Chapter Text
It’s the pink heart-shaped tub sitting almost directly in the suite’s center that gives her pause. Maybe it should have been the rose petals on the white bedspread or the champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries left out for them. Maybe it should have been the mirror on the ceiling over the king-size bed, but no. It takes a heart-shaped tub for Rey to stop and consider what’s off about the room.
Her laughter comes out in a nervous titter as she tucks a wave of hair behind her ear. “Oh. Hm. So when that groupon said two-for-one…”
Beside her, Ben drops his luggage, blurting succinctly, “Is this a fucking honeymoon suite?”
“I can only assume,” she shrugs, trying to keep her flush under wraps.
As if he’s somehow been defeated, Ben sighs deeply.
~*~
It’s a Monday when Snap dumps her. Or… dumps is too strong a word for what they were. Benefits, yes, friends, hardly. More like acquaintances with benefits. Repeat tinder hookups. Pleasant, sort of satisfying a need, and somewhat comfortable. He was never the sort of person who would cuddle her after a round; he’s not even someone she’d catch a movie with on a dull night, or someone she’d look to for advice.
She isn’t the least bit heartbroken at the I met someone, but this was fun, thanks text, but the follow-up three texts that further explain why he would have ended their little twice-a-week arrangement even if he hadn’t met Alice from the local farmstand ? The part where he casually mentions how normal the woman is? That part hurts. That part leaves her feeling like she’s strange, like there’s something wrong with her. Like she’s starving for something and she’ll never be satisfied. But as it sets in—the painful realization that maybe she won’t find someone who understands her and her needs—more texts come in from a different number.
Phas left me. For good this time.
She moved out while I was visiting my parents.
She said she doesn’t see a future now that I don’t work for The First Order.
Call me? Please?
And just like she’d do for a grand total of maybe four people in her life, Rey swallows down her own disappointment and puts Ben’s first, especially since she knows he doesn’t have anyone else to call. Poe and Finn distanced themselves since he started at The First Order, even though they were his friends way back in freshman year of college, back when Rey only thought he was a snobby rich asshole who would laugh at her needing to keep two jobs along with classes.
Rey is probably his only remaining friend from their little group, and theirs is a friendship born of Ben’s incessant chasing her down after their shared classes or after Poe’s dorm parties, all because he could never understand why she hated him. But those soft eyes and his never-ending offers to walk her home after late-night bartending shifts or email his notes for their shared 8 AM class so she could stay in and sleep… those made it hard to hate him.
So now, nearly a decade into their friendship, she skips calling him; calling doesn’t let you hug someone who needs the comfort, and not once has he hesitated to do the same for her.
Eleven minutes after his most recent text, she knocks on his door, bottle of wine in hand, and gives him a sympathetic smile before he wraps around her and burrows into her shoulder, pulling her inside and out of the light summer rain. His hair brushes against her face, smelling of citrus, and the old college sweater he’s wearing—one she’s stolen countless times during their friendship—is soft as she soothes a hand down his back. He feels like home.
Rey lets her eyes flutter closed while he hugs her tight.
~*~
Neither of them has said anything since they arrived in the suite. It’s been nine minutes and counting. Ben has paced the room approximately fifteen times, but Rey knows him well enough to give him space to work through whatever nervous energy he’s dealing with. There are chocolates on the pillow, expensive bath products stored near the oddly placed tub, and complimentary fluffy robes; she has little intention of complaining about anything, despite the awkwardness of the activities the room is suggesting she and Ben might engage in.
At the twelve-minute mark of being inside the frigid air-conditioned room, Rey wraps her arms around herself, rethinking her suitcase of summer dresses just as Ben halts in his pacing and finally says, “I’ll sleep in the tub,” as if that solves what she considers a non-issue.
Munching on his pillow-chocolate since he detests mint, she snorts. “You won’t fit. Or you’ll try, and you’ll complain about a sore neck all week.”
“What’s my alternative?” he drawls, “You feel like sharing the bed covered in rose petals?”
She shrugs. “Why not? We’ll brush them off. It’s a massive bed, it won’t be a problem. We crashed on Poe’s futon that one time, it was fine. Also, we’ve been driving all day. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. My plans involve food, relaxing, and nobody sleeping in the tub.”
After a pause, he says with no further explanation, “But sharing… that isn’t a good idea.”
But since he’s said that about literally everything she’s suggested since they agreed to this trip, she shrugs again and turns the conversation to the different fun activities the resort offers—everything from climbing lessons to couple’s massages. She figures Ben will either come around or be stubborn enough to insist one of them sleep six nights in a bathtub.
Not for a moment does she think anything unusual will come of this.
~*~
It takes Rey only moments to put aside her own personal sadness in favor of Ben’s. Phas was his longest relationship by far and the only relationship Rey’s seen him in, clocking in at a tumultuous on-and-off six years, so she tries to remind him he’s allowed to be upset. They finish a bottle of wine just as Ben finishes the story of how she didn’t understand that corporate life has been ripping him apart lately. It strikes Rey that he maybe hasn’t realized it’s been ripping him apart since he took that internship with Snoke during their senior year of college, but she keeps quiet and lets him go on. He tells her of how Phas sat him down and had a long, long talk when he announced he was trading the cushy corporate job for a mechanic’s position at his father’s garage—Phas didn’t take well to his mention of him deciding to rely on his trust fund while he figures things out.
He uncomfortably adds that his now-ex had scoffed at his concern that he needs to spend less time at work and more time in therapy due to the work.
Rey… sort of wants to hate her. Part of her has maybe irrationally disliked Phas just a little bit since Ben introduced her as his girlfriend, at the college graduation party his parents threw for him years ago.
But part of her (a more rational part) knows major life decisions should be discussed between two people, especially when those people have been discussing engagement. Part of her is just supremely relieved Ben’s stopped working for The First Order. Even with blotchy red eyes and a voice thick with resignation, she can tell he’s sleeping better. It looks like he sleeps a full six to eight hours in a bed now, and not on the couch in his swanky corner office in twenty-minute nap segments between meetings. It looks like he’s just finished a marathon and is so so happy to be done.
Part of her—a part she’ll keep to herself—thinks he’ll someday see that he and Phas have been going in different directions for a little while. Phas is stunning and brutal in a way that makes her brilliantly suited for life at The First Order, and possibly not at all suited for a relationship with someone like Ben, who has finally realized work isn’t what he wants to prioritize.
“I thought I could have this new life and still have her in it,” Ben admits. His shoulders sag. “But she said her career would always come first, and she wants to be with someone as driven as her. I mean, I always liked how ambitious she was, even when we were just interns, but I’m not. If that’s what she wants in a partner, I don’t blame her for ending things. I can’t even be mad at her. I think what’s bothering me is how… I’m not as bothered by it as I expected to be. Phas seems fine with it, too. Maybe she’s right, maybe we’ve just grown… “
“Incompatible?”
The feeling is all-too familiar.
“Yeah,” he sighs. He’s staring at the floor between his feet, his eyes glazed and unfocused. “Incompatible.”
~*~
Ben seems intent to glare at anything remotely love themed in their room, and by six o’clock—merely an hour after their arrival—she’s had enough of it. She gives him five more minutes of silent glowering while she swaps out her cozy travel clothes for an airy flower-covered sundress and sandals.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here,” she insists, tugging at his arm. “This room is… a bit much. There’s a bar by the pool and a buffet, you know I don’t turn down a good buffet.”
He huffs what might be a reluctant laugh, and nods. His anxiety seems to halve when they leave the room.
It’s easier to be around him when he’s not stressed; when something’s bothering him, he gets so tense his jaw tightens and his fists clench, and if she didn’t know him so well, it might be a little nerve-wracking. But as they cross the marble-floored lobby of the mountain resort and take double doors out into a massive stone courtyard overlooking the peaks, his shoulders relax, as does his jaw. He maybe even gives her a smile.
“You get the food,” she instructs, gesturing toward the buffet. “I’ll get drinks.”
Because Ben knows her, he knows to get lots of little finger foods they can share—she’s never been picky and with buffets, she tries everything. He brings back plates of fruits and veggies, mini-sandwiches and little hors d'oeuvres, all perfect for grazing.
And because she knows him, she knows to get two daiquiris so he won’t steal hers when he orders something like whiskey, neat, and then decides he wants something sweet. Predictably, he ignores his boring drink order in favor of the fruity blend the moment he sees what she’s brought.
The buzz of the other resort guests quiets as they eat in comfortable silence, staring out at a summer sunset over mountains neither of them have seen before.
He leans closer, nudging at her shoulder with his. “Maybe this was a good idea,” he admits, not taking his eyes off the view before them. He pauses, and she watches his mouth tilt up. “Thanks. For suggesting it, I mean. Feels like forever since we’ve…” His voice trails off, but he murmurs, “It was a good idea.”
Rey tries not to say I told you so.
Three drinks each later, and the sun has fully set over the mountains on their first night at the resort. Ben’s the only one of the two of them who remembers how to get back to their suite; the hallways seem more like a labyrinth while her head is fuzzy. He holds her hand to guide her; his hand dwarfs hers, warming her with how nice it feels. It feels safe, protective. Caring.
“So what happened?” he asks, just as an elevator lets them out on the floor he claims is theirs. “With your ex? I don’t think I asked.”
Her nose wrinkles. “He’s not an ex. He was never not an ex. Does that make sense?” She laughs a little at the idea—Snap was nice, but never boyfriend-nice. “We were just… you know.”
Judging by Ben’s “Ah,” he does know, but he still asks, “Didn’t work out?”
Rey purses her lips, trying to ignore that bit of sadness that threatens to seep in. Not at the loss of companionship, but at the reminder of what she wants, and hasn’t had.
“We weren’t compatible.”
He hums like he understands.
~*~
As Ben finishes explaining things, she scoots over on his couch and perches her chin on his slouched shoulder, wrapping her arms around his middle in a side-hug.
“You’re going to be okay, you know.”
“Maybe, yeah.”
Even without looking, she knows he’s working his mouth like he does when something’s bothering him. “Eventually. I wish I’d seen the issues earlier, though. I care about her, but… I think we were putting a lot of effort into making it work because we felt like we had to, and the more I think about it, the more I think neither of us wanted to. We got back together too many times.”
She nods against his shoulder. “And you think it’s over this time?”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “It’s time. We’ve been pulling away from each other for a while. I think we both had different expectations, and maybe this is us getting on the same page.”
She squeezes him a little tighter. It might be true—as far as she’s seen—but that doesn’t make it suck less. When she pulls away, Ben gives her a small smile and musses her hair as he stands to find them another bottle of wine. While he’s up, she checks her email, refusing to let herself text Snap back a long message about how it might be perfectly fine to end their arrangement, but unacceptable to kink-shame her. Doing so would be a waste of her time, she reminds herself. It isn’t worth it.
As she scans a particular email—one that would normally go to junk without another thought—Rey tilts her head. “Huh.”
“What?” Ben asks, returning to the couch. He hands a filled glass of something that smells much more expensive than she brought.
Her eyes flick up to his. Nine times out of ten, this is something she’d suggest to Rose, not Ben. Ben belongs in the movie nights, dinners, and birthday parties friend circle. The sort of friend she could call for help with moving, the sort who could help her devour ice cream and the pizza-shaped carbs after a terrible week, or the sort of friend whose place she could stay at if her apartment was being fumigated. They aren’t vacation together friends, not even after all these years. There’s some tension, some string pulled taught between them that’s so close to snapping. She’s long since written it off as not at all mutual, and overall, a bad idea, so she’s decided to ignore it until it disappears… though after years of friendship, it hasn’t.
But if anyone needs an escape right now, it’s the two of them.
“How soon could you get a week off?” Rey asks. “There’s a two-for-one groupon for this inclusive resort and spa in Bespin, and I don’t know… we’re both freshly single and a week at a place like that would be relaxing, right? Get our minds off things? I’ve got so much vacation time stored up, I think I’m about to hit my limit.”
It’s been just over four years since she started at the tiny but successful Holdo Engineering, and not once has she taken more than a long weekend off. Whether she’s been saving it for a rainy day or whether she’s just too engrossed in her job, Rey’s not sure, but lately her boss has been prodding her to take a break.
Ben hesitates over the rim of his glass and frowns. “You were seeing someone? Since when?”
“Sort of, not really? He ended things today.”
“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I’ve been talking about myself all night.” He stops, his shoulders drooping. “I guess it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Rey, I’m so—”
She interrupts before he spirals into unnecessary guilt. “You’ve been busy. And it wasn’t serious.” Concern still fills his expression, but before he can ask, she explains, “I don’t care that it ended, but why it ended… that bothered me. I could use the time away. This place has a pool. That could be nice.”
It’s clear that he wants to ask, wants to prod like he does when he’s worried about her. It’d be sweet if it wasn’t an echo of something she desperately wants in a different context.
“Okay,” he nods. “Sure. A week away could help. I could go whenever now that I’m just working at the shop.”
Rey musters up a smile. “Great. I’ll book it.”
~*~
They arrive outside their suite—the one she now sees is clearly marked as a honeymoon suite—and Ben asks again. “So, not compatible? What, you wanted different things?”
“Uh, no. Not exactly,” she admits. She stares down at the off-white diamond-patterned carpet below her shoes as Ben unlocks the door. “I wanted something he couldn’t give me. He wasn’t comfortable with it.”
“You wanted more?”
She gnaws at her lip, pulling it between her teeth. Ben stills by the door, giving her a curious look as she debates how much to say. She shakes her head. “I told him about something I was into and mentioned I wanted to try it, eventually. He didn’t appreciate the suggestion. He got very weirded out by it.”
As he catches her meaning, Ben’s eyes seem to gleam with curiosity. “Oh? Well, now I have to know.”
It’s tough, wondering which reaction makes more sense—a blush under his intensifying gaze, or a twinge of pain at the risk that someone else, someone who means much more to her, will judge her for such a thing.
“Since when do we not we tell each other everything? Plus, the longer you go without telling me, the more depraved I assume it is,” Ben points out, pushing the door open. He walks in, and with brief hesitation, she follows behind him, closing the door so she can lean back against it as he teases, “Was it tentacles? It was tentacles, wasn’t it? You wanted to use a giant tentacle strap on the poor guy? One of those forearm-length ones? Rey, you have to work up to—“
“It wasn’t tentacles, oh my god,” she hisses.
He laughs, leaning against the wall opposite her. Her eyes catch at the way he tucks his hair behind one ear. “I’m going to assume it’s something unusual, something really hardcore, unless you tell me. Every time I think of you, I’m going to wonder if it was tentacles, or—”
Maybe it’s the drinks, maybe it’s that it’s Ben and Ben never judges her for things, but something makes her push through the blushing and the shyness.
“I wanted to be taken care of,” she interrupts, locking eyes with the floor. “Not all the time, but sometimes.”
When she manages to look up to see if he’s holding back laughter, Ben looks curious. He gestures for her to explain, and she can’t help but wish she’d gotten another drink to go.
“Being taken care of, like… if someone brushed out my hair or bathed me or picked my clothes,” she starts off, trying to stay a little vague—trying to not admit how much she’s considered this. “I know it’s weird, but I think it’s because I’ve never really relied on anyone else. Sometimes I want to feel little, like I’m not in control, but I’m safe. This isn’t what I like outside of a private relationship. You know how pissed I’d be if a date so much as ordered for me at a restaurant without asking me. But there are times I wish I had a partner who would be dominant, but soft?” She pauses and gives a shrug. “If that makes sense. Fewer ropes and ball-gags, more care-taking. Or… nurturing? Someone who focuses on making sure I’m happy and relaxed, someone who only sets rules for my benefit, with positive reinforcement? Maybe rewards or telling me I’m— telling me I’m—”
“Good?” he finishes for her. She’s imagining it, the rough edge to his voice. “You like being told you’re good? Is that it?”
Her cheeks burn, just at the word. She groans, covering her face with her hands. “I’m babbling. Ignore me. Forget I said anything.”
Ben is as blunt as usual. “Are you trying to say you have a daddy kink?”
“Oh, is that what it’s called?” she asks, as if she didn’t already know that.
He nods, just once. For an uncomfortable minute or two, he stares so intently she has to look away, but then she realizes she’s staring at a bed that’s still covered in rose petals. Heart thudding at the thoughts that creep in along the edges of her mind, Rey averts her eyes, pulling them away and down to her feet.
She half-expects him to issue judgment, to say something about how it’s demeaning to her or sick, like Snap said in his texts. She expects him to kindly say she should have more respect for herself, that no respectful, well-meaning partner will ever treat her like she needs rules or guidance. Briefly, she feels a spike of anxiety at the thought that he’ll spend the rest of their week with the new context, side-eyeing her sweet summer dresses and the relaxing Art for Mindfulness coloring book that’s in her bag.
Ben neither says nor does any of that. At least not right away. He only tilts his head like he’s seeing her in some new light. Rey stills, preparing herself for another wave of disappointment at the inevitable lecture on self-respect and the harms of preferences like this.
“You had me thinking it was something much more unusual,” he finally laughs.
When she looks back up at him, there’s a bit of disbelief in her gaze. “He said it was demeaning to me,” she admits, still not quite believing the accepting expression on his face. “He said it was sick, and I should have more respect for myself.”
Ben scoffs, leaning against the wall across from her. “What’s disrespectful about letting yourself be vulnerable with a person you trust? If it’s consensual, what’s the harm?”
She gives a little shrug, still trying to wrap her mind around his reaction. “It wasn’t even an expectation. I’m not sure I would have been comfortable exploring it with him. I thought we were having an honest conversation, so I mentioned that I liked the idea of it. I didn’t realize he’d react so negatively.” She folds her arms over her chest, leaning further against the door as she admits, “Truthfully, I haven’t even tried it. There are sites and I’ve considered it, but I’ve always been too nervous. You never know who you’ll meet online, you know?”
“You don’t trust many people,” he nods. His throat bobs, just before he says, “But… what about me?”
Her gaze cuts to his. “What?”
She’s obviously misunderstood, but the temperature in the room seems to double.
“Do you trust me enough?” Ben asks. His voice is so soft, but it’s hard to tell if he’s just asking out of curiosity, or if he’s offering. Only a moment later he clarifies, “Would you like it if I took care of you? Maybe while we’re here? If you want to explore it, better to do so with someone you trust, right?”
Her breathing stutters. A million reasons to say no flood her mind, but the only thing she lands on is, “But you’re here to take your mind off a breakup, that’s—”
“I’m guessing it would take my mind off things,” he interrupts, a brow raised. “I’m offering. If I wasn’t willing, I wouldn’t. You either want to take me up on that offer, or don’t. Neither will offend me.”
For a plethora of reasons, it’s a terrible idea. She knows Rose would be shaking her head no rapidly if she was here, though... somehow she already knows Ben will be excellent at this. It isn’t a doubt in her mind, and that, more than anything, is a reason to say no. It’s tempting and she’d be lying if she hadn’t thought about it, and she could have an entire week with him.
Alternatively, she would only have a week with him. Maybe a short-lasting taste of something she desperately wants is worse than never knowing how good it could be.
More than that, it’s terrible idea for one very specific reason: being a rebound for a close friend is an excellent way to lose that friend.
“I won’t be offended if you say no,” he repeats, and his voice is both gentle and commanding, promising an awful lot if she says yes. “I’m not trying to push. If you say no, we’ll forget it. If you say yes, we’ll set expectations. Just let me know either way. Sleep on it if you—”
“Yes,” she blurts. “Yes, I want to.”
There’s a pause. A pause that stretches out, a pause during which she becomes terrified he’s about to admit he’s making an awful joke and he never meant any of it.
But then he moves. He pushes off the wall he’s leaning against, stepping forward into her space. He’s close, so he has to bend a little to stare down at her—a hell of a reminder that he’s much bigger than her. Somehow she knows it isn’t the alcohol that’s making her light-headed as she looks up and sees something dark, but warm, simmering in his eyes. His head tilts as his gaze wanders her expression, like he’s taking care to check for any reluctance, any hesitation, any doubt.
She wants to reach out, slide her hands up along the soft, fitted black t-shirt that’s stretching across his chest; she presses her palms flat against the wall behind her instead. His mouth quirks when he notices her reaction to him, and Rey ends up twining her fingers together behind her back, just to keep from touching him.
“Rey,” he murmurs, and her name on his lips sounds like a promise. “You’ll really let me take care of you? You’re really okay with this?”
His hand comes up under her chin, his fingers spreading to brush along her jaw. Her eyes flutter closed in response, her mind reeling at his reaction.
Maybe it’s a terrible idea. Maybe it’ll go horribly and end in a lot of awkward laughter and an embarrassing story neither of them will ever share. Maybe it’ll end the best friendship she’s had.
But her answer comes so easily.
“Yes. Please.”
“Good,” he says slowly, like he knows just how the word sends tingles up her spine. “So good.”