A Fugitive's Guide To Romancing dangerous Men[BxBxB+]

1- The Gala

Bruce knew this was a mistake. 

As he caught sight of the huge event center a sinking feeling warned him he was right. This would never end well. Why did he even buy that ticket?

Bruce Bernard was not someone anyone would describe as impulsive.  The twenty-seven year old was selfish, yes. A monster, yes. Stubborn at times but he was not impulsive, never impulsive. He'd like to think he had a high amount of Self-control, thank you very much.  But as he touched down in London and got on this cab he was rethinking that "fact" all the more now.

He's on the run and this is exactly what Sergeant Ravine wanted, what the military wanted. The crowds are tight and the streets are cramped.
He had never been particularly claustrophobic before his life went to shit four years ago but that is quickly changing.

Enclosed means breaking out, which means destruction, which means broken buildings ...broken people.  Attending the international Physicist federation gala is reckless, impulsive, stupid, indulgent, irresponsible and although the weight of guilt rests heavily in his heart, he can't bring himself to care.
He is foolish and he's heartless because as Benedict Harris staggers unto the stage, all contemplations of leaving are tossed out the nearest window.

The billionaire, opens his mouth and somehow manages to talk intelligently on integrated circuits and bioelectronics while obviously far above an alcohol-blood ratio of 0.08% by volume.

All Bruce can do is stare and listen in awe of one man's intelligence.
And he absorbs everything, down to the shade of Burgundy the suit Mr Harris is wearing, to the sharp smell of espresso wafting off the woman beside him.Because the man speaking about electrical amalgamations and chemical properties and how to avoid corrosion of semiconductor materials in biogenic devices with revolutionary scientific theories is the most brilliant and incredible person Bruce has ever met.

Or rather, been in the same room with because he'll never have the chance to meet someone as all encompassing and brilliant as Benedict Harris.

His heart rate spikes, nowhere near dangerous but worrying all the same.

Bruce  takes deep breaths but his heart rate doesn't go down,it slows down and his watch buzzes every nine seconds making him at 90bpm.
Mr. Harris talks animatedly of huge and complicated processes used to develop and maintain technology to run at maximum performance without breaking down.

It's obvious he knows at least 97.635% of people there don't understand a thing he's saying, but Bruce doesn't mind because he's soaking up every bit of knowledge the man on the podium utters.

What he would give to talk to that man. To discuss motherboards, or the evolution of the human nervous system. Or something utterly mundane like how beautifully the man's brown skin looked in the spotlight.

Of Course he knew Benedict Harris was a genius, everyone knew that but now he has solid proof of it.

Mr. Harris bows dramatically with unneeded flourish before he strode off the podium.

And once again he wonders if this had been a mistake because the sigh that escapes him is too full of longing.

To be here in the midst of other intellectuals, to learn other perspectives and ideas, like his days at Harvard.

He has this though, far more than he deserves and he should be happy.

He isn't.

Bruce ducks out of the hall and on his way out he hears a voice that causes him to freeze.

"You." Benedict points at him from across the room. 

He freezes because Benedict FUCKING Harris is talking to him, HIM.

But he also freezes because Harris United, (Benedict's company), makes weapons.

Those weapons are sold to the military. Benedict  had military connections .  Bruce was one of the U.S governments top priority fugitives though not as well known as the rest because of the... Uniqueness of his situation. Benedict could turn him in.

Benedict could know who he is. That thought is both gut-wrenching and exhilarating.

His watch buzzes. Faster.

Mr. Harris motions him over and he takes small unsure steps toward the tall man.

The scent of a cool, spicy cologne wafts off Mr. Harris' skin and if Bruce concentrates really, REALLY hard he could almost feel his body heat.

His dark eyes roam over him making him feel more naked than when he's without clothes.

"You've been staring at me for three hours."   His voice is smooth but has a slight edge, a roughness.

Something raw, but warm and all encompassing at the same time.  His legs actually feel weak. "...I'm ... Sorry?"

The stare Benedict locks on him was one which he was sure that without the looming threat of imminent danger Bruce was sure his legs would seize to work.

Moments pass and the taller man's expression thaws. With a slight raise of his glass he asks: "What do you drink?"

***

Ok, that's that. First story on
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