Chapter Text
Benji surprisingly found himself working alongside Ethan more after the Cobalt Crisis. Along with Brandt and Luther, sure. (Although it did take some time for him to get used to the latter. Benji was half-sure the beta was this close to shooting him during their first official mission in Romania due to him being so obviously starstruck which– Sue him, it's hard to be normal when you're working with The Phineas Phreak himself, okay? )
But Ethan? He wasn't complaining but it really came as a surprise how the guy seemed almost unavoidable post-Cobalt. It's not like they were joined at the hip, not necessarily. Less nine-times-out-of-ten, but six-times-out-of-ten was still a valid and above average statistic to be continuously working with one Ethan Hunt.
His cru– admiration , as he'd taken to calling it, didn't help matters. How in hell was he supposed to tuck it away as a Haha wasn't that a weird time, anyways, never gonna happen when he was constantly around the guy enough that his brain was screaming at him Make it happen make it happen make it happen–
“You're embarrassing,” was the voice that broke him out of his inner spiral. He raised his head to a familiar face, Agent Parker, holding out a cup of coffee; a to-go cup so obviously not from the sputtering coffee machine down at the communal kitchen that looked to be on its death nill– which, was really quite ironic for an organisation that seemed to run its agents on guilt, desperation and caffeine.
“Thank you,” Benji said as he took the offering, because he was raised by his mother to be polite and know his manners.
“Atleast change your screen, Benji,” She replied, amused, pointing to his screen where– shit fuck, he was daydreaming in front of a picture of Agent Hunt– “Listen, I support you and all your romantic endeavours–” she continued teasing in a tone reminiscent of Love is Love , even as Benji frantically clicked at his screen to make it go away, “–but atleast have the decency to, well, pretend to hide it away like the rest of us.”
The beta wasn't really a recent addition to Benji's life. She'd worked in the cubicle next to him back when they were techies and they'd had a decent relationship, overall. Until she'd disappeared sometime around a year or so after their first meeting. Janet had informed him that she'd passed her field exam and was now working as an active field agent.
His second encounter with her had been on his own mission as a field agent, his second overall, where she'd clapped him on the back with a grin, “Missed me that much, huh?” before laughing as he'd sputtered at the glass of Raksi offered by their host in Kathmandu.
There hadn't been much of a relationship aside from shared greetings in the office space or small talk. Until well, post-Kremlin, when office gossip about him having worked with Agent Hunt had rendered him in a weird period of feeling like a museum exhibit; chatters that would quieten as soon as he'd enter a room or new agents, greenies, asking him in hushed whispers how Agent Hunt was like. Agent Parker stumbling into his cubicle to complain loudly about alphas–specifically her latest mission leader had honestly been a welcome change.
At present however, Benji just gave her a chastised look, equal parts embarrassed and defensive, “It's not like that.”
Agent Parker shrugged, clearly not believing him, “Sure, whatever. I'm just here to tell you that Janet's computer is malfunctioning again.”
Again? “I'm not tech support anymore.” Benji argued, even as he scooted his chair back to get up from his seat.
“She knows. She also said you're the only one she trusts to actually fix her computer.” Parker said. “ Only you. ” She emphasized, looking at him meaningfully.
Benji squinted, trying to decipher her tone before it finally clicked. “Wha–How–” He sputtered, “She's seventy. ” is what he settled on.
Agent Parker shrugged, teasing grin on her face, “And an omega who's clearly set her sights on her third husband–”
The rest of her statement was, thankfully, interrupted by the appearance of one Ethan Hunt, leaning his head in with a charming smile.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Agent Parker paused halfway through her statement and shut her mouth with a visible clack of her teeth. She was too well-trained to act visibly affected by the presence of the IMF golden boy himself, but Benji knew that look well enough. He'd laugh but he was self-aware enough to know he'd been on the same side too many times to count.
“Can I help you, Agent Hunt?” Benji said, before his eyes landed on the takeaway container from the Chinese place down the street that he'd once ranted to Ethan about.
( The sonnets I could pen about their General Tso’s, Ethan, Benji had said while they'd been stranded in the rural Netherlands on a mission, almost moaning at his imagination even as his tongue had been coated in the chalky aftertaste of the cheap nutrient-dense protein bars, if only I'd have the words and talent to tell you.
Ethan had just smiled at him before replying, You're doing a good enough job now, Benji. )
Ethan entered the room, “We had plans for lunch but you didn't reply to my last text so..” lifting his hand holding the takeout bag in answer.
Shit , Benji cursed internally, as he glanced at his phone to see that he indeed, had four different texts from Ethan inquiring about the timings for their lunch plans to a text confirming he'll be bringing it to Benji's office. Proper grammar and all, that fossil, he thought, ashamed at how endearing he found it.
“You must be Anaya Parker.” Ethan said and Benji looked up to find him now turned towards the other person in the room. Agent Parker didn't necessarily look shocked per say, but it was a close thing–which yeah, you didn't really expect Ethan Hunt to know your name; especially if you've never been on a mission or hell, even interacted with the guy before. Ethan nodded oblivious to it all, friendly as ever, “Benji talks about you.”
“He does?”
“I do?”
Ethan nodded again, impish smile on his face, “He does.”
Agent Parker made a swift exit not long after, telling Benji she'd let Janet know she'd have to make do without her favorite tech guy because he was out for lunch. She'd emphasized the word lunch in a way that implied that she would definitely be interrogating him about Agent Hunt later.
Benji sighed as he sat down in his seat again, not even surprised as Ethan wordlessly slid a white container towards him. He didn't even need to open it to know what it contained but he did so anyway and almost sighed at the aroma of sticky spicy-sweet chicken. He didn't turn to the man in front of him, not wishing to give him the satisfaction of having gotten away with Benji's forgiveness even without an apology.
Seriously, how had his life come to this?
________________
The answer may come as a shock to you–well, not really, if you consider the circus that had been leading up to it.
It had been about three months or so post-Kremlin when Ethan had shown up at his doorstep with a duffle and a smile. The Benji opening the door had looked and felt like shit.
He’d just been back from an exfil in Guatemala; jet-lagged and exhausted, with hands covered in cheeto dust. So please, believe him when he says that he wasn't at all suited to be expecting an Ethan in what looked to be a sweaty tracksuit, looking like he'd stumbled right out from a page of Benji's wet dreams.
“Uhh,” is what he'd greeted Ethan with, adjusting his glasses with the back of his hand.
“Good to see you, Benji.” Ethan had said, nonplussed by his appearance or surprising lack of vocabulary, “Bad time?”
“No–Not at all, really. Come in.” He had said, motioning for him to enter, even as he dreaded the guy noticing his messy apartment.
Later, over cheap Indian takeout and with some random reality show blaring on the telly– Love Island or something, he wasn't really sure– he’d learnt that Ethan had been on a mission in Glasgow and injured his left knee enough to be put on mandatory leave. The alpha, however, in his supreme excellency, had decided that the best thing to do was not to stay at the provided IMF housing, nursing his wounds or well, taking any steps to recover whatsoever, but to travel 400 miles to London to drop by Benji's flat because ?
Well…
Benji didn't really have an answer, to be honest. Trying to follow the logic of one Ethan Hunt would render you insane at the best of times and Benji was, keyword, tired –he’d pulled a muscle hanging off a roof during the escape from a nasty looking goon and it was aching . So he was quite comfortable blaming his compliance on that instead of the butterflies in his stomach or the bees in his head muttering about being noticed by his crush.
Seriously, he was fine.