Scott takes a deep breath, pressing his forehead against the door. The freezer cools his skin, which is freckled and heated from annoynce.

He moves away from the door just in time for Ben to slam it open, swaggering inside. He's wearing avaitors and a hollywood smile.

"You're late." Scott growls.

"You're early." Ben remarks breezily, sliding off his jacket.

Scott's black hair is slicked back to his scalp, every strand glaring at Ben's gravity defying dirty blond hair.

"I'm on time." Scott uses the muscles of his bulky build to lift a crate full of vodka bottles.

Ben side-steps him, easily slipping bewteen the crate and the wall with his slender physique. He stays put on the wall, watching Scott move the crates. He's still wearing that Tom-Cruise-Oscar-Award-Winning-smile.

Scott pauses with a crate full of lemons on his shoulder, "Are you gonna' help, or just stand there looking pretty."

Ben presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, wagging his brows, "You think I'm pretty, Scotty?"

Scott scoffs, face like a sheet of freckled stone. He finishes moving their produce, alone. Ben's yellow-green eyes track him, silently studying.

Scott snaps his cool blue eyes to him, that familiar glare of annoyance back in place. It only makes Ben smile wider.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing."

"No, nothin' is what you've been doin' since you got here." Scott pulls out his black dress-shirt, checking for wrinkles, "Get changed."

Ben pushes off the wall, as smooth and graceful as a big jungle cat, "Trying to see me topless, big boy?"

Scott sheds his white tank, quickly buttoning up his work attire. He lumbers over to his backpack, pulling out a comb.

"Just get dressed, Ken doll."

He rakes the cone over his hiar again. Then, without asking, he runs it through Ben's hair. It nearly snags on the gel, but it looks a little more tame.

The silence that follows is defeaning.

Ben's delighted smile breaks the stilness, and Scott's answering red face is an entire conversation on its own.

"Did you just-"

"Shut up."

"-brush my hair, Scotty?"

"I said, shut up."

"I know you called me a Ken doll, but-"

"Please, for the love of god, shut up."

"-its no excuse to play with my hair, darling."

Scott steps away from him, gritting his teeth against mortification. Ben slowly buttons up his shirt, whistling a snazzy little tune.

"I hate you, by the way." Scott offers, moving to open the freezer door.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that, loverboy." Ben whispers in his ear as he passes him.

Scott glares as Ben's greeted with cheers of excitement from their co-workers. Ben laughs as everyone stands up straighter at the sight of Scott.

If he's a Ken Doll, than Scott is a G.I.Joe.