been on this site for way too long

“When do I get to meet her?”

Ben’s gaze narrowed, focused on the pot of simmering alfredo below. He dipped one digit inside of the sauce, flicking another smattering of pepper over the broth.

A plate of Maisie’s frosted cookies sat neatly on the countertop, arranged with care, and the dinner table was set with candles.

Johnny squinted, stealing a glance between the checkered tablecloth and Ben’s culinary masterpiece.

“You’re serious about her, aren’t you?” Johnny parrots, leaning forward against the countertop. Blue hues scrutinized him with perplexity, brows furrowing together.

Ben was chivalrous, sure, but he was going out of his way for this, for a girl that no one had met yet. You’d been talked about at-length, but hadn’t made any appearances until now.

“Not now, Johnny,” Ben grunts, letting H.E.R.B.I.E take over kitchen duties by stirring the sauce and checking the pasta. “Maybe next time.”

“Really?” With a theatrical groan, Johnny sighs, seemingly downtrodden. “Just like that? You aren’t gonna throw me a bone?”

“Nope,” He waves him off as the oven chimes with a pitched ding, signaling the completion of the garlic bread he’d made. “It’s time to make yourself scarce, buddy.”

Johnny had reluctantly agreed to give Ben space for tonight — for his date. He was itching to know who the mysterious woman was, but he wasn’t about to ruin things for Ben tonight.

Reed and Sue had intentionally gone elsewhere for the occasion, leaving the Baxter Building eerily empty, save for H.E.R.B.I.E.

With a begrudging expression, Johnny held one hand up in surrender. “Fine, I’ll go. Good luck, alright? I’m serious.” His tone tapered off from teasing to genuine.

“Thanks,” Ben cracked a smile before rubbing his hands together. “I’m gonna need it.” He mumbled, placing the ceramic tray of bread on the island.

It’d been a long time since he’d been on a real date; not something artificial, with someone solely interested in his newfound popularity.

The last real date he’d had was with Deborah, before going to space — before everything changed.

He’d been on a handful between then and now, but none of them felt real. Sometimes, it all felt like a cruel joke, and he’d learned to brush them off; it never lessened the sting.

His appearance was often a point of contention, a weighty insecurity that dragged behind him. In the beginning, Ben struggled with it, with his looks — with being perceived because of it.

Now, he’d gotten better, more accustomed to it all with some degree of acceptance.

From the moment he met you, Ben felt something profound, knowing that there was something different about you, something kind. You’d run into one another after Ted’s show, and maybe it was fate.

It was a string of chance meetings after that, and you were the one to really kickstart things with a coffee date. He’d gotten good at deciphering who was real, and who wasn’t — you were.

After Johnny left, it was just H.E.R.B.I.E, buzzing and scuttling around to make any final preparations. He was nervous, insides churning with anticipation, anxiety gnawing at his veins.

He wanted to make this work with you, if that were a possibility; he liked you.

“Herbs, could you put on some music? Jazz or somethin’? Keep the volume low.” Ben calls, moving to place the bread on the table, right in the center.

Was it too romantic? Too formal? He was second-guessing himself as he added the pasta to the sauce, giving it several stirs to ensure the consistency.

H.E.R.B.I.E whirled around the corner, a tangle of excitable buzzing and beeping as the robot motioned toward the elevator.

“She’s here? You wanna bring her up?” He mused, gesturing toward the doors. The robot zoomed away with haste, swinging into the elevator before it went down to the lobby.

Ben had to remind himself to calm down; this was you, and you were sweet. It was easy to get lost in the swell of insecurities, especially regarding his appearance when it came to dating.

Everything looked impeccable, between the finely-set dinner table, sienna glow, and the lull of smooth jazz drifting through the parlor.

It was nearly dusk, a cloudless night that harbored a skyline full of glittering stars. Twilight pooled in through the windows, bringing with it streaks of violet and peach — picturesque, really.

Smoothing a hand over his button-up, he adjusted his tie a time or two, glancing at himself in a mirror strewn in the corridor.

“Sweet Jesus,” Ben mumbled, countenance furrowing together. “Pull yourself together, Grimm.” He sighed, shoulders shaking with a heavy exhale.

The chime of the elevator nearly made him jump, causing him to move toward the dinner table, steps wrought with a subtle fear.

As the doors opened, you were met with the polished interior of the Baxter Building, something you never imagined yourself seeing. It was larger than life, and beautifully decorated.

Sweat-slick palms picked at a stray thread from the sleeve of your floral dress, nerves coiled tightly within the pit of your stomach.

The scent of Italiano wafted from the foyer as H.E.R.B.I.E scuttled forward, wheeling around to check on the pasta.

“Hey,” Ben greeted you with a smile, one that seemed etched with nervousness even through the rocky exterior. “Glad you make it, it’s really good to see you again.”

You hadn’t been expecting someone like Ben to enter your life — kindhearted, selfless, and with a heart of gold.

Dating was something you’d sworn off after a tumultuous string of poor experiences, all of them leaving you embittered. Things took a turn for the better when you met him.

“Hi, Ben,” You chimed, adjusting your purse as you marveled at your surroundings. “This is beautiful! Thank you for inviting me, I’ve really been looking forward to it!”

You had, truthfully; when he’d proposed the question of coming over for dinner, and he’d specified it as a date, you were ecstatic.

“Really? That’s great,” Relieved, Ben felt some of the tension unfurl from his shoulders. “I’ve been looking forward to it, too.” He confessed, which eased your anxiety.

The two friends you’d told about this date were skeptical, at best — they didn’t understand why you were inclined to pursue, given his appearance.

None of that mattered to you; the content of his character mattered, his heart mattered. His appearance was trivial, and you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Thank goodness,” Stifling a nervous laugh, you cleared your throat, awkwardly extending your arms out. “Are you a hugger? I’m sorry.”

Much to Ben’s surprise, you seemed just as nervous and jittery as he was about the whole ordeal. He assumed it had to do with him, but that was all a projection.

“No, uh — Here.” Ben stepped forward, letting you initiate the gesture. He feared the stigma that came with him, with the way he looked.

Little more than a feather-light embrace, he reciprocated your hug as if one touch might make you explode. You seemed entirely unphased, hugging him as if it were commonplace.

“I love your tie,” You mused, pointing toward the strip of vibrantly-colored fabric, patterned with green foulard. “Reminds me of one my grandpa used to wear.”

Ben chuckled, accompanied by a flash of pearly teeth as he drew away. “Ouch. You callin’ me old?” He teased, noticing the look on your face.

“No!” Despite his gentle prodding, you felt your heart leap straight into your throat. “I’m already making a bad impression, aren’t I?”

“Not in the slightest,” Ben replied, moving away from you and toward the kitchen. “I made parmesan alfredo for dinner, hope that’s alright.”

That explained the heavy scent of Italian, and when you noticed how intricate the table looked, warmth began to spread over your features.

The amount of effort it must’ve taken him far exceeded any of your expectations — they were in the ground, at this point. “You did all of this for me?” You asked, incredulous.

A brief chuckle escaped him as he rubbed the back of his head, gesturing to take your purse. “Yeah,” He cleared his throat. “Figured you deserved it, I wanted to do it for you.”

Your purse seemed so dainty in his grasp as he placed it on the countertop, motioning for you to come inside.

“That’s really sweet of you, Ben. Thank you,” Flattered, you felt your heels ache from wearing a pair of black pumps, shuffling over the carpet. “It smells wonderful.”

“Let’s hope it tastes wonderful,” He chuckled, giving the pot another stir before turning the heat down. “So, how was work for you today?”

“Good,” With a hum, you moved to admire the decor of the apartment, smiling at some of the pictures. “Lots of dog hair. I cleaned up before I came over.”

“Wondered what that smell was,” Ben mused, prompting you to turn on your heel. “I’m teasing you.” He carried the pot over to the table, placing it next to the bread.

“You should come by sometime! You’d make a good playmate for some of the shelter dogs.” Folding your hands together, you quietly crossed the threshold toward the table.

“They can’t chew on me, it might work,” Humorous, the lighthearted atmosphere seemed to ease both your nerves and his. “I got Maisie’s for dessert, if you’ve got room after dinner.”

Once the table was completely set, he nearly forgot about the lavish bouquet of flowers perched on the kitchen island.

“Really? Their cookies are delicious,” Smiling, you watched as he moved to pull your chair out for you, an invitation to sit. “Thank you.”

“Used to go there after school, back when I lived on Yancy,” Ben muses, sitting beside you with an expression of contentment. “The little black-and-white ones are my favorite.”

“Good choice,” Unraveling your napkin, you place it into your lap, over your dress. “Have you always liked to cook?”

“It was something I picked up with time. Dad wasn’t always around, so I worked with what I had,” Ben clears his throat with a guttural hum. “I love cooking now, especially for other people.”

After he gestured toward the food, you spooned a mindful portion of alfredo pasta onto your plate, taking a piece of garlic bread, too.

“I’m not very good at cooking,” You confess, twirling a noodle around on your fork. “I’m excellent at cleaning up afterwards, though.”

Ben dished himself a hearty portion; he was always one to bite off more than he could chew. “I don’t think I’m gonna let you clean up on the first date.” He remarks.

“I don’t mind it,” With a shrug, you take a bite of pasta, savoring the taste of creamy alfredo and the sharp grit of parmesan. “Mm, this is delicious!”

“Yeah?” Delighted, he felt a sense of relief in knowing that you enjoyed his food. “The key is the touch of nutmeg, it adds depth to the sauce.”

“Really? It’s amazing,” A soft groan escaped you when you took a bite, and then another. “You mentioned that you grew up here in the city. Do you still have family around?”

“Not anymore,” Ben shrugged nonchalantly. “I had an older brother, Daniel. Passed away a long time ago — my parents, too.” He murmured, noticing the look on your face.

“I’m sorry, Ben.” Your tone softened, brows furrowing together. Reaching out, you let your hand settle over his, feeling chitinous rock beneath.

“Ah, don’t apologize,” Brushing it aside, Ben offered you a solemn smile, placating. “That’s how it goes, you know? Natural part of life.”

“I think your family would be proud of you and how accomplished you are.” The kindness in your voice is unmistakable; it’s gentle, sincere.

Flattered, he momentarily dipped his head, blue eyes flickering toward your hand, still lingering over his knuckles.

“That’s real sweet of you to say,” Ben murmured, sitting a little straighter in his seat. “I miss being an astronaut, before …” He trailed off, shaking his head.

It wasn’t difficult to discern what he meant by that — his appearance, a source of deep-rooted insecurities.

Hushed, you offered Ben a comforting smile, fingers flexing around part of his hand, entirely too large when compared to your own. “I understand.”

Ben sighed, wanting to move off of the more distasteful topics of conversation. Despite your genuineness, he wanted to know more about you and keep the focus there.

“Sorry,” With a cough, he decides to change the subject. “You mentioned you like music. What’s your favorite genre?”

“Oh, hm,” Contemplative, you considered his question carefully. “I like anything that sounds good, really. It’s about the composition and tune versus the genre.”

“There’s a jazz club off of Shirley that my Uncle took me to a few times, I think you’d like it.” Ben replied, eating between questions.

The atmosphere of the date was incredibly comfortable for the both of you — maybe it was too early, but you hoped there’d be another.

“When are you going to take me?” Emboldened, the words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop yourself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t …”

Admittedly, Ben was flattered by your enthusiasm, wrought with a touch of amazement. He wasn’t expecting any of this; he wasn’t expecting you to drop into his life.

“No, you don’t need to apologize,” He began, clicking his tongue. “You tell me when you’re free next, and I’ll make it happen.”

Giggling, you continued to eat with glee, stomach sloshing with warmth. Visibly smitten, you seemed excited at the prospect of a second date. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

The flow of conversation felt entirely natural, as if he’d known you for years. After losing Deborah, after the accident with space, with forming the team — he didn’t think he’d have this again, having someone.

He learned a lot about you over the course of dinner, details that he was hellbent on committing to memory. There was something so brilliant about you, vibrant and inviting.

You cleaned your plate without protest, dabbing at the corner of your mouth with your napkin. “I can’t get enough of this. How much do I owe you?”

“Free this time,” Ben bantered before clicking his tongue, swallowing a mouthful of garlic bread. “I can get you some to take back home.”

“I’d love that. Thank you, Ben,” Beaming, you folded one leg over the other. “Dinner’s been wonderful. I’m really enjoying myself.”

Some part of you envisioned this — envisioned him fitting into your life with a semblance of normalcy. The idea settled within the recesses of your mind, a nagging fantasy.

“Me too,” He agreed, heart swelling with elation. “I’ll take your plate if you’re finished, let Herbs clean up around here. How much time do you have left?”

Ben thought he might’ve been defunct after his transformation, and it gave him a spark of confidence to know he still had a bit of charm. He wasn’t completely hopeless just yet.

“Thanks,” Unable to stop smiling, you cleared your throat, standing from your seat. “I’ve got an hour or so left before I need to go home.”

“Do you want a tour of the place?” Ben offered, carrying your dishes to the sink. You decided to help anyway, carrying extra dishes over to the island.

“You wouldn’t be breaking any safety protocols, would you?” You laughed, standing beside him as you placed dishes into the basin. “I don’t want your family to think I’m a bad influence.”

“I don’t think so,” With a scoff and jostling of his shoulders, Ben shook his head. “You’re the furthest thing there is from a bad influence.”

Flustered, tendrils of heat snake over the back of your neck, prickling along your spine. He made you feel seen, valued in a way you never thought possible, until now.

As you helped him tidy up despite his protests, Ben quietly admired the floral pattern of your dress. It was bright and frilly, reminding him of a garden, fitting for you.

Whatever this would blossom into, he wanted it to last — and that terrified him.

The idle hum of jazz music filled the void of silence that lingered between the both of you. You were more than helpful, sticking to your word about cleaning up afterwards.

“Fantasti-kitchen, dim the lights,” Ben spoke to the open air, and the lighting simmered down, much to your amazement. “H.E.R.B.I.E can finish up. Let me show you around.”

“This feels top secret,” You mused, drying your hands off before following him towards the living room and balcony. “Did you always want to be an astronaut?”

Ben quieted, giving your question some consideration. “No,” He began, stopping beside the lounge couch. “I didn’t realize it was on the table until I joined the Air Force.”

“Really? Did you join out of high school?” Perplexed, you listened attentively, losing interest in your surroundings.

“Joined out of college, I got a football scholarship to State University in Hegeman,” That was something else he missed — playing football. “Jumped into the military after graduation.”

You smiled, peering toward the glass partition that led onto the balcony. Twilight turned to an inky black, moonlight trickling through the windows.

“I’m not the most athletically-inclined person.” You laughed, having a look around the room. Everything was vibrant, lively — the sort of cozy environment that you envied.

“I can’t anymore,” Ben mused, evening the score before he gestured toward the stairs. “I won’t show you Reed’s lab. If he found out, think his head would explode.”

“I understand,” Following behind him, he led you toward a spiral staircase, one that wrapped around a white column. “It’s wonderful here. I love how everything is designed.”

“Susie’s got an eye for it,” He replied, leading you upstairs to a sprawling corridor. “We’ll skip over Johnny’s bachelor pad.”

“Are none of them here?” Curious, you glanced at a myriad of photographs on the wall, all of them from Reed and Sue’s wedding.

One of the pictures showed four people — Reed, Sue, Johnny, and another taller man. From the way he had his arm thrown around Reed’s shoulder, you discerned that it was Ben.

“Asked for privacy,” Ben murmured, tone lowering to something solemn. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you on the first date.” He mused, visage softening.

“I appreciate that,” With another smile, you quietly admired the photograph, lashes kissing the skin beneath your eyes. “I was really nervous about this, to be honest.”

A sliver of him worried that your anxiety had something to do with him. “Why’s that, if you don’t mind me askin’?” He kept his tone soft, a gravelly lull.

“I haven’t dated in awhile,” You hummed, visibly sheepish. “I guess I worried that I’d bore you to death, or do something to embarrass myself.”

It was an innocuous confession, but genuine; Ben seemed visibly surprised. He was in his own head about everything, thinking you’d spend time with him and change your mind.

Sometimes the popularity was just as tantalizing, dating someone who saved the world. It didn’t take much for Ben to know that that wasn’t you at all.

“Looks like we’re worried about the same thing,” Ben guffawed, mildly bemused. Whatever insecurities scratched at him subsided slightly. “It’s been a lotta years for me.”

“Really? I’m surprised,” Canting your head to one side, you turned to face him. “I thought you would have lines out the door for a date with you.”

Ben blinked, rocky lips parting in surprise. “That’s more of Johnny’s forte, y’know,” He grunted, hand idly clenching into a fist at his side. “I haven’t had as much luck.”

“I’m glad you asked me, seriously,” Bright-eyed, your enthusiasm settled into your cadence, making Ben’s heart skip a beat. “I almost said no to coming here.”

His heart faltered when you said you almost declined his invitation. “Ah — Sorry if I …”

“Not because of you, Ben,” You began, flashing another comforting smile. “Coming here scared me, I didn’t want it to feel like I was intruding.”

“Oh,” Ben stared at you for a beat, blue hues drifting over your countenance, appreciative. “You aren’t intruding at all, so you know.”

“That’s good,” Reassured, you smoothed a hand over your dress, softly clearing your throat. “I’ve had a great time so far, too.” You didn’t want to prod him for the rest of the tour — this meant more to you.

“Me too,” Gesturing towards the leftmost hallway, he showed you some of the Building’s other fixtures. There was one door left ajar, and he proceeded to shut it. “Open door.”

“What’s in there?” Intrigued, you noticed the flash of nervousness in his eyes. It dissipated, but he waved your curiosity aside. “Top secret, huh?” You teased, and he laughed.

“Nothing important,” Ben replied, and before the both of you could move away, H.E.R.B.I.E came rolling through, opening the door aggressively. “Herbs, hey! You don’t gotta …”

It was a bedroom, and from what you could glimpse of it, it must’ve been his room. H.E.R.B.I.E whirred and beeped, barreling past as the robot placed laundry down on the table.

“Is this your room?” Hushed, you didn’t want to pry into his business, standing by the wall. “We don’t have to go inside!”

“Yeah, ah — We can check it out,” Ben shrugged, stepping inside before giving H.E.R.B.I.E a pointed stare. “Sorry for the mess. Wasn’t expecting any visitors.” He mused.

“It’s tidy,” The interior was warm, much of the furnishings made to be larger, sturdier to accommodate his affliction. “What qualifies as a mess to you?”

The military taught him to be orderly, organized; those habits still hadn’t left him. Ben chuckled, warm and mirthful as he let you look around.

A shelf of photographs and sentimental knickknacks sat on a mahogany shelf, scattered amongst books and piloting manuals.

One in particular was Ben, younger and sporting a State University football uniform. Another showed him and Reed, wearing their astronaut suits — the same worn in the cosmic accident.

Another frame held a photograph of Ben, alone in a nice suit, posing for what seemed like a biography picture. His expression was solemn — a slight smile, good posture, brown hair graying at the temples.

Glass was cracked on the frame, as if it’d been dropped or thrown, wood splintered in multiple places. You picked it up, a pang of empathy rippling through you.

“Used to be good-looking.”

Ben’s voice reverberated throughout the room, carrying with it a forlorn hush, as if he were caging darker sentiments. He seemed sad, as if the picture hurt him somewhat.

Placing the photo down, you glanced at him, quiet for several beats. “Used to be? You still are.” You replied, entirely unphased by his appearance.

Disbelief rippled through him, and his body shook with a soft scoff, as if the notion was preposterous. “You don’t gotta lie to me.” He murmured, shifting to sit down on the edge of his bed.

“What makes you think I’m lying?” Your question resonated with him, and you stayed beside the sofa, leaning against the back of it.

Silent, Ben gave a brief shrug, rocky hands perched atop his knees. “Used to it, you know?” His smile was deceivingly threadbare. “I’m aware of how I look and what it means.”

“I don’t mind,” Sincere, you stepped closer, sinking down beside him at a polite distance. “I think you’re really handsome.” You were being truthful, and you hoped he’d believe you.

He struggled to believe you, despite the genuineness saturating your tone. “I wanna try to believe you, I do,” Ben uttered. “It’s not easy.”

“I know, and that’s okay,” A comforting smile settled onto your features, legs swinging over the carpet. “Maybe with time, you’ll believe me.” You affirmed, and he chuckled.

“You’re something else, you know that?” He meant it, too — you were unlike any girl he’d met before. Most of them were gone by this point in the date; not you.

Smitten, your head dipped, gaze flickering elsewhere as your hands fell into your lap. “That’s really sweet of you to say, Ben. I want to see you again after this.”

“You do?” Incredulous, he tried again, keeping himself calm and suave. “Ah — I did promise to take you to that jazz club sometime, if you wanna.” He smiled, stifling his elation.

“I’d love that,” Beaming, you swung one leg back and forth, hand shifting to reach for his own. “Maybe you could teach me to be a better cook, too.”

“Hah,” Ben chuckled, seemingly agreeable to your proposal. “I can do that. I can’t promise anything spectacular, but it might expand your palette.”

“Perfect,” You hesitated, your smile never wavering even in the face of nerves. “It’s a date, then.” You weren’t met with any resistance on the matter, which was a good thing.

As if gaining some sliver of confidence, he held your hand, his grasp deceivingly gentle, ensuring that he didn’t hurt you.

“You look really beautiful.” Ben murmured, somewhat bolstered by your presence. You made him feel comfortable, human again.

“Oh,” Flattered, you smiled again, hand neatly folded within his. “Thank you. I pulled this thing from the depths of my closet.” You mused, picking at the hem.

“Couldn’t tell,” He squinted, leaning in as if to blow something off of your shoulder. “Wait, hold on. Jesus, there’s a lotta dust you got there.”

“You’re kidding,” You groaned, but before you could try and brush it off, you noticed Ben’s bemused expression. “You’re messing with me.”

“Sorry,” Ben laughed, pearlescent teeth and all. The blue of his eyes glimmered with warmth, nervousness having dissipated. “You’re easy to tease.”

“Ouch,” With a bubbly laugh, your anxiousness had faded in-turn, and you seemed entirely smitten with him. The closeness was there, charged with a warm affection. “How could you?”

His mouth split into an amused grin. “You’re probably regretting agreeing to that second date right about now,” He laughed, and you shook your head. “No?”

“Not at all,” Squeezing his hand, you tilted closer, as if studying him intently. It wasn’t gawking — it’s like you were trying to see his soul. “I don’t want this night to end.”

Ben stilled at your confession, spoken through a delicate cadence and low smile, enough to make him sit a little straighter.

He wasn’t Johnny — he wasn’t suave with flocks of women swarming him. He never had trouble with getting a date, until the accident; every shred of confidence seemed squashed.

When he noticed you leaning in, it was the universal sign of wanting more; and he nearly moved away then and there like a coward.

Something kept him grounded — maybe it was his own underlying want, or maybe he was frozen, subject to whatever happened next.

Subconsciously, he was tilting inward too, as if he were just an astronaut again — Ben the pilot, Ben the veteran, Ben the football star and not Ben Grimm, the Thing.

“I shouldn’t.”

Ben’s utterance didn’t entirely surprise you, but you weren’t about to pull away. Instead, you stayed there, gaze shifting toward his mouth as if it were commonplace.

“I want you to,” Sweet as ever, you lavished him in gentle encouragement; not forceful, just kind. “I do, but only if that’s something you want, too.”

He wanted it bad — and that’s what scared him.

Swallowing the slight lump within his throat, he considered leaving it all then and there. With his appearance, he felt as if you were just being nice, throwing pity on him.

The longer he stared at your face, the more he realized that you were genuine in your own attraction, and that seemed to terrify him even more.

“You might change your mind afterwards,” Ben muttered, as if trying to talk himself and you out of what was about to happen. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“We’ll see.” Your counter-remark didn’t come as a shock, but he happened to huff, instead. Silence followed suit, a deep breath before the plunge, steeling himself.

It was a mutual gravitation, the both of you tilting lower, together until mouths brushed over one another. You didn’t have any expectations, but you were surprised by how soft he was.

Not him; his mouth.

The kiss stretched on longer than he thought it would, longer still when you decided to continue. Ben inhaled; a sharper, poignant noise, but he didn’t pull himself away.

He stopped, tensing when he felt your hand fall flat against his jaw, flesh kissing the uneven surface of chitinous rock.

“Is this okay?” You asked, noticing the bewildered glint in his eyes, as if you’d done something mildly offensive. “I can stop, if you …”

“No,” Ben interjected, savoring the sensation of your palm holding his face. There was something intimate about it, the closeness. “This ain’t so bad.” He mumbled.

“Yeah?” Little more than a mere whisper, your tender tone beguiled him once more. Instead of sitting there, it was him who initiated this time, kissing you again.

When your lips pressed against his, he didn’t feel as tense this time around. Part of him felt a twinge of delight, savoring the feeling of your mouth.

The uneven, rocky texture of his jaw jutted into your palm, mouth shifting delicately against his own. Kissing him didn’t bother you — in fact, you liked it.

He was gentle, respectful of your space. Ben figured that you would’ve stopped by now, found it unpleasant and pulled away; but you didn’t.

Sitting a little straighter, you careened inward, feeling the gravelly grunt that reverberated from his chest. When he shifted, hand falling against the small of your back, you shivered.

There wasn’t anything different about kissing him from any other person — it was Ben, and you didn’t mind.

You didn’t shy away from anything, from the amorous nature of your kiss. Desire rippled at the fringes, palpable when your lips met again, prompting him to exhale.

The softness of your mouth starkly contrasted with his, rough and uneven like the jagged surface of a stone. Though, you didn’t mind whatsoever, keening into him with a light smile.

Ben sluggishly drew away after another beat, gazing at you incredulously, mildly mesmerized by your sense of calm.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Ben inquired, bewildered as you shook your head. “Ain’t been kissed like that in a long time.” He sighed, hand rubbing circles over your back.

“Neither have I,” You confessed, reaching to fiddle with the collar of his button-up. “I liked it, though. I don’t think it’s any different from anyone else.”

Giving you a soft smile, he chuckled, gaze glittering with tenderness. “You’re sweet,” He murmured, tilting inward to press a firm kiss to your cheek. “Think I could get used to this.”

“Me too,” The pads of your fingers drifted over his cheek, mapping out every divot, every plane of rock. “Can I ask you something?”

“Course,” He rumbled, steadily tracing across your waist, almost cautiously. Part of him was afraid of hurting you — he wasn’t soft anymore. “Anything.”

“Does it hurt?” Your cadence lowered into something gentle, etched with concern.

“Nah,” Ben shrugged, staying still as you caressed along his cheek, digits smoothing over the ridges above his brows. “Used to, not anymore.”

Quiet, you pressed a kiss against his jaw, head coming to rest against his shoulder. There was a subtle hitch that formed within his throat, lips parting in delight.

This wasn’t something he ever dreamed of having again, not after Deborah. He’d resigned himself to being a curiosity and commodity, but you didn’t make him feel that way.

He felt real with you; like he was flesh again.

“I had a great time tonight,” Wading through the silence, your tone resonated with him, as sweet as ever. “I don’t want to leave, but I’ve got work in the morning.”

“I get it,” Ben assured, letting out a low grunt as he stood, hand extended for you. “You let me know when you got time. How would you feel about comin’ over for family dinner?”

“Meeting the others?” Surprised, you felt a warm flush crawl over the back of your throat. “I’d love that! Are you sure you want me to …”

“Really sure,” He swore, feeling your hand slip over his palm as he helped you up. “Johnny’s gonna start doubting that you’re real.”

“I’m very real,” In a playful protest, you skipped forward, throwing an arm against his chest. “You’re so handsome, Ben.” You sighed, practically swooning.

If he weren’t like this, he would’ve been smooth and suave, maybe teased you and pulled you close. Now, he was stupefied, flustered like some schoolboy.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” Ben grumbled, delicately grasping your hand before clearing his throat. “C’mon, I’ll walk you down. I don’t wanna keep you up all night.”

As he walked you back to the elevator, he made sure to grab your purse and coat. He was quiet as he helped you back into the garment, gentlemanly as could be.

Once inside, he felt your hand snake around his tie, drawing him down for a kiss. This one was charged, fiery; it took him by surprise, but he didn’t recoil whatsoever.

With a sharp inhale, Ben savored your mouth against his, gravelly lips working to reciprocate your kiss. Your hand was coiled around his tie and his hands were hovering above your waist.

Static hummed within his brain, dissolving his rationale. He was mildly surprised by your boldness, by the way you kissed him as if he didn’t look like that.

He felt like it was either too good to be true, or maybe this was the universe’s way of apologizing.

It was quiet in the elevator, save for your excitable exhales and the light shuffling of carpet beneath your feet. Ben held you close, having to steady himself from buckling.

Each kiss made him feel dizzy, but it further cemented his confidence, as if nothing could rattle him after this. He reciprocated as best as he could, without feeling intrusive.

When you drew away, mesmerized and warm beneath the collar, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. “That wasn’t too mu—”

Before you could push the words out and muster up an apology, it was Ben who kissed you again, letting it linger. The gravelly bite of his mouth was something you enjoyed.

“You don’t realize how good that was,” He grunts, tone dropping an octave. “Lookin’ like this, it’s been hard, and you aren’t bothered by it.”

“I’m not bothered,” Gently, your hands moved to perch against his chest. The elevator chimed at the main floor, opening into the building’s lobby. “Nothing to be bothered about.”

Ben sighed, mouth twitching into a smile of quiet elation. A beat passed, and he admired you with a growing adoration, blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Thanks for this,” He didn’t want you to go, but he knew you had a life outside of all of this. “You let me know when you’re free again, and I’ll take you out.” Ben offered without hesitation.

“Great,” Beaming, you planted a kiss on his cheek. “I can’t wait to see you again, Ben. You should come to the shelter sometime, or call me!” You piped up as he walked you towards the doors.

“I can do both,” He nodded, hand hovering around the small of your back. There was a weight lifted off of him; he was beaming. “I really wanna see you again — soon, if I can.”

“I’ll make it happen.” You smiled, all excited and tangled into a knot of elation. As you stopped by the doors, he leaned in, planting a chaste kiss against your forehead.

“Great,” Relaxed, he held the door aloft, gallant as could be. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Ben.” Unable to wipe the grin from your face, you waved goodbye, slipping out of the doors of the Baxter Building.

He watched you leave like he’d won the lottery, and it really felt that way. Ben hadn’t felt this way before; he’d never felt this way about someone else.

A beat of silence followed as he laughed to himself, half incredulity and half disbelief. “Jesus, she really does like you.” He mused to himself, moving to head back towards the elevator.

Once upstairs, he was met with Johnny, looking all too eager for a bedtime story, pajamas and all. “That good, huh? When’s the wedding?”

Ben nearly shooed him off, but he was incredibly persistent, cereal box in-hand.

“Go to bed, Johnny.”