Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Klaus grimaces up at the house. 

The bass is thrumming loud enough to feel it up through his legs from the street, and the joint smouldering between his lips really isn’t helping his nerves as much as it should be. 

He’s been to parties before, obviously—and he wouldn’t hesitate to call most of those parties tasteless—but this… This is excessive. This is wealth and status and exorbitance all concentrated into one high schooler’s excuse for a good time. This is quintessential teenagerdom. 

He isn’t even sure what this party is for. Football? Is it football season right now? 

Klaus takes one last drag before dropping the roach and crushing it beneath the toe of his high-top. He meanders up the little cobblestone path to the doorway, mindful of where he steps with this many drunk seventeen-year-olds around. 

The door is wide open, and within is an artist’s rendition of the gates of Hell: sweaty, half-naked, pubescent bodies all crammed together, undulating as a single entity to the noise from the speakers. That’s an idea for a sketch that Klaus files away for later—maybe something Bosch-esque.

Klaus slips into the crowd and is immediately struck by the overwhelming scent of body spray. Sprays. There must be at least five different artificial smells assaulting his nostrils. Not to mention the stale odour of beer, which, okay, he’s a little more familiar with. And then there’s the lights, somehow always shining directly into his eyes. He manages to squeeze out the other side of the crowd and sucks in a breath. 

He’s being petulant, complaining to himself like this. Klaus had gone out of his way to come tonight—God knows he wasn’t invited—so if he wants to leave, he can leave. 

But… he doesn’t want to leave. And the reason for that is standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a beer in his hand and a flush on his cheeks. 

Ben gets so pink when he drinks. It’s a shade Klaus has yet to capture exactly with watercolours.

He’s engaged in conversation with a girl Klaus vaguely recognizes—the name Allison comes to mind—and his lips are drawn up in a smile. Fitting with the occasion, they’re both dressed in their cheer uniforms. Red and white tops with their school logo stretched across their chests and matching pleated skirts. 

He looks happy. And what’s ridiculous is that Klaus doesn’t feel jealous that someone else is making Ben smile like he thought he would, he’s just glad that he’s smiling at all. 

It’s been over three years now. Three years since they began at Hargreeves High; three years since Ben joined the cheer team; three years since they started drifting apart. 

Childhood hadn’t been easy. Nothing in Klaus’ life had ever been easy . Well… nothing except his relationship with Ben. They’d connected with all the natural ease of born brothers, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say they had, in some ways, considered each other as such. They’d shared everything with each other, including a birthday, and had no secrets. When Klaus would visit Ben’s house for the day, his parents treated him like their second child. It was in stark contrast to his own house, where his parents treated him more like a burden than their own flesh and blood. 

It was that same relationship with Ben that had kept Klaus safe, kept him sane through all the tribulations. It had helped him fall asleep on those particularly tough nights, and made getting out of bed in the mornings more bearable. He was the inspiration for Klaus’ greatest masterpieces and his scrapped sketches alike. Klaus doesn’t want to say what they had was perfect, but it was the closest he’d ever been to it. 

Then, inexplicably, high school had hit like a hurricane. New friends, new possibilities, a new start. Turns out Joni Mitchell was right—“you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” 

Nobody had told Klaus when he was a kid that one day he and Ben would hardly talk anymore—that would’ve broken his heart—but now that it’s actually happened, he seems to hear it everywhere. 

“You’ll find your real friends in college.” 

“Everything’s different after puberty.” 

“People change.” 

“Nothing lasts forever.”  

Don’t it always seem to go. 

But Klaus had made a few impulsive decisions and now Ben is right in front of him. 

Allison leans in to whisper something and Ben laughs, eyes lighting up. His free hand tugs absently at the hem of his skirt, trying to cover more of his thighs, but in doing so he exposes a bit of his hip and Klaus’ eyes are immediately drawn down. The skin there is paler than that around his midriff, where a tan serves as a reminder that summer is only just ending. Ben looks every inch the sweet, sun-kissed, popular boy that he’s become. 

Klaus has been anticipating the announcement that he’s started dating Diego, God knows their entire class talks about it enough, but nothing so far. A quarterback-cheerleader couple is so cliché it makes Klaus want to gag, but he’s powerless to change the all-American social hierarchy that’s been possessing high school since, ostensibly, time immemorial. And it’s not like there’s anything wrong with Diego.

Besides, it shouldn’t be any of his business who Ben gets with. No, it isn’t. It’s not his business. But Klaus has always had a bit of a problem minding his own business, and Ben is so easy to care about. Up until a few years ago there had been no secrets between them, and Klaus is still coming to terms with the fact that that is no longer the case. He wonders if Ben is overflowing, bursting at the seams, with secrets that are begging to be shared, just like he is. 

Klaus takes another look at how close Ben and Allison are and thinks it’s doubtful—she’s probably his new outlet for sharing all his deep desires. 

And that’s probably for the best because Klaus’ secrets aren’t quite as tame as they were half a decade ago. Not only that, but Ben probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing that his childhood best friend has been fantasizing for years about fucking him. Because he really, really wants to fuck him. 

Klaus can actually trace that particular desire back to its origin, to the night he’d realized he wanted Ben—seriously, physically wanted him. 

It was back in middle school, when the two of them had spent the majority of their waking hours together and their frequented headquarters had included Ben’s house, the local mall, and the forest behind the park. The latter was most popular for secret sharing—the foliage kept their conversations safe and secure. Every sprout, every branch, every earthworm listening in was implicitly bound to secrecy, and they were begging Ben and Klaus to divulge. So they would. 

Ben is balancing on a tree root, eyes downcast. 

Klaus is stretched across that boulder he’d skinned his knee on when they were eight. 

It’s raining. To someone else, it might add a somber edge to the scene, but to Klaus, it provides an ideal ambience. The forest is dense enough to keep out most of the rain, and the drops that do make their way through give rise to a comforting, earthy scent when they mix with the dirt. 

“…Did you hear what Diego did today in Home Ec?” Klaus asks.

Ben shakes his head. 

“He flung a kitchen knife at a spider on the wall and almost killed Five.” Klaus grins, recalling the memory. “Then Five slapped him with a spatula and Diego tackled him.” 

“Hm,” Ben hums. He tears a piece of bark off the tree and starts shredding it with nimble fingers. 

Klaus continues. “Yeah, I thought Ms. Rofa was finally gonna lose it. I’d pay to see that woman blow up; no sane person is that calm all the time.” 

Ben nods, dropping chips of wood at his feet. 

Klaus hesitates. Ben’s silence has stretched on long enough now for Klaus to label it uncharacteristic. He pushes himself up and swings his legs over the side of the rock, facing his friend. 

“Hey, remember that time I caught a pigeon in P.E? It scratched my arms up and I got out of running laps to go see the nurse.” 

Nothing. 

“Come on,” Klaus prompts, “you love that story. What gives?” 

Ben purses his lips and lets go of the last scraps of bark he’s clutching. His eyes are still pointedly downcast and his face is drawn. 

“Klaus, I’m… I think I like… boys. Like,” he tugs at his shirt anxiously, “I like like boys.” 

Klaus blinks. There’s a beat of silence. Then— “Oh, thank Christ.” 

Ben’s eyes snap up to meet his, shocked and inquisitive. 

“I thought you were moving to Australia or had a brain disease or something, Benny. Don’t scare me like that.” 

Ben is still frozen, wobbling slightly on the tree root. 

Klaus scoots over and pats the boulder, inviting Ben to sit. 

He stumbles over and Klaus helps him up, slinging an arm over his shoulders when he’s settled. 

Klaus grins. “So… what? You want to kiss them?” 

Ben’s shoulders draw up defensively. He nods. 

“You dream about their big muscles? Their dreamy eyes? Their thick—?” 

“Klaus!” Ben elbows him in the gut. “Cut it out, I’m being serious,” he grumbles. 

Klaus catches a hint of a smile through Ben’s grimace and it’s enough to roll with. 

“Cool down, Liberace, I’m just teasing. And besides…” Klaus looks up at the sky, storm clouds barely visible beyond the cloak of maple leaves. “I think I like boys too.” He looks sideways at Ben with a teasing grin. “I like like them.” 

Ben’s mouth falls open. “You… really?” 

Klaus starts kicking his legs. “Mhm. I’ve been thinking about it, and it would be selfish to restrict this face to a single gender.” 

That evokes a genuine laugh from Ben. Klaus can feel his relief in the way Ben eases into his side. 

“So you still like girls?” Ben asks, hands still wringing gently in his lap. 

“You don’t?” 

Ben wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think so. They just…” 

“Don’t tell me you think they’re gross , Benny,” Klaus scoffs. 

“ No , they just—” 

“Don’t get you going downstairs,” Klaus guesses. 

Ben shrugs tightly. “Yeah. That.” 

“Hey, whatever gets you off, pal. Can I get an amen?” Klaus holds his hand up for a high-five and Ben just stares at him, mouth agape. 

Knowing Ben, he’d probably expected this conversation to get significantly deeper, but knowing himself , that was never a possibility. 

After a few moments Ben snaps his mouth shut and gently claps Klaus’ hand. 

“…Thank you,” he murmurs. 

“For validating your sexy fantasies? No problemo.” 

“For not making a big deal out of it,” Ben says. 

He looks up at Klaus and there’s a very distinct jump in Klaus’ chest. They’re close—they’ve been closer, but Ben’s eyes have never looked so… bright before, so glittering . 

“I really appreciate it,” Ben murmurs.

It’s instinctive when Klaus glances down to Ben’s lips; he can’t help it. A little less instinctive is the way he starts to lean in. That’s pretty deliberate. The adrenaline nudging Klaus forward starts to shove when Ben darts his tongue out to lick his lips. They’re going to kiss, Jesus Christ, they’re going to—

Ben’s phone goes off in his pocket. 

They both jump apart and Ben’s eyes go wide, like he’s suddenly realized where he is. The clarity in his eyes is surprisingly painful; something in Klaus’ body wails in mourning. 

Ben sheepishly slides away from him, fishing out his phone and turning away to flip it open. 

“What—” He clears his throat. “What is it, mom?” 

Klaus’ grip on the edge of the rock tightens. Fuck, shit, fuck, goddamn it. He grits his teeth and feels a full-body, biting disappointment that he doesn’t know how to handle. A fat raindrop lands on the back of his neck and slides beneath the collar of his shirt, followed by a shiver. 

“Yeah, I’m coming home now,” Ben mumbles. “Okay. See you soon.” He tucks his phone away and doesn’t look back up at Klaus. “I have to—” 

“Go,” Klaus finishes. “I heard. Catch you later, Ben.” 

Ben hops off their shared seat and wipes his hands on his pants. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” He starts down the beaten path, throwing a brief glance over his shoulder. “…Bye, Klaus.”

“…Klaus?” 

Klaus zones back in to find both Ben and Allison staring at him, one with more contempt in their gaze than the other. Shit. Klaus lets out a short, sharp little laugh and stumbles forward. 

“Oh, hey Ben . Fancy seeing you here. Allison,” he acknowledges with a tip of an invisible hat. 

Allison narrows her eyes. “It’s… a football party. Ben’s a cheerleader. Obviously he’s going to be here. What are you—? ” 

“When did you get here?” Ben asks over her. 

“Just now. Are your parties always this…” Klaus searches for an appropriate descriptor, “… loud? ” 

Allison rolls her eyes. 

“Usually.” Ben shrugs one shoulder. “And they’re not my parties.” 

At one point, Klaus would’ve patted Ben on the chest and jokingly reassured him, but that would be crossing a line now. Not that Klaus has a problem with crossing lines—he’s a proud, self-proclaimed line-crosser—but Ben does, and putting Ben in an uncomfortable spot is the last thing Klaus wants to do. 

“If it’s not your party, I guess you’re not in charge of the drinks,” Klaus muses, drumming his fingers against his chin. He turns to Allison. “Tell me, darling. Who do I have to blow to get a Jack and Coke?” 

She sneers. “It’s BYOB.” 

“Okay, great. I’ll go pour it myself.” Klaus pats Allison’s shoulder and slides between them into the kitchen. He doesn’t bother trying to overhear whatever Allison is most definitely saying about him to Ben.

The counter is littered with empty cans and litre jugs of mixers and Klaus flits around the room pouring a little bit of whatever he can find into a Solo cup. There’s a couple making out against the fridge-freezer so he doesn’t make ice a priority.

Out the back window, he can see Luther hyping himself up while someone pushes a beer bong into his hands and Klaus almost wants to stick around long enough to see him inevitably choke and gag. A crowd is forming around him, mostly guys in varsity jackets, and they’re all slapping each other on the backs and hollering their support. Just behind them is an in-ground pool in which Klaus can count at least nine people splashing through in various states of undress. 

In any other neighbourhood, this party would’ve already been shut down, but something about the sparkling marble countertop and sandalwood cupboards makes Klaus think the cops are persuaded not to come this far out of their way. 

He takes a sip of his drink and chances a look back at Ben. Or… where Ben had been a few minutes ago. He was no longer in the doorway, and neither was Allison. 

Klaus stands a little straighter, pursing his lips. If curiosity really did kill the cat, Klaus must be on his eighth life at least. He ducks out of the kitchen, through a columned archway, and into a tiled hall lined with brass sconces, one of which is already askew. Christ, somebody evidently has a hard-on for Venetian architecture. 

Klaus taps his fingers against the side of his cup and takes another little swig. There are several doors along the hall, some firmly shut, others peeking open. Where to begin? 

Before he can choose a door, a football hurtles past his head, narrowly avoiding a historic collision with his occipital lobe. Klaus quirks an eyebrow and turns around to face his would-be assailant. 

Ah, it hadn’t been a near miss after all. 

Diego grins and throws his arm around Klaus’ shoulders. With the best throwing arm in the state, Diego tosses a football exactly where he wants it to go. Besides, he’d never try to hit Klaus in the head; he’s too much of a sweetheart for that, despite the macho exterior he puts on at school. 

Klaus has known him for years—not well, but well enough. Well enough that he’d been there while he overcame his stutter. Well enough that he was the one letting Diego squeeze his hand when he got his immunization in ninth grade. 

“What’s up, man?” he asks Klaus. “Didn’t know you were into sports.” 

It’s common knowledge that Klaus spends more time in the art wing than anywhere else, and if pressed, he’s sure nobody would be able to claim they had ever seen him so much as touch a badminton racket in his life. 

Klaus smirks. “Oh yeah, yeah, for sure. Throw the ball, score the goal, slap someone’s ass. I know all about that sports shit.” 

Diego snorts. “Right.” He starts to walk, dragging Klaus along beside him. “So, what? You taking the scenic route to the bathroom?” 

Klaus tries to peek into the rooms they’re passing but Diego seems to have set plans on where they’re headed. “Uh, yep. Taking a piss isn’t worth it unless I pass some Baroque art on the way there.” 

They turn a corner, and then another corner. The hall opens out into a stunning sunroom, sans sun, and Klaus quickly tries to comprehend how this much house can all belong to one person. Potted plants are smattered throughout the room, and the two plush couches sitting opposite each other are draped in people. The wide windows set into three of the four walls and a slanted glass ceiling are undoubtedly giving the neighbours a front row seat to this shit show of a party. There’s music playing in here, too, but it’s deeper and slower than the music out in the foyer-- sultry. On the carpet in the centre of the room is a haphazard ring of students all leaning forward in anticipation. 

“I dare you to… jump in the pool!” 

Laughter and mumbled oohs erupt from around the room. 

Ah, yes. It’s good to see teenagers upholding their age-old traditions. 

“The pool? But I’m wearing my cheer uniform!” 

“Guess you’ll just have to take it off.” 

It’s at this point that Klaus spots Ben, sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, grinning over at the girl whose future is looking wet. His beer is nearly empty now, and the flush has spread to—are his legs shaved? 

Diego gently slaps his shoulder and it spooks Klaus. He shoots Klaus a little salute and props himself up on the arm of the nearest couch to watch the show. 

A loud wolf whistle drags Klaus’ attention over to the girl peeling her top off. Her bra is lacy enough that it was probably picked specifically with this party in mind—getting undressed is the expectation, getting laid is the goal. 

Then, just for curiosity’s sake, Klaus looks back at Ben. He downs the rest of his beer then pulls out his phone to briefly check his messages before snapping it shut and glancing over to the semi-public strip show. 

Still gay, then. 

The little bit of joy that imbues in Klaus is stupid and futile and traitorous but it’s there. 

The girl, along with half the people in the room, push past Klaus, en route for the pool, but the game doesn’t leave with them. 

“Okay!” 

Klaus recognizes Allison’s voice, commanding attention in a way that would put a drill sergeant to shame. She’s sitting on her knees in the circle, scanning the crowd. 

“It’s my turn and I pick… Ben!” 

Ben coughs a little. “Wha—me?” His eyes are wide. “I’m not even playing. Am I?” 

Allison leans toward him and quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. You’re in the room, so you’re playing. Truth or dare?” 

To his credit, Ben accepts his fate very quickly and with only a small sigh. “Truth, I guess.” 

Allison narrows her eyes while she racks her brain for something suitably scandalous to ask. “Okay,” she starts, “If you had to fuck one person in this room, who would it be?” 

Ben dips his head, wrapping his arms around his legs to make himself smaller the same way he’s been doing since they were kids. “ Allison,” he groans, “I can’t—” 

“Then you default to dare!” Allison squeaks, leaning onto her hands with a manic grin. 

Ben’s shoulders go stiff, and it’s not hard to imagine why. If one were to list Allison’s most prominent personality traits, sadistic would probably make the top five. 

Her gaze sweeps around the room, lingering on Klaus when she catches his eye, then immediately flicking back to Ben. “I dare you to kiss Klaus. With tongue.” 

That statement hits Klaus in slow-motion. Wait… what?  

He looks to Ben and finds him agape, horrified, and frantically searching the crowd. When he finally seeks out Klaus, his cheeks bloom a ruddier shade of red. Alongside Ben’s gaze, is the gaze of every other person in the room, falling hard on Klaus. 

It’s stunningly silent. 

Klaus opens his mouth to speak then quickly snaps it shut, not wanting to be the first to weigh in. Specifically, not wanting to say anything that counteracts whatever Ben is going to say. Which is no. Obviously. Why would he say anything other than a vehement no, especially when Diego is in the room? There’s a little spark in his heart that thinks he might agree to it, though, and Klaus is desperately trying to smother that while keeping a straight face. 

Allison is pleased as anything, basking in the warm glow of her own ruthlessness. 

“Come on,” she prompts, tugging on Ben’s ankle. 

He just blinks, lips parted and trying for words. “I’m… he… I didn’t even know—” 

The circumstances are, admittedly, very unfair. But then again, so is adolescence as a whole. 

Allison hops to her feet and tugs Ben up after her. 

“Can’t I just say who I want to fuck, instead?” he whines. 

Klaus swallows that obvious no with his chin held high. 

“Nope, you missed your shot. Cheer captain’s rules.” She shrugs, merciless. 

Ben whimpers and Klaus wants to dive headfirst into Hell for thinking it’s hot. 

Half-heartedly, Klaus tries to argue. “No, come on,” he says. “Hey, that’s not fair, don’t make him—” But then his drink is taken from his hand and he’s being shoved forward by insistent hands. “Alright, alright! Those aren’t the manners Mr. Rogers raised you to have,” Klaus grumbles under his breath. 

He barely saves himself from tripping over his own foot and tackling Ben who is suddenly very close to him, with Allison’s hand on his back. He feels awful for it, but he really wants to kiss Ben. 

Well… maybe not awful, but he feels mildly uneasy. 

… Vaguely sympathetic at the least. 

“So, weather’s nice, eh? Late September, I thought it would be a little more—” 

“Just. Shut up,” Ben mutters, defeated. “This isn’t going to be weird or anything, right?” 

Klaus flashes a crooked grin. “When am I ever weird, Benny?” 

Oh. It’s been a while since he’d used that nickname, and Ben seems to notice, with the way his lips part in surprise. 

“Nah,” Klaus waves a hand, “it’s not weird. Just a quick one, yeah?” 

Ben nods tightly. 

Everyone around them has begun chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

“Quick,” Ben murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, his gaze drops to Klaus’ mouth and just like that, Klaus is back in the forest, on that boulder, with an arm around his best friend.

Klaus swallows. His heart is pounding in a way that’s definitely never happened when he’s kissed other people. He doesn’t even feel this when he’s going down on someone. It’s fucking fluttering. 

Ben looks so afraid and some base instinct makes Klaus reach out and grab his shoulder with a tight, reassuring hand. Then he leans in and his lips brush Ben’s. 

Ben jerks back for a split-second before steeling himself and surging forward, kissing Klaus. 

Cheers erupt from around them but Klaus can only hear the pounding of his own pulse. He’s too focused on Ben—Ben’s scent, Ben’s taste, the fullness of his soft, perfect fucking lips and the way they’re quivering. This is years overdue, and it’s everything he’s been needing—everything he’s been searching for in other people. It’s just a peck and Klaus is already getting turned on, for fuck’s sake. 

“With tongue,” Allison says pointedly, standing far closer than need be. 

Klaus chuckles at that. His hand slides from Ben’s shoulder up to the back of his neck and he tilts his head, drawing his tongue along Ben’s lower lip. 

Ben freezes completely. 

“Open,” Klaus murmurs against his mouth, stroking his thumb through the baby hairs at Ben’s nape.

Obediently, Ben lets his lips fall apart and Klaus slips his tongue inside. His head is on fucking fire right now. He flicks over Ben’s tongue so gently, and gets no response. 

Ben is shivering. Is his whole body so violently opposed to kissing Klaus that it’s struggling to cope? That doesn’t sound too far off, really. 

Then, hesitantly, Ben curls his tongue up to play with Klaus’ and Klaus nearly dies. He wants to moan, he wants to whine, and gasp and cry and make every obscene noise he can think of to draw Ben in even deeper. But it’s been too long already. 

It takes all his willpower, but Klaus manages to pull back with a little smack and flashes a sweet smile at Allison. “Happy?” 

She doesn’t even need to answer that. 

Ben looks stunned, like his body is going into shock, eyes glued to Klaus. Allison tugs on his arm, squealing into his ear as she handles him back to his seat on the carpet. Ben’s brow is furrowed and Klaus can’t quite guess how he’s feeling, which is a new occurrence. Reading Ben used to be like reading a children’s book—easy and low-stakes. 

Now, however… 

Klaus quickly sweeps that to the back of his mind and turns on his heel. “Who took my drink?” 

It doesn’t take very long for Klaus to retreat from the sunroom. He wanders out into the backyard and leans against the fence, ignoring the half-naked teenagers racing past him into the pool. Instead, he looks up. They’re still too close to the city to see any stars in the sky. 

God, Ben had been… nervous. A kiss shouldn’t be that nerve-racking. Not unless there’s something else behind it, and they never would have drifted apart all those years ago if that was the case. It doesn’t matter anyway, Klaus thinks bitterly, romance is dead. 

He fishes around in his pocket for the joint he’d rolled earlier only to find it smushed out of shape. He shuts his eyes briefly to control the petulant, roiling anger in his chest before trying to pack it back into something smokeable again. 

“Hey.” 

Klaus looks up. 

Ben is standing a few feet away, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Klaus looks him up and down quickly and feels his anger start to subside. “Hey.” 

Ben clears his throat and gestures to the door. “Do you… Can we talk?” 

The recently salvaged joint goes straight back into Klaus’ pocket when he follows Ben inside. He leads them back into the foyer-turned-dancefloor then takes a sharp turn and starts up a staircase to the second floor. Clearly, Ben has been to this house before, whoever’s it is. 

It’s darker upstairs, probably as a tactic to dissuade people from accessing it since teenagers function more or less like moths. 

Ben stops at the top of the stairs, shoulders tight. Behind him, Klaus pauses for a second then climbs up beside him. A hallway stretches out in front of them, eventually turning to the right. 

“You bring all your ladies up here?” Klaus jokes. 

There’s no response. 

“…Ben?” 

Ben hums, clearly lost in thought. 

“…What did you want to talk about?” That’s a stupid question. 

“Right,” Ben murmurs. “Um… the kiss.” 

Klaus purses his lips. “Yeah, fuck, of course. Listen, Ben. I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to do, I should’ve just left. I shouldn’t have let Allison—” 

“No,” Ben says. “No, it’s not that. The kiss itself was… not bad.” 

Klaus quirks an eyebrow. “High praise. Go on, I’m listening.” 

Ben begins bouncing again then changes his mind and slowly starts off down the hall. Klaus follows at his side. 

“It was just… unexpected. I didn’t think my—I would…” He sighs, obviously frustrated. 

“It’s alright, it’s cool!” Klaus says quickly. “Seriously, don’t overthink it. It was just a kiss, right?” He tilts his head in an attempt to catch Ben’s gaze. They turn the corner. 

“…No,” Ben murmurs, low enough that it’s almost drowned out by the music. “It wasn’t.” 

Klaus frowns. Yes. It was.

Unless… 

… No way. 

In a sudden panic, Klaus recalls as much as he can about what happened before and after the kiss, which is difficult because he’d been more than a little distracted at the time. But… Ben’s shivers, his flush, his reluctance… 

Klaus stops Ben with a hand on his chest and looks him dead in the eye, heart pounding. “Wait, am I—was that—?” 

The pink in Ben’s cheeks travels up to his ears. 

Klaus gawks. “Benny,” he leans in closer. “Your first kiss? ” 

Holy fucking shit. That… was not something Klaus had even considered. He was Ben’s first kiss. The thrill of the realization is quickly matched and overcome by his regret, though, because that definitely was not how Ben wanted to have his first kiss. He should know, it had been a recurring topic during sleepovers. 

Klaus slaps a hand over his mouth. “Fuck,” he says into his palm. 

Ben shrugs one shoulder and continues into a spacious living area with a full-wall window overlooking the backyard. 

Klaus hurries after him and grabs his wrist, spinning him around, but he stubbornly refuses to meet Klaus’ gaze. “That doesn’t count, Ben, okay? It was a practice kiss. You can still have your perfect first kiss in that garden by the river. This one’s void.” 

That makes Ben look up. “You remember that?” 

Klaus blinks. “What, your ideal kiss? Of course, what kind of friend would I be if I forgot something so profoundly crucial?” he emphasizes with a smirk. 

One of Ben’s hands lightly slaps him on the chest. “Fuck off,” he says, grinning. 

“I just might,” Klaus hums, taking a step back towards the hallway. 

“No!” Ben blurts. “I… no. Just… Stay.” 

Wow, that feels good. 

“…I’ve missed you.” 

And that feels like a punch in the throat. 

Klaus sucks in a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve missed you too, Benny.” 

“And…” Ben looks down again. “You said something about that being a practice kiss, right?” He wrings his hands together, gaze falling everywhere except Klaus’ eyes. “Well I could… probably use more practice.” 

Klaus’ fucking cock twitches. Then his brain catches up with what it’s just heard and Klaus’ heart stops beating in his chest. When it starts back up, it’s working double-time, pumping pure gold through his whole body. Jesus H. Mary Hosanna Fucking Christ. As long as the list of things he’d expected to turn him on tonight was, this possibility hadn’t even been entertained. 

Ben wants to kiss him. Again. In a consensual, private setting. 

Klaus takes a deep breath. “…You want a second try at your not-first-kiss?” 

A nod. 

Klaus steps closer and takes Ben’s chin in his hand, tilting it up until they’re eye-to-eye. Ben’s cheeks are flaring, his face is warm to the touch. 

When Klaus speaks again, his voice is lower, sultry with his newfound confidence in what Ben wants. “Well , since it’s for such a good cause, I’d be glad to offer my services,” he murmurs. 

The bass from the music downstairs is throbbing, and it fits so perfectly when Klaus leans in and kisses Ben. It’s less hesitant than their first, but still little more than a peck. 

Ben’s body, rigid with nerves, begins to relax under Klaus’ touch and his lips part naturally. 

Klaus hums his praise and lifts his free hand to the back of Ben’s head. His fingers curl carefully into his hair and he uses the hold to pull Ben in deeper. 

Ben’s breath hitches, uncertain. 

The hand Klaus still has on Ben’s chin drops to find one of his, balled into a fist at his side. He places it on his hip then whispers, “Other one too.” Ben mirrors it with his other hand and Klaus slides in until he can feel Ben’s heartbeat against his own. 

It’s a soft, dry kiss—sweet, but not exactly the sort of kissing that needs practicing. 

Klaus draws back but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “...Get adventurous, Ben,” he says. “This is your practice, after all. Let’s see some tongue, maybe some teeth; I’m a judgement-free zone.” 

Ben is already a little out of breath, bless his soul, but he makes an affirmative noise and then Klaus is pulling him back in. Tongue comes first, slipping over Klaus’ upper lip so gently it’s almost romantic. 

“Mhm,” Klaus urges, lips parting further. 

Ben takes the cue, sliding his tongue into Klaus’ mouth to gently prod around. 

The corner of Klaus’ lips quirk up. Fuck, he’s cute. Using his hold in Ben’s hair, Klaus tilts his head to the side just a little, then gives him a bit of feedback in the form of reciprocation. 

When Klaus’ tongue, soft and sure, slides against his, Ben fucking moans. It’s so gentle, so vulnerable, so Ben, and Klaus needs it again. He rests his hand on the strip of skin between Ben’s top and his skirt and presses in gently with his fingertips. He tickles the roof of Ben’s mouth with the tip of his tongue and earns a little whimper. 

Then Klaus slips one hand down to Ben’s ass and Ben freezes. 

Shit, that was too far for him. 

Hastily, Klaus draws his hands away and takes a step back. “Fuck, sorry. I—” 

Ben is on him again, hands either side of his face kissing with a newfound passion. He nibbles Klaus’ lip between his teeth, a little rougher than most people would probably want, and Klaus absolutely fucking melts. He groans, hands falling back down to Ben’s hips and pulling them together. They’re both hard and Ben gasps when their cocks bump together. 

Klaus pulls him backwards until his back hits the wall then flips them around, pinning Ben as gently as his high-strung muscles will allow. Every sound he’s pulling from Ben is so precious it’s tearing Klaus’ heart apart. 

“Shit,” Ben gasps. His hands start to roam with more confidence. They slip from Klaus’ face down his neck then lower, over his chest. 

“That’s it,” Klaus murmurs into Ben’s mouth. “You’re getting the hang of this.” 

Klaus pinches Ben’s lower lip between his teeth and tugs it back, easing a gorgeous whimper from him. Ben’s hands fist into Klaus’ shirt, growing desperate. The kisses progress into something hot and wet and frantic and Klaus really wants to push it just a little further. 

“Mhm, but I could—” Ben murmurs between kisses, “—I could probably use a little more help. Or a lot—a lot more.” 

“Yeah?” Klaus asks. 

His hand slips lower to hold Ben’s bare thigh beneath his skirt. Klaus tugs his leg up to wrap around his waist, and slots his hips into place. 

“Maybe we should switch it up then. Give you a bit of a portfolio to choose from when the lucky guy finally comes around?” 

Ben moans, curling his leg around Klaus and bucking his hips up. “Mhm. Yeah, please.” 

Klaus starts to kiss across his cheek then down his neck. Ben’s clearly never had a hickey before so Klaus makes the executive decision to give him his first. He bites the skin just under Ben’s ear and Ben whines, more breath than voice, hugging Klaus close. 

While he sucks and licks at the spot he’s bruising, Klaus starts to roll his hips. If he weren’t pressing Ben against the wall with his entire body, Klaus thinks he might have fallen.

And fuck, he can’t help smiling at that. He’s constantly reminding himself that Ben is a virgin in every sense of the word and all these new experiences are bound to overwhelm him, but getting this sort of a reaction from him is boosting Klaus’ ego and audacity alike. 

Content that he’s left a good mark that’ll stick around for a few days, Klaus pulls back. His breathing is already laboured and seeing Ben lost and writhing in his own arousal only steals more air from his lungs. Klaus curls his hips up, quick and rough, against Ben and just watches his face contort in pleasure. It’s dark, but Klaus can still make out every detail—his eyelids are heavy and his eyebrows are drawn; his lips are parted and his throat bobs around a moan. 

Now this, Klaus thinks, is art . 

Klaus shoves Ben’s tight little top up to his armpits, silently waiting for any reluctance before flicking one of his nipples back and forth with his thumb. 

Ben’s jaw drops, head falling back against the wall. 

Klaus draws back up, licking flat across Ben’s lip and cheek then nibbling his earlobe. “That feel good?” 

Ben’s nipple is hard under his thumb, chest arching gently. A whine crawls out of his throat and he nods. 

“Mm. You wanna try?” Klaus breathes into his ear. “Or should I keep it as a demonstration for now?” 

By this point, the pretence of practice is just that—a pretence. Klaus knows Ben is just aching to feel good; he knows, and he’s more than willing to be the one giving it to him. A little selfishly, Klaus thinks he’s the best one for Ben to be having these new experiences with anyway. 

“I wanna try,” Ben says, swallowing hard. 

Klaus grins. “Perfect.” 

He takes Ben’s hand in his own and guides it up under his shirt to one nipple. 

“Now… like this,” Klaus hums. 

He rolls Ben’s nipple under his thumb and Ben copies him. It’s soft, almost tickling. Ben is playing with Klaus’ nipple like it’s a clit and wow , that mental image runs straight to his cock, straining in his pants. 

“That’s great, Benny, that’s perfect,” Klaus groans. “A little harder.” 

Ben puts more weight behind it. “Fuck yes, like that. Now—pinch.” 

Ben awkwardly squeezes Klaus’ nipple between his fingertips, frowning. 

“Here,” Klaus murmurs, giving an example with his own hand. 

Ben hums and adjusts, focused on his task. Well… as focused as he can be while Klaus is dry-humping him. 

“There you go, and pull.” 

Ben pinches tighter and tugs until Klaus’ nipple slips out of his grasp. Klaus whimpers and drops his head onto Ben’s shoulder. 

“Shit, you’re doing great, baby,” he mumbles. 

Ben’s breath catches at that and Klaus files the nickname away for later use. He noses up along Ben’s jaw before drawing him into another kiss, pressing him harder up against the wall. His hands slip down to Ben’s hips, thumbs tucking beneath the waist of his skirt. That stupid, perfect little skirt has popped up more than once in Klaus’ fantasies. It just adds to Ben’s natural appeal—it makes him seem a little less innocent. Or… maybe innocent isn’t the right word for him, considering the way Ben is moaning into Klaus’ mouth and desperately rocking his hips. But nevertheless, the skirt absolutely does it for Klaus. And now he’s aching for what’s underneath it. 

Klaus slides one hand around to cup Ben’s hard cock through the fabric and Ben swears, screwing his eyes shut. 

“Thoughts?” Klaus murmurs. He palms Ben slowly and deliberately, breaking down what’s probably the last of Ben’s lingering embarrassment. 

“Fuck, please, Klaus.” 

If it were possible for Klaus to get any harder, Ben begging for him would definitely be the thing to accomplish it. 

“Shit,” Klaus groans, pulling back to quickly scan the room. “…Come here.” 

They quickly untangle themselves and Klaus leads Ben over to one of the expensive looking black couches in the middle of the room, sinking back into it and patting his lap. Ben looks down at him for a moment, confused. 

“…How wide can you spread your legs?” Klaus asks, half a smile on his face. 

Ben hesitates before looking him dead in the eye and sliding into the splits with his hands on Klaus’ knees. 

It’s a miracle Klaus keeps himself from wheezing. “Sh—yeah, great. That’ll do,” he murmurs, chest tight. He takes a deep breathe while Ben pulls himself up. “So… Straddle my hips here.” 

Ben frowns. “I don’t… I’m not ready for…” 

Klaus blinks. Oh. 

“Oh! No, God, no, I’m not going to fuck you yet.” Klaus bites his lip too late. 

Yet. That wasn’t supposed to come out. 

To be honest, Klaus has never actually had sex, in the traditional sense; it had always seemed a little too far to go just to distract himself. Because that’s all it’s been for Klaus over the last few years: finding distractions. Idle hands, and all that. But now, clearly in the absence of present thought, Klaus had decided that he will be having sex with Ben one day and blurted as much out loud. 

Whether Ben overlooks it or just chooses to ignore it, the comment goes unmentioned. 

Instead, he nods shakily. “Okay. Okay.” He climbs into Klaus lap, straddle wide enough that their cocks can easily grind together. 

“Fuck, yes, Ben, perfect,” Klaus breathes. 

He looks up at Ben, whose hands have come to rest on Klaus’ shoulders, and can still faintly see the blush in his cheeks even if the pink has been dulled to grey in the darkness. Klaus grabs his ass and pulls Ben’s hips down at the same time and he pushes his up. They both moan weakly, faces just inches apart. Ben’s breath is hot on his cheeks and, yeah, it smells like beer, but it’s fucking perfect. 

It won’t take long for them to get off after this much build up, but Klaus is going to do with it what can. He moves his hands slowly up Ben’s thighs until they slip over the slick fabric of the shorts the cheerleaders all wear underneath their skirts. Ben’s breath catches in his throat but he keeps rolling his hips, grip tightening on Klaus’ shoulders. 

Klaus is glued to Ben’s expressions, eyes exploring one territory while his hands explore another. His fingers dip below the waist of his shorts and Klaus knows he’s never been this careful with anybody else, handling them like a fucking priceless artifact, but it’s what Ben needs and deserves right now. 

He wraps his hand around Ben’s cock and draws out a helpless moan. Ben licks his lips and looks down at Klaus like he’s everything. And in that moment, he might as well be. Klaus pulls his little shorts back over Ben’s erection and starts stroking him. 

“Klaus, oh my God— ” Ben chokes, dropping his head back. 

Klaus looks down at Ben’s lap and whines—his fist is moving over him slowly but it’s covered by the pleats of his skirt, adding an illusion of obscurity. And somehow, that makes it almost more obscene. 

“You like it?” Klaus asks. He leans forward to drag his teeth over Ben’s collarbone. 

“Nn—uh-huh,” Ben whimpers, nodding. 

“Want some more?” 

Ben sobs quietly, biting his lip. “God, please.” 

Klaus undoes his pants and pulls out his own cock, red and hard and so fucking needy. 

Ben looks down and whimpers, erection twitching in Klaus’ hand. “K-Klaus…” 

Klaus grins. “Yes?” 

Ben doesn’t immediately slap him, which is how Klaus knows he’s well and truly rapt. 

“Do you want to touch?” 

Ben sucks his lip into his mouth and nods once, mesmerized. 

“Well I don’t have any lube, but…” Klaus spits into his palm before wrapping it back around Ben’s cock. “Like this.” 

Ben mimics him and Klaus is momentarily distracted by how red his lips are, shiny with spit. The only reason it’s momentary is because when Ben’s hand curls around his cock, it immediately takes precedence over absolutely everything else in the world. 

Klaus drops his head back against the couch and growls, low in his throat. “Shit, Ben. Okay, do you ever touch yourself, baby? At night, in your room?” 

Ben’s lip quivers and he nods. “Yeah, I’m—yes.” He bites off the rest of his answer and Klaus chuckles and presses a quick kiss to his lips. 

“It’s just like that, okay? Stroke my cock the way you like it.” Another peck. 

“Right,” Ben murmurs. 

He starts to move his hand down Klaus’ cock, sliding down to the base and drawing back up to the head, and Klaus literally sees stars. Holy shit. If it were anyone else straddling his lap, he’d call himself pathetic for getting so affected, but this seems so right. 

“Am I doing alright?” Ben murmurs and Klaus gasps. 

“You’re doing—perfect. Don’t fucking stop, Ben,” he breathes. 

It clearly gives Ben a boost of confidence because he starts working faster, sliding his thumb over the head of Klaus’ cock and drawing out a hiss. Jesus , he’s already close. Klaus lifts Ben’s skirt out of the way to give him more attention, and immediately stands corrected—seeing the flushed head of Ben’s cock slip out from his fist is absolutely more obscene . 

“Shit , baby. Look at you, you’re so hard.” 

Ben huffs. “So are you. ” 

And Klaus has to laugh. “Shrewd observation. And why be hard alone when we could be hard together, hm?” 

One hand sneaks around to Ben’s ass and pulls him even closer, nudging their erections together. Then Klaus wraps his free hand around the both of them and Ben wails . There’s a moment of hesitation before Klaus kisses him during which Klaus files that sound away in some deep, dark, starving part of his brain. 

“It’s hot, right?” Klaus grins against his lips. 

His only response is a broken moan. 

“Here, put your hand on this side,” Klaus murmurs. 

He guides Ben’s hand to curl around the part where his fingers can’t quite meet, giving them a nice, tight circle to slides their cocks through; the sight alone is overwhelming. 

Klaus has to steady his voice to say, “Now move your hips. Fuck up into our hands, Ben.” 

Ben rocks his hips slowly. 

Okay, the drag of Ben’s cock against his is the hottest thing Klaus has ever felt and, unquestionably, the hottest thing in the entire fucking world. This won’t take long at all. 

“Klaus, oh my God. Oh my God.” 

Ben’s voice is broken. His nails are sharp where they’re digging into Klaus’ shoulder but the ache is so good. He starts to kiss Klaus’ face—his cheeks, his nose—then down his neck, growing hotter and rougher as he goes. He bites down just below Klaus’ pulse point and Klaus’ whole body jerks. Fuck. 

Very briefly, Klaus thinks about the fact that they’re in someone else’s house, on someone else’s couch where, realistically, any one of two hundred high school students could walk in on them jerking themselves off. It makes him moan louder, daring the universe to give him a little more drama. 

Next, he thinks about how this is Ben. Benny. The boy that was his everything for years and still sort of is. And he has his hand around Klaus’ cock and his teeth on Klaus’ neck and he’s moaning Klaus’ name like a prayer, and that in and of itself will be enough for Klaus to jerk off to until he fucking dies, even if they never do this again. 

Ben drops his head onto Klaus’ shoulder and whines, “God, I’m really—I’m close.” 

And thank fuck for that, because Klaus definitely isn’t going to last much longer. 

“Good, that’s good,” Klaus pants. “Come on, baby, come for me.” 

Ben’s hand squeezes tighter and the push of his hips turns rough and desperate. There’s the edge of a whine to every breath he takes and it’s driving Klaus insane. 

He dips his head to lick hot across Ben’s neck, then stops at his ear, nipping the lobe and breathing, “Let me see you fall apart. ” 

Ben sobs when he comes, thighs squeezing tight around Klaus’ hips. His whole body is shivering and his face is tucked firmly into Klaus’ neck. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” Klaus whispers, holding Ben tight through his orgasm. 

Between them, Klaus can see it—Ben coming hot and thick over both of their cocks, slicking the slide of their hands and Klaus falters. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines. His hips jerk and then he’s right there with Ben, coming with a gasp. “Ben, holy shit.” 

Ben is still rocking gently against him, body already heavy and tired. 

“So good, you’re so, so good,” Klaus sighs, throat tight. 

A little mumble of recognition warbles up from the head on his shoulder and Klaus sucks in a deep breath, letting the last of his orgasm shudder out of his bones. They sit like that in silence for a minute or two, just breathing each other in. Then Klaus helps Ben off his lap, letting him lie back on the couch and ease his legs out of their brutal stretch. 

“… Wow,” Klaus sighs. “All that because of a stupid little dare. You really got your money’s worth, Benny.” 

Klaus reaches across the couch to grab a tissue box off the side table. He wipes Ben off so he can tuck himself in before cleaning his own hands and dabbing at his shirt. 

“Yeah,” Ben replies, eyes downcast. “And it was… wow. I wouldn’t… I mean… We could—keep doing this, if you wanted?” 

Those are the magic words if ever Klaus heard them. 

“What, you think you need more practice?” Klaus teases. 

Ben hesitates. “I mean… yes. But I was thinking this could be just… for us. You know?” 

Klaus smirks. “My, my. Are you propositioning me?” 

Ben shrugs. 

Klaus continues, “Well, it’s not like you’re asking me out, is it?” 

Ben’s eyes go wide and the blush floods back into his cheeks. “No! No, just the sex, I mean,” he’s quick to say and Klaus’ heart falls a fraction. 

Obviously Ben wasn’t about to ask him on a date after getting a handjob at a house party. So Klaus smiles. “Just the sex sounds fucking perfect, Benny.” 

Ben relaxes, clearing his throat. “And it’s not going to be weird or anything?” 

Klaus waves a hand. “No, no, trust me. You’ve heard of friends with benefits, right? It relieves tension and shit; totally normal.” 

Ben cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t think normal is an adjective that can be applied to you.” 

Klaus sticks his tongue out. “So who’s breaking the news to Diego?” he hums. 

Ben laughs shortly then pauses and tilts his head. “Diego? What do you mean?” 

Klaus tosses the tissue over his shoulder. “He has a thing for you, right? You two are the impending “it” couple of the decade.” 

“What?” Ben laughs again, disbelieving. “No… no. That’s just a rumour that Allison started.” 

Klaus quirks an eyebrow. “Oh? Great, I don’t have the personality to be a side piece.” 

Ben shakes his head with a fond smile. “I’m well aware. Anyway…” He climbs off the couch and starts straightening out his uniform. “I should… probably get back to the party. I’ve been gone a while.” 

Klaus clears his throat, disappointment dropping like a stone into his stomach. He doesn’t want Ben to leave him again. 

“Yeah,” he hums. “Yeah, right, of course. And I’m—I should get going.” 

He wants to kiss Ben goodnight, but feels like that would be a little more domestic than what Ben is looking for right now. They walk together to the top of the stairs then Klaus hesitates. 

“You go first, I’ll wait a few. Wouldn’t want to start any scalding gossip.” That could ruin your reputation. “See you in class on Monday,” he says with a little wave, other hand curled into a tight fist in his pocket. 

Ben smiles and waves back. Watching him slip back into the haze of the party is like watching Eurydice descend into the depths of Hades. 

…But Klaus has always had a flair for the dramatic. He knows Ben isn’t interested in him in that… mythical, Greek romance sort of way. And that’s okay; it’s more than okay. Ben is willing to share something with him, something vulnerable, and Klaus would gladly travel to the underworld and back for that alone. God, this is exactly the kind of gooey, emotional shit Klaus tries to ignore at all costs; it’s pointedly different when it’s coming from within himself, though. 

But all that aside, school is about to get very interesting. 

Klaus starts tapping his foot. What’s their first class on Monday? English? No… biology. 

A grin spreads slowly across Klaus’ face. Oh, this could get fun.