. But… I can't not be with him anymore, if he wants me."

Bennett's phone lit up—Jamie had responded.

>>JAMIE: does this mean you guys are talking about me??

Attached was a picture of himself, sitting on a bed surrounded by textbooks and papers, grinning at the camera. Bennett's heart leapt—he looked sweet and young and beautiful, and Bennett really did miss him.

"What a cutie," Peter said, peering at the picture. "I just adore him. I want to put him in a little basket and carry him around with me."

Bennett ignored his friend and tapped out a response.

>>BENNETT: Only good things, I promise.

>>JAMIE: :-*

>>JAMIE: and for the record i miss you too

Bennett's heart felt like a little dog at the front door who's just heard the garage door open, flipping madly around his ribcage.

"Look at you," Peter said. "You're absolutely love-struck."

"Oh, go eat your sushi," Bennett said, but he couldn't stop smiling down at his phone.