You had seen it then, in your husband’s eyes.

The truth. Cruelty. It cut you like a blade. The smile he gave you had not reached his eyes.

Sent a shiver down your back.

You sat in front of the mirror in complete silence, your wedding gown heavy on your shoulders.

Your reflection looked frightened and small.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you did not hear the door open at first, only felt the faint rush of cold air that followed.

When you turned, he was there.

He was not a man of your world.

His figure filled the room, his face half in shadow, his clothes soaked through with rain. For one moment, you thought he was a ghost. Then his eyes met yours, and you knew he was alive.

“Do not scream,” he said softly. His voice was deep and rough. “I will not hurt you.”

You could not move.

He took a step closer, hands open at his sides.

“You do not belong here. He would have hurt you.”

You swallowed hard.

“Who are you?”

“A friend,” he answered. “Of sorts.”

Before you could speak again, the window shattered in the wind, and everything went black.

When you woke, the air smelled of pine and smoke.

You were lying in a bed softer than any you had known, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of earth.

You sat up.

The room was small, rustic, yet clean. A single fire burned in the hearth.

The door creaked open, and the man, the creature, entered. He carried a wooden tray.

“I thought you might wake hungry,” he said quietly. “There is bread, and broth.”

You stared at him.

“Where am I?”

“Safe,” he said simply.

You looked down, your heart racing.

“You took me from my home.”

“His home... I took you from a prison,” he corrected, his voice low but steady. “I saw what he was. What he would do. I could not stand by.”

You trembled, unsure whether to believe him.

“And if I wish to leave?”

“Then you may. When you are ready. The woods are wide and unkind, but I will not chain you.” he hesitated for a moment.

He left you then, as if he was afraid to breathe around you.

Days passed. You learned that the cottage stood deep within the forest, far from any village or road.

At first, you wanted nothing more than escape. But as you stood outside, in the harsh weather, you had to realise that if you left, you would die in those woods.

Yet as the days passed, you began to notice the small things about him.

For example, how carefully he moved, as if afraid of breaking the world. Or how gently he spoke, even when you did not answer. Or how he worked to repair the roof, or light the fire, or mend your torn dress.

He did not touch you. He barely looked at you.

But his presence filled every corner of that little house.

One evening, when the rain returned, you found him sitting by the fire, mending a chair.

His hands were large, scarred, and marked by old stitches, yet his touch was precise and delicate.

“Why do you live alone?” you asked, surprising yourself.

He looked up slowly.

“Because I am what the world fears. I was made by man’s hands and cursed by his hatred.”

You frowned.

“Cursed?”

He nodded.

“I was born without love. I could never deserve it.”

You said nothing for a long time. The fire cracked softly between you.

“I do not believe that,” you said.

His EYES lifted to yours.

“You should.”

“I do not,” you whispered.

That was the first night you stayed by the fire together.

The next day, you spoke again.

You told him of your childhood, your mother’s garden, the way you used to paint the sea from memory.

In turn, he told you of the mountains, the snow, the loneliness that shaped him. The more he spoke, the less monstrous he seemed.

During the evenings, you began to feel something that frightened you even more than his strength, something tender.

He brought you wildflowers, awkwardly arranged.

He repaired your shoes.

Once, when you burned your hand on the pot, he caught your wrist and pressed it to his lips in an instinctive gesture of care.

His touch was cold, but his voice shook as he spoke.

“Forgive me. I should have warned you.”

"It's... okay."

You looked at him then, truly looked. The scars no longer frightened you. They told a story of pain and endurance, not horror.

Weeks passed.

The fear that had first taken root in your heart slowly disappeared, replaced by something deeper and stronger.

One evening, you stood outside together, the night air cold around you.

The stars were bright above the trees. He watched them.

“I used to think they were souls,” he murmured. “The ones I lost. The ones who could never love me.”

You turned to him.

“And now?”

He looked at you.

“Now I think they are eyes. Watching me to see if I will ruin this, too.”

You stepped closer, your hand trembling as it reached for his.

“You will not.”

He caught your hand as if he were afraid you might vanish.

“You do not understand. I took you from your world. I do not deserve your kindness.”

You shook your head.

“You saved me from a life of cruelty and pain. Perhaps that was the only way I could ever be free.”

His breath shuddered. “You should hate me.”

“But I do not.”

When you kissed him, he went still.

His hands hovered near your face, uncertain, until at last they rested against your skin, you could feel that he was shaking.

The kiss was slow.

Afterwards, he drew back just enough to look at you. His voice was soft.

“If I hurt you, even by accident, I could not live.”

“You will not,” you said.

He lowered his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.

“Then I will spend my life proving it.”

And he did.

The days turned to months.

The forest bloomed around you, the house becoming a home built not from captivity, but from choice. His love remained fierce, protective, and at times overwhelming, but it was never cruel.

You learned to calm his storms with a touch, to remind him that he was not made for destruction, but for devotion.

He had not stolen a bride that night.

He had found one who would choose him in the end.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“What on Earth are you doing?” 

You asked, giggling as Ben played with your fingers, your left hand in particular. 

You two had been cuddling, trying to fall asleep but failing miserably, all too excited about what was going to happen in the morning. Ben was going to space, and you couldn’t be more proud of him. 

He had his arm wrapped around you, your body molded against his side, your calves tangled beneath the sheets. A domestic bliss you couldn’t live without anymore. 

“I’m trying to measure your ring size,” he said under his breath, a cocky grin on his face. 

“And why is that?” you teased, nuzzling your cheek against his chest, watching as he ran his thumb over your ring finger.

“Just making sure my gramma’s ring will fit.”

An unbridled excitement settled under your skin. You propped yourself up on your elbow, raising an eyebrow as you locked eyes with him. 

“You gonna propose when you come back?”

“I might,” he whispered, gently pushing some hair behind your ear. The big dopey grin that formed on your face made him chuckle. “You gonna say yes?” 

“I might.” 

A smitten, love sick sparkle flickers in his gaze, something that only happened when he was with you. He had known from the moment he met you that you were the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Hearing you reciprocate that nearly made his heart burst. 

You giggle as he presses his lips to yours, hard. Like he’ll forget how you feel when he’s outside of Earth’s atmosphere and he needs to burn it into his skin. His hand slid under your shirt, pulling you against him, smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his leg tangling with yours. 

“I love you too,” you breathed back. 

That moment replayed over and over again as you sat outside the medical wing. 

Your foot bounced on the tile with every one of your heartbeats, never giving your anxiety any kind of relief. 

All they would tell you is something went wrong while they were in the air. No one could get you an answer about Ben or anyone else, other than that you needed to wait. That killed you more than anything else. 

You were the only next of kin they needed to call, which meant you were sitting in this hallway alone. Your thoughts were conjuring dark outcomes of what could have happened, and it only made you want to cry more. 

Your only solace was when Reed stepped out to join you, looking completely fine. 

Reed gently held your shoulders as you stood, a hesitant look on his face. 

“I have tried to cure him, and I can’t,” he blubbered, genuine disappointment pouring from his eyes. “But I will not stop looking, I promise.” 

You looked up at Johnny as he exited the lab, thankfully unharmed too, the solemn expression feeling foreign on his features. 

“Is he okay?” you asked frantically, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. 

“He’s as fine as he can be,” Johnny assured you gently, glancing back into the lab through the window, sighing. “He’s just scared.” 

“Scared?” you breathed out, almost in disbelief. Your Ben Grimm? Scared? “Of what?” 

“He’s just…kinda hard to look at right now.” 

“Did he get hurt?” you pushed, your stomach knotting over itself. 

“No, he’s just…” 

Johnny and Reed fumbled for words, not making you feel better in any way whatsoever. 

“You guys suck at this,” Sue’s voice cut through the noise, firm and steady. She took your hands in hers, grounding you like an anchor in a storm. “He might look a little different, but he’s still your Ben.” 

“It’s more than a little,” Johnny muttered under his breath, recoiling as Reed hit him upside the head. 

The conviction in Sue’s gaze was the only thing that calmed the anxiety running through your nerves. After a beat, you took a deep breath and nodded, pushing the lab door open with your shoulder. 

You tried not to let your thoughts run wild. 

Was he missing a limb? Was he horribly scarred? 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you actually saw, and maybe you should have let your thoughts get wilder.

A big, orange, rocky form in the shape of a man, sitting in the biggest hospital gown you’ve ever seen. He seemed to be caving in on himself, hanging his head in shame. 

As you got close enough, you heard him breathing, shaky and shallow. 

You recognized him off that alone. 

“Ben?” you asked quietly, and you watched him physically tense. 

He hated that you had to ask. 

That you couldn’t be 100% sure that the freak he had turned into was actually him or not. He would rather die than live through this moment. 

You watched him close his eyes as you rounded the corner of the bed he was sitting on. He turned away from you like he’s waiting for you to yell, or cry, or run away in terror. 

But you would never. 

The man you loved was sitting in front of you ashamed, and it shattered you. 

You slowly padded to stand in front of him, swallowing the lump in your throat as you looked at him. Cautiously, you reached out to hold the side of his face, only worried about how he might react. You weren’t scared of touching him, he was the love of your life. 

He flinched, but he let you touch him anyway. Like he was grappling with the urge to run and the need to feel your touch again. 

What met your hand wasn’t the soft, stubbled skin you were used to. It was warm, smooth rock, and it broke your heart even more. 

You’d hoped this was a cruel nightmare, that Ben wouldn’t have to live what had been cursed upon him, but no. 

Only when your thumb ran along his cheek, over cracks and uneven pieces, did he look you in the eye. 

There they were. 

Those blue eyes you’ve been admiring for three years straight. 

You had watched them cry, darken, fall in love. They were the only part that was still really him, honestly. 

Right then, they were filled with sorrow, and anger, and fear. You hated seeing his blue irises showing anything but joy. 

“Are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, your other hand moving to his shoulder. 

He let out a pained breath, a half-chuckle. Like you just asked something painfully obvious. He slowly lets his forehead rest on your sternum, his whole body tensing as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, tears gathering in your eyes as you hugged him tight. A sting crept up your throat at the way his body didn’t give with your embrace. It stayed taut, firm instead of melting against you. “I’m sorry, Ben.” 

His hands form into fists at his sides, like he was holding himself back. He wanted to hug you, so badly, but he forced himself not to. He didn’t know his strength. He didn’t think he deserved it. He felt like a monster, and he didn’t even understand how you were hugging him in the first place. 

“You can say no…” he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, your cheek pressing into the top of his head, your hands idly running over his shoulders. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked quietly, your hands moving to cradle the back of his head. 

His hands gently settled on your waist, barely pushing you away from him, which just made your stomach drop further. The pain on his face was palpable as you pulled away. 

“I wouldn’t…blame you,” he stopped mid sentence, as if it nearly killed him to say it. “If you didn’t want to marry me…” 

Your face contorted with more hurt than you thought was possible. 

Your breath shook as you wiped tears off his cheeks, your heart aching against your ribs as he looked at you again. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you sniffled, your lip shaking as you pressed your forehead to his.

“Honey,” he rasped, his hands tensing at your sides. 

“No, Ben,” you insisted, pulling away just enough to look at him. “I love you so much, and I’m not leaving you, even if you think I should. I’m not.” 

He finally broke hearing you say that. 

He pressed his face into your hand, a jagged sound escaping him. Half breath, half sob. 

His mouth trembled as it met your palm, his lips forming into a crumbling line. You gently guided him to look at you again, offering a soft smile as tears slid down your cheeks. His breath hitched in his throat, like it was cracking him from the inside. 

Finally, finally, he wrapped his arms around you. 

Surrounding you in warmth as he pulled you to his chest. That was familiar. That was your Ben, warm and comforting. 

You sucked in a soft gasp as he pulled you off the ground, not even letting out a grunt of struggle. He tucked his head into your shoulder, the uneven edges of his shoulders hunched in on themselves, his body collapsing in silent devastation. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered into your skin. His jaw tensed as his tears fell onto your sweater, his hand slowly running over your spine. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.” 

Before his mission, he was sure he had fallen completely in love with you, but somehow, he’s fallen even harder. You were this piece of heaven he’s been lucky enough to have. So, he was going to ensure every waking second of his life was spent making sure he loved you unconditionally. 

“I don’t know how to do this…” he whimpered into your collarbone, his hands clutching to your shirt like it was the only thing grounding him. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you reassured him, your hand running over his back, trying to comfort him the best you can. 

God, you were perfect. 

If he ever prayed for a miracle, you must’ve been the one that showed up. He didn’t consider himself a good enough person to be with someone as lovely as you, but he’d be thanking God every day that he was blessed to have you anyway. 

He pulled back, still close enough to feel your breath on his skin. He stared at you like you were something sacred, his hand hesitant as he reached up to cup your cheek. Something that used to be his instinct. 

You knew what he was considering.

A lot has changed. What if it felt wrong now? What if he ruined it? 

“Ben,” you whispered, catching his hand and guiding it to your face. “I’m right here.”

He held you like you were made of glass, hesitant even now. But he couldn’t stop himself when you leaned in, slow and tentative, so desperate to feel you again. 

It wasn’t the kiss you remembered. It was rougher, firmer, like kissing stone. But, it was still him. 

Still full of warmth, of every piece of love he’d ever given you.

His lips quivered against yours as the two of you tried to find your rhythm. After a few kisses, you knew he was getting in his head, pulling away before he could mess it up, but you didn’t let him get far.

“Cut it out,” you murmured, holding either side of his neck as you pulled him back, your lips pressing into his harder. 

A barely there smile quipped on his lips.

That snappy attitude he was so used to felt like a beaconing light of safety.

He mumbled “sorry” between kisses, his hands sprawling over your back as he finally relaxed. 

“You still have to ask me,” you reminded him, your nose nudging with his as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’d like to have pants on when I propose to you,” he remarked, his thumbs running over your ribcage. “Even if I sell out a tailor.”

You let out a snort, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Sue was right. 

You must be new, because Ben's sure he would recognise you otherwise. He's on first name basis with everyone here. They even have a framed photo of him with the staff on the wall. He was embarrassed when they first showed it to him, but now, he finds it endearing.

"Morning! What can I get for you?" you say, as he steps up to the counter.

Your voice is a little too loud, the cheerful expression on your face just a touch manic. He smiles to himself. First day nerves.

"Morning. Can I get three half-moon cookies?"

He points to the display's middle shelf.

"And uh, throw in one of those little lemon things."

He watches you rush around, trying to find everything. The glass door on the display jams when you try to open it, one of the cookies falls apart the second you try to lift it with the tongs, and the paper bags are all stuck together and end up scattered all over the floor when you try to pry them apart.

"God, I'm so sorry-" you start, but Ben just shakes his head.

He bends down to gather up the bags that have fallen at his feet, placing them back on the counter.

"Don't worry about it," he says gently. "First day?"

You let out a shaky breath.

"Yeah, and I'm so nervous," you admit in a whisper. "There's just so much to remember."

Ben nods knowingly. He gives you a smile, hoping that he looks reassuring.

"Don't beat yourself up, alright? You're doing a great job," he says. "We all make mistakes. You should see me before I've had my coffee in the morning. Trust me, it ain't pretty."

You laugh, wiping your hands on your apron.

"Okay, let's try this again," you say resolutely.

You lift another cookie from the tray, sliding it into the bag with the others. You take your time with the lemon slice, careful not to disturb the swirl of icing at the top as you box it up.

Ben can't help but think how sweet it is that you're trying so hard, even if it is your job.

"Can I tell you something?" you ask. "You're gonna think it's so silly."

You press the paper bag closed, running your thumb along the fold to flatten it.

"All the guys have been telling me about you. You're like a celebrity here," you tell him, gesturing to the picture on the wall.

"Nah, I'm just a guy with a sweet tooth who doesn't know when to call it quits," Ben replies with a chuckle.

He hands you a couple of bills, lifting the box and bag from the counter. He shakes his head when you try to give him his change.

"Don't worry about it," he says, gesturing towards the tip jar. "I just realised I never asked you your name."

You introduce yourself.

"It's nice to put a name to a face," he says. "I'm Ben."

He knows he doesn't have to say it - of course you already know who he is. But sometimes he likes to pretend that there are some people left in the world who don't know him. That you only know him from the picture.

"It's nice to meet you too," you say with a warm smile.

He stops for a moment, finding himself a little taken aback. He can't for the life of him figure out why.

"Okay. Well, uh, I should get going," he says, wincing at how awkward he sounds. "Thanks again. And good luck for the rest of your first day."

"Thank you, I think I'm gonna need it," you reply, fussing with the mess of paper bags in front of you. "Hopefully I'll see you again?"

"Yeah, 'course. You too," Ben says, with a stiff little wave as he heads for the door.

He could kick himself. Really, he could.

Get it together. What's the matter with you?

It bothers him all day. Granted, he's never exactly been a socialite. Thankfully, he has Sue and Johnny to help with fielding most of the talking.

But he can handle a bit of small talk. He might not like it - who does, really? - but he can get through it, at least.

He tries to push it to the back of his mind. Really, he does. But it keeps coming back.

Or rather, you keep coming back.

It's when he's getting ready for bed that night that it finally hits him. The toothbrush drops out of his hand, hitting the sink with a loud clatter.

He stares at himself in the mirror.

"Oh, no," he whispers, letting out a long groan.

It's been about a month since you started working at Maisie's, and almost every morning, Ben stops by.

At first, it was for his usual order - the cookies that put the shop on the map. Then he started asking for your recommendations.

And now, more often than not, the two of you get to chatting for so long that he ends up causing a line right out the door.

He can't really explain what it is, you're just so easy to talk to. Despite what you said the first day you met, you don't treat him like a celebrity, you don't ask him questions about what happened or "what it's like". You're just...you.

And the scary thing is, he could kid himself into thinking you actually like him. That you're not just being kind, or worried about keeping your job. That you actually care.

He knows how dangerous that thought could become if he's not careful, and so he keeps trying to squash it down as best he can. But it's persistent, and he's finding himself struggling with it more and more as time goes on.

It's not long before it starts to become obvious.

"Ben, you okay?" Sue asks him one evening, while they're preparing dinner.

He flinches, almost sending the chopping board flying off the kitchen counter.

"God, Suze, you scared the hell outta me," he says with a wheeze.

Sue gently pats his arm in apology.

"You've been chopping that same piece of potato for about five minutes now," she says softly. "I think it's about as small as it's going to get."

Ben looks down. The potato is practically mush now. He sets the knife down with a sigh.

"Sorry, just...had something on my mind," he admits quietly.

"You wanna talk about it?" Sue asks, taking the board from him and tipping the potatoes into a pot of water on the stove.

Ben turns around to face her, leaning his elbows against the counter. He knows better than to tell her that he doesn't want to bother her.

Because he's never a bother to Sue. And he knows by now that she's not just being kind. She means it.

"It's just..."

Where does he even start?

"You and Reed. You've known him for about as long as I have. How did you know that...?"

He falters, unsure as to how to word it.

"That he was the one?" Sue offers.

Ben nods. Even when he can't say it, she always knows. He's always admired that about her.

"Honestly? I didn't," she says. "Not right away. It took some time, and then it was like..."

She pauses for a second, giving the potatoes a stir.

"I had this moment. We were talking, I can't even remember the conversation now, but I looked at him and I thought..."yeah". That was it. But that's when I knew."

She smiles to herself, before turning her attention to Ben.

"I wish I had a better way of describing it. But sometimes it's not always as romantic-sounding as the movies make it out to be."

"I dunno, sounds pretty romantic to me," he says with a shrug.

"So, what's got you thinking about me and Reed, hm?" she asks.

Suddenly the floor has never seemed more interesting.

"Oh, y'know, I was just wondering..."

Sue tilts her head, levelling him with that look - the one that says "don't even bother". He sighs.

"There's no point in me lying to you, is there? Okay, look, I, um..."

He lowers his voice.

"I might have met someone. There's a new girl at Maisie's, and...well, she's really nice."

"Oh my God, is it my birthday?" comes a voice from behind him, and Ben's elbows slip right off the counter, almost sending him crashing to the ground.

He turns around, gripping the counter with a glare in his eyes that would send a man twice his size running in the opposite direction.

Johnny just gives him a big smile.

"We need to put a damn bell on you," Ben grumbles to himself as he straightens up.

"So, what's this I hear about you having met someone?" Johnny asks, undeterred.

"It's none of your business," Ben retorts. "Your sister and I were in the middle of a private conversation."

"In an open-plan kitchen. In the house I live in," Johnny says, pulling a face. "Yeah, real private."

Sue rolls her eyes with a sigh. "Johnny, do you think you could give us five minutes? Alone?"

Johnny slides his hand along the counter nonchalantly as he walks past.

"Oh, sure, sure, no problem," he says airily.

He looks directly at Ben.

"But you're gonna tell me everything afterwards, right?" he mutters to Sue.

"No, I am not."

Johnny shrugs, arms raised theatrically as he backs out of the kitchen.

"That's fine, I'm going," he says, too loudly. "I know where I'm not wanted."

"Do you?" Ben asks. "Coulda fooled me."

He doesn't move, watching until he's satisfied that Johnny's completely out of earshot.

"Ignore him," Sue says.

She takes the pot off the stove, setting it to one side.

"Tell me about this girl."

Ben lifts a tea towel, worrying one of the corners between his fingers.

"I don't meet many people who seem to see me for me, y'know? But it's like...I'm just a guy to her. I'm not a superhero. I'm not..."

He makes a vague gesture towards himself.

"It's been a while since I've felt like this. To be honest, I've missed it."

"And that's got you worried," Sue prompts gently.

Honestly, her ability to do that is a superpower in and of itself.

"Yeah. Yeah, it does," he admits quietly.

Sue crosses over to him, placing her hands on his arms.

"You, Ben Grimm, are one of the most amazing people I've ever met," she says earnestly. "And I've met a lot of people. So trust me when I tell you that anyone would be lucky to have you."

She looks at him with such kindness in her eyes, and Ben forces himself to nod.

He knows she means it. But it's not as easy as she makes it sound. They all came back from that mission different, but at least they can hide it, pretend that they're "normal" for a while.

Ben doesn't have that luxury. He tries not to dwell on it, he's been getting so much better at it, but now? He can't let it go.

He likes you, he's finally said it out loud. But to say it to you? And for you to reject him? It'd break his heart.

But he can't stop thinking about you. About what could happen.

What if it goes wrong?

But what if it goes right?

Despite everything, he can't stop himself from going to see you. He makes sure to go at a time when the shop's not as busy, so at least he knows he's not getting in the way of other customers. The last thing he wants is to get you in trouble.

Your always seem so happy when he stops by, and it's getting harder and harder to convince himself that you're not just being nice to him.

He's tormenting himself, he knows he is, but somehow it feels even worse when he's not with you. Either way, he can't win, can he?

"There he is, my favourite customer," you call, as he steps through the door. "How've you been?"

Is it any wonder Ben's heart feels like it does, when he hears you saying things like that?

"About the same as I was yesterday," he jokes, with a little wince the second he says it.

Way to ram it home that you're never out of here, huh.

You laugh, none the wiser.

"I like that you're here so much," you tell him.

The way you say it, it's so casual, and yet it makes Ben's chest feel tight.

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" he dares to ask.

"Because you're a regular. And if you haven't been put off by me, then I can't be doing too bad a job, right?"

Ben stops for a moment. You're joking, he knows you are. About how nervous you were on your first day.

And yet-

"How could I be put off by someone as nice as you?" he says, before he can stop himself.

His eyes widen. It's too late, he's already said it. He can feel himself starting to panic, and you're just staring at him now. Your lips part, and Ben cuts you off before you even get the chance, desperate to change the subject.

"What, uh, what are you working on?" he asks quickly, gesturing towards the notepad sitting on the counter.

You frown slightly, as if thinking, a look of confusion on your face.

"'Working on?' Oh, right, this. Well, I've been listing some ideas for new specials," you say, tapping your finger against the page. "It's good timing that you came by, actually. I could do with some suggestions."

Ben nods. Anything to get as far away from what he just said.

"Of course. What have you got so far?" he asks.

You lift your pen, absentmindedly fidgeting with it, as you read down the list.

"We've got sandwiches covered, cakes, some new pastry ideas...But I'm wondering if there's something else we're missing. Any thoughts?"

Ben thinks to himself for a moment.

"Y'know, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for those chocolate slices, the ones with the biscuit and marshmallow inside them. Y'know the ones I'm talking about?"

"Rocky Road?" you offer.

Ben clasps his hands together.

"That's it! That's the ones."

He chuckles to himself.

"I know, I know. The big guy made of rocks likes Rocky Road. I heard it."

"No, no, it's good," you say, as you scribble it down. "It's a pretty easy one to make too."

Ben does his best to scan down the list, in spite of it being upside-down.

"What about you?" he asks. "You put down anything you like?"

"Yeah, I wanted to," you reply. "You know those little sponge cakes, with the jam and cream in the middle? The mini ones, about the size of cupcakes. But we already sell slices of the regular cake, so it seemed a bit pointless to write it down."

"What's wrong with the regular cake?"

"Nothing! It's so good, it's just..."

You trail off.

"It's a me thing, but sometimes a full slice is a bit much, you know? The cream gets a bit sickening after a while."

You glance at him then.

"I'm rambling on, aren't I?" you ask nervously.

"Hardly," Ben replies gently. "I asked, didn't I?"

You cast your gaze down, wiping your hands on the end of your apron. Ben could swear you looked a little flustered. Wishful thinking, maybe.

"Okay, well, I think I've kept you waiting long enough," you say, a bit too loudly. "What can I get for you?"

Ben frowns, then he realises.

"Oh...just my usual," he replies weakly.

He can't bring himself to tell you the truth, and he feels like a coward.

But as he's leaving, a little idea starts forming in his head.

The next few days, Ben puts himself to work, trying to figure out how to make mini sponge cakes. The regular-sized cake he can handle no problem, but the little ones are a bit tougher to figure out, in terms of adjusting the ingredients.

And a certain someone is not helping matters at all.

Ben made the mistake of stumbling over his answer when Johnny asked who the cakes were for. And true to form, he will not drop it. He's spent the better part of the day making a nuisance of himself.

"Haven't you got something better to do?" Ben grumbles, as he spoons jam out of the pot in his hand.

"Nope," Johnny immediately replies, dragging out the 'P' sound to make himself as irritating as possible.

Even when Ben does finally get rid of him, he just can't resist poking the bear cage one last time.

“I’m headin’ out,” Johnny says, swiping his finger through a bowl of cream as he passes.

Ben glares at him, but says nothing. He's better than that.

“Might stop by Maisie’s while I'm out,” he adds, turning to give Ben a big, shit-eating grin. “See how your friend’s doing.”

Ben just waves a hand at him, trying not to take the bait.

But Johnny being Johnny, he makes it so damn difficult.

“You think she’s free?” he asks, making an annoying show of sucking the cream off his finger. “‘Cause I got nothing on for Saturday night. And she’s cute. Don’t you think she’s cute, Ben?”

Johnny just manages to slip out the door as a whisk goes flying across the room.

Sue gives him a sympathetic look from where she sits at the dining table, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Try not to let him get to you,” she says. “Johnny’s harmless, you know he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Ben sighs tiredly.

“I know, he’s just…He’s infuriating, Suze.”

Sue shakes her head with a smile.

“You're preaching to the choir there.”

Ben manages to get a full two hours of peace and quiet, completely Johnny-free. The latest batch of sponge cake experiments were a success, and he was able to add the finishing touches and box them up neatly.

Now all he has to do is gather the courage to go and actually give them to you.

Which he can definitely do. Absolutely. No problem at all.

He's leafing through a book, trying to keep his mind occupied, when he hears the door open. He glances up, before lifting the book closer to his face with a sigh.

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

"Stopped by Maisie's, like I said," Johnny says, as he shrugs off his jacket and sits down.

He just can't read a room, can he?

"That's nice," Ben says, with an air of total disinterest.

He hears what sounds like a paper bag rustling, as Johnny sets something on the table.

"And I got you a little something."

Ben hums noncommittally, turning the page. Being ignored never deters Johnny. He should know this by now. Doesn't stop him from wishing.

"Or rather, I, um, was given something. For you."

That gets Ben's attention. He peers over his book, spotting the paper bag.

He'd know that paper anywhere.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks airily. "What is it?"

Johnny pushes the bag across the table.

"Open it."

Ben tries to keep up the façade, but he's struggling. He forces himself to take his time, pretending to mark his page before setting the book aside.

When he opens the bag, he can't help the smile that spreads across his face.

Inside are four big squares of Rocky Road. You remembered.

Johnny leans in to take a look too. The colour immediately drains from his face.

"Okay, I know what you're probably thinking, and yes, this definitely looks like one of my jokes. But for once, I swear to you, it's not-"

Ben holds up a hand, to stop him before he winds himself up any further.

"I know," he says softly.

He's still smiling.

Johnny waves a hand in front of Ben's face.

"Hello?" he calls impatiently. "Earth to big guy. You okay in there? I don't think I've ever seen you look this happy before. It's weird, if I'm being honest."

Ben hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. Johnny sighs, letting his hand drop down onto the table.

"Listen, I know I've been giving you a lot of crap about this...whole thing. And I'm not gonna apologise for it, by the way, because it would be against everything I stand for. But..."

He stops for a moment, as if to figure out what to say next.

"You really like this girl, don't you?" he asks.

Ben gently drums his fingers across the table top, before he finally nods.

"I do," he murmurs. "God help me, I do."

Johnny slings an arm over the back of his chair.

"Have you considered the possibility that she might like you back?"

Ben grits his teeth. "No, actually, I haven't," he snaps.

"Why not?" Johnny asks, and Ben wonders if he's being stupid on purpose.

He gestures to himself in frustration.

"Because look at me, Johnny!" he says, exasperated. "I don't exactly have people lining up 'round the block to date me. I'm not her type. I'm..."

He sighs. God, he's tired.

"I'm not anyone's type."

Johnny bangs his fist down on the table suddenly, and Ben almost falls out of his chair.

"You cut that out right now," he says lowly.

His eyes are so intense, even more than usual. Ben doesn't think he's ever seen him so serious.

"Look, you know how much I love annoying you. If it was a paying job, I'd be CEO. But I can't listen to you talk about yourself like this. You're "not anyone's type"? Seriously? You're..."

Johnny blows out a long breath, as if he's gearing himself up for something difficult.

"I'm never gonna forgive myself for anything I'm about to say, just FYI, but you...You're like the perfect guy, Ben. Stop looking at me like that, I mean it. You cook, you don't leave your shit everywhere, your dress sense is...Well, you try."

Ben doesn't know whether to kiss him or kick him. He decides he'll let him finish first.

"That girl likes you, Ben. And I'm not messing with you on this. That's too far, even for me. You know the first thing she did when I went down there? She asked me how you were. She was so excited to give me those too."

He taps the paper lightly.

"I could have been anyone, it wouldn't have mattered to her. Because all she cared about was you."

Ben runs a hand over his face. He doesn't know what to say.

"The way I see it, you've got two choices here," Johnny says. "One, you can just sit there and be miserable for the rest of your life. Or two, you can take a chance. Go down there and talk to her. It might be the best thing you've ever done."

Ben sits quietly for a moment, letting it all sink in. Finally, he nods.

"Yeah. You're right," he murmurs. "Thanks for that. Seriously."

Believe it or not, sometimes Johnny's not so bad.

Johnny gives him a warm smile. "Anytime, big guy."

He stands up, swiping a Rocky Road slice before he leaves.

"Thanks for this, by the way," he says with a mock-salute.

Ben glares at him as he goes.

Sometimes.

It takes a little - okay, a lot - of coaxing to push Ben into going to see you the next day. He spends most of the day pacing about the house, grumbling to himself and getting on Johnny's nerves.

"Not so fun when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?" Ben gripes, after Johnny tells him to knock it off for the third time.

He finally decides on going down just before closing time. That way he won't be bothering you too much, he thinks.

He hopes.

It's been threatening to rain all day, and as luck would have it, not five minutes after Ben's set foot outside, the skies open up. He picks up the pace, tucking the box in his hand safely under his coat.

He sees you standing under in the doorway of Maisie's, holding a newspaper over your head. You look as though you're contemplating making a run for it in the rain. He's halfway across the street when you spot him, and he'd have to be completely oblivious not to see how your face lights up when you spot him.

"Forgot my umbrella this morning," you say with an awkward laugh. "The one day I leave it at home-"

You gesture to the rain that's still coming down in sheets.

"-and this happens. Just my luck."

You glance up at him.

"Glad I got to see you, though," you say.

Ben can’t help but smile at that. He holds his umbrella out over you.

“Where do you need to go?" he asks. "I can walk with you.”

You shake your head.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that-“

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” he insists gently.

You adjust the strap of your shoulder bag, tapping the wilted newspaper against your leg before you make up your mind.

“My car’s just down the street, if you could walk me there.”

Ben gestures in front of him.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a little awkward, with the height difference between you, but he manages to get you to your car at least somewhat dry.

“Thanks so much, I really appreciate it," you say, rummaging in your bag for your keys. “I’d, um, I’d offer you a ride home, but…”

You trail off with an apologetic look. Ben waves a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t fit in that tiny thing anyway.”

He saves you the trouble of saying it.

“Listen, before you go…I wanted to say thank you. For the Rocky Road."

Your face lights up at that.

“Oh, yeah? How were they?”

“I think I need to ask you for the recipe, because otherwise I'm gonna have you hounded for more," Ben replies with a chuckle. "Best I’ve ever had.”

The smile on your face right now is going to be the end of him.

"Actually, I, uh, I wanted to repay the favour," he says.

He manages to take the box out from underneath his jacket without dropping it. It's a bit dented, but otherwise fine. He holds it out to you.

"You were saying about those little sponge cakes, and I thought since I had some free time and all…"

He's trying to make it all sound so casual, like it's not that big a deal, but he can feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Because it is a big deal. At least, to him.

You carefully take the box from him, staring down at it. The rain's still pouring down around you.

"I...Oh my God, I don't know what to say."

Worry starts to creep in then. Was he too forward? Was this a weird thing to do? Realistically, he doesn't even know you all that well.

What if he's ruined everything? What if-

"Do you wanna go for coffee sometime?" you blurt out, peering up at him.

Rarely is Ben ever really taken aback, considering everything he's been through in his life, but this...

This leaves him struggling for words.

Eventually, he manages to make himself nod.

"Yeah, I'd...I'd love that," he replies.

He can't help himself from thinking it, but you're so cute when you smile like that, the way it reaches your eyes.

"Great! Stop by when I'm working, and we'll figure out a time and place, okay?"

"It's a date," Ben says, before he can stop himself.

His eyes widen. Probably about as wide as yours are right now.

"Sorry, I meant like- It was just-"

"It's a date," you echo.

You both stand there for a moment. Ben's about to tell you to go, so you can't catch your death of cold, but you beat him to it.

You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, before turning to unlock your car.

"See you later," you say, completely flustered. "And thanks again for these!"

Ben just waves, closing the car door for you as you get in. He stands there for a while, not caring that his shoes and the bottoms of his pants are soaked through now, before he heads home.

His hand is pressed to his cheek the entire time.

There's a flower shop on the route Ben takes to Maisie's. He can't remember how many times he's passed by it and barely taken notice of it, but this time, he finds himself slowing down.

He buys a bouquet of sunflowers before he can talk himself out of it, practically marching himself down the street out of sheer nerves.

But when he sees you through the window, it all just melts away. You're laughing, and it warms his heart like nothing else ever has. He's never seen anyone as pretty as you.

Your gaze meets his when you turn, and you look so happy, giving him a smile and a big wave.

Ben waves back, with a small smile of his own.

He'll never admit it. But Johnny was right.

Clutching the sunflowers a little tighter in his hand, he lets out a small, contented breath, and opens the door.