welcome to the shitshow

Behind him, settled into the backseat, was a boy he hardly knew, yet found himself the sole guardian for. Mark, surprisingly, had managed to fall asleep. The poor boy had been through the unimaginable in just a few short days, and had barely slept. Pure exhaustion had pulled him down into the depths of slumber. Ben let him sleep. He knew that when the inevitable nightmares began, Mark wouldn’t be getting much rest for the time being. 

And then, there was you. Settled into the passenger’s seat beside him, knees pulled up toward your chest as you gazed out the window at the dark, passing landscape. You were quiet. Had been for the last thirty minutes. Ben’s heart ached for you. He regretted bringing you to Jerusalem’s Lot altogether. What had started as an innocent trip to show you the place where he’d spent part of his childhood, quickly turned into a living hell. 

He should have known coming back to that place would only bring trouble. But the Lot was an important part of his childhood, albeit traumatizing as it was. He wanted you to know about his past. There were things he believed that you deserved to know, as his wife. 

But bringing you to that cursed place had nearly resulted in him losing you forever. And as he glanced at you, in the quiet stillness of that car, he realized how fortunate he was that you were still here, beside him. Bruised, bloodied, but alive. 

And in that moment, he was struck with a wave of emotion so intense, tears sprang to his eyes. He took one of his trembling hands, and placed it upon your knee. He didn’t speak, because words were not something that came easy then. But you didn’t need words. All you needed was that quiet, gentle reassurance. 

You placed your own hand over his own, offering a gentle squeeze. As your eyes drifted to his face, you could see how tired he truly was. Shadows lurked beneath his eyes. His cheeks were gaunt. Cuts and scrapes littered his face. But he was here, with you. 

He didn’t have to tell you he was blaming himself for you to know that was what he was doing. You longed to reassure him that you didn’t blame him for what had happened. Yet, when you opened your mouth, your throat tightened with emotion, and you could not utter the words that were on your heart. So you said nothing, and yet, the silence said it all. 

This wasn’t how you envisioned your life as newlyweds. Never in a million years could you have predicted that you would encounter a horde of evil vampires, hellbent on draining the blood out of every living being in their path. Never could you have imagined that you would spend countless hours surrounded by death. 

Everyone you’d grown fond of in the short time you were in ‘Salem’s Lot was now dead, aside from Mark. And although you knew that you should be experiencing grief over it, all you felt was numb. It didn’t feel real yet. Would it ever feel real? 

And most importantly, where would you go from here? Could you even go back to normal life after this? 

“Where are we going, Ben?” When you spoke, you hardly recognized your own voice. It was hoarse from screaming. The primal wail you’d let out the moment you thought you were going to lose Ben had done some harm to your vocal cords, it seemed. 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Far away from the Lot as we can get. Well stop off at a motel somewhere. Just wanna drive a couple more hours. Make sure we stop at a safe place.” His tone was weary, as if it took every ounce of energy he had to muster a response.

With a heavy heart, you glanced back at Mark, who still slept soundly. He looks peaceful. The way a child should look. Gone was the determined furrow of his brow and the face of bravery he put on. He had no family left in the world. You and Ben were all he had.

“He’s with us now,” Ben softly stated. He didn’t need to elaborate. There was no question of what to do. Mark was part of your family now. You would care for him as if he was your own child. 

There was so much you needed to figure out. But for the time being, all you could do was take it one step at a time. And right now, the next step was finding a safe place to sleep. 

You weren’t sure how much longer Ben could drive like this. It was dark, and he was bone tired. 

“Next motel we see, we’re stopping. We need to rest,” you murmured, reaching over to run your fingers through the tangled curls at the nape of his neck. 

His lashes fluttered as your fingers brushed his skin. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rest again.”

You felt the same. 

Nonetheless, the next neon sign advertising a cheap motel soon drew you into a sparsely populated parking lot, and a set of motel rooms that were certainly not The Ritz, but they were better than nothing. Ben parked outside the front office, leaned across the console to kiss you, and pressed something into your hand before he climbed out of the car to secure a room. 

A crucifix. 

Your fingers closed around the small cross, thumb tracing the smoothness. You silently prayed that you would never have to use it again. 

Three minutes later, Ben emerged from the office, room key in hand, and approached the car, easing your door open as he leaned down to speak softly. “Got us a room. You ready to head inside?”

“Yeah.”

He took your hand, gently guiding you to your feet. There was something unspoken in the air between you. It was in his lingering gaze, and the way he hesitated. He longed to pull you close, to hold you for hours. However, he couldn’t. Not yet. He needed to make sure you and Mark were settled. Needed to make sure you were safe. 

So he settled for kissing you on the forehead, before he ducked into the back of the car to gather the boy in his arms. He handed you the room key before he reached out, carefully pulling Mark into his arms, trying not to wake him in the process. The boy stirred, but remained asleep, much to Ben’s relief. 

You retrieved yours and Ben’s duffel bags from the trunk, each weighing heavily upon your shoulders as you made the quick walk across the parking lot to room one twelve. The door shut softly behind you while Ben ever so carefully placed Mark in one of the beds, taking the time to take his shoes off and tuck him in.

Your hands were quick to deadbolt the door, and shove the nearby desk chair beneath the knob, ensuring it was secure. Of course, you weren’t foolish. If anything evil had followed you from the Lot, a deadbolt and a chair wouldn’t stop it. But even so, it gave you peace of mind. 

From across the room, Ben looked at you. His eyes were haunted. The mirth that had been there mere days ago was gone. Life had been so simple when you set out to visit ‘Salem’s Lot. You’d gone to the justice of the peace to get married just a few days before the trip. You were full of hope, your entire future together ahead of you. 

You’d never imagined, in your wildest nightmares, that you would be running a stake through a vampire’s heart just to save your husband’s life. The image of Barlow closing in on him still haunted your mind. His fangs had been inches from Ben’s neck. If you’d been a second too late, he would have been dead. Drained of his lifeblood. 

A deep, rattling breath passed through Ben’s chest, emotion clouding his face. “I…I guess I should wash all this blood off.” He glanced down at himself, finally realizing what a mess he was. Blood had seeped into the fabric of his denim jacket. You made a mental note to buy some peroxide and see if you could get the stain out without ruining the integrity of the denim. 

“Yeah…yeah. That’s a good idea,” came your response, mouth loose around the syllables. It felt strange to pretend everything was normal, when it was not. Nothing would ever be normal again.

Ben made no move to head to the shower. He swayed slightly in his spot, clearly wanting to say something more. The words wouldn’t come. Such meager things they were, as it was. Nothing could soothe the pain you were both enduring. 

“Will you be alright without me for a few minutes?” He hesitated to leave you alone, despite the fact that you would only be separated by a wall. You had spent every waking moment together in the Lot, not willing to let the other out of your sight, terrified of losing each other. Now, Ben didn’t like the thought of not being able to see you, even if it was only for five minutes.

He’d learned how quickly bad things could happen. How, in the blink of an eye, everything and everyone he held dear could be taken from him.

You held up the crucifix he’d given you in the car. “I’ll be okay. Promise.”

Somberly, he nodded, and finally turned on his heel, limping slightly as he headed into the bathroom, gently pushing the door shut behind him. 

A hush fell over the room, and your eyes drifted over to Mark, who still slept, undisturbed. Silently, you wondered if you would be able to sleep that night. While you were deeply tired, you doubted you would find rest. In fact, you doubted you would ever have peaceful sleep again. It would always be fitful. Even in slumber, you would be hyper aware of your surroundings, disturbed by every sound, every movement.

Even the silence unnerved you, and you were grateful for the sound of rattling pipes and the steady stream of water as Ben turned on the shower. It filled the deafening silence with something so mundane, yet comforting.

A sigh escaped your lips as your feet moved across the old carpet, orange in color, tacky as could be. There was a heaviness in your shoulders, the weight of grief, fear, and pain almost too overwhelming to bear. 

But there was something that could help ease that burden. As your eyes drifted to the edge of the second bed, you realized Ben had forgotten to grab his pajamas and toiletries. Glad to have a distraction, you were quick to rifle around in the bag, retrieving everything he’d need before you padded across the floor, sparing one last glance at Mark before you moved toward the bathroom.

Three soft taps at the door, and a murmur of, “It’s me,” alerted your husband that you were coming in.

Steam had begun to cloud the room, but Ben wasn’t in the shower yet. In fact, he was still fully clothed, sitting upon the edge of the bathtub, shoulders drawn in, eyes fixed upon the tile floor. You had never thought of him as small. He was broad, and deceptively strong for a man who chose writing as a career. And yet, he did look small, buckled beneath the weight of all he had endured. 

When his eyes met yours, your heart ached, and you were moving without another moment of hesitation. The duffel bag was placed on the counter before you kicked your shoes off, already coming to stand before him.

Hands gentle, you lifted his face toward you, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, careful not to touch the cut on his cheekbone. “My love,” you whispered. 

His bottom lip quivered. “I…I can’t do it by myself.” He hated how weak his own voice sounded. 

That broke you, anguish washing over you in waves so strong, it stole the breath from your lungs. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’m right here with you.” Your hand wandered as you ran your fingers through his hair, but you were quickly met with resistance from the tangles in his curls. “Let’s get these tangles out first, that way your hair’s easier to wash.”

As you rummaged through his bag for a comb, Ben watched you through heavy lidded eyes, a strange feeling settling into his chest. What should have been normal seemed so foreign now. How was one meant to do things like take a shower, comb their hair, and brush their teeth, after experiencing something so deeply harrowing, they couldn’t even speak of it without being plagued with a violent sense of terror?

And here you were, choosing to lovingly care for him, despite all you’d suffered. It grieved Ben deeply, because you shouldn’t have gone through any of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, as you helped him ease out of his jacket.

“For what?” Came your reply as you draped the jacket across the doorknob, already moving to grab the comb and tend to his hair after the fact.

“I shouldn’t have brought you to the Lot. If we’d just gone on a normal honeymoon, like you wanted, none of this would have happened.”

“Hey now,” you softly chided as you held the comb under the stream pelting from the shower head, “I wanted to go. Remember what I told you? How I’d go anywhere, as long as it was with you? I meant every word. I’d follow you to the end of the earth.”

His eyes drifted shut as emotion washed over him. “And I almost did lead you to the end of the earth. That’s not what I wanted for you. I never wanted any harm to come to you. I never wanted to see fear in your eyes.” But that was what he’d seen. Raw, bone deep fear that made his stomach turn. 

It had awakened a realization within himself. The knowledge that there were things in this world– evil, ancient things –that he could not protect you from. 

“I know that, Ben. But I’m okay. Really, I am. We’re alive, we’re not in the Lot anymore, and that’s what matters.” Your hands were gentle as you began running the damp comb through his tangled curls, careful not to pull too hard. 

The tenderness was overwhelming for him. Hands that had fought for him now caressed his scalp with love and care. 

“I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands went still, silence following for only a moment before you tilted his face toward you. “Don’t you dare say that. You are the kindest, gentlest, most wonderful man I have ever met. I’m proud to be your wife. Even more so now that I’ve seen you run into the face of danger to protect the people you care about.”

He couldn’t speak, lest he begin to weep. So he simply turned his head to kiss the inside of your wrist, lingering there for a moment, grounding himself. For the next several moments, no other words were spoken. You finished combing through his curls, and once they were smooth and free of tangles, you nodded in satisfaction, tossing the comb onto the counter with ease.

“All finished. Let’s get all this blood washed off, yeah?” Your tone was soft and even as you motioned for Ben to stand. Beneath your feet, the tile was cool, and you welcomed the chill as you moved across the small space. It kept you present and focused on the task at hand.

Ben’s Henley was the first to go, crimson stained fabric fluttering to the floor as you helped him ease out of the shirt. A low hiss left his mouth as he moved, and once his shirt was gone, you understood why. Bruising littered his torso and shoulders. He would be sore for days, that much you were certain of.

“Oh, honey,” you whispered, fingers ghosting over some of the bruising, wishing you could ease his pain. 

“I’m alright.” 

Your response was a soft kiss left against his sternum before your hands carried on downward, fingers quick to unbuckle his belt. The atmosphere shifted was you reverently undressed your husband. There was nothing sensual. It was pure intimacy. 

Ben watched you, eyes hooded as he admired your devotion to him. When he was bare, clothes discarded, he reached for you, ducking forward to kiss you languidly as his fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt. 

“Want me to join you?” You spoke against his mouth.

“Please.” A single word, yet it held so much weight.

With as much care as you had shown him, he undressed you. As he knelt to tug your jeans down, he gazed up at you, adoration written over his tired features. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your abdomen as he rid you of your jeans and underwear. 

Warmth spread through you at the contact, a comforting hum buzzing through your veins. Affectionate moments had been few and far between lately, because you were much too busy trying to survive. But here and now, in the bathroom of some rundown motel in the middle of nowhere, you found each other again. 

The heat of the shower engulfed you as you stepped beneath the stream, your hand intertwined with Ben’s as you led him in after you. For a motel bathtub, it was surprisingly spacious, and the two of you had plenty of room to stand apart. However, you found yourselves drawn to one another by an invisible gravitational pull. 

As water cascaded over your bare skin, Ben’s lips found yours, kissing you in a way that could only be described as worship. 

You melted into each other, two becoming one. 

“Oh, god,” Ben whispered against your mouth. “I…” He trailed off, uncertainty clouding his features. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. All he knew was that your body was pressed to his, and he was suddenly overcome with a need so intense, it nearly brought him to his knees. 

It wasn’t depraved in nature. No, it stemmed from a natural desire to be close to you. To hold you in his arms, skin to skin, and assure himself that you were okay. You were alive. Skin and bones and muscle and sinew, a heart and lungs and a beautiful, intelligent brain. 

Standing beneath the water, you held each other, your head pressed to his chest, right over his heart. Days’ worth of dirt, grime, and dried blood were cleansed away, and along with it, you allowed yourselves to pretend that just for now, everything was okay. 

You parted only to retrieve the tiny bottle of complimentary body wash provided by the motel, which sat upon the ledge of the tub. With utmost care, you worked the soap into your husband’s skin, careful not to apply pressure to any bruised areas as you washed his body. 

His eyes drifted shut as he reveled in the feeling of your hands upon his body. The tension he’d been carrying for days began to melt away, not leaving entirely, but offering enough reprieve for his shoulders to begin to relax, and his breathing to even out. 

Oh, how he’d taken it all for granted before. The ability to do something as simple as showering together was now something to be cherished. He was present for every last second of it, never wanting to forget how it felt to be touched by you. 

Life was precious. And it could end in a heartbeat. He would never take a single second with you for granted again. 

“I think I’m going to need you to kneel so I can wash your hair properly,” your quiet voice pulled him from his reverie, and his eyes fluttered open to find you looking into his face, your expression open and kind. 

“Okay.” So he knelt for you, lowering himself to the floor of the bathtub, head tilted back, vulnerable, yet safer than he’d been in days. 

The shine of adoration and unadulterated love in your eyes was a beautiful sight, and he felt as if he was basking beneath the glow of the warm sun. 

When your hands touched his scalp, he leaned into you, giving you complete freedom to work the shampoo through his curls. While the experience of you washing his body had been intimate, it didn’t compare to this. 

Looking up at you as you took care of him broke him wide open, his chest aching as if someone had pried his ribs apart and forcibly yanked his heart out. He fell apart then. Hot tears slid down his cheeks, mixing with the water from the shower. 

“I…I need you closer.” He tugged you toward him, and you gasped softly as your knees buckled, sending you right into his lap, your thighs bracketing his own. 

“Ben—”

His lips found yours, arms sliding around your torso, holding you close, chest to chest. “Please, I—I can’t—”

With your forehead pressed against his own, your hands came up to cup his cheeks. A deep, longing ache, more intense than anything you had ever felt in your entire life, rippled through you. A sob bounced off the walls of the shower, and you realized the sound had come from you. 

Mouth open against his own, you let yourself be engulfed by his warmth, his skin slick and bare against your own. You moved by instinct alone, two lost souls desperate to find each other again, knit together by the fabric of the universe. 

“I need to be inside you,” he breathed, voice wrecked, body trembling. “Please, tell me you want that too.”

It took everything within yourself to muster a reply. “Yes, I-I need you, Ben.” It wasn’t about chasing release. It wasn’t even about pleasure at all. It was about being connected after nearly losing each other. It was about soothing the parts of your souls that were raw and ragged and torn to shreds. 

It was about becoming one. 

Water still rushing down around you, you surged forward, arms thrown around his neck as you kissed him deeply, tasting, consuming. His hand ghosted over your hip, between your thighs, fingers careful as he tenderly parted you, working the digits inside. 

You gasped, whimpering brokenly as he oh so gently opened you up, coaxing your slick from you so he would be able to slip inside you without causing you pain. Your body responded in kind, eager to let its guard down and be cherished. 

Skin to skin, heart to heart, you allowed yourself to sink down onto him, gasping softly at the stretch of being filled. There was no hurriedness to your movements. You lowered slowly, until your hips were flush with his.

A broken sound, a cross between a whimper and a sigh, pulled itself from his throat, lashes fluttering as he grew accustomed to the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. It hit him all at once, like a blow to the chest. “Oh, god,” he croaked, bottom lip quivering, the deep blue of his eyes clouded with tears. 

Arms around his shoulders, you settled into him, needing to feel every inch of his body against you, grounding you, reminding you that this was real, and not a dream. Forehead pressed to his, a soft sob escaped your parted lips, and it all came rushing forth.

“I…I thought…” You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t utter the words that needed to be spoken. But you forced yourself to swallow the emotion and make your confession. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tears tracked down his cheeks once again as he nodded, arms tightening around you. “I thought so too.” His voice trembled, thick with emotion. A beat passed, the sound of your mingled breathing, and the stream of the shower, the only things to be heard. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.

“When I thought it was over for me, my last thought was of you. How the times we had together were some of the best moments of my life. And how I hoped you’d make it out of the Lot and go on to live a good life without me.”

You couldn’t speak. There were no words you could utter, no reassurances you could breathe into the air between you. Instead, you buried your face against his neck, and let him hold you, bodies intertwined, connected in the most intimate of ways. This moment was two soulmates, rejoicing that the unthinkable hadn’t happened, and seeking solace in the other’s arms. 

Enveloped in his warmth, you finally felt safe. The war in your mind quieted to a dull hum, and the thrumming in your veins settled, allowing you to melt into him, and just be present. You weren’t fighting anymore. No weapons were brandished, no desperate prayers were uttered. 

Your head lifted from the crook of his shoulder, only to take in the sight of his beautiful face. You didn’t want to close your eyes, needing to commit this moment to memory. The slope of his nose, the staggering blue of his eyes, the cut on his cheek, the bruise near his eye. Reminders of what he had survived.

You never wanted to forget the feeling of him inside you. So deep, filling you so completely that it stole the breath from your lungs. Like the universe had created him to be connected to you in this way. 

The feeling was too much and not enough all at once. You needed him closer, needed him so deep that it was unbearable. When you pleaded for him to move, it came out as a broken, pathetic sob. 

Oh so slowly, he began to rock his hips into yours, not hurried, not rough. Gentle, careful, loving. “I’ve got you, baby,” he gasped against your mouth in reassurance. “I’m never letting you go.”

As he made love to you, he knew that he’d stop at nothing to see to it that you never had to suffer what you went through in the Lot again. He would be damned if he ever failed you again.

Your lips were warm as they trailed feverishly against his skin, a silent response to his words, and he was struck by how much you loved him, even after all you had been through. It made his chest ache so deeply, it took his breath away. 

In a moment of sheer need, he pulled you back and sought out your lips, kissing you even as tears trailed down his cheeks. 

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered against your mouth. “I’ll always love you. Always fight for you.”

You pressed your forehead against his, whimpering softly as you shifted your hips and felt him nudge against that sensitive spot within you. 

“And I’ll always love you,” you echoed. How good it felt to say that. To know that you had survived the unthinkable, and still had the opportunity to profess your undying love to him.

You wanted to say more, but the syllables died in your throat, stolen away by each shunt of his hips into you. I love you. Keep going. Right there. Don’t stop. 

A steady rhythm built between your bodies, and Ben lifted his pelvis to meet yours each time you sank down onto him, thighs quivering from the exertion. 

“Oh! Ben, I lo-love you,” you whimpered lowly, entirely overwhelmed with it all. 

He kissed you, swallowing your confession and burying it deep within his bones, allowing it to knit itself into his DNA. In his mind, his thoughts rang loudly. So good for me. Precious darling. All mine, always. 

You trembled fiercely in his arms, heat rushing through your body, both from your pleasure and from the closeness of his body. With each nudge of his hips inside you, his pubic bone pressed against you, sending you teetering toward the edge with every passing moment.

It built, and built, and built. Like magma swelling inside a volcano. Like rain clouds threatening to burst forth in the midst of a storm. The intensity was too much, and you found yourself burying your face against his shoulder, biting down so you wouldn’t cry out too loudly.

Ben grunted softly at the feeling of your teeth against his skin, rhythm stuttering, tremor running down his spine. You were losing yourself. He could tell. Could feel it in the way your anatomy tightened around him like a vice. 

His arms held you steady as he rutted into you, and as you leaned your head back, entirely unable to control your bodily responses as the pleasure built, his mouth found yours again. Hot and open, sharing each other’s gasps, tasting the desperation in one another’s mouths. 

“I-I’m–” 

“I know,” he gasped, hardly able to keep his voice steady. “Let go when you need to, honey. I’ve got you.”

And he did have you. He was so steady and solid beneath you, warm and real and human. So good, kind, and loving. Everything you could ever need. And his love, his tenderness, his care was what sent you plummeting over that edge.

He cradled you close as you fell apart, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Once again, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your sobs as you writhed against him. Ben’s eyes fell shut, shocks of electric pleasure crackling to life at the base of his spine. 

You were so perfect. So beautiful. Shaking against him, overwhelmed with pleasure, giving yourself to him completely. It ebbed through you, not like a violent monsoon, but in gentle waves, warmth radiating through your blood stream. It was comforting, in a way. Grounding.

And as you came down from it all, Ben offered a few more deep, deliberate thrusts, arms tightening around you before he tipped over the edge, gasping brokenly as it washed over him. You took all he had to give, shivering at the feeling of his warmth flooding you, filling the deepest part of you.

Mouth hot and open against your temple, he breathed, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

When you looked up at him, there were tears shining in your eyes. The kiss that followed was tender, raw, laced with all the words left unsaid. There was no rush to break the spell that had fallen over you both. You remained intertwined, uncaring that the water was still running. 

After being terrorized by an ancient monster, wasting water was low on your list of worries.

Holding each other seemed much more important. You remained cradled in your husband’s arms, safe and secure. But all too soon, you had to part, and he tenderly helped you ease his softening cock from you, soothing you when you whimpered softly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.” When he stood, he groaned softly, his joints protesting after being seated on the floor of the bathtub for so long. But he ignored the pain, carefully helping you to your feet so he could rinse you clean. 

He was reverent and adoring, handling you as if you were a precious jewel. And when he was finished washing your body, he shut the water off, reaching beyond the tub to retrieve one of the towels off the nearby rack. Once dry and wrapped in the towel, he ever so carefully guided you out of the tub. 

“My bag,” you sleepily murmured, “it’s in the room.”

His lips found yours in a sweet kiss. “I’ll grab it.” After tossing on a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, ignoring his still damp skin, he padded out of the bathroom to retrieve your bag. 

Now alone in the bathroom, you let out a weary sigh, turning toward the mirror. A strange sort of hollow feeling settled in your chest as you took in your appearance. Exhaustion lurked in every ridge and curve of your body. The events of Jerusalem’s Lot had aged you, it seemed. You hardly recognized yourself. Part of you wondered if you would ever be the same again. It felt as if your very soul had been altered. Ripped apart and put back together again in all the wrong places.

You weren’t given much time to fall into a spiral, for moments later, Ben returned, quiet in his movements as he closed the bathroom door, duffel bag in hand. 

As he retrieved a little pot of body lotion for you, you asked, “how’s Mark?”

“Still asleep,” Ben murmured as he warmed the lotion in his palms before he began to smooth it along your skin. 

“Good for him. Lord knows he needs all the rest he can get.”

Silence settled between you again as Ben continued. You let him take care of you, watching in awe as he so meticulously lotioned your skin. Caring for you in this way quieted his mind and gave him purpose. 

“There. All finished,” he murmured, hands quick as he put the lid back on the lotion. The product was returned to your toiletry bag, and once you’d retrieved your pajamas from the duffel, Ben helped you dress. 

Finally clean and settled into comfortable clothes, the two of you made your way back out into the main part of the room, sure to be quiet as you moved. As you settled into the surprising softness of the empty bed, your husband crossed the room, taking a moment to look through the peephole on the door, and peek through the curtains. Of course, no one was out there. But he had to be certain.

When he turned to join you in bed, he caught sight of the mournful look in your eyes. “We’ll always be looking over our shoulders, won’t we?” You whispered.

He let out an unsteady breath as he pulled you into his arms. “For a while, at least.” He settled behind you, arms cinched around your waist, holding you against the warmth of his broad chest. “But maybe…in the future, we’ll find ourselves in a place where we finally feel safe.”

A deep sense of longing spread through you. “God, I hope so.” 

He slowly moved to hover over you, his eyes filled with raw sincerity. “I need you to know that no matter what, I’m with you. Whatever comes our way, I’ll be by your side, fighting it with you. You and Mark deserve the chance at a normal life, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you brought your hands up to cup his cheeks. “I know you will, Ben. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours before he sealed his promise with a kiss. As you settled into bed that night, you knew that your journey was only just beginning. It would not be an easy task to move on from the events of the Lot. You didn’t even know how to begin to recover from it.

But what you did know was that you wouldn’t have to go it alone. You would lean on each other, just like you always had. And somehow, some way, you would come out on the other side of this. Battered and scarred, but alive. 

-

tagging:

@thecowboyfiles @sunfloress @thesoftdumbass @householdcryptid @rainymitskicain

@mashtonbunny @mrcspectr @awesomekollie @bbybnnybee @rosesandtae

@fairyheart @mywinterivy @queer-vampire @voidslxt @withahappyrefrain

@shinycupcakebaker @cosmic-marauder @trelaney @gwaciechang @mustaaarrd

i think this would have to be the moment where they're like. "okay maybe this isn't a friends thing anymore."

because like yeah they messed around and they definitely have fucked like..obviously, but this is a Baby. they MADE a kid. this is a whole new ball game now.

i think rob freaks the fuck out at first, tbh? he's thousand yard staring at reader, like you're speaking in a different language.

he never thought he'd be a dad, never was clean long enough to really even consider the possibility. he honestly didn't think he'd live this long, certainly not long enough to make a fucking kid.

he isolates himself by accident, it's instinctive. he knows it's a dick move, and he feels awful for it afterwards, but in the moment its all he knows to do? there's just too much going in his brain at the moment and he needs a few days to process it.

reader is obviously upset by this, but thankfully, you and bob have a mutual understanding of one another. if one of you needs space, the other gives it. to be honest YOU probably need a few days to process too.

i think reader knows she's in love with bob wayyyyy before bob realizes he's in love with her, so Bob is going through the fucking ringer about it.

he spirals. sits alone in the dark of his room and feels Awful because he feels like he's taken advantage of you (boy is horifically oblivious and does Not realize that you feel the same. yes, it's irrational, yes, he realizes that after you guys have a talk)

i think this is like..a week long conversation. he has to lay everything out in the open, which makes him actually sick, but he loves you and the fact that you Want to keep the baby and that you want HIM is enough to make it worth the discomfort.

he's terrified he'll be just like his mom, which surprises you, because you'd thought maybe he'd be worried about being like his dad, but no.

he knows he would never in a million years lay a hand on ANY child, especially not his own. he would literally rather die. no, bob is worried that he'll be like his mother. that he'll fuck his kid up emotionally, pass down this mental illness like his mom to him, that his mood swings and general instability will hurt yalls kid.

(# this is the moment bob decides he absolutely 100% needs to go to therapy)

you also have the 'i'm in love with you' talk, which goes about like you think it would. he'a red cheeked and fumbling over his words and he can't quite meet your eyes, but he holds your hand Tight like the thought of letting go terrifies him.

that night, after the tears have dried and the lights have dimmed, he lays with his head on your belly, ear pressed to your skin, hand on your hip, thumb caressing just beneath your belly button. he's mumbling, muttering barely coherent words, but he isn't talking to himself this time, not the Void either. he's talking to the baby, mumbling promises of love, that he'll try so hard, that he'll never hurt them the way his parents hurt him. He falls asleep like that.

its not perfect, or traditional, and you're both terrified, but its worth it. he loves you, and you love him return, and you're both going to love this baby with every bit of yourselves. everything else can be figured out in time.