#so beautifully sad and ridiculous and pathetic and stubborn

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

Phileas may have traveled the world, but I only want to explore his natural beauty firsthand

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Friends With Benefits Play Truth or Drink - Pete & Henry

Summary: Based off this Youtube series.  Pete & Henry, friends with benefits, must choose between the cold hard truth or a nice drink....

(Dreamcatcher)

Words:  2,772

Ship: Pete/Henry 

—Cut—-

“On the count of three, name who likes who more?” Henry flicked the card between his fingers and with a roll of his eyes, took a peek towards the men behind the camera. As if he hadn’t agreed to film this video. 

“1....2...” 

Pete opened his mouth with a small bashful smile-

—Cut—-

Pete Moore anxiously bounced his leg and waited for the ‘ok’ to start their introduction. It was Beaver (of course) who’d originally pulled them into filming this video. He’d been working at the place for a couple months now and had quickly become an audience favorite. Thus, more videos gave him a starring role and he suggested his good ol’ buddies come in. 

Blaine, the camera man, stood with a small grin behind a large camera and waved his thumbs up above. 

“I’m Pete.” 

“I’m Henry.” His companion smiled at him from across the small table filled with some nice choices of alcohol. “And we’re friends with benefits-” 

{Blaine, the director, off camera: “What are the benefits?” }

Pete giggled as if he were a teenager again and attempted to avoid answering by putting his face into his cupped hands. But this only tossed the chance over to Henry, who could put intelligent sentences together so beautifully when he wanted to- 

“Great sex.” Henry could barely get that out without also succumbing to the childlike giggle fit. 

{Blaine: “How well do you know each other?”}

Pete lifted his face and turned casually on his chair, like none of this really mattered and he was just plopping down for a normal lunch. “We’ve know each other since we were....” He gazed off and tapped his fingers to the table. 

“Eleven.” Henry nodded. “The sleeping together...that started...-”

“Your Junior year of High-School. I was a Sophomore-”

“Oh yeah! And you had that weird Math teacher, right? He-uh...he used to eat his lunch during your class and chew with his mouth open, didn’t he?” Henry shoved his elbow on the table. 

“Shit, I forgot about that-” Pete started to prepare a long story concerning just that teacher but was almost instantly shot down. 

{Blaine: “Woah-woah, you’ve known each other that long?”} 

“Yeah! So not only could I tell you where his moles are but I could also reveal all of his deep, dark childhood secrets.” Henry chuckled again which was always a wonderful sound. 

Their story was true. They had in fact been ‘Friends-with-benefits’ on & off for quite some time now. It had become something so natural and normal to their relationship. So much so that Pete almost forgot how it had been during those early days...almost. 

Sometimes it still shocked Pete how often Henry could throw him off with comments like that. They came pretty few and far between but Henry was a weird little shit when you got down to it. Behind all the intellect and sophistication was a true oddball. It was probably the reason why he’d drawn so much interest since high school. All the girls had adored him even though Henry hadn’t really shown interest in anyone. 

Yeah, he was kinda scrawny and looked like he could be the classic hero in a boring book but he sure was attractive. 

Pete kicked him from under the table. 

—Cut—-

“Alright. I’m going first.” Henry smiled and reached over to the pile of question cards that Pete had sort of been anxious about. He watched the reflection of his arm in the nearest alcohol bottle on the table and enjoyed the chilled breeze of air that came with Henry’s retraction. “Man, this is a tasteful way to start.” He smacked the card with the back of his hand which made Pete all the more eager. 

“Where’s the weirdest place we’ve ever had sex?” 

Pete smirked. “You could go with the time that we did it in the bathroom of my Dentist’s office. Remember? We had the time because that Aubrey girl cut in front of me to get her braces off and got in, even though I was there first. Which-” Pete turned back to the camera and pointed sharply. “I am still mad about Dr. Dearborn.” 

{Blaine: “Why was Henry taking you to the dentist?”}

“I was a sophomore and couldn’t drive yet.” Pete rolled his eyes and turned back towards Henry. 

Henry blinked a few times and tried to play-off the admiring smile but the camera picked it up quite clearly. “-Or the time we did it at that Pumpkin farm...in the bathroom that was decorated with all those corn husk dolls.” Henry shivered at the memory. 

“That was a good one.” Pete nodded. “Oh, but more recently, what about the time in Beaver’s childhood bedroom?” He could barely finish without breaking out into easily spread giggles. “Damn. I hope he doesn’t watch this.” He bite back another laugh, knowing full well that was a dumb-ass thing to wish for considering Beav was the one who dragged them there. 

Henry shook his head. “Oh, but what about the time-”

{Blaine, laughing: “You guys gotta move to the next question”}

“Ok, ok.” Pete reached over to the pile of cards and willed it to be something just as ridiculous as what Henry got. Part of him had thought the whole video could be a fun little thing to do but the other part of him was kicking himself for agreeing. 

He turned the card over and felt a sharp pain shoot through his gut and chest. He didn’t fucking know if he wanted to hear the answer or not. “When was the last time you had sex with someone who wasn’t me?” The card was laid back onto the table with gentle nerve twitching hands. It was a fair question, considering they’d been doin’ the thing since Sophomore year Pete really thought being an astronaut was a viable career option. 

Henry shrugged. “Easy. I haven’t slept with anyone else since we were sort of off that time ...almost two years ago now.” 

That eased Pete’s stomach enough to relax into his chair. 

{Blaine: “What happened two years ago?”}

The men shared a tiny look and found they were both waiting for the other to answer. 

Henry took lead, per usual, with his carefree smile. “Nothing really.” He shrugged and tried not to pay too much attention to Pete, who had finally broke and prepared himself a shot just for the hell of it. “We just fizzled it out for a while. Which happens with things like this.” Henry gestured between them and looked for Pete who eyed his friend carefully to make sure it was ok to explain.

“Sometimes Henry’s not into the sexual aspects of a relationship.” Pete shrugged, not sure how much of this conversation was going to be left in the video. “It’s not always something he...wants. He goes through periods where he’s just not into it.” He raised his brow and Henry nodded in confirmation. 

{Blaine: “You don’t have to answer but, you said you hadn’t slept with anyone else since then, Henry? So did you sleep with someone else during that time?”}

Henry frowned and picked at the skin on his hand, a nervous tick he wasn’t used to. “Yeah...A while after Pete and I paused, I slept with this friend of mine...Owen.” Henry looked back to Pete, who looked as calm and casual as can be. Henry swallowed a little disappointment. “The attraction just sorta happened-” he shrugged “But it never happened with him again after that.”

Again, Pete was pretty casual in nature. He was nodding with a gentle neutral grin. But inside, Pete was brimming with that same ugly old jealousy he had back then. But he didn’t want to seem too attached to Henry on camera...it would be pathetically sad for people to see that when Henry clearly didn’t feel the same. 

—Cut—-

Henry turned back to the table and picked a new card. “Oh, this is a good one to answer now-...What are the terms of this relationship?” Henry set the card down and watched Pete swallow his drink. 

He cleared his throat and leaned back. “It’s always been the kinda deal where...” Pete let his hand float over the table. “We just kinda fall together-? It happens when it happens. We were each other’s first sexual experience really. Which, in itself is special. But there’s no strings attached. Never have been.” He scratched at the back of his neck and hoped that made sense. He didn’t want to come across as a dumb-ass even though he truly thought he was. 

He didn’t seem to notice the way Henry fluttered his eyes down to the floor and bit into his lip but once again...the camera did. 

—Cut—-

So it was Pete’s turn once again to reach into the pile of cards. But just as soon as he read what he’d have to ask Henry, his casual act dropped for a moment as genuine dread took over. “You can drink because I already know your answer to this.” Pete set the card down and leaned forward, elbows curled on the table. 

{Blaine: “You gotta read the card, Pete!”}

Blaine’s voice was teasing and gentle but it only served as a bitter contrast to the look of concern on Henry’s face. He rolled his eyes and picked it up again. “What is something you’d like to change about me?” 

There was a silent communication exchange then. The boys didn’t need to voice their words, seemingly because it was something they’d discussed a lot...or maybe just because they were just on the same wavelength. 

“I’d like for you to be a little less stubborn...” Henry’s tone wobbled as he tried his best not to slip into his ‘Psychiatrist’ voice. “Concerning you know, acknowledging the problem you have with alcohol.” He hoped that was the most gentle way to phrase it, considering they were playing a drinking game on camera. “That’s all I’m asking for right now...” Henry shrugged. Pete felt his stomach tighten. If they fought this out right now, would Blaine gladly film and post that?

{Blaine: “What would you change about him, Pete?”}

He was clearly trying to keep the room calm and give them both a fair shot at the heavy question. 

“I would change...” Pete licked his lips and frowned. “I don’t know the fuckin’ word for it...but the way you’re blind to your own pain.” He felt the back of his shoulders twitch with anxiety. “You want to help me with my problems but you won’t even have a conversation about yours.”

Henry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and took in one small quick breath. 

—Cut—-

Pete and Henry scooted close to the table once again, looking much more relaxed. 

Henry reached forward and stole a card with a small smile.“On the count of three, name who likes who more?” Henry flicked the card between his fingers and with a roll of his eyes, took a peek towards the men behind the camera. As if he hadn’t agreed to film this video. 

“1....2...3” 

Pete opened his mouth with a small bashful smile-

At the exact same moment, both spoke their answers. 

“Me.”

“Me.” 

Henry and Pete paused to give each other a little look before bursting into fits of laughter. 

Henry came back from throwing his head back and mocked a frown. “Dude, don’t lie. You gotta know that it’s me.” 

Pete shook his head in that jovial kid way that Henry adored so much. That big smile was on his face to match it too. It always reminded Henry of a happy dog shaking about to dry his fur. “Henry, man, I was the one who initiated this back then-?”

Henry exaggerated a gasp. “You did not! I did!” 

They were pretty sure Blaine wasn’t going to keep their whole play-fighting session in the video but nonetheless, they kept it going for as long as they could before moving on. 

—Cut—-

“F-...This is embarrassing” Pete hid his face in his hands which only served Henry the option to reach out and pull his arms away.

“Go on! Read the question. It’s what you signed up for.” Henry happily leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms. 

“Read the last booty-call I sent you.” Pete mumbled, clearly blushing in pure embarrassment. Henry giggled and slid out his phone. 

“Is it though? You don’t really send them all too often.” Henry pushed his frames up again and began scrolling through their conversations, Pete following along on his own device just to prepare himself. “I think I’m the one who does that.”

Pete shrugged. “Well, I don’t because I wanna make sure you're comfortable. I want you to have the control 'cause I know you don’t always want to do stuff like that, y’know? I want you to make the first step. I don’t want to put you in an awkward position where you might feel bad for turning me down, which I should hope you wouldn’t ‘cause I get it, H.” Pete said this with his face tilted down, eyes narrow and reading. 

He completely missed the fragile, appreciative glance from Henry. “Ok. You read one of mine instead.” He shook himself out of his frozen little moment of pure adoration with a dazzling smile. 

Pete chuckled. “If that’s what you want.” He continued to scroll until he stopped on the text bubble of choice. “This is my personal favorite text I’ve ever received.” He smacked a hand to his chest. Henry rolled his eyes. 

“If you would like to come through on your previous proposition to ‘hang out later’, I’m gonna be free for you fool around with at 9....” Pete held up a finger. “And he then adds, two minutes later-” He smirked. “But that’s an hour or so after my dentist appointment so my mouth might still be numb from the filling...” 

Pete could barely hold himself together by the end. He curled over and laughed into the table, clutching his stomach as Henry giggled. “Oh man. Like..-I wanna frame that shit, Henry.” He wiped his eyes of tears.

{Blaine: “What is with you two and dentists?”} Blaine’s laughter sounded from behind the camera. 

“Read what you responded with, pal.” Henry shoved his phone across the table which Pete gladly took and tried to read with his blurring eyes. 

“Are you sure you want another filling so soon after that one?” Pete fuckin’ wheezed. “And a classy winking emoji followed.” He collected himself and tried to stop making eye contact. 

—Cut—-

Henry reached out for another card and fluttered his eyelashes behind those horn-rimmed glasses. “Last question, Pete. You ready?” 

Pete nodded, arms resting on the table and a look of determination on his face. He spared a fleeting glance to the alcohol sitting on the table and realized they’d not really put it too much use. He allowed himself to feel good about that fact. 

“Why would it be bad for us to be in a committed relationship?” His friend asked in a low-tone before tossing the card into his used pile. 

They were quiet for a few seconds before a gentle looking Henry spoke. “I don’t think it would be bad...do you?” He tipped his chin towards Pete, who looked a little uncharacteristically nervous. 

Pete did that little head-shake again but much softer. “No, I don’t think it would be bad.”

They did that weird little mind-conversation again before throwing each other small grins. “I think we deserve a little cheers?” Pete flowed forward as he slid his clutched palms down his legs and titled his chin towards the bottles. 

Henry debated that for a moment or two. 

{Blaine: “Not gonna share that moment with the audience then, huh?”}

Pete and Henry looked to each other again with the excitement of two friends thinking the exact same thing at the same time. “Nah.” Their heads shook and splayed out their hair a little. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Henry agreed and slowly reached over for his glass. “Instead-” He chuckled. “Pete and I are going to have ourselves a little cheers and go home.” 

Pete smiled and felt himself perk up as Henry poured small drinks for each of them and raised his own glass. 

“To SFDD” Henry clinked and admired Pete’s quirked brows. 

“SFDD? What’s that?”

Henry looked at him like it was obvious and then smirked. “Same fuck, different day.”

Pete spit out most of his drink onto the crisp white table and nearly choked on the laughter. 

[itallcomesdown]

Cloud 9s

The waves, ever so gently colliding into one another as they collapsed onto the beach, provided the perfect soundtrack to Nicky's breakdown.

Not too loud, not too harsh.

Soft and low like the tears running down her cheeks.

This wasn't Nicky’s first time weeping at the edge of the ocean. In fact, she was well into the double digits at this point and likely to hit triple before she closed out her third decade.

The first time she made the short drive to the shore for the express purpose of crying, she'd felt a little ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with her bedroom but something drew her to the drama of grey skies and sea breezes.

That's one of the perks of living by the water, depressive episodes seem more cinematic.

Today's helping of woe was served up by a call from her mother which, if you read a transcript, should have been totally normal but was, as always, specifically designed to destroy her.

"Darling."

Nicky cringed but replied sweetly. She could only hope to survive by mirroring her mother's tone.

"Darling, I'm so glad to hear from you. Your father and I do worry so much."

The first blow.

What was there to worry about? Her parents had checked in with her twice a week, every week, for years and Nicky had never shared even a passing comment that would indicate she was anything other than perfectly happy.

Now, was she? No, of course not. She was regularly crying by herself at the beach, but her parents didn't know that. Nobody knew that.

Nicky gave the verbal equivalent of a hand wave as a response. Life was all sunshine.

"Are you sure? You don't sound well."

She sounded the same as she had sounded the last time her mother had insisted that she'd sounded unwell. The same as all the times her mother had insisted she’d sounded unwell which was every time they spoke.

Another spoken hand wave. The salty air was in her throat, nothing more.

"I did say when you decided to move up there that the sea air would be bad for your lungs."

Lungs! How had this become about lungs? Last time it was "something something, microscopic sand particles are lacerating your vocal chords".

Nicky couldn't get the image of sliced, white bands out of her dreams for a week.

"You need to see someone or it will get worse. I'll speak to Dr Kline and see if she knows anyone you can go to down there."

Why?! From 16 words spoken over a patchy internet connection, her mother had decided that intervention was necessary.

Nicky’s chest tightened as she made a mental note to avoid clearing her throat for the rest of the call lest it fan the flames in her mother's mind. She kept her voice even in her response but made sure to not attempt firmness as she insisted that she was fine. Resistance only strengthened her mother's resolve.

"Jerry, remind me give Marsha a call tomorrow about Nicky's lungs."

Nicky imagined her father, somewhere off camera, giving a silent thumbs up to his wife.

Marsha Kline was not a doctor of medicine. She was a wonderful woman and a very accomplished professor of art history who had been friends with Nicky’s mother for longer than Nicky had been alive. Dr Kline was also very convinced that western medicine was a death cult and any medication not administered in tea form was bad for you.

"Don't roll your eyes, Nicky. I'm only doing my job as your mother. Someone has to look after you."

Blow 5?

The subtle difference between "out for" and "after" in a sentence like that would go unnoticed by most, but Nicky had been playing this game with her mother for all of time. Her mother used "out for" when referring to all adults except Nicky.

Now, you might think that's totally reasonable. Mother's always look after their children and that doesn't mean the semantic difference is some kind of dig. Except Nicky was the oldest of three children and the only one who her mother felt needed looking after.

"You did roll them, Nicky. I'm not going to argue, but you did. I used to be able to hear it in your voice over the phone but now that we are on Soom I can see it."

Nicky bit her tongue and tried to keep her jaw relaxed.

Where had the call gone wrong this time?

She should have suggested the call to Dr Kline herself. That way her mother wouldn't have been primed to fight about it.

At least this time she let "Soom" slide.

"Anyway, your sister and I had a lovely chat yesterday. The boys are doing great, she and Pat are looking really lean with the marathon coming up. Have you spoken to her?"

Marriage, children, weight. The self-esteem trifecta, all in one beautifully benign sentence. Nicky almost admired the efficiency.

Claire should have been born first. She was third in birth order but seemed to have decided from an early age to reach every available milestone before Nicky could make a meaningful attempt.

"You really should talk to her more. And James. Both of them really worry about you."

At this point, Nicky had accepted that she would be going to the beach as soon as the call was over. Why waste a day or two trying to hold it together when all she would be thinking about is the family meeting she hadn't been invited to where everyone did the sad head tilt as they talked about her.

"James is always saying he's happy to have you if you need somewhere to stay."

Somewhere to stay.

Nicky had a perfectly lovely apartment with her own office, a parking space and a gorgeous view but because she didn't have a mortgage, her family talked about her as if she was homeless.

"It doesn't have to be long term. Just until you're on your feet"

Would this be after her newly signed 2-year lease or would James buy that out for her?

"I'm sure he could afford it."

He probably could.

"You don't have to. I'm just putting it out there so you don't feel stuck and alone."

If Nicky had to pick a title for her autobiography, it would be "Stuck and Alone". Even at work where everyone was different from each other, she felt completely out of place. Like a puzzle piece you jam into the wrong section because it looks like it should work but when you take it in as part of the picture, something's off.

"You said you would think about it last time. I know you, you're stubborn but now is not the time for stubbornness. People are trying to help you."

The hardest part about these calls would always be having to defend her contentment when it seemed like everyone else thought she was drowning. Nicky wasn't sad about the life she had built for herself. She was sad that it seemed too small and pathetic for those she loved.

"Just call your siblings. If you've lost their numbers, I'll send them to you. Jerry, remind me to send Nicky the numbers."

Nicky sometimes distracted herself by imagining her father as a sort of humanoid smart speaker with steely mesh for skin, warm glowing eyes and a permanently erect thumb that shone green when a command had been accepted.

The speaker was called Greymax and it always made Nicky smile.

"What's funny? I know you think I'm a silly old woman so you might as well let your laugh out."

Nicky exaggerated her eye roll and sighed. It broke the tension and they both chuckled a bit but they probably couldn't tell you why. Sadness lingered behind both smiles.

"Anyway, nothing to report on this side since our last chat so I'll let you go. I'm sure you have lots of work to do for your fancy new show."

Nicky performed pleasantries with her cheek between her teeth.

It took her less than twelve minutes to reach her usual spot from the end of the call, a personal best, and less than twenty seconds to achieve full body sobs, another personal best.

The actual crying wasn't particularly intense on this occasion. Hard crying just added physical hurt to the emotional despair.

One time, she had attracted the attention of a couple of youths on what looked like a first date. They were shy and gentle but visibly concerned. Nicky was mortified.

From then on she sat in a partially enclosed opening on the side of a sheer rock face and avoided excessive wailing. Sometimes she'd get a curious bird or a tiny crustacean but, for the most part, human contact had been limited to surprised stares.

The time on her phone told her that she had been out there for twenty minutes. That was more than enough for one day and should tide her over until the following week if everything stayed calm at work.

Nicky imagined herself, in another universe, choosing to jog through her inner anguish. Smartphone strapped to her upper arm, smartwatch keeping track of her movements and bluetooth earphones delivering alternate universe pop into her ears. Was that worth a try?

Imagination Nicky was exactly as good at her job and bad at relationships, she just had a comfortable pair of running shoes. That was totally attainable but Real Nicky had always resisted. Crying sucked but it was cleansing and felt natural. Running felt like someone else's thing that she was putting on to prove a point.

When Nicky got back home, she ordered an inexpensive but well reviewed pair of running shoes. The product description painted a vivid picture of how impossibly soft these shoes were, at a fraction of the price charged by other brands. Confirmed buyers wrote formulaically about never needing another shoe again and buying pairs for friends. Nicky never read any of that though because she chose them exclusively for the price and availability for next day delivery.

The shoes arrived but remained in their box for days. Nicky passed them every time she entered her bedroom, making a mental note to try them on, even if only to check the fit, but quickly forgot.

Her mother's next call came and went without incident. A neighbour had to be hospitalised and their pet's needed a temporary home so the entire call was consumed by intro to the pup and solemn predictions regarding the neighbours fate. The prognosis was pretty good but Nicky's mother was certain big pharma was gunning for him. Dr Kline had been consulted, of course.

Teas had been ordered and special instructions repeated in hushed tones but the call was fine. 

Nicky was fine.

Usually, the down time between calls was a safe zone where Nicky could stock up on the mundane joys of life but the shoes had been ordered so the universe needed to make sure they were used.

James sent a picture to the group chat. Two little lines on a white stick. Congratulations all around. Wonderful news!

That evening the phone rang.

"I'm trying to convince your brother to move into a bigger house so there is room for you and  the baby but Ryan is acting as if I've gone crazy. Can you believe it?"

Nicky finally got to the beach after an hour and a bit. Turns out the shoes really were baby clouds with laces, but it's hard to run when your chest is heaving.

Next time she would have to drive to the beach, then cry while running. 

Fewer witnesses and, again, more cinematic.