Benedict sighed for what felt like the fifteenth time that night.

His hands were working on stirring the pasta he was preparing on the stove, but it was safe to say that his head was somewhere else entirely.

He’d sent you about thirty texts by now and called you four times, this being the fifth one.

Benedict waited patiently for the beeps on the speakerphone. He’d practically lost all hope that you’d pick up your phone, and was already in the process of pressing the red button to hang up when suddenly your voice boomed through the speakers.

“Hey, Ben! My god, you’ve called me like fifty times, I’m so sorry I didn’t pick up!” you said loudly on the other line and Benedict frowned slightly, tempted to press the phone to his ear, but unable to since both his hands were occupied.

“It’s—it’s okay, love,” he replied, taking a deep breath. "Where are you, (Y/N)?” The two of you had been planning to have dinner together for ages, but you were supposed to be at his place thirty minutes ago.

He heard someone laugh on the other end. “Chris brought me to Carmichael’s!”

Chris. Benedict tried to pretend that his grip on the wooden spoon didn’t tighten at the mention of that name.

“What?” Benedict shook his head in confusion, even though he knew you couldn’t see it.

"You know—“ you giggled, talking so loudly that Benedict cringed a little, “—that pub I told you about.”

Suddenly, Benedict’s hands stilled their movements. He felt the anger gradually fill his lungs when he inhaled, and had to control himself in order not to scream at the phone when he opened his mouth to speak.

“A pub?” He spoke steadily, but his tone was forceful and his breaths were coming out in sharp outbursts. “You’re at a pub, and you’re with Chris?” Benedict asked rhetorically, taking the wooden spoon from the pan with tomato sauce and practically throwing it in the sink.

“What—yes, why? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I’m standing here in my kitchen like a bloody fool making you dinner, while you’re out in a pub god knows where with Chris, of all people!” Benedict was yelling the words out before he could even think about what he was saying.

There was a pause and an audible gasp on the other end of the line. “Oh my god… Was that tonight?” you asked helplessly, your voice echoing through the kitchen along with the pub’s background noise. “Oh my god, Ben, I’m so sorry!”

Benedict had to inhale twice before he could mutter a response. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. “Enjoy the pub,” Benedict murmured before he hung up.

He tried to taste the pasta in front of him—to create a distraction from this disaster of an evening—but all it did was burn his tongue in the process.

…

“Shit,” you hissed, running a hand through your face in frustration.

You were sitting on a booth in Carmichael’s beside Chis and two of his friends. The music was loud even though you were upstairs in the VIP section of the club, but Chris heard your curse anyway.

He eyed you with a puzzled look on his face, his blue eyes seeming to ask a silent question. When you only sighed and threw your head back, Chris frowned. “What happened, (Y/N)?”

You looked him in the eye and felt like crying. He was a newly acquainted friend and your costar in one of your latest movies. You’d met on the set of a big Hollywood production, and though Chris had invited you out many times, this had been the first one you’d actually accepted—mainly because Benedict seemed to be irrationally jealous of him.

“I—it’s Benedict…” you shook your head, deeply disappointed with yourself. “I really fucked up,” you said and tried to contain the tears that were threatening to start falling.

“Well, shit,” Chris answered sympathetically. He’d really turned out to be a good friend, but Benedict simply couldn’t understand that you really had no interest in him romantically. It was already bad enough that you’d completely forgotten about your date night, but the fact that you were with Chris… You knew that was what had really angered Benedict. “Want me to take you home?”

You smiled thankfully at him, but shook your head. “No… I think I’ll just take a cab to his place—“ you let out a humourless laugh, “—then we'll have to wait and see if he'll let me in…”

“That bad, huh…?” Chris grimaced and patted you in the back comfortingly.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, trying not to puke from the anxiety that rumbled in your stomach. “That bad…"

…

Benedict woke up with the sound of keys opening the door.

He took a few deep breaths, but otherwise remained completely still. Maybe if he stayed really quiet you’d think he was asleep and just leave him alone… He really wasn’t in the mood to talk at that moment.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to be against him that night.

“Ben…?” you asked quietly from the doorway, your eyes roaming the bump on the right side of the bed. He was with his back to you, but you knew he was awake by the way his breaths came out harsher after you spoke. “Ben, I’m sorry…” you whispered into the darkness of the room, taking the liberty of approaching his side of the bed.

You kneeled in front of him, afraid that if you touched him he’d back away. Your hands came to rest at your thighs instead. His eyes were closed, and you watched as he pulled the covers away from his chest and turned onto his back so he was facing the ceiling.

“There’s pasta for you on the fridge,” his eyes never opened as he murmured, and you only sighed in defeat.

“Look,” you started, not really knowing what to say. “I’m really sorry, okay? I swear I completely forgot about tonight, and I…” your voice cracked a bit and you looked down, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

Benedict sighed too, looking painfully tired and defeated. He lifted a hand to massage his temples. “You know that’s not really what bothers me, (Y/N)” he answered, his voice grave and serious in a way that would’ve scared you if it wasn’t for the spark of annoyance in your chest.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” you said a bit more forcefully than you’d intended and even though you knew exactly what he was talking about. This jealousy of his was really beginning to annoy you.

Benedict’s hand dropped suddenly and he finally glanced at you, his eyes dark and a frown on his eyebrows. “Do I? It seems to me that you already know what I’m going to say.”

You scoffed at that. “Really, Benedict?” You shook your head and ran a hand through your hair.

“Yes, really, (Y/N).” He seemed pretty riled up by now—you could tell by the way his nostrils flared and how he suddenly sat up in bed. You followed him with your eyes all the while. “You should know by now that I really—I don’t like Chris at all.”

You were speechless for a moment. “Well, I’m sorry, but Chris is my friend, and I will keep hanging out with him wether you like it or not!” you responded furiously, to which he only shook his head.

“And I’m sorry, but I’m just stating how I feel!” he countered in the same tone as you and took a deep breath. When he exhaled, it came out in an annoyed hiss. “Did you come here just so you could tell me that?” Benedict threw his legs out of the bed and watched as you rose to your feet and crossed your arms over your chest indignantly.

“Um, no—I came here because I love you, and because I wanted to apologize—“ you spoke in a serious and accusatory tone, “—but clearly that was a terrible mistake given that you can’t get over this stupid jealousy of yours!”

The silence that followed your words was both deafening and heavy. Benedict glanced up at you with a frown, but you couldn’t bare to look at his face at that moment, so you started making your way to the door.

Benedict pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes with a sigh. “(Y/N)—wait,” he called after you, his voice quiet. You stopped right before the doorway, hugging your own body but making no motion to turn back.

You heard the ruffling of his bedsheets and the sound of his footsteps approaching you.

“Look, I—you’re right,” Benedict all but whispered behind you, and you turned wearily to look at him. His eyes were cast to the ground sadly, and you felt the urge to lift your hand to touch his face, but decided against it. “I really have no right to tell you who you should or shouldn’t hang out with…” He lifted his eyes to your face slowly. “I wasn’t thinking straight when I said those things, and… I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”

When he was finished, you finally released the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You opened your mouth a few times before any words came out, avoiding his eyes. “It’s alright, really… I know that sometimes you can’t help feeling jealous, and that it can be a bit hard to control it,” you sniffed. “But I need you to trust me, okay?” Your eyes finally connected with his and you watched him nod in response. “I’ve said it before—Chris is my friend, but that’s all. I love you, and that’s not going to change, no matter who I hang out with. Okay?”

Benedict nodded again, and you felt your eyes water a bit as you lifted a hand to rub your nose. He didn’t hesitate before closing the distance between you and enveloping your body in his arms. His hug was a welcoming comfort, and you placed your mouth against the crook of his neck and uncrossed your arms so you could bring him closer by the waist.

“I’m really sorry…” Benedict murmured against your hair and you couldn’t help but smile a little.

You let go of him so you could cup his face with both hands. “Let’s forget about that for now, okay?” you stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. Benedict sighed against your lips and just as you were about to pull back he brought you closer for another more passionate kiss.

“I love you.” He said as he broke the kiss and rubbed calming circles on your back with his hands.

“I love you too,” you replied with a slight rub of your nose against his. His hair was soft underneath your fingertips, and though all you wanted was to lie back in bed with him, your stomach grumbled hungrily in protest. You half laughed, half gasped, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow before asking with a slight pout, “Now what was that about there being some pasta for me on the fridge…?"

"I'll put on some music," Benedict said as he moved towards the stereo. "To set up the mood..." he looked at you from his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows, to which you only rolled your eyes and snorted.

"You have to stay here with me if you actually want to learn anything, you know that right?" you asked from your place in the kitchen; arms crossed over your chest and an eyebrow raised.

Benedict only chuckled while pressing a few of the buttons on the stereo. Suddenly, David Bowie's voice started booming through the speakers, and you watched as Benedict rolled his hips and danced to the sound of the beat.

His eyes found yours and he smirked suggestively. “That’s the least sexy thing I’ve ever seen,” you said with a scoff, lifting your hand to your lips to hide the smile that was spreading on your face as he slowly approached you.

“You love it though,” Benedict’s smirk widened considerably as he encircled your waist with his arms, making you move along with him. Your arms sneaked around his shoulders instinctively.

“I do,” you admitted, standing on your tiptoes to press a firm kiss to his lips. Before Benedict could deepen it though, you parted from him and replaced your mouth with your index finger, shushing him and smirking at his pout. “Now stop trying to distract me and come help me make dinner, otherwise there won’t be anything to eat but cup noodles.”

He looked at you with an outraged expression. “Hey! There’s nothing wrong with cup noodles,” Benedict said defensively as you turned around and started sorting through the ingredients on the counter.

“If you say so…” you looked at him from your shoulder and then motioned with your head for him to stand next to you. “Okay, so we’re going to make lasagne… The easy version, since you seem to have been living solely of instant food,” you mocked him and he pressed his hands to his chest, pretending to be hurt.

Assembling the lasagne proved harder than you thought, what with Benedict’s constant remarks and teasing. He seemed far more interested in watching you than actually getting his hands dirty, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t keen on getting in the way of things.

“You know, you look quite sexy with that apron,” Benedict purred in your ear and you rolled your eyes, looking down at the garment he had given you. It was a normal apron save for the fact that there was a print of the statue of David covering the whole front, making it look like his body was yours.

“You know, I think you look quite sexy with your mouth shut,” you retorted sarcastically, which made Benedict chuckle behind you. His chest was pressing against your back in a way that made it almost impossible to pay attention to what you were doing, and when the lasagne was finally assembled in front of you, you turned on your heels to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” Benedict asked innocently, raising his left hand to caress your waist absently.

You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes while subconsciously tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, don’t play all innocent on me, Mr. Cumberbatch… You know exactly what,” you pressed your index finger against his chest in accusation, and he looked at you seriously for a moment before a mischievous grin started spreading on his face.

“Oh, come on, love… I’m just having a bit of fun teasing you,” Benedict drawled and you felt his other hand move up your arm. You were backed up against the counter and he didn’t seem too eager to let you go, so you decided to play along.

“Hmm, really?” you countered, pressing your own hands against his chest and moving them up until your arms were around his neck. “I love teasing you as well, you know?” you smiled, pulling him closer and closer until your lips were mere inches apart. His breath was fanning on your face and his caress on your waist had you feeling all hot and dizzy when you suddenly jerked back and pushed him away, leaving him with his eyes almost closed and a cute pout on his lips.

Benedict realised you were teasing him a moment later, opening his eyes completely and looking at you with fake sadness. You merely smiled and winked at him, taking the tray with the lasagne into your hands and proceeding to place it in the oven.

Once that was done you quickly untied your apron and threw it aside, smoothing the fabric of your dress and looking up to find Benedict coming your way with two glasses of wine.

“So now that there’s nothing left for us to do-“

“You mean for me to do.” You interrupted him and he rolled his eyes.

“-What do you say we sit down a little and, uh… celebrate?” Benedict finished with a waggle of his brows, and you couldn’t keep from giggling at his face. You took his hand and he guided you towards the living room, sitting beside you on the love seat in the corner of the room. He’d dimmed the lights the slightest bit and as soon as you sat his arms snuck around your shoulders, bringing you closer. You took a large sip from your glass, mentally approving your boyfriend’s taste on wine as you looked at him through your lashes.

“I've missed this,” you admitted lowly, placing your free hand on Benedict’s thigh for support as you leaned closer to him, “I’m so glad you wrapped up the filming.”

Benedict looked at you with a mixture of happiness and guilt. “I'm sorry I wasn’t around much for the past month, love,” he held your hand in his, looking directly into your eyes as he lifted it to his mouth. His lips hovered over your skin for the briefest moment before he placed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “If it’s any consolation, each passing hour away from you was complete torture,” he said and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Ah, you know exactly what to say to a woman, don’t you?” you inquired huskily.

Benedict smiled slightly. He leaned further into your personal space, and you allowed him to pull you by the neck until your lips were practically locked. “Only because it’s true,” he murmured against your mouth, and then finally closed the remaining distance between you.

The kiss was slow at first. You revelled in the feeling of Benedict’s fingers tangling in your hair and scraping the back of your neck; the hint of alcohol and something entirely him in the taste of his tongue as you finally allowed it entrance.

It was comforting - to say the least - to be able to kiss your boyfriend like this; no interruptions and no rush. Mind you, there was something very exciting about the prospect of being in a hurry, but you also cherished having him all for yourself for unlimited time.

Benedict felt the same way apparently, because he broke the kiss momentarily to place both your glasses on the coffee table before taking you into his lap. He didn’t resume your make-out session immediately after though, instead caressing the curve of your hip with one hand while the other traced your face slowly and softly.

“I’m so damn lucky, aren’t I?” he asked rhetorically, his voice rough and low, and you smiled sweetly. Your heart did a little leap inside your chest, and you were suddenly filled with so much happiness that you thought your chest alone wouldn’t be able to contain it.

“No… I’m the lucky one,” you whispered back as you leaned forward and captured his lips again, with more hunger this time. Benedict responded in kind, encircling your waist with his arms and pulling you as close as possible.

You placed your hand on his shoulder for support as you straddled him, and Benedict boldly moved his hands towards your ass, making you smile against his mouth.

He was about to lower you onto the couch when you suddenly went rigid. You broke the kiss with an expression of pure horror, and Benedict looked at you with worry. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, but you didn’t look at him.

“Oh no,” you murmured, disentangling from his embrace and standing up in a rush. Benedict only looked up at you confusedly, and you looked around once more in concentration before running towards the kitchen. “Oh, no no no no no,” you repeated, and Benedict followed you to the oven, where through your shoulder he could see the remains of what once was a beautifully prepared lasagne, but now looked more like a rock than anything else.

You removed it from the oven with sorrow, your mouth turning into a pout as you finally looked up at Benedict. His face was contorted painfully, and you realised he was fighting back laughter. “How unfortunate, love,” he tried to say, and you sent him a look that usually meant he was in big, big trouble.

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a frown, taking a spoon and poking the burnt crust of the lasagne to see if any part of it could be saved. “This is all your fault,” you accused, and Benedict couldn’t hold a chuckle.

“I know, love, I’m sorry,” he said truthfully, approaching your back cautiously and placing his hands around you and on either side of the counter. “It’s totally edible, though. I mean, I’m sure it still tastes delicious…” Benedict began ranting, and you turned your head to look at him. His eyes met yours and for the longest moment you just stared at his face. Then, out of nowhere, you started laughing, and he couldn’t help but going you in the end.

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” you said in between fits of laughter, and felt his chest vibrate with laughter as he propped his head on the curve of your shoulder.

Eventually, when the laughter finally died down, you looked at him questioningly. “What now?” you asked and watched as Benedict smirked, raising an eyebrow at the smug look on his face.

“Oh, I have just the solution, love…”

…

Half an hour later you sat on the floor of your living room, leaning against Benedict’s chest as you watched something on the TV. One of his arms was around you, the other holding a now empty bowl and fork.

“It wasn’t that bad now, was it?” Benedict looked down at you, and you met his eyes reluctantly.

“No…” you admitted, placing your own empty bowl beside you on the floor.

There was a screeching noise, followed by the distinctive scratch of metal on metal.

The whole world went spinning before your eyes; a blur of dark skies and the blink of two strong lights blurring everything around you.

Your head was warm. It was hot and pounding with a pressure that built on the spot directly above your eyebrows and made you feel dizzy and sick to the stomach.

You felt like throwing up and passing out all at the same time.

The noise was loud coming from your right. It hurt your ears and made you cringe as you were helplessly thrown aside, lunging forward but stopping midway by something that held to your chest and made it even harder to breathe.

When everything stopped moving, it was sudden and painful. You were trapped; your head and arms hanging sideways as the lack of movement made you perfectly aware of each and every aching spot of your body.

There was something dripping down your face; something that reeked with the smell of iron and that felt hot and sticky against your forehead. You tried to lift your hands to touch it, but your arms hurt too much to move. Your eyes couldn’t focus, and there were strong lights pointed at your face, making it even harder to see anything but a white blur.

You moved your head to the side with difficulty and managed to distinguish a streak of dark brown hair from the blackness surrounding you.

Your heart gave such a painful squeeze that you thought it was stopping inside your chest.

“Tom-“ you murmured with difficulty, unable to so much as form a sentence. There was a sharp ache in your throat afterwards that made you stop trying to speak altogether.

Panic started rising on your chest, cutting your breaths short and causing you to hyperventilate. The image of the man beside you covered in blood and pressed tightly against your surroundings made you want to scream and cry and do something.

Instead you just tried to breathe, failing to inhale and exhale and feeling the desperation rush through you until it became too unbearable and you passed out.

…

Benedict’s heart was beating so painfully against his ribs that for a moment he couldn’t feel anything but the radiating ache that shot through his entire body and settled on his chest.

His feet slid through the white linoleum floor and he cringed at the squeakiness of his shoes against it. The hospital was rather empty for a friday evening, but there were still people looking at him in recognition, and he had to force himself to be polite as he reached the receptionist’s desk; his breaths coming out in short, sharp puffs.

“I’m looking for (Y/N) Cumberbatch?” Benedict managed to say, his words wounding him even more than the phone call he’d received about twenty minutes before.

“Visiting hours are over,” the woman behind the desk said nonchalantly, and Benedict felt his hands clench as he exhaled shakily.

“I’m her husband. I’ve just received a call, I-“ he stated desperately, his hands shaking even though they were closed tightly. He’d broken into a cold sweat, his head feeling slightly dizzy as he eyed the woman with pleading eyes and silently prayed to god for some kind of miracle. “Please,” Benedict begged, and the woman rolled her eyes but complied, opening a drawer and reading through the files. She focused on it for a few seconds until her whole expression seemed to change, leaving a slightly shocked one on its place.

“I… Mr. Cumberbatch,” she murmured to herself in recognition and then looked up at him with an embarrassed flush to her face, bowing her head a bit in apology. “I’m so sorry… She- Mrs. Cumberbatch is on room 104.”

Benedict was on his way before she could even give him the directions. He made two sharp turns and reached the room he’d been looking for in only a couple of minutes. The door was similar to all the others, but looking at it made his stomach turn.

He opened the door and the image before him made him momentarily forget how to breathe.

You were lying unconscious on the hospital bed looking almost as white as the sheets covering your body. Your left arm was wrapped in a cast and your face was covered in purple bruises and scratches. Benedict didn’t even want to think about how you’d gotten them as he approached the bed carefully.

He lifted his fingers to touch your face but stopped the motion midway, afraid that the slightest touch might hurt you. He felt a sickening dizziness take over him and had to sit down on the chair beside you, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead. His breaths were still ragged, so he focused on trying to even them out as he allowed his head to touch the wall behind him, closing his eyes.

“God…” Benedict murmured, trying to convince himself that everything was going to be just fine. The panic was still on his system, but not as latent as it had been when the hospital had first called him to give him the news, now settling into a dull throbbing at the back of his head

Benedict was just beginning to calm down when the door to your room opened and he jumped slightly and opened his eyes to see a man clad in hospital clothes coming in.

“Mr. Cumberbatch,” the man nodded in greeting and Benedict ignored his blurry vision and stood up, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans in order to shake the doctor’s hands. “I’m Dr. Harold Campbell, head of Neurosurgery,” he introduced himself, and Benedict felt a cold chill run through his spine at the mention of his specialty.

“What happened, doctor?” Benedict was surprised with the steadiness of his voice. He shoved his hands into his pockets because he didn’t know what to do with them, and when Dr. Campbell motioned with his head to the exit, Benedict followed warily.

“Your wife and her friend were involved in a car crash this evening,” the doctor said soon after he’d closed the door. “Mrs. Cumberbatch has a broken arm and a few bruises, but nothing too serious.” He said to Benedict’s relief, and he felt a weight being lifted from his chest.

And then it dawned on him- “Wait… Friend?” The hospital hadn’t mentioned anything about a friend when they’d called him, neither had you when you’d talked to him before the accident. “There was someone else with her?” Benedict asked confusedly.

Dr. Campbell looked at him with a dreadful expression that made Benedict’s blood go cold. The man in front of him looked down at the medical reports he had in his hands and nodded. “Yes, she was accompanied by someone…” the doctor said absently, looking for the name on the paper before looking up and frowning. “Mr. Thomas Hiddleston. Are you familiar with the name?”

Benedict drew another shaky breath before nodding grimly.

…

It hurt. Everything did; your arms, legs, face and eyes.

There was a throbbing at the back of your head that you couldn’t ignore and that made you groan. The noise - quiet as it was - made your throat scratch and itch, and you felt the urge to cough, but the ache on your chest was so great that you ended up just gasping in pain.

“(Y/N),” someone whispered, and you tried to open your eyes to look at them, but your eyelids seemed to be glued together. When you finally managed to open them, your vision was blurry and your surroundings were too bright, making a panic rise on your stomach and your breathing become faster. “It’s alright, love. You’re okay,” the voice spoke again, and you felt a pang of familiarity at the sound of it that kept you from totally giving in to the desperation.

A hand came to rest on your head, and you flinched away from its touch for the shortest of seconds before you saw a blur of kind greenish eyes and realised that you knew exactly who it was.

“Ben-“ you tried to say, but it came out as a quiet, painful murmur.

“Shh. There’s no need to talk, love. I’m right here,” he said soothingly, and you drew a shaky breath before calming down considerably.

You closed your eyes again for a moment and relished on the feeling of Benedict’s fingers rubbing gently against your skin. God, you’d missed him.

“What happened?” you asked after a while in silence, your voice still coming out low and raspy from disuse.

You looked up to see Benedict sigh. “You were in an accident, love,” he explained, and you looked at him confusedly for a second before the memories started flooding your brain all at once.

It was too overwhelming. You remembered a dark road and the strong light of a car coming towards you; the screeching of tires and the ringing, unbearable silence that followed.

Lastly, you remembered a flash of dark hair and greenish blue eyes, and then the memories of blood - too much blood - made itself present along with a rising panic that made it even harder to breathe.

“Tom,” you said shakily, your voice much stronger than before. You faintly remembered having asked your best friend to drive you home that night, and the guilt and worry started rising inside you when Benedict eyed you with sadness in his eyes. “Where’s Tom?”

Benedict didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to break the news for you, mostly because he hadn’t really completely absorbed the facts yet. He took a few breaths and tried not to break in front of you. You’d gone through too much already.

The truth was that Tom Hiddleston was your best friend. He had been long before you and Benedict had started dating; before you’d even met him. He and Benedict were great friends as well, as it had been Tom who’d introduced you to each other.

The three of you were almost inseparable, and the events of the past night had shocked Benedict beyond imagination. He hadn’t been ready for what he’d been told just as much as you weren’t ready to hear it now.

“I- He’s going through surgery right now…” Benedict said slowly, afraid of your reaction. He watched as you inhaled sharply, biting your lower lip to keep it from trembling too much.

Your eyes burned with the wake of tears, and you let out a small whimper at the news. “What’s wrong with him?” you asked, your voice coming out high pitched and wavering.

Benedict took another deep breath before answering. “He hit his head hard during the crash.” He looked away from you. It helped if he didn’t have to look at your face while telling you this; made it easier not to cry right then and there. “They, uh… They detected a brain hemorrhage, and, um…” Benedict hat to look up to the ceiling to keep from letting the tears down his cheeks. His hands were on his hips, gripping each side of his shirt with force. Saying it felt a hundred times worse than hearing it, and he felt a pang of sympathy for Dr. Campbell, who probably had to go through this more times than he could count every single day. “They’re doing the best they can to keep him alive,” he said at last, his eyes watery as he looked back at you.

You were sobbing silently, a hand pressed hard against your mouth as your shoulders shook. Your eyes were red like your face when you closed them, and you felt the thick tears run down your cheeks in heaps. “Oh god, no,” you whispered as you broke down in front of your husband, who couldn’t contain his own tears anymore either.

Benedict sat at the side of your bed and put an arm around your shoulders. The contact hurt almost too much, but you sought his comfort nonetheless, trying to concentrate on the warmth of his arms and the aching of your wounds to try and forget about the prospect of losing your only best friend.

…

“Who is he?” Benedict asked, his voice low and dangerous as he looked at the policemen and doctors standing in front of him. Their eyes were cast downwards, their faces clearly contorted in fear as they listened to Benedict’s threatening tone.

It was the middle of the night, and Benedict had just left your side. You’d finally fallen asleep, and he was standing on one of the hospital’s meeting rooms with an array of people surrounding him.

He’d been agonising over that question for hours. Benedict hadn’t wanted to worry you, but he’d been informed that the driver of the other car responsible for the crash had been taken into the same hospital, and was currently going through surgery, as was Tom.

“Mr. Cumberbatch, you have to calm down,” the police chief was standing directly in front of Benedict with a slightly tense posture.

“Calm down? My apologies, officer, but the last thing you should be expecting right now is for me to be calm,” Benedict retorted firmly, his eyes shining with an anger that didn’t suit him at all. “You’re telling me that someone was purposefully trying to hurt my wife and my friend, and you want me to fucking calm down?” he said loudly, towering over the man’s small frame.

The police had come not long after Benedict had arrived at the hospital. They’d been investigating the scene the crash had taken place at, and after thoroughly examining the security cameras, had concluded that the accident had indeed been intentional.

“Now, I’m not going to ask again. Who. is. he?” Benedict asked, infatuating the last three words and looking at the chief in a way that left him no choice but to comply to his demands.

The police chief sighed in defeat, running a hand through his bald head before speaking. “I believe you know him,” he said, and if Benedict though that information was shocking, the officer’s next words rendered him speechless. “It’s Trent Davis,” he said, and the entire room went silent.

Benedict clenched and unclenched his jaw twice before he even dared to speak. His fingers were pressed so tightly against his palms that his knuckles were white and his nails were digging into his skin.

“So you’re saying that bastard dared come near my wife even despite the restraining order?” he asked lowly, his voice dark and rough. The police chief looked white as a sheet as he looked up at Benedict’s eyes, and the other occupants of the room only stayed silent as they watched the scene. “I thought you were supposed to be keeping an eye on him,” Benedict growled, and the chief only gulped, holding onto his belt like it was the only thing giving him strength.

“I- We know it’s hard to receive such news, but I can guarantee you that the we will do everything in our power to arrest the man that tried to kill your wife,” the chief offered meekly, careful not to further piss Benedict off. “But for now all we can do is wait for the surgery to be over,” he finished carefully, and watched as Benedict looked at him with complete rage and stormed off the room, still with his hands clenched; still feeling the painful ache in his heart at the prospect of losing you.

…

The next week was as painful as the first one you’d spent awake.

Your muscles were sore and your broken arm was hurting under its cast in a way that you could almost feel the spot where it had been broken.

Benedict hadn’t left your bedside for one second, having someone bring a small bag with his belongings to spend as long as he needed by your side and cancelling any interviews and events in the near future despite your protests.

The day you were going to be discharged from the hospital finally arrived though.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and couldn’t help but lift a hand to touch the yellow and greenish bruises on your face.

It looked like you’d been beaten or something of the sort, and you winced as you dug a little bit too hard into one of your wounds.

“Ready, love?” Benedict appeared on the doorframe with a tired expression on his face - he hadn’t slept properly in quite a while - and you nodded.

The two of you left the building feeling relieved but pained at the same time.

It was two days before you were cleared to leave that you’d received the news that Tom was going to be kept in life support.

His condition hadn’t gotten worse, but it hadn’t gotten better either. He still hadn’t woken up, and the doctors suspected that if he did so soon, the pain would be too unbearable, so they’d decided it would be better for him to be kept asleep.

You were feeling tired and drained when you and Benedict got home. You were dying to take a shower, but the prospect of having to cover your cast and ask for Benedict’s help to clean yourself sounded too tiresome, so you chose to just lay in bed instead.

Sleep never came though, so you ended up looking at the ceiling while Benedict ran a careful hand through your hair. “How are you feeling now, love?” he asked after a while, and you leaned further into his chest.

“I’m fine, I guess…” you answered, taking his free hand into yours and examining it absently. “I’ve been having these flashes of memories from the night of the accident,” you admitted, and felt Benedict turn his head to look down at you.

“What did you remember?”

You took a deep breath. “This is going to sound really unlikely, but, I um… I think the driver of the other car wanted to hit us,” you said in a small voice, and watched as Benedict’s hand clenched against your own as he frowned. “I don’t know who would want to do that, but…” you sighed. The images of that night were too blurry, but you swore you remembered Tom pressing hard on the horn and trying to steer your car out of the other driver’s way; could still feel the desperation when you’d realised that the other car moved to be in front of you again. “Well, forget it. It’s probably only my imagination…” you tried to reassure Benedict, though those thoughts were still bothering you in your head.

His hands resumed their caress on your hair and he sighed beside you. “I need to tell you something…” Benedict said as you looked up at him, confusion etched on your face. “You’re right,” he said simply and you frowned as well. What the hell was he talking about? “About the accident being intentional,” Benedict said quietly and you tensed against him. You hadn’t expected him to believe you, much less agree with you.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, distancing yourself from him just enough to be able to look at him from a better angle.

He sighed again, looking anywhere but at your face. “It… It was Davis,” he said, and you immediately felt your blood go cold. You felt an instinctive urge to touch the scar on your forearm, but kept from it as you looked deep into Benedict’s eyes and realised that he was actually telling the truth.

“Wha-… How…?” was all you managed to say as you looked at Benedict expectantly.

“He was taken to the hospital as well,” he said and you gasped, covering your mouth with your hands. There were tears forming in your eyes and you felt the urge to punch something. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” your voice was wavering when you asked and Benedict only gave you a sad look. He sighed and took your hands into his, rubbing his thumb gently against your skin.

“Because I love you, and I didn’t want you to ever have to think of that son of a bitch again,” he said, looking at you with the most painful expression.

“Oh my god,” you whispered almost inaudibly, burying your face in your hands. “Tom, he… It’s all my fault,” you said and felt Benedict’s hands immediately grip your wrists and pull your hands away from your face so you could look at him.

“Don't you ever say that, (Y/N),” he said very seriously, and you could only look at the intensity of his gaze, the tears forming on your eyes and blurring your vision. “This isn’t your fault. None of it was.” He looked defeated, so you only nodded and wrapped your arms around him, clinging to his shirt and burying your head into the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Benedict said, but you shook your head vigorously as if to say ‘you don’t have to apologize’.

"And without further ado, please welcome to the stage our first guest of the night, Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"

You heard your name being announced, followed by the loud cheers coming from the other room, and tried to ignore the anxiousness churning in your stomach. Your hands went to smooth out the already unwrinkled fabric of your skirt, and you checked yourself in the mirror one last time to make sure everything was in place.

God, you were so not ready for this.

Your feet carried you up the few steps that separated you from the crowd, and your eyes were momentarily blinded by the bright lights of the stage as you could only listen to the clapping and screaming coming from the audience.

You were really doing this... you were in the Graham Norton Show, and those people were clapping for you.

"Ah, there she is. Come up here!" Graham Norton himself was standing a few feet away from you with his trademark cheeky smile on his face, and you mimicked his expression, climbing the few steps to get to where he was.

"Well, hello there, sir," you said playfully, hugging him before he motioned for you to sit in the long red couch.

Your stomach leaped as you saw the packed audience in front of you, and you thought you might just faint at the prospect of so many people watching you, so you looked at Graham instead.

"So, (Y/N), this is actually your first time on the show!" Graham said with an easygoing tone to his voice, and you immediately felt more relaxed.

"Actually, this is my first talk show like... ever," you answered, and he gasped with a raise of his eyebrows.

Graham smiled. "Well, it's an honour to have you here with us," he sat more comfortably on his chair. "But do tell me, how does it feel to be nominated for best supporting actress at the Oscars at such a young age?" He asked, and you had to think about your answer.

Fame wasn't really something you thought you'd grow used to. You'd never even imagined you'd one day become recognized in the acting industry, let alone be nominated for such an important category at the Academy Awards or be invited to one of Britain's most well known talk shows.

You'd always wanted to be successful in Hollywood, that was for sure, but the thought that you'd actually made it was still completely overwhelming. You'd stared in plenty of small productions before, from TV commercials to national soap operas, but it wasn't until you were cast to play the lead role in a pretty large Hollywood production that you actually became known in the world of celebrities.

"Honestly? I have literally no idea how this happened," you chuckled along with Graham, feeling some of your anxiousness fade away. "One minute I was doing small jobs here and there, and the next I was walking red carpets and all that sort of stuff," you answered truthfully. "I think not even my family thought I'd make it this far," you joked.

"Well none of us did," he countered playfully, and the audience laughed with you. Once the laughter had died down, Graham eyed you seriously. "Well, and since we're talking about family, a little bird told me you've been seeing a certain someone..." he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks.

Trust the mention of him to get you all worked up.

"Oh, did it?" you asked, a small smile on your lips as you looked at the floor, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear shyly.

Graham laughed his characteristic laugh, and you couldn't contain your own grin from spreading. "Tell me, (Y/N), how are things with Benedict?" As soon as his name left his lips, you felt your heart do a little loop inside your chest. You were sure you were blushing furiously now, but there was no use trying to hide it. The both of you had gone public with your relationship a few weeks earlier, after all.

The truth was Benedict and you had known each other for quite a while. You'd met at a play you both starred in together; an adaptation of one of Shakespeare's works. There had been an instant connection between you two, and you'd become friends right away.

He'd been dating at the time, so you'd known there was no chance of romance between you two even though there was something about him that made your insides melt; something oddly unique about the way he held himself that made you a complete mess around him.

For the two years that you'd been friends, that was strictly what you were. Until, that is, he decided to take a step further.

You remembered the night he confessed everything to you. His girlfriend had been out of the picture for a while, but you'd never even considered the possibility that he could also harbor any feelings for you, so when he'd spilled it all out after having a couple glasses of wine, you had been shocked to say the least.

There was something very Benedict about the way he'd stuttered, clearly trying to choose the best words to say to you that would convey what he was feeling. You'd sat on his couch the whole while, trying not to smile; dying to take him by the collar and just kiss him senseless, and that had been exactly what you'd done - after waiting for him to finish, of course, because that moment was just too precious for you to ruin; you wanted to remember it for the rest of your existence.

"Well, Graham," you began, because honestly, things were actually pretty great between you two. Much, much more than great, if you had a say in it. "We're doing fine..." you answered as shortly as you could while adverting his eyes, and Graham chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Ah, fine, yes," he said almost absentmindedly, his fingers drumming on the armrests of his chair. "You know, I actually have some pictures here to show the audience what 'fine' actually means, if you don't mind," Graham said with a little laugh, and you closed your eyes with a shake of your head.

"Oh, god..." you groaned, and prepared yourself for the worst.

Graham pointed to a screen near you, an image of you and Benedict popping up immediately. "So here we have you and your boyfriend at the British Independent Movie Awards, and you're, uh... sitting on his lap. I guess they'd run out of chairs, right? That was probably it," he said jokingly and you face palmed, because you were in fact sitting on Benedict's lap, his hands placed on your ribs dangerously close to your cleavage and his mouth almost touching the shell of your ear. There were whistles and shouting in the crowd, and you felt your cheeks burn.

"You know, I'm sure there's an innocent explanation to that," you said defensively, and Graham merely shot you a look before changing the image.

The next one showed you and Benedict in running clothes at the Hyde Park. The photo depicted a pretty normal setting around you, but you felt the embarrassment shoot right through you and settle on your face. You and Benedict were embracing each other closely, and you could see the sweat trickling down your forehead and his neck. But the worst of it was the fact that you two were kissing fervently, his hand holding your head and the other pulling you closer by the waist, and you were mortified upon realising that his tongue was just barely visible, the rest of it disappearing inside your mouth.

The crowd roared again, and you felt like running back to your dressing room in embarrassment.

You covered your face with your hands. "Oh, for fucks sake," you murmured lowly, because you had no recollection whatsoever of that moment, but there was no denying that it had happened as the screen clearly showed the both of you sticking your tongues in each other's mouths, completely oblivious to your surroundings.

"Oh, yes," Graham chuckled, his tone as playful as ever, "I'm sure there's an innocent explanation to this one as well." You were certain your whole face was of a deep crimson shade at that point, and you had a hard time looking into Graham's eyes. "I could go on, you know, but then I'm sure we're going to be stuck in here for a while," he smiled and you laughed freely. God, you were actually really good at embarrassing yourself on TV. "So, (Y/N), now that we've seen how well your relationship's going, let's talk about your upcoming birthday!" Graham clapped his hands excitedly, crossing his legs.

"Ah, yes. It's tomorrow, actually," the crowd clapped, and someone yelled 'happy birthday' from the back of the room, to which you mouthed a smiling 'thank you', grateful for the change of subject.

You weren't surprised in the least when Graham went back to the Benedict matter, though. "And do tell us what are your plans to celebrate it. From what we've seen, I'd say Benedict is great at giving presents," he said with an indiscreet wink and you blushed at the innuendo.

"Oh, I wish I could spend it with him, but we're probably not going to be able to see each other," you said sadly, and pursed your lips at the disappointed cries from the audience. "Yeah... we actually haven't seen each other in over a month, since he's still in America filming Doctor Strange," you revealed, and Graham put his hand over his heart with a soft 'Aww'.

"Well, then I've got just the thing to cheer you up," Graham said, and you looked at him confusedly. "I got you a birthday present," he smiled, and you felt your face brighten up.

"Oh my god, seriously? You shouldn't have," you said as he urged you to stand up right beside the couch.

"I probably shouldn't, but I have a feeling you'll like this one," he joked, and you laughed as he positioned you to face the crowd. "Okay, now close your eyes," Graham said, and you closed them feeling the excitement flutter in your stomach.

For a few moments, the room was completely quiet. You heard a few giggles here and there and there was a gasp in the crowd, but apart from that you couldn't really tell what was going on. Then, a pair of warm hands were placed on your shoulders, and you jumped slightly as you opened your eyes and turned around.

Your hands immediately went to cover your mouth, and for a moment you were left speechless.

"Happy birthday, love," his deep voice said lowly, and you felt your eyes water slightly.

Benedict was there in flesh and bone, his hands holding you dearly, and you didn't suppress the urge to pull him closer. "Oh my god," you exclaimed breathlessly in between the loud cheers of the crowd, wrapping your arms tightly around Benedict's tall frame. He returned your embrace in kind, feeling your beating heart against his chest. "Oh my god, you're really here," you said again, unable to believe what was happening. Benedict smiled that kind smile of his, pulling back slightly to look at your face before giving you a quick peck on the lips, making the audience go wild again.

"Oh, well, I guess I better be off now. Things are going to start heating up, everyone," Graham pretended to head off-stage, and you laughed as he returned to greet Benedict.

The two of you sat together on the couch, and Benedict made a show of sitting as close to you as possible, making everyone laugh. You wiped at your waterline, careful not to ruin your makeup, and the two men beside you chuckled together.

You looked at them with fake anger in your features. "You bastards!" You said crossing your arms. "You lied to me!" your hand slapped halfheartedly at Benedict's chest, and he merely laughed as he captured it in his.

The rest of the show was spent talking about your upcoming movies and projects. Other guests were invited to the stage, but you never left Benedict's side and he never let go of your hand. Eventually your eyes would meet, and you'd both smile at nothing and everything.

Your heart was beating erratically in your chest as you exited the stage, and when you finally reached the confines of your dressing room, you threw your arms around his shoulders again, breathing in his scent as he chuckled.

"Missed me that much, did you?" he asked, putting a finger under your chin to make you look up at him. Your eyes gleamed at the sight of the adorable wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, and you nodded speechlessly.

God, you'd missed him so much. You had known the distance would be hard to cope with sometimes, and it was something you'd been willing to go through in order to be with him, but the past month had been torturous.

You looked up at Benedict with a small smile gracing your lips. Your hands sneaked around his neck, and you slowly pulled him down to a long kiss. His slight stubble grazed your cheeks, and you grinned at the feel of it. "What?" he asked pulling away, and your smile only widened.

"I love you," you replied in response, feeling giddy and warm on the inside. Benedict's eyes glinted, and he kissed a slow path from your cheeks to your forehead and then down to your neck. You giggled. "And thank you," you muttered, making him stop his ministrations to take a proper look at your face. You lifted your hand to touch his jaw, tracing a pattern all the way to his collar bone with the tip of your finger. This time you gave him a full blown grin. "Thank you for the best birthday present anyone could've ever given me."

The sun was peeking through the kitchen window when Olivia dragged you out of your room.

She was wearing white overalls patterned with yellow flowers and a white shirt tucked underneath it, her hair pulled up in two pigtails and a big smile plastered on her face. The excitement was radiating off her like the rays of sun outside, and even though you were feeling nervous and slightly uncomfortable, her happiness was enough to make you shake off your uneasiness.

That was the day of your ex in-laws’ anniversary party, and you’d be attending it after much insistence from them. Greg and Laura were the sweetest couple you’d probably ever met, and you owed them much. They’d helped you tons during your pregnancy, and had taken care of Liv whenever you’d needed them to, though the same couldn’t be said about their son…

“Come on, mommy!” Liv pulled you by the hand towards the door, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. She absolutely loved visiting her grandparents, especially when it meant she’d be able to play in the pool and eat as much candy as her stomach could handle. “We’re gonna be laaaate,” she whined and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as your removed your wrist from her grasp in order to take your purse and the bottle of wine you’d be giving Greg and Laura from the kitchen counter.

You were wearing a long floral summer dress that contrasted well with your skin and held a modest cleavage, and was tied back by two strings that met behind your neck. The party would be held in their house, so it’d be something a bit more casual; just for family and friends.

The word ‘family’ was what was scaring you though. You knew that he’d be there - he was Laura and Greg’s son, after all - but it was enough to make you anxious…

You shook those thoughts away when you heard the doorbell ring.

A smile immediately stretched on your lips and Liv jumped excitedly beside you, running towards the door and pushing it open to reveal a grinning Benedict standing on the doorway. His eyes connected with yours for a brief moment before he focused his attention on the little girl claiming his attention.

“Hey, Livie,” Benedict said, taking his hands out of his pockets and kneeling in front of her so she could hug him. You watched the scene and couldn’t help but swoon at how loving Benedict was with your daughter. He wrapped his arms around Liv's waist and lifted her up so he was carrying her back inside, her giggles echoing around the living room as he approached you on the kitchen counter. “Hello, love,” he said, taking your hand into his free one and pressing it to his lips affectionately.

“Hey, Ben. Thanks for coming,” you held onto his hand and pulled him a little closer. “Ready to go, Liv?” you looked at her and she smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

The three of you made your way outside where Benedict’s car was parked, and he lowered Liv slowly so she could get into the backseat and then opened the door for you. Before you went in though, he pulled you closer by the waist and placed a soft kiss to your lips, which you returned wholeheartedly, stroking his cheek and looking at him with such love that you thought you were going to burst.

It was funny, how you’d gone from complete strangers to this.

You'd met in a pretty normal setting, considering who he was and what he did for a living. It'd been a day in which the sun didn't shine and there was heavy rain pouring in heaves from the sky, and Benedict had been in desperate need for something hot to warm him up.

He'd stumbled upon a cafe in downtown London and had immediately gone inside, and it was like the universe had wanted you two to meet.

He'd gotten in line and ordered a jumbo sized hot cocoa and water, and had been revelling on the feeling of not being recognised when he'd felt something pull at his jeans.

Benedict had looked down and thought he'd been looking at an angel.

There had been a little girl looking at him with wide, glittering eyes, her mouth opened in awe as she continued to pull at his legs excitedly.

"Mama, look! It's Doctor!" she'd said with the sweetest voice, her words dragged as Benedict realised she had probably just learned how to speak. "It's my doctor!"

Benedict couldn't help but smile at that. He'd turned fully to her and bent his knees so his eyes were almost levelled with hers. He'd been about to say something when another voice caught his attention and he'd been compelled to look up.

"Darling, I'm not sure you can call him yours just yet," Benedict's eyes had focused on yours, and he'd been blown away once again. You were too beautiful to be true, "you have to introduce yourself first, remember?" You had asked with a supporting hand to the back of the little girl's neck, urging her forward the slightest bit. "Go on. Just like we rehearsed." Your eyes had met Benedict's, and he had to keep from gasping as you gave him a little wink. His breath had caught on his throat and he hadn't been able to do anything but look at you the same way the little girl was looking at him.

“Hello, Mr. Doctor. I’m Olivia, but mama calls me Liv,” she'd said extending a chubby hand towards him, and Benedict had almost laughed at how entirely cute she looked.

“Well, hello, Olivia,” he'd smiled, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss on her knuckles. “It's very nice to meet you,” Benedict had said while he stood up, “and your mother,” he'd added afterwards, watching as you placed a hand on Olivia’s shoulder and looked up at him.

You remembered having looked at him for a long time. You’d never met a celebrity before that, but the fact that he was famous had been the last thing that had crossed your mind. Instead, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the fact that he looked even better in person, and that you could never have imagined that he’d be so kind and lovely to fans.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Benedict’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked out the window and realised that you weren’t very far from Greg and Laura’s house. You watched as Benedict took one of his hands off the wheel and placed it on your thigh comfortingly, and you didn’t hesitate before taking it into your own.

“Nothing… I was daydreaming a bit, I guess,” you said with a small smile, and then looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you nervous?” you asked, because Benedict had never met Liv’s grandparents before. Also because perhaps if he was nervous, then it would be okay for you to be nervous as well…

“Not really,” he said nonchalantly, briefly glancing your way before concentrating on the road. “Are you?” Benedict asked, and you could hear the worry in his voice.

You sighed quietly. “A little…” you admitted, and felt Benedict squeeze your hand reassuringly. You looked at the backseat through the rearview mirror and was relieved to see that Liv was paying attention to the cartoon she was watching on Benedict’s tablet, and that she wasn’t really listening to the conversation.

Benedict knew about your story with Liv’s father. Aaron Sanders was a good man, deep down you knew that. The only problem was that when Liv was born, he’d refused to recognise her as his child. Your relationship had started crumbling the night you’d told him about your pregnancy, and he’d left you and had refused to take a paternity test. He had never physically hurt you, but the pain he’d caused you and Liv when he’d denied her had been too great, and for that you thought you’d never be able to forgive him. His parents had been with you the whole time though, and you couldn’t be more grateful for that.

You arrived not long after. It was around midday in London, and the day was uncharacteristically bright. The three of you left the car, and you and Benedict both took one of Liv’s hands on your own as you approached the entrance of the house.

Greg and Laura’s house was big, but you could barely see it behind the trees and leaves that occupied the front yard. You reached the door and Liv rang the doorbell excitedly, bouncing on her feet while you waited.

It was Greg who opened the door. He was wearing jeans overalls similar to Liv’s, and when she saw him, she immediately let go of your hands and ran into his arms.

“Grandpa!” she exclaimed as he lifted her over his head and pretended to let go of her. Liv giggled in his arms as he hugged her and put her down.

“I've missed you, my little Olive,” he said endearingly, patting her back and pointing somewhere inside the house. “Go check on your grandma in the kitchen. She’s making those little cookies that you love,” Greg told her and you watched as Liv went running inside the house. When he looked back at you, there was a glint in his eyes as he opened his arms to hug you. “Ah, (Y/N)… You seem to grow more beautiful every day,” he said patting your head.

“Thank you, Greg. Happy anniversary,” you said when he released you, giving him the bottle of wine you’d brought and taking a step back, holding Benedict’s arm and smiling brightly as you looked up at him. “This is Benedict, my boyfriend,” you introduced him and Greg smiled knowingly, shaking Benedict’s hand firmly.

“I've heard a lot about you, lad,” he said as he allowed the both of you to come inside. “It's good to know someone’s taking good care of my girls,” Greg closed the door and Benedict eyed you with a smile. “I hope you like tuna sandwich. Laura's made buckets of it,” he laughed and led you to the kitchen.

There was a woman holding a tray full of chocolate chip cookies, and by the looks of it, it had just left the oven. Liv had her little hands placed on the counter, watching in awe as her grandmother placed all of the cookies in a jar and left it to the side to cool.

“(Y/N), darling, it’s been so long!” Laura finally noticed you, cleaning her hands in a towel by the sink and coming to hug you.

“Nonsense, Laura. We saw her last week!” Greg said, sticking his hand into the pot of cookies to take one for himself.

Laura slapped his hand away from it with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, hush, Gregory. And stop eating the food, or else there won’t be anything left for the guests!” she reprimanded, sending him away with her hands.

Greg only laughed and crushed his wife’s face to his lips, kissing her cheek soundly. “Come join me later at the grill, Benedict. I’ll teach you my trick to make the perfect burger,” he said and then left the kitchen, Liv trailing after her grandfather and out of your view.

Laura shook her head, and when she looked back at you her eyes focused on Benedict’s tall frame and she smiled brightly, clapping her hands together in excitement. “And of course, you must be Benedict!” she took his hand into her both. “He's so handsome, (Y/N),” she winked at you, making you turn a bright shade of red. “Even more so than on-screen,” she said, and this time it was Benedict who blushed, chuckling lightly. “Now you two go seat outside. I wouldn’t want any of you to be stuck here with me while the day is so beautiful.”

You did as she asked, congratulating her for her anniversary first and then taking Benedict by the hand towards the backyard. It was smaller than the house, but still bigger than most. There were several trees at the back of it, and the pool was located a bit closer to the house. Laura and Greg had set a few tables on the grass, and there were people sitting on one of them. They were mostly cousins and friends of Greg and Laura’s, and you greeted them all before sitting on one table along with Benedict.

It didn’t take long for Liv to find you again. “Mommy, can I go into the pool?” she asked, and you looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Not yet, darling. Can't you wait a bit longer? I promise I’ll go with you in a little while,” you answered, and she groaned audibly.

“Please, please, please… I can go alone!” she insisted, but you still shook your head.

“You can’t, Liv. You don’t know how to swim—“ you started to say, but was interrupted by a shadow looming over you.

“I can look after her,” a voice spoke from above you, and you felt your insides grow cold.

You looked up to find Aaron himself staring at you with a weird expression on his face. You felt Benedict’s grip on your hand tighten at the sight of him, and tried to reassure him that everything would be alright with a small smile.

“Aaron,” you said in surprise, sitting straighter on your chair. “Are you sure you want to?” you asked, because you didn’t know if you trusted him enough to take care of Liv, and because he’d already neglected her before, and you certainly didn’t want him to hurt her.

“Of course,” he answered nonchalantly, looking relaxed and at ease with one hand tucked loosely into the pocket of his jeans and the other leaning on his hip. “I'm great with kids,” he said as a matter of fact and you raised an eyebrow, but gave in. You didn’t want to cause a scene, and you didn’t think he’d do anything to hurt your daughter.

With a sigh and a sideways glance towards Benedict, you finally nodded. “Okay… But let me know if you need any help,” you said and he smirked in a way that you were so used to, and that made your stomach turn— and definitely not in a good way.

Once Liv went inside to change clothes and Aaron left your side, you finally allowed yourself to relax, releasing a breath that you didn’t even realise you’d been holding.

“You okay, love?” Benedict asked beside you, taking your hand in his and rubbing a comforting pattern along your skin. You just nodded, though you weren’t really sure if you were actually fine. “Sure you don’t want me to watch her?” he asked worriedly, and you finally looked up at him.

“No, it’s alright. I want you to enjoy yourself,” you smiled, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. “Perhaps you can bond a little with Greg? I’m sure he’s dying to show you how to flip the meat on the grill,” you said and Benedict laughed, pulling you closer to press his lips to your head. Then he pushed his chair back and stood up, but didn’t leave before kissing your knuckles once more.

“I’ll keep an eye on her from afar,” he assured you and then left to join Greg, who was thrilled to see someone was interested in learning his cooking techniques. You smiled at the sight of them, and decided you’d help Laura in the kitchen to keep her company.

You waited until Liv joined Aaron by the pool and you were sure he was taking good care of her before you got up and went back inside. Laura was stirring something in a big pot when you found her, and you were happy to help her prepare the rest of the meals.

Outside, Benedict was laughing along with Greg when he heard a cough. His eyes immediately went towards the pool, and he started feeling the despair crush his lungs when he couldn’t see Liv or Aaron by the pool.

He left Greg’s side without a word and went to look for Olivia. His eyes caught a glimpse of her hair on the water, and he realised she was stuck underneath a big, colourful float in the pool.

Benedict suddenly couldn’t think of anything but to get her out, so he desperately grabbed the float and threw it aside, and his arms lifted Liv’s body out of the water with difficulty. She’d gotten to the deeper side of the pool unnoticed, and he was relieved to hear she was still breathing when he pulled her into his arms.

Liv coughed hard into his shirt and he just tapped her back as he held her loosely so she could breathe. “It's okay, love. You’re okay,” Benedict soothed her as she started crying. He looked around to see that Greg was rushing toward them worriedly, his hands finding Liv’s hair and running through it in an attempt to calm her down. What caught Benedict’s attention wasn’t Liv’s grandfather though, but the fact that Aaron was coming their way with a glass of cold beer on his hand and an alarmed look on his face. Their gazes met and Benedict was sure Aaron could see the burning anger in his eyes. He was about to shout at him when something else caught his attention.

You came running from inside the house, approaching them quickly and looking at the scene in front of you with worry. Benedict’s clothes were drenched in water as he held a coughing and crying Liv protectively, and when you finally reached them, you took your daughter’s face in your hands to see if she was alright.

“What happened?” you asked once you realised she was fine; just scared. “You were supposed to be looking after her, Aaron!” you yelled at him without sparing him a glance.

“I was just filling my glass!” he tried to defend himself, but one look from you was enough to make him shut up.

You went to the table you’d been sitting at and searched your bag for Liv’s towel, covering her - who was still on Benedict’s arms - once you’d found it. The two of you took her inside to change her clothes, and once she was dressed and dry, it was as if nothing had happened. She was grinning and happy again, and rushed down the stairs to be with her grandmother.

You sighed irritably once she’d left. “I should never have accepted Greg and Laura's invitation,” you said, furiously tucking Olivia’s wet clothes into a plastic bag. “I knew seeing him again would be a bad idea… He- Liv doesn’t even know he’s her father!” you ranted. “God, I’m just so stupid—“

You were interrupted by Benedict’s arms encircling your waist. His shirt was wet against your back, but you paid it no mind as he held your wrists to still your movements. You sighed and allowed him to turn you around to look at him. Your hands fell to your sides as he lifted his to take the hair from your eyes, tucking the loose strands behind your ears affectionately.

“You’re not stupid, (Y/N),” he said, moving his fingers to cup your cheeks. “You're the most intelligent, and amazing, and beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and that’s why I fell in love with you in the first place,” he said, making you smile slightly. “This wasn’t your fault, love.” His words were spoken in a way that left no space for discussion, so you only nodded. “Now, Liv is fine and there’s a delicious burger waiting for you downstairs… “ he let his hands fall to the sides of your neck. “Please don’t let this ruin your day,” he asked and didn’t allow you to answer because his lips were suddenly touching yours, and you couldn’t think of anything else other than the feel of his mouth on yours.

When you finally parted you were feeling slightly dizzy, but you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips. “I'm sorry you got all wet,” you said running a hand down his shirt.

“It's quite alright, love,” he replied with a smile. “Now let’s get down there so I can show you all the amazing stuff Greg’s taught me.”

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Laura’s food was delicious and you and Benedict had loads of fun with Liv.

Aaron didn’t reappear until you were leaving. You were at the door holding Liv’s hand when Benedict emerged from the kitchen being followed by a frightened and pale-looking Aaron. You eyed the both of them suspiciously, but didn’t say anything until you were lying on your bed with Benedict and Liv had already retreated to her room.

“So, what is it that you said to Aaron back there when we were leaving?” you asked curiously, lifting your head from Benedict’s chest to look him in the eyes.

He chuckled; his chest vibrating under your fingers. “Oh, not much…” he replied nonchalantly, one of his hands coming to hold yours over his chest while the other caressed your face. “Just enough to put him in his place…"

Benedict smiled as the cheers and clapping from the crowd ceased.

His hands were a little bit sweaty, but other than that he felt calmer than he ever had during talk shows like this.

In front of him, Graham Norton beamed with a kind of mischievousness that was lost on Benedict. He'd been to the Graham Norton Show more times than he could count, but he still couldn't for the life of him figure out what its host was thinking most of the time. God only knew what that bearded little man was up to.

"So," Graham began, and Benedict shifted to a more comfortable position on his seat. "This is a good couch we have here tonight, isn't it?" he said, and Benedict looked to his side and at his longtime friend and costar.

Martin Freeman was sitting beside him with his legs crossed and his hands intertwined on his lap, and he too seemed laid back and quite relaxed.

"It definitely is," Martin answered, patting Benedict on the shoulder as they both smiled. The two were already used to all the fuss and commotion that came with being famous, and it helped that they were in it together for this one interview. They were more than used to each other, so it made it all a little more bearable.

"Well then, gentlemen, let's start talking about Sherlock," Graham made a show of waving the little card in his hand. "What is it like- because I reckon your characters are quite... eccentric-" he added with a smile, "-but what is it like to play the iconic duo; Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?"

Benedict and Martin both looked at each other knowingly, though Benedict was the first to speak. "Well... at first it was a little bit challenging," he admitted after taking a deep breath. "I mean, Sherlock, he's... a high functioning sociopath, as he likes to call himself," he laughed, "he's ingenious and completely out of the ordinary, so you can imagine how tricky it is to kind of get his personality right." Graham and Martin both nodded.

"Can we please talk about how talented this man is, though?" Martin chimed in and pointed at Benedict, who scoffed softly. He'd never gotten used to being praised, and the audience awed at the embarrassment on his face as he shook his head. "I mean, come on! It takes a great actor to play that kind of character, and an even greater one to do it well," Martin said and the audience clapped again when Benedict lifted a hand to cover his heart and then proceeded to hug his costar.

"No, but he's right," Graham agreed, stirring on his seat. "Let's not diminish you though, Martin, because John is a pretty complex character as well, I presume," he said and it was Benedict's turn to nod excitedly while Martin just laughed.

"Oh, he's actually pretty challenging too," Benedict said honestly. "Especially during third season. He actually cries a lot," he joked and Martin couldn't disagree, laughing along with the audience.

"And speaking of season three, I believe you actually have a very... well known guest star making an appearance in the show again, if you know what I mean," Graham waggled his eyebrows and winked, the suggestive tone of his voice making Benedict hide behind one of his hands while Martin chuckled.

"Ah, yes," Martin smiled, "(Y/N)'s presence on the set was definitely a game changer," he said with a hint of an innuendo to his tone, and Benedict felt the urge to sink further into his seat. Really, he'd known the subject of the both of you was bound to surface, and he had no problem discussing it in television. It was just that whenever your name came up, he suddenly became a stuttering mess. It was like a mandatory reaction to it, and he also couldn't keep the familiar funny feeling on his stomach from taking over him at the mere mention of you. "He doesn't even acknowledge my existence anymore... it's like I'm not even there!" Martin exclaimed dramatically, pretending to be upset while Benedict protested with a shake of his head and mouthed an 'Oh, come on' to the audience.

"Yes, my condolences, Martin," Graham joined on the drama, and then both he and Martin laughed at the guilty look on Benedict's face.

"Jokes aside now, though, (Y/N)'s just such a lovely person," Martin said more seriously now, and Benedict remained very quiet, because he knew if he started to talk about just how amazing you were, they'd be stuck on that couch for a few hours. "Honestly, when she first made an appearance in the show like, two years ago, the entire Sherlock crew had been praying for this guy over here to ask her out," Martin revealed with a nudge to Benedict's shoulder, and the man in question merely rolled his eyes.

Long after the two of you had met, you'd gotten a minor role in Sherlock for season two, and though your characters didn't have much interaction, you'd become inseparable on set. The friendship you'd had before had only strengthened, and you'd started hanging out together outside work schedules as well. Benedict was already single at that time, and it hadn't taken long for the both of you to start dating officially.

"And by the way, congratulations on getting engaged!" Graham exclaimed excitedly, and Benedict's smile only grew. His heart squeezed happily in his chest as he looked down at the engagement ring wrapped around his finger.

"Thank you," he replied, unable to keep from touching the silver band on his right hand and grinning proudly to the cheering audience.

"It was quite the announcement too. I'm sure no one payed attention to the Oscars after that speech," Graham said playfully, and both Benedict and Martin chuckled.

"It was Benedict's payback for not being nominated this year," Martin joked and everyone laughed. The room had acquired a cheery environment, and Benedict was feeling twice as confident as he had been when he first walked up the steps to the stage. You had that effect on him.

"Well, I have some great things planned for you this evening, gentlemen," Graham smiled wickedly and then looked to the audience, "but first, let me call to the stage our third guest of the night. Here with us is Oscar winner and star of the new Kingsman movie, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), soon to be Mrs. Benedict Cumberbatch!"

At that, Benedict's eyes widened.

He barely registered the clapping and screaming all around him, and instead turned his head to look at the entrance of the stage. He was beginning to doubt Graham's words, but then he saw a flash of deep red high-heels and smelled the unmistakable scent of flowers from your perfume and knew that he was not being tricked.

You appeared from behind the red curtains, a huge smile playing on your lips as you stopped to hug Graham, and then Martin, and then finally, Benedict.

He was still sitting on the couch unlike the two other males on the stage, his expression one of pure shock and confusion. It took him about a few seconds to finally realize that what was happening was actually real, and then Benedict was on his feet in one single fast motion that left him slightly dizzy. He wrapped his arms around you before you even had the chance to do anything, embracing you firmly like you could slip away from his grasp and disappear into thin air.

"I can't believe this," he said with a breathless chuckle. One of his hands moved to cradle the back of your neck as he distanced himself just enough to be able to look at your face, and you smiled warmly at him when he leaned in again to press an affectionate kiss to your forehead, earning a series of Aaw's from the crowd.

"It's payback, darling," you said with a cheeky smile, and the audience laughed before the both of you sat on the couch and you were squeezed in between Martin and Benedict.

"I feel like my job is done here now," Graham joked, "I'm sure there has been no matchmaker better than me," he smiled proudly, and Benedict managed to laugh despite his stupor.

He still couldn't believe you were there beside him; still couldn't do anything but admire you in silence. He was sure his face was showing everything he was feeling at that moment, but he simply couldn't make himself care. You looked as beautiful as ever, and he breathed in the smell of you; the one impregnated on his pillows and the one he craved so much during the nights he had to spend alone because you were away.

"So now that you're here, (Y/N), I propose we talk a little bit about you and Benedict," Graham said and the audience clapped excitedly.

"Okay, but aren't you done embarrassing me on this show, Graham?" you asked with an exasperated expression. "I mean, it's only my second time here, you can't possibly think that after this there'll be a third one?" you joked and the three men beside you chuckled, and you felt Benedict's hand sneak around your shoulders to rest on the sofa's back.

Graham laughed and pressed a hand to his chest. "Oh, as long as I'm being paid I don't mind," he countered playfully. "But anyway, I'm sure you're aware that Benedict has become somewhat of a sex symbol," he waggled his eyebrows, and the whole room was filled with whistling as you nodded. "But tell me, are you familiar with the nickname for your fiancée's fans?" His eyes glinted and you smiled knowingly.

"I'm afraid so," you said with the lift of an eyebrow, not entirely sure what you should expect, but grinning nonetheless. You felt Benedict's eyes on you but didn't look back at him.

"Well, I'm glad, because that's exactly what we're going to talk about," Graham smiled. "Sorry, do we have any Cumberbitches in the audience?" He barely finished his question and the entire room was filled with screaming. You heard Benedict laugh beside you, and couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. You couldn't really blame the fans. He was an attractive man, after all. "Believe me, you'll thank me later. These people can be quite inspiring, really," Graham added looking at you, and you chuckled lightly.

"Of course. Honestly, I'm a bit of a Cumberbitch myself, so..." you shrugged and the audience cheered again, and you searched for Benedict's hand to hold it closer to you. Your eyes finally connected with his, and you could tell that he was pleased by your comment.

"Well, so you must be aware that there are many other things that can be cumbered and batched," Graham stated seriously, but a second later his lips were stretching into a smirk, and the crowd laughed as both you and Benedict blushed at the innuendo.

"Do tell us more about that," Martin chimed in with a mischievous look on his face.

Graham only chuckled before answering. "Well, for example, did you know that apparently, Benedict has slim, very strong, uh... cumberhands?" He hadn't even finished his sentence when you started already laughing. God, people were creative.

"Oh, lord," you heard Benedict murmur beside you, and your smile only grew on your face as he shook his head and looked down in embarrassment.

"Ah, yes. The cumberhands. I'm afraid I'm very familiar with them," you said knowing exactly how dirty your sentence sounded, and Graham and Martin made a show of widening their eyes suggestively while Benedict hid his face at the curve of your neck and the audience whistled and laughed.

"Well that was incredibly meaningful..." Graham murmured with a little smile. "But there's more. He's also got- and this fan was thoroughly specific-" Graham added, looking up momentarily from the card he was reading, "-'Just the slightest cumbermusk in the Boston sunshine'," he said making quotes with his fingers, and you just couldn't help the full blown laugh that escaped your lips.

"Oh my god, this is gold," you laughed wholeheartedly, watching as Benedict became a darker shade of red as he too chuckled.

"I love that she actually managed to smell him," Martin said with a comical raise of his brows, making everyone laugh even harder.

"Yes, that's a bit creepy," Graham commented, all eyes falling on Benedict's red face. "I could go on, but I figured I should ask (Y/N) here what is her favorite, erm... cumberquality," he said and you laughed at his choice of words, looking at Benedict beside you who was eyeing you back expectantly.

"Okay, let me see..." you searched his face slowly. Your heart was beating erratically in your ribs not only due to the fact that you were sitting in front of more than 300 people, but also because of the intensity with which Benedict was staring at you. His hands were gently caressing yours on your lap, and you gripped his fingers lightly before answering the question. "Well I was thinking of saying his beautiful cumberheart," you heard the collective 'Aaw' from the other occupants of the room and immediately pursed your lips, covering your heart with the hand that was intertwined with his. "But I figured that would be a bit too cheesy and cliché, so I'll stick to the cumberbutt," you finished, and everyone laughed loudly.

"Great choice," Graham said and Martin nodded, and the show went on as expected.

You talked about your character in Kingsman and discussed future projects and movies, and by the time the show ended, you were feeling light and happy. You left the stage with your hands still gripping Benedict's, and the both of you bid your goodbyes to Martin before exiting the building and being escorted to your car.

Sometime during the drive home you felt Benedict wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in the backseat.

You snuggled closer to his warmth unconsciously, and you two stayed silent for a few moments before he decided to speak. "I thought you'd get jealous," he murmured, the deepness of his voice making his chest vibrate against your hand and cheek.

"What?" you asked confusedly, and he smiled.

"Because of the, um... cumberbitches..." he said awkwardly, and you laughed before lifting your head slightly to look at him.

"I was a little bit," you admitted honestly, adverting your eyes with a slight tilt of your head. Your hand that was on his chest started drawing patterns on the collar of his suit as you spoke. "But then I remembered that, oh, yeah," you rolled your eyes and your smile widened as you closed almost the entire distance between your faces so that your lips were barely touching his. Your next words were spoken in a purr that had his heart doing that little leap inside his chest as he gripped your waist affectionately, "you're mine."

Benedict's hands reached for your own, and you took them while ducking your head to exit the car.

Outside, a dozen flashes went off as soon as you stood to your full height, and you felt Benedict's thumb rub a reassuring pattern on your skin. There was a sea of screaming photographers shouting your name, and you felt a thousand times more relaxed by his comforting touch.

The Academy Awards was perhaps one of the most anticipated events of the year, and you couldn't believe that you would actually be in it this year. You stepped into the red carpet and felt almost dizzy at the amount of people demanding your attention.

"You okay there, love?" you heard Benedict whisper in your ear, his mouth touching the shell of it as he moved his hand from your own to place them at the small of your back, guiding you forward.

You looked up at him and smiled at the exact time that a flash captured your picture.

The evening was cold and there was a chilly wind hitting your back, but you felt almost hot because of the flashes.

You were wearing a nude pink long dress that contrasted well with your skin and showed almost the entire length of your left leg in a thigh high split. It's thick straps rested on your upper arms, leaving your shoulders bare and exposed to the wind.

Benedict urged you forward again, and you smiled at a few cameras. "You look beautiful, you know?" He said as you posed to the photographers, and you tried not to let your blush show too much.

"You don't look too bad yourself," you murmured back, unable to contain your smile as you played with the collar of his jacket.

It was true. He looked completely hot in his white tuxedo, and you couldn't help but grin at the fact that he was there, and he was there with you. It had been two years already since you went public with your relationship, and those had without a doubt been the best two years of your life.

You and Benedict made your way through the red carpet flawlessly. The screams of the photographers were only muffled by Benedict's own words in your ear, and you reached the first interviewer of the night feeling a little less nervous.

"Hello, you two. Come up here!" a woman sporting a long red dress urged you up a few steps to the small stage she was standing at, a camera set up in front of her and a microphone in her hand. You did as she said, Benedict going first and then extending his hand to help you up. "So I'm here with Benedict Cumberbatch and the lovely (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!" she said to the camera and pointed at you, and you smiled. "How are you feeling tonight?"

You shared a quick smile with Benedict before answering. "We're great!" you smiled brightly, "I mean, having the opportunity to be here is crazy!"

"Ah, and I reckon this is your first time at the Oscars," the woman started and you nodded, feeling the soothing caress of Benedict's fingers at the small of your back. He was doing a great job at encouraging you. "What do you think so far?"

"Aside from the fact that me walking the red carpet is completely insane... Well, I'm pretty excited for tonight," you answered. You were one of the nominees for Best Supporting Actress after all. "Besides, this guy over here is guiding me through it," you looked at Benedict with a cheeky smile, hooking your arms with his and allowing him to pull you closer.

"I bet he is," the interviewer laughed. "Well, you two have a great time tonight, and best of luck with your nomination!" she said, and you smiled with Benedict before exiting the stage.

You were ushered inside the theater and took your designated seats right at the front of the stage, and Benedict rested a reassuring hand on your uncovered knee. His touch was warm and everything you needed to keep going through the night, especially because all that nervousness from before was returning with full force.

The prospect of winning was exciting as much as it was frightening.

The night went on as usual, and when it was time for the Best Supporting Actress nomination you unconsciously gripped Benedict's hand more tightly. The previous winner appeared on the stage and the names of the nominees were splayed on the screen, and upon seeing yours among those of some pretty brilliant actresses, you felt your nervousness triple.

"And the winner for Best Supporting Actress is..." the presenter said as she opened the envelope, "(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!" she smiled, and then time seemed to stop.

You barely registered the clapping around you and the cheers that followed. For a few seconds, it was only you, Benedict and your beating heart.

Your eyes searched for his green ones, and when you finally took a look at him, he was smiling brightly, motioning for you to stand up. When you did, he was the first to wrap his arms around you. His grip was tight and warm and comforting, but too short for your liking. Benedict soon let go of you to kiss you briefly, and the clapping never stopped as you moved towards the stage, stopping now and then to receive more hugs from the other celebrities in the audience.

By the time you reached the stage, your head was spinning slightly and your eyes had to adjust to the strong lights illuminating you. Someone helped you up the stairs but you didn't even register their face. Your consciousness only came back when there was a considerable weight placed into your hands and the theater was filled with silence.

You looked at the audience and couldn't help the shocked gasp that rolled out of your tongue. "Wow..." you said, your voice magnified by the microphone in front of you. "I honestly don't know what to say," you started, because you had rehearsed this before, but nothing could have prepared you for that moment. "I guess I, uh... I should start by thanking all of you who've stuck by me. This-" you lifted the golden statuette, looking at it with gleaming eyes, "-it's a representation of not only my effort, but also that of those that supported me since the beginning," you looked around the crowd, a few familiar faces making you feel more relaxed. "So I'd like to dedicate this to all the directors, the screenwriters, the producers; to all of my coworkers and to the people who often don't appear in front of the cameras, but who also contributed for this to happen."

You smiled. Your eyes found Benedict's startling green ones in the middle of the crowd, and you suddenly felt a surge of happiness and courage rush through you. "Lastly, I'd like to thank my fiancée, Ben," you said, lifting your hand to show the audience the ring he'd given you; still never taking your eyes off of him, "we got engaged last week, by the way," you said with a half sob; half laugh, and the crowd gasped and clapped excitedly. It was the first time anyone other than your family and friends heard about the engagement, but you couldn't find it within yourself to care wether or not that was the appropriate moment to announce it. Your chest was spilling with something that sizzled through your veins and had you feeling all warm and giddy.

"You're one of the people who inspire me the most, and I can't find enough words to describe just how much that means to me," you looked straight into his eyes, and couldn't help but notice that they were glazed with the start of tears. He was pressing his fingers to his mouth adorably, and you smiled further at the sight of it. "I love you so much, thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life." You finally finished, and the audience clapped once more. The presenters guided you out the stage, and even though your only wish was to be with Benedict, there was still a long way to go before you could find your way to him again.

You were taken to a room and given champagne, and after that you were ushered to a small studio to take the official Academy Awards Winner pictures. Then, there was the part you were dreading the most - the interview with over three hundred reporters, just you and them in the room; though surprisingly, the questions weren't as hard to answer as you thought they'd be, mostly because most of them were about your and Benedict's engagement and how you were planning on celebrating the announcement.

Finally after that, you were escorted back to the theater since the ceremony wasn't over yet, and you spotted Benedict's head in the crowd before he saw you. A few other people stopped to congratulate you, but you went as fast as you could towards your fiancée, whose back was turned to you. When you finally reached your seat, Benedict looked up with the brightest smile in the world, and you sat by his side and couldn't contain the blush that appeared on your cheeks as he pulled you closer and kissed you as silently as he could. The show was still going on, and you didn't want to attract any more attention than you already had.

"I love you so much," he said when you finally parted, his forehead touching yours and his thumb brushing your cheek in a gentle caress. "I'm so proud of you, love," Benedict whispered, and took your hand in his to place a soft kiss on your knuckles.

At that moment, you thought the night couldn't possibly get better.

...

Well... you were wrong.

The celebration after the awards had been pretty awesome and all, but it wasn't until you finally came home from the party that you realized that yes, the night could get better.

Benedict closed the front door to your hotel room with a soft thud, and you barely registered him locking it behind the both of you before his mouth and hands were on you.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips as he pulled you closer by the waist, but as soon as his hand found the back of your neck you found yourself relaxing under his touch. There was something desperate about the way his tongue was begging for entrance to your mouth, and you felt a familiar heat pooling in your lower belly.

His free hand came to grab your knee and he pulled it up so your leg was encircling his waist, backing you up against the nearest wall for leverage. "Someone's excited," you murmured against his mouth just as he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you.

"You have no idea," he whispered back, moving from your mouth to your cheeks and then your neck. His breath was fanning over your skin, making it hard for you to concentrate on what he was saying. "Do you have any clue how long I've been waiting for this?" Benedict asked as he moved his hand past your knee and up your left thigh, the slit on your dress making it easier for him to touch your skin.

"I can imagine," you answered breathily, tugging on his collar to capture his lips again. His mouth was warm as he opened it to taste you, and you moaned audibly when his hand finally found the curve of your ass, giving it a tight squeeze. "Bedroom. Now." You urged almost harshly and he let out a low, deep chuckle that had you feeling dizzy with arousal.

"As you wish, love," he tugged on the back of your dress, unzipping it halfway as his feet guided you backwards into your suite. As soon as your feet touched the foot of the bed, Benedict turned you around to finish taking off your dress, his mouth drawing a path of kisses and bites along with the opening of the zipper.

When you turned to look at him again his eyes were dark and his pupils dilated, and you started working on his suit. His blazer was the first to come off, followed by your underwear, his shirt and his pants.

Once you were naked in front of him, you pulled him down along with you onto the bed, crawling up to the headboard as his lips met yours hungrily again.

In a swift movement, you turned so you were on top of him, and he smirked quietly as his hands came to cup your breasts. The touch had you rocking unconsciously against the bulge in his underwear, and he groaned. It took you less than a few seconds to remove his boxers and sink into his length, the warm feeling on your belly spreading as you both gasped.

"Fuck," you moaned, keeping a slow, steady pace if only to tease him. His hands immediately went to grip your hips; rough and firm and deliciously encouraging your movements.

Yeah, fuck the teasing. You were in desperate need of release right then and there. You wouldn't be able to wait any longer, and you suspected he was in a much similar situation.

Benedict rocked his hips to meet yours in a fast thrust, his previously neat hair now messy atop his head, and you couldn't help but thinking that he looked too goddamn handsome for your own good.

You lowered your chest to stay parallel to his, gripping the headboard and touching his mouth with yours while rocking harder; faster.

Your noses were bumping and your nipples were rock hard against his chest when you came with a loud, breathless moan. Benedict followed not long after, his grunt reverberating on your chest as the both of your rode the last of your orgasm with your eyes closed in pure bliss.

When you finally slipped out of him, it was to lay beside him; your head pressed to his chest and your legs entwined with his, reveling in his warmth.

Benedict pulled the covers over the both of you and wrapped his arm around your naked shoulder, bringing you closer instinctively.

Your breathing had evened out to match his in a quiet, consistent rhythm. "God, I'm feeling like such a winner tonight," you said lowly, kissing the spot right above his collarbone. Benedict chuckled silently and simply snuggled closer to you, his other hand coming to rest on your waist.

"Good," he mumbled, and you felt that same hand slowly draw a path down your torso and finally reach your most sensitive spot, his fingers stroking you lazily and making you sigh in content. "Because I'm certainly not finished with you yet..."

The day had seemed like a normal one for Benedict when he woke up in the morning.

It had been bright and busy like any other day of the week; with London's usual partially cloudy sky and streets that bursted with life. He'd gone to work and spent the day doing everything he usually did; repeated his same old routine and longed for a day in which he wouldn't have to do it all over again.

He would later learn to be careful what he wished for.

"Benedict," his manager had said through the phone with a light tone to his voice. Benedict had just left a script reading session for his latest project, and had been collecting his things when his phone rang. "Johnny had to call off the eight o'clock meeting- something came up at the studio, apparently," he'd explained quickly, "you have the night off."

Benedict had smiled. It was probably his first night off in months, and he had no idea when would be his next. He'd packed his things and left the building feeling like a winner.

He figured you'd be in for a lovely surprise. Maybe you could even open that old bottle of wine your parents had given the both of you for Christmas...

It wasn't until he was in his car - his hands gripping the steering wheel while he was stuck in traffic - that things started going south.

Benedict turned on the Bluetooth on his phone and waited for it to connect to the stereo. "Siri, call my wife," he said as soon as he heard the familiar beep that indicated there was a connection.

The phone rang five, six, seven times before it hit voicemail. "Hello, this is (Y/N) Cumberbatch. I'm not available at the moment, but please leave a message after the beep," your voice boomed through the speakers, and Benedict didn't wait before he pushed the call button on the steering wheel again. Still no response.

In front of him, the line of cars started moving, and he tried to tell himself everything was okay.

It was useless to keep worrying simply because you hadn't picked up the phone. Half of him reasoned that you were probably on the shower or listening to music in your studio. The other more anxious half of him insisted that there was something wrong, though.

Benedict couldn't keep the cold shiver than ran through him and settled in the pit of his stomach as he pushed his feet into the gas pedal.

He thought that perhaps if he pretended to be calm the feeling would overcome the worry that had been growing inside him, but if anything, it seemed to intensify it. He approached his driveway with a dreadful feeling on his stomach, one that was confirmed when he saw the blink of police lights.

Benedict's heart nearly dropped on his chest.

There was cold sweat dripping down the nape of his neck and his hands were trembling when he stopped the car a few feet away from his house, the police cars occupying the whole width of the street.

Benedict exited the car and didn't even bother to close the driver's door behind him as he stumbled toward the scene unraveling in front of him. His hands pushed past the curious bodies of his neighbours and his eyes roamed the faces around him for a glimpse at you.

He didn't have any more time to look around as a policeman stopped him in his tracks. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you go through," he said calmly, and Benedict removed the hand that was holding him back forcefully.

"I-" he tried, but his voice came out like a rough grunt. "That's my house," he finally managed in a breathless whisper, and walked past the officer before he could do anything to stop him. Benedict stumbled through the gravel, unable to think straight or keep his hands from shaking and his shirt from becoming drenched in sweat.

He couldn't find you among the crowd of police officers and passers by, and he was starting to feel the overwhelming panic that came with it.

Benedict honestly didn't know what he would do without you.

Then he felt something stir between his legs and looked down to see Kit, your loyal basset hound, running in circles around him. Benedict remembered the day you'd given him that name. He had suggested something a little more historical, like Henry or Charles after England's greatest kings, but in the end the both of you'd stuck with the one you'd chosen.

Kit waggled his tale desperately, as if both excited to see his owner and worried at the whole situation. He jumped and barked and circled Benedict again, and he squatted next to the dog to pat him affectionately. "It's okay, boy, it's alright," he said in a calm tone that didn't reflect the way he was feeling inside. Benedict was perhaps even more desperate than his dog, but he didn't let it show as he caressed its fluffy fur. Kit, however, didn't calm down in the slightest, jumping around and refusing to stay still in the same place, and Benedict watched as it turned around and ran towards an ambulance parked in the front of the house.

He followed the dog with his eyes and felt his heart squeeze so painfully inside his chest that he thought he might be dying.

You were there, sitting on the steps that lead inside the ambulance - holding a blanket around your shoulders and with a bloody cut etched across your temple.

Benedict ran faster than he ever had in his entire life. His feet carried him and when he finally reached where you were, you were already standing up and coming to his encounter as well.

The both of you met halfway in a hug so desperate that it took the air out of both your lungs.

Benedict clung to your clothes and your hair and your back as he squeezed you against him in a desperate attempt to be closer to you. His heart was hammering almost painfully inside his ribs, and he squeezed you one last time before pulling back to look at you.

The cut on your forehead was still dripping with the slightest bit of blood, but most of it was already dry, and he suspected that it had already been cleaned.

"God, what happened, love?" he asked, unable to keep his voice from faltering at the end. His hands went to cup your face gently, and he ran his fingers through the edges of your bruises and drew a shaky breath. "Are you hurt anywhere else? You shouldn't be standing up. Come on, let me take you-"

"I'm fine, Ben. It's okay," you assured him, though your voice was rough and your throat dry. "I don't- there was a break in..." you answered, holding the blanket even closer to you as a reflex. "There were these two guys, and they locked me in the cupboard, and... and they had guns, and-"

"Shh," Benedict placed his hand on the good side of your face, pulling you closer into another embrace. His other hand ran through your back comfortably, and he felt your shoulders shake as you cried silently. "You don't have to tell me now. I'm going to call your sister to let her know we're coming over," he said as an afterthought, and you just nodded into his shirt, taking deep breaths to try and calm down.

You parted ways so Benedict could make the call, and you went back to the ambulance with Kit while he approached the police officers a few feet away.

"Could anyone explain to me what happened?" he asked, his voice demanding and deep. He was angry at anyone and everyone that allowed you to get hurt, which also meant himself.

"The burglars got in through the open balcony," one of the officers began. "Mrs. Cumberbatch was in the kitchen when they came. They took her by surprise," he said, and Benedict felt his teeth clench. "According to her, they took her to the cupboard and one of them stayed there with her while the other went to search the house," the man explained and Benedict had to keep from lashing out at anyone else. He balled his hands into fists and looked somewhere in the distance, breathing in and out in sharp heaves. "We caught one of the burglars, but the other one managed to escape before we arrived-"

Benedict didn't wait for him to finish, just nodded once and turned on his back. He considered paying the burglar a visit in one of the police cars he was being kept at, but decided against it. The press was starting to gather around the scene, and things were bound to get ugly if he did so. He went back to you instead.

You'd stopped crying already, and he sat beside you on the metal steps of the ambulance and put a comforting hand on your back. He didn't even care if anything was taken from the house. What mattered was that you were there and you were safe.

"I'm sorry, love," he murmured after a while, making you stop caressing Kit's head to look up at him. "I should have been home with you," Benedict lowered his head in defeat and you scoffed, lifting his head with a hand on his chin to meet his eyes.

"Stop that, Ben," you said with a tone of finality to your voice. "You had nothing to do with this. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine for letting the balcony open in the first place." You left no room for discussion, so Benedict just nodded. You could see the sadness in his eyes though, so you pulled him closer by the arm and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, letting your mouth linger close to his afterwards and brushing your nose against his.

His hand moved from your back to your arm, and he rubbed it against it in an attempt to keep you warm. "I love you," he said with his cheek pressed to the top of your head, and you smiled slightly as you scooted as close to him as possible.

You resumed the caress on Kit's back, placing your other hand on Benedict's bent knee and rubbing your thumb over his jeans in an attempt to make him feel calmer. You felt him sigh beside you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before the both of you allowed yourselves to finally relax.

"I love you too, Ben."