Hello (again), everyone! I uploaded this when I was half asleep and somehow the chapter got cut off… I went to check it out on my phone, and then accidentally deleted the fic. *facepalms* Thank you to MissDomho and SonataNocturne for alerting me that I’d cut off my own fic!

This little fic was inspired by an old interview on Loveline, in which the world’s bravest girl called and actually asked Mike and Chester if they’d heard of Bennoda.

Link here if you haven’t heard it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2rJecrYqro

…though I can’t imagine any of you haven’t! Anyway, I decided to have a little fun with it. Let me know what you think. x

“Hey, I’ve got a question for Chester and Mike. Actually, the both of you,” came the caller’s voice into the headphones, identified innocently enough as Kelsey from Virginia.

“Okay,” Mike replied thoughtfully. “Hi!”

“Alright, um, I wanted to know if you guys knew anything about Bennoda?”

“Bennoda?” Mike questioned, his brow furrowed as he glanced up at Chester, who had a knowing smirk on his face.

“Yes, I’ve seen—I’ve seen some things on Bennoda,” came Chester’s simple response, his eyes not meeting Mike’s.

“What is that?” Mike asked, glancing at Stryker then, before turning his sights back on Chester.

“Well, did you see… are you talking about the one where, uh…” Chester closed his eyes briefly in thought. “Well, there’s a couple Bennoda things, right?”

“Yeah,” the caller confirmed.

“Yeah. One’s like ‘Brokeback Mountain’ Bennoda,” Chester said, looking up at Mike to find that his eyes were already on him.

“Yeah, it's basically, like, a 'Brangelina' thing, except with you guys,” the caller went on as Chester held Mike’s gaze.

“Yeah, they--they have, like, me and you doing these stories online,” Chester explained to Mike, his hands making vague gestures as he spoke.

“’Brokeback Mountain’ stuff?” Mike asked, his forehead crinkling as he lifted his brows.

“It's pretty awesome. Yeah, I think it's great,” Chester remarked nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair as he observed just how uncomfortable Mike was beginning to look. Quiet amusement marked Chester’s features as the chatter and laughter of the others in the room flooded his ears. He turned his attention back to the caller, venturing on to confirm his thoughts, “Yeah, it's pretty awesome. What about it?”

“I don't know,” she started, nervousness in her voice. “I just wanted to know if you guys knew about it, because there are some, like, crazy people out there. There are, like, entire sites devoted to these, like, I don't know. I'm just kinda curious if you guys knew about it.”

“Yep. Yep, I mean there's a lot of... people can do whatever they want on the internet,” Chester said as Mike shifted quietly in his chair.

Mike felt heat settling into his cheeks, and moved his lips away from the microphone in order to draw in a quiet, shaky breath. His fingers curled tightly against his palms, and he quickly tapped his knuckles against his legs. Chester watched Mike’s blatant discomfort continue to unfold, the same bemused expression on his face as Stryker wheezed quiet laughter into his mic, making comments about fanfiction.

"We made a, we made a decision a long time ago, when we first put linkinpark.com online and we put up a messageboard,” Mike deflected, his eyes trained on the table as he sought to evade the topic entirely. “And the question was do we moderate it? And edit or delete stuff that is questionable?” he glanced up at Chester then, whose eyes remained on his face as he nervously rambled. “Or, like, for example, can you go on the Linkin Park messageboard and say, 'eff Linkin Park, they're the worst band in the universe and I wanna kill them.' Can you say that?”

“I guess you can!” Stryker interjected, while Chester shook his head at Mike with a soft laugh.

“Yeah, you can say it,” Mike continued, eyes shifting up toward the ceiling. “I mean, you --the... the kill them part? A little questionable, but the 'I hate the band' part, totally okay.” He glanced at Chester again, hoping this ramble might redirect the conversation entirely. “We made that decision a long time ago and ever since then, we just follow through with that. It's like if somebody's gonna write something or make some crazy thing up, we've gotta do our best to find the humor in it, because it's gonna happen.”

"I think you should--you should check out Bennoda Mountain. It's pretty awesome,” Chester repeated, never looking away from Mike. The smirk curled his lips just the slightest bit further when he watched Mike’s eyes close. Chester swore he could hear Mike mentally cursing him.

"I've actually seen... I've seen some of the... I actually saw this one... my favorite 'I hate Linkin Park' thing that I saw that I saw online was this guy who literally went to our show, like, with...” Mike trailed off, his eyes still shut as he desperately soldiered on to get off this fucking subject. All the while, Chester was looking on, an annoyed expression on his face. “He went to the show, he didn't buy tickets. He went to the parking lot, and basically went around, like, explaining to people why they shouldn't listen to us. In the parking lot of our show, he's spending his day doing that.”

Chester shook his head as Mike successfully changed the subject, feeling a little perturbed as Stryker picked up where Mike’s unrelated ramble had left off and moved on with the show.

The rest of the show proceeded just as one might expect Loveline to. Some of the questions that followed were more serious, others more lighthearted, but none of them elicited anywhere near the same reaction from Mike as that Bennoda one. Chester had paid careful attention to Mike the rest of the night, had wondered what the hell his problem was.

As they walked out to the car waiting for them, Mike noticed the shift in Chester’s attitude toward him. After spending the vast majority of their time together over the last ten years, Mike was able to read Chester like a book. And right now, Chester was deeply annoyed with him. He could tell just by the stiffness in his walk.

Worry overtook Mike in a heartbeat. Had he said something to anger Chester during the show? Had he divulged something Chester would have preferred he didn’t? He chanced the occasional glance up at him to check if the air had changed, but all he received was Chester’s unchanged icy regard.

Mike sat beside Chester almost cautiously in the car, sure he was going to let him have it when the doors closed. But the explosion he was anticipating never came. Instead, Chester turned his gaze to stare blankly out the window.

It was the strangest thing Mike had ever seen. Maybe it had nothing to do with him, after all, he mused. He stared at the reflection of Chester’s face in the window and felt something inside him soften. A deep admiration overwhelmed him as he observed the contours of Chester’s face, how his defined jawline sloped smoothly into his slender neck, setting the stage for the lithe physique it led into.

A familiar desperation filled Mike, not dissimilar to the way he’d felt during the show, albeit for an entirely different reason now. Instinctively, Mike rested a hand on Chester’s thigh. As soon as he felt his skin land upon the other man’s denim-covered thigh, his eyes fell upon his hand there, too. He bit his lip as Chester turned to look at him, but Mike never removed his hand.

“Chester,” he almost whispered, his eyes trailing down Chester’s neck before lifting again to meet Chester’s gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Chester smiled a small smile, shook his head, and turned back toward the window. Mike’s fingers twitched against his leg, a sensation that wasn’t lost on Chester. It filled him with an inexplicable sense of longing, one that he didn’t know was there until Mike’s vehement avoidance during the show. It was silly, but it was real nonetheless.

The rest of the car ride was much the same, silent and tense. When they pulled up to Chester’s home, Mike hesitated to move.

“Come inside with me, Mike,” Chester said, breaking his silence for the first time since they’d left the show. Mike swallowed thickly, but nodded, following Chester out of the car and up the driveway like a wounded puppy.

Mike shut the door quietly as they stepped inside, knowing the likelihood was high that Talinda and the kids were sleeping. It was well past midnight, and beyond the gentle sounds of their movements, the house was still in the darkness.

Chester led Mike down to the finished basement, where they wouldn’t have to whisper. With the door closed behind them, both felt more comfortable speaking at normal volume.

“What is it?” Mike pressed, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

“What was that back there?” Chester said, his arms folded across his chest. Mike slowly sat down on the couch, his hands resting on his knees as he watched Chester sway where he stood.

“I’m… I’m not sure what you mean,” Mike said, his fingers curling into his kneecaps.

“That Bennoda question. Why were you so avoidant? What was the big deal?” Chester pressed, his shoulders hunching forward to fall in line with his elbows as he raised the question.

Mike froze, his fingers rigid in their curled position. His brow furrowed, his mouth slightly open as he searched his brain for a viable response, but all he had for Chester was, “I don’t know.”

“I’ve never seen someone so eager to change the subject,” Chester said softly, looking off to the right and onto the floor.

“Chester, I…” Mike trailed off, swallowing. “You know how I am about my private life.”

“Your private life?” Chester pressed, his tone suggesting it was a laughable statement. Mike exhaled sharply, recognizing the implication of his words.

“It just made me uncomfortable,” Mike said softly, wincing against his own phrasing.

Chester stared at him in silence for a moment, unsure of how to proceed himself. “Have you really never seen those things before?”

“Why have you?” Mike pressed suddenly, looking up at Chester. “You’d have to search for something like that, wouldn’t you?”

Chester smirked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Neither did you.”

“I asked first,” Chester said pointedly, his arms finally unfolding and falling to his sides.

“I’ve seen the Bennoda shit before,” Mike muttered, his gaze settled on the sliver of couch cushion visible from between his thighs.

“Why didn’t you just say that you did?” Chester asked, his head tilting as his tone softened. He hadn’t realized this would be such a sore spot for Mike.

“Maybe it hit too close to home,” Mike said, his voice low and trembling. When Chester gave him no reply, Mike slowly peeled his eyes from the couch cushion, dragged them along the floor to where Chester was standing, and allowed them to trail upwards until they found Chester’s face.

Caution filled the air between their respective positions, a shaky lack of confidence consuming both men. In the distance, a clock ticked twenty-one times before either of them moved; Mike’s heart beat thirty-four times in that same timeframe. Chester took seven steps toward him to close the distance and placed each of his knees on either side of Mike’s hips. Chester took Mike’s face in his hands, eyes still locked, chests rising and falling quickly, irises searing into one another. The sound of the clock ticking was drowned out by the sound of their breathing, by the presence of desire long repressed.

Comfort in the silent mutuality communicated only by their lingering gazes established a sense of freedom. It was this freedom that caused Chester to lean in; it was this freedom that caused Mike to meet him halfway, and it was this freedom that inspired the meeting of their lips. It was a tender meeting at first, laced with a hint of hesitancy. As neither of them pulled away, they moved in sync, both applying more pressure as the passion guided them.

Mike’s hands explored Chester’s skin beneath his shirt; they trailed up his sides and roamed up and down his back, the pressure a reflection of his need for this, of his craving.

They broke the kiss, but Chester lingered, pressing several short ones against Mike’s lips before he moved on to his neck. He pressed his lips firmly there, every so often sucking gently, but Chester was conscious of going lightly so as to avoid leaving marks. Mike whimpered each time he felt the gentle suction on the delicate skin there. The sensation sent jolts of arousal between his legs, and he was fully erect in record time.

Chester ground himself against Mike, causing both to inhale at the sudden increase in pressure. Both bodies’ pleas for stimulation were answered with that motion, and the two continued with the rhythm they established, keeping the needs of the moment met.

Mike opened his eyes when Chester stopped, then glanced down to find that Chester was fumbling around with his belt. Mike was quick to aid him, and together, they peeled the black jeans and the pale blue boxers down Mike’s hips, revealing his hardness.

As Mike felt the heat of Chester’s mouth enveloping him, he choked back a moan, doing his best to remain quiet. He leaned his head back, teeth drilling into his bottom lip as he felt Chester’s tongue tracing firm circles around the tip of his weeping dick. The pressure increased, and with it, the pleasure coursed through his shaft, attempting to vocalize itself in the form of Mike’s stifled moans.

Mike placed his hands over his mouth to add an extra barrier to his self-restraint. All the while, Chester’s ministrations remained unrelenting; Mike could feel his legs twitching as the pleasure built upon itself. Each stroke of Chester’s mouth stacked more pleasure on the top of the rest, and finally, it was more than Mike could cope with. He felt the slow build of his release beginning, and breathlessly, he warned Chester, who didn’t slow down.

Mike finished, and Chester only came to a gradual stop when he tasted Mike’s climax in his mouth. He swallowed it quickly, then crawled up beside Mike, who was still breathing heavily. Slowly, Mike turned to look at Chester, a small smile playing at his lips.

“What about you?” Mike asked, still trying to catch his breath.

“You were the one who needed convincing,” Chester said with a laugh. “Normally I’d be all about it, but it’s getting late. I don’t want to risk waking Talinda or the kids.”

“I see,” Mike said, looking a bit disappointed. Chester pressed a kissed against his cheek.

“There will be future opportunities. Don’t worry.” Chester smoothed a hand along Mike’s thigh and the smile returned to his lips.

“I’m not worried,” Mike said coyly, and Chester nodded and rested his head on Mike’s shoulder.

A comfortable silence fell between them for a short time, before Chester lifted his head and prompted, “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about Bennoda now?”

A broad smile spread across Mike’s face, reaching his eyes as he responded, “It’s pretty awesome.”

Fin.