Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Ben noticed there was something wrong with his study partner, it was that her stomach wouldn’t stop growling. She glared at him every time he looked over at her, telling him without words to mind his business, and raising her voice a little as they poured over their chapter notes from the previous lesson. 

The entire class had been paired off by the teacher, and despite several complaints from the class en masse, they’d been informed that their assigned partners would be with them for the duration of the school year. 

Ben hated the AP classes, but it kept his mother off his back about what he was going to do once he graduated. 

The second time he noticed something wasn’t quite right with his study partner, he found her climbing out of a dumpster behind the school. He’d been on his way to his truck, planning on running out to Maz’s Cantina with Hux and Phasma over lunch. The other two were parked on the far side of the lot, so he was alone when he heard the thumping sounds coming from inside the large metal bin. He shifted his trajectory towards the large bin, his curiosity getting the better of him, when a mesh bag was delicately tossed over the edge, landing softly in the dirt and rocks. He was pretty sure he saw a half-eaten apple through the mesh, but pulled his eyes away as a set of dainty hands gripped the edge of the dumpster and a small shape pulled itself up and out. 

She was so focused on retrieving the bag she’d dropped over the edge that she didn’t notice him duck behind the nearest car, watching her. After she dusted herself off, she plucked the bag off the ground, glancing around before making her way across the parking lot, towards the field, where she sat on the grass and began devouring the food within. 

Ben’s stomach remained unsettled the rest of the day. He couldn’t bring himself to finish his lunch at Maz’s, ducking the curious questions from Hux and Phasma. Ben had always had a large appetite, and thanks to his mother’s esteemed political career, he’d never wanted for a thing in his life, especially food. 

He couldn’t imagine being so desperate for something to eat that he would root through the discards of strangers just for half a meal. He wanted to say something to her, but was at a complete loss of where to start. 

Ben didn’t know Rey outside of school. They weren’t in the same friend circles, despite having several AP classes together. He knew that she’d transferred to the school late in the last year, that she didn’t play a single sport but involved herself in the student union and the debate team - extracurriculars that would look good on college applications. When she did speak up in class, her voice was clipped but confident, never wavering in providing an answer or defending an argument. 

As a study partner, she was reliable and unobtrusive. She stuck to their schedule, was never late or tried to duck out early to get ready for a party or hang out with her friends. He wondered, uncomfortably, if she really had any friends. Surely if she was having the kind of financial troubles that would lead to her eating out of a dumpster, someone close to her would have noticed? What about her family? Weren’t there supports out there for people who needed help with groceries? 

A week went by, and Ben still couldn’t bring himself to ask her about what he’d seen. He found ways to observe her when she didn’t know he was looking, catching her as she snuck a half-empty carton of milk that someone had discarded in the cafeteria, or pocketing a banana that a fellow student had left on their tray as they rushed outside with their friends. He noticed that she partook in the school’s breakfast program, but only on Mondays and Fridays. Sometimes he wondered if that was all she ate outside of school. 

The thought of her sitting at home, hungry, churned something inside of him. It clawed at him, and he needed to do something. 

The lies came easy. First, he asked if they could move their study sessions to his house. She protested at first, wanting to keep them on neutral ground, but he told her his mother needed him at home to sign for packages that arrived in the late afternoon. It was easy enough to order some random items off the internet to keep that lie up. 

Creating an excuse to feed her was a little trickier. At first, he laid out an assortment of fruit and vegetables near their study space, encouraging her to eat with him. She eyed the food suspiciously, and he nearly asked her how she could be more trustful of a wilted, half-eaten apple or a stranger’s milk that definitely had backwash in it, but that would mean admitting that he’d been watching her. 

So, he kept lying. He told her that his mother hosted a lot of functions at the house, and they always had leftover food they needed to get rid of before it went bad. She’d been doing them a favor if she helped clear away some of the leftovers. It was always such a shame to throw them away. 

This argument, it seemed, was all the reassurance she needed. She devoured the food he provided each of their study sessions. Sometimes she’d take large bites of the sliced oranges or grapefruit, and the juices would run down her chin, dripping onto the fabric of her shirt. His eyes would follow the movement, licking his lips unconsciously, struck with a desire to catch those drops before they fell. 

If she noticed his unrestrained ogling, she said nothing, merely grabbed another piece of fruit before continuing on to the next section in their notes. 

He began researching food, and meals for people who didn’t get enough to eat. A common deficiency seemed to be protein and iron, so he began to devise ways of incorporating more meat into their afterschool snacks: chicken, fish, beef, and pork. Complex carbohydrates were important too, as well as a mix of nuts and beans. 

He spent the bulk of his free time devising a meal-plan strategy. First, he asked if they could increase their sessions, telling her he was struggling with a particular topic, or was concerned about an upcoming exam or project. He also pushed back the start time of their sessions by a half an hour, to give him enough time to prep their meal. 

The first thing he made, and was the most nervous about, was Kung Pao Chicken. Up until that point, it had been easy to ply her with trays of fruits and veggies, cheese and crackers, and the occasional deli meat. The first time he actually made her a meal, he was worried she would see right through him. 

The next lie came as easy as the rest: he was thinking about entering culinary school after graduation, and needed someone to test his meals on. She’d be doing him a huge favor if she gave him constructive feedback on his dishes. If there was a slight tremor in his voice when he told her that, placing the dish in front of her, he hoped she would attribute it to the story in his lie, and not the lie itself. 

She eyed him suspiciously but, just as she had every other time, devoured the meal. Ben watched in awe as she ingested the chicken, the zucchini, the mushrooms, the peas and broccoli and red peppers. He’d gone shopping for this meal and the next, hoping not only that she would like it, but that she might ask for seconds. 

When she moaned quietly after that first bite, he told himself he’d let her eat off his own plate if she’d make that sound again. 

And so began their new arrangement. She’d meet him at his place every evening at 5:00, and he would have a new dish for her to “sample” and critique. The first few times, her feedback was limited to “it’s really good”, or “you should definitely make this again”. As she became more comfortable with the arrangement, she started to give him more thoughtful feedback, falling into the fantasy he’d created. 

“A little too much pepper, I think,” she told him about the Italian Sausage Casserole he made on a Wednesday. “It could work with more cauliflower,” she suggested about the Maple Dijon Chicken and Veggie dish he created on a Tuesday. “Less mozzarella and more parmesan,” she said after polishing off his one-pan lasagna on a Thursday evening. 

Discovering what foods and flavors she liked the most became an addiction to Ben. He began craving the little noises she made when she ate something she really liked. He even enjoyed the little scrunch in her nose when something was not to her liking, but she always finished the dish, regardless of whether she liked it or not. 

He started noticing the change in her body after a few weeks, appreciating the way her sharp edges had started to soften out a little, the slight plumpness in her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes. She looked healthy … and happy. 

They started learning more about each other, beyond the kinds of food they liked or disliked. She kept her family life pretty close to the vest, but admitted to being in foster care, and not knowing much about her birth parents. She asked him why his family was never home during their study sessions - how odd it was that she’d never met his mother or father despite the hours she’d spent in his home. 

“My mother has never been the most maternal,” Ben admitted as he dished out their Five Bean Chili while she cut sections of garlic bread for them both. He’d come home at lunch to put everything into the slow cooker, and hoped that it had cooked long enough to bring out all the flavors of the spices. “She’s always kept pretty late hours. Her political career has always come first and foremost, regardless of the impact it had on her marriage.” 

“Or on her son?” Rey inquired, tilting her head at him as he finished spooning food onto both of their dishes. 

Ben shrugged, trying to shake off her concern. “It’s never really bothered me. I guess I’m like my father that way,” he chuckled dryly. “If we spent our lives waiting on Leia Organa to show us real affection, we’d have gotten nowhere fast. Don't get me wrong, she loves me. She's just not great at the little, day-to-day stuff.” 

Rey frowned as they settled at the table, hesitating before picking up her spoon. “I’m sorry. I always assumed … well, I don’t really know what I assumed. The grass always seems greener on the other side, and all that.” 

Ben flexed his hands on the table, struck by a desire to lay his hand over hers, needing to comfort her even though she was the one feeling sorry for him. 

“What about your father?” Rey asked, filling her spoon with chili and the extra, freshly grated cheese he’d sprinkled on top. 

Ben watched as her lips formed an ‘o’ shape, blowing gently on the contents of her spoon before bringing it to her mouth. Those lips sealed around the spoon, and she made a soft noise of contentment in the back of her throat. He almost forgot she’d asked a question until her eyes met his questioningly. 

He scooped a decent amount of chili onto his own spoon and shoveled it into his mouth, swallowing thickly before answering. “My dad spent most of his time on the road when I was a kid. When he wasn’t racing cars, he was fixing them.” 

“What kind of racing did he do?” Rey wondered, bringing another bite to her lips and making that soft humming sound again. 

Ben felt itchy and hot all over, trying to ignore the sounds she was making and control his own body’s response to them. “Ah, Formula One racing. He won a few titles years ago, and just kept chasing that high.” 

Rey blinked at Ben, almost dropping her spoon. “Your father is Han Solo?” Her voice lifted a little at the end, a mix of astonishment and a hint of jealousy. 

Ben snorted. “I know, he got idolized to hell in the press because of his skill on the racetrack, but honestly? He would have disappointed you if you’d known him.” 

It finally occurred to Rey that he was speaking in the past tense, and realization clouded over her eyes. “Oh … he passed, didn’t he?” 

Ben nodded. “A couple years ago. Heart attack. Doctors kept telling him to slow down, to get off the track and take an office job or a coaching role. He wouldn’t do it, and it caught up with him.” He moved the food around on his plate, remembering the funeral. “Mom at least took a couple weeks off after his death, but the one thing the two of them had in common was their inability to sit still.” He snorted once again. “They really did deserve each other.” 

He closed his eyes briefly, his father’s face swimming across his eyes, lost in memories of sitting on his Uncle Chewie’s shoulders while his father’s Falcon raced around the track at breakneck speeds, cheering louder than anyone else when Han Solo crossed the finish line first. 

Warm fingers against his own pulled him out of his thoughts. Ben’s eyes snapped open, looking down to see Rey’s hand squeezing his own, her hands so tiny against his large ones. He met her eyes slowly, seeing the unabashed sincerity in them. She was so open in that moment, so unabashedly affectionate. 

The moment stretched on, neither of them saying anything or pulling away. At least, not until Ben turned his hand underneath hers, sliding his palm against hers and stroking his thumb against the top of her hand. 

She jumped a little, pulling her hand away and using it to tuck her hair behind her ear. “We should probably finish this before it gets cold. It’s, ah, really good, by the way. Definitely a winner. You’ll blow them all away when you get to culinary school.” 

Ben swallowed, a familiar guilt rushing in at the lies he’d told to get her here. He thought about correcting her, about telling her the truth. But then she might stop coming. She’ll go hungry again. She looks so good now, much healthier. Don’t stop now.  

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing these moments with her, so he kept his mouth shut. 

…

They continued on for weeks, meeting at Ben’s place and sampling a new dish. He was enjoying finding different creative ways of incorporating as many food groups into their meals as he could, but when he found out she was still scavenging scraps and leftover meals throughout the school day, he started devising ways of feeding her throughout the rest of the day as well. 

Feeding her became his new obsession, and he had to admit that he was quickly developing a love for food he’d never expected to have. He loved creating new recipes, exploring new cooking techniques, and bettering his knife skills. There was an art to cooking that he’d never considered before, and he started looking into the very real possibility of a career as a chef. 

He started simple, sending her home with leftover fruits and vegetables, telling her they had an excess that was about to go bad, and it would really help him out if she’d take some home, that it would get thrown out otherwise. She could share them with her foster family, if she wanted to. 

He noticed the way her jaw tightened and her eyes darkened at that, but didn’t say anything. 

Next, he told her that he was working on different breakfast meals, and he could really use her help in figuring out his flavor profiles. He began bringing her smoothies and breakfast wraps in the mornings, meeting her just before school started until he was able to convince her to let him pick her up in the mornings. 

She never let him drive to her house, instead meeting him at the entrance of the trailer park where she lived with her foster father. He didn’t know anything about the man except for his name - Unkar Plutt - and that Rey refused to talk about him. That alone was enough to get him rankled, but as long as she kept letting him pick her up, kept letting him feed her, he forced himself to respect her privacy. 

And so their arrangement shifted once again, spending their mornings before school sitting in his truck in the school parking lot, drinking smoothies or eating yogurt parfaits, ingesting breakfast wraps and scramblers that he packaged carefully to retain their heat. 

With every extra meal, her feedback became more detailed and sophisticated, taking his request for her thoughts on his recipes seriously. He found himself buying into the facade, taking notes about each meal and detailing her comments and suggestions, further discovering what she liked and didn’t like. 

She didn’t have any allergies, but she did have preferences. She loved most fruit, except for mango and bananas. She would eat them, of course, but they weren’t her favorite. He excluded them from his meal repertoire, adding in more strawberries, pineapple, kiwi, and cherries. She loved cherries. He’d added some to a smoothie one morning, and she practically squealed at the explosion of flavor in her mouth, moaning after another large mouthful that cherries were her favorite fruit. 

He made a cherry pie that week. 

She loved yogurt and fruit, but didn’t like the texture of the small pieces of fruit that were in the store-bought packages of yogurt. She blushed as she confessed that to him one morning, when they were sampling a peach and raisin parfait with slivered almonds mixed into the granola, and the banana bread he’d baked fresh that morning. She was always so afraid of admitting she didn’t like something. 

He wondered often if she felt like she should have to settle for less. If she believed that because of how she’d grown up, that she didn’t deserve to have good things. Fine things. Decadent things. 

He wanted to give her every single good thing that she deserved, and prove to her that she was worthy of having the best things in life. 

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her with his words, so he told her through his food. 

She enjoyed salmon and tuna, but she drooled when he made halibut, so the next week he made a pan-seared lemon and garlic halibut with roasted peppers and green beans and creamy mashed potatoes. It was hearty and delicious, and he caught himself moaning in appreciation at his own cooking for the first time since he’d started cooking for her. 

As they drew closer to the Christmas holidays, something shifted. Ben found it increasingly more difficult to send food home with her, especially if it was something that needed to be refrigerated or reheated. She wouldn’t explain why, and started pulling away any time he tried to question her about it. He didn’t want to lose the ground he’d gained with her, didn’t want to risk losing the fullness that had settled into her curves or the color that had returned to her cheeks, so he didn’t argue with her. He just made sure to bring a bigger breakfast to school the next morning, hoping she didn’t ask why. 

They had a two-week break from school over Christmas, and the closer it drew, the more he began to panic. It was bad enough that she wasn’t getting enough to eat over the weekends. How was she going to survive two full weeks on her own? Why wasn’t her guardian taking care of her? Why wouldn’t Rey tell him more about him? 

He suggested they keep up their study routine over the holidays, telling her they needed to stay sharp if they were going to ace their midterms in the new year, but she told him she had to work for her foster father over break. She confided, begrudgingly, that the only reason that she could make their existing study sessions work were because the school mandated them, and she made up the time working at Plutt’s Scrap Yard on weekends and school breaks. 

Ben asked her if she was paid for the work that she did for him, and she wouldn’t look him in the eye when she muttered, “Of course.” 

The first two days of Christmas break were hard, but it felt like a normal weekend. He was used to spending two days away from her, planning out the next week’s meals and how he was going to incorporate the right balance of nuts and grains, fruits, and vegetables, meats that were high in protein and iron, and complex carbohydrates. 

With his mother away on a campaign run that would extend into January, he found himself with an abundance of time and no outlet for his nervous energy. 

With each passing day, he increased his daily exercise routine, throwing in more core and crossfit exercises as he tried not to imagine what little Rey had eaten that day. As he laid in bed each night, listening to his alarm clock ticking noisily beside him, he tried not to imagine the sounds that Rey’s stomach might be making as she slept in her own bed. 

Was she at least drinking enough water? Her guardian had to feed her something when she was away from school. He couldn’t actually let her starve, could he? 

He’d sent her a “Merry Christmas” text on Christmas morning - they’d exchanged numbers at the beginning of the semester for planning purposes and staying in touch about any changes they might need to make for their study sessions. His was the latest iPhone, courtesy of his mother’s bank account, while hers was a weathered, ancient-looking flip phone. She’d warned him not to text or call her unless it was an emergency or he needed to cancel a session at the last minute. He assumed she was on some sort of limited plan, or a pay-as-you-go type deal, so her calls and texts were limited. 

Still, he needed to hear from her, needed to make sure she was still okay. Surviving without him. 

It was hours before she responded, and he’d been all-but climbing the walls waiting for her reply, weighing the consequences of driving over to her trailer park and pounding on doors until he found her house. The text came in just after lunch, a simple smile emoticon followed by ‘Happy Christmas, Ben’. 

It was enough to settle his nerves for a few hours. 

He didn’t hear from her again for four days. Four awful, agonizing days. He couldn’t bring himself to eat a full meal, hating himself for the abundance in his own fridge and pantry. His stomach was tied in knots, feeling helpless and angry and untethered, until he heard his phone alert him to a new text message. 

It was from Rey, and asked a simple question. ‘Do you still want to study tonight?’ 

Ben replied back immediately. ‘Yes.’

‘I’ll be there at 6, if that’s okay?’ 

It had been eight days since he’d seen her last, since he’d fed her last. He wanted her there now, immediately, not seven hours from now. He replied that he could pick her up earlier, if she’d like - it wouldn’t be any trouble at all - but she told him she would meet him there, offering no room for argument. 

Ben restrained himself from pushing the issue, immediately tearing open his cupboards, planning what to make her. He needed something hearty and filling, but not too rich. He didn’t want to overwhelm her stomach and make her sick. 

He decided on soup and sandwiches, pulling out his bread machine and measuring out the flour, sugar, salt, and yeast he would need for the dough. For the soup, he decided on a simple chicken recipe, loading it with carrots, celery, potatoes, cauliflower, cabbage, and kale. 

He wasn’t sure if she would have room for dessert, but he made some mini cherry tarts as well, just in case. 

He kept the soup on a simmer as it grew closer to six o’clock, wanting it hot and fresh when she got there. He pulled his textbooks and notebooks out of his room where he’d left them for over a week, tossing them onto the end of the table where they wouldn’t be eating. 

Ben wished she was coming over earlier. He could make little fruit cups or have her try some of the crepes he’d perfected just before the holidays. 

When the doorbell finally rang, Ben was all-but climbing the walls. He forced himself not to run to the door, not wanting to give away just how eager he was to see her again. With his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep, steadying breath before opening the door, plastering a big smile onto his face. 

It fell immediately when he saw her. 

It had only been eight days. How did she look so completely … emaciated? “Rey …” he whispered, standing stock-still in the doorway. 

She avoided his eyes, adjusting the backpack she’d strapped to herself to carry the books she’d brought with her. Her cheeks were sallow and sunken, her skin pale and noticeably less full than when he’d seen her last. She looked like she could barely stand up, never mind walk across town to his house. 

“I could have picked you up,” he whispered, frowning at her.

Rey swallowed heavily, taking a shaky step towards him and pushing her way into the house. “I needed the fresh air,” she responded, ignoring the look on his face. The smell of the soup hit her nostrils then, and he heard her take a deeper breath. “Something smells good,” she told him, her voice shaky, trying not to sound too eager. 

Ben shook himself out of his daze, closing the front door and shifting into host mode. His mother had, at least, trained him well in that regard. He eased her backpack from her, carrying it as he guided her through the house as though it was the first time. “I’ve got us set up in the dining room. I thought we’d eat first and then study at the table. If you wanted to stay for dessert, I made some cherry tarts.” 

Her knees nearly buckled, causing her to lurch forward slightly. 

Ben’s arms shot out, holding her bag and stabilizing her hips at the same time, making sure she didn’t fall. He could feel her ribs and hip bones, harsh points against flesh that had so quickly lost its delicate roundness. 

He tightened his hands on her sides for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, to get her to admit that she wasn’t being taken care of, that she needed help, but she just placed her hand on one of his, slowly moving it away from her body. 

“I’m fine.” Rey told him, still not meeting his eyes. “It’s just been a long day.” She kept walking towards the dining room, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides as she made her way through the house. 

Ben took several calming breaths, telling himself to calm down. If he came on too strong, if he scared her off with how much he cared about her, she might never come back. 

As it turned out, Ben made a lot of soup. He made enough for each of them to have second helpings, saying nothing as Rey powered down the first bowl and the fresh bread he’d sliced and buttered. He was full after the first bowl, but poured himself another, making sure she got more chicken and potatoes in hers, and ensuring that her slice of bread was bigger. 

As they polished off their second helpings, Rey joked that she probably wouldn’t have room for dessert, even though it sounded amazing. 

“How long until you have to be home?” Ben asked her, keeping his voice even and careful. “We could let our stomachs settle as we go over the last module, and have tarts and maybe some ice cream before I take you home.” He would be firm on that, at least; she was not going to walk back across town after dark. 

Rey picked at her fingers, looking down at them rather than meeting his eyes. “Unkar’s got a poker night with a few of his buddies. They usually turn into two or three-day benders. I still have to work in the scrap yard tomorrow, but he won’t be home tonight. Or probably tomorrow night.” 

Ben swallowed, drumming his fingers on the table for a moment, considering his words carefully. “You could stay over, if you wanted.” 

Rey inhaled sharply, looking up and meeting his eyes at last. “Ben …” 

He pressed on, smoothing his hands on the table beside his empty plate. “You can use the guest bedroom. It has a lock on it, so you don’t have to worry about … anything. I can drive you home tomorrow after breakfast. I was planning on making strawberry crepes.” 

She did love strawberries, after all. Not as much as cherries, but they were a close second.

Rey squirmed in her chair, pressing a hand against her stomach. Had she eaten too much? Was she going to be sick? “I didn’t bring any clothes,” she finally spoke, her voice soft and timid. 

He hated her quietness. He liked it when she scolded him, when she laughed at him, when she mercilessly corrected him over an answer they both knew he should know. “I have some old t-shirts and shorts that you could wear. I needed to do a load of laundry anyway, I could throw your clothes in with mind overnight and dry them in the morning. No big deal.” 

There was a wetness in her eyes then, and Ben’s throat constricted as she blinked it away. 

She was silent for another moment, before she finally nodded. “Okay. If you can take me home by ten tomorrow, I can … I’ll stay over. Just for tonight.” 

Ben breathed out a sigh of relief, the edges of his mouth pulling up into a relieved smile. He covered it quickly by brushing his hand over his face, then running his fingers through his hair. “Perfect. Let’s clear these dishes off the table and make room for our notes. I thought we could do some mock exams and see what we need to go over again.” 

…

They studied for a few hours before Rey was noticeably falling asleep at the table. They decided to call it quit just after 9:30, Ben leading Rey upstairs to find some clothes to change into. He settled on an old Knights of Ren band tee and a pair of boxer shorts that she should be able to fold into place to keep up. 

Ben showed her to the guest room - two doors down from his room - and the bathroom in between, laying out a fresh towel and a toothbrush that hadn’t been opened yet (thank goodness for dentist freebies). He left his laundry hamper outside her door, promising with a cheeky grin not to look at her underwear when he tossed the clothes into the laundry. 

She’d rolled her eyes with a sleepy grin and slipped into the bedroom to change. When she came back out, tossing her worn clothes into the bin, Ben had to force his hands to remain at his sides. 

To say that she looked good in his clothes was an understatement. The t-shirt was comically large on her, as expected, but she’d rolled the sleeves up a little, and had to tuck the back and sides of the shirt into the boxers to keep them on her hips. 

She’d pulled her hair out of the three buns she’d placed it in, the elastics looped around her too-thin wrists as she slipped into the bathroom. Before closing the door, she poked her head out, asking, “You’re sure it’s okay if I have a shower?” 

Ben nodded mutely, willing himself not to imagine her in said shower. Don’t be a creep, Ben. Don’t be a creep. 

She smiled sleepily, hesitating again before asking, “Do you need in here first?” 

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he again responded with a brief movement of his head, watching in silence as she tucked her body back inside the bathroom and closed the door behind her. The soft click of the lock snapped him out of his thoughts, and he quickly padded across the floor and grabbed the laundry hamper. 

He changed out of his own clothes and into a fresh shirt and sleep pants, scouring his room for the rest of his laundry that he’d tossed around aimlessly in the past few days since he’d done laundry last. He thumped his way down the stairs and into the basement, briefly breaking his promise of not looking at her underwear long enough to read the washing instructions on the label. 

He could feel the heat on the tips of his ears as he confirmed the appropriate washer settings, tossing her bra and underwear in with the rest of his clothes, adding soap, and starting it up. 

Rey was still in the shower when he made it back to the main floor, so he washed up their dishes from dinner, packaged away the rest of the soup, and made a mental tally of everything he’d need to do in the morning to make the crepes he’d promised Rey. 

They were time consuming, but worth the effort. She was worth the effort. He just needed to convince her of that.

…

The next morning came far sooner than Ben would have liked. He woke once during the night after hearing movement outside of his room, wondering if Rey had needed the bathroom and couldn’t remember which door it was, or if her stomach had settled in the few hours she’d been asleep and she’d woken up seeking a midnight snack. 

He thought he might have heard a hand against his door, but then the footsteps had retreated after a moment of silence, and he’d heard the soft but distinct closing of the guest bedroom door. He’d tucked a hand behind his head, resisting the urge to check on her, and had fallen back into an uneasy sleep until his alarm had woken him at seven o’clock. 

He replied to a perfunctory text from his mother, her every-other-day check in to make sure he hadn’t burned the house down while she was gone, before hopping in the shower and readying himself for the day. 

Ben planned to convince Rey to have dinner with him again tonight. And lunch, if he could manage it. Then there would only be a handful of days before their winter break ended, and they could resume their normal study schedule. Everything would be fine, he would make sure of it. 

Freshly showered and shaved, Ben dressed for the day and headed down to throw their clothes into the drier, making sure it was on the delicate setting so that her bra didn’t end up worse for wear. He realized, belatedly, that she’d slept the entire night in his clothes, with nothing between her skin and his clothes. The thought made him uncomfortably hard, and he had to work to control himself before heading back upstairs and getting started on breakfast. 

He started with sausage and bacon, chopping up kiwi and washing blueberries to accompany the strawberries in the crepes, or on the side, depending on Rey’s preference. 

He had just finished washing the strawberries and was about to start chopping them when heard a soft voice behind him. 

“Can I help?” 

Ben turned, glancing at Rey as she stood awkwardly in the door to the kitchen. 

Her hair was disheveled, his t-shirt was falling off one of her shoulders, the hem of the shirt only tucked into one side of the boxers that landed just above her knees. Her eyes were tired like she’d just woken up, but there was a light back in them that hadn’t been there when he’d opened the door for her last night. 

She was beautiful. 

“Ben?” Rey asked, tilting her head at him as he remained silent. 

He cleared his throat, realizing she’d asked him a question. “Um, sure. Yeah, you can help. Come on in.” 

Rey smiled shyly, stepping into the kitchen and stopping beside him. Her head didn’t quite make it to his shoulder, and he had the sudden urge to lift her into the very counter he was currently doing prep on. 

Not sanitary, Solo, he chided himself. And definitely creepy.  

“What can I do?” Rey wondered, glancing at everything he was working on, and the ingredients he hadn’t yet touched. 

“Well, I haven’t started the actual crepes yet. Do you like your bacon soft or crispy?” 

Rey shrugged. “I like it both ways, but … I guess crunchy is kinda nice.” 

Ben nodded. “Okay, so we’ll need to drain the grease out of the bacon pan, and then put it back in to crisp it up. The sausage is just about done, then it will go in that dish,” he pointed to the casserole dish beside the stove, “to stay warm. The bacon can sit on top when it’s crispy enough. I’m gonna start on the batter for the crepes right away, if you want to finish cutting up the strawberries after?” 

Rey nodded, rolling up the edges of her sleeves to keep them in place and walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “Have you made crepes before?” she wondered, working the soap over and through her fingers as she glanced back at him again. 

Ben had to force himself to look away from the movements of her hands, reminding himself that he was supposed to be feeding her, not ogling her. “Uh, yeah,” he commented, clearing his voice after it came out a little higher pitched than he’d intended. “I mean, only a couple of times, just trying to perfect it. I’ve only done savory ones so far. These will taste more like dessert.” 

“Dessert for breakfast,” Rey commented with a grin, drying off her hands and tending to the bacon and sausage on the stove. “Sounds too good to be true.” 

It’s not, he wanted to tell her. You can have it all. Everything that I have. I’ll make you dessert for breakfast every day. I’ll make you every meal for the rest of your life, you will never go hungry again, I promise.  

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Ben commented instead, turning his attention back to the flour sugar in front of him. 

They worked well together, Rey finishing the meat and clearing the pans off the stove, fetching a new one for the crepes once the batter had rested and was ready. She helped mix the filling, deciding she wanted to try one crepe with just strawberries, and one with a mix of the three fruits - for quality control, of course. Once the butter was melted in the pan, she helped pour the batter for the first crepe, waiting as it cookies and then carefully lifting the edge and flipping as he directed, pouting deeply when it tore. 

Ben chuckled at her sad face, ensuring her that it happened even to professional chefs (or so the internet told him). The next one went smoother, and the next, until they had about a half-dozen crepes to work with. They set aside two to cool for later, Ben already plotting her breakfast for tomorrow. 

They laid out their plates, taking dollops of the cream cheese and greek yogurt filling and spreading them on half of each of their crepes, then took turns decorating those halves with fruits. Once they were folded into little triangles - hers a little fuller and more sloppy than his own - they added the remaining cream mixture on top with a couple pieces of fruit, and dusted the tops with icing sugar. 

Ben carried their plates to the dining room, while Rey brought the cutlery along with the sausage and bacon. He ducked back into the kitchen to grab orange juice and two glasses, filling Rey’s glass and then his own before sitting down to eat. 

“These look amazing,” Rey told him, a little nervous about cutting into them. “It’s so … decadent.” 

Ben smiled, helping himself to some bacon and sausage, suggesting she do the same. 

Rey had no problem digging into the crunchy bacon, grinning with a little blush as it broke loudly in her mouth. 

“Crispy for the win?” he joked, plucking a piece off his own plate and crunching it in his teeth for good measure. 

Rey blushed a little more but nodded. “So it would seem.” She finished the piece of bacon, glancing down at the crepe that was, as of yet, untouched. “Well, here goes nothing,” she commented, before cutting into it with her knife and fork. She brought the piece to her mouth, sniffing a little, and then sliding the bite between her lips. 

Ben waited with bated breath, hoping she liked it. 

“Oh my god, Ben,” Rey moaned, staring at him with wide eyes. “Oh my god.”  

It was Ben’s turn to blush, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as she vocally processed the flavors. 

“Oh my god, it’s … amazing. It’s so sweet, and much lighter than I was expecting … with the butter and the yogurt and the cream cheese, I was expecting it to be really dense, but it’s almost fluffy, and the honey and the cinnamon, and the strawberries, oh my god, the strawberries!” She dug in for another bite, bringing it to her lips and moaning again. “If I never ate anything again, I would die a happy woman. This is phenomenal.” 

Ben’s stomach clenched at that, her wording bringing him back down to Earth. He opened his mouth to ask her when the last time she’d eaten was, to ask her what food her guardian was providing her, to ask her why she’d lost so much weight in just eight days since she’d last eaten with him. He felt the words at the tip of his tongue, hot and angry, but he held himself back. He knew if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d lose his temper, he’d confess too much, and she might never come back. 

He couldn’t risk that. 

Rey was oblivious to his internal struggle, devouring the sweet meal in front of her with single-minded enthusiasm. She alternated between the mixed-fruit crepe and the strawberry crepe, pausing every now and then to consider which one she liked better. A few minutes would pass, and she’d suddenly remember the bacon, and her priorities would shift again. 

Ben watched her eat, forcing himself to calm down and eat his own meal, not wanting to bring down her energy or enthusiasm. 

Once she had finished her crepes, sausage, bacon, and polished off her juice, Rey collapsed dramatically back into her chair, poking at the roundness of her stomach through his borrowed shirt. “I don’t think I could eat another bite,” she told him ruefully, patting her belly and smiling contentedly. “I might explode.” 

I’d put you back together again, he mused, gazing fondly at the little bump her full stomach made. The sight of it made him think of how she would like with a different kind of swollen stomach; swollen because of him, swollen with him … 

Ben coughed, forcing himself to look away and change the subject, willing his raging hormones to settle themselves down. “The clothes should be out of the dryer soon. Did you want to watch something on TV while we wait, or read something? Unless you want to keep studying? We could do that …” He trailed off, bringing a hang to his hair awkwardly, not knowing where to look. 

Rey smiled at him, her expression wide and earnest. “I have a little time before I need to get back. We could watch something, if you wanted.” 

They cleared away the dishes, scraping the garbage into the bin under the sink and putting away the leftover crepes and what was left of the blueberries. Ben mentally tallied what was left in the fridge as they washed the dishes together, figuring he could send her with a fruit salad and sandwich from last night’s loaf of bread. She wouldn’t need to heat anything up, and he was pretty sure he had a small lunchbox cooler that he could put everything in to keep it cool, if she was going to be working outside in the scrap yard all day. 

Once the dishes were done, he led her to the downstairs living room, which was set up in more a theater kind of style. The screen was larger and the seats were more comfortable. She tucked her feet underneath her on the couch, his shirt swallowing her small frame, the collar falling off one shoulder again as she waited for him to pick something. 

He knew they didn’t have time for a full movie, so he decided to show her the first episode of one of his favorite shows: Pushing Daisies. It was filmed in brilliant technicolor, the outfits were stylish and just a touch unrealistic, and the storyline of a guy who got to bring the love of his life back to life with a touch of his finger? Yeah … it was one of his favorites. The comedy in it was pretty great too. 

When he started the show and sat back down, he kept a respectable distance between the two of them, not wanting to crowd her or make her feel uncomfortable. Her hair was still a bit unruly from her sleep, and he was struck by the urge to braid it for her. 

He kept his hands to himself though, pressing play and introducing Rey to Emerson Cod, Olive Snook, Charlotte (Chuck) Charles, and Ned the Pie Maker. 

Ben had seen the show many times, so he spent most of the first episode just watching her. Watching her elation when Digby came back to life, and her sadness when Ned’s mother kissed him goodnight and died again, forever. He watched her eyes light up at how Ned used his gift to make mouth-watering pies, and he could have sworn her own mouth watered at some of them. She couldn’t decide if she liked Olive or Emerson more, but her favorite scene was definitely in the funeral parlor. He watched her whole body curl in and lean back, like Ned’s was, as he tried to avoid kissing his childhood sweetheart goodbye. Tears brimmed in her eyes when the two fictional characters decided to cheat fate, just this once, and let Chuck live. 

When the episode ended, Rey was curled up close enough to Ben that she could rest her head on his arm, and she did. She sniffled, wiping her eyes with a rueful chuckle, before reaching out and slapping his chest lightly. “If they don’t end up together, I’m going to be very cross with you, Ben Solo.” 

He gazed down at her, feeling warmth seep through his body, starting at where her cheek rested against his arm, and ending deep inside his chest, where his heart started a whole new rhythm reserved just for her, and the way she was looking at him. 

Rey smiled despite her wet eyes, looking sad and happy at the same time, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. 

He tilted his head, just slightly, his eyes flicking down to her lips once, and then back to her eyes. 

Rey breathed in suddenly, leaning back against the couch and clearing her throat. “I should probably get my clothes out of the dryer and get changed,” she said, pushing herself up from the couch and standing in front of him, awkwardly twisting her fingers together in front of her. 

Ben tried to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to betray his disappointment or make her feel more uncomfortable than he probably already did. “Yeah, I’ll go grab them.” 

“Thanks,” Rey replied, tucking herself against the front seat of the couch so he could walk past. She folded in on herself, making herself as small as possible. 

It gutted Ben to see it, but he said nothing. He pulled the laundry out of the machine, finding her clothes and tucking her bra and underwear between her pants and shirt, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were. 

They didn’t say much else as Rey made her way back upstairs to change and wash her face. She corralled her hair into a few buns on the back of her head, and gathered up her books and notes, letting Ben know she was ready to go. 

He’d made up a quick sandwich while she was getting ready to go, tossing together last night’s blueberries with some grapes, orange slices, and the last of the strawberries from the fridge. He’d found the lunch-sized cooler in the pantry and slid the food into it, filling a small thermos with orange juice and throwing that in as well. 

They were silent as they loaded up into his truck, Rey holding her backpack in front of her chest like a protective barrier. He’d handed her the lunch kit wordlessly in the truck, and she’d placed it at her feet with a nod of acknowledgement.

He wanted to say something, maybe apologize or ask her if she was okay, but he didn’t know what to say to make her feel comfortable with him, or feel like she could trust him. He didn’t want to risk her not coming back again, or letting him feed her again. 

For the first time since the start of their arrangement, Rey let him drive further than the entrance to the trailer park. She gave him the number of her unit, and guided him down the bumpy road until he was stopped in front of her house.

When he put the truck in park, he opened his mouth to ask her when she would be done working for the evening, and when he could pick her back up - to keep studying, of course. 

Rey spoke first. “I turn eighteen in six weeks,” she said, barely louder than a whisper. 

Ben frowned in confusion, leaving the truck idling as he turned in his seat to look at her. “Okay.” 

Rey wouldn’t look at him, just fiddled with the bag on her lap. “When I turn eighteen, I’ll age out of the foster care system. Unkar won’t have any reason to keep me once his cheques stop coming.” 

Ben clenched his jaw, picturing the old man who controlled so much of Rey’s life, and wanting to have a few words with him. “He’ll throw you out?” 

Rey shook her head. “Not if I’m useful to him. If I keep working in the scrap yard, and do … other jobs for him, he’ll keep me around. I don’t cause trouble … anymore.” 

The crease in Ben’s forehead deepened with the rest of his frown, wondering what trouble Rey could possibly have caused to anyone, ever. 

“Unkar was the only foster placement in this community that would take someone my age,” Rey explained further. “If I’m removed from his home, then I’ll be moved to another community. I’d have to start at a new school, my marks could suffer or they might not have the right AP classes, and it could affect the scholarships and bursaries I’m looking at for post-secondary school.” 

Ben hadn’t known much about the foster care system before meeting Rey. He realized now that he still knew far too little about it. How could any program that was supposed to take care of people like Rey just leave them in situations like hers? Didn’t they run checks on the families they were placing these kids with? Didn’t they check on the kids after they assigned them a home? 

Ben sat there, stewing in his rage, and almost missed Rey’s next words. 

“I know what you’ve been doing,” she whispered, closing her eyes. 

Ben blinked, processing her words. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fisting his hands into the material of his pants. “What do you mean?” 

Rey tucked her head down, pressing it against her backpack, still unwilling to look at him. “You’ve been feeding me … taking care of me. I don’t know why … I know it’s not because you need ‘feedback’ on your cooking - which is absolutely phenomenal, and I know you know that. I don’t know if it’s because you feel sorry for me, or if you’re trying to make yourself feel better about yourself, but I’m not a charity case. I don’t need your help, I never needed your help.” 

She pulled her head up now, opening her eyes, red and wet from tears that she was trying so desperately to hold back. 

“I was getting by, before you. I spent my whole life living on scraps, eating just enough to keep me alive and get me to the next day, the next week, the next month, until I could make a life for myself. I never missed what I didn’t have, I was never really hungry. And then you came along, and you ruined me.” 

“Rey,” Ben breathed, wanting to reach out to her, wanting to hold her in his arms, but she cut him off. 

“No. Let me say this while I still have the nerve,” Rey told him. 

He pursed his lips together, forcing himself to let her continue, forcing himself to hear her. 

“I wasn’t hungry,” she continued, the phrase seeming so completely and utterly false, until she added, “I was starving, but I wasn’t hungry. I needed sustenance, enough to get me through, but I never craved anything until you started feeding me. Until you started taking care of me. I thought I could ignore it, I thought I could play along, and let you do whatever you needed to do to feel better about yourself. I told myself that I was the one using you, that I didn’t need you.” She sniffled again, drawing a shaky hand across her eyes. “Turns out I was so wrong. Eight days without you, and I felt like I was dying. I felt myself slipping away with every passing day. I went to bed each night, nothing but scraps in my stomach if I was lucky, and all I could think about was you. Not just what meal you might have made that day, what you might have fed me if I was there with you, but how you would have talked to me. How you would have looked at me. How you would have smiled at me. ‘Cause you smile at me, and I actually feel like a human being. Like someone could love me.” 

Rey finally forced herself to look at Ben, her expression raw and untamed. “I’ve become addicted to you, Ben Solo, and I don’t know how to stop it.” 

Ben couldn’t stop himself from reaching out then, his hand finding the side of her face and cupping it gently. His long fingers slid into the strands of hair that were tucked into buns on the back of her head, brushing away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Rey, I’ve never thought you were a charity case. All I’ve ever wanted was to take care of you … not because I pity you, or because I needed to check off some box in my conscience. Feeding you, cooking for you … it’s almost selfish. It is selfish. I want to be the one who feeds you, I want to be the one who takes care of you. When I opened the door and saw how much weight you lost, it nearly killed me. I wanted to find Unkar Plutt and tear him apart with my bare hands for doing that to you, for taking away that light in your eyes.” 

He hesitated, reaching out with his other hand to cup her other cheek, resisting the urge to pull her close and never let her go. “I can’t stand by and say nothing as you wither away. Not for another six weeks, not for another six days. I’ll do it, if that’s what you need me to do. But I’m going to keep feeding you, I’m going to keep taking care of you, if you’ll let me. Because you are human, Rey. You are someone who deserves to be loved, and you are … someone does love you, Rey.” His voice broke a little, his fingers twitching slightly against her cheeks. 

Rey’s eyes closed against his words, hot tears spilling out onto her cheeks, falling into the crevices of his palms. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” she whispered. “I can’t take it if you lie to me.” 

Ben shook his head, wishing they weren’t having this conversation in his truck, with seats and gear shifts and steering wheels in the way. “I mean it, Rey. Every word of it. I … I love you.” 

“Don’t,” Rey whispered, but he pressed on.

“I love you. I don’t know when it started, but it’s not going away. And it doesn’t matter if you don’t love me back, I don’t need you to feel it or say it. It won’t change how I feel about you, and it won’t change our arrangement. We can pretend this conversation never happened, if that’s what you need. I’ll pick you up again tonight, we’ll have dinner, and study, and I’ll bring you back here. And I’ll try not to think about you here, without someone looking after you the way you deserve to be looked after. When school starts back up again, we’ll keep doing our study sessions, and everything will stay status quo.” 

Ben took a deep breath, forcing himself to remove one hand from her tear-stained face, the other drifting down to slide under her chin, prompting her to meet his eyes and hold his gaze. “But, if there’s any part of you that has feelings for me, if you think that could ever feel the same way for me … sweetheart, I would take care of you for the rest of my life. I would show you just how much you deserve to be loved. I’d take you home right now and never let you go again.” 

Rey’s jaw moved against his hand as she spoke, not the words he was hoping to hear. “But, Unkar …” 

Ben shook his head, forcing himself to pull his hand away from her chin, to let go of her warmth. To give her space. His fingers tingled where they’d touched her, craving more contact. “Whatever the government pays him each month to keep you, I’ll double it. Hell, I’ll triple it. I want to kill him,” he admitted, his jaw tight, “but I’d give him a fortune if it meant you didn’t have to sleep another night under that roof. I’d bring you back home with me right now, if you let me.” He watched her eyes, saw the uncertainty in them, and made himself look away, focusing on the dirt road beyond his windshield. “But I understand if that’s not something you want. I can lock these feelings away, if that’s what you need. We can pretend this never happened. I can do that for you.” 

For a long moment, the only sound that could be heard was the idling truck, and the echoes of an old song playing through the vehicle’s speakers. Something his father would have listened to while working on his old Falcon in their driveway, when Ben was barely old enough to see over the hood with a stool under his feet. He wondered, not for the first time, what his father would do in this situation. Ruefully, he admitted to himself that he wouldn’t have waited for Rey’s permission to act, he would have marched into Unkar’s scrap yard and solved the problem with his fists, and then later, with Leia’s money. It would have been messy and scandalous, and so very worth it. 

Rey’s voice broke through the din of his thoughts, bringing him out of his memories and fantasy. “What if I don’t want you to?” 

Ben forgot what his last words had been, so he just tipped his head, planting his hands on the steering wheel, prepared to let her go, if that’s what she needed. “That’s fine,” he told her, feeling his heart crumble inside his chest. “I can, uh, lock it down. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

She moved beside him, and this time it was her hand that found his cheek, pulling his gaze to hers. 

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what she was saying. 

“I don’t want to pretend anymore, Ben,” she whispered, tentatively stroking his cheek, his jaw, her small thumb gently brushing across his lower lip. 

Ben’s breath came unsteadily through his nose, hoping against hope that he wasn’t dreaming. “You don’t?” 

Rey shook her head. “I don’t want to pretend that you aren’t the best part of my day, most days. I don’t want to pretend that you're not the one I think about before I go to sleep at night. I don’t want to pretend that letting you take care of me doesn’t make me feel safe, and warm, and loved. I don’t want to pretend that I haven’t been falling in love with you for the past few months, or that losing you wouldn’t absolutely wreck me.” 

Ben’s hand found her wrist, his fingers wrapping around the entirety of her small arm before sliding up and pressing against her hand. He held her trembling fingers under his own, dampness sneaking into his eyes without his consent. “Are you sure?” 

Rey nodded, one final tear dropping through her lashes as she blinked, and then let out a watery laugh. “I love you more than I’ve ever let myself love anything,” she admitted. “It’s terrifying, actually.” 

Ben wasn’t consciously aware that he had moved. One moment he was staring at her in wonder, and the next he was shoving the backpack out of her lap and pulling her into his own. Dragging her infuriatingly light body over the gear shift and tucking her into his lap, he ignored the way her knees dug into his sides, or the sound of his horn honking when she pressed back against it before settling on top of him. 

He didn’t care about any of it, just wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest and pressing his nose into the curve of her neck, breathing her in. “I love you,” he whispered into that little space where her shoulder met her collarbone, pressing the lightest of kisses there before tucking his chin onto her shoulder. “I love every part of you, Rey. I love the sounds you make when you’re happy, the little moans you make when you eat in front of me. I love the way your nose crinkles when you’re confused or unsure. I love the fire in your eyes when you’re angry or upset - even when it’s with me.” 

His hands traced over the edges of her ribs, feeling the sharp edges beneath him and wanting to smooth them out. “I love the way you look when you’ve eaten a full meal, something I made for you. I love the roundness in your belly and the way your body fills out when you’ve had enough to eat. I love how you look when you’re sleepy, and the way your eyes lit up when you had cherries for the first time. I love that everything I took for granted before I met you seems so much more beautiful when I look at it through your eyes. You make me a better person, Rey. You make me see more of the world than I ever saw before. If anyone is addicted, it’s me. I’m addicted to loving you.”

She shuddered against him, wrapping her own arms around as much of him as she could, trapped though he was against the seat. “I love you,” she breathed into his ear, into the silky tendrils of his hair that tickled her cheek and her nose. “Admitting that is the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” 

Ben couldn’t agree more, but said nothing, just kept holding her. 

“Did you mean it?” she asked next, her voice shaky and uncertain. “About Unkar? About taking me away from here?” 

Her voice trembled a little, and Ben pulled back, meeting her eyes and forcing as much sincerity as he could into his face. “Just say the word, and we’re gone. You’ll never have to see him again. You’ll never have to spend another night under his roof.” 

Rey worried her lip between her teeth, glancing out the window of Ben’s truck, and the place she’d been forced to call home for too long. “You can’t promise that …” 

Ben rubbed his hands against her back, wanting to give her the world. “My mother is a Senator, about to run for Governor, which she’s all-but a shoo-in for. Even if Unkar didn’t take a payoff, she would make his life a living hell if he tried to do anything to get you back.” 

Rey shook her head. “She doesn’t even know me, Ben. And … I mean, she’s never around. Why would she …?” 

“Because I care about you. Because you matter to me, and for all my mother’s flaws and neglect, she does the right thing when it counts.” He leaned forward, just enough for his lips to meet her forehead, pressing a soft kiss right between the crease of her brows. He would kiss every inch of her, if she’d let him. “Can I take you home now, Rey? Can I keep you?” 

Rey swallowed, leaning back enough that she could press her hands against his chest. Her palm settled over his heart, feeling it beating madly beneath his breast, the rhythm that was hers, and hers alone. She was so light above him, so delicate and small. After a moment, she tipped her head towards him, closing the distance between them slowly, giving them both a chance to pull away. 

Ben met her halfway, cradling her face in his hands once again as he kissed her, soft and light, a promise and a bond that he would be there for her, always. He kissed her like she was precious, and she was, to him. 

Rey pulled back a moment later, resting her forehead against his, nodding once. “Help me pack? And leave a note. And then … then I’m yours, Ben Solo. You can keep me.” 

Ben smiled, a wide, toothy grin that couldn’t be contained. “Forever?” 

Rey grinned back, hopeful and smitten, that weight that she’d been carrying on her shoulders her entire life lifting as he took her burden and made it his own. “For as long as you’ll have me.” 

Ben’s smile grew impossible wider, leaning in and stealing one more kiss before opening the door to his truck and catching her before they both tumbled out. He held her hand as she led him into her now former house, ready to pack up the pieces of her life and merge them with his own. “Forever,” he whispered softly. 

…

Chapter Text

Rey sat nervously beside Governor Organa, her leg shaking slightly under the table. 

The older woman’s hand settled briefly over her knee, stilling the tremors and forcing her gaze to find hers. “Everything is going to be fine, Rey.” 

She wished she could believe that. It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in her boyfriend, that was the furthest thing from the truth. She just wanted everything to go perfectly, and there was nothing that she could do to control that. She’d spread the word to all of her friends and classmates and associates, handed out flyers between classes, and even made social media accounts - something she made a point of staying away from - so that she could share the events and boost the advertising. 

She just wanted Ben’s night to be perfect. He deserved it, after everything he had done for her, and for them. 

“I know,” Rey answered after a moment, trying to settle her nerves. “I just wish I could do more.” 

Leia smiled at Rey, patting her knee reassuringly once more before retrieving her hand and reaching for a glass of wine their server had poured for them. She watched as Rey did the same, the younger woman’s fingers trembling slightly as she ingested a little liquid courage. 

Leia remembered that night, not so long ago, when her son had called her in the middle of her winter campaign tour to tell her he’d brought a girl home to live with him, and that he needed her help in severing the hold that her foster father had on her. It had been enough for the then-Senator to book a red-eye flight home to see what her son had gotten himself into. 

The moment Leia had met Rey, she’d understood. Not just why her son had needed to act so hastily - the poor girl was barely more than a wisp, with her worn-out clothing hanging loosely her small, emaciated frame. She’d been so small and delicate, so utterly frail, and Leia herself had wanted to wrap her in her arms and promise her the world. But when she’d seen the way her son looked at the girl, the fire in his eyes and the defensiveness in his posture, the way his jaw clenched when he spoke about that man - something Plutt - and the way his gaze softened any time the girl looked back at him with her hopeful, terrified eyes, Leia had known. Her husband had looked at her that way, once upon a time. 

The young woman that sat beside her now was barely a memory of the girl that had once apologized for inconveniencing their family when that sad excuse for a foster parent had shown up and tried to throw his weight around. Sure, she was still full of nerves, but after years of being properly taken care of, her worries were no longer for herself, or for where her next meal was going to come from, or if she’d have the strength of body and mind to graduate high school. 

No, her concern was all for the man who’d given her his whole world, concerned only that this night, and the next night after that, would go well. 

“You’ve done more than you know,” Leia told her, reaching out and squeezing her hand softly as the man in question came ambling over to their table. 

“Two minutes until opening,” he breathed out, collapsing into the cozy booth next to Rey and pressing his lips against her cheek. 

Rey leaned into him reflexively, her small hand finding his under the table and squeezing it reassuringly. “You’re going to be amazing. You always are,” she told him. 

Ben smiled, folding his larger hand around hers and trying to take some of her courage. He pressed another kiss to the crown of her head, wishing he had time for more than a few quick pecks in front of his mother. 

“She’s right, Benjamin. I checked with your hostess before we were seated, and she assured me your reservations are all-but full,” Leia commented, smiling proudly at her son. 

Ben nodded anxiously. “Yeah, just as long as they all show up.” He glanced down at Rey, who had closed her eyes and leaned her head into his shoulder. The soft, velvet box in his pocket felt suddenly heavy, and his throat bobbed in an unexpected swallow. He raised his head, meeting his mother’s knowing eyes. 

“You should get back to the kitchen, Benjamin. The doors will open soon, and you’ll have a full house to feed,” Leia told him, taking another small sip from her wine glass. 

Ben smiled, giving Rey another brief embrace before climbing out of the booth. “Thanks for coming tonight, Mom. It … it means a lot.” 

Leia smiled back at her son, earnest as she replied, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, get to work, Chef Solo.” 

…

Their meal was, as usual, phenomenal. Leia had ordered the Squash Gnocchi and Smoked Pork Belly, while Rey had gone with a more traditional Pasta Carbonara, a savory balance to the Apple Cinnamon Bacon Bites they’d shared for their appetizer. Rey had smiled when she’d seen them on the menu, with the small “R” beside the menu. She’d gone searching through the menu to find out what it meant, seeing the words “Rey Approved” staring back at her. 

He had tested all of his recipes on her prior to his grand opening, before finalizing his menu. A quick glance through showed her that all of her favorites had been marked with the little “R”. Rey Approved, indeed. 

The two women waited to order their dessert, wanting to people-watch for a while before finishing their own dining experience. 

Ben’s restaurant was packed. The chatter was lively, the faces were a mixture of excitement, amazement, and pleasure. 

Every time a dish was brought out to a table, Rey held her breath, terrified for an inscrutable moment that it would be sent back, or something might have gone wrong. It never did. As she watched strangers - couples and families and food critics alike - sample the food that her boyfriend had painstakingly crafted for them, Rey could practically feel the flavors exploding in her own mouth. She knew exactly what each of them would taste like. She had, after all, tasted them first. 

Their own desserts were brought out as the evening began to wind down. Guests had come and gone, expressing their congratulations to the chef, some making future reservations or promising to tell their friends about their experience. Photographs of food and friends were taken and shared to social media, extolling the decadence and deliciousness of Ben Solo’s food. 

Rey was so unbelievably proud of him. He’d worked so hard for this. 

The Chocolate Truffle Cherry Cheesecake was made just for her, hitting all the right notes and making her taste buds sing. She heard Leia’s soft laughs beside her as she moaned with each bite, unable to keep the noises of approval to herself. 

He had played around with the recipe after she’d devoured the chocolate cherry cheesecake bars he’d made for her birthday a few years ago, deciding that the truffle was a bit more suited to a fine dining experience that then crushed Oreos he’d sprinkled across the top of the bars that first time. 

Rey would happily eat either for the rest of her life. 

Ben made his way out of the kitchen towards the end of the night, allowing his staff to finish off the dinner service as he made the rounds and greeted the remaining guests. He even posed for a few photos himself, meeting her eye across the restaurant and smiling awkwardly, pained at the attention but thrumming with excitement. 

When he made his way over to their table, Rey couldn’t keep herself seated any longer, sliding out of the booth and meeting him three steps away from the edge of the table. Her arms found their way around his broad shoulders, her fingers snaking up into his hair, a little damp with sweat from his evening of hard hard. 

She pressed her lips against his, one long and meaningful kiss followed by three quick presses against his mouth, both of them smiling. “I love you so much,” she whispered against his mouth, ghosting her eyes open and gazing at him fondly. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Ben squeezed the softness of her middle, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close for a long moment. “I’m proud of us.” 

Rey tugged affectionately at his hair, tracing a finger over the tip of his ear. “Uh-uh, this is your day. I’ll have my day in a few months when I finish my Master’s program and am officially done with the chaos that has been the last ten years of our lives.” 

Ben grinned, brushing his nose against her cheek as he rolled his eyes. “Constantly underplaying your efforts there, Scavenger. Double Masters in Engineering and Social Work. By this time next year we’ll be opening your Youth Mechanics Shop, and I am fully prepared to say ‘I’m proud of us’ then, too.”

Rey couldn’t argue with that, so she just pressed a kiss to one of the buttons on his white coat - a little stained and splattered from the evening’s service - and smiled adoringly up at him. “I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

He smiled back, sliding his hands from her hips and sliding them up her arms to grasp her fingers with his own. He pressed soft kisses to both hands, holding them gingerly as he agreed, “Neither would I.” 

Ben’s eyes flicked to his mother, tossing her a wink. 

Leia’s eyes lit up, and she grabbed her phone off the table, subtly pulling up the camera and hitting record. 

Ben swallowed, bringing his eyes back to Rey. He’d thought he was going to be nervous when the time came, but as he looked back at her, thinking of everything they’d been through to get to this day, it felt like the easiest thing he would ever do. 

He took a deep breath, reciting the words he’d been practicing for what felt like years. “You have been the best part of my life for over a decade. You came into my life so suddenly and 

unexpectedly, at a time when I had no idea what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I had no idea what cooking for you that first time would lead to, what would come from that first amateur dish of Kung Pao Chicken.” 

Rey snorted a little at the memory, knowing how he’d perfected the dish since his first efforts. “It was still delicious.” 

Ben chuckled back, his head tipping a little, finding the words again. “Falling in love with you was the easiest thing that I have ever done, and it led me to a dream that I never expected to have. I fell in love with creating delicious and decadent dishes because of you, and you have been there every step of the way, filling our house with love and laughter and positivity and compassion and support. I have never known anyone so endlessly supportive - even on the days when you had to play my harshest critic,” he added with another laugh. 

Rey blinked back a little wetness that threatened to spill from her eyes, giving his hands a squeeze. “Now who isn’t giving themselves enough credit? You act like falling in love with you was a chore, Ben Solo, but it was the absolute best thing I have ever done, and I wouldn’t change a thing about it.” 

Ben smiled widely then, his left hand sliding away from hers to reach into his pants pocket. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I would like to change just one thing.” 

Rey watched, frowning slightly, as he dropped down to one knee. 

Collective gasps erupted around them, the guests still sitting at their tables caught aback at the spectacle of Ben kneeling before his girlfriend. 

For a ridiculous moment, Rey thought he must have dropped something. She glanced down at her feet, wondering if her napkin had fallen, and her eyes fell on the little square box in his hand. 

And then it was her turn to gasp. “Ben!” she breathed, bringing her free hand to her mouth. 

They’d talked about marriage, of course. His parents had never had a great marriage, and while Leia had put in a lot more effort over the last decade to be a present part of Ben’s life, she was never really there for him growing up. Rey didn’t know much about her birth parents, except that they abandoned her. 

Any time the conversation about marriage came up - usually spurred on by friends who wondered why they hadn’t done it already - they agreed that it just wasn’t necessary. They didn’t need a piece of paper or jewelry to know that they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Rey had told him that the romance he gave her every morning when she woke to the sounds of him working in the kitchen, and every night when he carried to their bed, was enough of a happily ever after for her.

And yet, seeing him down on one knee, with a ring in his hand meant for her, Rey felt her knees tremble. “Ben,” she whispered again, her voice scratchy and pitched.

He squeezed her hand still clasped in his right hand, both of them shaking a little. “If you start crying I’m gonna cry, and I’ll never get through this,” he warned her.

Rey laughed a little at that, leaning her head back and blinking the tears away. “Oh, I can’t promise anything, Mister.” After a moment, when she’d reigned in her fluttering heart and damp eyes, she was able to look at him again. God, he was beautiful. 

Ben pressed on, determined to survive this moment, ever-aware of his mother recording it for posterity. “Every day with you is a new adventure. For every time I have ever nourished you with food, you have nourished me back with love, with kindness, and with humor. It’s always been so easy for me to show my love to you through food, and so terrifying to tell you with my heart just how much you mean to me. You are my world, Rey. I would have nothing, if I didn’t have you. We’ve built this life together from scraps, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” 

He used his thumb to press open the seam of the velvet box, pinching the ring between two fingers and sliding it out of its container. The box fell to the ground as he brought the ring between them, holding it out for her to see. 

The ring was exquisite, not that Rey would have minded if it were plain, scratched, or dented. It was his gift to her, and it was beautiful. 

“When I give you this ring, I’m not just offering you my hand, or my name - though I hope you’ll take both. When I give you this ring, I am promising you that every single day for the rest of our lives, I am going to fight for us. I am going to work for us. I am going to give our family as much love as we deserve to have, and then - with a little cherry on top - I am going to give just a little bit more. When I give you this ring, I am asking you to take one last leap with me into something that could be the most terrifying, but most wonderful thing that we have ever done. Rey, will you marry me?” 

Rey did cry then, picturing so easily what the rest of their lives would look like. Suddenly, any arguments they’d had for not needing to get married didn’t matter. She wanted to marry this man. She wanted to stand before their friends and family and the whole damn world and tell them just how much she loved this man, who had made her life what it was with the simplest and smallest gifts of all: a full stomach. Nourishment. Love. 

Her voice trembled with all of the emotions rushing through her body when she cried, “Yes, Ben Solo, I will marry you.” 

For such a large man, Ben was surprisingly lithe and nimble. He erupted from the ground in a movement so fast, it took her breath away. He wrapped her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. 

The guests around them clapped, some whooping in celebration, as he set her back down on the ground and found her lips with his. 

The ring was tucked onto the tip of his pointer finger, the coolness of the metal tickling her ear as he held her face gently in his hands. 

Rey smiled into his kisses, not caring that she was crying, that everyone was staring at them. She had never been this happy. 

Ben eventually remembered himself and pulled away, just far enough to find the ring finger on her left hand. He eased the engagement ring onto her finger, happy that he had listened to his mother and taken the leap of faith. 

With the ring on her finger, officially engaged, he kissed her again, curving his body over hers. Ignoring their spectators, their first kiss as a soon-to-be-married couple was full of smiles, teeth, and tongue, messy and joyful and a little bit wet with both of their tears. 

When they broke apart to breathe and take one another in, Ben rested his forehead against hers, whispering with a smile, “You taste like cherries.”