Pairing: Ben Sherman (Sherman/Cooper)
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers through 1x03: See the Woman
Summary: Ben Sherman's all alone. And he doesn't want to close his eyes.
Author’s notes: Written with much love for shetiger who wrote me fic to keep me sane during a final.
Brisance: That's Beverly Hills for Broken
Fucking Olivia. Fucking Wade.
The worst thing about valet parking, Ben Sherman thinks as he paces the sidewalk, was that you had to stand around and look like a fucking idiot while they brought your car. And when you'd just left it, and the guy wasn't even back yet...he can hear Cooper laughing in his head and doesn't know why he even bothered.
He's home and he's alone in his one-room apartment, and he can hear the traffic outside but it's nothing like being with people. It's early for LA, and the sound of cars and people are muffled behind closed windows. The room is stuffy, dark. Ben has a bed, a couch, a tv, some shelves built with cinder blocks and two by fours. Ben has three guns in his apartment. They're worth more than everything else he owns. He opens the window and leans out, high above the streets. There's air, but everything else is far below.
Jerking off with the window open is as close to being an exhibitionist as Ben is ever likely to be. His hand is slick around his dick and he doesn't know what he wants. He's taken off his boxer briefs but the thin white undershirt is starting to stick to his chest. He's not sure if he wants it hard and fast or slow and sweet. He's not sure who he wants to see when he closes his eyes.
It's not Chickie, who he likes, or the new shrink, who he imagined banging up against the wall, just so he wouldn't go liking her and telling her things that would land him back on the couch.
It's John Fucking Cooper, who treated the tranny as gently as he would his own mother or sister and held the mirror so she could fix her wig.
John Fucking Cooper who has to be as big a dick as he possibly can to Ben just because, once upon a time, Ben lived in a nice house, went to a nice school, and didn't know how far he had to fall.
John Fucking Cooper, who stood behind a gyrating girl, steadied her hips, and took a gun off her as if he did that kind of thing every day. Ben tries to think about the girl, tries to remember something about her other than circling hips and maybe dark hair. All he can remember is John's hands deftly reclaiming the weapon, the way he didn't even seem impressed. Like he could have had that and didn't even want it.
John Fucking Cooper is the reason Ben doesn't close his eyes.
He's having trouble sleeping again and there's one reason he picked this apartment over any others. There's a shooting range on the ground floor and the owner's Ben's landlord. Ben has a key, and Ben has three guns, and Ben has half a dozen boxes of ammo.
When he closes his eyes, he sees John Cooper.
So Ben keeps his eyes on the target.