Half-Life VR but Dr. Freeman is Not Self-Aware

by Unfounded_Hermeneutics

Summary:

Dr. Freeman has been through one hell of a campaign through Black Mesa, and now, it's time that he finally rests and reaps his hard earned rewards. Unfortunately, he also gets an unexpected government mandated house guest in the form of the alien space god that has been torturing him for the past month. And then... they were roommates.

New chapter every week, guaranteed! Been over 200k words long for a while now sheesh. This is going to be a long one. Sorry.

Notes:

Hello! This is my first fic ever! I was given a bet to write this. Hope you all enjoy!

Trigger Warnings will be added to notes at the beginning. If there's a trigger I forgot to mention please let me know. I want to be sure everyone comes in with tempered expectations.

There's no sex in this fic, but there is sexual innuendo and references to sex and masturbation. So it's all canon-typical sexual content. Mature Rating for gore, drug addiction, etc. I'd still rate this fic a solid 18+.

Open to critiques.

Chapter 1: Dr. Freeman's New Pad

Summary:

Gordon Freeman gets placed into his new housing unit after the Resonance Cascade, and finally gets that well earned nap he's been desperately needing.

The party was an all too brief respite. And at the same time, he couldn’t wait for it to be over. God damn, he wished his first actual meal after the Resonance Cascade wasn’t just pizza. His guts were churning, begging for something with nutritional value. He could have passed out on the bean bags if he didn’t fear the repercussions of offending Tommy. 

Gordon loved the guy. But sleeping during the party could have given him the impression that it was boring . And not that he was exhausted from a weeks long campaign of physical and mental torture. It was nothing short of miraculous that they survived. Gordon was low on all basic necessities at the moment. Chronically starved, dehydrated, stressed, and especially fatigued.

Sleeping on concrete didn’t tend to lead to restful nights. At this point, he could sleep on anything, in any position. Even standing at the back of the Chuck E. Cheese restaurant, leaning against the wall as Mr. Coolatta adjusted his tie at his flank, he felt he could drift off. He almost did, until the adrenaline that simply looking at G-Man sent down his veins. What a spine tingling profile. So rectangular… so… perfectly and utterly Americana.

Gordon held on long enough to see the party to completion. All he wanted was to return to that sense of normalcy. To sleep in a soft bed and wake up with the normal amount of back pain. Eat enough bland, forgettable food to line his guts and feel actually fed. Drink fresh water! Brush his teeth, take a hot bath, enjoy all the little things that were repeated to tedium.

Mr. Coolatta looked pleased enough. It was difficult to tell. Expressivity was not his strongest feature. His eyes, slightly asymmetrical either through age or that thing’s failed attempt at symmetry, flitted towards his son. Scion, maybe? He wasn’t sure what the hell Tommy was to him. “Dr. Freeman, I believe that you have performed your duties… to a satisfactory degree. And as such, you deserve a reward of… equal repute. You’ve worked harder than most and due to… the prevailing circumstances in the… area around Black Mesa’s subsidized employee housing… I have taken it upon myself to locate a more suitable residence for you. I think you will find all amenities up to your esteemed standards of quality.” 

“Wait what? Where are you sending me? What about my son? Is Joshua alright?” He almost reached to grip him by his fine tailored suit, before his half-asleep, exhaustion-addled brain thought better of it. 

“I have found a satisfactory location for settlement. Understand, Mr. Freeman, that I have taken a great deal of… care… in selecting your new address.” Gordon caught a glimpse of his flawless, inhumanly straight teeth. Pearly white, they glistened like a toothpaste commercial at midnight. 

“That doesn’t answer the important question! Where the fuck is Joshua?” Gordon was growing more exasperated, and his haggardness was already beginning to wear on the G-Man's steeled nerves.

“You’ll hear from me soon enough,” he turned around after delivering that non-answer. The whole building became shrouded in the veil of darkness. Stasis . His loafers clacked against the void, heading towards the ever-growing, blinding hole of brilliance. “Remember that… you are expected to maintain a certain level of confidentiality, hmm?” He paused, and glanced over his shoulder. The spark of inhumanity in the brilliant glow of his eye awakened prey instincts in Gordon, “Goodbye, Mr. Freeman.” 

 

In a flash of burning light, Gordon was transported elsewhere. Somewhere warm, comfortable, soft. Weirdly… familiar. The blinding radiance faded, and soon enough he was able to articulate a ceiling fan, with three lightbulbs fitted like florets to its center. The popcorn ceiling wrenched against his nerves. The Black Mesa Subsidized Housing Units did not have popcorn ceilings. He shot up. Unfamiliar bedding. Unfamiliar room. It was painted dark, almost a grayish-brown. And his bedding was orange, just like the HEV suit. Which he was magically out of now. He was in his dress shirt, tieless, no lab coat, no belt for his slacks. Socks on. Well, at least his feet were safeguarded. The old family toes.

Goddamn. The color orange was nauseating. It looked like the set to that shitty Green Lantern movie in here. The lampshades and curtains were accented with that overbearing hue of Hazard Suit tangerine. That shade actually happened to be trademarked by Black Mesa, from what he could remember. Not that they were in any position to sue him or the G-Man. As far as Gordon knew, they were defunct. Outlived by Aperture. That would be funny if it weren’t so sad.

He reached over to the lamp and placed a hand on the switch. There was a sliding mirror-wardrobe. Fancy. Grey hardwood floors, an orange rug, and a comforter that was… orange again. Would it have killed Tommy’s pops to have a touch of subtlety? Color coding his whole domicile was a bit much. Gordon didn’t even like orange, but now this incidental hue was ingrained into his very identity. Just like that hand that wasn’t his. 

He could see it now. Clear in the lamplight. A foreign object stitched to him. That was not his hand. But the energy to address this revelation wasn’t present, and before he could assess himself, he had to ensure that his ex-wife and son were safe. He needed to make a call. Gordon felt a lump in his pants pocket as he groped around. It was his phone, salvaged from Black Mesa! He breathed a sigh of relief. 100% battery, and a new… orange case. A conniption was coming if there was one more- 

Mr. Coolatta had set Gordon’s background to his son, himself, and his ex-wife together. All in orange shirts. He had no recollection of taking this photo. Fucking chilling. He shuddered at the fact that there was no explanation for that, and then checked his missed messages. Hundreds of them. Worried texts from his parents and sisters. Dozens of calls from his ex that had poured in over the weeks of his absence. Even emails trying to reach out to him. The police investigation was already closed on his disappearance. According to the date, it took a month and eight days to crawl out of Black Mesa. 

 

He called up Joshua’s mother first.

 

And she picked up. Thank god. 

 

“Gordon? Where the fuck have you been!? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you ever since-” Gordon’s ex had a bit of an abrasive voice. She was a bitch, a bitch in a good way. Had enough of a backbone to get her way when she needed to. It was a kind divorce, and Gordon was more than happy to pay child support. No alimony; he wasn’t that much of a failure of a husband. Gordon didn’t have to worry much about his son while the Resonance Cascade was happening, because he knew damn well that she had it covered. Handled their graduate program while raising a toddler with poise and elegance. Gordon couldn’t say the same about himself. 

“I know. Listen, it’s… hard to explain. Alright? I can’t talk about it. Confidential business. But I’m alive, sorry I couldn’t get in touch. Is Joshua alright?” He exhaled shakily, running a finger through his loose curls. “I miss him.”

“He’s been dying to see his dad again.” She softened up a bit, hearing his voice. The croak in it, the soreness from all the screaming and dehydration. It was as if he had come back from the dead. Maybe he had.

“Fuck. Man. Tell him I’m sorry. I really am. Just… I can’t see him for a while. Things were bad.” 

“How bad?” She asked with earnest concern. It was that voice she used to use when they were side by side in bed, looking into each other’s half-lidded eyes, falling asleep. 

Gordon bit his lip. He wanted to tell her the truth, but he wasn’t going to. Not with the threat of the Coolatta patriarch breathing down his throat, “How late am I on child support?” 

“Two weeks,” her voice strained a little, as if curbing her anger (their tempers initially drew them to each other, and they eventually drove them apart). Gordon recognized the false dulcet of her tone when he heard it. She was pissed, understanding, but pissed. “Don’t worry about it right now. I won’t extend this leniency forever.” 

“Shit. I’ll get that to you as soon as I can.” Gordon hated to hear that. She made good money, but she was still a single mother. That boy’s college fund was built on the bedrock of Gordon’s child support checks, “You can keep him for a while, right? I want to see him but…” 

“Don’t worry about it. No questions asked.”

“Thanks. I didn’t deserve you.” Gordon pressed the phone to his forehead, the way they used to together, “Gonna head to bed for a while. G’night.” 

“Hold on, it’s three in the af-” He hung up and rolled over, content to just sleep somewhere soft. Warm. Safe. The pillows were downright euphoric. Just soft enough, and cool against his face. Everything ached, his skin could finally breathe, and it was all just so overwhelming. The cold, smooth glass of a phone screen, the loose linens of a well made bed, the breath of a ceiling fan against his rigid stubble. And smells, smells he didn’t think he’d ever get to sniff again. Lavender laundry detergent, stale household air and a freshly changed AC filter– His own body odor! God, he didn’t even realize how much he had missed his musk until he got a wayward whiff of a freed armpit. Gross, but familiar and comforting.

Different, but familiar. A bed was a bed. This was Mr. Coolatta’s ideal little captivity for him. He’d take it. But then again, Gordon would take anything right about now, wouldn’t he?

Chapter 2: Dr. Freeman's Pad Crasher

Summary:

After many many hours of sleep, Gordon wakes up to find that he's got a new roomie and it's that vicious sonofabitch, benry benry benry benry benry benry.

Notes:

a few things:

TW for blood, scabs, scars

ive lived with 5 homies in one house before (not burgers and fries, unfortunately) and im going to take a wild guess that benrey exhibits a lot of the most vile habits i have observed.

morphine withdrawal based on my perc withdrawal. I only had em for a brief time and it was ass.

probably ooc. working on that.

also a lot of yall like mountain dew but my feelings are expressed best this way: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nf10nmUuyTk

Gordon woke up from his dreamless sleep with a splitting headache, back pain, leg cramps… Really just a generalized shittiness he knew was associated with the morphine withdrawal he was inevitably going to face. He was a stubborn bastard, and he’d be damned if an addiction got in the way of him seeing his son. As Gordon stood up, his legs buckled under his weight. His lips were chapped, and as he worked to wet them with his equally dry mouth, he could taste the iron tang of blood. Splitting skin. He felt a warm wetness just above, and ran his fingers between his mouth and nose. Snot. Dr. Freeman, Ph.D, oozing a slime trail of glistening mucus all over himself and his brand new bedding. How becoming . 

He stumbled into the bathroom (Orange toilet? Really G-Man?) and proceeded to violently empty his bowels, drink straight out of the sink for a few solid minutes, and then shower. Overall? The experience was sublime . Withdrawal be damned. He rinsed his body, then bathed so he could baste in clean tub water for a few hours. As he got the bath prepared, he decided to try and have a look around the bathroom. Standard washer and dryer stacked on top of each other, a rather opulent looking glass vanity. With an orange bowl sink. Next to his orange toilet. Across from his orange tub. Who the fuck designs a bathroom like this? 

Mr. Coolatta left him a few housewarming gifts. The softest toilet paper, an air freshener that spritzed the room with a fruity aroma every few minutes, a cute soap dispenser of a horse that his son would have loved, and a vast array of hygiene products. Gordon used to snatch some of his ex-wife’s faux rose petals and bath bombs when he wanted to treat himself. It felt like having a soak in warm milk, and he was chasing that kind of high right about now. It didn’t disappoint. His sore, aching muscles thanked him. The heat loosened them up in a wave of relief. 

His hand grazed over his selection of bombs. Why did Mr. Coolatta just assert that his color was orange? Even the fucking bath bombs were all tropical citrus themed. Without looking, he selected a random sphere and dropped it in, sinking deeper into the tub as the water’s texture began to soothe his scars.

The jagged, stitched up grin on his hand glared up at him. The skin was dark, aggravated even still. It seemed as if his wrist had been sutured together, stitched in the heat of madness like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster. It was slightly smaller, and looked more pallid than his rich brown hue. He noted how his ring and index fingers were not of the same length in comparison to his natural hand–A detail the G-Man must have overlooked. The flesh… wasn’t his. It didn’t feel like his. There was pain, the sensation of texture seemed perfectly intact. But this? It wasn’t his hand. 

He shoved that thought down, deep into the depths of his subconscious to worry about later. Now it was time for Gordon to enjoy some Gordon time. To partake those small pleasures he was so desperate for just a few hours ago. There was merely a need to tap into the hedonistic, animal side of him. A caveman would have killed for a warm bath. Cro–magnon no doubt killed for less. 

 

Gordon killed for less. Fuck. 

 

After the soak, it was time to check out the wardrobe situation. That sliding mirror was classy . He found a few pieces of clothing that belonged to him within, and some new outfits that were courtesy of his benefactor. Some orange shirts, a vermillion sweater vest, apricot button ups…

If Mr. Coolatta thought he was ever going to wear that god awful carrot colored suit he was sorely fucking mistaken . 

No, not thinking about the orange ass clothing. He grabbed a pair of sweats he recognized from his previous wardrobe and threw them on. They were the gray MIT pants he got back as an undergrad, and had faithfully served him for many long years. With the way things were going, his fridge would be stocked too. There was a strong need clawing within his stomach. Aside from the nausea, that is. 

Exploration of the house was going to be necessary eventually. He discovered that Mr. Coolatta may have cheaped out on him in one key aspect. It looked like he had been situated in a single story, two bedroom, one bathroom with a living room that was connected to the kitche–

 

Benrey was there. 

 

Benrey was sitting on his brand new couch. 

 

Benrey was sitting on his brand new orange pleather couch, playing on HIS Playstation 3, surrounded in a nest of HIS blankets. One of those was knitted by his deceased grandmother, and Benrey had his skinny ass on it. Legs splayed in a downright disrespectful manspread. Taint on his grandmother’s handiwork . Dozens of cans of soda were littered around him as he lounged around in his full security uniform, as sharp as it had ever looked. It was decidedly not littered with bullet holes the way it should have. Benrey knocked back a whole, sizzling can of caustic Baja Blast and crushed it against his forehead. Then he tossed the aluminum into the mountain of trash he had been building for however long Gordon was out. His pupils met Gordon’s for a brief moment, and went back to focusing on the TV screen. 

“Hey brURAUoh,” Benrey belched the ‘bro’ out like a middle schooler, “nice.” 

“Am I in hell?” Gordon asked as he wiped his glasses off on his pants, and put them back on again. Yep. That was Benrey.

 “Mister uh, Gordon Sleepman over here. Slept like uh, two days. On the job. It’s uh, Monday–Friday. Wait no, five days? Haha. I got uh, like a hundred hours on this game waiting for you. Waited for you the whole time. Patient best friend of the year, right here.”  Benrey was too engrossed with gaming to look him in the face. Gordon peeked at the screen… Was that… Was that fucking Sonic 06 ? 

This was a huge problem. For a moment, his heart rate was fine. He didn’t immediately process the danger. But the possibilities dawned on him after a few seconds of stupid gawking. This was Benrey. Benrey was an inhuman entity that had tried to kill him, and now he was in his house, where Gordon was out of his armor and completely vulnerable. At his mercy. And he didn’t know if he even had guns in this house. Or if G-Man ever returned the guns he actually owned before the Resonance Cascade. 

His blood pressure spiked, his heart rate hit an apex of beats per minute. He turned to the kitchen, and grabbed a knife from the block. There were no thoughts running through his head anymore. His actions were now dictated purely by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Benrey was a danger, and dangerous things needed to be removed from his haven. 

“Yo, bro. This game fuckin’, rips ass.” The entity was still hooked on the mounted screen, the SFX of rings dropping punctuated his sentence. Gordon crawled onto the plush stoner sofa with him, knees on the cushions as he approached with the knife kept low to his waist. His eyes glanced over Benrey’s body, casing his weaknesses. Benrey had no neck armor, that’d be the best place to stab him. And if he kept coming back, he’d do it over, and over again. As many times as he needed to in order to be safe. Gordon did not get this fucking far to have his sanctuary invaded. “Fuckin’, unplayable. I dunno how this was released. You ever played Final Fantasy Thirteen? Gonna make you shit n’ cum yourself. Promise, uh. Pogaccino.” 

Gordon lurched, aiming the blade to Benrey’s smooth neck. With inhuman reflexes, Benrey swiveled his head around and grabbed Gordon’s wrist. He didn’t even give a little as they tussled, as if Gordon’s full strength was childish in comparison, “Woah! The murderer is gonna strike again? Your best friend is just sitting here playing video games. What's the matter, Feetman? Gonna Wayne it? Gordon’s got uh, a hard on. Hard on for killing people?”

“I’m going to kill you !” Gordon socked him straight in the nose and wrestled the knife out of his hands as Benrey reeled in pain. “Get out of my life please for the love of god! I want you out of my house, out!”

“Owww–uhh. Bro, killing me will get you hard? Kinda gay.” Benrey grabbed the knife by the blade as Gordon wildly swung around. The hand’s delicate webbing tore against the blade like hot lard until the knife hit his bone. Dark, rich blood cascaded down in split streams, soaking into the couch, his shirt, armor, and Gordon’s thighs. 

There was this ferocity painted all over Gordon’s face, baring his blunt human incisors; ineffective, underdeveloped canines on full display as adorable little threat displays. But his pupils? Contracted to the tips of ballpoint pens the way they were? It almost made Benrey uncomfortable, how focused Gordon was. How much he was driven to kill him. But what’s a few murders between best friends? Sheesh, was Gordon over–competitive. What a mood killer.

“I will kill you however many times I damn fucking well please. What the hell do I need to do to make you leave me alone!?” Gordon spat in desperation, still wedging the knife deeper into Benrey’s bone.

“Uh, hey idiot. Did you check your texts?” Benrey kicked Gordon off of him, stealing the knife away and tossing it onto the carpet, where it would inevitably stain. His thumb was barely clinging onto his right hand, dangling by a thread of sinew and skin that didn’t look reattachable. He may have grabbed the blade a little too tightly, “Owwwuhhh. You like hurting people.” 

Gordon gritted his teeth, “Serves you fucking right for getting my hand cut off.”

“Baby. Babyman. Little bitch.” Benrey shook the loose digit around his face, eyes crossed like a toddler staring at jangling keys. He sucked the blood off the stump, and pulled it out with a stark pop. His jaw unhinged, the adjustment was audible, though it was of no sound Gordon had the words for. A long, prehensile tongue flopped out. It looked like an infected gummy worm, cyan veins running down the black and mottled blue. Strings of sweet voice saliva dribbled as it wrapped around his thumb and…

 

He ate his own severed thumb. Swallowed it whole. Gordon watched his Adam's apple bob, mouth agape. The anger he was feeling was replaced with a measure of fear. Fear, disgust, and confusion. Morphine withdrawal was taking its hold on him. There was no way. He was hallucinating! That has to be one of the symptoms, right?

“Gotta uh, recycle the nutritions.” Benrey licked the blood off his lips, and then smacked them. He was ruminating on his own flavor. He auto–cannibalized himself, and he was enjoying the taste .

“What the actual, literal fuck is wrong with you?” Gordon reached for the knife, but Benrey was eying him like a leopard, waiting to pounce on him if he dared to try again. Gordon decided it would be best to not pull the proverbial lion’s (leopard’s) tail. 

“Uh, I dunno Mr. Stabdon Murderman. What is wrong with me? Gonna kill me again? Sheesh.” He pointed at the knife, “Gonna uh, put your dagger in my meat? Kinda sus, bro.” 

“What do you mean check my texts?” Gordon decided to ignore the obvious gay joke and address the more pressing issue. He jumped off the couch and put some distance between himself and that thing . 

“That weird old twink who won’t show me his passport told me that I needed to crash with you. Threw me in with you as a last minute arrangement.” He lapped some fleshy residue off his teeth.

“What,” a twitch surged through his eye and traveled down into his hands. 

“Couldn’t go with the old men. Tommy wasn’t allowed to keep me cause I’m a bad influence. Now I’m stuck here with YOU and it SUCKS cause you took my thumb. Lame.” He flashed his wound and flung it around, specks of blood were getting everywhere. And, well, Gordon was kind of desensitized. It didn’t repulse him nearly as much as it probably should have. He was already nauseous, and the blood wasn’t adding to it.

“You ate your own fucking thumb!” Gordon gestured to the obvious tear where he had bitten through the skin.

“Resampling neutrinos.” Benrey was still gushing blood onto the blankets and the couch, “Best friends. And they were roommates.” 

Sure as shit, as Gordon checked his texts, he could see direct orders from Mr. Coolatta. 

 

G-Man: Keep the entity in line. I will visit to monitor your progress at the end of the year. Good luck, Mr. Freeman.

 

“And they were roommates…” Great. Just peachy keen. Gordon got to work on cleaning up, “I’ll fucking bandage you when I get all this in the wash. Stop spraying all over my blankets.” 

“Cringe. Whatever. It’s an IRL chugjug.” He stuffed the stub in his mouth and suckled on it like a pacifier. What a sight. Gordon busied himself getting all the blood stained crap loaded into a washing machine and hoping it wasn’t permanent. And that he was never investigated for murder. Those blood stains would show up no matter how hard he scrubbed.

He was still starving, fuck the blood. It was midday, and he needed something to eat after god knows how many consecutive days of sleep (assuming Benrey wasn’t a reliable time–keeper was reasonable). Surely he could make an omelet and pancakes. Breakfast choices rattled in his full, addled mind as he sprayed an enzyme cleaner onto the couch (courtesy of Mr. Coolatta and the dimension beneath the kitchen sink). Benrey was still caked in his own juice, suckling on his wound. Before anything else, Gordon had to take care of that, didn’t he? G–Man seemed to want him to make Benrey behave, and cutting his thumb off probably wasn’t considered conducive to cohabitation.

“Just… Ugh. I’ll wrap it up,” he grimaced. Schadenfreude wasn’t something Gordon ever considered himself above, and especially not when Benrey was the subject at hand… but he did just sever the guy’s thumb. Not that Benrey even cared all too much. Fucker was mildly annoyed at worst.

Benrey perked up, talking with his mouth full of hand, “Wah? Ferreel?”

“Come to the bathroom. Sit on the toilet lid and don’t talk so I don’t regret my decision.” Gordon grabbed him by his undamaged hand and dragged him over to the singular bathroom in the house. He was cold to the touch, taking on the ambient temperature of the room. Like a reptile. Even his hand texture was somehow… off. His bones were fine, perfectly human. But the skin and the muscle beneath had an otherworldly quality.

It was going to be a pain in the ass to deal with him. And this bathroom was fucking abhorrent. How did he not notice how garish it was earlier? Cream? Orange tile? Dark blue diamonds at the center? Was this based on the goddamn Minecraft desert temple? Why was Gordon even wondering, of course it was!

He pointed at his stupid color coordinated toilet, “Sit.”

With shocking obedience, Benrey sat his ass down politely on the porcelain lid and kicked his feet all giddily. He took his thumb stump out of his mouth, beads of milky white sweet voice spittle clung to the wound over a teal–green cocoon.

“The hell does that mean?” Gordon gestured to the… slab of oozing pale gunk. It looked like something else. If it didn’t smell like vanilla, he would have thought otherwise too. 

“Wouldn’t uh, you like to know?” Benrey belched out a couple more balls of the sweet voice, and caught the rest with a fist to the mouth, “Scuse me.” 

Gordon could smell the vanilla wafting from the slick of saliva trailing down his chin, “I can rescind my offer at any point.” 

“Ivory stained, I have been maimed.” He huffed, and pouted like a bratty child, “Yeah. Hurts a little. So what? Not being a baby about it, unlike a thief I know. Gonna steal my hand now, huh?” 

“You’re lucky I didn’t cut from the wrist, fucker.” Gordon opened up the first aid kit, and wiped away the waxy layer of teal to green sweet voice…

 

The wound was already cauterized. There wasn’t any blood at all, just a thick, yellowed scab at the base of the thumb. The crust was arranged in a way utterly alien to Gordon. Rather than being a sheet of flat scabs, it was instead a series of little pillars of pustules with split ends that looked like tiny, crusty hands. They almost appeared cancerous with the way they sprawled out like the tips of royal lichens. He wasn’t going to get that out of his mind anytime soon. At least it spoiled his appetite for a few minutes. 

Gordon settled on just rubbing some alcohol on it. His patient didn’t seem to have been too bothered by the ethanol burn. He got chattier on the toilet seat, asking incessant questions as to why Gordon was putting chemicals on his wound. Why was he bothering to wrap it up? Why did Gordon smell so good? 

Benrey was worse than his son. At least Joshua knew things about the world. This alien operated on lobotomite logic. He was asking about nearly everything in the bathroom, except for the things he would have been familiar with from Black Mesa: Toilets, sinks, showers. That wasn’t an impressive body of knowledge. 

Inevitably, the irritability from how starved Gordon was won over him, “We’re done here. Gonna go eat. Just don’t fucking bother me.”

“Didn’t want to touch your food so uhh, I went out and got my own. Baja Blast . Gamer’s choice.” Benrey seemed disappointed when Gordon stood up from the side of the tub and walked towards the door. 

“ Baja Blast is not a meal. What are you on about? That’s a drink, and a shitty one at that.” Gordon gestured to the sink. He had to stop making ‘showing concern for Benrey’ a habit. Second nature got the better of him, “Get some water for god’s sake.”

“Bro for real dissing the gamer juice? Cringe. Have you ever had a sip?” Benrey pulled a can out from his pants pocket, offering it to Gordon.

“ Mountain Dew is battery acid. I’m not putting it in my body. I’d rather drink anything else.” Gordon’s hatred of the Dew was not an exaggeration. It was probably the soda he detested the most. He’d rather drink a bucket of headcrab juice.

“Uh, what about peepee? Would you drink the gamer girl piss before-”

“Absolutely.” Gordon deadpanned. “Piss is probably less likely to kill you than Baja Blast .” 

“Lmao. Pee drinker.” Benrey pronounced ‘lmao’ phonetically. 

“Laugh it up, Ben. You’re drinking that sewage swill.” 

“Remember when you, uh, swam in the sewage water? Stinkdon Smellman?” Benrey opened the tab and took a hit. He loudly smacked his lips and let out a comically satisfied sigh, “God’s nectar. Master Chief’s epic sweat.”

Gordon didn’t want to be reminded of Black Mesa, but he was going to safeguard what little pride he had left from that fucker. Gordon’s energy to scream at him was waning, “I strongly recall you there as well, BBB’ing in the sludge.”

“What? Yeah. No. Wuddn’t me.” Gordon caught another glimpse of his stained, serrated fangs. Hmm. Yeah. Benrey was absolutely a predatory creature of some kind. He took out his phone to text Tommy’s father. Did he really think Benrey was… safe ?

 

(You): How sure are you that Benrey doesn’t pose a threat to me?

G-Man: There’s a very low chance that the entity will harm you. 

(You): Any numbers I can put my trust into?

G-Man: Mr. Freeman, you need to understand that these things are difficult to quantify. Make of that answer what you will. 

 

There was a very low chance that Benrey was of any danger. Which meant it was a non–zero chance. Gordon was no statistician, but he didn’t like those odds. Resonance Cascade events are non–zero chances. This did not rest easy with his anxiety, and his heart quickened as more worst case scenarios raced through his mind. Benrey growing several sizes and eating him. Benrey stabbing him. Benrey shooting him. Benrey leaving him a gored mess for his family or friends to stumble upon weeks later. Benrey hurting Joshua . 

Benrey himself managed to snap him out of the spiral. Whilst consumed in his inner thoughts, Gordon had already made it to the kitchen, staring at the fridge. Dissociating.

“He really got you an orange fridge? Fuck, bro.” He sat on the marbled countertop. Something about watching him immediately plop his ass where it didn’t belong like old times gave Gordon the kick of familiarity he needed to get going again, “What’re the goods? What’re we gonna vore?”

Gordon had to ignore him for that vore comment, his body was already punishing him from the month of eating vending machine snacks and nothing else. He didn’t need him to spoil his appetite. There was, thankfully, fresh produce. Pears, blackberries, raspberries, grapes, squash–A smorgasbord of sweet fruits and vegetables! Nutrition! Fiber! Flavors beyond chalky American chocolate and sickeningly saccharine soda! 

“You’re a hungry boy, aren’tcha?” Benrey’s rib fell on deaf ears. Gordon couldn’t give less of a fuck.

The smell of food was already making him nauseous, but the hunger pains won in the end. After knocking back an entire tin of blackberries and barbarically demolishing a couple of pears with the grace of a starved dog, he was ready to cook a proper breakfast. He needed a moment to let his body digest, though, and get the energy needed to lift a pan without using adrenaline as reserve fuel. 

Benrey watched with a quiet curiosity, pupils fitted to slits. If Benrey was anything like a cat, Gordon figured he must have been relaxed. Fucking weirdo. But it wasn’t like Gordon had much room to judge. He was shirtless, body glistening with sweat. And he definitely had a few pieces of pear clinging to him somewhere. Almost certainly caught in his beard. And on that thought, he probably needed to shave at some point that day. 

At least Benrey was at ease. Gordon just tried to stab a man… man shaped thing . Two weeks ago he gunned down hallways of scientists and security guards in a maddened state. Now, he’s cracking eggs over a pan to make an omelet and filling it with sausage, cheese, and vegetables in a desperate attempt to reclaim a normalcy that will never be his again. 

Everyone loved to eat, so why was the smell making him nauseous? Who doesn’t want a tasty omelet? He scraped the slightly undercooked mass onto a plate and sat down with it, idly stabbing the meal at the island. Benrey laid down on his stomach, face just a few inches away from Gordon’s food.

“Smells really good. Didn’t know your Ph.D was at uh, Flavortown University with a degree in succulent meal from Dean Gay Furry.” Benrey licked his lips. Teal drool freely poured from the sides of his mouth and onto his brand new island. Charming.

“Theoretical Physics.” Gordon was trying to work himself up to eating. The fruit in his guts were already threatening to shoot back up at the eggy stench of it. But he knew he had to take care of himself and eat a hearty meal. The days languished in constant chaos were not for nothing . Gordon should be lavishing this experience; This is what he fought for. To eat and live another day. But his meal was just utterly repulsive, sitting there on his plate looking like vomit. Smelling like sulfuric Black Mesa sewage.

“Theoretical degree.” Benrey reached out to snatch the omelet with his grubby claws, and Gordon pulled the plate away. He mumbled, “Don’t seem smart enough for a real degree in physics.”

“I will stab you with the fork and feel no remorse.”

“Aww, to best friend? Won’t share your food with a starving buddy? After I shared my soda?” Benrey had no lashes to bat, but he certainly tried.

“I don’t know how many times I have to reiterate that we are not friends for you to get it through your thick fucking skull.” Gordon clenched the handle of the fork until he was white knuckled, nails digging into the calluses on his palm. His grip loosened when he heard Benrey’s stomach begging alongside him. That was the loudest hunger pang he’d ever heard, and it couldn’t have been comfortable. Despite everything, it elicited a primal tinge of pity. He must’ve been so hungry, just like him. Maybe moreso.

“Please? Please and thank you? Delicious Big Mac?” His pupils dilated as he eyed the food in all of its pretty colors. 

“Don’t you know how to cook for yourself?” Gordon gestured to the stovetop, “It’s free range , you know.” 

The dad joke evidently went over Benrey’s head and flew past the helmet. Why was he making a dad joke to him? He fucking hated the guy. Goddammit the Resonance Cascade fucked him up. The evidence is clearly showing that he somehow got the wires for humor and fear crossed somewhere in the process. Or maybe the pity was loosening him up.

Benrey traced his fingers in little circles on the counter, kicking his legs idly into his ass, “Nah. Uh, never had a place to call my own, you know? Got given food at the cafeteria. But it tasted bad. Eventually I just started bumming soda and vending machine food from my buddies. And spiders.” 

“That’s not… healthy.” Gordon shuddered. He brought his own lunch for a reason. That cafeteria food didn’t just taste bad, it frequently caused gastric distress. Usually it was just security guards who ate there. The old farts at the lab were decrepit enough that shitting themselves was probably a real concern. “Fine. I’ll cook you something, I guess. Since you’re being polite and not harassing me over the stupid fucking passport.” 

“Yeah uh, do you have IDs for that omelet? Cause uh, restaurants need um, certifications. And your stuff smells good, restaurant quality. Did you pass the health inspection? No Ratatouille’s? No uh, cocked roach?” Benrey was acting as if any bugs in the house wouldn’t expressly be his fucking fault with all the sugary drink cans he was leaving strewn about.

“That didn’t land.” Gordon forked a huge chunk of omelet into his mouth. It was nothing special. Standard omelet. Tasted just like any other omelet he’s ever had, although it was extra satisfying after starving for so long, and just as disgusting due to the nausea. A gag was swallowed down. He was not vomiting this one out. 

He noticeably dropped a ton of weight during the Resonance Cascade. Big Guy Gordon was now just… Slightly Chubby Gordon. Didn’t have the same ring to it. It was hard to tell while he was trapped in the HEV suit, but now that he was shirtless, it was pretty obvious. Gordon had been meaning to lose weight, but not like that. 

Benrey drooled on the countertop, resting his head on his forearms, the same way he had when he was on Xen. He seemed tired then too. Gordon cleared his throat, “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Admiring the view,” Benrey gave him a half-lidded, dreamy gaze. Gordon shot up from his seat and finished his meal while standing.

He tossed his plate into the sink, “Shut up, or I won’t cook for you.” 

“Sheesh. Ok, Gordon Can’t–Take–A–Compliment-man.” Benrey blew a halfhearted raspberry, his eyes barely able to stay open as he fluttered between conscious and unconscious.

“That’s fucking catcalling, not complimenting.” Another ‘compliment’ like that, and Gordon was going to kick his ass. 

“Huh? What about cats?” Benrey blew out some confused bubbles of lime green sweet voice.

“Nevermind. Don’t do it. The flirting stops now.” Gordon jabbed his finger in the island, right in front of Benrey’s face as he blew bubblegum sized balls of glowing jelly.

“MAH BWAH WAAAH WAAAH,” Benrey rolled over onto his back, his stomach still screaming through solid inches of kevlar body armor. The sound of it was just as surprising to him, and he hummed with a tinge of curiosity. Then his mouth exploded with a beam of teal as he begged, “Please? Pretty please?” 

“I’m getting to it. Fuck. What do you want?” 

“Uh, I dunno. What can I eat?” Benrey took off the armor and tossed it on the floor like the slob he was. He looked… small. Not that short, he was an average height, but he was emaciated. His tucked in shirt was clinging to his concave stomach. Gordon didn’t even know how he was alive . No wonder why his face was so gaunt compared to his silhouette. The body armor added a solid fifty pounds to his frame. The man was living off of an occasional vending machine snack, bugs, and cans of soda for who knows how long, “I want the chef’s recommendation. Ratatouille. Surprise me.” 

“Tsk. You’re desperate. I’m not even that great of a cook. And your sense of taste is so shit that you’re willing to drink Mountain Dew .” Gordon was weighing his options at the fridge, not sure what he should be giving Benrey. What did Benrey eat other than spiders, pigeons, and soda? Popcorn? He could probably just eat human food, surely. 

“You’re so mean. Cut off my thumb? Now you’re–” 

“Just. Stop bringing that up, will you? You cut off my fucking hand. Serves you right.” Gordon clenched the top of the fridge door, suddenly incredibly aware of that foreign entity stitched onto his body. 

“It grew back.”

“It’s not mine, so shut up or there’s no lunch for you.” It was a cruel thing to say, probably. Gordon didn’t care. He was exhausted, the smell of the food was going to make him want to puke out the meal he was working desperately to keep down. The last month’s events were still leaving him reeling. And the last fucking thing he needed was Benrey’s smart mouth. He would withhold food, water, whatever he needed to. Maybe Coomer or Tommy could get away with talking to him like this, but not Benrey. Not after what he did.

Benrey grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, “Fine. Meanman. Gordon Meanman… Chickenhat. I guess.” 

“Running out of insults there, aren’t you?” Gordon cocked his head back and leaned on the fridge. He was going to take his sweet ass time deciding what he was going to cook. Yeah, Benrey was hungry, and he was taking pity on that pathetic bastard, but he was fucking lucky he was feeding him in the first place. He could wait a few minutes for Gordon’s stomach to settle a little, and he could bear the smell of food again. And maybe Benrey can suffer for his enjoyment for that time too! As a treat.

Chapter 3: Dr. Freeman Cooks for a Dumbass Space God

Summary:

Well, if he's stuck with Benrey, maybe Dr. Freeman can tame the alien monster using the tactic forged by man when he first made an alliance with wolf-kind: Keep the predator's tummy full and hope it doesn't maul you.

Is this the start of a beautiful friendship? Or a really annoying begging habit at the table?

Notes:

thank you all for reading and leaving kudos! you make me blush and scrape my feet all shy into the floor and say 'aww, shucks' <3. this is a short but sweet one. i think the next chapter is a bit meatier?

sappy shit aside, I got some serious TW for this chapter.

there's nightmares, vomiting, and threats of withholding food.

i just tacked features on benrey i found infuriating/baffling from my time living with 5 other men. i once saw a guy eat raw meat in front of the fridge in his briefs at 3 am after he got really drunk.

Gordon was able to forget his anxieties for a short while. The hair raising fear was lost on him whilst he was cooking, and replaced with the normal amount of nausea and shivering that morphine withdrawal should be giving him. He did want another hit. Desperately. Not like he even knew how to get morphine anyways (he was pretty sure seeing a typical doctor was out of the question, and as far as he could tell, his insurance was strictly what the G–Man saw as necessary). Gordon was not about to send himself on a downward spiral after the Resonance Cascade. Joshua needed him. And he had to fight that itch so he could see his son again.

And in spite of that, it was so… normal. Sane. It gave him the opportunity to embrace the mundane. Conventionally motivated creatures like Benrey needed something rather conventional and low effort. Like dino nuggets, or what Gordon’s mom used to cook for him when she didn’t have much time: Eggs, rice, and ketchup. It was the kind of recipe any half-stocked kitchen could fulfill, so it also made for good depression meals after the divorce. That seemed about what Benrey deserved. As expected, the ingredients were there. What serendipity.

Leftovers were anticipated. Gordon sort of got so lost in the process that he forgot who he was cooking for. As he slaved over the stove, Benrey stayed on his perch, so motivated by food that he managed to keep quiet for the five minutes it took Gordon to cook. It wasn’t hard to scramble eggs and nab some microwaveable rice from the cupboard, after all.

The smell of the yolk was making Benrey spew out a near constant stream of teal sweet voice. He was struggling to keep it contained as he let out his hungering song. In Black Mesa, Gordon had seen him cocoon pigeons in that shit. The pang of fear returned, imagining himself in the chrysalis this time.

“Damn. Gordon uh, Ramsey.”

“Thanks?” He dropped the contents into a serving bowl and started on cleaning the pan, “What you don’t eat goes back in the fridge.”

Benrey slid off the counter and onto a chair seamlessly by no-clipping subtly. Although he had utensils, he did not use them. Oh, how did Benrey eat instead? By shoveling mouthfuls of ketchupy eggs in with his bare hands like a fucking animal, of course. He was cramming in as much as he could at once, and Gordon couldn’t help but watch in awe at the grotesque gluttony on display.

No, gluttony was the wrong word, Benrey needed this. And it wasn’t like Gordon had much more decorum earlier with those pears. He certainly set a precedent for etiquette, but it was the fact that Benrey’s jaw unhinged, and his skin seemed far more elastic than a human’s could ever be that made this so disturbing. Like watching a snake try to eat something the way any other predator would. Piece by piece.

“Dude, that’s disgusting.” Gordon was still staring. Benrey was acting like this was some kind of gourmet meal he was being dragged away from.

“Mmmnnnff. HMMNNF.” His cheeks were puffed out, sharp teeth slightly poking through grains of rice as he chewed. Benrey’s slitted pupils were rolling in bliss.

“Oh you like that?” Gordon leaned back into the counter, crossing his arms. What a pig this guy was, “Bet you regret treating me like shit now.”

Benrey nodded, and kept stuffing his face until there was nothing left in the bowl to eat. He made haste to lick it clean, and then his fingers. It looked like he had room for more, “Bro? Bro. Food. Good? Cooking Mama for the Nintendo Wii?” 

Gordon couldn’t believe how blown out his pupils were. That was the look cats got right before they pounced, hardly as leisurely as they were before, “Benrey we need to have a talk about using a fork.” 

“Fuck the fork, idiot. Best food ever made.” Benrey knocked himself on the chest, “Can you cook all the time?” 

“I need to get a job at some point. And so do you if you’re going to be staying here.” Gordon kept the answer ambiguous. He sure as hell didn’t want to feed Benrey for the rest of his life. It was bad enough that he was forced to settle with this dangerous, predatory… whatever Benrey was. Space god? Nuisance.

“I’ll guard the house. I’m a security guard,” Benrey nodded curtly. “Please and thank you for hiring me.”

“No one needs to guard the house.” 

“Huh? What if uh, someone tries to steal the PS3?”  Benrey pointed to Sonic 06 still playing on the screen. Gross.

“No one is going to steal a PS3, Benrey. The PS4 has been out for years.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Gordon needed to shut him up for a few extra seconds, “Want some dessert?” 

“Huh? What? Why would I want sand?” Benrey blew out some orange and teal sweet voice. Maybe he was making room in his sweet voice gland after eating a family sized portion of grody, ketchupy slop. By the pleasant sound of it he seemed to be singing about how much he enjoyed his meal. He was looking pretty smug, lips primed to the right and pushing out steady, relaxed bulbs of neon light that swayed across the room like bobbing ships.

“Something sweet after the meal. It’s like a little treat.” Gordon cocked his brow, finally realizing that he now had something over the monster in his home. 

Benrey was pretty full, but he leaned forwards. That smug fucking grin was wiped off his face and replaced with a sort of desperate gawk, “Don’t hold out on me, Feetman.” 

Gordon checked the freezer and cabinets. There were ice cream sandwiches. Not his favorite, but Benrey might get a kick out of it. He tossed him the wrapped up brick of sugar, and Benrey took a huge bite with his  massive fangs, straight through the paper. It was gone in about a second. What did Gordon expect? Peace? 

Fuck, those teeth were big. Worse than a tigerfish, more intimidating than a mako, arranged like a piranha’s jaw. Benrey was lapping his teeth clean and picking between them with his claws and eating the detritus and plaque he dislodged.

“Woah. Nice. Prefer the bowl of worms.” Benrey polished his claws off on his button up. Aside from the blood, it seemed to have been well laundered. Same with that doofy, company–standard black tie. It had been loosened and hung limp like a boa around his shoulders. The whole thing was surreal in its domesticity. Benrey didn’t seem like he just had his thumb cut off after coming back from the dead, he seemed like a man who just got back from a dead end 9 to 5. 

Gordon yawned. And surprisingly, Benrey didn’t yawn in contagion. Alien, right. Probably didn’t need to yawn, “I’m going to see if the enzyme cleaner did anything to the blood… put the laundry in the dryer.” 

“I’m gonna uh… sleep this off,” Benrey gestured to his stomach. He looked as pleased as a snake in an emptied rat cage, “Hope no one with huge, smelly feet tries to stab me in my sleep.”

“Keep talking like that, and I won’t feed you anymore.” Time to test his hypothesis out; Benrey will respond with discomfort, fear, anxiety, or display submissive behavior when food is threatened to be removed from the environment or schedule. Well, it wasn't a real hypothesis. He didn’t even have a null. Surely some biologists had to work with less, right?

“Wow, Feetman holding food above my head? Let his best friend starve? Woooow.” Benrey retreated to the couch and fell back, keeping his legs open to reveal the lifting blood stain. He rested his hands over his belly in contentment and started snoring like a motorboat almost on impact. No shit he was tired. Ever the watchdog, Benrey kept his eyes peeled during the Resonance Cascade when everyone else was asleep. Sure, he was lounging around with the rest of them, but whenever Gordon woke up to take a piss in the middle of the night, Benrey was always staring at him. His golden eyes were usually the only thing he could see in the darkness. Xenians must have evolved to be alert for longer hours than Earth organisms. But then if Benrey was this exhausted that meant…

Was Benrey keeping watch while Gordon was asleep?

 

That night, Gordon couldn’t find rest. He had tried to stab a man… creature. Cut off his finger. Failed to kill him. And then he cooked him lunch. And they were just acting buddy–buddy now. Even shared a rather uneventful dinner where Benrey did his best to use a fork like a human being. Sure, he ate sloppily, like a child first learning how to use utensils. But he seemed to be trying. Trying to make peace with him. Like the previous month never happened. This was obviously some kind of surreal, divine punishment for his sins. 

He just couldn’t shake the sight of Benrey, the size of a skyscraper, laying in the pool of Xenian fluids. Staring down at him with lidded, dark eyes. His slow blinking, the way his tongue lavished his serrated cuspids. Like a leopard eagerly watching its prey as it stood frozen in fear.

Gordon was sweaty, still leaking snot. The nausea and persistent yawning were also present, and for some reason his jaw was killing him as he uncontrollably clenched it. Not to mention the gastric issues. He deposited his dinner into the toilet bowl as he puked. He was retching even when all his oily bile had been depleted. Gordon had fought unconsciousness with his life before, but god. This was so fucking hard for some reason. It shouldn’t be. He survived so much worse, how was withdrawal doing him in?! After maybe… two hours of retching? Time was getting difficult to parse. He felt so cold. So cold that he wanted to shred the light, airy shirt he was wearing and strip out of his sweatpants because it felt like his skin was on fire. This oxymoronic thermal sensation was working its way across every surface of his body. 

 

Thank god for RnR. He couldn’t imagine working while withdrawing from opioids. There had to be some sleeping pills lying around. He hadn’t the slightest chance in hell of catching any shut eye like this (unless he was cracking his skull against the toilet bowl, apparently). Surely G-Man left him some melatonin or maybe even had blessed him with some harder drugs like a bit of precious ambien behind the bathroom mirror. 

Cha–ching. There was a delicious cache of berry–flavored, bear–shaped melatonin gummies. One per night, it said. Hah. These big pharma FOOLS must’ve never met Dr. Gordon “Compound Insomnia” Freeman, Ph.D before. When Gordon was about eight bears deep in the same damn seat, he flopped back onto bed and waited for sleep to take him out of the rolling, sweaty hell he was in. Chills, sweltering heat, sweating, and puking just seemed like a bad cold on paper. But it was torture. Not only had he been swallowing his nausea in spite of the smell of cooking food urging him to empty his guts, but he was also hyper–aware of every little movement of his body. Each goosebump felt like a neurally wired, inarticulate blister that pulled away from his skin. No matter how many covers he put on, or how many layers of clothes he stripped off, he was simultaneously too cold and too hot. There was no comfort. His only hope was that the melatonin gummies would kick his ass into tomorrow. 

 

Chapter 4: Dr. Stinkman's Downward Spiral

Summary:

Benrey sees that Gordon is down and, like all good friends, he forgives him for being a bitch and tries to cheer him up with some lighthearted merriment.

Notes:

back again. this time with the first scene i envisioned when i was given this bet.

TW: nightmares, strangulation, digestion? (i think? it's more like melting), knife fights, abuse, withdrawal... it's a lot this chapter.

i won't translate the sweet voice here, but i have them at the ready if requested.

gordon using 'woke ass' was a joke my beta reader made when we were going through this chapter. thanks for the laugh, bro. kept it because they're much funnier than me.

Sleep was not the haven he was expecting. No, nothing could be that simple. Not that kind to him.

 

His hand. That limb, that thing that absolutely wasn’t his. It was reaching back out to grab him, as he desperately pulled at the sutures on his wrist with his native hand. Dr. Strangelove’s omen was ghosting towards him. Alien fingers wrapped around his jugular, nails digging into his neck. The skin peeled off his sinew like curling sheets of cork. They slid in like blunt daggers, putting the exact pressure on the windpipe needed to tease deprivation to him.

 

And there was Benrey… just, laughing. Howling a sweet voice death knell that hung in the air like hundreds of eyes. His leer bore through the haze, standing at the precipice between the surrealist fugue of a nightmare and memory.

 

He knelt in closer, still cackling as Gordon gagged and gasped. Doing flash photography of his dying kicks against the concrete, drinking in the glee of Gordon’s helplessness as he sheared the scarred skin at his wrist. Pale streaks turned to frantic smears of blood, ripping chunks of melting flesh out of himself to the goddamn bone. The hand’s clutch remained steadfast.

 

Gordon knew what strangulation felt like, those boot boys made damn well sure of it. Dreams very rarely were committed to reality, but in the haze of his unconscious logic, it all felt very, very real. No one ever told him how long it’d take before he passed out. It took days. Days of thumbs jabbing into his jugular, the light arch of his delicate upper spine as he writhed for air, the way thick mucus accumulated in the back of his throat as his reflexes urged him to swallow and breathe, breathe, breathe –

He woke up before dawn in a cold sweat, guts churning with the pressure of anxiety. Gordon rolled onto the floor and gripped the side of the bedroom wastebasket. Then, he barfed a torrent of oily bile. Pain cut across his abdominal muscles and cracked through his diaphragm. 

 

The surge was so abrupt he thought he was going to shrivel up into a dried husk and die. It just wouldn’t stop coming until he felt completely squeezed. Gordon caught a glimpse of the damage and… yeah, no. Disposing of that filth would be Recovered Gordon’s job.

Instead of cleaning, he stumbled into the kitchen to gargle some water, ignoring Benrey playing whatever dogshit game he was fixated on. Without a right thumb, it was an obvious struggle for him. Although he was adapting by changing his finger positioning. The way he took circumstance into stride could have been commendable, if Benrey were not the subject. 

 

“Yo Feetman. Cause you uh, just had to take my thumb?  Can’t play games good anymore. Ruined my speedrun. Major bummer, bro.” Benrey was sitting on a throne of canned trash. Sodas were piled up to support his elbows as he slumped against the couch, legs spread wide on the coffee table. He had finally taken his tie off, hanging it up on his body armor on the arm of the sofa. 

 

“Not in the fucking mood. Shut up.” Gordon poured himself a glass of water and knocked it back as fast as he could, before his body caught up with the nausea.

 

Benrey’s nose twitched, “Y’stink. Thought a, uh, putrid smell suddenly wafted in here.”

 

“What is your problem, man?!” Gordon, now aware of how glistening he was in the lamplight, wiped the perspirant off his body. It sloughed onto the floor, like he had been in the rain.

 

“Why’s that? Why are you such a sweaty boy?” He asked this with a tinge of genuine concern. Must have been faking it, “You’re a sweaty boy aintcha? Nervous about somethin’? Did you steal again? Kill someone else?”

 

“Shut up, Benrey. I can’t be bothered right now.” Gordon grabbed a bottle of pepto and took a hefty gulp straight from the source, “How about you play a long round of shut the fuck up?”

 

“Kay.” He went back to playing video games without further protest. The sound effects were familiar. Benrey was playing Call of Juarez: The Cartel . Terrible game! He doesn’t even know how Benrey got his hands on that, he sure as hell didn’t own a copy.

 

His stomach was clawing for food, but breakfast couldn’t be anything substantial. Gordon’s hands were seizing from the cramps. He wasn’t even confident he could pour milk for his cereal. With the initial shock of Benrey gone, the symptoms were all he could think about. All consuming.

 

“Bro?” Benrey turned his head, “Why are you shaking? You nervous? Do you think it’s cool to destroy people’s passports? Is that why you’re nervous?”

 

“Please shut up.” Gordon grabbed a handful of dry Raisin Bran and chewed unsteadily.

 

Benrey sat in front of him, ass settling on the window sill. He moved so fast, so quietly that Gordon jumped back from the disturbing abruptness of his presence. The alien looked pleased by the sight of his fear, “Gonna uh, need some identification. Do you live here?”

 

“Please…” Gordon was on the verge of tears already. Benrey was only lightly harassing him, and yet it was so overwhelming. He knew what Benrey was capable of, and he knew he wasn’t strong enough to fight him off. There was no Science Team here. No guns to give him comfort.

 

“You’re crazy. You’re making no sense. Please what? Please Benrey kiss me? Ok.” Benrey pursed his lips and leaned in to smooch him on the cheek. 

 

Gordon slammed his fist on the table, tears streaming down his face as the anxiety bubbled over in his guts. He was a cornered rat, stuck in the snake cage. “Shut the fuck up, get out of here. Now.” 

 

His lips recoiled. Benrey blinked rather thoughtfully at him, as if he had some serious introspection to do… Gordon was down. Real down, and all he was doing was distressing the poor, sorry thing. So what was the best way to cheer him up? He got energized with some high octane action of course! As far as Benrey knew? Gordon loved fighting and killing and being argumentative! 

 

The available options were quite limited since his powers were at a critical low battery out of a hundred. Destroying the house was definitely out of the question, Gordon was super protective of everything! Benrey noted that he applied something to remove blood stains, which meant he didn’t want blood stains. So he’d have to kill Gordon over some wood to keep him from getting upset. Or get killed himself. Hmm… Or he could bludgeon him with something heavy? Or maybe he could make it a callback…

 

His eyes darted to the knife block.

 

Benrey’s legs noclipped through the window as he got himself in position, and he frog-jumped onto the kitchen counter. He skidded across the granite and knocked his helmet into the downdraft vent over the stove with a reverberating, metallic thud. Then, his spindly fingers caressed the edge of the block. And he gripped the biggest handle there. The meat cleaver . 

 

They locked eyes, Benrey smiling with vile, black gums on display, eyes beaming with glistening, inhuman glee. 

 

Gordon’s nails dug into the table, stripping a curling layer of laminate off as his heart thumped bloody terror. At the slightest movement of Benrey’s thigh, Gordon jumped out of his seat, letting the chair clatter to the ground and rushed for the hallway. Benrey vaulted over the countertop, “I’m going to fucking kill you! Hahaha! Broooo stop running! Why’re you running?”

 

“I’M SCARED OF YOU!” Gordon’s voice quaked with each desperate step. Nervous laughter filled the empty air in front of him. High pitched howls rang from behind, punctuated with Benrey swinging the kitchen knife around with reckless abandon. He tumbled into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, “BENREY WHAT THE FUCK?! AFTER I FUCKING FED YOU!?”

 

Benrey knocked between stifled giggles and blood red notes, “Come on broooo. You cut off my thumb I cut yours. Like good friends!”

 

“You’re going to kill me!” Gordon was laughing . What was wrong with him? He was terrified . The stress really had broken him. He was a chortling loon, leaking thick streaks of snot and fat tears as he stood with his back to his desk, groping for a weapon. 

 

“Yeah? And you already killed me. Lil game. You kill me, I kill you. Get even. Respawn. Repeat.”

 

“HUMANS DON’T RESPAWN!” Gordon wished he had his gun, wished he was back in that clunky HEV suit. Anything to have at least some form of protection.

 

Benrey’s face phased through the wooden door, and he blew a long, juvenile raspberry, “Gordon Fartman. Noobdon Scrubman needs to hide in spawn. Cringe. You, uh, play Engie in TF2 or something?”

 

“GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” Gordon grabbed a desk lamp and beamed Benrey across the face, sending him through the door. The bulb shattered on his skin, debris embedding into him and the carpet. The rim of the shade was dented, rendered irreparable. He stood for a few more seconds, waiting for any kind of response. Even a muffled, whiny little ‘oww’ from behind the door. 

 

Nothing.

 

He backed up against the opposite wall, dropping the lamp from his grasp and placing a hand over his heart. The laugh evolved from incredulous desperation to a whimper. The adrenaline began to subside, ebbing from his blood stream in tangled knots across his muscle.

 

Benrey was still absolutely a danger. Gordon curled up into a ball on his rug and sobbed quietly into his knees, hoping Benrey couldn’t hear him. The relentless teasing was almost as terrifying as the prospect of being hunted by him again. He texted G–Man, there was no way he could continue living like this. 

(You): Mr. Coolatta this is an emergency.

G-Man: What did your unwanted houseguest do?

(You): Chased me with a knife. 

G-Man: Have you established rules with the entity?

(You): He ignores me. Can you please lock him up anywhere else?

G-Man: Have you tried speaking in his terms? Mortality can be a less tangible concept for higher beings.

(You): The hell do you mean? He knows things can die. 

G-Man: He appears to have a deep misunderstanding of organic plights. Establishing a communication channel for these disagreements may serve you.

(You): Respectfully Mr. Coolatta, fuck off with that woke ass HR bullshit. He just tried to stab me. He had my hand cut off and hired some soldiers to kill me. 

G-Man: Very well. I leave further action up to your discretion.

Great. Useless . Gordon threw his phone across the room and shivered on the floor for a few hours in agony. This was supposed to be an opportunity to rest, to feel normal again. To be human after killing thousands of people and experiencing alien horrors he hadn’t evolved to handle. And now he was probably stuck with one of those aliens forever, the bane of his existence, his tormentor. He would never know normalcy. This was his life now! Forever! A total basket case, sobbing on his floor. Wasting away while Benrey loudly played Heavenly Sword in the living room, waiting to stab him. 

After a few hours, Benrey stuck his head in through the door and smacked his lips a few times, “Hey. Feetman. I clogged the uhhhh, shitter.” 

 

Gordon lifted his head up, strings of mucus and spit stubbornly clinging to the side of his face, “Wha–?”

 

“Man, look I–I took a fucked up and evil dump, okay? What do I do, bro?” This confession was accompanied by a stream of yellow and blue–green sweet voice. Was that funny? Benrey had a way with words, but he was so weak, so sick. There was nothing funny about being vulnerable in front of Benrey. 

 

“I hate you.”

 

“Try hating this.” Benrey vogued through the door, flashing glimpses of his boney hips and flat ass as he bent through the wall, “How do I fix the terlet ? Please and thank you?”

 

There was no winning, no peace unless he actually explained. Gordon snorted up as much mucus as he could and composed himself, “Use the plunger until it works. Thing’s next to the toilet. Semicircle first, grip the pole-“

 

“Hah. Pole grip.” Benrey pantomimed sliding down a strip pole, half phasing through the door, “Didn’t know you danced dirty, Gordo.” 

 

“Fuck you.” Gordon curled up on the ground and shivered, “I want you out of my goddamn room.”

 

“You look a bit shit.”

 

“I feel VERY shit. Fix my goddamn terlet–I mean, toilet. Fuck.” 

 

“Kay, thanks. Sorry about that by the way haha. Lil’ funny, right? Totally fucked up that john. Isn’t that, uh, embarrassing? Aren’t you mad?” Benrey was looking to elicit some kind of reaction. But it wasn’t coming. 

 

“Go away.” 

 

“Wanna knife fight?” Benrey tossed him a blade from the kitchen, gently enough so it didn’t land near him. It landed with a muffled thump on the rug, “Counter Strike: Global Offensive! Let’s get skins! Terrorists win!”

 

Gordon wasn’t quite looking himself, and even in Benrey’s general obliviousness, he could see that, “Bro?”

 

“Go. Away.” Gordon was really holding back the waterworks. A month in Black Mesa hell, and now this. There was no time to recover. 

 

Benrey passed through the wall and began hitting Gordon with streams of teal to green sweet voice. The orbs bombarded him like gooey golf balls. 

 

“Shut the fuck up please for the love of god.” He sobbed into his knees. There was no suppressing the stress anymore. Benrey was in his room. Gordon was curled up and vulnerable. The withdrawal had killed his spirit to live. The alien won. Maybe if he wasn’t going through withdrawal, there would have been hope for him. But there wasn’t. He looked up at Benrey’s piercing eyes. A merciless gaze met him, the shadow of his nostrils was framed by the glow of his bulbous eyes. At this angle, he could see each ommatidium.

 

Benrey unhinged his jaw. That was it. He was going to be eaten. The smell of sweet artificial raspberry filled the air as a swollen lump developed in Benrey’s sternum, pushing his chest out before rising up into his neck. His brows pressed together as he concentrated on letting out a truly massive royal blue ball of sweet voice, and doused Gordon’s whole head.

 

It impacted him like a wave of solid gelatin… and then Gordon felt calm. Not that the symptoms subsided, rather he had become more resilient against them. It was almost… acceptable. 

 

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

 

“Calm down. That’s all. Your favorite sweet voice. Delicious blue raspberry balls in mouth for you. Feel better?” Benrey flopped down on the rug in front of him, kicking his feet up and hitting his own ass with his heels. His pupils blew out to the size of PlayCoins™, looking for Gordon’s approval.

 

“I… yeah?” Gordon felt his face, wiping away the concoction of substances on him and smearing it on his sweatpants. He wanted to be mad, but something about the whiplash kept him from being so angry. Murderous intent to lovey–dovey ? Was this emotional manipulation? What kind of abuse was this? What kind of sick fucking joke was Benrey playing at here?

 

“Cool. Knife fight?” Benrey’s pupils dilated even more at the very idea of a knife fight. His eyes were all pupil, with a little halo of gold around them.

 

“NO! Do you understand what happens if I die?! I can’t come back!” Gordon sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees, staring at that fake hand. It was his fault he was stuck with someone else’s flesh. 

 

“Huh? Those are shitty game mechanics. What are you, a little child? Can’t even respawn?” Benrey squatted on the carpet and bawked at him like a hen, “Chicken hat Gordon can’t respawn?”

 

“If you won’t take me seriously get the fuck out. And I don’t want to see you again.”

 

“Should I fix the toglertte–“

 

“YES!” 

There was another nightmare plaguing him that night. But this time, Benrey was cocooning him in a sweet voice sack, a hungering drool at the corner of his maw. There was an amorous look on him, with how he stared with half–lidded eyes. It was an imitation of eroticism. Or maybe it was pitiful.

 

And then all Gordon could see was teal, hardening across his face. Surely, Benrey intended to kill him, by whatever means the sweet voice did. It was constricting, and the air was flooded with suffocating eucalyptus and mint, as if he had essential oils directly fed up his nostrils. The stench stung like fresh lye in his throat.

 

“Mmph!” Gordon tried to call his name, feeling the casing harden around him, locking him in position. He tried to scream instead, “Mmmm!”

 

“Silly, clumsy boy, aren’tcha? Took a lil’ spill there, didn’tcha? Gonna struggle? Struggle please? Put on a nice show?” Benrey released a few more notes of victorious sweet voice. He sat down on the prison of spit, weighing heavy on Gordon’s chest, “Gonna make a good snack haha.” 

 

It was humiliation. It was horror. It was the total destruction of Gordon’s base components. He banged at the cocoon as his skin was rendered into mush. Excruciating convulsions overtook his bubbling muscles as he felt himself deliquesce in the sack. As if it were as real as fetid bullsquid spit. His nails scraped off of his fingers as he clawed to escape, only one hand to spare. When all had been reduced to a viscera stew, the chrysalis was cut open by one of Benrey’s sickle claws.

 

He pulled Gordon out of the new womb as a skeleton, drenched in the offal that was once him. Benrey pressed his lips against the flat face of his clenched jaw, running his talons down his vertebrae and fingering the transverse processes. Wedding bells chimed over Gordon’s casket. The smell of sweet vanilla orchids settled in the air as he pressed his forehead into Benrey’s helmet. They shared a few notes of sweet voice together and swung around in each other’s arms. Gordon clung to his chest for the eldritch waltz, sharing in his joyous chortle. The monster leaned into his temporal bone, smacking his wetted lips as he gasped in anticipation for a sentence. And Gordon shot up from bed with a hideous wail.

 

Sour sweat drenched every inch of his body, and the aches were abominable. Another sleepless night was nothing, Gordon had faced worse, and he would face it again. Maybe Tommy was playing TF2... Yeah. That’d be good.

Chapter 5: Dr. Freeman and Benrey's Couch PVP

Summary:

Gordon cooked Benrey a chicken parm and spat in it. Benrey kicks his ass in Soul Calibur IV, a game he has over 1,000 hours in. Bro time ensues.

There's a Benrey foot reveal teaser somewhere in there.

Notes:

i almost lost a friendship over this stupid fart and foot joke chapter. i hope you guys appreciate lowbrow middle school humor half as much as i do because i suffered for it. (we kissed and made up)

if you dont like gross humor you can totally skip this chapter without missing much, cause it doesnt do anything except establish a budding frenemy relationship between these two. i thought a break from heavy angst was deserved after the last chapter. this is the comedic chaser to that. your tonal whiplash.

TW: if you had a dogshit older brother or a really sucky boyfriend who did this kind of annoying shit

i promise next chapter will have more substance to it than haha benrey did the funnie butt thing. we're weeding out the weak with this shitass chapter <3

if you hated this chapter, let me know. if you thought it was funny, also let me know. requests, wishes for the fic, thoughts, feelings, and scathing criticism are always welcome in the comments.

Gordon let Benrey swindle him into playing Soul Calibur IV. This was a mistake. He was kicking Gordon’s ass every way, somehow having memorized all these stupid combos on each character in the roster. It was a pretty frustrating experience, as if there was no way to get an upper hand. Benrey was a bonafide Soul Calibur champion (especially with Cervantes, his ‘main’), and there was no doubt in Gordon’s mind that he could compete in a professional tournament. 

 

Probably could compete with the body odor at the convention too. Benrey stank straight up like garbage. He was showering everyday, and he had a respectable hygiene routine. In fact he used up all the hot water before Gordon could even get his ass in the bathroom. It was just that the alien insisted on wearing the same goddamn uniform without laundering it. His skin smelled as fresh as a cat’s flank musk (only real ones who have lost themselves buried in the side of a cat will understand this), but his clothes? Doused in cheap cologne and Axe to cover up accumulated BO.

 

“What’re you doing, Feetman? Are you even trying? Come on. Why won’t you get up? Why’re you stuck on the floor? Get up, idiot. Lol.” Benrey combo’d him onto the ground, and Gordon’s character couldn’t get up. It was absolutely miserable. He mashed every button he could, but Nightmare could not stand, and Benrey got the final hit. That little shit threw his controller up and caught it midair, “Kill streak!”

 

Benrey soaked in his victory, pure bliss and mid–morning sunshine on his face. It was kind of sickening for Gordon to look at. He got to live his best life. Eating his food, playing video games all day, clogging his toilet, using his body wash, his toothpaste, his shower, sleeping on his couch. He had nothing to worry about, like a cat. And Gordon was sitting here suffering, and he couldn’t even get a win in a fucking video game. Not even a pity victory. 

 

“Dude, how many hours do you have on this? Don’t you have a life?” Gordon watched him sink into the couch with a content little smile on his face, his slight overbite visible through the teeth jabbing into his chin. He seemed to be having the time of his life. Gordon hardly remembered Benrey ever smiling during the Resonance Cascade. “Wait, of course you don’t. You play Soul Calibur IV still.” 

 

“Uh, how long is a month?” Benrey ignored Gordon’s insults as effortlessly as ever. His leg jerked back, bringing his foot up to the underside of his neck with inhuman flexibility for a scratch. Probably so that he could keep his hands on the controller. Gordon could hear his hip joint pop and dislocate as he did this, and then his tibia clicked right back into place. That wasn’t something he thought he could ever get used to. 

 

“Fuck, dude.” Directed towards both the month comment, and that god awful wet bone pop.

 

“Gordon Suckman. Gordon Loserman . Was your job taking L’s at the uh, L factory? Idiot?” 

 

“I’ll show you what a goddamn L is you… you… bitch!?” Gordon dropped the ball on that one. His face was red, and his grip on his controller fastened. His building rage was only compounded by the fact that he had just dropped such an impotent slight.

 

“Nice insult, Boredom Semen.” 

 

“Did you just… Oh you’re in for it now… Henrey . Wait, fuck. I meant like… a chicken? Like a hen?” 

 

“L-O-L, take both of those L’s and an O for owned as a treat, Doctor L-mannnnnn,” Benrey drew out that last syllable as if it contained his last breath. 

 

Gordon wasn’t going to lose again. He picked Voldo this time, and gritted his teeth. Voldo was the type of character Gordon found to be detestable, and he groaned whenever Benrey played him. But now it was time to win. Benrey was getting cocky. Cocky enough to pick Seong Mi-na. Gordon had a chance now. He was playing a top tier character, and Benrey? At the very bottom. Was this a handicap in Gordon’s favor? Absolutely. Plus, Benrey was also down one thumb. He couldn’t be given any more bragging rights.

 

And Gordon was winning. Seong Mi-na had some dogshit recovery, which meant that she was especially susceptible to Voldo’s freaky, weirdly tantric combos. Benrey was starting to actually worry about losing. 

 

“Oh, what’s wrong Benrey? What’s the matter? Why won’t you get up? Stand up, Benrey! Stand up!” He button mashed and cackled like a goblin. Benrey was really bringing out the worst, most immature side of himself. 

 

“Nuh uh! I win!” Benrey shoulder checked Gordon, and pushed up onto him, smacking his face with his big, stupid helmet. 

 

“Ow, fuck man! You dick!” 

 

“Sucks to suck, Lameman!” 

 

Gordon pushed back into him, pressing his full weight on the significantly smaller alien. At this point Gordon didn’t care about Soul Calibur. He was fighting for his life now. Voldo could fend for him–fucking–self. Benrey wormed his ass up onto Gordon’s lap and tossed himself across his thighs, blowing a raspberry right in his face. His spit was laced with a playful blood colored sweet voice. 

 

“Oh? Oh who is losing now, Mister Smart Doctor? Pbbbbbfft.” His foot made its way into Gordon’s cheek, and a little bit of sock touched his teeth. Revolting .

 

“It would be easier if you didn’t smell like that Axe shit!” Gordon kicked him off and onto the floor, hitting his back against the coffee table. Benrey lost his grip on the controller, which let Gordon finish his character off and win the fight, “Hah! Suck it, Benrey!” 

 

“Soul Calibur IRL let’s fucking rip!” Benrey tackled him down, and started squishing his claws all over his face. Oh god, who knows where those hands have been. He was drawing beads of blood from his lack of care with his soft human skin, but Gordon didn’t even notice . Rather, he was pleading, praying to any higher power that may be that Benrey washed his hands. He’d been eating a whole pack of nacho cheese chips before this, and he could smell the preservatives from this proximity to his claws and feel the sticky saliva from his subsequent sucking of the cheese dust. “You’re really gonna uh, get it now!” 

 

“Asshole! Benrey what the hell? Get your greasy Dorito ass fingers off my goddamn face!” Gordon kicked him off, and Benrey’s eyes lit up. He threw himself back and poised his feet up, anime waifu socks at the ready, and interlocked them with Gordon’s bare toes. They kicked at each other, Benrey wheezing with little giggles.

 

“Woah, Gordon Feetman’s stinkin’ ass man feet are touching my uh, alpha gamer legs? Gonna get some fucked up fungies!” Gordon was fighting for his goddamn life, and Benrey had the audacity to play footsie with him!? While wearing anime waifu socks?! He got kicked in the dick, and that only made Gordon more nervous, more pissed. A wheezing, pained laugh escaped him, and he knocked his foot right back into Benrey’s groin… And hurt himself on his codpiece. He was still wearing his codpiece from Black Mesa . With a yelp, Gordon retracted his injured limb and deployed the other one for defense.

 

And WHY did Benrey have three toes? He could feel them trying and failing to interlock with Gordon’s as he fought back, and they were thick and gross and AGH ! Why was he humoring him? Benrey wasn’t his brother, and he sure as shit wasn’t like a brother to him. He shot up and grabbed him by the gamer pads .

 

“Enough.” Gordon gave them a hard squeeze, and Benrey ceased. 

 

“Gordo is a sore loser? Mad you were losing footsie, weren’tcha?” Benrey curled his toes and ohhh no they were opposable . They were opposable toes . Ohhh god , it was like holding hands with a bonobo. A shot of ick traveled down Gordon’s spine. 

 

“Dude, your socks are reprehensibly sexist you… you fucking coomer! Not like Dr. Coomer but like, you’re an anime girl addict, man. It’s gross!”

 

“No? I don’t like women that way, bro. I’m like, gay and stuff. I’m just repping my gang colors.” Benrey flashed some ‘gang sign’, which was just his hands interlocked in a sixty-nine, “Nice.”

 

“ Anime girl in a spaghetti string bikini is not a gang color and you know it.” Gordon loomed his head between Benrey’s feet, still gorilla–gripping them like his life depended on it. Benrey let out a burst of amused orange and pink sweet voice, seeing his strained, constipated looking face framed by his hotted breasted certified big tits woman anime knee socks. 

 

Benrey pulled out his phone, sent a text, and immediately received three pings. He flashed his cracked phone screen to him. Of course it was cracked to shit, and of course he had no phone case.

 

Tommy, Dr. Coomer, and Bubby were all wearing anime girl bikini socks. Of course they were. Of course they were! Did Benrey even ever watch any anime? Probably not! He probably just saw hotted boobs and bought them! Did Mr. Coolatta really let his son walk out of the house with those things on?

 

“I despise you.” Gordon leaned forwards, gritting his teeth as he spat through them. He loomed over Benrey’s smug little face, not caring about how compromising their position was. Gordon was straight up suspended between Benrey’s legs, pulling them towards the alien’s chest.

 

“Uhm, ok Feetman, holding onto my toesie–woesies for a little too long, what you wanna suck ‘em now?” Benrey made a short ‘pbbft’ noise with his tongue, almost tickling Gordon’s nose. 

 

“Benrey I fucking HATE you. You couldn’t quantify it if it were written on every quark of every nucleon in this universe, no! It would not amount to one septillionth of the loathing I have for you.” Vitriolic spittle from his spirited words washed down on Benrey’s face, and he didn’t so much as flinch. Rather, his pupils dilated.

 

“Yo, I got that kind of staying power with you? Kind of epic, bro. Still holding onto my soles though. So, you like feet and your argument is uhm, sucks me long and hard through my khakis.” Benrey wriggled the toes that Gordon was now hyper–aware of. Welp. He had a point.

 

Gordon let go and sat back down, utterly defeated. Benrey was right. He didn’t drop the feet. He lost by default, “Whatever, man. What do you wanna play?” 

 

“Rematch?” Benrey popped open a tab of Ramune and handed it to Gordon before jabbing his own marble soda open with a quick stab of a claw. Noting that he had scratched Gordon across the face, he smirked. It was enough to draw beads of blood, and not enough to spill on the couch. That meant he wasn’t in trouble. 

 

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Gordon pressed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose, and Benrey was glued to the motion. Gordon’s cheap little nerdy ass rectangle glasses were hot, and that little adjustment sent him spiraling. That and how it smeared the drying blood across his cheeks. He lost the next game. And Benrey couldn’t even be mad that Gordon defeated him in his distracted state. He got to watch Gordon Freeman adjust his glasses with a swift flick of his index finger, he was the real winner here.

 

Like all the greatest minds in warfare, Benrey still had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. There was one he’d been fantasizing about trying out, waiting for the perfect opportunity to use his dirty tricks. They began setting up the next match, where Gordon picked Cervantes, while Benrey went with Maxi. The match was starting out in Gordon’s favor this time around. Mostly because Benrey was thinking about how funny this was going to be. “Hey Gordon,” he held back his snickering, trying to deadpan as best he could.

 

“Huh?” He swiveled his neck to meet Benrey, eye to eye. It looked like he was eager to say something, a sort of desperation in his fac–

 

Benrey leaned over and farted with conviction like the nasty bastard he was. After an unexpected extra volley, he settled back on the couch, completely satisfied with his comedic musings, “Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk.”

 

Gordon had pulled similar stunts himself to torment his sister. When he was thirteen . “Dude, come on, really?” He wasn’t in the mood to figure out what the inside of an alien’s colon smelled like, so he scooted to the other arm of the couch and covered his nose with his shirt. Fuck, it was hard to concentrate on the fight. Benrey got a quick kill on him, and was barely containing his giggles. With a sardonic tang, Gordon bit back, “Yeah, ha ha ha, you uncorked some ass. Congratulations, Benrey. You saved comedy.”

 

“You are welcome!” He was so, so proud of himself for that one. Of course Gordon couldn’t have a cool alien as his roommate. Noooo , not an alien scientist who could hold an intellectual conversation with him. It had to be the alien who thought the height of comedy was dicks and farts! Just Gordon’s luck, really.

 

Weird. Gordon wasn’t actually scared of him right about now. He was just annoyed. Not even a little bit terrified after getting his face lightly clawed up and kicked in the dick. A healthy fear of Benrey should have been present where apathy laid bare. But after long enough living with this loser, he just sort of… didn’t really give a shit. This entity was a terrifying enigma when his behavioral patterns had yet to be mapped, and with nothing but exposure, Gordon had figured him all out. Benrey was just some annoying roommate. Some lame ass, revolting dudebro.

 

“Hey Feetman?” Benrey asked after he won the match. He couldn’t stifle his laughter this time, “Feetman?” 

 

“I can’t stop you, can I?” Gordon buried his face in his hands. The lack of calluses on the new palm was a grim reminder of what Benrey was fully capable of. When Benrey didn’t reply, he broke the silence, “Go on.”

 

“Pull my finger.” Benrey held a digit out to Gordon, one leg sprawling on the couch and the other knocking down the cans of Mountain Dew stacked on the table.

 

“You’re kidding me. Are you five?”

 

“Pull my finger please and thank you.” Benrey nodded, and gestured to his outstretched hand for emphasis.

 

He rolled his eyes. If he knew anything about that persistent ass alien, he was going to ask this until Gordon complied. And so, without even looking, he went to fulfill this juvenile request when… 

 

Benrey grabbed his hand and interlocked fingers, smiling all coy and a little flustered, “Oh, oh gorsh, Feetman. H*nd h*lding? Before marriage?” 

 

Gordon was… actually taken aback. Benrey had been playing a whole different game. A bait and switch was something Gordon considered above Benrey. Touche. He was kind of at a loss for what to do. The touch was tender in a disquieting way. 

 

Because Benrey was happily holding Gordon’s fake hand.

 

The hand that was there just to replace the one that was truly his, that Benrey had cut off. And Benrey’s left hand? It was fine. He still had both hands. Down a thumb, and perfectly content. 

 

And Gordon fucking hated him for it.

 

After a few moments of stunlock, Gordon came to his senses, “Benrey, why are you holding my hand?” 

 

“Uh, bros can’t hold hands now while playing PS3? Maybe I uh, wouldn’t have to uh, hold your hand if you got me PS Plus Premium. Thank you.” Benrey took a swig of his drink and exhaled contentedly. He wasn’t letting go. He leaned back and nestled into the couch cushions. His cold fingers applied intermittent pressure, soaking up Gordon’s mammalian heat. “Wanna kiss?” 

 

“Hell no.” Gordon tried to pull his hand away, but Benrey had a vice grip on him. It didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t worm his way out no matter how he struggled, “Dude, come on this isn’t cool.” 

 

“Hey Feetman?” He asked with this air of innocence to him, his voice was meek, somewhat awkward. It was a cute little voice, as if he was about to ask his first crush out. His pupils were fixated on the carpet as he fidgeted with a sort of nervous shimmy.

 

“Benrey?” Gordon gritted his teeth. Sure, Benrey was doing a cutesy little voice… But he had trapped Gordon. He was giving him no avenue for escape other than to face the music.

 

Benrey leaned over and honked out yet another fart. Then he howled with laughter. This was so funny to him in fact, that he doubled over and fell off of the couch as Gordon pouted. He gave Benrey a light kick for good measure. Not hard enough to incite another fight, but it definitely knocked some wind out of the alien. He wanted to scream, to yell. But he was too exhausted. 

 

What the fuck was he expecting? An earnest conversation?

Chapter 6: Dr. Freeman's Medical Misadventure

Summary:

an epic visit from g-man's cool doctors awaits the protagonists. benrey gets distracted by gordon's tits and gets whacked with the horny stick.

Notes:

benrey likes his men as a combination bear hunk. a bunk, if you will. i will not be taking questions at this time.

TW: medical references, fat shaming, dehumanization, violence, and gore at the end of the chapter.

warning: i might disappear at random points in the future due to the looming threats of eviction, death, and general malaise because world economy in shambles and my job pay peanus n penny :( im starving.

there's considerably less gross humor than last chapter, and this one is actually relevant rather than being a vehicle for me to tell immature jokes and torture foot guy with the most annoying mfer in the universe... ouuuuuugh benrey!!! i hate tat pest. wish he wasn't in this story! he is giving me pstd.

 

any critiques, questions, etc. etc., feel free to pop a comment down! and if you enjoyed another fic today already, please go back and tell the author how much you appreciated their work.

For the past few days, the G-Man had become a lot less hands on than he had been before. But Gordon knew he was still under some sort of observation. Was he supposed to send progress reports? He had no idea. He had initially started by writing G-Man the occasional message, reporting on what Benrey had done that day. But after not receiving a response for a week, he stopped doing that, and G-Man never asked for updates, nor told Gordon precisely what he was looking for in Benrey’s behavior. He was completely unhelpful.

 

Saturday morning, he woke up to a message on his phone from Mr. Coolatta. He changed that creepy background with a nice image he took a few years prior of himself and Joshua as a toddler on a farm, pointing at a pony. That beautiful moment was put into one hell of a juxtaposition with a text message from the G-Man.

 

G-Man: Expect visitors today at noon. I have sent medical professionals to check your vitals, perform tests on you, and take samples. Do as they say. 

(You): Should I be anticipating a prostate exam, or just a general practitioner’s visit?

G-Man: It will be a full medical examination.

(You): Please give me a list of tests I should anticipate. 

G-Man: I think not. You will do as they say.

(You): Got it. May I ask why?

G-Man: That is confidential.

(You): 👍

 

Humans had about 44,000 radioactive disintegrations per second, and after taking a trip to Xen, even in the HEV suit, he was worried that number had potentially multiplied into the billions. Maybe more. The HEV suit provided exceptional protection against high–speed particles and the anomalous materials of Xen, but there was not a suit made by man that could ensure complete resistance. It had only just occurred to him that he and Benrey should have been put into quarantine, and their radiation levels checked. 

 

Oh god, he was going to die like this, wasn’t he? Covered in tumors, the lining of his gut sloughing off into his intestines, skin melting from his body, losing fluids at unstoppable, un-replenishable rates. Gordon knew what happened when you got hit with enough gamma rays; the worst death imaginable. It was feeling your muscles slip off your bones like a succulent prime rib and the reeling pain of failing organs. Sure, it had been a few weeks, and his skin hadn’t started to peel off yet, but it could still happen! He got himself a glass of cold water from the fridge for the nerves, hearing Benrey’s game chiming in the background. 

 

“Yo Feetman, what’s for brekky–wekky?” Benrey glugged a can of Bang as Gordon chugged to join in on the fun, thinking it a silly little game. As he finished, he crushed the aluminum in his hand and beamed it into the sink, “You slept in bad. Fucked up breakfast already.” 

 

“Shut up Benrey. You can eat some fruit today, I’m not cooking.” He collapsed at the island and yawned so wide it hurt his jaw. The withdrawal clenching and yawning was a pain in the ass. It hurt like hell.

 

Benrey groaned with indignation, melting into the couch. He was so hungry! How could Gordon be so cruel? He was only thinking about himself, and not how hungry and dying Benrey was! He glared at Gordon and crossed his arms with a little huff, “That’s a bummer, bro. Uh, maybe you should stop feeling that way? Have you considered that? Ya fucked up. That’s why you’re in pain.” 

 

Gordon sat at the island to try and soothe his migraine, “I hate you so much. I swear to god if you make ano-”

 

“WAGHNYEHBLEHGYARWAAAGH!” Benrey snarled and snorted, peaking the hypothetical mic he was using. 

 

He covered his ears and balled his thumbs against his ailing forehead. Waves of stabbing pain gripped his frontal lobe, and for what? To what end did Benrey want to take this to? “Agh! You son of a bitch that hurts!” 

 

“Well, uh, you cut off my finger.” Benrey blew a raspberry and turned the TV volume up. Just to menace him.

 

“You tried to kill me!” Gordon was going to have a conniption. He knew all Benrey was doing was trying to get a rise out of him like the dangerous pest he was.

 

“And you tried to kill me. And you succeeded. So,” he was playing Final Fantasy XIII, and took a pause so he could concentrate on finishing his sentence through the deafening music. That relieved quite a bit of Gordon’s grief, until Benrey continued yapping, “S’only fair, man. We gotta get even.” 

 

“We have a doctor’s appointment today. No chance in hell!” 

 

Benrey froze in place, and then slowly turned his head to meet Gordon’s face, “Um… Dr. Mario doctors? Or Dr. Freeman doctors?” 

 

“Dr. Mario. Medical professionals. You have to give blood.” Gordon stared at his wrist, and wiped some of the sweat off his body. Maybe these doctors had something for his addiction? The withdrawal symptoms were still hitting him hard. He needed a hit so bad, and he knew he couldn’t give up. If he let it win, he might not ever see his son again. Gordon had to win.

 

“Ughhhh not this again! Fuck!” He buried his face in his hands and kicked his legs into the table, “Noooo–uhhh. This sucks major bad!” 

 

“Well, sucks to be you. Get used to it because something tells me it's going to be a regular occurrence for us.” Gordon stood up to have a look at his breakfast options. But a cursory glance left him too revolted to think about it. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“We’re employees. He wants us in good shape. Why else would he send people over?” Gordon leaned against the fridge, crossing his arms. The fridge’s cold face felt good against his sweat-laden torso, so there was one good quality to that stupid orange thing, “Why are you so worried?” 

 

“Uh, they major suck harder than your mom, duh? Popsicle sticks? Horse pills? Butt thermometers? Cold, steel tables? Pizza cutters? Statoliths?” Statoliths ? What was a statolith?

 

“Stethoscopes, Benrey.” Gordon groaned after he finally pieced together what he was trying to say, “It’s just a minor annoyance. Don’t cause any problems. Mr. Coolatta might give us both hell and then I'll never be able to cook for you again.” 

 

“I bet the uh, doctor was really unhappy to see you every time you went. Bet he always gave you the dirty bill of unhealth.” Benrey crawled over the couch to get into a more intimate menacing distance, sitting across from Gordon. He was always leaking anxious sweat, so Benrey got a nice whiff of that fearful musk. 

 

“My GP always told me to lose some weight,” Gordon grabbed his belly fat and stared down with considerable chagrin. He wasn’t what he used to be. He would be walking around with a shirt if he wasn’t so sweaty. Giving Benrey an intimate view of his body was making him an easy target. What lower hanging fruit is there than fatness? Everyone he knew had made a concerned comment or two before, and none more than his ex, “My ex-wife said I stress ate a lot during my graduate and doctorate crunches. I blew up after undergrad.” 

 

“Ex–wife?” Benrey’s eyes were glued to his abdomen. Nice. He had that chubby, muscular man build. Where he was strong but had this loose layer of adipose on him. Benrey was near drooling just looking at that light crease at the obliques, his slight love handles, and the a pattern of dulled, snaking stretch marks at the belly that had scarred years ago. Even the loose skin at the bottom of his paunch from the rapid weight loss wasn’t a half bad sight. 

 

Benrey likey. Benrey likey a lot. That was a successful hunter. A healthy appetite survived the torpor days. It must have felt nice to be pressed into him, and to feel the heat of his core radiate through his skin. He’d have ravished the opportunity to bask on him like a lizard on a sunbaked rock. Benrey had always known his proclivities towards men, but the first time he saw bare ass in the showers at Black Mesa as he was trying to learn how to use a belt buckle? No one had his eye more than this strapping young man with a prodigious belly and muscles that bulged from his arms like they were desperate to pop out and bench a motorcycle. It was undeniable; Benrey was a bonafide bear aficionado. Gordon’s body wasn’t apparent to him in the HEV suit, but he would have taken him even as a twink. This was just a delicious dollop of whipped cream on the Gordon sundae!

 

While Benrey was lost in thinking about how hot the divorcee dad bod was, Gordon cleared his throat with a dry harumph. He definitely noticed Benrey staring, though his interpretation was much less charitable, “I have a son? You think I just made that on my own?”

 

“You must’ve been such a fail husband. You’re so uh, mean and angry. People are scared of you.” Benrey frowned, and this somehow accentuated that fake dimple on the side of his lip that was always a little too deep to be a naturalized human feature. There was just always something slightly uncanny about Benrey, in very special little ways. Even his intonation, with utter disinterest–no, disconnect–of the topic at hand. He was lackadaisical and cruel in a way that a healthy human mind couldn’t be.

 

Meanwhile, Benrey was just thinking about how poor Gordon must’ve sucked at being a husband if they took his wife in the divorce. He didn’t understand marriage, and just assumed a government entity took his woman away from him after improperly caring for her. Like a Tomogatchi. (Author’s Note: Benrey says ‘sorry women’ eventually.)

 

And this divorce was an evident sore spot. As much as a gaping wound can be called a ‘sore spot’, at least. Gordon wasn’t exactly a tempered man. There were plenty of screaming matches in his marriage. Benrey had inadvertently struck him where it hurt the most, “What the fuck would you know about that?! You’re fucking single, you’ve probably never loved anyone, and guess what? Nobody loves you , so FUCK OFF with that shit.” 

 

“Loser fail husband.” His lash-less eyes fluttered, and his shit-eating little gayass smirk creased a flap of loose skin under his eye. 

 

Gordon noted how Benrey didn’t bring attention to the fact that he was fat… yet . It must have been something he was planning on using later. He didn’t trust that son of a bitch one bit, “I ought to fucking hunt you for sport but you aren’t worth the trophy.”

 

“Don’t doubt you hunt. You look it… Do you hunt?” Benrey shrugged the threats and insults off. He was pretty good at that. Everything Gordon said sort of rolled off his back, because Benrey didn’t really care about threats. What would an immortal have to realistically fear? Rather, he was far more interested in Gordon’s hunting prowess. As sophisticated of an intelligence as Benrey was, he was still beholden to some eldritch instincts. He’d want to be mates with a creature at least capable of feeding himself.

 

“What kind of a dig is that?” Gordon bared his teeth at him, and Benrey could see his adorable little blunt canines. Benrey was forced to think of the damage those things could do. How cute they were to Benrey. It was the fact that Gordon thought he could bite him with those.

 

Benrey tilted his head in a show of confidence in his extradimensional superiority, “Real talk. Do you hunt?”

 

It was a question that made Gordon think. Hunting was one of his favorite hobbies, actually. His pops took him out hog hunting from a young age, and then shooting ducks out of midair, bucks, does, pheasants—Any animal that was edible and abundant. Not that killing an animal made him feel powerful or complete like some other hunters who were buck-wild about antlers and size. It was about the food for the Freemans. When you take that animal’s life yourself, cut its throat with your own knife to bleed it out, you get closer to it. Killing and eating an animal was a sacred ritual. You show that animal respect that way, using every last calorie you can get out of it. Entropy wins, and the Freeman family eats. 

 

There was a terse silence, “Yes.” 

 

“Whoa. Nice. You must be a great hunter.” Benrey blew out a little pink ball of sweet voice. Gordon stared at it, trying to figure out what he meant. Was this a joke about his weight? A genuine compliment? Benrey blushed, and plucked it out of the air, coming up with the quickest excuse he could think of, “Huh. Pink like meat, I smell feet.” 

 

“NO! You smell like feet!” Benrey smiled while Gordon shoved his finger in his face, just wishing he heard how ridiculous he sounded, “I hate you! I wish I could gut you like a fucking pig!” 

 

As Gordon’s spit flung into his face, he snapped his teeth at him, eliciting a chihuahua-like yelp out of Gordon as he withdrew his hand, “P–Put your finger near my mouth. I distribute coins. Do it. Put it near my mouth. It’s the most amount of fun you can possibly have–” 

 

“You son of a bitch! You could have bitten my finger off you fucking maniac!” Gordon’s jaw was damn near unhinging with how hard he was pitching this fit. Spittle flew in Benrey’s face as he got a long whiff of Gordon’s sour morning breath, which was an aroma he found appetizing enough to savor and imagine the taste of. 

 

“I think you should calm down. Why aren’t you calm?” Benrey blew raspberry blue at him, filling his mouth with calming balls as he hacked and gagged.

 

God. He really lived like this. 

The doctors came at noon. Sharp . Deliberate body language and uncanny punctuality put them right at home with their employer. They marched in as Gordon opened the door. Animals didn’t have perfect gaits. Their movements were far from seamless, in fact, they shifted with a subtle, inorganic stiffness. Every action was performed as efficiently and quickly as possible. 

 

There were two sets of doctors, both with color coordinated materials. Orange taped vials, IVs, Geiger counters, handheld X-rays. It was an astonishing array. Some of them were wholly unfamiliar to Gordon. All of the instruments looked relatively painless in spite of their obtuse alien nature, aside from the biohazard case containing the tools needed to take blood.

 

Benrey’s equipment was black and hefty in contrast to Gordon’s. They were reinforced . And the two doctors that flanked his sides were equipped with a belt of toddler toys, jars of foul smelling peanut-buttery junk, and an electric cattle prod device that had a sharp prong at the end (and a several pound battery hanging off its side). Benrey bared his teeth at them, but dared not make a move. Multiple eyes clustered together at the shadow of his helm, watching the weapons with intense anticipation. This song and dance was known to him, and it was an unwilling tango. 

 

The doctors were all women, only going by the body shape of their high–visibility hazmat suits (Haz–suits? That was never a good sign, was it?). They were all of equal height. He couldn’t see their faces behind their dark masks, but he presumed they were all quadruplets judging by how similar their voices were. It was that same cadence that the G–Man had, though slightly more erratic. They were in a rush; G–Man had all of time to take. They had quite the attractive tone to them in spite of this. Gordon reckoned they sounded like transatlantic TV nurses, the kind of women that would’ve been on an episode of The Twilight Zone. Dissonance, that was the word of the day.

 

“Dr. Freeman, I presume?” One of Gordon’s doctors dropped a scale down on the floor with an unceremonious thud, and the other shoved him on. 220. Ah, shit. Another took measuring tape from the bottom of his foot to the top of his head. 74 inches.

 

“Uh, yeah?” Gordon sucked in his stomach a little bit, hoping it would call less attention to the dad gut. He knew how things worked with doctor’s. Back pain? Lose weight. Apnea? Lose weight. Insomnia? The insomnia he has had since he was skinny? Lose weight. 

 

“You’re a bit overweight. You’re going to want to lose thirty pounds at a minimum. Cut down on the refined sugars and unnecessary fats. Just try to get below two hundred pounds for now. You should get down to one-eighty eventually. He wants you to have low body fat, high muscle.” She began to take measurements across his body. His stomach, his chest. His biceps, forearms, wrists, fingers, thighs, calves, feet! Even his head. “You’re still almost acceptable. Don’t make a habit of getting fatter. You can’t afford it.”

 

“Might I ask what this is for?” This was worse than his typical trip to the general practitioner. Why the hell did G-Man need him slimmed down for? He sure as hell wasn’t a show pony. The anxious sweat was starting to mix with the withdrawal sweat as it drenched his shirt. The nausea was not helped by him sucking his stomach in and being touched across his body like a lab specimen. It only revolted him to his own form even more.

 

“Dr. Freeman, I’m going to need you to open your mouth for a dental exam.” Gordon obeyed her command, and left his mouth wide. His gaze turned to Benrey, to see what he was going through. Surely it was just as fun. He was going to take any opportunity to watch Benrey suffer.

 

“Wait, can I see Gordon’s teefies?” Benrey was lined up right alongside him. One of the toddler’s toys was in his jaws. And Gordon realized that these weren’t for toddlers , these were the kinds of toys you gave to massive dogs. Highly reinforced to deal with tremendous bites. He was gripping with one mouth, and another emerged right above it, still babbling as they took measurements.

 

“One-ten.” She tapped the electronic scale to be sure it was right. It was. The number had to be jotted onto her clipboard.

 

“What’s the target weight of the specimen’s minimum size?” The other took out the dog toy and shined a flashlight into his mouth, cattle prod held up to his face to ensure he knew what she could do to him. 

 

“It just says variable ,” said as if this were unwarranted. Looks like G-Man didn’t brief his contractors. 

 

“Looks thin.” An astute observation. She brought a measuring tape around his waist, eliciting a growl that tapered when a second cattle prod was flashed, “Twenty–six inches at the cinch. Did we get a body fat percentage from the scale?” 

 

“It couldn’t identify adipose from the entity. We need a tissue sample to check against known body fat indices. Ask the supervisor.” She took a scalpel and flayed a small amount of tissue out of Benrey’s arm. 

 

He blew out balls of blue to green and snapped his jaws at one of their hands as they reached for his face. Benrey narrowly missed her, and that would have been a severed hand, had he been successful. She gasped, and her sister pushed her back with one hand and jabbed with the cattle prod.

 

He was promptly administered an electric shock. With a violent convulsion, he jerked back and screeched. What an utterly inhuman sound. A snout formed out of his face by reflex, painful contortions of teeth furled out in spirals of rosy grey flesh that melted back into his neck. He clawed at himself with hands that multiplied in boiling, hideous hordes of fingers across his skin, and in the valleys of webbing between them, crimson tentacles sprouted. They whipped across his body in jagged jerks to pitifully shield his tender flesh against the shock. For agonizing seconds they left the prod on his skin. Just letting him scream and writhe where he stood, exploding out with fangs and limbs. When he was finally released he fell to the ground, gripping his skin as the pain subsided and his human form returned, “I’m good Benrey! I’m good Benrey! No more!” 

 

Gordon could only stare at the brutality. That was… terrible. What voltage was that? Gordon had shot him in the face to no reaction at all. What kind of pain were they inflicting on him? What agony could break a creature that was impervious to bullets?

 

“Hmm.” The doctor paused as her colleague kept waving the cattle prod, and without consulting any device, she responded, “One–fifty should do.” 

 

“That’s your target weight, Mr. Benrey. Nutrition will be informed by tissue and blood samples. At this point, though, you just need to gain weight.” They seemed pleased with his submissive stance. His head was hung low, and he kept his hands flat on his thighs. He looked up at them with saucer pupils and whimpered like a kicked puppy.

 

“I don’t talk to um, people who act like I’m not in the room.” Benrey jolted with a sharp yelp as he was stabbed with a needle, and his rich blood was siphoned into a thick glass vial. Much thicker than what contained Gordon’s blood. Was there something inherently volatile about it? Or was it that much more precious?

 

“You’re missing a thumb.” One of them gripped his wrist and took a closer look as the other began jotting down the observation.

 

“Yeah cause that asshole Gordon Freemasonman uh, hatched a conspiracy to um… cut my thumb off. He’s a little bitch. He smells bad, too.” Benrey blew a raspberry, and a toy lathered in peanut butter(?) was stuffed into his mouth. He chewed on it, disgruntled but too enraptured by the flavor of the paste to protest. 

 

“Dr. Freeman, we ask you to not maim your cohabitor.” Nonchalant. Like it didn’t even matter! He maimed Benrey and it was being treated like a nonissue. Was he the only sane person in the world?

 

“He had my hand cut off!” A vein bulged on his forehead as he clenched his jaw. He was brought back to the agony of those days with an open wound, scabbing and constantly reopening, the gangrene and sepsis that burned up his arm. 

 

“And it grew back.” She lathered some alcohol onto his arm and jabbed one of his prominent vessels with a needle. A little bead of blood escaped him. Then the other doctor jabbed a separate needle into the hand he knew wasn’t his . It still had nerves as if it were his hand, so it hurt like hell. He grunted and curled his toes with the shooting discomfort of it. He’s felt worse before, but a warning would have been nice.

 

And it was rather… suspicious. Yes, suspicious, “So, any reason I need separate tests for my uh, gift ?”

 

“Circulation.” Bullshit. He knew that was bullshit. That wasn’t how they tested circulation, “Dr. Freeman, your resting heart rate is low, forty-four bpm. Oxygen absorption appears ideal. You’re in good shape for someone of your weight.”

 

“Thanks? I think?” Gordon wasn’t delusional or anything. He knew he was considered fat, even after losing a lot of weight during the Resonance Cascade. It still stung, though.

 

“That’s a good thing, yes. My associate has done a quick run around and has found your radiation levels are high, but stable. You shouldn’t be seeing any abnormal symptoms. Cancer free. To respect your privacy, we will need you to report any strange melanomas that might appear to the boss if they show up between visits.”

 

“Oh thank god! I was so worried that-” 

 

“I don’t have time for this. Describe any issues you’ve had.” 

 

“Full body pain. Nightmares. Chills. Um, gastric distress...” Gordon didn’t want to mention the morphine withdrawal to them. They probably already knew all of his medical history, including the shots of morphine that the HEV suit stuck in his body. Hell, they were probably briefed on the jacking-off situation. He would have said something, though, but it was too intimate… And Benrey was in earshot. 

 

“That’s to be expected. That’s what this is for.” ‘ This’ obviously being his house, his time to rest, “Anything serious?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

Gordon heard Benrey’s angelic singing. A straight line of sweet voice from his floor to the ceiling was being observed by one of the doctors. It was a pure, singular note of green. He was being administered fluids from a tinted IV bag, and it was siphoning fast into him. Faster than it would in a human. 

 

“We need to see the full spectrum, Benrey.” She prodded him in the shoulder with her pen as the other doctor removed the IV. He whimpered, the doctors obviously not caring enough to make it comfortable for him.

 

“Ugh. What are you my–” Another wave of the weapon, and he sighed, “Fine.” 

 

He did an ascending scale of pitches, showing off a full, healthy spectrum of sweet voice. He hacked out one last defiant black ball and huffed, “There. Happy?”

 

“We need the colors not on human spectrums as well.” 

 

“It’s going to hurt Feetman. They’re at uh, freemqueefsies that are beyond his ears. Oof owie.” Benrey stuck a claw into his ear and started scraping out the wax. As one of the women passed by him, he wiped it off on her back. Gordon wanted to laugh, but thought better of blowing his cover. These docs had him rooting for Benrey of all people.

 

“What does the boss want?” 

 

Silence, “He says it’s fine. Thank you for your time. We’ll see you in one month.” 

 

“One month?” Gordon asked. 

 

“Are you um, going to the cancer car? Can you maybe bring me some cancer back, please?” Benrey pressed his lips into a wicked smile, dimples and eyes both glaring at Gordon.

 

The doctors ignored them, and packed their materials up. Benrey looked woozy from all the blood drawn, and so was Gordon. Why did they need that much blood from them? They closed the front door behind them without another word, and frankly, Gordon didn’t want to hear more from those assholes. 

 

The silence sat with them for a few minutes as they popped down on the ugly tangerine couch so neither fell over from the anemia. Gordon leaned on a pillow, while the pest lounged back. Both of them were starving, but they needed a few minutes before Gordon could cook a meal. Benrey finally spat out some ticked off blue and green sweet voice, “That fuckin' sucked.”

 

“I don’t feel human anymore.” Gordon put a hand on Benrey’s shoulder, “Hey pal–”

 

“So what if you’re fat? Ridiculous, right? Pfft. It’s um, what’s the bitch, zaftig–y or something.” That’s what he was upset about? Not being hit with a stun baton? But that they insulted his roommate for not having a six pack?

 

“I mean–” Gordon was cut off before he could get another word in.

 

“Cause like, that means you’re an epic S–rank hunter.” Well, that answered Gordon’s question. That was admiration, not a jab. Benrey brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

 

“Benrey–” 

 

“I can’t fucking believe this, Gordos. They brought the uh, burning sticks to hit me with. And gave me a uh, chew toy. I’m not a dog.” He finally addressed the fucking torture. He was mad about it, but apparently not as mad about the doctors insulting Gordon’s prodigiousness.

 

“BENREY, do you know what that was about?” He shook him by the shoulder, trying to get him to pipe down long enough to squeeze a goddamn word in.

 

“Yeah. They took our blood and weights and stuff.” Benrey shrugged, and settled his chin on his knees.

 

“Holy shit you’re so stupid.” 

 

“Huh? Yeah, no. I’m not.” Benrey took a look at the pills they left on the island, “Hmm. Drugs. Is this a GTA IV reference?” 

 

Oh, right. They should probably take those. Gordon wasn’t going to waste any time and picked them up off the island. He took one of those iron pills dry and tossed Benrey his big vial of what looked to be orange flavored gummies. Benrey read the label with a scrutinizing eye, and then his face lit up, “XEN CRYSTALS!” 

 

He popped the whole vial into his mouth and cracked it with a swift chomp, crunching on the minerals like giant grains of quartz sand. Oh, Gordon had to cover his ears. It was like a mukbang with someone who had never eaten a shrimp before and assumed the shell was part of the deal. Benrey licked the shards off his lips and patted his stomach like some kind of cartoon character. It was glowing through his hideous Black Mesa uniform.

 

“Hit the uh, spot. Good snack. Been craving that uh, min-ral.” He forgot a syllable in ‘mineral’. “I like them now. Hope they visit soon.” 

 

“Were you supposed to take that all at once?”

 

“Whuh? Huh? Probably.” Benrey shrugged, “Wanna play uh, COD Zombies?” 

 

“Yeah. Sounds good right now. I don’t even want to think about that. I feel like an animal.” Gordon laid himself bare for a moment. It was one of the most dehumanizing experiences of his entire life. Even more than giving his dissertation. It was so fast, in and out of the alligator cage. The impala can fend for itself against it, surely.

 

“Pfft. Welcome to the club, IDIOT.” Benrey booted up the game and slapped the other couch cushion, “Let’s noscope some uh, zombo scrubs, friend.” 

It was a shockingly pleasant day of gaming. Other than Benrey’s… Benreyisms, of course. Benrey was a much better player when killing everything in sight was the primary game mechanic, although he had a hard time remembering to revive Gordon. His skills in FPS games were formidable. All those hours in MAG weren’t going to waste at all. They got quite far in the deathmatch, probably 40 waves before Benrey got too hungry to play anymore and threw his controller down in an eldritch tantrum. And Gordon didn’t mind this time, only because it forced him to eat too. And he knew he needed to push past the nausea.

 

To help him out with his lightheadedness after all that blood was taken, Gordon was sure to cook some healthy Greek rice and salmon for him to get the fats he needed. Gordon had to settle for a boring ass salad with no dressing. Straight up eating like a cow. Taking pity on him, Benrey let him have a few bites of his own hard work. But not much. How gracious of him. And as they parted ways to head to their respective beds (the couch, in Benrey's case), it seemed that the day had gone on with relatively few incidents of friction. Gordon took his melatonin and laid naked in bed, turning the ceiling fan on to try and find some comfort from his thermal nightmare before he passed out. 

 

 

Sleep continued its path of torment through Gordon’s life. And this nightmare had him gripping his sheets, panting and moaning. 

 

Benrey was stalking him through Xen, phasing through caverns and crawling towards him on all fours, body shifting from man to beast with seamless horror. The grotesque virtuosity of his physique sprawled out across the entire cavern, until he reared his head up to Gordon. His jagged maw gaped open, dozens of black hands and glowing eyes crawled down his throat, their gooey arms outstretching to grab his quarry. 

 

He was seized. Gordon struggled and screamed, pulled in between Benrey’s uncountable serrated fangs. They slammed shut, leaving him plunged in darkness, except for the billion eager eyes of Benrey, watching him fall down his endless pit of a belly. The fall came to an abrupt end, and as Gordon looked up, he could see a dark shackle around his right wrist. He felt himself be dragged towards the glint of glowing eyes in the dark, and then a perfect, white, American smile. 

 

G-Man brought him to his feet, tugged at his leash and then disappeared back into the darkness, sparing but an amused glance. The void closed in on him, filled his orifices, Benrey's eyes filling his mouth and ears. That monster ghosted out from the liquid pitch, licking his lips at Gordon as if to tease to him what he was capable of, grabbing him by his chin. He surveyed his body, appraising the quality of his cut. 

 

Then he pounced on him, digging his claws into his stomach and tearing through his tender body with a burning, vicious hatred that filled the whole void, spewing out deathly sweet voice as he ripped out Gordon’s worming intestines and flung them into the darkness. His liver, his lungs, his stomach and gallbladder, his everything. One by one Gordon was taken apart as he wailed in mourning. And then to thank him for his service, Benrey grabbed Gordon’s neck with his bloodied claws and lifted him up to face his ravenous visage, somehow being three feet taller than he had been just a moment ago, and he pressed his helmet into his forehead. 

 

“I wanted to know you. Y’know. Inside and out.” Benrey kissed him on the crease above his brows, wiping the sweat off with a tender smile.

 

Gordon gasped, and Benrey put a talon to his lips.

 

“I liked what I saw.” He glanced away, seeming rather coy in the face of Gordon’s distress, “Did you drop this?”

 

He had the stained manacles in his hand. The one that G-Man had tugged. Benrey had freed him, only to latch it onto Gordon’s neck, and then lock it around his own. He pulled away as far as he could. Gordon, hollowed out and weak, still brought his hands to his neck to try and pull it off as it tightened. But Benrey, in spite of strangulation, was unaffected. He tugged him back into his arms and caught Gordon. His fingers ran through his locks, glaring at him like a starved, rabid animal, “Don’t you know, bro? We’re in this together.”

“Fuck you!” Gordon jumped out of bed and grabbed his knife from under his pillow, holding it out to see if Benrey was there, “Stop tormenting me!”

 

He had noclipped into the room, holding a cup of fruit and staring at him like a cow at an oncoming train, “Oh. Okay? Um, you were whimpering a lot. So I thought I’d bring you umm… Dole Peach Cup ?” 

 

Gordon dropped the knife and fell back down on his bed, his heart still clawing at his bones, “Sure. Throw me the cup, and get the hell out of my room. I don’t want to see your face.” 

 

“Kay. Enjoy your fruit. Remember, you are what you eat.” Benrey beamed the cup into his forehead and slid back down into the floor. Great. Gordon was a fruit . How quaint. The alien he kept having weirdly erotic, terrifying dreams about brought him a fruit cup to tell him a gay joke. 

 

A charmed fuckin’ life indeed.

Fruit cup good, though.

Chapter 7: Dr. Freeman Watches Benrey Feed Someone Their Teeth Behind a Taco Bell Dumpster

Summary:

A trip to the Taco Bell goes CRAZY and Benrey must defend Gordon's honor in a death battle with the last marine ON EARTH.

Notes:

TW: blood n violence, and taco bell

find me on tumblr @benrey-did-nothing-wrong inbox is always open!

dude idk about yall but taco bell has always been my most hated fast food stop. papi used to buy it even though i couldnt stomach the stuff so the flavorless paste is baked into my brain. but that'd probably be my only meal the whole weekend so i'd eat that taco anyways.

butthead was manning the drive thru as per request of my beta.

also this whole chapter was a beta request.

sorry that this chapter is shorter and poorly written. im having a stressful week. it's been awful, folks. so i appreciate you coming in and reading. this has become my reason to cling to sanity. thank you all. this is not a cry for help at all btw im going to be okay. been through worse and will be through worse again. humans are, if nothing else, rather resilient creatures, and i find kinship with my fellow man in my endurance.

dont be afraid to leave comments, requests, criticisms, etc. any feedback is appreciated, even if its really really mean :(

if you already enjoyed another fic today, please leave a comment there to let them know how much you liked it! comments are the lifeblood of authors.

“Can I get a uhhhhhhh, Baja Blast? Extra Large? With some chalupa and um, Dorito taco with the crunchwrap supreme? Pretty please? ” Benrey leaned over Gordon’s lap, pushing his flat ass into his face as he peaked the microphone the poor minimum wage drive-thru worker had to man. It was unfortunate that his butt absolutely reeked of Axe and his inscrutable body odor (was that whole milk?). Gordon had to sit there and pout while they had a little bit of cheek to cheek friction. The Government Certified Purebred Twink’s (GCPT) denim pants were chafing his skin… But he wanted to order . “ And um, can I get a Mexican pizza with extra soured cream pwease?”

 

“Dude! Your washboard ass is in my face.” Gordon got squished against the headrest as Benrey’s bones jabbed into his lips.

 

Benrey squirmed as Gordon pushed back, swinging his hip into his cheek and pressing it over his worn, gritted teeth, “Ugh, Gordo! Shut up! Lemme order!”

 

“Dude, that's more food than you can eat. Sir, can you take everything except the drink, chalupa, and the taco off the order? He’s thinking with his stomach!” This stupid fucking alien was going to make him blow a goddamn gasket. Gordon Freeman, Ph.D, getting crushed by this brainless protozoan of a twink’s flat ass . With the scrutiny becoming of a theoretical physicist, he identified a dimple on Benrey’s ass that he could use as an anchor point for his palm, and tried to wrest him back into his seat.

 

“Shut up Gordo!” Benrey fully shoved his rump in his face, cheeks to cheeks, twisting his knee into the horn and reaching out to the speaker where the teenage worker was probably either reeling from how loud he was or laughing his ass off, “Don’t listen to him I can eat EVERYTHING!” 

 

“Uh, huhuh, who is, like, paying?” The poor employee’s ears were probably being blown out by the horn. Other honks in the deafening cacophony coming from the queue of cars trailing behind were starting to honk while this stupid security guard hung out the driver’s side window. This was taking way too long, Benrey spent TEN MINUTES saying ‘uhhhhhh’ at the goddamn menu already.

 

“I am!” Gordon tried to push Benrey’s ass away, but he was pretty determined to talk directly to the speaker. Enough was enough. He snaked his hand over to Benrey’s belt and pulled back with his full force, “Get your disgusting ass out of my face!”

 

“Oh lmao why–why didn’t you say so? Feetman liked what he saw, huh? My thighs–they’re–they’re amazing.” Benrey readjusted himself so his  fabulously amorphous and absent derriere wasn’t crushing Gordon’s nerdy glasses, and half-jumped out of the window to reiterate his point, “Kid, he has to pay for it no matter what. Just give me the food. I’m gonna uh, get leftovers or something stupid like that.” 

 

“Can you like, just pull up to the window already, dumbass? Huhuhuh.” This kid sounded like a nightmare. He was probably back there frying rats. In other news, Gordon finally pinpointed Benrey’s smell; He was producing nutty pheromones that smelled like a comfy cottage inn. Located inside of a highschool football team’s locker room. 

 

“I would love to, man! He’s on my lap and I can’t safely drive the FUCKING CAR!” Gordon tried prying him away from the window, but damn . The alien was determined to get his full order. Punching him on the spine was completely ineffectual because of his body armor. The only place he could pinch was his ass or thigh, which was NOT happening. And muscling Benrey back into his seat was a hopeless endeavor. Gordon had to relent or do something drastic, “That’s it! We will never go to Taco Bell again if you don’t–if you don’t sit your ass down right now!” 

 

Benrey panicked… no more Taco Bell ever again!? His pupils blew out in terror, and he lurched out of the window with even more fervor, “Uh, scratch that! I want one of everything please?” 

 

“BENREY NO! Fine! We’ll get your Mexican pizza, fine! I wish you were dead and fucking rotting!” Gordon capitulated, and Benrey melted back in his seat, completely still, but holding back victorious sweet voice by pressing his fist into his mouth. He could hear his throat humming and gurgling with the snotty balls as he leaned over and buckled him in like a child. It’s not that he didn’t know how to buckle his seatbelt, but Benrey was inclined to take it off at every opportunity to throw himself out of a window to flip off someone that pissed Gordon off, or to throw garbage at people who don’t use turn signals. 

 

And, well, Gordon would never admit this part, but he loved it when Benrey mooned the cops. The first time it happened, Gordon nearly had a heart attack. But nothing bad had ever come of it. In spite of Benrey’s more based qualities (ACAB), Gordon wasn’t quite warm to him yet.

 

“Fuck you,” Gordon pulled up to the service window, and started grabbing their comically oversized order, handing a bunch of vile food gunk to Benrey. He immediately dug into his taco (there was, in fact, a fried rat in it–Benrey was just a freak and liked the extra protein) while Gordon found a nice place to pull in and eat his wrap, because fuck you he was hungry. 

 

And the nausea didn’t mean shit when his stomach was sounding off like a strangled cane toad.

 

He took a few indulgent bites, remembering how awful Taco Bell was, but also how the flavorless shlock food still managed to tickle his senses in just the right way. Presumably because he was a Pavlov dog for greasy, overengineered meals that (chemically) barely resembled food. Gordon loved a dopamine rush, even if it came from food specifically engineered to tickle his brain cells. Hell, the food dopamine rush is what got him the extra fifty pounds he was carrying. 

 

Benrey had already inhaled a slice of pizza, licking the generous amount of grease from his fingers as he did. His body made a disquieting noise at the sudden introduction of pure garbage to his gut. Two thumps marked Benrey making himself at home and putting his legs up on the dashboard. Once that initial ravenousness had been put at ease, he could finally savor his helping of future gastric distress. 

 

One of the SUVs previously stuck behind them while Benrey failed the basic task of ordering from a menu with about twenty options pulled up right behind their parked car. So close that an escape would have been difficult. Gordon knew a public confrontation when he smelled one. This was going to be interesting at best . Gordon wiped his mouth to make it seem like he wasn’t pigging out less than half a second prior. 

 

Even worse, the guy who stepped out was in army duds. He was wearing his off-base outfit. A barfish green-brown shirt, the camo flat cap with the American flag ironed on, and cargo pants that were likely filled to the brim with his pocket knife collection. This was a big, toned man that was on even footing with Gordon. He stomped over in his dick crushing combat boots and bashed the window with his fist. While Gordon didn’t want to roll down the window, something about the memory of killing (literal) thousands of US operatives gave him a sense of physical superiority. It was on sight with American boot lickers. He had no doubt he could kick this guy’s ass if he needed to. So, down went the driver side window, “Dude, it’s a Taco Bell, is it worth it?” 

 

“Hey you stupid son of a bitch, I got my kids with me, I’m trying to fucking get home to see my parents and you’re going to waste my precious time making me wait for fifteen minutes to order some FUCKING TACO BELL?” That’s a SoCal accent if he’s ever heard one. Gordon tried to reign himself in. It was quite an unfortunate turn of events that he wasn’t, in fact, a horse. 

 

His nostrils flared out. Oh, he wanted to think he was hot shit, did he? That because he was wearing a trooper uniform that he demanded and commanded respect? How dare he.  

 

“Shut the fuck up, you-you’re wasting my fucking time you cockless shit-eating cuckold motherfucker! Cognitive dissonance ring a bell, idiot?! Drive to your parent’s retirement home already so they don’t die waiting for you, you bloody prolapse!” Oh fuck, Gordon also had an equally short fuse, apparently. He knew he was being insane. But there was no stopping it. There was maddening energy in his fingertips and redness in his face. His fist slammed on the horn and he cackled like a raving coyote, “Back the fuck away from my car. I am not the one you want to fuck with today. Elsewise your kids are going to watch their daddy get fucking smeared on the street, got it?” 

 

“Are you threatening me?” His fingers made their way into his car, gripping the driver door, “I’m going to kick your fat ass you–”

 

“Yo, is that a Call of Duty reference? Or um, Battlefield? Wait no! MAG? Boot boy? You like licking boots? Lmao. Seen better um, cosplays at the Spirit Halloween, idiot.” Benrey spoke with a mouthful of rat taco, and then took an obnoxiously loud, icy sip of his Baja Blast, “Kinda cringe. You like uh, feet or something?”

 

“Who the fuck is that? What is that?” He gestured to Benrey, who must’ve looked like a freak from his position.

 

“Who’s asking? You interested? You a uh, lil gay boy, aren’tcha? Don’t uh, the good ol’ army boys got rules against that?” 

 

“You are not going to disrespect me in front of my kids! I did not go through five tours in Afghanistan for this shit!” He was now leaning into Gordon’s car. If he got any closer to him, he was knocking him the fuck out. No mercy.

 

“Mnehmnehmnahneh boot boy is a chicken head.” Benrey pulled out his phone and started taking flashy photos, “Lookin’ like a uh, shaved um, scrote bag.”

 

“MNEHMNEHMNEH FUCK YOU. Stop taking pictures of me, that's illegal! I know my goddamn rights we’re in the United States of America and we have personal freedoms. I’m gonna call my lawyer and–” 

 

“Sounds like someone’s insecure. You a uh, fuck up? You fucked up? Didn’tcha? Can I see some ID? Do you wear your um, army threads everywhere cause uh, you scored low. You scored low in the army? F student?”

 

“A what? Huh?” 

 

“Dude, I don’t even know.” Gordon shoved his finger in his face, “But you’re losing an argument to nonsense.”

 

“You’re nothing, you’re nobody. What the hell do you guard?” He gestured to his body armor and helmet, “The donuts at the station? Fuck you, I served my goddamn country and what’ve you done with your life? I work as an MP on the base guarding the weapons we use to defend our freedom. The fuck do you guard?”

 

“Okay. Do you have some ID proof? Did you buy that suit off of um, Facebook?” Benrey grabbed Gordon’s meal right out of his hand and took a big bite out of it, “Oh shit, this is actually great Gordo. Gonna order this next time.”

 

“Give that back,” Gordon whisper-yelled at him, and took an indignant bite of his food to reclaim it as his while the boot boy fiddled with his wallet.

 

He whipped his veteran’s benefit card and threw it at Benrey. Investigating the glossy face of the card, he could see that this man definitely was a military man. Forty-five year old career MP with two first names. Gordon could just hear those gears turning in Benrey’s peabrain before he opened his mouth and swallowed his ID. Holy shit. 

 

“Okay. Gonna need to see a passport.”

 

“What the FUCK did you just— I will rip my card out of your fucking guts you son of a bitch!” He reached in to grab at Benrey, and Gordon slapped his hand out of his car. 

 

“Sorry I don’t talk to Uncle Sam’s bottoms.” Benrey sniffed and held back his sweet voice. This guy reminded him a bit of a shittier Gordon. It made pulling his leg even more fun than he ever thought it could be! “Fuck the troops or something, IDK. I don’t speak American.”

 

“Oh you think you’re a fucking funny guy?! I’m going to kick your ass, get out here and fight me, pussy! Take off your shitty helmet and fucking fight me.” 

 

“Lmao, doubt it.” Benrey unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. 

 

“Benrey don’t start a fight please for the love of god–” Gordon finally snapped to his senses and hit his forehead against the steering wheel. If Ben didn’t use his stupid alien powers, he was fucked . And if he did, he was also fucked because they would be responsible for a homicide. Gordon was going to have to intervene, probably. Might as well turn off the car and watch Benrey get plastered or get sent to jail forever. Maybe he’d lose, maybe he’d win. It was hard to tell what he was capable of at any given moment.

 

So, let’s see if you’ve heard this one before: A security guard, a theoretical physicist, and a veteran meet at the dumpster behind a Taco Bell south of Black Ridge. The physicist pulls out his phone to start recording, the MP is so stupid he thinks starting a fight in front of his young children doesn’t make him look like a terrible, irresponsible parent, and the security guard is a god from another universe who could bring about a dynasty of endless suffering across the planet if he was maybe twenty-ish percent more applied. 

 

Benrey cracked his knuckles and loosened up his joints, his thin layers of muscle flexed as he took off his armor and undid his tie, tossing them to Gordon. He realigned his jaw like a snake, his skin barely containing the inhuman swirls of hungering tendon beneath. A swift twitch made his joints creak like a rotting wharf. 

 

“Hey, ya little maggots,” he addressed the children peering out of the window like wary prairie dogs, “You’re gonna watch your daddy make a stupid mistake. Uh, don’t do this, okay? Real embarrassing. When he respawns, he’ll be so mad. Remember the um, story of the fox and the hound? And the fox tries to fight the hound cause he dissed his Animal Crossing island, so the puppy tore him apart and ate his children for a little mid-afternoon snack.”

 

As the children shrieked and hid their faces, Benrey cackled like a sadistic madman. And then he sobered up from his mania. Arms crossed, perfectly content where he was while the boot boy stalked around him, closing in. The boot boy chose his opening; Benrey’s jaw. He ran at him with his fists angled inwards, arms held protectively over his nose. As he came in for his jab at Benrey, the alien stepped aside with a deliberate, wide gait and slapped the back of his head like a bored cat. The man stumbled face first into the asphalt. Just like a Kung-Fu movie.

 

“FINISH HIM!” Benrey started beatboxing the Mortal Kombat II theme. And then he grabbed him by his skull, lifted a little bit, and smashed him against the pavement. CHRK . A nice, wet crack. Benrey pulled him up by the collar of his uniform and brushed his shoulders off, “FATALITY! Looks like someone had an epic failure.” 

 

He looked at his kids with a broken nose, gravel embedded in his cheeks, and an array of loose teeth. That man put everything he had trying to sock Benrey in the jaw, and it only cost him half his face. “Fuck you man… Fuck…” 

 

“Yo, your face a Pee-Casso now! Lol, gotem.” Benrey dusted himself and took his armor and tie from Gordon, “I’m starving bro. Wanna try the um, Mexican pizza?” 

 

“Dude we’re gonna get arrested.” 

 

“Nah. We won’t. Big, tough guy like that? Would never, uh, admit he got beat up by a hundred-ten pound sub six-foot dude.” Benrey fastened his tie and started hooking up his body armor. As the man came up from behind him to get a suckerpunch in, Benrey pivoted on his heel to deliver a devastating gut punch up into his diaphragm, and watched him crumple on the ground, “Uh, origanami. Lol.” 

 

“Jesus Christ! Where did you learn that?” 

 

“My tie? Youtube.” Benrey had watched him put on a clip on tie. That was a bit of an L, as he would say. 

 

“I mean… that?” Gordon gestured to the crying children in the car and this big motherfucker crying right beside his car, rolling on the sunbleached asphalt. 

 

“Used to roughhouse with the um, guards. Humans have bad balance cause they have um, two feets they run on.”  Benrey hopped into the car and finished up his rat taco as Gordon peeled out, licking his claws clean, “That was weird.”

 

“Dude I’m telling you, sometimes these army guys come back and they just start fights cause it’s all they know.” 

 

“Sounds like um, someone I know. You were really gonna fight him, weren’tcha?” Benrey scratched under his chin and sank a little deeper into the seat, “Y’know… You woulda killed him. Cause you’re a known murderer.”

 

“Fuck off, you don’t know shit.” He was right, but Gordon wasn’t going to tell him he was.

 

Chapter 8: Doctor Talk

Summary:

benrey wins EVERY competition to have ever been held because he is awesome.

Notes:

my beta said that benrey couldnt stop glazing his abuser and i had to do a spittake irl wit my bougie aah aah kombucha martini that tastes like shit.

hello it is i @benrey-did-nothing-wrong on tumblr dot com, here to present to you more benrey is TOTALLY INNOCENT propaganda (he is not innocent).

TW: heights, violence, blood, physical abuse (for benrey this doesn't register to him but it's still fucked up), emotional abuse

this was originally not going to be plot important, but as i wrote it i realized just how important it would be for gordon's un-self aware ass to get some fucking guidance. gay ass bitch.

since i feel like i need to defend my choices for the science team here: i know a lot of people HC tommy as the emotional support friend, but i cant stop thinking about the 'you want a soda' scene. coomer feels a lot more apt for this role, although i imagine every member has valuable insights, coomer is the most introspective and wise out of them all. tommy strikes me as very self-centered and lacks coomer's more cerebral qualities. top 10 hlvrai beautiful moments and like, 6 of them would be between coomer and gordon.

hope yall enjoyed. and if you already read a wonderful fanfiction today, make sure you go back and tell that author how much you appreciate them! it's our lifeblood and we love hearing from you guys. most of us don't bite. and if you're an author, thank you for being braver than any US marine.

Gordon needed to talk with friends, and right now, all he had was the Science Team. Dr. Coomer had promised to take him ice skating in Black Mesa to work on his pirouettes. Now was as good of a time as any to head to the skate rink in Albuquerque, New Mexico. And maybe get his back shaved too while they were there. 

 

He scrolled through a few names. Blue dots were next to Gina, Isaac, Colette, Otis, Barney, Eli, Coomer, Bubby, and Tommy’s names. Even Mom and Dad. 

 

Earth to Gordon! Are you alive?  

 

Probably was better off dead to them. He put the phone down and trained his eyes on the road as someone swerved in front of him. Fucking Silverado drivers. 

 

There was this creeping sensation in the back of his mind that was spreading like blood in the water. It was a terrifying notion; Gordon had become something inhuman, a monstrous thing had taken root where the touch of humanity was in his soul. That’s why his hand had to be what it was, why he was housed with that thing . They’d be disgusted by what he had become.

 

Tommy sent him frequent messages. Usually just pictures of Sunkist, and formed a Science Team group chat that he muted. Ignoring everyone fitted nicely into his schedule of sweating and puking, right in between sessions of psychological torture (talking to Benrey). Even Coomer, who had tried desperately to arrange a private meeting in the past few weeks, received no fraction of the same concern.

 

The energy brought on by the Science Team was something akin to an overcrowded bouncy castle filled with glitter bombs and screaming toddlers juggling leaded chainsaws. Going down Niagra Falls. Into the Demon Core. 

 

While debating Brane cosmology.

 

Gordon just wanted to be what he used to be. His fingers tapped out in arrhythmic pulses while Benrey sat in the passenger seat, hugging his legs with his chin squared between his knees. He was particularly proficient in the art of aimlessness. 

 

While beating on his steering wheel, he caught glimpses of Benrey at stop lights. Benrey would stare out at the streets, at the buildings and development, pupils wide. The novelty of human development hadn’t worn off yet. From the desert highway to the soulless monotony of suburbia, the tint of jade hadn’t poisoned his vision. Occasionally a rich, deep brown hue the color of barbecue ribs seeped out from between his lips at a particularly high pitch. Brown and braised, I’m amazed . 

 

“I don’t want you around me at the skate rink. Tommy insisted I bring you, but this is a privilege, not a right. You bother me, I’m going to leave without you.”

 

Benrey looked up past the brim of his helmet to make eye contact. His was a tongue forged for monosyllabic responses, “Kay.” 

 

There was no argument. No pushback. He looked like a pitiable creature, a victim of his own orchestrated misery. Gordon felt nothing for him. The fresh scars going down his arms and onto the backs of his hands were the persuasive reminders to numb himself. 

 

Benrey would grab him, and his claws would trail down his arms as he slipped through his grasp. Accidents , he’d say and smile at him as if it were a cute ‘whoopsie’ to spill his blood all over the couch.

 

“Good,” he took a sharp right turn, and Benrey seemed unaffected by the inertia.

 

“Is ice skating hard?” Benrey asked, phasing through the carseat while Gordon banged into his window like a mediocre imbecile who doesn’t know how to use a goddamn brake.

 

“Probably not for you.” Fucking alien . Immune to Newton’s Laws. Inertia was a bitch. But Benrey was an even bigger bitch than the literal laws of physics.

 

“Cool. Thanks for uh, your sweater.” He took a deep whiff of it, purring in delight at the must it carried. Nothing boiled the blood more than seeing one’s archnemesis delighting himself. 

 

“You refuse to wear anything except that ugly ass uniform. It was either that or hear you bitch n’ moan for hours.” Pedal to metal, his Corolla putted along at its top speed of 80 miles per hour. It simply refused to accelerate further. Mr. Coolatta, that vicious prick. 

 

“Smells like me?” Benrey held his sleeve up to Gordon’s nose… It smelled like their Softsoap hand wash, Axe, and BO. But there was that distinctive Benrey smell beneath it all. Fruity, fresh. It was a nigh intoxicating pheromone. Cat’s flank . The chemical was 4-thio-4-methylpentan-2-1! Gordon had tried to find isolated vials of it after his cat died some odd years ago when Joshua was a toddler. He thought it’d help with the grieving process. At least Gordon finally found a use for him; tincture collection.

 

As Gordon parked in front of the skate rink, he saw Benrey–that unaccountable freak –staring right at him like an owl ogling a decadent, gorged shrew.

 

“Best behavior. Got it?” 

 

“Yeah.” Benrey unbuckled and stretched his legs out, “Mmn, I miss Tommy.” 

 

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Gordon loved Tommy, he really did. But he was his slave. Their standing was… multifaceted . And asymmetrical. Nature usually worked in symmetry. Asymmetry was a violation of the order of life, and such a regrettable thing in a relationship, “Tommy’s great.” 

 

Benrey’s skin blossomed with chromatophores as he stepped into the sunlight. His cold blue hues were eclipsed by the light-activated proteins that spread like a nebula across his body. His soft, dainty scales were pale and peachy in just a few seconds. It was mesmerizing for the brief moment it occurred. Almost beautiful.

 

He stared at his reflection in the window of Gordon’s sedan, and fixed his eyes. His pupil rounded out to a pinprick, and the yellows of his sclera desaturated to a feasible, veiny grey. As he developed an iris from the circumference of his pupil, he switched through a couple of colors, shopping for the best one, “Green, blue, brown, grey, hazel, or black?”

 

“Robin’s egg blue,” Gordon grabbed him by the nape of his shirt and dragged him towards the building, “Stop fucking around.”

 

“B-Buh? Huh? But I thought I was supposed to be on good behavior? How am I being bad?” 

 

“Shut up,” Gordon gripped him by the chin, and looked down at Benrey, eye to eye. His alien hearts convulsed. This must be Heaven. Like in All Dogs Go to Heaven 2, but not as lame and cushy. This was Benrey’s Heaven, touched by a magnificent creature in a place as guarded yet intimate as the jut of his chin. Gordon’s jeering glare shot straight through the shadow of his helm and down into his knees, “I am not having a repeat of Taco Bell. You hear me?” 

 

Benrey’s cheeks puffed out with pink sweet voice. He was fucked! Not in public! Not at Gordon! With an admirable effort, he swallowed his feelings back down. But the stench of strawberries remained as he exhaled. Shit. Despite his outward stoicism, his head was swimming and spinning. In the pursuit of a swift recovery, he said the first thing he could coherently string together, “Sorry I was, uh, I–I uh, was busy burp- ing . What’d you say?” 

 

“I am not having a repeat of Taco Bell.” Gordon squeezed his gaunt cheeks with one firm hand, rippling with callouses and sinew. Benrey wished the caress was more tender. His other hand waved in front of his face, “Jesus man that’s gross. When the hell did you get a strawberry milkshake, did you steal that shit?” 

 

He hiccupped, barely containing his excitement at their intimate position, “Uh, I uhm, pink Ramune.”

 

“You’ve been burping nonstop the past few days. I’m going to get you some antacid because it’s fucking disgusting.” Feeling defeated, Gordon released him and started back on his way towards the concrete building. New Mexico Ice Wolves. The canid head sticking out looked soaked in tender blood. Their feet pounded on the gum baked into the ground. The building looked like the outside of one of the Black Mesa dormitories. Its subtly brutalist, oppressive stature, contracted with the soft, bubbly staircases screamed dissonance. Green railing, blood red mascot, adobe and concrete construction. Green like the railing outside of Black Mesa Subsidized Housing congregates. His breath hitched in his throat as he craned his neck up. And he could swear the wolf’s head was a lunging Houndeye for a moment of sanity. Beads of sweat dribbled onto the concrete while visitors pushed past him, all at ease.

 

Benrey, meanwhile, was trying to catch up. Hardly noticed that Gordon had lost himself, while he was contending with his own memories. Oh, he was using that burping excuse too much, wasn’t he? It was getting more and more difficult to contain the blossoming, bubbly pink to blue feelings growing in his sizzling sweet voice gland. His desires were getting stronger. The more he got to know Gordon, the more he grew to respect the little things about him. The noble things about his life that he didn’t seem to notice. He kept warm in the coldest conditions. His natural musk was potent and masculine; he could carve a whole empire with that scent alone. While Benrey was playing Skyrim on the couch, he effortlessly lifted it to vacuum the crumbs beneath!

 

Gordon wasn’t usually too receptive to Benrey’s advances. Bringing him dead rats was bust. And the mostly-dead Gila monster made him scream and cry. He tried to make him more receptive to his scent by squeezing his femoral pores and rubbing the waxy exudate around the house, but Gordon just complained about it stinking like ballsweat. Benrey even tried to help him with his morning grooming routine by phasing through the bathroom door and brushing his hair. But it was all ‘I’m naked Benrey’ and ‘Get the fuck out I’m taking a dump, Benrey’. Absolutely unbelievable.

 

But when they were having fun playing video games together? And Gordon couldn’t stop giggling because Benrey was team killing and finding every way to break and fuck with the game? Sitting down and eating a big meal like wild animals? Falling asleep on the couch, one seat apart, never touching? Just feeling the warmth radiating off of his body? It was Heaven.

 

If only Gordon wasn’t such a chickenhead meanman.

 

“Well Mr. Gordon FEETman, who is uh, doing the cooking? Hmm? Who is feeding me? Maybe it’s YOUR fault, idiot.” He reached to grab Gordon’s hand, and interlocked fingers with him. The motion was so fast that Gordon jolted, and then slammed Benrey’s body into the nearest SUV. Benrey whimpered and released him. He peeled off the blazing hot metal, leaving a respectable dent in his wake. Gordon checked his hand, and sure enough, the webbings of his hands were bloodied by his carelessness. 

 

“Don’t touch me.” Rules for thee, not for me. Typical Gordo. Benrey rubbed his flank as he followed him inside. It wasn’t so much that Gordon could hurt him, but rather that he was aching in a deeper place. Odd. Only Gordon made him feel that way. A taste of what could be was always just out of reach.

Coomer was standing in the lobby waiting for them, something of a small grin at the edge of his mustache crept up. Benrey was pushed to the side to keep him away and save the moment. Maybe that’d deter him from following. Then, Gordon ran right into Coomer, arms outstretched.

 

If Gordon was ever honest with himself (a rare occurrence), he’d come to terms with the fact that Coomer was the only member of the Science Team he had a genuine, tested love for. So much so that he wouldn’t dare complain about his organs being squeezed out of him like the last dollop of toothpaste.

 

Coomer was different . A bit kooky, maybe. Unstable? Certainly. But Dr. Coomer was the only one capable of a cerebral, genuine, hard conversation. Tommy was more like a toddler and had a room temperature EQ in Celsius. And Dr. Bubby? He was about as interested in an emotionally meaningful and fulfilling relationship as a protozoan.

 

He had a pleasant aroma out of Black Mesa. He had grown to associate him with that foul sewage stench, but now? He was emanating an aura of old books, bourbon, and pipe tobacco. Just like he remembered.

 

“Hello Gordon! Let’s fix those dreadful pirouettes!” Coomer slapped him on the back, forcing a grunt out of Gordon. His metal joints creaked as they fell back to his hips.

 

“I missed you a lot, man. I’m sorry I haven’t been messaging you or anything I–I–” Gordon was holding back the need to cry. Something about seeing Coomer again just the way he had been before the Resonance Cascade ran him ragged was hitting differently. His facial hair was trimmed, he was clean–he smelled good.

 

“It’s okay. Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Pussy.” Coomer brushed his index finger against his mustache, “We all know you’re scared of me.”

 

“No it’s– I mean, I guess?” Gordon chuckled and slacked his shoulders. It wasn’t chaotic! This was normal! He was being normal. This was average, mundane. Boring! It was like seeing his parents again for Christmas for the first time in two years, or stumbling on an old friend and arranging to catch up, then never following through.

 

“Bubby and Tommy were just getting lunch. I do hope you like a good onion ring.”

 

“Oh f–hell yeah! Like uh, that Sonic T. Hedwig gets?” Benrey butted himself in between Coomer and Gorden, slithering up from the precipice where their chests met. He was trying to be cute, sticking his tongue out from between his lips. But Benrey looked like a forty year old man. Something decidedly not cute. “Uh, chilli dog? Um, broccoli? Cheese?”

 

“Don’t let him get cheese, he’s lactose intolerant,” Gordon grabbed him by the scruff and peeled the lobotomite off, “but yeah, sure, lunch would be good about now.”

 

“Uh, well, maybe YOU should be more tolerant of lactose. I’m hella tolerant. Tolerant um… of all toes. Gordon Bigotman.” 

 

“He said he’s tolerant of toes, Gordon. Maybe you should open your mind more. For shame.” Coomer rubbed him on his big, stupid helmet like an orb to ponder. 

 

“He’s going to shit his pants on the ice!” Benrey took advantage of the Coomer hug and brought Gordon in for the pleasure of feeling his body heat against him. And while he tried to escape these two short kings, Coomer had a vice grip on him. Raising the proverbial white flag, he just leaned into it. Ignoring Benrey’s little growls (those were purrs, Gordon, you fucking idiot) got a bit difficult when he started pressing his neck into his shoulder, “What is WRONG with both of you? Let me go–Benrey is going to fuckin’ bite me!” 

 

---

Initially, Gordon had bought himself a cup of ramen, and Benrey got himself a ham sandwich. But Benrey was getting too cold, so he wound up stealing Gordon’s ramen after eating his sandwich, and then stealing Tommy’s chicken nuggets by tapping him on the shoulder and swooping in on the other side like a pesky little crow. When Tommy realized what had happened, he waggled his finger at him. That was about it, though. Like chastising a cat, one must tell the cat ‘no’ for themself and not to discipline. 

 

Gordon had to go and buy him a huge cup of hot chocolate too, since he couldn’t stop shivering. Big surprise, he failed his task of ‘not showing concern for Benrey’ yet again. And even though he was lactose intolerant and the hot chocolate was going to give him some twisted guts, he intrinsically understood this wasn’t something he was going to regret. At the end of the day, he got to hear less of Benrey’s whining. 

 

What surprised him was that Benrey was drinking like a human. It was quite nice to watch him like that, eyes closed, legs crossed, and serene from being warmed inside. He scooched next to Gordon and put his chin on his shoulder. Coomer’s eyes were glued to the motion, and his pupils darted to Tommy, and then back to the cuddly monster . 

 

Seeing that everyone was now giving him the ‘I know what you are’ look, Gordon decided to change the subject, “Dr. Coomer, I wanted to talk to you, actually–” 

 

“You didn’t even say hello to me and Tommy! Rude little bitch.” Bubby sipped his coffee, “ Hello Gordon . You vicious prick.” 

 

“Right. Sorry, I’m… a little distracted.” Gordon unzipped his sweater, and revealed the sweat caking his shirt, “Yeah uh, hi. Tommy. Bubby. Good to see you.” 

 

“Yes. It’s great to see you Gordon.” Bubby reheated his own coffee in his palm and took another swig, “Can’t believe you’d be this rude.” 

 

“Hi Mr. Freeman, I’ve been worried about you. My–My dad told me you were fine though!” He offered one of his Skittles to Gordon, but he had little appetite (that cup ramen would not be Benrey’s if Gordon wanted to eat), especially not for something saccharine like that. 

 

“Yes, before you came, we were gossiping about you. Gossip, from Wikipedia–” 

 

“That’s… that’s good Coomer.” Gordon gestured for him to pipe down. Coomer's quirks seemed to be a result of his cybernetic enhancements glitching out, and often the best way to shut them down was to give an immediate response. “It’s great for all of us to get together… and just… relax?” 

 

“I’m bored.” Bubby gave a derisive huff, “When are we shredding ice?”

 

Tommy was already reading through a book that made the Bible look like a toddler’s first read, “Um, I have a packed schedule today. I have a new job and I need to read through all fifty thousand pages of regulations. I’m on page eight.”

 

“That’s wonderful Tommy. Yeah, let’s… hurry up. Work off the calories, eh?” 

 

“I’ll get the skates! Gordon, what’s your shoe size?” Coomer just had to ask that. Right in front of everyone? What was Gordon supposed to do? Be honest? Avoid the question? Fuck it, these guys have seen him gulping Powerade like a pig in a trough. They could know his shoe size.

 

“... Sixteen .” Gordon hid his face from Benrey, who, realizing this had to do with feet , had his sleeper agent activated. He pulled his thumb stump out of his mouth with a trail of slick spittle still clinging on. 

 

“Gordon Footman is a size what ? Huh? What? How–How do you just walk around in those clown foots, Feetman?” Benrey snorted, “How do you–” 

 

“What the fuck is your problem? What size are you in women’s, fucker? A five? You got baby feet and they smell , fuck you. You’re an ouroboros of self-aggrandizing HORSESHIT! Did you think for half a fucking second? Is that degenerated little caffeine addled brain cell of yours finally clinking the edges of the screen? I’m a big guy! Most things about me are big!” As Gordon got more heated, the Science Team watched with bated breath. Tommy buried his face in his binder while Coomer and Bubby slammed some money on the table in a silent bet.

 

“Even your di–” Benrey was barely containing his giggles when Gordon grabbed him by his lips. 

 

“Skate time. One more word out of him and he’s a dead man-shaped thing.” 

 

It was just like Black Mesa. Gordon clung to the edge of the rink like a cliff face, and the ice below him nothing but the stratified rock of a red canyon. A memory of helicopters shocked him into an even tenser stance. His life was just a loose rock away from being lost. Slow breaths. He knew he was safe, technically. But his body was not receptive to logic. God had one fucking awful plan if mental breakdowns at the ice rink were a part of it. 

 

Benrey slid past him, screaming and crying. He desperately reached out for the wall as he zoomed past, and his wailing petered out. Tommy looked like Bambi. Fawn-like, unsteady, but still managing in spite of how he didn’t take to it.

 

“Hah! You all suck . Watch this!” Bubby sped into the center of the rink and proceeded to eat shit. As expected. 

 

Dr. Coomer cut elegant little circles through the ice, waiting for Gordon to build up the courage to leave the edge of the rink. He paced around effortlessly, hands behind his back and soaking in the stiff air and dusty AC fumes. He’d extend a foot out, and draw the other closer to him, then engage his thighs and swerve. 

 

Gordon gripped the wall, looking down at his skates as he took his first step on the ice. No. There was no stability. There was no way he could balance on this thin little piece of metal. If he fell, he was going to die. He shuffled as Coomer spun in place beside him with the grace of a waterglider. 

 

Benrey had a mob following him, clapping and cheering him on as he skated by, “GORDON HELP I CAN’T STop please–” He faded out and did a triple axel followed by a twizzle while desperately trying to reach the edge.

 

“Did your ex-wife crush your dreams of being a figure skater too?” Gordon asked while his knees buckled. He slipped and banged his knees against the wall, “FUCK!”

 

“Oh, no. She taught me how to ice skate. Quite the athlete, on top of being a horrible three-armed hag.” Coomer helped him up and whisked him away, holding his hands as he guided his newborn steps on the ice, “I’ll hold onto you, Gordon. You slide one foot out, you bring the other into it, and then out again. Rinse and repeat.” 

 

“Fuck fuck fuck, Coomer I’m going to die!” Gordon really shouldn’t have agreed to this. It was only making the nausea worse as Coomer flung him around like a ragdoll, “Can we uh, do something casual? Easy going? Low octane?”

 

“This is low octane. I haven’t even brought out the lutz!” Coomer released one of his hands, and held onto him with one hand. He kept steady with bent knees, and occasionally propelled them both forwards. Gordon mimed the movement and kept his skates straight and steady, being propped up by Coomer so that he wouldn’t fall.

 

“Coomer, can we talk?” Gordon’s voice wobbled with his body. If he was interested in eating ice he would have opened up his freezer and licked the frost caked to the side, not fall face first into a filthy, rock hard rink. 

 

“We’re talking now, aren’t we?” Coomer gently guided him to the side, watching him take his first real step in skating. Gordon would have eaten some icy shit, but Coomer caught him, and turned him around so they didn’t hit the wall. 

 

Benrey passed by them again, carrying Tommy on one palm, one foot in the air, both of them waving at them and hollering, “Dr. Coomer, Gordon! HEEeeeelp–” 

 

Gordon grabbed fistfuls of Coomer’s sweater, “Well, it’s about Benrey–”

 

“Oh yes!” Coomer whipped around Gordon and grabbed his other hand, “Dear Officer Burpie.” 

 

“Benrey.” 

 

“Boper.” 

 

“Ben-Ree.” 

 

“Barble.”

 

“Yeah sure. Living with him has been such a hassle, you know? He’s a nightmare.” 

 

“Every roommate is a nightmare, Gordon.”

 

“This is different. I was scared shitless of him at first because he tried to kill me, but now he just wants to pester me. I think it’s because I asserted dominance over him or something? I can’t tell. I’m scared of him and exasperated and not terrified at the same time and I just don’t know–” 

 

“Remember to take it one step at a time. You’re getting frantic.” Coomer slowed them down to a more acceptable pace by slightly angling one of his feet. “If you think he’s going to kill you, try to kill him back!”

 

“Yeah, I did. But he’s stronger than me. So that was a bust. I wanted a gun but the G-Man said ‘no guns’ until I’m not going to kill Benrey with them. I got him to agree to a truce I think ? It’s hard to tell. But it’s been two weeks since he tried to kill me last and two days since he drew blood.” 

 

“What do you want me to do about it? Beat him up?” 

 

“No no! I mean… maybe. That sounds funny but I don’t want to get eaten by him in retaliation.” Gordon started taking strides that were slightly more confident, “I’m not sure what to do. Mr. Coolatta won’t help me. I don’t think Tommy understands the permanence of death, and Bubby is, y’know. Bubby.” 

 

“You didn’t see him the way we did, I don’t think,” Coomer spun him around, and Gordon caught a glimpse of Benrey doing a handstand into a pair of skates, Tommy and Bubby balancing on his feet as he scrambled across the ice. There was a gold medal dangling off his neck. “Bobbert looked at you… the way I looked at a punching bag the first time I got to practice boxing.” 

 

“Great. I’m an alien god’s punching bag.” 

 

“A man’s first punching bag is very important to him. You see, you need to break it in. And once it has all those lumps, those memories of your one-twos, it’s an old friend. Until those old seams tear and open up! And then you have sand all over the floor and your blasted ex-wife is screaming at you to clean it up.” 

 

“Coomer I think you–” 

 

“Hello Gordon! I think that Bop-It doesn’t know what to do with you now that you’ve been spilled in front of him. You’re a pile of sand on the floor! Does he punch you? Eat you? Kick you around? Make a delightful sand angel in you? Sand, from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Sand is a granular–” 

 

“Okay okay, but what do I do?” 

 

“Officer Bangladesh obviously wants to be your friend. Bangladesh, from Wi-” 

 

“Wikipedia I know. You think Benrey wants to be my friend? Actually? He’s not just teasing me? Trying to get a rise?” Coomer grabbed his other hand and started swinging across the ice with him as he became fully confident in his balance. Gordon was really a natural at it. Or maybe Dr. Coomer was that good. 

 

“Of course! Dear Booger may have turned against us, but he’s still a good friend. You know… Gordon… When I tried to get in your head –” 

 

“Like a lunatic, yes. I remember that.”

 

“I had a break. Like most of my race, I have never been quite sane at night.” 

 

Gordon smiled, “The correct quote is: In my age, as in my youth, night brings me many a deep remorse. I realize that from the cradle up I have been like the rest of the race - never quite sane in the night .” 

 

“Yes. Mark Twai– Hello Gordon! Mark Twain from Wiki–” 

 

Gordon cleared his throat, “As you were saying?” 

 

“I believed that the only way to escape Black Mesa was to somehow use your suit. To become you in a way. It makes no sense, but fear makes us into the irrational animals we think ourselves above. And I was afraid, Gordon, that what I was living was a lie.”

 

“All of us could’ve used that proverbial red pill to wake us up from that Black Mesa insanity.” 

 

“I take danger pills on Friday nights only, and my caution pills on Sunday night.” Coomer lifted him up as he twizzled, and brought him back down to the ice. 

 

Gordon forgot he was skating for a moment, until Benrey came back around, holding onto one ice skate with both hands, doing a split with Bubby splitting on top of him and Tommy being held up by his hips in a Superman flying pose, “What the fu-”

 

“But Gordon, in spite of what I wanted to do to you, you forgave me. Forgiveness, from Wikipedia, the free Encyclopedia–” 

 

“Coomer I–” 

 

“ Forgiveness lifts a burden, as the forgiver no longer feels anger or hatred toward the transgressor, and may better understand the transgressor. This improves their health and outlook .” Coomer brought Gordon closer to him, and hugged him on the ice, “You don’t owe it to him. But it might help you .”

 

Gordon rested his cheek on his shoulder. There was no bond in the world like that of two men who went to Hell together. “I’ll… take that into consideration, I think. I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.” 

 

“It meant everything, Gordon.” Coomer released him, and Gordon skated close to his side for a few minutes in silence, thinking about what he had said. When he realized that Coomer wasn’t holding onto him anymore, he gave him a cheeky sideways glance. That sly motherfucker.

 

“Now, about those pirouettes?” 

 

---

Benrey hopped into the car with bugged out eyes and pinprick pupils, holding an array of trophies in his hands, a couple of women’s underpants strung on his head, a rose in his teeth, and a few medals hanging off of his neck. He whimpered and turned on the seat warmer to toast up his freezing body while Gordon fixed his seat to be a bit more comfortable for his sore thighs. 

 

“Damn, Benrey. They weren’t even holding competitions today and you won them all.” Gordon shook him on the shoulder.

 

“I guess.” He looked away and threw the mess of awards into the backseat. Back to the basics, it seemed. “It was uhh, an accident. Or something.”

 

“You know what? I bet it was,” he smirked at Benrey as he put his seat back and folded his arms over his stomach, looking all tuckered out. Confounded by the response, but too tired to inquire, he nestled himself into Gordon’s sweater and got comfortable. Soon, he was snoring. While it would have been annoying, there was something about Benrey’s motorboat snore  that was relaxing and contagious. One man’s nuisance is another man’s comfort. It was a cosmic kindness that Benrey was out of commission for a little while. It was much preferable to have a sleeping monster in his car than a waking one. 

 

He was going to make the move tonight. Somehow. It was going to be a mutually beneficial reconciliation, which would lead to a safer and more efficient cohabitating situation. They were going to iron this shit out or Benrey was going to get his ass beaten by Coomer. Either one worked for Gordon.

Chapter 9: Dr. Freeman Performs a Botched Reconciliation over Napoleon Ice Cream

Summary:

Gordon and Benrey are reminiscing over dark times in their lives over a meal, and then go off to play video games... when Gordon realizes that Benrey's thumb grew back! How will this affect his plans to enact the wisdom granted to him by Dr. Coomer?

Notes:

TW: Nightmare at the end about getting devoured like prey so vore TW??? (not really)and being force fed a giant maggot, overall emotional instability, emotional abuse, starvation, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. rough one this time around folks, be kind to yourself and if you can't take bug eating or anything like that please skip the beginning few paragraphs and the end.

hey guys i had a stressful animal rescue so i apologize for errors and shit. i've been scrambling to make things work for an animal i was not prepared to keep because all the rescues in my area are booked up to the brim. so he's my responsibility now. i'm a dad.

i was gonna put a recipe here but i realized im such a bad cook that i do everything by instinct. i got no recipe. i just throw everything in the oven until i feel it's right. grandma's intuition lives in me. my recipe is go crazy, go stupid. just don't go salmonella.

also benrey's tragic backstory doesn't explain why he's such an asshole he's just like that. there's no excuse for his personality other than he is JUST a jackass. he likes being a little bitch, causing problems, etc.

anyways i am going to press my cock into a hydraulic press now and wait for the archangel to take me finally.

Gordon was finishing up dinner. Grilled chicken, cherry tomatoes, Brussel sprouts. Gordon’s normal diet before the Resonance Cascade was kind of complete shit. He really did eat like a divorced dad between all the TV dinners and ramen. His ex-wife was the cook between them; he had no talent for it. 

But dinner was sacred now. With a fridge stocked with food, there was no excuse to not take full advantage. This was food he loved, that he barred from himself because he thought he was incapable of making it. And now he was on his own.

This appreciation for his meals only truly blossomed out of food security’s corpse as it rotted throughout the Resonance Cascade. He didn’t realize he could miss eating a block of cheese for dinner. When they were lucky, there was a vending machine filled with roaches and snacks. If his stomach didn’t claw with hunger, it was reeling from the rush of nutrient deficient crap he’d cram in when he could. He left the roaches to Coomer and Benrey. That was when he first noticed his teeth. Gnashing the pale pulp of their fat bodies. Drool filled with mush dribbled from his chin, and it sprayed across the room as he let out a victorious hiccup of blue to red. I’ve been fed?

Those days, he was devouring anything he could, no matter how distasteful it may have been. Xenozoonosis was a primary concern when he first considered headcrab meat. Soon a secondary concern–his hunger became far more persuasive than logic. Or maybe it was a calculated risk. But the flesh was acrid, no matter how he cooked headcrab, it always had the sweet essence of rot laced into its mushy meat. There was simply no way to render a meat that refused to be edible. And after a while, the treats he once relished at his desk were becoming sickening in their own right. He was anemic, constipated, and barely gripping onto the little yet ferocious fight he had left. The irreverence of the RC forced him to be a roach. Breaking into vending machines, hunting for scraps; a roach has no dignity and neither did Gordon.

The very thought of eating another bag of chips or downing a can of soda made him queasy. Well, queasier than the thought of eating a home cooked meal did. So it was even worse when Benrey was insistent on leaving cans of whatever energy drink he had a hankering for that day lying around. Bang, Game Fuel, Mountain Dew, Monster, and Ramune were lined up against the kitchen sink, rinsed and ready for recycling. He didn’t mind the Ramune much, if Benrey didn’t insist on sticking his gross tongue around the marble like a snake coiling around a golf ball. 

Gordon served two plates, making sure to pile Benrey’s up to avoid any whining about how hungry he was. The alien had a voracious appetite, and Gordon had a hard time pinning down whether he was fucking with Gordon to make him serve him like a fucking butler, or if he was genuinely that hungry. This was one of those cases where Gordon was inclined to believe it was genuine. 

Regardless of intent, he was digging in before Gordon even set the plate down. Gordon snorted as he watched him chew the brussel sprouts like a disgruntled cat. His little ‘myehmyehs’ were… almost affable. He was going to choke on his own food if he didn’t get the urge to laugh under wraps. It was already hard enough packing food down when his throat was determined to deny anything nutritious access to his stomach.

 Benrey threw his head back when he got his jaws on the meat, and swallowed the half of a chicken that Gordon had given him. Eating like a snake was not on the Benrey Roommate Bingo card, but Gordon got used to it after the first steak he massacred.

“No gag reflex?” Gordon asked, and then dropped his fork. Why the FUCK did he ask that? 

“Huh? What? Whaddya say?” He picked his teeth clean with a black tipped claw and intermittently sipped his pink can of Monster.

“Uhh, um, you can slow down and savor it, y-you know.” Gordon remarked as he started working on his brussel sprouts, “You’ll enjoy it more.”

“Nah. Someone might steal it. Known thief lives in the house.” Benrey paused for a moment, and then pressed his hand against his diaphragm. A violent torrent of sweet voice washed over Gordon’s face, and blew him back in his chair. He tumbled onto the ground, face drenched in globs of ooze, “Nice.”

“Are you kidding me?” He moved the chair back up into place and wiped the sweet voice off his face. It made him feel… happy. Was that intentional manipulation or a slip up? Still, Gordon giggled as he tried to express his earnest anger. Thankfully BMSV didn’t last long when applied to the body and not ingested, “I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you dead I swear to god!”

With a burst of crazed laughter, he slapped his hand against the table. This energy lasted a few seconds before he switched back to a dead fucking serious tone, “That’s what a thief would say.” Benrey got up to find some more snacks, obviously not satisfied with his serving. 

“More? I live here too, you know.” Gordon hadn’t been eating more than the food he made for himself, but what if he did want to snack? It’s the principle…or something, “So much for me being the thief, asshole.”

“Buh–But you said I could help myself! The doctors–Super Dr. Mario Doctors! They said I was a twig! What? Are we gonna eat again?” Without taking pause, he continued rummaging through the freezer, deliberating on an appropriate dessert. 

“Tomorrow morning? We don’t skip breakfast.” Gordon had noticed bite marks on a lot of his packages. The thing about living off of vending machine snacks and soda is that the idea of cardboard packaging wasn’t fully integrated into Benrey’s worldview. Some designs tricked him into thinking it was food, rude. 

Benrey took out the tub of Neapolitan ice cream and sat down on the floor with his back to the fridge. Teal flooded out of his mouth as he pried the container open and responded with his tried and true recourse, "Kay."

“You’re such a selfish prick. What if I wanted ice cream? Fuck off.” Gordon started washing the dishes, he knew once Benrey started that, he was getting none of it. If he didn’t kill the gallon (shrinkflation ‘gallon’, dammit) he was going to forget to put it back in the freezer and let it melt into an inedible mush and drink it, “You should be ashamed of yourself, worthless energy pit. That food would’ve been better used on maggots and botflies.” 

“Yeah uh… I was kinda of a Apex Legend, unlike you. You’re just a uh, idiot. Who likes to kill people.” He let out a final bead of sweet voice from his mouth, and scooped some strawberry in to stuff the chromatic emotion down, “They umm, didn’t let me eat how I wanted. When uh, I was uhh… In Sector E. So, sorry, Gordo. Not uh, all of us have been to a food library.” 

There was not enough time in the universe to unpack that. “Alright, if you were an apex predator, what happened to you? How did you let a bunch of nerds catch you and stuff you in a tube? Fucking dumbass.” Gordon collected their plates and slapped them into the sink. Sector E was where they kept specimens… so that meant… Benrey was a Black Mesa test subject, or he was a security guard stationed there at one point. But given the fact that he’s obviously an alien, Gordon could infer the former.

Benrey answered with his mouth full, “Dunno, but at Black Mesa they mmmmmm. Fed me nutriment powder n’ mini cookies that tasted like hot ass. Sometimes bones. Got tiny. Twinked out. Sucked almost as hard as you.” 

“Kibble and nutritional supplements…” Gordon had kept a lizard in his college days. Nutrient powders were essential in reptile keeping. But the more important matter hadn’t eluded him; For the first time since he met the guy, Benrey was actually opening up to him, and he was making sense. And he almost blew it with his grudge. That loathing got wrangled as he meditated on Coomer’s words. He had to forgive Benrey, and that meant he had to be the… bigger man… to his chagrin. “They didn’t feed you enough to keep you tired and weak. What about during the Resonance Cascade? I didn’t see you eating any of the creatures. Just some pigeons and spiders.”

A sapient test subject. He felt a tinge of pity for the abomination, and stuffed it back down when he looked at his discolored, pale hand. That was not his hand. His hand was gone, rotting in the corpse of Black Mesa. And it was Benrey who orchestrated his suffering. He had to push those thoughts back down. Not right now. Benrey did that, but Gordon had to somehow forgive the unforgivable. But he wanted that power over him so bad. Ruining him was such a lovely prospect, it almost made his heart flutter. 

“Thought uh, it would be too gross. Bad reaction.” Benrey paused from eating the ice cream, and placed his hand on his stomach as he reminisced on the hunger, and the shameful satisfaction he felt when he was gawked at like a spectacle at his most vulnerable moments. Made to eat whatever was dictated for him, never enabled to experience the satisfaction of a fresh kill or to graze on the glistening radioactive flora again. Staring out from the energy field and glass to the distorted figures and their ghastly, beady little eyes while eating the same numbing slop he ate every day. Being watched at all hours. At least the security guards banged on his glass and made faces at him. 

At that size, all meat looked tasty, even friendly flesh.

This food? It was a pleasure he wouldn’t take for granite. Wait, no. Granted. 

“What did you… do? To your prey?” Gordon sat on the floor with Benrey, leaning against the part of the island directly across from that fucking fridge. His and Benrey’s feet could have touched if he extended his legs out. 

“Depends. That time? Cocooned in sweet voice, liquified the interior, then chug jugged that shit lol.” Benrey took an indulgent bite out of his spoon of ice cream and moaned at the flavor of the vanilla. Benrey couldn’t believe it. Vanilla was supposed to be plain, boring. Unremarkable in every way. This was something so mundane that it was a colloquialism for lame. It was not lame. That was a good flavor. Nothing short of an insane reputation for such a rapturous experience. 

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” Gordon had watched spiders eat before, this sounded no different.

“It was bad when they sent someone in to open up the sack. Buncha uhh, nyerds who shound like thish, opened up my juice box.” He was trying the chocolate now. It wasn’t that satisfying, at least not compared to his reaction to vanilla.

“Oh, that is… a bit… Hmm.” That reminded Gordon of his nightmare a few days ago. Being turned to meat mush in the chrysalis of Benrey’s spit. It gave him goosebumps.

“Mhm.” Benrey spooned up a huge glob of ice cream and bit into it, baring his pristine teeth. They were built to shred flesh, leaving as much damage as possible. He noted how he was a homodont. His mouth had all one kind of tooth, like a shark. He smacked his thin, corpse–like lips and hummed in delight, “Good shit. Napoleon knew wassup.” 

“That’s Neapolitan. Napoleon was a French man who–Nevermind, you’re not worth it,” Gordon hissed between his teeth. He was really struggling to make this work, “How are you this stupid?”

“You hear a lot of stuff in the lab. Try to piece things together like a lame puzzle. Tommy helped. Tried to teach me. Tommy good.” Benrey tapped his spoon in the gallon of ice cream, staring listlessly at it. His shoulders shot up, and he receded into them.

Tommy would step in and be his only companion. He would enter, smelling like elderberry, dog hair, and something of great renown which commanded Benrey’s utmost respect. It was his job to clean up his pen and provide enrichment. Humiliating as it was, Benrey’s interactions with Tommy were the one thing he had to cling to. He taught him how to speak, told him about the many wonders of Earth, and snuck him goodies like cupcakes or sodas. When he rolled in the plush chair and sat back with a book in his hand to try and teach Benrey how to communicate, he’d just pop right onto his lap and strew himself about like a horror-flesh-cat, purring as he was stroked from head to tail. And after his lessons in those early days, Tommy would kiss him right on the forehead and tell him how much progress he made. That was when he was new and twenty-two. 

Fifteen years had passed. Benrey counted the minutes until Tommy would be back to give him a new game, feed him a sweet treat, scratch him under his chin and lavish him in kisses on his head.

When Tommy told him he was changing departments about two months ago, he couldn’t handle it. Sector C?! That was like, two alphabet letters away! Benrey couldn’t just stay there. He had to follow Tommy. 

And Tommy never brought him ANY vanilla! How could he withhold this treat?! 

“Love that guy,” Gordon responded quite dryly. He assumed both of their lives were going to be dictated by either their usefulness to Tommy, or by how entertained by them he was. Tommy was good, but he’d rather be in the hands of no god at all than live in servitude. There was a conflict of interest; Gordon loved Tommy, but he also resented him.  

It was quiet for a few minutes as Benrey experimented with eating ice cream. He seemed to be incredibly partial to vanilla, as he finished it up first. Gordon watched him, interested in his dentition and eating habits. Benrey didn’t have sideways chewing action. He chewed up and down with an open mouth, and preferred to clamp a few times and then swallow. His mouth morphology was certainly inhuman. He had no uvula (humans were the only animals on earth with a uvula) as far as Gordon could tell, and the back of his throat was a huge, cavernous hole. Bites that would have choked a man passed down fine for him. In the kitchen light, he could see that his skin was textured more like a leopard gecko’s soft scales than a mammal’s. He also had no body hair. That probably meant he was bald, too. 

No wonder he never took that helmet off. Gordon decided to pry, maybe finally having found a point of weakness and shame. Maybe this was ruining his chance. But he didn’t care, not when he could finally sink his teeth into something real, “Why the uh, helmet?” 

“Uniform. Protection. Known murderer in the house.” He rolled his eyes, and then shot Gordon a smug side glance, “It’s okay. I forgive you even though I don’t want to. I have to. Cause I love ya bro. Aren’t I a great best friend?”

Coomer was wrong. Benrey just wanted to make him mad. He just knew how to get on his nerves. And he wasn’t going to let him have that, “First off, you killed people too. Secondly, you can get comfortable, take off the helmet. ‘They were roommates’, after all.”

“I am comfortable in the helmet, though.” Benrey put his hands on it, pupils contracting into little slits as he held onto the sides, “I like it a lot.”

“I bet you’re bald.” Gordon grinned as he saw that little twitch in the eye start to form. 

“Huh?” Benrey blew a bit of orange to teal sweet voice to the side, maintaining strong eye to eye contact with Gordon.

“Bet that’s why you won’t take off the helmet. Baldrey.” It was about goddamn time things went his way. 

“What? Yeah. No.” Benrey scratched the side of his face, jostling his pronounced jowls, “N–Not bald.”

“Likely story.” Benrey stood up and walked off. That meant that he had hit him where it hurt, to some marginal degree at least. He decided to follow him, see where this took them. 

 
Benrey migrated from the island to the couch to continue playing video games, the gallon of ice cream in his lap, “Final Fantasy, friend? Or Kane and Lynch 2, idiot?”

“Kane and Lynch 2: Dog Days is a masterpiece.” Gordon took a seat next to him and watched the TV. Benrey seemed to have mastered one thumb- No. No, no. He had both thumbs. One was looking slightly underdeveloped. Holy shit. 

Benrey regrew a finger. He could probably regrow a limb. Maybe even his torso. Like a sea star, or a planarian.

The hand removal was a fucked up practical joke. Benrey wasn’t lying when he said it was a game. He thought Gordon would respawn. He had no grasp of true mortality. That’s why it was such small potatoes to him. That’s why he continued to act like they were all buddy buddy. That’s why Benrey only ever made empty threats towards Gordon and did nothing to him outside of inconveniencing him and the aforementioned ‘pranks’. And why he thought it was funny when the soldiers left him for dead.

Coomer was right. Benrey had wanted to be his friend, and he thought he was being playful. Why he was being gentle now was beyond him. All this time, G-Man was right. Coomer was right. And Gordon was the fucking idiot for thinking Benrey had any malicious intent. He should have known Benrey’s thumb would regrow. It had been regrowing! He’d been getting more tactile with it over the past few days. Gordon felt like an idiot. A stupid, ignorant fucking idiot. 

Benrey really had helped him calm down while trying to be a good friend. All his spiraling anxieties, and the overwhelming feeling of withdrawal had been numbed with sweet voice. It truly felt no worse than a cold now. Was Benrey actually being helpful? Was he keeping watch, and uplifting Gordon? Did he think that whenever he snapped at him, that was a sign of strength? He was struggling to wrap his head around it.

The hatred was boiling over in him. Grab him by his neck, beat him senseless, make him feel an ounce of the pain he had. Make him suffer in an equivalent abundance. 

He was sitting next to him, a teensy smile on his face, one hand on the controller and the other scooping ice cream into his maw. It was an indulgent display. Why the fuck should he be full, content, with every finger on his fucking hands? Why should he be happy?

How happy would Benrey be knowing what he did to his best friend.

“I wasn’t joking about not being able to respawn, y’know. Or regenerate.” Gordon turned his body to face him, being sure to open himself up to put Benrey at ease. 

“Huh? What? Yeah, no,” he wasn’t paying much attention. Final Fantasy’s title screen was a lot more interesting.

“Not a joke. This?” Gordon pointed to his unnatural palm and waited for Benrey to face him before continuing, “G-Man did this. I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own. And I hate it. Just because I have a hand, doesn’t mean it feels… good. This is not my hand.”

“It… it’s back though. Why are you so upset about it bro? You can uh, scratch your ass again. Pick your nose. Epic win.” Benrey paused and shifted his position. Gordon now had his full attention. Good.

“When you cut a human’s limbs off, they never regrow. That person has a disability for life. G-Man did this.” He held his hand out for Benrey to get a clear look at. The skin tone didn’t match, and the sutures left a burnt scarring pattern across his hand that looked painful. Benrey could start to see all the little abnormalities. Things that were alive were symmetrical as a general rule, and yet these hands were not the same. The ratio between the length of his index and ring fingers were wrong. The subtle shape of his fingernails didn’t align; His right hand was slightly smaller, and the hair color was lighter. Even the veins were sprawling without symmetry. Everything about it seemed sloppily imitated.

The spoon fell out of Benrey’s mouth, “You’re not uh, playing tricks? No Fibdon Liarman?” 

“I mean it. We don’t respawn. Death is permanent. Entropy wins. Our energy cannot reconfigure together into something that was known as us. It transfers to a different state. A state which cannot ever be us as we know it again.”

His voice croaked, as if he had just been betrayed. It was that same choke that Gordon had made when he realized that the team he had put his trust into turned their backs on him. “Whuh? N-no. Best friend funny joke. I… No hand. What happened to your hand? Clumsy boy…” Benrey’s lip was twitching as he sought the words. When he finally spoke, it was that genuine confusion again. But this time, Gordon knew he meant it, “Gordon? What happens? If you don’t respawn? You have to start over? Or is it… a new game?” 

He didn’t even have a concept of finality. And to be frank, neither did Gordon. Ph.D or not, humans were not meant to understand what the loss of equilibrium meant for the conscience. “No, it’s not like… a video game. What probably happens is that what makes us who we are just ceases to be. That spark of life, whatever mix of electric, chemical, and hormonal signals it may be is just gone. Forever. Probably isn’t an afterlife if that’s what you’re talking about, but I don’t know for sure. A lot of people think there’s a heaven or a hell. You even said you couldn’t wait for us to go to hell, dude.” 

“Yeah, like a cool guy thing to say…” Benrey put the tub on the table and brought his knees to his chest, pressing into the back of the couch. How many people did he actually, permanently kill? Did animals not respawn? On Xen? It made no sense. When he killed one animal, usually another was there not long after?

Seeing Benrey’s epiphany was practically orgasmic. He was visibly upset, stumbling over his own speech. Gordon ravished the dissonance in him as Benrey’s thoughts turned him to shame, “Nothing on Earth respawns! Nothing except you. Everything and everyone you’ve ever killed has died permanently. Because you’re a massive piece of shit.”

“Huh? But… what about you killing? You also killed people.” 

“And that shit haunts me because I have something resembling humanity. Fuck you, Benrey, you remorseless, soulless monster.” Gordon gripped him by the collar of his shirt and spat at him through gritted teeth. But he was rather dissatisfied that it didn’t push him further, not in a way that Gordon could tell. Benrey had this wall-eyed stare and quivering lip.

He beamed up at Gordon, like he was about to cry. Obviously having been lost in introspection, “Um, Gordon? Will I go to hell for um, killing people?”

“I’ll let you think about that. Don’t let the ice cream melt.” He patted him on the shoulder and turned away. Taking a sick satisfaction in the mental anguish Benrey had spiraled into wasn’t anything to be proud of, but Gordon didn’t care. That thing needed to think long and hard about what he had done. 

Gordon grabbed some gummies, taking twice as many this time around, and conked out into bed. If that wasn’t a breakthrough with Benrey, he didn’t know what would be.

 

---

Gordon was dreaming that he was on a rowboat, leaning back with Benrey holding the oars, pushing the two of them through a Xen tunnel of love. He serenaded Gordon the whole time with low, operatic notes, which trailed behind them like lanterns set out to sea. Benrey was singing Tom Lehrer’s Masochism Tango, Gordon recognized that song he’d hum with his ex-wife while they attempted to learn to dance for their wedding. What a failure that was. 

Benrey stuck his hand into the bright red water. It was as thick as syrup. As he pulled out, his hand was wrapped around a fat, juicy Xen leech. It poured out from his grip, writhing and squealing like a rabbit kit. Benrey brought it to his mouth, giving Gordon a view of his sharp, gnarled visage as he opened up and wrapped his lips around the girth of the leech. Feet upon feet of worm poured from his jaws. He slurped it like a piece of spaghetti, until half of its pale, maggoty body hung out. Dropping the remaining oar, he crawled closer to Gordon from across the rowboat. The wood creaked as it got shorter, and shorter, until Benrey was looming over Gordon with his meal in his maw. The ceiling lit up with balls of Xen energy, framing Benrey with emerald. Gordon tried backing out of the rowboat, and found that there was an invisible wall behind him. Fuck. 

“Bro, stop running. It’s okay. You’re hungry and forgot your stupid food suit. Gonna uh, feed you. Like a baby bird. Cause you fed me. Best friends!” 

His claws wrapped around his back and lifted him to his face, the writhing animal still locked in his jaws. Gordon screamed and struggled in his grasp. And as always, he was powerless to stop him. The leech looked him in the eye and snaked through his lips. He clenched his jaw, and felt it being pried open by the wet, pulsating body. Until it completely filled up his mouth and throat. Their lips pressed against each other, and they moaned in delight and discomfort. It undulated between their mouths, wriggling deep into Gordon’s esophagus, squelching and chirping like live prey was inclined to. He could feel the hardened, spiny pads at its belly scrape against his throat. Even its little setae hairs were tickling the roof of his mouth in such an honest sensation, he forgot that this couldn’t be reality. 

The flavor of euphoria made him salivate. Profusely. The layer of oil on its skin was almost like butter, and the carapace itself was savory and meaty like a lobster. Benrey severed the animal in half with his  jaws, and took the larger piece. He threw his head back like a seagull as Gordon choked on his share. They were winding down the river, turning, lurching, inertia’s insidiousness working its way through Gordon and jostling his organs around as he gasped for breath, having finally stomached down that leech. 

Gordon was disgusted. With himself. With Benrey. With the fleshy Xen cave covered in snotty stalactites and the motion sickness of these nonsense river rapids. That monster strewed himself about on the other side, melting languorously into the wood. Benrey licked his fingers clean of the gelatinous liquid, his other hand rested on his stomach, as if he could feel it through kevlar body armor. His tongue wormed its way through his teeth and lapped up the liquid dribbling down his chin, ruminating on the meal. 

“You know, Gordon.” He turned his head to him, eyes contracted to fishhook slits, “M’ still hungry. Thinking you’d uh, be dessert.”

“Wait what?” Gordon rubbed at his neck, still sore from that experience. He held his hands out, ready to protect himself as Benrey slunk closer to him on his haunches, and when he pounced, he gave Gordon a kiss on the lips, devouring the flavor of leech on his mouth. Gordon clawed at his neck, and then leaned into the touch, the flavor, the smoothness. 

And then Benrey was eating him. Gnawing on his flesh, leaving bloody hickeys before coming in at a new angle and tearing at his fat and muscle. Ripping the tendons off his body one by one while holding him down with his claws, digging his head into his abdominal cavity and slurping the organs like a hog. Gordon stayed motionless, the pain washing over him and yet being compelled to give himself over. Benrey picked his bones clean like a buzzard, leaving nothing uneaten, un-worshiped. He leaned back with a happy little smile, Gordon’s eyes still skewered on his claws. His lips were primed, and he sucked one of the eyes off like an olive from a toothpick, then hummed in delight. 

Now he and a skeletal Gordon were leaning back on opposite sides of a rowboat. When Benrey lounged, he looked like a roman emperor. Hydrated, serviced, a vision of beauty. Gordon was urged by an unknown, overwhelming force to bring himself to Benrey, and grasp his hand.

“You took everything from me.” Gordon sat on his lap, placing his dry palms on his gaunt face and blowing hopeless notes of a song he didn’t know into his cheek. 

Benrey nabbed him by the shoulder and brought him in to lay on his chest, still stained in Gordon’s blood and covered in loose pieces of fascia and epidermis, “You have me.”

Gordon heard him sing, running his claws down his skull case, purring in delight like a wild animal. He was a wild animal. Something unadmitted and untamable was bubbling in him, consuming him.

They cuddled on the rowboat as it sank into the river, humming sweet voice to one another. Benrey giggled and smiled at Gordon, grabbing his mastoids and tugging at them like tiny handlebars, tracing his fingertips across his ribcage, sliding his claws between the holes in it. A regal monster blessed him, removed his shackles of flesh and blood and speech. Left basal and bare, he could be unabashedly himself. 

Gordon wished for nothing more than to be there in his inexplicable dream logic, protected by Benrey, exploited by his endless hunger. Locked in place with him in a river of leeches and oozing flesh.

 

Chapter 10: Dr. Freeman Faces the Music

Summary:

Gordon and Benrey try to work things out. Try.

Notes:

TW: Holy fuck no one here is a good communicator and they're highkey aggressive. nothing about this is pleasant for me to read. i get second hand embarrassment for all parties.

sorry no brokeback this week my beta can't keep up with me (they need to catch up on 200k of backlog).

there's a lot of shit going on in my life rn idk how im doing this honestly.

you can find me @ benrey-did-nothing-wrong on tumblr. it's just posting sillies.

don't be afraid to leave a comment telling me this SUCKS. and if you already enjoyed a work from an author today, be sure to send them a comment telling them how much you appreciate their work. have a wonderful week!

His unpleasant slumber was interrupted with a song. It was of the disquieting, sad quality of a lonesome whale’s unheard warble. Benrey’s singing was always beautiful, but this? It was like the desperate cries of a dying animal, all alone. Yearning to see its family as they got further away from earshot. It filled him with a longing dread; alone at sea, being dragged farther from shore until it disappeared beneath the endless horizon. Oh, poor Benrey! Woe is him! Woe is Benny-boy! 

 

Gordon felt like hot shit, but this was a spectacle he had to see. Benrey? In distress? It was going to be the highlight of his day–no– year. He stumbled out into the living room, and there he was. A pulsating blob of blankets rustled from the middle of the couch. Sitting straight up. The PS3 controller was where it had been left last night, the battery now dead and the menu music eclipsed by his mourning wail. His eyes were blown wide and bloodshot. Delicate bulbs of sweet voice, of all manner of monochrome were suspended across the ceiling, swirling in a hazy, slow carousel. The gray kept coming as he moaned with a wince. He watched Gordon as he emerged into the hallway, and felt sickened by the sight of him.

 

“What does the gray mean?” Gordon leaned on the wall. A wash of pride struck him now that he had finally gotten to Benrey. He truly humbled that monster, gave him that reality check he needed. 

 

Benrey paused, swallowing down some rising notes, seemingly hesitant to respond. Guilt overcame dignity, “Morose and gray like stones in a quarry means I am truly, and sincerely sorry.” 

 

That thing didn’t just feel bad, he was so distraught that he composed a whole song out of his emotions. Good. 

 

It was a form of ritualistic apology. He sat down next to the swaddled pile of blankets and soaked in his misery in proximity, “You mean it?”

 

“Thought it was funny. Cause uh, you laughed when I got hurt. Thought it was a game. Thought we were best friends. But if you’re not best friend. That means it was all real. You wanted to kill me... forever. Really? Kill me? You hate me for real.” Benrey’s voice was void of the lackadaisical bro-tone that Gordon had gotten pretty accustomed to. Gordon preferred the more subdued, genuine voice, stripped of the turpentine defenses and left with the pulp of raw emotion.

 

“No shit I hate you! You tormented me across Black Mesa! Why the fuck did you think I ever liked you?” Gordon watched the hope in Benrey’s face drain from him. God, was that satisfying. There was finally something he could do to Benrey that actually caused him even a fraction of the pain that he inflicted on him.

 

“I was fucking around. Thought like, we were cool. That’s why you shot me so much. Hit me. Uh, I liked you, bro. Thought we were tight. Giving each other shit as like, best friends.” Gordon sneered at him, and Benrey shrunk a little. Apologies were obviously not something he had ever done before, elsewise he wouldn’t be making all these fucking excuses.

 

“Tight? I knew you for twenty minutes before the Resonance Cascade and you were nothing but unpleasant.” Gordon hooked a finger up in Benrey’s face, piercing through some of the bubbles. The accused did not flinch. Why would he have any need for flinching?

 

“Cause… Cause you laughed? Laughed at my jokes? And had a job to do. To blend in. But I sucked. I suck still, cause umm… I didn’t ever think that maybe I was a huge idiot that never knew anything to begin with. And that I was hurting you. I just, like.  I–I dunno, man. I’m fuckin, bad. I’m baaaad.” Benrey spewed out a beam of sweet voice out into the air, “I like hurting people. I like making you upset. I wanted your um, sight. Eyes on me. You and me. Eyes on each other. Through desert sand. In missile mud.” 

 

“You’re a stupid bastard. Laughing at your jokes a few times doesn’t make us best friends .” 

 

“M’yeah. Uh, I hate you. You… you make me feel bad and normally I feel good . I’ve always felt good until I met you.” He spilled out a variety of colors, a mix of emotions he was having a difficult time controlling, “I hate you Gordon.” 

 

His brows furrowed, shaking his head as he dipped his neck to enunciate. It wasn’t like this came naturally to him, but he thought he knew enough of what made someone sad to mimic the croaking voice and the vulnerability of helplessness. And actively worked against it. He tensed himself, baring his fangs in defense, “Why can’t I just fuckin’ put a new hand on your uh, arm, if you’re gonna be such a pussy about it? Huh?!” 

 

“We can’t do that either!” It was such an innocent, ignorant question despite the way it had been framed. Benrey didn’t know anything about this dimension or its inhabitants. His assumptions being made from video games as his only exposure to human culture and biology was going to have some catastrophic consequences.

 

“No?” The stream of sweet voice grew more intense after that, and Gordon started to have a hard time seeing through the haze of orbs, “Uh, sorry. I guess.” 

 

Gordon decided to pluck one out from the air. It was a middling steel-gray with a haze of pigeon iridescence swirling within. As his lips hit it, he was suddenly struck with the weight of the greatest shame of his life. A raging, blazing fire of self-hatred erupted from his chest and constricted him at the base of his esophagus. He gasped as the guilt sat heavy on his lungs. The tears were uncontrollable, and as Gordon broke out into hideous full-body sobs. How can a mortal understand the intensity of emotion that a god could feel? He wasn’t crying in a way that Gordon could understand, but this was his closest equivalent. He couldn’t tell if he was the bigger man or not, but he certainly didn’t feel like it. Rubbing it in was shameful.

 

The message was clear. I don’t know what to do. I’m so ashamed, if I were of man, I would die of it.

 

He choked back the last few streams of tears, and blew some snot into one of the blankets covering Benrey. It took him even longer to catch his breath. God, what was he supposed to say? Benrey was so overwhelmed with emotion that just a taste of it left Gordon a blubbering wreck. 

 

It probably could kill him.

 

When he could finally speak again, he sniffled and said, “This is how you’re actually feeling? You’re upset? Really? You son of a bitch. You heartless, evil son of a bitch. You have the gall to wallow in self pity… for torturing me? When I was at my goddamn lowest, you struck me down. YOU–” he hooked his finger further into the air, coiling it until it hurt. His muscles were so tense his face was getting hot with the stress, “You’re a disgusting little cretin and I loathe the fact that G-Man is making me take care of you. Leave.”

 

“Cause I fuckin’ can’t, dude. Tommy’s pops wants me to stay with you! This sucks hard and bad and not the good kind. I don’t wanna do that. GORDON FUCKIN FREEMAN, super SMART doctor guy is too fuckin’ stupid to realize I’ve been trying to uh, make things better. It’s not fun to fuck with you when you’re just uh, crying like a baby-man on the ground. I want this .” Benrey gestured to Gordon’s… everything, “And killing you would mean never again. Never again would I get to see your stupid ugly face get big and red and mad like a nasty little tomato. Not hear your whiny gay voice. Not see you sitting at the island in the morning… being smelly. It’s a fun. Cool times.” 

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Is this a joke? This is just another opportunity for you to fucking jab at me and put me down?” 

 

“I’ll tell you uh, what’s WRONG. It’s that I wasn’t supposed to be here! I was supposed to be playing Heavenly Sword with Josh . I should be in my stupid Black Mesa dorm with Josh and we should be playing Heavenly Sword for the PS3 together. And instead, G-Man put me here with YOU and you’re not even funny anymore!” 

 

“That’s all you goddamn think about? Playing video games? Is there any greater fulfillment in your fucking life? You have no remorse.” 

 

“What the FUCK do you think uh, sweet balls are, idiot?! Suck em and leave me alone if you want remores ! I’m uh, I don’t know what to say to you to make you happy! You think this is uh, fun for me?! You have uh, kept saying I’m mean and evil. I don’t know why. You’re mean and evil! You act like uh, you know what’s in my head, cause I uh, don’t get everything right, okay? What do you want me to do!? What do I need to do!?” 

 

Gordon shot off of the couch. Benrey was starting to actually get irritated. His skin was standing on end, each ossicle beneath the surface pushing out a fine prick of calcareous material. His pupils split in his eye socket, and as soon as he revealed this moment of weakness, he reigned it in and composed himself. An elastic mound of flesh stretched out over his face as a twisting muzzle of teeth, and cinched itself around the base. The tip of the maw coiled into his neck, tiny, oily flesh hands clawed out from his skin and brought the flesh back in until his face was human again. 

 

This was going to slip out of his control fast if he didn’t think of something. Gordon defaulted to his backup plan, “If you calm down, Benrey, I’ll give you breakfast.”

 

“Don’t give an ass about eat ,” Benrey hissed back at him, eyes still fighting for control of the socket like larvae packed into a honeycomb.

 

“But you uh, love eating.” Benrey could smell his fear. Could see it in his face. How suddenly, he wasn’t so aggressive, that just a touch of anger was enough to keep Gordon in his place in the pecking order. He hated that. The fear was a foul stench. 

 

“Yeah. No. I don’t. Some other guy.” Benrey emerged from the cocoon of blankets he made, revealing a crackling mouth running down the length of his neck, teeth poking out through the gaps, “You–you scare people. You’re aggressive and you can’t be uh, handled. You’re bad. You’re baaaad Gordon.”

 

His face was entirely obscured by a suspension of monochrome as he puked out another stream of sweet voice. Once again, Benrey’s compulsory bodily functions betrayed him. He wiped the smoky swirls of thick drool away from his lips as he leaned towards Gordon, “But uh, you’re… you’re limited edition. Collector’s item.”

 

Gordon’s face remained fixed in a stoic pout, but he truly did believe that at any moment, Benrey was going to pounce. And if he did, Gordon was helpless against him. No amount of strength or will of mankind could defend from Benrey. He had to reject the hypothesis; and he had put a lot of eggs on that bet. “What about me being limited edition?”

 

Benrey came up to him, and lightly ran his talon down his left arm, “Handle with care.”

 

Gordon froze. He wasn’t a freezer. He was a fighter. But the cold graze of his claws elicited a new instinct. An ancient intuition was controlling him, and if he were to move, he would be prey. And Benrey now knew how delicate Gordon was in comparison. Equilibrium was a state which could never be returned to once left, and thus must be worshipped. “Benrey please don’t touch me. I don’t want to die. I… I got a lot to live for. I uh, haven’t played Red Dead Redemption 2 yet?” 

 

He was thinking about his son. But Benrey wouldn’t understand that. Benrey was only capable of understanding the world through the frame of video games. Fucking alien. There was no assurance that this would work, and his touch being so close, his claws a mere few feet from his neck…

 

It was a brief touch, and Gordon was more shocked than relieved that his request was being respected. Benrey hummed some more notes out, and then threw himself on Gordon, pushing him into the couch while wailing shrill notes. Gordon balled his fists and started bracing against him as his arms wrapped around his limbs, then fell back against the cushions, effectively immobilized.

 

“Benrey NO! Please god! I don’t want to die I don’t–” 

 

“Shut up, idiot I’m not killing you!” Gordon got a face full of morose gray as he reared his head up, and slammed the brim of his helmet back into Gordon’s sternum. He let out some muffled sobs, “No no no! Gordon, Gordon should be around. Should stay in his state or something. I dunno what entropy is okay? I don’t know what you’re talking about but I want you here forever and ever with me. I hate you. I hate you Footman, you make me feel bad. Don’t die, idiot. Only mean idiots die for real and leave their best friends alone. I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know and I’m uh,” Benrey soaked his entire chest in grey goop, “Okay please and thank you, please and thank you don’t die, please? Thank you.”

 

Benrey had him in a vice grip, kicking his legs around as his grey came to a deep, vibrant green. Forest veneer, I need you here? Gordon just let himself get held, the rush of endorphins hadn’t stopped yet. It was the most terrifying hug of his life. Left on his back, hyperventilating and little heart beating so fast, he felt like a dying rabbit in the coils of a snake. He could feel Benrey press harder where his heart was knocking against his ribcage.

 

“P-please don’t touch me.” Gordon could feel his nerves tingle around his touch.

 

“I’m not touching you,” he would be infuriating if he wasn’t so scary. 

 

“You are. Stop hugging me.” 

 

“Just let me memorize your uh, state,” Benrey put his head on his chest and mouthed in time for his heartbeat.

 

“The hell does that mean?” 

 

“Every–Everything alive has like, a noise. A noise in them. I just want to know what to listen for, okay? Please?”

 

“Get off. Now,” Gordon bore his teeth. Benrey looked at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to make of his blunt incisors being made visible. They didn’t intimidate them. But there was a reason for them to be out. It was a difficult dilemma: allow himself to be falsely intimidated or to continue playing with his toy. 

 

Benrey released him, and then swaddled himself up again in his blankets, “Gonna uh, go die now since um, you know my cringe feelings.” 

 

“I have um, a proposition.” Gordon sat up so he could claim his spot on the couch again, “As long as you promise not to do me any bodily harm.”

 

“Mhm.” Benrey flopped over, “Go ahead.” 

 

“Behave, and we can start over . Don’t chase me with knives, shoot me, bite me, or attempt to maim me in any other way. And don’t give me a reason to hate you.” There, that last part was vague enough…

 

Benrey reached out and grabbed his hand again, “Promise. What level of epic stabbing is allowed, then? Like uh, any part of you breaks forever? Ceramic doll or Bionicle?”

 

His touch was uncharacteristically gentle. Gordon’s heart quickened, expecting those claws to dig into him, shear his arm from the skeletal muscles holding it together. Leave his other arm as ribbons of dismembered sinews. Create symmetry , as he once put it. But rather than that, he appeared to be petting him. “NONE! There’s only one of me! If you break me, no one can put me back together. Humans can do mild…” Gordon thought of how he could word this, “Regeneration. Small cuts, bruises, illnesses. We can fend things off to a certain extent.”

 

The alien’s eyes dilated. Gordon’s arm was tugged, harshly. For a moment he thought his nightmare had become reality, that Benrey was finally finishing the job. 

 

Benrey was pressing Gordon’s knuckles into his gaunt cheek, eyes closed. He snorted up a stream of snot rolling down his nose and hummed a new shade of smoky slate sweet voice, “Mm. No knives again. No knife fights. Gordon is on hardcore mode. No respawns left. Will handle with care. Fragile uh, baby boy. Gordon Babyman doesn’t know how to come back to life yet.” 

 

“You can’t hide the fact you’re sniffling by calling me Gordon Babyman. It doesn’t make you look tougher.” Gordon cautiously pulled his hand away from Benrey and ran it against his chest to be sure it was still there.

 

“You uh, suck. Stop it.” 

 

“Okay. Let’s unpack this, Benrey. Why do you feel bad?” Gordon decided to use the techniques he had to try on Joshua. It had to be the same principle, if Benrey couldn’t understand human thought processes and emotions, guiding him through them might be the best way to help both himself and Gordon understand what’s going on in that anomalous mind. And although his resentments hadn’t been buried, he was softening. Certainly softening.

 

“Hurt best friend Gordon. But not in a funny way. A real way… Was my prank funny though?” 

 

“No! We were lucky the HEV suit saved me from the car explosion. Still sore from that… I think.” Gordon grabbed his ass and rubbed at his glutes, yep, he still could feel the explosion.

 

“Oh no. Butt glue wasn’t funny?” Benrey kicked his feet into the couch, “I’m bad. I’m baaaad.”

 

“Do you understand how that hurts me?” He never knew with Benrey. He had to be sure that the fact that he was mortal would get through.

 

“Sucks for Gordon cause no respawn?” A guilty blob of sweet voice slipped past his tongue, and smacked Gordon right on the lens of his glasses. He swatted it away, shooting Benrey an irritable glare.

 

“Yes, and it’s incredibly painful. I will never recover from the shit you pulled on me. You have permanently maimed me…” Gordon looked around for something to hold up, and grabbed a white wrapper that Benrey left lying around, “Ivory stained, I’ve been maimed. But–but it doesn’t grow back.” 

 

“Then what happened to your arm?” Benrey poked the scar tissue, and Gordon flinched. The alien shot out of the blankets, thinking he had hurt him, “No bad Benrey no!” 

 

“Why do you always need to ask about the–Don’t touch it! I don’t like this hand. It’s not mine. I don’t know where Mr. Coolatta got this.” Benrey still looked fearful, “I’m not mad about you touching it. That was an honest mistake. I’m putting down a boundary now. That’s not a bad thing, Benrey. Don’t touch this hand.” 

 

“Okay… Enemy hand spotted?” Benrey flashed his claws, “I can help?” 

 

“Don’t cut it off again either!” 

 

“Won’t. Wouldn’t dream of it…” There was an awkward, uncomfortable silence between them as Benrey nestled into a cozy cocoon and Gordon stared at the Final Fantasy menu screen. Benrey smacked his lips a couple of times, “Wanna kiss?” 

 

Gordon’s strange concoction of fear, loathing, and sadness was suddenly hit with the whiplash of Benrey asking him to kiss . He tried to suppress the rising snort and lost the battle, “Kiss?! You know how wildly inappropriate that is after a conversation like this?” 

 

“No.” He deadpanned. 

 

Gordon ruminated on the answer, trying to find the best solution for their continued cohabitation. “Let’s settle for a hug. And to be perfectly clear–” 

 

“You’re uh, not clear though. You’re like, brown and uh, wearing pink boxers with little hearts on the–”

 

“Benrey , let me finish,” Gordon was definitely going to regret this but maybe there was some way to make this way. Weirder things have happened, “We’ll hug it out. And I’m making this clear, you are not out of the shit. I’m giving you the second chance I gave Coomer and Bubby. This is your only shot and if you fuck it up, it’s over . And I don’t know what I’ll do when it’s over , because no one who I’ve ever given a second chance to has made me regret it.”

 

“Yooo bro hug? Gordon and Benrey friends for real now?” Benrey jumped on him, pinning him to the couch and crushing his ribs in a bear hug. Gordon returned the favor, providing a few reassuring pats and rubs. He was purring like a cat, deeply. Nuzzling his face in Gordon’s chest and clinging on for his life. His muscles relaxed, and then he embedded himself in Gordon’s horrible, sweaty pit. Eww. Not that the rest of him wasn’t sweating. He had to let it happen. This conversation was probably a matter of life and death. Swallowing his pride was a necessary… Well, evil wasn’t the right word. But he didn’t like it.

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’re roommates.” Gordon pushed him off when he felt the alien got enough of a ‘bro hug’, “Pancakes?” 

 

“Aww yeah, gonna tear those pancakes up.” Benrey popped out of the mountain of blankets and ran to the island counter, flopping onto it, “Gonna watch Mr. Gordon Ramseyman, Kitchen Nightmares. Pancake level.” 

 

“How do you want yours? Blueberry? Chocolate? Banana? Strawberry? Nuts?” Gordon yawned. Great, that still hadn’t gone away either.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Uh, what?” 

 

“I want it all together. Call it a crossover event. Like uh, Capcom vs. Marvel epix menu music roster select.” 

 

Gordon groaned as he grabbed some butter out of the fridge, “I wish I knew what language you were speaking sometimes.” 

 

“Um, straight facts. Duh.” 

It turned out that a bellyful of pancakes was just what Benrey needed for an emotional pick-me-up. Gordon had to teach him to trust the maple syrup bottle. How could anything improve pancakes? And then he had to slap his hand from the bottle every time he subsequently tried to drink straight from it. Gordon managed to pluck an orange and teal orb from the post-breakfast sweet voice stream to sample both. Mandarin flavored orange orbs tracked, but he couldn’t have possibly guessed that the teal orbs would have tasted like saskatoon berries. It was good, really tasty, actually. But it made him get this grossly full sensation after a small sip. That feeling went away pretty quickly afterwards, but he wasn’t going to invite it back in. Orange though? That was joy. Pure joy, completely unrelated to food it seemed. He couldn’t pin it, but the social component was somehow there. Gordon felt like his skin was hugging him after a taste of that, and had to keep himself from indulging anymore. 

 

“Sweet voice at the table?” Gordon watched Benrey spray some whipped cream directly into his mouth to get a taste of it on its own.

 

“It was good. Had to sing about it. Couldn’t help myself. So amazed you didn’t fuck it up.” He blushed as Gordon plucked another orange orb and fiddled with it in his hands, “Uh, Gordon?” 

 

“You can’t stop spitting these out.” Gordon squeezed it in his hand. It was kind of elastic, almost like a jelly stress ball. But it dissipated between his fingers after a few seconds.

 

“Do you… want me to do any work for you? Because you’re on a debuff right now?” Benrey caught something rising in his throat with a balled fist. His cheeks puffed out, and some orange and pink drool dribbled from the corner of his lip. He wiped that away, hoping Gordon couldn’t see his cringe ass emotions.

 

“Not immediately. We had a big morning. Tonight, why don’t you clean up the place? And do your laundry too while you’re at it. Take the dishes out of the dishwasher. That’d be a huge help.” Gordon was taken aback by the offer. It was so uncharacteristically thoughtful, “Thanks for offering.” 

 

“Yeah uhm. Cause if you’re cooking… we’ve gotta play like a team. Can’t have a full team of medics. Would suck ass. Need some variety. I can clean, you can cook and other stuff. We’re like, uh, Junkhog and Roadrat from Overcrotch.” He fiddled with his thumbs. 

 

Gordon was already feeling proud of Benrey. He had to nip that in the bud before he made it a habit. 

 

They settled on the couch, which had become routine, and Benrey let Gordon have the controller this time. His game of choice was of course Kane and Lynch 2: Dog Days.

 

“Yo the uh, balding guy looks like you, Gordon.” Benrey ambushed his shoulder, perching one hand on his collarbone and the other up at his untied hair. He ruffled those unruly follicles while Gordon yelped.

 

“Fuck off.” He shoved him lightly, and Benrey ragdolled on the couch, pulling a couple of layers of blankets over him to get comfortable and toasty. 

 

Benrey’s chides were far less annoying than usual. It was evident he was curbing himself (begrudgingly), but it was heavily appreciated. The extent of his roasting was just comparing Gordon with Lynch. Which was obviously just done in jest because of their comparable body types. A few genuine compliments were even snuck in there, not just for Gordon, but even for the game . He liked the weird found footage presentation, even if the story was kind of dogshit. 

 

A single conversation wasn’t going to alleviate all the tension between them, but the burden Gordon had been feeling was finally lifted. And evidently, Benrey felt safe with him. He was fast asleep on his stomach after a few hours of playing. Gordon pulled out his phone and snapped a compromising photo of him. Like most people, he looked stupid when he was asleep, mouth agape and tongue flopping out. It occasionally twitched like an earthworm. Gross. Anyways, he sent pictures of that nasty looking critter in the Science Team Group Chat.

(You): Benrey looking stupid in his sleep. (An image is attached to this message)

 

Tommy: He’s sleeping like an angel! 

 

Bubby: I hope that motherfucker drowns on his spit. (An image is attached to this message. Bubby is holding a glock sideways into the camera, Dr. Coomer sitting on his lap. It’s captioned ‘Don’t Fuck With the Science Team’ in white impact font.)

 

Dr. Coomer: What a beautiful boy, Gordon. Little Joshua has certainly grown up. 

 

(You): Dr. Coomer, that’s Benrey. He’s crashing at my place.

 

Dr. Coomer: What a beautiful [REDACTED]! You must be so proud, Gordon.

Yeah, he didn’t know what to make of that. He needed to talk to them more often, but he just… really didn’t have the energy. Benrey took enough out of him on his own. A rumbling snore drew his attention back to the aforementioned crasher. Strange how he snored at all since he was an alien. It sounded more like the wheezing, sort of moaning snore that he’s seen cats make rather than a human. That tracked. 

 

It was kind of adorable, if it wasn’t Benrey. Didn’t matter if Benrey looked vulnerable and soft (as soft as that gaunt face could look) while sleeping with a full stomach, Gordon knew, logically, that Benrey was not vulnerable at all. That kitten snore was coming from a leopard that could eat his face off, and he wasn’t about to join the Leopards Eating People’s Faces Party anytime soon. 

 

The sleep talking about PSN accounts was pretty funny though. He was definitely going to record that for future blackmail. Whenever he started to feel bad about it, he reassured himself that Benrey would have done the exact same thing to him, and promptly stopped feeling any form of remorse. In fact, Benrey taking compromising pictures of him and his feet was now a top anxiety. Great, one fear replaced, only for new ones to crop up. Funny how that worked.

Chapter 11: The Sins of Dr. Freeman!

Summary:

Benrey has some friends over, but he never asked Gordon if he could invite them. Or if he could smoke his weed and drink his beer.

Notes:

TW: Manipulation, domestic violence, drugs, alcohol, etc. etc. etc.

gotta work your way up to the fluff. right now theyre like two territorial animals put in the same cage. gonna fight about it.

benrey having friends is still surprising to me. like bro actually hangs out with people? insane. sounds fake asf

i want to make it clear im not necessarily depicting healthy communication here. they're on the right path for sure, but this ain't it chief. the resentment is still strong. it turns out an 'i'm sorry' doesn't solve everything... gee... who woulda thunk it?

btw wrote this while incredibly high, crossfaded, and stream mixing. i dont know if this is coherent at all. sorry!

anyways remember to spend no money next week on the 28th of February, 2025. canadians, mexicans, my friends across the world? boycott American companies and american goods. these are small gestures, but they make all the difference.

hope you have a wonderful, safe week. if you already read a wonderful fanfiction today, please remember to leave a comment on that work. it's the lifeblood of us authors! we love all your comments, short and long.

if you write fanfiction, thank you for being braver than any US marine. cheers, mate.

Gordon was driving back from a grocery run, gripping the steering wheel like he would slip from the car if he loosened his hold. There was an hour and a half of traffic because of a pileup... And this was the first time he left Benrey alone, and it was only because he ran out of food. He’ll give G–Man credit where it was due; the pantry was stocked. It lasted him quite a while between himself and that fucking pit of teeth he called a roommate. Benrey didn’t eat like a human did. He chewed the sides of furniture, he was always looking for something to gnaw on if he wasn’t playing a video game. It seemed to be some kind of oral fixation from a lack of enrichment. 

 

He needed to chew. To sink his teeth into something that was alive and leave it crumbled and unsalvageable by grace of his fangs. Benrey said he wasn’t a dog, but Gordon still got him a big beef bone from the pet section of the grocery store to keep him preoccupied for a while. Hopefully that’d make him stop gnawing on his goddamn table. Despite sending a text to ask what he wanted while he was out multiple times to avoid a future conflict, his only response was ‘soda’. Yeah, great, thanks Benrey, very cool. On the bright side, it gave Gordon free reign on the domain of the kitchen. He was going to cook whatever the hell he wanted. And all the junk food was strictly Benrey’s.

 

With his nerves already high, he opened up the door, carrying probably about eighty pounds of groceries (most of that being dedicated to Benrey’s energy drink addiction) and saw that the aforementioned menace was taking the fattest bong rip of Gordon’s weed with two other schmucks sitting there playing Heavenly Sword , with beers in their hands. Gordon’s beer. The beer he was saving for himself on a nice, hot day. So he could sit on the porch and watch the sunset with a buzz. His weed that he bought for a boring Saturday morning so he could watch some old cartoons and kick back, forgetting his burdens. 

 

Who the fuck were these guys? 

 

“Yo! Gordo! This is Jefferem,” Benrey coughed and pointed to the big guy. Blondie, shifty eyes with premature crow’s feet, five o’ clock shadow. Yeah, he remembered Jeff. That guy just stared at him, clenching his jaw till his face was red when he didn’t have his passport. Creep. “And that’s Josh.” 

 

He was a cute little guy, chubby. The bouba to Jeff’s kiki, one might say. Dark hair, kind brown irises. Completely stoned already by the red in his eyes. “Hey Doc.” 

 

“Uh, Benrey? We didn’t discuss having people over.” Gordon placed the grocery bags down at the island, trying to compose himself. Though, he could feel heat swirling from his chest, and a familiar, uncontrollable tenseness in his muscles. He felt strong enough to tear a door off its hinge. That had to be curbed. 

 

“It’s okay, mi casa es tu casa.” Benrey passed the bong and opened up another beer, pulling the cap off with his teeth and downing it with incredible efficiency. 

 

“Dude that’s a nice beer, you don’t chug that shit it’s not pisswater!” Gordon stole the Longboard right out of his mouth and shined the top, “Who the fuck do you think you are, digging through my shit?”

 

“But we share?” Benrey shrugged, “S’okay. Wait, did you get um, Ramune flavors?” 

 

“Shockingly they had it at the international section of the supermarket.” Gordon pulled out the sodas and set them down while one of Benrey’s friends took a fat toke, “Dude, stop smoking my weed. It’s mine .” 

 

“Hold up Jeff is taking his hit. He didn’t even get a smoke in!”

 

“BENREY you are stealing my shit. What the fuck is wrong with you? Fucking…” Gordon took a deep breath, “You don’t understand property the way I do. You don’t understand property the way I do.” 

 

Benrey stared at him the way a cow stared at an oncoming train, “Huh? What? What happened? Why’re uh, you so mad? Why’re you so crazy? You’re crazy, man! You’re crazy!” 

 

“Just because we share a living space doesn’t mean I am willing to share everything . You’re drinking MY BEER. You’re smoking MY WEED. All of this food is both of ours. But this bone?” 

 

“Bone?” Benrey’s neck cracked. He swung his head around so fast he dislocated a vertebra, which he popped back into pace.

Gordon slammed it down on the desk. Baked flesh clung to the yellowed femur, beckoning Benrey towards it. He resisted jumping on it to look good in front of his friends, seeming unappreciative of the gesture. This wasn’t something Gordon missed, “This is yours.” 

 

Jefferem for sure knew that Benrey was an alien, based on how he gobbled down those blue balls. He glared at Gordon as he took his rip. Josh’s little smile had wobbled into a disquieted frown, but he kept his mouth shut. No sense in stirring what he didn’t understand.

 

Benrey smacked his lips and pointed at the beer, “So, are you gonna finish that?” 

 

Fuck this. Gordon slammed his beer against the table and smashed the still partially full bottle. It left him with just a neck and half the jagged body as glass showered over his legs. He held its grinning gape at them, quaking with the uncontrollable rage roiling in him, “Josh, Jeff? Get the FUCK out of my house right now!” 

 

“Oh shit.” Benrey slithered from the couch and put himself between Gordon and the other guards, and spewed out a stream of blue sweet voice into his mouth. The force of it blew Gordon’s face back, and his posture slacked, “Alright guys. Get outta here. Gordo moment incoming.” 

 

“I just got high, I can’t drive, man!” Josh threw his hands up, “This is insane, what is this guy’s problem?

 

“We can hang out on the porch for a bit.” Jeff urged him through the door and glared at Gordon as he closed the shitty orange door behind him.

 

Benrey started spewing out some confused chartreuse, eyes crossed at the largest glass spike from the bottle, “Gordon, uh, you’re um, being mean and scaring. You’re scaring people. That’s why people don’t like you.” 

 

“Shut the fuck up man, I don’t want your ball–” Benrey spewed some directly into his mouth, and the furious furrow in his brow relaxed. But Gordon’s violent, fiery hatred hadn’t been quelled. Sweet voice was magic, but it couldn’t work miracles, “What the hell did you do to me?!” 

 

“Calm down.” 

 

“No! You keep fucking with me! I want you out of my life! I want you gone! The world would be a better place if you went back to Xen and stayed there!” Gordon was quivering with his righteous fury, the jagged end of the bottle edged closer to Benrey. The light shimmering off of its sanded face glared at Benrey, who refused to budge. There were no performative emotions on his face, just the resting pout of his thin, plated lips and a leisurely gaze. One of his sharp nostrils twitched as he took a whiff of that potent odor steaming off of Gordon’s body, hearing the slight laugh rumbling in his chest. That frantic, sour stench of anxiety was oozing from his pores, trying to make him less appetizing, and yet only appealing more to Benrey’s instincts. This wasn’t a bluff. The fear made this the very real last stand of a shrew. For all its tenacity, there was simply no way for the shrew to win against the might of a python. 

 

“Oh, so um, it’s okay for you to uh, threaten me?” Benrey hardened his gaze, and lifted his neck right up. This was inconsequential for him. There was no stakes. Benrey didn’t need to care the way he did . Efforts were in Gordon’s benefit, and if this was the thanks he got, then he might as well play ball with this self-righteous, pitiable worm. With a slight lean, he pressed against the largest edge in the bottle, letting the softness around his neck swell around it, “Go ahead, man. Get it out of your system. Stab me right on the uh, wind hole. See if I care.”

 

Shit. Benrey was right. He was acting deranged. His fingers lost their grip on the bottle neck. It clattered against the carpet as Gordon grappled his shoulders and dug his nails into his skin, “Ah, fuck man. I–I’m sorry Benrey, I didn’t think I’d–” 

 

“That’s what I thought. Pussy.” Benrey craned his neck down, his pupils still following Gordon’s eyes as they peeked from just below his jutting brow, “You uh, wouldn’t.” 

 

Gordon shook his head, “I would have. Don’t doubt it for a second, I would have loved to.” Gordon grabbed him by the collar and dragged him in, bumping his forehead to his helmet, “I would have fucking killed you just a week ago if I thought I could get away with it, are you kidding me, Benrey? I would have fucking gutted you. I still want to gut you deep down inside because you infuriate me like nothing else! You keep antagonizing me and–” 

 

“No I wasn’t. Stop lying. You like hurting people. You’re mean.” Benrey kicked the bottle neck with his boot and grumbled like a toddler as he tried to walk away and was kept locked in place by Gordon. 

 

“Shut the fuck up!” Gordon’s grip on him harshened, and he started shaking Benrey as he ineffectually tried to spew more blue sweet voice into him, only spraying the floating balls around the air, “The fuck do you think you’re doing?! You’re manipulating me! You’re manipulating me with the goddamn balls! I hate you, son of a bitch I should have never trusted you! You’re out! I should be mad at you!” 

 

“GooOoOordOn–” Benrey ragdolled in his arms, and hiccupped when he finally stopped, “Neaugh, ughh… ow-uhh.” 

 

“Why do you keep stuffing me full of your fucking magic emotions?! Does it make it easier to control me!? Do you think I’m ever going to calm down after you took my fuckin’ hand?” As if he were shoving a puppy’s face in a puddle of his urine, he practically slapped Benrey across the face with his right hand, “Look at what you did! Look at what you did! You did this to me! YOU! You ruined my life, I hate you!” 

 

“What’re you talking about uh? I use them cause you’re mean and evil. Kept friends safe. I uh–” So many accusations were being hurled Benrey’s way that he stumbled over himself to address them all. He didn’t even know what to do. Usually he’d just treat this crash out like a joke and be done with it, but after their little talk, Benrey wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do now. 

 

“You’re trying to control me! I have every fucking right to be angry at you!” 

 

“You’re out of uh, control. How can I control you if you’re out of control? You’re crazy, man. No. Bad Gordon! Bad Gordon!”

 

“Don’t you dare talk to me like a dog. Don’t you dare try to make me calm when being angry kept me safe from you! ” 

 

“Don’t get violent.” Benrey spewed some blue out of the corner of his lip in defiance, “Then uh, won’t need to um… make you gargle my balls…”

 

“Fuck you.” Gordon spat in his face, and Benrey wiped it off with his sleeve as if it were nothing to him.

 

“Listen man, last time you ate my balls it was a good thing and it brought you in a uh, pleasant mood with good tidings and whatever.” Benrey made some vague gestures with his hands, eliciting some giggles from Gordon as they approached his face. Despite laughing, his teeth were still gritting and his loose hair was drenched in stress sweat. 

 

“The first time you tried that when you moved in, I wasn’t mad because I just wanted you gone! This is just trying to get me to… back down to make your life easier.” 

 

“Uh. Didn’t think that far ahead. I did?” Benrey popped out some confused chartreuse and lime green. What do you mean?

 

Gordon’s clenched jaw almost cracked right through his teeth with the sheer force he was exerting. It was key to concentrating as he tried to analyze anything in Benrey that indicated that he was lying. He had to be. But as he thought about it, he realized Benrey was honest by the confusion he felt after grabbing the sweet voice in his hand and letting it seep in through his skin. Jumping the gun again. Attributing ventriloquist cunning to a knee jerk moment of instinct and the brilliance of nature’s design. His eyes darted, as if he’d find meaning in the air between them.

 

“Benrey I’m sorry I just–” Gordon sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands, “I think we need to have a talk.”

 

“Pick up the uh, glass first?” Benrey looked at his friends sitting on the porch outside, and blew some sad sweet voice out, “Can um, hurt your gross feet. If you walk with no shoes? Peter Griffin death pose?”

 

“Get us both some glasses and some ice from the freezer. Fill it with some beer. Put the groceries away. I’ll take care of the mess I made.” Gordon didn’t like putting ice in his beer but he could tell that shit’s been out of the fridge for a while. And for his part, he got right to cleaning and picking up all those glass particles. And Benrey could leave while he used the vacuum for all of the microscopic shards.

 

With the carpet cleared of glass and some paper towels pressed into the splatter, the two of them could sit down with their drinks and have that talk. Well, he needed some liquid courage. Gordon exhaled and then started chugging that shit down, fuck the potential for brain freeze. He slammed his glass down on the waifu coaster (courtesy of Benrey). Benrey took a far more timid approach to sipping, kicking his feet around as Gordon sought the words. 

 

“I’m going to start off by saying I’m sorry about threatening you and your… buddies. I freaked out. Because I always think you’re doing it just to make me go insane. But sometimes it’s not on purpose… although most of the time it is. You get confused. I don’t logically process that. I just… I guess I kept assuming you had malicious intent.” 

 

“Bro I was chilling.” The monster tipped his head to the side and stared up at him with pupils eclipsing his yellow sclera. A flash of green and red passed through them as they caught the light peeking in from the shutters. 

 

“I KNOW!” Gordon caught himself and took another hefty gulp to swallow down the rage, “Sorry. Fuck you’re so frustrating.” 

 

“Calm down.” Benrey said. As if saying the name attributed to his royal blue sweet voice was enough for it to work. 

 

“I’m trying! Dude, stop it!” 

 

“Stop what?” 

 

“AGH!” Gordon pulled at his hair and strained to not wallop his face into a dish-shape, “You’re really not doing this on purpose?” 

 

“No. I’m not. Uh, not in this case. The um, the chewing table thing I understood… chew table boo! Boo! We hate it. I uh, pretended to not know. Sorry.” Benrey was starting to get the munchies. He grabbed the watermelon from the countertop and sliced it open with his claw, taking one half of it to the couch to eat. Gordon had gotten that for the both of them, but he was pretty sure it was going to end up being a Benrey snack. He was hoping to salt it and use it as a substitute for more calorically hefty treats. 

 

Oh well. 

 

“Okay.” Gordon took a deep breath to prepare himself. This was one of the things he hated doing. During marriage counselling especially, this was a nightmare for him. But, when his government assigned platonic life partner was a creature that could devour him, mind control him, and was effectively immortal? Talking through a domestic dispute was going to be necessary for his safety, “So, it brings me back to when we were in Black Mesa. And I start getting aggressive, because I just feel like I’m in danger. Even if I logically know I’m not. And when I feel threatened, I get angry. I’m a fighter, not a flighter.” 

 

“Mmm, want some melon?” Benrey scooped up a handful and offered it to Gordon, getting melon juice all over his shirt. 

 

“Eww. Um, sure. I’ll…” Gordon sighed and grabbed the chunk from his fist and stuffed it in his face, “But you understand, right? It’s something that’s my fault. I know. I need to work on this. But you can see my reaction, right? I feel like it’s a preamble to danger.” 

 

“Weird. Don’t understand. What do I need to do?” 

 

“No, I need to curb it. That’s on me.” Gordon put his hand on his shoulder, “Be less insufferable? You didn’t… threaten me this time. So I’m pretty sure no matter what I’m the wrong party. Um, don’t take my shit? That’s today’s lesson.” 

 

“How do I know what’s yours? Gonna make me ask every time I nab a treat?” Benrey whimpered and lifted the melon up, then drank down some excess juice. “Lookit me! I’m uh, I’m a hungry boy!”

 

“Never ask for food. Until we iron this out um, ask about anything else.” 

 

“But beer is food?” Benrey pointed to the bottle in his hands, “Beer isn’t food?”

 

“Okay it’s a working definition. Iron it out later. Don’t be insufferable, please. Insufferable , as in I can’t stand you in general. Work towards being sufferable.”

 

“I’m uh, real insufferable. That’s how I got so good at trash talking in MAG. And negging women.” Benrey shot him a little, devious smile. He obviously thought he was cute. Though that was debatable. “I negged you so good you uh, wanted to kill me. Made you look stupid, trying to uh, shoot me dead.”

 

“Oh my god, Benrey.” Gordon snorted and tried to bridle his laughter long enough to work through this, “I’m going to make a promise to you, I’m not going to hurt you. Even though you respawn, I will treat you as if you were on your last life. I won’t threaten to kill you. I’ll try to stop screaming. I don’t know how to fix that one.” 

 

“I got an idea.” Benrey slurped the fruit flesh right off his claws. He was killing that thing mindlessly the way only a blazed out stoner could. The alien stopped his snack and held a finger up, “I just give you balls, but I talk about it with you first?”

 

Gordon glared at him so strongly through his glasses that he thought he was going to melt the lenses straight out of the frame. 

 

“No but… But Feetman, listen. The problem is uh, not asking about giving you sweet blue? Because you’re a little bitch? Baby bitch who is scared of Benrey taking advantage of his uh, calmness? Don’t even work good enough for that…” Benrey snorted, “Lil bitch.”

 

“Yes! YES! Drugging people against their will is usually considered a social faux pas ! This isn’t a difficult concept to grasp, this isn’t a ‘little bitch’ thing. It’s a human thing! It’s like, a consent thing? You know what that word means? Consent?” 

 

“Oh yeah! Uh, Tommy needed written consent every time he entered my pen!” 

 

“Yes. That means you need my permission. I’m stressed the fuck out right now. Maybe you could make me an offer.” Gordon had already taught Joshua about the principles of consent using his cowboy puppets and a rocking horse, this was a little bit different. For children it was about not overstepping boundaries to hurt other little kids’ feelings. For the shapeshifting alien monster from beyond the stars, consent was a life or death kind of deal. Assuming Benrey came from no society, it was likely he abided by principles of nature, which generally did not see predators asking prey for consent before eating them. 

 

“We talk about sweet blue, then you get blue’d all over? Covered in my blue? It always makes you not mad. It stops yelling.” Benrey spewed out a blue ball, and offered it to Gordon as he considered his proposition, “Quieres?” 

 

“Preciate it,” he opened up his mouth and closed his eyes, and Benrey took this to mean he was good for a hit. 

 

Benrey was pretty high. He had to work extra hard to get a nice, blue sphere out. And even then, it smelled pretty weedy, and a little boozy. Just slightly. Gordon cupped it in his hands and drank it up. It filled his mouth, taking its shape perfectly and agh–That texture, the way it felt like a big snotty glob of frog slime in his mouth? It was so disgusting. He swallowed down the blue raspberry weed gummy concoction and exhaled.

 

“I ate your balls, man. Now what?” 

 

“Feel good?” Benrey asked.

 

“Tell your buddies to get in here,” Gordon grabbed his bong and lit it up, “We’re going to watch Backstroke of the West and eat a fucking watermelon.”

 

“Cool.” He stretched his legs out and stood up, cracking each vertebra down his back. His body looked so frail. It was amazing how strong he was in comparison to his size. That thin, very thin layer of muscle on him was denser than any human could be. The way his skin twitched and sloshed around on top of his musculature looked more like a fat snake’s belly than lean human flesh.

 

“Benrey. I promise I’m going to try to treat you like an actual person.” Gordon stuck his hands firm and straight out to enunciate his vow. 

 

His hands were gripped by Benrey, who pulled him up and wrapped his arms around his chest, and sunk his face into his shirt, “Please do. I like being a person with you.” He retracted abruptly, “Fuck. That shit sounds so gay. Lol. Uh, you are making me act as um, stupid, as you.”  

 

Gordon huffed in defiance, “If I’m so stupid… I’ll show you! I’ll read you a story.” 

 

“I’m not illiterate…” 

 

“Not just any story. Intro to Theoretical Physics. My keystone sophomore year textbook. It changed the trajectory of my life.” Benrey’s eyes lit up as he heard about this prized Freeman artifact . He wanted to know more. “This’ll put you right to sleep.” 

 

“Oh, fun .” He blew some bitter notes of sweet voice out and sighed while Gordon worked on getting a fat, long rip of his bong. He was having a very hard time bridling his intrigue; His eyes didn’t lie. “Boring nerd shit.” 

 

Gordon punched him lightly on the helmet while he coughed out plumes of smog, “And I’ll tell you how much I hate String Theory. I want to take that–” 

 

“Oh that one’s real. Um. Strings aren’t a theory,” he stated matter of factly, with a nod of his head. 

 

“Benrey how would you know that? You’re not even from this dimension you couldn’t–” 

 

He took a loose thread from Gordon’s clothes and waved it in front of him, “See? String real. Fact, not theory.” 

 

“That’s not what a theory is Benre–” Gordon wheezed and wrapped his arms around his shoulders to give him a shake, “You’re fucking ridiculous. God, what a terrible joke.” 

 

Benrey grunted as he tried to grope for the melon, “Lemme go.” 

 

“Alright, alright.” Gordon pushed him off and flopped back down on the couch, grabbing the watermelon and absentmindedly shoving handfuls into his mouth. 

 

Weed really did something to a man. 

 

“You give good hugs.” Benrey opened the door and brought his buddies back in, handing them both a soda and getting them comfortable on some pillows on the ground while he and Gordon laid down on the couch, back to back. And Gordon was too stoned to care after taking a few more admirable tokes. “Get those friends in here man, you already forgot? There’s two guys on the porch and it’s summer. Bring ‘em in, idiot.” 

 

“Oh right, lol.” Benrey phased through the couch to go collect his friends, though as the minutes went by, it seemed they too had gotten preoccupied with each other. Gordon could wait. Time did not exist through the eyes of THC. 

 

And even with the weed in his system, Gordon couldn’t help but think about that hug. Benrey clung to him for a few moments quite strongly. And it occurred to him that the alien might just bond at an incredible speed. A dog will be your best friend if you feed it a hambone and scratch behind its ear. Maybe Benrey was the same. What a simple creature. There wasn’t exactly love in Gordon’s heart for Benrey. And their tolerance for each other seemed to exist as a function of their ability to get on each other’s nerves… and yet he felt some kind of connection. It wasn’t one that he had ever had before. Not love, not hatred, or friendship. Benrey gave him a highly specialized feeling inside of him that he couldn’t quite parse. Mortal terror was still a possibility. 

“I think I’m having a stroke watching this shit.” Apparently, Jeff wasn’t high enough to understand Backstroke of the West. “I have never watched Episode Three, I don’t have any idea what’s going on. Are the Jedi Hopeless Situation Warriors or the Presbyterian Church?” 

 

“Yes.” Gordon took another hit of the bong, “This is just how Benrey talks.”

 

“Yeah I–I don’t.” Benrey snatched the bong from him and stole his hit, and then handed it right back, “Hehehe. Stole your rip. Whatcha gonna do? Suck it outta me?” 

 

Gordon took the emptied watermelon and stuck it over Benrey’s helmet, “Not a chance in hell, man.” 

 

“Aww.” Benrey’s weird flirtation wasn’t even pissing him off. It was all in good humor, seeing as how Jeff and Josh were chuckling like a bunch of morons. 

Benrey’s phone pinged. His text notification ditty was the PS2 logo soundbite. 

Jeffer y Mokaev: Just kiss already lol.

(You): shut up lololololol i wanna jeffer y shhh

Jeffer y Mokaev: Fix my name on your phone.

(You): nah

Jeffer y Mokaev: Why do you like this crazy fuck in the first place? Not as hot as you said he was.

(You): dude hes so hot hes a lil fucked up n toxic and i dont think hes a legal citizen cuz he has no passport but im not legal either so its cool

Jeffer y Mokaev: Your tastes are incomprehensible. Crazy and ugly is a bad mix. At least my wife is hot.

(You): hes like cornered and stuff be nice to him and he is hot fuck you and your wife looks like a butt suck it 

“The fuck are you guys texting about?” Gordon tried to get a glimpse of Benrey’s phone, but he clutched it to his chest with a sharp hiss. 

 

“You, spreading rumors and shit,” the monster sent him a selfie he took a bit ago. It was him in front of Gordon, giving a peace sign while he drooled on the island, a fly on his forehead. Ugh. He didn’t know he had that picture. 

 

“Stop telling people I wear a size 24 in clown shoes.” Gordon took his hit, making sure to safeguard it from Benrey, “It’s getting old pretty fast.” 

 

“Nah it’s still pretty fucking uh, funny.” Benrey grabbed another beer and bit the cap off for a swig, “Yo Josh, you good? Vegging?” 

 

“I love Star Wars.” Josh’s eyes were lit up, reading the captions with incredible intensity. 

 

“Yeah, it’s a good Lego game.” Benrey stretched out and flopped down on the couch, melon still on his helmet.

 

After Jeff shoved the incredibly stoned Josh into his truck and sped off, it left Benrey and Gordon to just vegetate on the couch together. Benrey hadn’t actually ever smoked weed before. He was doing a pretty fucking damn good job of convincing everyone around him that this wasn’t his first rodeo, though. Benrey sucked in hits like he had a marijuana immunity. And Gordon wasn’t going to question it. His species could piss CBD for all he cared. 

 

“Tell me next time you invite people over.” Gordon turned on a shitty romcom from the early 00’s and covered himself up in some blankets to get more comfortable. 

 

“Oo, next time.” Benrey was rubbing his chest and blowing out bubbles of cracked, heavy sweet voice that seemed rather dehydrated. The balls didn’t float up like they usually did, and instead bounced off his chest and shattered on the floor like delicate, dry leaves. “Whoa, pardon me haha.”

 

“I gotta invite some friends over. Calhoun and Otis texted me a few weeks ago letting me know they’re okay. I feel pretty shitty for not responding.” Gordon opened up his phone and scrolled through his texts, looking at all the blue dots next to so, so many names, and then closed it up, “Some other time. Not uh, up to it.” 

 

“Why not?” Benrey grabbed the rind of the melon and started chowing down on it with a sharp, crispy crunch. 

 

“Afraid of what happened earlier. Being overall… a nutjob .” Gordon gestured to himself, “I don’t think I can be human again. Then again how will I know if I don’t try. ” 

 

“You should um, invite them for a little get together. Let’s um… have Big Barbecue. Outside?”

 

“No Science Team,” he chopped his hand down as a representation of his steadfastness. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“Just normal people. Normal people like Jeff, Barney, Josh, Otis, Colette, and Gina. Friends our age? I–I mean, you look kind of like an old man. I don't know if you’re twenty or eight billion years old…” Gordon was pretty sure Benrey knew these people. Gina was in charge of HEV training, she got around plenty across all lab departments with suits. Barney and Benrey worked at the same time, in the same sector.

 

“IDK about that age shit but hell yeah. We can um, all play video games and stuff. And eat… ribs?” Benrey could never remember what foods were eaten at a barbecue. He saw a cartoon with one, and they were eating corn cobs and ribs. Oh, those ribs looked so succulent. It was already making him salivate.

 

“Yeah, I can cook some mean fuckin’ ribs, Ben. You gotta try 'em. Get me pork and chicharrons are on the menu too.” 

 

“Hell yeah... The fuck is a cheech-chong-roan ?” 

 

“You’ll see.” Gordon cringed as he unhinged his jaws and swallowed the rest of the rind, watching whatever inhuman structure that lurked beneath his thin,  slick skin press against it. His chest bulged, and then it settled in his stomach, which constricted and obliterated the casing with an audible crackle. Gordon had no idea what the hell was in his stomach? Crop? Gizzard? Whatever it was. But he sure as hell knew it was dangerous and atypical. 

 

Gordon wouldn’t trade physics for the world. But he very much wished to have some knowledge of biology to figure out what the hell was going on in this guy’s body.

 

Benrey put his legs on top of Gordon’s lap as he stretched in a weed-addled stupor, a wry smile on his face, “You’re really uh, sorry?” 

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I am.” Gordon was saying he was sorry, but he was obviously preoccupied with his stupid phone and not paying attention to Benrey. Being the bratty, tyrannical space god he was, Benrey kicked his phone out of his hand with a quick flick of his foot and scooched right on top of his lap. And Gordon was too high to give a damn. There was nothing to do but laugh. 

 

“Can you say it again?” Benrey pleaded as he plopped his thighs over Gordon’s forearm, “Please? For me?” 

 

Gordon’s eyes blinked out of unison, “wut?”

 

“That you’re sorry?” Benrey’s lashless eyes fluttered. 

 

“I’m sorry?” Gordon grabbed Benrey’s can of Red Bull (marked by his Black Mesa Silly Straw™) and started sucking the caffeine down. 

 

“No but like, if you meant it?” 

 

“I’m sorry .” Gordon added that little extra airiness to enunciate the ‘sorry’. And that seemed to appease him. Benrey let out a dreamy wheeze as he nestled into the back of the sofa. 

 

“Hmph. No one’s meant it before.” Benrey took his socks off, a motion which Gordon was glued to out of morbid curiosity as to how Benrey fucked up the human skeleton.

 

Holy shit. His feet were straight up polygons with articulation. Gordon wiped his eyes, looked at his bong and murmured under his breath, “No way you have PS2 feet.” 

 

“Yeah uh, I hadn’t actually seen feet before so umm… I kinda took a wild guess. Wanna look at em closer?” With the shameless pride of a lying politician taking a polygraph, Benrey stuck his foot up in the air and towards Gordon’s face, who still had the wherewithal to pull away and avert his gaze. 

 

“No. Get them away from me. I feel like I’m looking at something I shouldn’t be seeing. This is forbidden knowledge.” His eyes were still fixed despite his best efforts. Morbid curiosity was quite a compelling force. There were pixels accounted for.

 

“Yeah um, can I see your feet to make it better? I can’t wear sandals.” 

 

“NO!” Gordon leapt off the couch and made a mad dash for the bedroom, Benrey chasing right behind him on all fours like a gecko, tongue dangling out like a dog bounding in a boiling meadow. Gordon fell over as he turned the corner down the hall, skidding into the wall. Benrey wall jumped , actually jumped into the wall and off of it, to tackle his quarry down. They rolled into the bathroom, where Benrey pinned Gordon into the cold tile with his hands on his shoulders, and his pupils blown up wide. 

 

“Gotcha. Uh, play rules. Gotta take your toes now.” Benrey rolled off of him, “I win.” 

 

“You… definitely won… holy shit I am too high for this. Where the fuck are we?” He groped the tub. Bathroom. Great. No better place to be when cross-faded than the bathroom floor. 

 

Benrey laid down parallel to his body, “Yeah I wanna just lay here for a bit. G’night.” 

 

“Yeah. Good idea.” Gordon decided that this was just his life now. And he tried to fall asleep on the bathroom floor, thinking about nonsense barbecue plans now that he was drunk and high enough to not care about any symptoms. The anxiety just wasn’t there. The sweat and yawning was just a part of the buzz, and nothing else. This was as close to peace as he was getting for now.

 

But it also let him ruminate on his thoughts. His woes. His very own evils. There was little separating himself and Benrey in their actions, except maybe the accessibility of an excuse. Benrey didn’t know any better. Gordon did. Gordon killed a lot of people. Gordon was ready to gut Benrey, for being innocently confused. For liking to pull his leg on occasion. For being a bit of a bully, and learning to find a gentle balance when handling a mortal.

 

Gordon had wanted Benrey to die before he even got his hand chopped off as a fucking prank . And now? He wasn’t quite sure. Benrey didn’t deserve to die, he didn’t deserve to be hurt at all. The poor… no, poor was the wrong word. That idiot just needed someone to sit down and explain this dimension and all its workings. Against his best interests, he was starting to feel a little too much sympathy for the Black Mesa Monster. Gordon was expecting active combat to harden his heart, not soften him up like this. Sad, gooey feelings were once easy to stuff down, but now trawling activity from Benrey’s shrimpish machinations had dredged his most vulnerable, embarrassing fears and insecurities up to the epipelagic. And he wasn’t about that life. 

 

Benrey deserved a roommate who respected him as an equal. Well, almost equal. Until Benrey figured out Earth, he needed some leadership. And that meant that Gordon needed to suppress that belly of fire that kept him alive. Let himself be annoyed. Be disrespected. Think before he smashed another bottle and held it to Benrey’s neck. 

 

Fuck. Gordon was starting to get that creeping feeling that he was the actual monster between them. It was always ‘I’m violence prone, but I’d never hurt anyone’. ‘I am harmless but I’ve got a temper’. To think his wife trusted him, loved him as much as she had before they separated. Let a future murderer fuck her for years, carried his child . And that thought never crossed her mind. A screaming fit between the two of them, and then her laying by his side knowing he had hunting rifles and shotguns he liked to play with on the weekends. 

 

Their arguments took a much more disturbed turn in his mind, now knowing what he was actually capable of. What could he do to Joshua now? Could he hurt his baby boy if he committed the crime of being an annoying little kid? Or did he just get this way with Benrey because he thought he could get away with it? 

 

He sat up and grabbed Benrey by his waist, hauling him over his shoulders as he stumbled to the couch, and threw him down there. And he tucked him into his own favorite blanket, stitched up for him as a kid by his grandmother.

 

Color Gordon scared shitless when he realized that Benrey wasn’t asleep, “Aww, Feetman! You’re uh, tucking me in? Gonna give me a kiss goodnight? Belly rubs and worm milk for Benrey?” 

 

“Go to bed. Facetious-ass alien.” 

 

“Nah. You’re going to sleep. Gotta keep watch, a thief might steal the PS3.” 

 

“What help’ll you be? We’re both drunk and stoned .” 

 

“Nah I’m sober enough. Nighty night, Gordo. Go to bed.” Benrey grabbed a Ramune and punched it in, and proceeded to stick his tongue into the neck to mess with the marble.

 

Whatever. Gordon walked out and flopped into his own bed so he could try and get some shut eye. He nabbed the rest of his melatonin gummies and swallowed them down, hoping that’d be enough for something resembling sleep. 

Benrey was crawling in the cold, green mud beneath him. Digging at the sulfuric silt with his black claws, hacking lungs out in the rain. Beneath a streetlight fluttering with hundreds of moths. Gordon slammed his boot into his back, pinning him there. The traction kept that monster in place. Any caterwauling or wailing was drowned out by the swell of the storm. Gordon collapsed onto his back, digging his knees into his lats. Benrey made noises like no creature was ever meant to. Wheezing, groaning, breathy reptile shrieks bellowed from his maw. And Gordon brought his hands around his supple neck, feeling his adam’s apple, lavishing its delicate curvature and the bulge of the vein slashing across it. 

 

The squeeze. The squeeze. He cackled as he slammed his face into the mud and forced him to breathe in and burble the muck, percolating in his carbon monoxide. He smeared streaks of dark brown across his helmet, and like wrestling a gator, he brought his biceps around his throat and pulled back, hearing his spine pop and creak with sheer force exerted against its interests in the preservation of life. 

 

Now Gordon was finally the animal. Now he was finally the inadmissible freak, that macaque that lived in the soul of all living men. Unstoppable. Like there was nothing wrong. His hand was pristine, unscarred, no longer smiling at him. All of his flesh naturalized, his , powerful . 

He shot up from the bed. Slowly, he inched towards the hallway and poked his head out to see if anything had happened while he was out. Benrey was still playing some shitty anime game that Gordon didn’t recognize. They shared a glance, and a nod, and he continued gaming as if Gordon hadn’t threatened his life earlier that day. No harm, no foul. Not for an immortal. Gordon laid back down and exhaled to soothe the pound of his heart. A few days ago that would have been a pleasant dream.

Chapter 12: Interlude: Doctor Talk II

Summary:

Bubby and Gordon spend some quality time at the shooting range! And Gordon thinks about his time living with Benrey.

Notes:

protest the united states today! no buying anything on 2/28/25.

benrey is a creature. ive had worse roommates than he is, honestly. he's still disgusting. i was thinking about the kinds of pranks he'd pull and i thought it'd be funny if he fucked with gordon by shapeshifting to look like him. he definitely tries to ruin his reputation this way at least once.

tumblr: benrey-did-nothing-wrong

i hope you enjoyed! remember to leave a comment on a piece you enjoyed today before this. <3 comments make our world go around!

we have an open forum here on this fic <3 have a wonderful week. 2 more chapters of Brokeback Mesa coming soon!!!

Benrey had some nasty habits that Gordon was still ironing out. He liked to use his soaps, eat random objects, butt himself where he didn’t belong, moan tantrically when he answered a call, fart in proximity (sometimes while holding him in place since he’s just so classy ), blow burps in his face after dinner, push him off the couch, blast the most god awful music he’d ever heard before (c-bat), scratch his furniture, leave empty containers in the pantry, tackle him on the ground without warning, steal his pillows and covers and make forts out of them, break appliances, snore, talk loudly on the phone, spoil endings, talk during movies, smack his lips, ignore boundaries, and used up all the hot water. But overall he wasn’t the worst roommate he had, by some miracle. Freshman year was worse. 

 

In his best moments, he was tolerable. And in his worst, he was an insufferable nuisance. And he was touchy too. Tactile-oriented, is what Tommy told him when he asked if Benrey was always this clingy. It turns out that yes! Even when he was in his stupid little cage being fed kibble, Benrey would lay on Tommy’s lap like a cat and eat cupcakes out of his hand while purring. ‘Like an octopus, Mr. Freeman! He gets information from contact!’ Okay, buddy. Where the fuck were his suction cup–Actually, no. Gordon didn’t want to know if he had suction cups, nor where they could be. 

 

When Gordon was playing video games, he’d just curl right up onto him and put his head on his shoulder, and fall asleep, sometimes hiccupping out red sweet voice. And he just let it happen. Benrey’s nastiest habit was waking up aggressively. He’d shoot up rigidly, patrol the house, do a perimeter search on the outside of the property, and then start bothering him again. Gordon preferred him asleep; He could hear less of his inane rambling that way. 

 

Benrey’s loud snores were easily drowned out by increasing the volume on the sound system, and his purrs were strong enough to mimic a massage chair anyways. 

 

While he was drooling on him, Gordon got a text from Bubby. He paused his playthrough of Crisis 2 to take a look. Bubby didn’t usually text him. 

 

Bubby: Show up to the shooting range if you’re not a total pussy. 

(You): Bubby, what shooting range? 

Bubby: The only one within 20 miles of your house, idiot.

(You): I don’t know where that is. 

Bubby: It’s some rich rancher’s farm, he charges people to use his weapons just look it up on your phone, idiot.

(You): Whatever. FINE. No shot. 

 

He made a little snack for Benrey before he left, just a grilled cheese sandwich he left on the table with a can of soup he could open up without a can opener. Just in case he didn’t come home for dinner. It would keep Benrey from rummaging around for snacks and destroying the kitchen. Hopefully. And discourage him from nearly burning down the house with his reckless lack of consideration for appropriate cooking procedures. 

 

---

 

Gordon pulled up at the ranch on the outskirts of town. It was really just a big, empty lot with a couple of cars in front of them. Bubby’s silver convertible was parked out in the open, glistening with a fresh wax coat. Goddamn, it was a beautiful convertible. The license plate read ‘SC13NC3’, which was as much as Gordon expected out of Bubby, who was more of a cornball than he’d ever admit to being. The little piece of desert this man owned was a cut of Chihuahuan paradise. Blue, powdered succulents lined up his garden and kept the dust firm in their grasp. There was something about the desert sky that was so vast, away from the clutter of architecture and the creeping branches of trees. Back in Seattle, his skyline was spoiled by that rancid needle and those brutal skyscrapers. Cambridge had been fine, sure. But the sky never had these billowing, rabbit-tail clouds that bloomed like cauliflower, strips of blue clinging to the pure vapors.

 

And the smell? No stench of car pollution. Just that clear desert air that he used to get right outside of Black Mesa. Maybe a hint of agave clung to the tip of his tongue as he exhaled. 

 

Sometimes it was nice to get out into heat. 

 

He was adorned in nothing but a tank and shorts, and even then he was already sporting some classy pit stains and a dark streak from his chest to his belly. Fucking New Mexico. She’ll never disappoint him.

 

Bubby was waiting for him, arms crossed as he leaned against this dinky wooden archway that led to the haystacks with targets on them that made up the ‘range’. It was pretty barebones. Gordon could hear the potshots.

 

Fuck, he could feel his heart racing already. Bubby mercifully tossed him some noise cancellers, “Gordon.” 

 

“Bubby.” Gordon cocked his brow, “What’s this about?” 

 

“Making sure we’re good.” Arrogant pragmatist. Of course he’d want to ensure he was in Gordon’s good graces. 

 

Gordon rolled his eyes and put the muffs on to all but silence the conversion and those potshots. He’d taken the lives of many a HECU operative. The shooting range was a hard sell at the moment, but it was pretty rare to have a cathartic conversation with Bubby. This was a ‘have Benrey patience’ moment. And living with an extradimensional horror-beast had steeled his nerves enough to let him withstand this looming, palpable anxiety. 

 

Bubby handed him a Desert Eagle. These were good guns, certainly not Gordon’s favorite though. It feels good to look like an action star, but a Desert Eagle really wasn’t the best Glock on the market. He stood at the stall, holding the pistol in both hands because he wasn’t a moron who shot one handed. Sure he was a strong guy. But he wasn’t winning the battle against the recoil of a mini-explosion. That was a fool’s errand. He lined up his shot with Bubby, and as if there were a psychic link between them, they shot in unison. 

 

Anyone could tell that Gordon wasn't quite making his mark, like he'd never held a goddamn gun before. Bullets never did seem to really go where they were pointed, there was always something making them go askew. Haywire out into the target. At least, that’s what Gordon told himself to shield his ego from his rather shoddy marksmanship. These shots were barely hitting the target, and yet Bubby managed to get most of his shots around or in the bullseye. 

 

He pulled his muffs down and beamed the Desert Eagle into the back of the structure, “God DAMMIT!” 

 

“Gordon you lousy motherfucker, you call that shooting?” Bubby tsk’d at him, “You need to get better than that. We’re free men, Gordon. We can do anything we want.” 

 

“Woah woah woah. What’re you implying here?” 

 

“Now that my oppressive tube has been destroyed, there is nothing stopping me. You should join me by my side. I’m going to be the most ingenious goddamn warlord to have ever lived.” 

 

“Man, you–you can’t just be a warlord, dude. What’re you gonna do about all those guys with guns? In the military?” 

 

“We defeated the last member of the US army.” 

 

“Uh, ring ring, idiot. You ever heard of the National Guard? Navy? Air Force? Coast Guard? CIA? FBI? The fucking Marines? Bubby, with all due respect, the Army is merely one branch of the government’s many strangling tendrils on the United States.” Gordon snorted as Bubby went silent, and picked out his next gun. This thing was impossibly large, about five feet long and mostly barrel. Gordon couldn’t name it, but it was some kind of Anti-Tank Rifle. Odd, usually he knew the names of these things. Gordon took a look at the armory stable behind him. Strange that the owner just left these here. And the ammo Bubby paid for was already set up on the side. 

 

As far as he understood, most shooting ranges were fairly strict. And employees were typically watching like hawks. Especially with such high caliber weaponry. Then again, this is some backyard operation, and guns weren’t exclusively government property in the good old US of A. There was probably no regulation to this. 

 

He nabbed an incredibly sexy and succulent looking Heckler and Koch grenade launcher. It looked straight out of science fiction, with a slightly blue tint and a huge, smooth barrel. The ribbing on the fore-end had this satisfying texture that he couldn’t stop glazing his palm over. Oh, there was definitely at least one perk to being in the military; the gun porn, man. The gun porn was amazing. Gordon’s new trigger finger worked just the same as his old one. Seemed all his instinct had remained intact, despite his hand being cut off, made into some fingernail shooting monstrosity, and subsequently replaced with something less deranged but far more insidious. The scarring was smiling back at him as he fired a 40mm. It landed at the base of the haystacks and blew them up to smithereens in a burst of bright flame and smoke. Pieces of steaming straw rained down like New Year’s confetti in Times Square. 

 

The impact could be felt moreso than heard. These cancellers were doing their job a lot better than he thought, and slid them off his head as chunks of dry hay littered the dust, “Damn! Bubby, did you see that?!” 

 

Oh, he should have kept those muffs on. The shot from the anti-tank rifle sounded like a high speed train collision, and Gordon felt the force of it from feet away. His ears shrieked a tinny ring as he stumbled back into the shooting window, “Fuck me, man! Fuck! What the hell?!” '

 

He looked at the damage done to the haystack. And there was a massive hole straight through the bullseye, like a fucking Looney Tunes gag. The straw he pierced through wasn’t even visible. Motherfucker eviscerated it.

 

Bubby pulled his muffs off and whistled, “If that was a person they’d be atomized!” 

 

“That’s a little overkill for a civilian to have, right?” Holy shit, the gun laws in the US were a lot more lax than he had thought. Maybe a couple of reforms wouldn’t hurt, as much as it pained him to say.

 

“Fuck the government, Gordon. I want one.” Nope! He was not going to humor this at all. Bubby had that wry wriggle in his brow that could only betray his cruelest of intentions.

 

“That… you are precisely the person who should not be allowed to own guns. You are the reason the second amendment is going to get taken away.” Gordon put the grenade launcher down, needing a break from firing rounds to breathe after the sound of that. His heart was clawing out his chest, “Man, I don’t know why they took you out of that tube. You’re a fucking hazard.” 

 

“Being in that tube, Gordon? The tube can make you see things differently,” Bubby popped open a can of Bubly and chugged that shit down, “You can imagine, right?” 

 

“Huh? What’re you on about? Imagine what? The tube?” 

 

“Of course, idiot, what else would I be asking you to imagine? That tube, you see, they had these electrodes, you know what those are, right?”

 

“I’m not stupid, continue.”

 

“How would I know? You fuck up so much I don’t know your the state of your mental faculties,” Bubby hissed at him, actually hissed at him like a feral animal, “Well, they fed me every article from Wikipedia directly into my frontal lobe. All that knowledge in the world, just constantly siphoned into me. Because I was one of the few clones that had any sense to them… A cerebral focus.” 

 

“You know, when you start off conversations talking about yourself, I feel even less secure around you, somehow.” 

 

“Shut up Gordon this is my story!” 

 

“Okay!” Gordon motioned for him to calm down, “I’m listening, man!” 

 

“It was always… I got to see the breadth of the world. I got to see the pictures of people walking on the beach. Climbing the highest mountains. Reaching the heights of human accomplishment of their own volition. Just because they can! For thrills, Gordon!” Even in the heat of New Mexico, Gordon could feel the building tension emanating off of Bubby’s skin from the blood boiling beneath. Fire was coursing through him, and he was barely reigning it in. He pulled his lip back in a snarl, baring his homodont teeth, jutting like mako jaws. His gill slits flared out like nostrils. Those were, presumably, for breathing in the tube, “It was always as if I was part of some insurmountable collective, devouring the knowledge of the greatest people who lived, never destined to be among them. Stuck in that tube for years… A sensorium never for my delight. Achievements out of my reach. And for what purpose?!” 

 

“I’m uh, I never really thought about that Bubby. I’m sorry about that–” 

 

“If you think any government entity. Any human being. Any god or sense of loyalty is going to dictate what I do, you’re dead fucking wrong, Gordon. You think I fear the IRS?! I’ve NEVER paid my taxes. And I send them letters daring them to come and take it. I’ve got your money right here , BITCHES. Once the bullets fly, I no longer cry!” Bubby grabbed the RPG from the table and knelt by the window, hauling it over his shoulder as effortlessly as he had smashed wooden crates, “I say come and take it PLEASE !” 

 

Gordon knew what was about to happen, and shoved his noise cancelers on as fast as he could while Bubby pulled the trigger. A winding billow of smoke followed the rocket as it hit the target straight on. The blast blinded Gordon, and he felt the rumble of the ground up into his guts. His hair blew back from the sheer force, and as soon as it impacted, it was quiet. Serenity on the shooting range. 

 

Bubby threw that expensive, dangerous piece of equipment on the ground, and collapsed with a battle cry that petered off into a bark void of confidence, “You think I’m ever going back in there?! No! I’m putting things in tubes now! I am the master of the tube! NOTHING will stop me! I get to run my hands against the cold metal of a gun. I’m the one who gets to taste the ambrosia of Robusta every morning! I get to ride the rocket into the fucking firmament! I’m the motherfucker who gets to lay in a goddamn memory foam bed every night.”

 

“Calm down man! Hey, hey, dude. You’re not getting put in a tube again. Okay? There’s no more tubes. You’re tube-free.” 

 

“I know it! I just hate the idea of being put in another goddamn TUBE!” Bubby banged his fists against the paneling, “And you sure as hell aren’t going to insinuate I don’t deserve this. I know what I’m worth. I deserve to be out here. I deserve to walk with my own legs, to see the world with my eyes and not the burning memories of pictures posted on goddamn Wikipedia.” 

 

Bubby didn’t say anything else, so Gordon sat across from him and let the silence stew between them. He traced his finger across his scar, and then looked back up at him, “Hey, dude. You know what? What do you want to do? About this newfound freedom of ours?” 

 

“I’m going to do whatever I goddamn want.” Bubby kicked the RPG away, “We’re done here. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

 

Gordon put his hand on his bony shoulder and gave him a ginger pat, “Alright man. Let’s get you to the car… wanna go get some dinner? The sun’s starting to set.” 

 

“Gordon I want to go home,” Bubby looked up at the sky, his brows creasing. He bit his lip, but the corners were wavering like his resolve. 

 

“I can drive you there I’ll… I’ll get an uber and come back for my car–”

 

“No. I want to go home .” 

 

Black Mesa. 

 

“I’m sorry, Bubby.” 

 

“I–I think I want garlic bread. Let’s go get garlic bread.” As Gordon got him to his car, like a grandson with his crotchety old bastard of a grandad, Bubby remained uncharacteristically quiet for a man who couldn’t shut up for two minutes previously. Bubby settled himself into his Caddy convertible and rubbed the top of his bald head, “I’ll see you at the Olive Garden, bitch.” 

 

Gordon watched him peel out, hit the back of his BRAND NEW COROLLA , and speed away, kicking up a dust storm behind him like a souped up Hellcat with a V8 hanging off the backend. 

 

Bubby scratched up his brand new, ugly ass, orange Toyota FUCKING Corolla. Gordon stood in perplexment for a moment, feeling his blood pressure spike as the anxiety, rage, and helplessness all boiled together in his twisting gut. He screamed and kicked the nearest car: A Hummer. So angry, so goddamn pissed off that he didn’t even realize how badly that shit was hurting. Something had to pay for that. 

 

He clutched his car keys in his hands and slashed wildly at the door, peeling the glistening paint off. Layers of grime and protective coat sheared off with each efforted swing. His legs were in every movement, nostrils flaring with savage hatred as he rested his hand against the burning face of the window. He didn’t pause to look at his scribbled handiwork once he had satisfied the rage spilling out of his limbs. 

 

Turning cheek, he stormed into his car and drove off to Olive Garden. He was going to treat that rotten old man. Fuck it. What was he going to do? Bubby was deranged, there was nothing he could do to fix it, except get pissed the fuck off. Bubby wouldn’t care he hit his car. Bubby wouldn’t even try to make amends. Not so much as a ‘sorry’ to him for betraying him. No ounce of sympathy or care for him. Talking about what people deserved and becoming a warlord. How ridiculous. 

 

And then it clicked in his mind. And it all made sense. Bubby was truly free. If he truly didn’t feel remorse, he wasn’t dressing that wound. In that way, Gordon found himself respecting that dedication to his values. Though not much else. It left him with something to stew on before he pulled into a parking spot with a brand new dent on his bumper. 

 

Dinner was uneventful. Bubby didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to poke his garlic bread and pasta while moping. And Gordon wasn’t there for it. That’s what Coomer was for. He didn’t even eat anything. Neither of them did. But at the end of that terse dinner, where Gordon just got himself food to take home, Bubby stopped him at the front of the Olive Garden and sat down in one of those black, steel benches. 

 

“You’re a weak little bitch, Gordon.” Bubby gripped his forehead as he massaged the thoughts out of himself. 

 

“Wow, thanks Bubby. Really making me not regret taking you out to Olive Garden.” 

 

“But you got the job done. I’ll see you when I do.” Bubby left him sitting on the bench, disappearing into his caddy and peeling off, hitting several vehicles on his way out. That was the one compliment he knew he’d get from Bubby. He completed his task. They survived Black Mesa. For what? Gordon wasn’t too sure himself. He wasn’t feeling quite whole. Sure, he could order food from the waitress, look her in the eye. Smile, speak with a level of eloquence expected at a chain restaurant. And yet he felt as if he was lacking the very humanity she had. They could share a rosy cheeked smile with wide nostrils and awkward laughs as they fumbled the menus. But the spark of what made her whole still lived in her. No doubt her limbs were still her own. She had never spilled blood mercilessly against the armed and unarmed.

 

And Bubby? He didn’t know if Bubby even cared that the man who he ambushed was something less than human now, and in part thanks to him. 

 

Gordon was only left with the hollow feeling in him that he had missed some kind of opportunity. He gave it a shot. And he doubted that Bubby would be inviting him out anytime soon. 

 

Now he had to go get his car repaired… and it only now occurred to Gordon that he had what was virtually infinite funds in the form of the G-Man’s Platinum Card. 

 

Well, that freakout was for nothing . 

 

---

 

Benrey’s needs weren’t lost on Gordon. He knew a grilled cheese could only last him so long, and so he prayed for a clean house and unraided pantry as he opened the door to the house. And as the door swung, he was met with a perfect imitation of himself, standing stark, butt naked at the door. Gordon screamed and slammed the door shut in his own face, and ran back towards his car. Logically? That was Benrey. But his body violently rejected this reflection of himself.

 

“AUUGH! YOU JUST GOT PRANKED!” Benrey called out, half phasing through the door, “Gordon just got PRANKED, BIG TIME!” 

 

“Dude,” Gordon leaned against his car and wheezed, “WHY are you naked?!” 

 

“You uh, didn’t fit in my clothes. And um…” Benrey kicked his Gordon shaped legs through the wall, “I didn’t wanna dig through your clothes because I didn’t wanna grab your gross underwear that you fart in and stuff.” 

 

“Hey why am I anatomically correct?” Only now was he realizing just how anatomically correct Benrey got him. That was an unnerving thought. 

 

“... Bro I saw your penis before I knew what your bicep looked like. Shut up.” Benrey slipped back into the house, and Gordon took this to mean that it was time for him to head in too. Annnd the house was an unmitigated disaster. Benrey ate the plate, again. There were half eaten boxes of random food lying around, and he was out of his ‘Gordon’ form now. Back to his old, ghoulish, pasty self, laying down on the couch with raw bacon on his bare stomach, with a pile of fruit adorning it.

 

“How did you…” Gordon scratched his head, shrugged, and rolled with it. Whatever. Wasn’t his business. He grabbed himself a much needed beer and stuffed the Olive Garden leftovers in there. Combatting Benrey's bad couch-nabbing habit, Gordon just pushed his head over as he nestled his ass into the cushion. 

 

Benrey groaned and rolled over, “Brooo I done slipped and uh, all this bacon fell in my mouth.” 

 

“You’re supposed to cook it?” He snorted. The whole house was going to smell like bacon now.

 

“Wuh? Huh?” 

 

“Man, you’re… you’re interesting.” 

 

“Wanna, uh, play Just Cause 2? Epic Rico grappling hook move?” 

 

“Eh, why not.” As Gordon booted up the PlayStation, Benrey gobbled down as much food as he could and jolted to Gordon’s side so he could cuddle up into him, all curled up and comfy. He grimaced at the sensation, but what could he realistically do? If that alien wanted to cuddle, the alien wanted to cuddle. That was just something he had to deal with now, and he was going to tolerate this. And he only tolerated this because it reminded him of sitting with his childhood dog on chilly nights in Seattle on the couch and playing on the PS2 with him. Benrey was colder, but the weight felt similar enough. 

 

Just Cause 2 scratched a special itch that all men had; to be stars in their own action movie. Running around like a crackhead and shooting up the vague notion of terrorists gave him great pleasure, and so did hijacking helicopters and police vehicles. Benrey purred like a Dualshock and sipped on some soda can with Miku on it, perfectly content to just lay about. Soaking in Gordon’s warmth was a pleasure that he was taking full advantage of. 

 

Seemed like this was what Benrey actually wanted all along. Gordon honestly had to contend with the fact that he was… straight up kind of chill when he knew humans were mortal—When he made the attempt to operate within their rules. 

 

And as soon as he had that sappy thought, Benrey sucked his index finger and stuck it right in Gordon’s ear. A fucking WET WILLY, this grown ass man did not just–Gordon crashed his helicopter into the party blimp as he recoiled in horror. Ew. He kicked Benrey off the couch as he cackled, threw his controller down, and headed for his bedroom. 

 

In spite of that… he could live like this. Yeah. Definitely. This was a livable situation so long as Benrey kept this up. He still had trouble understanding that he couldn’t just barge into the bathroom anytime he wanted, set a couple of fires while “cooking”, and he ripped ass unapologetically at the most inopportune times. Particularly when Gordon was having an online job interview. 

 

But Gordon could see his attempts everywhere. He mopped the floors well enough, loaded the dishwasher and put the plates and silverware back into place, scared Mormons away… and a lot more useful stuff. 

 

Before Gordon could get into his room– his ONE safe haven–he felt a claw prod him on the back, “Man, Gordon, I’m uh, beat like your meat, lol. Wake me up when uh, you’re not um… not sleeping anymore. Being asleep without uh, co-op, is dangerous.” 

 

“Dude we’re in a house, our neighborhood has no crime. You’re going to be fine if you fall asleep on the couch while I take a nap.” 

 

Benrey grumbled as he was killed in GTA, “Well now I have to stay awake, you uh, incredible asshole. Look at what you’re making me do? Super very uncool of you. I hope you’re uh, happy. With yourself. Um. You’re bad.” 

 

“Okay asshole? What’s the problem?” He just wanted his melatonin gummies, man!

 

“Next time you uh, leave. Wake me up first. Don’t wanna be here asleep. Alone. Kay? Just uh, tell me when you’re awake. So I can sleep.” 

 

“You’re going to watch out for me?” 

 

“Yup. Gonna uh, keep you safe.” Benrey slapped him on the shoulder. Ouch. “Prommy salami.” 

 

“Thanks… bro?” 

 

“Napdon Sleepman needs a lil snooze? You’re a little sleepy boy? Aren’tcha?” 

 

Gordon snorted and took his first step into his room, leaving Benrey behind to be illuminated in the off-white hallway bulb that kept attracting flies, “Better believe it. Nighty night, asshole .”

Chapter 13: Dr. Freakman Pumpin’ Some Hot Iron While Benrey Fantasizes About Being the Iron

Summary:

At the gym, Gordon learns a little bit about his alien roommate that he didn't have on his Benrey Bingo Card.

Notes:

No triggers this is a light chapter!

Have fun reading!

i have a tumblr over at @benrey-did-nothing-wrong we get silly there!

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comments here are an open forum. be mean. be nice. be funny! things are crazy lately so if you are an american i wish you luck in your crashing economy and i hope i can provide a brief respite for you.

Benrey slumped against the front of the treadmill, gripping the back of the machine and loudly, sloppily groaning as he walked at a frightening pace of… 3 miles per hour. The gym around the house was typically vacant in the middle of the afternoon. People were working, but Gordon and Benrey were both… well… almost certainly unemployed. But the bills always seemed to be paid, and whenever they needed money, it was always in the bank account. Mr. Coolatta was taking care of them in some ways, though his kindness was limited to what he deemed practical or necessary and nothing more. 

 

With a half-hearted effort, he was tapping out just at cardio. Gordon hadn’t consistently ran in quite a while, and so fifteen minutes on the treadmill at a moderate pace was enough to slightly wind him. Man, that sucked. He offered Benrey a bottle of water, and the alien chugged it down as he walked with a defeated limp. 

 

“Man, you must really be out of shape.” Gordon prodded him on the arm, “No pain no gain.” 

 

“This sucks, it's boring and lame.” Benrey slid off and lowered the walking pace slightly, “How do you do this?” 

 

“Uh, I guess I’m used to it.” Gordon wiped the sweat off his brow. Working out while withdrawing was probably not the best idea, but it was keeping him preoccupied. Sweet voice was keeping all the symptoms manageable, thank god. He noticed that Benrey’s body wasn’t glistening with sweat, despite how exhausted he appeared to be, “Wait a second.” 

 

Gordon turned off the treadmill and reached over to Benrey’s, dragging him off with him. He felt under his arms, his neck, and even his back. The alien blushed and swallowed down some rising sweet voice deep in his throat. Per his usual routine, he shrugged it off as a throaty burp, hoping that would come across as more acceptable than his lust. 

 

As he suspected, Benrey had no sweat glands. The sweatless man in question mumbled to him, “Bro I was gaining.” 

 

“You’re going to overheat.” 

 

“I’m going to wha-?” Benrey panted and collapsed on a bench, “I’m uh, sweaty. Been working out.”

 

“Alright. This might not be good for you. You can’t regulate your temperature like me. You see, humans, we–we evolved to pursue prey for hours on end. We have sweat glands across our whole bodies. You see?” Gordon gestured to his tank top, which clung to his body with perspirant.

 

“I thought uh, you were a psychic. Not a Bionicle.” Benrey was half lucid, but hearing that Gordon was of a species that could pursue prey for hours on end was the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his entire life. He got winded after chasing a Bullsquid for half a minute! The knowledge that humans could run for ‘hours on end’ was somehow sending him into further delirium than a potential heatstroke. He’s never heard of a creature doing that . 

 

“Physicist, not a biologist, but everyone took high school biology class.” He handed Benrey his own water bottle, which he promptly downed, “How are you feeling?” 

 

“This is stupid. Your species is stupid. You’re stupid. Thermomymamics is stupid.” The only benefit Benrey saw to this incessant panting was that he got to taste Gordon’s sweat in the air between them. Ambrosia.

 

Well, fuck him for showing concern, “I’m going to keep exercising, man. I don’t care. You can sit there and play Candy Crush.” 

 

“Whoa, I get a view of the gunshow? Nice.” Benrey whistled coquettishly and took a huge, incredibly noticeable whiff of him, “You’re uh. A stinky boy, aren’tcha?”

 

“The fuck man?! That’s gross! Remember the catcalling talk?” He’d been making progress on appropriate behavior. 

 

“Myewahbwaahmuawa–PBTTHHHT. I’m grinding scents, fuck off.” Benrey pouted. He hated to see him leave, but damn, did he love to watch him go. Gordon was in a tank and shorts, and Benrey was getting a tasteful amount of calf. And his butt? Nice. The certified DILF was double cheeked up, caked out to the max. Looked like his swimmer’s glutes survived the Ph.D stress gorging and the subsequent Resonance Cascade starvation.

 

Gordon wasn’t the most conventionally attractive man out there, but Benrey wasn’t conventional himself. He was big, like an ideal mate ought to be. Healthy amount of fat too judging by his thick abdomen and extra meat around the chin. Hefty portions of his mornings were dedicated to grooming himself to seem presentable, preening his facial hair to a delightful symmetry. Even his nest was cozy, if a bit gaudily decorated. If he were better adapted to Xen, he’d be a mighty hunter. When Benrey first laid eyes on him, he was smitten, and hearing that laugh, that wheeze of a mating call? Oh, it was as if he had everything he could ever want.

 

Shame he fumbled the bag this hard. Epic fail. F-rank romance moment. There was probably no way that Gordon would ever forgive him. Nor any way he could make it up to him. He was lucky that man was so merciful. Elsewise? Benrey would be on ice! Probably stuck in a vat in the Coolatta Family Stasis Nexus. The idea made him shudder. Just his lucky stars, mercy has been extended. 

 

To earn that trust, he had been taking on extra work around the house. He’d been putting the trash in the right bin, trying to chew with his mouth closed, (Gordon was more lenient on this one. Benrey’s anatomy made this incredibly difficult without shapeshifting, and he was kind of out of juice on that front), and he has been supplying sweet voice when necessary!

 

Gordon always felt better after a little sweet voice. He’d crawl into the living room, gobble down his balls, and be ready for bed again. Sometimes he even slept on the couch. Benrey couldn’t help but blush, watching Gordon drool, usually shirtless and body hair glistening with sweat. The gentle way in which his chest and gut drew air in, and deflated with serene breaths of levity. Admiring his roommate slash crush was okay, right? He hoped so. He really hoped it wasn’t creepy but he really couldn’t tell, and certainly didn’t want to ask anyone. It felt like a private shame. Seemed like Gordon thought every advance was a joke.

 

Finishing the last of his cardio, Gordon joined Benrey on the bench, sweating profusely and panting. It wasn’t an intense workout, but he was pretty out of shape, and after running for so long in the HEV suit, pumped full of morphine? Jogging without drugs felt like a hot iron pressed on his muscles. “Whew. Fuck me, man. I need… a break. And then I’m going to hit the weight rack.”

 

“Nice.” Benrey snapped a photo of Gordon, looking like a sweated fish, “Snap. You look like a uh, stinky fish.” 

 

“Can you stop taking pictures of me in compromising positions?!” Gordon started this, he knew he did. But it didn’t make it any less annoying. He was kicking himself for that picture of Benrey he sent to the Science Team.

 

“Hypocrite. Sending this to your MILF ex wife.” 

 

“BENREY!” There was the rise. Gordon’s cherry hot face was turning an even deeper shade of scarlet. Benrey still had it.

 

“You look like shit. Posting this. Everyone’s gonna laugh at you.” Gordon’s phone pinged, and Benrey had indeed sent the photo into a group chat with the whole Science Team. Tommy had something nice to say, as per usual. He complimented Gordon on getting out there and going to the gym. Bubby called him pathetic, par for the course. 

 

Dr. Coomer sent his coordinates. Well, there wasn’t any time to worry about that, now was there? He would be urging Gordon to hit the weight rack, get stronger. Punch the proverbial sandbag! Or else. 

 

“Thanks, Bubby is going to be using that against me for a while.” Gordon groaned, “Gonna lift weights?”

 

“Nah, I’m strong. Adonis here. Kratos IRL.” Benrey flexed, and Gordon snorted, seeing his bony little arms. 

 

“You know what? You’re fine.” Gordon migrated to the weight rack, and started pumping dumbbells. Benrey was about to have an aneurism, watching Gordon’s arms flex that way? The way the muscle poked through the fat and hair on him? The delicate contours of his lattice of musculature, flexing and morphing with practiced grace? Those biceps? Hotted, sweated man right there. And he loved himself a hotted, sweated man. Benrey was always down bad, but this trip to the gym was a mistake. He was still used to seeing that bulky suit, a layer of reinforced molybdenum alloy between himself and Gordon. Never being able to see what was beneath. And the past few weeks? He’d been walking around shirtless. In boxers. Benrey was getting hit again and again and again with reminders as to why he started lusting over this man.

 

If he was smitten before, he didn’t even know what to call himself now!

 

Gordon came back around. Benrey collected himself, opening up Subway Surfer on his phone to make it seem like he had been preoccupied, “Yo, Feetman. Why’d you bring your fungy feet uh, back here? Wanna spread your stinky foot fungus?” 

 

“Gross. No, wanna spot me at the bench press?”

 

“Why do you need spots? Camouflage?” 

 

“No, it’s a safety precaution. If the weight falls on my chest, you pull it off me, or help me put it back if I’m just struggling.” 

 

“Are you sure, isn’t Benrey too little and wimpy to help you out? I can't even run cause I can’t sweat, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be uh, big n’ strong.” He looked up from his brain rot game, and promptly lost, “Oh bummer.”

 

“I’m sorry, I thought I was talking to Kratos.” 

 

“Fuckin… fine. Bleh.” Benrey followed him over to the rack. Gordon added a couple of weights to the sides of the bar, “Wooooow, impressive. One hundred and fifty . Really showing me up here, huh?” 

 

“I’m not going for my top weight here, man. Just easing back into it.” Gordon got himself into position and took a few deep breaths.

 

“Lame. Mr. Feetman lifted more before. Seen it. Caught me.” He flashed a yellowed smile at him, eclipsing the fluorescent lights. It framed his golden eyes in an eerie way.

 

“You do not weigh a hundred fifty pounds, you’re a hundred and ten.” 

 

“I’m dense. Packed like a block of. What’s the stuff?” Benrey tried to snap his fingers, but his claws got in the way.

 

“Solid osmium? No. That’s not how that works.” Dr. Freeman, Ph.D, defaulted to the densest element.

 

“Yeah that’s the shit.” 

 

“A block of Benrey-shaped osmium would probably weigh two thousand pounds. Twenty-two grams per cubic centimeter versus one gram per cubic centimeter, assuming you’re as dense as human flesh.”

 

“Nerd. Scientists don’t talk like that, actually.” 

 

“No, just a fact…” Gordon grunted as he grabbed the weight and started performing reps. He lifted twice, then slid it onto the rack for a breather. Conservative reps were going to be his friend, “I wasn’t big into chemistry but we had to do a lot of it as an undergrad. Used to have a poster of the periodic table in my dorm next to my Linkin Park and MCR crap.” 

 

“Gordon. Shit, man. What do I have to say? You’re making my job uh, fuckin’ easy. You’re like a walking stereotype.” 

 

“You’re an asshole.” Gordon did an additional two reps, and put the barbell back.

 

“Did you uhh, have a little desk globe too? A little desk globe and a four ball clacker thingy?” 

 

Gordon remained silent. 

 

“Yo, you did! I pinned you down! Gotem!” 

 

“Piss off.” He caught his breath and began another set, grunting with each rep.

 

“Wait, wait. One more. Did you have uhh, Moby’s Strip Cockring™?” 

 

Gordon broke out into hysterics, and dropped the barbell as the idea of a Mobius strip cockring hijacked every region of his brain. Benrey caught the barbell before it impacted Gordon’s chest, holding up a hundred and fifty pounds effortlessly, letting it hover just above Gordon’s delicate, one of a kind body. This could have killed him! Good thing best friend Benrey was here. 

 

“Oh my god, Benrey!” Gordon didn’t seem to notice, his eyes were too clouded with tears, smile too wide and laugh too genuinely joyous, “But I did have a Klein’s bottle for a bong. Custom made it with some of my friends. Took us a month to figure out the optics, you know?”  

 

“Hey, Feetman. Look up.” Benrey was fishing for praise. So when Gordon’s eyes crossed at the sight of Benrey holding up the weight, one handed, inches above his mortal flesh… he was rather pleased.

 

“Holy shit. Thanks Benrey. Fuck.” Gordon rolled off the rack, and Benrey deposited the barbell on the floor, “Wasn’t a lot but… you’re… strong. And that at least would have hurt if not cracked my ribs and-” 

 

“Told ya. Kratos.” Benrey craned his neck up to look Gordon in the eye, “Pull ups?” 

 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

 

“So, Mobius co-” 

 

“Stop!” Gordon cackled. Other gym goers were staring at them now, “Stop talking about that in public, that's disgusting!” 

 

“Mean. Mean to me? I’m a cool, who just saved your life. And you’re mean?” 

 

“You made me drop the barbell in the first place.” Gordon wiped his sweaty palms on Benrey’s uniform (which he was insistent on wearing still) and grabbed onto the pull up bar. He could hear Benrey suppress some sweet voice as he did his first rep.

 

“And I saved you. Please and thank you, sir. Little child needs a spotter.” Benrey had to look away, and keep his fist to his mouth. It would have been incredibly embarrassing to sweet voice in public, “Scuse me.”

 

“That literally wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t have the need to say that .” 

 

“Moby Strip c-” 

 

Gordon’s hand slapped onto his mouth, “STOP!” 

 

---

 

That night, his nightmare had morphed yet again. He was in his bed, back in his Black Mesa housing complex, white walls covered in band posters and framed pictures of his son that he hasn’t been able to find since. Benrey was sitting on his chest, pupilless eyes glowing in the dark. The slightest look of disappointment was twinging on the edges of his lips. Gordon couldn’t breathe with him sitting there, as if he was as heavy as the barbell.

 

His tongue snaked out of his mouth, and licked over his eyes, and he adjusted his position, belly to belly with Gordon, folding his arms under his head, on Gordon’s chest. The pressure was less severe, but the more intimate look into this nightmare Benrey’s eyes felt worse. He could feel his cold breath on his neck, hastening his heart. 

 

“Hey bro. Why are you looking at me like that? Clumsy boy?” He grabbed Gordon’s right hand and held it up to his face, “What’s this? Who did this? Huh? Did you do this?” 

 

Gordon was simply compelled to… not resist in this nightmare. He couldn’t fight back, only let him manipulate his body, and that fake hand. Its sutures undid themselves, and laced together with horrific legs of si new as it detached from his wrist, and crawled up his arm. Gordon silently watched, as it skittered onto his face and opened his mouth… and climbed inside. 

 

He gagged himself awake, grabbing his hand, and then touching his lips, feeling the air flow seamlessly into his lungs. Maybe pulling an all-nighter playing some computer games wasn’t such a bad idea. TF2 with Tommy and Darnold always made him feel a little better.

Chapter 14: Dr. Freeman Self Medicates With Alien Balls in His Mouth

Summary:

Gordon gargles balls in his mouth. Hilarity ensues!

Notes:

hey guys its me hermes again. how are you? i got really badly sick :( oh nooo

anyways here's a chapter that's unexpected for this week. wa sgonna protest but i dono'd 200 bucks instead since i didnt want to shit myself in DC.

i wrote this while listening to half decade hangover felt GOOD bro. cathartic. have a wonderful week! stay tuned for Not Self-Aware and Brokeback Mesa! I have other projects im working on too.

Send me a message @benrey-did-nothing-wrong <3 i dont bite.

Benrey was lounging on the couch, playing Red Dead Redemption, wishing he was a cowboy himself. Would have kind of been hot and sexy to have a cowboy hat and ride a horse across the wild west. Maybe even have Gordon holding onto his waist and telling him how cool he was. He wasn’t too sure what else cowboys did other than ride horses and shoot men. Or was it shoot horses and ride men in real life? Gordon was beside him, laptop on his legs, looming over the keyboard as he typed with improper hand positioning. Only using two fingers that frantically scrambled across the screen while his thumb was on the mousepad. Bizarre. Benrey took a look at the screen, and scratched his chin. 

 

Morphine addiction withdrawal… 

 

“Yo uh, you’re on drugs? Breakin’ the law, breakin’ the law? ” Benrey leaned over to get a better look, placing his chin on Gordon’s shoulder. Usually he didn’t appreciate much touching, but Benrey was given shoulder permission explicitly.

 

He slammed the laptop shut and scooched away, “I’m going to the bathroom.” 

 

Odd. Benrey fumbled over words in his mind as Gordon stood up to make his retreat, “Oh okay. Speedrun or longplay?”

 

Gordon ignored that comment. He sure as hell didn’t like the dichotomy of pissing and shitting being separated through a gaming metaphor. The bathroom door was left unlocked. Weird. Gordon never forgot to lock the bathroom. Didn’t stop Benrey when he was persistent though. Sometimes he just really had to use the toilet and he didn’t care if Gordon was showering. Why would he be thinking about Gordon’s sexy ass when he was losing his organs through his bunghole because he drank a straight up gallon of Mountain Dew mixed with milk for breakfast? The man (shaped thing) needed to concentrate on reading his gaming mags, goddammit.

 

Fine. If Gordon was going to be an asshole, Benrey was going to do his own googling. Morphine withdrawal… The alien was dense, but he wasn’t that stupid. After some spelling errors, he found some WebMD bullshit…

 

And would you look at that, Gordon was towards the end of the worst of the symptoms after a few weeks. The home stretch. His steady diet of teal green heal beam and blue calm seemed to have been helping him, though! Benrey really thought that Gordon was doing well on his delicious mucus spheres, was he doing something wrong now? Were his bubbles no longer up to standard? Benrey spat out a single calm note and held it in his hand, inspecting the hollow mucus shell in his hands. It stuck slightly to his finger, as such slime was inclined to. It smelled strong, the smell alone was enough to make Benrey’s muscles relax. And taking a hit was like a solid wave of suntanning on a California beach with a bank account in the green. 

 

…So what gives? Gordon must have been ungrateful. Benrey make so many balls for him. Did he know the sacrifice he had to make in order to spit ball? Make so many big ball for his gross mouth? The fucking gall of some people.

 

Or maybe he was sick, and that’s why he was hiding away. In fact, that would explain a lot if Gordon was sick. When Houndeyes would start growing white spots on their skin, they’d be bullied out of the pack, lay in an alcove, and wait to die. Always an easy, good meal. But they’d be on the ground, shivering and whimpering the way Gordon did before the sweet voice.

 

There was only one way to get to the bottom of this mysterious mystery full of intrigue and whatnot: He had to go rap-a-tap-tapping against the bathroom door and check on his shitass roommate, dear Gordon. Quoth the Benrey, “Yo, Feetman. Shittin’ hard or hardly shittin’?” 

 

“Benrey, go away!” His yell was muffled. 

 

“Need my epic, big balls in your mouth?” Benrey kept knocking incessantly.

 

“Jesus Christ! Benrey what the fuck?” There was that laugh, “I’m in the bathroom, stop harassing me!” 

 

“I know you’re not um, cool. You can uh, talk to me. You’re hiding away because you think I’m gonna sink my teeth in you when you’re vulnerable.” Benrey paused, and took in the silence. Gordon wasn’t denying the assertion, “And if we were on Xen. Yeah I totally would. Easy meal. But we’re not. So, prommy no nommy.”

 

“Fine. Come in.” Benrey could just noclip in.  As he phased through the wood, he could see clearly that Gordon was worse for wear. His fingers were wrapped around the side of the sink, untrimmed nails scraping against the creamsicle orange. He had been washing his face before, his hair was drenched and tousled at the front, eyes still adjusting while his glasses perched on the vanity. 

 

“Uhm, got anything to like, say?” Benrey shrugged. What was he supposed to make of this? He didn’t know what he was expected to do, usually talking made things worse, “Yo what happened to your uhm,” he smacked his lips, “Everything.”

 

Gordon took a deep breath and wiped his face dry with a fresh (orange) towel, “The HEV suit pumped me full of morphine, and I think that your sweet voice is starting to... It’s not making me feel good anymore. I’ve just been trying to see how much longer this annoying bullshit is going to last.” 

 

“Can’t overdo it, I think. So like, when you take too much of one of my emotions it stops having the same effect, right? Cause like, it stops being cool if you’re overexposed, like skateboards. They’re cool for a bit then you’re like… why aren’t you just walking instead?” Benrey pulled an orange from the basket Gordon kept on the vanity and took a bite out of it. Tasted pretty bitter and dry, but it did have a good sizzle to it.

 

“Yeah well, I just found that out! The worst is behind me, apparently, but I still feel like I’m dying! Why does it have to hurt all over? I mean, I know why, but… Fuck, man!” He really didn’t care that Benrey was eating a bath bomb. Gordon kicked the toilet seat down and fell back onto it with a thud before it was fully closed. 

 

“I have something that might help… if you trust me.” There was that stipulation. Gordon had to trust Benrey. Why couldn’t it be that he had to trust Tommy? Or Coomer? Not Bubby, in some ways he did trust Benrey more. 

 

“I’ll take anything. Please.” Gordon looked all pathetic there, curling his feet up onto his weird orange toilet to hold himself in the fetal position. It elicited this bizarre chirp out of Benrey, who started humming a new, deep sweet voice note. At first only a few soapy hiccups escaped his lips (oh that was soap wasn’t it) before a single bubble of tar floated into the center of the room. It looked like a black hole, something that was actively sucking the light out of the room. Gordon could swear the bathroom was dimmer than it was a second ago.

 

“Usually it’s like that. But for you it’s darkened crow, sleep my beau.” He produced another sweet voice ball to contrast it with. This one somehow seemed… less intimidating. It was still black, but it was a less aggressively pitch-dark presence in the room. The color of a screen to a void in space rather than the endless abyss. Benrey sat down on the vanity and kicked the balls with his feet, splattering both onto the shower wall.

 

“So it… puts me to sleep?” Gordon realized that Benrey had a new rhyme just for him, “Wait, ‘sleep my beau’?” 

 

“Mhm. Used it on uh, prey. Not prey though. Friend. Darkened crow, sleep my beau. You dig?” Benrey thought for a moment, “Can’t use the darkest color, might be too strong.”

 

“How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?” Benrey didn’t answer the question, but Gordon was sure getting something direct from him was going to be like pulling teeth from a rabid badger. 

 

“Bro if I wanted you like, dead. I had every opportunity to. C’mon. Use your uh, degree.” Benrey knocked Gordon on the head, “Trust me?” 

 

“You can’t even cook. Who is to say that you won’t get hungry and start eating me, eh? Like a cat.”

 

“Gonna snack, the next few days. Till you’re better. Order pizza, prolly. I’ll uh, make sure you’re okay. You fed me, I feed you now. Like a pack of peeper puppies. Guard the nest and all that.”

 

“Benrey,” Gordon remembered the first few nights, how exhausted Benrey seemed to be, “I know you’re nervous about both of us sleeping at the same time, but it’s fine. ” 

 

“Have to. Um. Can’t let spawn campers in.” 

 

“We’re safe here.” Gordon shivered, and grabbed a towel from the rack to wrap himself in. 

 

Benrey cocked his brow and glared at him with a strong sense of skepticism. Gordon was asleep at night. He didn’t know half the shit that went bump. Howling coyotes, cars driving by with unknown intent, the chirping of nocturnal birds that could obfuscate the padding of a predator. Benrey was keen to all of it. He only slept when he knew there were other eyes out. “Yeah, big uh, big lie there, idiot. I’m not that stupid.”

 

“I mean it. Humans sleep in groups with no one keeping watch for a reason. ‘Prommy no nommy’, okay?” Gordon parroted him, and forced a little smile. He wasn’t so sure he trusted Benrey himself, but he had been making the concerted effort to be a good housemate. That meant something, at least.

 

“Um, okay. So you want me to still give my balls to you or not?” 

 

 “Yeah I think that uh, I’ll let you do that. I mean, you’re smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds you, right?” 

 

“It’s not about the food.” Benrey brought the man’s arm over his shoulder, and wrapped his hand around his waist. Gordon was soft. Warm. Warm like a bit of rock shimmering in the sun on a snowy day. 

 

“Then what is this about?” 

 

“Other people aren’t as fun to um, make fun of. Yeah,” Benrey nudged him with his helmet, and Gordon grunted, breaking out into a slight grin as he rolled his eyes. He was starting to get it. Both of them were. Benrey was using his big boy words, earnestly. Even though it’s annoying as shit for Gordon to know he was entertainment value for the alien, part of him was just happy that there was this beautiful moment of clear, concise, interspecies communication. And there was that slate again, pouring from his lips in passive, chesty trills. Gordon nabbed one of the bubbles in his jaws and swallowed it down. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so… weak . Not in the way ‘Calm Down’ made him feel resilient. Rather it was some kind of instinctual urge that was kicked up in him. The same feeling he got when his lunch was stolen at work. It made Gordon protective and spiteful . That must’ve been what Benrey was feeling.

 

He put one of his hands on the back of Benrey’s neck, just below the helmet, and held him there, brushing his thumb up and down his bulging vertebrae. Maybe this was a method of manipulation, but Gordon wanted to reciprocate, even as the effects of the sweet voice faltered. He didn’t have anything to fear from him. Maybe Benrey did want to protect him like a possession. Maybe what he’d really miss was the food. But that’s what this was, he wanted to preserve Gordon as he was.

 

Benrey wanted nothing more than this. He refused to part from his chest as they shuffled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where Gordon flopped back like a sack of bricks.

 

Weird, that humans could be so large and so vulnerable.He looked up at Benrey as he crawled on top of the bed, pinning Gordon by his shoulders. His body wheezed and croaked as he started producing the perfect shade of sweet voice to feed Gordon, to make sure his sleep was as peaceful as it could be. Benrey was more surprised that there was no pushback, That Gordon was just letting him climb up into his bed, on top of him. It was making his hearts rush. He just wanted to curl up on his chest like a cat!

 

“Hey, Benrey? After you do this, can you stay with me for a bit?” Gordon hated to admit it, but he would have felt a little better if someone was there with him. He was already taking this chance on Benrey, so what harm was there in asking him to maybe watch over him more closely? Or be within arm’s reach if something went wrong? 

 

Oh, who was he kidding? The bastard was lonely. If he was taking the leap of faith, there was little difference between the fifty foot and hundred foot drops. 

 

“Sounds a little uh, a little gay.” He smacked his lips. Nice.

 

“I don’t care if it does. Do you have a problem? Huh, Benrey? You’re scared you might get emasculated if we’re not five feet apart?” Gordon knew Benrey obviously thought gay jokes were funny. Why else would he kiss him and make comments about his ass? And the position that they were in now? Gordon’s bi ass wasn’t stupid. He knew he was in one gayass position like this. But Gordon was also secure enough in himself to not give a fuck. 

 

A bit of pink saliva dribbled from his lips, which he wiped away, “Sleepover with Feetman? Gonna get a whiff of those pungent toes?” 

 

“Eww. Just ‘dark crow’ me or whatever.” Gordon held his hand out, and Benrey produced a low, droning hum. His neck distended, and his cheeks puffed up as a slimy globule of snot-like sweet voice drifted down into Gordon’s hand. He supped from the orb… black licorice. Not ideal, but within seconds his eyelids grew heavy, and he lost consciousness. Benrey was one hell of an anesthesiologist. 

 

He slipped under the covers with Gordon, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. He thought it was fucked up that Gordon was this beautiful. He tenderly plucked his glasses from his face and placed it on the nightstand, and snuggled up next to his arm, resting his helmet on it. It was so warm. His mammalian body was perfect to lean against, his arms were covered in a layer of insulating fur, which Benrey soothingly ran his hands around, hoping the petting was comforting him. 

 

Gordon was like some kind of divine sight. What could be said about him? As Gordon drooled onto his pillow and snored at a lethal decibel, Benrey watched him with eager, glowing eyes. His strong, crooked nose, that powerful brow, his well groomed beard that must have tickled to touch. Benrey longed to press closer to him, and to intertwine bodies like dancing seahorses. He wished that Gordon could slink him over his shoulder like a snake, let him warm up at the nape of his neck and perch in delight. Touching noses, burying faces in chests and wanting for nothing more.  Benrey would have to contend with holding his hand from across the king sized bed, to stare at him from feet away and an ocean apart. Never the seahorse.

 

So warm. So comfortable. He could hardly keep his eyes open. And sleep took him. As he dreamed of a life that would never be his, he leaked little bubbles of pink and blue sweet voice. It was a pleasant fantasy…

He had to make a call. Dialing a number he remembered long ago, he put the phone to his ear. It was about time. “Yo. I’d uh, like to place an order for delivery. Yeah. Everything pizza. I mean every topping. Yeah. Gordon Freeman is the name on the card. Thanks bro. Love you. Mwah.”

Chapter 15: Interlude: Life Could Be a Dream

Summary:

Gordon is having a dream or a nightmare or something about Benrey. <3 True love.

Notes:

TW: Cannibalism? I guess?

i actually love hawaiian pizza that's my toxic trait. pineapple is just that extra something pizza always needed for me to like it. genuinely need turkey spam and pineapple and tomato slices on my shit.

test reader stepped on keyboard before this. so sad for him.

no fart jokes this chapter. so sorry to all my #smartfellas out there. i failed you.

you can find me on tumblr @benrey-did-nothing-wrong. might even post art eventually.

and if you like this story you might also like all the other dumb bullshit i do, so take a gander if frenrey is your thing. or don't.

have a good week and stay safe!

The morphine dreams were always weird a shit. The brain during early sobriety was left in scrambled without the substance it thought necessary to persist. Nightmares were described as hellishly real while the mind went into full panic. Vivid and disconcerting, as Gordon had come to know. Entering sobriety, the amount of REM sleep he was getting was greater than that of the already sobered and healthy mind. And the longer REM sleep went, the stranger the dreams could get. 

 

The vaguest idea of his old dormitory in Black Mesa surrounded him. That brick of a bed was a killer on his back, and its thin emerald sheets barely provided protection from the goddamn freezing AC that blasted in there. The smoke detector he bagged up so he could light up a bong was fitted right on the ceiling above the door. The underground ragers were nothing special compared to his college days, but watching stuffy old men pass a joint around was always a sight.

 

He grazed his fingers over the walls and felt nothing, none of the porous texture he remembered. But when he grazed his hand over his poster for Kane and Lynch 2: Dog Days he got way back in 2010, he could still feel the laminate the way he remembered it being. That was a release day bonus, and he was sure it was a much sought after piece of memorabilia. One that was nuked. So much for a collectible. 

 

This was one of those places where he had to be covert about cooking his own meals with whatever supplies he had. He kept a pressure cooker hidden behind his microwave. Desperation chili became his staple meal there, because anything was better than the gastric distress of the cafeteria food. And how could he forget the fridge full of beer?! He popped it open and grabbed a nice, cold Longboard for the road. Though hardly a connoisseur of the finer things in life, he liked to think that his taste in booze was slightly better than the average American.

 

Coming back up from where he was hunched over in front of the cheap mini-fridge and his 12-inch TV screen hooked up to his PS3, he saw Benrey sitting there in full uniform, right on top of the box television, kicking his boots around with delight.

 

“Yo, best friend,” Benrey took both his hands and slapped them over the armor on his gut. It almost clacked like an exoskeleton, “Ready for the Black Mesa pizza party?” 

 

“The what?” Gordon cocked his brow, as he was inclined to do whenever Benrey opened up his whore mouth.

 

“Wow, idiot hasn’t been reading the bulletin, huh? The uh, the corkboard? Says we’re getting the pizza party. The Black Mesa Pizza Party! For um, quarterly achievements or something. Prevent the workers from eating the directors?” 

 

Gordon couldn’t ever remember a Black Mesa Pizza Party ever happening. But they did let them have pizza on occasion. He remembered on his first day, a security guard in the breakroom was eating a whole pizza by himself. Poor guy was probably having a hard day. 

 

“So where’s the pizza party at?” Gordon hoped it wasn’t just the cardboard cafeteria pizza being served, but his hopes weren’t high. He hadn’t had a good pizza in forever! In the dreamscape, that was. He shared a Mexican Pizza from Taco Bell with Benrey a while ago… 

 

He hadn’t had a good pizza in forever!

 

“Oh uh, cafeteria. Um, supposed to be real food.” Benrey licked his chaps, showing off his pronounced canines as his lips popped for enunciation, “ Proper meal.” 

 

“So it’s not the cardboard they try to pass off as food?” 

 

“Nope. Anyways, you need a passport to get in.” Benrey walked backwards and held his hand out, “Papers? Papers, please, sir?” 

 

“Benrey, fucking hell. I can’t even escape the passport shit in my dreams?” 

 

“Huh? What?” He snapped back to his side and looked up at him like a confused little puppy.

 

Gordon couldn’t help but feel oddly endeared by his big, glossy-eyed stare. Although still put off by dream Benrey, it seemed his brain hadn’t forgotten the part of him that made Gordon think he was adjacent to adorable. He was adorable the way a creepy, wrinkly, marketable 80’s character was. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go get some pizza.” 

 

“I want Hawaiian!” He wanted what? On a perfectly good pizza? Pineapples?! A fucking sweet fruit on a pizza? A pizza lathered in tomato sauce that has sugar in it?! A sweet fruit on a pizza is a crime . 

 

“.. Hawaiian? ” His eye was twitching. Of course dream Benrey had to like the worst toppings, “You’re foul, bro.” 

 

“It’s uh, all your food group. You have your yellow food from uh, from the equator, brown food from a fuhck-king pig (oinke oinke), red food not included, and green food for the health! Just got–just got schooled in food, geography, and knowledge! Get outta school! PSTD!” 

 

Gordon wheezed like his whole soul was gripped and ripped out of his body and leaned the wall as he caught his breath, “What is wrong with you?!”

 

“Bappy get PSTD in Hawaii missile crisis fuck you.” Benrey hopped down and urged him out of the door, “Pepperoni, idiot? Or Hawaiian, friend?”

 

He was practically incomprehensible, just like when they first met, he was just saying stuff. He was saying shit and none of it made any sense. But it was obvious he wasn’t trying to be aggressive at this point. It was just Benrey’s bizarre way of talking. As Benrey pushed him around, he grazed against the steel halls of the dormitory, pushing him against patriotic posters of scientists and security guards working in tandem. If only that ever happened. Elitism tended to run rampant amongst Black Mesa STEM staffing. 

 

Benrey stopped by a vending machine and stuck his hand in there, nabbing a can for himself, clinking it with Gordon’s beer, “Cheerio, chap. This is just uh, this is just like that scene in Tekken 3: Tekk It Out !” 

 

“That’s not… that’s not what Tekken 3 is called.” Gordon snorted, “Whatever!” 

 

As they walked through the halls together, Gordon began to lose track of where exactly they were. Not hard in Black Mesa, but pretty soon the signs were indecipherable, and the walls were growing more and more generic. Usually there was some kind of distinguishing feature that Gordon coils use to orient himself. Here, the walls were barren of posters or even name tags on offices. In fact, he couldn’t even tell what sector they were in. He looked around for anything . Just steel and linoleum. 

 

“Where are we going?” Gordon listened to Benrey quaff down his drink like he’d never had a drop of water before in his life. It was downright licentious how he was sucking on that soda. 

 

Benrey leaned onto Gordon’s shoulder, and while normally in dream logic, feeling someone smaller than oneself have a significantly heavier weight was normal, this was different. His hand engulfed his shoulder, claws gently prodding through his lab coat and pressing into his pectorals. He could feel his cold breaths graze across his cheek. Unexpected stimuli demanded attention, his head swiveled and he saw Benrey looming over him. About seven feet tall, armor barely hanging onto his physical bulk. He looked strong, stronger than any man he’d ever seen. This walk was far more dire than Gordon had thought it’d be. “Don’t uh, don’t worry about it. We’re taking the scenic route.” 

 

This was liminal. Benrey’s grip on him got tighter. Gordon threw his beer in the trash can and pulled away, “I don’t feel safe. Take me back to my room.”

 

“Sorry I uh, I can’t, sir. We need to go to the Pizza Party. Employee attendance um, mandy-torrie.” Benrey pushed him forward, and Gordon could feel that his arm wasn’t an arm anymore. The tickling on the back of his shirt was far too cosmopolitan to be just from the tapping of five little digits. And it was thick, and slick. Sticky. Something was telling him that this ushering was a non-negotiable. 

 

Gordon picked up his pace as Benrey stalked behind him, feeling the corridor twist beneath his feet. He was stumbling to keep his footing, heart convulsing. The ground was unstabled, and each step was getting more slippery, less assured, until he felt like he was scrambling up lubed pool tiles at an incline. His hands met the linoleum as he crawled and scrambled desperately to get away from him, not looking back. Muscular, bony tendrils wrapped around his ankle and brought him down as the inclined increased, and the steady slip against the slick mucus on the ground devolved into a freefall into darkness. 

 

And then there was a heavy catch in the air, inertia would have snapped every bone in his body if this were reality. In the darkness, a thousand eager yellow eyes lulled open, reddened pupils rolling like lazy 8-balls before all fixating on Gordon. His pitch-tipped claws opened up, letting Gordon rest on the bony, wrinkly flesh of his disembodied hand. Aroma insisted itself on Gordon, who breathed in the candy shoppe stench of artificial fruits and cloudberry taffy. More concerning than the stomach-roiling, tart stench, he could feel Benrey’s hot breath on him. But his mouth remained cryptic in the velvet darkness. The mass of eyes and wet viscera inched closer to him, a dark sheathe unleashing a sharp proboscis with two serrated mouthpieces at its tip.

 

“Benrey! Come on Benrey! Hah! We can talk, man! Right?!” Gordon pushed the thick tip away as it oozed anti-coagulating saliva. It was as thick as an elephant’s trunk, and tapered like one too. It felt so smooth, so slick and hard. And yet it had to be flexible! It unfurled .

 

The horrible thing smelled like the scraped up contents of a belly-button mixed with maggot-riddled meat. His throaty, gargling belching vocalizations were punctuated with the production of sweet voice out of the tip, rich indigo notes thrummed out in a lattice of glowing threads. And then pressed it into the side of Gordon’s face, lifting his fingers up so there was no escape, and planted a tender kiss on his jawline. 

 

“Yo, we’re uh, we’re gonna miss the Black Mesa Pizza Party now, bro!” 

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m having a nightmare!” Gordon knew this was a dream. The morphine was making him have some fucking bizarre nightmares.

 

“Huh? I do? Bro. Um, listen. Me, you? We uh, you have PSN Plus, right? We can play with Jack Tretton. Bombed me in flat_gm. Anyways. Nuked me. Gave me some great IDs. Over PSN messages on the PS3. Bought me Jak 3! We can uh, play Jak 3. If you want.” Benrey’s pupils all dilated at once, “Kiss?” 

 

“Not right now, Benrey, I’m tweaking the fuck out, hello?!”

 

“Oh, uh… Wanna play Tekken?”

 

“If I say yes will you leave me alone?!”

 

“No cause we’ll be playing games. Duh.” 

 

“Okay, okay! We can game, man!” 

 

“Nice!” Benrey lurched upwards, digging whatever appendages he had into the sides of the corridor, dragging himself up like a spider, “Awesome when uh, you have no bros to play with… but then you get a new bro? And then you can play with him. Muchly cool.” 

 

“Yeah muchly cool BRO! Let me down, please?!” 

 

“Oh, uh… find this awesome gamer pad.” Benrey shrunk down, back into his humanoid form and sat down on a couch that was just there . Green, plaid, smelled like old ass and coffee stains. That was Black Mesa furniture for you, “There uh, cool? Cool. Right? Cool.” 

 

“Mhm!” Gordon nodded furiously, and sat next to him with a controller just magically in his hands now. He didn’t question the dream logic, “Dude you’re, you’re haunting my dreams a lot less lately.” 

 

“I am? I’m in your dreams? Nice.” Benrey grabbed a slice of pizza and shook it around, curiously sniffing it. He booted up one of the probably twenty Tekken games. Gordon was barely paying attention, “You remembered your company ID, right?” 

 

“On my chest!” 

 

Benrey glared at his pecs with a wry smile, rife with scrutiny, “Hmm. Yep. Dr. Feetman.”

 

“Benrey, are you going to kill me?” 

 

“Huh? No.” 

 

“Oh,” Gordon relaxed on the couch, “Why uh, why did you come into my room?” 

 

“Close to mine.” 

 

“In Sector C, right?” 

 

“Yeah… Sector C.” The room suddenly went dark, only the TV screen visible in the pitch, the intro sequence for Tekken playing as white noise in the background. Forlorn, deserted, “Um, Gordon? I uh, I want to give you something.” 

 

“And what’s that?” Gordon put his controller on the couch as Benrey shifted his eyes towards him, bouncing them around the shadow of his helm.

 

He pushed Gordon down and crawled on top of him, straddling his waist as he grabbed that hand. He grabbed it and sank his teeth into the stitches, tearing it out in a violent jerk of his whole upper body, pushing down with his arms. The hand writhed in the air for a moment, and fell back in between his jaws. He choked it down with a savage bite, black ooze pooling between his fangs. His neck distended and flattened as it traveled down, and it left Gordon’s arm as nothing more than a numb nub with a few strands of thread still clinging on.

 

And Gordon said nothing. He stared with a cocked brow. Benrey stretched two claws out and pressed it back down with a languid grin.

 

“Mm, compliments or something.” Benrey kissed the exposed marrow in the drained slab of meat, and collapsed on Gordon, “I love you that much. This was for us.” 

 

And as if all the relief of a shackle of slavery being unchained from him had finally liberated his arm, he started sobbing, right into his collar and tie. Finally . The nightmare was over. He brought his hands behind that stupid helmet and slammed his forehead into his chest while he bawled. Screaming into someone like a child, gripping them with all the muscle he could muster in his wrist, it felt good. The empowerment of a wish that could never be rushed through his tendons as his hands sunk into Benrey’s solid flesh. He just wanted to be released. And it was as if this was the one moment of true respite he’d find now. Benrey’s face migrated from his plush chest and onto his arm, sinking into his fat with a passive chomp. With a gasp, Gordon woke up. Ouch. 

 

---

 

Gordon stretched himself out, and looked over to his side to see his first being grappled by Benrey on that same hand, one of his snaggled teeth jutted into the scar on his wrist, drool pooling on his palm.

 

But most importantly, he was feeling good, really good. He checked the time on his phone, and he had slept for twenty hours. Twenty whole hours. Each breath felt unfettered, his skin was his to wear. His stomach didn’t roil or demand to be emptied for every moment he wasn’t pumped with opioids. Oh, the joy . Unadulterated euphoria. 

 

He carefully slid out of bed to get working on breakfast. Reciprocity demanded that he also make Benrey’s morning, just the same way he had made his. Benrey would likely wake up starving, and that wasn’t quite fair.

Chapter 16: Dr. Freeman Tests His Knowledge from AP Biology

Summary:

Benrey and Gordon talk about life before Black Mesa. When Benrey is being authentic and approaching from a place of vulnerability, it turns out that Gordon quite likes him.

Notes:

sorry women sorry everyone for party rockin. im off my meds and im off the chain.

Im @benrey-did-nothing-wrong on tumblr hmu if you wanna tell me how sucky this fic is.

this is where the fluff truly starts if you were curious. there's going to be moments of explosivity but overall the vibe will be less insane for a while.

i wanted to do some speculative shapeshifter biology here. this chapter was an excuse for shapeshifter biology, really. sorry women 2x.

Benrey woke up cold, alone. He sat up, feeling weak and groggy. But there was a pleasant scent in the air. Following the aroma, he found Gordon on the couch, watching the old 2D Clone Wars cartoon. Although marginally sweaty, he seemed better put together than usual. That was a certified ‘hubba hubba’ from Benrey. Gordon smelled minty from a recent shower, hair half-dried. His no shirt and MIT sweats combo was elevating the immaculately cozy vibes. A blanket was strewn on his lap, and Benrey wished he could get under that and lay across his thighs.  The morning sun was lighting up the gentle, rested smile on his face. He was a new man, more resilient than he had seemed in months. 

 

“Mornin’,” He waved at him, “I made you something. As a thank you. Sorry I ate without ya.” 

 

On the island, there was a breakfast of waffles, topped with a generous helping of whipped cream, and a side of ham and eggs. Benrey refrained from jumping on the food, and sat next to Gordon as he watched the cartoon. Benrey couldn’t understand what was happening in it. They were speaking total gibberish, he didn’t get how, somehow, Gordon seemed to be following all of it.

 

“You good? Man? Chilling?” Benrey rubbed his eyes of all the crust that had accumulated for the twelve hours he was out.

 

“We’re good, we’re good. Thanks for yesterday, that was the first restful sleep I had in weeks. And I actually feel… amazing. Not like, symptomless. But strong. Incredibly strong! Saw you got some shuteye too.” He nudged him on the shoulder.

 

“Didn’t happen. Don’t sleep on the job. It’s against company policy, idiot.” Benrey let out a few bubbles of red sweet voice. Gordon took a hit of one… and sure as shit, that was a big ‘ole Benrey yawn. Something something red, I wanna be in bed. Gordon couldn’t think of a better rhyme.

 

“Yeah okay. Empirical data contradicts that conclusion, buddy.” He smirked as Benrey prepared to roast him for being a nerd, but interrupted him before he could open his mouth, “Eat up. You look frail.” 

 

“Hey I don’t come in… saying you’re too skinny. Beandon Poleman.” Benrey puffed himself up like a scared cat. Didn’t really help his case at all.

 

Gordon looked down at his moderate case of dad bod on full display, and glanced up at Benrey with a cocked brow, “Right. Beandon Poleman.” 

 

Benrey grumbled the whole way to his breakfast, and snatched it so he could enjoy it next to Gordon. He actually took his time, trying to savor the taste of it. And savor he did. Gordon could see the pure bliss in his visage, the smile on his skeletal face and lips pressing together and parting for an inhuman tongue to snake out and lap over the whipped cream clinging to his jowl. He set the plate down when he was finished, and leaned back against the corner of the couch. The sensory experience of warm, freshly pressed waffles was overwhelming him with a feeling he was finally finding a way to articulate.

 

“Liked it?” 

 

Benrey spewed out some orange and teal, but was otherwise unresponsive. 

 

“Bless you.” Gordon patted his shoulder, taking this as the best he was going to get. But a few minutes later, he piped up.

 

“Uh, Gordon? Took time to think.” Benrey slid his finger against the plate, picking up a bit of whipped cream and dashing it across his tongue, “I was uh, denied this. For a long time. Feels good to have it.” He winced at what he was about to say. What he was about to do. Oh, it hurt to do this. He forced it out of his body like boozy puke, “ Thaaaank youuuuu .”

 

“Uh, yeah. No problem… That’s how I felt after I got my first car.” Gordon cringed, “Not that it’s comparable to being starved, but it was just a lot of freedom all at once.”

 

“Mm, yeah. Tommy gave me a PS3. So I wasn’t so bored.” He grabbed a pillow and started banging his head against it, “This bored. Formulated an uh, experimence, so the scientists had to watch me play. Pretty funny. Proved I could play video games. Not much else. Uh, the uhm, point is that I only felt this way once before.”

 

“What’s the deal with you and Tommy anyways? You guys lovers or something?” Gordon paused his cartoon. Benrey had been decent enough to do the same for him before. Gordon did genuinely think there was something between him and Tommy though. Not necessarily romantic. Maybe friends with benefits? Gordon wasn't one to pry on relationship statuses. It's a hard lesson he learned post-divorce. Sometimes it really hurt being asked.

 

“No! Ew. Tommy is uh, a bro. Mhm. Very nice to me. Uh, wasn’t in charge but influential enough. Snuck me treats like marshed mallows and sodas.” A singular teal note slipped his lips, “Was the only one brave enough to uh, enter my cage and clean up my Tamagotchi pad. I liked him. But I could smell he wasn’t human. It was like uh, eldritch to eldritch communications.”

 

“Tommy knew the whole time what you were?” Gordon felt a tinge of betrayal! He thought that he and the Science Team were tight, especially with Tommy. But Tommy kept secrets too– Of course he did, he was G-Man’s son. “Motherfucker…”

 

“Yeah. Need to know basis.” Benrey stretched out, “He would get uh, sweet voice from me, like milk me of it. For studies. Played video games with me too.”

 

“Shit, man. You really were excited to see Tommy right before, y’know.” Gordon recalled Benrey and Tommy calling out to each other like old bros, and how Benrey used to lavish Tommy in some sloppy kisses on his cheek in stressful situations. A lot of Benrey’s more childish mannerisms were making sense. Those kisses were like a dog’s unrelenting licks. Now, Gordon loved Tommy, but he was one of the least emotionally intelligent people he had ever met. This was a big statement considering the amount of competitors he knew in the Science Team alone. He offered him a soda during one of the most traumatic moments of his life, after all.

 

“He was one of them. And uh, I was mean to him. But Tommy likes mean people,” a couple of morose and mousy notes were hiccupped out.

 

“You are an asshole.”

 

“Mhm. Eventually… Tommy was being moved to uh, Sector C. On your um, stupid project. Escaped to follow Tommy. Sent guards after me in the vents.” 

 

Gordon shook his head, “No no no, I know where this is going… don’t tell me you–” 

 

“Took his skeleton. Helmet. Clothes. Like the helmet. A lot.” He grabbed the aforementioned armor and readjusted it on his scalp, trilling in delight at the feel of its heft and protection on his head. 

 

“Did you really eat a human?” The key word was eat here. It was one thing to kill in self defense, and another for sustenance. He saw him trying to cocoon a human being before but he didn't see the aftermath of it (Though he recalled that day Benrey citing some malevolent stomach problems while they were looking for a solid place to sleep). 

 

“M’yeah. Tasted like uh, pork. Pretty good. Stole his BVDs. Wearing them now.” Benrey stood up and pulled his pants down, showing off his briefs. Those were leaded BVDs. He ate a guy who wore lead underwear with a gag pattern of a rooster on the crotch. Well, looks like the world lost one of their greatest comedic minds that day.

 

Gordon shivered. He was rooming with this guy, and he just felt… comfortable admitting that he ate one of his coworkers. Wait a fucking second he slept in BED with Benrey last night! “Dude, that's beyond like… wrong .”

 

“So? He tried to kill me. And I killed him. GG EZ.” Benrey was drooling at the thought of eating humans. That wasn’t a good sign. With a discreet curl of his wrist, he wiped the spittle away. He had to know that wasn’t a good look on him. 

 

“Do you not understand why that’s so disgusting? Dude.” Gordon held his forehead, “Don’t eat people.”

 

“Humans uh, give me gas anyways,” Benrey gestured out from his stomach, “Uh, something in humans makes me bloat up.”

 

“Oh my god, I don’t want to hear that.” Gordon massaged his temples. Yep, that's why Benrey had the stomach problems that day. He ate that guy (or some of his flesh) after encasing him in a cocoon. “That was a person’s life you took. Giving you gas was the least important thing he did.” 

 

“Whatever. Took his position for a few weeks. Bam, Resonance Cascade.” Benrey made some vague exploding motions with his hands, “Remember? Remember the time I held the door? And fixed your Black Mesa dick slip?” 

 

“Not the dick slip! No, we’re not talking about the dick slip!” Gordon crossed his legs, “So like, what did you do before you were in a lab?”

 

“Eat uh, prey. Shit. Sleep. Repeat.” He shrugged, “What do wild animals do other than that? Get real. Xen was boring.”

 

“I wouldn’t call you an animal. You’re a person. I think,” Gordon said with an inflection of uncertainty, “You’re a person, right ?”

 

“What more do people do though? Cause like, that’s all you’ve been doing too. I wasn’t doing anything much different?” 

 

Oh no, he didn’t. Gordon’s eye twitched a little. Benrey just blatantly stomped all over the fact that he’s been fucking struggling. Yeah, he’s been lazy, sure. When he wasn’t looking for a goddamn job so he felt more independent from the G-Man. The conversation had to pivot before he exploded, “Well, let’s get a bit more into it. How and what did you eat? Sleep?”

 

“Oh um… At this size? Usually headcrabs. Used to um, poke Gonarchs and eat the babies like popped corns. Milking infant Doritos outta the gnad. Had to uh, avoid getting stabbed though.” The memories of crunchy, bony headcrab meat made him drool, and he couldn't help but spew out some teal notes in spite of having just ate. His wrist glided over his lips, "Pardon me."

 

“I don’t understand how you change shape then. The energy required must be intense. That should violate thermodynamics, you get large enough to probably be an affront to the Square Law. And matter cannot be created or destroyed, so what’re you doing?”

 

“Oh uh, I dunno. Does make me hungry though.” Quite hungry, actually. After his Benrey Moment™ in Xen where Gordon and co. killed him, he was starving until the G-Man gave him a pizza box to munch on. Greasy cardboard yummy. 

 

“So it does seem to require some energy… I wonder… maybe Xen creatures are capable of getting passive energy from the radioactive crysta-” 

 

“SNORE SNORE SNORE BORING! Gordon NERDMAN blabbing on about his nerdy nerdy nerd shit. You’re not even a uh, Bionicle , you’re a psychic . Idiot.” As Benrey continued his ignorant tirade, the irony of Benrey calling him an idiot wasn’t lost on Gordon. “Nyeerrrd! You’re a nyerrrd!”

 

“Shut up man, you’re an idiot! What do you know about anything? You’re a stupid son of a bitch.” Gordon slapped his hands away as he tried to administer a ruthless wet willy. And that fucker was fast about it too. His index finger went from his lap to his mouth and towards Gordon in a matter of half a second. Thankfully the reflexes he developed surviving his three other shithead siblings was still intact.

 

“Ow. Kay.” Benrey guarded his spit-covered finger, “You like hurting people?”

 

“Fuck off and stop antagonizing me!”

 

Benrey’s pupils contracted as he realized he had done something wrong, “Uh, what’s the word you want to hear?” 

 

“ Sorry. ” Gordon hissed. 

 

“Oh, sorry?” With his head hung in shame, he drummed at his thighs, “Best friends again?”

 

“Ugh. We’re cool. Um… “Where were we?” In a vain attempt to restimulate his memory, he rubbed at his aching temples. Although he felt good, the headaches weren't exactly over yet. But anything was an improvement after an opioid withdrawal. 

 

“Talking about me because of my epic life on Xen?”

 

“Right. So what else were you doing on Xen?” Gordon didn’t want to address the fact that he was a physicist and not a psychic right about now, “Other than hunting headcrabs?”

 

“Big Benrey ate big creatures. Those uhm, tentacles? Cartoon booger colored? Bite them at the base, you can slurp them up like a di–UM… spaghet–like spaghet.” Benrey made some god awful noises with his mouth, somehow peaking the mic he wasn’t even using to speak, “Can’t sweet voice cocoon those guys, too big n’ strong. Had to uhm, become a sack on a ceiling with quills.”

 

Gordon should have reasonably known Benrey had been shapeshifting this whole time, and this form wasn’t what he was used to, “Wait, hold up, took the shape of a sack?”

 

“I would just take any form I needed to. This is uhm, easy for uh, PS3 live chat lol.”

 

“So why are you taking this size, Benrey? Couldn’t you be taller than me and twice as wide?” 

 

“Conservation of energies and thermonomics or something. Can’t get much smaller.” Benrey picked his teeth with his claws, getting a little bit of waffle out of his dark gums.

 

“So what’s your true form? Why were you a sack?” 

 

“No true form. I’m uh, not like a Ditto from lame Pokemon Go! IPhone App Store game. But the sack is just like, I become a stomach, you know? So like, let’s just say you are ninety-nine pounds, and you eat one pound of nachos, Gordos.” 

 

“Benrey why are you explaining eating to me I think I understand what-” 

 

“So like, you feel really full, right? You’re like. Man, this sucks man. But tomorrow morning you feel fine.” 

 

“What the hell are you getting at?”

 

“Shh. Now imagine you eat like, seventy pounds of nachos. You’re not walking that off tomorrow! So you need to take your seventy pounds of nachos and find a place to hide before you lose a life cause you’re susceptible to critical hits. You gotta find a safe place to stay for a few days. And you need to like, stop thinking, stop moving. Put all your energy into processing those nachos. You need to meditate on the nachos.  Be em. Or uh, something.”

 

“Wait a second, you ate like a snake!” Gordon snapped his fingers, suddenly really giddy that he made the connection. It was that glee of a graduate student when they first found results in their research and could draw a worthwhile conclusion, “A lot of people think the bulge in a snake’s stomach is the mouse after a few days, but it’s actually their um,” Gordon was snapping even more furiously, “their liver and stuff!” 

 

“Yeah I spent like, Skyrim hours doing that. Really boring. I think I was supposed to have friends and stuff? Like a pack. Sometimes I pretended to be a Houndeye. Vortigaunts can see right through a disguise, though.” 

 

“That must’ve been lonely… That factory wasn’t for you? I thought that was making Powerade drinks specifically for you!” 

 

“Huh? What? No. The Powerade was a bonus. That was for um, the Vorts or something. They did something with them. Sent them off somewhere else. Dunno. Not my problem. Sometimes drank it but I could just go to a pool and have a sip instead of bothering with um, getting shot with electricities and energy n’ shit.”

 

“No friends or family at all?”

 

“Didn’t have em, so I was on my own. And getting got cause I went overboard on the stupid head crab infant buffet sucked and it sucked bad.” Benrey smacked his lips, “Happened like, fifty times? Usually peeper puppies and bullsquids would tear me n’ the skellies up.” 

 

 He was vulnerable. Immortal? Sure. But vulnerable regardless. Despite the immortality, that was something Gordon found oddly- well not humanizing. That was the wrong word. It made him feel more worldly . He had worldly concerns. Something reasonable for an animal to think about.

 

Benrey was a ‘majestic’ (given that Gordon has been at the brunt of a lot of Benreyisms, this is in heavy quotation marks), wild apex predator. Or maybe just some sort of… one of a kind space god. He really didn’t know. But Black Mesa had reduced him to an object of observation, no better than a lion in a concrete pit. Brought to such debilitating lows. No wonder his perceptions of humans were so obtuse, he never had any contact with them, and it’s likely that Tommy never explained the finiteness of mortal death to him. Maybe Tommy didn’t fully understand either. He probably assumed non-Xen creatures could respawn. 

 

It made his blood boil, the same way watching a bear pace around a small exhibit would, “I can’t believe they kept you weak and malnourished. Fucked up, man.”

 

“I eat now. Out now. Open world sandbox for me to mess around in.” Benrey placed a hand behind the couch as he contemplated his needs. And all of them had been met, “Kind of cool of you to ummm, not like, make this weird. Feels nice to talk about myself without being told I’m uhh, a McNasty Special.”

 

“Benrey it is gross. But it’s also kind of cool? Honestly, it’s wasted on me. I’m pretty sure a Bionicle , as you put it, would appreciate this kind of stuff a lot more.” He slapped him on the back, “Want to watch Star Wars?” 

 

“Oh shit like the Lego game speedruns?” 

 

“No? It’s movies. We watched Backstroke of the West together? The English Dub of the English Subs of the Mandarin Dub of Episode 3?” 

 

“For real?” 

 

“Hold up, we've got a packed day today. There’s a whole library of movies you haven’t watched that are must-sees.” Gordon opened up his phone and started compiling the list of ‘essential American media’ that he needed to function day to day. Potentially understand any offhanded reference someone might make, “I used to be a latch key kid, that meant my parents weren’t there when I got home. My sisters and I used to watch a metric fuckton of TV shows and movies together. You’re going to love this.” 

 

“But you can’t play a movie. Non-interactive media. Lame.” He stuck his tongue out and hummed indignantly.

 

“Let those overdeveloped thumbs relax. C’mon.”

 

Benrey grunted, and paid him little mind for a couple of minutes. The flavor of waffles was still in his mouth, and the subtle sweetness of the whipped cream and the tinge of strawberry tang was still almost tangible, “You know you didn’t have to do anything for me. Cause uh, I’m… trying to help you. You didn’t have to cook.” 

 

“I won’t cook anymore, alright? We’ll take it easy. Order in some Chinese or something. Get some pizza or something.” When Benrey looked over at him, Gordon wasn’t even keeping his eyes fixated on Benrey like he used to. He was comfortable. Trusting, even.

 

“Prommy salami with a touch of umami?”

 

“Prommy salami with a touch of umami.”

Chapter 17: The Son of Dr. Footman

Summary:

Gordon's son has to stay for a few days. He and Benrey don't exactly get along at first, among other complications.

Notes:

TW: irresponsible child rearing

hoolllyllyy fuckkk im tired sorry guys lately my plot notes have sucked how you enjoy it also thanks to @bornedbennys on tumblr for teaching me how 6 year olds act because i have 0 children in my life and i plan to keep it that way until the world doesnt suck so much that i think procreation is irresponsible.

gordon is a bad father actually. benrey shows off his parental instincts. wowee!

Benrey paused the movie, almost in a vegetative state. The past few weeks have been a throwback for Gordon, who was having the time of his life watching all these movies. But Benrey? Didn’t understand a lot of it. Generations of human culture and media literacy were needed to get some of these jokes and references, and he just couldn’t cram all these references into his brain. All Dogs Go to Heaven 1 and 2 were the only movies he had ever watched before, when Tommy rolled an old, boxy TV into the room he was contained in and let him watch the cartoons. He cleaned up the bones and fur that Benrey would cough up after eating, and the litter box . How demoralizing that was. Being treated like an animal, every moment of his life under observation, even the small, intimate moments of vulnerability. He was a mighty predator who would have gladly hunted them down and severed their jugulars in any other circumstance. And they watched him sleep under those horrible fluorescent lights that burned his retinas and carted him off for vivisection whenever they damned please.

 

He coughed out a long stream of blue to green. Gordon snorted awake from the sound of it, “AUGH WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!?”

 

“Thinking about Froot Loops .” Benrey cracked a jagged smile at him, “What? Did I startle the baby out of his crib?”

 

“Shut up, man,” Gordon’s symptoms were beginning to wane. And with Benrey’s support, the need for morphine was getting less pervasive, and had simmered down to the point that his primary symptom was a general malaise. It helped that he had been ordering in, mostly. Taking a break from the cooking and cleaning to just relax. 

 

Benrey even learned how to use a mop and broom, but refused to touch the vacuum (hellspawn). He was shockingly dependable. Annoying, but dependable. When a rule was established and written into law on the whiteboard, he observed it to an irritating degree. Stickler for rules. What a bootlicker. 

 

“It’s three. We forgot to get real food.” Benrey stretched his legs out, and popped his neck with a cringe-inducing crack. A stream of red sweet voice that he was passively whistling out melted into a stark teal. Come on, Gordon! The poor guy was practically screaming how he was starving to death!

 

“What do you want today?” Gordon yawned, with Benrey’s sweet voice being the contagion. Something something red, I wanna be in bed. A big ole’ Benrey yawn. It was like he was learning a new language. He didn’t remember blue to green. Not a native speaker, after all. Needed some reinforcement.

 

“Let’s get something quick so we don’t skip uh, dinner.” Benrey didn’t bother getting up from the couch. He seemed to be drifting off with heavy eyelids and limbs.

 

Gordon was noticing Benrey’s appetite start to even out as his body adjusted to regular meals. The guy still loved to eat, but he was eating about the same as Gordon, save for a couple extra snacks. The patience extended to the chef was also notably more forgiving. The shift from the animalistic focus on being fed to the more human approach of a casual ‘What’s for dinner?’ was  somewhat uncanny. But it was a welcomed change. That probably meant that Benrey was healing.

 

He had gotten a bit bigger, too. From gaunt to flat. Extra weight was befitting on his frame. Less corpse-like. He’d still be considered underweight by human standards, but he wasn’t so sure by Benrey’s standards. He stared for a moment and admired his lithe physique. It was the body of a ballerino. Or a rabid chimpanzee.

 

Gordon deliberated on the contents of his pantry for a few seconds, “How about some pasta?” 

 

“Aw hell yeah spaghetti.” Benrey stood up and scratched the spot on his ass that had been irking him for hours, “Garn47field loves that.”

 

“No Garfield likes lasagna- Garn47field ?”

 

“The cool guys get it,” Benrey laughed out a couple of balls of chromatic orbs that splattered across the walls and dissipated.

 

As Gordon got to work, a notification rang on his phone. Aside from the Science Team and occasionally Mr. Coolatta, he hadn’t felt like messaging other people. He probably wasn’t human enough anymore to talk to them. It was a bit of a surprise when he saw that it was a message from his ex-wife. 

The Former Mrs. Freeman: Gordon. I need you to take Joshua. I’m being called to Princeton and my mom has pneumonia. Think you can handle him? 

(You): Shit. Bring him over. Sorry you have to go to New Jersey. Why do they need you?

The Former Mrs. Freeman: I have a presentation. Someone at the Pine Barren Physics Lab used my paper for citation and I’ve been asked to explain my findings alongside the new research.

(You): I’ve got him. There’s someone else living with me though, as a warning. He’ll probably be good with kids, I don’t know.

The Former Mrs. Freeman: Oh that’s good for you. Must make the rent easier to pay since you lost your job. I’ll bring him on Thursday. The school has already been made aware he’s going to miss Friday. What’s your address?

(You): 123 Flower Street, Deming, New Mexico. 

Gordon closed his phone and rubbed his forehead. Benrey was cohabitating with him. Benrey . He’d been exceptionally well behaved, sure, but it was still Benrey , and Joshua might just blow his cover if he figured out that daddy was living with an alien. And not only would he blow the lid on a fucking alien being his roommate, but Benrey was bound to be a bad influence on him. It was time to consult the whiteboard. 

 

He started on boiling the water, then stood at the front of the fridge, face to face with the board. It was supposed to tell them what groceries they needed. Funny how that idea was abandoned. Gordon whistled, and Benrey’s attention was on him, eyes wide. The alien slunk towards him, rubbing the crust out from between his nictitating eyelids and cracking his back, “I’m comin’ man. Fuck bro, I was straight chilling.” 

 

“My son is coming over. New rules need to be added.” Gordon uncapped the marker, and Benrey flinched. Fuck, he accidentally trained Benrey to be scared of the marker cap coming off . Drama queen. His rules were NOT that totalitarian. Benrey got away with a lot.

 

“Oh fuck. Okay. Your shit jpeg kid?” Benrey let out some red sweet voice, having a hard time paying attention after the initial shock of the dreaded dry erase marker.

 

“That was a real child. My son Joshua’s baby picture?” Gordon wiped one of Benrey’s poorly drawn penises off of the whiteboard. Those couldn’t be there when Joshua came. And the shower safe chalk Benrey had been using to draw penises and little vulgar messages to Gordon had to be scrubbed too. And confiscated. And hidden.

 

“...Not a stock photo jpeg?” Benrey scratched his ass and hiccuped a bit more sweet voice out, with a little shaky squeak. Aww, and he was showing off his three inch long, flesh-rending teeth! 

 

“NO!” Gordon couldn’t stand it when Benrey did that. He watched, like, one episode of a cartoon where a dad did the whole yawn, ass scratch, and back crack routine and he’s been mimicking it ever since. Must have felt good too because he popped that back of his hardcore sexual style , producing a crack so pronounced that Gordon half expected him to keel over and die right there.

 

But of course, he persisted, “Calm down. Get a better camera, idiot.” 

 

“Rules?” Gordon tapped the board.

 

“Sorry Mr. Baldi’s uh, Basics. From Baldi’s Basics uh, Deluxe Edition. Featuring Dante from Devil May Cry. And Knuckles.” Benrey stuck his tongue out and rolled his eyes. What the fuck was Gordon supposed to say to that? None of those words were in the Bible in that order. 

 

“That’s gibberish. Rule one, no cursing in front of my son.” It was actually rule eight, right underneath rule seven: No foot pictures.

 

“Fuckin’ easy mode.” Well, Joshua wasn’t around so he wasn’t breaking any rules.

 

“Rule two-” With a flourish of the marker, he wrote a ‘9’ on the board.

 

“It’s me and you–Rule three?” Oh god. This was going to be like pulling quills out of the ass of a porcupine. 

 

“Rule two, you can’t do alien eldritch horror space god shit with him around. It’s going to blow our cover of you being human. Don’t no-clip or shapeshift. You know I don’t mind it, it’s just a temporary thing.” 

 

“That sucks, bro. I can’t help being me. Rule three?” Benrey blew out a couple of disgruntled bulbs of sweet voice to the right and hiccupped. He protested that with some hearty thumps to the chest, “Scuse me. Keeps coming out.” 

 

“Don’t hurt him. Be especially gentle with kids. No eating him, threatening him, etcetera. You can fuck a kid up just by saying the wrong shit and not realize what you’re doing.” 

 

“Oh shit. Double hardcore mode?” 

 

“He’s a uh, level one…” Gordon cringed and looked away, knowing what he had to say next, “ Scrub . I’m like, level fifty goon . You’re a level one hundred boss ? Does that register?” 

 

“Oh shit. No. Perfect sense. Yep. Say no more. Gonna help your shitass larva uh, Botchua, grind.” Benrey had this in the bag . He sat on the counter and nabbed one of Gordon’s apples to start shining the wax off of it. 

 

“Son. Joshua. And kind of, yeah. He’s probably learning multiplication or something. I… I don’t know what six year olds are learning, jeez.” Gordon realized he really hadn’t been checking up too much with the ex-wife. His anxieties had really gotten a hold of him.

 

Benrey broke up the terse moment with an expectedly snide remark, “Father of the year.”

 

“Fuck you, Benrey. I like to think I’m trying my best, man. I only get him for weekends and 48 hours isn’t a lot of time to get to know someone.” Gordon knew this wasn’t the full truth. He needed a better excuse, “I’ve been keeping my distance so that I don’t freak out on my kid and scare him. Aliens are real and my roommate is an immortal space god.”

 

“Uncle Benrey is gonna be the coolest. Trust me. Your lame loser son is going to digivolve into a cool uh, gamepilled Sonychad .” 

 

“Rule four, curb this kind of nonsense language. I want my son to NOT speak like you.” Gordon etched these words into the white board.

 

“Wuh. Huh? What?” Benrey was just hit with a verbal flashbang. Gordon could feel his palpable confusion from feet away. Gordon did not give him a chance to recover. 

 

“Rule five, lead by example. We’re going to eat healthy food, talk about our problems in productive and open spaces, and not stay glued to the games and movies. We’re going to be normal, active adults. Got it?”

 

Benrey blew a raspberry, “Healthy food? Bro, come on. I’m gaining, bro. I’m out of my cutting phase. I'm in my building era. These biceps won’t grow themselves without uhm, coomkies n’ iced cream n’ KFC. I don’t work out cause it’s for Chubdon Loserman.” 

 

“Okay buddy, you’ve been calling me transition goals. What the fuck does that make you? Eat a fucking sandwich and warm the bench, waterboy.” Benrey blanched at that statement. Holy fuck that was the most cooked Gordon has ever left him and he loved to hear that blazing fire back in him! The femoral pores on his thighs clogged up as he tingled from the burn. “I’ll make you extra portions to eat, but keep the junk to a minimum.” 

 

Benrey’s primary take away (other than the euphoria of getting his ass completely swept by that benchwarmer burn) was that he wasn’t going to be eating any epic treats for the couple of days Gordon’s baby maggot boy was going to be in town. So, he jumped into the cabinet and started shoving down handfuls of star shaped cookies, and worked on finishing the last of a pint of ice cream, “No sweets for-” he gulped, “Jogswa.” 

 

“Dude, we can have sweets in the house, we just don’t give him more than one a day. I just would prefer if he ate his fruits and veggies instead. Kids are impressionable. If he sees us eating healthy and enjoying it, he will too.”

 

Benrey coughed out a candy wrapper, “Nah I just don’t want him eating any of my candy. Gotta eat it before anyone else comes and snatch it. Principle of nature. How bad me be, what are you, stupid?” 

 

Gordon grabbed him under his arms and lifted him up as he kicked around in the air haplessly. Benrey was a bit heavier now, so Gordon wasn’t anticipating how much effort he’d have to put in, “No! You’re going to get sick and vomit on the rug again!” 

 

Like a dog who was just asked ‘What’s in your mouth?’, Benrey decided this meant he needed to chew through the brownies he’d grabbed faster. “Owww-uh. Oww-uh you’re-” 

 

That asshole suddenly ragdolled out of Gordon’s arms, and flopped onto the floor in the iconic Peter Griffin death pose. Gordon was cackling on the ground a moment later, rolling around and lightly slapping him, “Dude, you fucking suck.” 

 

“I can show you how hard I suck, Gordo.” The roughhousing slowed down, and the two sprawled out onto the floor.

 

“Jesus. No sexual jokes when the kid is around, alright?” He was laying down, head on Benrey’s chest, utterly unaware. It wasn’t like he had an earthly heartbeat or a telltale whistle of a living breath. But Benrey was on cloud nine. How could he not notice the warm pressure on his abdomen? This really was Heaven!

 

Gordon soon realized he wasn’t putting his head on the hardwood floor and shot up with some urgency, “Yeah uh, so. Good with the rules?” 

 

Benrey licked the crumbs off his fingers and nodded, “Uhuh. Gotcha.” Orange and teal pooled out of his mouth, and he wiped it away as quickly as it had come out, “I can’t control sweet voice though. Can uh, swallow it but it’s gotta come out somehow.”

 

“Food good?”

 

“Orange to teal, had a good meal. Can’t help it, like uh, burping.” 

 

“Sounds much prettier. Why don’t you just use orange to teal all the time instead?” Gordon did like seeing that happy tangerine sweet voice. For a guy who went from uncharismatic utter boredom to manic cackling, his happiness sure was infectious. At least through the oral route. 

 

“Huh? Yeah, no. Not the same thing. I can do both at the same time though! Watch!” Benrey prepared by rapidly swallowing down some air. He pressed his claws into his bulging diaphragm, popping out orbs of sweet voice and controlled the pitch at oscillating intervals as he struggled through. This was not just a joke–no–this was a pained artform for him. He was performing a rendition of Ave Maria . And in this manner, Gordon was sure it was classified as blasphemy by the Catholic Church. It was a testament to a dedication to both stupidity and immaturity. And the sound was, well. Not the most pleasant thing Gordon had ever heard. Operatic Eructation was not on his ‘Benrey Roommate’ bingo card.

 

“Dude that’s fucking disgusting!” The inner child in him was tickled by the spectacle regardless of what mature, adult Gordon was saying, and he couldn’t stifle the rising laugh in him. It reminded him a lot of Calhoun’s antics in the security breakroom. Gordon preferred to hang out there on some occasions rather than the scientist’s lounge. Being so much younger than all the rest of the science team meant he usually had more in common with the typically younger security officers, “What, did the guards teach you that one?”

 

“Yup! I’m really good at it. Crowd pleaser. Special technique.” Benrey smacked his lips, “I feel an encore coming.”

 

“Come on man, grow up.” 

 

“Never.” He smirked at Gordon, his eyes flitted to his mouth, just to confirm that he too, was happy. 

---

The Freeman Bachelor Pad had been cleaned and childproofed by Thursday morning, and Gordon spent the whole afternoon pacing around anxiously, “Jesus, man. What if I scare my son? What if YOU scare my son? What if my ex-wife thinks we’re a couple and that’s why I’ve been avoiding having Joshua over?” 

 

“Nice.” 

 

“Decidedly not nice, man.” 

 

“Relax, chill. I’m cool. Number one victory royale. I know what the kids play these days. Roblops for the uh, IPad. Mineycrafta. Brown bricks. The whole shebang.” 

 

“You’re not giving me any confidence.”

 

“Kids like cartoons, right? We can just put on some uh, Neon Jenny Cis Evan Jelly Lion . Sout Park . Attack on Tintin .” Benrey shot him a toothsome grin. Oh, god. Those things could absolutely kill. He was worried about this dangerous alien carnivore being with his six year old son. Not that Benrey would intentionally hurt Joshua. At least he didn’t think he would. But so much of Benrey wasn’t child proof. His claws, his teeth. Even his eyes could have given that small boy nightmares if he woke up in the middle of the night and wandered into the kitchen– When Benrey would be having a midnight snack attack, perched on the counter like a gargoyle, eyes beaming sizzling gold at his poor kid. It wouldn’t kill him, but the idea of Benrey’s presence causing his son to burst into uncontrollable tears, afraid to ever visit his father again, was growing more and more terrifying to him. 

 

“Stop. Be normal. No gritty anime, that’s like the last thing a six year old needs to see… If we put on a cartoon for him we put on uh, shit. I don’t know.” The doorbell rang, and Gordon scrambled to open it. For some reason, he had dressed up in a presentable, orange button up and dark slacks, like he was going to a pencil pusher’s cushy white collar job.

 

The door swung open, and Benrey peered over Gordon’s shoulder to see the woman in waiting. Waist high was a little Gordon looking maggot. Didn’t have his eyes. Those were blue, cold, easier to track. Gordon’s green eyes were more striking. It was harder to trace the outline of his pupils. Little Freeman’s skin color was a few shades lighter, more freckly like his mother’s. He had a vibrant hair color between auburn and red, cut short behind the ear. Measly little pupa, probably some kind of runt. How could this have been the pollywog that ate the rest of the brood? Maybe they’re more like headcrabs than bullsquids? The young might not eat each other, but then where are the other broodlings? 

 

Joshua ate them in the ootheca, the only viable explanation.

 

“Gordon, who is that?” His ex-wife pointed out Benrey, who was clamoring onto Gordon’s shoulder to get a better vantage point. He really liked that bright, cherry red leather jacket. Matched her lipstick. She had eyes like a breath mint billboard and touted her competency on her packaging. That stare was piercing Benrey, dissecting every micro-movement.

 

“Would you quit that?” Gordon shook him off, and the alien rolled on the ground with a grunt, “That’s my roommate and former security guard, Benrey. The workplace incident also left him homeless so we moved in together. Benrey, this is the physicist formerly known as Mrs. Freeman, and this cowboy is my son, Joshua.”

 

“Reach for the sky, old man!” Joshua held his empty water pistol up to Gordon’s chin, the look of a killer in his eye. 

 

“In a minute, cowpoke. I promise we’ll play.”

 

“YEAH!” The brat threw his pistol up in the air, which hit the top of Benrey’s helmet. 

 

He grumbled a bit at the annoying, shrill clank it produced, “Yo. Uh, nice scion.” 

 

“Hi Benrey, sorry I can’t stick around for introductions.” She knelt down and grabbed Joshua by his cheeks, “Mommy’s going away for a few days. I’ll see you on Sunday night, okay? Be good for your daddy and his boyfriend. I love you.” 

 

Gordon went white, “Not-Not my boyfriend! Just a roommate?” 

 

“Oh, daddy’s roommate. Sorry about that Gordon.” She stood back up and ruffled the kid’s hair, and planted a small, platonic kiss on Gordon’s cheek, “Bye!” 

 

“See you on Sunday.” Gordon closed the door, and nearly tripped over Benrey, who hadn’t bothered to stand up still, “Dude, really?” 

 

“I’m catching the mid-noon sun rays shh.” Benrey rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his neck for support, “Your pops is a hater, Freeman Junior.” 

 

Joshua hid behind Gordon’s leg, modestly burying his face into his father and making a little “Mmf!” To express his displeasure. He still wasn’t over his modesty around strange adults. Gordon kicked it into parenting gear… how was he going to navigate this? He thought for a moment, and had half an idea. It might prevent future fears of Benrey if he pulled it off.

 

“Hey Joshua. Don’t be scared of Benrey. He’s a little eccentric. You know what that means? Eccentric?” Gordon took a knee, and Joshua buried his face into his shoulder, glancing at Benrey and then shoving his head back into the nape of his neck. 

 

“No…” It was a rather complicated word, way past the simplistic lexicon of a six year old. He was still learning how to spell four letter words.

 

“It means he’s weird in a good way. He does odd things, and we shouldn’t be mean to him because he’s different.” He brushed his hands through his son’s tousled hair, fixing what his ex-wife had roughed up, “You know, Benrey likes cowboys too.” 

 

“Red Dead uh, Redemption for the PS3. Awesome game. Get to play as a cowboy.” Benrey stood up and took a few steps back, hoping that the space would inspire some more confidence in the kid.

 

“He does? But he looks very last season. ” Joshua seemed to feel safe enough to stare at Benrey, and stare he did. It was that ‘little kid stare’ when they saw someone unusual, and couldn’t help themselves. Not out of malice, but their imagination getting the better of them. And then the judgement about his clothes came out. Ouch. It was true that Benrey wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but it was equally as evident that Joshua had just heard that in some cartoon and was parroting it.

 

Benrey stared right back, with an equally blank expression, as if he was doing the exact same thing. Joshua could tell there was something wrong about him. His eyes were a bit too big and his sclera were a glowstick yellow at the right angles. His chest didn’t rise and fall with breaths of air. He looked old and young at the same time, and he wore a police officer helmet indoors. And his skin seemed… just a little off. Joshua was struggling to put it together. Less than a minute in, the kid already knew there was something wrong.

 

“Yep. And he likes gooey cookies, warm blankets, and microwaved milk.” Gordon looked his son in the eye, speaking with a softness that Benrey found rather uncharacteristic of him. It was bizarre, hearing him sound so subdued. Benrey was used to the more strained, restless tone he took on when he was aggravating him. Gordon sounded like a fucking ASMR channel now.

 

“Guilty as charged.” Speaking of which, Benrey could use a glass of warm milk. He vaulted over the island and opened up the gaudy clementine looking-ass fridge to pour himself something. The milk was starting to smell acerbic. Oo, new flavor .

 

“Really? Benrey sounds kind of like a baby.” Oh, oh no. While Gordon was missing, Joshua had gone into his ‘I’m not a baby anymore’ phase. This was a few years too early. He thought he at least had until he was nine. 

 

Gordon wheezed, earning a little glare from Benrey as he put his glass of milk in the microwave, “Hey, Joshua! Be nice!” 

 

“What? He likes baby stuff. For babies. He probably watches PBS Kids.” Well, this opened up a new problem, which was Benrey being seen as too boring to Joshua. 

 

“Public Broadcasting Station is edumacational. Good for uh, developing minds. Even brats like you should know that.” Benrey made the attempt to defend himself to the droning of the microwave.

 

“Benrey don’t call my son a brat.”

 

“I’m not a brat! Guns and cowboys are cool!” Joshua pouted, “Not PBS Kids. That’s for babies! Benrey sounds like a baby!”

 

Benrey opened up the microwave a second before it was over and threw back his glass of milk, hunched over the countertop like a mysterious stranger at a saloon, “You know what else I like? Besides warm milk, delicious cookies, and getting wrapped up in lots of cozy blankets?”

 

“What?” The suspense had been raised for Joshua. The way Benrey was poised and his low, gravely tone meant that he was up to something, and the boy was hooked immediately by his fake southern twang. It wasn’t western by any stretch, but it did the trick.

 

Benrey nabbed the water gun from the floor, his hands too big to really get around the kid-sized trigger, “Robbin’ banks, pardner.” 

 

Joshua gasped and started jumping up and down, tugging on his father’s sleeve, “That’s the Most Wanted Man Dead or Alive! Muh-wuhm-da!” 

 

“That’s right. Uhhh… Muhwumda .” Benrey grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, “Now I’m takin’ my loot and heading outta town and you better not follow me, elsewise I’ll kill ya dead as a pig in a pot, pardner. I’ll tie ya to the train tracks and get ya run down by the Californey Express. Ya hear me?” 

 

“Oh Sheriff, what do we do? Without that money the whole town will go bankrupt!” Gordon held the back of his hand to his forehead, eyes fluttering as he fanned himself. He was usually made to play the villain and the damsel, but today he was just going to be a damsel it seemed. 

 

“Hop on my horse! We have to-have to kill the evil bandit!” The kid stumbled over his own words as he mimed getting on a horse with his father, and the both of them chased Benrey across the pretty meager space for the next–

 

Three. 

 

Whole. 

 

Hours. 

 

Dad of the year had to tap out two hours in, exhausted and having the cognitive wherewithal to realize he had to start dinner if the three of them were going to eat at a reasonable time. Benrey didn’t have the energy to keep up, but managed to work a whole mechanic into the game to allow him to catch his breath. He’d stop when his body would give and say “Nighttime, the horses need water.” And both would get a breather before Joshua would scream “Sun’s up!”

 

The shapeshifting horror from another dimension was doing a fairly decent job. Couple of slip ups with the curse words but being a stickler for rules, mostly fantastic. All of his threats were obviously empty, over the top, silly, and in character as the Most Wanted Man Dead or Alive. ‘I’ll turn your knees into pencil toppers’, ‘When I’m through with you, you’ll have green goo for blood’, and ‘I’m gonna make you do community service as a basketball coach as a court order’ were some of his favorites. Benrey wasn’t the best actor in the world. Hell, his speech in Xen wasn’t even intimidating. But Joshua was still pleased with his roleplaying, even better that the boy really just loved the thrill of the chase, and wasn’t too interested in shooting ‘Mawumda’ dead… Yet. That would have spoiled the fun of getting to roughhouse on Benrey.

 

Gordon pulled dinner from the stove and set it on the counter, and stared at the living room chaos. He found himself silently… admiring Benrey. The way he was gently handling his child, outmaneuvering him and yet giving him the taste of victory at little intervals. The calculated manner in which he reacted to being shot in the leg or arm caught Gordon’s attention. When Joshua jumped on Benrey and wrangled him by the shoulder, and he fell over, acting as if it was the most overwhelming force of his life? It reminded Gordon of a tiger encouraging its cubs to practice hunting, pretending to be more hurt than they really were. It was exactly like that, actually. 

 

He was a powerful, maybe even majestic force of discord with a million eager eyes and gnashing, hungering maws. And he was playing daddy wolf to a child, training him like his own offspring. Huh.

 

It was so innocuous. It would be hard to tell the power that Benrey could have enacted… but he had instinct. Parental instinct. Holy shit. Whatever Benrey was, he was imbibed with the instinct to teach his offspring survival skills. And it was adorable? At least in Gordon’s opinion. His son was giggling and roaring out adolescent battle cries, and Benrey was treating him as kindly as one of his own. He was privy to this special, intimate moment of interspecies altruism.

 

Gordon pulled himself together when he caught himself staring, “Alright, wrap it up! Dinner’s ready.”

 

“Alright Muwumda! Reach for the fucking skies!” 

 

“Language!”

 

“Ohhh shi-shoot! Oh man. How am I uh, gonna get outta-” 

 

“BAM!” As Joshua cocked the gun back, Benrey ragdolled on the carpet in a ridiculous position, contorting his face in agony, “You’re dead! I win cowboys forty-eight!” 

 

“Nice work, Joshua. That sicko will never steal again.” Gordon took off his apron (Orange, of course, with a diagram demonstrating Schrodinger’s cat, of course. The dead cat scenario, where the poor thing is irradiated is outlined in black, while the living cat, where it never triggers the radioactive isotope to be released is outlined in white) and hung it on the side of the fridge.

 

“Wow, says the known thief, Gordon Feetman. Gonna need your name and ID.” Benrey stood up and took a big bite out of his apple, which had bruised significantly throughout playtime. He swallowed the rest of the fruit whole as he sat down at the island, Joshua climbing up beside him. It was a struggle to get on that taller chair, but with Benrey holding it stable, the kid managed. 

 

“I’m not a known thief, man. Don’t say that in front of my son. He might think I’m a bank robber.” Gordon actually got nervous about the bank robbing, until he remembered he robbed banks and casinos in PayDay 2 last week. Not in real life . Fuck, man. He needed a real life.

 

“You stole shit?” Joshua perked up, “I’m gonna shoot you and bring you to the cops and you’re going to jail forever!” 

 

“Bro your kid is a narc,” Benrey smirked, “Lame.” 

 

His little nose twitched, “You smell like a butt. Why do you smell so bad? Your face looks droopy and sad. Why do you stink?” 

 

“Cause I just ripped a ripe one duh. In this world you’re either a smart fella or a fart smella, heh. And kid? You’re a fart smella.” Benrey hadn’t farted, actually. He really didn’t know why he stank. Probably just a stale clothing stench. Or maybe rubbing up on Gordon’s anxious scent did it. Could have been his femoral pores. They were exuding a bit more since he was running so much. 

 

Benrey didn’t stink at all, actually. Joshua was gaslighting him.

 

“Eww! Daddy! Benrey tooted on me!” Joshua rubbed his eyes and screamed, and then gave Benrey a nasty little grin. Oh, that kid knew he was a little liar!

 

“Benrey! What the hell man? I’ve told you not to fart at the table already, you're going to spoil appetites before we even eat . ” 

 

“Myeh myeh myeh. He started it.” Benrey pouted, and sneered at Joshua while he smiled all smugly, kicking his legs around in his dumb horsie slippers. And it was only a few more minutes before Joshua was leaning over his seat, grabbing Benrey by his pronounced jowls and smooshing them like he was using a steering wheel. 

 

“Mister Benrey?” Joshua tugged at his collar and slapped the side of his jaw, “Benrey? Benrey? Benrey?”

 

Benrey shot a look at Gordon like he was about to eat his son. 

 

“Don’t think about it, Benrey.” Gordon didn’t even spare a passing glance at his son, menacing the literal shapeshifting flesh monster, as he filled up three plates and lined them up to the seats. Like a good parent. “You two should come up with little nicknames for each other. I call him Joshie, and he calls me Daddy Gor-Gor.” 

 

Gordon conveniently left out that diversifying names kept him from going mad during one of Joshua’s iconic foghorn tantrums. 

 

“Yo, Botchua, call me Benny. I like the ‘ee’ at the end of my name. It’s cool.” Joshua’s face contorted in confusion. Benrey needed to do some more convincing, “Like uh, a guy named Vinny is cool, right?” 

 

“Yeah, Buttface ? Why are your teeth so sharp?” He grabbed his lip and pulled it back, revealing his homogenous, triangular teeth. Just like a shark.

 

“I’m a werewolf, Jerkshua,” Benrey lied without skipping a beat. Despite his lips being manipulated, he had no trouble pronouncing anything.

 

“Werewolfs aren’t real. You’re a liar, Pants-On-Fire-Rey. Kyle from school told me.” Joshua rolled his eyes. That kid had serious sass. 

 

“Tell this Kyle loser chickenhat you met one. Your friend Buttrey has a gnarly snout with hundreds of razor sharp teeth. He’s got two long, wicked ears.” He tapped his helmet and winked, “He can smell fear. His eyes glow in the dark.” Benrey pounded his chest and spat out a few balls of teal sweet voice he had been choking down, “And he howls a technicolor roar.” 

 

“IS THAT MAGIC?” Joshua jumped up and stood on his seat, which Benrey gently pushed him back down into. He could have fallen, and kids are on super hardcore mode. Would have mushed up his soft skull.

 

“Yep. Magical werewolf. Teal means need meal.” He paused and scratched his chin, “What color do you want?”

 

“Green!” And as Joshua commanded, the light peeking through the corner of Benrey’s mouth shifted to a gorgeous smaragdine, and a few bubbles of sweet voice floated through the air.

 

“Green means he’s not mean.” Gordon recited Tommy’s rhyme as he took a seat to begin dinner. 

 

“Your friend is a stupid werewolf? He would have been cooler as a wicked vampire. Vampires are so much cooler.” Joshua threw his hands in the air and shook his little hands around. 

 

Gordon snorted. That kid must’ve just learned the word ‘wicked’ and it was his favorite thing to say now by the way he emphasized it, “Be nice Joshie.” 

 

“Yeah uh, I’m a werewolf. I could eat you up. Cause uh, you’re a bad little kid and bad little kids are gobbled up.” Benrey twisted a claw between his fangs. 

 

“You’re too bad at being a werewolf to eat me. Daddy is right there and he owns four hunting rifles.” Joshua pointed to his father, whose eyes were practically bulging through his lenses. Holy fuck.

 

“Don’t say that I won’t shoot anyone .” Gordon was thinking to himself not anymore , though. Plus, he knew shooting Benrey did nothing to him. 

 

“Shut up, Squatchua.” Benrey rubbed his hands and got ready to dig in. No stupid maggot was going to ruin his dinner!

 

Despite his efforts to control the level of decorum they ate with, Benrey made it a whole show of him grabbing his steak in his jaws and shaking it around with animalistic growling, then throwing it back to swallow whole. Joshua tried to mimic him with his child-sized pre-cut pieces of steak, which proved to somehow be less messy. Benrey polished off his broccoli with gusto, inspiring Joshua to do the same, and it turns out leading by example worked the fucking trick. The kid didn’t even complain about the greens when he saw Benrey gobbling them up. It made Gordon somewhat jealous, even, that his roommate was considered so much cooler than him by his own flesh and blood! 

 

“Why does Benny get two steaks?” Joshua seemed more into his broccoli than his steak. Gordon might have overcooked it a tad. It didn’t have much pink in it, and he wasn’t the best at cutting the tough fat out. He passed a few of his own pieces of broccoli over to him, trying to make sure he got enough energy.

 

“He’s a werewolf, Josh, he needs extra meat.” Gordon was struggling through his own dinner. He really Wayne’d this meal. At least Benrey was enjoying it.

 

“Grrr num num num shlorp shluuurp-” Benrey licked his fingers clean and leaned back, satisfied with a nice, more than well done steak and baked broccoli. It was less flavorful than what Gordon usually cooked but he apparently wanted exclusively ‘healthy food’ with Joshua around. Lame. The kid was kicking his legs around and giggling at how uncouth Benrey was. 

 

“Benrey, come on man, have some manners.” Gordon prodded him on the shoulder as he drained his can of Bang. He set it down and side-eyed Gordon with a little smile that meant he was concocting a mischievous plot.

 

Benrey let out a raucous belch, which of course had Joshua in a fit of hysterics. He was six, after all. Gordon was significantly less impressed. “Have some huh? I’m a werewolf. I do what I want. Whaddya rate that one, Junior?” 

 

“Eight outta ten!” 

 

“ Benrey .” He pointed to the whiteboard. Lead by example . Ugh. That tone meant he was serious. Great. Joshua’s presence made Gordon into a prude.

 

“Ugh. ‘Scuse me.” Benrey rolled his eyes. He was thinking better of it, though, effort had been put into the dish despite what the kid might think of the flavor. That probably meant he had to reinforce something akin to decency, “So uh, Joshua, what should we say to your dad?” 

 

“It sucked, Daddy.” Joshua spat out a fatty piece of steak and retched, and then pushed away the plate. 

 

Gordon was not going to be able to catch a break.

 

“That’s right. Thanks, bro.” Benrey licked his chaps, “I thought it wasn’t so bad.” 

 

“Mom is a better cook. Daddy should never be allowed in the kitchen.” 

 

“Why don’t you uh, shut your mouth, kid? Do you ever say anything uh, nice?” 

 

“Do you say anything that isn’t stup–” 

 

“MYEH MYEH MYEH MYEH,” Benrey inhaled deeply and then blew a raspberry right in the boy’s face. 

 

“Benrey you stop that right no–” 

 

Gordon did not need to come to his son’s defense. He felt that spittle come right for him and he let out a deafening foghorn screech. This was the kind of noise that came out of Gordon’s room when he was snoring away. But Benrey had never been in such close proximity before to a lethal soundwave like this. As if he got hit with a Houndeye’s sonic wave, Benrey almost fell back, just barely catching himself on the island.

 

It was on. He took a deep breath and let out lethal skeleton notes at pitches that should have been out of the hearing range of common man, and together they harmonized in a dissonant cacophony. Benrey with his high pitched beeping, and Joshua with his bass-boosted foghorn bellow. 

 

Gordon took cover behind the island and gripped his ears. Oh god, there was two of them! And this was lasting MINUTES! 

 

Once they tired themselves out on that, Gordon considered himself half deaf, and stumbled back up to his feet to see what they were doing now. Benrey was snickering into his fist while Joshua smiled all proud of himself for matching a werewolf’s technicolor howl. 

 

 “Hey Freeman Junior wanna play some uh…” Shit, what kid friendly games did he have, even? “LittleBigPlanet?” 

 

“You play video games?” Joshua’s eyes lit up. Benrey was awesome , veritably at that. Any adult who played video games was at least a little cool.

 

“Yeah I fu–flipping uh, love video games. We can play together, even. There’s a cowboy level I think? I didn’t get that far. We can uh, new game it.”

 

“YEAH! I WANNA PLAY!” Joshua jumped out of his seat and tugged on Gordon’s arm, “DADDY PLEASE DADDY GOR-GOR I WANNA PLAY! LET ME PLAY GOD DAMMIT FUCK YOU LET ME PLAY LITTLEBIGPLANET!” Gordon almost fell out of his seat, and had to catch himself on the island. That kid had a lot more energy than he remembered. As he deliberated, Joshua let out a blaring foghorn screech, and Gordon had to cover his ears.

 

“Okay! Okay! Calm down! Okay Joshie but only for an hour!” Gordon collected the plates and dumped them in the sink for Benrey to handle later, and migrated with the rest of the household to the couch. He popped down beside his son, and watched the TV as Benrey put on some child appropriate game that Gordon knew wasn’t in his catalogue of games. Must have slipped under his radar when it came out during his edgy teen years. Too busy playing Metal Gear to care. It seemed pretty innocent though, so he trusted Benrey’s judgement. Adorable little platformer, nice and easy. Wasn’t too frustrating for Joshua either, who lagged slightly behind Benrey. But just as he exaggerated his pain to encourage Joshua’s cowboy instinct, Benrey kept at a slow pace and continuously praised Joshua for getting through challenges he was struggling with. Gordon occasionally chimed in, but he had no fucking idea what was going on. 

 

He ended up breaking his word, and Joshua played for an hour and a half before being whisked to bed, and that left Gordon and Benrey on the couch together, staring at their reflections in the TV. Gordon didn’t know what to say. Benrey hadn’t just impressed, he had passed with flying colors. It was up to Benrey to break the silence. 

 

“Did I do good?” Fishing for compliments. Not unexpected, but not unwarranted.

 

“Perfect.” Gordon put his hand on his shoulder, “Absolutely perfect.” 

 

“Thanks.” He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over the arm of the couch. Gordon quickly glanced over his body. No nipples, no navel. Weird. But what did he expect? Benrey was lacking a lot of details humans have. He must have noticed him staring, “Huh? See something you like, buddy ?” 

 

“Did you hatch from an egg?” Gordon was about to poke him where his umbilical hole would have been, and got slapped away. Odd.

 

“I dunno. Maybe? Why’d you crawl outta uh, joe momma’s pussy. Owned.” He lounged back and turned the TV on to play some video games, “Doesn’t matter. Wanna play some Borderlands 2?” 

 

“Sure. New game?” 

 

“Oh yeah. Gonna uh, play Zer0, epic katana cool chain attack.” Benrey got down and changed the games out. 

 

Gordon got a peek of his ass crack, and maybe it was the demons that Benrey talked about rubbing off on him, but he was compelled to say “Liking the view from back here.” 

 

Benrey shot up, and as if a sleeper agent had been activated in him, he started to vogue. He bent over, showing off his utter lack of goods. And you know what? Gordon sat back and let him have his fun, and appreciated the view. His body was utterly bizarre to look at, and so Gordon found himself boring his pupils into his exposed skin. He had spots going down his back, much like a bullsquid, and venation across his body that was completely inhuman. Notably, he also had a lateral line on his flank like a frog. It seemed that Benrey hadn’t actually understood a lot of human anatomy when he first took this shape, and hadn’t bothered to make adjustments to seem more human. Why would he? The only skin he ever showed was above the neck and his hands. 

 

And worst of all, Benrey was good at vogueing. He didn’t just have one routine, no, no no no no no. This alien had internalized dozens of moves, and was elegantly teasing Gordon with some helicoptering wrists, splits, floor rolls, and dead drops. And as quickly as his routine began, he stopped and planted his ass next to Gordon like he hadn’t just busted it down sexual style for his entertainment. 

 

“What the fuck?” Gordon wheezed an incredulous laugh out. More trying to convince himself that he wasn’t the least bit attracted to Benrey. But since he started looking more alive, and trying to be more helpful, he’d been finding that a choking sensation in his guts had been developing. Not the same kind he had felt before, when he was afraid for his life. This was one remedied by time together, not exacerbated.

 

“Huh?” 

 

“Nevermind.” They got onto the character select screen, and Gordon went with Krieg. Somehow, all the heads were already unlocked. He chocked it up to Benrey using hacks. 

 

Benrey blew a raspberry at him when he saw that cringe ass selection, “Boo! Boo lame! Gordon Lameman! No skills.” 

 

“Krieg is just a better choice, I’m sorry. It’s more fun to go around in a mindless haze brutalizing enemies than trying to chain with the jank ass targeting system.”

 

“Wow, brutalizing in a mindless haze, reminds me of someone, huh? Gonna go Devilgun Mode or somethin’?” Benrey cracked open a can of G-Fuel. The one with a picture of Miku on it. 

 

“Shut up.” Gordon spat with a bit more venom than usual, and flashed his wrist, “Whose fault is this?”

 

“Sorry. Oops. Top ten Benrey fails.” 

 

---

 

Gordon didn’t know when he ended up falling asleep on the couch, but he didn’t remember moving to his bedroom when he woke up from a nightmare. This time he was seeing the faces of the people he had killed, of the men he gunned down in both cold blood and for survival. Even some of the Vortigaunts had somehow made their way there. Strange how the human mind worked to anthropomorphize a creature so far removed. So many corpses. He couldn’t imagine the number of dead. 

 

Benrey was already right next to him, eyes glowing gold in the dark. Gordon whimpered at the sight, and the alien’s face fell. He tilted his head to the side, and then stroked Gordon across his forearm with delicate fingers, as if he were petting him, “One of a kind, safe with me. We’re safe here.” 

 

There was something oddly comforting about him being there. Maybe it was that Benrey had proven himself to be of no harm the past few weeks, or maybe Gordon had really gone insane this time. He brought Benrey in closer, and the waterworks came. He sobbed into his featureless chest, his mannequin breast, feeling his utterly inhuman heartbeats against his forehead. Benrey was frozen in the bed for a moment, not sure how to handle an outburst of despair. This isn’t something he’s ever had Gordon confide in him. He wanted to calm him down, but somehow it felt inappropriate. Gordon needed to get this out. 

 

“I saw the people I’ve killed. Their faces. The bodies in Black Mesa. I knew them.” Gordon sobbed into his chest, snot and tears sticking to his skin. He smelled the stench of rotting Xenian and man alike. The way viscera was smeared across walls, people he knew disfigured into horrid puppets for parasites. But the worst of it all was what he had done. The people he had killed. Soldiers. Scientists. Security guards. He muffled his wails into the pillow. It was all he could do so that Joshua wouldn’t hear him. Joshua couldn’t be exposed to this. 

 

Anything Benrey would say would make it worse, he knew. And so he slowly adjusted his arms, wrapping them around Gordon and rubbed his back. He hoped that was enough. This wasn’t anything he had prepared for. When Benrey was overwhelmed and upset, he simply let out a few balls of sweet voice. Everything from being so pleasantly full he needed a nap to the pain of a severed limb. But humans? They were strange. They had outbursts in more tangible ways. Maddened sweet voice lasted seconds, an enraged man could punch a hole in the drywall that could last years. 

 

Gordon eventually exhausted himself, and fell asleep with eyes still wetted with tears. Benrey didn’t let go, afraid that Gordon might not believe that he was safe with him if he did.

Chapter 18: Dr. Freeman’s Epic Family Zoo Trip

Summary:

Gordon takes Benrey and Joshua to the zoo. Both of them are like kids in candy shops!

Notes:

TW: crimes against pizza, fart jokes, and AVGN ASMR

i actually have no idea what any zoo in new mexico looks like. this is a fictional zoo i made in my beautiful mind shhhhh don't think about it.

have a wonderful week! You can find me @benrey-did-nothing-wrong on Tumblr!

Gordon had to pull himself together for the zoo trip on Friday. He only really ever went out to the gym or grocery shopping, so Joshua gave him and Benrey an excuse to get the hell out of the house. The start of the drive was… rough. Benrey proved to be a menace in the car during long trips. He ripped some absolutely abominable ass ten minutes in and blamed it on Gordon. He also kept blocking him from rolling down the windows, which really, really , REALLY didn’t help Gordon concentrate on not getting them all killed in a car accident. Naturally, Joshua was cackling because he was a six year old and seeing daddy get hotboxed maliciously was going to be a core memory. One that Gordon wouldn’t live down. This encouraged Benrey even more, seeing that playing up his usually quite tame antics was making for great children’s entertainment. 

 

The riling cry of ‘road triiiip’ filled his car and drowned out Linkin Park on max volume. And worst of all, post-fart, Benrey kept cracking juvenile jokes about how bad Gordon smelled, streaming together various puns with no sense to them, usually defaulting to the classic ‘Gordon Fartman’ followed by a raspberry duet. ‘Uncle Benny’ was also a wealth of other lowbrow jokes that appeared to be the pinnacle of comedy to little Joshua. Benrey was giving the Citizen Kane of fart joke routines here. He had… no idea… how he was going to explain this to the ex-wife. She was going to be hearing some of Benny’s zingers for the next few weeks.

 

And naturally when they passed by any fast food chain, Benrey was ogling it, begging to go there. Joshua already picked up the habit of mimicking him. When Benrey begged, so did he. Eventually Benrey managed to convince him to let them go to McDonald’s. Benrey kept asking for ‘free Big Mac and four freesh fries’, which Gordon simplified to a Big Mac and some fries. Benrey also demanded Baja Blast, loudly, over the speaker. He was leaning over Gordon to hang out of the driver’s window, shoving his ass in his face as he was inclined to do. The poor drive-thru attendant was trying to explain that they didn’t carry that at McDonald’s while a six year old and a man child begged for Baja Blast. Gordon managed to get them to agree to a Sprite. Joshua got chicken nuggets, and was more than happy with them. Uncle Benny was officially the coolest, and daddy was lame for getting a black coffee and nothing else. Gordon was a Wendy’s guy. He couldn’t help it. 

 

---

 

Benrey was just as excited at the zoo as Joshua was, and the energy was infectious around him. He made a mad dash for a series of promotional posters for various exhibits. A chorus of ‘cool’ and ‘nice’ were escaping him. But seeing the elephants sent him into a spiral. He pointed at them, and waited for the Freemans to get close enough to hear him,“Yo. Yo they have uh, trunko here. Tentacle faces, bro. Cool.” 

 

Joshua was holding Gordon’s hand, but he pulled away to grip one of Benrey’s thumbs. There was a moment where his heart sank, and then a sharp jolt of concern. Benrey was careful, yes. Benrey also had sharp claws. Gordon eyed them carefully, and when Benrey engulfed Joshua’s hand in a slow, deliberate grasp, he knew he could rest easy. That was cautious. It was calculated and kind. Safe.

 

 “No, Buttface! That’s an elephant. ELLIE-PHANT. Ellie-phants have trunks n’ tusks, not tentacles, dumbass! Octopuses have tentacles.” Joshua was jumping up and down, and Benrey mimicked him, hopping between his feet to mimic the six year old. Of course, Benrey knew Joshua was explaining this all to him like he was an idiot. Which helped him a lot. Because Benrey was an idiot.

 

“Whoa, no way. You’re some kinda of a uh, aminal expert, Booger-Eater? Gonna teach me all the maminals?” Benrey gestured for Gordon to get closer. And he managed to grab his son’s other hand with no fuss at all. They definitely were looking like a couple now, a young son in tow. Gordon didn’t mind, but the situation tickled him silly. He looked down to see that he was holding Joshua in the hand that wasn’t his. 

 

He wasn’t touching his son, not holding his little hand in his. He could feel him, but the parental endorphins, the oxytocin that would make him do anything to protect that boy, were taking contact prompts from neurons that weren’t molded from the same genetic matrix he and his son were. The long sleeve kept Joshua from knowing. But he’d find out eventually. It was only a matter of time. There were people all around him. The scientists, the soldiers, the guards. They walked amongst them in the zoo that day. And the hand. He hated that hand.

 

Gordon didn’t realize how the chaos of a crowd would shake him. He had to stay calm, though. For Joshua. He focused fully on tuning back to Joshua. Joshua was the most important thing right now. Joshua didn’t care that the hand that was holding him wasn’t his daddy’s hand, he was six. He’d probably say ‘It’s a cowboy hand!’ Or something. Joshua didn’t know daddy killed people. 

 

“Yeah, I know every animal on the planet. I watch a lot of animal shows with my Mommy.” He was swinging his arms, walking with big, excited steps. Tripping over himself. Gordon tried to focus on his son, the love and light of his life. His reason for waking up in the morning. But thoughts of the hand, the horror of being made of flesh and rendable and finite were consuming him.

 

Gordon hated to say it, but he needed some of Benrey’s balls. He leaned over his son and whispered, “Ben, can you kiss me?”

 

“You want me to huh?” Benrey’s wish coming true? No way. This was the loving that was saved for later?

 

“I need some blue calm down like right now.” Gordon gritted his teeth, and without hesitation, Benrey grabbed him by the neck of his shirt with his free hand and pressed a passionless kiss into his mouth. He shot a beam of sweet voice through his lips, completely incognito. They just looked like an average couple, and Joshua was none the wiser. It was brief, and Gordon felt better as they pulled apart with a thread of clear saliva between them. It was something resembling normalcy. Resilient again. He mouthed a ‘thanks’ to him and they continued on their way. 

 

“Better teach me. I know no animals at all. My brain is uh, smooth. Too smooth for you. Smooth like um, jazz.” Benrey smacked his lips. 

 

“Come on! The reptiles are over here!” 

 

“Whoa some freaking uh, sweet A-S-S gators there?” Benrey spelled out ass, since it was technically aligned with Gordon’s rules. Leave it to Benrey to bend the laws of the household to his favor. 

 

Thankfully Joshua was too preoccupied running into the mercifully air conditioned reptile hut, which had this faux polynesian theming for some reason. The first few exhibits were aquatic amphibians, which seemed to stir Benrey’s appetite. Despite eating about an hour ago, his stomach grumbled at the sight of the ‘asowoddle’ as Joshua said it. Something about that freaky little salamander just looked incredibly edible to him, like a big marshmallow. It was also housed with a wild type variety. Joshua and Benrey alike were happy to see Toothless in real life. Cute. 

 

“Look, the plaque says that the axolotl was once considered extinct in the wild, due to pollution. What do you make of that, Joshua?” he picked his son up so he could get a better view of the aquarium. Of course Gordon was going to do his damndest to make this an educational visit. He wanted to ask his son questions, stimulate his problem solving skills and build some empathy with the animals. Was this too complicated for a six year old? He really didn’t know.

 

“Who would pollute the axolotls?” He mumbled, mesmerized by the vacant stares on their puppy-dog faces.

 

“I don’t know, kiddo. But that’s why-” Gordon was interrupted by Benrey yelling above the already quite loud ambient volume of the room, drowning out the parents and children already there. 

 

“Yo what’s that fu–freaking uh, creature?” Benrey slammed into a terrarium with a frog that had a pointed nose. 

 

Gordon grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him away, “Dude, don’t slam into the tanks.” 

 

“Myen nyeh bleh.” Benrey pointed at the animal, “Yo lil Bratman, what’s that critter?” 

 

“Oh that’s a frog!” Joshua slapped his hands on Gordon’s sweaty cheek, and smeared them around his face. Oh he loved that kid.

 

“Not just any frog,” Gordon corrected, “Darwin’s frog. Let’s read about it, how about that, kiddo?” Gordon went to go read the informative plaque. These things were usually at a reading level a little higher than Joshua’s but with some guidan–

 

“I think I’m the animal expert here,” Joshua shook his little pointer finger around with unquestionable authority, “Did you know it eats flies with a big tongue that shoots out like a lasso!” 

 

“This guy’s name is Darwin? Cool. Hey Darwin.” Benrey pointed at its golden tan snout, “Looks kinda like you, Gordo.”

 

“He’s right, Daddy! Darwin has your nose!” Joshua giggled, and grabbed at Gordon’s nose bridge.

 

“Ouch. Okay. Great.” Gordon gently slid his hand off of his nose so he could both breathe and speak without a nasally twang. “How about we focus on how the frog looks like a dead leaf? See? That’s camouflage. And the males eat the babies to keep them in his throat sac to keep them safe until they’re ready to leave. Almost like a seahorse.” 

 

“Whoa, Darwin ate his kids and wears a ghillie suit to avoid the cops? Nice.” Benrey choked back some amused bubbles of sweet voice.

 

“Darwin ate them dead? Wicked!” Joshua tugged on the back of Benrey’s hoodie.

 

Gordon snorted, “What? No, Benrey don’t lie to him.” 

 

“Hey look at that creature!” And Benrey was gone, leaving Gordon to try and keep up while carrying Joshua. When did this kid get so damn heavy? 

 

Benrey was pressed against the Komodo dragon exhibit, watching the overgrown, plump lizard bask under a bulb, contentedly asleep. That reminded Gordon of someone, hmm.

 

“Looks like we found you,” Gordon nudged him with his elbow, “That’s all you do everyday.” 

 

“The lizard is pretty epic, but I don’t see him getting an S rank in Devil May Cry 3 .” Benrey readjusted his tie. He was pretty insistent on wearing that guard get up everywhere. Gordon wasn’t sure how he managed to get away with it. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things Benrey did. 

 

“That’s a dragon?” Joshua was reading the plaque, “Dragons aren’t as cool as I thought they’d be. That’s NOT a dragon. Dragons breathe fire and have wings.” 

 

“Are you more impressed with Darwin?” 

 

“Yeah.” Benrey seemed genuinely offended that the Gordon frog was more interesting than the giant Benrey dragon tanning on a silty rock right in front of them. He shouldn’t have hyped Darwin up that way.

 

“I think the dragon is cool.” Benrey mumbled under his breath and immediately forgot how upset he was when he saw an alligator, “Yo what’s that? That’s more of a dragon than that guy. W-T-F. Who is naming these beasts?” 

 

Seeing Benrey’s eyes bulge out of his skull that way, his goofy, befuddled face. His skin was glistening with the curves refracted from the surface of the gator’s pool. And Benrey somehow looked like a kind of ethereal creature. The most majestic, wild thing he had ever seen, finally free to walk around. All he wanted to do was spend time with Gordon. That sense of uncanny danger that permeated every calculated gesture had evolved from the subject of fear to something he adored about him. But his growing appreciation for Benrey was cut short as he went from that gargoyle stare to this absolutely ridiculous, googly-eyed goober gawk. 

 

Gordon hated to admit it, but Benrey was funny. And he was by some miracle, in spite of his Benreyisms, something to behold as well.

 

“BBB, the gator is in the pond!” Benrey was the only grown man with his face pressed against the glass, and Joshua squirmed out of Gordon’s grasp to join him. 

 

“That’s an alligator!” 

 

“What does uh, this mofo eat then?” 

 

“They uh, eat antelopes.” Joshua paused to start listing off everything he remembered seeing crocodiles eat, “And zebra. And the will-dee-beest! I saw it with my mom on the TV. Did you know they’re like a million years old and used to eat dinosaurs?”

 

“Joshua, those are Nile crocodiles. This is an American alligator. That’s a good guess though, because they’re both crocodilians! But the Nile crocodile is from Africa, and these guys live in North America.” Gordon watched the animal drift by, black scales shimmering in the sunlight from the outdoor portion of its exhibit.

 

“Daddy, is your degree in animals? No! You’re a physicsologist! I’m the animal expert!” 

 

Gordon picked Joshua up and placed him on his shoulders, giving him a better view of the alligator exhibit with the bonus of giving him some, “Sheesh, Joshua. You’ve gotten sassy.”

 

“Kid’s got you there, Gordo. Let’s go see the uh, spaghetti now.”

 

“Snakes!” Joshua slapped his hands on the top of Gordon’s head. 

 

“Yeah, noodles.”

 

---

 

The elephants were everything Benrey could have hoped for. Behind the three layers of fences, he saw the most majestic, magnificent animal he had ever seen. The elephants were sniffing at each other, brandishing magnificent ivories that glistened in the New Mexico sun as the zookeepers sprayed them with hoses. Benrey had never seen an animal this powerful on Earth. It trumpeted in glee into the air, parading around its wet skin. Joshua imitated the elephant with his hands and BBBBB ’d into the air to try and mimic the magnificent animals. 

 

Gordon laughed as he watched his son from Benrey’s shoulders. It was hard not to be utterly enchanted by the sight, “Gordon, the animals are amazing , bro! I–I didn’t realize Skyrim mammoths were real! ” 

 

“It’s an elephant, Buttface!” Joshua smeared Benrey’s forehead with his hands and cackled, “BBBBBB!” 

 

“BBBB!” Benrey jumped around with the kid affixed to his back. And as the elephants sucked water up their trunks and sprayed  themselves across their backs, Benrey and Joshua were caught in the stream of snot and water, dancing around and squealing. 

 

Eww. But that was pretty cute. Gordon snapped a covert photo and beckoned the two of them out of the stream, “Alright guys, let’s not get totally covered in snot.”

 

“Wicked!” Joshua threw himself over Benrey’s helmet and heaved, “Elephants are so cool.”

 

“Amen little man.” Benrey pounded it. And then sucked up what was left of the soda he bought at a vending machine a few minutes ago. They were almost about ready to go, when Benrey saw the elephant using its tusk to scrape the tree in its enclosure, and he stopped. No matter how hard Gordon pulled, Benrey remained steadfast. 

 

Curls of cork came off and dropped onto the ground… and Benrey felt himself getting a wonderful idea. He looked at Gordon with a rascally grin and extended his canines out towards him, just subtly enough that Gordon would notice. He gasped and slapped his hand over his mouth, “Benrey not here! Uh, save the… the lovin’ for later.”

 

The rest of the guests were staring at the two of them, and Gordon took the opportunity to quickly whisk them away to a restaurant to hopeful forget everything over a bag of chips.

 

---

 

At the aquarium, Benrey stared in awe at the fish. He didn’t quite understand what the ocean was. It was hard for him to comprehend that most of the Earth was the ocean when he hadn’t seen it in all his months living there. And his eyes settled on the seahorse tank. It was just a small exhibit, though quite a popular one. Their prehensile tails were wrapped around each other, twirling in the gentle drift.  Gordon pulled up next to him, Joshua still firmly in his arms. 

 

“Looks like Benrey likes seahorses as much as you do, kiddo.”

 

They were interlocked at the tail, perfectly matched in their dance, locking their eyes as their underdeveloped fins fluttered against the blades of seagrass. Their chromatophores contracted and blossomed between rosy and reflective hues, matching with immaculate instinct. The same species, the same dance. The female pressed the end of her proboscis into the male as they tumbled towards the sand. Even though they had fumbled, they stayed locked together. 

 

“This is called noodling, Joshua. It’s… how seahorses show they love each other.” Gordon knew ‘love’ was the wrong word. Instinct forced them to do this. It was more a way of gauging when the male was ready to have eggs deposited in him, “The mommy seahorse has to trust the daddy seahorse with her eggs. Then they leave.”

 

Benrey was probably more fixated than any of the kids there. They were such romantic creatures. The most romantic animal he had ever seen, and his desire for what they had was almost driving him insane. Drifting alone was a sad state. 

 

“Seahorses are so cool!” Joshua only liked them because ‘horse’ was in the name. “Um, they will do that every morning, Daddy Gor-Gor. I saw it on Nat Geo!”

 

Every morning? The seahorses were holding hands every morning and they trusted someone enough to touch tummies, and Benrey couldn’t even do that?! Benrey had less game than a fish! To hide his shame, and avert his gaze from that most intimate of dances, Benrey pointed at a zebra shark in a tank, “Yoooo they have a dude there!” 

 

“SHARKS!” Joshua slapped Gordon’s face, urging him towards the tank.

 

“Okay okay, ow…” Gordon let himself get tugged around as Benrey threw him into the next exhibit. He thought that maybe the sharks would be more relaxing company than these two.  

 

---

 

Zoo day was an utter success. Gordon got Joshua a zebra plushie (which Joshua claimed was a stripey cowboy horse) and Benrey managed to haggle him out of a pretty penny to purchase a ridiculous, multicolored komodo dragon plushie that was life sized. Bendragon became his name, courtesy of Joshua’s creativity. He sat in the back with Joshua, and was notably, an excellent pillow for an exhausted child. 

 

Benrey had learned more than he did, and seemed fairly keen on memorizing the names of the animals, how to categorize them and their lifestyles. There was a lot of Earth knowledge for him to catch up on, and the zoo filled in quite a few of his biological knowledge gaps. Benrey also seemed quite tired, and in utter bliss. He was content to let the silence linger, but Gordon felt as if he had so much to chastise him for, and so much to thank him for. 

 

“You had fun?” 

 

“Mhm. Yawn.” 

 

“Did you just say yawn?” 

 

“Yeah, can’t yawn. Communicating like a human here. Yawn. Tired. You know. You can’t stop yawning. Or farting. Dr. Fartman.” 

“Oh my god. I know that was you, Benrey you nasty fucker. I didn’t go through hell and the wringer for a doctorate just to be called Dr. Fartman .”

 

“Really? Then why did you do it? Wuh? Why did you get the doctorate then? I don’t get it.” 

 

“You’re the worst.” Gordon chuckled, and pulled into the driveway, “Ugh, I still have to make dinner.” 

 

“Come on, we had a long day. Pizza time.” 

 

“Benrey. Remember the rules?” 

 

“I want Hawaiian, extra pined apples.”

 

“You can have your own Hawaiian pizza. I’m not touching that.” 

 

“And meat. With the pepper–onis. Some hollow-pee-nose. Delicious extra mushrooms, olives, bacon, and cheese sauce with anchovies with the deep dish stuffed crust?” 

 

“You’re going to shit yourself to death, bro.” Gordon wasn’t trying to chide him, no. This was an omen. He had sought the pleasures of extra cheesy pizza once before. Never again.

 

“Bet.” Gordon opened the door and got ready to bring Joshua inside without giving Benrey a straight answer, “Is that a yes?” 

 

Gordon was incredibly tired, and so despite his promise to himself to cook for his son… he had to give in, “You know what? Pizza is a good idea.”

 

And a good idea it was. Joshua was put to bed for a while, and brought out to get him to eat a slice before he quickly passed out again. That left Benrey to enjoy the monster of his creation and Gordon to watch him simultaneously kill a large pie while playing GTA IV. It was terrifying. Benrey could cram entire slices into his mouth at once and only bothered to chew a little before he swallowed. He held the gushing cheese beast over his mouth and let the top layer of oil and fats slough off into his jaws before taking a huge bite. After polishing off the last slice, he licked the grease from his fingers whilst in the middle of a pretty intense shootout with the cops.

 

“Dude. What the fuck?” Gordon was in awe, and fighting the rising retching in him. That monstrous thing had been oozing cheese and multicolored toppings. It looked like someone puked all over a pizza and dropped another load of melted cheese on top. Gordon couldn’t imagine finishing one slice, let alone the whole pie. Gordon had eaten some gross shit during his Ph.D crunch, but he never stooped this low, “I’m scared of you.”

 

Benrey paused the game and lounged back, looking just like that komodo dragon. His stomach had distended, which Gordon couldn’t ever recall seeing before, “Everything's better with pizza.” 

 

“You’re going to need some Tums or some Pepto, that looks uncomfortable.” Gordon started towards the kitchen to nab his trusty bottle of stomach medicine. 

 

“Or, better idea…” Benrey cracked his neck, which caused Gordon to swing around to watch him. It was disgusting. Benrey’s bones cracked out of place, distorting the loosening, wrinkling skin around them. These imperfections smoothed out as he contorted and folded his body around in painful, efforted jerks. Limbs bent out of place, bones bulging out. Benrey was growing, and it sounded, looked, smelled painful. When the grotesque muscular contortion was through in about a minute, Benrey was a foot and a half taller, “Tell that home remedy to joe momma.”

 

“Oh, wow. Horrible. Thanks.” Human skin did not stretch like that, and the stench he had produced was like filing down keratin. It was a uniquely foul aroma with no equal. Benrey was, at least, comfortable now. Or it at least seemed that way.

 

“No longer a manlet. Ate a Mario mushroom.” Benrey got back to his GTA crime spree, “You know the swingset trick? Gonna escape the feds.” 

 

“I noticed there was no orange to teal.” 

 

“Wasn’t that good of a meal. Your food is better.” 

 

“That’s… sweet.”  Strange to say of a shapeshifter that just demonstrated the second most disturbing contortion of the human form he had ever seen.

 

“No? What? It’s not sweet. It’s salty, idiot. Pizza isn’t sweet.” He drove a stolen sedan into a swingset, and the car launched into the air, crashing into a nearby skyscraper. Gordon felt a snort escape him, and quickly caught himself. 

 

“I don’t know, man. I’m not great at cooking. Joshua wasn’t a big fan of my steak and my ex didn’t like me in the kitchen.”

 

“Well, my opinion matters. So, shut up.”

 

Gordon tilted his head, “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever watched you shapeshift since the whole… thing.” 

 

Benrey’s lip pulled back, “Yeah.” 

 

Gordon didn’t want to bring back more bad memories. From Xen. Black Mesa. The check up. “Why don’t you do it more?” 

 

“Eh.” He made his way to the Statue of Happiness to get a look at the beating heart within, “Gotta see this, epic easter egg.” 

 

Gordon felt a little shut down, he hushed for a while, not sure what to do with these new feelings. Goddammit. Benrey was immature, he was disgusting, he was the man who had his hand cut off. What about him was making him so infatuated? Was it just that he got him to laugh? Was that all it took to find the beauty in someone so uncanny?

 

“Uhm, thanks for inviting me to the zoo with you and Joshua. I know it was supposed to be a uh, brat-sperm donor day.” 

 

“Nah, you were perfect, again. Annoyed me, but it’s about giving Joshua the best time, right?” 

 

“Know your audience,” he shrugged, “Glad I’m helping you win dad achievements. Gonna 100% this shit. Platinum trophy.” 

 

“Thanks Benrey. Especially for the kiss of blue.” He leaned on his shoulder, “By the way you should probably shrink before Joshua wakes up tomorrow. So you don’t freak him out by growing a foot.” 

 

“He won’t notice.”

 

“He will notice. I’m wearing long sleeves for a reason.” 

 

“Ugh. I’m gonna feel like uhh, shit tomorrow morning. Can’t even shapeshift to help.” 

 

Gordon slapped him on the stomach, it was more of a tired, affectionate pat, “Good luck, big fella.” 

 

“Whoa, tummy pats? What are we, married? Sheesh, Gordon. Take me to dinner first!” He slapped him away and pushed out some brown bulbs of sweet voice. They smelled like root beer, and Gordon took a hit. It gave him the jeebies, spiders were crawling under his skin. Colored like sable, I’m uncomfortable. Like drinking sarsaparilla.

 

Gordon was… mildly insulted, “Jesus Christ you’re so weird. I cook for you almost every night.” 

 

“Never took me out to dinner.”

 

“Well… The Resonance Cascade and its consequences have been… This was the first time we’ve done something outside that isn’t an essential function. Right?” Gordon paused, trying to figure out where the fuck he was going with this. Wait a minute, Benrey was asking him out to dinner, wasn’t he? He had to keep it ambiguous, “And being out there with you made it a lot easier. We should do this more often.”

 

Benrey’s face flushed with lukewarm blood. Going out more often with Gordon? He had to be sure. He needed confirmation that this was really his life! “Like… best friends?” 

 

“Something like that.” Ambiguity was a beautiful thing. He didn’t need to define his relationship with Benrey. It was whatever it was.

 

Benrey threw his head back and blew out an uncontrollable stream of pink and blue sweet voice bubbles, which filled the whole living room. He covered up his mouth and pounded his chest, “Uh, excuse me.” 

 

“What could pink to blue mean?” 

 

“Pink to blue means… I ate so much pizza that I want to puke on… you?” 

 

“Eww? You don’t sound sure of that.” 

 

Normally, Benrey would lie about this. He absolutely had everything under control was his default untruth, but it was kind of hard when his crush jabbed him in the stomach then seemingly asked him on a date, and then he belched his cringey, sincere feelings out. He couldn’t scramble for a good lie. “I just had to make up a rhyme, okay? Gordon Meanman strikes again.” 

 

“Oh, well, um. You’ve been amazing, Benrey.” Gordon cleared his throat, “And maybe right now it’s time for us to go to bed. Please don’t puke on me.” 

 

“Ew.” Benrey started spewing out some rusty red sweet voice, following Gordon to their bedroom. Well, it was Gordon’s bedroom. But Benrey had basically commandeered the right side of it. The nightstand even had a framed portrait of his muse, AVGN. And a figurine from Heavenly Sword he purchased in a bid, and a couple of empty cans of soda. A few Godzilla statues were on his side. Plus some of the clothes he stole from Gordon (while his were in the wash) were on the floor. 

 

Oh man, things were getting awfully domestic. Benrey had his own phone charger, a PSP, drinks, figurines, a fucking framed portrait of the Angry Video Game Nerd… It really was his bed too.

 

“Pfft. Jackass.” Gordon slid under the covers, putting his glasses on the nightstand, right next to his glass of water. 

 

“Can’t believe he got you these orange comforters,” Benrey turned on the lamp on his nightstand as he crawled in next to Gordon, “Yeugh. Ugly.” 

 

“I know right? You can’t imagine what I was thinking when I first saw that fucking toilet.” Gordon snorted into his hands and kicked his feet under the covers, “You know the bathroom tile pattern is the desert temple in Minecraft, right?”

 

“Remember when I died and toilets kept spawning?” 

 

“How do YOU remember that?” 

 

“Uh, spectator mode.” Benrey shrugged, and pulled out a gaming magazine from 2007 to start flipping through. He kept them in his nightstand drawer. It seemed to be his primary method for figuring out what games he wanted to purchase. Gordon always found this curious yet… nostalgic. Those were a staple of his childhood, and Benrey had this thing for the PS3 era of gaming. 

 

“Checks out.” Gordon felt something cold grab his calf, and he immediately recognized that as Benrey’s gnarly ass foot talons, “Hey! Gross!” 

 

“WAAHWAAAAHMYENYEH GORDON IS A CHICKEN HEAD.” Benrey blew a raspberry and gently kicked him in the foot. It was on. They were playing footsie under the covers and it evolved into some playful roughhousing, until Benrey caught him in his arms and squeezed him in a bearhug. He pressed their necks together, trying to absorb some of the heat of his radiance. Benrey caught a whiff of the remnants of a spritz of cologne from that morning and the pizza grease still caught in his beard, “I win.” 

 

“Agh! I need to breathe!” Gordon struggled out of his grasp, “Man!” 

 

They were on their sides, looking at each other the way Gordon and his ex used to. It felt right. It felt good. Benrey was beaming at him, a bit of marinara sauce caught on the corner of his lip. Two months ago, Gordon would have never brought his thumb near those fangs to smear away that shmutz. But he did. And Benrey purred with the touch. His hand retracted back, and they both stared with blown out pupils. 

 

“You’re a bit of a messy boy, aren’tcha?” Gordon mocked Benrey’s annoying bro tone, and somehow when it came from Ph.D holding Gordon Freeman, it was far more condescending. What the hell? As if this couldn’t get more awkward.

 

“No, uh, that’s some other guy.”

 

Gordon laughed, and wiped his thumb off on Benrey’s unbuttoned shirt, resting his hand on his stomach, “Good night, man.” 

 

“Yeah uh, nighty night Gordos. Need to gargle balls?” 

 

“Give me half an hour with AVGN ASMR. If it doesn’t work, sleep my beau.” Gordon selected a classic season to help him sleep. Benrey could also hear his AVGN ASMR. So that meant he too was being lulled to sleep by strings of vulgarities and the occasional public sound library diarrhea SFX. Classy .

 

“Love you, bro.” Benrey snuffed the light, and nestled into Gordon’s arm. He was always kept at an arm’s length away. Touch was kept at a distance, cheek to knuckle. His habit of purring had only gotten stronger. It was accompanied by a sleepy, comfortable sweet voice. How could he not share how happy he was? And the melancholic hues of being so close and so far. 

 

“Yeah, love you too.” Gordon yawned. He didn’t seem to realize what he had said before he fell asleep, snoring softly into the air. Benrey could only gaze at him and wish he’d let him nearer, and yet content to be where he was. Close enough. Unambitiously positioned.

Chapter 19: Dr. Freeman Kicks it Retro Style While Bombarding his Alien Roommate with Microaggressions in the Form of Interactive Cabinet Games

Summary:

Benrey goes to an arcade with Gordon and Joshua... and gets an unpleasant surprise.

I wonder why none of the cameras seemed to catch Benrey noclipping around.

Notes:

Tumblr: @benrey-did-nothing-wrong

 

hey guys! this week's chapter is based on a place i used to go to when I lived in the states. i hope you enjoy! ive also been doing sketches and figuring out my new tablet. which sucks ass unfortunately. but hopefully i can start posting more of my shitty doodles to my tumblr. unfortunately im not a human anatomy person. but when istart drawing monster benrey you guys might be pleasantly surprised!

Gordon was not lying about the stomach problems. Benrey woke up in the middle of the night, in and out of the bathroom for a couple of hours until he finally relented and took a swig of some pepto. Even then, it still got him kicked out of Gordon’s room, which hadn’t happened before. The gas wasn’t that bad, was it? Like Gordon wasn’t blasting farts all night long too. But when BENREY does it consciously, it’s a problem. He saw how it was. Yeah. Such a ridiculous double standard.

 

“Augh, what the fuck, man!?” Gordon pushed him out of the bed.

 

“Jeez. Sorry for party rockin’,” officially sleeping on the sofa, epic . He switched through a couple of games, never really feeling any of them too strongly. It was a bit hard to enjoy some Benrey Gaming Hours with that wicked stomach ache. Would he learn from his reckless consumption of cheese? Fat chance. He did return to his normal height when dawn came around, knowing that probably meant that the child who wakes up early every day for school was going to stir soon. 

 

And Benrey had thought right. Joshua waddled out of his room a half an hour after dawn, holding onto his brand new stuffed zebra. With a long yawn, he rubbed his eyes and sat between Benrey and Bendragon the stuffed lizard (esquire esquire). The alien felt a slight pressure on his side, and looked down to see the child leaning into him, half asleep.

 

“Hey Lil Maggot.” Benrey threw the controller away and gave Joshua a hair ruffle, which got him some disgruntled whining. This was nice. Really nice. He didn’t anticipate feeling such a strong protective urge so quickly with the brat. Quite the opposite. He was more prepared to curb his prey drive! Guess it helped that he smelled like Gordon. It felt right to have the kid around. But that left him wondering where this instinct was coming from. Another behavior he had to curb was his trilling, since a little ‘prrr’ might raise suspicions in Joshua. Adults didn’t purr! 

 

“Good morning Uncle Buttface,” he mumbled and clung onto his arm. Uncle Buttface. Prestigious. “Whatcha doing?” 

 

“Nothing. Which sucks. I’m losing my 1v1 against a hurt tummy, kid. Ruining my killstreak.” He let out a few notes of red sweet voice. Oh, how Benrey wished Gordon hadn’t had such a Meanman moment, so he could lay down in his cool orange bed.

 

“That stinks!” Joshua tried to swat at some sweet voice bubbles, but retracted when the texture was like a giant, squishy booger. He made some ‘eww’ noises and wiped his hands on his jammies.

 

“Yeah, like your dad,” Benrey chuckled, knowing full well he was bombing Gordon all night long. Deflecting was funny, until he thought a little longer about it. Poor Gordon. He was nice enough to invite Benrey to the zoo on a Father–Son day, which meant that he probably should give him something in return. “Your dad isn’t working now but uh, he worked really hard when you didn’t see him.” 

 

“Mommy said he was dead to us.” Fuck, Benrey wasn’t even the recipient and that stung. 

 

“Uh, yeah no. He was uh, in Nevada. There were some banditos and they called your pops up to take ‘em out. Don’t tell your moms that Papa Gordo is a cowboy though. He’s a top secret cowboy. So that’s why he’s been so tired lately, and couldn’t see ya.” Kid had a worried look on his face. Time to default to Benrey’s best known strategies, “Riding a cyberhorse does that to a man. He got a broken butt, ya know.” 

 

“A broken butt!?” This caught Joshua’s attention more than cowboys somehow. Benrey really did know his audience, “What does that mean?!” 

 

“His butt hurt so bad they put him in a butt cast.” Benrey smirked and leaned back into a Godzilla pillow. He was so good at this, fuck. Butts really were funny and Gordon was just a dumb, dumb idiot. “Why don’t we make him breakfast this time?” 

 

“Yeah! And he’ll be so happy he’ll forget about his broken butt!” Joshua jumped onto Benrey’s arm and clung to him as he stood, dangling him all the way to the kitchen. Kid couldn’t have been more than like, fifty pounds or something? Probably less. E–Z. 

 

“That’s right. Whaddya want for breakfast?” 

 

“Lucky Charms!” 

 

“Ok well, I ate the whole box on Tuesday after hitting a mad toke at the peace pipe puff puff pass with Jefferem and Josh while your pops was at the gym. Hmm, I can give you some uh, fruit?” Benrey was taking a look at their options. Most of their breakfast food needed to be assembled, and Benrey wasn’t quite sure what kids could eat. Well, Gordon wanted him to eat fruit. So probably any fruit was fine!

 

“Oh. Okay. What’s a toke?” Benrey chose to ignore this question. Oops. 

 

He handed Joshua a banana and chugged some milk straight from the gallon. It was a little chunky, but that extra texture actually made it really, really tasty. It was slightly sour, so the flavor profile was so much more complex! It also really just settled well with the pizza ache. He crushed the gallon against his forehead and tossed it into the sink, “Breakfast completed! S rank, victory royale!”

 

He pulled out a couple of eggs and fruits, and looked at them, not really sure where to go from here. Eggs get cracked on a pan, a hot pan with oil. And Gordon put a bunch of shit in there like uh, colorful fruits and mushrooms and cheese and pies and pastries and rust and rusty nails and Piraka. Yep. Benrey slapped the eggs into there, shell and all, and started throwing in whatever fruit he found. A fucking kiwi, some blueberries. Joshua got to throw in a couple of marshmallows wrapped in slices of cheese, and Benrey added a little extra special something with a dollop of canned whipped cream. This culinary war crime was plated, albeit slightly burnt on the bottom which meant that it took a little extra elbow grease to get out, and brought over to Gordon as he laid in bed. 

 

Divorced dad and Resonance Cascade survivor Dr. Gordon Freeman Ph.D was drooling in his sleep, the corner of his lip twitching. Joshua jumped in bed with him and shook him by his shoulders, “Daddy we made breakfast!”

 

Gordon screamed as Joshua manhandled him, grabbing his forehead as he pushed up against the bedframe, “Jesus Christ, holy fuck. Joshua… Joshie, baby boy. Don’t do that, please.” 

 

“Daddy no fucking swearing!” 

 

“I know.” Gordon grunted as Benrey slammed the plate of inedible filth on his lap, “... What’s this?” 

 

“Breakfast.” Benrey nodded, “You’re welcome.”

 

“What’s… in breakfast?” 

 

“Eggs cheese blueberry kiwi whipped cream marshmallows, please and thank you.” 

 

“Benrey this isn’t edible.” 

 

“Huh? Yeah, what?” 

 

“What? But Benrey worked so hard on it…” Joshua sniffled, and Gordon knew then, he had to swallow his pride… and eat the proverbial Nasty Patty. 

 

He grabbed the fork and gingerly took a piece of the omelet, and had his first bite. It was the texture of crunchy eggshell sand hell. It made him gag before his tongue even hit the foul concoction. The flavor was almost as bad, somehow sulphuric, “Good… Good work, Benrey.” 

 

“Nice. I’m uh, I’m cool.” He flopped onto bed and stretched, “So what’s uh, the schedule for a fine Saturday?”

 

“No clue. Did you two have breakfast?” 

 

“Banana!” Joshua pulled the peel out of his pocket, gross. And then he dumped it on his inedible breakfast. Doubly disgusting.

 

“Chunky milk.” Benrey’s stomach audibly protested the spoiled beverage.

 

“Benrey,” he placed a hand on his shoulder, “that milk was expired.” 

 

“Best milk I ever had. Good milk.”

 

“We’ll talk about that later.” Gordon grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and took his phone off the charger, “I was planning an arcade trip today, what do you guys think of-”

 

“Yeah! Arcade! Buttface is great at video games, we can get a million tickets!” Joshua jumped up and down on the bed, and Benrey mimicked him, shifting into different poses as the extra bouncy springs sent him up again. Gordon could tell he was using a little bit of no clip to get some extra airtime. Asshole (affectionate).

 

“Damn right,” he nodded along with the kid’s praises, “I’m a great cool. I like a good.” 

 

“He’s a great cool, Daddy,” Joshua parroted, not understanding a lick of what Benrey said but certainly getting the sentiment, “Arcade day!” 

 

“Okay, okay. Arcade day it is. Let me get ready, alright? Benrey, can you watch Joshua for a bit while I take a shower and stuff?” 

 

“Course. C’mon J-man. Let’s watch Sout Park. Not even a distant land we stuck on a whole different planet!” That was Black Tar from Xenoblade X… Wait a minute, what did he say about ‘ Sout’ Park ?

 

“Benrey NO!” 

 

---

The arcade. Benrey had no clue what dimension he had been sent to, but it certainly smelled like beer and pizza. That was good. And Gordon was in his element as evident by the grizzled scowl behind his glasses. He spent many afterschool evenings at the arcade with his friends, and of course they were all a bunch of smart alec tweens with too much time on their hands. Naturally, they figured out how to get as many tickets as possible, and the maximum bang for their proverbial buck (the price was a quarter, of course). This was one of those pay for entry places that had a bar that was active at night, and Wednesdays where girls played for free. So he was pretty confident that he was going to kick Benrey’s console gaming ass. None of that giant mobile game or ticket roulette bullcrap here. Cutting right to the fundamentals. Classic arcade machines and ticket dispensers only. 

 

Since the clientele was usually older (it was a bar and arcade), the prizes weren’t the same shlock one would see at a more modern iteration. No five-hundred ticket pencil toppers. The display case illuminated nostalgic buttons, stickers, and the high end prizes were just some nice pins featuring 90’s cartoon characters. Nothing too exciting for a kid. 

 

Benrey seemed out of his element, just as he suspected. A hardened gaze pierced the arcade cabinets with an air of suspicion, unsure of how to approach them. He looked at the Mortal Kombat machine like it was a familiar friend who had been corrupted and bastardized by forces beyond his comprehension. This was Mortal Kombat?

 

Gordon bet he didn’t even know who Ermac was, or how to unlock him. What to call Benrey when he lost… Loserey. Loserey worked. 

 

The alien stopped in front of a Space Invaders cabinet and pointed with righteous indignation, “That’s fucked up man. Aliens aren’t here to invade. I’m just a guy, bro.” 

 

“It was a different time. Calm down.” Gordon patted him on the back and ushered him away, trying to focus both of their attentions on little Joshua instead. 

 

The boy was ecstatic at the presentation of the arcade. All the flashing lights, the colorful bowling alley carpet, laden with crumbs and stained with fluids from beyond the veil of reality (the fluids are booze, soda, juice, and puke). All these games were fighting for his baby-sized attention span, and he didn’t know where to start. He finished his pouch of cashews and wiped his oily, nutty hands all over his shirt. Classic kid move. 

 

Joshua clung to Benrey’s side and tugged at his pants, “Hey Buttface?”

 

“Video games, um, Atari, Super Jumpman, I’m in a gamer’s paradise,” he stopped abruptly. His pupils flitted across the room, and then landed on Joshua. A slender, black claw extended out towards the boy, the business end of the talon right between his eyes, “Hey, brat. Pull my finger? Pretty please?” 

 

Gordon grabbed Benrey by the scruff and dragged him away, “Oh no you don’t.” He took Joshua’s hand and brought him along much more gently, “When Uncle Benny offers his finger you tell him no, because it’s a cruel trick, okay kiddo?” 

 

“Really Daddy? He wouldn’t trick me, would he?” Joshua didn’t understand why his father was so adamant against the finger pulling. Nor why he hadn’t picked out a game yet. 

 

“He’s got some mean pranks up his sleeves.” Gordon needed a little space between himself and other clientele. The Dragon’s Lair machine next to Space Invaders had a group of teens at it, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the extra stimuli. His iron grip on Benrey’s shirt loosened up after taking a few steps into an unpopulated aisle. 

 

“Nah kid, your pops is being a big ole’ butthead. Dr. Buttman strikes again. Who’re you gonna trust? This mean old man or cool n’ epic Benny boy?”

 

Joshua’s eye was caught by a brightly painted arcade machine for two players before he could answer Benrey. No, he didn’t exist anymore. It had a wild west theming, with a cowboy on a bucking stallion on the side, lasso looping around the corner, “Cowboys!” 

 

Gordon, and by extension Benrey, were tugged towards the machine, “Alright! Alright kiddo. Benrey, why don’t you take this one?”

 

“You want me to uh, quickscope these fools?” Benrey grabbed one of the guns, while Gordon fitted the plastic pistols in Joshua’s hands and instructed him on how to use it. His little fingers struggled to get around the trigger, but he had an authentic cowboy grip in no time. 

 

“Daddy! Daddy! Watch me play cowboys!” 

 

“I’m watching, kiddo! Shoot the start butto-” Turns out Joshua had a trigger finger. He was constantly shooting, and his unsteady arms meant his crosshairs were flying across the scrolling screen. It was one of those pop-up shooter games. As Gordon suspected, Benrey kind of sucked at these. Not that he was a bad aim, he actually had a pretty killer grip on most of his weapons in Black Mesa… But he kept shooting civilians and losing points. Combined with Joshua’s child aim, they didn’t do so great, and earned one, singular ticket collectively. 

 

Joshua pouted, so Gordon swooped in and pushed Benrey out of the way with his hip, “Hey, Joshie, let me take a crack at it.” 

 

And when that game started up again, Joshua was in awe at his father’s authentic cowboy shooter skills, hitting nearly every target and earning them dozens of tickets that overflowed from the dispenser. 

 

“Whoa, Daddy, you’re a cowboy!” The little boy’s eyes sparkled. That was thee coolest thing he had ever seen.

 

“Apparently?” Gordon blew the imaginary smoke off the nozzle and slotted the pistol back. He smiled at Benrey, who mumbled under his breath.

 

“He’s not really a cowboy, this isn’t Red Dead Redemption.” Benrey looked around for something that was more his style, but most of these games were unfamiliar to him. He played the Playstation. He didn’t know any Super Jumpmans or Dance Dance Revolution. This wasn’t home. This was the opposite of home. This was some facsimile of something that was familiar to him, and yet it couldn’t be further from what he knew as reality.

 

Benrey was going to be bad at these video games. Fuck.

 

And in addition to that, there were depictions of aliens being killed, shot at, and humiliated in every other cabinet. Man, did humans hate aliens. Despite Gordon’s insistence on it being a different time, Benrey could see a lot of the more modern cabinets were equally as uncharitable with their depictions of little green men with hooped laser pistols looking to shoot innocent denizens of middle class fifties Americana fantasies. It all seemed to stem from the fear that aliens would invade Earth and take over… and do what exactly? He didn’t know. Benrey took a look at some weird device that was filled to the brim with plushies. Quite a few of them were these little, ugly green aliens. Vortigaunts sure as hell didn’t look like that. They were much more morphologically practical, less human–like.

 

Joshua tugged at his father’s sleeve, “Daddy! Daddy! There’s a horsie in the claw machine!” 

 

“Really? Do you want the horse?” He wasn’t going to tell him that the claw machine was rigged. That’d make the poor kid so sad. No, he was going to try and grab that horsie. It was a little tan creature with a long, black mane of cheap plushie hair. The kind of polysynthetic fiber that couldn’t be cleaned properly no matter how hard you tried. But Joshua wanted it specifically because it had a stirrup and reins.

 

“Please daddy? Can we play?” 

 

“Fine.” Welp, Joshua managed to get him to start feeding cash to the one machine in the entire arcade that required payment to operate. He tried a few times to nab that damnable thing, but the rigged ass claw machine was unbeatable. Time after time, it gripped the leg of the horse, the neck, or wrapped around the stirrup, and suddenly would let go once it hit the top. To add insult to injury, that claw drifted over to the deposit box to drop the whole load of nothing it was packing. Yay.

 

Even Benrey took a few cracks at it, but he did worse than Gordon. Joshua looked to be on the verge of tears . So they had to think of something fast. He really wanted that horse, didn’t he? 

 

“Hey you little larva,” Benrey elbowed him and shot a delightfully wolfish smile over his shoulder, “This is boring. I spotted a game called Sunset Riders. Betcha it has cowboys.” 

 

“Really?” Joshua sniffled.

 

“Yup.” 

 

“Can you pick me up so I can see bigger?” Huh. That kid was pretty short. He wasn’t expecting Joshua to like him this much already. Benrey looked at Gordon, and he just shrugged. If Joshua wanted Benrey to carry him, Gordon wasn’t going to argue. Benrey didn’t really know what to do. He had seen Gordon pick the kid up but he was sort of… having difficulty figuring out where to pick him up from . Benrey grabbed him by his ankle and lifted him up, and Joshua squealed with ecstatic laughter as he was flung like a ragdoll. 

 

“Benrey what are you doing?” Gordon rushed to support his son’s back so all the blood in his body didn’t rush to his head. Benrey just shrugged. Joshua was having fun so, win? They worked together to readjust the kid onto Benrey’s back, and the sensation was very… different. Benrey kept him stable by putting his hands over his knees, and he constantly felt wrong . Like Joshua would fall off of him at any moment with how his center of gravity shifted, and how that movement echoed in Benrey’s senses. This wasn’t something he had any innate understanding of. He got the hang of it eventually, carefully lowering down in front of Sunset Riders and sitting in front of the cabinet, Joshua sitting on top of his shoulders so he had a better view of the screen. That way, the kid wasn’t craning his neck up and getting light interference. Gordon coached him on the game as he played, and Benrey just sort of sat there. World’s best support player. 

 

Thankfully this awkward position didn’t last long, and Gordon convinced Joshua to join them at the DDR pads. Benrey couldn’t keep up with easy songs without getting winded. He had to take a breather and get a soda from the concession stand while Joshua and Gordon enjoyed a couple of rounds together. Damn. Gordon was good at DDR. He was teaching his kid to work like him too, giving him tips on strategy, how to make the most of each move and track your foot with the pad direction. Stuff Benrey couldn’t figure out, and the kid didn’t seem to take to it naturally either. This was probably one of those skills that humans had to build over years.

 

Benrey decided to abandon DDR in favor of the weird… ball in hoop game… What was this? NBA 1982 edition? Lame. He couldn’t even get ONE ball in hoop! Score? 00! Gordon popped off the DDR machine and wiped the sweat off his brow, Joshua in tow, “Hey Benrey, having trouble there?” 

 

“BBB! No!” He clutched the basketball to his chest, “I’m great at putting the uh, giant oranges in the net, bro.” 

 

Gordon stationed himself at the hoop next to Benrey, Joshua at his side. He got himself into position, even wiggling his rump and jumping in the air with an intricate little flourish of the hands. It looked stupid. But apparently that was the technique needed to get the ball in the fucking hoop! First try!

 

“Daddy are you in the NBA!?” 

 

“No, Joshie, I’m much too short. You might be able to join one day though.” 

 

“I’m gonna be a cowboy!” 

 

“Does this cowboy want to learn how to shoot a hoop?” He pointed to the kid’s basketball hoop, which was much more manageable for a little guy like Joshua.

 

“Yeah! I wanna play banskitball!” He jumped up, holding his hands for Gordon to pick him up. ‘Uppies’ were obliged, and he carried his son over a few feet just to put him back down again. 

 

Benrey wiggled his rump, getting into position before he shot. The basketball didn’t even land close to the fucking hoop. He did the exact same thing so why was he such an F-rank loser scrub? Ugh, this arcade dimension made NO SENSE at all. GORDON was good at games and he SUCKED at it. He went to the kid’s net to watch Gordon instruct his larva. The maggot was throwing without the same skill and poise, and yet he was still being told how great of a job he was doing. Benrey couldn’t quite understand it. It was one thing to encourage pouncing behavior by pretending to be the prey, but this? It seemed like madness! He was encouraging bad form!

 

Whatever! Not his kid. It’s not like Benrey put a lot of work into encouraging his pouncing form or anything like that. He grabbed one of the kid’s basketballs and shot his shot to the baby basket. And missed. 

 

The Freemans were laughing at him. Benrey was failing at ‘baby ball in hoop’, and they were laughing. Joshua was doing better than him. He was sucking more ass than some pupa. Damn. 

 

Gordon’s belly laugh settled into a subdued chuckle, “Benrey, man, let me help you out there.” 

 

“Uh, no. I’m uh, best tosser in the NBA. LeBron style. Uhm. FIFA 2005.” Benrey blushed and hid his face, “I’m a good sports ball guy.” 

 

“Alright Joshua, I’m gonna help Benrey shoot. Think you can shoot hoops on your own now, Cowboy?” 

 

“I’m gonna dunk on Larry Byrd’s ass!” 

 

“You stay right there.” Gordon moved all of five feet to the adult net, and handed Benrey the basketball, “Square your shoulders, engage your stomach, two hands on the ball.” 

 

Gordon adjusted Benrey’s posture with his big, muscular hands. Holy shit. Benrey swallowed down the pink sweet voice rising in his throat. Fuck. “Oh uh, whoa. What? No way. Gordon is a uh, um. Ball guy? You like balls?” 

 

“Shut up.” Benrey zipped his teeth together and listened, “Okay, good. So what you want to do is aim above the hoop. Jump into it… are you a righty or a lefty?” 

 

“Uhm? Huh?” 

 

“Which hand do you write your name with?” 

 

“Luhrighhheft?” 

 

“Okay. Uh, just take the shot, man.” 

 

“Kay.” Benrey wiggled his ass, banging it against Gordon’s hip. He wheezed a laugh, watching Benrey lean forwards and half–squat, and threw the basketball with such force towards the hoop that it bounced right off the rim and slammed into Gordon’s face, knocking him into the grody carpet. 

 

“FUCK!” Gordon grabbed his nose and reeled on the floor. His glasses were shed somewhere along the way. 

 

“Uhm, sorry I balled too hard on you, bro.” Benrey knelt beside him, and prodded Gordon on the back. 

 

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Joshua was giggling, thinking that his father getting beamed in the face with a basketball was thee funniest thing he’s seen in years. He was also poking him on the back. Uncle Benny’s cool new shadow…

 

“Benrey?” He couldn’t see him very well, just the vague outline of his stupid helmet and the blotches of bright yellow where his eyes were. 

 

“You uh, fu–messed up, Gordon.” 

 

“He did fuck up.” Joshua gave him a gentle slap on the face.

 

“Joshua… language.” Gordon groaned and checked his nose for any blood. By some miracle, his veins were intact. He kicked himself for wanting a hit of morphine for something so small, “Man. Benrey…” 

 

“Mmm, you’re okay.” Benrey laid down on the floor, resting his head on his stomach like a dog. Joshua did the same thing, of course. Benrey was so cool , “Don’t be a baby Feetman.”

 

“Can you two please get off of me so I can stand up? And Joshua, don’t get your clothes dirty here! Just because Uncle Benrey is doing something doesn’t mean you do it too. Benrey has bad manners .” 

 

“Huh? What? No, not me. I have amazing marners. I’m uh, this is what uh, you’re supposed to do on the basket hoop field. When you hit a guy. Don’t you know anything?” Benrey grunted as Gordon pushed him off and stood up, dusting the grime off his shirt. He wanted to be mad at Benrey. But he really, really couldn’t be.

 

“Come on Joshie,” Gordon cracked his back… he’d feel that in the morning, “What do you want to play next?”

 

“Cowboys! Cowboys! Cowboys!” Joshua clambored on Gordon like a jungle gym and pointed to yet another western themed game.

 

“Alright Sheriff, let’s go!” Gordon lifted him up onto his shoulders and jogged towards the arcade machine. Benrey had to scramble to his feet and dash to keep up with their jaunt, winded by the time he made it there. Gordon forgot his glasses! But it was a good thing Benrey could never forget them. 

 

---

There he was, enjoying a wonderful day with his son. He lost Benrey maybe an hour ago. But Benrey is a grown man. Er, alien space god thing. Surely he can be unsupervised in a public place for even a little while, right? Wrong. So very wrong. Gordon was the unsuspecting victim of an arcade employee whilst he was helping Joshua with a racing game. This poor teenager tapped him on the shoulder, grimacing with black and blue braces. 

 

“Are you a Mister Gordo Freetman?” His voice cracked.

 

His heart skipped a beat. Were the cops after him? G-Man? Did he let something slip? Oh fuck. “Uhm, yeah? How come?” 

 

“I think you lost something.” 

 

---

“Benrey how the fuck did you get stuck in the claw machine?!” Oh, so that’s where Benrey has been. 

 

“LET ME OUT OF THIS BOX! GET ME OUT OF THE BOX!” Benrey was banging on the glass, a hand clutched around a cheap horse plushie, “GORDON HELP!” 

 

“Dude calm down, you're scaring Joshua!” 

 

Joshua was not, in fact, scared. He was rolling on that disgusting floor, giggling and clutching his sides. Now he had to worry about Joshua getting dirty too, “Daddy! Daddy! Look at Uncle Buttface!” 

 

“This is your brother?” The teen knocked on the claw machine, “Because uh, I can’t get him out.” 

 

“No, no he’s not. Uhm.” Gordon ran his hands through his hair, loosening it from his ponytail, “Dude you gotta calm down.” 

 

Benrey slammed his face against the glass and continued his fruitless scratching, “Gordon please get me out it stinks like butts and mildew! Please!?” 

 

Gordon decided to join his son in a bit of immature fun, “Okay, you know what? That serves you right, jackass. How did you even get in there?”

 

Benrey looked at the hole the prize would be deposited in, “Uh, yeah. I did uhm, contorts, in college. Majored in umm, stretching?” 

 

“Mr. Freeman we’re going to have to call an operator from our supplier to get him out.” The kid held his forehead, because this was going to be a lot of extra work. And god knows what the store owners were going to do to him for letting this happen under his watch.

 

“Benrey, you better get comfortable in there. It’s going to be a while.” Gordon picked Joshua up and slung him over his shoulder, and went to lean on the claw machine. Benrey pressed into the glass separating them, hoping to catch a little bit of Gordon’s heat through its transient property. 

 

Gordon knew damn well he used some alien bullshit to get something in there. And although initially quite amused by the situation, Joshua was going to get bored pretty soon. There were still games around the claw machine, which made this a bit easier to keep him distracted. He put his kid down and pointed to some of the more visible cabinets as a crowd gathered around to see the security guard stuck in the crane game. 

 

Benrey was lavishing in this attention. He lounged on his throne of plushies, posing to show off his physique to his adoring fan base of gawking grognards. Someone was kind enough to hand him up a burger, which Benrey was instructed to eat over the prize-hole so that he didn’t get crumbs everywhere. Joshua was playing games. Benrey and Gordon were watching him. This was good, still. Gordon could feel Benrey’s purring through the glass as he pressed up against it. Must have been a mighty rumble for it to pierce the crystal lattice. For the sake of shits and giggles, Gordon turned on the claw machine and tried to grab Benrey. It gave a weak tug at his shirt, and not much else. 

 

“Aww man, I didn’t win a stupid asshole. Jeez. This thing is rigged. I want my quarter back.” He snapped his fingers.

 

“Probably better off.” The teenage employee snickered. He let this happen because he also thought this was funny. Unprofessional but funny. 

 

“Bro oww–uh. Why’d you do that? Man. By the way Joshua is gonna clock another kid you gotta get on that like now, dad of the year.” Benrey pointed towards Joshua, who was fighting for control of Pac–Man with a child of the same age. Gordon rushed to pull his boy away. The classic Freeman fighting spirit. Benrey perched upon his throne of stuffed animals and watched the show. Man, he really shouldn’t have noclipped in public. 

 

---

After three long hours of waiting, Benrey was finally to be let out of his stuffed prison. He stretched his body, producing a rippling bone crackle from the tips of his claws to his toes. Gordon was… mildly disgusted… but living with Benrey for a few months now, the gross–out factor really was starting to dwindle. 

 

The alien jumped into his arms and gave him a squeeze, “It’s been eighty four years!” 

 

“Dude we’ve been right here the whole time.” 

 

“What’s changed on the outside? Did the PS4 come out? Are pills in lotion form now? Did IrateGamer and AVGN do a Mukbang together and bury the hatchet?” He nestled his face in Gordon’s shirt. A little too clingy for his liking but, well. If Gordon somehow got stuck like that he’d probably be a bit… much… as well. Benrey got a few good pats on the back, and Joshua clung onto his leg.

 

“What the?” Gordon wheezed. What the fuck as Benrey been watching after he fell asleep? “What?! The PS4 is out. I don’t know who IrateGamer is.”

 

“The world has changed… so much.” He winked at Gordon and flashed the horsie he smuggled in his pocket. Stealing was wrong but… fuck it! He got stuck in a claw machine, he could keep the fucking horsie.

 

“I missed you Uncle Benny.” Joshua had basically forgotten about him for the past 3 hours, and instead was playing Mortal Kombat on the arcade’s family friendly settings. He didn’t get any of the epic gore. 

 

“Really? Mind doing me a favor Joshua?” Benrey put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. 

 

“What is it Buttface?” 

 

Benrey held a single, gangly claw out to him, dipped in darkness and tipped with disemboweling might. His low, rumbling voice drawled out, “Pull my finger, lil’ Freeman.” 

 

“BENREY!” Gordon grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out while he babbling cackled, “I think we’ve been at the arcade long enough, Joshua?” 

 

“I wanna go to McDonald’s!” Joshua howled like a foghorn and stomped his feet, “I want McNuggets!”

 

“We had McDonald’s yesterday. Daddy is cooking something tonight.” 

 

“Noooo!” Joshua whined and latched onto Benrey’s arm, trying to fight against his father’s grownup strength. As if there was some way for Benrey to help him right about now. 

 

Back to his shitty orange Corolla. God, G-man cheaped out with the car. And of course it had to be orange, he couldn’t have anything nice, could he? 

 

---

 

Benrey fell back onto bed. He finished Joshua’s food for him, since he said Gordon’s food was ‘uneatable’ today. Turns out even when Benrey was gorging himself on Gordon’s quinoa, the kid had limits. He said it had too much corn, and even when Gordon painstakingly removed the kernels by hand, he still said he could taste the corn water in the rest of the meal. Gordon gave up and reheated some pizza for him, since he agreed to have that. Humans were weird like that. Picky. Strong preferences. Weird, unspoken rules and cues that everyone was expected to understand, and yet no one would explain. Being picky on Xen would have been incredibly inconvenient. Starving to death wasn’t something unknown to him, but he sure as hell didn’t like to do it. A bad meal was better anyday.

 

During their time in Black Mesa, he was just having fun. He was free, and there was this cute guy who had a dick slip looking out for him. He didn’t realize he hated him. How could Gordon have hated him? He caught him when he fell. He was sad the first time he died. In hindsight, it was because Gordon thought it was permanent. But Benrey thought it was because he was so upset that he’d be gone for a few days. He had just… completely misunderstood their relationship. But now? He wasn’t so sure what they were. 

 

His body was consistently nourished by Gordon’s cooking. They slept in bed together and stared at the other with half–lidded eyes. Gordon even extended the most precious of trusts to him and gave him permission to supervise his brat. From his fights with mother animals after failing to pick off their pups and larva? That’s big. He still vividly remembered getting got by a bullsquid he tried to nab some eggs from, and being slammed against the floor and gored to death before he could shapeshift any defense.

 

“You seem lost in thought.” Gordon was reading some nerd shit. Truth About Aliens . Bah, of course he was. His life had become irreversibly intertwined with the extraterrestrial.

 

“Nothing.” Benrey lied seamlessly.

 

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

 

“Shut up, Geekdon Freakman.” Venting some frustration, he stuck his tongue out in Gordon’s face, “Look at what you’re reading right next to me. C’mon man.” 

 

“It cheers me up. I kind of feel bad that Joshua thought dinner was a bust.” 

 

“It’s fucking scrumptious. Your grub is just weird about grub.” 

 

“Stop–Stop fucking calling my son a worm! What’s the deal with that?” 

 

“He’s a little larva. What instar is he on anyway?” Benrey smacked his lips and stretched his limbs out with a stomach–churning crackle. 

 

“Huh? Instar?”

 

“His molt?” 

 

“Ben–What the–No? Human children don’t do that.” 

 

“Shit. Welp. Thanks for dinner. Yum yum. Goodnight!” Benrey nabbed the covers and rolled in place, trapping him in a cocoon of comforters.

 

“What’s wrong, man? Do you molt?” 

 

Benrey blew a stream of red sweet voice into Gordon’s face, “NO. GOODNIGHT.” 

 

“Stop that! I can’t read your mind. I’m not a native speaker of sweet voice, man.” He coughed and swatted them away. And then he thought about yawning… and he also yawned. Just great, red sweet voice was contagious now.

 

“Ugh. You’re killing me!” Benrey kicked his legs around, pushing Gordon halfway off the bed. 

 

“Hey, hey–footsie isn’t getting you out of this one.” 

 

“Fine. I uh, was thinking about how… “ Benrey pulled his helmet over his eyes and blew out some yellow and sea green sweet voice. Gordon took a sip of it. Gordon was suddenly so, so aware of himself. He hated his soft fat, his hairy skin with its thousands of breathing, undulating pores. The way he spoke in every interaction he ever had. Even the way he breathed. Hyperconscious of every little minutia of what gave him a sense of self. Benrey was beyond mortified.

 

“Jesus Christ. Benrey, I’m not going to judge you that harshly for anything you tell me. Sheesh!” 

 

“Wait, no shit?” 

 

“Duh, dumbass.” Gordon flicked him on the nose, “Don’t be embarrassed. How about this, you say what you want to say, and I’ll tell you something embarrassing about myself.” 

 

“Oh shoot. Um. I love youuuuuu–r cooking . Oh man, I could uh, eat it all day. Man, it’s so good and uh. Yeah you’re my best friend. Can I kiss you?” Oh fuck, Benrey said the thing he wasn’t supposed to, “Because um, you need to kiss the cook. As per tradition, right?” 

 

Nice save.

 

Gordon snorted into his hand, and then broke out in a hideous chortle, “You know what man? I love you, you’re so fucking weird.” He tilted his head, and tapped his cheekbone, “Right here.” 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“That’s where you can kiss the cook .” 

 

Benrey didn’t hesitate, he jumped on Gordon and planted his lips there, sweet voice bouncing around in his mouth as he desperately tried to keep it caught between his teeth. But he had to pull back and let it all out. Pink and blue again. Benrey was making this a habit. And a nasty one at that. 

 

“Gordon? Your turn.” Benrey stared at him expectantly. He rolled over onto his stomach and held his face in his hands, kicking his feet over his head. Slumber party style.

 

“Alright. So at a state championship relay lap race, it’s a game that would have gotten my team to the nationals, right? Gotta wear speedos. I dove into the water, and my swimsuit came off immediately . We were disqualified, and uh, a lot of people saw my junk. Everyone laughed at me.”

 

“Did the HEV suit actually jerk your ween off?” Benrey made a rather lewd motion with one of his hands. Jacking off the air. Nice.

 

“BENREY you CANNOT just ask that as a followup question.” Gordon’s soul left his body via wheezing. Benrey loved to hear that unabashed laugh, where his whole body reverberated with the force.

 

Benrey smacked his lips a few times, and let the silence linger for a few seconds, “... Did it?” 

 

“Uh, yeah. Constantly. That and the morphine kept me aggressive.” Gordon didn’t feel so weird about saying something like this to him. Not anymore, at least. He wasn’t going to judge him, or use it against him in a meaningful way. At worst, some playful teasing would ensue.

 

“Nice.” Benrey yawned out some more red bubbles, “Excuuuuuse me! So, wanna cuddle tonight? It’s a little cold for me, and uh, you’re all warm n’ toasty n’ stupid stuff like that.” 

 

Gordon didn’t say anything more, he wiggled into Benrey’s arms and brought his hand over his chest to warm his core up. Benrey was enraptured in his arms, feeling the warmth of his mammalian heart penetrate his skin in waves of comfort. Gordon stank like the shower and wet human oil. He was perfect. Perfect to hold, perfect to hold him. He felt so lucky to live such a comfortable life, in Gordon’s arms. Being a part of his family. Being accepted in a pack where faces lit up at the sight of him.

 

In turn, Gordon was surprised when Benrey fell asleep first, and his weird grunting kitten snore rumbled across his body. And he really was just a big cat, wasn’t he? His hand found its way to his back, and he stroked him down the protruding spine. And his purring grew louder. Cute. Gordon was already planning tomorrow’s breakfast, trying to figure out what Joshua and Benrey would both like. This was deep. Real deep. He was thinking about breakfast for both of them, and somehow he was totally lost in this formula, as if he didn’t need or want to eat. When did Benrey also become a priority? 

 

Waffles. Joshua and Benrey would both love waffles.

Chapter 20: Interlude: Freeman Jr.’s Hereditary Insomnia

Summary:

joshua can't sleep. uncle buttface is here to save the day!

Notes:

hey guys. i didn't do much for this one. it's really quick and bad. i apologize. i hope you enjoy it anyways. it's not beta read and it's shorter than hell.

hope you have a wonderful week! my tumblr is @benrey-did-nothing-wrong . i post polls and stuff about the fics and act like an idiot.

btw the thesis name is actual HL lore.

The Freeman lineage is a host to many idiosyncrasies that define the blood members of the family. These were small things, usually. The one stubborn piece of curly, dark hair over the right side of their faces, the weird birthmark on their neck, poor temper, Lynch syndrome, lifelong back acne, and of course insomnia . And Joshua woke up at two in the morning, and found that after tossing and turning, he couldn’t get back to sleep. 

 

He was scared for a moment of monsters under the bed, something lurking in the dark. But Benrey was a werewolf, and that meant he had a keen sense of smell and could certainly hear him if he screamed. So that meant he was safe. Joshua clutched his plush zebra, and in his wrenching, developing mind, he decided the best course of action was to shriek and cry. 

 

Not that he was scared. He just wanted Benrey to come and see him, and from experience he knew his father would sleep through his wailing. That’s why he could sneak out of his room in the middle of the night and grab more cashews without him knowing.

 

Benrey, hearing Gordon’s pride and joy–the fruit of his loins–cry out in terror, phased through the wall between their rooms. And there was nothing there but Joshua. 

 

What Benrey had said was true. His eyes glowed in the dark. And the glint of it reflected in his jagged maw. He stood floating at the foot of his bed like a spectre, and Joshua hushed himself. Maybe he had invited a monster into his room. With an inquisitive cock of his chin, he investigated the maggot. No injuries. No predators in his room. Dramatic ass Freeman.

 

He smacked his lips, and his pupil darted against the shine of his eyes, “Yo. Uh, whatcha screaming about, what’s your name, Jason?” 

 

“Um, Joshua. Are you gonna eat me?” 

 

“Nah. What’s the matter? Got um, uh…” What the hell would make a child scream like that? “You saw cops?” 

 

“No? Um, Uncle Buttface? I can’t sleep.”

 

“Oh, your daddy has that problem, usually a bit of ball–nevermind.” Benrey probably shouldn’t douse the child in sweet voice without Gordon’s permission, “I got just the thing.” 

 

Benrey disabled noclip and popped down at the corner of the room, looking like one hell of a hat rack viewed from benadryl-tinted glasses. He grabbed Joshua’s baseball bat and tapped it on his palm as he approached. “Uh, Buttface?” 

 

“Huh? What? I use this trick all the time when I can’t sleep. I just uh, beat myself over the head until I start snoozing. Cool sleep speedrun.” Benrey tapped the bat over his forehead and measured up his swing, until Gordon’s rule flashed before him. Hurting Joshua was strictly prohibited, and being hit with a baseball bat hurts. Fucking Gordon Feetman making everything difficult. He lowered the bat and tossed it on a giant stuffed horse with a deflated little sigh, “Wait. I’m not supposed to do that to you. Uh, sorry.” 

 

“You were gonna hit me in the head with a bat?! Wicked!” Joshua pulled his horse themed covers up, only poking his eyes out as his eyes started to water.

 

Realizing he fucked up, Benrey knelt by his bed and pulled the covers down, putting his hand over his mouth, “Bro I fuck– eff’d up, sorry. Uh, shoot. What does your dad usually do?”

 

“Mm?” Joshua pouted and rolled his eyes.

 

“Oh, right, the hand. Sorry kiddo I’m uh… maybe we should get your daddy to–” The moment Benrey retracted his hand, Joshua exploded with a barely coherent squeal.

 

“But I want you to do it!” He grabbed Benrey by the hand and shook him around, “Daddy usually reads me his thesis to sleep! The Observation of Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen Entanglement on Supraquantum Structures by Induction Through Nonlinear Transuranic Crystal of Extremely Long Wavelength (ELW) Pulse from Mode-Locked Source Array.” 

 

Benrey’s eyes were spinning by the end of that mouthful. Wow, he loved Gordon. Thank god he didn’t talk about this stuff like a turbo-nerd. He must’ve been really smart, “Oh, uh… okay? Um, what does that mean?” 

 

“Daddy says that the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox states that–” 

 

“Nevermind. Don’t wanna hear it. You’re gonna make my head blow up.” Benrey grabbed a hardcover book from under Joshua’s bed, and found that it indeed was titled Gordon Freeman’s Thesis . Benrey would show him. He’d fling his thesis right back at him! How opulent was this? Gilded golden lettering, quality blue threading on the cover, the fresh smell of high quality paper; Gordon had the whole package right here! What the fuck was he even looking at? 

 

Finding purchase at the bottom of the rolling desk chair in the kid’s room, he plopped down on the plush seat right as he pulled it under him, shaking his rump to get nice and comfy. It was a very plush chair, and it smelled more like Gordon than Joshua. With a fully supported back and all the mental preparation needed, he cleared his throat. Flipping to the title page, he was met with that fucking thesis statement again. Or whatever it was, “Okay, yeah, not rereading that title. Gordon Freeman, A Doctorate Thesis Presented by the faculty of the Department of Physics and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. In fulfillment for a Doctorate Degree in…”

 

Joshua stared up at Benrey as he trailed off into a deafening snore. The book fell on the floor, creasing a page of Gordon’s second greatest pride. Joshua reached a courageous hand out, despite the wariness of the rest of him. He shook Benrey’s knee, making him snort awake, “Buttface? Benrey?” 

 

“Whahappun? Oh, hello! Is the sun shining already?” 

 

“You fell asleep reading the title page.” 

 

“Oh… Um, well that’s not gonna work. It’s putting me to sleep too fast.” Benrey scratched his lower back and blew out some red sweet voice, “Any other reading material?” 

 

“I have some picture books on my desk?” Joshua pointed over to the adorable little desk on the other side of the room, double decker, covered in cowboy figurines, and horses painted across its face, rearing and running through the prairie.

 

Benrey loomed over the desk, staring at the strewn out picture books… none of these had guns or cool stuff. Just soft watercolor edges with kind textures. Man, Joshua had some lame tastes. There wasn’t even a gaming magazine. 

 

Still, he had to make a choice, and the picture book with the awesome grub seemed cool enough, “The Very Hungry Cater-peelar . The fuck is that word?” 

 

“Language!” 

 

“Ok… ¿Qué carajo significa esto?” Benrey shoved him the book and pointed at the word ‘caterpillar’. Joshua didn’t speak much Spanish, but he had enough foreign language acquisition in that noggin of his to recognize just how inept his pronunciation was.

 

Benrey had to peruse the pile of books on his desk for a bit, but he did eventually find a book with that title, a beautiful watercolor horse on the front cover, “Yo, is this a cowboy book?” 

 

“No, it’s about steel cowboys!” 

 

“Nice.” Benrey plopped down at the edge of the bed and kicked the rolling chair away, “Get the HELL away from me. Turn on that desk lamp. We’re gonna look at some cool horse pics.” 

 

Joshua put on a dim light, and saw that Benrey’s skin was blue for a moment, before circular blotches of pale peach blossomed across his skin like the chromatophores of a squid. Kyle was not gonna believe this. 

 

“Nice. Okay, um, Sir Horatio, by Dr. Lynn.” Benrey scratched the top of his helmet. Where were the pictures? Whatever. He flipped the page, and oh, there were the pictures. It was the scene of a jousting competition, with the arena in the background and a knight and his horse in the foreground. It looked like Borderlands. But Benrey had no frame of reference for hard outlines and watercolors, only that it vaguely looked like Borderlands. “In times of yore, in the age of dragons, a brave knight stood with his faithful horse, Horatio. What does ‘yore’ even mean? This sucks. What’s so brave about standing uh, with a horse?”

 

“Buttface!”

 

“Oh uh,” Benrey showed him the picture and flipped to the next page, “In the jousting game, no greater champions had stood before. Wait, this doesn’t even rhyme? BORING!” 

 

Benrey tossed the book at the window, letting it flop to the floor after impact, “How about I tell you a story about me? Something epic I did with your dad.” 

 

“YES! WEREWOLF STORY WEREWOLF STORY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!” He bounced up and down on the bed. Benrey stared, slightly mystified by his pointless waste of energy. 

 

“Shh. Listen.” Benrey pulled a soda out from his trusty ass and popped the tab, “Your pops and I got a few double uh, double lives. So one, we were in um, Los Santos, and we were riding with the top off, taking in the California heat. Tanning. This is the awesome thing–Three mil in the uh, tank. And your daddy was clinging to my arms while Bubby, our getaway driver, was taking the wheel. He was all like ‘Benrey you’re so brave and handsome and strong and helpful. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please don’t leave me!’ And I was all like, ‘Cool.’ And um, the sunset came.” 

 

“And then what happened?” Joshua was now sitting cross cross on his bed, leaning towards Benrey as if it’d help him absorb every last drop of detail. 

 

“We uh, dashed into a lobby. For a uh, apartment complex or something. And then um, an Apache helicopter attacked us! And it was all like PEW PEW PEW BWWAAAAH NANANANANANANA PchEEWWW!” 

 

Joshua joined in on making gun noises, “Bang! Bam! Bang bang bang!” 

 

“Yeah! Just like that! So we were surrounded by cops and a heli, so I throw a grenade down and it goes BWOAH and a buncha bodies go flying everywhere! And they’re like–these low-tier idiots go ‘Ahh no Benrey is too awesome, we can’t beat him and his friends love him so much and think he’s so cool and helpful!’ And I’m taking cover behind some concrete.” 

 

“How many people died?” 

 

“A lot.” 

 

“Woah. What about the helicopter?” 

 

“So it was an hour-long standoff. I’d rush outta cover, shoot at the Apache, and they’d try to shoot me and fail cause they’re uh, sucky goons. I eventually land the shot that sends it careening into a building, BWOOOOOOSH, and then it starts to crumble! And–And the whole city gets covered in ash n’ shit!” 

 

“Yeah!?” Joshua jumped up and down on the bed, “Then what?!” 

 

“Um, your dad said I was good. And that I was… cool. Um, and he needed me on his team. And then I stole a sports car and crashed and killed us all.” Benrey pulled him down to make him quit jumping, “And that we were best friends.” 

 

“What did you say to him?” Joshua shoved his nails into his mouth and gnawed on them. 

 

“Um. Watch this, and then I threw down a grenade and team killed us all so we could log off GTA Online. The end.” Benrey stared expectantly at him.

 

“Um, Benrey? I’m more awake now than I was before.” 

 

“I’m so bad at this haha. Um, hmm,” Benrey pulled out his phone and looked up ‘Hwo to mkae kids eep? help’, which yielded some lackluster long term solutions rather than something short term. How the hell was he supposed to establish a schedule in ten minutes? Although hopeless at a glance, he found that there’s sleeping rags in real life, just like the movies and video games! “Hey, kid, where do you guys keep the chloroform?” 

 

“Um, we don’t have any?” 

 

“Dammit. Uh, this article says that it might help if you have something that smells like your daddy. Gimme a moment.” Benrey phased through the wall and rummaged through the hamper. Gordon’s crusty undies, Gordon’s pants that smelled kind of like swamp ass and cheap cologne, Gordon’s socks that probably host a whole ecosystem of unique bacteria… Bingo! Gordon’s gym shirt! Benrey took a whiff and, yep, that was concentrated Gordon right there! All the sweat, testosterone, and that one patch of back acne he was embarrassed about. He phased back in, “Yo kid I looted this from your stinky dad’s laundry basket. How does this work?” 

 

“EWW! NO WAY!” Joshua threw a pillow at him, “Get that away from me it stinks! Daddy smells bad ! Not like Mommy, she always smells like herself.” 

 

“Um, okay, so it looks like um, crate training puppies techniques isn’t helping here.” He phased back out, and returned sans the gross shirt, “Fuck. Anything else your daddy would do?” 

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Uh, Gordon takes gummy bears to sleep sometimes. Lemme grab them.” He slipped through the wall and into the bathroom, looking into the mirror for the bears. The huge, half empty bottle had three consecutive memos written on it. 

 

Benrey, don’t you think about it!

–Gordon FREEman

Think about what? 

 

I mean it!

–Gordon FREEman

Huh? Mean what?

 

Benrey, don’t feed these to Joshua. These are NOT for Joshua. He is too young for these. Do not feed these to Joshua or so help me I will wring your intestines around your neck and force feed you your own colon.

–Gordon FREEman

 

Okay, so, that was out. He returned empty handed with his head hung, but Joshua didn’t seem too upset, just mildly uncomfortable being as tired as he was. Benrey paced around the room as Joshua popped his thumb in his mouth to try and make the lollipop noise. The gears were turning, but they were rusty and barely clinging to the rest of the machinery and there was a corpse jammed between the cogs that was holding up progress. Benrey always felt sleepy after a large meal. Maybe Joshua was having a hard time sleeping because he didn’t eat much for dinner other than part of a pizza. 

 

“Uh, snacks? I like sleeping off dinner.” Benrey learned about being a big ‘dinner guy’ from Tommy, who held his dinners in high esteem. Nothing quite hit like going to bed after a good dinner. 

 

“I thought snacks gave you energy.” 

 

“Not me. Need a nap after snacks. Whaddya want?” 

 

“Cashews!”

 

“Cool.” Benrey led him out to the kitchen, and opened up the pantry. He knew they had a huge thing of cashews somewhere. Gordon gave them out as little treats occasionally. The note here was smudged by nut oil. So it probably wasn’t important. Benrey crumpled it up and ate it. Mm. Yummy. The hefty plastic container landed with a thud on the dining room table, and Joshua jumped up to unscrew the cap and stuff handfuls of cashews in his mouth. 

 

“Finally!” He wiped his mouth and tried to chew all those nuts he managed to eat. 

 

Benrey hummed in amusement, and served himself a bowl of nuts. And he actually quite liked it. Joshua had a point, cashews are good. Somehow, fifteen minutes later, there were no cashews left. Mostly because they ate them. That was the somehow. 

 

“Any sleepier?” Benrey was feeling queasy, and ready to slip back into Gordon’s arms. 

 

“Benrey? I don’t feel so good.” 

 

“Me neither kiddo, HURK –” 

 

---

 

They stood at the bedroom doorway, Benrey threw a basketball at Gordon, and when he shot up, wide awake and screaming. Unsympathetic to his roommate, Benrey clapped his hands with a rather entitled sense of authority. 

 

Gordon grabbed the crowbar from under his bed and sat up with it pointed to the bleary silhouettes from the hallway, backed by the angelic fluorescent light that could only be perceived by those who woke up unsatisfied with their rest who also had severe astigmatism. 

 

“Who the fuck is that?! I’m going to kill you!” Gordon slipped out of bed and groped for his glasses fruitlessly. He shambled towards them in his boxers, flinging his crowbar around. 

 

“Daddy why do you keep a stick with you when you sleep?” 

 

Seeing it was just his son and Benrey, he was a little more calm. But it was early as shit. He dropped the weapon on the carpet and softened his tone just enough to thinly veil his rage, “What?” 

 

“We threwed up.” Joshua sniffled. 

 

“Jesus Christ… Benrey, clean it up!”  Gordon grabbed him by his Godzilla shirt and pulled him closer, “You smell like puke and nuts! Why did you give Joshua the cashews I wrote a note there specifically to–Agh you stupid… Oh I wish I could tell you just what I think. You’re scrubbing it!”

 

“I don’t know how there’s cashews everywhere.”

 

“I hate you so much,” he let him go and rubbed his temples, “Fine. Let me… get my glasses. Why did you give him what would have been my cashews?” 

 

“It’s mine too. You said we share food.”

 

“BENREY I told you about eating so much that you puke! Have some self restraint!” 

 

The stupid failure alien threw himself into the throes of guilt, getting down on his hands and knees, “Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry–” 

 

He had been a bit harsh, hadn’t he?

 

“Okay. Calm down. Benrey, come with me, you’re going to learn how to clean it up and Joshua, go brush your teeth and go to bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Gordon put those glasses on and went off with Benrey to… assess the damage to put it mildly. 

And me, your author, hi there. I’m going to spare you the gory details. That’s right. Even I find this too distasteful to write. Who do you think I am? George R. [Graphic Description of Daenerys Taking a Diarrhea Dump] R. Martin? All you need to know is that at one point Benrey mentioned something about the puking mechanic being a bad addition to the game. Whatever that meant. 

Gordon returned to bed with Benrey after tucking Joshua in, and reading him his thesis for the six-hundredth time. Benrey was waiting for him, a bit of shame hanging over his head. And maybe he was a bit in awe of how Gordon so seamlessly… fathered . Benrey wished he had an instinct like that.

 

They cuddled up next to each other, Benrey putting his head on Gordon’s shoulder and traced his finger around his jaw, “Why were you up?” 

 

“Heard Joshua screaming. Got ready to fight.”

 

“He never really got into the ‘monster’ phase as a kid. He’s pretty fearless. More of a fighter than a hider.” Gordon was eying him with suspicion.

 

“Kiddo wanted me to help him get back to sleep. Looks like he wears your shitass sleep jeans.” 

 

“I didn’t even hear him. Poor kid. But–Hmm. Uh, how do I put this?” Gordon ground his teeth as he tried to find the words, “Thanks for trying to take care of him, but in the future, you should watch how I do it before jumping into this. I don’t want you to be with my son unsupervised. You’re dangerous.” 

 

“I know what I am.” Benrey rested his chin on top of Gordon’s head, “I uh, I try. Tried, I guess.” 

 

“I just want to be sure I can help him if you make a mistake. The way you played with him? That was inspiring. It made me realize that you’re… I don’t know. It grounded me to you, and us to nature. Does that make sense?” 

 

“Not at all.” 

 

“When I was scared of you, I thought of you as a wild beast in my house who was going to eat me.” 

 

“Eww. No. Humans give me gas.” 

 

“Wonderful, thank you for reiterating that, Ben.” Gordon laughed into his chest, pressing his bared teeth against his cotton shirt, “I was going to call you majestic, but I think that killed the mood.”

 

“I just ate so many nuts I puked. Think uh, think I lost the right to be called that.” Benrey closed his eyes and started purring. “You’re holding me. Cool.” 

 

“Holy shit. Oh I’m so sorry.” Gordon scrambled away, pushing himself off and turning over in the bed, “I’m so so sorry. I was so tired I–I just did what I used to do with my ex-wife.” 

 

“We’re uh, cool. Goodnight.” Benrey grabbed his shoulder and pulled him closed, “Hand hold and AVGN?” 

 

“Sounds good, bud.” 

 

---

 

Gordon found himself in the catacombs, Benrey stretched above him in ceremonial garb, armies of skeletons standing at arms with their spears in hand, in Black Mesa guard uniforms hanging off their frames, sagging. They saluted Benrey as he glided through the hall and towards an open marble coffin. 

 

The air was thick and musty, and Gordon could feel the weight of the pressure in the room. He was in a toga. Or, well, his idea of a toga. Hardly historically accurate, he was sure.

 

Benrey stopped him in front of the stone casket, and grabbed Gordon’s hands in his own skeletal claws. They were the length of his forearm each, and yet they rapped gently on his skin, taking care to not harm him. 

 

“Yo, man. You ever think about your death?” His long neck wobbled and cracked as he lowered it down to meet Gordon at his eye level. Cold air breathed through his eyeless sockets, and his teeth seemed fused to his skull like a placoderm.

 

“Wait wha–” Before Gordon could ask for elaboration, Benrey kicked him into the coffin and blew a raspberry as a parting gift. 

 

“Start thinking now, loser!”

 

---

 

Gordon woke up with a yelp, feeling Benrey’s hands on his, and his face squishing against his belly, bracing in his dreams from how tense his sleeping body felt. Great. So now they were really cuddling. This was going somewhere he wasn’t quite sure he was comfortable with… Was he? It was hard to tell. Not after that nightmare. But he had to reassure himself: This was just residual. A little reminder that opioids would never quite leave him.

 

How frustrating.

Chapter 21: Dr. Sugardaddy's Mall Adventure

Summary:

Gordon takes Joshua and Benrey to the mall. Antics ensue.

Notes:

TW: SOAP EATER, divorce talk, child of divorce

tumblr: @benrey-did-nothing-wrong

hey its ya boy back with your weekly dose of YAOI. fun fact: I wrote the bath and bodyworks section before that image of the gang being there was posted to tumblr. seeing that genuinely scared me for a moment. this has been written since. january. anyways.

while normally i dont write benrey as energetic as this, i think this is literally the most stimulated he has ever been outside of combat. he's a danger to himself and others <3

The Den of Capitalism. The Belly of the Beast. The Place Where Human Decency Goes to Die. Gordon had many names for the mall. Benrey and Joshua desperately wanted to go, and well, Gordon was along for the ride. He had to take a hefty portion of some blue sweet voice before this to not freak the fuck out. Gordon walked into the shiny white image of a capitalist dystopia, ready to set the cynicism aside for his family. And his roommate. They were in awe of the mall. The former Mrs. Freeman didn’t have the time to go out shopping, and did everything online. That meant Joshua never really got to see one. Gordon was more of a brick and mortar type guy.

 

Benrey slammed into the glass of the first shop he saw, pointing at a five-thousand dollar suit. The thing was hideous too! It looked like someone vomited poorly sewn black wool into a white coat, “Gordon! Gordon I want it!”

 

“Dude that’s a suit from Theory, you don’t know anything about anything, how did you immediately pick out a suit that could pay for my car’s transmission?” 

 

“Congrats on the uh, car. For coming out.” Benrey wanted it. Bad. But Gordon peeled him off with an oily pop. He was NOT getting that suit after such a shitass joke. G–Man would kill him. 

 

Joshua blew a raspberry from Gordon’s shoulders, “It’s ugly! It looks like it was made from a dirty mop!”

 

“Pound it, Joshie.” Gordon got a fistbump out of his kid. Hell yeah, he was winning dad points. 

 

Benrey huffed, and then bolted across the store and slammed into the display window at the Bath and Bodyworks, “POTIONS!?” He ran inside, knocking a middle-aged woman on her ass as he shoulder-checked her. Gordon’s soul left his body as he witnessed Benrey proceed to open up a ‘Try Me’ bottle of body wash and squeeze its gelatinous purple contents into his mouth.

 

“BENREY NO!” Gordon held tight onto Joshua and ran after Benrey as he opened up more ‘potions’ and sampled them all. The flavor was not dissuading him, the colors alone were appealing enough. Rainbow lotions, appealing jelly soaps and hand sanitizers were sucked down in seconds. Benrey gagged on them for a while as Gordon flailed around and employees struggled to compose themselves. This was a situation that was beyond unprecedented. But Gordon came to his senses, and with an efforted heimlich maneuver over the sink, he got Benrey to spit out a majority of the suds. He didn’t know if hygiene products were going to make Benrey sick if he ate them, but he didn’t want to find out on his rug or see him with an ailment that had him barfing soapy bubbles.

 

Benrey, shockingly, managed to keep all the ‘potions’ down after Gordon stopped him from seeming even more deranged. And he still managed to wrangle Gordon into purchasing him some hand sanitizers that he thought smelled ‘cool’, some hand lotion (B-But my poor chapped fingies!) and getting Joshua a cowboy hat for a hand sanitizer. And it was all overpriced. Nope, Gordon wasn’t going to complain. They were happy! And their happiness was priceless. Benrey was coughing up soap foam and retching from the flavor, so he got some sodas for the three of them. Joshua rested his cup on Gordon’s head, and pointed at the Lego store, begging to go. And of course, whatever Joshua wanted, he got. It was a floor down, so Gordon went to the escalator, putting his son down to be safe.

 

The first few seconds were actually rather serene. Sure, it was loud, but the interior had been nicely designed from an architectural standpoint. There was plenty of natural sunlight, and lines of live plants were arranged in a grind around the plaza, little shops full of sunglasses and hotdogs were- 

 

Benrey launched himself off the side of the escalator, and Gordon, by some miracle of reaction time, caught him by his hips as he dangled off the edge. Gordon teetered off of one of the steps, only keeping balance by the grace of whatever god might be out there, and finally pulled Benrey back in. 

 

“Dude what’re you doing?!” Gordon collapsed on the other side of the railing, and as they reached the bottom, he stumbled back onto the soles of his feet. His heart was playing his ribcage like a fucking xylophone.

 

“I've never had a hot dog!” Benrey stole his wallet with practiced ease and bolted for the hot dog stand. He had never seen Benrey this consistently high energy. This fucker was stone-faced throughout the entirety of Black Mesa hell. He walked through a minefield, cracking jokes about it being ‘mine, not yours’. Not a care in the world. And somehow, somehow the myth of Americana incarnate unchained some energy reserve that Gordon didn’t even know he had hiding in him. 

 

He came back with three of the suckers, and one of them already gripped in his mouth, “Man. This isn’t as good as I thought it’d be.” 

 

“Yeah it tastes better when you make them yourself.” Gordon took a bite out of his and spoke with his mouth full, “Did you get any condiments?”

 

Benrey gasped, some of the hot dog in his mouth spraying out. People were officially watching them, and some folks were pulling out their phones to stalk Benrey in case he pulled another escalator stunt. Oh no. “Bro, in front of the kid? Don’t say that.” 

 

“Not–No! Ben, I’m talking about ketchup, mustard, relish?” 

 

“Uh, what?” 

 

“Don’t worry about it. Dry hot dogs are fine. But next time, we’re opening the grill and having a cookout.” Gordon sucked down that hot dog quite ravenously, standing by the escalator as he calmed himself. Benrey was stressful. Incredibly fun, and equally as stressful.

 

Benrey ate whatever Joshua didn’t as they walked through the mall, scarfing it down as they went to the Lego store. He didn’t really care much for Lego , which Gordon found downright baffling. He loved Lego Star Wars . Motherfucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about that game a few days ago, and forced Gordon to play with him.

 

Joshua was, naturally, attracted to anything with cowboy hats and horses. Wasn’t the most challenging kid to appease. He dragged Benrey and Gordon around to see the cool art pieces they keep in every Lego Store for some reason, and then ran out without picking any toys to buy. He had something else in his eyes. The ‘cowboy store’ . Being in New Mexico, malls often had ‘ cowboy stores’ , as Joshua put it. In reality, these were where people who for some reason went to purchase authentic western styled duds for parties. He didn’t know who was purchasing all this overpriced equipment, but Joshua liked going in and ogling it. Each time he entered the store, he imagined all the numbered cowboys wearing these flashy threads.

 

Those boys were enraptured together, all these jeans and button downs, hide vests, authentic cowboy hats, steel toed boots with the spurs! It was only a matter of time before Joshua had picked out Benrey’s cowboy outfit. 

 

“Yo, lil Feetman. How do I look?” Benrey kicked the changing room door open and clickity-clopped out. It was like he had switched out his security guard uniform for its western equivalent. A blue shirt with elegant springboks stitched around the yoke framed his thin torso, tucked into the dark blue jeans. The belt buckle that dug gently in his middle was shaped like a wild stallion. He lowered the brim of his dark hat over his eyes, and grabbed a piece of hay from one of those decorative bales a couple of boots were displayed on. It was slipped between his teeth, secured and jutting out like a wild west hero’s cigar. 

 

If Gordon was being honest with himself? He looked badass. His spurs jangled with each step, and his black pleated vest evoked the same kind of over the top edge that was befitting of Benrey. 

 

“Buttface is a real cowboy now!” Joshua jumped on Benrey and hugged him, brought to tears at the sight, “A real life cowboy!” 

 

“Oh shoot, pardner. I am? Nice.” Benrey picked him up (properly, this time) and squeezed the kid in a big bearhug, getting a facefull of his rustled locks. Dammit. Gordon’s heart could melt. This was the cutest thing he’d ever seen, and he quietly snapped a few pictures without interrupting the moment. His little boy with his very favorite thing in the world: A cowboy.

 

It was on G-Man’s dime. Benrey could keep the western duds for when Joshua visited. And perhaps selfishly, Gordon couldn’t lie to himself anymore; Benrey was attractive in it. This was the first time he ever saw him wearing something that was his, that wasn’t that fucking Black Mesa uniform, or one of Gordon’s clothes he stole for the two hours his getup would be in the wash for. And even then, Benrey preferred to hide away in the nude than to wear Gordon’s comfy sweaters and woolen pants. This was one of the few times he really got to see Benrey dress up in any capacity. He just seemed so different, like a real person rather than an imitation by some predator. Benrey had always been this under that figurative stuck shed. So now he was dressed like a cowboy, carrying his son on his shoulders. They looked blissful. And Gordon wished Joshua looked up to him like that. He’d never be as cool as Benrey. Maybe if he liked Lego Star Wars he would be. Fucking freak.

 

---

 

Gordon wasn’t so sure how much longer he could handle the mall. He was already… mildly overwhelmed between realizing Benrey was handsome and trying to keep his son alive. And they hadn’t even gone shopping for new clothes for Joshua and Benrey yet. Joshua needed them because he kept growing right up and out of his britches like the little weed he was. And Benrey needed a change because he was getting thicker than a size 2 in women’s and refused to share clothes with Gordon due to his stringent, unfathomable internal logic regarding rules about personal property. Benrey was not invited to the Science Team commune, that was for damn sure.  

 

“Buttface, look! It’s the crystal store! Mommy said Daddy was too poor to buy us the diamond cowboys!” 

 

“What? For real? Yooo this store is so sparkly… like a uh, ultra rare lootbox.” Through the law of idiot-to-shiny-thing magnetism, Benrey was drawn to the jewelry store, “Look at all these rocks, Gordon! I bet we could get like, a thousand septims for all this stuff. What enchantments does the uh, big one have?”

 

"Skyrim isn't real life! Come on, man." Gordon was trying (and failing) to redirect them out of this money-trap.

 

Most of the clientele of the luxury jewelry store were, you know, rich old white people and folks looking for wedding rings. So that made it even more jarring when all these nicely dressed patrons who come from money witnessed Benrey’s ghastly hot dog burp. Gordon didn’t know how he drew them out for so long. Probably practice. And spite. Benrey wetted his lips, “Whoa, nice . I felt my uh, soul leave my body. What would you say that was?” 

 

“Benrey not everyone wants to hear your–” He deflated as Benrey immediately went to interrupt him. 

 

“I think it was a nine. Maggot Boy?” Benrey waved in front of his face and looked up at Joshua, who was leaning over the top of his head to try and meet him in the eye. 

 

“Ten outta ten!” Officially Joshua approved. Great. 

 

“See? The lil’ grub says it’s a ten, Gordo.” They high fived, and Gordon rolled his eyes. They were too cute. Sure, yeah, this was mortifying in public. But Benrey was an incorrigible entertainer. And that was obviously a six out of ten. Joshua was too young to have standards and Benrey had an ego. 

 

“Benrey. What did I say about being a role model?” Had to chastise him anyways though. Parental duty. As much as he tolerated Benrey, he didn’t want to raise someone like him, “You should show Joshua that you have manners.”

 

“Yeah yeah excuse me or whatever.” Benrey pointed at a gaudy diamond ring with a huge stone on it. G-Man would be pissed . “Oh yo, can you get me one of these?” 

 

“Not happening.” Fuck that was a wedding ring. The biggest, gaudiest wedding ring he ever saw. Right after that , asking for a wedding ring. Not just any wedding ring. The most obnoxious stone in the goddamn store was planted in it. Benrey was such a special man. A very special man. Not special enough for a ring worth the GDP of Yemen, though. “Come on, Ben. You need real clothes.” 

 

“No I don’t, I’m a cowboy now, right Joshman?” 

 

“Buttrey is a cowboy, Daddy.” Joshua nodded curtly. 

 

“Well cowboys aren’t always patrolling the corral and steer wrestling.” Benrey groaned as Gordon dragged him out and towards some other clothing store. Hopefully nothing too expensive. Hot Topic was a bit of a bust with Benrey. The anime clothes weren’t evocative enough for him, and because of his insistence on PS3 era cultural enrichment, most of the media properties were irrelevant to him. He didn’t care about mushroom hats, or collars. Not tights nor band shirts for groups he’s never heard of. Benrey knew about Linkin Park and a few metal bands that Gordon listened to. Plus, Joshua didn’t fit any of their clothes. On to the next place. 

 

It was a fucking nightmare to find what Benrey wanted. Comfortable clothes were a bust. He hated the texture of athletic clothing. Formalwear intimidated him. Pacsun repulsed him. Punk was not a look for him; he looked like a walking corpse. The women’s section certainly wasn’t appeasing him either. Gordon felt like he was out of options after a few hours of trotting around, balancing Benrey’s pickiness with Joshua’s need for entertainment was proving overwhelming.

 

As a last resort, Gordon took him to the most plain, boring ass store he could have thought of. The preppiest, whitest, breadiest store of all. To that accursed whale. Vineyard Vines was a brand that just seemed to represent one of the kinds of people that Gordon was most frequently exasperated by: Golf players. And Benrey ran inside and immediately grabbed several pieces of clothing without even consulting Joshua or Gordon on what they thought. He loved this business casual, preppy ass, Ivy League reject looking shlock that much. Benrey wound up buying a whole litany of those things, and matching pants. Gross. He looked like someone’s lame ass dad. Gordon took note of his brands. L.L. Bean (eww), Lacoste, (gross), Vineyard Vines (barf), J. Crew (why god why), and Ralph Lauren (die). This idiot looked like the kind of guy to use the term ‘good breeding’ to refer to his etiquette. The irony was not lost on Gordon.

 

---

 

Benrey walked out of the changing room in a tight muscle tee with some with asymmetrical pants, kanji written on his right leg. They made their way to one of those big fucking super stores in the mall. He couldn’t tell if he was in a Macy’s , a Bloomingdale’s , an Urban Outfitters or whatever . They were all the same to him. The three way mirror gave him a pretty good view of his body. He had noticed the way he had been growing unrecognizable. Friendly. His voraciousness had left him. The sharp viciousness was gone. Weight had quickly built around his face, and it de–aged him twenty years. A thirty year old’s set, his jowls, his one–and–a–half chins. He was cute .  

 

“How do I look?” He flexed his arms. But Benrey wasn’t accurately depicting vertebrate musculature, so he just ended up making his arms undulate like a freak.

 

“Do you know what the Japanese text on those pants says?” Gordon cocked his brow. Joshua was playing on his phone, almost totally checked out at this point. No one could blame the kid either, Benrey was awfully boring on his shopping spree. 

 

“Uh, no? What does it say, Feetman?”

 

“That says ‘Princess’, dude.” Gordon was remembering a college language course he was stoned through. Wasn’t expecting that.

 

“Really? Freakin’ awesome. I want them more now. Gonna be a princess.” 

 

“But Daddy, Buttface is a boy, he can't be a princess.” That seemed to pull him right out of his Subway Surfer trance. Gordon had tried to avoid this but, well. He couldn’t control what teachers and peers showed him. He could have a little phone time.

 

“Benrey can be whatever he wants to be, kiddo.” He ruffled his hair, and honestly? If Benrey could be a werewolf, he could be a princess too. Fuck Kyle. Kyle didn’t know what he was talking about.

 

“Benrey is a werewolf princess cowboy?” No way he was that cool, right? 

 

“Yup.” Benrey checked himself out in the mirror, looking at his shirt. It was tight around his body, and showed off his bizarre musculature. His muscles weren’t aligned the way a human’s were, which he learned from Gordon’s own body. But he was too lazy to fix his human form. He kind of liked the uncanny mistakes he made. They were very… him. Humans should look more like him, frankly. Abs were gross. A lattice of powerful muscles in a barrel-shaped complex was far more eye-catching if you asked Benrey. Gordon disagreed, the barrel complex of muscles was gross looking, and abs were sexy. 

 

Benrey’s outfit picks really were the exact opposite that Gordon was expecting. A flood of 00’s nostalgia, video game puns, sweatpants, and hoodies were anticipated. Those were all prime pieces of gamer apparel. But instead of that, Benrey seemed to prefer very plain, professional clothes. He had the fashion sense of a dad in the 80’s. He liked sweater vests, collared shirts, working class jeans, slacks, penny loafers, and dress shoes. A blue three piece suit even found its way into his shopping bag. Gordon was dumbfounded. 

 

“Don’t you want… you know… some comfy clothes?” Gordon gestured to his band branded sweatshirt he got at a GWAR concert a few years back. The blood and green dyed cum flowed like water that day. Thank fuck G-Man salvaged this one.

 

“Huh? What?” Benrey tilted his head, “I thought I was supposed to go to work soon.”

 

“Yeah, but some lounging clothes. Something soft and warm to hang around the house with?” Gordon unzipped his sweatshirt and pulled on his loose shirt beneath, then lifted up a leg to demonstrate just how soft and comfortable his cotton sweats were, “You can feel them. Come on.” 

 

“Uhm, you have plenty of comfy clothes. Please and thank you.” he shook his head.

 

“That’s it. I’m going to buy you a hoodie and another pair of sweats. And uh…” Gordon picked out a shirt with Godzilla on it, black and white. Benrey’s eyes lit up on sight, “This. That way we have a nice spread for you. He’ll look cool in this, right Joshua?” 

 

Joshua almost unhinged his jaw and let out a piercing foghorn blare that almost sounded like Godzilla’s iconic battlecry. Benrey was enamored with the sound, and started spewing balls of covert sweet voice at him by cupping them in his mouth. Joshua tugged on Benrey’s arm, “You gotta get Godzilla! He’s the coolest monster! Only a cowboy could beat Godzilla.” 

 

“Yeah uh, Godzilla is pretty cool, huh?” Benrey slipped back into the changing room, “That’s a good suggestion kid! I stole um, your daddy’s shirts for pajamas! Lemme get one for myself, so uh, we can um, match?”

 

While Benrey was trying to figure out what he wanted to take with him, the Freemans were left waiting at the ‘boyfriend benches’ outside. 

 

“Benrey is weird.” Joshua said, unprompted.

 

“Why do you think that?” Dad mode was turned on, he pivoted a little to better face him, and hunched over. 

 

“He hates comfy clothes. He’s a princess werewolf cowboy. He acts kind of like a big kid. He’s so so so much more fun than other adults.” Joshua was lost in some deep kid philosophy right now. Benrey was an enigma no matter what way you put it. Even a six year old could see it.  

 

“Hey, don’t call him weird. Remember that word I taught you?” 

 

“Benrey is.. Ass…antric?” Well, that wasn’t bad for a little kid. He was more shocked he had the attention span for a conversation.

 

“Eccentric, Joshie. He’s eccentric. But you like him, right?” 

 

“I love him, he’s wicked!” Already? ‘Love’ Uncle Benrey? Fuck, man. How could anyone compete with Uncle Buttface?

 

“Would you like him as your Papa Benrey?” Gordon was trying to not be jealous of the guy he was developing a crush for. Kind of hard. Joshua seemed to be all about Benrey now, and well, Gordon couldn’t really compare to a fun, fanciful, free man like that.

 

Joshua seemed to short circuit for a second, “Yeah? Uhm…why? Is he my daddy and not you?” 

 

“No, no Joshua. I am your dad. He’d be like a second dad. Don’t tell him I asked, okay? I wanted to know if you liked him before I asked him to be my boyfriend. You know how your mommy and I were boyfriend and girlfriend before we got married?” 

 

“Aha. And then Mommy got pregnant with me cause the stork um, had a wrong address–and–and you felt bad and–” Gordon placed his hand on Joshua's head and ruffled his hair to get him to shut up about the stork.

 

“Okay let’s not talk about that part. But I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind Benrey being my boyfriend. I don’t want to have anyone in my life that you don’t like, Joshua. And I want you to never forget that. No matter what happens, you’re always going to be my number one deputy.” 

 

“That’s right, I’m a cowboy! Pew pew pew pew!” 

 

Yep, that was his boy. Couldn’t have a serious talk with him, but Gordon hoped his message was clear, “If you change your mind about Benrey, and you don’t like him anymore? He’s out. Okay bud? You need to like him too, or else it’s not a family, right?” 

 

“But what about you and mommy? I thought you hated each other?” 

 

“No, no, we don’t. Uh, what’s a good way to explain irreconcilable differences to a child?” Gordon stammered over himself for a bit, “Your mom likes chocolate ice cream, and I like vanilla. And when you’re married sometimes you don’t want to get the half and half soft serve ice cream. Your mom wanted chocolate, I wanted vanilla. That is to say, she thought I was too busy at work and I didn’t give her the attention she deserved. We had an argument about which flavor is better, and we weren’t friends anymore.” Gordon could tell this was sort of going over his head. No wonder why teachers needed years of training to figure out how to teach children anything, this shit was hard, “When you marry someone you don’t stop being boyfriend and girlfriend, you’re also a husband and wife. We lost the friend part. We were just a boy and a girl, does that make sense?” 

 

“You served ice cream?” Joshua gave him the little kid stare. Great.

 

“I… No, I'm bad at explaining this. Uh, shoot, kid. What did your mom tell you?” 

 

“That you were a fucking idiot.” 

 

Gordon wasn’t even mad that he cussed. He held the bridge of his nose, “Yeah, sounds like her. I love your mom still, okay Joshua? But like, I love her as your mother, not as my wife.”

 

“She said that you didn’t love her at all.” 

 

“Jesus Christ, Joshua. What else did she say?” 

 

“Um, I heard her saying you were fat now and didn’t take care of yourself and after you um, got married you never met any of her spectators, you didn’t help when I was a baby, and that your paper was um, a buncha baloney but she said the s–word instead.” 

 

“Really? My paper? Man.” Gordon was being hit like a truck. Well, his kid was putting the mirror to his face and making him watch. Now all he had was quality time. And she was right. It was worth it. At the end of the day, he would have had her. Black Mesa is gone. She would have been there for him if he had been there for her. He brought his arm around Joshua and kissed him on the top of his head, “I’m sorry kiddo. I promise you, I’m going to be better.” 

 

“Be better at what?” Oh boy, Gordon was not good at this. He’d have to call the ex-wife and ask her how the fuck he was supposed to talk to their son, and do some more parent-teacher meetings. He was never really involved with that, between living in Austria and Black Mesa’s secluded location. That divorce really was merciful, fuck.

 

“Don’t worry Joshua.” 

 

Benrey came out of the changing room in his guard uniform, slinging clothes over his shoulder. He wasn’t privy to Gordon’s current crisis of identity and ego death, so he popped his lips and said, “Get that card out, Sugarman.” 

 

“We need to get you a bank account and a job, man.” Gordon picked Joshua up and got him into a piggyback position, and then took out his card to get ready to pay for the mountain of clothes Benrey picked out. 

 

“Uh, after all he pulled? Mr. Coolatta can tank the hit to his GTA Online card.” Benrey leaked a little bit of venom out of his typically apathetic tone.

 

“Alright, alright.” Gordon swiped that plastic for Benrey’s sake, who now carried a shit ton of bags for both of them as they headed for the exit. 

 

---

 

They’d be back just in time for Joshua’s mother to come home. It was an equally brief visit. She only caught a glimpse of Benrey, though no doubt she’d be hearing all about him until Friday. Of few words, Joshua’s mother took him by the hand and tugged him away while Gordon could only wish to be beside them again. Walking together. Leaving Benrey behind, the Resonance Cascade. Research. Unable to redo his life. But Benrey was still there, in his new Godzilla pajamas, sitting on the couch. Playing Heavenly Sword for the PS3.

 

And even though it pained him to say goodbye, it was a good thing that he was leaving. Gordon had a lot to think about. He had to ask about Joshua’s schooling, where he went to school, how he could be a more involved parent… And worst of all, he had to start addressing those pesky bizarre feelings for the monster sleeping in bed with him.

 

Joshua came first. There were only so many epiphanies he could handle at a time.

Chapter 22: Dr. Huntsman and the Very Hungry--What the Actual Fuck is That Thing

Summary:

Benrey needs some enrichment. Gordon takes him out to hunt.

Notes:

EXTREME TW for this one folks!

Animal cruelty, animal death, gore, guns, hunting, sexual innuendo, and sexual humor.

Just a whole suite of things. Take care of yourselves.

I actually redid this chapter last minute because I thought it was too graphic, and I didn't want to really focus on the graphic nature of the situation. I pulled back the punches this time.

Benrey had been pacing around, seemingly ready to pop out of his own skin. Gordon had been watching him for a while. Power was emanating from his steps. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. He didn’t even want to play video games. No MAG Reborn . Not even breakfast. Gordon had some theories. One of the first things that came to his mind–and he wasn’t proud of this–was that Benrey was horny. Maybe in some kind of alien heat. 

 

“Why are you pacing?” Gordon took a long swig of his seltzer. This could be his chance depending on what Benrey said, “Something bothering you?” 

 

Benrey just made some indiscernible little noises in reply, and spewed out a heaping helping of sweet voice. Gordon nabbed one of the light blue balls and popped it into his mouth without another thought. Disinterested! Bored! Unstimulated! Benrey was in some desperate need of enrichment. Right, enrichment. Like at the zoo. The employees were always blabbing about animal enrichment, and how humans needed the same thing. Collecting his, well, rather limited knowledge of Benrey’s natural instincts, he was a predator. 

 

He immediately recognized what Benrey needed. Too many easy meals, days lounging about, no dangerous adversaries to overcome. Effortless meals, while tasty, lacked the primal pleasure of the chase. That’s why so many predators in captivity were bored. Just their lucky stars that Gordon was a strong observer of the second amendment. 

 

“C’mere.” Gordon opened his arms, and Benrey lazily fell back into them, still blowing out sweet voice. Icy fjord, I’m bored. “Hey man. I got an idea. If you don’t mind waiting two hours to get some grub, I’ve still got a hunting license, and there’s legal land for it not far away. Let me get a kit together, then you and I can go hunting for your lunch. That should let you get in touch with your natural instincts. Unless you want me to hold a cupcake on the other side of a treadmill.” 

 

“Wait. Huh?” Benrey pouted, “I don’t need your help to hunt. I can go out and hunt now. Hmph.” 

 

“I just… wanted to be a part of it, that’s all.” 

 

Oh, oh fuck. Hunting together… as a pack? Benrey blushed and rubbed his hands together all coy-like, “Really? Um, yeah. Please and thank you.” 

 

“Let me get ready. My scent might throw them off, and I don’t have any deer urine on hand. Looks like G-Man didn’t give that back.” 

 

“Deer… pee?” 

 

“Doe urine. You rub it on yourself to attract bucks during antler season.” Gordon said this like there was nothing weird about it. 

 

“You drank the deer pee pee? No joke? You know, when we fought about the Mountain Dew, I was joking about the piss.” 

 

“What the? Benrey! No!” Gordon snorted, “That’s disgusting. You rub it on your face, not drink it.”

 

“Gordon, that's not cool. The deer keep their pees. N’ their pisses. Why would you steal it?” Benrey’s face fell, and his lips pushed out as he realized that Gordon put piss on his face , “Wait, you think putting it on your face is any better than drinking it?”

 

“I didn’t steal it, oh my god, BENREY. You didn’t have to mask your scent on Xen?” Gordon didn’t realize this was a ‘you couldn’t pay me to reveal this information’ type situation. He grew up with plenty of hunters around and this is common practice.

 

“No? I don’t stink, unlike you, Gordon Stinkman. Sweating everywhere. Smelly smelly beads of sweat-y.” 

 

It finally clicked to Gordon that he was being fucked with, “Are we hunting or no?” 

 

Benrey pantomimed zipping his lips. Nothing was going to get between his and Gordon’s quality hunting time. In fact, he was going to be so good he vowed specifically to not fuck with Gordon in the car. And that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he would have a hand cannon of a rifle with him. He sat back and cracked open a Mountain Dew. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he nearly spat his drink out when Gordon came out in full hunter’s camo, a goofy little hat on his head and hair tucked away in a shitty, tight man bun. Fuck, Benrey had a problem. Ain’t no way he liked this man. He straight up looked like a caricature of a red state weeaboo, rifle case tucked under his arm like a football. A few amused balls slipped past his lips. Some kind of… hodunk podunk motherfucker had taken over Gordon.

 

“Yo, uh. Where’s Feetman haha.” 

 

“Nice one. Get up, we’re giving you your baby boy enrichment.” 

 

“Wuh? Baby boy enrichment?! WEEHHBLEhEHEWEEEHB. NO!” His face contorted, eyes crossing and rolling around independently as his lips cartoonishly flailed around like rubber flaps. 

 

“WEH BLEH MNYEEEEHH.” Gordon shot him a stupid look right back, and blew a raspberry right up in his face. 

 

Oh, that was a bold move for a guy in sweet voice-ing distance. Benrey blew a string of blue balls into his mouth. As Gordon slowly blinked, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened, Benrey barked out some maddening laughter, “Gotcha. You’re uh, shit. Dressed like shit.” 

 

“Benrey we had a talk about this STOP THAT!” Gordon pushed him into the couch and retched, “Yeaugh, why does it taste like battery acid?” 

 

Benrey tasted the inside of his mouth. Tangy. Acerbic. Yup , he did the Dew a little too hard, “Might’ve puked a little in that one. Sorry.” 

 

“Ugh BENREY you’re DISGUSTING!” Gordon opened the door and spat into the lawn, wiping his tongue with his hands, “Don’t do that to people, that's fucking unhygienic! And don’t try to make me less angry because it only makes me angrier!” 

 

“I’m uh, sensing you’re kinda of a upset at me. I’m an empath, I um, played Papers, Please .” Benrey jaunted off to the car, and just phased through the passenger door of the Corolla. Gordon was going to fucking kill him before the end of the trip. Holy shit.

 

---

 

Benrey took a nap nearly the whole ride, sitting back and snoring. Gordon noticed he’d gotten a good deal thicker the past couple of months. He had a full, warm face. The intimidation factor of a starving predator had been lost now that he had pinchable cheeks and always looked at Gordon with dilated pupils. His figure softened too much for his own good. It didn’t help that he had basically abandoned the body armor, and his old guard shirt now outlined his lanky form rather than hanging off.

 

He didn’t really wear that old shirt anymore anyways. Benrey opted to wear one of those ‘comfy’ clothes Gordon had told him to try out. They were nice, but he didn’t seem as happy with them as Gordon thought he would. Given that all he did was sit around, eat food, and play video games… he was sure all Benrey wanted was comfort and gratification. But he seemed to be a bit more complex than that. Benrey actually did take pride in his appearance, despite the way he looked. It’s just that his idea of what looked good was fucking bizarre. 

 

He woke up with a snort as Gordon hit the brakes abruptly. Turns out they didn’t even need the gun. There was a pack of wild boars dashing across the ill–kept road. New Mexico’s infrastructure at its finest. They leapt across the potholes with shrill cries and a constant stream of grunts. 

 

“Get em.” Gordon unlocked the door.

 

The hunt was on. 

 

Benrey was unrecognizable. He was changing in subtle ways as the herd fled. This son of a bitch was giving himself teeth that jutted out like tusks. Eyes emerged out of excitement… and then he sprinted. Gordon could swear his legs were gaining a new joint with every step. His limbs extended out from his sleeves and outgrew them, tongue flying out of his mouth as he bounded in his trance. The stench of bacon was in the air, their hooves were pounding against the leaf litter. He jumped onto a thin trunk of a tree and launched himself off into another one. Earth provided him with a brand new environment to learn to hunt in. And he was going to take advantage of it.

 

He waited about ten minutes for him to return, getting pretty bored. Fuck it. He was in the middle of the road. Gordon parked and grabbed his gun from the case. It was a .35 Remington. Something he picked up since G-Man wasn’t going to return his guns, no matter how many texts he sent. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t want Gordon to have his guns, but he suspected he merely neglected them and now he didn’t know where they were. Maybe. Naturally, Gordon was worried about where the guns registered under his name were. But if G-Man wasn’t willing to disclose that information, that meant he didn’t want him to know. 

 

Thanks to some uncharacteristically recent rain, tracking Benrey wasn’t difficult. He just had to follow the occasional boot prints in the–

 

The boot prints were changing too. From rubber boots to something raptorial. Tearing through the rubber. Leaving behind a torn pair of boots in its wake. Pale strips of skin clung to the sides of the unsalvageable pieces. The splayed toe pattern reminded him of a lizard, and then it became something even less discernible; a dragging trough of streaks in the muck.

 

A sound came from over the bluff. It was a drawn out, chittering noise, like a non-slip shoe tread violently dragged across a drum's tightly stretched mylar. It was utterly incongruous with the natural landscape, a sound so alien to the environment it reverberated through that it felt like the audio to a different movie had overtaken the film of a nature documentary.

 

No doubt, it was Benrey making this noise. A boar could be rather dangerous, and while Benrey was a tough, immortal son of a bitch, Gordon preferred to not let him get hurt. He weaved through the trees. An undulating pink mass was oozing about thirty yards away–no–not a mass. A sheet of digestive mesentery glistening in the sunlight. It rumbled and undulated with live quarries inside.

 

The smell reached Gordon before the sound of the thing. A vile miasma wafted downwind of the undulating mass. It carried the familiar scent of filed-down keratin and the wretched stench of nigh necrotic pus that only the woefully unlucky or those with the stomachs to work in hospital wards were unfortunate enough to be acquainted with. The defiled aura was comparable to standing inside of a bubbling abscess, and was so overpowering that everything else carried by the light breeze was throttled by its presence. Under the thin, iridescent skin of the corpulent mass, boils of grease bubbled up, trembled, then violently burst like a squeezed bed sore, spewing steaming ooze in spurts with a wet, flatulent sound that almost made Gordon vomit on the spot.

 

The cacophony occasionally escaping from venting tubules pushing excess gas out was the only thing that could break Gordon’s disgusted daze. A muffled squealing that sounded like it was being made from the bottom of a filled bath. The stomach-turning sound came from the magenta blob, yet it wasn’t made by it, but from inside it. It was a pained screaming, the kind that could only be made by a being suffering something truly horrific. Gordon mindlessly stumbled closer to get a better view. Inside the oversized cauliflower of flesh, a lattice of dark veins throbbed under a slick outer membrane, interspersed by pale yellow blooms of mold-like fat. A boar's head thrashed from within the mass, tusks deforming the outer envelope before shattering like chalk against it.

 

It didn’t notice Gordon at first, standing on the ends of wing-like bones at the edge of the tent of flesh, light scattering through its vessels. The bogies of the hogs were opened up into the light filtering through the canopy. This hunt was far too short. Too easy, too boring .

 

He twisted each of the long bones supporting his tent-like form, twisting into a mangled hunk of oozing meat with something equivalent to a snout. Crawling on these bony wings, covered in thin sheets of skin, he shoved his winding, gnarled jaw into the belly of one of the sows and tore her open, letting her intestines wind out of the ragged incision. His neck had shifted to this skinny, angular thing. As if an arm with five joints that slunk up the ribcage and disappeared into the oozing cavity. He abruptly tugged out with a wet shlorp. In his jaws was the liver, jutting out from between his teeth. It was pulled in by a second set of jaws and swallowed. 

 

Being choosy was a privilege. 

 

Gordon gagged. The noise. The stench. The fact that this was what Benrey was capable of. He lived with this guy.

 

As that fucking alien wiped the blood from his eye, he saw Gordon standing there, and froze, a string of skin wrapped around his jaws, layers of pustules shrinkwrapped over his back. Oozing. Heaving. Haunches lowered… Hungry?

 

 “Hey.” Yeah, Benrey. Okay. Hey . “I'm sorry . Um, pigged out . You didn’t want any did you? Haha!” 

 

Gordon realized how scared he must’ve looked. Gawking at Benrey, back to a tree trunk… Gun pointed at him. He lowered his rifle, and to be safe, he placed it on the dirt and kicked it a foot away. “Uh, hey man. Um.”

 

Oh god, he could feel the stir of his guts. His boot slipped on some discharged oil, bringing him into the ground and slamming his glasses in filth. And on impact, he vomited. The sight, the smell, the ichor. It was overwhelming. He flipped over and scrambled away from Benrey, getting a near, horrific view from below the towering mass. 

 

“Oh. Um. You’re okay?” A burst of amniotic fluid bubbled out from a flab of warty flesh at his base, and a thick tentacle, lubed up in congealed white fluids tried grabbing at the root of a tree and dragging himself forward, “Uh I’m gonna just… Um.” 

 

“It’s uh, okay dude you’re… you’re good.” Gordon didn’t realize how disturbing it would be. Benrey hunted how he was supposed to. In a way that was fun for him. Some kind of digestive placenta was dropped onto the sow as he directed his attention to Gordon. Pale mesentery was framed with streaks of dark, bloody complex. 

 

It was equal parts magnificent and disturbing. A marvel of science, if Gordon was a biologist. He was planting veins and roots around them like mycelium in anticipation. 

 

“So uh.” Benrey’s body constricted, getting tighter until he formed a couple of chimney canals out of the chamber and started pumping humid air and sweet voice out as the flesh further contorted into a comfortable position, “This was… good. Um. XP?” 

 

“Bacon… good?” 

 

“Bacon good.” A thin, red tentacle emerged from the flesh complex, and tapped Gordon on the hand, “We’re still good?” 

 

“Oh yeah. I just… This is going to take some uh, adjusting to. It’s a learning curve. I–I really won’t lie to you, Ben, this is the most disgusting, horrifying thing I think I’ve ever seen in my life. This is worse than the dog scene. In The Thing . Remember that?”

 

“I told you I could do that to you lol.” 

 

“Don’t… say that please.” 

 

“Oh sorry. Um. Want some?” Benrey shifted back into a more humanoid form and gestured to the corpses. Sure, that was good meat, but they were slobbered all over by Benrey.  

 

“Nope! No I’m uh. I’m… there’s not much appetite in me right now.” Gordon sat next to Benrey and sighed, “Is it okay if I stay here with you?” 

 

“Sorry.” 

 

“Yeah. I mean, sure it’s gross but I don’t think it’s a deal breaker. This’ll take some getting used to.” He gestured to a yellow blob of encrusting fat, surrounding dark purple, veiny, angry flesh that pumped erect with blood, and then deflated in rhythm with his hearts. 

 

“We can be like McReady and the Thing. Will you be my Thing?”  He crawled closer, teeth coming out of his flesh like a conveyor belt, piercing inflamed gumlines and hitting the muck. 

 

Ah, that was Benrey. Somehow, despite how revolted Gordon was by everything about Benrey right now, he laughed, he laughed so hard he ended up on the dirt, laying next to him. Oh, he was so disgusting. He was so fucking abhorrent. And Gordon loved him dearly for it. He gave one of the many-eyed pustules a little pat, “Sure thing, bud. Feeling good?”

 

“Uh.” The writhing tentacles whipping around him shrugged, “I dunno.”

 

“Can you get rid of that oil before you get in my fucking car?” 

 

“Yeah hold up.” A creaking lurch and crunchy pop punctuated the sack’s liftoff from the ground, and a solid platform of bone arranged itself around a quartet set of pinnate legs. The membrane was inflated and coagulated, then the body flipped. A dangling tumor full of some kind of indiscernible liquid hung like a breeding sac, “Bam. No mess.” 

 

He pulled the skin tighter, lifting the boil up so it didn’t drag on the ground or jostle around. And then it audibly crackled as it hardened. Gordon puked a little in his mouth, and swallowed the chunks back down. Nope, not going to body shame Benrey. Body shaming was wrong! Even when the body was this. He gave Benrey’s weird sack a little pat, “That’s… that’s wonderful big fella.” 

 

“Don’t touch my sensitive underside, please and thank you?”  He brought a defensive claw up, rearing it over his stomach, “It’s uh, vulnerable.”

 

“Oh, sorry.” Gordon grabbed his gun, “Um, sorry for pointing the gun at you. I was…” 

 

“Scared?” 

 

“Yes, actually. You scared me. I know you won’t hurt me. But I was scared anyway.” 

 

“I uh.” Benrey stumbled forwards. He wasn’t used to this shape anymore. It wasn’t natural to him in the first place, but he had spent so long being humanoid that anything else was now difficult for him. “You trust me.”

 

“Of course, man. Hug?” 

 

“For real?” Benrey lowered his body down. A sharp whine escaped him as his legs slipped, and he fell down on his fucking brooding sac. Ouch. His many eyes looked up at Gordon, and his pupils immediately dilated at the sight of his beautiful visage, framed with a heavenly corona of midday light. 

 

Gordon grabbed one of the human-sized legs and wrapped his arms around the chitin. It felt reprehensible in texture. A complete oddity. Like it was lathered in a tincture. 

 

Ah, to hell with it. It was Benrey. 

 

Benrey purred in delight, a couple of sensitive, whiskery hairs sprouting out from the joint. They tickled Gordon’s face, and he couldn’t help but giggle. “C’mon dude.” 

 

Benrey jostled around and hummed out a few notes of pink sweet voice.

 

“Alright, we’re going to have to figure out how to get you in my car. You’re huge.” 

 

“Oh, I can uh, shift back. I went a little overkill on uh, being true to the um, headcrab gnads.” 

 

“Oh, ew, I–I don’t want to see this.” Gordon looked away for a moment, but then gave up resisting and just decided to watch whatever he was about to do anyways.

 

The transformation process was like nothing else nature had to offer. Like a blossom closing into a bud, exoskeleton and skin folded into itself, spurting subcutaneous fluids with sloshing crunches, until he was a neat little humanoid again. Thick, green bile splashed between his pallid legs. Foul. His body was flushed and pink for a moment, until he put on a layer of scales that returned his more familiar blue hue, along with the patterns of black stripes and spots doing down his dorsal area, with golden blotches interspersed. Loose skin around his neck and chest acted like a dewlap, blowing up with faint colors of sweet voice as he experienced a little ‘BMSV reflux’. 

 

The fear returned to Gordon. It came back to him what he was doing. Walking with Benrey like this. Logically, he knew that Benrey was going to be harmless to him. And then that primal, emotional portion of him was terrified that Benrey could launch at him at any moment. Benrey wouldn’t! Benrey loved him. But he was a ferocious, insatiable beast all the same. No matter how tender that heart might have been, it was still attached to a body that hungered for flesh.

 

“Sorry.” Benrey rasped, “I’m sorry that I liked that.” 

 

“Killing?” Gordon pressed himself against a tree. He wasn’t cornered. But he might as well have been. 

 

“Uh, yeah. It was fun. To tear the prey apart. Wasn’t even, um, hungry. Really. Just had to use some force. Wasn’t enough. Need a challenge.” Benrey took a step closer. Gordon’s breath hitched, which gave him some pause. Beyond being scared of him, Gordon’s instinct was adjusting his breathing to prepare him to flee or fight to the death. That’s what happened when a predator and its prey were in the same cage: Frustration, stress, and fear. “Uh, you… you really don’t like me.” 

 

“I do,” against better judgement, he took a step forward and reached his hand out to Benrey to cautiously touch him on the face to ground himself. Gordon was expecting him to press into it, maybe. He didn’t quite know. 

 

Not understanding what the fuck Gordon was trying to do, Benrey gave him a high-five, “One-hundred and fifty points.” 

 

Gordon’s fear cracked–There’s that smile! He strangled a wheeze in his throat, and crumpled on the ground in the fetal position, cackling like a madman. Who could believe this was the fucker he had to room with? 

 

Flopping beside him, Benrey regurgitated the liver up into his throat and nudged him with an extra hand that burst in a bloom of putrid oil from his shoulder, “Yo, want some liver baby bird style?” 

 

“NO! You’re so disgusting! I already got some second-hand Mountain Dew earlier today–Stop it!” It was joyous. Hearing him laugh, watching his body relax, being able to pounce on him without worry of terrifying him. Benrey rolled himself into Gordon’s arms and nuzzled into his chest as a meaty blob. How strange it was, that Gordon wrapped himself around him and applied the exact pressure needed to reassure Benrey that he was not a beast. Not some animal to gawk at, but something magnificent to be beloved and cherished. 

 

No amount of bile, no volume of pus or abscesses or oil could change that. Truly something to behold. Until Benrey spoke again, and Gordon was reminded of just who he was cuddling. 

 

“You smell like shit,” Benrey looked up at him with huge, dilated eyes. 

 

“I know… Wait Benrey, do you have a limit to your shapeshifting?” It suddenly occurred to him… Could Benrey just take up any form he could think of? That was a perfect Gonarch he had taken up, and with such a practiced ease that he obviously had to take that form before in the past.

 

“Yeah but it uh, takes a lot of energy… hold on.” A massive tentacle shot out from Benrey’s body with a foul, burbling shwarsh , blood red with the vessels packed into the thin sheet of raw skin around it. Teeth poured out from its tips, which wrapped around the sow’s leg and tore it off from the joint. A new mouth shaped up on the back of his body, swallowing the tentacle, “Alright, I got fuel. Whaddya wanna see?” 

 

“Ok um, let’s see… Can you do Nariko from Heavenly Sword?” Gordon sat up and looked at him, eager to watch him show off. Benrey loved Heavenly Sword too, and he just wanted to show him that he also appreciated the things he loved. 

 

“Pfft. Easy.” Benrey stood up and cracked his neck. All at once, his thighs bursted out from his jeans, consuming them in a mess of skin. His tentacle hair extended out and dropped to the ground, struggling to push out from his scalp as his bone structure was softened to meet the aesthetic of the game. Sheets of wing-like membrane bloomed from his hips to act as Nariko’s robes, and within a few seconds, it was as if she was standing there in the flesh. A game made a reality. 

 

Benrey’s voice heightened in pitch, with his inflection approximating the character, “Yo. Uh, Heavenly Sword 2 in real life.” 

 

“Holy shit.” Gordon grabbed his calf… and that definitely felt like one of Benrey’s fucked up muscles. That was him! Certainly him! Benrey was in the body of an overly sexualized video game heroine! Amazing! “Bro this is gross as hell. Your eyes, man! Stop looking at me like that!” 

 

Benriko (Benrey-Nariko) cocked his brows rapidly at Gordon, and then turned around to show off his new ‘goods’, “I bet uh, I bet I can um, win a cosplay contest like this.” 

 

“Man those are not human proportions. Oh god, that’s disgusting!” His eyes were just too big in a weird way, skin too featureless. Gordon preferred the natural look , thank you very much. Those anime girls always seemed uncanny to him anyway. 

 

Having a little fun, the shapeshifter dislodged his head from his neck, letting it roll on the ground as the body crossed its arms in waiting. Around the neck vertebra, he concocted about a half-dozen insect legs to pour out and began crawling towards Gordon, sticking his blue tongue out and cackling, “I’m gonna getcha!” 

 

No longer scared, he just laughed and picked his gross-ass roommate’s severed Nariko head up and shook it around while he scraped his wrists with those damn bug legs. It was horrific in concept, sure. He was creating chelicerae out of the edge of her mouth and snapping them at him. The juxtaposition between chitin and flesh was offputting, but Benrey was doing this on purpose. Because he was a little asshole. Gordon wheezed and made some small, incredulous noises as he recollected himself, “Come on.” 

 

“Hey.” Benriko winked. His face looked like that latex shit brought to life. Creepy. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

The body was now lurched over Gordon, chest opened up with its ribs gnarled into rows of massive, homodont fangs, going down to his belly. The split drooled with cavity fluid, peristalsis on full display, like winding snakes in his guts. Oh, sickening . The flesh at the back of the peritoneum exploded out in a blob of visceral virtuosity. Belching forth a swarth of nondescript, sticky ooze that felt like the amalgamation of sweet voice spit, coelomate gunk, and fucking Nickelodeon slime. A few stray strands of loose skin got in there too. 

 

Gordon was positively coated in gore. Great. More concerningly, he wasn’t freaking out about it. 

 

“Really, Benrey?” He sloughed the mucus off his face with a grunt. 

 

“Yes, you’re welcome.” Benrey collapsed into a blob of meat, on top of Gordon. Yeugh. Like lumpy leather. Gordon had a feeling that this was a boundary that Benrey had been secretly dying to get through, by the way all the muscles in his globular body relaxed and oozed over Gordon in a full-body hug. 

 

---

 

Back home, Benrey didn’t bother changing into a humanoid form. Gordon lounged back, playing Oblivion and backflipping across the Imperial City like a cracked out gymnast while Benrey purred like a motorboat under his heated blanket as a giant chum monster, tentacles writhing around as he metabolized one of those goddamn pigs. He decided to take some bacon home for the road, and tore the sow apart to get at his favorite parts.

 

Wasting the hours away. Gordon should have been looking for a job. For normalcy. But all he could think about was how he didn’t… care all too much about the fact that Benrey was a Cronenberg-type monster. Straight up was The Thing. The Blob remake was less disturbing. At least that had a content warning on it. Benrey just would stick a pink-laden flab of fatty pustule in his fast and smear it on his skin. And yet…

 

 Ugh. He loved him. It was unavoidable now. In spite of everything, he was utterly infatuated with this stupid, toothy blob. And if his crush could survive watching those pigs get cocooned in flesh, then he was sure the spark could survive anything. He was pretty cute… hypothetically. He just had this Benrey method of always winning him over, no matter what. He wasn’t even mad when he started to inch up closer to him, settling on his lap as a damp, grody meat blob with a dozen eyes, eagerly watching him.

 

“Dude, you’re getting your slobber all over me.” Gordon wiped his arm off on one of Benrey’s many humps, which earned him a disconcerted grunt, “Don’t give me lip about this, man. Stop drooling… or uh, sliming me.” 

 

“Uaauuuuuaguh.” Benrey flailed his tentacles, “This is a boring boomer game for geriatrics.” 

 

“Oblivion is a classic, eat a hairy ass, Benrey.” 

 

“Don’t mind if I do.” 

 

“Come the fuck on!” 

 

“I can cum on.” 

 

“AGH.” 

 

“Gotem,” Benrey loomed on him with a bright red tentacle, and then opened up a series of horrible paws across his body that all spewed out mischievous melon-scent sweet voice onto his face. 

 

The ichor oozed off his glasses for a moment while he pouted. Gordon dropped his controller, “That’s it. I’m going to take a nap.” 

 

“Buh–But wait. What about me? Our bed?” 

 

…Would Gordon let him in his bed?

 

“Whatever. Come on.” 

 

Benrey jumped off the couch and slapped Gordon with his lower, centipede-like body, knocking him on his ass, “Last one there is a chicken head.”

 

He was left reeling on the floor as Benrey bounded into their chamber and snuggled up into the covers. Gordon got there eventually, and stripped off his shirt. Benrey took special note of how slim he looked– lame . He popped out of his more animalistic form and melted into a pile of soft, cool flesh. 

 

“Looks like you’re a chicken head.” Benrey prodded him with a tentacle. Gordon was too preoccupied making sure his glasses were safely deposited on his nightstand to pay him any mind. 

 

“Sure. Chicken head.” He yawned. And Benrey spewed out some red sweet voice to complement. Not to suggest that Benrey needed to yawn, it felt right to act as if it were contagious. 

 

“Um, so you don’t… care?” Benrey gestured to everything about himself.

 

“Yeah, no.” He pushed Benrey’s weird pulsating bulge out of the way and wrapped his arm around a nodule of flesh that had a few eyes on it, treating it as his head. There was no clear cephalization to this form, so he made do, “I mean, you’re still you .”

 

The distended mass slid back into place, and began to jostle around uncontrollably, until a mouth tore itself open like a gash across the apex of its surface. Benrey spewed out a stream of pink and blue sweet voice, uncontrollably as he desperately tried to stitch his mouth together with vibracularia and tentacles, to no avail, “Uhm. You didn’t see that.” 

 

Gordon grabbed one of the pink spheres as they poured from his throat, and sniffed it, “Strawberries.” 

 

“Don’t eat it, it’ll kill you.” Benrey lied. Like a liar. 

 

“What does this mean? Are you still planning on eating me? Pink to blue, I’m going to kill you?” 

 

“No. It’s my private sweet voice please and thank you.” He kissed Gordon on the cheek and closed his eyes, “Sleep time bye bye.” 

 

The ball dissipated from his grasp, and Gordon sighed, his curiosity not being sated for now. Even though Benrey was taking up this fucking… disgusting, sweaty cave tumor shape, Gordon didn’t find it so hard to take a nap, at all. Benrey’s eyes migrated back to stare at Gordon. 

 

Holy shit. Gordon didn’t think Benrey was unlovable. He invited Benrey to lay in bed with him as he shapeshifted. Gordon loved him no matter what. Maybe platonically, sure, but Benrey? Felt lucky. So, so lucky. Gordon was keeping him warm, holding him as he slept soundly, comfortably. Safely. What a charming life. 

Chapter 23: Dr. Freeman and Benrey’s Couch Co-op

Summary:

gay shit

Notes:

these bitches gay, fuck you

Despite knowing that Gordon was comfortable with him in any form, Benrey couldn’t help being a bit bashful. He preferred to stay in his humanoid shape, and Gordon never made a comment about it. The two of them were sitting on the couch, going over horror movies to watch. Benrey was avoiding looking at the bowl of popcorn, elsewise he might leave none for his roommate. They eventually scrapped the idea altogether and stuck with playing video games, though Benrey’s memories of all his favorite horror classics were fresh on his mind as he booted up Army of Two . 

 

“Smash or pass Freddy Kreuger?” Benrey asked as he sat down on the couch, reaching out for a sip of his disgusting, caustic G-Fuel canister. That horrible thing had a scantily clad anime shark girl on it, and Gordon hated it so much. Her hammerhead had anatomically correct eyes, too. So no matter how Benrey held the cup, she was always looking at him. What the hell was this guy's deal with anime girls?

 

“What? Why would you ask me that you fuckin’ freak?” Gordon thought about it for a moment, “Pass.” 

 

“Ok but what about The Thing (1982) director John Carpenter? Iconic girl antagonist The Thing ?” He shot him a cheeky little smile. 

 

“Oh, are you fishing for compliments?” He batted his eyelashes as the game loaded in. PS3 load times were fucking abysmal, man. He wondered how they lived through this shit back in the day. How were they still living like this? 

 

“I can do the stomach mouth thing for you,” Benrey flopped down on the couch and split open his abdomen, revealing rows of serrated fangs, unleashing his unruly, veiny blue tongue to sweep across the air. Bright red tentacles lashed out as skinny whips that lightly slapped him across the face and rattled with loose bones and teeth. It sounded like a choir of rattlesnakes grinding together.

 

Gordon cackled and swatted it away, “Gross man! Gross! Pass! Pass!” 

 

“Blegh blargalarga blehhh,” the stomach mouth blew a huge raspberry at him. Gordon was positively soaked in playful sweet voice! Benrey pushed all the air out of the cavity in his abdomen, which stitched itself back together with seamless ribbons of flesh that melted into a perfectly unassuming torso. 

 

Gordon jumped on top of him, and they wrestled a little bit as he tried to wipe off the sweet voice spit Benrey flicked on him back onto Benrey’s chest. The alien put up no resistance, and let himself get pinned to the floor as they tumbled down. Not that Benrey was incapable, of course. It was easier not to fight; he didn’t want to accidentally hurt Gordon. After all, he was limited edition, one of a kind, no respawns left. 

 

Benrey couldn’t help himself as he was straddled by this man. He pressed his lips tight, but it did him no good. He spat out a firehose jettison of pink and blue sweet voice into Gordon’s face. And his open mouth. Shit. He rolled off of Benrey and choked on the strawberry flavored orbs, and swallowed them down with incredible effort. Blown out eyes met Benrey’s fearful saucer pupils, and Gordon gasped for breath. 

 

“Benrey…” Gordon’s chest quickened. Oh fuck . 

 

“Woah, pardon.” Excuses. There had to be an excuse. Where was the excuse? What could he say? How did he need to say it? Maybe Gordon can’t read it–

 

As the thought crossed Benrey’s mind, Gordon asked that question he had been fearing, “Pink to blue means I love you , doesn’t it?” 

 

“Yup. Caught me red handed.” He rested one hand behind his head and the other shot a finger gun at Gordon. Fuck. Benrey found this to be so ‘cringe’ that he could feel his organs withering by the second. 

 

“And this sure as shit doesn’t feel platonic.” 

 

“It… no. It’s not. I wanna fuck you so bad it makes me look stupid,” Benrey could see Gordon’s baffled expression and covered his eyes to hide from the terrible shame, “Ugh, bro stop looking at me like that. I know. It’s mushy, I’m sorry!”

 

“Good.” Gordon leaned against the couch cushions, “I already have my eyes on someone.” 

 

Benrey’s branchial hearts crumbled into dust, and his diaphragm became the singularity of his suffering, “Huh? What? You… when?” 

 

“So there’s this guy,” Gordon turned his head away with a cheeky little grin. 

 

“Whu–Are you a teenage girl? ‘There’s this guy’? Really?” Now he was insulting him! This night couldn’t get worse. Gordon was interested in someone, and he’s so smitten, he’s talking about him like a swooning school girl with a crush on a K-Pop boy! 

 

“He’s kind of short and cute.” Gordon’s cheeks flushed all rosy and picturesque against his warm, brown skin. 

 

“Okay what, he’s five foot one? Are you dating Sans Undertale?” Benrey wasn’t going to teach this guy a lesson, per se… But you know. Just in case, he needed to know if he had to be ready for a fight.

 

“He’s incredibly funny, oddly charming too. He’s kind of hard to understand sometimes,” he stifled a giggle, “Chubby face. Someone who is so strangely… loveable.”

 

“Holy fuck, it is Sans. I can’t compete with that, man. He won the Tumblr Sexyman death battle, bro. I lost in round one.” How the fuck did Gordon land Sans?! Benrey couldn’t win against him, he needed his invincibility frames! He never beat Demon Souls !

 

“Hey, idiot,” Gordon crawled on top of him, and grabbed him by the sides of his face, “He’s you.”

 

“Wait wha–” Benrey spewed out another volley of pink sweet voice, and collapsed on the ground, “What? Huh? What do you mean? Oh, oh. OH! OH! Who wouldn’t? I’m perfection!” 

 

“That you are.” Gordon snaked his hand beneath Benrey’s neck and brought him up to his face. It was finally happening, Benrey’s dream came true. Gordon Freeman kissed him on his hot mouth, and he meant it. He pressed into it, indulging the sourness of his breath, careful with his plush lips as they came so vulnerably close to his fangs. It was an expression of utmost trust, felt in every leisurely nip and suckle. They moaned into each other’s mouths, the months of tension finally released all at once in one momentous, painfully short kiss. Benrey came out first, and released even more pink bubbles. 

 

“Nice!” Benrey followed that gem up with a loud, strawberry-pink-laden bubble burp. Gordon chuckled. He wasn’t even mad. The lifeblood of their relationship was the stupid shit Benrey did and said. In fact, Gordon would argue that their romance was enhanced by a Benrey Moment , not detracted, “Scuse me… I’m uh–” he hiccupped another bout of sweet voice, face flushed with blood, “Nervous.”

 

“Six out of nine,” he would have shown him how it was done, but he’d prefer to keep it as mature as he could at this point, and try to salvage the moment. 

 

“NICE!” Benrey had this big, dopey smile on his face, “We’re like, a couple?”

 

“Basically.”

 

“I thought you weren’t ever gonna forgive me.” 

 

“You grew on me.” Gordon scooted back and helped Benrey sit up. 

 

Absolutely relieved, Benrey put his hands on top of Gordon’s and looked up at him with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

 

Gordon rapped his fingernails against Benrey’s helmet, “Now that we’re boyfriends, will I ever learn what’s beneath this thing?” 

 

“No.” Benrey’s glare was fucking morbid. This was something serious to him. Serious enough that he was concerned about Gordon’s judgement. 

 

“Come on, Benrey. What do you think will happen?” Gordon coiled a lock of hair around his finger, as if to taunt him with his luscious locks. Gordon’s hair was so beautiful, a perfect auburn with warm streaks of red interspersed. 

 

“Ugh. Fine. If we’re going to be cool boyfriends, then I guess you can see. No laughing though.” Benrey blew out some yellow and blue-green sweet voice as he pouted, retracting slightly into his shirt. 

 

“Promise. Even if you’re bald.” Gordon gave him a reassuring grave across his cheek. 

 

“Short? Chubby? Bald? Do you even like me? You’re mean. That’s why people are scared of you.” 

 

“Oh, are we stalling?” 

 

Benrey grumbled and brought his hands to the helmet, and popped it off. Gordon held his breath in anticipation, his months of curiosity finally being sated.

 

And he was bald. Benrey was actually bald, aside from a suction cup which he used to keep his helmet secured on his head. The skin there was dark like a fucked up alien nipple, the same shadow that was constantly casted over his eyes (which Gordon learned was purely cosmetic, as Benrey considered it his permanent eyeshadow). It’s as if he never thought the day would come, where he’d take it off for any reason. It did stink quite a bit, probably because he wasn’t taking it off and washing enough. Gordon was kind of curious about the texture of the sucker, and batted at it. It was actually pretty tough and rubbery, maybe cartilaginous?

 

“Yeah uh, never thought I’d have to take it off. I can uhm, add hair.” 

 

“You don’t have t-” Gordon winced as he squeezed out some short, black papillae that looked close enough to hair, “Actually that looks pretty good. Can I touch?” 

 

“They’re sensitive like little tentacles. Be careful with me.” As Gordon’s hand ran through the sea of flowing flesh nodules, he purred and trilled. He pressed harder into his hand, and wrapped his arms around Gordon. They were pressed into each other, Gordon flattened on his smaller boyfriend . 

 

“Hey Benrey, I’m not going anywhere, man. You don’t have to hold onto me like I’m going to fall.

 

“Uh, can we like, stay here for a bit? I don’t wanna move.” 

 

“You stink.” 

 

“What’re you gonna do about it? I have you in my grasp. Gonna uh, grow to the size of a building and vore you now. My evil plan is unfurling as I speak.” 

 

“Shut up, man! Shut up about vore!” Gordon slapped him gently on the face. It was more like a backhanded pat, complete with a ‘pschew’ sound effect. 

 

“We’re just like McReady and the Thing!” Benrey coquettishly raised his eyebrows and lowered them in rapid succession.

 

They wrestled for a bit, with Benrey barely putting any effort into trying to get that twerpy hunk of a human off of him. So as they rolled around, Benrey put in the bare minimum to give him a challenge, until both were too exhausted to go any further, and they sprawled out on their ugly ass rug. Benrey asked, “When did you uh, start liking me?” 

 

That was a hard question. He’d always found that voice attractive, but his personality was a turn off until very recently. It was a gradient of change from ‘loathsome’ to ‘loveable’. Best not to give him a complicated answer, Benrey didn’t do well with complications, “For a while. You?” 

 

“Remember when I got hit in the head with a laser? Uh, like right after that. You asked if I was okay. Um… Pathetic, I know.” Gordon remembered this! When he retched and belched out spring evening purple. But it seems like Tommy’s reading was incorrect; He hadn’t ever seen Benrey show romantic love or lust before. He merely interpreted it as the next best thing. Sandwiched between the blue and pink was purple, surely that was what he was intending on showing.

 

“That’s a bit sweet. Wasn’t used to that, were you?” Gordon scratched at his tube feet hair, letting it stick to his fingers and taste the sweat of his palms. Benrey was purring and curling his toes at the sensation of it. He had effectively made his head a hypersensitive center of touch.

 

“No. Especially not from uh, cute science tists.” It was as if the cage of his inner thoughts had been unlocked. If he were human, the raw freedom might have killed him with shock. 

 

“I’m sorry about how we started off.” Gordon rolled back onto him and pressed their foreheads together. Benrey’s smooth scales absorbed Gordon’s sweat as if his body thirsted for nothing more than his. He lapped up the apology, the forgiveness, the stench of anxiety in every pore and gland. And he leaned into it to alleviate the pain. 

 

Benrey’s mouth was far less considerate than his skin, “Yeah uh, I was uhm, epically stupid. That’s my bad, really.” 

 

“Funny how this worked out.” Gordon pressed a kiss between his eyes. 

 

“Uhm, can you get off of me? Pretty please?” 

 

“Oh what’s the matter? Thought you wanted to stay like this?” Gordon’s ass was fucking heavy as shit . He was in severe discomfort, but he wasn’t going to say anything about it.

 

“This is a bit of a cowabummer but I need to pee cause I straight chugged a two liter of distilled water before this.” 

 

“You wh- That’s for the iron, you dick! It has no minerals in it, stop drinking that shit, man! I needed that for a job interview!” 

 

“AUGH!” Benrey scrambled out from under Gordon and locked himself in the bathroom while he cackled in incredulity. What the fuck? Why, of all the water he could have drank, did he need the distilled water that Gordon specifically set aside for the job interview? The water labelled ‘DO NOT DRINK: GORDON SUIT WATER’. Of course Benrey wouldn't listen. Even though Benrey didn't mean harm, something in the back of Gordon's mind was expressing... doubt. He knew this would be the moment that defined the rest of their relationship, for better or for worse. 

Chapter 24: Dr. Freeman Gives Benrey's Disgusting Ass a Wash

Summary:

Benrey doesn't know how to clean his hair. Gordon helps.

Notes:

Hey guys!

Content Warning for: Nudity, Sexual references, Sexual innuendo. No sex happens in this chapter (or in any chapter) but it is talked about. Also toxic behavior and mindsets. That's right, they're not out of the woods yet in regards to their emotional and behavioral issues.

Im going to be gone for a while? At some point? I have a trip overseas. unsure of how long this hiatus will last.

I'll try to get an extra chapter in before or after to make up for it. Thank you for your patience!

Gordon had been pretty strict on his caloric intake for the past few weeks, and so he decided to allow himself a little extra something that morning. Benrey and he got the same breakfast for once. French toast. Benrey shoved a whole piece into his mouth and chugged the bottle of maple syrup like a degenerate. Fuck, that was gross. Gordon liked to indulge in the finer things in life… but he sure as hell would never drink from the maple syrup bottle. 

 

Gordon got a dollop of sugar, and Benrey drank the rest, and licked the interior clean with his wormy blue tongue. Gross, but endearing. When he had his fill, he put his feet up on the table and leaned back with a can of bubbling, saccharine caffeine. His adam’s apple rode down his neck as he chugged, and Gordon couldn’t help but snort. Benrey was a lame-ass. Impolite, sure. But he was so free-spirited it almost made Gordon angry he couldn’t be the same.. 

 

Gordon drained his coffee while it was hot and stood, “Get to cleaning, dishboy.” 

 

“Uh, can I uh, get umm…” Benrey hid his face in his hands, “Get a cool kissy?” 

 

“Sure thing.” Gordon leaned over to give him a kiss, and fuck he had to reel back from the sudden wave of fetid, smelling-salt-scented rotting harbor hair aroma that hit him, “JESUS! How the hell do you smell like such SHIT?!”

 

Benrey shrugged, and then sniffed himself, “Uh, I don’t smell it.” 

 

“Okay, no. You’re…” Gordon gagged, “Take a shower!” 

 

“I did this morning?” 

 

“Did you put on any shampoo?” 

 

“Uh… what?” 

 

“You need to… put soap in your hair?” 

 

“It needs that?” 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ Benrey you need to have some concept of basic hygiene! You’re–You’re fucking putrid, what, do you want to get me sick from your filth?!” 

 

“Huh? What?” Benrey blew out some confused chartreuse as he massaged his scalp and took a whiff of the gunk that smeared on his finger. “Um, what you–you don’t appreciate my gamer love? For you? My gamer gunk is all yours, baby.” 

 

“This is a cruel god’s punishment for me–Fine! I’d have thought it’d be pretty obvious that you need to clean your hair, I don’t know what I have to explain this to you, but I will, so you have no excuse to be the filthmonger you are!” 

 

“...Together? So mean to me.” 

 

“FINE, we can bathe together, Benrey.” Gordon gripped his nose in his hands and gritted his teeth, though he relaxed as Benrey crawled on him and planted a smooch on his cheek. 

 

But something seemed to click with Benrey as he pulled away, his eyes blowing out to saucer pupils as he realized just what Gordon was implying. There's that smile! Everyone's favorite train riding gamer had a bit, toothy grin again, “GORDON PENIS REVEAL!?” 

 

“Can… Can you not? You’ve seen AND touched my dick before. You put it away? With the dick slip? And you’ve seen me coming out of the shower?” 

 

“Huh? What? No I didn’t.” Benrey's finger slid up into his nostril and rolled around in there for a solid few seconds. Gordon, for his sanity, didn't pay attention to what was coming out. Because he knew he was going to eat it and he kissed that fucking mouth. And that made it even more foul. The less he thought about it, the better. 

 

“What was your… whole monologue? It was about the dick slip?”

 

“I want your uh, dick to slip in me.” 

 

“Okay, man! Not right now!” Gordon exhaled into his hands and silently prayed to god. He needed a higher power to keep him from wringing Benrey’s skinny, long neck, “You–You stinky fuck– ”

 

It took a moment. Gordon couldn’t blow up on Benrey again. Gordon was better than that. This was his boyfriend now, and in spite of how infuriating he was, and how much he wanted to wring his neck, he had to respect him and quell his overbearing urge to scream about his stupidity–faux or genuine. Oh god, if he had a therapist I think he’d be thrown into the funny farm! People didn’t think like this, people did NOT think like this. How to justify this though? He could definitely twist this in a way that’s positive for their relationship instead, “Let’s just… we can get clean together, learn about each other’s bodies. You know. Just get accustomed?” 

 

“Sure. And I get to smell not like total shit?” 

 

“Yep.” 

 

Gordon picked him up and slung him over his shoulders like a caveman. And Benrey hung limp and purred the whole time he was dragged to the bathroom, where he was set down beside the tub. The both of them wasted no time in shedding off their clothes. Gordon had really gotten over being bashful about himself. The area he was most embarrassed by was the stomach and thigh area, and, well, Benrey’s already seen that plenty. In fact, he quite liked it. He unbuttoned his shirt and stripped his jeans off. 

 

“Dude, you were going commando the whole time?” Gordon gestured to his Ken-dollesque, bare crotch.

 

“What the fuck am I hiding? C’mon.” Benrey knocked his pelvis, “I can make one if you want.” 

 

“Nah. It’s fine.” Gordon pulled his boxers off and tossed them in the hamper. He leaned over and pressed the drain cover down, and put the hot water on. Benrey put his arms around his waist and basked in the warmth of his core, kneading at his soft flesh with his dulled claws. “Come on, man. You know I’m ashamed of my gut.”

 

“Mmm, soft. Like a mushy rock,” Benrey sprawled his hands across his lower belly and drummed on it with comical slappping. He was promptly peeled off and pushed an arm’s length away. “Heyyyyuhhh! I love your uh, bod. It’s um, zaftigy . That’s my uh, Words with Friends word. Zaftigy .” 

 

“I’m kind of surprised. I mean–My ex-wife didn’t like it at all.” Gordon didn’t resist this time when Benrey pressed into him and felt around where his oblique muscles faded into belly fat. He was pretty toned everywhere else, but his stomach had a lot of stubborn fluff and Benrey wanted him that way . This man could hunt and eat! “Wow you’re… you’re really into this.”

 

“Incredible DILF,” Benrey eased into his chest and rode his fingers around his happy trail, “Damn boy, this body of yours is absurd.”

 

“Benrey I get the point. Pick your bath bomb,” Gordon slapped some bubbler in there. Orange scented of course. Thanks G-Man. At least he wanted Gordon to feel pampered.

 

“Won’t we be uh, basting in our own filth?” 

 

“Yeah. Don’t think about it.” Gordon gestured to the tub, and Benrey hopped in with his claws on a bath bomb. His chromatophores changed with the introduction of a rather intense heat, loosening them up into a silvery white. Seemed to be his base coloration, not blue. He stretched his low-poly toes out of the bubbly water and stared at his fucked up talon nails with a sparkle in the eye. 

 

“Fuuuck this feels good.” Benrey let out a deflating sigh of contentment. Gordon sat across from him, feeling his feet frame his hips.

 

He grabbed his foot and started cleaning up the gross toe jam between those fucking PS2 digits, “Since you’re like a lizard I bet it’s like a warm hug all over you.”

 

“Yeah. My organs are going crazy in a good way… why are you touching my feet?” 

 

“Dude, they’re filthy. I’m going to work my way up.” He lathered him in body wash and massaged down his leg. And Benrey just stared at him, utterly confused. 

 

“What’re you doing?” 

 

“Just cleaning you off.” 

 

“Want me to… fuck you?” Benrey turned his head to the side. He wasn’t against having sex right now but he wasn’t so enthusiastic either. It just felt really good to lay about in the tub. 

 

“No? I’m just… preening? Grooming you? What word are you familiar with?” Gordon massaged the sole of Benrey’s foot, somehow finding a crick in there he didn’t even know about. 

 

Benrey purred at the thought, and melted into the back of the bath, “I–I… What do I…” He spat out some confused balls of sweet voice, which intensified as Gordon dropped his leg and gestured to his lap. Benrey launched himself into the other side of the tub, spraying soapy water all over the bath rug and the tile floor. He fell face first into his chest and he turned over so that the back of his head was to Gordon’s face. His mass of writhing hair-tentacles flopped around wildly in the hot water. It smelled so, so bad. Gordon grabbed some of his shampoo and rubbed it into Benrey’s scalp gently, trying to massage it between each little papillae patch. The skin on there felt so soft and malleable, and easily broken with just a little too much pressure. Gordon took extra care in being sure he didn’t pop one. The primary reason being he didn’t want to bathe in alien blood. 

 

Benrey sniffled, and quietly sobbed over the water as his most delicate protrusions were treated with loving care. The consideration for each little part of him… Was he supposed to have this? He leaned back into his soft chest, landing in his thighs. It was so strange to be touched this way.

 

“How are you feeling?” 

 

“I know I am good.” 

 

“How come?” 

 

“Only good people go to heaven.” Benrey cupped the puffs of white suds in his hands like ethereal clouds from the domains of deities.

 

Gordon cupped some water and poured it over his head, and scrubbed the dead skin off of him. It’s like Benrey hadn’t known intimacy could be so graceful.

 

He made it. He really made it. Well chat, we did it. We’re going to fuck the overweight divorcee, rang in his mind. And that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

 

Human hands wrapped around his chest, placed firmly between his pecs, and held him fast in the warm water, soaking in the citrus fragrance. Kisses up the neck followed the rolling of suds. So warm, so comfortable. He wanted to sleep right then and there in Gordon’s chest. Being taken care of like this was so much different than being taken care of in the cage. He could groom himself. He could feed himself. All of these things, he could technically do himself. But the fact that someone wanted to do it for him, and he did not rely on them because he was at their whims… It was different . 

 

Someone wanted him. He just melted into Gordon completely, until their fleshes were not distinguishable from the other. Being scrubbed like this was something magical , and he just had to share this love. He spewed some orange and pink out, and turned over onto Gordon. Although cramped in the tub, and half out into the cold, conditioned air, Benrey straddled himself on Gordon’s gut and grabbed the bottle of HEAD AND SHOULDERS. Then he proceeded to squirt the entire bottle all over his chest and face while Gordon tried to smack him away. 

 

“Phhhfthb. STOP! THBBBB! Stop it Benrey you asshole! Pthhhththhb bleh.” He was getting shampoo in his mouth, eyes, up his nose… everywhere. 

 

And then Benrey grabbed him in his arms, and dunked him like it was a baptism, “Praise the Lord!” 

 

“Phhthtbbbbb I hate you…” Gordon washed out his face and chest, scrubbing the shampoo in, “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you? Gently, like you’re RP walking in a game.” 

 

“Oh shit. Sorry.” Benrey changed his approach, rubbing his hands down his body, through his hair and his weird, stiff human skin that was oh so soft on the face and rugged like sharkskin on the palm. His shoulders had this thin layer of fat, and right beneath it was muscle as firm as the wood of an oak tree. He pressed his claws in to feel that, to really just get a sense of how hard he had been working at the gym. And Gordon moaned as Benrey soothed a knot he didn’t even know he had. 

 

Benrey kept kneading, developing more hands out of his armpits, with stringy arms following behind, folding between his primary appendages to cup Gordon’s face, and trailed his hands down to his chest and stomach.

 

He had a beautiful look to him as he leaned back with his glasses neatly folded on the side of the tub, knees sticking out of the water and eyes bloodshot from the shampoo. Benrey didn’t have enough hands to–Wait. He could fix that! 

 

Hands upon hands poured out from his sternum, coiling around Gordon for a full body hug! Pustule fingertips emerged first, and then in bursts of amniotic fluid and slick oil, fleshy joints crackled out and curled around Gordon’s body.

 

“Jesus Christ what the fuck are you doing?!” 

 

“Need to massage all the pain away.” Benrey flopped on top of him in a sheet of viscera, and tickled him across his body with all his grazing sinew hands. He utterly eclipsed the light in the room, and swallowed Gordon’s head whole in a violent barrage of kisses, “I love you! I wanna uh, feel you. Cause it makes us closer and love each other more, right?” 

 

“Benrey you’re killing me?” Gordon gasped as he was pushed back down under the water.

 

“Oh sorry. Haha. Got excited.” He retreated after scrubbing the last of the excessive shampoo off of him. What a beautiful set of eyes on Gordon, “Gazing into your Shrek’s Swamp Twinkie filling green peepers right now.” 

 

“I… You are so bad at flirting.” 

 

“Absolutely lost in the cistern vortexes of cartoon boogers. Cauldrons of Witch’s Evil Green Potion.” 

 

“I hate you.” Gordon wrapped his arms around him, and petted his forehead as he took up the entire length of the tub, “I really hate you.”

 

“I–I dunno why would you hate me and then hold me? Just put your hands all over me to make me clean and happy?” 

 

“It’s just… a sign of affection,” he scrubbed behind his ear. The tub was cramped, but hell, it was worth it. The tentacles on Benrey’s head reached out for Gordon, and clung to his chest with tiny tube feet. They were tangled in a mess of limbs, submerged in the water, sloshing around in a perfect warmth. Benrey had never been so comfortable, felt so safe, been so…

 

 

Complacent.

 

 

He let out some uncertain tones of yellow sweet voice, and grazed his fingers over Gordon’s sudsy bicep. That was everything he wanted. This was it. This was what all that hard work was for. And it made him happy. But there was something about himself he lost along the way. 

 

Eh. It was better like that. He grabbed Gordon by his stupid jaw and pressed his mouth into his, and filled him with a stream of pink and blue. Like a swirl of strawberry and blue raspberry, the sweet voice bounced around his tastebuds, seeped through his gastric lining, and shook up his neurotransmitters. And once that pink hit, he bubbled up inside and grabbed Benrey by the back of his neck, and pressed him in harder. 

 

Whoops. Benrey pulled himself off with a ‘mwah’, and looked down at Gordon, who was just as paralyzed with amour as he stared into his revolting compound eyes. And then Benrey just had to ruin the moment, “Yo your breath taste straight up like uhhh, the official Skyrim Alduin figurine.” 

 

Gordon sighed. What could he do? Benrey was going to say whatever he wanted. That man didn’t even own the Alduin statue, he didn’t know how Benrey innately knew its flavor. “Thanks–Thanks Benrey. We’ll work on your flirting strategy at a later time. Is there any part of you unwashed?” 

 

“Nah. But we can lay here for a while, right?” 

 

“Of course, my charming quark. My magical averter of evil. Anything you want.”

 

“NERD.” Benrey cackled and kicked his legs around, “NERD! Your sweet talking is so NERDY. You sound like such a uh, big DWEEB. Makes me look stupid. Stupid, smooth nerd.”

 

“Has anyone ever been intimate with you?” 

 

“Lots of people have tried to uh, intimidate me. You included. And you failed. So.” 

 

“No, like… This? Did something like this with you?”

 

“Uh. No.” Benrey pressed his claws into Gordon’s chest, “Never.” 

 

“Well, you’re with me now. Let’s make up for that lost time.” 

 

“And this isn’t like… for sex? We’re not having sex?”

 

“Dude is that all you think about?” 

 

“Um, no. But if you’re touching me all over it’s ummmmm a proposition.”

 

“I’m not trying to get you to have sex with me, fuck Benrey. I just want you to do what comes naturally to you. And I do what comes naturally to me. And we’ll see how it works.” 

 

“I–I… I don’t know? I can show you my butt? Umm… lick you. Bring you rats. I dunno. Want any of that?” Benrey turned around and pushed his bare ass out of the water like Nessie rearing her head up.

 

Gordon stared at those two flat, white plates in the tub, and then started laughing hysterically, “You know what? You’re such a special man, Benrey. I don’t know who I’d be right now if you weren’t here.” 

 

“Hahaha!” Benrey turned over and pinned him to the tub, “Wanna stay here.” 

 

“Well I do need to apply for more–” 

 

“Nah. You’re not gonna. We’re staying here. Forever.” 

 

“The water is starting to get cold.” 

 

“Mmm. It’s always warm with you.” Benrey flopped down on him and squeezed his shoulders. 

 

Gordon traced his hands over his thighs and onto his stomach, and his brows popped up as he realized something dreadfully important, “Hey, Benrey? Do you have a gut now?” 

 

“I uh, always have guts. I need them to uh, live .” 

 

“Nuh uh! I think I just felt you and for the first time you’ve got a little cushioning!” Gordon squeezed him and planted a kiss on his cheek, “Your stomach isn’t concave anymore! Um… that concave.”

 

“Hrnng,” Benrey blew out some sable sweet voice and winced. 

 

Gordon felt his whole body contract and pulled away, “Shit. I forgot you were sensitive there.”

 

“C–Cool that uh, I’m getting fat and awesome but you gotta stop poking my weak spot.” Benrey relaxed back into his arms.

 

“But isn’t that great?”

 

“…I’m not…” Benrey noted, and turned over to stare into Gordon’s eyes, and with a surreptitious gesture he leaned in to whisper into his ear, “Gordon?” 

 

Matching his sensual tone in kind, Gordon pressed his lips against his jaw, “Ben?”

 

Soaking in his scent and his tender touch, Benrey pinned Gordon against the end of the tub and extended his jaws into his chest, gnawing at him like a rabid animal, “Yargnarshwbrrrbrrr!”

 

“AHAHAHA! Stop it AH! OW! You shi–HAAAAAAH!” Gordon was washed around the tub like it was a soapy slip-n-slide. Benrey shapeshifted two extra hands for even better manhandling, tickling him and pushing him back and forth, until there was more water on the floor than there was in the tub. Sure, Gordon was being disrespected, but it was funny. Which was probably more important than any remnants of so-called dignity he had. 

 

---

 

Gordon drained the tub as Benrey buttoned up his shirt. His was already dried. There were benefits to being whatever the fuck Benrey was: He could just change the texture of his scalp to let the water run off, and reform his hair. Maybe with a slightly longer tentacle doodad for flair. His brand new blue button up from one of those preppy, expensive brands actually looked nice on him. God, he looked like a dork. But Gordon thought he pulled off ‘exhausted salary man’ better than anyone else could. His less rugged, animal features such as that rounded jaw helped in selling him as a human. 

 

“Alright, I’m going to apply for some more jobs. And I highly suggest that you do too.” 

 

“Aww… No more bath cuddles?” 

 

“No. Not until you’re filthy again.” 

 

Benrey stared at him vacantly. And then he clipped through the floor. 

 

Fuck. 

 

Gordon ran into the kitchen with just a towel around his waist, Benrey standing in front of the fridge, pouring mustard into his hair and kneading it in, “Oh nooo I’m–I’m so dirty again! If only a strong, smart scientist would uh, would take a bath with me?”

 

“Benrey what the fuck, man?” 

Chapter 25: Dr. Feetman's Failed Serenade

Summary:

Gordon wants to impress Benrey and learns he's actually not special in any capacity. Thankfully, Benrey is easily impressed by literally anything.

Notes:

TW: Animal abuse? I think? A turtle gets a rock thrown at it but it's fine. also sexual innuendo and humor.

back from break. hope you guys had a good week because i want to divorce my torso from my legs. hope you enjoy this little thingy that's pretty old. one of the first chapters I wrote actually, just to get a sense of their relationship.

While Benrey’s mere existence was enough to impress Gordon (who wouldn’t be impressed with an alien), he was not so sure about the other way around. He didn’t usually notice all the little things that Gordon did to try and garner attention. Walking around in his boxers, doing stretches in the living room while he was playing Dead Space, eating food in rather compromising ways (Benrey had to use the Heimlich maneuver on him after the hotdog incident), and even mimicking an animal in heat’s behavior by just presenting himself to Benrey didn’t seem to do much. Did he just not understand? Or maybe he just wasn’t impressed with Gordon. He was just a dumpy human among billions. Benrey could have anyone he wanted, given he was a shapeshifting alien. 

 

Gordon had hatched a new plan. If Benrey communicated through music, then Gordon could too. Now, it had been some years since Gordon had played the guitar, but he was sneaking off to the nearest Guitar Center while Benrey took his mid-afternoon nap to refresh himself on a few chords he used to play for girls he thought were cute in highschool. He was part of the well documented epidemic of teenage boys playing guitar in the 00’s, thinking it made him more attractive to women. 

 

He even bought a shitty little acoustic guitar, and had pretty much remembered all the old shit he used to be able to play from back in the day. And he was ready to serenade his lover the way every debonair ought to. Benrey was reluctant to go to some New Mexico park, thinking it was just going to be some patches of ‘cucktus’ and ‘marijawanna’. But Benrey was pleasantly surprised that it looked like a park from GTA IV.

 

“Yo Nico, it's Roman! Let’s go bowling!” Benrey tossed a stone into the water, as hard as he could towards a turtle. The poor thing was flung beneath the water’s surface, though it reemerged a few seconds later just slightly dazed, “STRIKE!” 

 

“Benrey this is animal abuse, stop it. The poor thing doesn’t know what you’re doing!” He pulled a rock out of Benrey’s hand and gestured to an ant infested bench beneath a tree the two could sit on, “Go plop your ass and stop being an asshole.” 

 

His date grunted and vaulted onto the tree instead, climbing up with his freaky, unsheathed claws. He relaxed on top of the branch and leaned off of it, “Um, yeah, no. I’m staying up here. Best seat in the um… Tree.” 

 

“Right. Well, care for a snack? Gordon held an apple up from his bag, and Benrey flopped onto the branch. 

 

His legs dangled just above the table as he reached out for it, “Oh yeah, give me that um, Granny Smith’s Sour Fruit. Spread her open for Ben, Gordzo!” 

 

“Fucking… WHY do you talk like that?” Gordon gasped for breath as he cackled at that absolute zinger. With a light flick of his wrist, he tossed the apple right into Benrey’s mouth. 

 

He crunched down about half the apple in one bite, and swallowed without fanfare, “Um, let a man eat, dude.” 

 

“Of course. Let a man eat . I’d prefer you didn’t.” Gordon laid down underneath him, staring up at his face, framed in a corona of light. He really did look like a guardian angel that way, sprawled out on the branch, half hanging off like a civet. The haze of light, gently blotted by the silhouettes of little circular leaves up in the highest branches of the trees, shined light on his void–like filaments of ‘hair’. The tube feet at the end of each strand defied gravity, and curled back to give off the impression of an always perfect side swept style. He thought he looked cute like that. Like a fuckboy tool. Benrey was cute because he thought he was cute. Confidence was key. 

 

Benrey swallowed the other half of the apple and sucked the juices off his finger tips, “Mmm, no one does it like uh, Granny’s Smiths Delicious Fruit. Her sweet nectar. Her cu–” 

 

“Okay, the more explicit you get, the worse it is, Benrey!” Gordon decided to eat like an actual human being, and popped a single–COUNT THEM, ONE–grape into his mouth. He just took the time to appreciate Benrey from where he was. Although he usually disguised his eyes out in public, Benrey had elected not to. Looking like a goddamn creature with those big, psilocybin pupils and the golden halo of sclera surrounding them,  “Damn. You’re beautiful from down here.” 

 

“I am?” He blinked slowly with his nictitating eyelids, “Cause, you know… I was just thinking… I could smell your damn feet from all the way up here! PHEW! Damn Feetman, what’ve you been stomping around in?” 

 

“Ha ha. You’ve got me pissing my pants, here.” Gordon stuck his legs up, showing off the soles of his boots. 

 

Benrey blew a raspberry at him, hitting him with a fine mist of spit, “Come on Gordon this can’t have been what you wanted to do all day.” 

 

Gordon sighed and sat up, “Want me to cut to the chase?” 

 

“Please and thank you.” Benrey leaned on his palms, somehow staying fixed to the tree anyways. Must of either had inhuman balance, or he was shapeshifting some structure Gordon couldn’t see to keep in place. 

 

Gordon rolled his eyes and grabbed the black case on the table, about to unhook the latches, when he looked to the next picnic table down. And there was a boy and a girl, cuddling next to each other as he pulled a guitar out from the case at his feet. And he started playing Wonderwall . 

 

Shit. And then he looked past him, and there was a guy on his knees, strumming on an unhooked electric, belting out… Wonderwall. And then another guy, and another. All these alt looking college to mid–twenties men were strumming out chords to Wonderwall and singing to their dates. Gordon unlatched the guitar case and gulped. 

 

“Hey, Benrey, is that Roman from Grand Theft Auto behind you?” 

 

“Wait huh?!” Benrey actually fucking fell for it, and Gordon was able to bash his guitar against the floor and chuck it into the pond. All incognito. Couldn’t have worked better. The alien turned his attention back down to Gordon, “Must’ve missed him! Damn. Slowrey strikes again.”

 

Fuck. He needed a better idea. New date idea. What did Benrey like that wasn’t video games and fucking with him… “Wanna go to Waffle House?” 

 

“YOOOO HELL YEAH WAFFLE HOUSE!” Benrey fell out of the tree and onto Gordon, busting his gut, his balls, and knocking the wind out of him all at once, “Bro, how did you know my dream was to be part of a Waffle House fight?!” 

 

“I listened.” Gordon kissed him on his sharp ass cheekbone, still trying to catch his breath after his pained groaning, “Please don’t do that ever again I think you just neutered me. We’re never giving Joshua a brother…” 

 

“Oh, fuck. Sorry about your huge, epic nuts, bro.” Benrey slid off of him and rolled down the hill towards the pond, stopping right before he hit the water. The stiffness of his body going down made Gordon snort. What a Benrey Moment. He laid down in the mud for a moment, and then popped right back up like Dracula rising out of his coffin. Backwards. 

 

---

 

Benrey was in heaven at the Waffle House. He shoved a whole heap of buttery breakfast food into his mouth while witnessing a waitress smash a chair over the head of a violent customer. Both him and the chair broke. It was dinner and a show for a cheap price–This was Benrey’s Medieval Times. This made him feel like a king , sitting here with his man, watching this shmuck get his shit fucked. Benrey had sandwiched Gordon into the booth with him, trapping him with his body. His fingers inched over to Gordon’s to interlock, and he started whispering into his ear. 

 

“Pspspspspsps sexy pspspspspsps slap him on the ass pspspspsps mwah .” Benrey bit him on the earlobe. Gently enough that it didn’t hurt, but the pressure was still highly noticeable.

 

Gordon glared at him, and as he opened his mouth to try and defend himself, a forkful of syrupy waffle and strawberries was stuffed in his hole. He hummed disgruntled notes as he chewed, and put his head on his shoulder. Another waitress kicked the customer in the balls and followed through with a clean uppercut that knocked him out. Fucking impressive. Benrey clapped his hands politely, as any king amongst peons ought to.

 

“This was the best date ever.” Benrey ran his fingers through Gordon’s hair, taking in the righteous smell of his cheap ass cologne. His goofy glasses beamed the fluorescent lights into his eyes. “People fighting for virtually freeeeee.”

 

“Cheap date.” Gordon knocked his head into him, his glasses fell slightly off center, and he didn’t bother to fix the skew. Benrey couldn’t be having that, and put glasses right where they belonged, where they magnified his beautiful eyes. He got to adjust Gordon Freeman’s glasses! He got to adjust Gordon Freeman’s glasses! He made it! He really made it, didn’t he?

 

Well, the mission was failed successfully . That was better than some other dating catastrophes Gordon had. And at the very least, he saved himself the absolute embarrassment of playing Wonderwall to him. Benrey finally had noticed his efforts, and he could tell from his trilling purr, and the way his claws were running up and down his thighs that he was going to have quite the passionate night. Old Gordon Freeman still got it, hell yeah. 

Chapter 26: Benrey Breaks the Washing Machine

Summary:

Benrey breaks the washing machine. Gordon has a conniption.

Notes:

TW: Lots of sexual innuendo, bigotry, etc. Sexual innuendo is STRONG in this one so please proceed with caution <3

 

i am here giving you my magnum opus of frenrey. it's lightly written to be read quickly and easily but i think that its fine the way it is (it made my beta bust his gut laughing for 20 minutes straight)

Anyways hope you guys have a wonderful week <3 remember to send some love to an author you already enjoyed today!

Gordon stared at the pool of water on the bathroom floor, streaming out of the washing machine, which had somehow made its way into the center of the room, and the dryer was cracked on the floor, with shattered tile surrounding it. The chassis was hanging on by the loosest parts of its hinges, and the window that Benrey oh so lovingly stared into for hours was shattered into chunks of sharp plastic. Their clothing wasn’t even fully washed. They were still soapy. 

 

A washer had NEVER broken down on him. And Gordon came to the reasonable conclusion; he was living in G-Man’s copy of The Sims. Washing machines don’t just break like this for no reason. Everything had a reason, and Gordon investigated through the scientific method. He checked the back of the washing machine, the power, the filter… 

 

Benrey phased through the shower and landed right next to Gordon, “Yo what happened here?” 

 

Gordon banged the side of the machine, “What the fuck, man?” 

 

Benrey stuck his hands into the drum and pulled a brick out, “Yo my brown brick is clean!” 

 

“YOU PUT A FUCKING BRICK IN OUR WASHING MACHINE!?” Gordon grabbed him by his collared shirt, which he hadn’t even buttoned up yet, and shook him around, “WHY!?” 

 

“Uh. I wanted to see what would happen?” 

 

Gordon deflated and released him, and the tension in his body slacked, “Ugh, well… we have to clean up and get a new machine at some point. Let me message G-Man.” 

 

 

(You): Washing machine and dryer broke. Can you provide funds for a new one? 

 

G-Man: I’m driving with Do Not Disturb While Driving turned on. I’ll see your message when I get where I’m going. Or feel free to give me a call. 

 

 

Driving? Gordon decided to give him a ring, and he was sent straight to voicemail.

 

 

You have reached the voicemail box of M̴̳̠̣̭̙̟͈̝̞̙̬̜̦̝̲̺̲͕̠̫̹͔̙͊̔̄͐͘͘͜r̶̨̢̧̼͔̼̤̼͔̞͙̟̪̟̤̰͎̙̰̘̩̪̣̥̮͖̎̾͐́́̑͑̏̈́̒̑͂̈̎̌̅͐̈́̓͂͐͐́̌͊̑̅̈̿̋̈́̾̚̕͜͜͝͝.̷̧̢̧̡̡̧̛̱̞͉̙̝̹̲̖̟̘̠͈̠̣̰̞̱̭̖͕̻̬̣̪̤͙͍͈̖̻͓̟̯͈̪͕̠͌̄̇̐̋̀̆̒͑̏̏͐̈̍́̋̔̔̇̈́͋̍̆͘͘͝͠ͅ ̸̨̛̜̺̦̩̲̟̼̩̯̌̆̃͐̃̌̇͂̇̐́̈̎̀̔̄͛͌́͐̇̋̎̚͘̚̕̚͝͠C̶̫̈́͑͐̆͐̌́̊͆̈́̓͋̈́̉͝ơ̸̛̛͉̍̇̌̽̓̎̀̇̐͗̓͋̽̍͛́͛̅̈́̆̕͘͝ͅǫ̶̛̠̳̣͇̬̜͍̼̲͍̣͓̯̭̳͙̳̻͚͖͍́̐̄͛̓̾͛̑̓̇̀̒̅́̐̈́͛̾̈́̀̌̃͆̓͐̾͊̌̇̆͑̽͒̌̔̚͘̚͝͝͠͠l̴̨̼̩̝͖̼̘̭͓̰͙̖̘͍̺̝̜̖̭̘̭̗̰̯̟̹̘̲̻̒͂̅̌̐̊͊̐̑́͊͛͐͘͜͜͝ͅͅͅa̴̛̱̥͈̔̐̓̓͐̎̐͛̔̉̋́͑̃͂̾̊͂̀̎̈͘̚͠͝t̴̡̢̧̘͓̼̩͕̮͈̟͖̩̗̼̱̣͎̙̙͇̤̬͕̼̬̫̼̩̳̻͚͎̻̰̠̬̯͉͙̪̪͑̊̂̊̽͐̃̊̓̕͜͝ţ̵̛̠̠̯͈̝̠͓̞̜̠̳̮̰̃͆̉͂̀͒̅̿͋̽̋͌̄̂̇̋̌̍̀̓́̓̈́̿͂ͅą̶̧̛͍̯̼͓̘͔̪̭͓͎̬̪̱̖͎̣̩̞̖̩̖̗͓͙̔̓͑̓͌̋̿̃͊̄͋̍̎́̎̃͛͒̐̑̌̾͒́̑̏̀̆͘̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ . Please leave your message after the beep. Mm̷̢̨̧̢̛̛̛̳̭̞͓̼̘̦̠̲̦̟̗̥̪̰̩̮͙͈͕͕͓̫͕̪̐͊͑͋̎́͗̀̀̔̎͋̈́́̽͋̔̊̄͌̄͊̀͐̏̅́͂̒̉̅̿͐̀̒͋̀̄͐̈́͘̕͜͠͝m̵̧̨̛̘͍̯̜̩̖̠̦̝̺͕̱͔̤̟̼̪͕̣̬̝̟̼̥̬̟̙̍̋̋͛̾̈́̒̄͐̇̾͑̈́̇̇̿̒̏̑̔̈̓͗̌͑̏̓͛̏͘̚͝͝͝m̸̹̤̭̥͚͍̲̩̭̠̗̟̭̬̬̲̙̜̣͗͂͛̆͗͜m̴̦̠̻̟͇̰͚̟̝̫͈̦͈͍̅͒͂̉͛̽͑͒̈́̾̍̇̽͐̾̓͛̒̃̾̓̊̅͑̋̋̽̀̄͘͝͠m̶̢̨̨͙̹̱̖͍͉̣̞̗͓͉̰͚͇͚̝̐̑ṁ̶̡̭̹̣͚̮̗̮̮̣̤̲̰͗̀̓̒̍̇̎̽̑́͌͛̌̎͘͜͝m̶̨̛͓̖͉̦͚̣̝̘͖̜̼̝̠̖̹͉͔̫͖͇͉͊́́̂͗͐̔̔̊͊̊̈́̈́͛͗͌̓̏͒̎̓̏̂̅̔̒̀͝ͅm̷̧̢̛̟͕̻̼̙̺͈͇͇̳̪̭̻̖͉̘̞͖̥̳̥̻̟͍͎͕͈̼̳̱̭͚͔̓͂͗͒̓̈́̆̂̋̈́̈̏̄̄̈́̊͒͆͒͋̈̈́̔̏͂̎͊́͒̊̅̐̔͐́̓͘̕͜͜͜͜͝m̴̨̡̟̼̣̱̻̬̥̘͕̺̺̬͔̙̺͓͌̋̓̽͜͜ͅ ~

 

 

 Wonderful. Well, Gordon had to revert back to old adaptations, it seemed, “Ben, go get the hamper sack from the closet.” 

 

Benrey phased through the wall and came back in with that aforementioned appropriate laundry-holding apparatus in his hand, “Uh, am I in trouble?” 

 

“Don’t do that again and I won’t get mad.” He pushed the clumps of heavy wet clothing into the sack and pointed at the puddle of water on the floor, “You clean that up. I’m going to drive to the laundro–”

 

Benrey looked at the puddle. He really didn’t want to clean up after a good nap like he just had. As Gordon waited for his answer, Benrey considered his options, dropped to his knees, and screamed, “Please! Please take me with you! Boyfriends date? Boyfriends date to laundromat? Wouldn’t deny me my boyfriends date, right?” 

 

“You want… a date to the laundromat?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Whatever, man. Just get in the car.” 

 

“Nice.” Benrey started buttoning up his shirt, “Hot date to the uh, laundromat… what’s a laundromat?”

 

“You’ll see, you lovely idiot.” Gordon pointed to the door, “Move your butt. I don’t want to die before I get these washed.” 

 

---

 

The laundromat was a ten minute drive away. And while Gordon would have walked, the intense New Mexico heat, plus a dripping bag of laundry had convinced him otherwise. Benrey had his feet up on the dash, occasionally saying ‘woah’ and ‘nice’. Car rides were an opportunity for him to get a look at the other side, and leave the Freeman bubble. He could leave whenever he wanted. The choice to stay inside was his alone. 

 

As he parked, Benrey stared at the entrance with a furrowed brow… It was just a big room… full of washers and dryers? He undid the child lock and barreled inside before Gordon could get out of the car. 

 

Shit. He nabbed the laundry sack and dashed after him, fumbling his keys to lock the Corolla. He stumbled through the doors, and Benrey was sitting on the bench, nonchalant and naturalized.

 

“Bro, you’re crazy. Why’re you in a rush?” 

 

“Stop screwing around with my doors!” The laundromat owner slammed his fist at the desk, “Don’t make me throw you two out! Behave!” 

 

“Ooo, you’re in trouble Gordito,” Benrey batted his eyelashes, and made a kissy face at him, “Let’s get some laundry baby!” 

 

Benrey took a can of Bubly out and popped the tab while Gordon picked a washing machine. Under his grumbles, he opened up the washing machine and stuffed it full of wet, heavy, soapy laundry. Griping while he groped for quarters, he found enough to slap into the machine and get it started. All while Benrey and the owner were caught in a staring contest. 

 

“Yo uh, why’re you bald?” Benrey stuck his finger up his nose and started digging around in there for whatever was bothering him. “Look at his big shiny head, Freakman! Why is he bald? Lol. Cover it up, slut.” 

 

Gordon blanched and threw himself over the washing machine to try and stop this before it spiraled out of control. But the owner got out from behind his stall as his face reddened, “Get the hell out of my laundromat you little queer!” 

 

“Oo… Shouldn’t’ve said that, pal,” Benrey looked around just to be sure there were no cameras… or witnesses. And then he stood up, turned to the man…

 

And he did the Beetlejuice screamer at him. Fuck, Gordon KNEW that movie was a bad idea for a date on the couch. Gordon didn’t know what he showed him, he could only see the burst of sinew and chitin from behind, but whatever it was, was bad enough to make the man fall back where he was and hit his head on his countertop. Benrey zipped his face back up and twirled on his heel to meet Gordon eye to eye. 

 

“GORDON! Gordon! I done showed him uh, horrors! I showed him the horrors! Did you think that was uh,” Benrey chuckled and brushed his papillae hair back, “maybe you thought that was um, kinda sexy. Maybe it gave you a bonart?” 

 

“A bonart?” Gordon gasped, “NO! Dude this man needs medical atten–ahh fuck him. Let’s wash our clothes.” 

 

Benrey grabbed the unconscious man and tossed him behind the counter, “Boom, body hidden. Uh, Indigo Prophecy moment.” 

 

The clothes were loaded up into the water, quarters were injected, and then? Well, there wasn’t much to do for the next thirty minutes. Gordon sat down on the bench and opened up his phone, and started scrolling. Benrey plopped next to him and made gummy noises for about half a minute before he spoke again, “What now?” 

 

“We wait.” Gordon pretended the laundrobigot wasn’t unconscious behind the counter.

 

“For the end?” Benrey turned his head to the side like a dog. 

 

“Yep.” 

 

There was a pause for just a moment. A moment of peace, “I’m bored!” 

 

“You wanted the date to the laundromat, bro!” Gordon snorted and turned his phone off. “Find something to do, then. We’re between a Mexican restaurant and a latino grocery store. You can go get some Inca Kola .”

 

“Nah, suckin’ on some uhhh, Booby,” he shook his can of Bubly , “Um… Hmm…” 

 

These washing machines had no dryers on top of them… He stood up as another patron entered and put her quarters and laundry in. And Benrey sat… he sat on top of the washer, and moaned . 

 

“Benrey what the fuck are you doing?” Gordon didn’t look up from his phone until he heard another… far more tantric moan, “BEN!” 

 

“Gordon, try this out!” Benrey’s voice wavered with the vibrations of the machine. The patron stared in horror, and was absolutely judging the both of them. 

 

“I’m so sorry my uh, my boyfriend is on fent!” Gordon pulled him off into his arms, holding him bridal style, “He doesn’t know what he’s saying it’s a terrible habit I’m so sorry ma’am bye!” 

 

He rushed out of the door with him in his arms, and ran right into the Mexican restaurant to recuperate from the mortification and escape this hell of his own creation. GOD! Why did he ever think it was a good idea to date Benrey?!

 

---

 

Gordon couldn’t even look at Benrey while he sat at the dinghy table. They had both gotten enchiladas (more that Gordon had ordered it in Spanish and Benrey, who spoke no Spanish, listed a bunch of Spanish words, and Gordon translated that as ‘make it two’). Benrey had his face stuffed with a whole enchilada, looking expectantly at Gordon. His eyes were blown out, wide with adoration and the whimsy of a requited love. He could barely close his lips after he finished shoveling the enchilada in, and let the sauce dribble out from between his lips, “M’theem muhd?”

 

Gordon, eating like, you know, a person, swallowed before he spoke, “I am… at a loss for words. I would be angry if I wasn’t so mortified.” 

 

Benrey opened up a tab of Manzana and chugged it to wash that whole enchilada down his throat. Then he immediately shoved another enchilada in his mouth.

 

“You need to be more demure when we’re out? Less of a whirlwind of chaos.” 

 

“Uh, boring? Lame. Boo. Boo we hate boredom.” He smacked his lips and put his feet up on the chair, “Wanna kiss about it?” 

 

“You get a kiss if you promise to refrain from acting like a little bitch.” Gordon smirked as Benrey pouted. That pout meant he was upset, but he was thinking about it. 

 

Benrey hated to capitulate, but he slacked his shoulders and let out a defeated groan, “Fine… KISS ME NOW!” 

 

He dove over the table, spraying enchiladas everywhere, all over them and the tossing the ceramic plates onto the ground. Gordon tumbled back in his chair, getting his head cradled by one of Benrey’s vicious paws as their lips met. 

 

When Gordon was finally permitted a breath of air, he screamed and kicked, “BENREY WHAT THE FUCK , MAN!?” 

 

---

 

Gordon had to sit in front of another load of laundry, stripped down to his fucking video game controller boxers. There was an arrow pointing to his crotch, and in superhero comic font: ‘Press to Begin’. He wanted to die. Benrey was perfectly content to walk around in his lacey pink undies with his flatass and featureless crotch hanging out. Hot. But that wasn’t something everyone else had to see. His lack of a belly button was not going unnoticed. Thankfully porting all those sodas obfuscated the inhuman muscles in his stomach. High sodium and a drinking habit made for plentiful hydration.

 

“Yo, what did you bring in your laundry?” Benrey poked some poor middle aged man on the back and pointed at his hamper, “You got uh, sweaters? Um, t-shirt? Jorts? Uh, passport?” 

 

“Uh. Yeah?” He backed away from the nippleless, navelless freak, “What… what about my laundry?” 

 

“You gonna clean that?” Benrey picked up one of his shirts. It was all black, with ‘Alpha Male’ in white impact font on the front. Benrey could smell the gym sweat on it, “You were scared while you ran. Nice.” 

 

“Leave me the fuck alone you most incredible pervert,” he shoved Benrey away and loaded up his laundry. 

 

The alien slunk away and fell back on the bench, right next to Gordon, who was crossing his legs to try and hide his embarrassing gamer boxers. 

 

“I love you.” Benrey purred and bit him on the shoulder. 

 

“OW! Ow! What the fuck, dude?!” Gordon’s yelp had all the other patrons’ eyes on him.

 

“Um…” Benrey kicked his legs around, when their machine started beeping. He shot up and zipped to the washer, jumping up and down like a puppy, “Open it.” 

 

Ohhhh man . They were attracting so much attention. He hid his face as he opened up the washing machine and gestured to the sopping wet clothes, “Go ahead, man.” 

 

With a swift movement, Gordon opened up one of the dryers as Benrey wrapped up all the laundry, balled it up, and slapped it into the dryer, “WOOOO! YEAH!” 

 

Gordon turned it on, and then sighed, and put his arm around Benrey, “I wish you had this energy in bed.” 

 

“Yo. Wait. What the fuck? Lewd ass. Gordon Sexman. You’re uh, disgusting.” Benrey pushed him off and stormed over to the bench, where he started playing Plants vs. Zombies. and intermittently blowing raspberries at him. Some boyfriend. Some romance. 

 

He sat down next to him and groaned. Benrey smiled and cuddled up next to him, showing off his current lawn or whatever. Gordon was more of a Dark and Darker kind of guy. But whatever made Benrey happy, he supposed. His kind of ugly, kind of cute, half-naked alien. 

 

But he was still pissed off at him. Right now he was making a pretty strong, concerted effort not to explode on him, but everything he was doing was just annoying to him. He wriggled too much, his skin was slightly damp to the touch, as if he was poorly dried off. And his smell, something Gordon once considered so pleasant, seemed rank and sour like cottage cheese. Just, couldn’t stand this guy right now. 

 

“Can you get off of me?” Gordon shoved him away and tried to focus on reading his email instead. Something to take his mind off of him. 

 

“Huh? Why?” 

 

“Because you’re an asshole. That’s why. You’re making no fucking effort to blend in and it’s making me feel like a freak by proxy.” 

 

“... Huh?” Benrey swallowed down some sweet voice, “Uh, well, you’re not um, doing anything to make this a fun date.” 

 

“It’s not a fucking date, Benrey! You begged me to take you here and–” Gordon say the dirty looks he was getting, and grabbed Benrey by the hand to lead him into the backroom that was stocked up with detergent and dryer sheets. “Alright, I can scream at you in here.” 

 

“Whatever.” Benrey opened up his phone and played Plants Vs Zombies at the highest volume he could. 

 

“No! No you are not going to play video games and ignore me!” Gordon grabbed his phone and threw it on the ground, “This is important . You can’t just act like a pervert or a weirdo in front of people! We still have a cover that can be blown! Think! Do you have a goddamn–” 

 

Benrey blew out blue sweet voice into Gordon’s mouth and pushed him into one of the racks, one of his hands over his face, “Shh. You’re being too loud. Keep it down.” 

 

“Mmph!” Gordon’s muscles relaxed, and he melted into Benrey’s hand. With his grip loosened, Gordon was able to talk again, “Fuck, man. We had this conversation before. Don’t use that shit unless–” 

 

“I had to.” Benrey looked away, “I uh, you were being loud. I think others could hear that.” 

 

“Benrey, I need you to keep your behavior on the downlow when we’re out in public. I know you’re bored but you fucking begged me to come here. What do you want me to do? You’re stressing me the fuck out with just…” Gordon gestured to his entire being, “You!” 

 

“Um. Okay. It’s boring to just sit around, though.” 

 

Gordon gripped him by the shoulders, eyes nearly bulging out of his skull and into his glasses, “All you did during the Resonance Cascade was sit the fuck around you stupid little–” 

 

Benrey blew out some more sweet voice balls into his mouth, “Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. You’re crazy man. Calm down.” 

 

Gordon took another deep breath and sighed, “Right. Sorry. Can you just… make a concerted effort? Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do when we’re in public? I don’t want to control you man, it's just that we’re in a precarious situation here.” 

 

“Ok. Thinking like Gordo… hmm…” Benrey furled his brow and pouted. 

 

God, Gordon was lucky this guy liked him. Trying that shit with someone else would have gotten his ass kicked. Quietly thanking the higher powers that be, Gordon put his arm around Benrey and relaxed his chin on his shoulder, “Fuck I’m a mess. I’m sorry Benrey. I know you try your best. You’re not stupid, you’re wonderful.” 

 

“Yeah. Yeah. “Hey, can we go to the, uh, smoke shop?” 

 

“Dude, I don’t want to get you into vaping you’re going to make me get into it and I quit smoking in undergrad.”

 

“...Okay but what about CBD–” 

 

“We’re hitting the ben, Penrey. Let’s go.” 

 

---

 

So, one trip to the smoke shop later (followed by the Latino market so they could pick up some supplies for their next meal), the two of them were smoking in the laundromat, blowing hoops and giggling. 

 

“Bro. Hit the Penrey and then uh, breathe it into my mouth.” Benrey snorted and held his mouth. Wisps of smoke escaped from between his claws. 

 

“You’re stupid… But,” Gordon took a long drag, and grabbed the sides of Benrey’s face, and then blew straight into him. 

 

Smog streamed out of his nostrils as he started coughing, “Yooo– hack– that ruled!” 

 

If nothing else, this was helping him relax. Benrey was busy blowing hoops of smoke and ogling them. Hopefully he wasn’t about to blow any sweet voice. Benrey leaned back and considered their argument for a moment. Gordon’s rage often reflected his true inner feelings. And it seemed that in spite of loving Benrey, he had very little respect for him. And Benrey knew that. He could sense it. Benrey wasn’t intelligent like Gordon was. All he did all day was play video games and eat food, and deliver sweet voice. He didn’t quite understand why Gordon liked him at all. 

 

Should he even ask that? Was that appropriate? Eh, fuck it. If Gordon screamed at him he’d just blow him a blue kiss. “Do you even like me?”

 

“Oh god,” Gordon sighed and turned his gaze to their dryer, “Of course I like you. I love you.” 

 

“Yeah but, you think I’m stupid. You don’t uh, seem to like me at all.” 

 

“I say dumb shit when I’m stressed or angry. I literally narrate what I’m doing when I’m stressed and laugh when I’m in danger. Does that make sense to you?” 

 

“If you love me why do you call me stupid and yell at me?” Benrey's voice nearly cracked as he kicked his legs around and mumbled. He obviously wasn't buying it. Fuck. Gordon really did it this time.

 

“Benrey this isn’t a talk for public,” Gordon almost jumped when Benrey put his hands on top of his and squeezed. 

 

“Then why do you like me?” Benrey collapsed onto his own lap, holding his cheeks in his hands. 

 

“Well, you’re funny, most of the time you’re charming. You can be a bit thick-skulled but that’s part of that very same charm.” Gordon turned his palms over and interlocked his fingers, “And I always have fun with you, whether I want to or not. In spite of your calmness, you just somehow bring out the energy anywhere you are. I think it’s the radiation.” 

 

Benrey sighed and looked over to the side, “But I don’t think you like me.” 

 

“Ah, I fucked up bad this time.” Gordon rubbed his forehead, “You’re loved. I promise.” 

 

“So you’ll wash my hair again today?”

 

Wait. Gordon was clicking this together. “You did all of this… to get me in the bathtub with you?!” 

 

“Uh, it was a happy accident.” His pupils darted away, slightly ashamed of his ulterior motive.

 

Gordon had to keep himself from laughing. So Gordon did fuck up but Benrey was playing it to get something HE wanted. That was... kind of tragically cute to him. And he was starting to think that Benrey was the one who deserved better. And he wanted to be that man who was, in fact, better, “Oh my god. Yes, Benrey. Yes. I will wash your hair.” 

 

“And then do me animal style?” His pupils blew out, pleading and wet and oh so sad!

 

“Especially that.” Gordon kissed him on the cheek, and as he pulled away, he heard the beeping of their dryer, “Oop, time to go.” 

 

Benrey, ever excited at the prospect of being plowed while lying still as a corpse, making no noise, and showing no indication that he’s actually enjoying the intimate position of coitus, grabbed the sack from Gordon’s hands and shoveled the clothes in as quickly as he could, not bothering to put anything on. He was perfectly content to stand there in his lingerie with Gordon. Hell, he was happy to drive home like that. 

 

Despite the embarrassment of being caught in his gamer unders , Gordon was also somehow content knowing he just salvaged his relationship from one hell of a close call with an alien that could fucking kill him instantly. Yeah, smart of you, Mr. Scientist man. 

 

---

 

The day ended pretty swell all things considered. Benrey got his hair groomed and twisted into a ruffled mess of papillae. Got railed against the pillow. Fell asleep during the act. Really, it was the ideal day for Benrey. But the night was young, and Gordon had more applications to send out. He sat at the computer while Benrey laid asleep in a downward dog position, snoring like a stuttering chainsaw. Gordon had put a blanket on him, but goddamn he was a loud snorer. 

 

But the thought of the fight earlier that day stuck with him in a way that was fouling his concentration. How could he think of anything else? His relationship with Benrey was, at the moment, the most important thing to focus on. 

Chapter 27: Benrey's Beautiful Pet

Summary:

Benrey gets a dog and things don't go well.

Notes:

hello there i am very tired so i am just saying hi someone dumped their dog on me and i havent slept why are puppies like this okay byeee love you all and i hope you have a fantastic week check out brokeback mesa if you like dr freeman is not self-aware because cowboys are awesome i want more people who love cowboys out in the world. yeehaw. horsie.

Gordon wasn’t quite sure why the hell he actually agreed to get Benrey a pet. The guy couldn’t even take care of a gaming PC with minimal maintenance required, let alone be trusted with another life. Frankly, the PetSmart logo was intimidating him. Benrey was pretty excited, and that meant he was approaching with casual curiosity rather than complete disinterest. With how low energy he usually was, him not jumping for joy and clicking his heels over a pet wasn’t a red flag about this whole thing. In fact, being able to take Benrey somewhere he was excited to be without having to hold him by his waist so he doesn’t splatter at the bottom of an escalator was refreshingly typical…

 

No.

 

He was the red flag. 

 

A gargle was hitched in Benrey’s throat, and he pressed his fist into his mouth. Follow with an efforted swallow and a dribble of teal drool. No .

 

Gordon gave him some pats on the back as if he was having a coughing fit, and not choking down his desire to express how starved he was. That was a problem, and Gordon suggested a gentle preventative to the rather predictable chaos, “Benrey, we should get you something to eat before you enter. I don’t want to… eat the animals or something.” 

 

“Uh, we’re cool.” Benrey wiped the spit away and stood in the automatic doorway, bowing as Gordon went through, “M’Gaydy.”

 

Brushing him off completely (yet holding back his laughter), Gordon grabbed a basket and urged benrey away from the room full of cats and towards the small pets section. Now, he knew it wasn’t the most ethical thing to buy from Petsmart. He was woke . He knew about animal welfare. But this wasn’t really about the animals, as terrible as that was. Rather, there was a bigger concern for Benrey’s capacity to function in society. A controlled responsibility was a huge test, and if Benrey couldn’t care for it, Gordon could. So actually this was perfectly ethical in his perfectly stable mind.

 

Benrey was sniffing the air like it was a fine wine, “Smells like uh, piss. Piss and fish and uh, floor wax.” 

 

“Ew. Freak.” Gordon tugged on him through the waxed, speckled white floors. He seemed mesmerized by the way the fluorescent hanging lights reflected on the floor. Maybe reminding him of Black Mesa, but that was hard to say. The shelves were covered in colorful food bags and toys made for the human eye and not the welfare of the animals. Plastic hides, sugary bird seed, sand substrate?! Did these people have no ethics? Eh, Gordon didn’t care. The animals would do fine anyways, because it’s just so much easier to be captive than wild. Even if the birds got fatty livers from sugar seed, it was better than the alternative. 

 

Benrey observed in silence, keeping his hands in his pockets while watching the ferrets wrestle in the substrate. It captivated him, maybe for the wrong reasons. He crept closer like a proper predator, waiting to see if the ferrets would notice him just looming there. Drool pooled at the bottom of his mouth, which he swallowed down in a thick gulp.

 

Gordon tugged him away towards the reptiles, “No ferrets, they’re too much work. Uh, no rats either. No–”

 

He wasn’t listening. Rather, something caught his eye and he broke away from Gordon with incredible ease (probably by phasing through his solid state). Benrey slammed his face into a tank with a Pacman frog in it, “Bro this frog is a gamer?”

 

“No, it's a Pacman frog. It just has that name?” Gordon pulled him away and gestured to the snakes down below, “Don’t make a decision immediately, man. You didn’t even see all the crea–” 

 

Gordon watched Benrey lock in. He could see it in his eyes, from the way his pupils blew out and his jaw realigned. Before anyone could stop him, he shoved his hand into the tarantula tank, grabbed that giant, hairy spider in his hand like a burger, and stuffed it into his mouth. The crunch was sickening. Though a man of action, Gordon could only watch helplessly as the poor thing’s legs disappeared into Benrey’s mouth with a gushy squelch. With an efforted swallow… yeah that thing is never going to be anyone’s pet. For certain. 

 

He pulled Benrey closer and strained to contain his voice to a whisper, “What the fuck man? You’re not supposed to eat the pets–ESPECALLY ones we didn’t pay for!” 

 

“Sorry it was–It was instinct?” Benrey stared at him while he was licking his chaps absentmindedly. Proud as a pie thief. “Tastes like infant headcrab.”

 

“You’re disgusting. Don’t do that again–” Gordon shot upright as an employee passed by the aisle.

 

“Do you two need any help?” She stocked a couple of high powered desert lamp lights on a hook. 

 

“No we’re–we’re doing good here, just browsing the pets!” He did his damn best. But acting like everything was fine after Benrey ate a fifty dollar spider was not working out for him.

 

Benrey, being as helpful as he always was, had a bout of sweet voice reflux and pounded his chest, “Scuse me.” 

 

“Uh, okay. If you need anything, let me know.” She passed through, keeping as wide a berth as she could from the two of them. 

 

When she was out of earshot, Gordon relaxed into the cricket incubator and groaned, “What’s wrong with you?” 

 

Benrey smacked his lips, “Nothing. Let’s uh, let’s see the other critters.” 

 

As he hunched over, Gordon began pacing as his anxiety boiled over, “Absolutely not, if anything this just confirmed to me that you’re not fit to be a pet owner. If anything you should be–” 

 

Holy shit Benrey was slurping a boa up like a spaghetti. They locked eyes for a moment, and Benrey chewed faster. Gordon jumped on him and yanked the poor snake out of his mouth, coiling her around his wrist like a hose as more and more feet of scaly muscle came out. Benrey gagged and spat out the head, sucking in a real breath of air as that unpleasantness subsided.

 

“Yo what the fuck, man?” Benrey made grabby hands at the very disgruntled and confused snake, who was hissing right back at Benrey.

 

“Put this thing away or so help me, Benrey,” he stuffed the rosy serpent in his arms and pointed at her cage. And, well, now Benrey had an ultimatum. His boyfriend who he would fight an empire for, or eating this snake. It was a hard choice, but he ultimately decided that he was totally whipped, and shoved the snake back in. Gordon breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”

 

“Uh, sorry. Um… Can I still get a uh, pet? One I don’t want to eat?” Benrey stared at the snake as it slithered into its hide. Usually he had his instincts in control, but something about these cages made it too easy. He needed to get a grip on himself. Staying true to this vow, he straightened out his white-collared shirt and dusted his slacks of his own mucus, then followed Gordon away from the exotics and to where they kept the fish. 

 

“Alright, when you see a fish you like, we’ll do research on it and determine if we’ll nab it, alright?” Gordon started scrolling on his phone and looking at the videos of Sunkist that Tommy had been spamming him with. 

 

A fish he liked? How was he supposed to figure that out? Fish didn’t even play video games… or did they? Nah, controllers didn’t work underwater. But it begged the question: How could he define like?

 

He stared at the pleco tank… and he suddenly realized what was happening here. The way the fish were constantly patrolling the perimeter, all of them in boring loops of swimming in circles. Just circles upon circles upon endless circles, like pacing in a cage. Bumping into each other because it’s so cramped. His blood pressure rose just looking at them, choking back sweet voice. His situation was not unique to him. This was a time-honored tradition of humanity, to ritualistically cage the lessers as slaves and watch them. Prod them with thermometers. Vivisect. Feed them fish flake slop. 

 

Benrey may have been out of the cage, but he was more alike with those small animals suspended in the water than of man. 

 

“Gordon we have to release them.” Benrey’s head whipped around to Gordon, staring at him with blown out eyes that wobbled between him and the fish. 

 

It took him a moment to really comprehend the stupidity of that statement, “What? Release them where , Benrey. None of these fish would survive here we live in a fucking desert.” 

 

“Uh… But um, cages are bad,” well, he suddenly felt really stupid. 

 

“Jesus Christ, dude. Your cage was bad because somehow you’re classified as sapient.” 

 

Benrey paused for a couple of minutes as he collected his thoughts, silently staring at the tanks, “I don’t want a uh, pet.” 

 

“So we came here for nothing.” Gordon traced his fingers along the glass, hoping to find something easy. The tetras were always a good starter school. Maybe a betta fish? Gordon started pacing again, “Well, you know there are fish that have smaller territories like a betta.” 

 

“Um, let’s browse for now. I need to think.” 

 

“Well, it’s your choice,” Gordon said. He would soon find out that letting Benrey lead was a mistake. For a moment, a brief moment, there was peace between them. In this store. Benrey wandered, picke d up a dog toy, assed around a bit, and went on to whatever else caught his eye. Rinse, repeat, and… enter the pet food aisle. Benrey crabs a can of cat food and reads it aloud, “Serendipitous Salmon.”

 

“Don’t eat that,” Gordon nabbed it out of his hands and put it back on the shelf, “We’re not getting a cat or a dog, so we have no reason to–” 

 

“Gordon Freeman in the flesh?” Barney came up from behind him, shooting his fingers into Gordon’s peripheral. 

 

He jerked around and held his arms out to protect himself, “Oh, Barney! Howdy! It’s been… months! How are you? Hows Lauren?” 

 

“Ah, we’re fine. Sorry I haven’t been answering your texts, we uh, we’ve been pretty busy planning for the wedding. I was just picking up some chow for the pets. You don’t have that goldfish anymore, do you?”

 

Gordon couldn’t bridle a nostalgic sigh that spilled out of him, “Poor Higgs. Ironically, he withered away into a skeleton.” 

 

“Yeah I–I don’t see the irony in that. So what’re you doing here?” He glanced at the cat food and grabbed a couple of the most expensive, high quality cans, “Oh, hehe, you know Laur loves to spoil those cats.” 

 

---

 

What the fuck was in these huge bags? Benrey sniffed around, prodded, poked, sniffed. He couldn’t tell. These were sealed. Well, he couldn't make a purchase without taking a look at what’s inside! He took a disemboweling talon and carefully incised the packaging. A couple of lamb-scented cookies spilled out… 

 

Gordon wouldn’t notice. 

 

---

 

Barney had to dash. This was just one of many errands he had to run for the day, but the quick catch up gave Gordon some confidence in his ability to present himself as human. Plus, he was invited to join them at a wine garden with Benrey for a double-date! Maybe healing was possible. Normalcy could be attained! It was just Benrey who was the problem, and Gordon could fix him, surely.

 

As he turned the corner, he saw multiple open bags of kibble. All of them had been tested, based on how much dog food was missing. Fuck. Benrey was taste testing the merchandise! Gordon passed through the aisles, looking for his idiot, “Benrey! Ben?” 

 

“Yo.” Benrey waved from the top of the product display rack, drinking straight from a can of chunky cat food, “What’s up?” 

 

“Okay you cannot be up there. You can’t just open up packs of dog food to try them out!” Gordon was about to have a conniption.

 

“Yeah. Cat food tastes better.” Benrey tossed the mostly full can aside and popped down. Shockingly, that made no sound. “All of this stuff tastes awful.” 

 

“It’s dog food? Hello? Fucking idiot, stop doing that, we’re going to get in the shit if you don’t behave.” Wait, did Benrey just say cat food was better?

 

“Dogs eat what people eat. It should taste the same. Why doesn’t the lamb taste like uh, like a delicious rack of lamb? Weird.” Benrey picked a piece of barley out from between his teeth and flicked it away. As he turned to look at Gordon, the loose skin around his cheek scrunched up, giving his cocky smile the quality of the visage of a full, smug cat.

 

He was so fucking stupid. Holy shit. Gordon needed him right then and there. Although he was caught blushing and heavy-chested, he quickly regained his composure, “That’s not how that works. We’ll… We’ll just put it on G-Man’s card…” Benrey nabbed someone else’s cart and slapped everything he opened in there, sans the cat food. They won’t notice. 

 

“We’re leaving. And we’re not paying for that either because I don’t want people thinking my boyfriend eats dog food ,” Gordon grabbed him by his hand and dragged him through the main aisle. Already having all he could have wanted, Benrey just let himself get tugged around. This was the life!

 

As they passed by the bettas, Benrey stopped short and nabbed one of the containers. Oh, great. A fish. Gordon eyed him with suspicion, until he saw the dark, floating blob in the water… That was a marimo ball!

 

“I want this thing. It’s uh, it’s cool.” Benrey shook it around. It didn’t swim, just bobbed up and down as a ball of fluff. 

 

“I have a feeling that’s going to be the perfect pet for you,” Gordon felt a wave of affection wash over him as Benrey proudly held up his new ‘pet’. He even nabbed this fancy nano tank for it, and no animals would be harmed. That marimo would have its own filter and a USB powered bubbler. Benrey was even determined enough to purchase a nutrient pack to give it after a water change. 

 

“Gordon? I don’t feel so good,” Benrey whispered to him as they waited in line for the register. 

 

Uh, no shit. “Duh, you ate dogfood.” 

 

“Oh!” Benrey grabbed a frosted cookie out of a plastic display and held it up with the biggest, saddest eyes he’d ever put on to beg. His pupils dilated to eclipse his irises, his lip wobbling oh so pathetically, “Please? Gordon please? Please?” 

 

“... I mean, dude, you don’t have to ask me for food. You can just get food. Like, this is our card, man.” 

 

He smiled at him and put the cookie on the counter, “And uh, one of these, please and thank you, sir.” 

 

---

Benrey set his marimo up on Gordon’s desk in their room and stared at it, playing with the LED for hours, blowing green balls back at the algae. Gordon was just passively working on his monitor, trying to set up his camera for streaming and check his cameras. Streaming was going to be… hard the first few times. Maybe he’d finally convince the Science Team to care. Maybe they’d watch his streams.

 

Glancing over at the man Gordon said he loved, he had to reflect for a moment. Just like a human, he was anthropomorphizing in his own way. Slowly, Benrey was getting better at behaving in public very slowly. That was making it even easier to find him charming rather than annoying. He could feel himself getting softer about it, even. Maybe it was fear of being seen screaming at his boyfriend in public, but his reaction was more… subdued … about the whole thing. Desensitized to his antics, maybe. 

 

“Hey, Benrey, wanna play video games with the marimo?” 

 

“His name is Jack Tretton Jr.” 

 

“Want to play with Junior, then?” Gordon wrapped his arms from behind him and placed his head on his shoulder. That forced him to hunch but, hey, there was no such thing as the perfect height difference. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Gordon set him up in the living room, placing one of the island stools beside the arm and hooking the USBs up so that the marimo could ‘play’ right beside Benrey as he booted up Soul Calibur. And this time, he just slouched against the back of the couch, smiling as he beat the shit out of Gordon as if it were his day job. And even when he lost, he just stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry. 

 

God, things were different. Gordon could hardly believe it. He wrapped his arms around Benrey and kissed him on his jagged cheek as he mumbled to himself something about ‘hacks’. Although, they both knew full well that Gordon had finally won fairly. 

Chapter 28: I Want to Be What I Used to Be

Summary:

Benrey and Gordon are lowkey kind of fucked up.

Notes:

TW: Sexual innuendo, fade to black sex, violence, and absurd reactions to a gunshot. Also PTSD

 

I know someone with combat PTSD and he straight up told me that he felt scared by gunshots but afterwards he just sort of felt weirdly right about it. He compared the feeling to being at a family gathering, that in combat he felt like he belonged, and that this was meant for him. And he struggles with society and sort of wishes he was back on tour because at least he belonged and had use. That he was just adapted to the situation there, and not adapted to this. It was right. And whatever he had at home was wrong. I truncated a PTSD attack to make it easier for writing BTW. although when my PTSD is triggered I do calm down pretty quick, it usually takes 10-15 minutes after the initial trigger, and that's with water. The weird on-edge feeling usually lasts days afterwards though.

Benrey never left the fucking house. He didn’t want to. Never tried to drive, never tried to find somewhere to hang out. Make friends. He seemed to just be content there, lying about on the couch, playing video games. Gordon had asked about it, and all Benrey did was shrug about it. ‘Low energy’, he said. Gordon told him he was limiting his territory.

 

He didn’t care. 

 

Turns out, COD was enough to appease him. And Gordon didn’t mind staying inside so much. He wasn’t much of a homebody before, but after the Resonance Cascade, he preferred to stay somewhere warm, familiar. 

 

But Gordon wasn’t satisfied with couch dates anymore. Sure, there was the odd trip to Denny’s and the laundromat here and there, but they didn’t do what couples were supposed to. At all. After the Strip Sorry debacle, that was it (Gordon lost the game and his temper). His ass wasn’t going to bring Benrey to a fancy restaurant yet, but he was going to cook a special dinner to try and spice it up. He really didn’t know what Benrey wanted other than food and video games . Maybe a concert? No, the noise would agitate him. A trip to a California beach? Nah, Benrey would never be seen again if he let him go off into the ocean…

 

He’d be fine, but–Maybe exposing Benrey to the ocean was a bad idea. The freak might pee in it and give all the animals gamma radiation. Or eat a shark. Sharks are endangered or something. Hiking in New Mexico would leave him exhausted and panting–Ah, fuck it, a dinner date at home was good enough. Benrey wouldn’t mind, and Gordon thought it might be a good way to introduce the idea of dinner etiquette to him so that, perchance… by some fucking miracle. They can eat in public together without involving restaurant fights or expensive messes. And mortification. Shielding Gordon from mortification was a priority. 

 

Benrey usually spent say… three hours in the bathroom. So that was a good opportunity to get everything set up. Usually it was because he fell asleep on the toilet for about an hour and a half, and used up all the hot water afterwards. Gordon had time to set up. And, he’d be rewarded with a squeaky clean alien boyfriend with empty plumbing. It was all coming together. 

 

Imagination was the limit there. Mind blowing. He looked so fucking stupid but goddamn Gordon was left with PSTD every time they banged. Terrifying. 

 

While the food was in the oven, Gordon got to work on throwing rose petals from the bathroom door and onto the table. That nice little flower pot with his slightly wilted nettles (thanks Benrey) was going to become their centerpiece. G-Man was nice enough to give him back his old, trusty stereo from his college days (this was kept in his Black Mesa Subsidized Housing–for some reason the G-Man saw this as imperative to save from the nuke), and set it up on the island, playing some old romantic tunes that he hoped would have also resonated with Benrey, though it was highly unlikely given that the concept of mortality was news to him just a few months ago. The idea of a song eliciting emotions without Sweet Voice was probably foreign. 

 

Gordon took a step back to admire his handiwork. Well, that was… good enough? It was no Dorsia , but it did look nice, smelled like roasting beef too. 

 

“Benrey! Get dressed and ready for dinner!” Gordon knocked on the bathroom door, feeling the vapors leak from under the orange bathroom door. In their orange hallway. In their orange house. He could even smell a citrus fragrance wafting with the steam billowing out from under the door. Fucker was using his bath bombs again, wasn’t he? 

 

“Gordoooooon, I’m getting squeaky clean! What about my… my Benrey rolls and folds and flaps and moles? My moles of Benrey?” He echoed out from the shower. His body flopped and squelched around, a clear indicator for Gordon that he decided to take on a non-humanoid form.

 

“Shut up! You have textured patterns of melanistic scales! Not… moles or folds or rolls… You–You twink!”  Well, at least when they were cuddling, Benrey preferred a humanoid form. The aforementioned features were quite endearing under the right circumstances.

 

Confident in having the last word, Gordon went back to ensuring the perfection of their dinner date. Godzilla had to be on the window sill, Benrey wouldn’t forgive him if he moved his Godzilla figurine. 

 

A few minutes later, Benrey emerged from the bathroom, perfectly dry and wearing a milquetoast, plain white button up complemented by some black slacks. He looked like he was about to wait a table at a nice restaurant. His tapered jaw unhinged as he yawned and threw himself over the island, “Gordon, what's for dinner?” 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Benrey, let me set the table. It–It would go faster if you helped, you know,” Gordon waved him off as he grabbed some plates–of course he forgot to set the table. He was a moron. Of course he focused more on the centerpiece and getting Godzilla in the perfect position. This was already turning out to be a disaster, he might as well have cut it short. Fuck. Benrey wasn’t going to take this seriously if he didn’t have everything ready for him like a fine dining experience ought to. And he even forgot the fucking napkins! He might as well kill himself now. Fuck. 

 

“Nah, uh. I like to watch.” Benrey blew a sweet voice laden kiss that knocked Gordon on the back of the head while he set up the wine glasses. Pink again. 

 

Dinner took quite a while to set up, so by the time they got to sit down, Benrey’s stomach was complaining about the wait, “See? Look at what you did. I’m starving to death, how could you do this?” 

 

“Benrey I swear to god,” Gordon bent over to grab the brisket from the oven, and as he did, he heard a barrage of sweet voice notes. He swung around to see Benrey blushing, pink and red drool on the corner of his lips. 

 

“ Sorry .” He wheezed out with the same quality of a man who traveled across the Mojave without a drop of water seeing an oasis for the first time.

 

“Pink to red?” He shuffled towards the table as the heat pierced his orange oven mitts god-DAMMIT.

 

“I wanna be fed, duh.”

 

“I know that’s a lie.” More like pink to red lipstick, want your big fat– Nevermind… Maybe it was pink to red, you ought to be bre– No! Gordon put the brisket down and served the bowls of carrots and asparagus he already made, “There we go. Cut yourself some meat while I go ahead and grab the wine.”

 

“Whoa, do you have an ID for that? Gotta card you.” Benrey watched him pull out the bottle of his finest Austrian. He knew wine was supposed to be a fine luxury, but he never drank it. So he really didn’t understand why the expired grape juice was such a delicacy. He did the same thing when he forgot to finish Joshua’s Welch’s grape juice a few weeks ago and left it in the sun for a while. And it tasted like shit. Whatever, Gordon liked it. Gordon wanted it. So he had to enjoy it too so he could feel more sophisticated. Why was wine sophisticated? God knows. It sure as hell didn’t have a sophisticated taste. 

 

“Make yourself useful and light up the candles, Benrey.” Gordon set the wine down after filling their glasses and went to dim their lights. 

 

Oh, Benrey is stupid. This isn’t just any dinner–This is a romantic dinner . He rolled off the countertop and sat down at the table, using his powers of pyrokinesis to gently set alight a series of wicks. The candles were scented like rose and vanilla. Fuck. Benrey had to change his mindset like, now, and be Sexyman Benrey. He puffed his chest up and adjusted his tie (it had a hen on it, fuck, he should have worn the rooster one). 

 

As Gordon sat across from him, Benrey’s face completely flushed with the light of amorous orbs of sweet voice, with a bit of teal and yellow fighting for dominance. His mouth probably looked like a pansexual nightclub or a chewed up color ink cartridge. 

 

“Hen tie? Pfft. I can’t believe I JUST got that. Jesus, dude. Where did you even get a hen tie?” Gordon was chuckling, his long eyelashes fluttering as he gazed across Benrey’s face. Fuck. He was pretty. He always was. They sat for dinner every night. This was just different. Benrey had to be hot, to be human sexy for Gordon.

 

“ Octodad: Dadliest Catch .” Benrey deadpanned, and cut himself a piece of brisket to enjoy. It smelled succulent, so rich, juicy, and lovingly prepared. He had to grab a napkin for all the drool. Humans didn’t drool nearly as much as whatever Benrey was; Sweet Voice seemed to have a good amount of saliva.

 

Where were the napkins? 

 

Fuck. Well, asking for napkins would bring attention to the streams of drool threatening to spout out of his lips. But then not asking for it would let the spittle become so evident that there was no way Gordon could possibly miss it. This was a losing scenario, and Benrey had to think on his feet. Fuck it! He contained the first volley of saliva by stuffing his face with the biggest bite his human-shaped mouth could handle. 

 

It was so delicious. The vegetables were soft and flavorful having been cooked in a broth of succulent meat juices. The brisket melted in his mouth, and the umami tickled every inch of his predatory instinct. Sour and salty asparagus was complimented with a subtle sweetness that suddenly overcame him. Bulbs of lavender were interspersed between the vegetables, and they were just fucking good. 

 

What his date saw, however, was his cheeks bulging to the point of comedic sincerity, face smeared in brisket juices and a sneaky little dribble coming out of the center of his lips. Benrey swallowed and made a pass around his face with his tongue, collecting a string of drool and some gravy with it. 

 

“Benrey you uh, man. I cannot take you out in public like this. Fuck. You’re disgusting,” Gordon had to put his fork down and rub his forehead, “Can you like, try? At least try here? I’m losing my appetite looking at you.” 

 

“I–I was trying. Um, sorry.” 

 

“Fuck dude you need to control your spit ducts. Have you tried moving them further back in your mouth so you can swallow your… eugh… mucus? ” Ouch. Gordon was really hammering it home, wasn’t he? And given how lax Gordon was all things considered, Benrey must have been pretty foul, huh?

 

“Um, yeah. It’ll–It’ll make eating harder. But sure.” Benrey burped and blew the air to the side immediately after his pledge to be more socially acceptable. 

 

“And if we’re at a nice restaurant can you please… just cover that up with a fist? Excuse yourself, even?” 

 

Benrey felt a second volley come up, and caught it in his fist to slightly hide it. But now he was caught in his own half-digested stink. Humans had such stupid fucking rules, didn’t they? “Uh, exqueeze me?” 

 

 

Nothing seemed to please Gordon.

 

“You’re taking bites that are too big, that makes us look bad.” 

 

“You should sit up straight.” 

 

“No elbows on the table.” 

 

“Don’t bring up your boner in public, Jesus, man!” 

 

“Can we not talk about… video games? In public?”

 

Could he do anything right? What small talk topics could he even bring up without Gordon telling him it sucked? What did those old scientist farts at Black Mesa even talk about casually? Well, the lady on the radio was singing  about food. And they were eating food. Now his neurons were firing! 

 

“Gordon, what’s the uhhh, recipe?” Benrey was taking his time. Being ravenous was not sexy. He had to take his collective four, count them, four romcom movies worth of knowledge and put them to the test. He was already fucking everything else up, and so it was expected that eating too fast was going to be a problem too. It was easy, actually. He just had to do the opposite thing of what he wanted, and then Gordon would think he was sexy, sophisticated, and ready for a date out in the town. 

 

“Yeah uh, asked my sister for her Christmas brisket recipe from last year. It’s technically a Freeman original,” Gordon was taken aback at the casualness of the question. Instead of asking him for an ID, or a passport, or for a boner inspection, Benrey actually asked him a question anyone else would have asked him!

 

“Nice. I’m eating your sister’s meat.” Benrey slapped his hands over his mouth, “FUCK. Man, stop setting me up for this!” 

 

Gordon spat his food out and howled with laughed, slamming his hand on the table, “Benrey, what fucking demon possesses you and makes you talk like this?!” 

 

“TELL ME ABOUT IT!” Benrey grabbed the glass of wine and downed it. It was significantly more gross than he thought it’d be. But he poured himself another glass promptly afterwards with the dignity of a white suburban mom who hates her children and took another hit, “MAN.” 

 

“Dude, I fucking love you. You’re hilarious. Eat my sister’s meat, it’s huge-” Gordon wheezed and kicked his chair, “How do you say this shit with a straight face?” 

 

“Man, I thought you’d be mad!” Benrey relaxed and held his forehead. Well, if there’s one thing he knew he could do…

 

Fuck it, Gordon loved a goofy man. He was staring at Benrey with that little spark in his eyes, with an incredulous smile that just showed the bottom of his chipped teeth between his lips. The Benreyisms had him smitten, even if they pissed him off. Although he was hardly apologetic for trying to make him live by a standard of table etiquette, he also thought he had made a concerted effort enough to be rewarded with being himself. Now, Gordon just needed to integrate one of Benrey’s passions into their date… which one could it be?

 

“You’re uh, looking at me all funny,” Benrey wiped his mouth on his sleeve and checked. Well, he was clean. What was Gordon staring at? “What gives?” 

 

“Bring your PSVita and put on Marvin Gaye.” 

 

---

 

Gordon came out of the shower about an hour after Benrey. The water was cold as fuck, thanks to him. He laid down, utterly traumatized–In a good way. Benrey was looking pretty content, confident, satisfied with a vape pen in his mouth. Benrey rarely vaped, but it just seemed like the occasion was good enough for him. Every smoke-laden exhale was accompanied with a satisfied pink glow interspersed between the smog particles. He stared at the mirror, and grazed his fingers over his face while billowing like a chimney. 

 

Moments of contemplation seemed rare for Benrey. He always acted as a very basal guy. It could be easy for Gordon to forget that Benrey wasn’t half as stupid as he made himself out to be, just enough of a mix of lazy and ignorant to come across as an idiot. He set his pen aside and gazed at himself on the ceiling mirror, tugging the covers down to graze his fingertips over his chest, belly, and thighs, not recognizing what he was looking at. 

 

It was a stranger’s body. 

 

“Hey, uh, Gordon?” His eyes didn’t shift. He was fixated on himself.

 

“Sup?” 

 

“Do you ever look at yourself and wonder like, um, where you went?” His ribs were barely visible under the muscle, and as he flexed he was glued to the snake-like undulation of his abdomen.

 

“Tsk. Yeah. But like, that’s getting older. Despite the fat and the wrinkles and sun spots, it’s still you–Wait a second you fucking shapeshift , you just did it! Can’t you just change your body?” Gordon turned around in bed so he could face Benrey.

 

“I don’t, uh, get old.” Benrey shapeshifted two nipples and a navel on his body, his chromatophores darkened to a human, peachy hue. He just looked like some white guy now. Virtually indistinguishable from a human were it not for his teeth, “I mean, yeah. But it’s like… This is one of my base player models. I know it pretty well and uh,” he cupped his cheeks, “I changed. Like… overnight. ”

 

“What’s this about then?” Gordon sat up, and ran his fingers through Benrey’s hair. A purr was hard to stifle. “I thought you wanted to be like this. You know, healthy and um, safe. I–I think.” 

 

Benrey’s pupils darted to him for a second, full of pity. Gordon couldn’t tell who that was directed towards, though, “I’m not so sure what I am anymore.” 

 

Remembering the hunting trip, he felt, well, partially responsible for this. Being well fed and catered to, sleeping in a soft bed every night, the safety of it all… It was hurting Benrey in some primal way. Even with that hunting trip, it seemed that Benrey was still being plagued with insecurity as it began to show, veritably, on his body. His soft stomach, kindly face, and barely visible ribs, of course Benrey was having a hard time recognizing himself. He’s never seen himself as he should have looked, “Do you feel… domesticated?” 

 

“Guess so. I dunno, man.” He reshaped his face, making it larger, stretching the tendons out to be as aggressive as possible, and yet that roundness remained constant, “Fuck, dude. It’s weird.” 

 

“You’re beautiful. Pinchable cheeks, a sleek, flat stomach, hairless. I know a few guys who’d kill for that body.”

 

“Ok sure, whatever. I’m your perfect twink. Don’t care. I wish I was him again,” Benrey pulled out his phone, to a selfie of himself in front of Gordon that he took when he was napping. He was underweight with deep, gaunt cheeks that outlined his loaner skull. Hungry . He grazed his finger over his stomach, which had the gentlest curve outwards from how hydrated he was. All that wine in him was heavy on the organs, “It’s the way I look, not my body. I lost my um, edge.” 

 

“Lots of predators look cute and cuddly. Like a bear.” 

 

“Guess so.” 

 

“But as a shapeshifter, what do you care about that?” 

 

“I have a uh, minimum size. This isn’t uh, right. I should be um, smaller , I guess. I just got so used to seeing this as me . I started to uh, like it, I guess. Even if um, I was hangry.” 

 

“I thought being bigger would make you happy. I mean, you like that I am fat, right? I like the way you are right now. A lot, actually.” 

 

Benrey was obviously dissatisfied with the answer, and kept shapeshifting in bed, hardening his edges, trying to find something that looked right to him and seeing nothing at all to love about the look in his eye. A fed beast was a soft beast. No tooth nor claw nor quill could alleviate him of the truth; Gordon had made him comfortable and complacent. And that was adjacent to pain. The word he was looking for finally came to him– Domesticated. Between all these manners and barely ever hunting for food. Sleeping in instead of patrolling the den! Being lazy yet feeling full most of the time. All of this just defied every expectation of life he had, “Feel like it’s all wrong.”

 

“What? Are you not grateful for all the shit we have? I mean, despite everything we’ve got it pretty fucking good.” Of course Benrey would be an ingrate… What was he even saying? Didn’t he supposedly love this guy? Fuck. “Sorry, um, shouldn’t have said that.” 

 

“You don’t understand it, Gordon,” his gaze met Gordon’s through the mirror, “It’s like getting really good at a hard video game. Like, yeah sure I’m the most epic based awesome cool Dark Souls player in the world… but hasn’t something about that game been lost to me?” 

 

“Maybe it’s a new way to enjoy the game,” he kissed him on the cheek, “You should get some shut eye.” 

 

“Mm, gonna uh…” Benrey’s nipples and navel were consumed by his flesh, and the skin color he tenderly shifted returned to its deathly hue, “I need to go hunt.” 

 

“You just ate.” 

 

“I’ll be back before you wake up, promise. Love you, or something stupid like that.” Benrey phased through the bed without another word, leaving Gordon alone to baste in his thoughts.

 

Fuck, his boyfriend was weird. But as he promised, Benrey returned before morning. Covered in blood, floating above the bed like a phantom. Gordon was trembling in his sleep, whimpering about something. 

 

Benrey absorbed the blood through his skin and crawled into bed, putting his head right under Gordon’s chin, hoping it was enough to calm him down. He had to remind himself of what he was. He couldn’t forget what he was. 

 

---

 

In the cool New Mexico morning, Benrey woke up to Gordon shaking him awake. He could smell his fear, the sweat on his palms smearing across his bare back and face. What did he even eat last night? The flavor was so unique, slightly fruity, even. Maybe that was the wine. Thinking would be a lot easier if Gordon stopped trying to kill him in his sleep!

 

“Benrey! Benrey wake up!” He slapped him on the face, “Wake up!” 

 

“Gordon…” Benrey groaned and rolled out of bed, “What?!” 

 

“Benrey it smells like a corpse I’m–” 

 

Benrey gasped and pointed at the ceiling, “ENEMY MOTH!? GOOD INSTINCT, GORDON!” 

 

God, he loved Gordon so much. His rugged, sexy man would sense the presence of an enemy moth before even he did. Benrey phased through the floor, out of Gordon’s grasp to get god knows what. 

 

“Benrey!?” He grappled his own chest, squeezing his soft pec and gasping for air, filling his body with acrid rot. It tasted like the latter days of Black Mesa, when decomposition had become advanced. Oh, this was not the day for this to be happening. 

 

Not a moment later, Benrey was in the room with Gordon’s rifle, aiming at that giant ass hawk moth. He fired a shot right into his fucking ceiling, and the moth fluttered away before it was turned into a squashed pile of mush, landing squarely (and safely) on the bedframe. It was a deafening shot, and Gordon felt the terror return to him as it had before. As if etched into the foundation of his DNA, Gordon was back in Black Mesa. 

 

“Benrey!” Gordon jumped on his back and grabbed the gun out of his hand. Even with his ears ringing and heart oozing, he had a keen instinct, “Stop shooting!” 

 

“Bro I’m tryna protect you! I’ll save you Gordo!” Benrey phased through him and pounced at the moth. Somehow he was juked by an insect, which landed on his nose. Benrey took in a deep breath and screamed like the devil’s howling victims, “I'm being attacked Gordon help me!”

 

“What the fuck is happening?!” Gordon was just worried about waking up to the smell of rot . The moth was a surprise. Now his whole body was insisting to him that he was at risk of losing his grip on this vortal coil. Gordon jumped into Benrey, pushing his rifle against his chest, “Get down!” 

 

The hawk moth launched off Benrey’s face while they got tangled up on the bed, Gordon trying to throw his weight over him in case they were being shot at. It landed right next to the bullet hole.

 

Benrey wasn’t done settling this. He jumped up to the ceiling, phasing straight through Gordon, and as the moth darted away, he gave chase. How dare it attack his sanctuary! This was his territory! From the springs of the bed, off the wall, onto the ceiling again, against the sliding mirror, Benrey relentlessly pursued the insect, until finally, he caught it in his jaws, midair. 

 

Gordon came to ringing ears and a pounding heart, only to find Benrey on all fours, on the bed, chewing the moth like a disgruntled cat as it fluttered and fought for its life. 

 

“Holy shit…” Gordon gripped his chest and started checking the room, opening the sliding mirror to be sure nothing was in there, making sure his rifle was loaded–He HAD to check the whole house first, and then a second time just to be sure no one was waiting for them with a gun. And once he had been sure of that, he put the gun away. It was enough time for his blood pressure to slightly drop. But he came into the bedroom, and Benrey was still in there. And it gave Gordon some pause. His heart still rushed when he saw his predatory visage, the way his teeth jutted from his mouth, the way his eyes could faintly glow in the shade. The stoic way he looked at Gordon like an animal of few expressions… 

 

Benrey gulped down the bug and stared at him, “No more enemy. Handled the moth. Good boyfriend?” 

 

That’s all he had to say? Gordon was going to have a heart attack or a conniption, and he didn’t know which one. Why was this bothering him all of a sudden? And why did it feel so… right? He wasn’t even upset right now, when by all means, he should be! Benrey shot a hole in his ceiling and triggered something that was latent in him. He should be furious! But this felt right . Right. As if he was born for it. “You shot a hole in my ceiling.”

 

“Um, okay and? Better a hole in the ceiling than uh, a hole in you? Already got a big scar in the middle of your tummy. Big puncture wound from Nosferatu?” 

 

“...What?” Gordon shook the notion off, still trying to catch his breath, “No, no, I’m not getting into that. You shot a hole in my ceiling over a bug! And–And I think I’m–I think I have a problem I–I dunno.” 

 

Benrey hiccupped, and part of the moth wing flew out of his mouth, “We cool?” 

 

“You know what?” Gordon ran his fingers through his hair, “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. I'll just text Mr. Coolatta and make him fix this shit.” 

 

“Um, answer the question.”

 

“We’re–We’re Cool.”

 

“Cool. Cool.” Benrey yawned and slumped back in his arms, already snoring after a few minutes of hair-raising moth-crunching action. 

 

Gordon was astounded. This motherfucker was already napping, snoozing! And he still felt so… inhuman. His fingers found their way behind the ear, and he gave him a big scratch. With a sleepy purr, Benrey’s legs kicked around in Gordon’s arm.

 

What a freak. But it was obvious why Benrey did that; He wanted to feel under attack. Benrey wasn’t actually scared of moths. Gordon had seem him gobble them up plenty of times when he caught them around the house. This was a chance to reclaim just a little bit of wildness. As pathetic as that might have been. The wild was taken out of him, what could he do about it anymore except try to find it in glimpses of his past? 

 

Brushing his fingers on the back of Benrey’s fat cheek, he wondered for a moment if he was truly safe. As calm and harmless as Benrey seemed… he did just shoot a hole in the ceiling. And he was capable of much, much worse. What a terrible thing it was to be catered to, taken care of, shielded from the suffering of the world. 

 

It was denying Benrey his right. And maybe, Gordon needed that too. Maybe it was where they belonged.  

 

---

 

Benrey scurried around the apartment, chasing the laser pointer as if he’d die if it wasn’t pressed into his claws. He clung to the ceiling, down the walls, on furniture. Gordon lounged back with a bowl of takis in his lap, making Benrey do the run around. This was the easiest date of his fucking life. Down the halls, up the halls, around the ceiling, on top of the fridge. Too fucking easy. Somehow, Benrey got on the carpet in front of him, where the coffee table normally was (Gordon moved this for obvious reasons) and Gordon had the brilliant idea to train the dot on Benrey’s head. 

 

His pupils dilated, “Gordon there's a sniper!”

 

He impacted Gordon, wrestling him off the couch and covering him in his body, shapeshifting to better protect him. Gordon didn’t even realize what was happening until he was suspended in darkness, back to the rug and staring up at two ogling eyes inches away from his face, “Safe and sounded.”

 

“What?”

 

“There was a sniper!” Said with full confidence in his stupidity. 

 

“Benrey, I pointed the laser at your forehead.” Gordon showed him the laser pointer, and demonstrated it on the adjacent wall as best as he could from the floor. The red dot seemed to burn itself into Benrey’s pupils. 

 

There was a moment of puzzlement, “You were the sniper?” 

 

“Yeah. Dumbass.”

 

“What happened to the… the bug? That snipers use?”

 

“ Benrey , it was photons, bro.” 

 

“Um, safe?” Benrey pointed at him. 

 

“Yeah man. I think I should be asking if your stupid ass is alright?” 

 

“I think I have PSTD, bro.”

 

“Alright, that's wonderful. Can you get off of me? You’re stronger than you think.”

 

“Um, can I just… do this for a little extra time?” He nuzzled his face into Gordon’s armpit and whimpered. 

 

Gordon pouted, and rolled his eyes, “Okay buddy. Whatever. Go off.” 

 

“So, um, what do people do other than eat and play video games and sleep? I’m trying to make small talk.” 

 

Gordon thought for a moment… “Have you ever contemplated the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle?”

 

They had just binged Breaking Bad. It was perfect timing, “Walter White?”

 

“You’re goddamn right,” Gordon smiled and tried to wriggle away, and when he realized he couldn’t, he started trying in vain to wrest Benrey’s determined grip off of him, “Now let me up so I can pull out the other toy I gotcha.” 

 

“Wait… this is a toy?” 

 

“For cats. You like cat toys. You need cat enrichment. You have the brain capacity of a cat.”

 

“Oh. Cool. I’m a pussy?” 

 

“A huge fucking pussy. By the way, what’s that bulge that’s digging into my flank?” Gordon finally got him off and started looking Benrey up and down, finding that he was looking a tad bit odd in the stomach area. Which wasn’t entirely out of the question for Benrey; He must have gone out to grab some prey this morning. And they had a bit of a silent agreement that so long as Benrey didn’t bring any animals (dead or alive) into their house, then it was fine.

 

“Oh, sorry. That’s my gut.” He had a large bone visibly protruding out of him… a fucking ostrich femur, wasn’t it? He stole a fucking dog’s bone!

 

“What’s that?” Gordon gestured to what looked like a spike impaling him through his lower intestine. His fucking untucked shirt was hiding that the whole day?

 

“Not a child.” 

 

“NO. You are NOT joking about that you did NOT pull a Tarrare.” 

 

“Nah. Didn’t eat a child.” 

 

“What’d you eat?” 

 

“Um, there are no… predetermined uhh. Hmm. No predetermined um, answers. To your question,” even though he said that, Gordon could see the bone disappear, and the bulge come out of his neck as he belched out a hand gun, covered in digestive mucus and stinking like Benrey’s foul innards, “But it’s a gun I found lol. It was um, a present for you.” 

 

“Please put this back where you found it you unaccountable freak." 

 

Benrey smiled and cupped his cheeks. Ah, shucks. Gordon was just being nice now, wasn’t he? But just the suggestion that he’d always be a force of nature put him at ease, and he tossed the gun aside to just beam up at his mate. Oh, what a wonderful man. Even if he was a little controlling, Benrey didn’t mind that so much. After all, he just needed some guidance through the human world. Gordon just had his best interest in mind, and following him did not in any way mitigate the fact that, if push came to shove, Benrey could kill him. Their hierarchy was only applicable in this vacuum. And Benrey would let it happen. Though, he reckoned that Gordon needed a reminder or two of what he truly was. 

 

Sure, he had some survival instinct. Playing up the drama with the enemy moth to feel heroic. Catastrophizing a cat toy, even. He didn’t have to worry about who was holding the leash, who was getting fat and sweet as a lapdog. Compensation only made him seem more domesticated, right? 

 

All he had to remember was that every person he met, every opponent he encountered now that Black Mesa was ground zero for a nuke? They were prey, and he stood above them in the trophic hierarchy as a fucking God amongst the krill. 

 

Ah, who was he kidding? He was a gamer who drank soda all day and ripped ass. Get your head out of your butt, Benrey! Get out of town!

Chapter 29: Dr. Freakman and Bangrey’s Double Dinner Date

Summary:

Benrey and Gordon go on a double date with Barney and Lauren. Benrey isn't ready for something as sophisticated as a wine garden, though! Lighthearted and fancy free antics ensue.

Notes:

TW: EXTREME GORE, raunchy humor, unrealistic use of a toilet, meat grinding

hey guys dropping this shit and leaving BYEEEEEE remember to comment on a fic today.

the bathroom scene with them holding a conversation like that is based on shit ive experienced in the bathroom where i've been between two people holding a conversation. Like that. its an awful situation. Wish it on NO ONE.

As Gordon pulled into the parking lot of the Debussy Wine Garden, Benrey squeezed his hands into quaking fists, then charged whatever was in his chest. He belched prolongedly into the dead air. Once he was done, he let out a satisfied little sigh and knocked his feet against the dashboard. Gordon parked and turned his gaze to judge him, but Benrey was never one to be discouraged by a little bit of judgement. In fact, Gordon being pissed off at him made this far more entertaining.

 

“Ah, that felt good. Opinions, Footjob?” Benrey sniffed the air. Potent . The oh so pleasant smell of half-digested Bang and chilli was quickly taking over the cabin.

 

“You drank above a human’s safe limit for caffeine for lunch. I don’t KNOW how you’re not dead. You should’ve had a heart attack by this point.” Gordon’s nostrils twitched, and his brow furled, “That’s foul bro, damn.” 

 

“Eh, I’m okay.” Benrey adjusted his blue suede jacket and brown slacks in the car, “Made room.” 

 

“That you certainly did.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Listen, Barney and Lauren are good friends of mine. They’re very important to me and I need you to make an impression that astounds them in a good way.” Gordon gestured to all of him, “And frankly? I doubt you’re going to do anything other than mortify me. Can you just… put a cork in it and try to be palatable?” 

 

“Uh, easy? I’m always a cool?” 

 

“No you’re not. You’re the pest I inexplicably love. This isn’t a joke, please , I just… want us to be able to live like people. Be respectable.” 

 

“Kay.” Benrey slipped out of the car and nestled his chin into his thick ascot. His neck looked puffed out and proud like a pigeon. It was a posh establishment, attached to this rather quaint farm with an affordable fee to let families come through and show their kids all the animals and some of the sparse produce out in the Chihuahuan. Someone needs to grow agave, after all. The wine garden was just a nice little bit of extra revenue to get out of a converted barn. 

 

The warm, lowkey classy interior was a kind of environment that Benrey had never been in before, and feeling rather insecure in himself, he grabbed Gordon’s hand and squeezed. The host stopped them at the wooden pedestal at the front, “Hey, you’re half an hour late to the event. You missed the cheese and the introduction–” 

 

“We don’t care. Barney is here, right?” Gordon placed his forearm on the podium and glared at him. Was this guy just a working class fellow? Yeah. But Gordon had lost a lot of his patience somewhere in Black Mesa. If he ever had it to begin with. 

 

“Yes he’s over with the group at the back left over there. Enjoy your evening.” 

 

“Fuck yeah. Thanks bro.” Benrey held his hand out for a high-five, and while the host stared in perplexment. He retracted his talons after he realized he wasn’t getting that five, “Too slow. Lame.” 

 

When they were no more than three steps from their table, Gordon pointed out their double date partners. Lauren and Barney, sitting all pretty on one side of the two by two. 

 

“Hey! Gordon! It’s me! Long time no see!” Barney almost vaulted over the table, pushing a couple of other guests out of his way as he rushed to his arms. Like lovers reuniting, they jumped into each other’s arms. Benrey didn’t know this guy from work, at least he didn’t think he did. But he was awful cute , and the way Gordon looked at him, with those wide eyes and that big, enamored smile? Baring those blunt canines unabashedly at the sight of him!? Benrey couldn’t make him smile like that. Oh no . This was worse than he thought. Barney and Gordon were smiling at each other. They were in love! More in love than Benrey and Gordon were?! Impossible! Bad! Terrible! Not allowed!

 

He inserted himself between the two and wrapped his arms around their shoulders, “Yoooo it’s Barney the dinosnore. What’s up Barnsley? You uh, you uh, you’re lookin’ a little scrawny aren’tcha?” 

 

“I was about to say the opposite, man! You’re looking great.” Gordon ruffled his hair and punched him in his plush stomach. It was more of a mild tap, considering how hard Gordon could sock ‘em. 

 

“Man am I glad to see you! We were all beginning to think you were dead!” Barney patted over where Gordon had jabbed him, “Well, you know. I’ve been putting on some weight for the tux. Feel this!”

 

He flashed his bicep in front of Gordon, who simply had to feel it through the rayon. Holy shit. Barney felt strong . Was he chugging protein supplements and living at the gym? His muscle wasn’t just big, it was firmer than a steel pole, “Lauren must be proud, and speaking of which–hello, Beautiful!” 

 

“Gordon, honey! You’re looking so slim! Are you on a diet?” Lauren asked. She was a very well put together woman, much more than Barney was, who had a slightly disheveled shirt (Benrey would NEVER go anywhere with an untucked shirt–he wasn’t some kind of degenerate ) and messy strands of hair smeared across his forehead. She was elegant by comparison, a swan-like woman with short-cut, straight hair and power bangs that made her look like the true woman of the future. Caked in makeup and wearing only the most affordable yet chic black dress in her wardrobe, she couldn’t have been any more different than the scruffy Calhoun. Benrey had an immediate distaste of her. Not that he saw her as competition as he did Barney; rather she had a look of someone who had figured everything out and she oozed confidence. That was the worst thing someone could do in proximity to a man in turmoil.

 

“Yeah. How did yours go?” It was like he was picking back up where he had left off months upon months ago, “I know you’ve been wanting to lose weight for the wedding.” 

 

“Perfectly well. I lost twenty pounds.” Oh, Benrey really really hated her. He could see by the deflated look on Gordon’s face that he felt bad that he lacked the grip on the reins she did. Maybe a little envious, but he was obviously comparing himself as his eyes went from looking down to his waist and back up at her. 

 

“That’s great,” Gordon gave her a pat on the shoulder and took his seat, finally, serving himself whatever was left on the charcuterie board and fixing up his aggressively orange tie and lapels, “Real proud of you, Lauren. This is something you’ve really been wanting for a while.” 

 

“And she’s got a firmer back for–” 

 

“Barney, you goof, not now,” she pinched his cheek while she stifled her giggling, and he hushed up immediately. Perfectly obedient. 

 

Seeing that Barney was closer to Gordon than Benrey was, he scooched his seat even closer, and put his chin on Gordon’s arm. His eyes darted up to him like a sad puppy. The fiancees shared a bewildered glance at the oddity of the spectacle while Gordon silently shat himself. 

 

It was probably okay! Benrey didn’t have a frame of reference for what was normal, this was fixable , “Charm Quark–” 

 

“Your pet name for him is Charm Quark?” Barney snorted, “Come on Gordon! That’s adorable. Dork.” 

 

“The magical averter of evil. We owe our existence to them. It’s not just an empty pet name.” Gordon scratched under Benrey’s chin and guided his head away. He jabbed one of his nails into his back, which made him shoot up straight. That was better. Benrey grabbed some cheese from the charcuterie board and took a dignified little nibble. 

 

And that was some quality cheese. Once he had a taste, it was over. He shoveled as much as he could into his face, leaving a little mound of toothpicks in his wake. Gordon withheld from grimacing and affectionately patted his back like a loving partner ought to… Encouraging him to eat the cheese that they both knew was going to have him glued to the toilet in about three hours. This wasn’t something he should have been encouraging but if Barney knew his relationship was… complicated , he wouldn’t hear the end of it. The last thing he needed was preaching, advice, or encouragement to seek something better. 

 

“So how have you two been since the whole, uh, situation ?” Gordon chuckled nervously, hoping he had framed that question appropriately. He was sure they were also being paid off by G-Man to keep everything quiet. 

 

“Oh yeah. We’re moving the wedding date back indefinitely to get our bearings straight. But it’s been good. How about you?” Lauren placed one of her manicured hands on Barney’s worn, calloused palm. So different, yet so cohesive. Gordon slipped one of his hands under the table to try and grab Benrey’s hand, and only ended up grabbing his wrist. It would have been nice to get a set of pale streaks on his skin from the gentle rapping of his black talons.

 

“Life couldn’t be better.” Gordon cringed as he heard Benrey scarf down some more cheese like a buffoon. 

 

The first wine came out. A pinot noir from Europe. Gordon identified the spittoon first (last time Lauren dragged them to one of these, he spat into a flower vase) and took his wine glass. He sniffed it. Swirled it. And then brought his lips to the glass for a sip. It was a dry wine. Obviously from the barrel of some kind of fragrant wood based on the undertones. But Gordon didn’t know enough about wine to make any declarative statements. Really, he didn’t even like wine unless it was sweet or champagne. Not he nor Barney. This was a Lauren thing. And Lauren was a great woman, but she was a bit on the posher side. It made her attraction to Barney a bit odd. Not that Gordon found him to be anything less than a gentleman, but he was far from ‘a bit posh’, and he certainly lacked the same modern sensibilities. 

 

“Oh, uh. I only drink on Shabbat .” Benrey pushed his glass away and scoffed. Gordon stared at him, utterly befuddled, nonplussed, at a loss for words. Benrey was not Jewish. He didn’t even know what the Torah was if you asked him. And maybe more importantly he had no fucking jewish ancestry. He wasn’t human how the hell did he– 

 

Oh right, he watched 8 Crazy Nights when Gordon fell asleep during ‘Computer Time’. Riiiiight. Like an IPad kid stumbling upon horrors beyond his comprehension, Benrey was just watching some lighthearted YouTube Movies when he clicked on it. Gordon managed to turn it off but then he wanted to celebrate Hanukkah in October and it was a whole ordeal to try and explain to him that they’re not Jewish. Looks like Benrey was backing him into a corner here. Fuck it, he had to roll with it. This was going to make explaining his gay, interspecies, interreligious, non-binary gamer shoggoth wedding incredibly difficult to explain to his strict Mexican paupist parents. Eh, he’ll figure it out.

 

“Ben, my fermion which grounds me.” Gordon cupped his hand in his, “It’s a Friday night.” 

 

“Whazzat mean?” Benrey’s cheeks puffed up with a hum of sweet voice, which he swallowed back down. He made a big show of pounding his chest and coughing to brush it off and avoid suspicions. 

 

“It’s Shabbat?” Gordon couldn’t believe it. He was invoking Shabbat and didn’t even know when it was. He probably mixed it up with the Sabbath. Gordon knew this and he wasn’t even Jewish. 

 

“Oh shit! Mazel tov!” He nabbed his glass by the bowl, clouding the delicate crystalline structure, and downed the whole thing in a few gulps, “Ahh. That’s um. It’s uhh. A umm… wine? Aged uh, for a long time.” 

 

“This is actually just a 2015 Pinot Noir, cedar barrel. A little unorthodox in my opinion but I think the fragrance is quite delectable. It has this almost… cologne-like undertone, wouldn’t you agree, honey?” Lauren turned to Barney, who looked like he didn’t know how the fuck she managed to figure all that out. 

 

“That’s right, darling.” Barney took a sip and swished it around for a few seconds, and spat it out into the spittoon from a foot away, “You’re really amazing, Laur! I can’t even imagine how you–” 

 

Benrey elbowed Gordon while the two lovebirds cooed at each other. What a snore these two were. He couldn’t imagine what they saw in the other, “Hey bro. You uh, look like a carrot. I love carrots. Or a piece of cheddar cheese.” 

 

“I love you too,” Gordon sighed and put his hand on Benrey’s cheek as he chewed, “You liked the wine?” 

 

“Yeah. Yummy yummy in my, uh, tummy. Grape juice. I like the Penis Noir,” he snickered. Barney let out a wheezy little laugh too, having just overheard the words ‘Penis Noir’. 

 

And a quick, corrective look from Lauren fixed that right up, “Lauren and I have done this for about two years now. We’ve got a bit more experience under the belt, don’t worry Ben.” 

 

“Yeah! Gordon, you didn’t even introduce us to your boyfriend!” 

 

“Oof. Where do I begin?” Gordon gestured to Benrey’s entire being, “He’s a real special kind of person. You don’t meet a Benrey twice in your life. He is beyond introductions, really. He just is.” 

 

“Coming from you, Gordon? That’s surely something.” Barney rubbed his hands together as the next wine bottle made its rounds, “Oo! I hope this is an Old World. God, I could use a good Austrian right about now.” 

 

“They always pull the sweet wines at the end, Barn.” Lauren tugged his shoulder, “It’s probably a Sauvignon.” 

 

“I’m inclined to agree with Lau–” Gordon stopped himself as he heard gulping. Heavy, indulgent gulping. 

 

Benrey finished off his second glass and slammed it on the counter, “Nice! Was that uh, a um, bitter uh, Vag-wine-a?” 

 

“Vag–wine– What ?” Gordon turned his head, “You’ve got… an astounding imagination, Benrey. It’s so nice that you can just say things like that and not think at all about it.” 

 

“YO is that a uhh, a pitcher of water?” Benrey pointed to a spittoon of a slightly different color and reached for it, and Gordon pulled him back into his seat to prevent an oncoming disaster from manifesting.

 

“BENREY NO!”

 

Lauren and Barney shared yet another glance with blown out eyes. That was not a good look for either of them. Gordon quickly readjusted himself as the next wine came out. Mortifying. Fucking mortifying. Of course Benrey had to be mortifying. 

 

---

 

Somehow. Benrey never figured out that he wasn’t supposed to drink the wine, and was supposed to spit it out. He hiccupped and leaned against Gordon’s body, stinking like a mix of every wine of the night with a heavy undercurrent of cheese. His stomach was rumbling from the lactose, and he could no longer sit up straight. 

 

Gordon really didn’t want to be thrown out. Benrey was going to make this exceptionally difficult to avoid. He clung onto Gordon, pupils blown out as if he had been smoking weed, just from the sight of him. 

 

“Hiiii, Gordon I… I really love you man. I’m sorry, bro. I just need you, you know?” As quick as a wink, he grabbed the spittoon and drank straight from it, chugging it before Gordon could get a word in. He let it go with a roaring belch that echoed out from the metal pot, “Ten outta ten! Kiss?” 

 

“No! What’s wrong with you?” Gordon pushed him away. Gordon was no stranger to Benrey’s intense stomach acidity, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to have a kiss with a mouth that still tasted like his gut contents, “Just a stomach issue he’s got, hehe. Sorry about that, please don’t mind him. He’s got this uh, high acidity problem.”

 

“Uh…” Barney was searching for anything to pivot to, “Hey, uh, I like your outfit it’s very… blue.” 

 

“My suit is blue but my PANTS are BROWN cause I done shitted them! Haha…” Benrey had the look of regret on him when he was hit with the post-failed-joke clarity, “Why did I say that?”

 

“Oh my god. He’s joking. Uh, I’ll… I’ll be back guys. I’m gonna sober him up before we’re kicked out.” Gordon grabbed Benrey under the arm and dragged him towards the bathroom while other patrons judged them.

 

“Take your time. Text me if you need anything.” Barney called out to them. 

 

Gordon shut the bathroom door behind them and rushed Benrey to the sink, throwing cold water into his face to try and get him to sober up slightly. It brought him out of his stupor a tad , not enough to get him to function. 

 

He lapped up the water and hiccupped violently, “Ugh, brooo… my stummy hurt.” 

 

“You ate a lot of cheese, man. Do you need to use the bathroom?” 

 

“Uh, probably.” Benrey stumbled into one of the stalls and Gordon heard him practically slam into the toilet seat.

 

Well, this was as good of a time as any to have an argument, “Benrey what the fuck, man. This whole night you have been everything you shouldn’t have been. You were annoying, you were inappropriate and sexual. Gross . We’re just… not operating together right now. Do you understand me?” 

 

Benrey was evacuating his bowels as he responded, not missing a goddamn beat, “Listen man. I don’t know what this even is . You uh, didn’t even fuckin’ explain it man!” 

 

He hiccupped and groaned long and hard, and then started sobbing into his hands, “So mean! So mean to me! Man, I–I already am having a bad time okay? I don’t know these people. And Barney is so good for you I know you want him–” 

 

“What are you even on about? Man, your communication skills are fucking awful! You’re really jealous of Barney? Dude he’s a taken man you think I’d try to make a move?” 

 

“Augh I’m not hearing a no!” Benrey’s claws audibly ripped into the sides of the stall.

 

“Of course not. You just… I feel like such an idiot for doing this double date thing. It was a bad idea.” 

 

“Ouugh, sorry Gordos Freeman. Love you.” 

 

“I–I love you too…” That was hard to say while hearing what was happening in there. Ripping some weird band-aids off early, it seemed, “but I think you need more human experience before we try this again.” 

 

Benrey was going through the motions pretty violently, “Uh, Ben, are you okay?” 

 

“I will be in like… five minutes.” Gordon could hear rustling in his stall… was… was that a bag of chips? 

 

“Benrey, what did you just open?” 

 

Crunch . “Uhh, I’m gonna be in here for a while so I packed a snack.” 

 

“... That’s so gross man, do you usually eat on the toilet?” 

 

“If it’s gonna take a while I bring a snack.” 

 

“Bro, we need to have a chat about germ theory.” 

 

“And we need to have a chat about I’M HUNGRY.” Crunch . Benrey wasn’t missing any beats. Drunk, snakes in his gut, and eating a bag of potato chips. What a special man. 

 

Gordon snorted and started laughing hysterically. Frustrated, disgusted, and yet… inexplicably enamored . Benrey was a maelstrom of stupidity. This was the freest thing he had ever witnessed. No second thoughts of societal niceties. No care of judgement. He brought bags of chips into bathrooms and ate on the toilet and feared no god while doing it. Gordon wheezed, “Why am I dating you?” 

 

“Cause I’m awesome, and you’re really uh, smart. So you can see it. Cause you’re a smart doctor guy.” 

 

“I’d beg to–” Gordon hushed up as a man walked in to use the urinal. Big fella, about Gordon’s height, strong shoulders and bulging muscles. His combat boots clicked against the tile as Benrey crunched on some chips. 

 

And then he stopped, “Hey, is that guy eating a bag of chips?” 

 

“Uh, yeah?” Gordon shrugged. 

 

“Must be one hell of a shit,” he deadpanned, and then unzipped his cargo pants. Gordon could have sworn he knew that face. The graying, dark stubble, and his trunk-like nose.

 

Well, now Gordon had to try and get a look at him. He scrambled to the next urinal and whipped his dick out to see his face. 

 

This is awkward. He can clearly see Gordon looking at him. Gordon knows he’s not being incognito at all. But there’s something about that man, like he knows him already. Was that Forzen? No, Forzen was younger, more narrow.

 

This guy was some middle-aged man who just happened to be in good shape. Probably had kids. Listened to the Joe Rogan podcast and got duped out of hundreds of dollars for supplements made out of wood shavings…

 

Someone who he had seen bloody. Gordon remembered him, teeth on the curb, gut punched by Benrey in front of his children. That face was too pristine for a man who just a month ago would have needed extensive dental surgery. It couldn’t be the same guy. 

 

Gordon shook himself dry with a blanched expression as Benrey flushed and kicked the stall door open, “Bro can you flush uh, chip bags down the terlet?” 

 

“N-No…” Gordon’s pupils darted to the boot boy, who was still draining himself. 

 

Benrey could feel his confusion and fear. Smell it on his sweat. He was his queen, and god help anyone who dared give his queen a little bit of a sca–

 

“Yooo that’s the guy who tried to beat us up? I’m impressed you uh, lived.” 

 

“What are you talking a–” he asked as he finished off. Benrey interrupted him with a sharp snarl.

 

“Too bad I fucking hate you!” Benrey’s flesh was relentless and unfollowable. It billowed out like clouds of meat, veins twisting and constricting the growing, unfurling folds of flesh as he rose up into the ceiling. The first tentacle wrapped around his mouth and nose, silencing him. The flesh absorbed his suit, and then split open at the center. 

 

“Benrey what’re you doing?! Stop!” 

 

Teeth as long as coiling warthog tusks pierce through his meaty figure, flaps of sinew enclosing in on him. No longer resembling anything human, the muffled screams of the man bounced within Benrey’s full body mouth, until it was nothing but the grinding crunch of bone. The kill was clean. The kill was perfect . Gordon backed up into the wall as Benrey’s body crumpled into a pile of viscera, and then slowly built itself into a spherical body with two massive, muscular, avian legs perched beside it. 

 

“Jesus! You just…” Gordon locked the bathroom door for the sake of Benrey not being found out. This was a public place. And G-Man would have their asses for this miscarriage of an agreement. “You killed him, Ben. What the fuck. ” 

 

“It’s uh, good he died. He was a bitch.” Benrey nestled down on the floor. Gordon recognized this as a rest and digest behavior, when Benrey laid down in a calloused sheet of flesh and started barbing his belly to protect himself. The last thing he ne eded was to rest and digest a whole person. No! Gordon walked right up to him and curb stomped his vulnerable gut, “OWW WHAT THE FUCK BRO?! GONNA BE MEAN TO ME WHEN I–” 

 

“You just murdered someone and I need to help you dispose of the body you drunk idiot. What else would I be doing?! Get the fuck up, how paste-y is he right now?” Gordon pushed up against him, forcing him to stand up on his chicken legs and lurch over him. He was heavy with human viscera, and Gordon didn’t care like the psycho he was. So now his boyfriend had officially evolved from eating pigs to eating piggish people in front of him. The line had to be drawn here; there was no way Gordon was going to let him keep that. Even if they were in a comfortable, secure area, he wouldn’t allow it.

 

“He’s uh, getting ground up into wet sand in my stomach teeth right now.” 

 

“Stomach teeth… stomach teeth Jesus Christ every word in that sentence was a horror.” He helped the drunk monster over to the toilet and patted the ridges protruding from his back, “Vomit. We’re flushing the whole man.” 

 

A grotesque, wet crack came from his round mouth-stomach hybrid. Like the lip of a blooming rose, his mouth unfurled just enough to squirt a chunky load of liquified human goop and chewed up chips into the bowl. Gordon flushed the toilet. Only a little orangey-red blood was left clinging at the sides. 

 

This should have sickened Gordon. But this was the first time he felt at home in a long time. “Keep it coming. As fast as you can.” 

 

“Can’t I keep a little bit of him?” Benrey whimpered as he spat out some more bone fragments and floating pieces of marrow. Some shreds of flesh had the blood pressed out of them already, leaving these pale little floaters of dead meat.

 

“You are not eating a person. That’s horrible. You’re horrible.”

 

“I did it for us.” 

 

“You’re drunk and impulsive. NEVER kill anyone ever again, or it’s over. And don’t you dare get a taste for human flesh. Do you hear me?” 

 

“Cool. Okay.” Benrey purred as Gordon rubbed at this one part of his back that had been itchy all day. Spit and flush. Spit and flush. Fragments weren’t coming up. Like they were erasing a human being. 

 

Gordon didn’t want to think about it. And so he didn’t. He’s done worse than this. His degeneracy ran far, far deeper. 

 

Benrey washed his mouth out in the sink and spat out the last bit of coagulated blood, thoroughly sober now. Alien metabolism must’ve been fast. Gordon glared at him while he leaned against the custodial closet. “How much time did we even lose, man?” 

 

“Don’t care.” Benrey fixed his ascot and looked at himself in the mirror, “Let’s just get the night over with. Worry later?” 

 

“Worry later.” Gordon fixed his hair and unlocked the door. 

 

It was as if they hadn’t left. Everyone was still sitting around. Tasting and spitting wine. They took their seats, refreshed and sobered. 

 

“Hey! I was wondering what happened to you two.” Barney shook Gordon on the shoulder, “How’s Ben doing?” 

 

“He’s sober.” Gordon gripped the table cloth, “Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short but Benrey’s got some stomach troubles. I want to get him home to some Lactaid and Pepto. We’ll see each other soon?” 

 

“Ah, it’s the last drink anyways. Twenty minutes to sober up is pretty impressive though.”

 

“Benrey has a gift.” Gordon leaned into Barney and gripped him tight. He smelled like that hideous sandalwood cologne he always wore and patrol sweat still, “I’ve missed you, man. I hope you’ve found everything you wanted.” 

 

“Woah, Gordon…” Barney patted him right back, “I have. And the very same to you.” 

 

“I’ll catch you too, Lauren.” Gordon pulled Benrey out of his chair as he waved goodbye. 

 

“Yoo, bye bye guys. Uh, don’t do drunk. It’s baaad and I’m baaaaad. ” Benrey was rushed out of the door and into a cramped little car. Great. This was just what he wanted. 

 

---

 

Gordon closed the car door and jammed the key in the ignition, his forearm shaking as reality finally settled in like the black bird of judgment, “Benrey, Benrey it’s over. I–I don’t know what to do I–” 

 

“No evidence. Never uh, find the body.” Benrey scratched under his suit and put his seat back, “Don’t worry.” 

 

“How are you not freaking out?” 

 

“I am.” Benrey grabbed the gum from the inner console and started chewing. 

 

“I’m… I just… This never happened, okay? If anyone asks us anything, we know nothing. You saw nothing. You heard, tasted, did nothing at all. Capiche?” 

 

“Gotcha man.” 

 

“God, we’re murderers in mundanity too. Fuck! Fuck man, why did you have to kill him?! Why did you have to kill a man who did nothing at all?! He might not have been that same guy! Why the fuck did you kill him?” 

 

“I dunno. I am what I am. He was making you scared.” 

 

“He had some really good reconstructive surgery if that was the same guy.” 

 

“Smelled like him. Whatever man. I just wanna go play my games.” 

 

“I’m… I’m gonna head to bed. Can you give me the sweet voice?” 

 

“Yeah… prolly a good idea.” Benrey stared out the window at the passing lights, “Sorry.” 

 

“Yeah. You are. Aren’t you?” 

 

---

 

He was dating a murderer. A monster.  A beast that didn’t differentiate between man and pig. Appetite insatiable, sharpened fangs, claws for shearing flesh off bone like hot lard. Benrey meant well, he did. But he couldn’t be trusted. And that wasn’t the best thing to contend with when he wanted to sleep next to the beast.

 

This was his fault. He should have done more. Thrown himself on Benrey as he was priming his teeth to swallow that man. Save him, break up with Benrey, kill him. 

 

But that wouldn’t have been that easy. Not even possible. Things were emotional now. He’d choose Benrey over his own kind. Why wouldn’t he? Benrey cared. Benrey protected him. He killed to keep him safe, liquified a man and flushed him down the toilet. Hinged is not compatible. 

 

Benrey crawled into bed next to him, putting his head on Gordon’s belly, and sunk into his shallow fat before hitting a brick of muscle. Their eyes met, and despite the fact that Benrey was dangerous. He was happy to have him. This was safe. Like a dog begging to be forgiven, Benrey whimpered. 

 

And Gordon quietly ran his hand through his hair, and pulled him up onto his chest. And his purrs helped calm any anxieties. He had Benrey, and that meant he was safe! Benrey nibbled on his fingers, and softly snored into the night while the sweet voice subdued Gordon.

Chapter 30: Dr Freeman Remembers Why He Was Afraid

Summary:

Gordon has pleasant dreams of his alien lover.

Notes:

TW: Typical gore n shit.

sorry guys im not feeling too well. here is a quickie. have a great week yall

gordon crashes out in this one. typical L freeman move.

Gordon knew he was a terrible person. The evidence was found in the piles of bodies he left behind him in his wake in Black Mesa. The military might deserve it, but what about all those innocent people; The scientists, the guards, the janitors, and the heavy equipment operators? Where was his penance? A main character must reach the end of his journey, standing on the mountain of bones of those who failed before him. 

 

As he limped through the canyon, he was held on a chain of pale hands that clung to his neck, walking in shame and paraded amongst his victims. He was a monster. They were heavy on his neck, forcing him to slouch and drag his feet. A trail of bright red canyon dust paved the path he would walk while he was urged forth by the horde of lab-coat clad and bloodied corpses. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? Why couldn’t he just move on? It was always about the Resonance Cascade, he could feel the gamma radiation in the air, emanating warmly through the anomalous materials he crunched along the way. The sharp taste of acerbic alien blood stung down his esophagus. 

 

The wedding bells tolled, canyon dust kicking up in his face. Caking him and his HEV dress in filth and shame. Tommy pushed him from behind, and skipped ahead, throwing wilted petals into the wind that never touched the ground, and were ghosted across the skybox. Gordon craned his head up from where he trudged like an old ox, seeing Benrey smiling across the way, wearing his guard uniform with a bowtie on it. An untrained eye couldn’t see it, but Gordon could see the faux humanity in him. He was too gaunt, face just slightly wrong in its conformation. Fingers just a few millimeters too long, eyes slightly too large to be of nature. The way something monstrous within him longed to be free from his prison of skin and tear through its skeletal cage. His eyes were fixed on Gordon, ravenous eyes. Gordon turned around, and the sky had morphed into the resonance chamber; ground zero. The G-Man stood at the altar like a priest, drawing the chain with a thin-lipped grin. Closer to hungering Benrey. Closer to the cage. 

 

Gordon’s ex-wife was his groom's maid, standing at the side and wiping her tears, “I hope you get everything you deserve!” 

 

Benrey made him wish that he was back with her. Something resembling normalcy. Not that it would ever work again, but at least she wasn’t a space monster. That had to count for something. That was what he was supposed to do in life. Be with her. The necessary actions in the universe required for an interdimensional beast with a billion hungering maws to meet a meager human were infinitesimally less likely to occur than what was required for him to meet his ex-wife. But he had ruined this cosmic fate of his, and Benrey was his punishment. 

 

 His blushing groom was standing there with an expectant, flirtatious wrinkle in his eyes. Benrey opened his mouth to lick his lips, and Gordon’s instincts flew into a frantic prey-struggle when he saw those flesh-shearing fangs. He pulled against the chain, sliding on the canyon gravel until it melted into raised metal paneling, trying to get away from G-Man’s grip. He felt it loosen. He was stronger. He could escape! Before he could break free and run, Coomer and Bubby flanked him, and grabbed him from under his arms, lifting him up. They were delivering him right to the altar. 

 

“Now now, Gordon! Let’s not get cold feet!” Coomer had him on the left, his grip cutting the circulation off on his arm. 

 

“You deserve each other. You’re going to get exactly what’s coming to you,” Bubby dropped him down in front of Benrey, and stepped over towards Benrey as if he were a father-in-law. The monster’s fingers were on his chin with his face in a cocky gaze of appraisal, as if determining Gordon’s value. His eyes were like rivers of molten gold, his chin thick and jowls loose. One of those disemboweling claws migrated to his chest, though his hand was over the right side of his chest; Not where his heart would be if he were a man.

 

“Today”, G-Man brought his decrepit little fingers together as he spoke with an inhuman cadence. His voice was so dry, so meandering. Tommy was by his side, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, “We give Mr. Freeman exactly what he deserves .” 

 

Atonement flashed through his mind. Atonement. The victims of the Resonance Cascade glared down at him, and they celebrated, threw rice, roses, and broke plates. Benrey grabbed the chains from Mr. Coolatta and pressed his lips into Gordon, filling him up with teal sweet voice. The saskatoon berry flavor had soured since knowing just what Benrey had put in his mouth. It transformed into the flavor of iron as Benrey began biting his lip, tearing chunks of his flesh out of his mouth, digging his claws into his chest, his belly, and his arms. He felt himself get picked apart, bit by bit, and he just let it happen. Let him eat. What could he do? He was encapsulated in a cage of fangs, the burning, piercing pain all over him, scrambling his organs and piercing through his glasses into his brain. 

 

He was in bed with Benrey, holding him to his chest, grazing his fingers over his velvety soft skin and the slight pebbly protrusions where his black spots were across his body. Benrey’s gentle snores were almost enough to reassure him that everything would be alright, but he was wet and sticky. Probably from Gordon’s sweat sticking to his body. Needing to readjust him to get comfortable and wipe off the sweat, he pushed Benrey off his abdomen. 

 

The weight being sloughed off of him unleashed a writhing pink worm that twisted out from between them. Gordon’s eyes widened as he realized that he could feel the worm inside of him, brushing against the inner portion of his spine. His intestines were squirming out of his body, fat grabbed in clumps and pushed to the sides to leave his organs on full display as if he were on the vivisection table. His lungs contracted as he screamed, his organs jostled in the mesentery as he scrambled to shove them back into his body. Benrey’s eyes shot open, aurum in the coal mine, and he slammed his body on top of the deboned cavity, covered in coagulated blood. His slick drool slid across Gordon’s face as he got up close to his ear and nibbled at his piercing, breathing lukewarm air onto him. 

 

“Keep it pleasant for me, and I let you live. Squirm for me, cry for me, beg. Never give me a reason to leave or to see you more valuable as calories than as a lover.” 

 

“Benrey would never say that! Get out of my head!” 

 

“If I don’t love you anymore imma eat you, bro.”  Fuck, Benrey would say that. 

 

Gordon screamed. 

He was in a room with that man Benrey killed. The victim was a glob of meat, except for his face which had been stretched over a Playstation 3 and contorting in agony every time he tried to get a word out. Gordon’s impulsive thoughts got the better of him, and he waved in front of the censor that ejected the disc. A copy of Halo 2 came out below his glottis, which Gordon stuffed right back in with an awkward cough. They made eye contact. His eyes were sprawled across his flesh matrix with nerves like noodles trailing behind them, idly sitting there with no muscles, no eyelids. He kept rasping and scraping his throat, trying to remove enough phlegm to begin speaking. 

 

“Men forget,” he found his voice, “Men will forget that their flesh is forged as digestible energy. We are prey and predator alike, and above all else, a fighter of entropy. Each amoeba wages a cosmic war against the very nature of physics–the greatest statistic in all physics–by keeping the arrangements in order and aligned. And you will be part of the grand order of existence as one of its many pawns. Finding yourself the right man in the wrong place, you can make all the difference in the world.” 

 

“The fuck are you saying, man?!” Gordon grabbed at his abdomen, and found that his skin was where it should have been. He was full of fat, muscle, and organs as he was supposed to be; everything was in order. “Is this the Twilight Zone?” 

 

“A scientist with no academia to fall back on. Prey trapped with predator. What do you think would happen if you were not there to correct Benrey? Who do you think he would be without you?” 

 

“I don’t know? Killing more people?” 

 

“Then you must do right by the Friends of Enthalpy–” 

 

“This is a complete misunderstanding of the very concept of entropy. I mean–digestion IS creating more chaos in the world. Are you telling me to stop eating food?” 

 

“No it’s–You’ll figure it out. You’ll figure it out.” 

 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Gordon felt hands come out from behind him, dozens of them, gripping his skin and pulling him back into what felt like a spongy wall of flesh. Fangs dug into his shoulder, the way Benrey’s playful bites would slightly pierce his skin. He was encased in a mesh led by pseudopods, eyes emerging out from the gaseous holes that bubbled in the excited fascia. 

 

It smelled like hot dog water, and it felt sticky, like lightly oiled tongues lashing him a thousand times over. He hocked up a loogie and spat it on one of Benrey’s eyes.

 

The flesh room winced and burbled, “Eww! Gordon! I’m just giving you a big whole body hug! Stop-uhhhh!” 

 

“Let me go you fucking space–space god thing!” Gordon kicked and flailed at nothing in particular, which elicited an arrogant laugh out of Benrey. 

 

He couldn’t see it, but Gordon could swear he felt Benrey lick him across the cheek and nibble him down to his hand, “Okay um… I fucking–I try to help. I try to help but I keep hurting you and scratching you so I can’t play you anymore.” 

 

“I’m not a disc,” Gordon placed a hand out, and felt one of Benrey’s mushy pseudopods lay on him, gently wrapping around to his elbow. 

 

“But you’re still limited edition. I don’t want to eat you or hurt you man. I don’t–I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s scary here.” 

 

“I mean, your introduction to this world was a vivisection table, wasn’t it?”

 

Benrey tentatively put a gangly, alien hand on his chest, “Mhm.” 

 

“Ugh, I need to be better about teaching you how we work here man. I just… maybe we need to get you back out in the wild. You’re a wild animal. We should… let you go back to where you belong.” 

 

“What about the woofs?” 

 

“The…the woofs?” 

 

“The woofs that ummm… arf arf! The woofs? The humans brought the woofs inside. Why don’t you let me inside?” 

 

“Oh my god I can’t even begin to explain to you the process of domestication it’s not that–that simple PLEASE Benrey I need to let you go home. You’ve killed so many people!” 

 

“Thirty-eight.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Killed thirty-eight people.” 

 

“That’s not better! Fuck! I need to tell G-Man that he has to take you back to your home and let you go. This was all a mistake.” 

 

“There’s no where I belong. I need you. No one else would help me.” 

 

“Why can’t it have been anyone else?” 

 

“We’re bonded now. You and I? Player–Player One and Player Two.”

 

“Man I–I just want my life to be the way it used to be! I want to go back to college! I want to be home with my parents! I want to get away from Black Mesa and–and all of you inconscionable monsters who ruined my life! I want to be a person again. I’m–I’m different! I’m not who I used to be! I used to feel so safe, so fucking ignorantly content. I want to be who that person was. I wasn’t a good person but I had–I had a wife and a kid and we never thought about being hunted like animals. I had a doctorate’s degree… I was on top of the fucking world. My research opportunities were unrivaled . Almost a decade of MIT education, months in Innsbruck working on teleportation technology. Almost a year in accredited Black Mesa . In ten years I could have had a Nobel Prize in physics! I could have done something with my life. Now I can’t even get hired as a barista. You have become my burden. You and everything you repre-fucking-sent. I want nothing to do with this anymore. I don’t want you, I don’t want G-Man breathing down my neck. I feel like a rat in a cage, and you’re just a fucking snake just waiting for the prime opportunity to squeeze the life out of me and degrade me by sucking up my rotting corpse.” 

 

The eyes looked around, and Gordon could hear a couple of lip smacks, “Oh um. I uhh… What?” 

 

“Fuck you, I’m waking up.” 

 

“Aww, okay. Um, love you bro. Don’t–don’t let the bad bugs bite? Cause then you’d be bleeding and that’s baaad,” Benrey planted a little on Gordon’s cheek. And as much as he hated to admit it, Dream Benrey was right. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know their laws. Hell, Gordon did everything he could possibly to suppress him. It was a miracle they hadn’t spent any time in jail yet. Incredulous, but somehow endeared again by the creature who kills without conscience, he forced himself awake. 

Chapter 31: Dr. Freeman Picks Up the Pieces

Summary:

gordon and benrey spend a romantic evening at the home depot

Notes:

been hard lately. sorry guys. i hope you enjoy this chapter and stay safe out there fellas.

It was a day and a half after the murder. The sun’s morning rays cascaded down on their faces, burning them with its familiar New Mexican intensity. Benrey was curled up into his side, one of his hands–so capable of disemboweling him–gripping at his fat pectoral. Like a ghost walking out of his own mortal skin, he slipped from the covers and spirited himself to the kitchen, his chest heavy and posture lurched as he worked on making a breakfast he really wasn’t very interested in. But Benrey could always eat. That was Benrey. Could always eat. 

 

Didn’t matter what or who . 

 

He grabbed the bacon from the fridge. The pinkish streaks of flesh turned his stomach. Fuck, he was used to this kind of carnage! Why was this bothering him all of a sudden? He put the bacon away and instead reached for… no not the eggs. Benrey took an eggish shape. That also revolted him… Microwaved dinosaur oatmeal it was. Once that was done, the beeping startled him. He added a dollop of honey and left the bowl on Benrey’s nightstand. After putting the bowl down, he stopped himself and stared at the monster he shared a bed with. While he was asleep, he looked so harmless. His lips fully covered his fangs, his claws were balled up into small, impotent fists. So beautiful. So sweet. His nose twitched as he smelled the food… and while normally they breakfasted together, Gordon decided he’d let Benrey wake up and have his meal on his own. 

 

Everything felt unreal. Like borrowed time. He fell back on the couch and buried his face in his hands and he realized how fucking absurd and stupid this had all been. Just because Benrey was taking a human-like form, he disregarded his capacity to kill. The most dangerous predator that had ever stepped foot on Earth, and he was exposing his belly to it a sif he were competing for a Darwin Award. He wasn’t just a guy. This was a genuine monster he lived with. That thing wanted to eat a human being. Sit there, and make the conscious decision to eat him in front of Gordon. And then they flushed him down a fucking toilet. Why was he catering to Benrey? Why was he making him breakfast when he should have been running away? 

 

Benrey likely didn’t even make the conscious decision to differentiate humans from prey. He just saw them all as potential prey, and Gordon was only alive by grace of Benrey liking him. He was alive at the mercy of a greater power–As if Gordon could keep him satiated in any capacity. God, they’d piece it together, he’d be arrested, assuredly. Thrown in the slammer forever! And what would they do to Benrey–Fuck Benrey! He couldn’t concern himself with Benrey. Benrey had to take care of himself now. 

 

Why did he cook him breakfast? 

He had to leave. Benrey would have just guessed he went out grocery shopping or something. He got in the Corolla and peeled out of their sunbleached drivewat, going nowhere in particular. He couldn’t call Barney, not Lauren either–or any of his normal friends that he wanted to connect with. They wouldn’t understand. But those unconscionable bastards who saved him during the resonance cascade? He could call them. But no–No he couldn’t. Coomer and Bubby and Tommy all liked murdering. They were all deranged! He loosened his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and took one of those ‘therapeutic breaths’ that was supposed to help him. Then a couple more. But his heart rate wasn’t going down. What could be done? The cops weren’t an option, the government sure as hell wasn’t. It had to be G-Man. It had to be the G-Man. 

 

With shaky hands, he dialed Mr. Coolatta. Information connectivity was his only hope. Benrey had quickly become a black hole in his life, the spacetime field around him was bent and twisted–And he drew Gordon in like antlion prey. 

 

After a couple of rings, he was sent to voicemail, as per usual. Fucking Mr. Coolatta. As if he wasn’t some kind of time traveller as well! He knew he just didn’t want to talk to him. That left Gordon with no options left but Benrey. Back to the gaping maw that threatened to swallow him whole. Gordon parked over by the pet store and remembered all the sweet chaos they had made together, trying to breathe easy and yet every breath filling his lungs like dry fire. Was normalcy truly so much to ask for? Was wanting to have a boyfriend who didn’t kill people such a tall order?

 

Benrey was so used to waking up and eating breakfast with Gordon nowadays that he immediately texted him when he noticed his absence. 

 

Benrey <3: wheer r u? nu brigfiss toogetter?????? hate me????

(You): We needed some groceries

Benrey <3: word. tank u for bigfest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

At least that would throw Benrey off for a while so he could think on it. Benrey was a danger to everyone around him. Even if he had no malicious intent, he had an innate danger to him. Gordon had truly tried, he really, really did try to make it all work, to make Benrey more palatable to the senses by restraining the worst of his demons. So maybe it was time to liberate himself of Benrey on his own terms. 

 

God, no, that’d be horrible. He loved Benrey. That was his boyfriend, he defended him, held him, slept with him. The kind of vulnerabilities that Benrey bore to him were too sacred to betray this way. At the same time, maybe this was the only way to get it through to him and to discipline him. To teach him a lesson. Yeah. That’s what Benrey needed. What’s a little friendly killing between lovers anyways? He had said so himself how very unserious death was. This was practically a slap on the wrist for him.

 

Stupid! What was he thinking?! Killing Benrey would just have him come back pissed at him again? But then again, maybe it would hammer home to him just how terrified Gordon was of him? But Gordon could lose his life in the process… 

 

Benrey had to be put down. He had to be. There was no way he’d take Gordon’s feelings seriously if he didn’t give him a huge reaction for killing someone. Something this powerful needed to be controlled by any means necessary. He started his car up and headed over to the hardware store. There was no fucking way he was stepping into that house without some kind of protection. Who knew what Benrey could do to him, or if Benrey wanted to do it to him. The fact that he was giving him night terrors again was all the motivation he needed. 

 

When he got to the Ace’s hardware store, he pressed his head into the steering wheel and choked back his sobs to prepare himself for what he was about to do. Walking into this place felt like concrete being poured over his chest nice and slow. Like some kind of gruesome, indecent act. He didn’t want to be seen here. It made him feel like a feral animal; Hunted. The shelves towered above him, covered in cans of paint with a thousand rectangular chromatic eyes staring at him, labelled with just what hue they represented and if it was neutral or not. Walls of porous shelving with sledgehammers on display looked to him like shriveled Vortigaunt heads, men with bodies like Grunt aliens and Gargantuas perused the drills and picked out the correct screw length to assemble their fucking gazebos and the right stones for the paths they wanted placed like scar tissue straight through their gardens. Manicured lawns, water flowing like wine with plants that lurched over their swingsets with the grace of Xen tentacles. The wasp nest outside reminded him of the hives he was assaulted with. Penetrating through straight metal and inches of insulation straight into his skin, and they must have released some kind of irritant. The itching lasted for… he didn’t remember when the itching stopped.

 

It was like Black Mesa in there, even smelled like it. His breathing quickened. He ran over to the back of the store and pressed his back into one of the shelves, groping at a frantic pace for a drop of comfort…

 

The crowbar.

 

He snatched it in his hand and threw himself half on the counter with it, grip shaky as he fumbled for his wallet. The cashier seemed totally indifferent to his behavior, this cry for help evidently not even registering with her as she rang him up for thirty bucks. Gordon took his lifeline and stumbled into the car half drunk on his purchase, half debilitatingly panicked. By the time he threw himself into the driver’s seat, he began sobbing and gasping for air. He palmed for the car door and slammed it shut. 6’3 Gordon Freeman. Two hundred pound father fastly approaching his 30’s. Curled up around his crowbar, gripping it like a stuffed animal and heaving. The metal warmed up with his body heat, and all it did was make him think about how cold Benrey would be until he hugged him, and he soaked in his warmth as if he were a sun-baked rock.

 

How could this be happening to him? Why was this making him cower and cry? There was nothing dangerous there, except for the dangerous hardware but that hardly counted. He saw an Ace’s as a warzone. Fuck, he was so paranoid from Benrey. Benrey, it was Benrey. It was all Benrey. He had to make a point to Benrey in order to win. That was when he’d win, and find some kind of peace in his life again. He had to pick up Joshua on Friday… what would he think when he got home and didn’t see Benrey? Uh, Benrey was on vacation . He didn’t want his son around him, the dangerous thing he was. His top priority was always going to be Joshua, staying alive for Joshua, making sure he could be there for him no matter what. Making sure no alien monster could harm him even unintentionally . 

 

Once he had his fluids under control, he popped the crowbar down on his lap and revved up the engine. The sooner he confronted Benrey, the better. Just getting it over with, like getting a hypodermic needle shoved in him and sucking up the pain. This was just him taking his medicine. He pulled up to the house’s driveway and kept his grip firm on the crowbar, weaving to the door. His hand rested on the knob, not entirely knowing what to expect. 

 

Benrey was sitting at the island, spooning his breakfast and holding his head in mild dismay. But hearing the door open perked him up like a hit of dope. His hands drummed against the island as a wobbly smile spread over his face, “Gordon! You’re uh, home! I didn’t eat. I–I waited for you.” 

 

Benrey rubbed the back of his head, looking away from him, looking for words. His expression dropped to an unreadable ennui as he shifted around in his seat. 

 

Gordon crept behind him, holding the crowbar behind his thigh. He slid his fingers across the hot handle, slipping over the ample sweat his palms were exuding, “Oh, you waited for me?” 

 

“I can’t eat or–or sleep well. Um, I felt you leave. Bring breakfast and leave. You never do that. Cause–cause I killed that guy. Never felt this way before this strongly . So uh, I thought it was kind of important… Or something stupid like that,” he shrugged and placed a hand over his stomach to drum on it. By the way he started to salivate, Gordon was sure he was imagining the taste of that man he murdered. 

 

“You have a pretty good idea of what I’m feeling, don’t you?” Gordon placed his free hand on his shoulder and leaned closer into him. His knees were weak. Or maybe his whole body just felt weightless from the adrenaline. He took in deep breaths as his grip on the weapon tightened. 

 

Benrey let out a pathetic little whimper and sighed, “Yeah uh, Gordon,” he interrupted himself with a stream of grey sweet voice, which he choked back down, “Augh, stupid… stupid fuckin’ ugh. Gordon? I want to make you feel a good. And feel a cool. You haven’t eaten. Last night you had a bad dream. I’m making you feel bad.” 

 

“Your powers of observation are impeccable.” 

 

“Shut up! I’m… I don’t know what to do. I thought that protecting you was good. I always try to be a good. But I think I’m just bad .” Benrey gripped at his head and brushed his hair back, “Just bad!”

 

“You’re not–” 

 

“I know I am. Gordon, I want to be here . Here with you and uh, your son. This is it for me. I–I don’t have better things for me in the world,” he looked at his claws, tipped in darkness and undulating as his blood pumped through them. That inhuman yearning was lingering just beneath, Gordon could just feel it.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have–” 

 

“NO! Listen! I made a uh, decision. For you. Cause, this is what I love! Look at me!” Benrey shot up, nearly knocking Gordon over. He whirled around and cocked his head back, eyes wide with anticipation for what he was about to do to himself. His teeth rattled in place and pushed out towards his lips, his gums distorting and bleeding at the borders and bloating out at the bases. Fangs began falling out in clumps of dark flesh and blood, some popping like pimples. Most of them just clattered onto the floor in a pile of homodont fangs. In their place and beneath the few that lingered in his mouth, hanging on by threads of gum were blunt incisors and molars. Human teeth. They unsheathed and blossomed out as a vision of dental perfection. White teeth, no gaps, and space enough for even his wisdom teeth. His palms flew out towards Gordon, their bony tips dangling by bits of abscised tissue until they flaked off like little crusty pieces of a croissant, leaving behind freshly generated fingers with keratin nails. Filed down. 

 

Gordon choked a little seeing him do this to himself. While benrey had always disguised himself, he had never neutered these parts of his appearance to this extent, “Benrey?” 

 

“Gordon, I want you. I want to make you happy. I–I want you to not be afraid,” Benrey wiped the blood off from his lips and sniffled. He was stupid, but he was no fool. He knew exactly what was wrong with him. It was impossible to not notice it. 

 

“I’m… sorry it has to be this way. I know you were trying to protect me.” Gordon’s hands were shaking, his pupil was completely dilated in fear. Benrey approached him with his fingers cracking into place, and reached out over to him. Gordon braced, pulling his head back. 

 

“ Anything to be here,” Benrey bumped his head into his chest, “Can’t go back to how it was. Never go back.” 

 

Gordon dropped the crowbar and let it clatter on the hardwood floor. That was probably some damage to the property, not that Gordon gave a fuck about it now, “Give me both hands.”

 

“Crowbar?” Benrey asked. 

 

“Uh, just collecting my Black Mesa arsenal… And uh it’s–it’s useful!” 

 

“I know you’re lying. I know you were gonna beat me with it. Cause I was bad, I forced you to be bad.” Benrey wrapped his arms around him and squeezed into Gordon’s body.

 

God, he was going to kill Benrey, this was getting out of control. He wrapped his arms around him to return the favor, and pressed his lips into the top of Benrey’s head. The tube feet in his hair reached out and pressed suction cup kisses into his face and beard. The tenderness of Benrey’s reciprocation brought a few tears to his eyes, and the anxiety that had been eating him alive was starting to subside. 

 

“You don’t need to do this. I just need one simple thing. One thing that you can do for me that will never make me feel this way again,” Gordon pushed him away with his hands wrapped around his face, brushing the hair off his forehead.  

 

“Anything.” Benrey said, with utmost faith in Gordon. 

 

“I need you to follow my lead. Not that, you know, I think you’re stupid, but you don’t know our laws. Or… what humans do. I don’t even think I know what humans do. But I don’t want you making us conspicuous. We killed a man–I–I mean we might get arrested. I don’t know.” 

 

“So like… I can’t breathe or–” 

 

“No! No! Just that you let me do all the major decision making. I’m not going to micromanage you. But killing is a major decision. I need you to be like, a little submissive, right? Just roll over when I tell you to do something, I promise it’s for our own good.” 

 

“Oh, yeah. I uh, I guess that makes sense. Um… I’ll just let you uh, call all the shots then. I guess.” Benrey shrugged and looked down in shame, “I uh, I deserve that. Cause of the killing stuff.” 

 

“Well, that’s something we can agree on. Come on, Benrey, I think–I think I have an idea.” Gordon grabbed his laptop from the coffee table and sat down on the couch. He let Benrey cozy up next to him and started googling something he probably should have a long time ago. 

 

How to be a Good Person?

Chapter 32: Dr. Freeman Knows How to Suck and He Does It Well

Summary:

gordon and benrey make out sloppy style and gymbro doesnt like it

Notes:

SORRY MY BETA WAS SICK HAVE IT DELAYED! Another one will be coming out soon!

So, he did wrong by Benrey. Benrey murdered a man. Now what? ‘How to be a Good Person’ led to complex self-help therapyspeak bullshit that he knew Benrey wouldn’t understand. It turned out most people knew the fucking basics about not committing murder, and Gordon couldn’t just pull out a list of laws! Legal language was far too advanced for Benrey. While he paced around the living room, Benrey sprawled over the couch with five cans of Mountain Dew in front of him, taking sips out of each one. After he had a taste of the flavor, he jotted down notes on their flavor, ruminated on them, and cleansed his palette with a ginger chew. As if nothing happened. 

 

This wasn’t working. Gordon ran his hands through his hair and–God it got so long. 

 

It gave him pause. How many months had he been living with Benrey?

 

They had been through a lot together, and Gordon was determined to make this work by any means necessary. This was a small problem in the grand scheme of things! Surely! Every couple has one murder story, right? Yeah, they did. Gordon cleared his throat, “Alright Benrey, I think I know what to do.” 

 

“Huh? We’re doing something?” Benrey closed up the cap on his Halo brand tie-in Code Red Mountain Dew and sat up straight, “I’m–I’m good.” 

 

“Yeah. I love you, man. It’s probably for the best if we–” Gordon gasped and felt his heart skip while Benrey shot up off the couch, grabbing his wrists and bringing them down to his chest. There was a moment where their eyes met, before Benrey lowered his head and deferred to him. His tight grip on Gordon’s wrists loosened, becoming a gentle rasp of his scaly skin.

 

Benrey whimpered, “You’re breaking up with me?! No-uh! I love you though? I know I messed up bad but I want to be good and–” 

 

“Benrey!” Gordon chided. “Let me the fuck finish, alright bro?”

He zipped the fuck up, pressing his lips together to ensure he didn’t blurt anything stupid out. Though, his skin was prickling with thousands of ossicles standing on edge just beneath his skin that he was struggling to control. Gordon grazed his fingers over his spines and smoothed them out, keeping his touch gentle and warm against his cool skin. 

“I think it’s for the best if we just forgot about… it. So long as you remember to not hurt people unless our lives are at risk. Okay?” 

 

“What um, what would that be? Like, our lives being at risk.” 

 

“Like, as an example, a guy has a weapon like a knife or a gun and he is pointing it at us or like–You know?” 

 

“Cool… So, it never happened?” 

 

“It never happened. Never mention it again. But.. Ugh… I feel like I should be doing more but I just don’t know what to do. It’s kind of hopeless.” 

 

Benrey stewed for a few minutes next to Gordon. It was a special hell to have known that what he did had given that man so much fear, and knowing that there was nothing he could do to fix it. Once he had the courage to make another move, he put his arm around his waist and nestled himself beneath his arm, catching his warmth. There wasn’t much going through his head other than some vague idea of comforting him. Was this overstepping? It was as if he could do no right, anything might be upsetting to Gordon. He had made a lot of compromises and a lot of attempts to cling to normalcy throughout their time together; Benrey was tired of asking for him to turn the other cheek the way he had been. 

 

How could he make him happy? Benrey opened up his soda and chugged down the rest of it as he thought about the things that Gordon enjoyed and seemed relaxed by, places where his heart rate was low and his happiness was evident. The longer he thought, the more he realized just how rare it was for him to feel safe and confident. No! There had to be another way. Some way Gordon could relax. 

 

Benrey took out his phone and started googling ‘relaxing thignsss 2 doo in dimngi nu mexivo wit bbgl’. Maybe the internet wasn’t the best place to look for things to do–advertisers were especially effective on Benrey due to his lack of defenses built up over years of corporate jading. But as he was looking through the list, he saw something familiar. It was the gym that Gordon went to. There was a spa inside of the gym, and judging by the pictures? It was all fountains, bamboo, and Xen gardens. No– zen gardens. The kind of faux-asian joint that commandeered Eastern practices for some kind of sense of relief in rich white people on this side of the Pacific! Benrey was hooked immediately. Saunas, cold plunges, even snacks were available. 

 

This was perfect. They’d go there, and by the end of it, all of Gordon’s stress would be gone, and they could live together without any fear anymore! Benrey was a genius . He placed his hand over Gordon’s vanishing gut, which he was missing quite dearly at this point, and thrummed his fingers against it. Gordon looked down at him. Benrey gazed back with big, wet eyes, then spewed out some grey balls directly into his face. 

 

“Agh! Fuck off, Benrey! Dammit now I feel like a sad sack of shit just like you!” Gordon pushed him off and sloughed the grey oobleck off his face with a displeased grunt. The random Sweet Voice to the face was something he’d never get used to, would he? 

 

“Oh ‘scuse me,” Benrey put a fist to his mouth and sat back up. At least he was trying to be polite, but vomiting orbs at someone certainly warranted more than just an ‘excuse me’. “I uh, I planned a um, date. A date since we’re going back to normal or something.” 

 

“ You planned a date?” Gordon snorted, “Alright let me go fill my belly button with jelly and vodka.” 

 

“I mean it! Something serious. I’m–i’m gonna call them and we’re gonna go after we head to the gym. Ok?” 

 

“Fine. I’ll let you take the reins. You’re not usually this thoughtful.” 

 

“Sorry I’m not the best, I just really want to uh, make up everything to you.” 

 

“Maybe not the best, but you’re enough,” Gordon gripped his hip and gave it a shake. Although this was supposed to reassure Benrey, being enough just wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to be the kind of person that made Gordon bewildered every time he saw him in a good way. Just completely awestruck by Benrey the same way Gordon left him. Maybe this little trip would prove to Gordon how much he cared. With any luck, he’d be comfortable with Benrey again. 

 

“You took me to the fucking gym ?!” Gordon cackled with an almost palpable incredulity, as if his laughter could have been seized from the air with its girth, character, and heartiness. 

 

Benrey shrugged and popped out of the Corolla, “Stop being uncool.” 

 

“Dude you took me to the gym on a date , I’m already trying to slim down.” 

 

“No. I liked you fat. We’re going to the spa.” 

 

“Huh? Oh– Oh! You made reservations at the spa?” 

 

“It’s supposed to um, relieve tension. I uh, I thought you could use it.” 

 

“Sweet of you but this is usually something women do, Benrey. It’s not really an activity I’ve done much of.” 

 

“Huh? Why do women only get to relax?” 

 

“No that’s not–nevermind. Just–Just forget about it.” Gordon waved him off and sighed, “Alright, it might be a bit awkward you know. You’re going to strip down and get into towels. And you need to make sure you look convincingly human. Whatever they do, don’t retaliate. Okay?” 

 

“Cool. No uh, no problem. I’m the chillest guy. Your best friend. Your confidant. Your silly rabbit.” 

 

“You killed someone literally last week.” 

 

“Yeah but we’re better now.” 

 

“Yup. All better.” Something was telling him to take control of the situation, force Benrey back into the car and drive away as fast as he could into the middle of nowhere. Send this thing to the arctic and get him frozen in the ice like The Thing so he couldn’t come out and harass the Earth any longer. 

 

Oh god, Benrey at a spa . Benrey didn’t know how to act around people, let alone in an environment which necessitated a certain control over one’s body. Hopefully there were no other men in the sauna either. Gordon didn’t know what he’d do if Benrey saw someone hotter than him. Would he just up and leave? It was hard to tell with how different his brain was wired. Was a sense of loyalty even important to whatever he was? 

 

The entrance to the gym always smelled like floor wax. The tiles were marbled and buffed, with poorly maintained, spindly plants kept in plastic pots around the corners and by the sides of benches that were never used. The high ceilings were enough to roil his guts. He came here because he could afford it; High end, large locker rooms, two pools, a sauna, and a cold plunge. They even had a cafe that Benrey would love. 

 

Benrey slid over to the desk and rested with his elbow reaching over the counter, bony back pressed towards the hostess, “Reservation for a Mister Hugh Jaynes and Gordon Feetman.” 

 

“Hugh Jaynes? Our two o’ clock. I see you right here,” she hushed up as Benrey snorted. She fell right for the ‘huge anus’ joke. “Follow me and I’ll pair you guys up with our masseuses.” 

 

Gordon noted just how beautiful this girl was. Spa workers tended to just have ethereal skin from their daily regimens. It looked like she applied lube to her face with how it shined in the low yellow lights. All the rich wood on the walls looked to be just the facsimile of luxury, just too plasticy to be real and arranged part the doorway like paneling. He walked past the pots with black stones filling the pots to the brim, nonsense kanji all over the walls behind the stems of the bamboo shoots. Gordon could read Japanese, these would have been seen on notecards teaching children basic words. It was actually pretty funny once he let himself be less on edge. 

 

Something about the low light and tight corridors, surrounded by dozens of doors around this open courtyard was deeply unsettling. Maybe it was too similar to Black Mesa for his liking. Benrey’s nose was twitching as if he were disgusted with the scents. The incense was very pleasant and moderately powerful. Frankincense filled the air, and got rid of any congestion Gordon had in his chest. Knowing Benrey had a more acute sense of smell, he reckoned it was too much of a good thing. They were led into a room with two tables for them to lay down on, a bowl of honey-based scrub, and some cucumbers. Eugh, Gordon hate—

 

Once the hostess closed the door behind them, Benrey pounced on the slices of cucumber and dipped a few in the honey-sugar scrub. 

 

“Benrey that’s not for snacking,” it was too late. He had already eaten most of them. Like a dog who had been caught with prime rib, he looked at Gordon with his cheeks puffed out, drooling sweet spittle. Gordon sighed, “No–No just enjoy yourself.” 

 

Benrey wiped his mouth and swallowed whatever he had in his mouth. His ability to read context had certainly improved, he sat down on the table and gestured to the other one for Gordon to lay down on, “I uh, I got us a couple’s package. Thought that was the um, snack. Sorry.” 

 

“Pfft. It’s fine. That’s–That’s a small mistake to make. Like, just don’t hurt anyone or break stuff.” 

 

“Easy. I’m great at that.” Benrey laid down on the cushioned table to get comfortable, “Feeling um, relaxed? Most relaxation ever had?” 

 

“Uh, yeah.” Gordon popped down beside him and stared up at the ceiling, genuinely contemplating why the fuck he was with this guy. Sure, he loved him, but this was so much. He gave up his teeth and claws, the scales on his back and his freedom. And for what? It wasn’t enough for Gordon. Could Benrey ever be enough? 

 

“Nice! So uh, I got us the um, biggest funnest package. So that you can have the most possible relaxation and um, no stress. They’ll suck the stress right out of you.” 

 

“Wasn’t that supposed to be your job?” 

 

Benrey let out a hideous cackle, grabbing at his chest and kicking his legs, “Gordon, you know how to suck and you do it well. You suck , man! Making uh, making me laugh like that. Rude!” 

 

Gordon did suck. The masseuses came in the knick of time to absolve Gordon of the creepy dread oozing up the back of his mind, coming in with towels and smiles as white and shiny as beluga skin. They rolled in a cart of towels and beautification supplies or something of that nature. Their uniforms were dark, eyes glammed up with extensions and make-up, and their skin as featureless and soft as a PS1 texture. The ladies introduced themselves with bubbly gestures and gummy smiles. 

 

“Hello! I’m Natalie and this is Pamela, we’ll be your spa specialists for today. We’re going to ask you to please go into the changing room in the back and put these towels on, and we’ll lead you to the sauna first before we get to the massages and facials,” she had a face like a Vortigaunt and eyes that practically popped out of her skull. Her long, dark hair framed her face perfectly , as if she was wearing a metal cowl and not strands of keratin. The wrinkles on her face just seemed off. He could have sworn something was going to pop out of her skin at any moment–What was wrong with him? Just a few weeks ago he wasn’t having these kinds of fears! What kind of sick paranoia had gripped him?! 

 

“We’re so glad you’ve decided to have your spa day with us. If there’s any accommodations you’d like throughout the day, just let one of us know and we’ll help you.” Pamela was a about to grab some of the sugar scrub to rub on her own hands, and saw that it was practically empty already, "Oh, looks like we need a refill!"

 

“Oh uh thanks.” Gordon grabbed one of the towels and walked over to the divider in the back to get ready. And Benrey followed him. Oh, it probably wasn’t alright if they changed together. “I think this is a one at a time thing, man.” 

 

“What? But I see you naked all the time bro? I’ve seen your Gordon bits and molds and folds and–” 

 

“Alright can we cool it about my body in front of strangers? Inappropriate.”

 

“Ah, CLASSIC Hugh Jaynes blunder, am I right?” He earned some chuckles out of the ladies, and oh, Gordon was pissed now. Talking about his body in front of people? Humiliating him like that? The worst part was that Benrey wouldn’t even understand, and Gordon had been asking him to restructure his entire concept of self for him. How was it fair to ask more of this stupid asshole? Coming in with the fake name ‘Hugh Jaynes’? Calling him Feetman? This day was going to be dreadful. He already wanted to crawl away and hide. 

Benrey was giggling at how red Gordon was starting to get in the sauna. The temperature seemed enjoyable at first to him, but as time went on, Benrey was panting more and more without any way to exude out all that heat building in him. He ended up leaning against Gordon to catch some of his sweat, which was cooler than the steam filling up in the room. Benrey started to drool profusely onto the floor, and Gordon backed away from him a little in disgust. The woodwork in here was nice, it deserved better treatment than what Benrey would give it. 

 

“Sorry, so hot,” Benrey wiped his mouth, only to produce even more . The drool was helping him thermoregulate. Gordon couldn’t be too mad but it was gross. Like he was dating a fucking dog. Like some kind of peon, he looked up at him with dilated pupils, pleading for forgiveness for something he couldn’t help. What a disgusting creature he had found himself with. There was a lot he was willing to put up with, and a lot he had. Drooling was hardly the worst thing he had ever done. A drop in an overflowing bucket. Trying to stop the spittle was in vain; Benrey ended up with beads of slick saliva all over his hands, dripping as festoons between his fingers. 

 

Gordon was completely disgusted. This would have been just something to laugh off if he was in a better mood, but it was just another reminder of what Benrey really was. His body was slick with sweat, and when Benrey went to grope for his arm, the spit and perspiration mixed into a foul concoction. The heat was aerating Benrey’s femoral pores, so the whole place was stinking like sweat and alien crotch. Sure Benrey could be sweet, but did he really want to spend his life clutched in perpetual stress because of this mediocre alien? 

 

Was he supposed to say something to him while he hung his mouth ajar like an idiot? Did Benrey want him to comfort him? Gordon wiped the sweat from his head and groaned. Goddammit, it was so hard to pretend he wasn’t regretting every fucking moment of his life that got him here. Being a shitty husband, being an absent father, uprooting his wife’s career to further his own. Going to Black Mesa to find his dream, not heeding the warnings of associated departments when they were warned about Resonance Cascade possibilities. And this fucking selfish streak wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t bring himself to touch his own boyfriend. Not even with his right hand. It disgusted him too much.

 

“Just don’t do that around anyone else.” Gordon sighed and held his head, sweat pulling at his lips.

 

“You know uh, your sweat is pretty gross too.” Shit. Benrey wasn’t stupid. 

 

“Yeah, well, I’m doing it all the time.” 

 

“I’m always drooling.” Benrey spat and wiped his mouth, “Just swallow it down like Sweet Voice for you.” 

 

“We can both be disgusting, alright? I’m a fucking sweating fucking stupid animal and you’re a drooling nimrod with no concept of decency.” 

 

“You don’t sound very relaxed, bro. Maybe you should be better at that.” 

 

“I wonder what’s bothering me. Really.” Gordon brushed him off and pushed some of the sweat and condensation off. “I’m fine.” 

 

“You don’t like me anymore, do you?” 

 

Before Gordon could blow up on him, they got a knock on the sauna door, “Mr. Jaynes and Feetman! The sauna shouldn’t be used for more than fifteen minutes!” 

 

“Let’s go.” Gordon grabbed Benrey by the shoulder and shoved him towards the exit, “Swallow it down for a second so they don’t suspect anything.”

 

Benrey listened and sealed his lips with a thin layer of skin, and continuously swallowed his hot mucus as he stepped out in a billow of steam. 

 

“Where is your blood? Mr. Jaynes, you’re so… pale. ” Natalie took a step back, astonished at how there was no redness across his body. 

 

“He’s got bad circulation,” Gordon grabbed Benrey by his elbow and ran his fingers along his spine, “He’s anemic, poor circulation and um, he has… He has Leukemia.” 

 

Gordon blurted this out thoughtlessly. Oh, wonderful, he was faking a cancer diagnosis for Benrey now. Fuck. 

 

“Oh I am so sorry about that.” 

 

“He’s doing well, all things considered! It’s just uh, his blood flow is so bad and he has a weak heart. It’s a miracle he’s alive!” Gordon squeezed his shoulders while laughing nervously, “He’s my fighter. Nothing keeps him down, and nothing can kill him .” 

 

“I’m functionally immortal!” Benrey pressed his face into Gordon’s, though it was pretty obvious by how he wasn’t closing his eyes and purring that this wasn’t an authentic movement.

 

“We’re wishing you well in you fight against cancer.” Ohhhhhhh Gordon, you really did it this time. 

 

Very quickly the heat started to dissipate off of Benrey’s body, and he had to cling to Gordon while shivering in the lukewarm temperature in the rest of the spa. While it was fine when Joshua was covered in spit and snot and came to him (he was his son after all), having the person he was supposed to be attracted to get his sticky, spitty fingers all over his body made him nauseous. So much for relieving his stress, making him feel better, sucking the stress right out of him. Great job, Benrey. Really proving why this relationship wasn’t a mistake. 

 

With the heat having relaxed their muscles, they were made to lay down with their faces in the holes. Benrey shivered the whole time, teeth clattering together. Gordon heard the hum of Sweet Voice in his chest. 

 

“Scuse me. I think the sauna is uh, giving me the hiccups.” He laughed and thumped his chest, though no one paid him much mind. Well, it was better than him spewing out balls of Sweet Voice.

 

As they began massaging them, Gordon couldn’t help but feel talons in his back. Fuck. He kept his hands gripped on the side of the table, breathing in and out as if the air were thick as molasses. The pressure glided across the muscles on his back, painfully adjusting the knots embedded in his body. He was already on the verge of tears, feeling like he was being attacked and knowing he could do nothing about it. 

 

“Does it hurt too much?” She asked as she squirted some cold oil onto his back and rubbed it into his skin. 

 

“Nope!” Gordon was white knuckling. It was obvious he wasn’t enjoying it, but if the customer didn’t call it off, the masseuse was going to continue. Perfect nails, perfect smells, perfect touches across his body designed to make him writhe and retch. His muscles had been desperately needing the work done to them! But it was coming at a grave cost. God, he wanted it over so bad. He squeezed his eyes shut and choked back his whimpers. He was so bare and vulnerable. If only he was suited up, protected from her claws. 

 

Benrey was hardly faring better. He stared off into the ground, limp and unresponsive as Pamela tried to make conversation with him, “You’re doing good,” he drawled listlessly. Not fully there while she felt around his musculature. 

 

“You have a back like I’ve never felt before. Did you have surgery at all, Mr. Jaynes?” 

 

“It’s um, my leukemia does that,” Benrey said. 

 

“Sorry I brought it up.” 

This was the most miserable date night of his fucking life. (So far, anyways.) What was he doing? Why was he going out with this monster that made him so miserable? Why did he agree to this? The massage was taking forever and he just wanted it to be over so he could go back home. But this was going to be an all afternoon excursion. He booked them for several hours. Why couldn’t he just relax? 

 

“Alrighty, we’ve got one last round of lotion that’ll moisturize your skin, and then you can go to the salt room, and then for the grand finale, you’ll get to go to our cold plunge.” 

 

“Oh, wonderful.” Gordon felt the cold lotion splash on his back and cringed. Ugh it was disgusting. It felt like a Sweet Voice sponge-bath. 

Turns out the salt air was supposed to help with respiratory issues or something. It just smelled like shit to Benrey and Gordon. Especially Benrey, who had to cover his nose and gagged as he stood there for five minutes, taking the olfactory assault for Gordon’s sake. Then they got facials done which, well, those are always uncomfortable. People prodding at the pimples on his face, squeezing the pus out and trying not to flinch. Let alone the mud masks which were made of an acidic clay that ate at his face. Benrey was terrified of the stuff, and whimpered the entire time it was slapped on his face. Although Pamela was understanding of his concern, she was also deeply uncomfortable with all his pathetic little noises. She couldn’t wait to be rid of him as a client; He squirmed, he was awkwardly silent, and he seemed to deeply hate everything being done to him. 

 

After that, they were brought to the cold plunge. Benrey could feel the temperature emanating, and slowly slipped his foot into the pool. Not waiting up for him, Gordon jumped right in and splashed Benrey with freezing water, spending a moment at the bottom before launching up to the top and treading water with chittering teeth. Not wanting to leave Gordon alone, Benrey gingerly slipped into the water and gasped, rushing over to Gordon’s side to cling to him and try and suck up some warmth. 

 

“BBB! So cold!” Benrey was shivering in Gordon’s arms. Well, thank god he was a good swimmer and Benrey was so light, elsewise they’d be sinking like lead bricks. Gordon cradled his arms around him. God, he was still feeling protective of him. Not that Benrey needed protecting, but he could comfort him and guide him through a life he was denied for decades. He ran his fingers through his tube-foot hair and felt the little suction cups cling to him for their lives, and well, Gordon was endeared to him all over again. The same cycle repeats. He looked up at him with blown out pupils, mouth agape, in awe of him. 

 

“Are you some kinda angle? Hypo-te-nooz?” Benrey asked. 

 

“Pfft. It’s angel , idiot.” Despite the fact that Gordon was well equipped for a cold plunge with all his swimming experience, it was also an uncomfortable experience to linger there. Expeditiously, he swam to the ladder with just his legs, fully supporting Benrey and helping him out of the death trap he willingly followed Gordon into. 

 

The moment Gordon was out of the water, he slapped himself onto his belly like a gelatinous hand and dug his fingers under his armpits, “Help me!” 

 

“Come on man, in public?” Gordon pushed him off and grabbed their towels, throwing it over to Benrey, “You’ll heat up in the locker room, they keep it warm.” 

 

“Oh uh, okay,” Benrey sighed and crossed his arms over his chest to try and warm up a little. It probably didn’t help that he was in speedos. 

 

While in the locker room, Benrey seemed to be dazed, staring off into the distance and freezing for a bit, then finishing buttoning up his shirt. It seemed that even he noticed this whole plan was a bust. Gordon exuded a stench of worthlessness. That was just who he was. It didn’t matter how long he baked in frankincense or aerated salt water, Gordon was just a stressed out, sad person. 

 

“Let’s never do this again.” 

 

“You just really don’t like me, do you?” Benrey rubbed his hair around, “I don’t think you love me at all. This is um, this is bad.” 

 

“I just don’t want to be here. It–It made me feel unworthy feelings. Let’s just get dinner.” 

 

“You don’t even want to touch me,” Benrey sat down on the bench and gripped his face, “What do I uh, what am I supposed to do?” 

 

“Ben, it’s going to be a while before–” 

 

“I just want to be someone you want to love. I wanted to help and I just made it worse. I didn’t even like this either! It was uh, it was awful, it was the worst! All–All the temperatures and um, the bad smells, all the skin touching from people I don’t know. Tasting them in the air. The snacks were baby carrots and cucumbers! This was the worst ever . I’m sorry I suck! I didn’t know what to expect! I saw the word ‘spa’ on the bath bombs and I like those, okay? Why can’t I be enough for you? I just want to make you happy but what do I need to do? How do I just uh, make you better ? You want that, right? Tell me! Please tell me I just want you, nothing but you. I’ll throw away my PS3! Just help me help you!”

 

Gordon grabbed him by the back of his neck and pressed his face into his chest, and pressed a kiss into his hair, “Benrey. I am so sorry. I’ve been thinking the worst about you, and I’ve been forgetting just why I love you, and how lucky I am to have you. It’s going to be different this time. I promise. I’m making it up to you. From now on, I’m supportive Gordon, I main Mercy in Overwatch, and my first act is to ban spa days and from now on we’re going to relax our way. And do the things that we both want to do. Just don’t break any laws, alright? I like you best as yourself.” 

 

“I just don’t want to lose you.” 

 

“I know,” Gordon squeezed Benrey and furled his brow, “What do you want to do tonight?” 

 

“Halloween is next week, right? Can we um, go get costumes? Together?”

 

“Oh, yeah! We can invite everyone over and just–” 

 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

 

“Uh, yeah. You put both of us at risk last week. It’s hard to just forgive that. But it doesn’t mean I should be such an asshole. I love you. The things you do that normally endear me have been infuriating me because you’ve made me scared for our well beings.” 

 

“Sorry.” 

 

“Enough sorrys. We’re going to actually change, and we’re going to talk to each other like we used to. I don’t like it when you make a mockery of us by calling yourself Hugh Jaynes and me Feetman . In public. I’m alright with you calling me that in private, but in public this just isn’t something I like.” 

 

“When I wanna touch you, please don’t back away. I need you.” 

 

“My body is yours forever.” Gordon scratched at his scalp and kissed the top of his head as if every living tentacle on it were the mouths of worthy lovers. Benrey’s body, almost human, sunk into his like the parenchyma of a bisected planarian, yearning for unity of its halves. In this moment of totipotency, the impressions they left into one another had some idea of permanence to them, if they could arrange themselves with tact and grace. Gordon could  see in Benrey’s soft face the spirling shadows of pigment that wisped through his hair and forehead, the multitudes within him wholly restrained for his comfort. As if the dangerous way about him had been tamed, his once rascally smile became one which knew comfort and warmth when he saw it. His pupils eclipsed the blues of his iris until there was nothing left but sclera and the glint of the flickering lights. Oh, how Gordon had hurt him so consistently, so callously had he misused Benrey, and for what? To feel something in him that wasn’t terror? To seek misguided control? And how was that worth that happiness of a man who could look at him in the eye for hours and feel so rapturous in his joy that he couldn’t close those pesky windows to his soul and shift the shutters. Gordon’s fingers trailed down from his hair and onto his soft cheek, running an indentation down, until he reached his lacking lips. He stuck his thumb inside on impulse, gripping his cheek, expecting Benrey to… He didn’t quite know, did he? He ran his finger up and down his rows of teeth, feeling the filed down canines and thick molars. Human. “It’ll be different, I promise. We’re going to be good to each other.” 

 

“Hey um, can you guys stop?” Some guy at the other end of the locker room banged on one of the doors for attention, “That’s fucking disgusting in public, who the fuck want’s to see that?” 

 

“Oh we’re so sorry yeah uh, we–we got carried away this is mortifying, fuck,” Gordon’s hand was yoinked out of Benrey’s mouth, and he smoothed his hair back from the widow’s peak, “Oh god.” 

 

“Oh, sorry bro,” Benrey slapped his hand over his mouth and suppressed a feeling-filled chromatic belch. 

 

The gymbro threw his arms up, “Keep it in your room like, I’m not like, homophobic or anything bro, my sister’s gay and uh, and all that I’m GOOD friends with her wife but–but have some fucking class. This isn’t the place.” 

 

“We’re so sorry yeah,” Gordon rubbed the back of his head. 

 

“Was uh, dumb of us.” Benrey parroted. 

 

“Yeah? Uhuh. You’re sorry right? Uhuh, you better be. Keep your bear on a leash, you freaks.” Gymbro slammed his locker shut and strutted away, leaving Benrey and Gordon to stare at each other while seriously reconsidering their relationship status.

Chapter 33: Dr. Freeman's Halloween Horrors

Summary:

Gordon and Benrey have a spicy Halloween party with the science team full of raunch, vulgarity, and sexy body shots and strip games.

Notes:

TW: Alcohol use, weed use, an aggressive domestic situation

be kind to me i didnt know what i was doing.

Gordon was cooking himself into a panic, and Benrey had been decorating the walls with various spooky murals for hours. During this spree of wanton creativity, he erected a skeleton altar in the living room, right next to the boombox. The sour apple martinis were of an acceptable flavor, so he filled up the glasses and placed his signature gummy eyeball ice cubes in there. None for Dr. Coomer–he was dreadfully allergic to green goo in all of its forms. Spooky bloody cupcakes and graveyard pudding cups were put out… and some fun party food like nachos were waiting in the oven (yes, he knew he was cooking as if it was for a children’s Halloween party, and no he did not care). Two bongs were set out on the table, in case things got interesting. Gordon had quite a few strains of ganja he thought would really boost the mood. None of that midpack shit. He had three different cake strains with him and some authentic chill dab. 

 

Benrey had to be kicked out of the kitchen due to his nasty, nasty habit of stealing food and licking spoons. And he had to cancel the backyard fireworks show when Benrey ate gender reveal smokers at the  store and uncontrollably spouted pink and blue smoke until they were kicked out. Gordon was pissed, but watching Benrey’s pouting face billow with cotton candy swirls brightened his mood. 

 

When they got back, Benrey was put in charge of everything that wasn’t cooking, which meant he also had to answer the door for the kids. He had been eying the candy bowl for the Trick–or–Treaters all day, so naturally whenever he had to hand a bit of food out, animosity was built for the collective of costumers. For the crime of being a giddy, happy–go–lucky child  on a favorite holiday, he made sure to trick a few of those brats. He opened the door with his face shapeshifted like a hideous bug, a slobbering bullsquid, and a kingpin’s vacant gaze. He hit the angry parents with the same thing, and scared them off before they could berate him.

 

The Charlie Brown Special was put on the TV for background noise. But after they toked, Gordon had a playlist of freaky horror movies to watch. Catch them all by surprise. Give them the worst high of their lives. 

 

“Alright, snacks out. Drinks are ready. The decorations look…” Hoo boy. He had to find a way to be nice to Benrey about this disaster. He just threw shit around with no rhyme or reason. There was a pile of lights on the floor, the silly witch pin up poster (Oh, that was sexy Gruntilda. That was sexy Gruntilda from Banjo Kazooie) he bought was laying down on the table like a placemat, his soda right on her shiny anime keister. The festoons were not hung properly, and his skeleton was pantomiming taking a dump in the corner, outfitted with one of Benrey’s gaming mags. Classy. “Uh. Looks… good, Benrey.” 

 

“Thank you, you’re welcome.” Benrey fell back into some black bat shaped pillows, and had a few sips of his drink. Although he wasn’t showing it, he could tell Benrey was pretty hyped for Halloween. It was his first Halloween, after all. 

 

“Wow Gordon, you did a good job too! Is that so much to ask for?” 

 

“Uh, I haven’t eaten anything yet. I dunno if it’s good. Probably.” Benrey got a text, “Oop the gang's here in Tommy’s ugly ass truck.” 

 

“Oh man. I’m uh, pretty nervous. What about you?” 

 

“Huh? Nah. Tommy is chill, bro. Got uh, Darnold and Forzen. Gonna play games.” 

 

The doorbell rang, “Fuck.” 

 

Gordon rushed to open it, and it was… perhaps not so mercifully… the science team… and Forzen. 

 

Tommy ran inside and hugged Gordon, “Mr. Freeman! You look so much better when you’re not- not bleeding and crying!” 

 

“Whoa! Tommy, my man. What the hell are you supposed to be?” Gordon shoved him off, and poked him on this huge, spiky piece of plastic taped across his chest. 

 

“I’m a ripcord, Mr. Freeman.” 

 

“And I am the Beyblades.” Forzen stepped forwards and held his arms out. All over his black long sleeves and sweats were… taped Beyblades, “Your house sucks. You don’t even have an ashtray.” 

 

“Okay, thanks for the commentary, Boot Boy. Dr. Coomer! Bubby! Darnold! Come in!” 

 

The rest of his boys bombarded him, Dr. Coomer leading the charge and wrapping one terribly powerful arm around him. He could feel the titanium pressing against his synthetic skin. It would have been uncomfortable if Dr. Coomer wasn’t such a plush old man, “Hello Gordon! Your house is a beautiful home. Bubby and I were dying to look at your toilet!” 

 

“What.” 

 

“Is it orange?”

 

“Oh my god–YES. It is.”

 

Bubby grumbled and slipped Dr. Coomer a few bucks, “Stupid son of a bitch…” 

 

“So, what are you guys supposed to be?” Gordon shut the door behind them, and gave everyone a quick fistbump…

 

That wasn’t his hand. Fuck. Not this again. 

 

“Oh, I’m Little Mac from Super Punch Out! And Bubby is the angel of science.” He tapped a nail on his Mobius strip halo, and pressed a button on Bubby’s palms. Steam poured out from his back as two metal angel wings popped out to the side with an abrupt spring, “I made it myself.” 

 

“Damn, Coomer, that’s amazing!” Gordon paused for a moment, “Is your toilet green?” 

 

“Yes!” 

 

“G-Man thinks he’s playing the Sims.” Gordon looked over at Darnold, “Hey man, are you a whole Erlenmeyer flask?” 

 

“I am the beginning and the end of every chemistry student’s nightmares.” He pushed up his goggles and spun around, the green liquid caught within the plastic sloshed about, “I’m an imperfect flask. I was made with a volume out of tolerance to the standard.” 

 

“Fuck man, that is scary. Good job I mean, you literally had to make an Erlenmeyer flask to wear.” Gordon had no clue how he made cellophane stay in place like that.

 

While Gordon was trying to make small talk with Darnold, he heard rustling on the couch. Benrey and Tommy were fighting . They wrestled on the sofa, Benrey’s teeth protruding out from his lip as tusks as he grabbed him by the neck and shook, then dropped him. Gordon was horrified, until Tommy jumped back up and slung his arms over Benrey’s shoulders like a long-lost lover. He was showered in quick kisses as Benrey purred with voracity. Like a boy and his dog. Between immortals, a little bodily harm appeared to just be a funny joke.

 

“TOMMY!” Benrey planted one last kiss on his cheek, and blew some ecstatic orange sweet voice right into his face.

 

“I missed you Benrey! But you–you were very bad!” Tommy scratched the side of his chin, “My dad finally said I can come and see you. But only in a group.”

 

“I’m baaaad. I’m a baaad man. But not anymore. I’m nice now.” Benrey rushed to grab one of Gordon’s snack plates and set it in front of Tommy, as if he were trying to demonstrate just how nice he was. Gordon had never seen this before. Benrey was totally obedient. Although he understood that Benrey trying to kill them in Xen was just a silly joke to him before he knew any better, he still wanted to hurt Tommy. Still wanted to demonstrate something to him. And all that desire was gone. The hierarchy had been established, and the Coolattas were at the top.

 

What did Mr. Coolatta do to Benrey while Gordon was out?

 

“Wanna play some Halo?” Tommy opened up his bag and pulled out a couple of game cases. 

 

“We got a PS3.” Benrey pointed at the PS3. Yep. That was a PS3. The PS3 they’ve been playing for the past 4 months. Not an X-Box (Benrey sometimes referred to this as the Barf Box, or the Vex Box). 

 

“My dad got the-the PS3 port.” Tommy held up an actual PS3 port of Halo. What the actual fuck. G-Man really was powerful. 

 

“Yo… no fucking way.” Benrey seemed to be equally as in awe as Gordon was. Seats on the couch were fought for, but Bubby, Benrey, Tommy, and Forzen managed to squeeze their asses together in that order. Like sardines.

 

While they were all distracted, Darnold came behind Gordon and wrapped his hand around his back, ushering him behind the island for a semblance of privacy, “Gordon? What happened to your hand?” 

 

“Ah fuck. Yeah, Mr. Coolatta put someone’s fucking hand on me. It’s… it’s not mine. He didn’t regrow it. From some other guy. Used to get some nightmares about it but Benrey’s been helping me out.” 

 

Darnold grabbed his wrist unprompted, and stared at it. His pupils swerved as he traced every vein and fingernail. His brows furled, “Hmm. Well, I actually have a more pressing matter.” 

 

Gordon could tell he wanted to say more. But he wasn’t going to, mercifully, “Uh, sure man. What’s up?” 

 

“I can see you have some sour apple martinis. I’ve been bootlegging some gooseberry lager, and I have a whole kegger in the back of Tommy’s car. Would you mind if I brought it in?” 

 

Oh boy. Sure, he had some martinis, but he had enough for one drink per person. Adding alcohol to the Science Team could be dangerous. Seven men, one kegger? And there weren't enough beds for Gordon to keep everyone in. Fuck. But then again, they weren’t in a combat situation. Surely it would be fine. Right? Yeah, yeah that was all going to be okay. He already had two bongs at the ready and some of his finest weed just sitting out for them. More substances weren’t going to be a problem at all. 

 

“Fuck it, man. Roll that keg up!” 

 

“Alright! Guys! Gordon said we can have a keg!” 

 

The Science Team erupted into cheers, and Forzen screamed out ‘FINALLY!’, completely exasperated. They had been here for five minutes, and Forzen was exasperated because he wasn’t already drunk. Like this is some kind of frat party. Gordon grabbed one of his martinis and slammed it down, trying to quell his anxieties and the rising hatred. No. Tonight was going to be good .

 

---

 

Gordon didn’t expect Darnold and Coomer to bring up a whole oil drum of booze, but he really should have anticipated it after that color-flavored potion. He wasn’t sure where all that liquid even went. Darnold served everyone a frothing glass of lager, and fuck. It was good shit. It didn’t have that usual pisswater beer taste- it was sweet, a little tangy, and the alcohol was dangerously unnoticeable. The effervescence felt good going down, and even better with a buzz. Gordon plopped down on Benrey’s lap after his third glass, seeing that there was no other room, and put his feet up on the coffee table.

 

“Yo guys, hole up, my boyfriend is blocking my view of the Warthog.” Benrey pushed him aside, “Okay we’re good.” 

 

“After this, you guys- you- you wanna play some Left 4 Dead 2?” Tommy piped up, hooked to the TV with his fingers flailing across the controller at inhuman speed. Maybe soda really did help him see faster. 

 

“Valve fell off.” Forzen snorted.

 

“What the–don’t you… Don’t you fucking dare say anything bad about Valve again you little shit.” Bubby spat at him, a lick of flame pushing between his teeth, “I’ll fucking kill you, worm.”

 

“Whoa. Bubby. Easy.” Gordon tried to soothe the situation, but Bubby was only getting more infuriated by the moment. 

 

Forzen gritted his teeth as Bubby repeatedly barred him from entering any Warthogs, “Valve can’t count to three. They suck .” 

 

“I’ll knock you over the head so hard you won’t be able to count to three anymore you French son of a bitch!” Bubby elbowed Forzen in the gut, now positively smoking out his nostrils. 

 

“Shut up, old man. Let me cook.” Forzen shoved his foot into Bubby’s chest (Gordon noted the waifu socks). That motherfucker was heating up . Gordon hoped he wouldn’t melt his ugly ass leather couch, “Let me in the fucking Warthog!” 

 

Benrey kicked Forzen, extending his leg over Tommy’s lap. It occurred to Gordon, finally, that it made no sense that Benrey knew Forzen, that they were best friends. Benrey spent all his time in a cage of some kind, “Hey, Ben. Where do you and Forzen know each other from?”

 

“Oh yeah, lol. PSN buddies. He stole my Unkempt Harold in Borderlands 2. That pistol is fuckin’... sweet. Big explosion damage. Pchew. He nabbed it and wouldn’t duel for it. Dick. No longer my best friend.” Benrey blew a raspberry at him. Gordon kept himself from asking if he was speaking French, but the demons almost won. 

 

“I killed the boss. It’s mine by law of-” 

 

“Bullshit! SILENT LEE IS NOT A BOSS!” Benrey reached over Tommy and knocked Forzen on the top of his beyblade-taped skull. Bubby joined in and socked him across the face. Tommy scooted away from the chaos and perched himself on the arm of the couch while the three of them hissed and twisted themselves into a writhing mass of flailing limbs across the living room carpet. “And Irate Gamer is a ripoff of Angry Video Game Nerd!”

 

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Forzen slammed him into a wall. Looks like the girls were fighting. 

 

“I’m so glad I brought the dank out. You all need to chill the fuck out!” Gordon buried his hands in his face.

 

“Why don’t we make some good use out of this wonderful potion that Darnold brought us? It’s a potion of inebriation! We can use it to have fun, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer slapped the top of the oil drum, and like clockwork, everyone lined up to get their drink. Gordon was sitting out on it though. He didn’t want to get too drunk too fast. Four drinks in, he was feeling pretty good. Not drunk, just lightly tipsy. 

 

“Brilliant idea!” Darnold clapped his hands, “Let’s make this into a real kegger!” 

 

“Gordon, is this really the house that Mr. Coolatta gave you?” Dr. Coomer used the opportunity to sit next to Gordon. While everyone else was distracted by the revelry. Gordon liked Coomer best out of the Science Team. He was the only one who really… connected with. Tommy was nice and all, but he seemed half-sapient in most cases. And Bubby? Bubby wasn’t trustworthy. Coomer was really the only one who opened up in a way he could understand. 

 

“Yeah. Smaller than the old Black Mesa subsidized dormitories. But you know what? It’s not bad.” Gordon had been lounging, but he was startled by Dr. Coomer punching the window, cybernetics wrenching about as the pistons in his forearm fired forth, “Dude, what the fuck? That’s my window!” 

 

“Yes, and it’s not just bullet proof, Gordon. This is gorilla glass. For three PlayCoins I can-” 

 

“No- No thank you Dr. Coomer. I’m still investing PlayCoins for the sequel.” Gordon patted him on the shoulder as his servos relaxed.

 

“This place is much smaller than the house he gave Professor Bubby and myself.”

 

“Doctor Bubby! And I’m still the Alpha Male!” Was called out from a gargle of booze. 

 

“Professor Bubby. He color-coded everything. Even our bathrooms. I don’t know why he insisted on making my sink green! I keep thinking I’m about to wash my hands in green goo!” 

 

“Yeah, terribly allergic, I know.” Gordon sighed, “What’s Mr. Coolatta’s end goal?” 

 

“I know about as much as you, Gordon.” Something caught Dr. Coomer’s eye, and he shot up and joined the rest of the men around the keg, “Chugalug!” 

 

“Don’t f- don’t fall, Benrey!” Tommy, bless his heart, was spotting for Benrey, putting himself below him as he gripped the sides of the oil drum and wobbled. Benrey’s mouth was squarely suctioned onto a nozzle that was positively brimming with beer. He wore the mark of stark determination on his brow, holding his legs up impressively straight. And knowing Benrey, it took a lot out of him to hold this position. The ripples of muscle on his arm writhed like worms bathed in saltwater as he struggled to maintain his balance. Each gulp was done with incredible effort, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow. Just what Gordon needed: A hazard. And not just a hazard, but a mess too. Benrey was leaking foam from the corners of his lips. 

 

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” The choir of guttural whooping HAD to be stopped. Nipped in the bud, now. 

 

Gordon shoved Darnold out of his way, “Benrey what the hell are you doing? You’re going to get beer all over the floor. You do a keg stand outside!” 

 

He gave it the old college try–trying to peel Benrey away. But this shit was an irresistible nectar for him. His hands shapeshifted into hooks that dug into the material of the barrel itself, and eliminated any hope his human boyfriend had of stealing away his beer.

 

“Mmn.” Benrey closed off the spigot when he had lasted for as long as he could, and popped off. He stumbled away from the keg, holding his balled fists in the air. Victorious. “Yo, fuck that keg! It’s all fucked up now. I won the game!” 

 

“Excellent chugging, Bibble.” Coomer slapped him on the back, and Benrey choked back his vomit. Definitely overdid it on the booze.

 

“I think he’s going to die from alcohol poisoning.” Bubby decided that this meant it was his turn, “I’m not just a goddamn genius, I’m also the motherfucker who’s about to kick your ass!” 

 

“Okay. Don’t care.” Benrey hiccupped and let out some iridescent, oily bubbles of sweet voice that were all misshapen and out of tune. Gordon took a whiff of one–it smelled like straight vodka.

 

“Tommy? What’s this one?” He held it out for investigation, as if he wasn’t already gazing up at Benrey’s hiccups made manifest. 

 

“Uh, iridescent funk, I’m totally drunk.” Tommy got distracted from his job as spotter by a pudding cup, and subsequently, Bubby’s geriatric ass crumpled on the floor. 

 

Forzen grabbed his phone and started recording, saying some shit in French that was no doubt a stream of insults. Benrey grabbed Tommy and started tonguing his pudding cup with him, slinging his arm over his shoulder. Coomer was fighting Bubby on the floor, the two of them on their never ending quest to determine the alpha male. Darnold was screaming WorldStar and connected to the stereo to blast the DOOM soundtrack. It was all chaos. Benrey heard WorldStar, and then started screaming about Brazzers as he grumbled and bit Tommy on the shoulder like a disgruntled cat. It was all so overwhelming, all at once. This was the chaos of the Science Team he had been looking to leave behind, and he had invited it into his house. He thought that, perhaps because Benrey had chilled out with him, that this would be manageable. They’d be manageable.

 

“Guys stop fighting in my living room-” One of the island chairs was knocked down, and Benrey was slammed into the small kitchen table adjacent to it. He slid into the bulletproof window and crumpled his body up. His spine folded in on itself as he pulled his torso through his legs and launched himself like a grasshopper into Tommy, dragging him onto the island. A cascade of green apple martinis, pudding, and nachos sprayed around the nexus point of Benrey ravaging Tommy’s ass as they wrestled.

 

“Benrey! You’re- You’re playing too rough again!” Tommy was trying to be upset at him, but his joyous laughter made it clear that his aggression was being treated as seriously as a tickle-fight, “You’re as rowdy as a storm on a desert island!” 

 

Gordon looked at them, and looked at his hands. He was as good as in the HEV suit again. They were fighting, treating his property with the same reverence as a defunct company’s vending machines. Loud, raucous, dangerous. He suddenly felt enraged . His skin prickled at the familiar dreadful anxiety filling him again. Everything had been so great for so long, how could let himself get like this again? 

 

That wretched feeling, it’ll always come back again? Won’t it? He wasn’t even safe with his own body. What was G-Man’s plan with his hand? Why were his windows bullet proof? What didn’t he know about this house? What did Darnold want to say? Was there something no one was telling him?

 

Gordon was anxious, and not the normal levels of anxious. His adrenochrome levels were reaching levels not known to modern humans. No. The flow of endorphins was equivalent to those in the body of Homo habilis as they were stalked and devoured by Dinofelis . Now, Gordon Freeman (Ph.D) is known for one particular habit which has quite possibly given him the strength and spite to survive the Resonance Cascade; He had a temper, a fuse which burned fast and bright, and left him as a shambling husk. For eons, the Freeman bloodline survived on these fits of rage, and Gordon was the torchbearer of his generation. 

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?! WHY are you all like this!? I put in the time! I put in the effort! I tried to make this a nice night, but you’re all insane!” 

 

Benrey crawled on his stomach and flopped on the floor, trying to blow calming sweet voice at Gordon. But as immediately drunk as he was, he just ended up bubbling out misshapen navy blue bulbs that stank like barf and gooseberries, “I gotcha Gordos! Bring your hot fat ass here and let me puke in your mouth.” 

 

Gordon had officially garnered their attention, and Darnold lowered the volume on the stereo to try and address this rising issue, though he might have exacerbated it in his efforts. Forzen, making a hobby out of being unhelpful, started recording the fighting couple. Bubby and Coomer were still wrestling, but it had been reduced to an ineffectual slap fight instead of the chair-flinging brawl they had previously been engaged in. 

 

“And YOU! Oough, I hate tat pest… BENREY,” Gordon grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him off the floor, “You inconsiderate little leech! You’re here, eating my food, sleeping in my bed, in the pajamas I bought you, terrorizing me by being an unhelpful ingrate, and you ruined this… chill little party I have been trying to work myself up to! What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

 

Benrey was horrified, confused. He was looking around at everyone else as if they had any more context than he had. His chest swelled and groaned with a dull hum and two intersecting annuli, like a venn diagram, popped out from his mouth. Gordon was slapped in the face with the saccharine slime. The innocent, iridescent pink stank like boozy strawberry. And it sent him over the edge. 

 

“I can’t take this anymore, man. Stop fucking tearing up my house, clean my goddamn living room up! Break shit in Black Mesa! This is all I have! This is everything to me!” He looked around at the gaping mouths around him. Beads of sweat rolled down his chest as he panted, “Fuck this. I’m going to bed. If I hear anything from anyone here I am going to have a goddamn conniption.” 

 

He stumbled up from Benrey, and stumbled off into his bedroom, gripping the scars on his wrist. God, he almost wished there was nothing there at all. It was horrible. That terrible, wretched thing on his hand. How could he be so naive? So stupid? Why didn’t he think of it sooner? This wasn’t a gift. No wonder why the hand- that fucking hand- had been haunting him for all these months. He had just grown complacent with the invisible shackle on it. It must be his leash. G-Man had a leash on them, somehow. This one must be his. This was how he was going to keep him captive. By what means? He had no clue. 

 

This manufactured reality of his was beginning to dawn on him. There were more questions swimming around in his boozy brain than he ever thought was possible. Two hours in and he fucked the party up. But there were more pressing matters. It was consuming him. That he had this… leash on him. Some kind of invisible chain around this one hand. Keeping him secured. He writhed in his bed, trying to squeeze the anxieties out of his body by rolling around and gripping the pillows he railed Benrey against just the night before. 

 

Oh fuck, was G-Man watching him have sex? When he was naked? In the bathroom? Was he constantly monitored? He sobbed into his pillow, a kind of sob he thought he was done with months ago, for the rest of his life. And it was just his luck that Benrey had to noclip through the locked door and stumble onto bed with him. He rolled around with a violent, squeaky hiccup.

 

“Gordon?” Another puff of uncoagulated sweet voice vapor slipped between his lips. It wavered in hues of morose, dull pink. Something akin to a mix of dejection and infatuation, just by the swirls of pink and grey in it. But it was still messy. The pink was clear, only a slight iridescent film on it, but the grey had been muddled with a haze of booze. A lot of booze at that.

 

“I don’t want to talk.” Gordon choked out, his face buried in his pillow.

 

“Um…” Benrey laid his head on Gordon’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him. He could feel his quickened heart, his sharp breaths of mucus-laden air. There was too much racing in his mind. They held each other in bitter perpetuity, an ouroboros of confusion consuming them. Benrey, unsure of what he did in his drunkenness, but wanting to be good to Gordon regardless. And Gordon, too smart for his own good, noticed little things to disconcert him, needing to know he had some kind of safeguard. 

 

It wasn’t long before their absence was noticed by the whole party. Coomer punched a hole through the door with an extendo-arm and threw it into the hallway, “Hello Gordon! This is your Science Team mandated check up.” 

 

“What are you crying about this time, Dr. Pussy?” Bubby got a swift punch to the gut for that one. If the two geriatrics weren’t nigh indestructible, it might have actually hurt him, “I mean, talk to us, Gordon.” 

 

Tommy remained quiet, just holding out a can of his favorite soda- Sunkist- for Gordon to partake in. None of the Science Team were quite emotionally intelligent, and Forzen’s look of disgust, seeing Gordon blubbering the way he was, just made him feel worse. 

 

Darnold was the only one with anything useful to say, “Gordon, I’m sorry. I used a cleaning potion, if it brings you any peace. I even distributed it at the ideal potion dripping angle.”

 

“It does. Thanks.” Gordon sat up in his bed and grabbed Tommy’s peace offering. He wasn’t feeling much like drinking, but to appease his captor’s son… he took the sip. 

 

Dr. Coomer sat on his bed, Bubby following close behind, “Things haven’t been easy on you. But we are in this together, you know.” 

 

“And we’re not talking about that sappy shit either. We’re brothers in arms- no! In science!” Bubby flexed one of his skinny old man arms, smiling wide with sharkish fangs. Those things hurt like hell, he knew from the clone fights. 

 

“Ugh, you are so corny. When I’m upset, you know what cheers me up? IrateGamer marathons.” Forzen held out his phone, showing off the recent collaboration between the Angry Video Game Nerd and the aforementioned and much maligned IrateGamer. Gordon hadn’t seen it before, and he had seen more AVGN content. Or at least, had used it for bedtime ASMR. 

 

“There’s a potion for that too, you know. I just add ketamine to a shot of vodka.” 

 

“Nooo thank you Darnold.” Gordon relaxed for a moment, then shot back up, “You have hard drugs?” 

 

“No, but if I tell you I do and you take my potions, the placebo means-” 

 

“That’s… that’s enough Darnold.” Gordon rubbed his temples, “I’m sorry guys I- I’ve been scared. Ever since the Resonance Cascade, I feel as if I’m on borrowed time.” 

 

“We all are,” Forzen pulled out a cigarette and started smoking in Gordon’s bedroom. He wasn’t going to say anything, but he found it profoundly rude, even as the dread of anxiety had conquered him, “You haven’t seen the half of it yet.” 

 

He took a beyblade and held it out to Gordon, “This is us. We’re the peons,” and then Forzen pointed to Tommy, “And he is our ripcord. When he says, ‘Let it rip’, that’s what we do. You’re a boot boy in all but duds.” 

 

Gordon gripped the sheets harder, and Benrey fruitlessly attempted to calm him down with more impotent sweet voice, “Tommy?”

 

“Uh, Mr. Freeman I-I don’t think that’s necessary. You’re not my beyblade, you’re my friend.”

 

“Of course, Tommy. I love you, man. I mean it. And you too Dr. Coomer. Benrey, of course. Darnold, I owe it to you man. Bubby you’re alright. You tried to shoot a dog Forzen- I honestly have no idea why you’re here.” 

 

“Fuck you too,” he blew out a steady stream of wispy smoke. Fuck he looked so cool.

 

Dr. Coomer wrapped him up in a tight bearhug, and one by one, the rest of the Science Team (and Forzen too, I guess) joined in. Under any other circumstances, these people would be out of his life. Too insane, too stupidly reckless to keep with him. But they had bonded irrevocably. An unforeseen consequence.

 

Gordon sighed and patted the bed, “Fuck it! We’re having a sleepover! Boys night, anyone?” 

 

This was Benrey’s sleeper agent activation code. He slipped out from under the covers and bounced across the walls, up and down on the bed, over Bubby’s head as he yelped, and then straight into the computer chair, “BOYS’ NIGHT! IRATEGAMER WATCH-A-THON!” 

 

The guys all whooped in glee, and… well... The IrateGamer was just a ripoff of the Angry Video Game Nerd. He was sure to be asleep in no time. Scared, confused. But not alone. Never alone. Not with the Science Team, and not with Benrey. They all laid down on the king sized bed, packing themselves like Sardines. Benrey nestled himself on Gordon’s butt. Nice . And the rest of him was laid over the bodies of the Science Team. Gordon Assman made for a pretty epic pillow. Darnold stripped himself of his costume and was the first to hit the bong, letting Bubby light him up. And everyone got their equal toke. Coughing, then vegetating. Laughing at the bad editing, the poorly constructed scripts and criticisms. 

 

Gordon noted the lack of trick or treaters. Eh, maybe Benrey left a candy bowl outside for the kids to take. That’d make sense. Wouldn’t want them to open up on a bunch of drunk adults filming two old men fighting. It was a shame that he fucked up everyone’s night. But it looked like the pivot to a less surly sleepover didn’t hurt anyone’s enjoyment. 

 

The doorbell rang, and there was some knocking. Huh. He stood corrected. 

 

As he came back from dispensing candy to annoying tweens, he witnessed Bubby stole Forzen’s cigarette at one point and started going between bong rips and cig sucks. It was quite impressive that he never coughed. Not once. Coomer had an encyclopedic knowledge of some of these older games, and although he didn’t like them, he could still cite the Wikipedia articles by heart, and whenever someone said the word ‘chair’, he’d go on another tirade for the next five minutes. 

 

Benrey, as always, was a menace. Though the alcohol made him far more unhinged. He mumbled some expletives with palpable derision between his huffs of pink sweet voice. Oh, the things he put up with for love. Benrey also was an incredibly clingy, quiet drunk with occasional bursts of deafening laughter when whatever stupidity on screen gave him a giggle fit. He just wanted to grab Gordon’s legs and hold onto him for ever and ever and ever and ever- 

 

It’d keep going if he could hold a thought for longer than three seconds. 

 

In two hours, the whole room had devolved into a choir of all forms of apnea. Gordon couldn’t say it was the most comfortable rest he’s ever had, but he definitely felt a lot safer than he had with just Benrey alone. He could put his life in the hands of the Science Team, and they’d always have him to lead them through Hell and back. 

 

---

 

The hangover was gnarly the next morning. Benrey was the last one to wake up, and by that point the old men had already left for their idyllic little house about two towns away. It was some elderly community. Pity for the senior citizens who had to deal with those two. In that space in which only Darnold and Gordon were awake, alone, playing video games on the couch, few words were exchanged between them. Gordon offered him a breakfast of a ham and egg sandwich, but Darnold declined. He wanted to drink a potion of breakfast instead. Whatever. 

 

But after he had finished breakfasting on his mysterious morning goo, he paused the game and turned to Gordon, “That hand of yours.” 

 

“Huh?” Gordon barely remembered ever showing it to him last night. 

 

“Hmm, this will be hard to articulate,” Darnold scratched his five o’ clock shadow and contemplated his next words very carefully, “That’s not human flesh. Look at the veins-” Darnold grabbed his hand, and Gordon didn’t resist. He wasn’t concerned about how wrong it felt now. He just wanted to know the truth. Darnold traced his pointer over the blue rootlets from his wrist to his fingers, “These blue ones are your dorsal venous network. In a human hand, these branch with a diamond-like shape in the center, starting at the base of the wrist and distorted like a fucked up web… But this? Gordon, this vessel structure isn’t associated with any part of the human body I know. It’s got pontine arteries wrapping around each of your fingers. I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

 

“... you’re… you’re fucking with me? What does that mean?” 

 

“I… I don’t know. I’ll reiterate, I have no fucking clue what I’m looking at right now. But it sure as hell isn’t human. Haven’t you seen any doctors?” 

 

“G-Man has some women in yellow hazard suits come over every so often and take a look at us. Especially Benrey.” 

 

“Monthly visits?” Darnold’s demeanor shifted to a far more grim tone.

 

“Yeah.” Fuck. They were all getting regularly checked on by doctor’s.

 

“How peculiar. Same here. And you never get told if you have a clean bill of health?” 

 

“They tell me I’ve got a bit too much extra weight, not much else.” Gordon grabbed his stomach in his hands, “Man.” 

 

“Ignore them. You’re gorgeous, Freeman.” Darnold gave him a little pat on the shoulder to reassure him, “Not sure what to do with this information. But it might be something we need to think about. We’ll talk more later, Freeman. I best be getting back to my studies. I still am working on that Evil Powerade flavor, you know.” 

 

“That’s right! How’s that going anyway?” 

 

“Well, so far it makes mice gain homicidal aspirations, but I think I can go more Evil than that.” 

 

“Hmm. So… what’s the purpose of this fucked up Powerade flavor?” 

 

“To prove I can.” Darnold stood up and dusted off his rather casual attire. It was just a white shirt that faded to green at the bottom, and plastic shorts that went with his cellophane costume, “Good luck, Gordon. I hope you and Benrey are happy.” 

 

“I think we are, yeah. Very happy. See ya, man.” 

 

“As the French would say, peace.” Darnold grabbed his empty keg and dragged it out of the house, leaving the living room spotless, albeit feeling suddenly so big. So empty and lonely. 

 

Benrey was still sleeping, and Forzen parked on the armchair to have a hangover nap. The young man was fairly scarred. Not the typical combat scars either. A knife wound- old as shit too, judging by the healing. He wondered what purpose G-Man had for him. Or maybe this was the ultimate recompense for causing his spawn distress. Inconvenience, really. Sunkist was immortal. He was never in any danger. All the speculation in the world, and no answers. 

 

Gordon kept playing Undead Nightmare on his own, the volume low and a tall glass of water in hand, his only ambient noise being his AC unit with accompanying vocals from Forzen’s sweet snores. Benrey woke up and declared he was about to ‘take a monster shit’, before disappearing for another forty-five minutes. He came out freshly showered and sluggish to the point of finding it difficult to keep his head up.

 

“Ugh. Head hurt bad.” 

 

“You drank like, a whole oil drum of booze.” 

 

“I had to score max points.”

 

“You certainly did, man. Sorry I-” 

 

“Yo, we’re cool. Um. Can we have waffles for breakfast?” 

 

“Come on, let me show you how to make them this time. I can’t keep feeding you like this forever.” 

 

“But you make them with love!”

 

“You liked them when I made them with hate , dumbass.” 

 

"From you? Love tastes a lot like hate," Benrey pulled him down with him onto the floor, and started showing him in loving nibbles across his face as he squirmed and cackled.

Chapter 34: Dr. Femur and Binny Shrimp Massacre

Summary:

gordon and benrey steal millions from a casino and go on the run.

Notes:

TW: Very overt sexual innuendo and a little bit of comical dirty talk!

They Can’t Take That Away From Me was playing on the speakers. Some classy oldie that transported them some odd decades in the past that would’ve had his grandparents shuffling in the living room together with stiff jointed, shallow kicks and cumbersome twirls. It was a beautiful song, a bit boring, but Benrey was swaying with it, taking bites out of his fancy pre-dinner bread rolls as he tapped his finger to the tender rhythm. Dorsia was a fine restaurant, an impassioned red interior for the appetite, dark furniture and dim lighting with a romantic, intimate candlelight view of the other patrons. The golden decals slithered across the floor in patterns that evoked the 20’s era of art deco. Though the chandeliers appeared to be inappropriately classical. It was a mashup of romantic features, though none were coherent in theme or placement. It just left Benrey wondering where the ball pit and jungle gym were. 

 

This was just what he needed to forget his captivity, a night out with Benrey, someplace classy. Benrey went out in that nice blue suit he bought at the mall, and Gordon had stuffed himself into that ugly ass orange tux. Fuck it. He could dress like he was blind; He didn’t need to see the price tag. They were perfect together. The alien he loved against his better judgement was staring right back at him with piercing eyes of flowing gold. A sly smirk crept across the side of his face, holding his head in his hands. 

 

“This uh, kind of looks like a scene out of Ratatouille.” Benrey took a bite way too big for his mouth, and crunched for a few seconds before swallowing a thick, dry piece of bread, “You uh, look um. Like uh. A uh. Um. You look as good as a… hmm. You’re sexy like Gordon Freeman is.” 

 

“I am Gordon Freeman.” He booped Benrey on the nose, making his eyes cross to watch his finger. 

 

“Huh? I’m uh, gonna need some ID to confirm that.” 

 

A license, depicting a picture of Gordon he didn’t remember taking, was produced from his MIT school pride wallet and handed over, “Does this qualify?” 

 

“Mm, you’re prettier out of the pictures, you know that?” 

 

“I’m well aware my best angle is the perpetual motion of three dimensional spacetime.” 

 

“That uh, sounded smart.” Oh fuck. Oh, fuck . That was so hot. When Gordon talked about physics, that is. He used to tune it out, but now he was hoping for him to say a bunch of words he didn’t understand together.

 

“It was nonsense.” Gordon pointed at his piece of bread, and then at his open mouth. If they were going out, he wanted to be as obnoxiously into PDA as possible. He wasn’t going to let any societal standards of acceptable levels of public romance dictate the fun he had with Benrey. 

 

Instead of gently bringing the bread to his mouth like a normal person would, Benrey instead shoved the whole thing into the back of Gordon’s throat. He choked, and managed to cough the hunk of bread out onto his plate after giving himself a few good thumps on the chest. 

 

“Ack- Bro, the fuck?”

 

“You looked really hungry uh, like a baby bird?” Benrey grabbed another piece of bread, “You’re not hungry?” 

 

“I am but… man my throat is only so big.” 

 

“I dunno, I’d say uh, big enough for, hehehe, big enough for this dick. It uhhhh sucks good and hard.” 

 

Gordon stuffed his hands in his face, “Ben, hun. Love of my life? Sweetheart? My charm quark?” 

 

“Yes, uh, Stinky? Smellman needs something?” 

 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll suck the soul out of you.” 

 

“Whoa, Gordon Freeman Top 10 Horny Moments not clickbait?” 

 

Gordon snorted so hard it scraped the skin off his throat, and he broke out into a wheezing chuckle he couldn’t suppress no matter how much he tried to stifle, “I hate you so, so much, man. Why do you talk like that?” 

 

“Cause it makes you laugh? Duh. Idiot.” Benrey batted his lashless eyes, thinking he was cute enough to get away with that. 

 

“Shut the fuck up. Such a stupid joke.” He threw the piece of bread he choked on at Benrey, who caught it in his mouth and cocked his whole head back. The swallow was effortless. And despite his uncanny features, Benrey was handsome in ways that Gordon found difficult to express. His hair had little tube feet at the ends of them that felt around his head independently and when ran through, would stick to his hand and feel across him, memorizing every dimension of his fingers. His chin protruded quite a bit (his ‘Gamer Jaw’), but he still had a darling overbite. The once gaunt features of his face had filled out into being soft and slightly rounded. All of him had rounded out, really. The difference that thirty pounds made. From a lithe gargoyle with jutting bones to a man who looked like he’d ask for another cookie very politely and nibble on it like a dormouse. He wouldn’t ask politely or leave a crumb, of course, but he just looked like the kind of man he could have brought home to mom.

 

He looked really good like that. Sweet, tangibly alive. 

 

“You’ve been staring.” 

 

“Who wouldn’t be starin-” Loverboy’s quip was interrupted by the setting of plates. They skipped appetizers, what the fuck was the bread there for anyways? Benrey saw the most expensive dish on the menu and picked it, while Gordon was more interested in the swordfish. So, imagine Benrey’s shock when he’s dropped a whole ass guy–a little dude–right in front of him. A beady eyed, agonized lobster, doused in butter and tomato sauce, lined with a ring of sophisticated grease. This human delicacy was fascinating; what was better than eating a magnificent, rare creature? Eating it while it looks back at you, limp. Fixed in the last few confusing, wretchedly incomprehensible moments of its life of brevity. 

 

Benrey dug in with zeal. And Gordon felt something in him twinge with fear. He had seen Benrey do worse. So, so much worse. The pigs came to mind. Those animals struggled for their lives, and their will to live had been for naught when faced with a cosmic phenomenon they were never supposed to encounter, and had no defenses against. 

 

But he heard the crunch of the shell, like the bone crunch of the saw going through his wrist. Chunks of crimson tomato sauce dribbled down his lip as he pulled the claw away and hummed with glee, shards of boiled carapace clung around his lips. A muffled crepitation could be heard behind the guise of his fake lips. Imitations of humanity that Gordon had been pressing into, only protected from the serrated edges of his fangs because Benrey willed it. He was suddenly too nauseated to eat his fish. It sat there so pretty, a floret of vegetables propping the flaky white filet up, drizzled in a beautifully appetizing sauce as brilliant as the pulp of a ripe mango. And he couldn’t think about eating at all now. 

 

He watched as Benrey systematically destroyed that lobster. Claw after claw. Leg after leg. Until he grabbed it by the split in its torso. The tail hung limp. The animal was jostled and swung like an airplane. Utterly disrespected. Snatched from an artificial habitat for the pleasure of deluded mammals that horde imaginary things for imaginary reasons. It was a chain of utter disregard for the natural order and dignity of living things. And as quickly as it had been presented to him, the last remaining evidence of its existence faded behind his cage of teeth. He slurped out its white guts as if this was the first time he had ever had the pleasure of eating. And then he took bites out of the excavated carapace. Crunch. Snap. Crunch. Gulp. Gone. 

 

Forever.

 

Forever, except in the memories of terror Gordon would of this moment. A form of immortality that did nothing for the dead, dead, so incredibly dead lobster. 

 

“Whoa. Cool. Like uh, a um. Big bug.” Benrey picked the shards from between his teeth with a long claw. A veritable talon that could disembowel Gordon. But wouldn’t. It wouldn’t, because Gordon was in Benrey’s good graces. And if G-Man ever needed Benrey to kill Gordon, there was nothing he could do to stop him. No force that he nor any other man on Earth could scrounge to fight him off.

 

He pulled out one of the eyestalks and squeezed it in his fingers, then flicked it into his gaping maw, “Yo you didn’t eat your food. What’s the matter? I thought you were a hungry boy. Can you not eat food without your food suit?”

 

Gordon stared blankly back, at the sauce still covering his lips and hands. Looking like fresh blood. Benrey’s messy spaghetti habits never made him this uncomfortable, even when he was smeared in marinara and chunks of beef, leaving orange stains on his fingers that left marks on all the doors. 

 

“Gordon?” Benrey tilted his head, “Gordo?” 

 

“What a waste of life.” Gordon downed his white wine (he was partial to the Sauvignon Blanc right now, the bitterness was helping him digest what he had seen) and tapped the table, “Benrey. If G-Man told you to kill me, would you?” 

 

“Um. If G-Man wanted you dead, he wouldn’t ask me?” Benrey was in the middle of licking his claws clean, but the severity of the question made him quit and elect to wipe his hands on the table cloth instead, “Why do you ask?”

 

“Benrey. Answer the question.” 

 

“No. I uh, wouldn’t.”

 

“I’m scared-” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“-Of you.” That made Benrey stop for a moment. Of you , it sank into his chest like a dagger and twisted his guts like linguine on a fork.

 

“You uh, probably should,” Benrey hung his head. His pupils met Gordon’s for a moment, and then twisted to the next couple over, to watch what they were doing instead. The envy was clawing in him. Some seahorse he turned out to be. More of a brutish shark tearing through the most delicate, elegant animal in the sea, “Wish you didn’t.” 

 

Gordon was terrified of him, but the pain of seeing Benrey ashamed of what he was crushed any remaining reservations. He was not going to let his own feelings bring Benrey down, when all he did wrong was be unabashedly himself, “I love you anyways.” 

 

“I didn’t earn that achievement. Shouldn’t’ve gotten it.” 

 

“Ben, you earned it. I didn’t go from hating you to being madly in love for no reason. I want us together. And I want to face whatever plan there is for us together . As friends, as lovers, hell, as roommates.” Gordon reached over the table and grabbed his hands. His talons gripped back, securing him in a firm grasp. Firm, yet showing so much restraint and care as to not pierce his mortal flesh. “But I don’t know… It’s as if all the progress we made is unraveling before me. I want to trust you.” 

 

Gordon heard a hum he recognized as the pitch of amorous pink, and Benrey’s cheeks puffed up. The sweet voice was swallowed back down, “Scuse me. Um, did you hear that? Pardon me.”

 

“That’s alright Benrey. I love you too.” He gave him a squeeze, trying to reassure him. But Benrey still seemed dejected. And messy. “Let me get that for you.”

 

He reached over the table with his napkin and wiped off all that butter and ‘blood’. And this did seem to be the gesture of reassurance he needed, as when Gordon pulled the cloth away, Benrey was smiling a little, soft smirk. 

 

“Pfft. You’re like a baby, dude. Why do you eat like that?” 

 

“B-Bro! I’m not like a baby! Why are we paying a hundred dollars for a lobster if I can’t eat it how I want to? Gonna eat it as if it’s my last meal. If they’re making us pay that much, I ought to be able to uh, take a leak in their stupid koi pond or something.” He stuck his tongue out.

 

“I think that’s some sage wisdom we should be listening to more and more. Fight the power, right? Though, I don’t think a fancy restaurant is the power.” Gordon ate as best he could, Benrey cheering him on with each bite. He flicked one of his vegetables at Benrey, and he actually managed to catch it. So it became a game for the two of them. At this fancy, high end restaurant, Gordon Freeman, Ph.D, was flicking peppers into the gaping maw of a horror from beyond the veil of spacetime. 

 

Were they being judged? Absolutely. There was no way people weren’t noticing it. Benrey was loud, he was uncouth, he was the embodiment of the uncontrollable animal in them all that wanted to succumb to his most absurd impulses, but were too cowardly to act upon. When Benrey wanted to catch food in his mouth flicked over by his loving boyfriend, he never asked if it was acceptable. He just did it.

 

The waiter was disgusted by them, grimacing everytime he was forced to serve these two valued customers . When the dessert menu came out, Benrey was five glasses of wine in, and had a hard time reading. But the moment he read the words ‘Black Forest Cake’, he knew just what they needed to get. At Black Mesa, the Black Forest Cake was something of an in-joke with the security guards. Benrey was desperate for a taste of it after hearing the rumors that their rivals, Aperture Science Inc., served Black Forest Cake to their employees and volunteers at the end of tests. Getting the ‘cake’ was colloquialism meant to describe working towards a reward that would never come. Like asking for a raise.

 

“Really? Man, when was the last time I heard ‘the cake is a lie’?” Gordon snorted, “Old joke, man.” 

 

“MYEHWAAGHWAAGH!” Benrey blew a long raspberry at him and jabbed his finger on the menu, “Garcon! The black forest cake for two, please and thank you!” 

 

Part of Gordon wanted to hide his face. Benrey was fucking mortifying. But he didn’t let that discourage him. He was going to laugh alongside him and enjoy the misery they were spreading around them. This? This! This is what he fought for! He had to keep reminding himself, the past was building to this moment. And he couldn’t worry about the future, no matter how much anxiety looking at Benrey’s claws and teeth shot through him. They were frightening, and they were erotic like a paradox made manifest. Gordon hungered for that danger. That hatred he used to have for him that had melted into soft, buttery love that mushed in oozed in sickening saccharine twists in his guts. He wanted to hate him, distrust him, rip his guts out like he would have before. Hate him so hard, so strongly that he could scream his bones out of his mouth. 

 

They stared at each other until the cake was brought out. There was no mind reading between them, but Benrey was assuming Gordon was thinking about how much he loved him and how sexy he thought he was. And Gordon was thinking about how badly he wanted to literally rip his guts out and rearrange his stupid, ugly alien organs and leave them across the floor. And also how much he loved him and how sexy he thought he was.

 

The honor of the first bite went to Benrey. And he was indulging with audible rapture. The cake was wonderful. The cherry liqueur was strong, and elevated the moist dark chocolate. So incredibly rich, filled with whipped cream and fresh black cherries that brought a much needed tang to the overwhelming sweetness. They tore it apart in seconds, forgetting their woes for a few moments of primal comfort. 

 

Benrey grabbed the last cherry, about to eat it himself, when he had a better idea, “Open your mouth.” 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“I’m gonna pop my cherry in your mouth hole,” he deadpanned.

 

Gordon howled with laughter, giving Benrey the prime opportunity to shove his fruit in there. His boyfriend was laughing, chewing the cherry as he wiped the whipped cream off the corner of his lips, “Man, you’re too much.” 

 

Benrey was humming sweet voice, notes that Gordon had memorized. Orange to teal, pink to blue, calming indigo. He wanted to sing to him so much–the one thing which restrained Benrey was their safety. And revealing his status as an alien rather than a very unusual man with jaundice might very well affect their safety, and the few freedoms they had. 

 

“You liked that?” Gordon watched Benrey finish his sixth, and final, glass of wine. He would not be getting anymore so Gordon could herd him into bed. Or into the bathroom so he could puke. It depends on how well Benrey was going to hold that liquor. 

 

“Gordon, we need to eat this all the time. Every meal.”

 

“It’s more special as a treat.” 

 

“That’s… that’s why they gave you the uh… The Ph.D. You’re so smart, Gordo. I want you to read your dissertation while um, sucking me long and hard through my uh, jorts.”

 

Before the absurdity of the flirt hit him, Gordon was trying to figure out the logistics of reading whilst giving some sloppy toppy. That was impossible, what was he on about–Oh, Benrey forgot he couldn’t shapeshift again. Typical. “Yep, you’ve had too much to drink. Time to take you home.” 

 

“Hell yeah. Scored. S ranked date!” 

 

---

 

The nightmares returned. Gordon rolled around in bed, gripping as tight as he could, digging his dull hominid nails in Benrey’s rubbery skin. He thought things would be better. What more could he want? Benrey was in heaven, so what was Gordon’s damage? They mated whenever they pleased, had plenty of food, five water sources, endless resources to meet their needs- and most importantly each other’s company. Was the future that harrowing? Or was it the past? Why couldn’t the present be good enough? 

 

He pressed Gordon’s curls into his mouth and kissed him on the top of his head, tracing his fingertips down his back to wake him from his restless sleep.

 

Gordon gasped, clenching Benrey as he was thrust away from the nightmare, “Benrey?” 

 

“Huh? What? You need something?” 

 

“Fuck, man. It keeps happening.”

 

“Yeah uh, sucks, don’t it? But uh, I got your solution right here-” Benrey belched out a ball of sweet voice and held it out for Gordon, “Get to sucking, Gordos.” 

 

“I don’t want any balls right now.” 

 

“... Huh?” 

 

“I don’t know how to say it. But this is a part of me. And I think I’d rather suffer than magically make it go away.” 

 

Benrey smacked his lips and looked away, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to say. To do. Twice today, Gordon stabbed him in the heart. He was going to make it a habit before the Ides of March. “Um. Okay. I can’t… make you happy. I guess.”

 

“Oh don’t pout and say it like that.” 

 

“You were forced to be around me. I’m sorry.” 

 

“It worked out for the better. You have no idea how boring my life was before this. I went out drinking at the bar with some friends… sometimes. But most days I spent home alone, playing video games and counting the hours until the weekend when I’d get to see my boy.” 

 

“That is pretty sad. But um, what if it could be anyone else? You’re not happy. We uh, we got everything we need. You have your food suit, your water suit, we uh, share a silly straw. We have a beautiful nest! Best Little Big Planet hub we could have decorated!” Benrey gestured to the mirror on the ceiling, kicking his legs as he stared at Gordon’s face through it in the eigengrau of the rest of the room. 

 

Gordon snorted, and pointed at the fancy wardrobe mirror they had in addition, “You’re a perv.” 

 

“Hey, I need to uh… I’m a scientist. Obsermavation n’ shit.” Benrey pushed him on the cheek, “You’re the one who is the most incredible pervert… cause um… you said something about it. Now it’s weird.”

 

“Riiiight,” he rolled his eyes, “It’s bigger than our basic needs. I want a future assured to me, and right now…” 

 

“Fuck it. We have now. C’mere Gordon Weepman,” Benrey licked him on the cheek like a dog and hit him with a full body purr, “You’re surrounded by the reflection of perfection! That means when I’m dead, my ninja shadow clone jutsu gots you. Safe and sound like an ostrich in the ground.” 

 

“You won’t die again.” Gordon kissed him on his bared neck, right where he had gone to stab him that first morning. He had grown to love it so much. How inhuman and flexible it was, the lattice of ossicles right beneath the surface pricked him, and he loved it. It was almost like Benrey’s stubble, since he couldn’t grow any keratinous protrusions. 

 

Benrey ran one of his fingers down the bridge of Gordon’s nose, “But what can we do to… make you feel safe again?” 

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“Put your hand in my mouth,” Benrey bared his fangs and grabbed his hand, “Feel them, know I would never bite you.” 

 

“That’s disgusting!” 

 

“But if I know your taste, I know to never bite it.” 

Gordon didn’t have a restful sleep, and neither did Benrey, but it came to them eventually. They had no work to awaken to in the morning, and so, far into the afternoon, they slept. Still full of alcohol and waning senses of confident uncertainty.

Chapter 35: Dr. Freeman's Emotional Constipation

Summary:

Benrey and Gordon go for some laser tag

Notes:

TW: Nothing that comes to mind? LMK if there is something potentially triggering here! Maybe some sexual remarks.

“Benrey what the fuck man!?” Gordon threw his controller across the room. Although he had been holding his aggression back for a while, Gordon, well. He got gamer rage. Benrey was the opposite, he could never be mad at any game. It was just like real life for him; Infinite respawns. Death was a mere inconvenience. Gordon paced around the coffee table, “I needed that revive!”  

 

“Hey, don’t hate the player, Gordo. Hate the uh, um.” Benrey got distracted, and subsequently, Coach was taken out by boomer vomit and swarmed with zombies. An emphatic sweet voice laden groan was pushed out from between his teeth. He leaned on Gordon… and then started… sniffing? A little snrt snrt snort, and a facial contort followed. 

 

“The game?” Overcome with the urge to smell himself after watching Benrey’s nose twitch, he took a whiff of himself. Holy shit, was he ripe. He hadn’t bothered taking a shower after the gym and he smelled like a hotted, sweated man alright. Benrey seemed to quite like the smell though, he was taking deep whiffs of that gym sweat like a little freak. 

 

As if he could quaff the stench, he drank in the air, and exhaled with the utmost contentedness, “No, Left 4 Dead 2 is a good game.” 

 

“Dude are you trying to drink my gym musk?” 

 

“Uh, yeah? You fuckin’ stink, Gordon Stinkman. You’re acting like uh, you don’t sniff things outta morbid curiosity. Put on some uh, Old Spice. Um. Cause uh, it was just called Spice when you were young. Owned.” He pushed Gordon away and waved the air around his nose with exaggerated movements, “Whew!”

 

“Fucking hell man. I’m trying to reach that goddamn weight G-Man wants me at.” Gordon had stopped bringing Benrey to the gym with him out of consideration. He was usually pretty bored there, and spent most of his time watching YouTube or playing some corny pay-to-win Gaccha. So that became Gordon’s Gordon time. Even BATHTIME was invaded by Benrey. That motherfucker thought it was a good idea to stick two full grown men in the same tub and it never worked out right. Gordon was just a big guy, and Benrey kept splashing, and getting soapy, slippery water all over the floor, wasting his bath bombs! Snuggling in hot water was pretty comfortable, though. Benrey snapped his fingers, and Gordon stopped fantasizing about their bath naps, “Why does he want us at a certain weight anyways? Are we going to be put in little costumes and made to do stage shows for Tommy?!” 

 

“Sounds likely.” Benrey stretched and yawned out some red sweet voice, “Well, I’m bored. Hope you’re happy, Stinkman. Your smelly sweated ass butt is putting me to sleep.” 

 

“A day out would be nice. Anything you’ve seen that you want to do?” 

 

“Uh, aquarium, an arcade where I don’t suck, square dancing, going to see your mom also known as the Grand Canyon, laser tag.” Benrey rested his head on that stuffed komodo dragon that Gordon bought him at the zoo. Bendragon made an excellent pillow, though Benrey had soaked him in old milk at one point and he had to be dry cleaned, “Um, there was this cool place you get to ride horses at um, but that’s something we should do with Joshua. Take him to do horts (horse sports) like some rich brat.”

 

“Laser tag!” Gordon jumped up, a light shimmered in his dilated eyes, “No way, man! I love laser tag! When I was studying at MIT, my friends and I used to go twice a month.”

 

“Yo, straight up? Let’s do it. Gonna kick some ass. Lil kids gonna be there, gonna make em cry. Dream team. We’re like Kane and Lynch.” Benrey pitched up his voice to mimic a small child, “Who- Who is shooting at me?!”  And then he pitched it down to match Gordon’s tone, “Gordon Fucking Freeman!” 

 

“Oh god. I don’t know why I said that during the… boss fight or whatever.” 

 

“It’s Gordon Fucking Freeman!!!” Benrey blew a long raspberry, “That was uh, lover’s spat.” 

 

“I wouldn’t call that a spat.”

 

“It’s GORDON fucking FREEMAN!” 

 

“Oh my god please shut up. I fucking hate you. I hate you so much.” 

 

Benrey planted a big, wet, sloppy kiss right on his cheek and threw him over the couch with a swift flick of his arm, “Shower and it’s tag time!” 

 

---

 

Gordon was going to play into it if they were doing some laser tag. He was, well, he dressed for the occasion. He was outfitted in a long sleeve, light orange shirt and baggy camo cargo pants that hugged his thighs with empty pockets that never saw use. His combat boots stomped along the linoleum in the building, Benrey staring at them. Because god damn, girl! You’re leaving the house with those clown shoes? They were huge! Gordon tipped his flat cap over his eyes to avoid looking at the blaring neon lights inside. Ugh, it was reminding him of the Resonance Cascade already.

 

Benrey slid up to the operator? Cashier? Underpaid teenage employee. “Yooooo, bro we uh, reserved a spot. To play some uh, beam team classic?” 

 

“Kay. To your left. Get your gear. Your watch will tell you how many hit points you have left. When you reach zero, it’ll vibrate, and you’re out of the game.” The kid sighed and waved them off, “Have a good time, don’t be a sore loser. Yadda yadda.” 

 

“Epic. Come on, Stinky.” Benrey wrapped his arm around his back and snickered, “My uh, Stinkdon Sweatman. My Foot Fungus Amongus~” 

 

As Benrey said these… horrible pet names aloud, Gordon let out a deeply painful wheeze. All the air was just sucked out of his body, “You’re… just the worst. I didn’t date you to get teased all the time.” 

 

“Yeah. No. Duh. Idiot. You uh, started dating me because I’m like. A great cool or something. I got you the um,” he smacked his lips, “I got you the platinum trophy on Rayman: Raving Rabbids.” 

 

“Yeah, sure Benrey.” Gordon helped him get his watch on; More delicate tasks were more difficult for Benrey. Including handwriting. It was less legible than Joshua’s. His motor skills were clearly never meant to be as acute as a human’s; Hand eye coordination wasn’t his forte outside of the realms of video games and guns. 

 

They grabbed their pistols and switched them on, and Benrey’s eyes lit up, “Yooo we got passports! Come on Gordo! Let’s go hit the uhhh kill streak!” 

 

Benrey unloaded into the arena with a merry hop and a skip, and then skidded to a halt when he realized what he was walking into. 

 

‘Aliens vs. Space Marines’ was the theme of the season. Benrey had played Dead Space, he knew what humans thought of aliens like him. But seeing all these cardboard cutouts of forms he could very well take, surrounded by kids screaming and shooting just felt insulting. Damn, humans really fucking hated aliens, didn’t they? And most of them never met one! Benrey thought it was a good thing that so many soldiers died raiding Black Mesa. 

 

The whole arena was made into a complex maze with all these cut outs and walls painted to look like gritty, unwashed apartment complexes in a neo-futuristic New York City. Crates would provide additional color. This was not helped by the blacklight. Humans couldn’t see the actual ultraviolet light, but Benrey could, and it was fucking blinding. It was a flashbang to the eyes! And the room smelled like diapers and pizza grease. With a hint of pubescent acne. 

 

“Fuck, Gordo, what is this?” 

 

“Yeah uh, sorry about the overt racism–they don’t know aliens are real. Team up?” 

 

“Fuck yeah. Just like Kane and Lynch. Benrey and Gordon. Dream team supreme.” He cocked his tagger and passed through the billowing smoke machines into the entryway, “HEY KIDS! IT’S BENREY! AHAHAHAHAHA!” 

 

Benrey rolled into the fray, slamming his back against a solid. Gordon scrambled after him, suddenly so, so very aware of everything around him. Against the loud music, he could pick up the slightest squeak of sneakers against the waxed floor. It was as if each noise could be peeled back and listened through, something which he hadn’t noticed he was capable of before. Both of his hands were on his pistol, with one knee on the ground, “Benrey, you hear that?” 

 

“Yup. Scrubs at eleven o’ cock. I gotem, Feetman.” Benrey leapt across the unprotected gap between their hiding space and the next cranny, sending out a volley of shots as he rolled over.

 

An enraged voice crack echoed in the combat zone, “Are you fucking kidding me?! Whose grandpa is that?”

 

“Yours, tell your grandma I said hi ya little jit!” Benrey blew a raspberry, “Come back when you get, uh, a state ID!” 

 

The kid punted his laser pistol and stormed off. Gordon bit his sleeve to snicker with Benrey. Bullying kids was a fine pastime for any self respecting gamer. Gordon poked his laser out the side and shot as the teen on the other end fruitlessly tried firing back. 

 

“FUCK!” Stomping followed the kid leaving the arena.

 

Nice. It was time to move forward. Gordon gestured with his hand for Benrey to come and take cover with him further into the maze. They both dashed behind a crate, sitting shoulder to shoulder. A bit of running had already winded Benrey, and so he was panting. But Gordon’s chest was popping at a constant, rapid pace. He saw the top of a helmet crawling towards them. His mind was empty, he didn’t even realize what he was doing until it was done. It was a graceful motion, and he hit the kid five times with the tag pistol. 

 

There was no detail he was missing. He had already identified every angle he could be attacked from. The ‘ropes’ had even taught him to always look up. He was inching forwards, checking for dangling, sticky tongues and tumorous bulbs of veiny flesh. Benrey couldn’t help but swoon. That was his video game lover! His stream-sniper boyfriend! He straight up noscoped that twelve year old. Fuck that kid!

 

“Shit! Fuck you, old man!” Gordon took this as his cue to continue. He became the maelstrom of death that Benrey remembered from Black Mesa. 

 

They watched each other’s sixes, back to back. To be frank, Benrey had very poor survival instincts. His reaction to being shot was just to take it and die, then come back later. But Gordon was keen. When he heard the slightest squeak of a sneaker, his finger crushed the trigger. And his breathing, this whole time, was actively relaxing. Benrey couldn’t help but think about what a fearless, action movie hunk he was. He was like Arnie in that one movie with the ugly ass alien. Except sexy. Because he had a dadbod. 

 

Playing into helplessness, he stopped shooting altogether and took to his favorite hobby of sitting his butt where it really didn’t belong. He sat pretty on a crate and extended a licentious leg out, “Yo, Gordo, I’m trapped. Can you uh, pick me up?” 

 

“No.” Gordon slammed his back against a wall and peeked over the side, then gestured for Benrey to follow him. Great. That wasn’t working. 

 

He slunk to his side with the liquid quality of a weasel and held his pistol up to the side of his face, action-girl style. Making sure his hip brushed against Gordon, he pushed his ass out, “Whoa Gordo, look at how caked I am. I bet you can heal by–” 

 

“Shut up, man.” He slammed a hand over his mouth. And Benrey grumbled through the skin and flesh. An attempt was made to get a raspberry in, but it wasn’t going poor old Benrey’s way. He wound up just pushing air up his own nose. Lame. Gordon shot another player and ran ahead, dragging Benrey with him. Oh, he was liking this. A lot. 

 

Handholding time was over before it felt like it truly started, and Gordon urged Benrey forwards. Benrey blew his lips at intervals, “Man you’re competitive aren’t you? Fuck bro congrats you killed all the uh, kids in the COD lobby. Sheesh.” 

 

Gordon stopped and stared at Benrey for a moment, “Wait. Holy shit you’re right.” 

 

“Dude… did you… did you forget that we’re uh, playing laser tag? Dumbass?” Benrey snorted and wrapped Gordon up in a hug, “Bro what is wrong with you? Thought you were really killing uh, Fortnite players?” 

 

“Get off of me I don’t… I don’t want to–” Both of their watches buzzed down to zeroes.

 

“Got them! Suck it, impotent old bastards!” Two teenage girls interlocked their arms and hip bumped to celebrate. Gordon couldn't help but noting how weird that insult was for two teenagers. He was expecting more slurs, something a lot less cerebral than that.

 

Benrey flipped them off whilst smiling. He wasn’t that salty, "C’mon Gordon. Round two let’s fight.” He was about to tell him how brave and handsome he was.

 

“I’m done.” Gordon stripped off his watch and made his way out of the arena. 

 

“Huh? What?” He ran after him as he power-walked out. There was the temptation to grab him and levitate up and through the ceiling with him, but he thought better of it. 

 

An answer wasn’t given. Gordon got out, paid, and dragged Benrey into their car after only half an hour at the laser tag arena. His brow was furled, and he couldn’t stop fidgeting with his glasses. He was retying his ponytail when Benrey tried talking to him again, “Did I do something wrong?” 

 

“Don’t worry about it. Fuck, man. It’s not like I thought I was killing them.” 

 

“I don’t understand.” Benrey blew out a couple of sweet voice bubbles he had been holding back. It was primarily confused chartreuse and what do you mean lime green. 

 

“I thought we would die if we lost.” Gordon started the car, “And I was keeping your immortal ass safe without thinking.”

 

Benrey noticed the strain in his voice, and the way his neck was twitching, “I thought it was because you finally got to kill people again. I um, thought you liked that.”

 

“No! No, I don't like killing people! What the fuck?” 

 

“I dunno. You did well. Like a pro gamer.” 

 

“My head was clear for once, that’s all.”

 

“Huh. Um, cool. I thought that was pretty hot. You being all calm and in charge and stuff.” 

 

“I’d really rather you not talk about it anymore. Just… let’s forget about laser tag. I know you were excited, I’m sorry.” 

 

“S’cool. A date is a two player game. Co–op. Gotta turn on a different game if one person thinks it sucks.” Benrey opened a can of Monster he kept stored in the glove box and chugged it down with comically large, stone swallowing gulps, “Hmm. I have a uh, better date idea. If you trust me.” 

 

“Uh, sure. What’s up?” 

 

“Okay so you know um,” he smacked his lips, “I have to take you there. So let’s go do those uh, chores we gotta do first. Like grocery shopping. Gotta wait for the perfect time to show you my epic date idea. Cool surprise.” 

 

“I don’t like surprises.” 

 

“Pretty please?” Benrey tried to pull out the big, dilated kitten eyes. Gordon was visibly disgusted. Yeah, that strategy wasn’t going to work when you’re a grown ass alien-space-god-man-thing. The strat needed reinvention, reevaluation. “How about this; I promise it’s something we can lay down and relax to. And cuddle with? Cool?” 

 

Gordon thought for a moment, “Cool. Where do you want to get lunch?” 

 

“Dude, I’m major uh, craving enchiladas right now.” 

 

“Enchiladas it is.” He peeled out of the parking lot while Benrey put his seat back and fell asleep. God, could Benrey sleep. Gordon preferred him like this right now. There was too much to think about. Primarily about how easy this… state of being… came to him. It was much easier than just doing… whatever this was. Something resembling normalcy. Being safe, secure, easy access to the people he loved. All he could think about now was if he’d be safe tomorrow. Benrey’s soft snoring washed him with an unsettled warmth. He was, logically, protected from anything. He was a being of unfathomable power. G-Man was scared of him. That meant something.

 

But the illogical, emotional part of himself was too powerful. That pissed him off beyond articulation. For all the self awareness he had, he couldn’t overcome it. For all the reassurance he gave himself, he was still just an animal. Just some poor feather on the Black Mesa Icarus. 

 

---

 

Benrey popped an egg into his mouth, and crunched on the shell. The yolk busted open on his lavishing tongue, and was complimented by the thin shell of delightfully crunchy calcium. He swished the concoction between his teeth, and then swallowed. Gordon was staring at him in horror, stretched over the hood of the car by his side. The night was cold in the desert. For how blisteringly unbearable it was during the day, the dust never retained much heat. The swarms of hares were migrating in their hordes of thousands, and twice as many eyes gleamed in the distant void. Sort of like Benrey. Gordon was expecting him to dash out and chase them around, enjoy a good hunt. But he was satisfied with his carton of eggs. 

 

Another crunch, another, another. He licked his lips of eggshells and cleaned his teeth off with his prehensile tongue, “Wow. God, I love the egg shell texture. It really uh, compliments the um, ooey-gooey eggy center.” 

 

“You’re disgusting.” Gordon rolled over on the hood, and brushed his hands over Benrey’s soft cheek. 

 

He turned his head to look at Gordon, “Hey babe.” 

 

Oh, the smell. He pushed that disgusting fuck away. Ah, the aroma of raw eggs and enchiladas. Just what he needed on his romantic stargazing date, “Ugh, dude! Your breath?”

 

“Sorry.” Benrey grabbed Gordon’s hand and rubbed his claws over his knuckles. For once, this wasn’t a joke to him, “Mean it.” 

 

“I shouldn’t make a habit of believing you're sorry. But I think I do.” He warmed his hands up in his own, and beckoned him closer. Benrey cuddled into his flank, and stared up at the stars. There was nothing else in the sky. Cosmic clouds of gas that were invisible to the human eye were so clear to him. He could see streams and streaks of multicolored billows that encapsulated bursting singularities of energy. Gordon had done this many times before. Just driving into the desert to look at the stars. He was somewhat of an amateur astronomer. It was hard to be interested in theoretical physics and to not take his gaze away from the Earth, “This was a very good idea.” 

 

“Full of ‘em, Feetman. Gotta trust the uh, process.” Benrey planted a soft kiss on his stubble, feeling it prick into his rubbery skin. The warmth of his body elicited an uncontrollable purr. Gordon snuck his hand under his shitty little chullo and stroked his hair. God, a chullo in southern New Mexico. What a fucking look. It’d make sense if they lived in Albuquerque, but this was south of the Black Range, where Black Mesa used to be. This was the Chihuahuan. What a dumbass look; It was adorable. Or maybe it was genius. The desert got cold. Fast. Benrey had picked it up as a fashion statement, though fashion was biting him in the ass in the face of practicality. 

 

“You really were just a big softie this whole time, huh?” Gordon was doing his best to warm him up. If he was chilly, he couldn’t imagine how cold Benrey was feeling.

 

“F in the chat for Hardcore Benrey.” 

 

“Who is Chat?” Gordon had Justin.tv aspirations. Of course he knew Chat. He just wanted to know what Benrey would say.

 

“The girl you gotta worry about. She’s my wife. I uh, gave birth to our kids.”  Benrey shot him a cheeky little smile, “Jay–Kay.” 

 

“Shithead.” Gordon pointed to the sky, “That’s Orion, and Orion’s belt is right there. You see it?”

 

“Bro that’s literally just a clump of stars what the fuck are you on about?” 

 

“Can’t you see it? The stars that are slightly brighter than the others around them?” Gordon traced its outline with his fingers, “Come on Benrey, you can read stars, right? How did you navigate on Xen?” 

 

“Magnets. Duh. This is dumb. Stars like, die and come to life all the time.” Magnets? Shit. Benrey could navigate through magnetic fields. That was actually kind of cool.

 

“Not in a human lifespan.” 

 

“Oh... For real?" Benrey sat up and looked at Gordon. He didn't even live as long as a star. 

 

He knew he was dating something ancient, powerful. Something basal and primordial that came from the days of barebones hypothalamuses that acted on their instincts. Still, the fact that Benrey had outlived a whole sky was inconceivable, “How old are you?” 

 

“Um. No clue.” Benrey shrugged, “Older than a human lifespan.” 

 

“Okay Oldrey.” 

 

“Wow, okay Oldon Oldman.” Benrey blew a raspberry into his ear. 

 

“Agh! BENREY!” Gordon shoved him away as he flung his disgusting blue tongue around. That thing was hideous. Worked wonders for their physical relationship, but it was fucking foul to look at. “You’re so gross!”

 

“Blah blah blah. Shut up you stink.”

 

“No, you shut up! YOU stink!” Gordon prodded him on the chest, “You’re such a dick!” 

 

“And you love it.” Benrey nipped him on the cheek, and started moving down to his lip. Gordon was better at this when he was pissed off. His teeth ravenously pressed into Gordon’s lips, devouring his lips in kiss after kiss as he pinned him to the hood of the car for a steamy make-out session. Gordon moaned, wrapping his arms around his back and pressed him into his chest. Belly to belly. His hands rubbed up and down his prominent, rigid spine, around the back of his ribcage and up to the nape of his neck. This was like being a stupid college student again.

Benrey spat pink sweet voice into Gordon’s mouth. And if Benrey were a human, this would be disgusting. But he wasn’t. This was a form of communication. This is how Benrey showed his love, so Gordon drained the color from him.

 

“Mm, you’re so meaty, you’re like a uh, meatball.” 

 

“God dammit man you’re,” Gordon put that thought on hold in favor of some twisting tongue action, “You’re so bad at flirting.” 

 

“Shut up and give me those fucking pastrami sandwich tasting ass lips and take off those ugly ass Kohl’s looking ass jeans, my sexy uh, Gordoburger.” 

 

“You are definitely getting none after that line.” 

 

“FUCK man I’m sooo bad at this. You need so much to be happy.” 

 

“Don’t worry, it’s really not your fault, Charm Quark. My head is uh, still full. From earlier today.” 

 

“Oh. Do you want me to get off?” Benrey was going to let that little nerdy pet name slip for now. But the moment his guard was let down, Gordon was getting shoved in a locker.

 

“No, the kissing was good, I’m just, you know. Not in the mood. You can lay down.”

 

Benrey put his head down on his chest and laid his hands on one of his soft pecs, and squeezed it, “Talk?” 

 

“Sure. Yeah.” Gordon was trying to figure out how to word this, “I felt like I was in my natural habitat. Does that make sense to you?” 

 

“Uh, I think so.”

 

“It felt natural. And I don’t know what to do with that. I was scared for a moment, and then it clicked with me. That is what I was meant to do. This? This is borrowed time to me.” 

 

“Huh? No it’s not!” Benrey pushed up against his shoulders, “I’m uh, keeping you with me! We’re not borrowing time, it's OUR time and uh, you’re stupid and dumb and an idiot for thinking otherwise and you should feel bad you chickenhat baby bitch.” 

 

“You done yet?” 

 

He nodded and put his ear against his chest to listen to his heartbeat. 

 

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be the way I was before.” 

 

“Um. Yeah. I thought you wouldn’t.” 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“I haven’t been the same.” 

 

“Man, we’re just fucking broken, aren’t we? We just don’t work.”

 

“We work. Just uh, we got scratches on the disc, you know? So like, when we get to a certain part of the game it lags.” 

 

“And it crashes occasionally.” 

 

“Still can have a good time. Skyrim was fun despite Todd’s epic PS3 data leak.” ((Author's Note: The Data Leak on the PS3 version of Skyrim is a notorious bug that made it so that as the game was played and hours were piled upon hours, the game would run at a slower and slower framerate until it was unplayable. This issue was pervasive in Bethesda Games.))

 

“You’re surprisingly wise, sometimes. Keyword there, sometimes.” 

 

“Yeah, I’ll still play you even if you have scratches on you. You’d uh, be my favorite video game. You’d be real cozy.”

 

“You’d be Demon Souls with a fisheye lens filter.”

 

“Aww! I love you too. Or something stupid like that.” Benrey planted a disgusting, wet kiss right on the cheek, “My um, uh, my uhhhhhhhhhh, gamer-tist.”

 

“Tsk. Poggers.” Gordon felt… a weight lifted. Not a big weight. It was more like a little five pound dumbbell was plucked from his chest. They stared at the stars for a few hours, but Gordon was frankly, not just content to lay down there on the hood. There was some pent up energy in there. If they couldn’t twist into the horizontal tango, at the very least, they could hit it vertical style. He stirred up, eliciting a pathetic whine from Benrey. 

 

“No–” He tried to keep Gordon down. Being gentle fucked him over; Dragged and dropped on the side of a dusty desert road. Fuck the Chihuahuan. “Ow.” 

 

“I know for a fact that didn’t hurt, ya big baby.” Gordon prodded him with his foot, “Get up asshole, we’re dancing.” 

 

“Huh? Wha? No–No! I can’t um, DDR. Voguing is posing solo campaign but… but dancing is like co-op posing! I can’t do it.” Benrey slithered up onto his feet and cracked his bones. Benrey could vogue pretty well, so Gordon was pretty confused about this. But he supposed that voguing was more a form of freeform exhibition in Benrey’s eyes. He might not have registered that as even a kind of dancing.

 

“DDR isn’t real dancing. I got two left feet, Ben.” 

 

“Huh? You have two left feet? But… you have a right leg?” 

 

“It’s a figure of speech dude. Don’t worry about being good.” He grabbed him by his hands and interlocked their fingers. A stream of uncontrollable pink to blue slammed Gordon in the face. Eh, he didn’t need to see to dance anyways. Benrey did eventually have the awareness to turn his head so Gordon could see. The stars were blotted out by the luminescent bubbles, being whisked away in the breeze. It caressed Gordon’s locks into his face, and Benrey was stunned by how gorgeous he was. His chin was digging into his neck just slightly as he gazed down at Benrey, his glasses reflecting pink and blue, his face illuminated half and half with the overwhelming emotion. Greed, love, desire. If there was anything real at all, it was that. 

 

Gordon led Benrey through a mellow sway, seeing how nervous he was to begin. He couldn’t help but think of how silly it was that the cosmic horror was scared of embarrassing himself while dancing. Of all the things to feel shame for, this seemed especially ridiculous. Anyone could sway in someone else’s arms. It was as easy as finding a body to be close to. But side stepping took a little more effort. Gordon took a step, and waited a few seconds for Benrey to catch on. 

 

He didn’t catch on. “Ben. Dude. Follow my feet.”

 

“Oh. Hah. Fail.” Benrey spewed out an uncontrollable stream of yellow to ocean blue–green. His cheeks flushed with dark blood, and he started following Gordon’s shitty half–waltz shuffle, “Ugh you’re so good at this bro this is like the uh, time you um…” 

 

“Remembah the time–” Gordon’s Lois Family Guy voice always pissed Benrey off. It was just the right frequency to get on his nerves.

 

“SHUT UP–” Benrey belched out a huge bubble of yellow and pulled his chullo over his eyes, “Like the time you talked smart stuff with me and I felt so stupid. Ugh. I don’t understand math.” 

 

“I was trying to teach you basic multiplication, Benrey. This should have been easy for you. You’re not actually stupid?” 

 

“Ugh no I don’t want to memorize that crap.” 

 

“That’s why I was teaching you long multiplication, dummy.” 

 

“You just said I wasn’t stupid? Now I’m dummy? Gordon Meanman, STRIKES AGAIN!” Benrey stuffed his face in Gordon’s chest and screamed as they shuffled on the road.

 

“Dummy, as in affectionate.” Gordon tugged his arm and twirled him around, and then brought him close in again, “So, dummy… Look up.” 

 

“Ugh you’re so–” Benrey zipped his lips up as he stared at the sky, full of lantern–like bulbs of sweet voice that stubbornly lingered in the night. Emotions were so high, so out of control they were eclipsing the moon, “Shit.” 

 

“Don’t be embarrassed. You know… at my wedding…” 

 

“Uh oh, Feetman lore.” 

 

“My ex–wife’s dress was divine. She looked like an angel cometh to Earth.”

 

“I–I can also be beautiful for you.” 

 

“You are beautiful,” Gordon snorted, “So, we’re dancing. We just had a gorgeous reception. And she’s having a hard time with that big, puffy thing. And I stumble on her, land on her while she’s pregnant, and break her arm on the steeple altar steps. So the wedding's cut short, my mom drives us to the hospital, and my wife has to take her first Intro to Theoretical Physics exam while heavily pregnant and with a broken arm.”

 

“Wow. You had a wedding before an exam? Idiot.” 

 

“Valentine’s wedding. We thought it was cute.” 

 

“You fucked up big time, Gordon.” 

 

“I know! I was always a big guy too. Pobrecita, right? Got crushed under me. We’re lucky Joshua survived nice and healthy.” 

 

“Whoa, mucho grande Gordo uh… was… mucho gordo–er?” 

 

“Si me vuelves a hablar tan mal en español te pediré el divorcio.” Gordon kissed him on the nose. 

 

“Hot.” Benrey had no fucking clue what he had just said. But it was so exotic! So tantalizing! He just had to sing how excitedly unsure he was. Streams of confused chartreuse and lime green were pouring out from his lips as Gordon swung him around. 

 

The light scattered to their whims, spiraling up and disappearing into the sky like partnering torch bugs. Cacti made for a quiet audience. But Benrey was obviously getting tired. And Gordon noticed that he was yawning red towards the end of their waltz. 

 

“Alright, let’s get you buckled up, lazy ass.”

 

“No,” Benrey’s head slammed into Gordon’s chest, and he started snoring and drooling as he slumped against his arms. 

 

“Oh my god. You’re fucking insufferable.” He lifted up all that dead weight and somehow managed to open the car door to throw him in the back seat. Benrey didn’t even stir. Not even a snort. Putting on some Linkin Park and sitting back in his shitty ass, ugly ass orange Corolla, he cruised along the highway back to their house. 

Chapter 36: Dr. Freeman's Prostate Exam

Summary:

Gordon and Benrey have another doctor's visit.

Notes:

TW: bodyshaming

 

the big plot its its all coming out the big plot!!!

Gordon had marked the date on his calendar, and checked himself in the mirror right before. God, he was scared. This reminded him of his regular check ups, or when he’d have to submit urine to Black Mesa and he’d have to flush the weed out of his system–and quickly. Gordon had been fat for a while, so there was this shame every time he had been to the physician for the past three years. Lose weight, Freeman! Freeman, you gained thirty pounds instead! You know, Freeman, this situation is getting serious!

 

The flat stomach he thought the weight loss would give him wasn’t manifesting. But he could see his musculature beginning to really show through his fluff. Maybe the trucker body was what he’d have to settle for. 

 

Sure as hell wasn’t ‘settling’ to Benrey though. As he posed in the mirror, the alien sluggishly rose from the bed to try and cup a feel of those biceps, his deltoids! Oh, goddamn, he might as well have been Charles Atlas in Benrey’s eyes. He loved the extra plushness on Gordon, it made him feel like they were two incredibly successful predators, even though what they did was hardly hunting most days (they have actually hunted twice; Benrey should not have been handed a firearm but Gordon still did). Shopping for groceries just didn’t have the same innate satisfaction to it. What actually mattered was how happy he and Benrey were. And Gordon was feeling excellent after a few months of pushing himself as hard as he could at the gym. Hell, at the pool he was almost hitting his lap records. He didn’t expect that past the age of twenty–five. 

 

“Too ass.” Benrey reared up to give him a righteous slap on the cheeks. 

 

As his hand was brought towards his butt, Gordon swept him off his feet and threw him back onto the bed, “Get ready for inspection, Benrey. Tommy’s dad expects us to have made good progress.” 

 

“Pfft. I’m good for it. Been eating lots of um, nutrimints and vicodins.” Benrey spewed out some red sweet voice, which splattered against the back of Gordon’s head, “Scuse me. Big yawn there.”

 

“Eugh, I’m never getting used to that texture… We need to get our piss cups before we get breakfast.” 

 

Gordon had done his best to keep Benrey comfortable and well-fed to facilitate the extra forty pounds the doctors wanted on his bony frame. Now he was muscular, lanky, dangerous yet cared for enough to seem friendly and less feral. It looked like a little love was enough to tame the beast. He even had a comfortable bit of paunch that perched on his waistband like a resting dove. That was Gordon’s fault, for sure. If Benrey wanted something, he got it. Having someone to always catered to him had healed him a lot, and then a little more. It simply meant he had someone who loved him. 

 

“I don’t understand, Gordon, why do the doctors need to drink our pee?” 

 

“Oh my god, BENREY for the last time that’s–that’s just a meme, the urine samples are for analysis. They like, run tests on it or some shit, I don’t know.” Gordon opened up their wardrobe and threw some random clothes onto the bed, “I mean, I don’t bother not smoking weed so I know he’s not looking for that.” 

 

“I just put lemonade in my cup and he hasn’t said anything yet.”

 

“Benrey.”

 

“Not joking.” He started picking his nose. This was a habit Gordon completely gave up on breaking. Benrey pulled out a huge string of snot and ate it. Yep. That was an absolute Benrey moment. 

 

Gordon threw him some hand sanitizer from his nightstand so that he didn’t get his fucking germs everywhere, “I wouldn’t fuck with Mr. Coolatta.” 

 

“Haven’t gotten in trouble yet.” Benrey shot him a snaggle–toothed grin as he squirted some alcohol into his hands and rubbed it in nice and good. Gordon couldn’t control him, he could only make a very strong suggestion. 

 

As they prepared the samples requested of them (including biohazardous samples from Benrey) such as claws, nail clippings, hair, skin, and scales were all collected. They lined them up in the proper containers and additional reinforced bags, and waited for the invasive appointment to begin. 

 

The fact that Benrey’s stool and urine required a radioactive hazard symbol did not inspire confidence in Gordon; He was using the same toilet that he pissed in. He made note to himself to convert the bathroom into a cloud chamber to test out how much radiation it was actually emitting. If gamma rays were shooting out of his toilet he was going to pitch a fit to the G-Man and get a traditional colonoscopy pronto. 

 

“Man. This is disgusting.” Gordon ‘admired’ the sum of their bodily functions, bringing his arms akimbo. He felt like a fucking animal. Benrey dragged him away to watch stupid mindless shit on the TV to get his mind off of the fact that they were being analyzed so acutely that G–Man required a monthly piss cup.

 

“Nice. I wonder when they’re gonna ask us to uh, jack off in the-” 

 

“I’m stopping your train of thought there, Benrey. Bless your heart.” Gordon wrapped his arm around him and flipped through their streaming services. He didn’t have many ideas to pass the time. Since they couldn’t eat until after the blood test, they just had to sit there and watch Food Network videos and fantasize about what they were going to eat later that day when Gordon could cook (Benrey had tried to cook before, and they quickly found that his concoctions were not only inedible, but absolutely fouled up the apartment’s aroma; The smell plus a call to the fire department later, and he is only allowed to cook using a microwave). 

 

A knock at the door made them pause their show. It was time to get dehumanized. Gordon opened up and held his arms in a t–pose, letting the women work on him. They took efficient measurements, so Gordon didn’t feel violated for that long. His temperature was normal. Ears? They looked a little congested, but were fine. His reaction time was good. His heart rate was fine. High, yet acceptable blood pressure. Hydrated. Strong. Nourished. Athletic. He was checking all their lists, and then he stepped on the scale. Two hundred and two pounds. He had barely lost any weight. But the fat content of his body had been highly reduced. 

 

“Your readings are perfect, Dr. Freeman. Just need to work on the fat. You’re too heavy, too wide.” The tape around Gordon’s belly loosened, and his gut slacked. 

 

“I’ve been trying. The fat is really stubborn.” Gordon was not going to tell them that he was barely dieting. He really had just cut out most soda and beer. 

 

“I will reiterate that you cannot afford to fail these parameters.” The doctor tilted her head to the side and stepped a little closer to him, and although he was craning his neck down to look at her, he still felt intimidated by her grim tone. 

 

“You know what? Understood! I get it. I’m gonna slim down.” Gordon sucked in his stomach and chuckled nervously. 

 

Meanwhile Benrey was having the time of his life. The predatory eyes that once seared themselves into Gordon’s psyche were now dilated constantly, soft and sweet. No more bones jutted from him. His head was held high, eyes closed in contentedness as he took in the numbers on the scale; One-hundred and fifty-five. His physique was praised. When they told him to fill out his arms, he carved intricate biceps out of his lithe frame. He had calves down, abs, neck muscles, and even a cobra hood for fun. And then he put it right back where he liked it.

 

“Mr. Benrey, you’re perfect. We haven’t found a single health issue. How are you feeling in terms of power?” 

 

“Energized. Keep the Xen crystals coming.” Benrey opened up his mouth, and a whole bottle of crunchy crystalline rock was sprinkled in by one of the doctor’s, who was actually entertained by these antics now. 

 

“Wow! Alright Mr. Benrey, you’re looking good,” she slapped him on the back as he crunched on the Xen crystals with a tiny smile. 

 

Gordon felt all warm inside, seeing how happy he was to feel completely taken care of. It was nice to lavish him in comfort, warmth, and food. He had also come to appreciate those things after the Resonance Cascade. And especially now that he had to really control what he ate, or else suffer the wrath of the Coolattas. He had to just vicariously live through Benrey. That might not have been the healthiest solution, but at least someone in the house could eat some delicious food and feel good. 

 

“Can I ask why I need to be a certain dimension?” Gordon crossed his arms, “It seems oddly specific.” 

 

“Your ideal proportions have been calculated for you.” 

 

“Yo, newsflash um, you skinny bitch wearing an ugly ass yellow jumpsuit, he’s already at his ideal proportions. He has a beautiful body.” 

 

“I will not answer any more inquiries on this matter. We have methods for what we are doing. Trust our process.” 

 

“Well, I did. You have nothing else to do. So grab our samples and get out.” Benrey blew a raspberry as the last vial of his blood was extracted. He was feeling a little woozy. That was a lot of blood to lose at once, and he was starving. He vaulted over the island to start chowing down on some fruit.

 

“Very well. We will see you next month. By the way, Benrey, here’s a cookie for being so good.” 

 

“Wait what?” Benrey scrambled to the doctor’s side and sucked down the cookie. Holy shit. It was chocolate chunks with chocolate batter. He was gonna bust his own batter with a taste like that. HOOH. 

 

As the women departed, Gordon’s eyes flicked between Benrey, and the door, growing more urgent as Benrey responded with a vacant stare. It clicked to him that Benrey was expected to follow them. He gave Gordon a thumbs up and noclipped through the door. 

 

Benrey saw them a few meters away, and slipped under the ground to keep watching them with at least some discretion. They didn’t notice, or at least, they didn’t make it apparent that they noticed anything off. They carried their cases of samples and supplies in an ordered, synchronized line, crossing the street towards downtown. Benrey didn’t go out and stretch his legs much; He was kind of a couch potato. He liked sitting around playing video games and napping whenever he could, so he didn’t recognize the street names the way Gordon would have, nor did he notice the kinds of buildings he was passing. 

 

He followed them for a block... maybe two or uh, seven. They turned into an alleyway between two brick apartment buildings, where the dumpsters were stored. The women disappeared with a crouch behind the bins, and as Benrey turned the corner, they were gone. No evidence that they had ever been there. Nothing at all. Benrey sniffed around, and only their lingering stink of reinforced rubber remained. No light of teleportation, no stasis. As far as he could tell. But he knew he was operating at a lower power than usual. Maybe G–Man took away his ‘fuck stasis’ power too, whatever that was. He couldn’t quite remember. How ethical!

 

Benrey had to return like a sad puppy, noclipping up through the rug as Gordon worked on his laptop with a much needed mug of coffee in hand. The oversaturation of Benrey’s shenanigans made it so that his reaction to a man phasing through his coffee table whilst hitting a devious vogue was unremarkable, “Hey. Whaddya find?”

 

“Uh, they disappeared behind a dumpster.” 

 

“... Where?”

 

“IDK.” Benrey shrugged, “Um, a block away, between two brown bricks.” 

 

“Very helpful. We’ll figure it out eventually.” He grabbed him by the waistband of his goofy ass slacks and pulled him into the couch next to him, “I made myself some coffee, and when that caffeine hits, I’m going to cook, and you are going to watch. If you so much as try to help, I’m punting your ass.” 

 

“Kay.”

 

“And uh, by the way, I appreciate how much you uh, support me. I’m kind of self conscious about the way I look. It really does boost my confidence.” Gordon rubbed his shoulder, “You’re sweet.” 

 

“I shouldn’t have to. You look great. I like it. And you’re healthy! Oh, some stupid… graph… says you’re three pounds overweight or something. That’s STUPID. You’re STUPID for thinking that way, idiot! All those tests said you were healthier than a um, hearse.” Benrey cracked up to his feet; His bones actually snapped as he rose so fast on the couch, “I love you Feetman, in every form you’ll ever take! I don’t care! Um, fat? Thin? Wrinkly? Inside out sphere? It’s uh, re–sippification!” 

 

“Well, it was still you I wasn’t going to–”

 

“Every part of your stupid monkey-lizard-frog brain was telling you I was repulsive and you still made me feel loved, and I’m going to make you feel my big hot love forever and ever and something something in–piphany.” Benrey jumped on him, crushing Gordon’s laptop on his fingers. Fuck, Benrey got heavy. The alien straight up sucked his face off with the most intense kiss Gordon had ever gotten. So impassioned it bordered on inappropriate even between lone lovers at midnight. After sucking Gordon’s coffee straight out of his soul, they paused for breath. 

 

“I barely understood half of that. But thank you Benrey.” 

 

They sat in relative silence for a while. Gordon was still trying to finish his coffee and do more job searching, though it seemed that every surviving scientist from Black Mesa was trying to do the exact same thing. So much for that idea.

 

“Um, I know we’re not married, but can I touch your uhh, hairy ass weird looking gloryholed stab wounded Nosferatu tummy? I’m going to miss it. When you murder it.” 

 

“What?” Gordon wasn’t even going to address the fact that his navel was just referred to as a gloryhole, “Married? Huh?” 

 

“It’s your sensitive spot? Not gonna touch it before marriage.” 

 

He was left dumbfounded for a few moments. Gordon mulled the information over, trying to find where the misconception had started, “Oh, I think I see what’s happening here; Benrey, most humans aren’t scared about their vulnerable underbelly getting split open.”

 

“Huh? No, yeah. Everything is.” 

 

“You can touch my abdomen, man. It’s not some licentious sexual act. Did you think it was inappropriate? Is that why you kept slapping my hand away from your stomach when I tried to poke or taser you?” 

 

“Uh, yeah? It’s my sensitive spot in this form? I put uh, a buncha organs there. My noodles, my weenie, my uh, tubes, my orbs…” 

 

“Holy shit.” Gordon cracked a little smile, “You don’t have to worry about that, you know.” 

 

There was this incredulous look to him, like he was expecting Gordon to poke him in the stomach and laugh at him. Some kind of ‘psyke’, a gotcha moment. But that never came. Gordon was confused. He didn’t understand how it could be scary to him. Benrey was forced to think for a moment, what to do. Gordon hadn’t been putting walls up, but he was. And maybe it was time to repay that trust…

 

Benrey took a deep breath in and unbuttoned his shirt, baring his abdomen to him. Benrey was just… perfectly tubular in the literal sense of the word. No features on his chest or stomach, no hair at all. Like staring at a mannequin, “Go ahead. If uh, you can… be vulnerable and stuff around me, I gotta do the same. Um. Fuck.” 

 

“You’re really that scared? You don’t have to let me touch you, man. I was just saying–”

 

Benrey nodded. He didn’t seem that scared, just from the way he spoke and his body language, but the very subtle wince in his face was something that Gordon could pick up on. With a sheepish advance, Gordon placed his real hand on Benrey’s stomach. His muscles tightened and flexed at the impact, a wave of discomfort washing over him. His brows trembled, and then he relaxed. Gordon made no further motion. A pat might have disturbed him. Benrey was baring his vulnerable, soft underbelly. An ultimate admission of trust. The wobbly little grimace on his lips tightened around his jaw as he sucked in a breath. The alien looked to be on the verge of tears, pouring out uncomfortable sable from his mouth as Gordon's hand just rested on the most vulnerable part of him. There was trust for Gordon in him. But instinct was telling him to bite the hand that fed him.

 

“There. Um.” Benrey took his hand off, “That’s good. Thanks. Nice hand. Lots of um, warm blood in there.” 

 

“Alright, you can hold me now. But I gotta get cooking for us in a bit. I’ll be making an edamame salad.” 

 

“Ugh. Stupid salad.” Benrey flopped on top of him, “We better get that french vanilla ice cream to make up for it.” 

 

“You know what? Sounds good to me.”