#soft ben

1984

The baby slept in the bedroom, and some random crap played on the radio – the busted tv still in its place – it never got replaced. The stubbed-out end of a blunt lay in an ashtray along with the others, its job complete in dosing you up. Trapped smoke lingered around the room with nowhere to escape, and you were dozing on the sofa after smoking enough to take out a whole football team.

The boot bashing in your door jerked you awake. Still high, you rubbed your eyes and watched Payback, minus Gunpowder, and Swatto, storm in.

“Jesus, fuck. Smells like a ganja farm in here.” Mindstorm commented, coughing and waving his hand to waft the smoke away.

Confused, mind foggy from the blunt, you continued to stare.

“Look at her. She doesn’t know what time of day it is.” Crimson Countess noted, walking around the apartment living area.

“She probably doesn’t even know we’re here,” Tessa said, and she and her brother laughed.

“I do.” You slurred.

Crimson Countess picked up a photograph of you and Ben on your wedding day. You were standing on tiptoe, kissing Ben on his cheek, and he looked handsome as ever in his Philly baseball shirt, with one arm hooked around your waist and the other in the pocket of his slacks. It had been taken outside the registrar’s office. She put it back with a curl to her lip.

“Disgusting.” She muttered.

You blinked, and she continued to loiter, mumbling under her breath about the photos on the mantle and the Soldier Boy memorabilia. Then she spun on her heel, marched to the closed door where your daughter slept, and ripped it from its hinges.

“Mindstorm, do your worst.”

Instinct kicked in, if a little too slowly, and you flew off the couch only to topple to the floor. Stumbling, head-fogged, you attempted to barge through the TNT and Mindstorm barricade.

You shoved Mindstorm to one side, but the TNT duo pushed you back.

“I don’t understand.” Mindstorm muttered as you fell on your ass.

“TNT! Detonate!” Tommy and Tessa yelled in unison and joined hands. Then, they each held a hand up, aiming at you.

Your eyes widened. Shit. In your stoned-out state, you froze and waited for the electric bolt that would surely come your way. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the inevitable. Nothing. No electric. And certainly, no nightmares.

“What the fuck!” Tommy and Tessa screeched.

“Nothing’s happening.” Mindstorm muttered.

You opened your eyes. Mindstorm and TNT were staring at you, trying, but failing to use their powers against you.

“I can’t hear her. It’s so quiet….”

You didn’t understand. Compound V had been a dud. You hadn’t gained any powers – not even the most common – super strength. You’d sobbed on Ben, and he had comforted you as best as he could. Compound V had meant to be the way forward – it had meant forever with Ben. And the lack of powers had destroyed that. But here you were, gasping in breaths with three members of Payback powerless in front of you.

“Crimson! We’ve got a problem!”

Crimson walked out with your daughter on her hip and a hand on the other. “What?”

“Our powers are useless.” Tessa said.

“Sweet peace…”

“Useless…” Crimson muttered and held out a hand. She smirked, and where a fireball typically erupted – nothing. Not even a wisp of smoke.

“The hell?” Crimson attempted another fireball, this time putting some effort into it. But still nothing.

You used the fact that three out of four were stumped to your advantage to grab your daughter from Crimson Countess. Then, still unsteady, you stumbled and fell into TNT.

“Don’t just stand there. Do something!”

Spurred on, Tommy yanked you up by the collar, but Tessa got excited. Her manic smile swam in your view as she clocked you in the jaw. Stars burst, and Tommy pushed you down. Unable to save yourself, your head bounced on the carpet, and in the distance, you heard their hyena cackles and Crimson’s throaty voice, “Vought sends their regards.”, before blacking out.

2022

Silence fell around the room as the information was revealed to them. Looks were exchanged that you weren’t privy to.

“What? That’s what you didn’t know about?”

The unkempt one cussed under his breath.

“Butcher, this just got a whole lot fuckin’ complicated.” The black man said. His tone warning.

“Nah. It’ll be fine, MM.” Butcher said, waving him off.

He then gave you a sly look. “Hang on, if you were wiv Soldier Boy back then, ‘ow come you ent snapped out of the cuffs?”

You tugged at the cuff attached to the table leg. “I would if I could.”

“But you’re a Supe.” Butcher stated.

You laughed bitterly. “I’m not a Supe.”

“Well, excuse my French lady, but you look fucking phenomenal for 70. Fuckin’ ‘ell, bo’le, what you got up and rinse that shit for all its worth.”

“The V didn’t work. I didn’t get powers,” It wasn’t entirely true, but some secrets were worth keeping to yourself. “Except for the no ageing thing. That’s it.”

Butcher sat with his hand on his chin, taking it in. Then, finally, he opened his mouth to speak, but the youngun beat him to the punch.

“Are you the one that keeps leaving flowers on Soldier Boy’s statue?”

You nodded. Every anniversary, Valentine’s, birthday, and Christmas. And sometimes whenever you felt like it. Ben’s statue embodied the only living resemblance that he had been alive in a world that continued to slip from your grasp. Sitting there and talking to him restored balance in your life.

“If you know that Vought are scummy fuckers, why ent you done anyfink about it?”

“Like what? Storm in there and demand my daughter back and for them to tell the truth? Yeah, that would work really well.”

Butcher held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, luv, don’t getchur knickers in a twist.”

“Those fuckers stole a baby. Mon Dieu...”

The Asian beside him rubbed her hand up and down the Frenchman’s back, comforting him.

“Somethings not sitting right,” MM started. He stood and paced the room. “Vought grabbed your child, and they didn’t kill you?”

“Why would they kill me? They got what they wanted. Taking my daughter sent the message plain and clear– that they can get away with anything.”

“But—”

“Oi, leave off, wouldja.”

MM tensed his jaw, his fists clenched, but he questioned you no more. Instead, he sat and glared at Butcher.

You turned your attention to the leader of the gang, Butcher. “Can I please go now?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Tell us where Crimson is first.”

You huffed, annoyed.

“I don’t know where she is.”

“The fuck you don’t. She was Soldier Boy’s public girlfriend, and I fink you hated her wiv ev’ry fiba of your being.”

Yeah, you hated her, but after they’d taken your daughter, you just didn’t give a shit about anything anymore. Waking up sober with Vought lawyers knocking on your door with papers to sign about your daughter’s “untimely death” put you into three decades’ deep depression.

“I lost everything. You think I’m gonna care about some washed-up, has-been cooze? Ben was Payback, and without him, those losers are nothing.”

“Tell us!”

“She’s a two-bit trailer trash whore! Now tell me where Ben is!”

*

The bastards left you handcuffed to the table leg as they searched for Crimson Countess. As they left, you heard MM to Butcher, “There’s something she’s not telling us. Something’s not adding up. Why would they leave her alive after sending…”. You strained to hear the rest, but they were too far away.

Stupid fucking cuffs. You screamed in frustration, eventually managing to snap the table leg and free yourself. The handcuff dangled from one wrist – that would have to wait. More important things were at stake. You threw a chair at the window of the door, smashing it. With another one, you swiped the window free of glass and escaped. Nothing would stop you from getting to Ben.

Ben was in America. And he wanted revenge. He deserved payback for what those fuckers did to him in Nicaragua. And you would be there right by his side, supporting him.

*

The car swerved as a boom went off. The glass in the windows disintegrated, and the earth shook. You saw a bright light erupt into the sky. What the fuck? Desperate to return in the right direction, you turned the steering wheel until it gave out as the car continued to hydroplane.

It spun out, and you conceded death as the car careened into a fence post. The airbag deployed, and you smacked into it. Dazed but otherwise alright, you left the car and ran to the explosion site.

The lactic acid burned in your chest and legs, but you kept running. Ben was your world; you’d been without him for so long.

“Hughie!”

Butcher’s cockney accent punctured the air nearby, and you almost knocked into the kid.

“Fuck!” He yelled, jumping out of the way as you came whizzing by. You heard the sound of a Geiger counter ticking for a split second.

An orange glow emitted from Cuntess’ trailer, and a figure stood amidst the wreckage. Your heart leapt, and you used the last ounce of adrenaline to run to him. He moved away from the burning trailer.

Hope bloomed. Your pride and joy. Your world. Your feet pounded the grass. Your heart hammered in your chest. You shouted his name, and Ben turned around, ready for the threat pursuing him, but when he saw you, he stood stock still, his shield dropped, hitting the grass with a clank.

Ben stumbled a few steps as you latched on, arms wrapped around him. He stunk of smoke, but you didn’t care. Overwhelmed, you stuffed your face into his chest and broke down. Never in a million years had you thought it possible. You’d dreamt of reuniting with Ben, but the sad reality began again when dawn’s light pushed through the crack in your curtains, and you awoke alone.

His hand threaded into your hair, his head dipped, and he pressed his lips to yours.

“I’ve missed you so much, woman.” Ben breathed you in, taking slow and steady breaths, recounting for all the lost time.

The off-kilter angle of your world started to adjust itself, and you felt whole. Complete. You had your man. Now you just had to find your daughter.

He tilted your chin up and wiped the tears away with gentle thumbs, softly telling you to hush.

Nearly forty years later and this man still managed to leave you breathless. He honestly was flawless. Dark hair, which flopped over, so inviting your hands itched to sink into. Green eyes so dazzling and pretty, along with sinfully plush lips that whispered lewd things in your ear and gave scalding kisses in the dead of night. The fuzz he sported brought his flawless, gorgeous look together.

“You’re giving me a real chubby looking at me like that.”

You matched your bedroom eyes with a come hither smile. “Let’s go find some hay to roll in, then.”

You couldn’t catch his words, but the searing look told you of his intentions for the night.

“Sorry to interrupt the reunion.” A certain Cockney accent butted in.

Ben’s eyes became cold and flinty, and his stance became protective. He bent and picked up his shield, stepping in front of you. Irritated, you sidestepped, noticing Butcher and Hughie. Ben gripped your arm and shoved you behind him again.

“Stay put, woman.” He demanded.

“Charmin’. If I talked to my missus that way, she’d give me a bloody nose.”

You couldn’t see, and his hand on your arm stopped you from moving. He had a nice back, but you were getting tired of looking at it, so you leaned over, but he yanked you back in place.

“Well, mine knows her place.”

You couldn’t see, but you were sure he wore a tight smile. Probably pissed that you were showing him up.

Being a good wife to Ben gave you pride. Keeping him happy made you happy. You had dinner ready for him as he came through the door, fetched him beers when he asked, and, importantly, made sure you looked pretty for him. It gave you a purpose, and having your daughter only expanded that.

At times he could be abrasive, but you attributed that to Payback and Vought. They demanded so much from him, and he gave what he could. Whenever he did snap, you snapped back, which let him know you weren’t gonna take any of his crap. Sometimes if you crossed a line, he would rebuke you with a swat to the cheek. But you were always ready and willing with your apology – between his legs, on your knees.

“Alright—” Butcher started.

“I’m in. Meet me tomorrow, and don’t forget the stuff.”

In? Tomorrow? Stuff? Ben dragged you away before you could ask. If Butcher and his team had spoken to Ben, you’d bet your bottom dollar that they’d conveniently forgotten about you.

“Ben, I know them. The English bastard falsely arrested me, and they hounded me for information on Cuntess.”

“I’ll deal with it.” He gruffly snapped.

This side of Ben was all business, and you knew better than to cross Ben like this. Getting on the wrong side warranted a visit to the hospital with a well-thought-out lie.

“Okay.”

A heavy hand laid on your heart. Ben could be harsh, but he had a heart of gold and meant well. Your happiness resided in him. If he wasn’t happy, then neither were you. You couldn’t let it disrupt your forever. But something would until she was found. It wasn’t fair for him not to know.

Ben reached a car. He popped the trunk and placed his shield in.

“You gonna get in, or are you gonna stand there looking gormless?”

“Ben. I need to tell you something.”

He turned to you, irritated. “What?”

You stalled, and he gave you that look, meaning he had no patience for your antics.

“Vought took Heather.”

The air stilled, and the tang of burnt metal filled your nostrils. Ben bared his teeth, and the roof edge creaked as it bent under his hands. His breaths came out fast, like a raging bull. You expected another explosion, but nothing.

“Ben?”

At your tentative question, he looked up, fixing you with an intense stare. “I’ll get those fuckers. Don’t you worry.”

And you knew he meant it.

Tags:

“I brought some take out from your favorite place.” He kissed you once more before standing to undress. “I took tomorrow off so I can stay here with you. They don’t need me on set.” His voice was a whisper and you tracked his movements, slowly feeling enough energy to sit up a bit.

Once he was in sweats and a hoodie, he grabbed the bag and joined you on the bed. Your head instantly falling to his shoulder, cravings some form of contact. “Want to share about your books?” He once again kissed your forehead and started removing the containers.

Your stomach gave a grumble as the smell hit your nose. With a scratchy voice you started telling him what had happened in the chapters. He’s focus was entirely on you, occasionally asking a question here or there. When you finished he shared his day with you, stories from set, jokes told amongst the cast. All while keeping himself firmly pressed against your side.

“Thank you for the food.” You signed as you finished the last bite.

He chuckled, placing the empty containers in the bag and pulling you to him. “You never have to thank me love. I want to take care of you no matter what.”

You snuggled closer to him. Breathing him in. Using his solidness to anchor you. His fingers gently combed through your hair as he gently laid down with you, pressing even more kisses to your face.

His chest was gently vibrating and it took you a moment to realize he was singing just above a whisper. Soft enough you had to focus on the words to recognize them.

And there's no mountain too high

No river too wide

Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side

Storm clouds may gather

And stars may collide

But I love you

I love you

You pulled yourself closer to him, a leg over his.

Until the end of time

Come what may

Come what may

I will love you

His hand moved from your head to your back, tracing random patterns that sent tingles down your spin.

The greatest thing you'll ever learn

I will love you

Come what may

Yes I will love you

Come what may

I will love you until my dying day.

“I love you, too.” You whisper against his chest. The heaviness in your own chest lightened as his strong hand held you firmly, as if you’d float away if he let go. ”Sorry I’m having a bad day.”

“You never need to apologize for how you’re feeling. Bad days happen and that’s okay. What’s important is that you remember you’re not alone and you don’t have to go through the bad days by yourself.” You rested your chin on his chest, looking into his beautiful mossy eyes. “I love you. And like I said I’m here for you. I’ll be your light in the dark.” His finger swiped a tear that had slid down your cheek, then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips, meeting them one more time. Squish jumped up on the bed, planting herself on Bens stomach near your hand, nudging it for a pet.

Instead, you had your own little Christmas celebration a few days later, and everyone was due to come round to Ben’s with their partners. You were cooking a full roast dinner for everyone, and Ben had cleaned the place to within an inch of its life. Fairy lights were up everywhere, candles filled the air with hints of cinnamon, and the tree sparkled quietly in the corner. You remembered decorating it with Ben, and smiled at the memory of him laughing at you as you anally made sure every decoration was well placed and facing the right way. He had taken advantage of you reaching up to hang a bauble on a high branch and tickled you relentlessly. You’d kicked and squealed as you rolled around on the floor, and when Ben had landed atop you, breathing heavily, his eyes locked intensely onto yours, you couldn’t help but bring his lips, and with them his whole body, crashing onto you. It was suffocating, really, how much you adored him. 

“How’s it going?” Ben called as you heard him come through the front door and into the kitchen. He was sweaty from the gym, his tshirt sitting snug on his chest. He almost sparkled in the cool December sunlight. 

“Yeah good, all on track.” 

He came up behind you and rested a hand on your hip, leaning across to kiss your cheek. 

“Sorry, I’m sweaty,” he murmured, but there was something about that musky sweet scent that made you hum. “I’m just going to jump in the shower then I’ll come and help.” 

As promised, he wasn’t long and came out of the bedroom in slacks and a shirt, looking handsome and smelling of cologne. 

“What can I do, angel?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

You pointed him to the carrots, already peeled and waiting to be chopped. 

“I can do that,” he nodded, “Discs or batons?” 

“Always batons,” you insisted, and he chuckled. 

“I’m learning new things about you everyday.” 

Music was playing and you had a glass of wine in hand by the time the knock came on the door. As much as you were excited to see your friends, the sound had almost pained you. It was the most exquisite bliss just being with Ben, pottering about the kitchen together, rarely speaking but exchanging loving glances, singing along to the music, peppering each other with chaste but frequent kisses. But you greeted your friends with open arms, and ushered them to the table. You fussed over getting them drinks, and making sure Gwil and Allen’s partners felt welcome and comfortable.

“How is it that we’re at my house but you’re hosting?” Ben muttered to you as you poured out two glasses of wine.

“I can’t help it,” you chuckled. “Will you grab those chipolatas out of the oven?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

As you passed him, you stuck out your cheek and he placed a sloppy kiss on it. 

“You two are sickening,” Lucy smiled as you passed her a glass. You smiled, bashful, but she only continued, “I’m so glad it’s working out for you.”

“Allen told me you guys started seeing each other pretty recently?” Jessica, Allen’s girlfriend, inquired.

“Yeah, only a couple months ago.”

“Is that all?” Gwil’s girlfriend Erin exclaimed, “God, you seem like you’ve been together for years.”

“It’s a match made in heaven,” Lucy winked.

You ate till you feared you would explode and then ate some more — dessert is essential, no matter how full you believe yourself to be. You spent much of the evening getting to know the other girls, exchanging past dating horrors and dishing out the gossip on the boys to each other. For much of the meal you could feel Ben’s eyes on you from the other end of the table, and occasionally you looked up from your plate to see him gazing at you soppily. He would smile, or wink, and you would blush a little but return the gesture. You noticed Joe catch your eye and whisper something to Ben, but your curiosity was quashed as Jessica asked you a question.

“You two are really smitten, huh?” Joe chuckled in Ben’s ear.

Ben faced him, concerned, “Sorry mate, I don’t mean to shove it down your throat.”

Joe chuckled and assured him it was okay, sure he was the only single person at the table but he wasn’t bothered by it. “I’m happy for you, man, honestly.” 

“I don’t know how I got so lucky. It already feels like she’s my whole world.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I did wonder if you were ready to commit yet, you know? I had occurred to me that your feelings might be a rebound, just someone to latch on to, but it really feels like you two are the real deal.”

Ben smiled; it was a comfort to know that other people saw what he felt. Sometimes it scared him, how quickly he had fallen for you, but when he looked over at you an increasingly familiar feeling of certainty and tingling warmth settled over him. You seemed to move in slow motion, a laugh bubbling from you, your glass sitting lazily between your fingers, radiant. The dying light shone like a halo behind you. You glowed. He seemed to gravitate towards you like a magnet finding due north. You were his ground zero, his homing beacon. And he wanted you for the rest of his life. Unlike so many times before that thought didn’t frighten him, it didn’t make his pulse thump in his ears. Instead, he inhaled and took a long sip of his drink to hide his grin.

“She’s perfect for you, man. You’re perfect for each other.”

He looked Joe full in the face and nodded, “I know.” 

When he caught your eye again from across the table he winked and you felt suddenly pulled toward him. You had the urge to hold him tight in your arms and kiss every inch of skin you could find. 

“This is incredible, Y/N, thank’s for cooking!” Gwil complimented, shaking you from the thoughts in your head. The others chimed in with their agreement. 

“It’s my pleasure. Plus I couldn’t let you all endure Ben’s cooking.”

Ben spluttered, gesticulating indignantly, “Why does no one believe I’m a good cook?”

“I’m sure you are,” Rami said holding back a grin, “But you’ve got nothing on our Y/N,”

After everyone had left you lay snuggled on the sofa, half watching a rerun of some old movie and half napping. Ben stroked your hair gently while he fiddled with his phone. 

“Hey, so I’ve been invited to a New Year’s party with some old school friends.” 

“Oh right, sounds fun.” 

You hadn’t really thought about New Year, supposing you would have an evening in with Ben. But if he was going to a party you were sure you could gatecrash whatever Sav was doing. 

“You’d be keen then?” he proposed, hopeful. 

You sat up, “I’m invited? To a party with your mates from school?” 

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He seemed nervous as he continued, “I thought you might enjoy it, you know, getting to know them a bit. You only really know me as an actor and—”

“I’d hope I know you a little better than that,” you said as you nestled closer into him. “But I’d love to come and meet all your friends. But you have to come and meet Savvy.”

He smiled and a tension that you hadn’t previously noticed in his shoulders abated. “It’d be my pleasure.” 

You kissed his cheek, then stroked his jaw to make him face you before planting a kiss on his lips. He hummed, and you both turned back to the TV. 

After a moment you frowned, muttering, “I suppose that’s one step closer to meeting the parents.” 

You both went stiff. 

“We’ll talk about that another time.” 

New Year’s Eve was a blast. You had always found it the most disappointing of he annual celebrations because it turned everyone into one of two people. All those in couples acted sickeningly happy and in love, and all the more keen to shove it down everyone’s throats — much like their tongues — and as you had never been that person they just made you want to throw up. Or it turned you into a sour singleton, bitter at being alone on New Year (again), desperate to find someone to kiss at midnight, the combination of which usually resulted in horrific drunkenness so you were left either holding back your friend’s hair while she vomited in the toilet, or you were the one doing the vomiting. Either way, it wasn’t pleasant, vomit was involved, and the next day was a guaranteed write off. Excellent start to the year. But this year was different. This year, you were the one who was sickeningly happy and instead of vodka making you feel sick, it was the moments when you caught yourself in blatant acts of PDA with Ben. As much as you didn’t want to be that person, you were dizzyingly happy. A few drinks in, with a pleasant buzz of adrenaline and Ben’s arm sitting heavily around your waist, you mingled confidently with Ben’s old school friends and delighted in all the embarrassing teenager stories that they seemed to have stocked in abundance. Your particular favourite was when he’d been sent to the headmaster’s office after he told his chemistry teacher that his ‘salmon’ pink shirt was, “about as salmon as your bald head, sir.” You looked with playful intrigue at the girls that he had had flings with or crushes on, and cheered him on louder than anyone else as he downed his pint in a race. It sounded weird to you, hearing his friends call him ‘Jonesy’, and there were moments when you saw him revert to an older version of himself — more cocky, more brazen, less of the reasoned, intelligent, compassionate man you knew him to be. It didn’t really bother you, but it did make you wonder more about what he had been like before you knew him, and if any of that change had been because of you. But when he held you during the countdown… 10, 9, 8… looking unflinchingly into your eyes as the numbers ticked down… 7, 6, 5… you saw the Ben you knew… 4, 3… and you bathed in him… 2, 1. A chorus of ‘Happy New Year!’ resounded through the room and Ben kissed you fearlessly.

He pulled away but let his forehead rest against yours. “Happy New Year, gorgeous.”

“Happy New Year,” you hummed back, feeling alive and fulfilled and happy.

“Oh you have for sure got it easier,” you laughed, pushing the door open to a busy cafe and scanning the room for your best friend. “This is only two people, and they basically count as one.”

“No way, it’s definitely easier at a party. There’s booze to take the edge off and you can just talk to someone else if it gets awkward. Here I’m trapped.”  

You spotted Savannah and Chris by the window and grinned. “I’m so glad you see it that way. Anyway, it’s just lunch and it’s not like you’ll be alone, I won’t go wondering off to chat to someone else and abandon you in a room full of strangers.” 

“That’s harsh,” he frowned. 

You chuckled and took him by the hand, dragging him over to your friends. Sav turned her head, dark chocolate curls that you’d always envied dancing playfully, and she jumped up to greet you, barely holding in an excited squeal. The two of you spoke constantly and met up whenever you could, but reuniting with her was always a tad melodramatic. 

“Darling! It’s so good to see you, you look radiant,” she beamed as held you at arms length before wrapping you up in a crushing hug. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” she muttered in your era.

You smacked her gently on the arm and reassured her that you weren’t before stepping round her to give her husband, Chris, a hug too. 

Ben stood awkwardly behind you, hands thrust into his pockets, and you shook your head lightly. 

“Um, guys this is my boyfriend, Ben.” 

It occurred to you that you hadn’t actually called him your boyfriend before. You never had ‘the conversation’ and you’d spent most of your time on set where everyone already knew. Even when it had come out that you were together, you never told anyone yourself and people had asked you if you and Ben were “seeing each other” but never if he was your boyfriend. Ben had introduced you to his friends by your name, nothing else. But Ben, always totally collected, didn’t seem to notice the way you stalled, and shook Chris’ outstretched hand. Savvy couldn’t contain herself and went right in for a hug — you knew she was using it to see how cuddly he was, what cologne he used, how muscular his shoulders were. You had tried to reassure Ben over meeting Sav (he knew exactly how important she was to you, she was basically a sister) telling her she wouldn’t be judging and he needn’t worry about making a good impression because you knew he would without trying, but it was blatant that she was sizing him up. 

‘Be nice,’ you mouthed behind Ben’s back.

She shrugged, eyes widening as if to say ‘I don’t know what you mean’. 

You made small talk until the waiter came to take your order. Ben shifted in his seat beside you; he hid it well but you could tell he was nervous, so you gently clasped his hand under the table.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Chris asked. 

“We already know that,” chided Sav impatiently. 

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “I want to hear it from them.”

“Well I suppose you’d say were started dating that night after we went to the pub,” Ben offered, looking at you, “We never actually ‘made it official’.”

“That was, what, two and a half months ago?” you commented.

“Just now was actually the first time you called me your boyfriend.” So he did notice. “It sounded nice,” he whispered, only to you. 

Chris smiled, “So all pretty new then?”

“I guess, but I think we feel settled.” Ben squeezed your hand. 

Conversation flowed freely through the meal, and it particularly heartened you to see Ben and Chris getting on so well because you fully intended to spend much more time together as a four. Every now and again Savvy would catch your eye and grin, pumping her eyebrows. You were so desperate to hear what she thought of him, to get her seal of approval — you knew he was amazing but you wanted her to know it too — so as soon as you had finished your food you announced that you were going to the toilets and Sav was to come with you. 

The second the door closed behind you she burst, “Y/N he’s great. I’ll admit I was skeptical after the whole fingering thing and how long it took you to get together, and him not talking to you, but honestly… he’s great. And he’s perfect for you.”

Relief flooded through you and exploded from your face in a grin. You smothered her in a hug. “I’m so glad.”

“You adore him, don’t you?” 

Your sigh was almost more of a grunt as you effused, “Completely.”

“I knew you liked really him but I had no idea it was this serious already. I don’t blame you though, babe, he’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t he?” You felt like a teenager with a celebrity crush. “And he’s kind and thoughtful, he makes the bed every morning and he smells great—”

“He does smell great.”

“—and he’s charming and so good in bed, like, he’s attentive and considerate but also a fucking machine,” you inhaled, “and he’s funny and so intelligent and he can cook…”

“God, hurry up and marry him already.”

You looked at her honestly, “Don’t even joke, I’ve thought about it.”

Sav laughed brightly, “Of course you have.”

You slumped against the wall and mused longingly, “He’s so pretty.”

“He is,” she nodded, “and what’s more I think he’s a keeper.”

“What have you two been nattering about then?” you smiled as you sat back down next to Ben, sliding up close to him on the bench seat. 

“Just discussing juggling work with starting a family,” Ben stated sedately.

When you pried further that evening, it warmed you to hear Ben talk about how lucky he felt that he was in a profession where he could take a prolonged period off work to help when the babies were born: knowing he wanted kids at all was a relief. He had reminded you that he already knew you wanted three children, because he’d asked you back when you barely knew each other, on the very first day of shooting. It felt like a lifetime ago. Your life, your future, had changed since then. Because now Ben was not only in it, he was all of it.