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Chapter Text

Summer in Atlanta always made Rey re-evaluate her conception of what ‘hot’ could be. As she slowly melted into the seat of her MARTA train, she decided that the key difference was humidity.

Fucking humidity.

Her hair was damp, her shirt was damp, her jeans were damp. Rey wanted to douse herself in an ice-cold bath, and- despite her lackluster memories of home- almost longed for the cooler and less-humid climes of England.

A cold shower was in her future, she decided. That and a packet of ramen, thickened with the last of a rotisserie chicken and stale crackers, though a part of Rey was fantasizing about eating ice cream and gazpacho in her underwear.

Budget, Rey reminded herself, the reminder casual. Budgeting was second nature; eating what was cheap and available was at the very core of her being. Food was food, after all, no matter the circumstances or weather.

Still, Rey thought longingly. Ice cream. Chocolate, vanilla, that salted caramel she had once treated herself to at the creamery near Georgia Tech…

She licked her lips, the gesture almost unconscious, and at the same time caught a glimpse of the man sitting catty-corner to her.

Or, rather, caught a glimpse of what he held in his hands.

(“There’s a lot going on in a well-knit sock.” Maz’s small fingers slowed to execute several stitches perfectly, knits and purls settling neatly into a row. “Decreases and increases, short rows in the heel. Depending on the size, one pair of socks can hold thousands of stitches.”

She lifted the half-knit cuff, spreading the fabric slightly. “See? One stitch is so small- but build stitch on stitch, and you have fabric.”

Rey had worn those socks- light blue, basic rib pattern- until they were spotted with holes, and then she had packed them away, like sacred relics.)

The knitter- a very tall man with temptingly wide shoulders, perhaps in his late twenties- hunched over his creation, metal circular needles flashing as he turned a heel.

Funny how she still remembered the term. Rey watched, half-mesmerized by memory and heat, as the stranger worked with precision, his dark hair falling over his face. He wore black in June, and the yarn he worked with was a dark red and surely wool, how could he stand it in this heat-

The train jerked to a stop- her stop- and Rey scrambled to her feet, gathering her heavy bag and heaving it onto her shoulder. The knitter barely seemed to notice that they had stopped at all, too involved in the thin yarn looped around his fingers and whatever music or podcast was coming through his earbuds. Just another stranger in Atlanta, a city where Rey herself still felt like a stranger.

But.

She almost wished she had introduced herself.

- - -

Rey saw him again nearly a week later, a different sock- navy blue, nearly black- dangling from the needles. He still wore earbuds, but when an elderly woman entered the packed car he immediately gave up his seat, allowing Rey her first good look at his face as he stood near her, arm looped around a pole.

Handsome, she decided, trying not to openly stare. He was so pale that she knew he almost definitely applied sunscreen religiously, unlike her more slapdash approach. Dark eyes, a plush mouth that frankly made Rey jealous, and a thin scar that nearly bisected his face and looked to continue under the collar of his black t-shirt. And his hands… she really liked his hands.

Despite her best efforts to be discrete, his gaze snapped to hers suddenly, catching her mid-gawk. A faint wash of color covered his cheeks, and the part of her that wasn’t embarrassed to be caught staring was fascinated by that blush, by the glimpse of red-tinged earlobes she could see through his hair-

And then he scowled and turned away, his shoulders hunching inward, and disappeared completely into the flow of people when the train stopped only thirty seconds later.

- - -

After roughly twelve years in the British foster system, Rey was practiced in the art of taking care of herself. Most of the homes she had stayed in had been fine; most of the foster parents had been nice, albeit in a distant kind of way. She had heard horror stories from other children- had seen the fading bruises more than once on fresh arrivals at the bigger group homes- and spent some uncomfortable nights in rooms that made her flesh creep, but no one had ever laid an overtly unkind hand on her.

Of course, other than Maz- her foster mother of only six months- no one had really cared about her either. Rey had been little more than eight when she had realized that indifference was the best she could hope for from any adult appointed her guardian (better than dislike, or that interested sweetness that only raised her hopes), and by ten she had become inured to the way some adults mixed her up with other skinny brunettes they had known, addressing her in a string of names until they hit on the right one (Mary-Rose-Jane-Rey).

By the time Rey was a teenager, she knew exactly how to blend into the background of any situation. She was also nearly obsessed with the idea of leaving her home country, feeling almost as if doing so would somehow make her a different person- the kind of person who had friends, and hobbies, and wasn’t the sum of her official file. That urge drove her to ignore everything England had to offer in terms of universities, instead submitting applications to schools in Ireland, Wales, Scotland, and- for reasons she couldn’t quite justify- America.

And somehow, here she was, with a student visa and a full scholarship to Georgia Tech, which came with a host of problems all its own.

Like, for instance, the lack of room and board during the summer. The university was willing to give her a dispensation to stay in her dorm room during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Spring Break- though she had to feed herself while the cafeteria was closed- but summer? No amount of begging would induce them to let her stay during the summer, not without paying to attend the summer sessions, and finding a real job was prohibited by the terms of her visa.

Hence her under-the-table job repairing vacuums and other small appliances for Plutt, her illegal if cheap sublet, and her scrupulous devotion to the sale ads and coupons for the grocery store in her neighborhood. After three summers of all of the above, Rey had scraping by down to an art.

Rey stood from her chair, stretching to ease the kinks in her shoulders and back. The work itself she didn’t mind, even if the hours were long and Plutt paid her less than she was worth. What she minded was the creeping feeling that somehow- despite crossing an ocean and settling in an entirely new country, and even making a few friends- she was still blending into the background of her own life, ever the abandoned child worthy of nothing more than indifference.

“That needs finishing, Your Majesty.” Plutt appeared from seemingly nowhere, glaring at her and the half-fixed vacuum on her work table. “I told the customer it would be ready when we open tomorrow.”

Plutt never did anything but glare, and he was always underestimating- purposefully, Rey thought- just how long any repair job would take. She glanced at the clock: almost seven pm, nearly closing time. “I need at least two more hours.”

“Then lock up when you’re done, and work faster next time.”

Rey indulged herself in sticking her tongue out briefly at the man’s back as he left, then settled into her seat, resigned to another late night.

- - -

June passed slowly, one hot indistinguishable day after another. Rey spotted the knitter twice on the train, both times working on socks: once black, and once (startlingly) lilac in a delicate, lacy pattern. The latter looked smaller than the other socks, and she decided that he likely had a girlfriend who benefited from his talented hands, in more ways than one.

The fact that Rey found the idea disappointing made her feel a little obsessed.

The antique store next to Plutt’s shop closed, and within a week the storefront changed hands. Rey eyed the change one early morning at the beginning of July, wondering what their new neighbor would be. At the moment all she could see through the windows were drop cloths and paint cans, nothing that gave her any clues. A used book-store would be nice, she thought wistfully. Or a coffee shop.

Not that it really mattered, she decided after a moment with a tired shrug. Every dollar in her pocket was spoken for.

And that had seemed to be that, until she left work a few days later to find that the shop boasted a sign almost too trendy for their particular neighborhood.

“Not what I expected,” Rey admitted aloud to herself, surprised by the flutter in her stomach as she read the name Varykino Yarns.

“Gentrification,” Plutt said with a grunt as he locked the door. “Should get me some business, though- all those housewives coming by for arts and crafts.”

Rey didn’t look at him, resisting the urge say something biting in reply.

Someone was moving in the depths of the store, not bothering with the benefit of overhead lights. Rey squinted, trying to catch a glimpse, but only saw a dark shadow beyond her own reflection.

“Don’t be late,” Plutt said as he strode off.

Rey, who had nothing better than a peanut butter sandwich and a library book to look forward to, lingered on the sidewalk for a few minutes more, snapping her fingers in an almost unconscious gesture. Was it the memory of Maz that inspired this pull in her gut, this softness?

Maybe the knitter from the train, she considered with a roll of her eyes. He did keep slipping into her thoughts.

Crush, her mind supplied. You have a crush.

Rey snapped her fingers for the final time and turned away, lugging her bag toward the nearest station and sweating under the setting sun.

- - -

She allowed herself to be swept away by the heat of summer, looking forward with almost desperate intensity to the start of the school year when she could finally return to the boxy confines of her dorm and the comforting abundance of her meal plan. She would still have to put up with Plutt on the weekends, but at least every dollar she earned would be one she could save. One more year of school, one more year of vacuums and toaster ovens, and then she would be… somewhere. Graduate school, or working for some engineering firm, or even changing oil and rotating tires for awhile.

Peanut, Finn’s most recent email had read, come home to bloody London already.

Rey had answered him with a blithe handful of lines that never even came close to addressing what he had said. For Finn, London was home, and he was perfectly happy there with his university work and museum internship. Finn was content, and settled, and still slightly bemused- maybe even a little hurt- by Rey’s insistence on staying as far away as humanly possible.

The shop next door bloomed with color seemingly overnight, a rainbow of yarn overflowing temptingly in cubbies and in baskets. Rey- who arrived for work well before the shop opened and left at least an hour after it closed- got into the habit of examining the store through the window on her way home every night, trying to spot changes in the dark room: a new sample cardigan, a different basket of yarn, the occasional half-finished project lying on the table.

The shop, Rey decided with a surprising amount of pleasure, looked like it might actually thrive.

It was the beginning of August by the time she had a chance to see the place open, though it was when she least expected it. Rey was leaving work- late, as usual- and thinking absently about what she had available for dinner, only to find herself facing a shop blazing with light and inhabited by a small crowd of people, chatting and laughing as they worked.

Not a newly introduced crowd, Rey thought, experienced by necessity in reading a room. This group- a mix of men and women of various ages- knew each other, and had likely known each other for a while.

As she lingered, one of the younger women lifted her head and turned toward the back of the shop, speaking to someone out of sight.

When the knitter from the train stepped into view, Rey- strangely, for no reason she could discern- wasn’t surprised, though her breath did catch in her throat. His arms crossed over his chest as he listened to whatever the woman was saying, a slight smile on his face. He was a known part of this group, too, Rey felt instantly. On the train he had seemed reserved and guarded- and really, who wasn’t on public transportation- but here he was as relaxed as he might be at home.

Rey took a step back into the gathering shadows, watching as he moved closer to the table, saying something that made the others laugh.

“You’re being weird,” she told herself under her breath, giving him one last admiring and guilty look before turning away. “Really, really weird.”

- - -

“You work for that creep next door.”

The voice was unexpected, both in tone (deep and rich, inspiring a shiver along her spine) and in the fact someone was talking to her at all. Rey, from her spot on a bench, lifted her eyes up- and up, and up, realizing as she did so exactly who stood in front of her and hoping desperately that he hadn’t caught her staring the day before.

“I do,” she said after a moment, her mouth dry, not even bothering to pretend that Plutt was anything other than a creep. “You own the yarn shop, don’t you?”

“I do.” He sat beside her on the bench, messenger bag on his lap. He still wore all black, like some modern Hades, and Rey found herself wondering if he might be taking applications for a Persephone. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” she answered evasively. “You moved the shop from somewhere else, right? It seems… established.”

“Needed more space.” His body was angled toward her, and she was startled to see what looked like actual interest on his face. “You’re another transplant.”

“Guilty,” she said with a shrug, and glanced down at the loop of yarn peeking out of his bag. “More socks?” she asked, desperate to divert attention from her accent and the inevitable questions that followed: why are you here? Why did you move? Do you miss your family?

He pulled out a ball of yarn- black, again- and a barely started cuff. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me,” he said, a low note of amusement in his voice.

“It’s been awhile since I saw anyone knit,” she admitted, stroking a fingertip over the yarn. Wool, just like she had thought. “Either you have a half-dozen unfinished projects at home or you’re very fast.”

“The latter. I’ve been knitting for nearly twenty years; picked up speed as I went along.” One corner of his mouth curled up in an almost sardonic smile. “I did not, as many people assume, learn to knit in prison.”

Rey didn’t bother to repress her startled laugh. “People actually say that to your face?” she asked in disbelief, watching as his smile eased into something more natural.

“On a surprisingly regular basis.” He toyed with the thin strand of yarn connecting the ball and the cuff, looking a bit discomforted. “I think I might have glared at you a few weeks back,” he said slowly.

“You did,” she agreed, amazed that he even remembered the incident in the first place. “But staring is rude, so I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t.” He glanced briefly up at her, then back at the yarn. “I was having a terrible day. I’m sorry.”

The silence that fell after his apology felt like the end of not only their conversation, but also the end of every conversation they might have feasibly had together. Rey knew that kind of silence intimately- had heard it from school friends, foster parents, case-workers- but had never figured out how to shift that silence into something again filled with possibility. The approach of her train felt like the rescue it was as the Rey gathered her bag, trying not to look at his bent head.

She stood as the train slowed, and then- surprising even herself- words tumbled from her mouth. “You have a good face.” She met his eyes, blushing. “I was staring because I really like looking at it.”

Flirting was not something Rey regularly attempted, and every word she said confirmed the reason why: she was shit at it. He was watching her with a dumbfounded look, as if realizing the exact same thing.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, scrubbing suddenly sweaty palms against her jeans. “That was uncalled for.”

Rey turned, darting through people on the platform until she was safely inside the car, where she dropped into an empty seat.

And then he was there, sitting next to her and smelling better than anyone had a right to smell in the August heat. “Are you hungry?”

Rey blinked even as her stomach inaudibly reminded her that yes, she was hungry, thank you. “What?”

He was watching her in a way that was intrigued, almost hopeful, and altogether an expression that no one had ever bent on Rey before in her life. “Would you like to get something to eat?”

Rey thought of her budget, of the slim amount of cash in her bag, and nearly said no.

That look, though…

“Yes.”

- - -

“It was my grandmother’s store,” he explained as they sat in the small deli. Ben- Ben Solo, a name that Rey found rather charming- ate a crisp, barely a quarter of the way through his food. Rey, despite intentional restraint, had already eaten half of hers. “She taught me to knit when I was nine.” He shrugged, looking almost sheepish. “I had problems controlling my temper as a kid.”

Rey had learned early to keep her emotions locked down tight, but she had been tempted by the urge to scream and throw things often enough to be sympathetic. “Did it help?”

“She helped,” Ben replied plainly. “My parents had a really acrimonious divorce, and afterward they kept shipping me back and forth, or to other family members. Grandma Padmé was the only one I liked, most of the time. I learned to knit to make her happy, and kept it up because it was like carrying her with me wherever I went.”

Rey nodded, thinking of the tattered socks still tucked among her belongings. “I was very fond of someone who knitted,” she said carefully. “She tried to teach me, but I was never any good at it.”

His gaze was almost too perceptive. “Family member?”

“Foster mother,” she admitted after a moment, bracing herself for whatever might come next. “I wasn’t there for very long. Stroke.”

He just looked at her, neither pity nor discomfort in his expression. Tender was the closest descriptor Rey could come up with, and no one ever looked tenderly at Rey. “Would you like to learn?”

This time Rey managed to choke back her laugh. The price of the sandwich had been bad enough; yarn and needles and lessons were right out. “No, thank you.”

“If you change your mind, I’m a good teacher.” Quiet amusement played across his face, and she remembered, belatedly, that lacy lilac sock. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“Have a reputation, do you?”

He shrugged. “Yarn is a small world.”

Rey wasn’t sure she had ever heard anything quite as sexy as those words spoken so confidently in that voice. “Out of curiosity,” she said after a moment, cautious, “are we having dinner because you’re desperate for new students, or-”

She faltered, and finally- regrettably- said the first thing that came to mind. “Or are you interested in my purl… stitch.”

His mouth twitched as she blushed furiously. “Purling,” he said clearly, humor evident in his voice. “Purling two together, even.”

“And you’re not currently purling with anyone else?” she asked, needing to know the answer. “Like, for instance, someone who wears lilac lace socks?”

He sputtered, dropping his head to his hands, his shoulders shaking. Finally, lifting his gaze: “I do occasionally knit gifts for my mother.”

“Oh.”

Ben was grinning, and it was a sight to behold. “Oh, indeed.”

“I am also not purling,” she clarified in a mutter, more embarrassed than she had been in quite a while. “But I am not averse to doing so.”

“Could we exchange numbers, then?” he asked, nudging her fingertips with his on the table-top. “So that we can discuss performing some decreases together.”

The distinctly wicked look in his eyes made her toes curl in her trainers. “That kind of decrease usually leads to an increase,” she replied when she could again trust her tongue, having no clue where this particular Rey had come from: the Rey who flirted in awkward knitting euphemisms and made jokes about babies.

“Maybe we could discuss that particular pattern down the road.” He was clearly entertained, and did not look at all put off by her joke. “I’d love your number, Rey.”

And Rey- who apparently was helpless in the face of Ben Solo smiling hopefully- gave him her number without an ounce of regret.

Chapter Text

Texting was an innovation Rey had picked up relatively late in life, compared to her peers, but in general she liked it. The cheery, semi-regular messages from Rose and Jess always made her feel a little less alone, even when school was out and they were back in their respective home towns. They texted with the same casual disregard for form and punctuation that they used online, the use of capslock and shorthand a language Rey had learned to parse but not quite replicate.

Ben, on the other hand, texted in actual sentences, which seemed almost charmingly old-fashioned and meant Rey didn’t have to worry about accidentally sending him an emoji loaded with unknown connotations in response. She could use her words instead, end the phrase with a period, and move on.

Do you want to meet for dinner tonight?

Rey checked the time, then considered the dismantled roomba in front of her. I won’t be done with work until 8.

Her eyes kept glancing back at the phone as she waited for a response, until the screen finally went black. Forcing herself to concentrate, she continued to clean out the long hair trapped in the guts of the machine.

The screen flashed, and she immediately dropped what she was doing to read his text.

No problem. Would The Varsity be okay?

They were separated by only a wall. Rey briefly considered taking a break- something she rarely did- and walking next door to speak to him face to face. Instead she wrote her reply, not sure if she was quite ready to actually enter his territory. Sounds great. 8:30?

See you then.

An ellipses, and then: I like your face, too.

She stared at those five words for a long moment, a half-realized smile playing over her lips.

It was nice, being thought of.

- - -

“Do you ever do anything but work?”

Rey looked up from her onion rings, one brow raised. “My scholarship doesn’t cover summers.” She allowed a beat to pass, then added: “I can’t afford to fly back to England. Even if I did, the only person waiting for me there is a former foster brother.” She considered the words and shrugged. “Still my brother, really, no matter what the law says.”

If Ben realized that her work was not exactly legal- and she guessed that he did- he was kind enough not to say so aloud. Instead he ate a fry, nodding slowly. Voices rang from every corner of The Varsity, but their small nook was relatively quiet. “After high school I never went back to Denver,” he offered after a moment. “Or Boston. Both of my parents complain- they complain about it all the time- but the thought kind of makes me panic.”

Rey sipped her soda, feeling the set of her shoulders relax minutely. “I don’t want to go back,” she admitted quietly, staring down into her drink. “Eventually I’ll have to, probably, but… I waited for my parents for years.” She didn’t look up at him, but his silence felt encouraging, in an odd way. “I still remember them. They took me to a park in south London when I was six and told me to wait. I never saw them again.”

“How long were you in the park?”

He sounded angry- a muted kind of anger, as if he were throttling the emotion back with all of his being- but she instinctively knew his anger wasn’t directed at her, and felt the better for it. “Two days.” She met his gaze, trying to fake bravery she didn’t really feel. Rey rarely dated, at least in part because of this moment: when interest shifted to pity or cooled entirely, leaving her feeling distinctly like something broken. “I probably would have been found sooner, but I hid whenever a stranger came by.”

Ben’s mouth was set in a firm line, and his hands were pressed flat on the table in front of him. “Idiots,” he said decisively, an entire world of feeling in that one word, and pushed a peach fried pie across the table toward her.

Rey, who had heard every variation of the poor dear speech over the years, appreciated both his brevity and the offering of food. “Could have been worse,” she said lightly, closing her hand possessively over the treat and dragging it closer. “What about you? How did you end up in Atlanta?”

He seemed to force himself to relax, and when he spoke again it was in a softer voice. “Grad school was an issue.”

“So you ran across the country?” She pitched the question low, toying with the wrapper from her straw.

“My adviser… he was the department head.” Ben broke one of his fries in half, his brow furrowed. “He managed to develop a kind of cult around himself, and for a while I fell for it. He treated me like a protege of sorts; made me think I was destined for greatness.”

Rey could think of several people from her childhood like that, though they had operated on a smaller scale. “He bound up all your self-worth in him, then tried to exploit it.”

Ben blinked, startled, then nodded. “Basically, yeah. I ended up abandoning the program without graduating.” He smiled faintly, almost bitterly. “And then my grandmother asked me to come and stay with her for a while, and I just… never left. She died two years ago, but by that point I had already taken over the store completely.”

“And now you’re…”

She scrutinized him and hazarded a guess. “Twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-nine,” he replied, propping his chin in his hand. “Too old for you?”

“Eight years isn’t too bad,” she said, aiming for casual, and picked up her burger. Rey considered it with more attention than it was due and then put it down again without taking a bite. “I lived in seven foster homes over twelve years,” she admitted, meeting his gaze straight on. “Making lasting connections isn’t something I’m very good at.”

He seemed to take that statement in stride, though his expression softened. “I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

As far as Rey could tell he was entirely in earnest. “Okay, then.”

“Okay.” His mouth curled into a smile, one that made Rey’s heart flutter even on such relatively short acquaintance. “I’m looking forward to it.”

- - -

For the first time since Rey had arrived in Georgia, she had an extra pair of hands available to help her move into her dorm.

Not that she had asked Ben. She had simply mentioned her coming move, and he had offered, and somehow here he was, hefting her box of carefully curated books. “Is this it?” he asked, a heavy duffel bag dangling from one shoulder.

Rey glanced around her small sublet and nodded. She carried a second duffel and held the handle of a large rolling suitcase. “That’s it.”

He looked as if he had things to say, but to her relief he simply said, “I brought my car.”

Having a boyfriend- if that’s what he was- apparently had unexpected perks. Perks like car ownership and muscled arms that she couldn’t seem to stop peeking at, and she supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she could theoretically touch them. She hadn’t, yet- hadn’t done anything, really, despite their initial flirting over decreases and increases.

He watched her, though. She caught him looking at her in the same way she peeked at him: admiring, almost tempted, as if at any moment his hand might settle at the small of her back or curve around her shoulder.

“I’d like to make you dinner sometime soon,” he said after pulling into traffic. “I promise that I won’t poison you; my grandmother taught me well,” he added, a note of teasing in his voice.

Rey wasn’t entirely certain what that dinner would come part and parcel with, but guessed that he probably wouldn’t toss her over his shoulder the moment he had her entirely alone. “That sounds good.”

“Would Friday work?”

Even with her class load Rey had more free time during the school year than she ever did during the summer. “Sure. Should I bring anything?”

“Just you.” He looked surprisingly tense as he drove, his hands locked on the wheel. “My apartment’s near a station, or I could pick you up…?”

“I’ll take the train.” She hesitated. “Thank you, though. I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“You aren’t.” He glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. “I wouldn’t mind if you were,” he continued, his voice low in a way she particularly liked. “I know we’re still basically on our best behavior, but I would love for you to be comfortable with me.”

Rey fiddled with the hem of her shirt, considering his profile. “It’s habit, by now,” she admitted after a moment. “Making trouble as a foster kid- even in small ways- always meant large repercussions.”

“I had a taste of that, once,” he replied, his jaw firming in the way it always did when he made the rare reference to his graduate program. His right hand lifted from the wheel, resting briefly on her knee before returning to its place. “Not the same, I know,” he added softly. “I’m not trying to make your experiences less.”

“I know.” Hesitantly she touched his arm, lightly stroking her fingertips over the bend of his elbow. “I have plenty of bad habits,” she offered. “I’m very possessive about my food. I will never share my dessert with you.”

The corner of his mouth that she could see lifted into a smile. “I hog the covers.”

“When I can get away with it I eat lo mein with my fingers.”

“I sneeze so loudly that I’ve been known to scare small children.”

“I greet every cat that crosses my path.”

“That’s not a bad habit; that’s normal.” He laughed quietly. “I like cats. Dogs, too, but I appreciate how choosy cats are. You have to earn their affection.”

Small wonder he liked her, then, Rey thought with amusement.

“I have three,” he added.

“Three?” Rey found herself giggling, charmed by the idea of Ben Solo under a pile of cats. “Ben, there isn’t a speck of cat hair on you.”

“The hairless kind.” He grinned when she snorted in reply. “What? They’re perfectly regal little beasts, and when I found them at the rescue they had to come as a group. They’re tightly bonded littermates.” He paused. “And they’d already been there for nearly a year.”

“You knit them sweaters, don’t you?”

He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You’ll have to stick around to find out.”

Campus was a madhouse, as was traditional for moving day. Ben navigated the sea of cars and unwary students with sudden grim silence, finding a space miraculously close to her building. “Is the food any good here?” he asked as they began unloading her things.

Rey shrugged. “There’s a lot of it.”

“That works, too.”

He stood out everywhere they went, but especially here. There was no mistaking him for a student as they walked halls of painted cinder-block, past temporarily tidy message boards.

“All dorms look alike,” he said quietly as he followed her, a thread of amusement in his voice. “It’s like UCLA all over again.”

“Good memories?” she asked, relaxed enough to tease.

“Hungover ones.”

The door to her suite jerked open before Rey could do more than put her key in the lock.

“Rey! We-”

Rose stopped mid-sentence, staring up at Ben. “My God,” she said in seeming awe. “Where did you find him?”

“MARTA,” Rey replied, her face hot. “Rose, Ben Solo. Ben, Rose Tico.”

As she watched he shifted her heavy box of books to one arm with ease, extending his right hand to Rose. “Nice to meet you.”

“Remind me to spend more time on MARTA,” Rose said as she shook hands, almost in a daze, then snapped out of it with a smile. “Come in!”

Their suite was just three small bedrooms and a bathroom branching off an even smaller hall, but Rey already felt more at home than she ever had in her sublet. She carried her things into her room, dropping the duffel she carried onto a mattress that squeaked- and unexpectedly blushed anew, ducking her head. She’d never cared about squeaks in a mattress before, but with Ben standing behind her ideas of what else might make a mattress squeak seemed to crowd her mind.

Clearly untroubled by such thoughts, Ben calmly unloaded his burden, placing the box of books carefully on the bare desk. Rose hovered in the doorway, but after one glance from Rey grinned and disappeared into her own room.

“Do you need anything else?” Ben caught her right hand, a small smile on his face. “A ride to the store?”

“I’m good. Thank you- thank you so much.” She held his gaze for a long moment, then stepped closer, slipping her left arm around him in a tight embrace.

He always smelled so good. Rey closed her eyes as his free arm wrapped around her shoulders and gentle, brief pressure pressed against her head.

A kiss, she realized, leaning in a little bit more. He’d kissed her hair.

“Your suite-mate is dying to interrogate you,” he murmured, smoothing his hand in a caress against her shoulder.

“She’s a close friend,” Rey mumbled against his chest, wondering why, exactly, she’d waited this long to hug him.

“Then I don’t want to get on her bad side,” he said with quiet humor. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Definitely.” She let go with reluctance, her hand still clasped in his. “We’ll talk before then?”

“Yes. I want to hear about your first day.”

And then he kissed her hand.

Rey hadn’t even been aware that people still did that, but the brush of his lips against her skin, the intent look in his eyes, all made her wonder why the hell it had ever gone out of style.

Rose practically tackled her after he was out of Rey’s sight. “Rey, he is the hottest man I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re not wrong,” Rey replied a bit absently, looking down the hall. The back of her hand still seemed to buzz.

“I can’t wait to tell Jess.” Rose pulled her back, slamming the door shut. “Will you please tell me- for science,” she clarified, “if he is as well-endowed as he looks.”

Rey blinked. “I don’t know.”

Rose raised a brow, but didn’t look very surprised. “Keep that question in mind, then.”

- - -

Rey liked school- she always had, even if her schoolmates had often teased her unmercifully as a child.

Still, she found herself a bit distracted during her first few days of classes as she waited impatiently for Friday to arrive.

“This is unheard of,” Jess said as Rey nervously twitched her blouse straight. “I’ve never seen you this way about anyone.”

“He’s sweet,” Rey mumbled, leaning closer to the bathroom mirror to examine her makeup.

“And according to Rose his hands are practically the size of your head.”

“Not really.” Rey paused, a smile flickering over her face. “He has beautiful hands.”

“I really need to meet this paragon.” Jess’s experienced gaze flicked over her outfit, an expression of approval settling on her face. “Do you need to talk about anything?”

Rey looked down, rummaging through her skimpy selection of makeup. “Like what?”

“Like first times.” Jess glanced over her shoulder into the empty hall, then closed the bathroom door for good measure. “You barely let us touch you, Rey. You’re very discrete, but I have some theories.”

Rey considered the depths of her makeup bag for a long moment, then put it aside and turned. “I wasn’t touched often,” she said carefully, unsure exactly how to phrase what she needed to say. “A lot of my foster parents avoided it in general… and it was easier to leave if I never connected to anyone.” She paused, then added with a dry laugh, “And I was always sent somewhere else, eventually.”

Jess didn’t attempt to hug her, and at that moment Rey was grateful for space. “You need to tell him that,” she said instead, her voice gentle.

“I think he’s figured it out,” Rey replied, forcing herself to keep her eyes on Jess. “He’s been very circumspect. But… I’ll tell him.”

“Good.” Jess pulled her phone from her pocket. “Now, give me his full name, address, and phone number in case I need to call the cops. And if you do stay the night, let me know.” She grinned mischievously. “Otherwise your curfew is midnight, young lady.”

- - -

Rey was not surprised to find that Ben lived in a nice neighborhood. It wasn’t one of the wealthier enclaves, or incredibly trendy, but it was dotted with a number of coffee shops, pubs, and bustling restaurants. The actual building he lived in was well-maintained and secure, but nothing overly intimidating.

Very nice, Rey decided as the elevator rose smoothly. A safe neighborhood, even after dark.

Ben ushered her into his apartment with a smile and a light caress to her upper back. “Hi.”

“Hi.” On impulse Rey rose to her toes and kissed his cheek, her lips brushing over the line of his scar. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” she said once her heels met the floor. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he answered, and bent down to press a kiss against her own cheek. “Really good.”

There was a thump and a patter of paws as a small cat hurried over to join them, its odd face examining Rey with almost regal disdain.

“Bastila,” Ben explained as the cat sniffed her shoes. “She’s the ringleader.”

Rey knelt and offered her hand, holding still as Bastila eyed her cautiously. Two other cats crept up, both the same mix of muted beige and gray. “Which one is Revan?” she asked quietly as Bastila sniffed at her fingers.

“The one on the right. The other is Breha.” Her eyes were on the cats, but she knew he was watching her. “You’ve read the Kenobi books.”

“I love them.” Rey eased onto the ground as all three cats came closer, Bastila’s whiskers twitching. “And they were a constant when I was growing up- practically every library had the entire series on a shelf somewhere.”

“I insisted on packing all ten books every time my parents put me on a plane.” He shrugged when she looked up at him, her neck craning, a wry smile on his face. “I, uh, figured out early on that doing so usually incurred an extra baggage fee.”

She laughed, a blurry image of an annoyed teen Ben cramming thick books into a suitcase with his t-shirts and jeans popping into her head. As she moved back to her knees he extended a hand, helping Rey to her feet. “Do you still have them?”

“Over there.” He gestured toward a sizable bookshelf, where she could faintly see the distinctive binding of the Kenobi books, as well as some other favorites of hers. “I really do like them- the fee was just a bonus.”

One of the cats- Breha, Rey thought- followed them into the kitchen as the other two languorously walked back to the sofa.

“You really can cook,” Rey said appreciatively as she took in his kitchen. Two pans in use on the stove, something in the oven, and everything smelled wonderful.

“Cooking makes sense.” He glanced at her as he stirred the contents of one of the pans. “I cooked… I cooked a lot in grad school. It was one of the few methods of stress-relief I allowed myself.”

“Do you still like doing it?”

“I do.” He turned, leaning back against the counter. “A lot of my constants came from my grandmother. I think my parents are still trying to figure out how that happened- trying to figure out me, really.”

Breha propped her front paws on Rey’s leg, and she carefully caressed the cat’s head. Like suede, Rey thought with a smile. “From what you’ve said, I’m surprised that they’re surprised.”

“They’re good people.” Ben paused, his eyes on Breha as she butted against Rey’s hand. “Maybe not good parents, though.” He shot her a crooked grin. “They hate my cats.”

“Heresy.” She plopped down to the floor, crossing her legs, and gently scritched the cat behind the ears. “This one is Breha, right? I’d hate to keep thinking of her by the wrong name.”

“That is Breha.” Ben turned back to the stove, his stance relaxed. “She’s the sweetest.”

Breha curled up on her lap, purring loudly. “I can see that.”

A strange apartment, a man she was still coming to know, one happy cat on her lap. Comfortable, Rey realized. She felt comfortable, even safe, like she had been there for years.

Over their meal- the best Rey had eaten in a long time- she dared to ask a question she’d held back for several weeks. “How did you get that scar?” she asked, then quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me; I shouldn’t have asked.”

Ben didn’t flinch, though he did pale slightly. “No, I can tell you.” He stared down at his plate for a long moment, then carefully put down his knife and fork. “My adviser… Professor Snoke.” He spoke the name with a grim weight. “I spent nearly two years basically worshiping the man, and I wasn’t very… kind… then.”

“You seem very kind now,” she interjected softly, and his mouth twitched into a slight smile.

“My grandmother and a lot of therapy,” he explained with a shrug. “But then… it was a very toxic environment. And one day, my only actual friend in the department dropped out.” His jaw visibly clenched. “When I went to speak with her, Bazine was raging… because Snoke had stolen her research, her groundbreaking research.” He sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “So I started doing some digging, and found four other women who claimed the same thing.”

Ben shook his head, the move almost violent. “No, not claimed- they were right. He had been their adviser, and he had stolen their work. Two of them tried to tell and were basically blacklisted from academia. Bazine knew her only option, if she wanted to stay in the field, was to keep quiet and transfer to a different program.”

“You did something,” Rey said with certainty. “What did he do to you?”

“I did something stupid.” Ben sighed, rubbing his hand down one side of his face. “We went to a conference- just a few hours away- and Snoke was driving. For some reason on the way back I decided to confront him.”

The bleak expression that crossed his face almost made Rey move toward him, but she kept her seat.

“And he just laughed.” Ben shook his head again. “Then he hit the accelerator.”

At that Rey did stand, her napkin falling to the ground as she took the few steps toward him. He took her hand, looking up at her. “He was fine,” Ben continued. “Just some scrapes and bruises. I nearly got sliced in half by part of the windshield.” A crooked smile that held no humor briefly flashed across his face. “It was enough to almost make me believe in magic.”

“It makes you look very dashing,” Rey said after a moment, culling the words from every Regency era novel she had ever read. “Please tell me he’s in jail.”

He squeezed her hand. “He’s teaching Tacitus in the midwest, just as academically revered as ever. And after? There I was, loopy from pain meds in the hospital, and he came in, looked at me, and said, ‘I expect to see you in class tomorrow’.”

“He did not,” Rey said in outrage, her free hand clenching in a fist.

“Oh, he did.” Ben toyed with the fingers of the hand he held, his touch gentle. “I dropped out as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

“Good.” Rey scowled. “What a bastard.”

“The day I glared at you? I had just run into my main rival from the program.” He ducked his head. “Hux is also a bastard, and he did his best to make me feel like scum.”

“He’s scum,” Rey muttered, willing to ascribe the title to someone she had never met. After a moment she smoothed back his hair with her free hand, biting her bottom lip as his thumbs caressed the palm of her other hand. “I like you a lot.”

He lifted his gaze to hers, his face soft. “I like you a lot, too.”

Dinner was a lost cause after that. Instead they moved to the couch, where Rey cautiously sat on the middle cushion. Ben sat at an angle in the corner, leaning slightly toward her.

Rey looked down at her hands, laughing when one of the cats abruptly streaked over her lap to run across the room. “I’m not used to being touched,” she admitted, deciding it was best not to wind her way to the main point. “At all. I’ve dated, but I’ve never really done anything.”

“That’s fine.” He shifted, somehow modifying his body language into something eminently approachable. “This is all on your timetable.”

Rey considered his words, and the earnest expression on his face- then moved to the right, gingerly situating herself under his arm. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah.” His fingertips brushed briefly against the skin of her upper arm. “You pick.”

Rey spent the entirety of the movie cuddled under his arm, the cats lounging around them.

“Need anything?” he asked her about halfway through, his breath ruffling her hair.

“No.” She gently ran her fingertips along Revan’s back, her lips curling into a smile as his paws flexed. “I’m great.”

Chapter Text

Rey finished replacing the casing on an antique radio with a satisfied air, made all the more smug by a glance at the time and her empty work table. For just the fourth time in her three years with Plutt, she had finished her work early- a little over an hour early. She gathered her things quickly, hoping to duck past her boss without being handed another assignment.

“Done already?” he asked before she had even hefted the bag onto her shoulder, sounding mildly disgruntled.

“I am.” She met his gaze straight on, guessing his dueling thoughts: he didn’t want to pay her to do nothing, but if a customer came in…

After a moment he nodded with a scowl, and she walked quickly past him to freedom.

Fall seemed to be late in coming, but there was a definite crispness to the late October air as she burst out onto the sidewalk. Rey slowed her pace as she walked toward the shop next door, quickly finding Ben through the window. What looked like the same group of people from months before was gathered within, and he was seated at the large table with them, either a sleeve or a scarf on his needles.

An unbidden smile tugged at her lips at the sight of him, her cheeks growing hot as she registered the mild throbbing between her legs. She’d been having dreams about him, dreams of his mouth hot against her neck and his hands everywhere, and continually waking up unsatisfied was wearing on her nerves.

It still wasn’t enough to make her to fall into bed with him.

Not yet.

He lifted his head and caught a glimpse of her through the window, a smile spreading across his face as he came to his feet, knitting left abandoned on the table. Rey slipped inside before he reached the door, inhaling the hint of cinnamon in the air.

“You’re off early,” he murmured, wrapping her in an embrace that had become a regular part of their relationship but no less thrilling. “Can you stay?” He pulled back enough to meet her gaze, his voice still quiet. “We could go back to my place after I close; order some food.”

“I’d like that.” Despite their audience she leaned into him a little, her arms around his back.

“Is this the famous Rey?” one of the men at the table asked.

Ben released her, a slight smile on his face. “Yes,” he replied. “Be polite.” He took her hand, leading her deeper into the shop past displays of eye-catching yarn. “These are the Knights of Ren,” he told her, his smile turning a bit self-conscious. “Like I told you.”

“Your Dungeons & Dragons group?”

“His long-suffering D&D group,” one of the older women said, a crochet hook in her hand and a look of mischief on her face. “If he ever asks you to join his band of knights and follow him into the wilderness, say no.”

“Terrible campaign,” someone else agreed, grinning wickedly. “I lost a hand.”

“I lost an eye.”

“I lost my life,” a waifish young woman said in an utterly deadpan tone. “Thanks, Kylo.”

Ben looked to be repressing a laugh. “The next campaign went much better.”

“You’re right,” the woman who claimed to have lost a hand agreed. “I only lost a toe, that time.”

The group introduced themselves, and Rey- with the ease of long practice- memorized and matched each name to a face. As they resumed their conversation she left her bag in what looked like an inconspicuous spot, then began meandering through the shop, touching different hanks of yarn lightly. Wool, cashmere, bison, alpaca; neutral hues, vibrant hues. She spent a long moment stroking a small skein of qiviut, scarcely believing how incredibly soft it was against her fingertips.

Finally, she came upon a smaller table covered with half-disassembled machinery. Curious, she examined the pieces, trying to figure out its purpose.

“It’s an electric yarn winder,” Ben said, and when she looked up he had his hands in his pockets and a soft expression on his face.

He did that all the time, that look, and always in her direction. Rey still wasn’t used to it, and thought she might never be.

“I managed to fix it last time it broke, but I think I might have actually made it worse in the long run,” he admitted. “It ate a skein of cashmere yesterday.”

Rey chuckled, looking back toward the pieces. “I could take a go at it, if you don’t mind doing without for a few days. It looks fairly straightforward.”

“That would be great.” He lifted a hand to stroke her hair, and she instinctively leaned her head into his palm. When she glanced up at him again that softness had intensified into something that made her heart beat faster. “I’ll get you a box,” he added after a moment.

As she did her best not to stare after him, one of the men- Michael- said, “Thank God; we’ve been after him to get a professional to fix BB-8 for ages.”

Rey smiled as she began to gather the pieces of the small machine. “BB-8?”

“Ball Buster 8000,” he answered, straight-faced.

“That’s not what it’s called,” Ben said dryly as he returned, a cardboard box in his hand. “Respect the tools of the craft.”

“Ball Buster 8000 is an extremely respectful name,” Zoey protested. “So quick! So fast! And it only works for the worthy.”

“It works for everyone, otherwise I have to appease pissed-off customers who complain that it mangled their carefully chosen, one of a kind, hand-dyed yarn.” Ben had the look of someone who had had that particular conversation multiple times. “It’s bad for my bottom line.”

“I think I can make it behave,” Rey said confidently, tucking the pieces into the box carefully so they wouldn’t rattle about. The others began gathering their things as Ben moved back to the counter, his attention on the computer as he started the process of printing reports and balancing the register.

“Rey, would you mind locking the door behind them?” he asked, glancing at her over the screen. “They’re about to overstay their welcome.”

“Why do we buy yarn from him again?” Chelsea asked quizzically as she walked toward the door, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Because he’s such a fair and loving DM.” Michael grinned at Rey. “Thankfully he’s much nicer in real life.”

Rey flicked the lock into place behind the last of them, smiling. She wanted to tease Ben about his apparent heartlessness as a dungeon master (not the story she had heard when he had originally admitted to playing D&D), but he looked absorbed in math and she didn’t want to distract him. She turned instead to the display of sock yarn next to her, tracing one finger lightly over the different yarns. There was a pile of cashmere blend that looked entirely impractical for hard-wearing socks but was so delightful she couldn’t stop herself from stroking the skeins.

“What do you want for dinner?”

Even a few weeks before Rey would have demurred and said something along the lines of anything is fine. Ben, though- he cared what she thought, and what she wanted, and Rey had started answering those kinds of questions honestly. “Pizza,” she said immediately, flashing a smile in his direction. “Is that okay?”

“Pizza sounds amazing.” He was tucking the deposit into his messenger bag as he spoke, and as he made his way toward her he snagged her bag from the floor. “I’ve been craving pepperoni since lunchtime.”

She picked up the box before he could- because if she let him, he’d carry everything and leave her with empty hands- waiting while he tucked his project into his bag. “Sleeve or scarf?”

“Scarf.” He pulled out his keys, jangling them slightly in his hand. “It’s a new yarn line, and I’m behind on knitting up a sample.”

“What do you think, so far?” she asked as he locked the door behind them.

“A solid budget yarn. A bit scratchy, but my swatch softened and bloomed nicely after washing. It should wear well in the long run.”

Rey carefully cradled the box she carried in one arm, and then took his hand as they walked to the station. He immediately smiled down at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted, blushing slightly. “I know it’s only been a few days, but I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” He lifted their joined hands and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. “Can you come over for dinner on Wednesday?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He caressed the back of her hand lightly with his thumb. “Good.”

Rey greeted the cats as soon as they entered the apartment, sitting on the floor as they circled around her with a variety of purrs and interrogatory meows. Bastila seemed the most offended by her absence, planting her front paws on Rey’s thigh and sticking her face directly into Rey’s own. “I don’t live here, you know,” Rey told her seriously, stroking her back with one hand as she alternated petting Revan and Breha with the other. “You can’t boss me around like Ben.”

Bastila disagreed.

“The usual?” Ben asked, and she nodded in reply, giving Revan the solid scratch he preferred behind his ears.

Behind her Ben placed their order, then disappeared into the kitchen. “I know this is a very American thing,” he said when he returned a few minutes later, two glasses of red wine in hand, “but would you like to spend Thanksgiving with me?”

Rey had spent her past two Thanksgivings with Rose’s family, but at his offer her tentative plans to eat turkey with the Ticos immediately died. “You don’t celebrate with one of your parents?” she asked, accepting a glass of wine from her position on the floor. Bastila butted her other arm demandingly.

“I learned years ago that spending any major holiday with either of my parents just results in passive-aggressive comments about favoritism.” He settled onto the ground facing her, rolling his eyes. “And these days I need to be at the shop on Friday anyway.”

Rey had never participated in Black Friday shopping, but she had certainly followed the news stories with fascinated horror. “You don’t open at an ungodly hour with bargain prices on luxury yarns, do you?”

He laughed, stroking Breha lightly under the chin with one finger. “No, thank God. I open at noon and close at five, and offer a flat twenty percent discount on all the yarn. It’s still crazy.”

“I’d love to come.” The idea of having Ben all to herself for a solid day was too tempting to pass up. She took a sip of the rich red wine as Revan walked over her lap. “Do you make the traditional spread?”

“Not exactly. I hate turkey- probably because my parents baked it dry every year. I usually make a duck.”

Rey had the sudden sense that she might actually love this man. Not because of the duck- she’d never had duck- but there was something about his self-conscious expression as he said the words, something about the way his large hand held the wine glass without a bobble as Bastila leapt up onto his shoulder.

After a moment of thought she placed her own glass onto the floor, coming to her knees and scooting closer to him. “I really like mashed potatoes and gravy,” she told him in an overly serious tone.

“I will serve you an entire mixing bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy, if you want,” he replied in a tone that was just as serious.

Rey slipped her hands into his hair and kissed him for the first time, ignoring the sound of Bastila’s indignation and the rattle of a wine glass barely finding purchase on the floor. His full mouth was just as generous and talented as she had imagined, and the feel of one strong arm wrapping around her back and a hand carding through her hair toppled her from barely keeping her composure to shivering in his grasp.

When he pulled back- she couldn’t, wouldn’t- she blinked at him for a long moment before saying, “I didn’t kiss you because you promised me mashed potatoes.”

His smile was soft, but almost bordered on a smirk. “But I make really good mashed potatoes.”

Rey dropped her gaze with a blush. “Don’t be a bastard, Solo.”

“But I do.” He was still holding her close, one hand cradling her head. “Let me make you carbs, baby.”

Rey began to laugh helplessly, leaning her head against his free shoulder. “Ben.”

“How many kinds of carbs do you want?” he asked, his voice almost a croon. “Do you want mashed potatoes on your pizza? Because I’ll make them for you.”

“No.” She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, feeling the butt of a cat’s head against her side. “I’d like another kiss, though,” she murmured against his skin.

“Come here, then,” he said in reply, the hand at her back moving in a soothing circle. “I’ve got a few thousand to spare, at least.”

They used up a good dozen before the evening was over.

- - -

“Have fun,” Rose said as she dragged her suitcase into the hall, cheery with readiness for Thanksgiving break. “I’m still waiting for that report.”

“You’ll have to wait a bit longer,” Rey replied, grinning. “We’re not there yet.”

“Your self-control is legendary, I swear,” Rose said with a shake of her head.

“The kissing part is so good, though.” Rey leaned against the wall, knowing her cheeks were flushed pink at the very least. “The sex could be horrible,” she added, though judging by Rose’s expression she wasn’t convincing anyone, including herself. Rey was certain to her bones that the sex would be amazing, once she was past her own virginal awkwardness. What she couldn’t decide was what would hurt more once the relationship came to its inevitable end: having slept with Ben, or not.

All of her relationships ended eventually, no matter the sphere. It was a miracle Finn had stuck around as long as he had.

The campus emptied quickly, lending an unnatural silence to the entire area. Rey tried to concentrate on her homework, on the bits of machinery she fiddled with in her downtime, and finally grabbed her purse. Ben had told her she didn’t need to bring anything, but the idea of turning up empty-handed made her nervous. It was one thing when she was at his apartment for one of their usual dinners, but a holiday- even one she didn’t actually celebrate- demanded more effort.

Wine seemed the easiest route. Rey took the train to the nearest wine shop, asked what paired well with duck, and with barely a hesitation dropped more money than she could really afford on a bottle. The act soothed her jitters, at least a little, and she spent the rest of the afternoon and evening holed up in her room, eating baby carrots and hummus as she re-read the first Kenobi book for at least the dozenth time.

When he called her late the next morning- maybe a half hour before she was planning to leave- she instinctively sensed that something was off.

“Ben?”

“Hey.” He sounded almost breathless, and not in a good way. “Listen. Slight change of plans. My, uh, mother and uncle showed up about ten minutes ago.”

Rey felt a little numb as she glanced around her room, a part of her wondering if the wine would pair well with ramen. “Oh.”

“I really want you to come,” he stressed, and some of the numbness faded. “But I realize this is unexpected, and I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it.” A pause, and then, “Please come.”

Being needed was Rey’s kryptonite, and she knew it. “Of course.” She took a step to the right, scrutinizing her outfit with growing panic in the mirrored closet door. “I’ll be there within the hour, okay?”

“Thank you.”

The heartfelt words temporarily bolstered her confidence as they hung up, and then she looked in the mirror again. A sweater and jeans had seemed just right for a day with Ben, but with his family? She rummaged through her limited selection of clothing quickly, finally pulling out a long-sleeved black dress that was a hold-over from her last years in fosterage. She hated it- with a passion, really- but it was what her last case-worker had deemed ‘respectable’ and it certainly made her fade into the woodwork with astonishing quickness.

Rey wasn’t entirely certain that was the right tact when first meeting her boyfriend’s mother, but the words he had used made her think that maybe, maybe, demure to the point of dullness was best.

“Like I know,” she said aloud as she began to undress, her hopes for a carefree day completely disappearing.

She would be polite.

She was very good at that.

- - -

Her knock on Ben’s door was almost immediately answered by Ben himself, who quickly stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him. Rey was startled to see that he looked a little wild in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“My father showed up a few minutes ago.”

There was the sudden patter of raised voices from behind the door, and Rey’s mouth almost immediately went cotton dry.

“This is not going to be an easy day,” Ben said slowly, appearing as if he were forcing himself to breathe. “I really want you here, but I won’t think the less of you if you decide to leave. It would be the smart thing to do, really.” He ran a hand through his hair, a sudden note of hope in his expression. “Could I come with you?”

He was upset. He was very upset and trying to hide it, and even if a tiny part of Rey wanted to avoid the entire situation she couldn’t leave him like this. “I’m staying.” She took a step closer, raising a hand to stroke his cheek. “I won’t leave you alone.”

Ben stared at her for a long moment, a little disbelieving, then pulled her into his arms, his mouth slanting over hers in a kiss so fierce and desperate that her knees almost immediately weakened. He had never kissed her quite like that, as if his very existence was bound up in her alone, and all Rey could think (which was little) was that if he had kissed her like that at any other time she probably would have let him take her up against the damn wall.

When it was over she took a step back on shaking legs, the part of her brain still capable of rational thought bemoaning the fact that he had gotten her hot and bothered in that dress and those tights and she would now have to meet his family looked rumpled and desperate herself.

“You have lipstick on your mouth,” she said after several deep breaths, rummaging through her bag for a kleenex. “Hold still,” she ordered as she reached up, doing her best to remove every smear.

His hands settled lightly on her, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears and smoothing down the sides of her dress. He didn’t look calm, exactly, but he certainly looked more focused than he had before utterly stealing her wits. “You’re all smudged,” he replied after a moment, his voice low, his eyes dark. “Let me help.”

As her hands fell away from his face his thumb moved gently under her bottom lip, tidying her with care. “You look beautiful.”

Rey disagreed, but she appreciated his warm, earnest words. “You look very handsome yourself.” She brushed the back of her fingers over his soft burgundy sweater. “Is this one of yours?”

“Yeah.” His work done, he curved his hand loosely around the back of her neck and bent to press a kiss against her forehead. “You’re a brave woman.”

“It won’t be the first awkward holiday I’ve experienced,” she replied with a shrug. “What should I expect?”

“Snide comments now, and uncomfortable flirting after they’ve both had a few drinks.”

“Uncomfortable?” she asked, and he looked mournful.

“For us.”

“Right.”

At first Rey thought that the dress might actually work as expected, because the moment they stepped inside the apartment all eyes went directly to Ben.

“Did you plan this?” his mother asked, her bearing so inherently regal that Rey almost wanted to curtsy.

“Believe me, the last thing I would ever do is orchestrate some kind of parent trap scenario,” he replied dryly, the hand on her back tensing slightly. “Maybe if you had bothered to call me ahead of time this could have been avoided.”

“Thought you’d appreciate the surprise; you always seem to pass the day alone,” one of the two men said, a roguish smile on his face. He was the only other person in the room close to Ben’s height, and Rey decided he was likely Han Solo. Unexpectedly his gaze shifted to her, his smile widening. “But it looks like we crashed your private party, kid.”

“You did,” Ben said flatly, his tone more tired than angry. “Rey, my parents, Han Solo and Leia Organa, and my uncle Luke Skywalker. Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Rey Smith.”

There seemed to be an unspoken and I like her better than all of you right now tacked onto the end of that short introduction, and judging by their somewhat amused expressions his parents and uncle had heard it.

“Taking after your father, I see,” Leia said inexplicably as she shook Rey’s hand. “Lovely to meet you, Rey.”

“Maybe it’ll work better for him than it did for me,” Han replied slyly, swaggering forward to take Rey’s hand as soon as his ex-wife had let go. “How did Mr. Grumpy manage to snag you?” he asked Rey, and even if she didn’t appreciate the question his charm was undeniable.

“I snagged him,” she answered, shaking Han’s hand with a solid, firm grip. “And I don’t think he’s grumpy at all.”

“Really? Because he’s been on a solid twenty year streak,” Han quipped, moving to slap a hand against Ben’s shoulder. “Nice to know you occasionally crack a smile.”

Luke was watching the exchange with the air of someone who had decided long ago to be entertained by the family dynamic he had been given. “Who knew that we just needed a pretty Brit to mellow his mood?” he said, his eyes sparking with mischief.

Ben sucked in an audible breath as Han laughed and Leia leveled a scolding look on her brother. “Rey’s not interchangeable,” Ben said in a stilted voice. “Let me get you a drink, baby.”

They moved with almost impolite haste into the kitchen, and while Rey had never really given thought to the layout of his apartment she was suddenly very glad that it wasn’t open plan.

Ben leaned back against the counter, his head in his hands. “My God,” he muttered, the words almost a plea.

“You are not grumpy,” she said quietly, firmly, standing almost toe to toe with him. In retrospect everything he had said about his family was beginning to sound incredibly diplomatic. “You’re probably the kindest man I know.”

His hands dropped to curl around the lip of the counter. “In all fairness, I was a very grumpy teenager.”

“Like every other teenager?” Rey frowned and lifted her hands to his shoulders. “How are you ‘taking after your father’, exactly?”

“He’s ten years older than her.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous.”

“You’re not interchangeable, you know,” he said quietly, dipping his head toward her. “Not in the slightest.”

“You aren’t interchangeable, either.” She closed the gap between them, pressing a much more chaste kiss against his lips, then added in a teasing voice, “I don’t want to purl with anyone else.”

He smiled at her for the first time that day, the tension in his face easing. “Me either.”

She gave him another gentle kiss, smoothing his hair. “Where are the cats?”

“Hiding under the bed, probably.”

“Aren’t they smart?”

He laughed quietly, his hands settling at her waist. “If you get overwhelmed, feel free to join them. I still might.”

“I will keep that option in mind.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Is there something I could do that would keep us both occupied and out of the way?”

“How do you feel about peeling potatoes?” They both looked toward the empty door at the sound of a sharp laugh. “Slowly,” Ben added.

“The most carefully peeled potatoes you’ve ever seen,” Rey agreed, sliding the bag she carried off her shoulder with the intent of tucking it away. “Oh, I brought this.” She handed him the bottle of pinot noir with an uncertain smile. “The salesman said it would go well with duck.”

“It will,” he replied with an appreciative smile. “Thank you, baby.”

They had five quiet minutes to themselves before Leia appeared at the door and leaned her shoulder against the frame. “Do you need another set of hands?”

“No thanks.” Ben stirred the pan of slowly caramelizing onions before returning his attention to the stuffing. “We’ve got it under control.”

“It certainly looks like it.” Leia’s gaze settled on Rey, who- true to her word- had been peeling at an almost glacier pace, but she immediately sped up under his mother’s eye. “Ben said you’re studying engineering?”

“I am.” Rey reached for another potato. “I’m on track to graduate at the end of the school year.”

“Will you go back to England after that?”

“No,” Rey replied. “I’m hoping to find a job in the States.”

In Georgia, truthfully. Hopefully close to Atlanta.

“Work visas aren’t easy to get,” Leia said mildly.

“No, they aren’t,” Rey admitted, her eyes on the potato as if navigating its curves was the most important job in the world.

“Perhaps you’re considering a green card?”

Again, mild, though Rey couldn’t help but feel a little stung. No wonder Leia was such an excellent attorney, she thought, unsure what to say in response.

“Are you implying that Rey is only dating me for a chance at citizenship?” Ben asked coolly, an undercurrent of anger in his voice.

“Of course not,” she replied smoothly. “Marriage isn’t the only way to naturalize, Benjamin.”

Rey had never even allowed herself to consider the possibility of marrying Ben, but once introduced so prominently she couldn’t not think about it. She could be Rey Solo. He could be the last thing she saw at night and the first thing she saw every morning.

A very enticing idea, having Ben Solo for keeps, even if her life experience argued that such a thing never happened to girls like her.

“I’m not dating him for a green card,” she said quietly. “I’m dating him because I’m very, very fond of him.”

Because I love him almost slipped out. The words were scarily true but not meant for that exact moment.

She could tell Leia was scrutinizing her. “Good,” she said finally, her tone warming slightly. “Ben, why don’t you open some wine? I think we could all use a drink.”

He pulled a bottle of sauvignon blanc from the fridge as Rey turned her attention back to the half-peeled potato she held. After his mother left, three glasses held carefully in her hands, Ben poured two more and placed one on the counter in front of her. “Courage,” he said in a low voice, and then he was leaning in to nuzzle his nose against her hair. “I’m also very, very fond of you.”

“You know I’m not, right?” she said tentatively. “Not here with mercenary intentions, I mean.”

“Baby, I knew that from the start. There’s nothing mercenary about you, other than your willingness to stab someone with a fork if they try to steal your cake.”

She smiled at his teasing words. “Smart man, to never test me.”

“I’d much rather give you my share and watch you eat both.” He nuzzled her hair again. “You get this look in your eyes when you eat chocolate. Very sexy.”

“How much longer do you think we can hide in here?”

“Not long enough,” he muttered, pressing a kiss against her crown before moving back to the stove.

And he was right. By the time they finally sat down to eat, Rey felt as tense as Ben looked. She had the sense that if just Han had appeared, or just Leia and Luke, the past few hours would have been much easier to deal with, even somewhat enjoyable. The three together, though? Every minute made it clearer that they were old, close friends who had gone through a schism and never quite recovered.

Even then, it wouldn’t have been quite so bad if they had treated Ben like the man he was instead of the teenager he had been.

“Have you given more thought to going back to school?” Leia asked Ben, neatly cutting into her slice of duck. “Classics is wonderful training for law.”

“I’m aware,” Ben replied, looking as if he had heard that line hundreds of times. “No, I’m very happy here.”

“All that Greek probably really helps with selling yarn,” Han said with a sly grin. “Come on, Leia.”

Rey thought that maybe this was the initial edging toward the uncomfortable flirting Ben had warned her about.

“It’s just a pity to abandon all those years of work over one accident.” Leia took a sip of her wine, her eyes firmly on her ex-husband.

Ben gave her an infinitesimal shake of his head when Rey glanced at him.

“Burnout happens,” Luke said with a shrug. “Not everyone is meant for academia.”

The tragedy, Rey thought as she took a bite of her mashed potatoes (her enjoyment unfortunately dulled by the atmosphere of the room), was that he probably would have been a wonderful professor. In some alternate universe Ben Solo, PhD, was doubtless dazzling the academic world with his insights on Hesiod or Catullus.

“Yeah, Leia. Nothing wrong with doing something easy for a living.” Han leaned closer to his ex-wife, still grinning. “Not all of us devote our lives to work wholeheartedly.”

Rey’s mouth firmed into a set line as she glanced with worry toward Ben, whose expression was that of resignation.

“What about business, then?” Leia asked Ben with a glare at Han. “You could get an MBA and find something a bit more stable.”

“He has a large and dedicated customer base.”

Her words came out more strident than Rey had intended. Everyone looked toward her with surprise, Ben clearly startled. “He keeps the store well in the black, he enjoys what he does, and he’s an excellent cook,” she continued crisply even as her stomach roiled with nerves. “Perhaps you should consider the present instead of continually focusing on the past.”

There was a long moment of utter silence, which was finally broken by Han. “Marry her,” he said with unexpected gravity, looking almost contrite. “Leia, would you please pass the rolls?”

Leia’s own expression was a little stricken, but she nodded. “Of course.”

The almost painfully civil conversation that followed felt like a brewing storm, but it was worth it to see the set of Ben’s shoulders relax into something more natural.

His family didn’t linger. After dessert and coffee they said their farewells, making Rey feel as if she were personally pushing them out the door.

It made her stomach ache, the way they left.

When the door was locked behind them Ben turned to her, an almost unreadable expression on his face. “Thank you.”

Rey let out a breath, the ache in her stomach waning. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“Oh, I do.” He ran his hands through his hair, moving closer to her. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them so effectively stopped in their tracks. God knows nothing I’ve ever said or done has succeeded in making them even slightly shift their behavior.”

“They’re…”

She chose the word carefully. “Overwhelming.”

“Like a freight train,” he agreed, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you.” His arms wrapped tightly around her back, and with his face buried in her hair Rey felt completely calm for the first time that day. “I have a suggestion,” he began, the words soft in her ear. “Stay the night. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed. I have a bottle of champagne in the fridge; we’ll toast to surviving the day and watch something incredibly stupid on television.”

The last thing Rey wanted to do was leave, now that it was finally just the two of them. “I’ll take the couch; you can’t possibly fit on it comfortably.”

He pulled back, his expression stubborn. “It’s not that comfortable a couch. You’re sleeping on the bed.”

She took in a breath, considering. “We could share the bed.”

Ben searched her eyes, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“On one condition.”

He was beginning to smile. “What?”

“Could I borrow some clothes?” She grimaced slightly. “I really hate this dress.”

“Definitely.” He brushed a kiss against her temple, and she closed her eyes with pleasure at the sensation. “Come on.”

Rey had never been in his bedroom, never even snuck a peak during earlier visits. It was a reasonably tidy room, rather like she had expected: covers pulled straight, a stack of books on one nightstand, a pair of sweatpants draped over the foot of the bed. Ben rummaged through his dresser, turning after a moment with a small pile of clothing in his hands. “Take your time changing. Would you like more to eat?” The smile on his face was clearly reminiscent of the roguish grin she had seen on Han’s face. She liked it better on Ben. “You barely touched your food.”

She laughed, accepting the neat stack from him. “Please.”

He left, pulling the door shut behind him. At the click of the latch Bastila crept out from under the bed, looking around suspiciously.

“It’s just us now,” Rey told her, stepping out of her flats. “I’ll let you out in a moment and you can beg duck from Ben.”

The other two cats crept into the light as Rey changed, trading dress and tights for sweatpants cinched tight around her waist, a t-shirt, and a sweater with sleeves that swallowed her hands entirely. Breha rubbed against her legs, tail twitching. Rey sat on the bed to pull on overly large socks, bouncing slightly- purposefully- on the mattress.

Not yet, she decided, a part of her still balking at the idea of sex. She would come to him fervently or not at all.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she told the cats with a sigh, receiving identical looks of feline disapproval in reply.

For all the tumult of the day, it was an easy evening. She ate a full plate of food and then curled up on the couch with Ben, growing giggly on too much champagne as they watched terrible sci-fi.

“You’re happy,” she said at one point, almost sprawled over his lap. “I don’t understand why I had to point it out for them to get it.”

“I think they stopped listening to me when I was a teenager.” His fingers combed gently through her hair, his voice low. “I was… I acted out a lot. I was pretty dramatic, really; always making everything a bigger deal than it was. After a while they stopped taking what I had to say at face value.”

“That’s why you didn’t tell them about Snoke,” she guessed, turning onto her back to look up at him.

“Yeah. That, and he had a ton of money, a lot of connections, and a very sharp lawyer who visited me in the hospital.” Ben tapped the tip of her nose gently with his index finger, looking more relaxed than he usually did when discussing the incident. “At the time it was easier to let them think whatever they wanted. Grandma believed me without question.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

Ben smiled down at her. “She would have loved you.”

By the time they went to bed, it felt perfectly natural to slip under the covers next to him. Perfectly natural to snuggle up against his side, her head on his chest.

A small form curled up behind her knees, a second against her back, and Rey fell deeply asleep, feeling more content than she had in years.

Chapter Text

Rey had spent most of her life regarding December and Christmas in the same way: as an exercise in disappointment. Fourteen successive Christmases that had ranged from utterly dull to downright miserable had taught her that the holiday magic present in films, books, and television shows was nothing she could hope to understand or experience. She wasn’t even quite sure if she’d ever had a proper Christmas before being abandoned by her parents, but she was fairly sure she hadn’t. There was no sense of that warm Christmas glow in her mind, no fragmented memory of pine and twinkly lights.

Still, she did her best not to act the grinch. As a child she had been properly grateful for every impersonal gift she had been given, and as an adult she had smiled and tagged along with Rose and Jess to whatever holiday-themed event they had decided to attend. On Christmas day itself she usually splurged on some kind of treat and lounged around her dorm room in pajamas, reading a new book carefully hoarded for the occasion. Both her suitemates always offered to take her home with them, but Rey had little interest in sitting awkwardly in on such a family-oriented holiday, or in invading their homes for three weeks.

This December, though… it felt different. It was different.

For the first time in her life, Rey thought she might be feeling the holiday glow.

“I have two problems,” she told Rose and Jess early in the month as they gathered on Rose’s bed, a box of Moon Pies in front of them.

“Shoot,” Rose said, her voice muffled by the bite she had just taken.

“Do they involve Ben?” Jess asked with a gleam in her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear.

“I don’t know what to get him for Christmas.” Rey took in a deep breath, then released it. “And I need to buy some lingerie.”

“Yes,” Rose said with enthusiasm, punching her fist in the air. “I live for this shit; we’ll find something that puts him into cardiac arrest.”

Jess grinned. “One answers the other,” she informed Rey, breaking a piece of Moon Pie off and popping it into her mouth. “Best present he’s ever gotten, probably,” she added after swallowing.

Rey frowned, her cheeks hot. “That seems… I don’t know. Off, somehow. ‘Merry Christmas; please bang me ten ways to Sunday’ doesn’t sound like an actual gift.”

“I have met that man a grand total of three times and I can assure you that he would be thrilled,” Jess replied with confidence. “He’s one step away from putting a ring on your finger and looking at nursery themes.”

Rey blinked, caught by the words. “Really?”

“He’s head over heels,” Rose agreed seriously. “He wants to decrease so hard.”

Rey buried her head in her hands at the words, groaning. “I never should have told you about that.”

“Too late,” Rose shot back, an irrepressible smile on her face.

“He wants me to spend the entire break at his flat,” Rey admitted after a moment, dropping her hands slowly. “I’m… I’m really tempted.”

“You should. And we should go shopping tomorrow… maybe at Phipps Plaza.” Rose glanced over at Jess. “What do you think?”

“Too expensive,” Rey said quickly. “I was thinking Target.”

They both leveled a look on her. “This is our gift to you,” Jess said firmly, and Rose nodded in agreement. “You’re a wonderful, amazing friend and we love you dearly. We’re going to find something that makes you feel sexy and unstoppable.”

Rey trained her gaze on her lap, forcing her breathing to remain normal. She wouldn’t cry over this. She wouldn’t.

“I love you both, too,” she said quietly, her voice cracking halfway through.

Jess wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. “This okay?” she asked, raising a brow, and Rey nodded, blinking back tears. “You need to get used to people staying,” Jess said with a squeeze. “The system treated you like shit, and quite frankly I would love to punch a few of the jerks you’ve talked about, but believe me when I say that there are people who want to be a permanent part of your life. Like us. Like Ben.”

“She’s right,” Rose agreed warmly, leaning against Rey’s other side. “No more flying solo, Rey.” She snickered. “Riding Solo, though…”

Rey giggled helplessly, blushing. “Rose.”

“No, she’s right,” Jess said with a laugh. “Take some Solo time; it should be invigorating.”

Rey giggled again, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “What if I’m better in small doses?” she asked worriedly after a moment, resting her head on Jess’s shoulder. “What if I annoy him?”

“What if he annoys you?” Jess pointed out. “Maybe he’s better in small doses. It’s worth figuring that out now.”

Rey took in a shaky breath and nodded. “You’re right.” Three weeks and they might hate each other. Three weeks and they might be perfectly fine.

“I usually am,” Jess said in a peaceful tone, then immediately raised a hand to ward off the wrapped Moon Pie Rose threw at her head.

Once back in her room, Rey picked up her phone.

I would love to spend winter break with you.

She hit send.

- - -

At some point Rey had started bringing her homework to Ben’s apartment an evening or two every week, and it was during one such pre-finals study session that he knelt in front of where she sat on the couch and held out a key.

“Yours to keep,” he said, pressing a kiss against the denim that covered her right knee. “I don’t want you to give it back after winter break.”

Rey accepted the key with surprise, holding his gaze as she felt the slight weight in her palm. “Thank you.”

“I also emptied the top two drawers in the dresser for you,” he continued. “And two drawers in the bathroom, and made room in the closet. You can leave whatever you want here.” He gave her a kind of sheepish grin. “And if you’re okay with telling me what kind of tampons or pads you use, I’ll stash some under the sink.”

She had grown more and more overwhelmed and befuddled with each word. “You want… to buy me tampons?”

“I want you to have everything you need when you’re here. Besides,” he added, his grin turned teasing, “I’m very confident in my masculinity, and not at all threatened by the idea of buying period products.”

Rey snickered. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Text me a picture of the box, okay? So that I get the right one.” He stood, bending down to kiss her quickly. “Would you like some tea?” he asked as he moved to the kitchen, and Rey just stared after him for a moment, the key warm in her hand.

“Yeah,” she said finally, unable to stop herself from smiling as she tucked the key in her pocket. “That would be great.”

When he placed her mug on the coffee table several minutes later, she asked, “What are we going to do if your parents show up?”

“Turn off the lights and hide in the bathroom until they go away,” he said immediately, sitting on the other end of the couch. “Though I’ve actually heard from both of my parents over the last few days,” he continued, picking up the project he was working on. Fabric that nearly floated on the air pooled in his lap, the laceweight yarn haloed in the lamp-light. “It was… different,” he said as he began knitting, working more by feel than sight.

“Good or bad?” she asked, watching his hands move.

“Good.” He looked a little flummoxed as he added a second strand of yarn halfway through the row. “My mother didn’t bring up alternate careers once. And my father barely teased me at all.” He looked over at her, a smile on his face. “I think you performed a miracle, baby.”

“As long as they don’t hate me.” She fiddled with her pencil, tapping the end on her textbook.

“They both asked about you,” he replied with a shake of his head. “In favorable terms. Uncle Luke even sent me an email of apology; he asked if we wanted to use his cabin in Maine next summer.”

Rey hesitated, uncertain. “Do we?”

“It’s more a house than a cabin, really. Very private; on a lake.” He paused in his work. “I’d love to take you.”

“I’ve never been to Maine.” Her throat ached painfully. Next summer. Spoken hopefully, but also so casually, as if he couldn’t imagine anything other than Rey still being in his life six or seven months in the future. He’d given her a key. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“I’ll let him know, then.”

She stared down at her textbook, biting her bottom lip. After a few minutes of trying to read and barely taking in a word, she said, “Ben?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“You might have already taken care of this, but…”

She was blushing uncontrollably, but she made herself meet his gaze. Ben looked a little worried, his hands idle in his lap. She began again. “It’s just, before I come to stay, maybe you should get some condoms.”

He carefully set the project to the side, his expression almost blank, and then slid down the couch to sit next to her. “You’re sure?” he asked softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I am sure.” Rey slipped one hand over his thigh, keeping her eyes on his. “I love you.”

The smile that spread across his face contained not a shred of artifice. Rey was absolutely positive that no one had ever given her such a look of sheer, unmitigated joy before, and at the sight her breath caught almost painfully in her throat.

“I love you, too.”

Rey dragged in a breath past the sudden obstruction in her airway, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Really?”

“Yes.” He cradled her cheek in his free hand, pulling her closer with his other arm. Her textbook and notes fell to the floor, the loss barely making her blink. “Very, very much.”

“Okay.”

It was the only word she could think to say. Rey moved onto his lap, pressing her face into the crook of his neck as her breathing continued in fits and starts.

“Rey?” he said questioningly, his voice low and concerned.

“I’m not used to getting what I want,” she admitted, shutting her eyes to better concentrate on the feel of being nearly surrounded by him. “Our entire relationship has been… it’s been everything I’ve ever wanted. It still is.”

Safety, love, home. She’d never expected to find all those things in one person, but somehow she had, and it was both wonderful and terrifying in almost equal measure.

“You’re everything I want.” He somehow managed to pull her even closer, and Rey began to breathe a little easier. “This isn’t something temporary for me.”

“Me, either.” Little by little, the ache in her throat dulled. “And I’m serious about the condoms.”

He chuckled quietly into her hair. “I’ve got some.”

She should be studying; her scholarship and visa depended on it. Instead she stayed where she was, her body easing back into calm. “Could you just hold me for a while?” she asked softly, and felt him press a kiss against her hair.

“As long as you want.”

- - -

“Okay.” Jess clapped her hands, looking around Rey’s small room. “You’ve blazed victorious through finals, you’re all packed, and you look adorable. Anything left?”

Rey shrugged into her coat with a laugh. “No, I think I’m good.”

She was buzzing with nerves- mainly positive ones- and all she wanted to do was move. Walk. Expend some of the energy that sparked through her body and pooled in her extremities.

“Then I have one last piece of advice before I send you onward,” Jess said seriously, as if she were about to send Rey into battle. She took Rey by the shoulders. “Always pee after sex.”

Rey threw her head back, laughing wildly. “I think I’ve heard that a time or two,” she said when she could speak sensibly. “Have a good break.”

“You, too.” Jess pulled her into a tight hug, suddenly grinning. “And have fun! He looks like a guy who wants you to have fun. And if you don’t have fun, tell me and I’ll punch him.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Rey replied, grabbing the handle of her suitcase with a blush.

Jess smirked. “Me, either.”

Rey walked briskly toward the nearest MARTA stop, huddling in her coat as the cold wind picked up. It was barely three in the afternoon, and Rey had the rest of Friday and the entirety of the weekend before she had to report to work. Two uninterrupted days and a handful of hours to do what she’d been dwelling on with increasing interest since September, at the very latest.

And then the rest of the break, even if they were both working for a good bit of it.

By the time Rey let herself into Ben’s apartment- the first time she used her key, the first time she was in his apartment alone- her nerves were heightened and no longer quite as positive.

The cats peeked at her from their spot on the couch, obviously befuddled by the presence of a human when by all rights no human should be around.

“I’m here for a while,” she told them in brisk chatter, locking the door behind her and shrugging off her coat. “Hopefully you won’t mind having me around more often.”

She glanced around the living room after hanging her coat in the small closet. The room was neat as a pin, the hardwood floor gleaming. He had cleaned for her, maybe even that very morning.

Bastila leapt down from the couch and followed as Rey pulled her suitcase down the hall into the bedroom, clearly prepared to supervise.

“People cleaned out drawers for me as a kid, too,” Rey told the cat as she began to unpack, putting away what little she had in Ben’s dresser and closet. “Because they had to. After a while it stopped meaning anything, but…”

She didn’t finish the phrase aloud. But this means something.

She took her toiletries into the bathroom before returning to inspect what was left in her suitcase. Carefully she pulled rose-pink satin and lace from the small pile of lingerie within, smoothing her fingertips over the fabric as she contemplated the large bed in front of her- and unexpectedly smiled.

He loved her.

“He loves me,” she told Bastila, who flicked her tail with seeming annoyance at the words.

He also wouldn’t be home for several more hours. With a nod Rey picked up the rest, tucking the small pile carefully in with her other socks and underwear, and then carried the rose satin into the bathroom to shower.

For the second time that day, because she was fairly certain that she had sweated through her deodorant on the train from nerves alone.

All three cats watched her as if she were an odd specimen when she returned to the bedroom dressed only in the lingerie, the carpet cushioning her bare feet. Rey pulled on a pair of jeans and stole her favorite of Ben’s shirts from the closet, wanting that little bit of connection. Made of flannel and laundered to faded softness, it always made her want to rub her cheek against his chest.

There was nothing to do at that point other than wait. She chose a book from his bookshelves and sat on the couch, curling up under a blanket. Breha jumped up to join her, purring, and settled to delicately clean one paw.

“Ben made this,” Rey murmured, lightly stroking the blue sweater the cat wore. Breha blinked calmly at her, pausing in her washing. “No need to stop for me,” Rey said, pulling her hand away and settling deeper into her small nest. “He made this too,” she added to herself, smiling as she fingered the neat crochet stitches of the afghan over her. “Or Padmé.”

She read a few pages before putting the book to the side. She would close her eyes for just a few minutes.

Just a few.

- - -

The sound of the door opening and closing didn’t wake her. The sound of footsteps didn’t wake her.

The sound of running water did.

Shedding her blanket and blinking sleepily, Rey smoothed her hair and padded toward the kitchen. “Ben?”

Ben was drying his hands when she entered the room, but at the sight of her he immediately dropped the dish towel onto the counter.

“Hey, baby.” His gaze dropped appreciatively to the shirt she wore, a smile spreading over his face. “I like the way that looks on you.”

His hands settled on her waist, and the next thing Rey knew she was perched on the counter, her knees bracketing his hips. “How are you?” he asked softly, but kissed her before she could answer, his mouth moving against hers sweetly. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Thinking about her, and obviously thinking about what she had all but promised him, and yet his hands stayed circumspectly at her waist.

She could change her mind, Rey realized. She could ask him about dinner, suggest a movie, spend the entire break sleeping chastely beside him, and he probably wouldn’t say a word about it.

The realization settled what few nerves remained, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to discover whatever pleasure he had to share.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck. “You aren’t very hungry, are you?”

“I could wait.” Ben searched her face, clearly looking for any hint of uncertainty or hesitation.

“You should take me to the bedroom, then.”

He picked her up without any further urging, pressing his forehead against hers as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I love you so much.”

“I know.” She tightened her grasp as he began to carry her away, resting her head against his shoulder. “I love you, too.”

The bedroom door shut firmly behind them, followed closely by almost resigned feline complaint. Rey barely noticed, too intent on memorizing every second: the way he smelled, the feel of his muscles shifting under her hands, even the way he breathed was tucked away in her mind for some future reverie.

He placed her carefully on the side of the bed, planting his hands on either side of her hips. “If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me, okay?” he said seriously. “Anything.”

“I want you to do the same.” She leaned into him, her feet dangling several inches above the floor. “Please.”

“I will.”

For a moment he almost looked unsure where to start, which was a problem she identified with. “Would you take off your sweater for me?” she asked, edging her fingers under the hem. “I really want to see.”

Surprisingly he grinned, crossing his arms to grab the hem of his sweater. Another hand-knit marvel (cabled dark gray; she loved him she loved him) dropped to the floor, followed quickly by a soft black tee.

“Ben.” Rey practically breathed his name, her tone the closest she had come to reverence in years. “I think you’re bigger out of your clothes than in them,” she said with a disbelieving laugh, her hands hovering over his muscled chest. “I’m not sure how that’s possible.”

“Lots of heavy lifting in knitting,” he said in a low rumble, then laughed when she poked him in the shoulder. “And there’s the gym down the street.”

Carefully she placed her hands on his chest, slowly exploring every line, every dip as he waited with restrained patience. She brushed the tip of one finger over the crest of each nipple, hiding a smile at his gasp. “They’re different than mine,” she noted.

“I’d really love to see for myself.”

She shivered at his tone. “In a minute.” Rey trailed her fingertips down the slight softness of his stomach, laughing quietly at the way his muscles tensed, then smiled up at him. “Bend down.”

She’d never seen such unalloyed want and lust on his face before, and it almost made her recall the request and throw herself backward for the taking. Almost.

He bent, and she slid her hands into his hair, pressing her lips to where his scar began above his brow.

“Rey?”

Without responding she moved her mouth down, following the scar along his cheek to his chest as he shook slightly under her lips.

“Baby.”

His hands clenched the fronts of her shirt with clear intent to tear, and she immediately sat back. “Don’t you dare,” she said quickly. “I love it when you wear this shirt.”

Ben blinked, looking as if he had only just realized exactly what he was doing. He lifted his hands to the top button and carefully slipped it free. “I really like it on you,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “So we might have a problem.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

One button after another, the shirt gradually gaping until it hung entirely open at her sides. Rey kept her gaze on Ben, watching as his eyes roamed over her until his hands finally- finally- slid over her ribs, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin under her breasts.

“I love your hands.”

His gaze flicked up to meet hers, a small smile curving his mouth. “You’re beautiful.” He lifted his hands to push the shirt off her shoulders, the fabric falling to pool around her. “I knew you would be,” he added as his fingers found the button on her jeans, his knuckles brushing against the skin of her stomach. “I knew you would be perfect.”

“I’m not perfect,” she protested as he pulled the zipper down, lying back unasked and lifting her hips so that he could ease the denim down her legs.

“Perfect to me,” he insisted, dropping her jeans to the floor. “Look at you,” he said tenderly, skimming his hands up her legs. “Gorgeous.”

Rey pulled her hands free of the shirt-sleeves and reached for the button on his own jeans, licking her lips without even thinking about it. “We’re finally going to decrease,” she said a little teasingly, and he huffed a laugh in reply. “You’ll have to let me know if I’m any good at it.”

“None of that.” He ran his hands through her hair, somehow managing to watch her in a way that was both soft and almost predatory. “Your pleasure is all I care about.”

He stripped off his jeans once she pulled down the zipper, discarding his socks in the process. “Get back against the pillows, baby,” he murmured, tugging the covers down as she stared at the new wealth of muscles revealed to her. “Let me make you feel good.”

Rey moved quickly and gracelessly back, waiting with barely concealed impatience as he settled on the bed between her spread thighs. “I want to see the rest of you,” she said, tugging gently at the waistband of his underwear.

He shifted his hips back, grinning as he traced a single finger along the top of her bra, dipping it briefly into the shallow valley between her breasts. “In a minute.”

“Ben.”

“Beautiful.” He cupped her right breast in one large hand, teasing the peak with his thumb until she made the impulsive choice to scramble forward, tackling him to the mattress.

“Impatient,” he said as she straddled his hips, a smile on his face as he made the clear choice to remain pinned.

Rey considered her new territory with pleasure, growing a bit breathless at the feel of his arousal pressed so intimately against her. She had felt it before, of course, but never with such promise. “You really don’t mind putting off dinner?” she asked, deciding to do a bit of teasing herself as she resumed her exploration of his chest. “You must be hungry.”

“I can wait.” His voice dipped low as he stroked his hands up and down her sides. “I’ve been thinking about this for… for a really long time.” Rey had never considered that stretch of skin particularly sensitive, but under his hands she very nearly squirmed. “What are you hungry for?” he asked, clearly not talking about food.

She rocked her hips experimentally against his, watching as his eyes darkened. “A kiss,” she answered honestly, rocking her hips again. And then another kiss, and another, and whatever might happen after that.

He lifted a hand, his index finger pressing lightly against her mouth. “Here?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Here?” He ran his finger down her chest, lingering between her breasts. “Or here?”

Ben brushed the back of his fingers against the damp satin between her thighs, smiling.

Rey was fairly certain her brain short-circuited. “All of the above?”

“Gladly,” he replied, rolling Rey onto her back in a quick flurry of movement, his mouth claiming hers in a way that made her toes curl in the sheets.

Mine, she mentally sighed as his mouth trailed hotly down her neck, one of his hands slipping underneath her to unclasp her bra.

Mine, she thought dizzily as his lips closed around her clit, wrenching a cry from her throat.

Mine, she declared stubbornly at the initial pinch and stretch of his entrance, biting back a whine as the remnants of pleasure from her orgasm were joined by discomfort.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked her, his eyes dark and intent as worry crossed his face. “Rey?”

Her eyelids fluttered as she considered, licking her bottom lip. “No,” she said with a shake of her head as the initial discomfort eased to something manageable. “Slow.”

More a rocking motion than a thrust. Just him in her, moving like a slow series of waves as he watched her with an almost awestruck expression. “Rey,” he murmured, his mouth soft. “My Rey.”

She drew up her knees, tentatively moving her hips to try and match his movements. “My Ben?”

“Your Ben,” he assured her with a slightly more frantic thrust that made her shiver instead of wince. “Yours.”

Rey wound her arms tightly around him, hitching one knee over his hip. “Your Rey,” she said in his ear, gasping at another slow thrust. “Yours.”

She glanced to one side of her head, where Ben had a hand clenched white-knuckled in the sheets. “Faster,” she encouraged. “Please.”

Thrusting. Thrusting was good. Thrusting was amazing. A little bit of pain, but Rey didn’t care about pain when everything else was Ben, inside her and on top of her and pressing her hard into the sheets under her back.

Ben inside her was a revelation.

Ben shaking apart in her arms? Even better.

He didn’t move off of her immediately, but he did raise himself up a little and cup her cheek with one hand. “Are you okay?” he asked, his face and ears flushed and that awestruck look in his eyes again.

It seemed like such a silly question, though she could already tell that she would be sore later. She didn’t care. “Yes.” Rey grinned, stroking the inside of his calf with her toes. “Was that a good decrease?”

He dropped his head beside hers, laughing a little wildly. “That was… that was an amazing decrease, baby.” He slid out of her and lay down at her side, the immediate sense of loss quickly appeased by the way he curled around her. “And you really do have the sweetest little purl stitch,” he added, murmuring the words in her ear.

“Ben.” She covered her blushing face with her hands even as her body shook with laughter.

“I’m hoping you’ll let me kiss it again tomorrow,” he continued, nuzzling her hair.

“You really liked doing that?”

“Yes.”

She peeked at him from between her fingers and caught him watching her with a tender look. “Okay.”

He smiled, clearly pleased. “Good.”

- - -

They bought a tree the next day- a small one- and lights, and ornaments. The cats watched with increasing interest as Rey and Ben decorated, sniffing around the base of the tree for minutes at a stretch until they finally sprawled underneath it, Revan batting at the lowest branches.

“I’ve never had my own tree,” Ben said with a shrug when Rey asked. “It seemed… I’m not sure. Unnecessary for one person, I guess. And after my parents divorced Christmases were just one more thing for them to fight over.”

“It was always a production when I was a kid.” On impulse Rey turned off the lamp and overhead light, leaving the room lit only by the multi-colored glow of the tree. “Not in terms of scale, just in expectations for me. It was stressful, trying to be properly grateful all day long.”

Ben moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle. “What would make the day happy for you?”

She thought, stroking her fingers lightly against the back of his hands. “I want to do what we did Thanksgiving night,” Rey said after a moment. “Eat good food, drink champagne, watch terrible movies.” She turned in his arms just enough to look up at him. “And have a lot of sex,” she added with a smile. “What do you think?”

“I think you have wonderful ideas.” He sat on the couch, pulling her down with him. “Of course, the number one rule is-”

“-never answer the door,” she interrupted with a smirk, moving to straddle his lap.

And that was exactly what they did. Sleepy morning sex that shook Rey to her core, a leisurely breakfast, and slow kisses on the couch before Ben pulled away and fetched the two packages under the tree.

Rey hadn’t doubted Jess’ words, but the same night as their conversation she had dug through her collection of scavenged bits, finally pulling out a bag of old watch parts and tiny gears. She had originally planned to use them for jewelry- steampunk pieces seemed to sell well online- but after carefully examining her stash she had gathered the tools she used for delicate work and begun fiddling.

“Open yours first,” she said when he sat, trying to tamp down her nerves.

Ben settled the other gift on her lap, brushing a kiss against her temple. His long fingers tore into the paper and carefully opened the box, pulling aside a nest of tissue paper.

Rey saw brief surprise, and then a genuine smile spread across his face. “Did you make these?” he asked with delight, lifting out one of three small figures. A regal and commanding feline rested on his palm, face and body and elegant tail made from carefully curved and soldered scraps of metal. “This is Bastila exactly.”

She relaxed as he pulled out the other two figures, Revan clowning and Breha curled and sweet. “You like them?”

“I love them.” He arranged the metal cats carefully on the coffee table, a tableau in miniature. “You’re an artist, Rey.”

“They’re easy subjects,” she demurred.

“You can see their personalities,” he replied with a shake of his head. “That’s not something just anyone could do.”

She smiled slowly, feeling oddly shy. “Thank you.”

Ben caught her in a very wanted kiss, his mouth lingering on hers for a long moment. “Open yours.”

It was a rectangular, flat box that weighed almost nothing. Her heart sped up slightly as she slipped her fingers carefully along the seams of the paper, too used to preserving every scrap to tear. Red paper fell away to reveal a white box, the top of which lifted away to reveal a neat layer of tissue paper, which pulled back to reveal light, light blue.

“You knit me a sweater,” she whispered, carefully lifting the cloud-light garment from the box. She was no fiber aficionado, but she thought she recognized the feel of the yarn. “You knit me a cashmere sweater?”

The fabric flowed over her hands, the gauge small. It was no last minute project; he had to have been working on it since the beginning of November, at the very least.

“Almost as soft as you,” he replied, running a hand over her hair.

“I’ve never worn cashmere,” Rey admitted, stroking the fabric with growing excitement. “It’s beautiful, Ben.”

She stood abruptly, hurrying toward the bedroom. “I’m going to try it on!” she called back.

Once in front of the mirror she pulled the t-shirt she wore over her head, dropping it to the floor. Without bothering to put on a bra she carefully donned the sweater, the fabric settling lightly over her skin and bare breasts.

“It’s perfect,” she said as he entered the room, her fingertips moving lightly over the details. “It makes me look pulled together, even in pajama bottoms.”

He sat on the edge of the mussed bed, watching her with a quiet smile, and didn’t say a word.

“Ben?” she asked as she moved toward him, unsure why he suddenly looked so distant.

He refocused on the present, curving his hands around her hips. “Red.”

She raised a brow, puzzled. “What?”

His smile grew. “Your next sweater.” Ben kissed her gently. “Your next sweater is red.”

Chapter Text

Finn’s image resolved rather haltingly, but eventually her ancient and overworked laptop obliged Rey with a good look at her oldest friend.

“Peanut!” He grinned into the camera, part of a beer bottle evident at his elbow. He looked comfortably settled into the evening, while it was barely mid-afternoon for her. “How are you?”

“Busy.” Rey sat cross-legged on her molded-plastic desk chair, lightly rubbing the hem of her new sweater between her fingers. She tried not to wear it too often- she was determined to make it last for as long as bloody possible- but every time it had finished air-drying after being carefully washed in her sink she always seemed to find a reason to don it. “The semester has started out at a sprint.”

Enough of a sprint that she only spent a few nights a week with Ben, at least in part because of eight am classes three times a week. It was simply easier to sleep in her own lonely bed on campus than to face making the commute, especially given how tempted she always was to hit the snooze button and spend more time dozing next to him.

Or not dozing, as often happened. They were going through condoms at a rate that was probably environmentally unsound.

“You look happy, though.” He seemed to be scrutinizing her thoroughly. “Kind of glowy, actually.” He raised a brow. “You aren’t pregnant, are you?”

Rey- who had dipped into the stash of tampons under Ben’s sink just the day before and was using her own stash now- just laughed. “No. I’m… I’m happy.” She stroked the hem of her sweater again, smiling easily. “Really happy.”

“You look it.” He picked up his beer, but seemed more intent on fiddling with the label than actually drinking. “Really look it, Rey. Not that fake version you used to do.”

Rey opened her mouth to rebut his words, then paused. “No, you’re right,” she said after a moment. “I’ve been… I guess I’ve been faking it for a while. In a rut, really.”

“Years,” Finn responded dryly. “Honestly? That was part of the reason I kept hinting you should come back to London. You seemed kind of adrift. And,” he added with a shrug, looking a little sad, “I really do miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Rey admitted. “I…”

She nearly said what she always said: I’m not ready to come back. She just wasn’t quite sure if that was true, anymore.

Not permanently. Not to secure a flat and find a job. But a visit… she might visit. For Finn. “I’ll look at my calendar.”

It was the closest she had come to hinting at a return since she had left, and Finn knew it. “Maybe you should bring your Ben.” He took a sip of his beer, his expression cheerier. “I want to meet him.”

Rey rather liked the idea of taking Ben to London. “I’ll ask him.”

“All I’m asking is that I meet him before the wedding.” Finn took another sip of his beer as Rey took in a slow breath. “I have to vet the guy.”

Rey could hardly admit that she occasionally daydreamed of wedding rings and shared living quarters; he would just tease further. “We could arrange a skype chat,” she said instead.

“No, I need to look into his eyes,” Finn said with what looked like a teasing kind of serious, making a two-pronged finger gesture from his own eyes to the camera. “Me and him, face to face.”

“He’s five or six inches taller than you,” Rey replied with a small smile, and Finn rallied admirably.

“I will stand a step above,” he amended. “Maybe two.”

Rey considered the perfect bind-off on her sleeve, her smile growing. “He’s sweet, Finn. Really, really sweet.”

“‘Sweet’ has never attracted you before,” Finn pointed out. “Though I guess the version of ‘sweet’ we used to see was pretty fake.”

“This is real.” Everything about Ben was real; Rey knew how to spot fakes. “He… he cooks for me, his cats unabashedly love him, he smiles- really smiles- every time he sees me. When I left his flat yesterday he gave me a scarf. That he made. For me, for no reason.”

“You’re one of the best judges of character I’ve ever met.” Finn himself was smiling, and genuinely. “Even when I thought you were being paranoid you were always right. I believe you. Honestly, I’ve been prepared to like him ever since you let slip the whole bad pun thing.”

Rey steeled her expression, trying not to show even a hint of amusement. “Finn.”

“I did some research for just this moment.” He brandished a handwritten list, grinning evilly, and cleared his throat dramatically. “How’s his cable needle?”

“Stop.”

“He must be very adept with it.”

“I’m going to hang up on you.”

- - -

March came in like the proverbial lion. Outside their cozy bedroom rain fell in sheets, the occasional bolt of lightning illuminating the skyline. Rey- feeling pleasantly boneless in her post-coital state- snuggled into the sheets and let her mind wander until it tripped over a subject she had been meaning to bring up.

“That day we met.” Rey stared up at the bedroom ceiling, Ben’s arm a heavy weight across her waist. She loved that weight. She loved sharing a bed with him in general, with or without sex, and every night she spent in her little dorm room was beginning to feel like exile. “I made a bad joke about increases.”

Suddenly he was up on one elbow, staring down at her as the lamplight flickered. “Are we increasing?” he asked seriously, an unexpected spark of excitement in his eyes.

“No,” she said quickly, and just as quickly added, “I was just wondering if you wanted to increase. Someday.”

Ben stayed propped up, his expression easing into something less serious, more gentle. “I want to increase with you.” He smiled, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Plain terms: I would love to have children with you.”

“Good.” Rey ran her fingertips over the length of the arm lying across her, smiling slightly. “I wanted to make sure.”

He settled beside her again, kissing the round of her shoulder. “You’re interested in an increase or two?” he asked quietly.

“With the right person.” She turned her head to look at him, wondering if their hypothetical children would have those same eyes. She had always told herself never, unless, and she had finally found her unless. “I think you’re the only right person.”

“I feel the same way.” He kissed her shoulder again before tugging her closer. Rey happily tucked her head under his chin, one arm tight around his back. “I…”

Rey brushed her lips against his neck in a kiss. “What?”

“I might have looked at patterns for maternity sweaters,” he mumbled.

Rey could do nothing but laugh. She had known, deep in her soul, that if he ever had children they would be outfitted in woolly proof of their father’s love, but for some reason she had never considered maternity wear. “What if I’m due in the summer?” she asked teasingly, a part of her breathless at her own use of the first-person subjunctive.

“Linen and cotton and silk,” he replied easily, though there was a note in his voice that told her he was blushing. “I looked at that, too.”

She kissed his neck again and said what she had been secretly contemplating for months. “I’m starting my job search in Atlanta.”

At first it had been a hope- that if she stayed, maybe he would continue his interest for a little longer- but Rey was gradually learning certainty. Or rather, she knew certainty and she was gradually learning to trust in it.

“Thank God,” he breathed, moving down her body enough to meet her gaze. “Move in with me.”

She had gone from loving having her own private space to wanting more than anything to share a space with him, but she was still surprised by the speed of his invitation. “Really?” she asked, feeling the beginnings of excitement. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find a job here, or that I’ll be able to contribute fairly to rent and expenses…”

“First of all, I love you,” he said when her voice trailed off. “You’re not and never have been a burden to me, Rey. I’m covering everything just fine by myself, and I’m perfectly happy to continue paying for everything until you get on your feet.”

“At which point we renegotiate,” she interjected, and he squeezed her bare hip gently.

“Even if you end up moving elsewhere for work, I want you to stay with me during the gap,” he continued, his voice soft. “Even if you get an offer from somewhere in North Dakota. I would visit you in North Dakota.” His expression turned utterly serious. “I would visit you in Chicago.”

Chicago was Snoke’s territory, for all intents and purposes, and Rey hurried to reply, “I would never take a job anywhere near Chicago.”

“I admit that helps,” Ben said with a sigh of relief, then kissed the tip of her nose. “I could… I could move the store somewhere else.”

Rey immediately frowned. He could, of course. He was excellent at his work, and would probably manage to plant a thriving business practically anywhere. It just wouldn’t be the same as the business his grandmother had started and passed on to him, which was still frequented by numerous customers who remembered Padmé with love. Moving the store from one part of Atlanta to another was a completely different prospect from transplanting it to, say, Bismark.

“No,” she said firmly. “You are going to stay here, and if at all possible so am I.”

He was quiet for a moment. “This is not the way I wanted to bring it up,” he said carefully, “but if your legal status is ever in doubt, there is an obvious remedy.”

“Ben-”

“It’s there, Rey,” he interrupted, his eyes focused and intent. “The remedy is my ultimate goal, anyway. The last thing I want is to be separated from you because of bureaucracy.”

That was basically a marriage proposal, and for some reason it stymied her far more than discussing their hypothetical children. “I want,” she began slowly, then rephrased. “I like the idea of the remedy.”

He regarded her carefully. Beyond the closed door a feline choir convened. “Think about it,” he said finally, his voice soft. “Please?”

Rey smiled and spoke, because he had laid himself so emotionally bare and she couldn’t leave him alone in that state. “I don’t want to be separated from you, either. I don’t even know why I’m being strange about it. My early life didn’t exactly prepare me for romance.”

She liked it, though. Ben’s version of romance, which was largely private and quiet, appealed to her a great deal.

“It’s early,” he offered. “Relatively so, at least.”

“But you’re pretty certain,” she hazarded.

“I am.” One of his hands caressed her back. “Are you?”

“I am,” she admitted softly. “I would just rather that the remedy weren’t a remedy.”

“Me, too.” He kissed her forehead, and then gathered her closer as the light flickered again. “It’s just an option, okay? Keep it in mind.”

“I will.”

They lay there quietly for a few minutes, until finally he said, “I finished a pair of socks for you.”

Rey had been on the verge of maybe, possibly, slipping into sleep, but at his words she rocketed back awake. “Socks?”

“Yeah.”

He hadn’t moved in the slightest, as if he had expected her to take his declaration quietly. “I need to see them,” she said firmly, excitedly. “Please.”

Ben sat up, looking down at her with a slight smile. “Now.”

“Yes.”

His smile shifted to a grin as he stood, walking toward the bedroom door in all his nude glory. Rey watched with unabashed interest as he edged open the door and slipped into the hall, the chorus of feline complaint clear even after the door shut again behind him. Increases and remedies and socks, she thought, curled up expectantly in their rumpled bed. Maternity sweaters.

Suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking of Ben knitting row after row on a cardigan meant to be worn open over a bulging belly.

“No,” Ben said patiently as he eased back into the room. “Go eat your food. Go- no, Revan.”

With the door safely closed he returned to the bed, holding up a pair of green socks. “I hope you like the color.”

She snatched them from his hands with a gleeful grin, tugging them on. “I love them,” she declared, rolling onto her back and sticking her feet up into the air, pointing and flexing. The gussets and heels hugged her feet perfectly, and the tiny, precise details told her that he had likely carried around both pattern and row counter and referred to them often. “I’m going to wear them into the ground.”

When she glanced over at him, still overjoyed, she found him staring at her in a completely unexpected way as he stood by the side of the bed. “What?”

“I love knitting socks,” he said in an absent manner, his gaze moving over her from her head to her besocked feet, “but honestly, Rey, I’ve never found socks sexy before.”

She dropped her feet flat to the mattress. “Sexy?” she asked doubtfully, raising a brow, then understood when he climbed onto the mattress. “This is sexy?” she continued with a laugh on seeing his very evident arousal.

Ben rummaged through the drawer of his bedside table, pulling out a small foil square. “Very.”

“That’s fairly clear evidence right there,” she teased, gesturing at his erection. She spread her thighs eagerly. “Do you want me to take them off?”

“No.” He knelt between her legs, looking suddenly thoughtful. “I think there’s a book of knitted lingerie patterns…”

Rey covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide her smile.

“Is this okay?” he asked, focused again on her.

“Yes,” she said, grabbing his shoulders. “Come here.”

She had a special fondness for many things Ben-related, and one of them was the way his stubble felt against her skin when he kissed her neck. “I’ve already started another pair,” he murmured as his mouth lingered just below her jaw.

Rey’s eyelashes fluttered as she tried to concentrate on his words. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She was not operating at full brain capacity- increases and remedies and maternity sweaters and socks- but she could focus on one pertinent fact. “Socks come in pairs,” she said in a breathier voice than she had intended, running one hand through his hair.

He pulled back a little, enough to look her in the eyes. “Very true,” he replied seriously, as if she had just solved a great mystery of the universe.

Socks came as a pair, and apparently they did too, and that was the extent of her thought process as the power went out entirely and they decreased under the cover of the dark.

- - -

“You look beautiful,” Ben said as they stepped into the elevator, and Rey gave him a tiny smile, brushing down the skirt of her dress for the dozenth time.

Jess’ dress, really. A little bit big on Rey in the bust, but with her new cardigan (red, per Ben’s promise) on top, it was almost impossible to tell. “Thank you.” She grabbed his hand, taking in a deep breath. “You’re sure she doesn’t hate me?”

“Positive,” he replied, squeezing her hand gently. “Believe me, I know when my mother hates people; the tone she uses is very distinctive.”

Rey nodded as the elevator- quickly, too quickly for her liking- finished its ascent and dinged cheerily on arrival.

She had certainly seen this restaurant before- it was a rather distinctive sight in Atlanta, with its outwardly futuristic space-ship design perched high on the skyline- but had never been. She liked it, now that she was inside: the retro feel was rather charming, and the view from the massive windows really was impressive.

“This place always gives me a little bit of vertigo,” Ben admitted under his breath. “But my mother loves it, so…”

Leia was waiting at one of the tables, a cocktail in front of her. “There you are,” she said, giving them both a warm smile. Leia looked relaxed as she hugged her son, and far more approachable than she had at Thanksgiving. Being pulled into a hug of her own was unexpected, but Rey cautiously accepted the embrace.

“You look lovely,” Leia told her, one hand resting on Rey’s cheek briefly. “That’s one of Ben’s sweaters, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Rey replied, a little bemused, and sat in the chair Ben pulled out for her.

“He’s very talented.” Leia spoke the words earnestly, surprising a hint of bemusement from Ben as well. “I love the socks he sends me.”

Rey relaxed slightly, glancing at Ben. “Before we actually met I used to see him knitting socks on the train.”

There was an odd note on Leia’s face, closer to sorrow than anything else. “I don’t think you’ve ever actually knit in front of me,” she said after a moment, though it was clearly not a scold. Bittersweet, Rey thought. “You would always put it away when I entered the room.”

Ben appeared to be intently scrutinizing the menu. “It felt like a secret thing, when I was a kid,” he said quietly. “It became a habit, at least for a while.”

Leia nodded, not looking surprised. “I remember watching my mother knit,” she said instead. “She made me so many things, though I’m afraid I took them for granted.”

“She kept the sweaters,” Ben said, lifting his gaze slightly. “An entire age range of sweaters, from infancy to your teenage years. Uncle Luke’s, too. I still have them.” He paused, his earlobes reddening. “If you want them.”

Leia’s expression shifted to a kind of longing, and then- for whatever reason- she slid a brief glance to Rey. “I would like to see them again,” she said. “But I think they deserve to be used, don’t you?”

Ben raised his head fully, lowering his menu. “I really do,” he replied, his mouth curving into a slow smile. “They’re classics.”

“Mom always had excellent taste.” Leia picked up her cocktail, a similar smile on her face, and Rey abruptly understood the undercurrent of the conversation.

“I am sitting here,” she said mildly, watching with interest as the blush spread to Ben’s cheeks, and a tinge of pink settled on Leia’s, as well. “Is it true this place has their own apiary?”

“Yes,” Leia said after a moment, amusement in her eyes. “They make wonderful cocktails with the honey. You should try one.”

“I think I will,” Rey replied, and despite her external calm she kept thinking of the baby sweaters carefully laid away in the cedar chest in Ben’s bedroom. “That sounds wonderful.”

Ben’s hand settled lightly on her thigh under the table, a warm and welcome weight.

It was a pleasant dinner, to Rey’s relief, enough so that when Ben excused himself she merely took a sip of her second cocktail and met Leia’s gaze straight-on.

“He’s happy,” Leia said once Ben was out of ear-shot, and Rey set her glass back onto the table.

“I think so,” she said cautiously, running her fingertips along the base of her glass.

“He was content before, and I mistook it for… for complacency, maybe,” Leia continued. “But now he’s happy- very happy.” She smiled at Rey, one hand curled loosely around her own glass. “Because of you.”

And she wasn’t wrong. Rey knew that she made Ben happy, even if a small part of her mind occasionally asked why. “He makes me very happy,” she said instead. “You raised a wonderful son.”

Leia’s smile turned wry. “My mother raised a wonderful grandson,” she replied, that bittersweetness on her face again. “I’ll go to my grave thanking her for it, and apologizing for it.” She tucked a wisp of hair behind one ear. “I also owe you an apology.”

A waitress appeared and cleared their plates, and Rey was so off-balance from Leia’s statement that she didn’t even look longingly toward the last bite of lamb that she had definitely been intending to eat.

“We all acted terribly at Thanksgiving,” Leia said. “To Ben, and to you. I never should have implied that you were dating him for untoward reasons.”

“I can understand why you might have thought so,” Rey said after a moment, staring down into the golden liquid in her glass.

“I’ve never heard him talk about anyone or anything like that before.” Leia leaned in, her forearms resting on the table. “The first time he told me about you- back in September- I could hear the glow over the phone. And I let myself worry over it, as if my son falling in love could ever be a bad thing. I was in the wrong.”

“I love him very much,” Rey said quietly, yet clearly. “He’s… he’s my home.”

The only home she had ever had. She loved his flat- the cozy rooms, his cats, the bed they shared- and she certainly felt safe and comfortable there. Ben, though, was the critical component. Rey glanced out the window behind Leia, her mouth quirking into a slight smile when she realized that the view had changed.

“I forgot that the floor revolves,” Rey admitted when Leia raised a questioning brow. “I haven’t been paying attention.”

“My favorite part.” Leia turned in her chair, looking at the city lights beyond. “But sometimes I forget, too… that not everything remains static.” She turned back to Rey, an almost mischievous smile on her face. “Would you like to see some pictures of Ben as a child?”

Rey smiled brightly, and stood to move her chair closer. “Please.”

Ben came back to find them laughing over Leia’s phone, and when Rey looked up at him he shrugged, grinning a little self-consciously. “I grew into the ears eventually,” he said in a quiet, deep voice, the look in his eyes telling Rey that he didn’t at all mind seeing them bond over his old pictures. That he might even have been hoping for it, on some level.

“I love your ears,” she informed him, watching as pink crept over his cheeks. “They’re distinguished.”

He took a sip of his water, smiling slightly. “I don’t think anyone has ever used that word before.”

If they had been at home- that word again, because the flat was home when Ben was there- she would have settled herself on his lap and kissed both ears until he carried her off to bed. In the middle of the restaurant, all she could do was nudge the toe of her shoe against his ankle and give him the softest expression she knew, the one she saved just for him.

It appeared to be effective. Ben leaned back in his chair and beckoned their waitress over. “We would love some dessert, if you have a moment,” he told her. He slid a glance toward Rey, the look in his eyes warm and teasing. “We won’t be sharing.”

- - -

Though the lack of income made Rey uneasy, she quit her job with Plutt shortly after spring break. It had become clear that she needed those weekend hours more than she needed the money- needed them for sleep, and for homework, and to preserve any sense of balance in her life.

The remaining weeks to graduation slipped through Rey’s fingers in a haze of notes and papers and equations. In less time than seemed possible she was on the other side of finals, still rather dazed by the knowledge that she was done, and that she had a place to go that wasn’t another cheap sublet. A place that she was already more or less moved into, she realized as she packed what little remained in her dorm room into one duffel bag.

“Free!” Rose said triumphantly as she burst in the door of the suite, looking as if she had sprinted at least part of the way to the dorm. She dropped her purse to the floor with a thump and disappeared into her room. “We’re all graduating! We’re all walking! We’re all drinking!”

Jess appeared in the door of her own room, grinning. “Excited, are we?”

“Ecstatic.” Rose darted out of her room, holding three small cans carefully between her hands. “Here.”

Rey accepted the cold can, laughing when she saw the small straw affixed loosely to the side.

“Sparkling wine in a can; what a time to be alive,” Jess said dryly, but popped the tab on her own and plopped the straw in. “Not bad,” she admitted after taking a sip, all of them taking a seat on the worn carpet of the hall.

The moment should have felt like an ending, Rey realized- and maybe it would have been, in some alternate universe. In this one, though, with painted cinderblock against her back and the wine fizzy and slightly sweet on her tongue, Rey recognized transition. Both Rose and Jess were staying in the Atlanta area- sharing an apartment in Smyrna, close to Rose’s new job- and Rey knew that she would still see them, and often.

“To us,” she said after a moment, lifting her can aloft. “The best randomly assigned roommates in the history of GTech.”

Both Rose and Jess laughed, lifting their cans.

“To us, for not killing each other that first semester,” Jess added. “God knows I came close.”

“We could tell,” Rose said with a sly grin. “To Jess, for her valiant restraint.”

“To Rey, for playing diplomat.” Jess looked them both in the eyes in turn, her expression open and soft. “In all seriousness: you’re my best friends. I’m grateful for you both, every day.”

“Me, too,” Rey replied, reaching out to clasp Jess’ hand.

Rose scrambled to her feet and went back into her room, returning with kleenex and a bag of potato chips. “Me three,” she said, taking a kleenex for herself. “I love you nerds.”

They tapped their cans together, laughing, and Rey settled into the comfort of a transition well-earned.

- - -

She woke before the alarm, blinking muzzily into the dim light of the bedroom. One of the cats was curled up behind her knees, another behind her head, and inches from her Ben still slept. She edged her hand closer, tempted to touch the soft lines of his mouth.

Bastila sat up behind him, barely visible behind the rise of his shoulder. She blinked lazily at Rey before butting her head against Ben’s back, who stirred, curling in on himself a little.

“Let him sleep,” Rey murmured to the cat, who repeated the action in reply.

“Bast loves keeping a schedule,” Ben mumbled into his pillow, his eyes still closed. “Hey, baby.”

Rey smoothed his tousled hair, the cat behind her knees shifting. “Hi.”

He opened his eyes, smiling sleepily at her. “Ready to walk?”

And God, she was. Ready to wear her first new dress in years, ready to accept her degree, ready to fly to Maine the next week and to throw herself into a job search on their return. And ready- very ready- to share it all with Ben.

“Yes,” she replied, giving in to the desire to caress her thumb along his lower lip. “Definitely.”

Chapter Text

Rey hadn’t been on a plane since her arrival to the States themselves, and she had spent the entirety of that flight crammed into the middle of a back row between two best friends who had talked over her almost the entire time. By the time she had arrived in Atlanta she had been bleary-eyed and jittery, fear gnawing at her stomach, and it had taken days for that fear to diminish.

In comparison, she spent the flight to Maine sitting in an exit row, reading as Ben knitted beside her. It was definitely the superior flight.

“Is it very far?” she asked when they were in their rental car, Ben looking mildly tense as he always did behind the wheel.

“About an hour and a half.” He pulled smoothly into traffic, staring straight ahead. “It’s an easy drive.”

It rained the entire trip, leaving the landscape cast a misty green-gray. “I actually haven’t been here since college,” Ben admitted about halfway to their destination, and when she turned her gaze to him she found that he looked contemplative. “But before my parents divorced we would spend a week or two with Uncle Luke every summer. After that I was here with either him or my mother or both.”

He had talked about their trip only in tones of excitement up until that moment, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “Do you regret coming?” she asked finally, deciding it was best to just address the issue head-on.

“No,” he replied immediately. “Most of my memories of Maine are actually good ones. I mainly remember swimming in the lake; playing board games on rainy days.”

“Good.” She let out a long breath, relieved. “Good.”

He chuckled, his gaze still firmly on the road. “I wouldn’t have suggested coming if I only had bad memories,” he assured her. “I want to have this time with you, at a place I really do love.”

She leaned over the center console to press a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you for sharing Maine with me.”

The rain picked up before he could reply, and she settled back into her seat without a word when he grew even more attentive of the road ahead. After a while she even dozed a little, lulled into sleep by the passing endless landscape of trees and the sound of rain on the car roof.

Eventually highway turned to country road, which turned to a long gravel drive between dense trees. Away from traffic Ben seemed to relax, a small smile appearing on his face as he followed the gently curving road.

The house appeared almost abruptly after one last curve, heavy rain softening its lines in a way that kept Rey from figuring out just how large or small it might be. She could see a covered front porch, with trees to the left of the house and the lake to the right, and little more than that.

Ben’s expression had turned nostalgic, as if he were seeing every happy summer memory at once. “It looks like I remember,” he said after a moment, his voice almost drowned out by the drumming rain. “There’s a dock around the back, and a fire-pit… I got sick on s’mores sitting next to that fire when I was eight. Dad kept handing them to me.”

“And what bedroom did teenage Ben dream of getting lucky in?” she asked, gently teasing.

A slow smile crept over his face. “My room had a view of the forest- it was almost like sleeping in a tree-house.” He looked to her, his expression promising. “If you don’t mind missing out on the lake view?”

“I think we’ll be seeing plenty of the lake, don’t you?” Rey opened the car door and slid out into the cool rain, her clothing almost immediately soaked. “You should probably show me that room first,” she added with a smile of her own, then slammed the door shut.

By the time they made it to the porch they were both dripping rainwater, Rey grinning wildly as she kicked off her sandals. As Ben unlocked the door she held her hand out over the railing, raindrops striking her palm.

“Come inside, baby.”

She turned and caught Ben watching her with a heated gaze as he grabbed their suitcases. “I’m going to warm you up.”

Rey left the rain behind without a thought, following him inside. “That sounds like something I would enjoy.”

And she did. A hot shower, where he kissed her almost dizzy under the fall of water, left her feeling warm and awake and hungry. Being tumbled into bed directly afterward took care of a large part of that hunger.

“This is already my favorite vacation,” Ben informed her after as she donned her favorite of his shirts. He certainly looked happy and content enough to make that kind of statement, an almost smug smile curving his mouth as he pulled a tshirt over his head.

She was feeling rather smug herself, even if she had no vacations to compare to. “Feed me and it will definitely be mine,” she said, rising to her toes to plant a kiss on his mouth.

He caught her around the waist before she could slip away, pulling her in for a softer, more lingering kiss. “I love you,” he murmured, and if there had been even the slightest chill left in her it would have been banished at that moment.

“I know.” Rey toyed with the damp ends of his hair, leaning into him. “I love you, too.”

- - -

Three of their five days were sunny, and they spent them swimming, hiking, and lounging on the deck by day and roasting marshmallows by the fire-pit at night. Rey- who had rarely had a chance to venture outside of downtown Atlanta during the last four years- enjoyed her time in the sun and among the trees to the hilt.

Even so, she almost preferred the two days it rained, when there was nothing else to do but laze around the house. They had cuddled away any number of free days in Atlanta while watching old movies, but for some reason it felt more luxurious in a borrowed house pre-stocked with food and wine.

And- on that first day- he taught her how to knit.

Or started to, at any rate.

“Is this how you teach all your students?” she asked teasingly when he pulled her onto his lap, her back flush against his front.

“Never,” he said firmly, his chin propped on her shoulder, and held a set of needles with several finished rows in front of her. “Maz taught you the basics, right?”

“Just the knit stitch, and that was over a decade ago.”

She had remembered a good bit of it, though, just by watching him over the past months. Not the muscle memory- she had never practiced enough to establish that- but the way knit and purl stitches looked in action, at least.

“A refresher, then.” He executed several knit stitches slowly and perfectly. “The needle goes through the front of the stitch, picks up the loop, and pulls the new stitch through.”

Rey accepted the needles, waiting while he adjusted her grip and looped the yarn around two fingers of her left hand. The set-up felt alien as she performed the same stitch gracelessly, but she knew that pulling the yarn through on the first try was a victory in itself.

“Good,” he murmured.

She kept on, moving slowly through each stitch. “Do you need me to move?”

“Nope.” As he spoke his lips brushed against her neck, and he snugged his arms a little tighter around her waist. “I have a great view right here.”

If he didn’t mind, she certainly didn’t mind. Rey relaxed against him, focusing on the work in front of her. Stitch by stitch by stitch by stitch… loose and uneven, but still formed by her hands. “It’s kind of like when I first learned to fix things,” she murmured. “There’s a pattern to it, isn’t there?”

“Yeah.” He spoke the word quietly into her ear. “When Grandma first taught me, it was like everything fell into place the moment it clicked- like I had found something timeless.”

She hummed in agreement, executing another stitch. “Ben?”

He pressed a light kiss under her ear. “Hmm?”

“When I have health insurance again, I was thinking about starting some kind of birth control.” She paused in her knitting when his body tensed. “Unless you prefer condoms?”

His voice was low and quiet when he answered. “I would really enjoy doing without.”

Rey knew she was blushing, which seemed rather ridiculous after roughly six months of frequent and loving sex. “Me, too.”

His mouth ghosted over the curve of her neck, making her fingers weaken on the needles. “Maybe I’d like to take my purl girl back to bed,” he murmured, one hand slipping under her shirt to caress her belly. “Drop a few stitches.”

“I guess that is a kind of decrease.” His fingertips dipped under the waistband of her leggings, barely brushing her curls, and she sighed happily. “Just… unraveling,” she said in a whisper, speaking without even thinking about her words. “You always make me unravel, you make me-”

Logically she knew that there was some intermediary step, but from her perception she went from sitting on his lap to draped over his shoulder with absolutely no pause in between, and it was an entirely welcome shift. The needles dropped to the floor unheeded. “I want to unravel,” she said, almost in a daze, concentrating only on the arm tucked behind her knees and the hand curved over her thigh. “No one has ever made me want to lose control before. Only you.”

“My Rey gets whatever she wants.” He sounded a little ragged, his voice almost impossibly deep. More quickly than she had thought possible she was on her back on their bed, Ben looming over her. “I want- I really want to stop using condoms.” He tugged her leggings and underwear down quickly, tossing the cloth behind him. “And then birth control,” he continued, his eyes dark as he knelt between her legs. “I want to make midnight grocery runs and kiss your belly and knit tiny sweaters.”

Rey blinked up at him, almost unbearably turned on. “Two years.” She pulled off her tank top, dizzy with the certainty of years- and the certainty that he truly wanted to give her years. “Two more years of just us.”

Ben smiled, his hands warm on her thighs. “Two years.” He lowered himself to the bed, pushing her legs farther apart. “Let me see that pretty purl stitch, baby.”

Rey had no basis for comparison- and she didn’t want one, not at all- but she was fairly certain no one purled quite like Ben Solo. She was also fairly certain that if she had known that this was one definition of purling she might very well have tumbled into bed with him by Thanksgiving, at the very least.

“Ben.” Her hands clenched in the sheets, fingernails biting into the weave. “Please.”

Rey unraveled- or dropped a stitch, or multiple stitches, or quite simply just came- on his tongue, and then he was curled around her, one hand stroking her back soothingly. She was nothing near petite, but compared to Ben she always felt positively dainty. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his breath stirring her hair.

“Good.” She took in a breath, feeling mostly liquid. “Give me a few minutes,” she said, her eyes fluttering open, “I’m going to… to cable? Or… shit.” Rey giggled, running a hand lazily down his side. “I don’t have the brain power to find a knitting thing.”

He huffed a laugh, cuddling her closer. “You want on top?”

“Yeah.”

Ben pressed a series of light kisses against her temple. “I’m always willing to wait for that.”

“Do you think,” she said as she slowly recovered her equilibrium, “do you think we could have fifty years?” Rey drew in a breath, his heartbeat under her ear. “I’d really like fifty years,” she finished quietly.

“Personally, I’m hoping for sixty.” He tugged her up a little until they were sharing the same pillow. “It haunts me, sometimes,” he said quietly, still so patient even with his arousal pressed hot against her belly, “that I nearly didn’t speak to you at that MARTA station.”

It hurt, the thought of Ben innocently passing her by- a pain as jagged as a double break to a limb. “I would have just kept staring at you through the window of your shop when you were open late,” she replied, unable to summon even the smallest of smiles. “And thought about that mystery MARTA knitter.”

“Eventually I would have dragged you inside.”

She could almost imagine it: lingering in the shadows, only to have Ben open the door and offer his hand. “You would have found someone else,” she nonetheless said, still amazed that he had been available for the taking that summer day.

“Anyone else wouldn’t have been you,” he murmured. “I only want you, Rey.”

“I only want you.” She ran a hand through his hair, memorizing his face in the diluted light spilling through the windows. “You, and the cats, and the skeins of yarn I keep finding tucked into random drawers.”

“The stash breeds,” he replied with a small, almost sheepish smile.

“And I love it.” She wriggled out of his grasp, then pushed him onto his back and straddled him. “It’s such a nice surprise. When I have time I always try to figure out what you might do with it. Like that lace-weight in your underwear drawer.” Rey hesitated when he raised a brow, and guiltily added, “I borrowed a pair of your boxers to wear around the flat.”

He grinned. “Keep doing that.”

She placed the pad of her fingertip gently in the dip above his upper lip, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of his mouth, the feel of him underneath her, the sound of the rain striking the windows. “I want to feel you,” she said when she finally reached toward the bedside table, plucking a small foil packet from the top. “Soon.”

His hands settled on her hips as she rolled the condom down his length, his eyes dark and intent. “I’ll pay for your birth control.”

“You already pay for everything,” she replied as his tip nudged her entrance. “I want-”

She broke off, tilting her head back as she took him in. “I want to be your partner,” she said when she could speak again, her voice unsteady.

“You are my partner.” His hands tightened on her hips. “I don’t care about the money.” Ben moved one hand to cup her cheek before she could reply. “Please.”

Rey stared down at him, grasping for an answer. “We can’t talk about this right now,” she finally said, then rocked into his hold.

After- when she was sprawled on top of him, one of his arms heavy over the small of her back- he said, “It’s really our birth control.” His other hand smoothed over her hair, then came to rest on her shoulder.

“Compromise.” She closed her eyes, nuzzling her nose against the curve where neck met shoulder. “Give me two months to find a job.”

There was the slightest movement, as if he had nodded. “Okay.”

A faint sound from a distance, one she recognized. “Another picture from Mitaka.”

“He takes his cat-sitting duties very seriously.” He rolled them onto their sides, pressing a kiss against her temple. “What do you want for dinner, baby?” he asked as he slipped out of bed, moving toward the bathroom.

“Anything.” She sat up against the pillows, smiling at the sight of the green trees and rain at the windows. Like a tree-house, just as he had said. “I’ll help you prep.”

“I could use a sous chef.” He reappeared at the door, snagging his pajama pants from a chair. “Come on.”

They descended to the kitchen, both of them haphazardly dressed. “Ben,” she said as he started to rummage in the fridge, and when he looked back at her she continued, “I’m going to collect those sixty years.”

A smile spread across his face as he moved toward her, the fridge door thumping closed behind him. “I certainly hope so.” He crowded her back against the counter, his hands dropping to her hips. “When can I give you a ring?”

“Soon.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. “As soon as I have that work visa.”

He pressed a kiss against her hair. “Fair,” he murmured, then tipped up her chin to kiss her properly. “Carbs,” he said when he eventually stepped back. “Only the best mashed potatoes for you.”

“Keep that up and we’ll both be dropping another stitch.”

“Careful, purl girl.”

- - -

“I miss the cats,” she said as they loaded the car, “but I almost don’t want to leave Maine.”

“I know.” He pulled her into a soft kiss, tugging her gently onto her tiptoes. “We could come back for the honeymoon,” he offered, supporting most of her weight with his arms. “I think my uncle would be happy to lend it to us again.”

“I’d really like that.” She brushed her lips over the corner of his mouth. “I want to come back as Rey Solo.”

Ben’s arms tightened around her, his mouth curling into a smile. “You want to take my name?”

“I hate mine,” she admitted. “I’m very fond of yours.”

“Then you can have it, love.”

All she could smell was Ben and green, living things when he kissed her on that lake-shore, all but engaged. They might have to resort to the remedy- and like he had said, that was their mutual goal- but really, would that be so bad?

Rey was beginning to think the answer was no.

- - -

Rey was a talented engineer, but in a city like Atlanta there were plenty of talented engineers, and most of them could be had without the bother of obtaining a work visa. A month of applications and interviews with no job offers left her feeling a little desperate, but every night Ben smiled at her and kissed her worries away, clearly happy just to have her at home with him.

She did what she could to help: she cleaned, she entertained the cats, she cooked what meals she could reliably turn out well- and most days, she knew that she was doing her best. On her darker days, she scrubbed every available surface with almost obsessive attentiveness.

Until finally- finally- she got an offer.

A good offer, at that. The day she received it Ben brought home champagne and made love to her against the bedroom door, too eager to even make it to the bed.

“My brilliant purl girl,” he murmured in her ear, one arm hooked under her thigh as he rolled his hips against hers. “Staying with me.”

“No plans to leave.” Not to London, not to Paris, not to fucking Chicago. “Not going anywhere without you.”

“Good.” He pressed a heated kiss against her neck. “Staying. With. Me.”

Each word punctuated with a thrust until she utterly unraveled in his arms, gasping.

“Where’s my ring, then?” she asked with a grin when he dropped her onto the bed, almost immediately falling down beside her.

He laughed, his expression open and relaxed. “We’re on my time-line now.” Ben smiled at her, everything good promised in that smile. “You’re going to like it.”

And just like he could wait for her, she could wait for him, happily.

- - -

August passed, and September, and nearly all of October before he dropped a bundle in her lap. It wasn’t the first, since she had received her job offer- he had given her two pairs of socks in the interim- but it was the first he had wrapped.

“Intriguing,” she said with a grin, setting aside her glass of wine. Just an ordinary Saturday night- a night for bad horror movies, as far as she knew- but here was this almost weightless square of tissue paper, tempting her. She didn’t think ring, at that moment- she just thought of how much she loved him, and how much she loved everything he made for her, and of the needle gauge she had been working on secretly.

“Open it.” He sat down beside her on the couch, his eyes dark. “Tell me what you think.”

Tissue paper tore to reveal pale blue froth, almost insubstantial when she lifted it out of its covering. Rey stared at the web of intricate lace that pooled on her lap, unable to speak.

“A few years ago, I took a class on Orenburg lace at Rhinebeck,” he said quietly, running one fingertip lightly along a geometric band. “The teacher was so passionate I left half-wanting to buy a small flock of goats and refine my spinning. I never got around to either of those things, but I did find the right kind of yarn, and I did start collecting patterns.”

“Ben, this is beautiful,” she said as she lifted her gaze from fabric that looked as fragile and insubstantial as a cloud. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He wasn’t smiling, but he was bending that tender expression on her again, hope in his eyes. “Orenburg shawls also go by another name.”

“And what would that be?” she asked, not knowing but somehow knowing all the same.

“Wedding ring shawls,” he replied in a murmur. “Because they’re so fine you can draw an entire shawl through a woman’s wedding ring.” He paused, a trace of humor joining that hope. “Would you like to test it?”

Rey wanted to laugh and cry all at once, but instead she strove for calm as she lifted her hands, fingers spread and palms up. “Unfortunately,” she said, her mouth curling into a smile that veered wild when Bastila meowed inquisitively into her ear, “I don’t have a ring on me.”

She hadn’t even noticed that his right hand was curled in a loose fist on his thigh, but then his hand shifted, uncurling to reveal a ring worn just above the first knuckle of his little finger. The slim, almost art deco-esque band glittered faintly in the light. “You could use this one,” he offered, a smile finally appearing on his face.

“And after that?” she asked, her throat aching with entirely happy tears.

“Then I hope you’ll be willing to see how it fits on this hand.” He captured her left hand gently between his own, the band warm against her palm. “We started with knitting euphemisms, so it seems only right that I propose with them,” he said, not looking away from her eyes as she laughed a little shakily. “Start a new chart with me? A purl-heavy chart, with decreases and a few increases and maybe even a couple of knupps.”

She laughed again, lifting her free hand to wipe away several tears. “Do I want to know what knupps are in this chart?”

“I’m actually not sure myself; it just sounded right,” he admitted with a grin. “We’ll figure it out along the way.”

“Yes.” She felt light- as light as the lace on her lap. “Please. And I want- I want to try that ring on before we experiment with it.”

Ben wrapped an arm around her shoulders, nuzzling her hair as he slid the ring onto the appropriate finger. “Perfect,” he said quietly as the band settled comfortably. “You make it beautiful.”

Rey had known a ring was coming, eventually, but even so she couldn’t seem to stop staring at the small diamonds gleaming on her own hand. “Maybe,” she said slowly, “we could enjoy a celebratory decrease before our science experiment?”

He stood and scooped her up into his arms, shawl and all, and a veritable parade of curious cats followed them to the bedroom door, where they were unceremoniously shut out of the proceedings.

The ring and shawl trick worked flawlessly when Rey finally allowed the ring to- temporarily- leave her finger a good hour later.

Rey’s abandoned wine glass, on the other hand, was irretrievably shattered on the floor by an unknown cat, but as there were no feline injuries in the offing it seemed a small price to pay.

Chapter Text

1. join in round, being careful not to twist

They didn’t want formality, or a church, or anything large. Rey wanted the outdoors, and Ben wanted good food, and so they settled on the gardens of a well-regarded restaurant on the banks of the Chattahoochee River. On a sunny afternoon in early May Rey walked down a cobblestone aisle with rosebuds and sprigs of lavender in her hair, almost breathless at the sight of the dark-eyed, tender expression on Ben’s face the moment she stepped into view.

They had no bridal party, though their friends were all there: Rose and Jess, Finn, Ben’s fellow knights. His family members (all on their best behavior), as well as a small number of people who, thanks to Padmé, might as well have been family. All told less than fifty people gathered in that garden to watch them take hands, but during the ceremony itself Rey could have sworn that it was just her and Ben and the lilac-haired officiant they had hired. Even after their first kiss- Ben pulling her up onto her tiptoes, his arms solid around her- all she could concentrate on was him.

“How is my wife?” he asked softly, still close enough to kiss with barely any effort.

“In love with my husband,” she responded, then grinned when he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back down the aisle to the appreciative laughter of the crowd.

She wore his proposal shawl draped over her shoulders for most of the reception, and would have even if the breeze hadn’t been cool. Under a full moon they were seen off by a small sea of happy faces, all well-fed and varying levels of tipsy, and Rey found herself bundled into the back of a limo with an ardent husband and a small pasteboard box.

“Just sleeping beside you for the last week has been torture,” Ben murmured against her neck, his usual car-related anxiety clearly offset by either lust or alcohol or both.

“Every time I came home I seriously thought about dragging you to bed,” she admitted breathily, tilting her head back to give him better access. “I’m afraid your bride is a little insatiable.”

He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close. “Believe me, I’m grateful,” he said fervently. “I intend to take advantage tonight.”

She snuggled into his hold, glancing toward the box again. “What’s that?”

“Cake.”

A small, satisfied smile curved over her lips. “I really love that cake.”

“I know.” He brushed a kiss against her forehead. “I’m going to feed it to you. After.”

For all their self-denial, the consummation of their marriage was a slow and gentle process, all lingering touches and soft kisses- or at least it was up until the moment when he was finally deep inside of her and lost control in just the way she wanted, taking her thoroughly against the sheets. “There’s my bride,” he murmured in her ear as she hovered on the verge of unwinding. “Come for your husband, Rey.”

Just how much he loved using those words was almost a physical caress in and of itself, and she dug her nails into his back as she unraveled underneath him.

He fulfilled his promise, feeding her forkfuls of cake as they lay sated on soft sheets. “How is my wife?” he asked again, looking smug.

She swallowed her mouthful, vanilla on her tongue and the scent of lavender and roses in the air. The flowers and herbs had fallen from her hair at some point- along with a multitude of hair pins- and were now crushed into the bedding. “Well-purled,” she answered with a grin.

“Only the best for you, baby,” he replied with a light kiss to her lips.

“And how is my husband?” she asked, running her fingertips over his chest.

Ben set the small box aside, then curled around her. “Overjoyed to be your husband.” He caressed her cheek, his new ring warm against her skin, and kept his gaze on her. “Rey Solo.”

“That’s me,” she said softly, happy to shed a name she hated for the right name. “I’m rather overjoyed to be your wife, myself.”

“About fifty-nine more years to go.” He gave her a slow smile, cuddling her close. “Are you ready?”

“Looking forward to it.” Rey traced the outline of his mouth, secure in the knowledge that she intended to kiss those lips and only those lips for the rest of her life. “One more year to something else, you know. If you still like that time-line.”

“I still love that time-line,” he assured her. “You?”

“Me, too.”

He dropped a series of kisses along her cheek and temple, and she closed her eyes with a smile. “My purl girl,” he murmured, his voice velvet-soft. “Do you need a nap before we decrease again?”

“Please.” She should probably wash off her make-up and pick the hair pins from the sheets, but all she wanted to do was rest her head against his chest and sleep for a few hours. “It’s been a long day. A wonderful day.”

“Sleep.” He reached for the lamp and plunged them into darkness. “I’ll take advantage of you in the morning, then carry you off to the airport.”

“Just as long as I get a shower in between,” she replied, snuggling into him.

“I might take advantage of you there, too, but you’ll definitely get a shower,” he promised in a wicked tone of voice, and she giggled. “I love you,” he added more seriously.

“I love you, too.” Soft words murmured into his skin, the slight press of hair pins under her body barely worth noticing. “My Ben.”

“My Rey.”

And she slept, happily.

2. buttonhole

They bought a small house in Marietta, and moved the fall after their wedding.

“Do you think they’ll forgive us?” Rey asked as she watched the cats prowl around the one room they were currently allowed, all three clearly disgruntled. She sat on the bare floor, her back against the wall.

Ben shrugged, his arm draped over her shoulders. “Eventually.”

Breha crept into the closet as Bastila stalked around the perimeter of the room, yowling imperiously. Revan was perched precariously on a windowsill, staring out at their tiny lawn.

“We’ll let them out tomorrow,” Ben said after a moment, a hint of guilt appearing on his face. “They’ll be fine.”

Together they slipped out of the room, shutting the door with what Rey suspected was mutual relief.

“Pizza?” she asked, staring up at him as she slumped against the wall. The house seemed to be only infinite boxes and oddly placed furniture at that moment, and despite lists and labels and all their preparations Rey had no idea where anything was. “Or Chinese? Or anything; I just want calories.”

“Pizza sounds… pizza sounds amazing.” He looked around, appearing almost as lost as she felt. “Where is my phone?”

Rey opened her mouth to answer, then closed it and patted her own pockets. “Where is my phone?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress his laughter. “Task number one, then.”

They eventually found his phone half-hidden behind a box on the kitchen counter, and when he called hers the faint ringing directed them back to the bare mattress on the floor of the master bedroom.

“I’m not sure I have it in me to put the bed-frame back together tonight,” she admitted as she flopped onto the couch in the living room. “Tossing a blanket over the mattress might be the most I can do.”

Ben dropped onto the couch beside her, looking exhausted. “Honestly, I agree.” He stared up at the ceiling. “I called the pizza place, right?” he asked after a moment, sounding genuinely quizzical.

“I’m ninety-five percent sure,” she replied, which was an accurate statement even though she had been in the room when he had placed the call. “Do we have any alcohol?”

He half-keeled, half-slid downward, his head landing on her lap. “Counter.” Ben almost purred when she lazily stroked his hair. “Wine. Screwtop.”

“You are a genius.”

“Maybe.” He checked his phone. “Okay, I really did order pizza,” he said in relief. “I want a shower.”

“Good luck finding the towels.”

“I could air-dry,” he muttered against her thigh, and she laughed a little wildly.

“Better leave me the cash, then. No need to scandalize the delivery person.”

He snorted. “I can wait.”

The doorbell, when it finally rang, jolted them from near sleep, and after they ate pizza on the floor of their living room, drinking wine from mugs they had found in a random box.

“Hey,” he said when she bit into her second slice, and when she looked up she found that he was grinning. “At least we don’t have to find condoms.”

“Bold of you to assume I have the energy.” She threw a wadded-up paper towel at him. “Mr. Did-I-Order-The-Pizza.”

“Christening the house is important.”

Rey ate another bite, hiding her smile. “I love you an almost ridiculous amount,” she finally said, and for all her fatigue she also felt warm and safe and right where she needed to be. “Figure out where we packed the towels and you can take me right here on this floor.”

He did the first, and- to her immense satisfaction- he also did the second, both of them half-dressed and every movement languorous.

“You’re going to bruise,” he said sleepily afterward as he rinsed conditioner from her hair, and she shrugged under the spray.

“So are you,” she replied, feeling utterly content. “Your poor knees.”

“I honestly don’t care.” He bent, pressing a kiss against her forehead as the water fell around them. “Come to bed with me, wife.”

“Mattress,” she corrected, more punch-drunk than drunk.

He smirked, though the expression was soft. “Come to mattress with me, wife.”

“I’d go anywhere with you,” she admitted as he turned off the water, and smiled when he wrapped her in a towel and dried her off.

They curled up under the first blanket to come to hand, Ben’s body heat making up for any chill the one blanket couldn’t chase away.

“I love you,” she murmured.

His arm tightened around her. “I love you, too,” he breathed against her hair. “My purl girl.”

3. yarn over

Rey found herself thinking of how to make the announcement before there was even an announcement to be made, when they had just barely begun trying instead of decreasing simply for the joy of decreasing. Whatever she did had to be knitting-related, she decided, rubbing her thumb against her wedding band and engagement ring. Something more than just churning out a pair of booties and dropping them onto his lap.

So she thought, and did some research, and eventually stumbled on a particular pattern in Ben’s collection, a grin spreading over her face as everything clicked into place- and though she was tempted to cast on that very day, doing so seemed a little too much like tempting fate. She cast on a pair of socks instead, sized for Ben’s enormous feet.

“I don’t want us worrying about how long this takes,” he had said earnestly that first night without any protection, his tone at odds with the way he had her pinned down and the small, almost wicked smile on his face. “No stress, wife.”

“Forced to endure your marital attentions indefinitely,” she had teased with a dramatic sigh, sneaking her hand between them to curl her fingers around his erection. “However will I cope?”

He had nipped her neck with a playful growl, and all told it had been a very satisfying start to their mutual endeavor.

One month passed, then two, then three, and eventually Rey just stopped counting. It would happen when it happened, or not, and in the meantime she had a loving husband, a home she delighted in, three affectionate cats, and a job that challenged her. Even without a baby she was happy, and so was Ben.

When she finally missed her period almost seven months after stopping birth control, she cast on mere minutes after the fateful plus-sign had appeared bold and prominent on the pregnancy test.

Nearly a week later- after knitting through lunch breaks and on the train, and in every spare moment she had to herself- she settled onto the couch next to Ben, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I finished something,” she said casually, leaning into his side. “I need help seaming, though.”

He put aside his book readily, smiling at her. “Show me,” he said, tilting her face upward to drop a kiss on her lips.

With a barely suppressed grin, she spread the amorphous piece of fabric onto the coffee table in front of him.

He stared- first in incomprehension, and then with what looked like dawning suspicion.

“Have you been reading Elizabeth Zimmermann?” he asked finally, his hands clasped under his chin as if in thought.

“I have,” she answered, no longer trying to hide her smile.

“Is it,” he asked slowly, looking toward her with hope in his eyes, “is it for a friend?”

“No,” she replied immediately. “I have a very personal interest in it.”

He reached out and arranged the cloth into its intended shape: a small cardigan, decreases and increases forming sleeves and body. “Rey,” he said quietly, neither a question nor a request for her attention, but simply her name. “Rey,” he said again, as if she had performed some kind of miracle.

“You did help,” she pointed out, a little teasingly. “You’ve been very attentive.”

With a laugh he pulled her onto his lap, startling her into a laugh of her own. “Rey.” He wrapped an arm tightly around her, pressing a kiss to her temple as one hand settled protectively over her belly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I love you.” He kissed her cheek, then the tip of her nose, then the delicate skin under one eye. “I love you.” Her chin, her brow. “I love you.” Her mouth, finally, and that was no fleeting brush of lips.

He considered her in the brief silence after, his gaze warm and intent. “I love you,” he said again, the words no less meaningful for the repetition.

“I know,” she replied, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Ben caressed her stomach gently. “How far along?”

“I have an appointment next week to be sure, but not too far.” Rey grinned, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “I have a suspicion that you might have given me one more Christmas present than either of us thought.”

“Tell me when, and I’ll be there.” He nuzzled his nose against her hair, each breath coming a bit more quickly than normal. “I need to… I need to go through my Rav queue.”

She laughed, slipping her hand under his unbuttoned shirt. “In a minute,” she insisted, circling her thumb lightly over one nipple. “I like a celebratory decrease for all kinds of things, you know. If you’re in the mood.”

“I’m always in the mood for you.” He kissed her lingeringly, then murmured against her lips, “Silk.” He pulled back a little, resting his forehead against hers. “Silk sweaters for you, this summer.”

4. increase evenly across row

The seasons took on new dimensions, that year. What remained of winter was quiet anticipation- better to wait until the end of the first trimester to tell everyone, they agreed- and morning sickness that always seemed to hit her in the afternoon. Ben mercilessly struck every ingredient that made her pale from their meals, and stocked up on crackers, plain rice, and herbal tea.

“You’re coddling me,” she accused him with a small smile midway through February, tucked under a blanket with two cats on her legs, and he smiled in return.

“Our little stitch is causing you trouble,” he replied, massaging her temples gently. “I have to help however I can.”

He draped a new cardigan around her shoulders at the end of the month as an unexpected snow shower fell outside their windows.

Spring brought daffodils and the first appearance of a gentle curve to Rey’s belly, as well as an end to her nausea and a sudden spike in her libido.

“You’re going to wear me out, wife,” he teased as she pushed him back onto the bed, his hands still reaching for her eagerly. “Come here, now.”

“Make up your mind.” She straddled his hips, grinning. “My Ben.”

“My Rey.” He stared up at her, his expression soft, and then suddenly cupped her breasts. “This is an amazing process,” he added slyly when she gave a startled laugh. “I need to make an inspection.”

“You did that yesterday,” she replied airily as she tugged off her tank top. “Get on with it, then.”

Ben was, as ever, very attentive.

Summer meant elastic waist trousers and skirts, and a nursery done up in calming green. Ben had been knitting at a furious pace for months, and the drawers were filled with not only the store-bought, courtesy of their friends and family, but also his small creations in nearly every color of the rainbow. A hand-knit blanket was draped over the rail of the crib, and dangling from the ceiling was Rey’s contribution: a mobile of dancing cats and stars, made from her stash of watch parts and tiny gears.

“Little stitch,” Ben murmured as he ran his hands over her belly, him sitting on the rocking chair in the nursery with her on his lap. “Is she kicking you, darling?”

Rey- in a loose-fitting silk cardigan- shrugged a little, relaxed against him. “She’s doing her own kind of increasing.”

“One more month.”

Revan nudged her ankle, his tail flicking. The cats weren’t quite sure what they thought of the upheaval, but they all seemed to like how stationary Rey had become over the last few weeks. “I’m ready,” she replied, entirely in earnest. Ben Solo made big babies, and the proof was crowding her internal organs.

“I know.” He brushed a kiss over her hair. “Are you hungry, baby?”

“Yeah.” She closed her eyes for a moment, content. “Mashed potatoes?”

“A pile of them.”

Finally, September. Technically fall, but more than warm enough to be an extension of summer.

“Are you ready?” Ben asked softly as he helped her from the car at the hospital, worry on his face.

“No,” she admitted with a snort, clenching a hand in his shirt-front when another contraction hit. “And yes,” she added as the pain eased. “Stay with me?”

“Always.”

Jane Elizabeth Solo was born in the early hours of the twenty-third, wailing until she was laid into her mother’s arms, at which point she snuffled and pressed her face against Rey’s chest.

A tear dropped onto Jane’s head, and it wasn’t one of hers. Rey looked up to see Ben bent over them, crying silently. “She looks so much like you,” Rey said quietly, smiling up at him. “Dark hair, that beautiful mouth, your ears.”

He dragged the back of his hand under one eye, dashing away tears. “What an amazing job you’ve done.”

“I had some very good help.” She traced the line of Jane’s cheek lightly, the pain she still felt secondary. “Look at her, Ben.”

“I can’t seem to stop.”

He settled carefully beside them on the bed, an arm around her. “Beautiful,” he breathed, and kissed the crown of her head. “Both of you.”

Jane moved her head as if looking for the source of his voice, then went back to her instinctual search for food. “I love you,” Rey told him, her gaze still bent on their daughter as she carefully tried to shift Jane to a nipple. “And so does she. She knows your voice.”

“I love you, too.” His voice at that moment was rough and full of tears as he placed his hands under hers in support. “She’s… she’s the perfect increase.”

The nurse quietly made a small adjustment, and Jane latched on with a grunt. Rey grinned, barely caring that the tug at her breast was less than comfortable.

He stroked her hair as Jane ate, sitting hip to hip. “What do you want?” he asked in a murmur, his hand never stopping. “I’ll give you every star in the sky.”

Rey thought. “Socks,” she said finally, surprising a laugh from him. “I love your socks.”

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead where wisps of sweat-dampened hair curled, still laughing a little. “Okay.”

5. continue in pattern

It wasn’t so much sound that woke her as the lack of sound. Rey glanced at Ben’s side of the bed- empty- then at her phone. Nearly three in the morning, a time when Jane was usually awake and crying. She slipped from bed and walked quietly down the short hall, Breha following at her heels.

“-if your great-grandmother were here, she would do the honors,” she heard Ben say softly as she drew closer to the nursery, and underneath his words was the slight creak of the rocking chair. “But you’ll have to make do with me, hmm?”

Rey peered around the door-frame, and watched as Ben rocked, Jane secure and quiet in his arms. After a moment Rey stepped inside, and Ben looked up with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She bent to kiss him briefly, then knelt beside the chair. “She’s almost out again.”

“My old knitting stories bore her,” he replied with quiet amusement. He shifted Jane easily to the crook of one arm, reaching out with his free hand to stroke Rey’s cheek. “You okay?”

She leaned into his touch, smiling. “Tired, but very happy.”

“Me, too.” He brushed his thumb along the curve of her bottom lip, his gaze tender as he looked at her. “Go back to bed, baby.”

Rey didn’t argue, but instead came to her feet. She lingered beside him as she took him in: hair mussed, shadows under his eyes, their daughter blinking sleepily in his hold. “I love you,” she said quietly, the emotion almost physical. “Very much.”

“I know.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the well of her palm, just as he had done years beforehand, when the idea of being touched had still been strange and foreign. “I love you, too.”

And- under her own roof, hand in hand with her husband- Rey smiled.