A Different Lighthouse

Chapter 7

He'd never been as sore in his life as he was when he woke up the next morning.

He suspected a lot of it had to do with the rickety old couch, alongside carrying Blue on his shoulders everywhere they went. Ben sat up, rubbing his face wearily and stretching his arms over his head. His spine cracked in a couple places, and he followed it up with his neck before swinging his legs over the edge of the couch.

The bed was empty, Armitage either awake or never having actually gone to sleep. Ben was starting to wonder if the man was human, the way he was fueled by pure determination and, probably, a bit of spite. It was both extremely attractive and incredibly irritating. He shuffled out, yawning behind his hand, and stopped when he found Armitage in the living area, facing away and looking out of the window at Rapture. His shirt was still removed, the bandages wrapped around his torso showing no signs of bleeding through. Ben couldn't help his eyes trailing, very briefly, over the slender curve of his back and shoulders before he cleared his throat.

Armitage jumped a bit, whirling around relaxing when he saw who he was. "Gods above, dear. Don't do that."

"Sorry," Ben laughed a little, coming to stand beside him. "Feeling jumpy, Armitage?"

Armitage hummed lowly, not smiling and casting his eyes around the apartment. "Something like that."

Ben quirked an eyebrow at him. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"Nothin'. We need to get movin'. This is takin' too long already. And we need to dump that damn little one."

Ben huffed, pursing his lips at him. "I don't think you actually hate her as much as you pretend you do."

"Ha!" Armitage scoffed, giving Ben an incredulous look. "And how would you know that, dear? Got me all figured out, have you?" He stepped closer to Ben, trying to intimidate him into shutting up by getting closer, no doubt. Ben just tilted his head down and held his gaze, unimpressed.

"I've got some of you figured out, at least. Mostly that you aren't nearly as scary as you think you are, Armitage."

Armitage narrowed his eyes at him, backing off a bit. "Listen," he said shortly. "You might have a bleedin' heart, but I don't. I don't care how normal you try to make it look, that thing ain't a child. And the longer we have it with us, the more Splicers we're gonna attract. So let's just get her into a hole in the damn wall and leave it at that!"

"She won't go!" Ben retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "You saw her. We tried to make her go and she wouldn't. The only way we can get her back to Phasma is to bring her right to her ourselves. Besides, she's been more help than she's been trouble. Or did you forget about the first aid kit and the hiding places already?"

Armitage's nostrils flared and he spluttered for a moment as he tried and failed to come up with a sentence. "That ain't more help than trouble!"

"Regardless of how you feel about it, we're stuck with her," Ben said smugly. "So might as well wipe the sour face and get over it."

They stared each other down for a long minute, Ben clenching his jaw in the face of Armitage’s glare. Eventually the latter huffed and relaxed, shaking his head and running his fingers through his red hair.

"Fine. Alright," he muttered, "but no gettin' sidetracked, you hear me? And no more picking up Little Sisters."

Ben smiled, relaxing himself and unfolding his arms. "I can agree to that."