Work Text:
The air in the tiny photo booth is hot. It feels sticky against his skin, electric where Matt's pressed tightly to his side. They grin at the camera and it flashes - once, twice, three times. Matt's face is so close; Ben could turn his head and his lips would touch Matt's cheek without even trying.
He does it without thinking, with his eyes closed, and feels almost more than he hears Matt's inhalation. The skin against his lips is hot, or at least, he thinks it is. It's over so quick. His head is spinning.
Matt mumbles, "Whattaya gotta do that for," and Ben feels his cheeks flush even warmer.
"Sorry," he whispers, hoarse, sudden I shouldn't have done that constricting his throat.
An elbow nudges his ribs. "Mm, don't be. I liked it."
"Really?" Ben asks before he can stop himself. He forces his eyes open. Matt only grins - his face is pink - and grabs Ben's sweaty hand, shoving the flimsy curtain out of the way with his other hand and yanking Ben out of the booth. Ben barely manages to grab the strip of photographs they'd shelled out for before he stumbles behind.
Outside, the night air is cooler. It rushes over him and Matt lets go of his hand only seconds later. "Let me see," he demands, reaching for the photographs, and the bit of paper slips between Ben's fingers.
The pictures are just the two of them cheesing for the camera, grinning in a couple and making stupid faces in the others. Ben's kiss had been between the flashes and didn't get caught, but he can see the blush that was captured on his cheeks as Matt holds up the strip. He feels his pulse trip over itself yet again. The sounds of the weekend carnival they're at suddenly reach his ears - people laughing and screaming on the rides, the bright music. He sees Matt squint at the pictures as lights flicker around them.
Then Matt's tucking the strip into his pocket. "There's a Ferris wheel."
"Cool," is all Ben can say, his pulse already racing as he thinks about being pressed up against Matt as the rickety ferris wheel rolls upwards towards the stars.
They have to wait in line. Ben just bought Who's Harry Crumb? on tape last weekend and they watched it with Casey last night, and apparently eight hours of sleep has brought Matt six thousand opinions on John Candy and also how every time he sees Annie Potts on screen he thinks about Ghostbusters, so maybe they should watch that tonight.
It's already almost nine but Ben's curfew isn't until midnight.
He shoves his shoulder against Matt's. "I could go for Ghostbusters," he says, scuffing the toe of his tennis shoe against the concrete as the line moves up another twenty feet. "I could watch that at least once a week, really, man."
"See?" Matt's grinning as though a diet of Ghostbusters and John Candy comedies is the answer to all life's problems. They shuffle forward as the line moves again; they're almost to the front. "You could just sleep over."
Summer's fading fast and Matt's moving into his dorm in less than a month. He won't be gone but Ben feels like it just the same. "Yeah, my mom will be cool," he replies, just as they reach the front of the line and the bored guy running this ride opens the gate.
They slide into the swinging cart. As it moves slowly upward, Ben holds his breath and bumps his hand against Matt's - and Matt turns his, curling their fingers together. Ben feels like his palm is probably sweaty, but Matt doesn't comment, only moves slightly closer on the wooden bench.
Ben feels stupid thinking that the stars look beautiful, but they do, and the sounds of the fair seem to fade a little as the Ferris wheel lifts them higher. Matt's grip tightens, and Ben hears him suck in a breath before he says, "You could… you could kiss me again," and Ben turns his head to see Matt's face so close he can smell Matt's dumb cologne and also the popcorn they'd shared before going into the photo booth.
It's clumsy. It's perfect. Matt's lips feel chapped against his own. Ben breathes in through his nose and Matt moves his chin, and then Matt's mouth is opening slightly and they're both shivering.
"You're gonna forget me when you get to college," Ben says, stupidly, the words escaping before he can really think about them.
"No." Matt presses their mouths together again - once, twice, three times. "No," he whispers again, and the hand not holding Ben's fumbles at his waist and squeezes.
Ben feels himself run hot, and also like parts of himself have gone numb. "You won't be two streets away anymore."
The soft noise Matt lets out makes him dizzy. The Ferris wheel is starting to descend now, taking them slowly back down towards the ground. He feels more than sees Matt shake his head, his hair brushing Ben's forehead. One more kiss, Matt's tongue slipping over his like a flash, before they have to untangle themselves.
Ben's not sure how he makes it back onto solid ground. Everything happening around them feels muted, but Matt is next to him like the only bright spot in the whole night. They wind through the crowds towards the exit without speaking. There's a whole walk back to Matt's car, at least ten minutes, warm summer night pressing in on them.
The further they get, the more the sounds of the carnival fade out, until there's only the regular sounds of traffic and Matt's footsteps echoing his on the sidewalk.
"I get it," Matt says, after they've gone a few blocks in silence. "Why you…"
"Why I what?"
Ben glances over, sees Matt shake his head slightly. The streetlamps are lit and he can see that Matt's cheeks are pink. "I wouldn't… just leave you," Matt says, the words choppy. "You're my best friend."
"We kissed," Ben says. dumbly.
"I'd do it again."
That sharpens him. "Yeah?"
Matt's smiling. "Not on the sidewalk," he says, but he runs his hand down Ben's arm to circle his fingers around Ben's wrist, pressing right where Ben's sure the thrumming of his pulse is palpable. "You're gonna sleep over, right?"
He nods quickly.
Matt's car is only another block up. It's thick with humid air and they open both driver's and passenger side doors, waiting for a breeze to blow through. Matt takes the strip of pictures from his pocket and tucks it through the elastic band around the sun visor. Ben drops into the familiar seat, closing the door after himself but rolling down the window seconds later.
"I need a soda," Matt announces. "Mickey D's?"
It's easy to agree. The closest one isn't far from where they are, and Matt pulls the car into a parking spot as the cardboard cups sweat in their hands. Ben fumbles his half-empty pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one; they pass it back and forth until it's gone and he flicks the butt out the window.
He says, "I guess I'm just afraid of what it might feel like, missing you," and the words feel fat in his mouth as he confesses them, slick and heavy at the same time, all while he worries he's saying too much.
"Hey." Matt's fingers are condensation-cool, curling into the damp bend of Ben's elbow and tugging until Ben looks at him. "I'm not going far. You won't even have a chance to miss me."
In the parking lot lights, Matt's face is mostly shadows. He leans over the gearshift and Ben mirrors the movement. Matt tastes like Coke, sweet and syrupy, and his grip on Ben's arm tightens until it's almost painful. Teeth scrape across Ben's lower lip as they pause to breathe; he realizes he's holding the back of Matt's neck with his free hand, and that the collar of Matt's shirt is damp with sweat.
Then a car horn blares somewhere close and they jolt apart. Ben's heart is pounding as he fiddles with his seatbelt. "My house," Matt says, almost to himself.
"Yeah."
The radio comes on again as Matt starts the car; it's New Kids on the Block and Ben laughs, something wildly like relief flooding his veins. "You know, I could have auditioned," he says, lighting another cigarette.
"You're such a liar," Matt laughs. He puts his arm over the back of Ben's headrest as he backs out of the parking spot, then drops his hand to curl around Ben's, locking their fingers together. "You can't sing worth shit anyway."