Home safe and sound and wtf is that bruise on your arm and wow you didn't shave or do laundry or possibly shower for eight days straight and Jesus Christ, just sleep now because you haven't and it would have killed you had you stayed out there any longer.
The bruise is where he backed into a piece of equipment.
The laundry because hardly any places had laundry service and when he got to the hotels he was tired. So tired.
I don't think he ate.
I don't think he knew what day was which, honestly and he's stone cold sober and clean and worn the fuck out and maybe too old to do this without a keeper and a hushed, irate call to Duncan confirmed that (because Duncan is still out there) Ben didn't do very well at all and hardly spoke and wouldn't participate past wanting to help with load out and showing up quite surly to everything else.
Okay then.
This is my fault. When pressed Ben would point out he wanted me, that I could fix his mood, his demeanor, his mean. He was angry and difficult and exactly like himself out there and the moment he walked through the door and I threw myself at him wholeheartedly we both knew that yeah, maybe we do need to be together more than we might 'want' to sometimes. He was instantly better, instantly happy, relieved and peaceful. No fake anything, no rage, no hostility. Dalton (who walked in behind him) said he saw the moment when the switch was flipped and it was the exact moment that Ben saw me.
Which is kinda...well, awesome and DOES A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT FOR MY PRINCESS COMPLEX, YOU KNOW.
So there.
He is still sleeping, having had a forty-minute steamy hot shower to wash off the road and the airplane fuel and the homesickness. Sleeping like a baby.
