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He harrumphs at her silence before continuing his ministrations to the triangular shaped café au lait mole located halfway down her back, just above her last left rib. Rey feels his tongue tentatively tracing along her skin, in between slow, soft kisses and shy nips of his teeth.
His statement tries to filter slowly into her sated but tired brain, a jumble of round vowels and hard consonants spoken in his rumbling tenor.
She manages to piece the letters back into words, into their right order and Rey understands. And the moment she understands, her body grows rigid, where it had been soft and pliable and willing just moments before. ‘What did you say?’ she asks, her hand pushing the hair from her face and lifting her head off the pillow.
Ben sighs, rolls onto his back, away from her, away from her understanding, away from being held responsible. ‘Nothing. I didn’t say anything.’
Her mouth moves incredulously, as she pushes herself up, takes a moment to herself and then puffs out a sigh. ‘Seriously, Ben? Are you unable to control the shit that comes out of your mouth?’ She swings her legs over the side of the bed and looks back at him over her shoulder.
There are many things that he could say right now, an apology or explanation being his best bet, but for some reason the correct words are caught in his throat and all he can manage is a groan. A groan he doesn’t even really execute wholeheartedly, because deep down he knows she has a right to be pissed as he shouldn’t have said what he did in the first place. A groan that hides his embarrassment and a little bit of the self-hatred he feels at the fact that he couldn’t even do this properly.
Upon recognising that the Ben next to her is definitely the same Ben she first met a year ago, arrogant and frustratingly annoying, and not the funny and caring Ben she has just spent the afternoon with, Rey feels she has no other choice but to get out of bed and get out of dodge as quick as her legs can carry her.
After all, it could just be her own fault at thinking there were two different Ben's in the first place, that in actual fact there has only been one Ben all this time, that the Ben she wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed with, doesn’t in reality exist at all and that the only Ben is the haughty, socially awkward and self-important one.
Whilst she quickly finds her t-shirt and it is niftily grabbed and pulled over her head, she cannot seem to locate her jeans, and Rey ends up on her hands and knees looking under the bed, her fingers reaching blindly into the darkness only to find the odd dust mite. This just downright sucks!
As her search comes up empty handed, she lifts herself back up and her gaze falls onto him still lying in the same position as before, one arm flung so carelessly across his forehead and both his long legs dangling thoughtlessly off the side of the mattress, and the anger and disappointment – not only at him, but more so at herself - which has slowly been brewing in the pit of her stomach makes a courageous break for it. ‘Well, thanks for whatever… that was.’
Her naked legs straighten and she allows herself to stand to her full height, somehow feeling goddess like in the way his dark eyes follow her movement with his usual intensity and glare. He, who is a wall of strength, all bones and muscles and warm skin, making her wish for him to take back what he had said and to forget what she had replied, that his last words hadn’t been muttered with such disinterest. Making her wish that she could crawl onto him now and let him share his warmth with her until the chill that is settling in is gone. But the utterances are still hanging in the air between them, both comprehended and misunderstood, and so she doesn’t crawl, and he doesn’t share, and all that is left is for her to turn and walk out his bedroom door in search of her jeans.
*
It’s nearly two weeks later, when Rey once again finds herself in the same room as Ben.
After a few days of cold feet and cold hands, of sniffling and sneezing, Rey succumbs to a cold. So she ensconces herself on her sofa, under her favourite puffy duvet, wearing comfy pyjamas, fuzzy socks, her Alma Mater hoody and wrapped into a scarf from upper lip to shoulders. She is surrounded with boxes of tissues, bottles of Gatorade and packs of paracetamol and throat lozenges, when there is a knock on her door.
She fights herself free from her paraphernalia and opens her door to find Ben standing coyly before her. She wasn’t even aware that he knew where she lived. He is holding a bag of food, more like offering it up to her as some form of sacrifice.
‘Hey, I heard you were sick, so I thought I’d make you soup.’ He waits for a few seconds, scuffing his shoes, before she opens the door wider to him and sneezes at him in greeting.
Rey’s voice is thick as she mumbles a hello, and points him in the direction of her tiny compact kitchen, watching carefully as he unpacks the bag and starts his search for a knife and chopping board. She pushes him gently around her kitchen opening drawers and cupboards to get everything he may need.
‘What are you doing here, Ben?’ She asks. Reaching for the kitchen roll, she blows her nose unceremoniously, not caring if her already red and raw nose gets even rawer or redder from the rough paper.
Ben stops chopping the carrot and lays down the knife. He doesn’t look at her for a while and she can see his lips working, as if he is biting the inside of his cheeks.
‘I came to apologise, first and foremost.’ Nodding his head slightly, he looks everywhere apart from her, as if meeting her gaze is beyond his capabilities. ‘And when I heard you were sick I thought it’d be the best opportunity for me to dos so. To show you how very sorry I am, for… ‘
‘For being a dickhead?’ She interrupts.
At this he does finally look at her.
‘Yeah.’
‘And for saying…’
‘Yes. Rey, I apologise for everything.’ He replies quickly, taking a step towards her. The hand he lifts as if to touch her cheek falls before reaching its destination and he gently holds her elbow instead. ‘Go and sit down and I’ll make and bring the soup to you. You need to stay warm.’
She hums her displeasure at being told what to do in her own house, but does in the end follow his suggestion. Walking the few steps from her kitchen to her sofa, she crawls under her covers and flicks over the TV channel. Feeling slightly weird at the idea that she is sitting there, whilst Ben is in her kitchen cooking soup just for her.
‘You know a bunch of flowers would have done the trick too.’ She half shouts, as much as she is able to, over her shoulder.
He doesn’t answer. More drawers and cupboard doors are opened and her fridge door closes, but he still doesn’t answer.
‘They have these things now, where you can type and send a text. You could have done that. Or just calling to say sorry would have worked too.‘
She is surprised to suddenly see him standing next to the sofa.
‘Do I need to apologise for not apologising earlier?’
This time she remains quiet and just looks at him. He squats down next to her so they are more or less eye to eye and reaches over to push some of her hair from her face.
‘Rey Smith, I, Ben Solo, hereby apologise for being a complete and total… ‘
‘Dickhead.’ Rey supplies.
‘Dickhead, and for saying what I did and for not apologising earlier.’ He regards her gently for a moment, taking a hold of her hand and gently placing a tender kiss onto of her knuckles.. ‘I would also like to apologise in advance for anything I may do in the future.’
Rey is unable to keep a straight face and giggles at this. Her giggling turns to coughing. He leaves her, but returns shortly with a glass of water, which he hands to her.
‘The soup is nearly done, just needs to cook for about half an hour.’ He stands next to her but looks at the TV instead of her. ‘I could go to the shop and get lemons, ginger and honey, make you something for your throat.’
She regards him for a long moment. ‘You don’t have to. The soup is enough. But thank you for offering.’
He starts to move his weight from foot to foot before pushing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and she gets the impression that he doesn’t know what to do. Moving her duvet over, she offers him the space next to her.
‘Why don’t you sit down? We could watch a movie?’
Ben watches her, indecision clear to see all over his face.
Rey pats the seat again, giving him her most winning smile. ‘Promise I won’t bite.’
‘More worried about catching whatever you have.’ Ben states casually, raising an eyebrow.
‘Way too early to be making jokes, mate! Now sit.’
A few hours later, she is fast asleep, curled up around him like a cat, after she has had multiple bowls of his soup, after he has made sure she took more medication and after they watched not one but two movies.
He feels bad for still sticking around, especially when she is sleeping, feels like he is taking advantage of the situation. The option of picking her up and putting her into bed doesn’t sit right with him. Neither does the idea of just leaving her whilst she is out for the count. So he sits and waits, flicking through the channels, in between watching her. In his opinion there are worse ways of spending his days.