Quinnxarchibald‌:

TITLE: Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me. LOCATION & DATE: Arlo’s Place & Early New Year’s Day (1/01/19) SUMMARY: After a night of drinking and getting high, Ben gets busted. However, that doesn’t stop him from resisting. AKA Benjamin Vanderbilt is an idiot.  TRIGGERS:  Oding, mentions of drug use, mentions of arrest and jail

It was destiny that he had run into Chessie or Arlo. Or rather, that they had ran into him. Or met him in the same room. Whatever. And now he was feeling this high all over again. It felt like wind on a crisp fall day to him. He felt something he hadn’t felt in two years. He was pretty damn out of it but it’s not like he really knew that. He thought that he was completely coherent. 

Then when Chessie went down, it didn’t hit him much. It should’ve brought him back to reality. Instead, he just saw her go down without it registering. He then spent the rest of the night, away from others. With a little baggie tucked away in his pocket. How it got there, he wasn’t sure but he knew he’d save it for a good time. 

When uninvited guests made their way in, Ben tried to quickly get up from the floor but pretty much stumbled over. 

“Hey, hey, hey. What are you doing?” He asked, his words completely slurred. Next thing he knew he was against the wall with his hands behind is back. 

“If you fellas wanted some too, all you had to do was ask.” He announced as they searched his suit. Fuck. The counsequences of his actions weren’t something he was really thinking about, his thought process was blurred but he knew that this probably wasn’t good. He should’ve just fucking left with King when they were talking about it. Now Ben was stuck in a god damn mess with no one to save his ass. Talk about being a Damsel in Distress. 

“We were making it snow since it’s not even cold outside!” He exclaimed, not helping his case. He was told to be quiet immediately but he couldn’t shut the fuck up. The adrenaline rushing through him was warping his judgment completely. Maybe this was a nightmare. Maybe he was dreaming. That could be the case. He was a heavy sleeper. This could’ve just been his guilt. Yes, that made the most sense. This couldn’t have been real. 

“Can Olivia Benson at least arrest me?” He asked one of the cops as they took him off the wall. The Miranda Rights being read to him were muffled. He couldn’t hear shit. It sounded like a bunch of idiots in a room talking. “These handcuffs are really tight.” He made it seem like he was talking to old buddies. There was no filter. He was just blurting whatever the hell he was thinking. Next thing he knew, he was being led by a police officer out of the building. It felt worse than the walk of shame. At least with the walk of shame, you weren’t being carried out by police officers. Fuck this.

The worst part was getting booked, and telling him that he had one phone call. He couldn’t call his mom, he hadn’t spoken to her in two years. He couldn’t call his sister. Besides, he knew he was going to call King. However, he wasn’t sure what the results of his actions would do to her or them. They were here for Ben to make amends, not to get actually arrested this time. But he had to suck it up to get the fuck out of here. That meant putting on his big boy pants and calling his wife.

monty-santos‌:

“I guess that we’ve got some very different philosophies there because I don’t think that I do anything just to see if I actually can,” Monty chuckled, though that was really a concept that he’d never really been a fan of.  He’d always been the kind of person who never really thought to take more than he needed.  “Just because he did that doesn’t mean that the history isn’t here. And I think everyone would rather not have the tourists here, but it’s just a part of living in New York. You just have to find the best places to hide from them.”

Monty was way too good. A part of him wanted to see if he could corrupt him but another part of him wanted Monty to always remain the same. It was a mystery to him how Monty was raised here and yet he was so freaking good and innocent. Ben could not relate. “I always like to do things that people tell me I can’t do. Reverse psychology works too well on me.” He admitted with a chuckle. “It’s just annoying when they stop in the middle of the street,” Ben said with frustration.“Have you ever been to Dive 75? I bet tourists don’t go there.” 

 taterodriguez‌:

With everything that had been going on in Tate’s life in the last few weeks, any excuse to drink was welcomed in fact encouraged so they weren’t spending their evening alone with a bottle of vodka at Howl.  When they received their invitation from O, it was a hard offer to turn down.  So, Tate slipped into a simple but elegant jumpsuit and threw on their favourite pair of Stuart Weitzman booties before they made their way to O’s apartment.

Upon their arrival, Tate made a beeline to the kitchen to prepare their self a double vodka soda, skipping the wine this evening and shooting straight for the hard stuff.  They were unsure of what events would unravel this evening, but Tate honestly couldn’t care less since there was free alcohol and many places for them to hide.

Instead of seeking an immediate place of refuge, Tate hoisted their self onto the counter of the island in the centre of the kitchen in attempt to remain close to the free booze.  As Tate sipped on their vodka soda, the sound of approaching footsteps went unnoticed until they heard a voice beside them.  “Oh,” Tate exclaimed.  “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Living with Chessie and O for the past few weeks meant that Ben was pretty familiar with the kitchen. And since he had to throw away a napkin, he figured he could do it himself. Ben stopped in his tracks when he saw Tate. He was caught off guard that someone else was in the kitchen. Nevertheless, he gave them a slight smile. 

"Surprisingly, you’re not the first person who has said that to me tonight,” Ben added with a shrug. “I’ve been crashing with O and Chessie so I know where a lot of things around here are. I even know which toilet is the best to use in the house,” He joked. “What are you doing in here? I’m honestly thinking about copying you and staying here for the rest of the party. Do you mind if I join you?”

iamrenanpacheco

 chessieabernathy‌:

Somewhere past the sunrise, Chessie hadn’t woken with feeling a common feeling of being both groggy and mildly hungover. The combination always warranted a warm cup of coffee to ease her into the day – Even with plenty of party guests sleeping all over her home thanks to the blizzard, she didn’t miss a beat. Having changed in a short robe, pulled close, she brewed a pot, leaning against the kitchen counter as she scanned the room. “Morning, sunshine,” she comments quietly, giving the new addition an arched brow. “Help yourself.” Chessie offers, nodding to the pot next to her.

Ben started feeling more comfortable around the apartment that he was intruding in. It had been a few weeks and he finally was deciding he could take most things without asking. The one problem was that Ben wasn’t a morning person. He’d much rather sleep in than have to get up. But for some reason, he was up. It took him at least an hour to wake up, another thirty minutes to be open to conversation, it was a whole process. Add in the fact that he was hungover and his face fucking hurt. Not to mention that getting to sleep was a whole process. Maybe it was all of the guilt that he had to live with. It had to be cold and he had to sleep in just his boxers. However, he always made sure he was decent when he went outside of the room that he and King shared. After he rubbed his eyes, adjusting to some light, he trekked to the kitchen. He looked at Chessie, giving her a hand to at least acknowledge her. “Stop being so loud,” He told her in a whisper. “It’s hurting my head.” Since when did he get hangovers? It was this American shit. He took some coffee before he looked back at her, “Do you think we can get out to the terrace for a quick smoke?” He asked, not knowing the extent of the snow from the blizzard.

He felt like human wrapping paper wearing his festive suit. If he was put under the tree, he could probably have passed as a present. When he was younger, he loved Christmas. Well, until his father told him that Santa wasn’t real. He was still trying to adjust back into the Upper East Side party manner. At least he had alcohol as a social lubricant. “You know kids in England leave Santa some beer. Do they not think he could get drunk?” He asked, “Imagine consuming that much alcohol in a minimal amount of time. He wouldn’t legally be allowed to fly that sleigh.”

chessieabernathy‌:

In the short time King and Ben had lived with O and Chessie, the latter had become decently close to Ben. And after O was jetted off to international meetings and shows for two weeks, she had grown more fond of their visitors-turned-roommates, feeling as though the four were building a sibling-esque relationship. She’d begun to look forward to her morning coffee and cigarette with Ben, and while this morning was motivated by the inability to sleep, it was no exception to a rule. His words provoked an eye roll, though she didn’t fight his request – Her own headache was in full swing, as well. “I’m not sure,” Chessie responded quietly, glancing out the large balcony windows before continuing. “I’m not sure my nicotine addiction is bad enough to make me trek through snow, though.” She spoke bitterly, another eye roll following. “And going to change sounds like too much work.” Chessie couldn’t help but whine, slumping against the counter. “This coffee is so warm, I don’t know if I can move.”

He sighed at her hesitation. He’d probably go out and smoke by himself then. He was going to get a little stir crazy with all of these people in here. “Don’t be so dramatic,” He responded, which was ironic considering his own tendencies. “I’m sure it’s only a little cold out. I think you’ll be fine out there,” He gestured towards the window. “You mean your milk with a little dash of coffee.” Ever since he moved to Europe, he drank his coffee black. Everything else seemed way too weak to him now. “Put pants on and the smoke will keep you warm. I’ve needed a drag ever since I got pummeled in the face yesterday.”

chessieabernathy‌:

Chessie had come to enjoy the company of both King and Ben. And with O having been gone, she’d become accustom to sharing her coffee pot and a cigarette with Ben in the morning. She held him in high regards – Mostly because what she knew about him was second-hand from Sebastian years ago. The latter had adored the other man, so Chessie had no reason to hold a grudge. Or create one. “Craft beer?” She took faux offense to his comment about champagne, before a loud bark of laughter passed her lips. “We drink liquor in this house, Ben.”

Ben quickly shook his head at her. “Chessie.” He could barely speak, in shock that someone would insult craft beer. “Have you ever had a beer before? Because you should know nothing else compares to some ice cold beer,” He insisted. “However, if I have to have some liquor,” He tried to give a bit of a fancy accent with the last word, “I’d prefer anything but champagne. How can we make that happen?” 

oatanas‌:

For a split second O just stared at Ben, eyebrows raised as she waited to see whether or not he was finished with what he was saying. “No offence but you sound like a real asshole sometimes.” She finally settled on, eyebrows raising. Not that she had any room to talk — she made an asshole of herself at least once a day but that was neither here nor there. “Besides, you do remember that you’re an American, right?”

“None taken,” He had been called worse before. “Although as long as I’m not being an asshole in your own home, then that’s what matters.” At least he was respecting her place. That had to count for something right? Well, maybe only in his eyes. He then sighed at the reminder, “Yes but I’ve spent two years in Europe.” How did he explain to her that living there changes a person? He’s different now. Still American, yes, but he changed for the better which he mainly credits to King. “What’s your poison tonight?” Who the fuck still referred to alcohol as that? Apparently, he did. 

monty-santos‌:

“I’ve been back since the day after Freya’s funeral, I couldn’t be a ticket back in time,” Monty sighed, a shadow passing over his face as he had yet another reminder of all the death that had decided to come for his family this year.  And while he tried to push the unexpected pangs of grief back tot he back of his head, Monty knew that it was still probably written all over his face.  “I actually don’t really drink anymore, to be honest. I mean, I’m still working on completely stopping, but I actually converted to Buddhism and it’s greatly looked down upon since you’re supposed to abstain from things that can cloud the mind. But I will take any other recommendations that you’ve got.  Are you planning on going to France at some point soon?” he asked, mostly out of curiosity.  “I’ve gotten the word out and a few people have.  Sheridan, I don’t know if you’ve met her yet, actually donated what I’m pretty sure was about half a Target.  So it helps, there’s just also need for more.”

He had heard things, heard about people dying but they could’ve been just rumors. Unfortunately, they weren’t. “Shit, you’re really a Buddhist now? What do you do if you don’t drink now?” He asked, thoroughly confused. “I don’t know if I can recommend anything else since that counts out everything else,” Ben was always into clouding his judgment, “I’m not sure when we’re going to go back. I have some things to do here and then hopefully that’ll be one of the first stops.” He was optimistic that they wouldn’t be here for too long. “Nope, I haven’t met her yet,” He actually didn’t mind being out of the loop abroad but now that he was home, he was curious about everything. “At least someone’s helping out that’s got the money.”