He Felt Like Human Wrapping Paper Wearing His Festive Suit. If He Was Put Under The Tree, He Could Probably

chessieabernathy‌:

Ben didn’t pry, and Chessie gave him the same respect – It’s what made her enjoy their banter, knowing he wasn’t going to bother her about who she’d slept with recently, nor would she ask him about Quinn. She gave him an eye roll, a scoff following, as if he’d insinuated something beneath her. “I can name a few things I’d rather do than drink an ‘ice cold beer’, but I don’t want to scare the rest of the guests with graphics,” Chessie poked, before gesturing to the bar they had set up in the corner of the living room. “If you stopped your moping for half a second, you wouldn’t have missed one important detail.”

“Please don’t. Let's keep this party PG-13. It’s fine, no one around here could even come close to making the beer they had in Greece. It was amazing,” Ben was always reminiscing. “Hey, I am not moping. That’d mean that I’m trying to have a bad time and I’m not trying to have a bad time at all. I’m just waiting for the drama because I know it’s inevitable,” He considered himself above drama and all of the Upper East Side antics at this point in his life. “I guess I’m going to have to have a gin and tonic like a barbarian.” He was teasing her completely, only because he liked the wisecracks they were both able to deliver. 

kirbcy‌:

“Perhaps,” Bishop said with a lilt of his voice, “people wouldn’t be ‘at your throats’ if the choices that you both made were the ones that didn’t fuck over the people that loved you both. Sorry for holding both of you accountable for your shit actions when you decided to fuck family right in the ass.” Bishop decided that he didn’t like him. He used to worship his sister, in a weird way – a way where it was the two of them against the world, where he could count on her to take him into consideration. It turned out that she had zero issue burning him like everyone and disappearing into the void without a care in the world. He bristled against the other man attempting to do what he wasn’t sure. “Don’t presume you know even an ounce of my feelings toward my sister. Those don’t include you. But here’s a food for thought, maybe if she really loved me, she would have reached out. I’m glad she found someone to indulge in cowardice with, though.”

“I”m not here to argue with you,” He understood that Bishop was hurting, he understood that completely. “I think it speaks volumes that we came back,” He insisted. “You’re hurt, I get it. But don’t take it out on me. Or her. Both of us are human, I’ve made plenty of mistakes before,” He felt like he was walking on eggshells around the younger Kirbey, not wanting to them to argue. He couldn’t do that to King. “And I’m sorry that you’re hurt. But I can’t help if you at least don’t let me reach out. I think small talk’s better than nothing.”

chessieabernathy‌:

There was a presence about Ben Vanderbilt that made Chessie think of him as an older brother, one that didn’t press her talk about her feelings, didn’t care – or in Ben’s case, mostly didn’t know – about her fuck ups. He was someone to have a drink or a smoke with, and shoot the shit. “Being a Vanderbilt can’t be much worse than bein’ an Abernathy. Go into any state in the Bible Belt and you’ll get swarmed.” She pointed out, attempting to keep the bitterness out of her tone at the mention of her family. “Don’t hold your breath,” she happily changed the topic, laughter at her lips. “Who knew you were such a romantic, B.” Chessie couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his comment, but appreciated the sentiment. At the mention of gin, she lifted a brow, giving him a look. “And what might that be?”

“That doesn’t seem like the Southern hospitality that everyone’s told me about. I figured you’d get swarmed because of popularity, ” He pointed out, “At least no one gives you a double take while you’re here.” He at least assumed no one did. Well, not in the way that they did to him now that he was back. Some people stopped in their tracks and obviously stared at him. It was very hard to ignore. “You’re more likely to be a psycho if you prefer gin,” He stated as if he was unconcerned, “It’s some unspoken alcohol rule.” Except people did speak about it. “See? no one thinks that about my beer. When are you gonna give it a chance?”

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. 

seboriley‌:

“Dude, I’m kidding,” Sebastian assures, a little laugh bubbling up his throat as he tries to soften the blow. “What, they don’t bust your balls in Europe like they do in the good ‘ol U-S of A? We still got that on ‘em?” He offers a clipped but not insincere thanks, grabbing the handle of the knife and working it through a lime. “Well, might as well have some. No point in wasting a perfectly good lime. But if we’re going all out, we gotta find the salt…” He starts pulling open cabinets with reckless abandon, finally catching sight of a shaker and pulling it out. “’Kay. Lick your hand, Benny boy.”

He was always a wound up drunk. He did things he wasn’t supposed to and got angry at useless things. However, he was going to laugh this one off. “No one in Europe even has a sense of humor,” He joked. He waited patiently for the salt that Sebastian was looking to discover. “Too bad we aren’t taking body shots.” He hadn’t done that in years. It seemed like a younger Ben thing to do, especially when he was crossfaded. “To the New Year,” He cheered before he moistened the back of his hand. He poured the salt on his hand and licked it, realizing that his hands were probably pretty gross. Oh well. Germs take a break on New Year’s Eve. He threw his head back as he took the tequila shot. He then began to suck on his lime. “I’m ready to do another one, not gonna lie.”

monty-santos‌:

“I don’t know, not all mall Santas are that way.  Or I”m assuming, I don’t actually know,” Monty shrugged, though he couldn’t really imagine places hiring drunks for a job that required them to be around children all day, “I don’t think so, it’s jsut for the donkey.  Though any kid who sends letters to Santa gets a response, which I think is pretty cool.” 

He was just going by the reputation that mall Santas had. They were always a version of a bum. “Who the hell is writing all of those letters back to those kids?” Someone had way too much time on their hands. “I think France should be focusing on other things, if it were up to me,” Then again he wasn’t in the French Parliament. “I spent some time there, I would know. They also aren’t huge fans of Americans, especially when I told them that I was from the City.” 

text @ everyone (wren's entire contact list)

Wren: It's my Christmas card. I made it online.

Ben: Christmas is celebrated so differently in Europe.

Ben: we should try to give it a shot over here.

@monty-santos

It was that strange time between Christmas and New Years Eve which meant plenty of tourists. Even on the Upper East Side. They were everywhere. Over the course of the past week, he had been thinking about Monty and his offer to volunteer. He’d never volunteer, ever. However, it didn’t hurt to at least check out one of the shelters he was talking about. And by checking out, he was just standing near it. When Ben was a bit tense, his automatic response was to take out a cigarette from his pack and light it up. He was still uncomfortable in the city, he felt like all eyes were on him. Whether that was the case or not was yet to be determined. 

Speaking of the Devil, or rather Angel in this case, Ben perked up. What were the odds? He threw his cigarette on the floor dramatically. For some reason, he wanted to be good for Monty. Or rather when he was around him. Sort of like how he was with King. He liked to think that Monty was a good influence. “Hey,” Ben tried to act casual, as if it was the norm to see him around here. “I’m really over this weather. I wouldn’t mind if the weather did a complete one eighty,” And that was true. He missed the warmth. “What are you doing around here?” He asked, hoping Monty wouldn’t inquire about him. 

monty-santos‌:

“It’s just a mass-produced postcard type thing that the post office makes, so it’s nothing fancy,” Monty pointed out with a little shrug, “But I think it depends on what you’re doing there.  I actually lived mostly in France for nine years after high school and I found that if you tried speak the language and learn the customs and don’t just do the tourist thing they weren’t as ugh it’s an American.”

“Well, of course, they liked you. You’re Monty Santos. I can’t imagine anyone not liking you,” He admitted. Who could ever say something bad about Monty? Not him. “It probably didn’t help that I was inebriated most of the time. I wasn’t sober enough to understand their customs. Not to mention I never really paid attention in French. I just know how to tell them that I don’t know. You, on the other hand, you must’ve been very popular there.”