milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[Pre-Milliways: Dedication Day.]

Jack Benjamin -- or Prince Jonathan of Gilboa, but he won't insist -- steps into the Bar and closes the door on the party behind him. As confusing as it is to find a bar in the palace, he's got a look of eager anticipation.

"What is this place?"

[tiny tag: Jack Benjamin]

[ooc: Adult content shenanigans in the Ganymede thread.]

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"Would you rather me call you that, or Jack?"

He studies the cap and the uniform surprisingly closely; it looks close enough to most military uniforms to be vaguely familiar, but he isn't sure. "Military?" he asks.

"Jack, please. Jonathan sounds like I should be surrounded by doilies."

He looks down at the uniform for a moment. "I'm Captain Jack Benjamin in some circles."

At that there's a slight pause, not long enough to be dramatic, but noticeable. "It's been a while since I was around any military men that wore uniforms," he says. "Jonathan isn't so bad. But Jack seems to suit you a little better."

"It's a dress uniform," Jack says. "Today was a special occasion--that big shindig I was telling you about.

"Thanks. I like Jack better." Rose selected Jonathan, he's certain, because it would sound good in the history books.

"It looks very good on you," he says, with the air of someone who could just as easily be saying that it looked very good off of him, too.

"Congratulations on whatever special occasion it is. If it's alright to give you congratulations, anyway."

"Thanks," Jack says, with the air of someone who read Ben's air just fine, and likes what he saw there.

"I didn't have much to do with it, really. It was mostly my parents." He isn't used to being evasive about this--it's harder than he expected. "But I'll accept your congratulations anyway. I might even pass it on."

Ganymede's had far too much practice at being just vague enough to not tell much, and just specific enough to not be noticeable, but sometimes he forgets the act at Milliways. Enough people know who he is anyway.

But Jack gets a gracious quirk of a smile, half flirtatious and half something else. "Might?"

"I think I want to keep this place my little secret. My father is prepared to take a lot on faith, but a bar in the hallway that's actually in the end of the universe may be too much even for him.

"Besides," he leans a little closer, "I'm no stranger to secrets."

"I don't think I'd have wanted to tell my parents either," he murmurs, shifting close enough so that he can lean on his free arm, the flutes laid in his lap.

"Are most of your secrets the pleasant kind?"

"Nearly all of them."

His definition of pleasant, anyway. Silas might disagree.

"That sounds...promising," he says, uncrossing his knees--subtle invitation, or not so subtle depending on interpretation. He rarely tries to play at being very coy.

Jack's gaze takes the movement in, and he meets Ben's eyes.

"Not exactly shy, are you? That's good. I hate shy."

He laughs at that, honestly amused. "No, I'm not very shy." It's been a really long time for him since he managed to be shy without it being an affectation. Once it was natural; now he just feels constricted and anxious when he has to act that way.

"I can be subtler, if you like." The way he's trying to hold back a grin may contradict that, though.

"Oh, no, please, don't be subtle," Jack says with a laugh. "I won't be either. You're pretty cute."

"And you're pretty handsome," he says. "You have a very nice smile." The fact that he's smiling, and not predatorily, is a very good thing. Not that predatory instinct is altogether offputting for him.

"Well, thanks, mister," Jack says, showing off that nice smile.

He'll save predatory for when he needs it.

He pulls a face at that, though it doesn't entirely overshadow his evident pleasure at this conversation. "Mister makes me feel old."

He touches a lock of Ben's hair lightly. "I'm not sure I should call you sweetheart just yet."

Out of habit, he closes his eyes when Jack's fingers touch him, though they open just enough to see right after. "I don't mind being called a lot of things," he says quietly. "If there's a middle ground."

"Lovely boy," Jack tries softly, and pushes his fingers deeper into Ben's hair.

Well that definitely gets a reaction in the form of a soft hum, and a shiver that crawls its way up Ganymede's spine, tilting his head down. "Yes?" he only barely whispers, as much a question as an assent that he likes that.

"Just looking for the middle ground."

"I think you found it," Ganymede murmurs. On his end, at least.

"C'mere," Jack whispers, turning Ben's head toward him. "Gonna kiss you now."

His head turns and tilts to fit against the other's easily, and if Jack knew who Ganymede was, he might understand why. "Be my guest," he whispers back.