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He tightened his scarf against the brutal winter wind. It was early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as he watched the last few latecomers rush in. The cathedral bells rang, seven o'clock mass . Mike went back to his newspaper, wondering what Ben was doing at that moment. He hated being here without Ben to keep him calm, to keep all the memories at bay. He only fulfilled his Catholic obligations on Christmas and Easter, but Ben never missed mass; Mike was sure he’d have found a service to attend that morning, wherever he was. Since he'd left the DA's office six months ago, Ben had been away traveling more than he'd been home. Mike was happy for him. Hell, he'd had to talk the man into it, but it didn't make the ache in his chest go away or the mornings waking up alone any easier. This current trip was keeping him away for nearly a month and Mike couldn't deny that he couldn't wait for him to come home, to come back to him.
There’d been some difficulties early in their relationship, but after four years they had settled into a domesticity Mike never thought he’d have. He’d never tell Ben, he didn’t want to guilt him into staying in the city, but Mike felt like a piece of him was missing when Ben was away. You’re going soft, Logan , he thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sometime between the volatile on-and-off again nature of their past and the steady, loving partnership of their present, Ben had become the most important person in his life.
His newspaper forgotten and the cold beginning to creep into his joints, Mike thought about Ben. He ignored the gnawing pain in his heart that came as he thought about how particularly excited Ben had been about this trip and Mike found his enthusiasm infectious. It still managed to catch him off guard that a man who had prosecuted criminals for twenty years could be so…adorable. Ben had been talking about all the museums, libraries, and general sights he’d wanted to see in the United Kingdom in the weeks before he’d left. While he’d been distracted looking at one of the guide books Mike had picked up, he’d slipped a letter into Ben’s perfectly packed suitcase. He hoped it made Ben feel the same way he felt when Mike read his own letters. He always wrote such beautiful letters that never seemed to come until after his return home. Mike figured that hinged more on Ben’s tendency to continue writing whenever he had the chance instead of just writing multiple letters.
He reached into his coat pocket to find the letter from his last trip, postmarked from France. He smiled as he reread Ben’s words and traced his fingers over the different inks. It was addressed and signed as Ben’s letters always were: Dearest, and All my love, Ben. God, he missed him. Two weeks to go, Counselor , he thought as he carefully folded the letter back into his pocket and began making his way to the precinct. Maybe he could finish up paperwork while he waited for Lennie to come in.
Mike let himself into Ben’s condo; he’d promised he’d water the plants and bring in the mail. However, even with the caseload he and Lennie had, he’d found himself staying at Ben’s instead of going back to his own apartment. Before, when Ben had also worked for the city, they primarily stayed at Mike’s one-bedroom flat. It was closer to the precinct and to Ben’s office, but now he found himself spending more nights uptown at Ben’s. It was becoming home . Even when he was out of town, Mike could still feel his presence in every room.
He hung up his coat and scarf and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He walked around as he took long, slow drags from the bottle. He stopped to look at the pictures on the wall leading to Ben’s study: Pamela and Peter at a Mets game with their father (Mike remembered how unseasonably warm it had been that May afternoon at Shea when he’d snapped the candid of the three), an older picture of Ben and his siblings that Mike had never met, Pamela’s high school graduation with Ben and Mike’s arms around her (She had started Columbia in the fall and he couldn't be prouder of her if she was his own daughter), and a picture of the two of them that Mike’s sister had taken last Christmas. Mike had been holding his niece, trying to keep the new tie his nephew had given him away from her chubby fingers, as Ben looked on with a fond smile on his face. The look in his eyes made Mike’s heart clench. It was so full of love. He didn’t know what he did to deserve someone like that.
His beer gone faster than he’d anticipated, he went to the couch to catch the sports highlights before he fell asleep in front of the TV. Sleeping in Ben’s bed alone while he was away was still too difficult. Without Ben’s lanky form to curl around him, he felt adrift in that big bed. The couch was safer. There were still memories, but they weren’t of quiet nights, exhaustion set deep in their bones, that all they could do was sleep. The couch didn’t hold the same memories of passionate lovemaking and sweet nothings whispered until dawn. This was safer; his heart didn’t ache so much out here. Mike didn’t even make it through the football roundups before he fell asleep. Tomorrow was his day off and with no alarm set, he dreamt about those damn blue eyes that he’d made his home.
Mike awoke when the harsh light streamed through the windows. As momentary panic subsided that he’d overslept, he stretched along the couch working out the soreness in his muscles and thought about what his day off might hold. His sister's household had come down with the flu a few days ago so his trip to the aquarium with his niece and nephews had been postponed. With Ben also out of town, there were no other plans on his radar. He hadn’t been by his apartment in a week, he could check the mail before going into the precinct. With their caseload, it couldn’t hurt and he could always use the overtime. What else am I going to do? Sit here and pine for him, he thought as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
He shoved the mail into his coat pocket as he climbed the stairs two at a time to his apartment. Mike had seen a postcard among the junk and his heart raced to read it in private. He knew it was from Ben. Mike knew it wouldn’t say much, would most likely say the same thing as all the others that came before, but seeing Ben’s looping script always brought a smile to his face. He unlocked the door and immediately set his coat down along with the mail he didn’t feel like sifting through at the moment. The card was postmarked from London, the Tower Bridge on the front. He flipped it over: Thinking of you, always. Ben . Mike couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face as he stuck the card to the refrigerator, next to the others. He mentally counted down the days until Ben would be back in the city as he made his way to the bathroom to shower. If he was going to show up to work on his day off, the least he could do was take a shower and put on a fresh suit.
Ben was coming home today. Mike knew his plane landed hours ago, but he was still stuck talking shop with Lennie while he worked on typing up backlogged reports. He’d been checking his watch all day, anxious to meet Ben at his condo and finally, finally , see the man he’d spent the last month missing so terribly. He’d wanted to take the day off, but Ben never wanted any fuss. “I’ve lived in this city my entire life, Michael. I can certainly take a cab from the airport,” he’d said the night before he’d left when he had offered. Mike knew him well enough to know the subject was closed.
He checked his watch again; Ben should be home by now. Lennie noticed his impatience and quipped, “Date getting cold, Mikey?”
“Something like that.”
“Well if you typed faster, we’d have this done and you wouldn’t leave her waiting.”
“If I didn’t have to type my reports and yours, we’d have been able to leave an hour ago. How is it that your typewriter is always broken?”
“Happenstance, Mikey.”
Mike rolled his eyes and continued his typing, hoping he’d get out of here before the new millennium and that Ben would still be awake when he did manage to escape.
Ben was sitting on the couch in the living room, finishing his crossword from the plane. His suitcases were by the door where he’d left them, not bothering to unpack just yet. He knew Mike would be home any minute and Ben had missed him terribly; he always missed Mike when he traveled. He longed for the day Mike could finally say he’d be available to go with him. He sighed, maybe next time . Growing restless and his crossword completed, Ben idly flipped through the mail that had accumulated during his absence. There was a letter from an old friend, now a prominent faculty member at New York University's law school. He knew Ben had left the District Attorney's office and was informing him of an opening faculty position for the next fall semester. I'll recommend you to the board if you think you might want to teach. The world could use a few more lawyers like Ben Stone, it had said. There was a number to call if he was interested and it was certainly an intriguing idea. Maybe teaching was the next logical step for him. He put the letter away when he heard Mike shuffling in through the front door; they could talk about it in the next few days. Tonight was for them.
Mike had raced to Ben’s, probably violating most of the city’s traffic laws in the process, but he’d made it. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest; it was hammering in his ears, his lungs burning for air. He fumbled with the key for a few seconds as tried to quiet his pounding heart and steady his ragged breathing. His hand finally steady, Mike walked through the door, immediately spotting Ben’s suitcases. He set out looking for him, hoping he was still awake. Mike found Ben sitting on the couch, a folded crossword lay discarded next to him. All attempts at being suave, at downplaying just how much he’d looked forward to this moment, failed at the sight before him.
“Hey,” Mike murmured, leaning against the wall. He hoped it wasn’t as obvious as he felt that, after all this time, Ben still made him weak in the knees.
"Hello, Michael," Ben returned, a smile slowly blooming on his face. He really hated being away so long. He knew Mike hated it as well, but he'd never breathe a word of it to anyone. Mike had been the one to talk him into traveling after his sudden departure from the DA's office.
He remembered the conversation. He’d felt a little lost, a little listless when Mike had brought home some travel magazines and told him, "You've spent most of your adult life doing what’s right, getting justice by prosecuting criminals. It's time to take some time to yourself, Ben. Be a little selfish, do what you've always wanted to do. I’ll still be here when you come back."
Mike moved to the couch, one arm snaking around the back while his other hand rested at Ben's hip. "Ben," he rasped, his mouth suddenly dry as their faces moved closer together.
Ben was tired of waiting. He’d been missing the feel of Mike’s lips on his since the moment they’d last parted and now, as he moved to capture the other man’s lips with his own, it was everything he remembered it to be; the familiar taste of burnt precinct coffee and the smell of Mike’s aftershave. One kiss turned to two, while two turned into a conversation with no words, no urgency, and all the longing they’d felt threatening to spill over. I missed you , Mike’s lips communicated as he kissed Ben’s cheek, his jaw, back to his lips. I know, I missed you too , Ben’s answered as he threaded his hands through Mike’s hair. I love you , Mike’s eyes said when he pulled back to catch his breath.
“I love you too, Michael.” Ben heard the words fall from his lips, barely a whisper and full of reverence for the man in front of him. Mike’s gray eyes were dark as Ben pulled him closer to kiss him again, leaning back along the couch as he did so. The yearning that had built up between them was reaching its breaking point, but they took their time simply reacquainting themselves with each other. Mike shifted so his thigh was between Ben’s legs, swallowing the moan that bubbled from Ben’s throat.
Ben didn’t want this to go too far, not yet, not when there was still so much left to say. He pulled himself away from Mike, no small feat, and placed a hand to his lover’s cheek as they caught their breath. “I found your letter; it was lovely, Mike. I can’t tell you how many times I reread it wishing you were there with me. I do wish you could have been there,” Ben said softly as his thumb brushed against Mike’s cheek.
“Nothing I could ever see, nowhere I could ever go, could ever be as beautiful as you,” Mike said as he laid his head against Ben’s chest, listening to his heart beat, "I love you." He felt Ben start to card his fingers through his hair; it was a comforting gesture to them both. This was something they’d both missed the most. This closeness, this ability to just be .
“Don’t you want to see what I brought you,” Ben whispered, moving slightly so he could wrap his other arm around Mike’s upper back, holding him close.
“Not yet...I missed this. Tell me about England,” he said as he tried to bury his face deeper into Ben's sweater. He closed his eyes at the warm tones of Ben’s voice, letting them wash over him. Mike loved listening to Ben describe his trips. His voice was always so full of amazement and wonder as he recounted tales of wherever his wanderlust had taken him. Mike hoped one day he could watch Ben experience those things first hand, but, for the time being, this was good enough. There would be time for everything else later.
The letter came two weeks later on Mike’s day off. It was five pages long, written in three different colored inks, had coffee stains where Ben had obviously been writing in a coffee shop, and some corners were water-stained as though he’d been caught in the beginnings of a rain shower while sitting outside. Dearest , it began, and Mike had never felt more loved, more cherished .