Chapter Text
When it comes to Ben, Kenji Kon has never hesitated, and he isn’t going to start now.
Not when it came to a looming Therizinosaurus, not when it came to flaming locusts raining down from above, not even when it came to a pack of primal, starving, venom-spitting Dilophosauruses that would do anything to reach the source of that fresh iron tang that curled in the atmosphere.
Still, Ben had waited for him. Even when Kenji had urged him to go and every ounce of his being had hoped and prayed to whatever deities would listen that Ben had made it to the pod and was halfway to the airfield by now, a part of him knew Ben wasn’t leaving without him. And God, is he happy to see that pale face come into view, those ocean blue eyes wide with hope despite every odd stacked against him.
They time it perfectly – Ben shifts just enough to let the automatic door begin to shut with a hiss, and Kenji takes a flying leap.
The older of the two tumbles through the gap as the frilled theropods scream in fury from the opposite side of the barrier, and just as the first of that gooey black venom expectorates toward them, the door shuts completely with a metal clang. But there isn’t room for relief.
Kenji knows better by now than to ever believe they’re completely safe. If the door doesn’t open, something else terrible is bound to happen. Something that will undoubtedly hinder his ability to get Ben to safety and it’ll be his fault, his fault-
Kenji feels a pinch of guilt pulling in his chest. If there isn’t room for relief, then there isn’t room to linger on what might happen. Only on the lurch of the train throttling forward, on Ben sprawled out on the floor beside him. He’s panting heavily in short, broken bursts, hand trembling where it’s pressed to his abdominal wound.
Heart hammering like a battering ram against his ribs, Kenji lays a hand on the other man’s shoulder. It’s all he can manage at first, too breathless for words. Ben groans in pain, and the sound is just as agonizing to Kenji’s ears. Because if there’s one thing he wishes he could do right now, it’s to take Ben’s pain away. Even if it means enduring it himself.
“Hey, easy,” Kenji trills softly after finally catching his own breath long enough to form words.
But in spite of what Kenji can only assume is a blinding sort of agony, Ben forces himself to his knees as a fragmented whimper slips past his lips. Kenji doesn’t see the tears pooled up along Ben’s waterlines until they glint against the fluorescent light, but it leaves a deep sense of dread to coil in the pit of his stomach. Because no matter how many reassurances he offers, he’s ambushed by the realization that he can’t fix this.
But he can try.
Before Kenji has another chance to speak, however, Ben sputters out an apology.
“Kenji-” he manages to whimper out between anguished gasps, mustering just enough strength to face his companion. “I’m sorry–I, uh…I wasn’t strong enough to help.”
The taller man seems so small in that moment, halfway hunched in front of him and words seeming to crack on every vowel. Whether it’s from crying, pain, or the inevitable reality that Kenji doesn’t want to face, he has no way of knowing. Truthfully, he isn’t sure he even wants to know.
Ben shakes his head lightly, watery eyes finding the floor as Kenji takes too long of a moment to process the words.
He can’t possibly be blaming himself for this, can he? But that was Ben for you.
Ever the most selfless of them all, always stepping up for the rest of them even when it meant putting his own life on the line – knowingly or unknowingly. Because they're family, and Kenji has learned by now that this is what family is supposed to do for one another.
This time, it had just come right back around to bite Ben in the ass.
But now, it’s Kenji’s turn to take care of Ben in the way he deserves. And he hates that it’s under these circumstances…hates that it’s taken a death sentence for him to realize all that Ben has endured without any help.
Kenji pauses for a moment, never taking his eyes off the man slouched in front of him. As Ben’s hold loosens from where it clutches at his wound, Kenji ever so gently takes other’s wrist between calloused fingers. Ben’s palm is slick and sticky with blood, and he doesn’t resist when Kenji uses the hem of his own jacket to wipe his hand clean.
“I tried, but…” the larger of the two men rests that same stained hand on Kenji’s forearm, the cadence of his voice lowering to something that borders on pitiful, “it’s never enough.”
Something in Kenji splinters open at that, and he drags his eyes up to the other’s face. Ben’s own gaze is downcast to the floor, almost shamefully. And Kenji hates that, too.
A beat passes, then another. Kenji digs through his thoughts, trying to find the right words. They’re always hard to come by for someone like him. Always too damn hard to be honest about his feelings, because masking and bottling are the only ways he’s ever known how to protect himself.
But now? With Ben? He doesn’t need to protect himself. Ben is his protection, and he is Ben’s.
So, being genuine in the only way Kenji knows how, he cuts in, “Ben.” His brows are furrowed, and he shakes his head slightly as if he can’t believe the words had even left the other’s mouth.
Ben lifts his head slowly, pale eyes lifting to meet the dark chocolate of Kenji’s own. “Shut up.”
For a moment, Ben looks defeated at the harshness of it. His shoulders sag, a thin sheen of tears shimmering in his eyes. But the rest of the words come naturally to Kenji in a way they never have before.
“Look, man,” an endearment Kenji uses only in place of all the things he would rather call him,
As Kenji’s hands come to rest on a set of broad shoulders, Ben unexpectedly cuts him off, but his hand never strays from where it grips Kenji’s forearm like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. “Yeah, because I deserve it,” he says solemnly.
“No!” Kenji shakes his head again, more purposefully this time. “No, I-” A small sigh of exasperation escapes his lungs, but he finds his words again just as quickly. “It’s because you’re the strongest one of us all.” And he means it.
It’s not just reassurance, not feigned to put Ben’s mind at ease. It’s just the truth.
Kenji’s countenance softens as his fingers instinctively curl tighter around Ben’s shoulders. And Ben stares back at him like he’s the only thing that matters right now. “We look up to you. We always have,” the black-haired man adds earnestly. “Even before you were, like, eight feet tall.” Because he just has to add something that's so quintessentially Kenji that it wouldn’t seem right if he hadn’t.
Wide-eyed, Ben stares at Kenji for a long moment in what Kenji can only interpret as disbelief. And then, Ben laughs. It’s a small, broken sound, but Kenji can read the authenticity in it. The way Ben holds himself up despite how it hurts to do so, the way he laughs tacitly like it might be the last time he does it.
Kenji’s brows pinch together once more when he continues, “And we haven’t always been able to take care of you. But we can now. Alright? We want to help you. Because if you-” He cuts himself off instantly, knowing he can’t go there. He won’t go there.
He’ll get Ben to safety, or he’ll die trying.
There’s a sting behind his eyes that makes him cringe. He diverts his gaze elsewhere if only so Ben doesn’t have to see him like this. It’s his turn to be strong for Ben, and that’s the only thing he holds onto in order to maintain his otherwise cracked composure. Shoving down the panic that wells inside of him like the crest of a wave threatening to break, but he knows he can’t let it or he’ll drown. And if he drowns, Ben will be right there with him.
So instead, as a glassy-eyed Ben continues to watch him, Kenji adds, “We need you, Benny.”
His hands slide from the other’s shoulders to cradle Ben’s cheeks in his palms like he’s the most precious, fragile thing in the entire world. His face is cold, so cold, and it’s just another thing to add to the list of everything Kenji hates right now.
But then, like it’s the only way to get through to him, Kenji leans in just enough that their foreheads touch.
“I need you.”
Neither of them move for what feels like hours. Ben lets out another splintered laugh, leaning into the press of Kenji’s forehead against his own. Tears soak into his palms, his fingertips, hot and salty and impossibly damp from where he gently swipes the streaks from Ben’s face with his thumbs.
Ben’s eyes flutter open then, but they don’t meet Kenji’s. Instead, they focus on the parting of his lips, the way Kenji wets them with his tongue as if preparing and hoping.
They seem to move in sync then, both leaning in slowly, closing the distance inch by inch. He can feel the warmth of Ben’s breath – alive. Draws in the familiar aroma of clean laundry and salt.
And when their lips finally meet, a flame explodes behind his ribs.
Even as Kenji has been waiting years for this, it isn’t desperate or frantic. It’s gentle. It’s soft. It’s perfect in every way he wants it to be. He squeezes his eyes shut, hot tears seeping from between closed lids.
Ben leans into the press of Kenji’s mouth, while Kenji applies the barest of pressure against Ben’s jaw to angle his head right where he needs it to be. Kenji can’t help but notice that Ben’s lips are the warmest thing about him right now, and how they taste like Chapstick and mint. How they fit perfectly against his own, how they seem to mold with every shift of Kenji’s own.
How they’re tender, and intimate, and home.
It’s not perfect in any sense of the dictionary definition.
But it’s Kenji’s version of perfect.
He savors the moment for as long as he possibly can. When they finally part, it’s slow and reluctant, like neither of them truly wants it to end.
But it has to, they both know that. So as they break apart, their lips adhere for a second longer, sticking together as if clinging to the moment.
They hold each other’s gaze for another heartbeat, tresses of onyx and sand still intertwined together in what little space was left between them.
Unable to help themselves, however, they close that distance once more – this time with an embrace. Ben removes the hand that’s clasped against his injury just to reach forward and wrap his arms around Kenji’s torso. A soft chuff of air leaves his lungs, and it’s the only indication that the strained movement hurts. Ben’s head rests limply against Kenji’s shoulder, and Kenji returns the gesture by sliding his arms around the other’s upper body and hooking his chin over the crook of his neck.
“Don’t cry over me,” Ben whispers, those same tender lips now feathering the shell of his ear.
“You’re one to talk,” Kenji teases, timbre just as low, a bit steadier but not enough that it didn’t waver. They both laugh quietly. Kenji’s is halfway cracked by a sob, but he hopes Ben won’t notice, and he doesn’t seem to.
“Okay, big guy,” he eventually utters, “let’s get you comfortable.” Kenji gently eases Ben against the pod’s wall to his right. He tries his hardest not to jostle him, but every little movement makes Ben grimace.
Only once ensuring Ben is properly situated, Kenji lowers himself beside him.
“Are you cold?” Kenji queries softly, attentive of the way Ben shifts a bit closer to him.
“I’m okay…” the younger of the two answers. “Just tired.”
As much as it pains him to hear it, Kenji understands. So he nods gently and wraps an arm around Ben, guiding him in as the other’s head settles on his shoulder. Kenji’s hold tightens, thumb moving in soothing back and forth strokes against his upper arm. He’s feeling a bit drowsy himself, he realizes, and allows himself to momentarily rest his eyes – but never enough to let his guard down.
“Kenji?” Ben’s voice croaks out, hooking Kenji’s attention instantly. “I…I just…” His voice trembles, every unsteady syllable betraying the fear he’s trying so hard to hide from Kenji.
“I-If…if I don’t make it, I want to tell you-”
Kenji knows exactly what he’s about to say. And although he’s been waiting to hear that four letter word spill from Ben’s lips since he was a wild, immature teenager trapped on Isla Nublar, he cuts Ben off firmly. Because it can’t happen now, not like this.
“Hey.” Kenji straightens his posture from where he sits propped up against the pod’s back wall. He shakes his head, arm clamping tighter around Ben’s shoulders like he might lose him at any second. “Don’t talk like that. We’re getting you out of here, alright?”
He pauses as Ben angles his head back just enough to meet Kenji’s gaze, unyielding. And even as he says the words, he knows deep inside that he isn’t fully sure of himself. But he wants to be. And he’ll do any and everything in his power to make sure Ben gets to safety before it’s too late.
“Tell me when we get home. Okay?”
Ben is silent for a moment, but Kenji doesn’t miss the slight spark that returns to otherwise exhausted eyes.
“Okay.”