29th December, 1892 — Ben’s House, Bartonburg

“You know that wasn’t really the present I was expecting,” Ari said reprovingly, rolling his eyes at all the time they had already wasted tonight. No sooner than he’d come in through the fireplace into Ben’s study – before he could even lock the Floo after him – he’d seen the first grazes on him. The idiot, stupidly sparring with his colleagues after work, as if he didn’t get in enough practice during the day – he was all roughed up, and for what?

(For exasperating Ari without end, obviously.)

But never mind. There was, admittedly, no real urgency in their evening (and Christmas and Hanukkah had both long since past anyway – between work and family and celebrations, never mind an auror’s terrible schedule, this had been the first chance they’d gotten to see each other for a while), so he ought to have been more patient; but now that Ben was half-undressed already, Ari began unbuttoning his own waistcoat and shirt just to save time, tossing them both down in the study before they had so much as made it to the bedroom.

They had the rest of the night ahead of them in peace, though, with no rush and nothing else that needed remedying. Ari raked his hands over Ben’s body and the already-disappearing marks from his cuts and scrapes; he finally relented and cracked a smile, although he was full of pent-up energy, himself. “Unless you’re too tired now?” he teased as he moved towards the door to the bedroom, pausing there to raise an eyebrow.

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One thing was for certain, Hatchitt never held back, especially as of late. Ben knew it was for practice, for hand to hand combat, but it was hard not to feel like during their practices that he wasn't her co-worker and instead someone else. He knew how much scorn female aurors generally gained from the public and their training so it was of little matter to him how beat up he was by the end of their sessions. There was also the added bonus of being able to go to Ari afterwards; truth be told he enjoyed being fretted over by him. Of course he would never tell Hatchitt that, and come to think of it, he would have a hard time admitting it to Ari (though chances are Ari probably already knew, as they'd since come up with a rather intimate way of healing Ben's wounds when not in mixed company).

Which is why it was wish a rush of anticipation that Ben stood back once he saw the Floo light up and Ari step through — and then promptly winced. Bloody hell, he'd left Ari's present downstairs. With his demanding schedule, Ari's unpredictable one, and the Fisk/Darrow family expanding one (he had to remember to send Zelda a gift), it was their first time being able to get together since Ari's birthday. Ben had just been about to open his mouth, an apology on the tip of his tongue when Ari began undressing. All sense immediately left Ben's brain as he watched Ari's movements, his mouth going dry as if watching his lover undress for the first time.

He opened his arms, both to take Ari into them and to welcome the feeling of the healer's hands brush over his skin, featherlight and remedial. As he felt the cuts seal themselves up, a shiver went down his spine, arousal pooling in his abdomen, ardent and burning. Ben curled his hand into Ari's hair, pulling him close, eager to close any sort of gap between them. He felt a chuckle rise in his chest at Ari's teasing, and in response he tugged him close, his lips brushing lightly against Ari's. "Am I ever too tired for you?" He murmured, finally catching Ari's bottom lip lightly before pulling him further into a fervid kiss.

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Ari melted into his arms at once without protest, even if Ben was being a tease about it, tugging him in with a hand in his hair and then being so gentle. Finally he kissed him properly, and, pleased, he curled his hands around Ben’s arms. “You’d better not be,” Ari answered, after that kiss; he let his lips graze along the edge of Ben’s jaw as he caught his breath, and all the teasing faded from his tone. “I’ll never be tired of you.”

That had to be true – and it demanded saying, every once in a while – because Ari sometimes still couldn’t believe his luck. There would never be anyone else for him but Ben. He had known that long enough. Nevertheless, he had lived so long believing this outcome to be impossible, for years, decades really, that sometimes Ari thought – in spite of all the evidence to the contrary – that it would take him decades to unlearn.

Nothing ever felt more real than this, though, the two of them alone, everything else forgotten; Ben’s lips warm on his, skin hot against his hands, the fire burning steady in him. Ari pulled them both through the bedroom until they were up against the edge of the bed, his hands already working at Ben’s trousers, just as torn tonight between moving fast or going slow.

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Ari's words were better than any shot of adrenaline or liquid luck combined. They fueled Ben more than he could even describe, with the combination of the touch of Ari's lips peppering his jawline, it was hard not to immediately drag Ari into the bedroom. But it seemed that he had similar thoughts to Ben's, and soon Ben found himself at the edge of his four-poster, fingers entangled in Ari's hair as he worked at the buttons of his trousers.

Once free, it was Ari's turn, and Ben pressed a kiss to his lips, backing him against the wall. "I hope to Merlin that was a promise, Ari." He returned, moving his lips to Ari's collarbone and continuing downward.

"Otherwise you may just break me." It was meant to be a joke, but there was truth nestled in it. Ben had face all sorts of danger in his career, yet the person who held the most power to destroy him with just a few words stood right in front of him. It was terrifying and exhilarating all in one. Fingers working fast to free Ari of his own trousers, Ben peppered kisses down his torso as he did so, savoring the taste of his skin.

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Now that Ben was undressed, he had backed Ari up against the wall to return the favour. Ari would have been more helpful with this if Ben hadn’t been working his way down his chest at the same time as unbuttoning his trousers; all he could do was close his eyes briefly and moan a little in anticipation. Still – “No one’s breaking anyone,” Ari returned firmly, in the tone of you know that’s a promise. Ben was only teasing, of course; he had to be very, very aware of that by now. Anyway, if anyone had been in danger of having their heart broken here, it had always been Ari before.

But he didn’t mind reiterating his feelings as often as they had a chance to, however they could. So he opened his eyes and looked carefully at Ben, catching his chin with a hand. He tilted his face upwards to hold him there, just to make sure Ben could see the adoration in his eyes. “I couldn’t if I tried,” he admitted, because it was far too late to change anything. He wouldn’t know how to leave him now. He wasn’t sure his heart would survive it.

“But I, ah, won’t promise the same for your furniture,” Ari added, back to their joking tone, smirking shamelessly as he stepped out his trousers and underwear and pulled Ben back up against him, winding his arms around his bare shoulders while he was still pressed against the wall for the moment. (Fortunately, though, furniture could be replaced.)

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Being a Fisk had always been easier than being Ari's wife, and that was made most apparent during the holiday season. Dionisia had a complicated relationship with religion, her earliest memories of worship being her father's voice proclaiming that all who did not follow the word of the Lord would burn in eternity—a sentiment that was directed towards her once her magic was discovered. Dionisia still celebrated Christmas, but preferred to avoid anything that reminded him of the people who orphaned her through hatred. Hannukah was easier to celebrate. She had no bad memories tied to it, and it felt like something she'd chosen for herself and her son rather than something she'd been forced to partake in. Even when it was difficult to lean into Ari's side and pretend to be the devoted wife that she was supposed to be, it was easy to enjoy the festivities.

The holidays were over, though, which meant taking down their winter décor, clearing out Elliott's room of old toys to make room for new ones, and prepare for the upcoming year. It was a time where Dionisia's eye for detail came in good use, and she made every effort to take control out of their maid's hands and do things for herself. The day had passed by swiftly, and Dionisia had just finished folding the last of Elliott's blankets when the nanny rushed in with the news: Elliott had been complaining of a tummy ache. Elliott had felt a little clammy. Elliott had vomited.

Dionisia had—of course—abandoned her task to tend to him, but as the sun set and Dionisia realized he was only getting worse, her brain had started repeating one thought on repeat: Get Ari. Get Ari. Get Ari.. He'd planned to spend the evening out with friends, but in her mind it was nothing to fret over. Ari took care of them but controlled his own schedule, and Dionisia had never been the nagging type. Now, though, she had gotten it into her mind that she needed to find him, not just because he was a healer—he was Elliott's father, and Dionisia needed a steady second hand.

She could have scoured the High Street pubs, pushed her way through the halls of Hogsmeade Hospital, or sent out owls to the residences of every close friend of Ari's she knew, but she knew one place to check first: Ben's house. She left Elliott with the nanny and a cup of broth, pulled her hair up into a tight bun, and shrugged into her coat. Then she stepped through the fireplace and into Ben's house.

Dionisia had been in Ben's house before, but never for very long and never without specific reason. She felt out-of-place in the living room all on her own, but the sound of voices coming from upstairs inside the otherwise quiet household erased any discomfort she had from being there. She quickly made her way through the house, up the stairs, and into the corridor of doors that led into different rooms. One at the end was cracked open, and thank Merlin she could hear Ari's voice, low and laughing. She stopped right outside the door, preparing to knock, and then she heard it: a low moan. Her torso clenched in discomfort and her brows knitted together. She didn't want to admit it, and even as she processed it she wanted to tell herself she was wrong, that she was using what knowledge she had to jump to conclusions.

She pushed open the door anyways.

A little too hard, really, because the doorknob knocked into the wall, causing a noise louder than she'd intended to make. There, at the far end of the room with no shirt and his arms wrapped around the vaguely familiar frame of another man, was Ari. Her eyes went to his face, wide and shocked and angry and anguished—too many emotions added to the fear and panic she felt for her son.

"What—?" she asked, intended to sound mean and angry and rude. But her voice only cracked, leaving her sounding like a pathetic little dog barking after being chained to a fence post and abandoned by its owner.

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   Ari Fisk, Benedict Sterling

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If he heard the door knocking against the wall, it hardly registered; he didn’t look away from Ben then, too caught up in the moment to care. Until –

“Dionisia–!” Ari exclaimed, her name coming out as sharply as he’d noticed her there in the doorway. The impossible sight of her (– here, now, in Ben’s bedroom? –) may as well have plunged him through ice into deep, frozen water: Ari’s whole body tensed in shock and fear and numbness. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t feel his weight against the wall. How was she – why – what was she doing here? He couldn’t even decide what to do; it was as if all the faculties of his brain had abandoned him here.

He should probably have let go of Ben, if it weren’t already too late (by the way she was staring, it was already too late – she looked as aghast and white in the face as he was sure he did too); but instead his fingers dug urgently into Ben’s bare skin, either to make him aware of the situation or because Ben was the only thing standing between them, and maybe moving would only make this all more real.

And they were both very undressed, so moving would probably only make things still more incriminating. Ari swore in his head as some sensation came back to him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was it: this was the worst come true. It might have happened once before, at the stables – but that felt like nothing now.

This time it was Dionisia. A wave of nausea hit him, and that was finally enough to make him launch into ashen motion – he dropped his arms from around Ben and lurched for his trousers again to try and pull them back on, as if it wasn’t too late for that too. (Why was the only fucking thing coming to mind to say it’s not what it looks like? What else did it bloody well look like, then?)

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Surely if anyone was getting broken out of the two of them Ben's track record saw him firmly in first place for that spot. He would have barely minded though, at least as long as Ari was there to piece him back together. He was the healer of the two of them after all. Ben's knowledge of healing was only rudimentary compared to Ari's, and frankly he liked it that way. Ari's form of healing could only be described as something unique and of its own. Even minor spells he performed on Ben felt like only an extension of his affection, which was something Ben knew he would never get tired of.

Eyes briefly glancing at the seat to the side of them, Ben smirked before letting his gaze drink in the man before him, letting his hands trace over Ari's skin. A wicked grin pulled at his lips before they descended upon Ari's once more, urgently and hungrily. "Furniture can be repaired. Or replaced." He rasped, a chuckle building in his throat as he trailed kisses down to the base of Ari's neck.

Then it happened almost instantly: the sound of the door opening, the soft exclamation by a horribly familiar voice, Ari's choked out response. If that wasn't enough to bring Ben completely out of it, Ari's nails digging into his skin certainly did it. "Shit."

It was happening again.

He didn't need to turn, and yet he automatically did - at least partially so only to confirm what he already knew. That Dionisia had walked in on them; to make matters worse the expression on her face was devastating. But he couldn't think about that right now. Ari had already begun to move, the expression on his face one that Ben knew would be burned into his memory forever. Which was Ben's cue to follow suit. Instead of reaching for his own trousers his hand came out to the side, fingers splayed and ready to catch his bedspread which had flown into his hand before he tossed it in the air before them. It only remained suspended, covering the sight of the both of them for a few seconds before beginning to collapse, in which time Ben had managed to grab his own trousers and begin pulling them on. "Shit, shit, shit, Ari —"

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Even as Ari and Ben scrambled to dress, clothes and sheets and hands flying in the dimly-lit bedroom, Dionisia felt as if everything had gone still. Her mind flitted to every time the three of them had been in a room together—every laugh Ben and Ari had shared while watching Elliott play on the living room rug, every time that Dionisia had asked Ari if he'd like to invite Ben to dinner. She couldn't decide what was more embarrassing: that she'd been played like a fiddle by her own husband, or that she was silly enough to believe that it was perfectly okay that she was lonely in her marriage because she and Ari were lonely together. He'd told her that he loved someone who didn't love him back, and while it was sad to say it, she'd found comfort in it. It had been easier to accept her circumstances that was, but this was a revelation. Ari was with Ben. They were together, and Dionisia had been a fool.

Between this and Elliott, Dionisia felt helpless, and probably looked it to with how her eyes began to redden with unshed tears. Her hands shook, too, but she balled them up into fists at her side, trying not to completely fall apart in her husband's lover's bedroom.

"I can't believe—" she managed to choke out before the thickness in her throat forced her to swallow and try to clear it. Tears began to fall freely at this point, all the tension rushing out of her in a wave of emotion. She couldn't begin to look at Ben, who seemed more concerned for Ari than anything, and Dio began to wonder how she could have ever considered him a friend. He'd been there for during the shipwreck, had tried to protect her by all accounts—and yet he'd had no qualms about breaking her heart.

Somewhere, deep down, she knew she wasn't mad at them for being together. Ari wasn't hers in that way, and she'd always known he never would be. He'd made it abundantly clear that she was welcome to to take a lover if it made her happy. She'd never taken him up on the offer, knowing that any affair could be disastrous for her reputation and livelihood if it was every found out, but Ari had still made the offer. No, it wasn't his affair that pained her as much as the fact that Ari had allowed her to remain in the dark about it.

"How could you?" she said, sounding as pathetic and miserable as she felt.

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   Ari Fisk, Benedict Sterling

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He’d managed to put his trousers back on, fumbling shakily with the buttons. He couldn’t remember where he’d left his shirt. He could sense Ben’s movements of attempting to get dressed beside him and had heard Ben say his name, but somehow Ari couldn’t look at him anymore. Last time they had been in this together. This time they weren’t.

So he could only look numbly at Dionisia, his wife, taking measure of every shift in her expression as if she would tell him how to answer for this. When the tears began to stream, he shifted a step or two nearer before he could help himself, out of some ingrained instinct to comfort her – but this time he didn’t dare approach her, not when he was the whole cause of her distress.

“Dio, I’m sorry – I’m so sorry –” Ari blurted out desperately, but couldn’t help but shake his head at the sheer deficiency of an apology like that, after everything he’d done. Oh god, he’d been lying to her for so long, long enough that it had become second nature, long enough that somehow he had stopped feeling bad about it at all. He’d been so happy, and he’d let her be so undeservedly miserable, and she – she – she was never going to trust him again.

If the old guilt had been in him all along, he’d managed to bury it, reason it away with it’s alright, it’s for the best, I’m not hurting anyone. Buried no more: it rose in him with a vengeance, guilt wracking its way through his gut into his ribcage and the set of his shoulders and spilling into his throat. He pressed his hand firmly against his mouth, hating himself more than he ever had. How could you? Dionisia was right. How could he?

“I didn’t – want to make you feel any worse,” he tried, and winced in immediate regret. He wasn’t sure he could envision any worse than this.

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   Benedict Sterling

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He'd managed to get his own trousers back on, but that had quickly become only a minor hurdle compared to what lay before them. As he fumbled with the buttons, he felt Ari move away from him, his focus entirely on his wife. And why shouldn't he be focused on Dionisia? She was obviously the victim here. He knew this rationally and that still didn't prevent the unpleasant jolt in his stomach as he watched Ari leave him — he'd only left his side, but what if that was the last moment he would ever be there? Ben wanted to freeze this moment in time, to reach out and take Ari back into his arms, and completely disappear with him.

But that would be selfish - Dionisia didn't deserve that and what's worse is both of them knew it, and it was their fault. So maybe it was the fact that Ben felt the need to repay Ari for everything that he'd done for him (healing him, for searching for him and dragging him back to the magical world, staying by his side while he regained his memory back, for giving himself so selfishly while all he, Ben, did was take, take, take) that propelled him forward.

"It's my fault, Dionisia," He choked out, his gaze desperately moving from Ari to Dionisia; the horrible feeling in his stomach had risen to his heart as he watched the guilt on Ari's expression take hold. "Please, don't blame him, it's —" Where was he going with this? "I told him to not tell you, I...I forced him not to tell you, it was me, please don't be mad at him." Lies, lies and more lies — she deserved the truth! — but this was the moment where every sense seemed to abandon him in favor of trying to settle this, to take the blame away from Ari.

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   Ari Fisk

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Her eyes shifted between Ben and Ari, and in that moment she knew nothing would ever be the same. How would she be able to look Ari in the eye again, let alone Ben? She couldn't imagine having him over for dinner or being able to sit quietly on the couch while Elliott regaled with logic-defying tales of how he'd saved the world that day. Even when removing Ben from her mental picture, she couldn't imagine Ari in her portrait of happiness anymore. She'd long accepted that their relationship was not romantic, but how could she even call what they had a friendship when he'd done this to her?

"I wouldn't have been mad," she choked out, reluctantly wiping away the tears that had begun to sting at the corner of her eyes. She felt so weak, so helpless—she'd always felt that way, really, but now the illusion that she could be content was gone. "I know—" I know you like men, I know you loved somebody, I know you were lonely, too. Dionisia loved Ari more than any of the other Fisks save Zelda, maybe, and she wouldn't have asked him to end it if he'd come to her and told her how happy Ben could make him, but he hadn't. He never would have, Dionisia knew, because why would he? What motivation would he have for confiding in her when he could just as easily sneak around?

"I—I need to leave," she decided, turning left and right, surveying her surroundings one last time. "Elliott is sick. I need to get him tot the hospital. You—" She pinned her gaze on Ari, aiming all her unfiltered hurt in his direction. "You stay here."

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“Ben,” Ari said sharply, his voice sounding harsher to his own ears than he had intended it to. “Stop.” He knew what Ben was doing – he was being noble about this, trying to bear the brunt of the blame – but it wasn’t true. Ben hadn’t forced him to do anything; Ben hadn’t gotten married; Ben had nothing to do with this. They might be in Ben’s house, but this was, really, between him and Dionisia.

Or – maybe it would be easier if this was all Ben’s fault. If he tried, he could almost believe it. Because Ari had been perfectly ready to commit to married life – with maybe not passion, but loyalty and devotion – if Ben hadn’t picked that fucking moment to realise he had any feelings. Ari had waited years to hear it, had given up on the possibility long ago. So if Ben hadn’t come to see him that night, Ari would have married Dionisia and they would have raised Elliott (and he would have still been achingly lonely, maybe) but he would have been entirely honest with her, so they would have had something real. Or – if Ben had only admitted there was something between them sooner, then Ari might never have offered to marry her, he might have happily been a bachelor forever – he would have taken that risk to be with Ben and have something real.

Instead, Ari realised anew, he had been caught up in both at once without being brave enough to choose between them, or to be honest with anyone. Half the truth had never been enough – what did any of the half-truths he’d confessed count for now? Lying by omission was lying just the same. (Though Dionisia could say she wouldn’t have been mad, but if she knew Ari had been with Ben the whole time, there was no way she wouldn’t have hated him for it.) “I – didn’t know how to tell you,” he said, contrite. He’d been selfish for years, a coward and a hypocrite, and she’d found out anyway. Now she really never would forgive him.

And so – so he was going to lose Dionisia or Ben here, if not them both. And not just them, but even –

Elliott. Ari’s face creased in almost physical pain. Elliott was sick – needed to go to the hospital – and Ari had been here, a world away. If he needed another reason to be disgusted with himself, that was it. Ben’s house was suddenly the last place on earth he wanted to be, and Dio wanted him to stay?

“He’s sick?” His voice cracked. He spotted a shirt on the floor and threw it on, making a mess of aligning the buttons in his haste. “Dionisia, please – I’ll come with you. Please let me help.” He didn’t know if begging her would work, but if Elliott was ill, surely the rest of this argument could wait?

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   Benedict Sterling

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Ari’s words - two of them, so few - cut through the air and it was all Ben could do to not flinch at hearing such an unrecognizable tone from him. But they served their purpose and he obeyed as if a silencing charm had been placed upon him. Dionisia’s words served to slice the wound open even further. Of course she wouldn’t have been mad - Ben took her words to heart, and found himself nodding, though couldn’t be brought to make eye contact with her; with either of them. Dionisia had known exactly what Ari’s preferences in partners had leaned towards, so why hadn’t they taken that step and told her?

Because the risk was too great. They’d already almost been torn apart once by the presence of Mr. Holm (multiple times if one counted Ben’s stupidity in realizing his feelings for Ari…which he did count) and Be knew he would have never been willing to gamble what they had on the chance that Dionisia might have understood them. Even if, in retrospect, their odds were more skewed in their favor than they might have realized. But none of this mattered now; it was all moot. They’d opened a chasm and were currently struggling to keep their footing.

Nausea that had been working its way through his stomach had firmly taken root; all he could do was watch their exchange, unable to move. Brows knitted together, Ben pinched the bridge of his nose before the news of Elliott was shared, and he whipped his gaze to Ari. "Elliott?" He'd been content to stay silent, to simply watch the both of them while the chasm opened further and further, threatening to swallow them all whole.The feeling grew even more at the mention of Elliott — the hospital? He felt the blood drain from his face, and it became hard to draw breath. Here he and Ari had been, enjoying their pleasures while Elliott, an innocent party in all of this lay sick at home.

He felt his stomach turn once more.

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There was a part of Dionisia's heart that was not inclined towards selfishness. It was the part of her heart that felt for Ari even when he'd admitted to preferring the company of gentlemen to women, the part of her heart that would have been happy for him if he'd just have admitted to taking a lover. That part of her told her not to deprive Ari of being at Elliott's bedside, told her to set aside her pain and anger for the sake of their son.

But staring across the room at the two of them, her mind replaying the momentary passion she'd witnessed before they realized she was there, it was easy enough to wrap that part of her heart in steel—easy enough that she might regret it later.

"No," she insisted, with as much firmness as her shaky voice would allow. "I'm going to take care of my son. I can do it all on my own. " She pinned her gaze on Ari, not caring how desperate his movements were, nor how devastated his expression was. Not in that moment. Maybe never again. She was a woman rarely moved to such levels of anger, but she had no idea what to do with it once it welled up inside her.

"Don't come home tonight. He's got a fever and he's vomiting. I'll send an owl if it's more serious than I suspect." It was all she could say without making threats she was too scared to follow up on. She had more important things to worry about than a crumbling marriage. She had Elliott.

With nothing more to say, she turned and headed back the way she came.

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Ari took another step after her, wanted to protest again, to plead with her once more – but she was gone. And the trouble was she was right, he tried to rationalise, no matter how much he wished he could go with her: Dionisia would do better on her own tonight. She would be less distracted from Elliott without him there, without this betrayal on her mind – and she was capable enough as a mediwitch and a mother on her own. What use was he?

Standing in the gaping doorway of Ben’s bedroom, Ari watched her leave, feeling his life slipping away with her. Elliott would be alright, he told himself. She would owl him if it was serious, he hoped. Everything else suddenly seemed – too much to hope for. He swallowed, ran a hand through dishevelled hair, found the doorframe and grasped at it for dear life, digging his fingers into the wood until his knuckles were white.

Don’t come home tonight. Maybe she would let him come home in the morning, if he was lucky, just to be sure Elliott was recovering – or maybe she would not let him come home again. Ari didn’t dare let go or look back into the bedroom. Somehow it felt wrong that Ben had been here and witnessed all of it; somehow his house felt like a stranger’s now, like Ari had no place in it anymore. He couldn’t be here. It would only be worse, letting it sink into reality, if he tried to meet Ben’s eyes now.

“Her son,” he said hollowly, lifting his other hand to hide his face. He couldn’t think what to do with himself yet, not when she had left him to grapple with that. Worse than her tone or the anger in her gaze – my son, Dionisia had said. Not ours, not anymore. Not that he had ever been, but... Ari was sure he had understood that for exactly what she had meant this time – that he had lost the right to be anyone to her and to her son.

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   Dionisia Fisk, Fortitude Greengrass

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