2019-11-30 - The Storm

Bennie knows that on top of a waitress earning more money for not having painted fingers nails, it's actually somewhat frowned upon as being out of uniform as an EMT too. That doesn't mean she can't have pretty toes! She's recently finished her second coat of Robin's Egg Blue and her feet are propped up on the edge of that damnable coffee table so they can dry. Which leaves her stranded and bored. That means her attention turns to Easton. "Hey mister! Bring me your tootsies!"

Today was a swimming day, and Easton's freshly out of the shower making some horrific protein shake that passes for lunch. When Bennie calls for his toes he flips on the blender. "Sorry! What was that?" laughing as he only turns the blender off long enough for her to start talking again before turning it back on and re-apologizing. Because he's a good boyfriend. But eventually his pb-banana-protein 'shake' is down and he makes his way over to the couch where he dutifully lifts his foot onto her lap. "Not sure this is my color?" Says the man who wears nearly exclusively black and gray shirts.

Even though he just propped his foot in her lap, Bennie lifts his ankle up and unceremoniously bites his big toe. That's for the blender hijinks! Ha! But she follows it up with a little smooch and settles his foot back down to her thigh. "Are you kidding, you're totally a Winter." She declares his color palate, "And it will really make your eyes pop." If he were to hold his foot up to his face maybe. "Besides, it's a cheery color for yet another bleary day."

The toe bite gets a protesting, "Hey!" from Easton but he doesn't actually pull his foot away from her. He's happy to be back in somewhat of a normal-ish routine for them, even if he knows that can't last. He asks, "I'm a Winter?" with genuine confusion in his voice. He has no idea what that means. But then he repeats it as if it were very key to his identity, "Okay, I'm a Winter." He snorts a little at the thought of his five remaining toenails making his eyes pop. And then she mentions a bleary day and he tries to steal himself to start saying something unpleasant.

"So Benz..." He swallows a bit more of the shake and looks at her. It's not a good look. It's a serious face, not a flirty fun look. "I wanted to.. last night was awesome." It's important to start with the positive.

"It was, wasn't it?" Bennie agrees absently, flicking a glance and a smile up but somehow missing that serious look on his face because her attention is on starting to brush the color on the nail of the toe she just bit mindful not to let it stray onto the cuticles. "This couch is getting so many miles." The briefest of pauses. "And the floor. And the...you know, let's just hope a forensics team never has to come in here. That's all I'm saying."

"It was." Easton agrees in a more meaningful tone than hers. He lets out a breath, not quite a sigh but close. "It was what I needed. I've been having a tough time with things. How they were." He watches her, patiently painting his toenails, sitting there looking like everything he ever wanted and has to actually close his eyes. "Bennie, I'm trying to say I fucked up." He re-opens his eyes to see her response, but he doesn't elaborate juuust yet.

At first it's like Bennie didn't even hear him, she just keeps on with that tiny little black brush dipped in that cheerful blue color until the entire nail is covered. So very careful not to get any on his cuticle. So very careful. Easton's a perceptive man though, and no doubt he'll notice there is a slight and sudden tremble in her hand as she goes to replace the top of the polish bottle. She's afraid to open her mouth, afraid that if her lips part to ask the inevitable question all that will come out is a scream.

He fucked up.

The one person she doesn't have to pretend in front of, the one person she doesn't have to put up the front for. Perhaps he'll wish that wasn't the case when suddenly that bottle of nail polish gets hurled across the room and smashes against the wall in a spray of oh so cheerful Robin's Egg Blue.

Easton watches her. Watches her pretend like he didn't just say that, or that she doesn't know what it means as she finishes up his toe nails. Huh, it is a really good color for him. He sees the wobble though, understands what it means. He lets her finish though. And honestly he's relieved when she throws the bottle. Because it's honest. And okay, that's probably never coming out, but not the point.

"I'm sorry. I know that doesn't mean much. And fuck if I'm not saying that more than I should be. But believe me, I wish I could take this back."

He doesn't wait anymore, it's out there now and there's no use pretending this didn't happen. "I just needed to not feel like a fucking monster." Ironic. "I drank too much." That's a given. "And slept with someone. It was one time, he and I are not a thing, it was stupid.. stupid fucked up thing."

Suddenly Easton feels the need to look around make sure that he put all the takeout menus away, he feels like he might be getting smacked with one soon.

Acetone would only be able to do so much. On the wall, on the flooring, on that wooden American flag that stores just a fraction of his armory. Bennie shoves his foot from her lap, now no longer caring about the implications that movement would do to both her pedicure and Easton's. She's up on her feet, putting distance between Easton and herself with quick hurried steps that has her pacing near the TV.

"So now I make you feel like a fucking monster, is that it?" Her mind is reeling, her stomach is clenching and the world has suddenly taken on a haze of little black speckled dots on her periphery from a sudden spike in blood pressure.

Easton accepts the foot shove, and gets to his feet, almost reluctantly. As if standing is going to escalate the situation. He stands and lets her pace, he moves away towards the kitchen. He lets out a small sigh and tries to explain, "Having to be handcuffed before you could stomach having sex with me didn't exactly do wonders for my head. No." He realizes that blaming her is not helpful and yet? He still kind of is. He shakes his head and says, "There wasn't a good reason. I'm not saying it was okay. We talked, we clearly said that this was it for us. And I fucked up."

The thought of whether or not he would have told her had things not changed last night crosses his mind. He grits his teeth and tells himself of course he would have. Except maybe after he made a similar mistake a few more times. ugh.

"I'm sorry."

Bennie lifts her hand to her head, fingers tenting on to press a web of their pads against the mounting pressure there. An instant headache springing up, making it hard to focus. One tiny little pill, maybe two, and this would make it bearable. She'd be able to get through this. She'd be able to grin and bear the feeling of her heart shattering into tons of little pieces. "So it's my fault. My fault you cheated because I couldn't..." Yes, she knows how fucked up the handcuffs were, but that was only temporary. A temporary thing that went on for far too long. "...I was getting help. We were getting past it."

Why is this apartment suddenly so small. It's larger than any place she ever dreamed of living, and now the walls are closing in. "See. You keep saying you're sorry, and what I hear is 'I'm just going to do whatever the fuck I want, with who the fuck I want' as if our issues - our issues we were working through - gave you some kind of a free pass." In the worst of times, Bennie is not very fluent in cuss words, yet here she seems to find them just fine.

Easton's eyebrows lift in a wince as he watches Bennie react. He purposefully did this before he started drinking, both because he was worried about what he would say if he were drinking and worried he might back out. But now? All he wants is a drink. He takes another sip of his shake which he swears is now chalk and regret flavored. "That's not what I'm fucking sayin" Easton's voice raises in irritation as she rightfully points out that he's kind of making this her fault. "I'm just trying to say how I felt. That's it."

I was getting help. We were getting past it

Easton's face crumbles slightly as she drives home just how garbage his stupid timing is. Not that there was ever a good time for him to be an ass but they were so damn close.

what I hear is... free pass.

"I'm not sayin' that either." Easton tries to stop his voice from rising, "If I actually thought that I wouldn't have told you." That's the reality of it. "I'm not tellin' you cause I got caught. I'm not tellin' you so you didn't find out first. I'm telling you," Here his voice steadies out and he stops dropping his g's to more calmly say, "because I screwed up. And I don't want to just keep going without you knowing that. I don't want to lie to you."

"This isn't like the first time you did this shit, Easton. We live together for god's sake. I can't just shrug this one off!" Bennie's coming around the coffee table now, stalking towards the kitchen where he's retreated to. Perhaps it was just to give her space when she left the couch, but now she's just incensed that he's that far away. "I TOLD you, you would do something like this. I TOLD you, you'd try to push me away. And you promised, you PROMISED Easton that we wouldn't end up like this." With each raised inflection in her voice she stubs an angry finger down at the ground as if punctuating the word physically with the verbal.

"Who was it this time? Another of our friends? Some random hussy from the bar? Did you screw them in our bed!? I'm busy working my ass off, and you're twisting our sheets with some gash while I'm stuck at the Station?"

When she brings up Baylee, his jaw sets and his hea tilts slightly to the side. "This is not the same damn thing. We hadn't talked about shit then. You up and disappeared and I thought that was that." He watches her warily as she advances, but doesn't move away this time. He shakes his head again when she starts in with I TOLD you and he protests, "No, that's not what I'm doing. I don't want to push you away dammit. All I fucking wants was to touch someone without them flinching. To not feel like I'm some horrible piece of shit killer who beats women."

you PROMISED

He looks sufficiently chastised by this and doesn't have a good comeback. He just looks a little lost as if unsure what to say. God, this would be so much easier if he did want to push her away. He can think of all sorts of terrible things to bring up if he was actually trying to dissolve this.

Another one of our friends

The look passes over his face is quizzical as if trying to decide where his ill advised partner would fall on that scale. "It wasn't a hussy." DO NOT LAUGH. Do not think about Bennie call him a hussy. He forces his jaw to tighten to avoid even the hint of a smile. "And no. It wasn't here. We were out drinking, in the woods. And that's not why we were out there. I didn't fucking plan this." He also didn't avoid it.

"Oh so you didn't plan to go into the woods. Didn't plan to get plastered. Didn't plan to trip and stick your dick into them? It just happened. An accident. That's fine then, let's just go back to playing house. What should we have for dinner?" Bennie starts walking towards the drawer where they keep the take-out menus, her weapon of choice, but she pauses right before she gets there and turns around, her head at a quizzical angle. "Or should I be worried you might 'accidentally' screw the pizza delivery girl if I happen to jump when she knocks on the door. If you do, though, we should probably tip extra."

"Playing house? Really? Is that what we're fuckin' doing here? Because before all this Gohl shit happened I thought we had a life going. And yes, I have screwed that up, multiple ways, but I'm not trying to. I promise. I'm just.." Really bad at this? That's a start. He doesn't actually have an end to that sentence so he just shrugs. When she goes for the menu's his eyebrows rise, it's like she's about to draw a weapon! But then she's asking if he's going to screw the delivery girl. "Not unless she has a five o'clock shadow and can take me in a fight first?" Not that Easton lost that fight mind you. But still the flippant answer is probably ill advised here. He opens his hands and says, "I don't know what we do. You want to hit me? Fine. Break some more shit? Okay." He's back to being calm and straight forward, likely infuriatingly so.

"Because I wish I could go back and un-fuck him? But I can't."

"Wait. So. You fucked some guy. Or did he fuck you? So that's what you want. What you're craving? Someone to knock around with. Can take a punch or maybe a good...choking?" That was a low blow and part of Bennie knows this, regrets this, wants to wince as soon as the words leave her mouth but she's standing her ground. And advancing on Easton's.

She reaches out and pushes the fingertips of both hands into his shoulders, "Like this? That make you feel like less of a monster, does it. You don't want me to be afraid of you? Fine. Let's go, Marine." And then she shoves again. "Let's make you feel like a man again." In counterpart, Bennie is not calm. Not in the slightest. He invited her to hit him and perhaps she's not at that point yet but she damn well isn't backing down. She's mad. She gets to be mad. She deserves to be mad for once.

Easton's head tilts to the side and considers the question and the answer before clarifying, "Both." And then she's asking if that's what he wants. He winces and then gives her a flat, warning look when asked if he wants a good choking. He puts a good amount of heat into just one word, "Maybe." His lips threaten to curl into a snarl but he keeps it in line.

He exhales as she pushes him, and his face relaxes into a more plaintive look. He stumbles a bit at the push, not wanting to stand his ground, if she wants to push him, he lets her. "Really? What are you going to do?" He looks at her, wishing he knew how to help her.

Both he says.

It's hard to reconcile in Bennie's brain, because that means it wasn't just a quick thing. They changed positions. It's not so much that it was a man in this instance, but it still takes her by surprise. Even if he'd spoken about his bisexual tendencies that occurred before they met and it's not like she hadn't joked and even fantasized about Easton and his heterosexual 'husband' getting it on before.

"Giving you what you want, Marine. You want it rough, let's go rough. C'mon." Bennie's hands start shoving up his t-shirt. "I can fuck you just as hard as he did. Do you nice and dirty and leave you sore. Who was it, huh? Who'd you get to bust a nut into? Who you'd you get to fill you up?"

Easton just nods at Bennie at the information. It's not like he's super excited to talk details of banging other people, but if she asks, he's going to answer them. That's how this works. He only talked about his sexuality with her once, when he told her about going through a string of guys after the accident. He was trying to make up for the loss of his life as a Marine, and Tom.

And then she's pushing her hands up his shirt and he winces. And then she's talking dirty and pushing against him. "Are you making fun of me? Yes. That's what I wanted." He shakes his head and looks are her with pain in his eyes. "Why.." He doesn't stop her though. He then asks, "Will it make you feel any better?" Details of the act are one thing, but he's not sure it's going to be helpful to talk about the who.

"C'mon! It's not fun if you don't..." Bennie's fist balls beneath his shirt, bouncing against his chest but tethered by the material so it's not exactly effectual. "...fight back! Fight back, goddamit. Because no, nothing about this...nothing is going to make me feel better. But at least I'll know who's laughing at me behind my back. Whose eyes will be on me whenever I walk in a room with smug satisfaction that they gave you something that I couldn't. So let's go! Tear each other's clothes off. Bend me over and give it to me as good as he got it. You owe me that much." Her fingers pinch, her fingers prod, but she's trying her damndest now to get his shirt off.

"No." Easton firmly states he will not be fighting back. "Pretty sure I've done enough hitting you for a lifetime." He shakes his head and puts his hands up to stop hers. Not that she's doing a ton of damage smacking his chest from two inches away. He shakes his head and says, "He won't be laughing. It's not.. It was a stupid, fucking mistake." He suddenly looks very, sad and very tired when she offers exactly what he's thought about many, many times over the past two months.

He holds her hands and confesses, "Fine. It was De La Vega." He looks if not embarrassed at least chastised in admitting it. He has a bit of edge in his voice as he asks, "There. Now you know."

And for once, he manages to keep his shirt on. Impressive.

As Easton captures her hands and confesses as to who it was, all the wind goes out of Bennie's sails. She just sinks against him, neck bent until her forehead rests against his breastbone. "I can't. I can't do this." Her voice suddenly sounds small, a quaver in it that she was keeping at bay with all her might seeps in like a cancerous growth that just consumes all her resolve. She was right. Knowing doesn't make it better. Had they had angry sex over the kitchen counter wouldn't have made it better.

Easton truly wishes she could have asked him to do those things a week ago. Not that he asked. But to hear her ask now just makes him inextricably sad. He holds her and if her heart broke earlier, his breaks now as she confesses that she can't do this. He continues to hold her tries to think of something to say. Normally he can't shut up. And now he can't think of a single word to say. He just holds her and stares off at the stain of nail polish running down the wall.

It is a nice color.

With a resounding sniffle, Bennie lifts her head from his chest, disentangling both from his embrace and the knot she's made of her shirt. Wordlessly, she just pads over to the sink and opens the cabinet beneath as if suddenly resolved. A white trash bag is procured, and she pauses just long enough to give it a shake to open it. "I suppose I should thank you. For making a liar out of me." She says the words in a defeated voice and with shoulders slumped she starts heading towards their bedroom.

Easton reluctantly lets her pull away from him and he watches in confusion as she goes to get a garbage bag? It would never, never, occur to him to pack in a garbage bag. He shakes his head and says, "Wha... What do you mean?" He tries to mentally catch up to what she's referring to. He asks, "Benz what are you doing?" He finally realizes that she means to pack in that and he says, "No. No. I'll go, we can figure this out. Give it some time. I'll crash at Geoff's and you can decide if you want to move out or whatever. I'll pay for it." Ugh. It comes out his mouth and he hates the way he sounds, immediately. The douchebag who throws money at things to make problems go away rears it's head at the worst moment. He sighs and says, "I just meant, I can help. If that's what you want."

After a moment, still standing in the kitchen, he sighs.

"Please don't go."

"I said I'd stand by you. I said I wouldn't let you push me away. I said I'd help you." Bennie keeps on walking, worried that if she were to pause she'd never have the strength to keep going. "But it looks like you I didn't have what you needed. I wasn't what you needed." She's disappearing around the corner now, not bothering or caring to continue talking. Shouting would just take too much effort but there is a hiccup of a cry threatened when he says he'd pay for her to have someplace to live.

In the bedroom there is the muffled sound of cussing, dresser drawers being pulled clean out of the furniture as she hurriedly shoves things into her poor woman's suitcase, aka the trash bag.

"You are. You are what I need."

Easton tries to tell her this, but he doesn't follow her in the bedroom. He doesn't want to block her in. The thought of forcing her to stay or pushing it into a physical confrontation makes him physically ill, still remembering all too well the last time he put a hand on her in that way. But his usually booming voice is raspy now, choked out with emotions. He stands there staring, trying to come up with something that he can do, or say. But there's nothing.

He did this.

There is no way she can get everything in that short amount of time, but Bennie seems to cram enough of the essentials into that bag that it will suffice for now. She's thrown on shoes, not bothering to tie them and pulled up pants haphazardly on top of the skirt of her dress. She hustles back out into the living room, the sooner she can get out of here the better as far as she's concerned, avoiding any look Easton may send her way by presenting him a curtain of hair hiding that side of her face, obscuring the fact she let the tears fall while she was packing. As she goes to grab her jacket she stops dead, the anger rolling off her almost palpable. Instead of her hand closing on her jacket, she juts it out to the side. A familiar gesture that Easton may equate with the Blonde breaking and twisting bones.

Just like that, the coffee table that split Easton's shin open and resulted in the 911 call that brought them together shatters into a million pieces and rains down in the area they once used for their blanket fort.

Their relationship started with that damn thing. Only seems fitting it ends with it too.