*WARNING: Explicit Language*

Fluff Rating: 💗💗

Word Count: 2,864

LAST UPDATED: 7/22/2021

The Metro Diner is a crappy little diner that was located a few blocks or so from Benny's apartment. It was one of the only places he goes to outside the apartment - besides occasional chess tournaments and trips to the bar around the corner. It was the only place that wasn't a bar or chess-related place that Benny went to on the regular. 

I'm not surprised that Benny prefers the diner from the occasional bar scenes and stressful tournaments. The diner was a time where Benny could just play chess without really thinking about it, or practice new strategies with an opponent. 

It was one of those diners that only the locals knew and kept secret from tourists or downtown folk: meaning there weren't any lunch rushes or breakfast zombies for a cup of coffee. The stools always had a secret 'reserved' stickers for the usual older men who talked sweetly with the waitress and the usual veteran of World War I who keeps his routine from the early 1940s.  And now the booth beside the jukebox was reserved for a chess player and journalist for their annual Friday cup-of-coffee-chess-game. 

Benny is already sitting in our booth with the chessboard out in front of him. His flat cowboy hat is on the table and his trenchcoat is hung on the hook beside the booth. His skinny fingers work to set up the pieces on either side of the board while a white mug of coffee steams beside him. When I approach the table, he looks up and gives me a small smile.

"Hello, Miss Beaufort."

"Hello, Mr. Watts." I take my place opposite of him and drop my bag and coat, "How's it going? Win any games lately?"

He just scoffs and sips his coffee. "There was this chess game downtown and this stubborn guy tried to beat me with a cocky bishop. Like that would beat my standing rook and queen. Oh! I also went to the store and got you everything to make dinner. I'm getting a bit tired of Chinese and you said you wanted to try that recipe you found in that magazine."

"You went to the store?" I find it hilarious that I could picture Benny Watts in his black obvious trench coat and cowboy hat walking down the aisles of a grocery store, frowning at items and debating on what he needs and how much it costs. "Wow. We still have firsts."

Benny gives me a teasing look as I take his coffee for a sip - a harsh black with only one cube of sugar. "You make it sound like I've never stepped foot into a grocery store. I don't survive off Chinese food or take-out."

"Really? Because I could have sworn I saw a dozen empty containers the first time I met you."

His boot taps my shin and I kick it back.

"I'll be sure to make it tomorrow and force you to eat the leftovers if it sucks." I take the two opposite pawns, shuffle them about, and enclose them around my fists. Benny smiles and gives me a look before he tapping one, revealing a white pawn. 

"Of course."

Benny Watts is a known chess player in the chess federation; once the co-United States Champion before an orphan named Beth Harmon kicked him off his high horse and turned him to co-Champion. Benny takes chess seriously and moves his pawns with precision and deep analysis. He reads his opponents like a magazine at the bus stop and knows their strategy before they even get to the good part. That's why he's such a good chess player, and why he's beaten so many world-famous players - as well as the new U.S Champion. 

When it came to me playing our games at the diner, he took it easy. On our diner nights, we played chess just for the fun of it. Benny has played multiple games before (obviously), mostly by himself in his apartment and playing against chess masters in tournaments. His excuse for playing with me at the diner was playing chess with a partner was better than going over games alone in his dungeon. That the mystery of me playing a piece kept him on his toes and to look through every scenario and play out every strategy.

" ... and besides, I get to see my girlfriend and beat her in chess," he smirks. "and every now and then hustle her with speed chess."

"The exact reason why I don't play speed chess with you anymore," I mutter, remembering the night I lost almost twenty bucks to the famous Benny Watts, in this exact diner, in this exact booth, the first night I met him. (He eventually gave it back to me, but it still nags me that he did it in the beginning).

Benny picks up his piece and moves his queen pawn: the Sicilian defense.

I follow his lead and move the same pawn just as Beatrice comes to give me my coffee. "Hey, honey, how's it been?" She puts down the classic white mug and fills it to the brim. "My daughter's reading your magazine now, I think she's gettin' a crush on you, sweetie."

"Tell her I'm too old for her and that I'm already off the market." Benny moves his rook-pawn and sips his coffee. "You got the - ?"

"Medium rare. Onion. No pickles. Extra fries. I've known you for a while, honey, I know what you order, baby." Beatrice teases then turns to me. "Pancakes and chicken, Lia?"

"You know me so well, Beatrice."

"Pancakes are already on the griddle." Beatrice gives us a smile before leaving for the kitchen. 

I look back to the board and move my rook-pawn. 

Benny moves his other rook-pawn. "How's work?"

I shrug and move my bishop-pawn and watch as he snags it with his queen-pawn. "It's fine. Not a lot is going on in the whole chess world. My boss wants me to write about a tournament going on in Vermont this weekend, and then I have to write about a new coming-of guy in Ohio."

"Yeah?" Benny moves his knight-pawn, which I take with my bishop-pawn. "Who's this 'famous' guy you're interviewing in Ohio? Is his rating any good?"

"His name is  George Thomason and he's been climbing the ranks and the magazine wants to get some photos and a small interview with him. People are calling him the new ... U.S Champion."

"What's his rating?"

"Uh ... I dunno," I move my king-pawn forward, "around 1600 or something. A big-ish number."

Benny scoffs and joins my pawn with his own king-pawn, "That doesn't sound journalist-worthy. A rating above 2000 is worth something. For christ's sake, my rating is over 3000."

I give him a look as I fix my hair, letting my tight bun fall down my shoulders and quickly braiding it while I think of my next move "What's your version of 'journalist worthy'?" I move my knight-pawn.

"My girlfriend following me around and being my own exclusive interviewer and not following this 'new chess player' around to Ohio," Benny interrupts, stealing one of my pieces with his rook pawn. "Or she takes a real chess player with her."

"Benjamin Watts, do I sense jealously?" I lean forward on my elbows to stare at him, his brown eyes hidden under a strand of his blonde hair. I want to brush it behind his ear but restrain myself. 

"I'm not jealous," he growls, "I don't have anything to be jealous of. What's better than the co- U.S Champion?"

"A good, honest, loving man who supports me in my career?" 

Benny frowns at me through his mustache and sips his coffee, now glaring out the window to the dark city streets. 

"I'm sorry," I move another one of my pawns, giving him the win of taking it. "I can't say no to this interview. It's my job. Like how you can't say no to every chess tournament you're invited to. That's what you do: you go out, win tournaments, and earn money to pay off your dungeon lair and parking tickets - which wouldn't be a problem if you just got a parking pass."

"If I got a parking pass, they'd make me park somewhere and make me walk two blocks just to get to my fucking apartment. I don't think so." Benny runs a slender hand through his hair and steals the pawn I just moved forward.

I steal his piece with my black pawn. "If you want to come, I can just tell my manager that you're flying to Ohio for a chess tournament or something and I can say I'm just tagging along."

Benny answers by moving another one of his pawns. "I don't have to go to Ohio until the fall but, if that works, then I can help you with your article."

I debate the idea in my head as I think about my next move. Benny has always been helpful in editing my articles: being a professional chess player himself, he re-reads my work and articles and correcting my chess terms (how many moves it took to win a match, the names and strategies of different techniques, a person's chess ratings, etc). 

It did get a bit difficult to write my articles and Op-Eds on the weekends - especially on the weekends. Benny gets 'clingy' during the weekends (which is also our only time-off from work/chess). He preferred to spend the luxorius two days we had/gave ourselves napping in bed or lounging in his kimono. It seems like a perfect time for me to write my articles and edit them, but as I said before, Benny gets 'clingy' when I stay over in his dungeon lair of an apartment.

He'll cling to my hips and sleep in my lap while I write my articles, or worse he'll hide my notebook until Monday morning. I've almost turned in late articles and interviews because of him and his sleepy weekends.

Beatrice arrives from the kitchen with our plates of burgers and pancakes. Benny and I both silently agree to pause our game to dig in and talk more about my paper and his 'situation'.

Benny asks questions on George Thomason: where he's been playing, what tournaments he's won, where he plans on playing next, and what interview questions I'll ask at the U.S Open.

"I don't know much about him, Ben," I shove a forkful of fluffy sticky pancake into my mouth and nearly wiggle in delight. Metro's pancakes are something worth waiting an entire week for. "Jackie is the one that's been tracking him for a while, but since she just had a baby it's been pushed onto me for the next few months. I brought the copy of his folder to study," I open my bag and slide the file over to Benny.

He takes it eagerly and scanns the past articles Jackie wrote and the games, winnings, losing, ratings about George Thomason. "He competed in the Open last year?"

I shrug and shove more crispy chicken into my mouth. "I think so ... ?"

Benny just scoffs and snacks on a fry. He scans the file a bit more, looking over photos of game boards and Jackie's articles about his strategies and such before shoving the folder back to me. "Seems like a normal chess player to me. Just cocky and ... kinda emotionless."

"Yeah, well my boss doesn't see him like that," I shove the folder back into my bag and continue eating, "He's been winning a lot of games and getting a lot of attention from the other magazines, so now it's the Queen's turn to become obsessed with him."

Benny just scoffs at the file and moves his knight around my pawn.

The conversation turns playful after George Thomason gets put back into my bag and we continue our game over juicy burgers and fluffy pancakes. "Why do you always insist on having breakfast for dinner every time we come here?" Benny asks, watching me debate on my move.

"Because at the end of the week, I need something sugary and sweet. And it's my comfort food so shut up." I slide my bishop beside his pawn and wince as he steals it with his queen.

"It's a diner. And it's seven-thirty. Why do you need pancakes at seven-thirty?" Benny moves his queen back after I steal one of his rooks with mine. "Did something bad happen today, angel?"

"No just stress of writing articles and having to do interviews and my manager being a douche." I stare at the board as I stuff a chunk of chicken and pancake into my mouth, groaning as a strand of hair gets in between my bliss of sticky syrup. "Ontop of the whole Thomason stalker job, I still have this other article I have to do for the World Champion."

Benny looks up from his burger. "Really? When?"

I shake it off, already regretting that I mentioned it to him. "Not until next month. It's just ... she won another tournament and the magazine wants to cover it like any other magazine would want. I already asked if they could send someone else to do it. I just have to wait and see if my manager lets me cover something else."

"Like what?" Benny moves his knight and finishes his coffee.

"Well, there's this weird cowboy-lookin' chess player going around," I push my rook all the way across the board to take his, staring at him as I did so. "I heard his ratings are good and he's really good with the ladies."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Interviewing him is way better than going to other chess tournaments and writing parts about old men I've never heard of."

"You do a better job at voicing my opinions after matches than anybody else," Benny moves his bishop across the board, "and I can take showers with you right after an interview, it's a win-win."

 I slide my queen to capture his bishop with an equal glare to his smirk. 

"I prefer being interviewed by you, anyway, who wouldn't?" Benny slowly moves his knight forward and captures my impulsive queen. "I'm more comfortable around you, angel."

"A little too comfortable, I'd say ... " My mind drifts to the time I had to interview Benny for the U.S Open last week; a simple interview on his latest chance to get the title of U.S Champion 'back' from Beth Harmon. (He persuaded it again after she became World Champion after her win against Borgov.) It was a bit difficult being he was dressed down to his kimono and low-hanging jeans that always get me - not to mention the kisses and touches as I tried horribly to ask questions and get statements of his newest challenge.

Benny's smirk doesn't falter as he moves his queen all the way across the board to my king, keeping his distance in case I decided to use it. "Well, you did interview me in my apartment, where I'm the most comfortable. And you so happen to be the prettiest interviewer for The Queen's Journal. And that pretty interviewer so happens to be the best girlfriend a cowboy chess player could ask for."

I pout over my pancakes, fighting to keep my frown from disappearing as Benny's smile grows over the chessboard and his half-empty plate of fries. His brown eyes dilate and his boot begins rubbing over my heels.

"Are you trying to distrat me from my win, Mr. Watts?" I lean forward over my plate, challenging his stare.

"What win?" Benny teases. "I already got your king cornered. What else are you gonna do, sweetheart?"

Without taking my eyes off his hypnotic ones, I move the piece that flips the board upside down, and makes Benny glance at the danger his king was now in. I watch the confidence in his eyes boil at my move; reckless or genius either way.

He gives me another look under tense brows, dark eyes giving a poker face vibe. I've known Benny for a solid year and the look he's giving me now is unemotional. For a moment I'm scared I said something wrong or if Benny took my chess move personally. I stare at his veiny hands folded under his arms on the table, staring at the board and licking his lips. 

Benny flicks his king down and I widen my eyes.

"Hey, Beatrice?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Can we get the check? I just realized I have an interview."

*~* I tried. I'm sorry, I've always had trouble writing about Benny and my OC - I don't watch The Queen's Gambit enough. Benny is such an interesting character to write about, I don't write about him enough. 😅 I'll get better with my stories; he's one of my more recent comfort characters so I haven't written about him much. I still love him though 🥰🥰 *~*