Fic: A More Perfect Union (National Treasure, Ben Gates/Ian Howe)

[niki_chidon]

Title: A More Perfect Union
Author: Niki
Fandom: National Treasure (movie)
Pairings: Abigail Chase/Ben Gates, Ian Howe/Ben Gates
Disclaimer: Not mine, none of them. Disney's done with their own sequel, and it ain't like this.
Warnings: Besides the obvious, namely, slash, can't think of anything.
Rating: 18+ for a tiny teeny sex scene the boys insisted on.
Summary: Picks up where the movie ends. Ben's happily ever after is hardly that when he can't stop thinking about the man he put in prison for his own crime.
Series: This is "the story" Riley does not want to know in my Yuletide 2007 story, The Age of Fire and Gravel. Both can be read as independent stories.
Notes: Ben's POV
Dedicated to jane_elliot for general awesomeness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A More Perfect Union
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The one memory that haunted him the most was of something he didn't even know for sure had ever happened.

He had been drunk, and tired, and had just about lost his soul to Ian in a poker game, when... He could remember strong arms helping him to bed, the smell of sweat and booze, and then the feel of warm lips on his; the stubble, the taste of whiskey, and a sudden flare of desire.

Then... nothing more. He assumed he had passed out. He'd woken up with a hellish hangover, alone in the hotel room, still fully dressed except for his shoes that were in a messy pile next to the bed.

He'd seen Ian at lunch time, disgustingly healthy-looking, with an appetite to boot, giving him that ever-cheerful grin. He'd smiled back wanly, and begged a painkiller from a passing waitress.

The memory surfaced at strange times. Discussing terms with Ian in the street, as enemies. Kissing Abigail in the church for the first time. Watching his one-time friend and financier being arrested. Nights like this, when he couldn't sleep next to Abigail in their four-poster bed, and moved to sit on the window sill, staring at the sky, wondering whether Ian could still see the stars.

Marvelling at the fact that he, too, had his price, as any man. He, too, was willing to betray his principles when the motivation was right. The Declaration had not been a bargaining chip. But his friend's life was.

For what ever Ian had been, in the end, he had still been the first person ever to believe him, believe *in* him. Riley had been along for the ride. Ben didn't want to belittle the meaning of his support or their friendship but he did not delude himself. Riley had not believed in the Quest. Abby... Abigail... she hadn't believed without proof.

Abigail. Pretty girl, shared his interests, intense adventure... they fell for each other. Maybe. What ever it was it was enough to carry them into a relationship. But nothing they shared could reach the intensity of that one memory.

As if on cue he heard footsteps behind him and turned to look at the inhumanly beautiful sight she presented in the moonlight. Flawless skin, perfect features, in a white nightdress that her great grandmother might have worn... so perfectly beautiful, like a statue.

He knew her body under that gown, knew she was nothing like a statue when she climbed on top of him and shed the image of propriety with the trappings but... he was always conscious how *fragile* she was, how small... How easily she bruised if he got out of control.

He couldn't help but think of strength meeting his strength, how hard muscle would feel... and he hated himself for those thoughts. Feared the day she would notice. She saw too much with those blue eyes that penetrated him even know.

"Can't sleep?" Her voice was kind and soothing, as if talking to a child after a nightmare.

"No."

He didn't volunteer any information, didn't even know what he could say.

"You should go meet him," she said, gently.

"What?"

"Ian."

And at that moment Ben had to admit that he was, indeed, obvious; that somehow she knew. What she knew, what there was to know, he didn't want to clarify.

"I... I feel guilty," he admitted, looking into her eyes.

"I know." Her smile was sad but only a little.

"I mean... what did he do except obsess about the same thing I had been obsessing about for most of my life? So he went to the extremes. So did I. I just... The history is written by the winners. I sent him to prison for my crime, in the end."

"You don't need to explain, Ben."

'Ben', not 'darling' or any other endearment she'd used so far.

"I feel... I'm sorry."

For what, he didn't clarify but she seemed to understand.

"Well, I suppose you did warn me... 'too cavalier in your personal life'. Can I keep the house?" she grinned, that wicked grin he saw only seldom, the one that had made him fall for her in the first place.

"Now wait a minute..." he started, almost escaping into the banter that had bonded them, then turned away abruptly and sighed, "Yeah, if you want to."

Now her eyes were curious. "He means that much to you?"

All the possibilities went through his head. Yes, no, you mean more... but it was time to admit it.

"He could."

- - - -

The Ian that met Ben in the dreary room his lawyer had arranged for the meeting bore little resemblance to the powerful business man he had met three years ago. His hair was cropped short, and there were new lines on his face.

But there was no bitterness in his gaze, and he greeted Ben with a smile that confused him.

"How's the missus?"

"Drafting the divorce papers."

"You're kidding."

"No. But that's not why I'm here. Ian..."

"No."

"What?"

"No call to feel guilty."

He could only stare at Ian. Did the other man really know him that well?

"But you're here because *I* stole the Declaration!"

"No you didn't. Shut up."

"I did!"

"Shush! You do realise they might be listening to this?"

"I don't care! Ian... I sold you. For the treasure. For my obsession."

"I believe I tried to kill you first," his voice was matter-of-fact but there was an undercurrent of humour.

"I didn't deal well with your... revelation. And you didn't deal well with my reaction. And then I ended up doing the thing I fought with you about."

"Only to stop me from doing it."

"We both... did things out of proportion because of the goal. But I'm the hero, and you're the villain."

"There was the fact I tried to kill you, Ben," his voice was almost as gentle as Abigail's had been.

"I... don't believe it. I saw your eyes when you were forced to leave me behind in the burning Charlotte, and... you did not want me dead. You never aimed your gun at me, always at someone else. And you never once hurt me, Abigail, or Riley even when we were at your mercy. And... when ever we spoke, the first question out of your mouth was 'are you okay?'"

"Don't try to paint me whiter than I am."

"Don't try so hard to be the bad guy, then, Ian," for the first time he let the humour into his own voice.

"But I am."

"Maybe. I don't know, I don't care." Deadly serious again.

"You and Abigail really...?"

"I..." He averted his eyes from him for the first time since entering the room. Had he come here to tell Ian that he... Why *had* he come anyway?

He ended up with the simple, "We both agree that we made a mistake."

"Oh. I'm sorry," the other man said quietly, then, seeing something in Ben's eyes, cocked his head just a little, "or am I?"

"Please don't be," Ben whispered, the closest he could get to a confession in the surroundings. (He always wondered about it later. He could confess a crime but not his feelings?)

Ian shut his eyes, and seemed to be breathing heavier than a minute ago.

"Maybe I shouldn't have... I mean, I don't want to complicate things."

"I'm... glad you came, Ben."

"I didn't imagine that night, did I?" he asked, as if out of nowhere.

"No," Ian said softly and smiled, apparently realising what he was referring to.

"Was I that obvious?"

"No. It was a foolish risk. But, dammit, worth it."

The familiar grin was back, and it made Ben's heart beat a little faster.

"Yeah," he got out through his suddenly tight throat.

They stared at each other, for what felt like hours.

"I'm going to get you out of here."

Ian raised his eyebrows at his determined tone and smiled, maybe a little wistfully.

"Breaking people out of prison is not a good idea," he reminded, but Ben just smiled.

"Legally."

The eyebrows climbed higher.

"I have confessed," he reminded. "They have convicted me."

"Why did you do that? I never could figure it out." Ben frowned.

"To make things easier for you," he replied instantly.

Ben shut his eyes forcefully, as if Ian's soft tone hurt him. Then, suddenly, he smiled.

"Don't worry, I've got a plan."

"Now why does that scare me?" Ian asked, watching Ben get up and knock on the door to be let out.

"Because you don't trust me?" he suggested grinning and turned to look at the other man again but the emotion in Ian's eyes made the grin fade away.

"I trust you," Ian said simply and his eyes gave further meanings to the words.

Ben met his gaze head on and said, very decidedly, "I love you," then stalked out, like a man on a mission.

- - - -

He was looking forward to telling Riley only a little more than telling his dad. At least Riley's reaction was predictable.

"You're going to do *what*!?"

"Get Ian out," Ben repeated calmly, meeting the younger man's gaze head on.

"God, why? And how? Is that even possible?"

"Yes. You see... The Declaration of Independence was stolen. The Feds were on the case, so someone needed to go to prison – even if they kept the whole theft a secret. Ian made a great scapegoat – for me, for them... and he made it easy by confessing, so he was convicted. You know what he was convicted for, in the end? Possession of firearms, and conspiracy to commit aggravated robbery. They did not want to make the whole drama behind finding the treasure public, and decided to drop the kidnapping charges. I may have influenced that decision a bit. Didn't ask your or Abigail's opinion, sorry.

"He would still sit for years for those crimes but I've got leverage now. I made a very important find. It will keep historians and archaeologists busy for decades. I have friends, these days. My name opens doors. Well, the only door I really want to open leads to Ian's cell. The gesture has been made. Now, he can be sneaked out through the back door, and no one will pay attention. Much."

"It really is that easy?"

"I could have gone to trial over the treasure, Riley. I didn't. I could have gone public with the fact they let someone steal the Declaration. I didn't. This nation owes me big. Owes us all, really, but Abigail is happy to get to work on the treasure, and you were happy with the check, so..."

"You took your check too," Riley reminded him.

"Yeah," he said, grinning, "and kept the right to lead the exploration of the find. But it's all immaterial. The Feds made a deal with me, knowing I was guilty as hell. I could raise a stink much bigger than this. Sadusky is a Mason, they wouldn't like publicity like this. And... they bent the law. So we bend it again, to get Ian and his merry men early parole."

"Why, for God's sake! He was your – our – enemy!"

Ben had been waiting for him to remember that little question, and decided to tell the truth as simply as possible.

"He loves me," he stated matter-of-factly and the effect the words had on the other man were comical.

"You know, that's what Tweety will look like when Sylvester finally catches him and bites his ass," he teased.

"He... yeah, right. And that's enough to want to get him out?" Sarcasm had replaced the amazement, and it was clear he didn't believe Ben in any case.

"Only because I love him back."

"But... but... Abigail?"

"Is okay with the situation. We're still friends." That had been another of those conversations he'd dreaded but it had gone well, considering. Helped that she had known what was coming.

"You're weird, you know that? Me, I've always known that. But obsessing about a Templar treasure is one thing; finding the treasure, getting the girl, then deciding you want the villain instead is certifiably insane!"

"You done?"

"For now."

"Thank you. I could use some support, you know."

"In your new-found sexual revelation?"

"Not so very new-found," he muttered.

"What? Oh, and this never came up in conversation? 'You know, Riley, as interesting as this is, I'm gay, you know, so the in-depth analysis of Angelina's physical perfectness is not really my cup of tea'?"

"I still think Angelina's hot. So's Brad. You know, I was weird enough as it was, with the bee in my bonnet in the form of a certain treasure. I didn't want to alienate what friends I had with the unimportant little detail that I occasionally fancy guys, too."

"Unimportant little...! You thought I'd have a problem with it?!"

"Aren't you having the said problem now?"

"No! I'm having a problem with the fact my best friend didn't trust me with a huge part of his life! That's what I'm having a problem with."

That silenced him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But... it's not something you tell people the first thing, especially if you have just hired them to do a job and afterwards... when we became friends... it just didn't seem important. It's not like I had time for women. Much less the complication that was men. And, you know... there was..."

"There was Ian."

"Yeah. Not that we were, you know..."

"No?"

"No. We're still not. But we will be. As soon as I get him out. I hope... I hope you'll be able to... deal with that."

Silence. Then Ben asked a little timidly: "Are we okay?"

Riley ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more than usual. Then he sighed, and let his hands drop.

"Yeah. Yeah, we're okay."

"Ian never really planned to kill us, you know."

"Ben... If that discussion *never* comes up, I just might be able to deal with this."

"Noted."

"So... what are you gonna do next? Work-wise, I hasten to clarify. And do you need help with it?"

"Bored with being an idle rich guy already?" Ben asked, relieved that they were past the difficult stuff.

"Like you have no idea."

"Well, I'm going through some manuscripts from the find; we're pretty much on the cataloguing state..."

"Cataloguing! Brilliant. Let's go."

"You're weird, you know that?" Ben threw his own words back at Riley whose comeback was instantaneous.

"At least I didn't fall for the bad guy."

"You ever going to stop ribbing me about that?"

Riley pretended to think about it. "Probably not."

Ben just smiled happily because he knew that if Riley bothered to make fun of him, he really was okay with it. Or would be. But in any case he would not lose his friend over this.

- - - -

It had been one thing talking to Ian in the prison, and working to get him out. But now he was out, and in his hotel room, and... *there*, physically, and they had to deal with the scary confessions.

"Ian, I want you to know, you're under no obligation to me because of..." he started, standing by the window while Ian had stayed on the other side of the room.

"The 'get out of jail free' card? I know that. Do you think that's why I'm here?"

"No, I... I am a little out of my depth here," he admitted.

Ian raised his eyebrow and smiled slightly.

"I mean, my past is filled with failed relationships. But nothing..."

"Not with men?"

"No, I mean... none felt like this."

"How?"

"I thought I loved Stacy. And Debbie. And Margery. And Abigail. But... I'd never have forgiven any of them for kidnapping my father. Or trying to kill my best friend."

"Best friend? Riley?"

"Yeah, it sort of... happened."

"I was so jealous of him," Ian admitted, quietly.

"What?"

"It was... our quest, then we found him to do a job but he didn't hang around for the pay-off, did he? And you got so close to him so fast... You know, when we were heading to the Charlotte, the group dynamics were clear – you and me, against him, against the odds, against the world. We were of the same world, removed from the tech-head. Then, when I told you of my past, the dynamics changed. It was you two in your world, against me and Shaw in mine. I... reacted badly. And I was so used to using Shaw, using the threat of violence to get what I wanted... I did not realise, then, how much you meant for me. Not until I was forced to face losing you. I met your eyes through the fire, knowing I couldn't get you out... I never wanted you dead, any of you, you have to believe me."

"I believe you. Maybe I shouldn't, but I do. I saw it in your eyes. Then, and later. But I couldn't risk... I never could tell when you were bluffing and when not." He smiled self-deprecatingly.

"I called myself a fool for caring about what happened to you, for losing... your friendship. I never used to care about such things. Of course, it's not really friendship that I..." He paused, took a deep breath, then looked Ben intently in the eye, "I've... never told anyone... never said the words to anyone."

Ben's turn to smile, "and I've said them to too many people."

"Quite a pair, huh."

"Yeah."

"I... care about you, deeply," Ian said, apparently the closest he could get, "and I want to... have a relationship with you, but I... I'm not an easy person to be with."

"Me neither. But I want to give it a shot," Ben replied, smiling, but still stood on the other side of the room.

"That wasn't as hard as I'd thought. I think it's fair to warn you... if you try to leave me, I will not 'react well'."

"Yeah, I think trying to get rid of you would cost me more than a house," Ben replied, grinning.

"You let Abigail keep the house?"

"I don't suppose you'd like to share?"

The look Ian shot him as a reply spoke volumes.

"No, didn't think so. But you have to meet them sooner or later."

"Can it be later?" His voice was low and seductive, and he finally moved closer.

"Umm... yeah... Much, much later..." Ben got out, meeting him halfway.

The kiss was much like their first one, only without the taste of whisky – the flaring passion intoxicating in itself.

"I didn't think what I recalled of that night could be very accurate... boy, was I wrong," Ben muttered, resting his forehead against Ian's.

"Look, Ben... as much as I'd love to take this further... I need a shower. In my head, I still smell of prison. And I don't want to taint you with that."

"Sure, I... yeah. Bathroom's all yours. I'll order some food. What do you want?" Ben asked, disentangling himself from the shorter man.

"Lobster. Haggis. Hamburgers. Anything that doesn't taste like something that came from an industrial kitchen."

"*Haggis*?"

"Don't ask."

Ben looked after Ian as he walked into the bathroom. Any minute now... As if on cue, he heard laughter, and the older man re-appeared, holding a bottle of Axe.

"'Vice'? Somehow I doubt this is hotel issue..."

Ben grinned. "Riley bought it."

"He buys you shower gel?" Ian's voice was filled with incredulity.

"He has a strange sense of humour," Ben explained before the other man had time to get jealous.

- - - -

It took half an hour for Ian to reappear again, wrapped in the white courtesy robe.

"I'm sorry. I've missed showering alone."

Ben had changed into jeans and a t-shirt and was lounging on the sofa, reading a stack of notes.

"It's okay, the food just got here. Sorry, no lobster. I figured a pizza would hit the spot."

"You just won my heart all over."

The words were said in jest but as soon as they were out both men seemed to freeze.

"Ben..."

Two steps, and they were in each others arms, kissing passionately, arms wrapping, fingers touching, hands finding skin... Ian pushed, and they were against the sofa, falling... Ben sitting down, him on his knees in front of him, kissing his neck, his chest, his stomach, and finally battling the buttons of his jeans.

"Ian... oh God..."

'Never like this with girls', Ben thought to himself, not this unsubtle and fast and desperate, straight to business because they both were dying for it, Ian's lips on him and oh God he was coming all over his mouth, face, robe, himself... Took him a moment to remember how to breathe, how to talk.

"Next time..." he panted, "we have to get rid of some of this clothing... Skin's easier to clean."

Of course the first thing out of his mouth would be something inconsequential, and Ian just growled in return, and moved up to kiss his mouth again. No woman had ever dared to do that to Ben, force him to taste himself on their mouth, and dammit, even that was hot. His hands were parting the robe, now, to touch Ian in return and it only seemed to take a few strokes to make him go over the edge, to have him gasping and moaning and cursing in his ear.

They fell on the sofa, in an artless pile, holding and kissing and catching their breaths.


"Sorry," Ian got out after a while, "been a while, you know."

"Do I look like I mind?"

"No."

They shared silly, besotted, happy smiles, and stared lovingly in each other's eyes – which they would of course have denied they were doing.

"You said something about a pizza."

"It'll be cold by now," Ben reminded.

"Better cold. But I fear I need another shower. I'm getting sticky."

"Can't have that, now can we?" He knew his smile was silly but Ian's was too, so he didn't care.

"You're sticky, too."

"Oh, subtle, very subtle. Besides, I thought you missed showering alone."

"It's all about the company. I'll take you over Viktor any day. Come on." He got up, and offered his hand to pull Ben up as well.

He dropped the robe that he was still half-wearing and helped Ben get rid of his t-shirt. Their hands met on the waist of Ben's jeans and they paused, looking each other in the eye.

"I love you," Ian said softly.

"I love you too," Ben whispered, and leaned forward for a kiss.

"Am I a fool for believing you?" Ian asked, after the light touch of lips.

Ben stepped out of his jeans, and took a step towards the bathroom.

"I've never said it to another man."

"You better keep it that way. Part of that 'not reacting well' thing is me being horribly jealous," Ian said with a perfectly calm voice which just made it sound all the more credible.

"No other guy since I've known you, and only one woman, and that was only after you became my enemy," Ben confessed.

"Really?"

"Really. Now how about that shower? If you play your cards right, I might even drop the soap."

"It comes in a bottle," Ian reminded but followed him with noticeable alacrity.

- - -

They spent the next days spent locked in their hotel room, ordering food from the room service and local restaurants, making love in the huge bed and talking about a year's worth, all the time knowing they'd have to face the reality at some point.

The lines smoothed down on Ian's face, and as his hair was still short it made him look even younger than he had been when they had first met. He had spent his time in prison exercising, so he was in a better physical condition, too. Ben showed his appreciation in words and caresses at every opportunity.

The inevitable 'later' arrived in the form of Riley, Abigail and Patrick behind the door.

Expecting room service, Ben opened the door in his robe.

"This is awkward," he said, letting the three walk into the room where Ian hastily got up from the sofa.

He was clad only in Ben's jeans, showing off his toned upper body.

"Master of understatement," Riley muttered, watching Ben throw a t-shirt to him.

Abigail and Patrick were hovering around the living room part of the suite but Riley decidedly sat down on one of the chairs next to the sofa.

"So, how's the honeymoon?" he asked.

"Fine, thanks. What are you doing here?" Ben asked, sitting down on the sofa, and pulling Ian back down with him.

"Me? I'm just bugging you. And offering moral support to these two. They've got work related matters to discuss with you. You haven't been answering your phone."

Ben looked at Abigail who nodded.

"Ben."

"Abigail." He nodded back, then turned to look at his father.

"Dad, you remember Ian Howe."

He got a snort in reply.

"Sorry about the whole kidnapping thing," Ian said with a slight smile.

- - -

It was all a bit awkward. Ian offered to leave so that they could talk business but Ben wouldn't hear of it and it didn't take long for the others to get so engrossed in the work-related discussion that they didn't even pay attention to his presence.

After talking through the business matters the visitors got up to leave but paused at the door.

"Ian, you ever hurt Ben, I will shoot you myself," Riley said, very determinedly.

"I second that." Abigail stood next to Riley.

"I'm not even getting into this discussion," Patrick said, and took a step back.

"Look, is there a possibility we can all play nicely together?" Ben asked. "Ian is good at arranging sizeable operations. I'm going to hire him to take care of the logistics of moving this treasure into the different museums."

"Wouldn't that be like hiring the fox to take the hen to the marketplace?"

"Which means," he went on as if Riley hadn't said a word, "he will be around a lot. And he will be around me a lot because, well, I prefer it that way. And I know I'm being horribly selfish about this but that's how I intent to go on, so if you have a problem with that..."

"Got used to him hanging around," Abigail said with a straight face, pointing at Riley whose "Hey!" couldn't have been wholly acted.

"And I resigned myself to not getting any grandchildren long ago," Patrick chipped in.

Ben looked at all of them in turn, then concluded.

"You *are* okay with this."

"We had a talk," Riley shrugged. "Patrick wanted to go public with the theft of the Declaration, to get both of you in prison and Abigail wanted to get you fired on moral grounds to get your job but I convinced them my way was better."

"Oh?"

"Never, ever, stop ribbing you about it."


----- the End ------