Ben was still coming to terms with how many of his memories of the past five years were tarnished by drugs. And those were the things he could actively remember. A lot had been lost.
Instead of sleeping in his bed in his bedroom with all the bad memories, Ben was sleeping in Tone’s bed. With Tone. It was a testament to their friendship that Ben could just get into bed with Tone, and Tone would roll over to make room for him and say absolutely nothing about it, either in the moment or afterwards.
They kept that going for over a week.
Ben treasured this friendship more than his own life, at times.
He started having a look around the London housing market to try and figure out what he actually wanted, for when he was ready to buy someplace of his own. Ben knew he didn’t want to move out of this area. Camden had felt like home for a long time and he already knew he would feel out of place living anywhere else in London. And wasn’t that the point of coming back here? He wanted to be somewhere that felt like home.
The house felt too big for the two of them, and it was a relief to know that the others would be heading back to London soon. As much as there was bad blood between them at the moment, he needed to see them. The bond between the five of them had only grown in the past few years, and they really were more like siblings than friends these days. Ben had exploited that relationship in the past, knowing that they would be there for him, no matter what terrible things he’d done. He was closer to them than he was his actual siblings, or his parents, for that matter. They’d cultivated a very specific bubble that contained the five of them with their music.
Other people formed an important protective barrier around them. Sherrie, for one, who was a fierce mother figure. Stan at one point had held an almost sacred spot in the dynamics of the band.
No other girlfriend or boyfriend had managed to infiltrate the same way Stan had. These days, Summer and Geordie were an old married couple, even if they had hidden their relationship from the press for years. Jez didn’t date. He’d never slapped a label on himself, but Ben had heard the term a-romantic from him when they were all high once, and that seemed to make sense. Tone… well, Ben was pretty sure he was still grieving for his girlfriend who had died more than a decade ago. His relationships never lasted long.
Their wariness of outsiders in the early years had protected them from a lot of people who wanted to exploit them, to use their faces to sell fizzy drinks and clothes and toothpaste, and whatever else they were supposed to endorse. They’d developed a reputation as being a band who couldn’t be bought for shit like that. Ben thought that had probably contributed to the vibe of authenticity they’d had right at the beginning of their career. Fans knew there wasn’t anything driving Ares’s music except Ares. In the world of manufactured, mass-produced music, that had mattered.
That was before it all went to hell, though.
Now that Stan was back on the scene, Ben wasn’t sure how the others would handle it. Stan had been important to them too, back in the day, but it had been a long time since he was part of their inner circle.
A lot of things had fallen apart in rapid succession after Stan left, and even though the others knew Stan wasn’t responsible for that, it was hard to divorce the action from the consequences. Hell, Ben found it hard to mentally separate it all sometimes.
Now that things were changing again, Ben wondered if his relationship with the rest of the band would change again too. He’d be best friends with Tone forever, Ben was sure about that. But Jez was pissed off at him in a way Ben knew was going to be hard to resolve. And he’d hurt Summer a lot. He wanted to fix those relationships, he really did, but not having anyone other than the rest of the band to lean on had made that so much harder. There wasn’t anyone else he could go to and get some perspective.
The dates with Stan were helping. Just spending time with Stan helped, even if they didn’t do anything except order Vietnamese takeaway and eat it on the sofa in Stan’s flat while watching Marvel movies.
Just chilling out on the sofa with his arm around Stan’s shoulder felt like some monumental transgressive act. It felt normal. Nothing in Ben’s life had been normal for a really long time.
By the time the second film was over, it was getting late, and Ben wondered if he could stay over. Leaving Stan now was something he really didn’t want to do.
He went over to where Stan was sorting recyclables from rubbish, and carefully wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist from behind. Stan turned in his arms and leaned back against the counter.
Stan brushed Ben’s hair back from his face. “You know you asked me before? If you could kiss me?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, you can now. If you want.”
Ben felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “Yeah. I want to.”
Stan’s eyes did that thing where they crinkled up at the corners when he smiled, and he was still the most beautiful thing Ben had ever seen in his whole life.
He hesitated before leaning in and brushing his lips over Stan’s, just gently. So slowly. Stan stepped in closer and rested his fingertips on Ben’s shoulders, giving him plenty of space to step away if he needed to, while making his intentions plenty clear.
Ben’s heart was beating so hard he thought Stan could probably hear it.
He licked Stan’s bottom lip and pulled him closer still, silently begging Stan to take things further.
Ben was relieved when Stan took charge, finally wrapping his hand around the back of Ben’s neck and using it as leverage to lick into Ben’s mouth. Their kisses turned long and smooth. Ben got hard. Then he started grinding against Stan’s hip and he lost all sense of decorum.
“You wanna go to bed?” Stan murmured, his lips brushing against Ben’s ear.
“What?” Ben felt stupid. “Yeah. Of course.”
He felt Stan smile, his lips curving against Ben’s neck. “Come on, then.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you?”
“I’m not a fucking idiot, Stan,” Ben said. “Jesus Christ.”
That made Stan laugh. “Come on,” he said again.
Stan stripped off his T-shirt and kicked off his trainers while Ben was still getting the bedroom door closed behind them. He watched, transfixed, as Stan pushed his tight jeans off too, leaving him in nothing but a pair of very tight black boxers that left nothing to the imagination.
Except Ben didn’t need to imagine anything. He’d been here before. He knew this dance intimately.
Ben had always liked touching Stan when he had his clothes on and Stan was naked, so he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity, not when he had no idea when it might come around again. He pulled Stan in close and kissed up his neck while his hands relearned the shape of Stan’s body.
Things had changed. Stan had changed, for the better. He had hard abdominal muscles now, pecs and defined biceps too. His ass, which had always been phenomenal, was definitely bigger than it used to be. Stan still felt long and lean under his hands, except now he had muscle and fat instead of bones that poked out too far.
Stan threaded his fingers through Ben’s hair and demanded kisses that sent Ben’s brain reeling. He grabbed two perfect handfuls of Stan’s ass and squeezed.
In the end, it was Stan who pulled off Ben’s T-shirt, who helped Ben out of his jeans and trainers and socks, and who sank to his knees to push Ben’s boxers down off his hips.