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leviethinsaint · 8 hours ago

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Timeline where Benson and Randy become a thing because they always close together.

Stoic and quiet Benson just watching Randy being so focused on his task but it's different from the focus he usually has. When it's just them he's relaxed, no shoulders to ears, no balled hands. No, when it's just them he wipes the tables and sometimes Benson sees a smile slip onto his face and wonders why the fuck he would be smiling at work.

Benson starts slow one day. Asks about his family, what he did before Burgers, his friends. Learns how hopelessly pathetic he is. He starts needling him, asks a bunch of dumbass questions and doesn't notice himself becoming relaxed around the other as well. He rambles about fucking nothing for hours while Randy just nods or quirks an eyebrow. Randy takes his breaks at the same time as him, trails out after him for a smoke break even though he just stands off to the side or sits down on the curb. Benson pushes the toe of his boot into his back, side or thigh but not to hurt him, just to play around. He barely notices himself doing it. Mostly, Randy leans whichever way Benson pushes him but sometimes he pushes back against the boot in his muscles and Benson wonders if he bruises easily, if he was leaving marks on him without even knowing. He doesn't linger on the thought when he jerks off. He doesn't think about his big hands and his gangly limbs, his cute down-turned smile. He doesn't think about the way that Randy hops up to him, or about the way he likes to sit near Benson during their breaks. He doesn't think about the way he smells in the morning, or the scent of sweat afterwards. Definitely doesn't think about him being a virgin. No, no he doesn't think about Randy at all.

Randy starts bringing him lunch when he notices that Benson doesn't ever bring anything. First he just shares whatever he has, snapping at Benson when he keeps refusing. He eats reluctantly, mostly to humour the boy but he wouldn't ever admit that. One day Randy brings him his own sandwiches, two wrapped into sandwich paper. Then he brings him containers of noodles or rice, brings him snacks on hot days.

They start to check the schedule at the same time, their shoulders brushing. Fingertips smearing over the paper to align their names and shifts. Randy grinning whenever they hit the same one, Benson knocking their shoulders together and scoffing. Tells him it's not that serious when Randy whines about not working together. One time, Benson was scheduled with Jess for the night. He sighed, and when Randy told him not to sulk he had snapped at him more harshly than necessary. They didn't talk about it when Jess got the day off and was replaced by Randy working a double. They talked about migration patterns, the loss of physical media and Benson's horror VHS collection instead.

Another day Benson is out of cigarettes. He throws the box on the ground in an embarrassing fit. Fucking addict. Randy picks it up and tells him to wait a second, rushes up around the front of the building. He's back in a minute, out of breath and presenting Benson a still wrapped box of the cigarettes he always smokes.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks, taking the box when Randy shakes it at him.

"Your cigarettes... It's the right brand, right?" Randy sits down in the curb, starts undoing and lacing his sneakers back up like he always does.

"Why do you have these? Ya don't even smoke." Benson settles next to him. Shakes out the cigarette and puts it between his lips.

"But you do." Benson tries not to choke on the smoke.

The first time Randy doubles over from laughing Benson feels sick to his stomach. He ignores him for three shifts, even swapping one with Donnie, before Randy corners him in the bathroom basically begging him to talk to him. He stumbles all over the place with his words, bloody fingernails and bitten lips and Benson wants to kiss him until his mouth tastes like iron. He gives in then, pats Randy's head and grabs his neck, tells him that they're cool.

Randy follows him around for the entire shift. Benson turns and the boy is right there. It's fucking annoying but his stomach flips anyways. He can't stop thinking about kissing him.

They clean up, grab their jackets and lock up. Randy rattles the door to check if Benson could use a fucking key before they shuffle to their cars. Randy babbles about nothing, making broad arches with his hands that make Benson shake his head. Randy goes to unlock his door but Benson is on him, draped over his back, hands sneaking around his waist.

"What you doin' tonight, pretty boy?" each word a cloud-like kiss against the shell of Randy's ear.

"Uhm... Eat dinner?" Benson can't help but laugh, his head drops to Randy's shoulder before he mouths back up against the side of his neck. The other is frozen against his front but he could work him up, he knew he could.

"Ya wanna go home with me? Hmm?" Benson wraps his hand around Randy's jaw, tilts his head a bit so their eyes could meet. Big and round but there is no trace of fear in them. When was the last time someone had looked at him with something that wasn't fear or indifference? "Or is mommy waitin' for ya?"

"No, yes, I mean... uhm, and... and what would we do, exactly?" Randy isn't stupid but sometimes he needs a bit too much reassurance. It is a chore to spell everything out for him, one that Benson always tries to complete. He is eager to prove to Randy that he could handle him—doesn't know why he feels that way, as if he would be able to keep the boy strapped down to him and this life. As if there weren't better things out there. As if it wasn't just a fling.

"Meet my ma, you fuckin' idiot," laughs Benson, turning him around. He presses close until the other couldn't go back any further. He lets his forehead fall to Randy's, closes his eyes before speaking. "can do whatever ya want."

"Wha—What I want?" Randy was shaking under his hands and Benson was going to pull away but, finally, a set of hands clings to his jacket. He feels encouraged enough to hold Randy's face with both his hands, smearing the grease of the day across his cheek. He looks at him then and feels like a fucking ridiculous for the way his heart flips in his chest.

"That's right, baby, whatever you want." Benson can feel the way his face heats up under his hands and he is obsessed. He leans in, kisses the spot under his eye, the shell of his ear and wonders when he had become fucking soft. He has Randy right here in his hands and why, why, why hasn't he devoured him yet?

They drive to Benson's place. A steady hand on Randy's neck then the small of his back, tells him to be quiet so they don't wake his ma. They sneak past like a couple of teenagers and Randy is beaming when they enter Benson's room. It's messy but it's his, posters on the wall from when he was young. Cassettes and VHS tapes, magazines messing up the corners of his room. Dirty laundry, bills and other useless fucking mail. Randy is turning in a circle before he is dragged back against Benson and he seems more relaxed. He can't imagine why the fuck he would be relaxed in the lion's den.

They kiss, messy and too much. Randy is barely able to keep up but he's so eager, making all these noises, that Benson can't even make fun of him. He pushes him onto the bed, climbs onto him. Randy is gasping and moaning, grabbing at Benson and he tries not to get overwhelmed, tries not to lose himself in the wrong moment. He grinds into him, kisses the sounds out of him and feels a bit better when he pins Randy's hands down to the bed. Randy is all breathy and sweaty and Benson breathes in him in, tries to memorise it all because it would slip from him soon.

"Am I doing okay?" mumbles Randy against his mouth and Benson groans. He lets his wrists go, has to touch him more, has to feel everything that the other would let him. He pulls his shirt up, slides his hands against Randy's rips.

"You're doin' perfect, baby." kisses the spot on Randy's neck that seems to be his favourite. Hips kicking up against his and Randy cums in his pants like a virgin. Benson can't even laugh at him, kissing him through it and mumbling praise into the side of his face.

Randy is blissed out and Benson can't stop looking at his face. The other makes a move for his belt but Benson holds his wrist, kissing up his arm to his elbow, to his shoulder.

"Do you not want me?" and he sounds so damn teary that Benson's heart cracks. He kisses him again, deep and slow. Tries to tell him everything he feels for him through it. How he is the first real connection he has ever had. How he is the only person in the world that knows Benson past his name and age.

"I want ya." he breathes against Randy's lips. "But I ain't breaking ya in on the first try."

He gets up despite Randy's whiny little sounds, throws boxers and an old pair of sweatpants at him. The other changes right there on his bed, Benson doesn't look.

"I can't feel my legs," giggles the boy and Benson can only snort from his side of the room, throwing a horror movie into the tape player.

He comes back to him, his heart kicking up at the thought of always coming back to him. He slides in next to Randy and is too surprised when the other opens his arms for him instead, when he is the one curling into Randy's side instead of the other way around.

"I thought you would kick me out," says Randy quietly after a while. Benson blinks his eyes open and wonders when he had closed them.

"Ya think that low of me?" he tries not to let his hurt show through his voice but Randy must've caught it anyway because he shifts onto his side to hug him, movie forgotten.

"No, just... that you didn't really like me."

"Moron, I like ya just fine."

And maybe that was too much of a confession by the way that Randy's heart speeds up but Benson just kisses his collarbone and neck. Randy shivers under the attention before loudly yawning. Benson pats his side like a dog's.

"Go to sleep," acts like he wasn't the one asleep just a moment ago.

"Say it again." greedy.

"I like you, Randy." Randy's legs do something that he can equivalate to a dog wacking its tail. "Now sleep."

And maybe Benson feels too good when he wakes the next morning, wrapped up in the other. Maybe he tries to forget that this wouldn't be forever and maybe he pretends to ignore the way that Randy's eyes seem to sparkle when he wakes up and sees Benson's face.

Maybe he accepts Randy's all too normal good morning kiss and maybe he doesn't push it down when his mind repeats mine, mine, mine, mine, mine over, and over, and over again.

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