a long way to go until self-preservation

[ben-brody]

STATS ~

Given name: Bennett Ryan Brody

Nicknames: Ben, Brody, Bambi (Aly)

Born: San Diego, CA

Birthday: September 30, 1992 (age 28)  

Astrology: Libra sun, Sagittarius moon, Gemini ascending

Raised: San Diego, CA

Parents: Dr. Ryan Brody (vascular surgeon), Dr. Johanna Brody (psychiatrist) - both estranged; one sister, Paige (physical therapy student) 

Education: B.A., English from Stanford.  Just accepted into the Ph.D. program at USC for Creative Writing and Literature.

Professional: Coaching assistant for Stanford’s football team before he graduated; scuba diving instructor/divemaster (2014-2015); patrol officer with Catalina P.D. (2015-present)

Personal: “Not sleeping with other people” with Aly Acosta.  Never married, no children.

PERSONA ~

Ben is pretty chill about most things, as long as they’re external to him.  He internalizes a lot of self-doubt and self-flagellation, courtesy of a terrible and now estranged/cut-off relationship with his dad.  When he’s feeling particularly down on himself, he’s broody and almost sullen.  In more normal moods, he’s quiet and introverted, but not particularly shy.  He’s well-read and writes in journals, but generally doesn’t share what he writes or the fact that he does.  A precious few people close to him have seen or read his writing.  When he’s drunk, he’s the life of the party.  He’s not particularly self-conscious about his body, though, so if he’s drunk and on a beach, he’s probably also naked or mostly naked.  He can be impulsive and has formerly been reckless, but trying to improve that.  Up until he started sleeping with Aly, he was a little bit of a manslut and was unashamed of it, but he always balanced his profound sexual activity with a genuine and healthy respect for the women around him (otherwise, he’s pretty sure his sister would’ve killed him by now.) 

EXISTING CONNECTIONS ~

Evie Morris: best friend.

Aly Acosta: romantic partner.  They live together but haven’t used labels. 

Jason Myers: former colleague.  No love lost.

Gabby Livingston: Acquaintances, hooked up in college.

Marion Stewart: Friends. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS ~

Younger sister (see WC posted through main.) 

High school girlfriend (extensive plotting would be required tho) 

College teammates, roommates, flings, classmates

Flings/hookups/previous flirtationships from Catalina

Publishers or writers who could mentor him 

Anyone he’d deal with in his capacity as a police officer (colleague, criminal, someone who was a victim of a crime or filed a police report) 

Yoga clients (upcoming plot.)

[ben-brody]

📱💬📲. || Benvie

E: You're welcome. I'm a true American.

E: I think you're a lot of problems, but not in this instance. I think half the shit you say is funny.

E: The other half is dissing Pop-Tarts.

E: And ha, that's not a word, I win.

B: You're not wrong. About either thing, really.

B: You think I spend that much of my time dissing Pop-Tarts?

B: It's made from parts of actual words. It's like the hot dog of the dictionary. And how about 'they have LESS NUTRITION than actual cardboard'.

[ben-brody]

📱💬📲. || Benvie

E: We're all the same shade of blue.

E: That sounds profound but it's really not.

E: They're also delicious and senseless.

B: I just threw up in my mouth a little. Thanks for that.

B: I don't buy it because if you admit it's profound, then you have to admit I have a point. You have motivation to say I'm the problem.

B: I agree with you about one of those. And I'll add nutritionless too.

[ben-brody]

📱💬📲. || Benvie

E: Yeah, well, in this case, it doesn't matter. We're both cops and rank doesn't really matter.

E: Excuse, it has real artificial fruit flavoring or yummy chocolate with gooey marshmallow filling. Who needs nutritional value when you've got sugar?

B: Because if we bring rank into it, you can't minimize yourself.

B: Real artificial. Those two words sum up everything else with brevity.

[ben-brody]

gabelivingston​:

Gabriel had always been good at meeting new people, but not really making new friends. In his trade, he had been all over the place, and the media considered him charismatic enough to follow around even though his life was way less scandalous than Tiger Woods. He remembered the sheer amount of interviews he had to give after he was out of the hospital and how journalists were begging him for reassurance when the one who needed reassurance was himself. Still, all those connections he had made were fleeting at best, maybe one of the reasons why, now that he was back in Catalina for the foreseeable future, he had been working at surrounding himself with more people.

Nodding at Ben’s words, he didn’t know what to feel. Knowing whether or not he would go back into golfing was the very first thing he asked after the many surgeries that took to get his shoulder back into place and he held on just about every hope he could.

“I can understand that, but if not for work, I still hope your leg heals enough to be functionable—   if you don’t mind me asking, do you think about going back to work regardless of how your leg heals?” He was curious, of course, he had always been that way, but conversations with Gabriel didn’t usually last long and he needed to get whatever he could while he was being able to pay attention on the man before him.

A smile widened his lips at the mention of being rambunctious, that he could understand better than anyone. “Now that we have in common, but I was a little luckier in terms of not having broken much during the past thirty something years since I learned how to walk, just about gave my mother a heart attack when I decided go rock climbing,” he says nonchalantly, with a small shrug on his good arm.

His expression shifted, though, at the next bit shared. Gabriel had never considered the end of his career to be with an accident, he wanted to be like his father, ride out his years until he wanted to just set back and take care of his family. “I’m sorry man,” and he really was, “that must not have been very pleasant,” his lips pressed together for a moment. “Doctors have a good outlook for my shoulder, but they’re not sure if I’ll be ready for the next Olympics, which is fine, is just… sad,” another shrug, “so, football player, cop and a blank slate next, hm? Doesn’t that freak you out?”

.

While the clear answer, based on the past tense alone, was that Ben was considering not returning to work when his leg healed, he was motivated to subvert the thought for a moment.  There was a lot to consider with something like that, though he’d always been more casual about it than someone like, say, Evie.

“I’ll have to, probably,” Ben eventually answered.  He didn’t mind the question, but he was a little less sure of the answer than he would’ve been an hour ago.  “I mean, I’m not independently wealthy and a guy’s gotta eat.  Making money where I’m established versus trying to find something new.... path of least resistance says I go back.  I don’t think I want to be a cop forever, though.” 

No, he knew what he wanted, he just wasn’t sure if he could go get it. 

Talking about physical exploits was way easier.  “Rock climbing is great.  You ever been BASE jumping?  I haven’t done anything crazy, but I’ve definitely gotten the ‘E’ part in.”

He was shaking his head, both in agreement that his football injury hadn’t been pleasant, but it was also an answer about job-related futures freaked him out.  They really didn’t.  “Nah.  I mean, I have to figure out something obviously, but there’s always an option just waiting to be discovered.  And if it sucks, I can move on to a different one.  I was a scuba instructor before I was a cop, so I could do something like that again.  Or I could go back to school for something else.  I think the only thing I can rule out for sure at this point is a professional surfer, because I’m not really that good, but everything else is on the table and I’ve been pretty good at figuring it out.”  Their chit-chat continued for a few more minutes before Aly texted Ben a picture he’d have to punch someone else for seeing and he excused himself.  While it wasn’t like the two men exchanged phone numbers or anything, Ben made a note to potentially bump into Gabe some other time and at least ask how rehab was going. 

[ben-brody]

alycia-acosta​:

.

A squeal of delight came from behind Aly’s closed lips as Ben confirmed he was cooking for her. “Me gusta!” She told him, but not how much. There was something about the act that seemed inherently and uncharacteristically romantic. However casual they’d begun it was undeniable that the dynamic of their relationship was changing. To someone who hadn’t entertained the thought of a partner in actual years it felt fast, although in all actuality Aly and Ben were over a year in the making. It was what she needed but didn’t know how to ask for; slow and unassuming. 

Nevertheless, the passion had not dwindled to time. If anything it felt stronger. Aly might’ve suggested forgoing the meal altogether and taking it upstairs had her chef not been lurking in ear shot. “Oh yeah?” There was no indication in her voice that said she actually doubted that, but she did. The people Aly employed knew better than to disagree with her. Even the eye roll and muttered comment annoyed her. She bookmarked the behavior away to address at a later time, too focused on Ben to let someone else get in the way.

The choice to go upstairs seemed obvious until he said he wanted to talk. That was even more unlike him than the dinner. It made Aly uneasy. She slipped away from Ben’s side under the guise of getting wine. Which she might really need depending on what he wanted to talk about. “What do you think pairs better with the meal, red or white?” The question was rhetorical, and she didn’t wait for him to answer before choosing a rich Pinot Noir.

The cork made a soft ‘pop’ as it came free from the bottle. It seemed like a deafening noise in the silence that passed between them, but likely only to Aly as she anxiously wondered what Ben wanted to talk about. Maybe he didn’t like that their relationship had become serious, or maybe he did. It was almost difficult to decide which one was worse. Despite this inner turmoil, Aly looked relaxed as she took a seat at her dining room table. Before the food hit the table she asked, “So, what do you want to talk to me about?”

.

At first, she seemed to brush off his serious request under a light exchange and then the need for a bottle of wine.  His halting ‘um... red maybe?’ was dwarfed a little by her certainty, because she had one picked in almost the same instant that he spoke.  The time it took to plate their food and move to the table proved she had not, in fact, ignored anything he’d said.  As he dropped a plate in front of her, realizing the action probably made him seem like some sort of perfect boyfriend, he lost the ability to even joke about exactly that.   Even though what he needed to talk to her about wasn’t serious, at least not in a we need to talk kind of way, he felt a small spike of anxiety when she brought it up. 

He’d been thinking about this since he’d gotten the acceptance for school via email, the two days in between then and now feeling like an eternity.  He’d come to realize he was the sort of person that took 24 hours to digest something before he approached another human about it, but at the end of that day, he’d wanted to tell three people -- Evie, his sister, and the woman before him.  And it wasn’t necessarily in that order he wanted to talk to them. First and foremost, he wanted to hear Aly’s thoughts on this and to include her in his plans.  It was a first for him in a lot ways, and he could both recognize that change had occurred and that it was too late for him to legitimately decide to embrace or fight it. 

Finally, settled in his seat, he had some semblance of an answer to his question organized in a way it could actually proceed from his mouth.  

“The short version, I guess, is my future.  I have to make some choices and I wanna hear your thoughts.”  He picked up his fork but looked only at her.  “I got into the program at USC.  And sort of unrelated to that, but still related, I don’t know if I want to keep working for the police department.”  He set the fork down and decided wine before food.  “I told someone the other day that I was a police officer, past tense.  When I thought about it.... I don’t know.  I definitely need a job, but maybe I could find something more flexible so I can get through school.  What do you think?”  

[ben-brody]

📱💬📲. || Benvie

E: Shame on you.

E: I'm just the small town cop who fucked her boss and has a terrible attitude. We all have our crosses to bear.

E: That's where you're fucking wrong, my guy. They're ALWAYS fight fuel. I'm going to the mat on this one.

B: It's not shame if I'm not ashamed of it.

B: *detective, though. In your case, not mine.

B: That's fine. Go to the mat and then lay there because your sugar high has crashed and that's literally all the Pop Tarts had to offer you by way of nutrition.

[ben-brody]

📱💬📲. || Benvie

E: You're getting back into my good graces.

E: Chill your beans, I was double-checking that you knew how to count over ten with your shoes on because I'm not a foot shorter than you, I'm thirteen inches shorter than you.

E: How's that college learning treating you?

E: Home renovations means ample access to ladders for the ass-kicking.

B: I was rounding because I didn't feel pressed to be this detailed. Thanks.

B: I'm a 'surprised I haven't been fired yet' small town cop with two messed up legs and a terrible attitude. It's going really well. Stanford is proud to claim me as an alumnus. But I used the word alumnus correctly so it's not all bad.

B: Bring it on. Pop Tarts are not fight fuel.

[ben-brody]

@alycia-acosta

[ben-brody]

alycia-acosta​:

.

An early morning meeting with a developer The Acosta Group was interested in doing business with brought Aly into LA. It wasn’t her usual type of work, but taking the meeting herself meant one of her family members wouldn’t fly out. She wasn’t ready for any of the Acostas to meet Ben, rather she didn’t think Ben was ready to meet any of the Acostas. They’d eat him alive. Aly could already see it. Her father’s disappointment. Amy’s annoying level of interest. She felt obligated to protect him from the classism and harassment. Ben didn’t deserve that.

After her meeting she went to lunch at Craig’s with a friend she’d met at some charity thing last summer. It was an uninspiring affair, but she made it look fun on Instagram. The rest of her day was spent shopping. Aly only stopped when nothing else would fit in her Porsche, and she found herself wishing she taken the Jeep instead. 

The smell of food greeted her the moment she stepped inside her Catalina home. It instantly made Aly smile. She was such a foodie. “Mmmm…” Her voice rang, melodic from the foyer. “..huele delicioso!” Before she rounded the corner to the kitchen, Aly ran into her housekeeper. Quite literally, ran into her house keeper. She couldn’t see over the armful of bags she’d brought in. “Good, you’re still here!” It was obvious the woman was on her way out, but still Aly unloaded her bags on her. “Put these in my closest. There’s a few more in the car, too. I think everything left in the trunk goes in Ben’s, but I may have a pair of shoes…” She trailed off, as she tried to remember what all she’d actually bought today. Aly had a bad habit of just shopping to shop. More things in her closest wore tags than not. “Please and thanks!” She managed to pipe just before entering the kitchen.

It surprised Aly to see Ben cooking. The smile on her face went from subtle to full blown. “Are you cooking dinner for me?!” There was no hiding the delight in her voice. It read all over her face, too. Her wide eyes never left him as she made her approach, coming in from the side and dragging her hand across his back. She’d noticed he smelt different the last few days but hadn’t said anything yet. The only thing Aly could smell now was the food. “Handsome and helpful.” Her voiced cooed the compliment in a sincere tone. She was at his side now, leaned up against the counter, more in Ben’s space than she should’ve been for someone who was actively working over a hot surface. “Are you going to feed it to me, too?”

.

Aly’s return home was characteristically unsubtle.  He was right in the middle of finishing up, though, so he let her unload all her stuff on the housekeeper, whom he’d watch get ready to leave reluctantly.  She knew Aly would be home and expect help, so she’d dragged her feet.  That was probably the reason he didn’t say anything to Aly about it; that, and the fact that it was none of his business.  He also wasn’t in a position to help her carry things upstairs with his booted leg as a limitation.  It’d take him half the evening, probably. 

He set the second pork chop down onto the cutting board as she sidled up, sounding delighted and making him shiver a little with her hand on his back.  Impatient with his slow pace, the chef Aly employed was mixing together the things Ben had insisted on chopping for the salad.  Already knowing the rest of the instructions, because he had studied and that part wasn’t as hard anyway, he knew what was next.  He turned the stovetop off, and angled them away from the hot surface as he reached for a knife.  (That was way safer, given their proximity.)

“Yes,” he finally agreed.  He was making dinner for her.  He was more skeptical of the veracity of her claims about handsome and helpful.  While no one had called him ugly, it was the second part that caused him doubt.  Still, he pressed out a small chuckle and leaned to drop a kiss to her cheek before he started cutting meat.  “I think she’d disagree that I’m helpful, but I’m bored, so she’s been helping me out with that.”  He gave the chef a smile as she slid the finished salad next to the plates that were out for the pork chops.  She rolled her eyes at him and muttered something under her breath he didn’t quite catch.

He got one chop cut and plated before he contemplated the next question.  “I can do that.  Do you want to take it upstairs or eat down here?  There are a couple different ways this could go.  But I have something I want to talk to you about, too.”

[ben-brody]

📱💬📲. || Benvie

E: In a month or so.

E: I'm 5'4". How tall are you?

E: Your sympathy's a foot shorter, my temper's a foot shorter than that. I will climb a ladder and beat your ass.

B: So there's time for me to not be useless. I'll come help.

B: You don't already know the answer to this? That's it, I guess we're just fake friends.

B: 6'5"

B: Do you expect me to believe you have access to a ladder? Or that you would need one to beat my ass?

[ben-brody]

[ben-brody]

📱: ALY⇄ BEN

Aly: Gotcha, so I'm basically your dream girl.

Aly: Don't lie to me Bennett 😈

Aly: Yeah, I've never had a dog either. Or any pet. I think it'd be fun though!!

Aly: We should visit the animal shelter. 🥰

Ben: Something like that.

Ben: I'm not, Alycia.

Ben: Fun but also work. If we start by visiting the animal shelter, we'll end the same day by bringing home a dog or maybe three that you love.

Ben: Maybe we could check with one of the rescues in L.A. or San Diego.

[ben-brody]

📱: ALY⇄ BEN

Aly: And here I thought it was my ass.

Aly: Definitely.

Aly: Is that even possible with you?

Aly: I also like Marlo, but I like bigger dogs more.

Aly: YES!!! 😍

Aly: Wait, really though? You want to get a dog?

Ben: Depends on the moment. Over text, reluctance wins. In person, it's all T&A.

Ben: Um. For brief moments.

Ben: I'm open to the conversation. I know fuck all about it so I need more details before I can say for sure.

[ben-brody]

📱: ALY⇄ BEN

Aly: Yeah, I guess I like you too.

Aly: Don't I know it. 😜

Aly: Ok, I'm over the emu. How do you feel about a dog?

Ben: Reluctance is definitely the way to my heart.

Ben: So it was more of a fling, then.

Ben: Let me get my brain out of the dirty place before I try to answer that question.

Ben: I've never had one. I like Marlo well enough, but I've never had space to think about getting one myself.

Ben: Would you want to get one together?

[ben-brody]

📱: ALY⇄ BEN

Ben: I'm probably the same height. Is your new boyfriend interested in a throuple situation?

Aly: Can't let me go, huh? 😏

Aly: Maybe. If you say please.

Ben: I mean, I don't see a reason to if we can find a good work-around.

Ben: Please? I don't know much about what a bird would want in a relationship but I'm a quick learner.

[ben-brody]

who: closed | @alycia-acosta​ when: like two weeks ago because I’m bad at this  where: aly’s house 

If nothing else during this stupid injury, Ben had plenty of time on his hands to think.  Some of his thoughts were stupid bullshit, like if the t-shirt he was wearing would still be in his closet in five years or if he should maybe go buy a few more of them because he really liked it and didn’t want to embrace the marketplace change that would inevitably occur before he ruined it.  Some of his thoughts were bigger, more existential things.  His lease would be up soon, signing the contract an annual rite of passage he hadn’t thought about too much in the last four or so years since he’d moved into the apartment.  Did he want to sign again?  Did he see himself living there for another year?  Was it possible he could want to live with someone else?  He and Aly had been living together for the better part of the last year and, though no one had said anything specific and neither of them were talkative that way, he had to admit to himself it was possible they could choose to make that permanent.  They could just as likely shy away from that commitment.  

Anyway, he’d been thinking a lot more than he’d been acting, and the only thing he knew for certain is it put him into a headspace where he wanted to share some of those thoughts with Aly.  He didn’t want to share everything.  She didn’t need know that he’d debated shaving his beard and starting over with scruff.  She didn’t need to know he’d changed deodorant, because the store was out of his usual brand, and the smell of the new one was freaking him out because it was a weird scent he hadn’t yet associated with himself.  

But he wanted to tell her about the email he’d gotten from USC, accepting him into the graduate school program he’d applied for.  He wanted to tell her first, but he also wanted to tell her in person.  He was still reeling a little, the acceptance an unexpected sign he’d reoriented in the right direction even as he debated if he wanted to go back to the police department.  Did he quit his job and accept the offer from USC?  Did he drop to part time or take a different job within the department and still accept?  Did he ignore the more fantastical aspects of it all and just go back to work because he had to eat? 

With all that in mind, he found a YouTube tutorial and asked for help from Aly’s employed chef to make dinner, something he’d done with increasing frequency while he was on light duty.  Not that he wanted to try to butter her up or anything, but it was a good place to direct his nervous energy while he waited for her to come home.   (The chef may not have shared that opinion.)