| Title: Safe Bet Series: The Bet Author: Jo & Brenda Pairing: Ben Roethlisberger/Matt Hasselbeck Rating: PG13 Summary: The aftermath of Big Ben's accident. Disclaimer: Never happened.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the 'fridge, Matt drapes his towel around his neck. He can feel the light burn in his leg muscles from the morning run. Good feeling, man. Time to check his email, then he'll hop in the shower. Tapping the touchpad on his laptop, he cracks open the bottle and takes a long swallow before settling down and opening the browser. Big Ben Hurt In Crash... For a second, Matt just stares at the words on NFL.com. Big Ben Hurt In Crash... Then they register and his heart skips a beat before slamming against his ribs. Not quite frantic – not yet, there's no reason – he taps keys, clicks links, and...nothing. No information except there was an accident and... "Fuck!" He's dialing his agent's number almost before he's aware of it. He can't stop staring at the computer screen, at the stark headline... Gotta be a mistake, Ben can't be... "David Dunn's office." "Get me David," Matt barks, not bothering to temper his tone. "Mr...Mr. Hasselbeck?" "Sheila, get him. Now. Please..." His voice cracks a little on the last word. Almost a minute passes before the line clicks. "Matt? Sheila said..." "What the hell happened?" "What?" Even with several miles between them, Matt knows exactly how David looks. Wrinkle across the bridge of his nose, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Matt..." "Roethlisberger. Have you even looked at the headlines this morning?" Breathe, man, breathe. Not gonna do anyone any good if you freak out. "Ah," and now David's voice is calm again, full of understanding. "I don't know any more than you do. There was an accident, he was taken to the hospital, and no one's released an official statement yet." Accident...taken to the hospital... "How...how serious is it?" "We still don't know yet." David's voice is still calm, soothing, and, even though Matt knows it's irrational as hell, it pisses him off. How can anyone be calm when... Jesus, get it under control. "Okay." He takes a deep breath, then another, as his gaze snares on a framed photograph of him and Ben in Hawaii, both sporting loud print shirts, tacky leis and matching grins. One of the best weeks of his life... Please... He prays, to God, Buddha, Allah, whoever the hell might be listening. Please let him be alright. "Have a ticket waiting for me at Sea-Tac, I'm going to try his folks, see if they have any more information for me." He needs to pack a bag, call his housekeeper... "Ticket? Wait...listen..." "First flight out," Matt cuts in, attention wrenched back to the phone in his hand. "Non-stop." "Matt, there's nothing you can do there that..." "Just get me the goddamn ticket," Matt snarls. "I'm leaving for the airport just as soon as I throw some clothes in a bag." "Are you sure that's...?" "I don't really give a fuck what it is or not. I'm going. Make it happen," Matt says, and slams the phone back into its cradle. Twenty minutes later, he's cursing traffic to the airport and leaving a voicemail on Brenda's - Ben's step-mother – cell phone, trying his best to keep his voice calm for her sake. He hadn't expected her to answer, but the silence, the not knowing, just might kill him. When his phone rings, he snatches it up without looking at the caller ID. "Brenda?" "Sorry, it's me," David says, and Matt sags a little in his seat. "You're booked through United, flight's leaving in 30, first-class, non-stop like you wanted. Call me when you land. And, Matt...take care of him." "I plan on it," Matt answers softly, and flips the phone closed. Five minutes to spare, and Matt buckles himself into his seat as the attendant stows his bag. Thank God for David and his ability to pull strings. The attendant passes by, and he reaches out, long fingers curling around her wrist. "How long 'til we land?" "We haven't even taken off yet, Mr. Hasselbeck," she replies with a bright smile. "The flight is a little over four hours." With another smile, she pats his hand and pulls out of his grip. Four hours. Fuck. Entirely too long. Just hold on, man, gonna be alright, you'll see... Still no word from Brenda or Ken, Ben's father, and he reluctantly turns his phone off as the plane taxis down the runway. He gazes out of the window as they take off, trees and houses and roads getting smaller and smaller, but all he can see is the look on Ben's face when they'd said goodbye at an entirely different airport last month. "Gonna miss your flight if we don't get dressed," Ben had murmured, smile turning into a smirk as Matt had slumped against him on sweat-soaked sheets, boneless and sated. "Fuck the flight," Matt had replied, seeking Ben's lips for one last taste, something to get him through the long weeks ahead. Mini-camps, public appearances, demands on their time... God knew when they'd be able to be together like this again. Matt had wound up missing that flight and the one after... "Can I get you anything, Mr. Hasselbeck?" The stewardess again, perky and eager to please, and Matt just wants to punch his fist through the door. "Whiskey," he replies, shocked when his voice comes out even and only a trifle strained. He's gotta be okay... "Neat." "Would you like something to eat?" "No, just the drink," and he plans on having quite a few of them. If he knows David, there will be a driver waiting for him in Pittsburgh. And right now? Getting drunk sounds like a really good fucking idea. "This might be one of the best damn ideas you've ever had," Ben says, throwing another log onto their small campfire. The light casts dancing shadows across his face. "Was your idea," Matt points out, wiggling a little to get comfortable in his camp chair. "I'm a goddamn genius, then." Matt snorts, and tilts his head back to look at the stars. He doesn't think he's ever seen so damn many of 'em in his life. He can't hear anything around them other than the crackle of the fire and the wind through the trees surrounding their small clearing. "Wouldn't go so far as to say that now..." "No, but I will," Ben says, and Matt feels the soft brush of lips across his a second later. When he leans in to deepen the kiss, all he can taste is beer and Ben... He comes awake with a jerk, the stewardess' face swimming into view. "Fasten your seat belt, please," she says, voice soft. "We're getting ready to land." Land, what...right. The few seconds of disorientation pass, and he fastens his seat belt before rubbing sleep from his eyes. He glances out the window even though he knows they're still too far up to really see anything. Christ. Leaning his head back against the seat, he closes his eyes and thinks of Ben. And wills the plane to hurry up and land. He's off the plane almost the second the wheels touch the ground, phone turned on as he listens to the messages on his way through the concourse. The first is from David, giving him an update and telling him that there will be a car waiting for him over by the rentals. The second is a message from Ken, letting him know the name of the hospital. Matt's heart breaks at the lost sound in Ben's father's voice, and he wonder how much Ken is thinking about another car crash on another long ago day...the day Ben's mother had died. Don't think about it, he'll be fine, he has to be fine, please God... "Matt, over here!" He stops just outside the terminal, squinting as the fading sunlight hits his eyes. Carlee, Ben's younger sister, is in his arms a second later, trembling, clinging tight. Strong arms wrap around her, and Matt silently offers what little strength he has. It's not much, but at least she's not standing here alone now. "Is he..." "Surgery," she manages to get out as her trembling eases a little. Surgery... The word hits Matt like a punch to the gut, and he can't breathe for a moment. Jesus... "How..." "We don't know," she says quietly, and pulls back to look up at him. "He was awake when they took him in. And he talked to Bus." Awake...talked to Bus... All positive signs, and Matt clings to them with everything in him. "That's good," he says, and ruffles her hair in a familiar gesture. "Thank you. For...for meeting me here." "Mom didn't want you to be alone," Carlee replies, resting a small hand on his jaw. "He'll be glad to see you." "Yeah." "Come on." She pulls at his hand, leads him to a sleek, black Lincoln, and the driver waiting patiently behind the wheel. "Mom said she'd call the second he got out, so if we're on the way..." "Right." He climbs in after her, tossing his bag on the floorboard. Carlee snuggles next to him, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. "So...what happened?" "He was on his way to another radio interview," she says, one hand coming up to wipe at her cheeks. "The car...turned in front of him and he couldn't stop. He...he flipped off the bike, hit the windshield, then rolled off." "No helmet," Matt murmurs, not needing her nod to know it's true. Stupid stubborn... "He's gonna be okay." "Yeah," and Matt can tell she's clinging to those words, praying for them to be true with everything she is. He can't blame her. He's doing the exact same thing. The ride to the hospital seems to take forever and no time at all. Matt tries to distract Carlee (and himself) by asking her about her summer, what she'll be studying in college next year, if she'd gotten the graduation gift he'd sent her a couple of weeks ago... Normal things, everyday things, like this was just another visit. Even though they both know it's not. He takes another deep breath when they pull into the hospital and he sees the crowd of press and the small throng of fans at the main entrance. This is really happening, he's really in there... "We're not gonna have to...?" "No." Carlee shakes her head. "He's taking us around to the back entrance. I didn't think you were up for a press conference." Definitely not. He's patient until the driver stops. Then he's out of the car and heading into the hospital, only to realize that he has no idea where he's going. With a sheepish smile, he stops and turns to look at her. "Sorry." "It's alright," she says, with a tiny smile. Her fingers curl around his, and she gives a gentle tug. "This way. They've got Mom and Dad in a private waiting area." He tries not to clutch her hand as she leads him to a bank of elevators and presses a button. Ben, in a hospital. It just doesn't seem real. Not even given what they do for a living... Ben's always seemed larger than life, invincible, even though he's been injured before. "This way," Carlee says, when the elevator doors open, and he follows her into a small waiting area. The first person he sees is Ben's step-mother, Brenda, shredding a tissue between her hands, head bowed. When she lifts her head, he can see red-rimmed eyes and a quivering jaw for a second before she's out of her chair and clinging to him, surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his neck. It's all he can do to maintain his composure. Matt cradles her close, bends his head over her, closes his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths to regain a little calm. "He's gonna be alright," he murmurs, rubbing her back. "Too damn stubborn to not be." Her laughter is watery, but genuine, and she palms his cheeks when she pulls back, compassion and love and worry shining in her eyes. "And even if he's not, we're stubborn enough for him." "That we are," he answers, with a small smile himself. "Where's Ken?" "He went to get some coffee. You know Ken and standing still..." "That I do." He lets her lead him to one of the sofas. Carlee sprawls in a nearby chair, idly flipping through one of the many magazines that litter the coffee table. Once they're settled, Matt reaches out to curl his fingers over Brenda's. "How's he holding up?" "About as well as can be expected," she says, with another watery smile. Her fingers tighten under his. "I don't think it's really hit him yet." Matt nods. It's what he'd thought, and he can't blame them. It hasn't really hit him yet, either. He opens his mouth to say something, then looks up as the door opens and Ken steps into the room. "Matt." Ken stops at the threshold, two cups of coffee clasped in his hands. He looks ten years older than the last time Matt had seen him; hell, had it only been last month? "I, um...I'm sorry, I didn't realized you'd be here, I don't have..." "Don't worry about it." Matt stands, unable to see Ben's father like this, as anything less than the affable, loquacious man who'd sat with Matt on Ben's back porch with a twelve-pack and told embarrassing stories about his only son until they'd both been shit-faced and crying with laughter. He gently takes both cups and places them on the table before pulling Ken into a hard, brief embrace. He can feel Ken shudder once, breath expelling in a whimpered rush of air, and he clings, just for a moment, to Matt's shoulders before he pulls back. "He'll be alright," Matt says gently, and wills the words to be true. Ken nods and takes a long, stilted breath. "That's what the doctor said," he murmurs, seeming to collapse onto the sofa beside Brenda. "It's just...he's been in there for hours already." "No news is good news, right?" Matt asks, and tries to smile. The expression doesn't feel right, so he lets it fade. "I got on the plane so fast...did they tell you..." "Broken jaw, nose, lost a few teeth, cuts..." Ken trails off and leans forward, one hand coming up to cover his eyes as Brenda leans into him. "Jesus," Matt breathes, and Carlee clasps his hand, offering comfort and reassurance. "How's...how's his..." He hates even asking, that he's even thinking it, but he can't even imagine Ben without a football in his hand, or what it would do to Ben if he couldn't play the game they both love so much. "They don't think anything else is injured...at least, not seriously," Carlee answers, the words barely audible. "But we won't know until they're...done." "Any idea how long..." Carlee shakes her head. "One of the nurses has been out a few times, but they don't know how long he'll be in there." She manages a small, teary smile. "He's been in since just after two." For a moment, Matt just stares at her. It's already after six, and they still don't know... Christ... "They have the best ortho-surgeon in the country in there right now," Brenda says, clinging tightly to Ken's hand. "And two plastic surgeons too..." "So far, everyone's been optimistic," Ken finishes. "Well...if they are, then we should follow that example," Matt says, untangling his hand from Carlee's to wedge himself into one of the plush chairs. "Charlie and Joey have been by already," Brenda says. Matt watches as she takes the lid off of her coffee cup with fingers that shake only a little and blows cool air across the top. "The Rooneys've called," Ken says. "And Bill's called, too. He says he'll be here tomorrow, at the latest." "Carlee said he talked to Bus." Matt watches them, relieved when Brenda manages a small smile. "Yes. Stubborn boy said he didn't want Bus to hear it from anyone else." "Sounds like Ben," Matt says with a soft laugh. Always thinking about someone else first. "He wanted to call you, but...there just wasn't enough time." For a few seconds, all Matt can do is stare at Ken. Ben wanted... The tight band around his chest is back again. "Last thing he said before they wheeled him into surgery was for us to call you," Ken continues, with a small smile. "But, by the time we could get to it, you were already on your way." "Dunno if he was expecting that you would drop everything to fly out..." "Well, I didn't know what'd happened," Matt replies, the words automatic as his shocked brain tries to come to grips with the fact that Ben had wanted to call him. Yeah, sure, they'd reached an understanding in the past few months, to give this thing between them a shot, but he'd never dreamed... "That's because you didn't stick around long enough to find out," Carlee teases, and the sight of her smile is enough to relax Matt. This total acceptance by Ben's family is the last thing Matt expected. "Saw the headline and there wasn't any information," Matt admits with a sheepish grin, and rubs the back of his neck. "Figured the hospital wouldn't give me any, so..." "You just flew out here instead," Brenda laughs, and the sound is music to Matt's ears. "You two are more alike than peas in a pod, I swear." "Well, I wouldn't say that." "You don't have to, son," Ken chuckles, and sips on his coffee. "We all knew it the first time he brought you around for a visit." "The..." Matt reels, shell-shocked for the second time in five minutes. They'd known? Carlee crows with laughter, curling up in her chair. "You thought it was a secret?" She collapses into another fit of giggling. "The...we...I..." Matt decides it might be a good idea to shut up. "Yeah, we kinda figured it out on our own," Ken says, with another chuckle. "The way the two of you kept looking at each other..." Matt chokes, certain his face must be red as a beet right now. "The way we...the way we looked at each other?" Ken jerks his thumb at Brenda. "Ben looks at you 'bout the same way I look at this one here." He...he does? Matt's certain his eyes must be round as saucers. "And you're constantly stealing glances at him when you don't think anyone's looking," Brenda adds, with a smug grin. "I didn't realize we were that..." "Not to anyone that doesn't know you like we do, you're not," Brenda reassures him. "But it's fairly obvious to us that you're more than just friends." "Fairly obvious..." It's not possible for him to be anymore embarrassed. It's just not. Then Carlee grins. "Two of you were mooning over each other," she says through her giggles. "And Ben said I was a pervert for wanting to know how it happened." She wanted... Matt closed his eyes and wondered if the ground would open up and swallow him if he prayed really hard. "You are a pervert," he finally says, with a rueful grin. "But it started with a bet, and no, I'm not telling you anything else." "I'll get the details out of Ben, don't worry," Carlee replies, with a pert smile. "I bet he'll be nice and susceptible to suggestion if they give him morphine..." "Carlee Anne Roethlisberger, you will do no such thing!" Brenda chastises, but her admonishment is belied by her own mile-wide smile. "We are going to concentrate on getting him better, not on getting details about something that's not our business." "Your mother's a very smart woman," Matt replies, and stands, stretching his legs. He's got to get out of here before this conversation gets even more bizarre. "Ken, you mind showing me where the cafeteria is. That coffee of yours is looking mighty good right now." Ken's also not likely to ask him any probing questions. Thank God. "Come on," Ken says, grinning as he stands. As they step out into the hallway, he glances over at Matt. "If Carlee gets to be too much, just tell her. Ben's told her more than once to mind her own business." "It's alright," Matt replies, and smiles. "I just...didn't realize we were so obvious." "Oh, you weren't." Ken pushes the elevator button, then shoves his hands in his pockets. "But we can read Ben like a book. Didn't take much to put things together, especially after he flew out to Hawaii." Matt's silent as they step into the empty elevator, then he risks a quick glance at Ken. "And you don't..." "The fact that you're here," Ken says, and meets Matt's gaze without flinching, "is gonna do my son a world of good. And that's all I care about." Matt's throat closes for an entirely different reason. He nods, unable to speak, and accepts the clap on his back for the paternal gesture it's meant to be. Of all the things in the world he'd expected when he'd flown out here – hell, when he'd gotten tangled up with Ben – Ben's family accepting and encouraging them had never even entered his wildest dreams. Makes him wonder if his own folks know... The thought occupies him for the next little while as he and Ken return to the waiting room with fresh cups of coffee and sandwiches. No one's particularly hungry, but they all force down something. Matt texts his parents and his agent, letting them know he's arrived safely and waiting for Ben to get out of surgery, and then they all begin the arduous process of waiting and pacing and waiting some more. It's the longest three hours of Matt's life. When the door opens again, everyone is on their feet even before the doctor is inside the room. Matt hangs back, watching as Ken takes a deep breath and makes his way over. Then Carlee's hand curls around his, and she tugs him forward in time to hear the doctor tell them the surgery was a success. "Thank God," Brenda murmurs, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Luckily, the worst of his injuries," the doctor said, voice calm and quiet, "are the fractures, and we've got those all patched up. He's in recovery right now, but you'll be able to see him as soon as we've got him in a room." "Thank you, Doctor, thank you so much." Ken's voice is gruff with emotion as he clasps the doctor's hand in a heartfelt shake. The doctor gives everyone in the room a warm smile. "He's a very fortunate young man." "Yes he is," Brenda replies quietly, brushing aside her tears to give him a watery smile. "Now, the ortho-surgeon will be in to give you the full details, and then we'll take you to him as soon as he gets situated in ICU." "ICU?" Matt asks, heart clenching at the words. "It's just a precaution, because of the concussion," the doctor explains. "We want to make certain he's being monitored properly as well, just in case there are any internal injuries that have yet to manifest. But the prognosis is very positive at this point." "Thank you." Again, Ken shakes the doctor's hand, and he departs with a last smile. Carlee immediately turns in Matt's arms and collapses against his chest, letting out a soft sob of relief. "Told you he'd be okay, kiddo," Matt murmurs, bending his head over hers as he hugs her tight. He can't even begin to put his own relief into words. When he looks up at Ken and Brenda, his own cheeks are wet. He tries to stay out of the way when the ortho-surgeon comes in to explain the procedures, but Carlee once again pulls him forward, pushing him onto the sofa beside her and hands clinging to his as they listen to Dr. Pituch go over the injuries and repairs. The longer he talks, the more Matt realizes just how incredibly lucky Ben had been. And how close he'd - they'd - come to losing Ben to serious injury. "He's looking at six to eight weeks of recovery." The surgeon looks at each of them, gaze serious and just a little tired. "And, with all the work we did, we didn't have to wire his jaw shut. He'll be able to eat soft foods, so weight loss shouldn't be a problem." Brenda nods, tears drying on her cheeks as she thinks that over. "Nothing he has to really chew," she says with a small smile. "I think we can handle that." "He's not gonna like giving up his steaks," Carlee murmurs, not quite softly enough, and everyone laughs. "If he argues about it," Matt says, with a grin and a wink, "I'll sit on him." "I'm sure he'd appreciate that," Carlee grins, and the mood lightens. "It's too soon to be thinking about...him going back to work," the surgeon says carefully, and looks at each of them again. "But we certainly kept that in mind when we were working on him. With the plates in place, his recovery is going to be a lot quicker, and he won't lose as much weight. There is no reason to think that he won't make a full recovery from this and be able to play." "Best news we could hope for," Ken replies, and Matt silently agrees. Just the idea that Ben might have had to give up the game - his life, their life - is enough to give him goosebumps. "I'll be available for any questions or concerns you might have," Dr. Pituch continues, "and I'll have a nurse lead you to his room as soon as we're done here. Does anyone have any questions?" "Not at the moment," Brenda says, answering for all of them. "Thank you." "Alright, then." He stands and gives them all a nod before disappearing out the door. For a moment, they stand there in silence. Matt looks at each of them, then looks up at the ceiling. "Well," he says, completely deadpan, "I'm certainly not going to be the one to tell him he's eating Jello and oatmeal." "I'll do it," Carlee offers, voice full of evil glee at the prospect. "You'll do no such thing," Brenda says, too obviously amused to scold her. The door opens again before she can say anything else, and they all look over as a nurse sticks her head in and says they can see Ben. They're led down one hallway, along another, and when they step inside the ICU ward, Matt hangs back, tugging his hand out of Carlee's grasp with a shake of his head. "You guys go on," he says, eyeing the door to Ben's room. If he has to look at any of them, he knows he'll lose it. "Matt, what're you talking about, you're family, come on." "No, Carlee, let him be." Ken clasps Matt's shoulder and gently squeezes. "Boys'll want some time to themselves, after all." "Ahhhh, of course," and Carlee's smile returns. "Gotta give the lovebirds some room." "You ain't so big I can't turn you over my knee now," Matt replies. Brenda laughs. "It couldn't hurt. We won't take up too much time. And we won't spoil the surprise, will we?" "No, ma'am," Carlee huffs, with a roll of her eyes, and follows her parents into the room. Standing there, Matt catches just a glimpse of the bed before the door swings shut. All he can see is white sheets and one tan hand, IV line trailing along it. The sight causes his chest to tighten and he turns away. "Fuck..." Muttering to himself, he starts to pace, casting glances towards the door every few steps. It's quiet – too quiet – and he can hear the soft sound of his shoes on gleaming tile. Suddenly, it's too much, and he stops and leans against the wall by the door. And waits. The house is still, quiet when Matt jerks awake, blinking blearily as he rolls over and encounters cool sheets instead of a warm body. He lifts his head, yawning lustily as he focuses on Ben, sprawled comfortably on the window seat, comforter bunched around his waist and legs. His hair's tousled and sticking out in all directions, bare skin reflected pale in the moonlight. "S'goin' on?" Matt mumbles, struggling to sit up. "Felt like looking at the stars," Ben replies, just as soft. "Got a nice view here." "Why I bough' th'house." Matt sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and the sheets pool around his hips. "C'back to bed 'lready." "Lonely?" Ben laughs, but stands as ordered, letting the comforter slip to the carpet. Matt stares in appreciation as Ben saunters towards the bed with a smirk and stretches out on top of him, linking their fingers together. Matt arches into him, already seeking firm lips, sleep forgotten for the moment... "Matt." Matt shakes his head as he opens his eyes. Carlee's smiling at him, and tugging on his hand. He can see Ken and Brenda behind her. "We'll be out here," Carlee says softly. "Take as much time as you need." He nods, squeezes her hand. "Thanks," he murmurs, with a voice that's suddenly too rough. He can feel their eyes on him as he pushes through the door, and then all of that is forgotten when he catches his first look at Ben. There are tubes all over the place, and a soft beeping reassures him that Ben's heart is beating strongly. But all he can focus on are the white bandages swathing most of Ben's head and face. "Jesus..." Shaky steps lead him to the bedside, and he watches his hand reach out, fingers gently curling around Ben's. He stands there for just a moment, looking down at Ben, listening to the soft hum of the monitors surrounding him. Then Matt reaches out, ankle hooking around the leg of a chair and drawing it close so he can sit down. Ben's hand is lax and warm under his and Matt watches the steady drip of the IV, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Ben looks so helpless, young, lying far too still and quiet, on crisp white sheets. "Jesus, Ben..." The words are barely audible, but still sound too loud. He adjusts his grip on Ben's hand, forcing himself to look at the array of bandages across Ben's lower face, and swollen, bruised eyes as Ben slumbers. "Gave us all quite a scare, y'know." Feels weird to be talking to himself, essentially, but he can't halt the stream of words, now that he's here, now that he can see Ben and touch him and assure himself that Ben is still alive and whole. "You have no idea what...don't ever do anything so stupid again, Jesus, I thought you were..." He chokes, bowing his head as the tears threaten again, holding them at bay by sheer will. "Fuck, man..." One tear slips free, and he raises Ben's limp hand, pressing warm fingers to his lips. "Thought I was gonna go out of my damn mind on the plane, not knowing any details or how you were..." Lifting his eyes, Matt lets his gaze roam over Ben's bandaged face. "Should've told me your folks knew," he murmurs with a small smile, tears still threatening to spill over. "Bet you'd be laughing your ass off if you knew what was said out there." He presses his lips to Ben's knuckles again, voice hoarse and low, another silent tear coursing down his cheek. "Made me think about a lot of things...about you and me...maybe some things I should've..." Ben's fingers twitch under his, and he squeezes his in response. "I know we haven't...talked a lot." He laughs, watery and soft. "Hell, we don't talk at all. But just because we don't...it don't mean I don't...because I do. I just...I just wanted you to know is all." Another deep breath, and Matt bows his head over Ben's hand, missing the way dark lashes flutter against bruised cheeks. "Could've died, Ben," he says, swallowing against the knot in his throat. "The fuck would I do then? Just...love you." Ben's fingers twitch again. "Sweet..." It's slurred, the injuries and bandages making it hard for him to talk, but hazel eyes are twinkling through slitted lids when Matt's head snaps up. "You're...you're awake?" "Mmmmm..." Surprisingly strong fingers close over Matt's as Ben reaches for the control with his other hand, getting himself into a mostly upright position. "How'd...?" Ben makes a flying motion with his free hand. "What, you thought I wasn't gonna fly out?" Matt asks. He can feel the blush starting from his hairline and working its way down. Maybe Ben'll just think he dreamed it... Those amazing eyes, bruised as they are, twinkle again, and Matt suddenly realizes that Ben is smiling. Smiling as much as he can, anyway, with stitches and bandages and the amount of painkillers they've likely pumped into his system. "Told 'em...call you," he says, and it's clear speaking is far from easy for him. "Love me?" Then again, maybe not. Matt shrugs, feeling like the first time he'd ever asked a girl out, but he doesn't look away. Only way to face this is head-on, and he didn't get to be where he is by being a coward. "Yeah," he answers with his own small smile. "I do." "Love...you, too," Ben slurs, and falls back on the pillows. "Stay?" "Couldn't drag me away," Matt promises, and he means it. This isn't ideal by any standard, but Matt'll take it. He can't keep the warm glow from spreading through him when Ben's soft words finally catch up to him. "Good." The grip on Matt's hand is still firm, and Ben closes his eyes after a few minutes. "Tired." "You should sleep," Matt says, voice soft, shifting his hand a little so he doesn't disturb the IV line. "Need your rest." "Ha," Ben murmurs. "Stoned..." Matt laughs at that, pressing a light kiss to warm knuckles. "Go to sleep, man. I'll be right here." "M'kay..." Matt scoots his chair closer to the bed as Ben's head lolls to the side. With any luck, he'll sleep for a few hours. "Be right here," Matt repeats in a whisper, and settles into his seat. Better get comfortable – he's not going anywhere.
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