Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Professor Ben Organa removed his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes, the corners of his lips twitching up. He’d read some interesting e-mails in his twenty years of teaching, but never had he received a message quite like this one. It served him right for checking his e-mail at 1:00 a.m. from his home office. For the past half-hour, he’d stared at his screen, torn between embarrassment, humor, and an inappropriate but generous dose of pridefulness.

With over three hundred students each semester, it would not be surprising if he didn’t recognize the writer’s name. It wasn’t uncommon to find himself searching his class lists as he checked his e-mails. Students rarely remembered to note their class or section, even though it was outlined clearly on the syllabus.

As if students read the syllabus.

But he did know her name, and her face flashed clearly in his mind as a conflicting rush of shame and longing settled in his chest. She was lovely, a natural beauty with intelligent eyes, tanned skin, and a wide smile that could melt the iciest of hearts.

Were the message from any other student, it might simply be amusing. From her, it was a bright beacon from a lighthouse, shining an enticing ray of hope he didn’t dare contemplate too closely. He shouldn’t be pleased. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t be able to picture her face so clearly.

Rey Kanata. Beautiful, smiling Rey. It was rare to have a student with a name he’d never seen. It was rarer still to have a student he thought about outside of class. He re-read her drunken message for perhaps the tenth time, huffed a broken chuckle of astonishment, and spent much too long writing and rewriting his response before pressing send.

His thoughts traveled back to the first week of the semester when she’d bounded into his classroom with a broad smile, giving him a welcoming nod as she chose her seat in the second row. It was clear from the beginning that she was not like other students. She used a laptop so battered he wondered that it worked, and he couldn’t help but scan her dirty nails, grease-stained jeans, and ratty backpack.

She listened intently, soaking up every lecture, engaging in every activity, her eyes rarely on her phone or laptop, and he could rely on her to answer a question when no one volunteered. Unpretentious and willing to help others, Rey was, in short, his favorite type of student.

With a grimace, he corrected himself; of course, all students deserved equal treatment; he didn’t have favorites.

Still, he found her eyes more than he should, memorizing the hazel of her bright gaze as the weeks flew by. When caught, he would lower his eyes to the stickers on the back of her laptop, the practice of decorating them a relatively new student habit.

Drink some water you beautiful, capable, dehydrated bitch!

Hold on, let me overthink this.

He sighed, shutting down his sticker-free laptop despite the temptation to look up Rey’s class schedule and transcript; it wasn’t against the rules, and all instructors had access, but he didn’t have a good reason to dig into her files. He felt bad enough about his attraction; he didn’t need to intrude further.

He wondered idly if she lived in on-campus housing or if she commuted. He shouldn’t be wondering about her, her age, her relationship status, or anything of the sort, but he did.

Thou art wise as thou art beautiful.

And he didn't mean that sarcastically like Titania had in Midsummer. If he saved Rey's paper for last, if he spent a few extra minutes providing feedback on her work, and if her lovely, dimpled smile stuck in his mind, it was just because she was so very clever.

He’d always been good at lying to himself.

It was hard to stay focused in her presence, and he worked hard to appreciate both her mind and her smiling face objectively and from a distance.

Students, no matter their brilliance or looks or wit, had never appealed to him. He commanded his classroom, encouraged conversation, and never got distracted by fluttering eyelashes or knowing looks. Nonetheless, he knew the burning thrill of attraction the first time Rey spoke, asking a pointed question in her husky, prim UK English accent.

She lingered around the edges of his mind for weeks, distracting him even on the days he didn’t see her in class. Part of him had hoped she would drop in for office hours so he could get to know her better, and part of him was relieved she didn’t. He’d had a handful of students who had fixated on him over the years, who hovered outside his office or made up thin excuses to e-mail him, who touched his shoulder too often or leaned too close to his desk. It didn’t happen often, and a withering stare was usually all it took to discourage such behaviors.

The shoe had never been on the other foot, and he hated himself for his weakness. It was completely unprofessional, unethical, and against faculty policy. He’d been lucky to be hired, and he couldn’t afford another mark on his record. Besides, he had no business finding a student attractive. And as the semester moved on and she didn’t stop by, he reasoned it was for the best.

More concerning than his…burgeoning affection for a student were his own hasty actions. Ben Solo was nothing if not a planner, and he didn’t do things by accident. At least until Rey had burst into his classroom like a sunbeam. He’d been alight with anticipation ever since. He read her work meticulously, and he looked forward to Monday/Wednesday class too eagerly. Hell, just this evening he’d replied to her message too quickly. And one morning, not two weeks prior, he’d sunk even lower.

He’d tried not to stare as she removed the purple sweatshirt in class, pretended not to notice the subtle swells below her t-shirt, told himself he didn’t want to kiss her lovely collarbones, and then she’d left the item behind. He’d snatched up the purple top emblazoned with the white letters of Aldera U and looked around the classroom, ensuring he was alone. Knowing he should wait but unable to control his greedy desire, he held the sweatshirt to his nose and breathed her in.

Even as Ben castigated himself, the muted aroma of flowers and fabric softener enveloped his senses, mingling with the comforting warmth of the soft material. On a deep inhale, a rush of emotions flooded him, and in that moment, Ben felt an inexplicable connection, a pull, as if Rey’s lavender-scented essence had become an irresistible magnet. He took another deep sniff, captivated by the intangible threads that seemed to reach out and wrap around his heart. It felt as if he’d uncovered a secret, a delicate intimacy that was not his to know. And no one needed to know that he folded the item and carried it under his jacket as he walked to his car that evening.

Later, as he slept with the stolen sweatshirt pressed against his nose, he couldn’t help but wish this was less a shameful secret and instead the tender beginning of something special.

Ben’s lips twisted into a sneer at his own thoughts. As if women were attracted to men who stole their clothing and pined after them from a position of power.

Fantasies, all of it. He’d been alone so many years for a reason. He’d suffered through more first dates than he could count and rarely embarked on a second. After what happened with his father, he didn’t trust himself. Why would anyone ever trust him? Meanwhile, his sex drive had cooled to the point of abstinence. That is, until this semester, when Rey waltzed into class and revved it into fifth gear with one smile.

He couldn’t lie to himself. This was more than an objective appreciation of another human being. He was attracted to a student–a young, intelligent, captivating student with whom he’d never spoken one-on-one. Thankfully, his unexpected attraction was only in his mind. He didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She was young, bright, and pretty, and he was old, scarred, and lonely.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t do anything. He wasn’t that man. And there was no question that she wouldn’t. It was simply a fantasy. And her message… She was drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

Regret lodged between his shoulder blades. He could have - should have - waited to reply and called her into his office for a chat about her behavior. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised to find her in his office come morning.

The tips of his ears burned as he imagined her remorse, and he sympathized with secondhand embarrassment as he reread the e-mail one last time.

No matter how many times he read the words, he couldn’t believe she thought him sexy.

Already destined for any hell that may exist, Ben retrieved Rey’s Aldera sweatshirt and relaxed against his pillows, stroking himself leisurely. He longed to spill himself on it, but then he’d have to wash it, and it wouldn’t smell like her anymore. He settled for holding it to his face while he took his time chasing his orgasm, sitting at his desk with his cock in his hand, indulging in visions of her shapely rear bent over his desk, his fingers sliding between her legs as she murmured apologies between desperate whimpers.

*

Rose’s laptop screen swam into Rey’s view. She closed her eyes and opened them again, fighting nausea as she attempted to log into her school e-mail account. She typed her password three times before she got it right. Her ethics paper was due at midnight, and it was, she squinted at the small computer clock, either 12:06 a.m. or 1:26 a.m., and she was…

Wasted. Absolutely, royally fucked up. She couldn’t even find her laptop.

An unplanned Tuesday night challenge of beer pong called to the competitor in Rey, and she couldn’t resist. And now, she’d forgotten to submit her well-researched report to her favorite professor.

Oh, he would be so disappointed! After each class, as they filed out the door, he’d crisply remind them to make good choices, and now she’d gone and been a complete numpty. She tried to imagine the disappointed look on his face, but mostly, that just made her dizzy. She would explain, and maybe he would understand.

Swaying, Rey grasped the table to steady herself, wishing she’d remembered to submit her work before she’d walked the whole ten feet down the hall to Rose and Poe’s apartment. She’d had it done for days, but she’d wanted to proofread it once more. Nothing felt better than receiving praise on a submission from Professor Organa.

“Damnit!” she swore, as she accidentally closed the browser tab and had to reopen it. So much for hurrying to get back to the game. She hadn’t even needed to drink; hell, she was winning! Honestly. When would Finn and Poe finally admit that she was, indisputably, the superior being?

On the other hand, she was a lightweight, not one to drink often, and a few beers had her seeing double; plus, her breath tasted funny, and she couldn’t stop emitting weird, little burping hiccups that kept interrupting her breathing.

The keys on the keyboard rearranged themselves, and Rey stared stupidly at them, composing her message in her mind and wondering why alcohol was so popular.

“Rey! Let’s go! You’re up!” came Poe’s voice from the living room.

“One second!” she yelled back, opening a new message.

She typed quickly, thoughts filled with her handsome professor. He was, in a word, fit with a tall, broad build, long dark waves, and plush pink lips. Then there were the sexy glasses, the hypnotizing voice, the unexplained scar, the delicious ass … and no wedding ring.

And that was just the superficial stuff.

She pressed send and vowed to visit his office in the morning. Rey Kanata was nothing if not a professional, reliable student.

*

Rey woke on Rose’s couch, Poe’s snores filling the room and Finn’s socked feet in her face. She pushed them away with a groan, pulling her scattered thoughts together. She had to be somewhere…

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit, shit, shit!

She didn’t. She hadn’t. She couldn’t possibly have thought that was a good idea.

Happy in a brief state of denial, Rey searched the couch until she found her phone, pulling up her e-mail as her stomach filled with cement.

Her eyes skimmed down and confirmed her fears. He’d already replied. Rey closed her eyes as if she could hide from her phone and, by doing so, guarantee her message didn’t exist.

But it did. It did. And it was right there, and she had to open her eyes soon, or she’d be sick. Literally, the room still spun from the previous evening of stupidity.

Rey held her breath, squinting like that might soften the blows of what were sure to be humiliating words.

Rey,

It sounds like you had a fun night. I will extend your paper deadline to Wednesday (tonight) at 11:59 p.m. Please submit it to the usual dropbox.

I appreciate your…compliment. On a side note, what were you drinking? The next time you e-mail me, I’d like a case of whatever you had so I don’t have to remember what you said.

I trust you were not driving.

Professor Benjamin Organa, Aldera University

P.S. I am perfectly capable of purchasing my own clothes.

Oh my GOD, she had. She not only emailed him, she’d disrespected him and made a fool of herself. She didn’t remember much of what she’d written, and she didn’t want to scroll to look, but the clues weren’t looking good.

Swallowing the bile gathering in her throat, she scrolled down slowly.

Oh, God. No, no, no!

She may as well go home and pack; she would have to move to a new city.

Dear professor,

U should kno that u r a motherfuckin” G - how is a girl supposed to learn when her prof is so incrdblly sexy?

Im hoping for an extension on my essay, imma be real i’m really fucked up rn and will b sick af 2mr, but more importantly i am the goddess of beer pongs

Keep slayin’ boi - u rock those collared shirts and ties - does your wife pick them out??! She’s a so fucking lucky

Love u and c u tmrw,

Rey

Drowning in mortification and cursing her drunk decision-making, Rey’s stomach turned. She pocketed her phone and bolted to the bathroom.

Emptying her stomach provided immense relief. Not long after, Rey splashed cold water on her face, considering her options. She could e-mail him back, apologizing for her lack of judgment. Or, she could hustle to campus and make it to office hours for a more personal apology. But that would mean looking him in the eyes–those big, not-exactly-hazel brown-green eyes, filled with so much intelligence she wanted to dive behind them, swim in his brain, and learn everything about him.

God, how was a girl supposed to learn when the professor was a dreamboat? He liked to pace while he lectured, his baritone voice soothing but way too sexy to make one fall asleep. For a full three hours a week, she spent class time drinking in his strong brow and jaw, admiring his dark suits and classy ties, and watching his long, elegant fingers envelop his coffee mug or a projector pointer or a whiteboard marker.

She’d never had a professor who looked her in the eyes with such intensity or who left such detailed, thoughtful feedback on her work. He must do hours of grading on the weekends because each Sunday afternoon, her e-mail would chime a notification, and Rey would rush to read his typed words, each note a scrap of attention and validation she soaked up gleefully.

He sometimes left brief notations such as “excellent analysis,” “well-reasoned,” “strong use of source,” or “impressive argument,” then provided his own thoughts, posing more questions along with links for resources, encouraging her to read more. And she did. She read every word he recommended, hoping to learn more, exceed his expectations, and weave each new source into her next submission.

And she couldn’t help but breathe in his rich, citrusy, bergamot scent as he walked past or distributed handouts. He smelled of Earl Grey tea, and it reminded Rey of a home so blurry and distant she wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined.

And yes, she wondered if he were in a relationship, but she hadn’t meant to ask. And even if it were her business, she shouldn’t make stereotypical assumptions!

Fuck!

Checking the time, she hurriedly brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back. Slipping on a borrowed top from Rose, she gathered her things, tied her trainers, locked the door behind her, and jogged the three blocks to campus.

Facing him would be mortifying, but how much more mortified could she possibly be?

Chapter Text

Ben entered his office at 6:52 a.m., starting a pot of coffee and logging into his e-mail, not that he was looking for a reply from anyone in particular.

Excluding a handful of the usual student extension request e-mails, he also noted a new message from his mother.

Dear Ben,

Are you coming for Thanksgiving? Say yes. The whole crew will be here at 1:00 for cocktails. Your father is cooking. Uncle Luke is coming, and Uncle Lando will be in town with Jannah and Linus. Dinner is at 6:00. Is it too much to hope you’ll bring a date? Let me know.

Love,

Mom

Ben bristled. His mother knew damn well he wasn’t seeing anyone. She found a way to prod and poke into his nonexistent love life with each communication, her excuse that she’d only been able to have one child.

What’s wrong with hoping for a few grandchildren, Benjamin?

One typically maintains a relationship before having children, Mother.

Yes. Yes, if he were honest with himself, he imagined himself with a long-term partner and children. It’s not that he thought any lifestyle better or worse than another; it was more that his parents were so happy - even when they bickered - and he didn’t think he’d mind that kind of intimacy with someone he could trust. With someone who didn’t try to change him or, worse, fix him.

For over twenty years, he’d rotated between long periods of enjoyable solitude and short periods of fruitless dating. There was a time when he thought he might find someone special, someone to share his life with, someone he could open up to, but he simply hadn’t.

At first, he thought he was too quiet, too brooding, and too solitary. Later, he decided it was his lot to be lonely – a punishment for his reckless actions many years before. In any event, he’d given up on that dream long ago.

However, Rey’s email had given his romantic heart the most dangerous of drugs, a hit of hope that lit up every nerve, that reminded him that he always wanted that special connection of which poets spoke and artists painted, a connection like his parents had found. No matter their quarrels over the years, his dad still looked at his mom as if she hung the moon.

Ben hadn’t decided whether or not he’d go home for the short break. His parents lived less than an hour’s drive from his apartment, and while he should visit, should appreciate them, he liked his solitude and found peace among his books, seldom visiting home. He’d seen them for his mother’s birthday a few months ago, and he’d struggled to meet his father’s eyes the entire afternoon. In truth, he’d never forgiven himself for the accident, and he struggled against the tide of drowning shame whenever they saw one another. He’d ruined him- his career, his life. Ben hesitated with his mouse hovering over the reply button and decided to think about it and respond later. He had a week to decide.

Sighing, he pretended he wasn’t disappointed when the clock read 7:14, and Rey hadn’t arrived. He dove into his work, evaluating papers and reviewing his lesson plans for the day. He had six classes with about fifty students per class, and grading took up more time than anything else in his weekly schedule. Of course, if students would actually use a spelling and grammar check, it would take much less time.

Seriously. They were free.

His heart stuttered in his chest when he heard a soft knock on the door. He paused for a long moment, stealing himself before calling out a mild “Enter,” his stomach knotting with nerves and his heart lighting with hope he shouldn’t feel. Looking up from his laptop, his heart panged - his improper wish had come true. He removed his glasses to make sure she was real, fighting the smile that threatened to split his face.

A disheveled Rey stood in the open doorway, her cheeks redder than usual, her lips parted, and her chest moving up and down as if she darted up the three flights of stairs to his fourth-floor office. He stood, meeting a gaze that held more determination and less embarrassment than he would have anticipated. Small beads of sweat dotted her temples, and she wiped her brow with the hem of her overlarge t-shirt, giving him an unexpected glimpse of her bare midriff. Ben looked away, mortified by his lustful thoughts. He wanted to slide his fingers over her skin, curl his fingers over her hip, and lift her onto his desk or, better yet, his lap.

“Rey,” he welcomed, feeling warm himself, a tightness growing in his chest like he was a teen with his first crush. He gestured to one of the two chairs across from his desk, sipping his coffee to occupy his hands.

Suddenly, his office felt tiny, and his heart hammered in his chest so loud she might actually hear it. He would have avoided his professor and pretended the incident never happened if he were in her shoes.

His eyes dropped to her shapely denim-covered legs before rising to the wrinkled top that looked too large for her small frame. The soft scent of her perfume, so much stronger than the fading aroma of the sweatshirt he'd... borrowed, flared in his nose and traveled straight between his legs. He swallowed to get a hold of himself.

“Professor Organa,” she said, sitting up straight and crossing one leg over the other. “I wanted to apologize. My e-mail last night was completely inappropriate. I meant no disrespect, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the extension.” She always talked with her hands, and she flailed them about before folding them in her lap.

“These things happen,” he reassured. “I accept your apology.”

Worry shone in her big, hazel eyes, and he pretended to check his computer, so disconcerted was he by her imploring stare.

“It won’t happen again. I’m usually very responsible.”

His gaze couldn’t stray from her long. “I agree. You are. I look forward to reading your submission.” They’d never sat so close, and he distracted himself from her eyes by counting her freckles, a dozen or so scattered over her nose. Where else did they hide? He wanted to undress her slowly, kiss every freckle he found on her body.

He could almost feel his mother’s outrage as he entertained such thoughts in his office.

“Thank you, sir. Again, I’m so very sorry.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” he said, then with a lift of his brow, he added, “but maybe stay away from your computer when you’re drinking.”

“Absolutely. I won’t. No. Yes. I mean, I will.” She bit her lip then, and he had to look away from the lips he wanted to bite, to suck, to lick and kiss and mold to his own.

He studied her rumpled clothes, green tendrils of jealousy seeping under his skin as he imagined another being able to do to her all the things he longed to do. The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back.

“Your shirt is inside out.” And he could see her black bra outlined through the white fabric, not to mention the rounded flesh that peeked out over the top of the too-large neckline.

She looked down. “Oh! Oh, gosh. I just grabbed this from my friend and hurried…” she trailed off, tugging the top up, and he felt bad for making her feel sheepish.

He changed the subject quickly. “What are you doing for the holiday? Will you visit family?”

A shadow fell over her eyes then, and she looked at her shoes before looking back with a fake smile. At least, he thought so; it was closed-lipped and didn’t show her dimples.

She tugged absently at a tear in her jeans. “No.”

“Ah, friends?”

She shrugged. “They’ll be out of town. I’ll be working.”

“And what do you do when you’re not in class?” Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Do you like older men? How drunk were you when you called me sexy?

“I’m an auto mechanic,” she explained. He wondered what kind of an ass made a mechanic work on Thanksgiving.

“Did you study for that?” he queried, surprised.

“Oh, yes. I did my associate degree and my apprenticeship through Aldera Tech.”

“I see. And now you’re seeking your bachelor’s?”

“Yes. I want to own my own shop. I’m on scholarship, so the extension is more appreciated than you know, especially because this was my fuc— my mistake,” she corrected.

She could fuck up every week, and he’d find a way to give her an extension. “An excellent goal. Are you taking accounting?”

She was, and they chatted amiably for a while, and he relaxed, enjoying coaxing out a few details about her life and a number of real smiles until another student knocked. He hoped his irritation didn't show on his face.

“I’ll see you in class, Professor. You’ll have my paper this afternoon.” She stood then, offering her hand to shake.

He stood too, taking it, his large, cold hand covering her small, warm one. A shock sparked between them, and their eyes locked for one second, two, three as the tips of his ears heated. He cleared his throat and let go. Unsure what to say, he fell back on his usual.

“Make good choices.”

Was he telling himself or her? Both, definitely both.

He was so incredibly lame.

Rey turned by the door and looked over her shoulder with a smirk, dimples twinkling.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she wondered, and she walked away, her ass swaying in her tight jeans while his cock stirred in his pants. Another knock sounded.

Fuck.

“Come in,” he said to the waiting student, adjusting himself as inconspicuously as possible below his desk.

*

“And he still gave you the extension?” Han exclaimed, his yell carrying over the hum of the air compressor.

“Yep!” Rey yelled, rolling out from under the old Chevy and wiping her hands on a rag.

“Ha! I would have made you sweat,” he hollered back. “We should get going! I need to shower, or Leia will have my head on a spike.” He switched off the compressor.

“Hold up, old man. I’m coming!” Rey sat up and tidied her things, scoffing at her lack of concentration. Moving past her embarrassment had been a struggle since her ill-considered email to her professor. She’d sat through two more of his classes since, occupying herself by taking notes and staring at his hands rather than his eyes. His fingernails were meticulously manicured, just as his hair was always the perfect length. Considering his suits and his grooming habits, plus the fit body, well-organized syllabus, and minimally decorated office, she decided he was a meticulous man. If he saw her bedroom, he may have a heart attack.

Not that he’d have any reason to see her bedroom. If he did, she’d clean it first and try to get his heart rate up for a whole other reason. It didn’t help that she’d not had sex in almost two years. Between school and work, she’d not met anyone worth the time commitment, and she wouldn’t risk losing her scholarship for a one-night stand or a stupid fling.

Han’s shadow drew her eyes up. He stood over her, tapping his cane. “You’ll stop by for dinner, right? Six?”

She hopped to her feet. They’d decided to work a few hours this morning so they could take the weekend off. Her boss really was the best.

“Yes, yes. I promised pie, didn’t I?” Rey offered a smile. She’d been so lucky to find someone to take her on after her apprenticeship. Han had hired her after only two interview questions, happy to work fewer hours himself, and she’d been working with him part-time since she finished her associate degree.

Much kinder and more flexible than her previous employer, Han ran Solo Auto Repair with a laissez-faire approach. She and the other three mechanics organized their shifts around their family (or, in her case, school) schedules, and Han did the paperwork and invoicing, She pegged him to be closer to seventy than sixty, and she found in him perhaps not a father figure but a supporter, someone to complain to when she struggled or brag to when she earned a good grade. His wife Leia had been urging him to retire for years, but Han said he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He was considerate, inviting her to his family Thanksgiving. Since her neighbors Rose and Poe and her roommate Finn were out of town visiting family, she’d said yes.

She’d not been to Han’s house, but she’d met Leia on the few occasions when the inimitable former state Senator stopped by the shop, her suits perfectly pressed and her hair perfectly coiffed.

God, what was Rey going to wear? No matter what she chose, she’d look like the thrift-store shopper she was. The newest piece of clothing in her wardrobe was an Aldera U sweatshirt that was ridiculously overpriced at forty dollars. Robbery.

“Han?” she wondered as they closed up and walked to the back parking lot, Han’s gait slow with what he called his ‘bum’ leg. He had a new story for everyone who asked about it. Apparently, he’d lost feeling in his nerves saving a puppy from a car, scaling Mt. Everest, or taking a bullet for President Mothma. Whatever did happen, he, understandably, didn’t want to talk about it with her.

“Yeah, kid?”

“How dressy is this going to be?”

He waved her question away with a flick of his hand, and she was reminded of Professor Organa and his wonderfully large hands brushing off her faux pas when he could have poured salt into her gaping wound of shame. It was so unfair that he was her professor. If he were a student, she’d…

Oh, who was she kidding? She would be equally nervous and partially panting over him.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just a few of us. My wife, my brother-in-law, a buddy and his family, and my…” he paused. “My son might stop by.”

“Oh?” Rey's ears perked up. Han rarely mentioned his son.

“He’s quite busy with his work, but he might make the drive up.” Usually cool as a cucumber, Han fumbled with his keys, his light green and blue gaze distant as if he were lost in thought.

“What does he do?” she asked, opening her car door.

Han unlocked his own. “He’s a teacher.”

“That’s nice. Well, I’ll see you at six!” she smiled, waving as she drove back toward her apartment.

*

A power nap would be ideal, but Rey set about making an apple pie, determined not to arrive empty-handed. Maz, her foster mother, who’d taken her in when she was only thirteen, taught her to cook before her death. As she baked, Rey reflected on holidays past, the few she was able to spend with family.

She had a handful of skirts and sundresses that would not do and one simple black dress she wore for weddings and funerals, and she grabbed it with a huff, giving it a curious sniff and scolding herself for her penny-pinching ways. She took a few extra minutes to curl her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders, and added a simple silver necklace with its fake pearl resting in the vee of her collarbones. She finished the outfit with a pair of black ballet flats.

Good enough. A bunch of Han’s friends wouldn’t care how she looked.

She covered the pie with foil, wrapped it between two oven mitts, and headed north.

Han didn’t live far–about thirty minutes from the shop and forty-five from her apartment. The sun shone brightly despite the cool November weather, and she turned down the heat and connected her phone, singing along to her favorite playlist as she drove.

She’d anticipated a nice home, considering Leia’s fine clothes and former job, and the house didn’t disappoint. Like Han’s wife, the grand, imposing residence was a vision of elegance, exuding a refined charm that hinted at a long, storied history. Framed by stately columns, the architecture was almost colonial. The sprawling front lawn displayed rows of trimmed shrubs with bunches of orange and red autumn mums still in bloom.

Pulling behind a line of high-end cars that cost more than the average house, Rey took a few moments to appreciate the Mercedes SUV and a brand-new McLaren Spider. Someone liked speed. Whose was it, and when could she take it for a spin? Not that one just went around asking to test-drive someone’s half-million-dollar car.

Gulp.

Gathering her small purse, Rey exited her car with the pie in hand, closing the door with a push of her hip.

“Rey!” came Han’s voice from the porch, and she looked to find him standing there with his usual lopsided grin. His dog, Chewie, vibrated like a coiled spring at his feet, wagging his tail as if Rey brought the treat just for him.

She approached with a smile, handing off the pie and bending down to greet her favorite dog, scratching behind his ears while he nosed at her hand. “Hey, Chewie! Who’s a good boy? You haven’t visited recently.” Rey looked up to Han with a pout.

“Ah,” Han said, motioning her inside. “His arthritis has been acting up.”

“Aww, that’s too bad,” she said, giving Chewie another pat and following Han inside.

The foyer smelled of warm pumpkin pie and roasted turkey, the savory aroma of nutmeg, rosemary, sage, and other spices filling the air with promises of a hearty, home-cooked meal. She heard her stomach rumble, and Han shot her a smirk.

“You’re just in time. What can I get you to drink? Wine? Beer? Coffee? Water?”

“Water is fine, thanks,” she said, studying the navy blue and white furniture that decorated the sitting area. After her drunken e-mail to her professor, she had no stomach for alcohol.

“Rey!” came Leia’s voice, and the diminutive woman flew around the corner, wearing an apron that had Rey giggling. The red fabric had white letters reading: I Don’t Know What I’m Doing. Han’s stories of Leia’s adventures in the kitchen never failed to amuse. She liked imagining them bickering over the sink, a loving husband and wife, happily married for forty years. It was rare, in her mind, and something to be appreciated. Leia gathered her in a hug; the lavender scent of her hair and her tight embrace, paired with both Han and Leia’s joyful greetings, had her throat closing up and her eyes stinging.

“My dear,” she said, stepping back and holding Rey by her shoulders. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to have Han around more. Please say you’ll never leave!”

“I don’t plan to, Mrs. Solo.”

“Oh, please,” she said with a brush of her hand. “Call me Leia. Let’s introduce you to the crew.”

*

Rey sipped her coffee, stuffed after a delicious meal of turkey with all the fixings and a piece of apple pie.

And a piece of pumpkin.

And maybe a cookie or two.

Sleepy and content, she relaxed in her seat, listening as Leia and her brother discussed their days in government. Han fed Chewie scraps of turkey under the table, winking in Rey’s direction.

Lando and his beautiful, young, and fourth—no judgment–-wife Jannah cooed over their baby, little five-month-old Linus, who sat on Jannah’s lap and drooled around a plastic spoon.

“You must miss sleep,” Leia commented as they discussed Linus’ nighttime schedule. Jannah gave a tired smile. “He’s up at least twice to eat, so yes. Thank you for having us. It was a relief not to cook.”

“Of course. You should visit more. Since my son is in no rush to give me grandbabies, Linus needs to spend more time with Auntie Leia.”

“We’ll take you up on that, princess,” Lando said, brown eyes twinkling. “My lovely bride deserves the honeymoon she never got.” With his arm already around his smiling wife, he pulled her closer. Despite the lines around his eyes and his graying hair, he was a handsome man, a flirt, too, and so sweet to his wife and little one she wanted to cry.

The baby fussed, and Rey held her arms open. “I’m happy to hold him if you don’t mind.”

Jannah passed over the wiggling baby, his fist rather than the spoon now stuffed in his mouth. “You’re a love. We think he’s teething. He’s changed and eaten, so if you walk around, he should be fine.”

Rey stood, excusing herself. “No worries. We’ve got this, don’t we, buddy?” Rey bounced the little man on her hip, his big brown eyes looking up at her as if considering if he could trust her. He smelled fresh, like baby lotion and innocence, and he clutched his tiny, wet fingers into her dress with a force that said he was eager to hold onto the world around him.

Linus’ little black curls stuck up in poofy tufts, and she stroked them while they walked. Finding Chewie by the back door, she let him into the fenced-in backyard, taking a seat on the porch swing with her little drool monster, whose fist was now in her hair.

“Here,” she said, untangling his grip and offering him his cloth bib to chew on. “That’s better, yeah?”

A series of excited barks from Chewie and the slam of a car door prompted her eyes across the back drive, and there, standing with a gorgeous bouquet of fall flowers in his hands, was Professor Organa, wearing his usual black suit but no tie, his glasses holding his hair back from his face.

Oh my God. His ears were absolutely adorable. She wanted to slobber all over them like Linus did his fist. She was going to die. She was going to die before she could say hello. What was he doing here?

She held Linus tighter, using the poor tyke as a human shield and an excuse to look down, smelling his baby-fresh scent to calm her racing heart.

Rey’s entire body warmed as she adjusted Linus’ bib chew toy, shifting him to her other (not asleep) thigh, his chubby legs kicking happily against the seat.

She couldn’t look down forever. She raised her eyes and pretended she was brave. “Hello, Professor.”

Chapter Text

Ben checked the clock on his kitchen counter for the fifth time. Why did he hesitate? He was invited. Uncle Luke and Lando would be there. He should meet his new aunt Jannah and his new nephew Linus.

He could go, catch up with his parents, and make his mother happy.

He spotted a smudge on his stainless steel refrigerator and scrubbed it furiously.

There. Better.

Okay. He could do this. If he left now, he would arrive after dinner. His mother would make him eat anyway, and he wouldn’t have to stay for more than an hour or two.

The drive was close to an hour, but it flew as he thought back to the classes preceding the holiday weekend. He’d had Rey in two sessions, and she did well pretending that everything was water under the bridge, even if she avoided his eyes more than usual. She still answered questions when prompted, taking notes and nodding along. It was fine. It was over. They needn’t speak of it again.

He avoided most family gatherings, but something about Rey’s reply to his question about family the previous week gnawed at his conscience. She’d deflected, and he’d realized in that moment that not everyone had parents an hour down the road. She said she’d be working; he didn’t know any mechanics who worked on holidays unless they were on call. Maybe she was far from home. Or maybe she wasn’t close to her family. Airline prices were robbery, so maybe she couldn’t afford a flight out of Aldera.

The reminder that not everyone had a family had settled like a shadow in the back of his mind and refused to leave. He was lucky to have parents who wanted him around. Objectively, he knew this. Sometimes his heart didn’t believe his brain.

What would it be like to date Rey, then bring her home and introduce her to his parents? He didn’t think they would care about the age difference; his father was almost ten years older than his mother, and his mother was so desperate for grandchildren that she probably wouldn’t bat an eye. Not that he would expect a young woman like Rey to rush into anything, including having children.

His parents would care about the power imbalance. And, obviously, he did, too. It’s just that students graduated and moved on, and now he was thinking about two years down the road as if he would be there waiting for her at graduation. Was this becoming a borderline obsession? The thought was equally disconcerting and exhilarating.

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t know her. He would not turn into some psycho stalker who ended up on the nightly news.

After turning down a side street, Ben pulled into his parent’s back drive, parking next to his father’s old Falcon with a lurch in his gut.

Chewie greeted him with happy yelps from the other side of the fence, his old tail wagging like he was still a pup. He gathered the flowers he’d brought for his mother and circled his car, raising his eyes to the back door.

The sight of the unexpected occupants on his parent’s porch swing took Ben’s breath from his lungs, and he almost stumbled on the cobblestones. His heart quickened its pace as if trying to keep up with the sudden surge of emotions coursing through his veins. Every detail became magnified—the way her hair caught the light, the soft curve of her smile as she looked down at a baby who must be little Linus, the brush of her fingers through his curly hair. Toned shins peeked from below a black skirt where her small, slippered feet were pressed together, and she bounced his nephew on her lap, smiling a beaming smile.

She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; she is a woman, therefore to be won.

He would fight battles for his fair maiden. He’d take on France like Henry V. It was as if his daydreams had summoned her, and time stood still, and he found himself entranced by the magic of her presence. Hope and trepidation clashed within him, leaving him both excited and nervous.

“Hello, Professor,” she greeted, her wide smile stretching across her lovely face.

“Rey,” he replied, his voice coming in a rasp. He bent to pet Chewie, taking a second to compose himself before climbing the stairs up the porch. “No, don’t get up,” he reassured Rey as she shifted to rise. He joined her, sitting a safe distance away on the wooden porch swing. “Hey, little man,” he greeted Linus. The baby garbled something around his bib in reply.

Rey laughed, a full-bodied sound that Linus seemed to appreciate too, his big brown eyes staring up at Rey. Ben didn’t blame him.

Maybe Rey worked as a nanny. He didn’t want to believe it was a sign that she was here.

It was totally a sign.

She examined Linus with smiling eyes, and the silence was comfortable between them, but after a time it felt rude not to speak.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, master of the obvious as he was.

“You too, Professor. My boss, uh, Han. He invited me.” The pieces fell into place, and Ben nodded, pleading his heart to stop fluttering like he had no control over his emotions whatsoever.

“My dad made you work today?”

She smiled in realization, nodding, and he found himself smiling back.

“Well, he didn’t make me. We’re taking the weekend off.” Nerves rolled in Ben’s belly; he’d never been this close to Rey, and her bright eyes and kind smile had him longing to reach out and take her hand. He set his mother’s flowers aside, folding his hands in his lap.

Linus discovered Rey’s necklace, the silver chain sporting a single pearl that rested between the dip between her collarbones. The child gave a firm tug, trying to get the pearl in his mouth. “No,” warned Rey gently, working Linus’ vice-like grip free and encouraging him to refocus on his bib.

His first and only nephew cooed and squealed, eager to claim his prize, while Rey huffed. Not to be distracted, Linus found Rey’s hair and gave a yank, the lucky little bastard allowed to touch whatever he wanted.

“I grew up with a lot of kids around,” she explained, untangling her hair and distracting Linus by making a series of ridiculous faces. Linus, determined to get his hands on a new toy, didn’t fall for it and gave Rey’s necklace another yank. The chain broke, the pearl rolling across the porch floor.

“Ben!” Leia’s gleeful voice came with the bang of the porch door, and Linus didn’t appreciate the loss of his new toy or the interruption, promptly screaming his irritation. Rey stood, bouncing him, soothing him with soft assurances while Ben sat dumbfounded, spinning fantasies of weddings and babies and birthday parties before he remembered he was tactless not to rise.

“I’ll get him back to Jannah,” Rey said, darting around his mother and into the house.

His mother’s arms wrapped around Ben’s waist so suddenly that he wobbled in her curiously tight grip. “Ben, I’m so happy you’re here. And I see you’ve met Rey.” She pressed her face to his sternum, clinging like she would drown.

A lump clogged Ben’s throat. “Uh–” he started as his arms reached around his diminutive mother. Lavender filled his nose, and he found comfort he didn’t deserve.

She saved him from answering. “Come. You must be hungry.” Ben gathered the flowers, the broken necklace, and the pearl, discovering it simply plastic, and put it in his pocket as his mother ushered him inside, chatting a mile a minute. “Your father and the others will be so pleased to see you. And isn’t Linus precious? I get to babysit for a week for their trip to Hawaii. Are you hungry? How many days do you have off?”

“That’s nice, Mother,” replied Ben, only half-listening. He could hear Rey’s accented voice from the next room, and he followed it like a beacon, struggling to wrap his mind around her being here. He’d never seen her in a dress, her hair down, chestnut locks falling to her shoulders. Unused to seeing her so softly feminine, he tried not to stare - with little success.

His mother dug through the fridge, setting one container after another on the counter. “Go! Go say hello,” she commanded, waving him away. “I’ll make you a plate.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, pulling his glasses from where they held his hair back and tucked them in his shirt pocket. Oh, fuck, Rey probably saw his giant ears.

It shouldn’t matter. She was his student, his beautiful student sitting on his parent's couch and wearing her fetching black dress, the thin straps showcasing freckled shoulders and firm triceps. Linus slept on her chest, and the image transformed until Rey held their first child instead of his nephew. His commitment to being a feminist nagged at his conscience and reminded him that of course that would be something she got to determine considering the inherent dangers of pregnancy.

If his ears kept her away, good, because his resolve crumbled as he entered the room to find her chatting with the others, fitting in like she was always meant to be here.

Lando and Luke stood and cheered at his entrance, and from his favorite armchair, his father sent a nervous smile his way. Ben had been forgiven long ago, but he still felt sick looking at his father’s leg, his guilt a heavy shroud he couldn’t remove, a broken, crippled limb of his own. And his father knew, and the energy between them always felt off-balance and ill-fitting.

He tolerated hugs from his uncles and bent to hug his father, accepting a pat on the back. Lando introduced Jannah and Linus. Rey sat next to Jannah, holding the lucky devil who slept with his tiny hand pulling her neckline off-center and giving Ben a fantastic view of the curve of Rey’s left breast, her creamy skin decorated with a conspicuous freckle. Linus, you are your father's son. Good boy.

Fine. Ben was the worst feminist.

He made himself look at Jannah and listen and be polite; he wasn’t a heathen.

“Ben," his father said. "This is Rey. She’s been working for me, oh, how long has it been, Rey?”

“Longest three months of my life," teased Rey with a put-upon sigh. The others "ooh'd" and laughed with Han.

“Right, right. That’s when you started at AU. Ben, sit down.” Ben took a seat in the armchair next to his father. “Rey, tell him what happened this week with your professor,” Han’s raspy chuckle followed, covering Rey’s gasp of surprise.

Oh, God, how much had she told his father? Rey’s eyes darted to his, her smile fading. “Um…” He felt his ears warm as the others piled on.

“Come on, we’ve all done worse, little lady,” Lando prodded.

“Spill, Rey,” advised Luke with a grin. “We told you about the garbage chute.”

“That’s fair,” Rey said with a nervous laugh, and Ben sat frozen, wrong-footed. All he had to do was act like he did at work. It should be easy. So she said he was attractive. So what? Lots of people found lots of other people attractive, but that didn’t mean she secreted lusted after him like he did her.

“Actually, Professor Organa is one of my professors this year,” she hedged, savvy little thing.

“No!” Leia exclaimed, bustling in with a tray piled high with food. She thrust it at him and demanded he eat.

“You’re teaching at Aldera U?” his father asked, and the quiet of the room grew so loud he could hear Chewie barking from the yard.

“Yes. I left the private college last year,” he explained between bites. Regretting his decision to arrive late and missing time he could have spent with Rey, he ate, hoping no one would ask him questions if he kept his mouth full.

“I imagine our Rey is one of your best,” Han said proudly. Ben’s heart melted at the look on Rey’s face. She grinned at Han and rolled her eyes, blushing prettily at his praise.

Ben resolved to double the feedback on her next paper. A whisper of thought said he could find a way to discuss it with her in person, collecting her blushes like roses.

“She is, in fact,” Ben confirmed.

The best. The most brilliant, breathtakingly beautiful girl, binding his heart and bewitching his mind. She awarded him with a dimpled smile, her cheeks pink. Oh, Romeo, is this how you felt about your Juliet?

Thankfully, as he ate, the conversation shifted politely away from him. He was happy to listen to Rey talk about her class schedule until the conversation shifted back to Linus and his antics.

*

Rey could not believe she was sharing Thanksgiving with Professor Organa or that Han was his father. Now that she studied them, however, she could see the resemblance. He looked like his mother, too. Curious why he used his mother’s maiden name, she tried to look anywhere but at him while he ate, and the others chatted away.

He’d saved her from answering that blasted email, and she appreciated his chivalry. She would have made an excellent butt of a good joke. Cradling Linus closer, his tiny fingers buried in her dress, she mentally thanked the little lad for acting as a calming blanket for her nervousness.

As if he heard her, Linus stirred, stretched, and let out a whimper. Rey cooed at him, but soon he wailed, his little face turning purple. Jannah had him in a moment, and at his mother’s touch and voice, he calmed and resumed his nap.

“Who’s ready for more pie?” Leia wondered, and Rey groaned before she thought better of it. Professor Organa looked at her as if she had something on her face. Lando laughed, and Leia snickered. “I’m sending some home with you, young lady.”

“I won’t say no, Mrs., uh, Leia.”

“Good girl. I didn’t know anyone could eat as much as Ben.” Rey avoided her professor’s eyes, wishing she could disappear into the couch. “Ben, what can I get you? Apple, yes?”

“Yes, please,” he said, and Rey excused herself to the restroom, hoping to calm her rapidly beating heart. What was it about being in close proximity to Professor Organa that had her as jittery as a first year? She’d left Jakku long ago, but she may as well be there for how hot her cheeks flamed and how sweaty she felt.

Get a hold of yourself, woman!

Washing her hands for something to do, Rey decided she’d be polite and wait until he was done eating, then plead an early morning, leaving before she could do something to make a fool of herself for a second time. She’d been so nervous and shaky on the porch she’d been afraid of dropping poor Linus. Her eyes dropped to her chest, where her necklace was missing. Rats. She’d have to check the porch before she made her escape.

God, how sweet was Professor Organa, covering for her, bringing flowers for his mom, saying she was one of his best students? She would do a little dance if she weren’t already so bloody sweaty.

Straightening her hair and her dress, Rey took a deep breath and walked back toward the sitting room, stopping at an array of family photos on the wall. A young Leia in a stylish wedding dress smiled back at her, looking as radiant as a princess. Han grinned a familiar grin, dapper in his tux. She scanned older pictures in black and white of family she didn’t know. And there, in the center, a young Professor Organa. He posed in a formal family portrait, a small grin on his pale face, his little black suit and tie making her smile. Young Ben’s eyes carried the same intelligence she associated with him now, and his ears were adorably large and pointed outward. Rey felt a shiver of guilt. It was as if she’d stumbled into a rabbit hole and spent the evening glimpsing into his life, and it felt awkward because it was private.

Higher on the wall, a framed photo of Han in a racing suit caught her eye. Young and handsome, he stood near a custom Grand Prix racing car decorated in bright colors and logos. He held a golden trophy high above his head as his lips split into a wide yell of triumph. She knew racing was his favorite sport, the zooming of cars around the track often on the small television in the shop, but she hadn’t known he raced before his injury. She had so many questions! Then again, she thought with a frown, if he wanted to talk about it, he would have brought it up.

As Rey turned the corner, moving toward the living room, she smacked straight into a wall that was her professor.

“Oh! Gosh, I’m sorry!” she cried, reaching her hands out to keep her balance and grasping onto two large, solid arms. The man must spend as much time doing pushups as he did grading essays; she resisted squeezing his steely triceps. With no excuse not to, and without Linus to use as a barrier, she met his eyes, and her breath seemed to freeze in her lungs. She watched him swallow as heat flared between them.

His hands, having reached out to break her fall, rested on her waist, and they both hesitated too long, not letting go. He was equally handsome without his glasses, and as he looked back, she could swear she would overheat. Every muscle grew tight, and she felt too big for her body, fighting the urge to reach out and touch–or maybe run away.

No. She wouldn’t run. She’d rather climb him like a tree, wrap her legs around him, and find out if his big hands, nose, ears, and feet meant he was big elsewhere.

As if of their own accord, Rey’s feet shuffled closer. The long fingers she’d admired in class tightened, burning through her dress, intent on tattooing her skin, and Professor Organa’s stare didn’t waver. It took every ounce of fortitude she had not to glance at his lips, not to pull him closer - or maybe push him down, climb into his lap, and purr.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, removing his hands and with them all the warmth in the hallway. “I was sent to ask if you’d like coffee, tea, or wine.” His dry tone said Leia wasn’t being subtle at all, and Rey smiled, hoping to put her professor at ease as she let go of his arms and brushed imaginary wrinkles from her dress. Like a nervous pup, he ducked his head, and she wished she could tuck his hair behind his ear, snuggle him close, and tell him he was good until he smiled more often.

“I shouldn’t stay,” Rey replied, looking away. Though everyone made her feel welcome, she wasn’t family, and she doubted he wanted her crashing his family Thanksgiving. He was probably too polite to say anything.

“Don’t leave on my account,” he said, guiding her down the hall with his hand hovering so lightly on her lower back that she wondered if he couldn’t decide whether or not he could touch her. They returned to the Calrissians and Luke saying farewell, and she got caught up in the conversation, giving Jannah her number in case she needed a sitter.

“I’ll be calling you, Rey,” Jannah sang with a wave, and they left with Linus asleep in his car seat.

Seeing a safe escape route, Rey edged toward the door. “I should be going–” she started before Han cut her off with a heavy arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, stay a while, Stingray,” Han said, tucking her close and pulling her along in a headlock. She pretended to punch him away, but the physical touch was enough to make her throat clog with tears. When they’d met, she wasn’t sure if he would be kind, but he treated her more like family than anyone besides maybe Finn.

Professor Organa raised a brow at her, and she shrugged. She didn’t mind. She’d never had a nickname before she worked for Han.

Now that the Calrissians were gone, Rey sat alone on the couch, feeling a bit on display as she faced the family, surrounded as she was by their three chairs. Sure, there was space and a coffee table between them, but she felt cornered. She tried to straighten the mess Han had made of her hair, and he smirked at her behind his tumbler of whisky.

“What are your plans this weekend, Rey?” Leia asked as she sipped red wine.

She planned to stay in her pajamas for three days and read for pleasure once her schoolwork was done, but she probably shouldn’t share that. Unsure how to answer, words fled, and she opened her mouth, hoping something would emerge.

Maybe he sensed her discomfort because her professor - Ben - steered the conversation to his transition from the private college to Aldera U, and Rey relaxed a fraction.

Leia turned to him. “A third piece of pie, honey?” Rey’s mushy heart softened further at the endearment from his mom. He looked torn between a grimace and a smile.

“No, thank you, Mother. I’d love to, but I can’t possibly.” Professor Organa stood, gathering his plates. “Dad, thank you for a delicious dinner. The pie was your best yet.”

“Oh, Rey made that,” Han said with a wave of his hand. Rey pretended to sip from her empty coffee cup to hide her glee, preening like a peacock inside and wondering if the way to her professor’s heart was through his stomach.

If so, she could drop out of business school and go to culinary school.

“Fantastic, Rey. Thank you,” he said with a small smile, and her insides melted into a pile of goo as he walked to the kitchen.

“I can’t believe Ben is your professor,” Han said. “What are the odds, I wonder…?" He raised a brow, eerily just like Professor Organa, and she knew he knew. “It must be hard to focus—” he grinned, and she gave him a pleading look.

“Dad?” Ben’s - Professor Organa’s - voice interrupted from the kitchen, his handsome face peeking around the corner. “Do you want me to let Chewie in?”

“Please,” Han replied with a nod. She tried again. “I really should go,” Rey said, anxious to leave and maybe get in her car and scream, preferably while her professor was busy.

“Oh, I’ll get him,” Leia said to Ben. “And, Rey, let me get you some leftovers. Ben? Walk Rey out, will you? I’ll be there in a moment.”

Rey resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands. It would be okay. Surely, she could make it thirty meters to her car. She hugged Han and whispered thank you, gathering her purse and following Professor Organa out the front door. She shivered in the cool air and sped her pace, walking briskly.

Oh, but she had to wait for Leia. Damnit!

“May I?” came a deep voice, and before she realized what was happening, her professor draped his jacket over her shoulders.

Yes. Oh my fucking God, yes, he could do whatever the hell he wanted. They stood by her car door, and Rey basked in the subtle cloud of citrus floating around her, feeling as if she were dreaming. If he would just turn around for a moment, she could stick her nose in his coat and get a really good whiff.

If she hadn’t made such a bad impression with her drunk email message, she may have had the courage to ask why he used his mother’s name, if he’d ever thought of getting his Ph.D., where he lived, or if he wanted to get married and have a litter of little Linuses.

“Thank you,” she said instead. She both loved and hated this feeling, excitement bursting in her chest like fireworks but nerves adding a blast of insecurity that made her brain malfunction.

“I imagine you have studying to do this weekend,” he said politely, putting her at ease.

“Yes,” Rey replied. “I’m working on a research project for Dr. Holdo.”

“Oh? Tell me about it,” he prodded, and she rambled about restorative justice and their team’s research.

“What brought you to Amilyn’s team?” he asked. She explained as Leia hurried up the drive with a gigantic cloth grocery bag.

“She’s my advisor now,” Rey finished, accepting the package. “Wow! Thank you!”

“Of course, dear. Don’t be a stranger now,” Leia said, hugging Rey. “You must come for dinner again soon.”

Rey nodded, swallowing thickly. “Good to see you, Professor.” She handed him his jacket with a smile, and he smiled back, and it reached his eyes, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen that before.

So hot. So hot. So hot.

“Drive safe, Rey,” he said, and she drove away slowly, carefully, waiting until she was on the freeway to floor the accelerator and do an impression of Linus screaming at the top of his lungs. Thank God the semester was almost over. Sitting through class was going to be harder than ever.

Chapter Text

Ben slowed his steps as he walked his mother back down the driveway. The chilly autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves, but it didn’t compare to the smell of Rey. He pulled his jacket closer around his body, inhaling the faintest trace of her familiar perfume–subtle hints of something floral, just like her sweatshirt.

At his side, his mom was chatting–mostly about Rey–which suited Ben just fine.

“It surprised me a bit, honestly,” remarked his mother, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. “Your father’s never hired a female mechanic before. I’m not sure he knew what to expect, but he was so pleased once she started. Never heard him talk about an employee quite so often. “Rey did this,” or “Rey said that.” His mother gave him a less-than-subtle side-eye. “She’s lovely, don’t you agree?”

Ben kept his gaze on the door ahead, but he could practically feel his mother's subliminal message pushing into his mind. Find a nice girl, Benjamin. Give me grandchildren.

He kept his face neutral and hummed, aiming for noncommital. It was a superfluous question, anyway. Rey was unquestionably lovely with her wide smile and charming laugh. She charmed his uncles and touched people easily, casually—holding Linus like it didn’t even cross her mind to hesitate, hugging his mother, letting his dad taunt her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been like that.

“And your father is home more,” she continued, “which means he trusts her. It’s such a blessing; I hope she stays on after graduation.” Ben didn’t answer, though if Rey’s goal were to own her own Aldera shop, he wouldn’t argue. The thought of her leaving made something pull tight in his chest.

With a jolt of realization, he reached to pat his pants pocket, ensuring Rey’s necklace was still there. He’d meant to return it, but it had completely slipped his mind when they ran into each other—literally colliding in the hall. He could still see her dimpled smile and feel her fingertips digging into his triceps. His stomach clenched as he thought of those few beats of silence when she stared up at him, his hands caught at her waist, the air heavy and pulsing with electricity. Being so close to her–-touching her—melted his mind like wax too close to a fire.

His mother went on. “Poor thing doesn’t have any family. I think I’ll invite her for Christmas Eve. I wonder if she’s religious. You know Luke will go to services, but the rest of us will stay in and watch the game.”

Even though this confirmed his suspicions, Ben didn’t bother responding. His mother wasn’t really looking for an answer. This was less about Rey and more about him. With the subtlety of a hammer, she was trying to nail him into showing up for Christmas. 

They stepped inside, where warmth wrapped around them. Han lounged in his worn recliner in the living room, his bum leg propped up and a glass of whisky in hand. The television was on, some old Western played with the sound off and the captions rolling, but Han wasn’t watching it. His father’s gaze was locked on his knee, his jaw tight like he’d been clenching his teeth. His dad looked up as they entered, expression unreadable for a moment before he exhaled and nodded.

“Hey, kid,” he said, his voice gruff as if he were a lifelong smoker, which he wasn’t.

Ben gave a stiff nod. “Hey, old man.”

Leia followed and shot them each a look that warned against any brewing tension before disappearing into the kitchen, where the sound of dishes clinking against the sink soon filled the silence. Ben sat on the couch, stretching out his legs and crossing his socked feet, his stomach overstuffed after too much pie—he hadn’t needed a second helping, but he couldn’t resist. Sitting near his dad, Ben was acutely aware of how much distance remained between them. The accident occurred twenty years ago, but the space never closed. Han’s prolific career had ended because of Ben’s stupidity and recklessness, and no matter how many times Han said he forgave him, it didn’t change the truth.

After a few silent beats, Han cleared his throat. “How’s the new job, then?”

“Good,” he replied. “My schedule is manageable. Keeps me busy.”

“Same apartment?”

“Yep.”

The conversation might be stilted, a rugged engine trying to turn over, but Ben appreciated that his dad was trying. Neither of them was skilled at small talk.

“Ever hard?” Han asked suddenly, tilting his glass toward Ben. “Workin’ around so many young people?”

An uneasy heat crept up his neck, and he frowned. “What?”

His father smirked, slow and sly. “Oh, come on, you’re a good-lookin’ guy! Like your dear old dad,” he added with a wink. “You must get yourself into some… situations. Students likin’ you and such.” Han’s lips turned up as he leaned back, his eyes glinting—amused but not unkind.

Ben scoffed, and gave a half shrug. "A few. It’s rare, thankfully.” He forced himself to sound indifferent.

Han hummed, taking another sip of whisky. But he could tell his father wasn’t really asking about a few random students over the years. The spark in his eye said he’d put two-and-two together easily enough. Ben gave hm a look, silently warning him not to say a word to his mother. She’d have their wedding planned before Rey graduated—before he gathered the courage to ask her out.

Ben looked toward the flickering television screen, his thoughts turning over themselves. He didn’t want to talk about his inappropriate feelings for Rey. Though, he supposed it was a good thing that she shared the story of her drunken email with Han. It might mean she wasn’t overly embarrassed or that she wasn’t afraid to laugh at herself.

“How about you?” Ben asked. “Work okay?”

Han hesitated, shifting and adjusting his bad leg like it ached. “You know how your mother is. Wants me to retire. Travel.” He swirled the small measure of liquid remaining in his glass. “Told her, I ain’t ready for that yet. Never wanted to leave the shop to anyone who wasn’t family.”

It was a tired conversation, and one they both knew didn’t need rehashing. Han sighed, rubbing a hand through his silver hair.

“But—” Han said, giving Ben a careful look “Rey’s got what it takes—the hands, the instincts, the knowledge. Says she’s got three semesters left. Been thinkin’ of askin’ her if she wants to manage the place."

Ben’s fingers flexed. “Yeah?” He hoped his eyes didn’t show the restless hope that curled in his chest—Rey running the shop, Rey staying in Aldera.

Han’s gaze didn’t waver. “You wouldn’t object?”

Ben blinked. “Why would I object?”

Han leaned forward again, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. “Because it was supposed to be yours.”

The words landed heavier than Ben expected, settling in his ribs. He sat back, shaking his head. “It was never mine, Dad. It was yours.”

Han exhaled, rubbing his hands together like he was warming them up. “I ain’t blind, kid. I know you never wanted it. But just ‘cause you didn’t want it doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant for you.” His fingers tapped absently against the tabletop, like he was feeling out his own words. “And I don’t want you thinking I’m givin’ it to Rey instead.”

Ben let out a slow breath, rolling his jaw before he answered. “If you’re asking her to manage the store, then wouldn't that mean she’s earned it?”

His father’s eyes smiled along with his lips. “Don’t say nothin’” he added, and Ben gave him a look that said he wasn’t stupid.

“Hell,” he said, his eyes still smiling, “If you have any sense, you’ll ask her out—”

Ben lowered his voice into a harsh whisper. “For fuck’s sake, don’t let mom hear you!”

Han’s snicker made something sharp lodge in Ben’s rib cage.

The kitchen light flicked off, and they both snapped their mouths closed, returning their attention to the television. His mom returned with coffee, and he stayed a while longer, thinking about Rey in an apartment somewhere alone, thankful for his family.

Later, as Ben drove home, unease and anticipation slithering under his skin, he found it difficult to focus on anything but Rey. Her dimpled smile, her body close to his, and the soft curve of glorious breasts. The way she clutched his arms, the lilt of her voice—he’d wanted her, wanted her right there in his parents’ hallway, and it had taken every ounce of control to step back instead of pulling her into his arms.

His class ended in three weeks, and after that, nothing would stop him from asking her for coffee. Certainly that wasn’t out of line. She was an adult; she wouldn’t be his student for any future classes. He wasn’t on the scholarship committee nor leading any research projects. And she wouldn’t be a student forever. If he asked her to discuss a paper or her research, he could weigh her true regard against her drunken message. Or, against the desire he thought he saw in her eyes when she’d been just inches away, his greedy hands glued to her hips and his brain yelling to lift her and fuck her into the wall.

She might say yes. It was clear from her words and actions that she respected him. It was less clear if she found him attractive or if that was a drunken embellishment. They could talk, and he could get to know her, and if she didn’t like him, then maybe his heart would take the hint and calm the fuck down.

Then again, she hadn’t seemed eager to stay, practically running to her car as soon as she could make a polite escape. But, that could just be nerves. He’d never found himself in any of his professor’s living rooms.

Three weeks.

Three weeks wasn’t a long time; they had only four more class periods plus the final exam, and then no one would care if they met outside of class. He’d had coffee with countless students over the years, some while they were students and others long after they’d graduated. Unlike high school teaching, which he’d only done for a few years before the parents drove him batty, the power distance between himself and his university students was much shorter and seemed to scale to students’ ages and maturity levels.

Regardless, even if she agreed to meet him for coffee, he doubted she’d be interested in a forty-year-old man who stole her things and fantasized about fucking her in his office, risking her reputation for his own selfish ends. Rey, with her bright personality and clever mind, deserved better.

Did she want romance, or was he projecting? He shouldn’t be making assumptions—like that she was single and attracted to men… that she would even accept his invitation. Maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see. Maybe he was just another man mistaking kindness for something more. Or maybe, just maybe, the way she looked at him meant exactly what he thought it did.

*

Rey yanked open another drawer, rifling through it with quickly growing impatience. Her fingers clenched around a crumpled t-shirt before she threw it on the growing pile on her bed. Clothes were everywhere. Her closet now stood empty with the exception of a few pairs of shoes and a handful of empty hangers.

What had started as a simple search for something comfortable had now spiraled into full-blown chaos.

Her new, not used, not cheap purple Aldera U sweatshirt was missing. Worse, she’d left her broken necklace on Han’s back patio. She texted him not long ago, asking if it had been found, but she hadn’t heard back.

A loud, slow crrrunch came through her headphones. Rey froze mid-search, narrowing her eyes.

“Finn,” she warned.

Another crunch sounded. Louder this time. Deliberate.

“What?” Finn asked around a mouthful of something.

“Oh my God. I am in crisis! Stop that!”

crrrunch, crrrunch, crrrunch

“What even is that, chips?”

“Popcorn.”

Rey pulled open another drawer, muttering under her breath.

“.... So, you went to dinner?” Finn prompted.

“Yes. And Finn!” Rey spun in place, gesturing even though Finn couldn’t see. “You are not going to believe this.”

“Let me have it,” he replied.

“Professor Organa? He’s Han’s son.”

Finn, who had taken his class the semester prior, actually choked. There was a sputter, a cough, and then the unmistakable sound of him struggling not to die. “No way,” he wheezed.

“I know! I couldn’t believe it either! And he was there! At Thanksgiving!” Her heart rate still hadn’t returned to normal. The whole evening had been completely unexpected, and she couldn’t help wishing… hoping that she might see him again outside of class.

Incredibly, the crunching resumed. “So, what did you do? Apologize over mashed potatoes? Or did he wait until pie to bring up the infamous drunk email?”

She huffed. Finn knew she’d already visited his office hours. “For your information, he didn’t come for dinner exactly. He showed up after and hung around for a bit.”

“Ohh,” Finn drew out the syllable, clearly enjoying himself. “Just for you?”

“Absolutely not,” Rey shot back. “And he didn’t even mention the email.”

Finn gave a low whistle. “What a gentleman. So, does he look like his dad?”

“Sort of,” Rey affirmed. It did make sense now that she’d made the connection. He had his mother’s brown eyes, and he was built like his dad. “His hair is darker, but Han’s is mostly silver. Their facial structures are similiar, all big features, and they both have that tall, broad, broody thing going on.”

Finn cackled. “You’re hopeless.”

“I am not,” Rey lied… for absolutely no reason.

“You are so gone. I can hear the dreamy look on your face.”

She scowled. “Cannot.”

Finn ignored her. “Does this mean you’re, like, officially hot for teacher now? Because I gotta say, I did not have that on my Rey Bingo card.”

“Stop talking.”

“I’m sorry, who called me, frantic, digging through her closet, squealing about her professor?”

Rey groaned, throwing herself onto the bed face-first. “I regret calling you.”

Finn let out another chuckle. “No, you don’t.”

“No,” she mumbled. “I don’t.”

“Stop mumbling.”

She sighed, glancing around the disaster zone that was now her room.

“What else is going on, luv?”

“Well,” she said, shifting onto her side and knocking a pile of clothes on the floor, “on top of all that, I lost my necklace. Well—not lost, exactly. I know where I dropped it. But still.” She explained about Linus and being distracted by Professor Organa.

Finn was quiet for half a second before his tone softened. “Wait, the one from Maz?”

“Yeah.” Her fingers drifted to the hollow of her throat where it should have been. “The plastic pearl, the flimsy chain. It wasn’t worth anything, but…” She swallowed, memories of Maz’s warm, knowing smile filling her mind. “She gave it to me for my Sweet Sixteen. Said it was ‘for luck.’”

“That sucks, Rey. I hope Leia found it.”

“Me too.”

“Why not turn around and go back for it?” he asked, a hint of mock innocence in his tone.

Heat crawled up Rey’s neck. “I barely held myself together as it was.”

There was rustling on Finn’s end—someone interrupting, muttered voices. Rey waited, absently poking at the mess around her.

Finn came back a second later. “Okay, sorry. Find it yet?”

“No,” Rey grumbled. She’d exhausted her options. “And now my room's a catastrophe.”

“Tragic,” tsked Finn. “What will the professor think?” Then slowly, painfully smugly, Finn crunched down on another handful of popcorn.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet. Rey rocked Linus gently in her arms, pacing the Calrissian’s living room in socks, humming something tuneless as his eyelids drooped. The baby had eaten like a little champion and had a good burp, but he had no desire to sleep no matter that it was well past eight.

He was about to lose the battle. One tiny hand wrapped around Rey’s hoodie string, his warm cheek pressed against her collarbone, and his cries had turned to small, hiccuping whimpers.

“It’s okay, buddy,” cooed Rey.

She was just lowering herself into the armchair when the doorbell rang.

Ding-Dong.

Linus startled, let out a wail, and promptly spit up all over Rey’s sweatshirt.

“Brilliant,” she muttered, grabbing a burp cloth as Linus shrieked like she was torturing him for information. “Shh. Shh,” she hushed. “Perfect timing, huh?”

The doorbell rang again, and another scream curdled Rey’s ears. Rey adjusted Linus to one hip, tried to wipe her shirt down with her free hand, and opened the door.

Professor Organa stood there in all black, a bag slung over his shoulder, wearing his glasses, and holding–was that a wrench?

“Professor?” she asked stupidly.

“Rey—” he started, obviously surprised to see her. “Jannah said the Wi-Fi was out.” His gaze dropped to her soaked, stained sweatshirt. “Looks like I’m not the only one here for an emergency.”

“It’s not out,” she said, shifting Linus and wishing she would have thought to lie. “I reset the router. What, exactly, were you going to do with a wrench?” she asked skeptically.

Ben’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t— Wait, then why did she—?”

They stared at each other.

“Oh,” Rey said flatly.

Ben sighed. “My mother.”

Rey felt the burn of embarrassment across her cheeks, particularly because she didn’t have an issue with Leia or Jannah’s actions.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause punctuated by Linus’ cries. “Could you use a hand?” Professor Organa asked.

Rey’s heart skipped a beat. Did he want to stay? She tried to keep her voice calm. Linus, right on cue, let out a shriek so high-pitched it could have cracked the windows. “Okay, great. Awesome,” she said, backing through the doorway and shifting the baby awkwardly. “He was this close to falling asleep.”

Ben hesitated on the doorstep for half a second before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

“Do you—want to just—” Rey started, gesturing vaguely with one arm as Linus launched into another piercing wail.

Ben reached for the baby. “Come here, monster,” he muttered, moving with ease. Linus squawked as he was transferred, but Ben had him settled in the crook of his arm, lying on his stomach, tucked in like a football in two seconds flat.

Rey stared.

Ben swayed him gently, rubbing his back in slow circles. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Life is pain. You’ve been alive for nine months and it’s already too much.”

Linus let out a belch, then went oddly quiet, burrowing into Ben’s arms.

Ben kept walking in slow figure-eights through the living room, murmuring nonsense under his breath. “I get it, kid. No one understands you. Your mother left you with a stranger. It’s tragic.”

Rey blinked, then remembered she was still covered in baby puke.

“I’m gonna—wash this off,” she mumbled, already tugging at the hem of her sweatshirt. “Bathroom’s down the hall. You good?”

Ben nodded, swaying with Linus, his large hand rubbing gently against the lucky little traitor’s back.

*

Rey closed the bathroom door with her hip and leaned back against it, heart pounding. She forced herself to take a slow breath. Then another.

It had only been two days since Thanksgiving, and here he was again. And it hadn’t been much longer since the bloody email. The one she hadn’t meant to send and now made every interaction between them feel charged. Because he knew she wanted him. He knew she found him attractive. Hell, he knew his mother was trying to set them up!

What was she supposed to do with that?

“Oh my gods,” she whispered into the quiet.

She just needed to focus on Linus. That was all.

She peeled her spit-up-stained sweatshirt over her head with one hand, the other still damp from trying to keep Linus from wiggling off her shoulder. She set it on the counter and stared down at the mess—shoulder to mid-chest, just wrecked. Gross.

She ran water, grabbed a towel, and started blotting at the stain, muttering to herself.

“Cool. Cool cool cool. Nothing like being covered in baby vomit when your unresolved crush walks in.”

Her eyes flicked to the mirror.

Tank top. Beige. No bra. Tight. Way too tight.

Rey groaned.

The tank hugged everything, her nipples were conspicuous as if looking for attention. Her hair was starting to frizz. She looked flushed and rumpled and half-stripped—and worst of all, she didn’t hate it.

Which was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

She rinsed the sweatshirt in the sink, wrung it out, and slung it over the shower rod to dry. Her hands trembled a little as she smoothed her hair, wiped her face with a fresh towel, adjusted her clothes, and stared down her reflection like it owed her money.

“You are not going to be weird,” she whispered as she pointed at herself. “You are going to walk out there, act like a functioning adult, and not panic just because he’s holding a baby like he invented it.”

She hesitated.

“…And maybe don’t make eye contact.”

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, bare arms prickling in the cooler air.

Back to the battlefield.

*

Ben followed Rey inside, heat creeping up his neck as he thought of his mother’s interference.

Rey glanced at him. “Do you—want to just—?”

Ben didn’t wait. “Come here, monster,” he said, hands already out. Linus howled but let himself be transferred. Ben shifted him, tucking him over his left arm in a football hold. Ben bounced him gently as he sobbed, then whined, then belched. Then he started to settle

Rey stood blinking at him, baby puke still clinging to her sweatshirt. Her lips parted, stunned.

Ben fought the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She was a bit of a wreck—a wreck he’d be gleefully imagining while jerking off later.

She muttered something about the bathroom and disappeared down the hallway.

Linus burped again and let out a long sigh. “That’s it, let it out.”

Ben kept walking, pacing the living room. The little body in his arms was warm and wiggly. He remembered this feeling. He’d grown up watching over Jyn and Cassian’s kids. He’d never considered his own, not seriously, not really. Being a parent had always been someone else’s role: his mom and dad, Aunt Jin and her kind steadiness, Cassian who could make chaos look like a plan. Did Rey want children? A house with tiny socks on the floor?

“We like her, don’t we bud?” he asked Linus; the baby gave a contented coo. “You’ve got great taste, kid,” he added in a whisper.

He couldn’t believe Rey was here.

Well. He could. His mother had no shame. Jannah, either. And now she was back there in that bathroom, peeling off that stained sweatshirt. He needed to turn from the thought. His fingers twitched on the baby’s back. Linus squeaked softly and shifted, curling in closer.

Ben adjusted his hold and closed his eyes for a second.

It wasn’t a trap. It was just… a setup, and he didn’t want to run.

The bathroom door opened quietly, and Ben’s attention snagged before he could pretend otherwise.

Rey stepped into the hall, her socks padding across the hardwood floor. Her tank top clung in a way that made his already struggling self-control wobble at the knees. The fabric did nothing to hide the sharp press of small, tight nipples. His brain ignited like a quiet thermal detonator in the back of his skull. Her jeans were low on her hips and fit in a way that had his brain short-circuiting all over again.

He forced himself to look at her face, though the temptation to glance lower pulled at him like a riptide. Her cheeks were pink, her hair slightly frizzed, and she looked flustered but composed.

Ben’s mouth was suddenly uncooperative, his voice lodged somewhere between his chest and throat. His arms adjusted around the baby more from reflex than thought, Linus’s little fingers curling against his shirt as if he, too, were trying to hang on for dear life.

“You’re a natural,” she observed quietly, voice skeptical and lips puckered.

Ben raised his brows, keeping his voice low as well. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Rey smiled, the corners of her mouth twitching upward, soft and crooked like it took no effort at all. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he thought heat simmered in her gaze. She moved a little closer, one hand reaching to touch Linus’s fine hair. Her knuckles grazed Ben’s hand in the process, and his entire body tensed as if someone had struck a tuning fork down his spine.

She didn’t apologize for the contact, and she didn’t retreat.

“We can try the crib,” she said after a long moment. “Jannah said he usually goes down fine if he’s half asleep.”

Ben nodded again, grateful for the excuse to move, though the warmth of her skin on his still hadn’t faded.

She led him down the hallway, and he followed a half step behind, resisting the urge to look anywhere but forward. Even so, the gentle swing of her hips and the slope of her shoulder blades etched themselves into his memory.

The nursery had a wooden crib opposite a curtained window. Rey turned on a small side lamp and motioned toward the mattress. Ben crossed the room and leaned down slowly, careful not to jostle Linus, who was still breathing heavily. The baby let out a faint whine, then a contented sigh, and Ben lowered him into the crib, tucking the thin blanket around his waist.

Beside him, Ben could feel the warmth of Rey’s arm at his elbow. She reached into the crib to gently adjust Linus’s arm, her touch so delicate it made Ben’s chest ache with something he couldn’t name.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved.

The lamplight cast her in soft gold. Her face relaxed, lips slightly parted, her hair curling around her face in unruly strands. Her eyes flicked to him, not fast, not shy—more like she was taking him in the same way he had been doing since she came back down the hallway. Like she was studying him to line up the version of him in her head with the one standing in the nursery.

The air between them felt different now. Not lighter, exactly. Not heavier either. Just… charged. A wire strung tight between them, humming.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft and genuine. “You didn’t have to help.”

Ben looked at her then, and for once, he didn’t try to school his expression into something academic or neutral. He let her see the weight of the want that had been steadily rising in him since they’d run into one another on his parents’ porch—since long before if he were honest.

“I didn’t mind,” he said, voice low. “Not even a little.”

Rey blinked, her throat working in a slow swallow, and the flush on her cheeks deepened. Her eyes darted to his lips and back again so quickly he might have missed it if he weren’t looking for it.

Her arm brushed his again, deliberately this time. Her fingers slid down, curling around his wrist with a sureness that had him standing perfectly still, like prey caught in the moment before the chase.

She tilted her head toward the hallway but didn’t let go of his arm. Her voice was a murmur, but it cut straight through the quiet. “Only a few weeks left in the semester.”

Ben’s eyes dropped to where her hand circled his wrist—light, but insistent. Her fingers weren’t trembling but his were.

“Mm.” He barely managed the sound, unsure if it was agreement. All the breath had been sucked from his lungs.

She gave a soft tug, guiding him back toward the hallway. Her hand slid down to catch his fingers, lacing through them like she’d been waiting for him to make up his mind and finally decided to do it for him.

His feet moved before his brain did.

She didn’t look at him again as they walked, her pace slow and casual, her thumb tracing the inside of his palm in idle strokes that made his heart stutter like an old engine. His thoughts filled with lines blurred and crossed, with heat and risk, about whether he’d get to taste her lips.

By the time they reached the living room again, the air between them had shifted. The quiet was no longer natural or awkward. It was expectant.

Rey let go of his hand, then turned toward the couch and dropped onto it like nothing had happened, tugging her knees up to sit cross-legged in her tight beige tank and jeans, curling one arm around a throw pillow like a shield.

Ben remained standing, not yet ready to break the tension.

She looked up at him with something sly, something soft.

“So,” she said, voice light but not empty, “are you planning to grade essays tonight?” Her dimples flashed with her smile, setting him at ease

Ben’s lips curved, slow and dry. “I’m off duty.”

“Good,” Rey said. “Because if you mention citations, I swear to God I’ll throw something.”

He moved toward the couch, still careful, still half sure the spell would break if he so much as exhaled wrong, but when he sat beside her—closer than necessary, but not close enough to touch.

She was still smiling, her eyes sharp and fixed on him.

Whatever this was… it wasn’t over. And they both knew it.

*

The baby monitor sat silently on the coffee table, its stillness making Ben strangely aware of the ticking clock in the kitchen and the quiet hum of the refrigerator. Linus had finally surrendered, reminding Ben that they weren’t entirely alone—just briefly suspended in a hush that didn’t quite feel like silence.

Rey was curled into the corner of the couch, her sock-covered feet tucked beneath her, arms wrapped around a pillow, and hair falling over one shoulder. She looked impossibly soft like that. Cozy. Real. And when she smiled, teasing him about his taste in music, it undid something in him that had been tightly wound for too damn long.

“…You’re telling me you genuinely like Kessell Static?” Rey grinned over the rim of her mug, disbelief thick in her voice. “That synth junk with the whining droid vocals?”

Ben scoffed, tilting his head back against the couch cushion. “It’s not whining—it’s texture. And it’s better than that Outer Rim folksy nonsense you like.”

Rey gasped, mock affronted. “You take that back. The Ballad of Jakku’s Moon is a classic.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “A classic way to fall asleep.”

She threw a pillow at him, half-laughing, half-scandalized, and he caught it with one hand, grinning before he could stop himself.

He should have stood and said goodnight an hour ago. He should have left with some excuse, let the moment dissolve before it reached a dangerous temperature. But he hadn’t. Because she laughed like that. Because she looked at him like that. Because she saw him—had seen him, in some way, from the start—and it felt… easy.

He hadn’t felt that in years. Maybe never.

Rey reached for her phone as it buzzed, brows furrowing as she read the screen.

“Jannah says they’re five minutes out.”

The words knocked the wind from him more than he expected. Only five minutes?

Ben let out a long breath, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “Right. Time flies.”

Rey turned back toward him, eyes soft. “Thank you for staying. It was nice… talking to someone who wasn’t one.” She nodded toward the baby monitor with a faint smile, but it barely registered. Her gaze lingered. So did his.

He had spent all semester thinking of her in half-imagined what-ifs, comforting himself with the line he didn’t cross. But she was here. She was warm and lovely and wearing a tank top that clung in ways he couldn’t possibly ignore.

And she touched him—just a small brush to his sleeve like she didn’t even realize she’d done it.

Three weeks. Three. It wasn’t forever, less than a month.

He smirked, unable to help himself. “So… are you really the goddess of beer pong?”

Her reaction was immediate—horrified and embarrassed.

She covered her face with her hands.

Adorable.

“I deserve that.”

His voice dropped, slower now, each word unfolding with purpose. “That entire message is seared into my brain. Very poetic. Very… vivid.”

She groaned. “Please stop talking.”

“I’m just trying to verify my sources,” he said lightly. “Purely academic interest.”

When she peeked through her fingers, her expression was wary and wicked at once. “Are you this insufferable with all your favorite students, or am I just lucky?”

Ben leaned in without meaning to, the gravity between them undeniable. “Only the ones who call me sexy.”

Her lips parted, breath catching audibly in the quiet room.

She didn’t look away.

He didn’t either.

Every internal alarm was blaring, screaming don’t, not yet, wait just a few more weeks, but she was right here. The light touched her cheekbone and, caught the green and gold in her eyes. She was beautiful. More than beautiful—brilliant, lovely, and close enough to touch.

And then she whispered.

“Can I kiss you?”

His heart leaped into his throat.

He didn’t move, not for a full second, afraid he’d imagined it. That his mind had filled in what it wanted most.

But her eyes didn’t waver.

*

Rey’s stomach flopped over on itself. He was joking, teasing her, but the way he was looking at her… his gaze dark and intense behind his glasses, his lips curved just so.

She’d said it out loud. Shit.

Can I kiss you?

Her stomach dropped to her toes. Why had she said that?

The silence after her question stretched too long, not in seconds, but in heartbeats, and Rey didn’t think she could get any more flushed. The words rang in her ears, mortifying and real, and now she couldn’t breathe.

She wanted to run, to throw a pillow at his head and laugh it off. To make a joke and disappear into the kitchen and pretend she hadn’t just set herself on fire in front of a man who had once scrawled “excellent structure” on her paper and made her whole week.

She didn’t drop her gaze, because she didn’t look away.

She felt like she’d taken a running leap off a ledge, trusting he’d catch her.

And he did. He nodded.

“Yes,” he said, soft and sure. Rey’s heart stuttered. It wasn’t just the answer, it was the way he said it. Like it wasn’t a mistake.

Her breath stopped. She pushed the pillow aside without thinking and leaned forward, nerves and heat tangling together beneath her skin. Her hand landed lightly on his knee - not planned, not calculated - just something to ground her before she closed the space between them.

He didn’t move.

His eyes dropped to her mouth.

Her heart stalled, then thudded in her chest as if trying to escape. Her palm still rested on his knee, fingers clenched ever so slightly in the fabric of his jeans. She wanted to kiss him so much it ached.

Her lips met his in a soft press and it was like falling into warm water, like plunging into something vast and slow and endless.

Ben exhaled into her mouth, a quiet, broken sound that undid something deep in her chest. Her hand slid upward, fingers trailing over the solid plane of his chest, mapping the heat through his shirt. She felt the shift in his body, the faint jolt as his hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer.

There was no rush. Only lips and pressure and the unbearable closeness of him.

Rey kissed him again, firmer this time, pressing her mouth to his like it could speak everything she didn’t know how to say. He kissed her back—slow and deliberate as if he’d waited a lifetime and wouldn’t waste a second.

Her mind fractured in the best way. She could barely think. All she knew was his scent, clean, citrusy, and warm, and the impossibly gentle way his fingers flexed at her waist. She leaned in, letting herself sink, threading her fingers up into his hair without even meaning to, needing something to hold on to as her world tilted.

He let out the softest groan into her mouth, and her skin lit up. Every inch of her body felt awake, every nerve sparked alive.

They parted, just a breath, just barely, his nose brushing hers. Their foreheads touched. Her heart was pounding so loud she was sure he could feel it where their bodies were nearly, almost, not quite pressed together.

She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth.

Ben didn’t let go.

They were both quiet. Ben’s gaze was as dark and unreadable as usual.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes,” she murmured.

“I shouldn’t have, but I’m glad I did.”

Rey smiled, heart aching with the honesty of his words.

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

They had talked. Not immediately, not when her breath was still warm against his cheek and her fingers were still clutching his hair. The conversation came later, when they both remembered the rest of the world and that things like responsibilities and rules existed.

They sat beside one another and made a decision that was both noble and excruciating. They would wait. Three weeks was nothing. The semester would end. Grades would be submitted and posted. The lines between them would shift to something still complicated but far less so.

He would not risk her scholarship. She would not risk his reputation. Neither of them wanted to be the reason the other lost something hard-earned.

It was the right decision, but it still felt like punishment.

Then, Sunday evening, he received an email - a sober one - from Rey.

Subject: Class tomorrow

Professor,

I’m emailing to let you know I’ll need to miss tomorrow’s lecture. My boss added a last-minute shift, and I couldn’t get out of it without risking my job. I’ve already spoken to my group and arranged to get their notes, and I’ll submit the response paper on time.

Regards,

Rey 

Ben huffed. Her job wasn’t in jeopardy, not with Han. The man already treated her like family.

No, this wasn’t about her job. This was her way of buying time.

The thought hit him with a strange pang—not quite rejection, but close enough to bruise. Was she having second thoughts? Did she regret kissing him?

Or was she simply as nervous to see him as he was to see her?

Three weeks. That was the agreement. They’d made it with clear heads and clasped hands and the kind of aching restraint that still echoed in his chest if he breathed too deeply.

Three weeks wasn’t long. But it was long enough to start wondering if she would change her mind.

*

Late Monday afternoon, Ben turned into the cracked parking lot behind his dad’s shop where the winter sun shone off an old Volkswagen Beetle near the fence line. The shop was quiet from the outside, but he knew the inside would be loud with the hiss of air compressors and the whir of socket wrenches.

Han had called with some flimsy excuse about needing help with the computer in his office. Ben suspected it was more than that. His father was many things, but subtle had never been one of them.

Rey was there, just as he expected. She stood in the open bay, her tanned arms bare to the shoulder and smeared with oil. She wore dark coveralls, and her hair was twisted into a bun at the top of her head. She bent over the engine of a sedan, a pencil tucked behind one ear. The sight of her made his chest tighten.

She didn’t see him right away. She was talking to a customer, a middle-aged woman with a toddler on one hip and a diaper bag hanging from her shoulder. Rey nodded along, calm and focused, her hands moving quickly as she pointed to a part under the hood. She didn’t look like someone pretending to know what she was doing. She looked like she belonged here. It wasn’t surprising.

What was surprising—what knocked the breath from him before he’d taken a full step toward the bay—was the moment she looked up and saw him.

Their eyes met.

It wasn’t dramatic. No music swelled. No spark arced through the air. It was a glance, a half-second too long, and something in his brain short-circuited.

And Ben felt it in his throat. An ache. A stupid, impossible, unspeakable ache.

It had only been a few days. Three, to be exact. Not long. Not any time at all, really.

But it felt long. Longer than it should’ve. Long enough to make him question how the hell he'd gotten so used to her voice, her presence, and the way she looked at him when she was trying not to laugh.

And now here she was, across the garage, looking at him like maybe she missed him, too.

She blinked just once and then turned back to the woman beside her, pointing at something under the hood. Calm and professional, like Ben wasn’t standing ten feet away, unraveling.

His fingers clenched before he could stop them. His pulse kicked up, the way it did when he was about to make a bad decision. He could still feel her hands in his hair.

He forced himself to look away.

Three days down, eighteen to go.

*

Ben stepped through the side door and into the office. It still smelled like old coffee, engine grease, and whatever cheap aftershave Han had been wearing since 1985. His father sat behind the desk with his leg propped up, grimacing as he flipped through a stack of printed invoices.

“Took you long enough,” Han said without looking up.

“You said it wasn’t urgent.”

Han hummed, flipping the page. “Did I? Must’ve lied.”

Ben stepped further into the room and sat down across from his dad, eyeing the overflowing trash bin and the open drawer where pens and receipts cohabited in disarray. “The printer’s fine.”

“Is it?” Han drawled. “Guess I’m just getting old and forgetful.”

Ben gave him a flat look, but Han only smirked and dropped the invoices into a messy stack.

They sat in silence for a moment. Through the open window behind the desk, Ben could hear Rey’s voice explaining something about brake pads and cost estimates. He glanced toward the bay without meaning to.

Han leaned back in his chair, watching him. “She’s good,” he said casually.

Ben didn’t answer.

“Real good,” Han added. “Smart, too. Kids love her. Customers trust her. Chewie follows her around like she’s made of bacon.”

Ben didn’t take the bait. He kept his eyes on the invoices, even as his jaw tensed.

Han watched him for a long beat, then made a show of reaching for his coffee mug. “You know,” he said slowly, “it’s none of my business. But if something’s going on, you might want to figure it out before it starts showing all over your face.”

Ben’s eyes snapped up. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Uh-huh.” Han took a sip. Winced. Set the mug down. “And I suppose you just happened to drive all the way out here to check on a printer that works fine.”

Ben didn’t respond.

Han leaned forward, elbows on the desk. His voice was quieter now, almost serious. “Don’t worry, kid, she’s not going anywhere.”

Ben looked down at his hands. “We’re not—” He stopped. Started again. “It’s complicated.”

“That so?”

“She’s still my student.”

Han blinked once. “Huh.”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Ben said, incredulous.

Han shrugged. “You want me to yell? You’re a grown man. I know you’re not an idiot. And I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Ben sat back, throat tight. “We talked. We’re waiting until the semester’s over. I’ll have to talk to my boss, but— worst case, there are other jobs.”

Han nodded slowly. “Good. That’s smart.” He paused. “Still hard, though, huh?”

Ben knew the question was rhetorical. The man had been married for forty years. Three weeks was a blink.

The silence stretched, filled only by Rey’s muffled voice in the bay. Then a soft laugh—hers—reached them through the open window. It hit Ben like a punch to the ribs.

Han’s expression softened just slightly. “Kid,” he said, “sometimes the right thing still hurts like hell. Doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Ben pressed his lips together, jaw working.

“Whatever this is, you don’t have to explain it. I just hope you don’t let it scare you off.”

Ben swallowed. “I’m not scared.”

Han raised a brow. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Ben said after a long moment. “I think I am.”

Leaning back in his chair, Han twisted his head from side to side, cracking his neck like the conversation had wrung something loose.

“Anyway,” he said, more casual now, “that’s not why I called you here.”

Ben lifted an eyebrow.

From the top drawer, Han pulled out a manila envelope and slid it across the desk. Inside was a printout—appointment date, hospital letterhead, and pre-op instructions.

“I scheduled the surgery,” Han said. “Knee replacement. Finally.”

Ben stared at the paper for a moment before picking it up. His throat closed when he saw the date. Less than a month from now, a few days before Christmas.

“Thought you said you were waiting until spring.”

“I was.” Han scratched his chin. “But Doc said if I wait much longer, I’ll be walking like Yoda for the rest of my life. Decided I’d rather fix it while I’ve still got some cartilage to work with.”

Ben’s jaw tightened. He nodded once, slowly, but didn’t speak.

“So… I need a favor.”

Ben looked up.

“Need you to watch Chewie—he’ll need walking. And feeding. And probably talking to, unless you want him howling through the night.”

Ben blinked. “You want me to house-sit?”

“Well, Chewie, but I imagine you don’t want him at your place.” Han paused. “And maybe ask Rey to help.”

The corner of Ben’s mouth twitched, but it didn’t turn into a smile.

He looked back at the folder, then at his father’s leg, stretched out stiffly beneath the desk.

That knee. That damn knee.

He hadn’t looked directly at it in years—had trained himself not to—but now it burned into his vision. The memory came back fast, unbidden: rain on the windshield, headlights too bright, Han shouting his name, the snap of impact, and silence after.

Painful, broken silence.

Ben swallowed.

“You should’ve done this years ago.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t ready.” Han met his eyes. “And neither were you.”

Ben looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Han sighed. Not annoyed. Just tired. “I know.”

Ben was quiet for a long time. When he finally looked up, his voice was rough. “I’ll take care of him.”

Han gave him a look that said it hadn’t been a request.

“Good. He likes you better than me anyway.”

Ben huffed an incredulous laugh.

Outside, Rey’s voice rose again.

Han glanced toward the window, then back at Ben. “You know,” he said, “you don’t have to keep paying for that night forever.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t argue either.

*

Ben didn’t sleep well the night before Wednesday’s class. He couldn’t eat or read or get through more than half a cup of coffee before it went cold in his hands. By the time he walked into the lecture hall, the lights felt too bright, the desks too close, and Rey’s seat sat empty like it was on a countdown.

He kept his eyes on his notes. Useless. He knew the material by heart, but his vision wouldn’t focus. Every word looked like a blur. He felt frayed at the edges, like a coat worn down to its threadbare lining.

Then he heard her voice, a soft laugh, and something in him locked up.

He didn’t look. Couldn’t. Because if he looked, he’d see her mouth—and if he saw her mouth, he’d remember what it felt like against his. How she had kissed him like she meant it. Like she wasn’t scared.

God, he was so screwed.

Five more classes. That was it. Four sessions and a final exam. He could white-knuckle it through, keep his distance, keep his dignity, and then—

He glanced up. She had just taken her seat.

She looked as beautiful as ever in a simple white T-shirt, faded jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes with the laces double-knotted. Her hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, a few wisps escaping around her temples. There was nothing remarkable about the outfit. Nothing calculated or performative. But he still felt like he’d taken a punch to the chest.

She looked comfortable and at ease in a way that only made everything harder. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward, pen poised, already flipping to a clean page in her notebook. He watched as her brow furrowed in concentration, the tip of her tongue just barely peeking out to wet her lips before she wrote something down.

Those lips.

He dragged his gaze away.

But it didn’t help. Because when he blinked, he could still feel them. The soft press of her mouth beneath his, the way she’d tilted her head into the kiss like she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

She was biting her lower lip now, gently, as she copied something he must have said aloud without realizing it. Her eyes moved across the page, fast, efficient, and then lifted—just for a second—as if she could feel him looking.

Ben dropped his gaze.

His heart was beating too fast, too loud, and he hated how easily she disarmed him. She wasn’t doing anything. She was just there. Writing, breathing, existing in his line of sight. And it was killing him.

Because he knew the curve of her spine when she stretched. The sound of her breath in the dark. The way her skin had tasted against his mouth.

And now he was supposed to pretend that none of it had happened.

By the time he dismissed the class, his head was pounding.

He didn’t even remember what he’d said. He was pretty sure he skipped a whole section. Not that anyone complained.

“Rey,” he said before she could leave. His voice was rough, barely above conversational volume, but she turned instantly. “Can you stay a minute?”

A flicker passed over her face—surprise, hesitation, warmth—but she nodded. She didn’t say a word, gathering her things and waiting as the others filed out.

Once the door clicked shut behind the last student, he exhaled.

“Come on,” he said, voice low. “Let’s talk in my office.”

*

The hallway was mostly empty as they stepped out of the lecture hall, their footsteps echoing against the tile. Her fingers looped through the strap of her backpack, her steps even, measured. The hem of her white T-shirt swayed just above the waistband of her jeans.

Ben kept a careful distance.

They didn’t speak. The silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was thick and heavy with restraint. Every second stretched like elastic. He was afraid of what might snap.

Then, just as they rounded the corner toward his office, a familiar voice rang out, crisp and unmistakable.

“Professor Organa.”

Ben stilled.

Dr. Holdo stood just outside her office, a tablet in one hand and a latte in the other. Her lavender suit was impeccable as always, not a thread out of place. She arched a single brow when she spotted them.

Rey shifted beside him but didn’t shrink. She squared her shoulders.

“Good morning, Dr. Holdo,” Ben said smoothly.

“So good to see you. And you, too, Ms. Kanata,” Holdo added, with a polite nod. “Lovely to see you outside the research lab.”

Rey offered a faint smile. “You too.”

The pause that followed was only two seconds long. But it was long enough.

“Office hours?” Holdo asked, eyes flicking between them like she was filing a mental note.

“Just going over a paper,” Ben said evenly.

Holdo hummed, noncommittal. “Of course. I’m sure it’ll be illuminating.”

Ben nodded once. Rey didn’t speak.

“Carry on,” Holdo said at last, stepping back into her office with a final glance over the rim of her coffee cup. “And do be sure to submit your grades by the deadline this time, Professor.”

Her door closed with a quiet click.

Ben exhaled.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

*

By the time they reached his office and he closed the door behind her, Ben felt like a dam on the verge of collapse. His hand lingered on the handle for just a second longer than necessary, like letting go would tip him over an edge.

Rey stood just inside, her bag sliding off her shoulder and landing in a chair. She didn’t say anything or move toward him.

She just stood there in that goddamn T-shirt and tight jeans, hazel eyes intent on him and the curve of her neck exposed. She looked like light thrown into the dark corner of his world—and he didn’t know whether to run from it or fall to his knees.

His voice came out rough.

“You missed Monday.”

She met his gaze without flinching. “I emailed.”

He took a step toward her. “You lied.”

“I had a shift. You saw me at the shop.”

“You could’ve come after. Or said something.”

“I was working.”

“Why didn’t you come to class?”

Her jaw tightened. “Maybe I wasn’t ready to see you.”

“You didn’t want to see me,” he repeated, the words bitter in his mouth.

She folded her arms across her chest, and it drew his eyes to the line of her collarbone and the soft stretch of fabric over her breasts.

“That’s not what I said. And, we decided we’d wait.

“I’m trying,” he said, stepping closer. “But you—Goddamnit, Rey. You come in wearing that and look at me like nothing happened—like I didn’t have your hands in my hair, your breath in my mouth—”

“I remember,” she snapped. “I didn’t think I should drool over you in front of the rest of the class!”

The words hit him like heat on bare skin.

Then, without thinking, without breathing, he moved.

One step. Just one, and she was against the door, her back pressing into it with a soft thud, his hands braced on either side of her head. His body caged hers in. Close but not touching yet—barely holding himself back.

She looked up at him with those storm-dark eyes, lashes fluttering, mouth parted—and he felt it, a physical pull beneath his ribs. She wasn’t just light—she was fire, and he was stepping into it willingly.

His body hummed, every inch of him strained toward her. Wanting. Starving.

“Say it,” he growled, breath ghosting over her lips. “Tell me you missed me. Say my name.”

She looked up at him—eyes wide, lashes dark, mouth pink and parted—and he swore the world narrowed to her. She was too bright, and he had never wanted to be consumed so badly.

“I missed you, Ben,” she said, smiling softly.

He crushed his mouth to hers.

It wasn’t sweet, careful, or soft. It was starvation--a kiss carved from four sleepless nights and every second he’d spent trying not to imagine this.

She gasped against his mouth, and he groaned, deep and guttural, driving his thigh between hers. She rocked into him—grinding down like she needed it—and he could feel her through the thin barrier of denim, hot and slick.

His hands found her hips, fingers curling hard, dragging her tighter.

God, the heat of her. The way her body moved against him, raw and rhythmless and needy. He was hard—aching—and when her stomach brushed against the length of him, he choked out a curse.

She grabbed at his shirt, fisting it tight, dragging him closer.

Then her hands were in his hair—pulling, twisting—and he nearly lost it. His hips thrust forward, slow and rough, grinding into her like a man who had run out of reasons to stop.

Every drag of her body against his sent sparks down his spine. Her breath was stuttering now. Her thighs tightened around his. And still, she moved, chasing friction like she couldn’t get close enough.

He dropped his forehead to hers, breath ragged. “Fuck, Rey.”

Her lips were red and kiss-bruised, eyes heavy-lidded. She didn’t say anything.

“You don’t get to pretend this doesn’t wreck you, too.”

“I’m not,” she breathed. “I feel like I’m burning.”

His mouth crashed into hers again, messy and open, tongues sliding and tasting. He wanted everything—her breath, her moans, the little gasps she made as she slid up and down his thigh.

His hands skated under the hem of her T-shirt, fingers grazing bare skin—her waist, her ribs. She was warm and smooth and perfect. His thumbs brushed just under the swell of her breasts, and she arched into him with a broken sound.

“Ride it,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “Just like that.”

And she did.

Her hips rolled over his thigh, slower at first, then harder. Her breath was hot against his mouth, and she whined a desperate sound when he flexed his leg and pushed back.

She kissed him again, wild now, like she didn’t care if she drowned. Her nails scratched at his neck and dragged through his hair.

She gasped. He ground into her.

And then they weren’t thinking at all.

They were heat and breath, and friction. Moaning into each other’s mouths like this was the only air they knew.

Ben’s hands slid around her back, then down under the waistband of her jeans. He gripped the bare skin—soft, round, perfect—and dragged Rey tight against him. His thigh stayed firm between hers, and she rode it with increasing urgency, her movements quick and unsteady now. Her mouth broke from his with a quiet gasp, her forehead pressing to his shoulder.

She was shaking. Her breath came fast.

“Fuck, Rey,” he groaned, his voice barely holding steady.

He thrust up again, slow and deep, matching her pace. The heat of her soaked through both layers of clothing, and the pressure—her slick body grinding down against his—was nearly unbearable.

She moved faster.

“That’s right, show me, baby,” he urged, mouth against her neck.

Her hips stuttered. Her hands clenched his shirt. He felt the tension coil tight in her—the way her thighs quivered, the way her head tipped back, lips parted on a sound that didn’t quite form.

“Ben—”

He kissed her hard, swallowing the cry that followed.

And then she came.

She pressed her face into his neck and let go, hips grinding down as a soft, broken moan slipped from her mouth. Her whole body trembled in his arms. He held her through it, one hand spread wide on her back, the other still gripping her ass, steadying her as she fell apart in his arms.

He could barely breathe.

She sagged against him, chest heaving, and then—without a word—her hand found the front of his pants, bold and unhesitating. She cupped him through the fabric, and his whole body jerked.

“Let go,” she whispered. “I want to feel you.”

His cock jutted toward her hand, greedy.

She rubbed him with slow, steady fingers, tracing the thick line of him.

He kissed her again, hard and uncoordinated, as his hips thrust into her hand. She didn’t stop. Her touch was confident, coaxing, and sure. When she palmed him a little rougher, it sent a sharp jolt of pleasure down his spine.

His forehead dropped to hers. His jaw clenched, and he groaned her name.

She squeezed gently, and then he was coming, hips stuttering against her hand and breath catching on a ragged sound he couldn’t hold back. It hit fast and hard, every muscle going tight as he spilled into his pants.

She held him steady through the aftershocks, her hand still gentle between them.

Silence settled around them, the hum of campus life somewhere distant beyond the walls.

Ben leaned into her, his eyes closed. His heart thudded hard and slow against his ribs. Her breath fanned across his cheek, uneven but soft now. He brushed her hair back from her face, fingers lingering at her temple, tracing the soft arc of bone.

“I missed you,” he said quietly.

Rey looked up at him. Her expression was unreadable—but her eyes were soft. Warm.

And then she leaned in.

This time, the kiss was slower. Deeper. No urgency, no rush—just the press of lips that knew each other now.

His hands readjusted to a much more respectful location on her waist. Hers rested lightly at his collar.

And for the first time in days, the chaos inside him went still.

*

Rey was still catching her breath when he pulled back, adjusting his glasses.

Her hands had drifted from his shirt to the back of his neck, fingertips resting in the damp curls at his nape. Her thighs were still trembling faintly. Her jeans clung too much—too wet, too tight in the worst way—and she shifted against him subtly, trying not to wince at the drag of fabric.

Her body was spent but still buzzing. She was hot all over, flushed and aching. Her clit pulsed with every beat of her heart.

God, she was so wet.

Not just slick—soaked. Uncomfortably. And she could feel exactly where she’d left a mess on his thigh.

She didn’t know whether to apologize or climb him again.

Then he stepped back. Slowly. Gently. Like he didn’t really want to.

He rubbed the back of his neck just like Han did when he was uncomfortable, turning away to find the tissues and clean up the evidence. 

She gave him privacy by studying the degrees on his wall.

“I, uh,” he reached behind him, toward his desk. “I have something for you.”

Rey blinked. “Okay?”

He turned and opened a drawer. For a second, he was all business. And then he looked back over his shoulder, looking a little sheepish.

“You left this.”

He pulled out a purple sweatshirt with the white logo of Aldera U on the front, and then she remembered, months ago, shrugging it off during a lecture.

“I meant to give it back sooner,” he added. “Or—maybe I didn’t, I just… I don’t know.”

Rey took it slowly, fingers curling into the familiar fabric. It was warm from his desk. A little wrinkled. It smelled faintly like his cologne. She resisted the urge to press it against her nose.

Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “Thanks.”

But Ben didn’t sit. Instead, he reached into the desk drawer again, slower this time.

“There’s something else,” he said.

He turned and handed her a little box. It was plain and matte black.

Rey frowned as she opened it.

Inside was her pearl.

Maz had given it to her years ago—a cheap little thing, fake, probably glass, but it had been strung on a delicate silver chain and worn against her skin for years. A piece of home. Of the first person to love her until she met Finn.

The chain had snapped on Leia’s porch. Han said they couldn’t find it.

But here it was.

Strung on a new chain—thin and gleaming. It caught the light like something far more expensive than it was.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“You found it,” she said, voice quiet.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the chain from the box. It shimmered.

“I couldn’t fix the old one,” he said. “But I wanted to replace it. It… looked like it mattered.”

His face was careful, but there was something behind his eyes. Nervous. Like this meant more to him than he wanted to admit.

Something inside her cracked open.

It wasn’t just the pearl.

It was the fact that he had noticed.

That he had kept it.

That he had cared enough to fix it.

Rey’s heart swelled in a way that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with him.

The man who kissed her like he was starving and then gave her back pieces of herself she hadn’t even realized were missing.

She swallowed hard. “Ben…”

His name felt different now. Full of warmth. Familiar in her mouth.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” he said, half a laugh in his throat. “I mean, it’s not a gift, it’s yours—I just…”

“It’s perfect,” she said.

And it was.

Not because it was shiny or new.

Because it was thoughtful. Because it was him.

She looked down at the necklace again, then at the sweatshirt draped over her arm.

It didn’t feel real, standing in his office, her legs still unsteady, jeans still damp between her thighs, and her heart full in her chest—Rey felt more cared for than she had in years.

Later, she would cry a little bit. Quietly. In the safety of her apartment.

Not because she was sad, but because he was sweet.

Rey wasn’t used to that.

She looked down at the necklace again, the soft glint of the pearl catching in the light. Then she raised her eyes to his, and her voice came quieter than before.

“Will you put it on for me?”

Ben met her gaze for a beat, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. He didn’t speak. He only nodded and reached for the chain with careful hands.

She turned around slowly, lifting her hair without being asked. The room went still.

The clasp clicked softly behind her neck.

His fingers brushed her skin—barely there, but enough to send a shiver down her spine. His hands moved slowly, reverently, like he wasn’t just fastening a necklace but mending something more delicate than metal. The chain was cool against her skin, but his touch was warm. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

When the pearl settled just above the hollow of her throat, Ben didn’t step back right away.

Instead, he leaned in—quiet, close, and deliberate—and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

It wasn’t hurried. There was no edge of urgency left in it. Just a quiet kind of care. A wordless I see you. A thank you, maybe. A don’t go, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Her heart squeezed in her chest.

She turned to face him, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. His eyes searched hers with something soft and hesitant. She thought he might kiss her again.

But instead, she whispered, “I have to go to work.”

Ben’s jaw flexed once, like he had something to say but decided against it.

“I know,” he said finally.

Rey took a step back. Her bag was already half-slung over one shoulder, and she reached for her sweatshirt with the other hand. She didn’t pull it on right away. Just held it there, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands, her mouth, the way her chest still felt tight from everything they hadn’t said.

She turned toward the door. Then paused.

Looking over her shoulder, she met his eyes one last time.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For the necklace. And the sweatshirt. And… everything.”

Ben didn’t answer right away. But after a long breath, he nodded.

And that was enough.

Rey opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The noise of the world returned slowly—voices in the distance, the murmur of footsteps, the faint hum of the vending machine down the corridor.

Behind her, the office door closed with a soft click.

And she kept walking.

But the pearl still rested just above her heart.

And his kiss still lingered at the base of her neck.

Chapter Text

Ben used to love finals week. He didn’t need to prep for class or give lectures. He mostly walked around the room utilizing Lockdown Browser while students typed in anxious silence. It was peaceful in its own warped little way—the end of a journey.

Or academic babysitting, but with less eye contact and more existential dread.

This year, it felt like death by a thousand essays.

He struggled to focus. Reading a paper and marking the rubric took him three times longer than usual. At this rate, his grades would be late, and Holdo would be—rightfully—on his ass. He kept checking the clock like some undergrad with test anxiety, half-expecting it to be later than it was, hoping the days would fast-forward.

Rey’s name blinked at him now from the spreadsheet on his screen.

Kanata, Rey. Section 340-02 Final exam scheduled: Thursday, 11:00 a.m. In-progress grade: A.

He hadn’t adjusted a single number. She earned that grade long before she’d ever kissed him and before he’d mauled her in his office.

The final two class periods were absolute hell.

Rey wasn’t cold or unfriendly, but she was distant. Her greetings and farewells were a series of tiny, polite nods, and she hadn’t spoken to him outside of a muttered thank you when he returned her last paper.

Had he pushed too far, too fast? Had the stolen sweatshirt freaked her out? Was he presumptuous in replacing the broken chain?

A gnawing voice in the back of his mind said all of these were possible.

If his overexcited pawing hadn’t crossed the line, maybe it had blurred it. Rey hadn’t seemed to mind at the time; she had participated with fervor, actually, with her nails in his hair and her hips grinding against him. But memory was a fragile thing. With distance and hindsight, desire could be viewed as recklessness. Worse, she couldn’t legally consent as his student. The power imbalance was simply too great.

Ben leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his desk and his fingertips to his temples. It didn’t matter that they had talked or that they set boundaries if all he did was cross them. Did she feel disrespected? Did she regret it? Did she resent him? The same questions played on a loop in his mind. And when they didn’t, he was envisioning Rey as she came, her trim thighs clasped around his, her arousal soaking through her jeans and onto his pants, and her quiet moan when she came apart, shaking in his arms.

Ben hadn’t reached out. He couldn’t. Even if the rules weren’t explicitly clear on what constituted inappropriate contact, he knew better than to use a university account for personal reasons. And besides, he didn’t have her number, and there was no way in hell he would ask Han.

Not yet, at any rate.

Meanwhile, Ben couldn’t help but wonder what it said about him, that the one person who’d made him feel something in years also had to disappear to keep herself safe.

He had risked her future, her scholarship, and her credibility.

Because if anyone ever questioned his motives, it would reflect on her. If anyone even suspected what had happened in his office—what nearly happened—she’d be the one people whispered about.

And that was something he would never let happen.

Which left him exactly nowhere.

Ben sank back into his chair and stared at the blinking cursor on his screen. Her name was still up, her final exam scheduled for tomorrow. No more assignments after that. No more lectures. No reason to see her again—

Unless she wanted to.

He needed to make this right, not just passably ethical or technically allowed. But right.

Ben stood before he could change his mind, his chair scraping back behind him. He crossed the room and stepped into the hallway. The corridor was quiet with the low hum of fluorescent lights and the faint clack of a keyboard a few doors down.

He stopped outside Holdo’s office and knocked twice.

There was a pause, then her voice came cool and amused. “Enter if you dare.”

Ben opened the door.

Amilyn looked up from her tablet, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Is this about the copier?” she asked with a skeptical arch of one brow.

“No, not this time,” he said sheepishly, resisting the urge to duck his head. It wasn’t his fault the damn machine had a problem with him.

Ben shut the door and stepped inside. Amilyn gestured to the chair opposite her desk, watching him closely. He sat straight with his palms resting on his thighs. “I need to ask about policy. University ethics.”

Flicking her tablet closed, Amilyn leaned back. “Ah. We’re cutting to the quick.”

Ben pressed his lips into a thin line and gave a brief nod.

“Is this theoretical or confessional?” she asked.

“Neither, exactly,” said Ben.

“Good. I hate paperwork. Go on.”

Ben swallowed his nerves. “If I wanted to have a relationship with a former student after the semester ends, would I need to resign, or can we disclose it?”

Amilyn blinked. Once. Then her eyes narrowed. “Undergraduate?”

“Yes.”

She tilted her head. “Same department?”

“No.”

“Same college?”

“Yes.”

Her lips pursed. “That’s complicated.”

Ben nodded. “I assumed.”

“There’s no blanket prohibition once the academic relationship ends,” she said carefully. “But there are exceptions. For example, you’d need to remove yourself from any evaluative or supervisory capacity—permanently.”

“That isn’t a problem.” He taught full-time. He didn’t lead any clubs or research projects.

“Then there’s the issue of absolute transparency. Documentation and disclosure from both parties.”

He sighed and sat back, rubbing a hand down his face.

“What’s her year?” she asked gently.

“Junior.”

“How long?

“Three more semesters.”

She studied him.

“And you’re asking because... you care about her.”

He looked away.

“Ben,” she said softly, “you’re not a predator. If you were, I’d have burned your office to the ground by now.”

He huffed a mirthless laugh.

“I think you know what you need to do,” she said.

Ben’s chest tightened. The course of true love never did run smooth.

Amilyn drummed her blunt, purple-polished fingernails on the desk. “If you want to be with her—really be with her—you need to give her space to be seen as your equal. And that means being willing to step down.”

Ben sighed. That’s what he’d thought. “Resign.”

“No one’s asking you to,” she corrected. “But if you’re not comfortable pursuing this transparently, if you think hiding it is safer or cleaner or less embarrassing… then yes. You’d be better off leaving.”

He stared at the corner of her desk.

“I can’t cost her anything,” he said. “Not even by accident.”

Amilyn’s voice softened. “Then talk to her. When it’s allowed. See what she wants. And whatever it is—be brave enough to give it to her without strings.”

“Thank you, Amilyn.”

Ben nodded, standing. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Ben?”

He glanced back.

“Don’t wait too long.”

*

Rey shoved her hair into a messy ponytail and highlighted the same sentence for the third time. Her textbook sat open on the kitchen table, flanked by a half-eaten granola bar, a smudged laptop screen, and a cracked phone with no new notifications.

She’d completed four of her five exams, and she felt like roadkill.

Grease was still smudged along her forearm from a last-minute oil change that afternoon. Her back ached from leaning over engines all day and lecture notes all night. And no matter how hard she tried to focus, all she could think about was Ben.

It had been weeks of avoiding eye contact, office hours, and the magnetic pull of Professor Ben Organa.

And now Rey was four lectures post-thigh-riding. Four half-hearted attempts to pretend she didn’t miss him, and still nowhere close to sleeping through the night.

The necklace sat against her skin like a permanent reminder of that day in his office, and the sweatshirt still smelled like him. She couldn’t stop thinking of his voice, his touch—his words, whispered so… possessively.

Tell me you miss me. Say my name.

It still sent a shiver down her spine.

Her brain was absolutely useless.

“Okay,” she muttered, slamming the highlighter down. “Screw Kant. He was probably insufferable in person anyway.”

“You good?” Finn’s voice drifted from the couch, where he was sprawled with a bag of chips and zero academic stress, having finished his exams.

Rey dropped her forehead to the table. “No,” she griped with a theatrical whimper.

“You wanna elaborate, or should I guess?”

With a groan, she pushed away from the table and joined Finn, plopping down next to him and helping herself to his salt and vinegar chips.

“Do you ever feel like your body is here but your soul is somewhere else?”

Finn blinked at her, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Are we talking, like, existential detachment or Professor Organa?”

Rey made a noise somewhere between a groan and a cough as she shoved more chips into her mouth.

“Uh-huh.” Finn grinned and nudged her shoulder. “So that’s a yes.”

“I’m so tired of thinking about him,” she mumbled, licking vinegar off her fingers. “My brain is mush. I have one exam left—his, and I keep rereading the same page on deontology like it’s gonna magically start making sense. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.”

“To be fair,” Finn said, “Kant does seem like the kind of guy who’d send weird passive-aggressive emails about office etiquette.”

Rey barked a laugh and leaned her head against the back of the couch. “Probably in all caps.”

“With a signed portrait of himself attached.”

“God, stop,” she giggled, “I’m trying to be miserable here.”

“Right, right. Back to your regularly scheduled longing.”

Rey sighed and pulled her knees up. “I just… I don’t know what happens next.”

“With the exam or with your forbidden academic love affair?”

She shot him a glare. “Finn.” She’d already told him about the necklace and the kiss, but she hadn’t mentioned the office hours incident. She got a tight feeling in her chest every time she thought about it—no matter how incredibly hot it was, it was stupid and dangerous.

Finn softened. “Okay. Okay, I’m listening.”

Rey was quiet for a beat, fiddling with a thread on her sleeve. “After Tuesday, we’re not professor and student anymore. But, like… what does that even mean? Do we tell someone? Will he want to? Would we have to keep it a secret?”

Finn’s eyes were kind and patient. “Do you want to keep it a secret?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Her voice was quiet. “I mean, it’s not like I want to announce it on the campus bulletin board or anything. But… if we were really going to do this—if he wanted to—then no. I wouldn’t want to hide.”

Finn considered that. “You think he’d leave?”

Her stomach flipped. “No. I mean—he wouldn’t, right?”

“I don’t know,” Finn said gently. “Maybe you just need to get through this last exam, survive Kant, and see what happens when it’s done.”

Rey swallowed. “Yeah.”

“And in the meantime, if you want to vent or throw your textbook out a window, I’m here. Judgment-free.”

“I already hate that textbook,” Rey muttered. “It would deserve it.”

Finn laughed and tossed another chip in his mouth. “That’s the spirit.”

She gave him a soft smile, letting herself rest for the first time all day. “Thanks, Finn.”

“Anytime, Rey. Now, tell me everything about this sweatshirt situation.”

“Oh my God, Finn. He had it for weeks—”

*

If she just kept typing, maybe the ache in her throat would go away.

Don’t leave your number, she reminded herself. Don’t be that girl. Don’t put him in that position.

But the temptation curled under her skin like a match waiting to spark.

Her paper was good. She just… wasn’t done typing yet. She wouldn’t stop until everyone else had packed up and left, tossing goodbyes and awkward thanks over their shoulders. Ben moved slowly around the front of the room, shaking hands as students filed out the door.

Finally, fifteen minutes later, the final student left, and Rey stopped. She carefully deleted the extraneous text, saved the file, and pressed submit. Then she closed her laptop and looked up.

Ben stood in his usual black collared shirt, his glasses in place and his hair soft and layered around his ears. He watched her like he didn’t know if he should speak first.

“Thanks,” she said, packing away her things. “For the semester.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his brow slightly furrowed. Rey couldn’t tell if it was uncertainty or restraint.

She rose, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. It felt strange, the polite distance of the past weeks. It was cold and quiet and nothing like the heat from that day in his office.

He took a step closer, brown eyes intent on hers. “Grades will be posted by Monday.”

Rey smiled, feeling a weight lift. He definitely hadn’t changed his mind. “Does that mean you can text me on Tuesday?”

“Yes,” he said, flashing a crooked smile. “If you give me your number.”

He took out his phone and handed it to her. She entered her name and number, her hands steady despite her rapidly pounding heart.

“We have options,” he said, his voice quiet and serious. “We can talk about them then. If you’d like.”

“I would,” said Rey, hoping her eyes said what she couldn’t. That she hadn’t meant to ignore him, that she had to protect herself from doing something foolish.

Ben gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth lifting in a soft smile. Rey returned it. Both were pretending this was easier than it was.

Student voices from the hall prompted Rey to turn, her footsteps a little too quick and a smile still tugging at her lips as she disappeared down the hall.

*

Thursday through Monday dragged, and Ben graded, triple-checking rubrics until his eyes burned. But finally, Monday night, just past eleven, he posted final grades. It was like slipping off a too-tight collar. He stared at his phone, deciding to be a gentleman and wait until a reasonable hour to text Rey.

Tuesday morning, he ran six miles through the frozen sidewalks and salt-streaked streets, trying to burn off the nerves buzzing in his chest. Then he took his time making coffee, eggs, and toast, eating, drinking, and trying not to watch the clock.

He made it until ten o’clock. By then, he was freshly showered, and he sat on his couch, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the keypad.

Ben: Hi Rey. This is Ben Solo. In case you want to save my number.

Rey: Hi Ben! I wondered about the Solo-Organa thing.

Ben: Organa is for work. Solo is on my driver’s license.

Rey: You’re saved as “Ben not my prof ☕”

Ben: That’s reassuring. I went with “Rey email”

Rey: 🫣 Are you glad to be done grading? How do you celebrate?

Ben: Yes. Relieved. Not really. A glass of wine and a book.

Rey: What’s your place like? Do you live in the city?

Ben: Yes. Apartment. Sparse. Rey: How’d the papers turn out?

Ben: Better than expected. Yours was excellent, but you already knew that How were your other exams?

Rey: I suspected, thank you.
Finals nearly killed me, but I survived
Lots of empty pizza boxes and too much caffeine

Ben: Glad you made it through How did you celebrate?

Rey: Sleeping in, pancakes, bullying Finn

Ben: Finn. Friend or threat?

Rey: 😂 Foster brother. Roommate. BFF. Lifelong pain in my ass.
He builds model planes and thinks he’s smooth. He’s not. You’re safe.

Ben: Relieved.

Rey: Are there threats I need to know about?

Ben: None. I haven’t been on a date in years.

Rey: Really? Why?

Ben: Didn’t have a lot of luck with first dates, I suppose

Rey: I find that hard to believe

They texted most of the day.

Between coffee refills and half-hearted attempts at cleaning his apartment, Ben learned that Rey was twenty-five and had grown up in a string of foster homes before being adopted at twelve by a woman named Maz who ran a junk shop and gave Rey her first real toolkit.

She liked to joke, but even her teasing was warm. He found himself smiling at his screen more than once, which felt both ridiculous and entirely beyond his control.

Ben told her about growing up in the city, about his parents’ loud love and long absences.

And like before, everything felt easy, like slipping on a familiar sweatshirt.

He stared at her last message, something about Finn almost burning down the kitchen in their off-campus apartment, which was, incidentally, not ten minutes from his own, and typed the next message before he changed his mind.

Ben: What are you doing tonight?

Rey: That depends, are you asking because you’re bored or because you want to see me?

Ben: Both?

Rey: That’s fair. What’s your offer? Bec i’m staring at Netflix and a bag of pizza rolls

Ben: Dinner at my place. Something without preservatives. Maybe wine, if you’re into that

Rey: 🤔

Ben: I also have a couch and Netflix and music that isn’t Finn singing in the shower

Rey: Okay, now you’re showing off

Ben: Food. Company. No pressure.

Rey: Do I have to dress up?

Ben: No

Rey: What’s your address again?

*

Rey double-checked the address, then pulled into a spot half a block away from the building. It was nicer than she expected—modern brick and glass, warm lights glowing behind tall windows, the kind of place with actual landscaping and no visible mold. She sat in her car for a minute, the engine ticking as it cooled.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong. But she still felt like a kid sneaking into the movie theater without buying a ticket.

She wiped her palms on her jeans and glanced up at the building again.

Sparse, he’d said. That was how he’d described his apartment. That one word had stuck with her all day. What did sparse mean to someone like him? Was it cold? Empty? Neat? Or was it just quiet in the way things got when you stopped expecting company?

Ben’s texts had been easy and warm. She kept thinking about the way his tone shifted throughout the day—how he admitted he’d almost messaged her the night before but didn’t want to cross a line. How he confessed he didn’t really have anyone to talk to, not outside of his parents and one friend.

Hux. Another professor. Not exactly the warm and fuzzy type, Ben had said. He likes competition. But he’s honest. And he always comes back, even when I’m an asshole.

There was so much behind that. Loneliness wrapped in dry humor. The kind you only showed if you trusted someone not to laugh at it.

And then there was the other thing.

I haven’t been on a date in years, he’d said.

There was something incredibly intimate about that kind of honesty, and her heart warmed knowing he trusted her.

He liked her. He trusted her. He was kind and hot and no longer her professor. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

But still—she felt like someone tiptoeing across freshly fallen snow, hyper-aware of every step and terrified of leaving a mark.

*

Ben stirred the pasta sauce for the third time in as many minutes, even though it didn’t need it. The flame beneath the pot was low, and everything was already cooked, but standing still felt impossible. The silence of the apartment was too loud. Even the jazz playlist he’d queued up felt like it was mocking him with its breezy confidence.

His apartment was clean. Sparse, like he’d warned Rey. Black couch. Grey rug. One bookshelf with mostly philosophy and poetry. Ben hadn’t realized how much it might matter until she asked about it. What’s your place like? And then, like an idiot, he’d answered honestly. Sparse.

Now, all he could think about was whether she’d find it cold. Whether she’d step in and see the space for what it was: not just minimalist, but lonely. Untouched. Not designed for anyone else.

He wiped his palms on a towel and checked the clock again.

6:57 p.m.

Rey said she’d come around seven. So, naturally, the wine was uncorked. The glasses were rinsed, dried, and set out with precise symmetry beside the plates. The pasta was almost done.

And still, he was sweating. Not visibly, but internally, like every organ was nervously checking in with the others: Are we sure about this?

Because she’d seen so many versions of him already—tired, sharp, formal, unbuttoned—but this was something else. This was him hoping.

The buzzer rang.

With a nervous fluttering in his stomach, Ben wiped his hands again and moved to the door. He pressed the intercom.

“Hey.”

Rey’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Hey. I think I parked in a spot that might get me towed, but I was too nervous to care.”

Ben smiled despite himself. “I’ll walk you back out later and check. Come up.”

He hit the buzzer. Then stood there for a moment, staring at the door.

Rey was on her way up. She said she was nervous, too.

He could handle this.

Chapter Text

The door opened before she could knock.

Ben stood there in a black sweater, black jeans, and black socks. His hair was a little damp—showered recently—and he smelled like soap and something warmer underneath, like clean cotton and heat.

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

“Hi,” he echoed, voice low.

Rey’s nerves surged. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something wrong, trespassing or sneaking into a museum after hours.

He stepped back to let her in, and she crossed the threshold slowly, clutching her small purse with both hands. She wore a dark green sweater that hugged her waist and a pair of black yoga pants tucked into scuffed boots, hair braided loosely over one shoulder. The apartment smelled like garlic and something faintly woodsy—cologne, maybe.

His place was exactly as he’d described. Sparse.

The living room was large and tidy, with a black couch stretching across one wall and facing a coffee table with nothing on it. The rug beneath was grey. A single bookshelf stood to the left, filled with gleaming hardcovers. Between the kitchen and living room, a small dining table sat below a pendant light, four straight-backed chairs tucked in neatly.

Rey didn’t find the space cold. She had a suspicion it was Ben’s presence that warmed the place, or maybe it was the books, the jazz music playing softly in the background, or the candle flickering on the dining table. Or, perhaps, it was the nervous flush rising on her cheeks as he shut the door behind her.

Rey looked up at him, finding him already looking at her. “I didn’t bring anything,” Rey said, suddenly self-conscious. “Like wine or dessert or... I don’t know.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he replied.

And then, slowly, carefully, he reached out and touched her cheek.

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t like in his office—rushed and desperate and stolen in secret. This was a deliberately soft, questioning kind of touch. His large hand hovered close to her skin, his thumb tracing her cheekbone, a feather-light brush that made her whole body tingle.

Rey stared into the dark hazel eyes studying her, heart pounding madly.

Then he kissed her. And it was nothing like before. It wasn’t rough or breathless. It wasn’t hungry or frantic or messy with want.

It was warm. A slow welcome. It bloomed behind her ribs and unfurled through every nerve like the first sip of hot chocolate on a cold day.

Rey melted.

Her lips parted against his, one hand rising to rest against his chest, fingers curling into the soft knit of his sweater. His mouth moved gently over hers, tasting and lingering like he had all the time in the world. His glasses bumped her cheek, and her breath came in a soft sigh.

When he finally pulled back, she was breathless and hot in every possible way.

“Hi,” she whispered again, dazed.

Ben smiled a crooked smile. “Hi.”

They stood like that for a moment, both grinning like fools.

And the world outside—deadlines and grades and ethics forms and all—didn’t exist.

*

Ben’s hand held hers as he led her toward the dining room table, and Rey caught the faintest tremble of nerves. The candle between them flickered, and the pasta smelled amazing—garlic, herbs, and roasted tomato. He offered her a seat and poured her a glass of Chianti before serving the food.

“This smells incredible,” Rey said, twirling her fork as she eyed her plate.

“I hope it’s not overdone,” he muttered. His eyes were almost bashful, and she wondered how long it had been since he’d had company.

They ate for a few minutes in silence, the music floating softly in the air. Rey glanced at Ben between bites, the intimacy of being alone hitting her all at once. She was sitting across from him. Eating. It was so weirdly normal.

“Han mentioned he’s having surgery Friday,” she remarked.

Ben looked up from his meal. “Yes. Knee replacement. I’ll be staying at the house. It should be an outpatient procedure, but they want someone around in case he needs help.”

Rey nodded. “Yeah, Han asked me to run the shop Friday and Saturday.” Her next question rested on the tip of her tongue. But Han had never volunteered the nature of his injury or anything about a potential racing career of which she’d seen photos. Which meant she didn’t feel she had the right to ask. She feared the question showed clearly in her eyes when Ben spoke.

“I was twenty-two when it happened,” he said, and Rey let her fork rest on the side of her plate. Ben glanced at his hands, then back at her. “It was after a race. He’d been drinking, celebrating, so I said I hadn’t been, which was a lie. The roads were slick. I lost control. We hit the median and got sideswiped. His knee took the worst of it. Ligaments shredded, kneecap crushed. They rebuilt what they could, but it ended his career.”

“I saw a picture at your parents’ house,” Rey said softly, judging from the look on his face that he didn’t want her sympathy. “Was he good? He doesn’t talk about it.”

“Yes, he was,” said Ben with a sigh. “And no, he doesn’t. He never raced again.”

Rey’s chest ached. She reached out, covering Ben’s hand with hers.

“I got a DUI. It went on my record. I did the rehab, but that didn’t fix his leg or give him his career back. It didn’t erase the fact that I lied to him and myself. And that a moment’s stupidity changed his entire life.”

“Does he forgive you?” she asked quietly.

“He forgave me when I walked away with hardly a scratch when he still couldn’t stand. I never felt it was earned,” Ben shrugged. “But he does.”

Rey said nothing, letting him fill the silence however he needed.

“He was angry for a long time. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized he was angry not because of his knee or his career but because I lied. That’s what truly broke something.”

Rey’s fingers tightened around his.

“And have you forgiven yourself?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “I’m working on it.”

“I think that’s all you can do.”

*

According to Rey, the tea was much better than the wine. It was hot but not scalding, sweetened with a swirl of honey. Her approving tone left Ben’s insides fluttering with satisfaction. The chamomile was floral and calming, with a taste that lingered on the tongue. Ben wrapped his fingers around the ceramic mug, letting the warmth seep into his skin.

They sat on his couch, a place he’d sat alone a million times.

“I was thinking earlier,” Rey said. “About what comes next.”

Ben’s heart gave a resounding thud.

“I spoke with Amilyn regarding our options,” he began.

“Dr. Holdo?”

“She’s someone I trust to be blunt and… not sanctimonious. I didn’t use your name.” He glanced over, gauging her reaction. Rey’s lips were pressed together, her hands tightened around her mug as the steam curled between them.

“And?”

“She explained four paths forward.”

She gave a small nod. “Okay.”

“One is full disclosure. We report our relationship to the Dean of Students’ Office. That includes paperwork, a formal declaration that the relationship started after the semester ended, and probably a few meetings where we answer a lot of awkward questions.”

Rey’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Two, I resign and apply elsewhere. There’s no conflict of interest and no threat to your scholarship.”

Her brow furrowed more, a crease forming.

“Three,” he added, “we say nothing and keep it private. I don’t want you to feel like a secret, and I don’t want to cost you anything, even accidentally, but I’ll follow your lead.”

“I don’t like that option either,” said Rey. and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Ben cleared his throat. “I spoke to HR about the fourth option, where I take a sabbatical for your final three semesters. That way, there’s no pressure on you. No worrying that we’re doing something wrong. No threat to your scholarship. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t change your mind.”

Rey set her mug on the coffee table, and he mirrored her. He watched her move gracefully before she took his hand in hers. The difference between them made him smile as he studied her delicate hand. Hers was small and warm, and she threaded their fingers together. He wanted to shout to the world that she was his somehow—he wanted to make sure she didn’t change her mind.

“I don’t want to be a secret, but I also don’t want to mess up your career.”

Ben shook his head, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “I’ve made peace with the cost if you agree. I’d rather step away with integrity than take any unnecessary risks.”

Rey stared at him, her hand squeezing his. “You don’t have to do that.”

Ben smiled. “I’m looking forward to it, actually.”

“Option four?” she asked, leaning in and kissing his knuckles.

“Option four.”

“What are you going to do with all your free time?” asked Rey, her grin spreading and her dimples flashing. She looked as if she had a few ideas.

“I’d like to spend it with you.”

Her grin deepened, and her cheeks turned pink.

“Would you want to help out at the shop sometimes?” she asked, almost shyly. “I mean, it’s not glamorous. But your dad is gonna make me run it while he’s laid up. He does most of the office stuff…”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly. “Yeah, I think my dad would like that, too. I could handle invoicing, inventory, filing—whatever you need. I’m terrible with carburetors, but I’m good with spreadsheets.”

Rey laughed. “We’ll get you a name tag.”

“You know,” Ben said, the realization dawning like a photograph developing slowly before becoming clear. “I think my dad saw this coming.”

“That’s probably my fault. I told him about that email before I knew you were his son.”

“Yeah?”

“He said he would have let me sweat.”

“That sounds right.”

A small smile tugged at Rey’s lips.

Ben wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but he forced himself to wait.

“I’d like to apologize,” he said, “for that day in my office.”

Rey’s smile faded, and his heart dropped in his chest at her closed expression.

“We had agreed,” he continued. “And I crossed a line. Even if you didn’t feel pressured. You deserved better than a split-second decision I couldn’t take back.”

Rey was quiet for a few moments, then her free hand reached to touch his cheek, her thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “I’ve replayed that day a dozen times,” she said. “And I could have said no. I didn’t want to.” She held his gaze. “I knew the danger. I knew what I was doing. I’m sorry for wanting it so much that we took such a big risk, but I’m not sorry for what happened.”

Ben gave her the faintest nod, leaning in and meeting her lips without pressure or urgency. Rey’s hand tightened on his jaw, and her fingers traced the hollow behind his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

She kissed him back, their lips meeting and parting, and there was no buzz of panic this time, no litany of rules echoing in his mind. There was only Rey and her light, flowery scent, her fingers against his skin, and the taste of honey on her tongue.

Letting one hand slide around to her lower back, Ben pulled her closer. Some small part of him that had been braced for rejection finally relaxed when she sighed into his mouth.

Their kisses were slow, open-mouthed, and searching, and the familiar burn of desire stirred in Ben’s blood.

Rey’s voice came barely above a whisper. “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

His chest tightened in recognition. “Neither have I,” he murmured between kisses. He let his fingers search beneath her sweater, finding the soft skin of her lower back. The moan she let out when he slid his fingers up her spine would live in his brain forever.

Her lips parted, her tongue sliding along his and leaving him dizzy.

“Rey,” he whispered, pulling back just far enough to press his forehead to hers. “We could move this to the bedroom. If you want.”

*

Her name on Ben’s lips made something twist low in Rey’s belly. His fingertips burned into the skin of her back, and his hand was warm and sure in hers.

Her breath was shallow, her heart stuttering against her ribs. He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice rough. “We could move this to the bedroom. If you want.”

God, his eyes were so careful. Like he was holding the weight of her choice in both hands and wouldn’t move unless she did. It was such a simple thing—to ask to move from the couch to an actual bed. He hadn’t demanded or assumed. He asked. Maybe it shouldn’t make her eyes sting, but it did.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I want.” Her voice caught on the last word, both from nerves and from being so vulnerable.

Ben’s exhale brushed her cheek, and he kissed her so tenderly it made her heart ache.

When he stood and reached for her hand, she followed without hesitation.

The hallway was dimly lit, and Rey’s skin buzzed with every step. Her pulse beat fast, her thighs already tense with need, and her breath grew unsteady. But Ben’s hand was sure in hers, and she wanted this. Not because of weeks of unsaid things or a few stolen moments, but because there was no fear left. No power imbalance.

The way he looked at her—like he was seeing all of her and choosing her—made her feel like she could breathe again. He opened the door and let her walk in first.

The bedroom wasn’t big or elaborate. There was a large bed in the center, covered with dark grey bedding and pillows. A small stack of books sat on the nightstand, and a few art prints hung on the walls. One photograph sat on the lone dresser—a picture of Han and Leia mid-laugh.

Rey turned slowly, and Ben stood just inside the doorway, watching her. She crossed the space between them and placed her hands on his chest. His sweater was soft, and he smelled like cedar. She looked up at him, then reached to remove his glasses, setting them on the dresser.

She tugged gently at his sweater. He helped her peel it and the t-shirt beneath over his head, revealing the wide, muscled, and pale expanse of his chest. It was dusted lightly with dark hair and several beauty marks like those on his face. The muscled plane rose and fell with each breath. Her fingers skimmed over his skin, and the quiet sound he made buzzed between her ears.

He reached for her in return, his fingers twitching at the hem of her sweater. When their eyes met, she nodded, and his touch was warm as he lifted the fabric away, leaving her bare and braless before him.

Her nipples tightened as his gaze swept over her. “You’re so beautiful,” he said quietly.

Rey ducked her head, unused to such honest praise, reaching for his belt next. He stilled, his eyes following her hands. She flicked the metal open, and he helped her with the button and the zipper and then stepped out of his jeans, standing in dark boxer briefs, already tented and straining against the fabric.

Heat spread across Rey’s cheeks as he reached for her jeans, but she didn’t look away as he unbuttoned them. His fingers slid beneath the waistband, tugging them down carefully. When his knuckles brushed her thighs, her whole body lit up. She stepped out of the jeans, feeling his gaze on her plain cotton panties.

She reached for him again, pulling him close, pressing chest to chest. His skin was warm and solid, and the full-body contact made her breath catch. Her nipples brushed the plane of his chest, and the sensation was almost too much, but she only pressed closer. Ben groaned, his hands sliding down to her waist, hands splaying wide over her hips, fingertips pressing into her skin. His mouth found hers, and he kissed her deep and slow, his cock shifting hard against her stomach.

Ben walked her backward toward the bed, and she let herself sink into it, resting her head on the pillows and pulling him down with her. She wanted the weight of him, the heat. She wanted to feel him everywhere. He followed, bracing one arm on the bed as he kissed down her throat, over her collarbone, then lower. She shuddered as he moved slowly with open-mouthed kisses and soft licks of his tongue. His lips trailed over the slope of one breast, and Rey gasped as his mouth closed over her nipple—lingering, kissing, and tasting. His free hand moved to the other breast, lifting it, stroking her taut flesh with his thumb. His attention had her back arching and her hips pressing up against his, seeking the friction of his cock. She parted her legs, making room for him to settle perfectly against her, only the thin fabric of their underwear between them.

They rocked, finding the perfect friction, the perfect pressure, and Ben’s mouth found the opposite breast, sucking greedily and sending more heat pooling between Rey’s thighs. “God, your tits are perfect,” he rumbled, and Rey flushed impossibly warmer. With another rock of his hips and a soft kiss, he leaned back on his knees, hooking his fingers into her panties. He paused, gaze flicking to her face.

“Yes,” she whispered, breathless.

He eased them down, watching her, staring intently at her stomach, her hips, and the soft skin revealed between her legs. Rey’s fingers fisted into the soft bedding. She didn’t move, not because she was ashamed, but because of how completely he was seeing her.

His fingertips trailed over her inner thighs, coaxing them apart. She let them fall open, every inch of her body flushed and aching, bare and pulsing with need.

When Ben lowered himself between her legs, his breath ghosting over her damp skin, she thought she might come on the spot.

He kissed the inside of her thigh first, then higher. Higher still. She reached for him, fingers curling in his hair as his tongue pressed softly against her, hot and wet, a seeking stroke that made her hips jerk.

“Ben,” she whispered in a plea.

He groaned against her skin in response, the vibration making her thighs tremble. He was thorough. Patient. Exploring her with lips and tongue as if listening to her breathing and feeling the way her hips twitched as they tried to chase more pressure.

His touch was slow at first, teasing and soft. Then, when she gasped and arched, he held her hips down and licked deeper. When his mouth closed around her clit, tongue swirling, and Rey’s entire body sang.

Her hips jumped with every flick of his tongue and every low moan he gave in response to hers. His eyes were closed, his hair soft against her inner thighs, and his mouth fastened to her clit. He shifted, and she felt the press of his fingers where she was wet and aching. He dipped his fingers into her arousal, testing, sucking her clit as he pressed one long finger inside. Rey shuddered at the stretch, the not-enough pressure that made her legs fall open wider. Ben licked faster as he added another finger, curling them and finding the perfect rhythm.

Rey was long past thinking, her body burning as her hips tried to move, but his strong hand held her in place, keeping her most sensitive skin under assault from his lips and tongue, his fingers easing in and out in a delicious glide that matched the movement of his mouth.

The sounds—the low, desperate noises and the soft, wet slurping—should have embarrassed her, but instead, they sent her higher. His moans grew louder, and she felt his hips rock against the sheets. He wasn’t just doing something to her; he was with her, feeling pleasure, too, and she felt more slick arousal escape her body and coat his fingers.

“Delicious,” he grumbled against her, and a fresh wave of heat surged between Rey’s hips. He curled his fingers, pressing harder, just right, and she shattered.

Her orgasm rolled through her like a long, deep wave of searing pleasure that made her thighs tremble and her pussy clench. Her mouth fell open in a hoarse cry, and her whole body tensed as her vision swam, stars dancing behind her eyes.

The strokes of Ben’s tongue and fingers lightened, and he pressed soft kisses to her skin, dragging his lips lightly over her clit and sending aftershocks through her body, over and over as she trembled and twitched under every touch—at least until she was over-sensitive and damp with sweat, the sheets wet beneath her thighs. Then, finally, she gave his shoulders a soft pull.

“Come here,” she said, voice coming out in a rasp. “Let me.”

He blinked up at her, hair mussed, plush lips wet and sexy as hell.

“Let me taste you,” she clarified with a lazy grin.

Ben’s eyes darkened instantly. “Rey—”

She tugged lightly at his arms, wrapping her hands around his firm biceps. “Please. I want to feel you in my mouth.” A raw sound rumbled from Ben’s chest. He let her guide him up, and she kissed him, deep and hard, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. Then she gently pushed on his chest.

“Lie back,” she commanded.

He obeyed.

*

Ben lay back against the pillows, his cock straining against his boxer briefs, which were already sticky with precum from touching Rey, tasting her, feeling her hot and silky on his tongue and dripping on his fingers as she came. His body was lit up with electricity, every muscle tight and overwhelmed. The space between his ears was fuzzy, buzzing with his pulse.

He could still feel Rey’s thighs trembling around his shoulders. And now she was naked above him, her hair falling loose, her braid having come undone. She kneeled between his thighs, trailing her fingers down his abdomen with an appreciative smile on her beautiful face. Her gaze followed her hands, and Ben swallowed dryly. His cock was aching, straining, and every time her stomach brushed near it, his hips surged upward.

Ben bit back a moan as Rey’s fingertips grasped his waistband. He lifted his hips to help her, and when she finally freed him, his cock sprang up against his stomach, flushed, glistening with precum, and impossibly hard.

Rey licked her lips like she wanted to devour him, settled between his thighs and bent forward, tucking her hair back behind her ears. She wrapped her hand around him first, and the moment her cool skin touched his hot shaft, Ben choked on a sound that didn’t sound human to his ears. He was sensitive, close already; her hand alone could undo him.

She said she wanted to feel him in her mouth, and she leaned forward, kissing the tip with a gentle press of her lips. Then she licked up the length, from where her fingers fisted at his base to the ridge of his glans, lips parting as she licked over the sensitive skin there. His hands fisted in the bedspread as she opened her mouth and took him in.

“Rey,” he gasped. “Fuck—”

She sucked gently, her tongue teasing the underside, her hand stroking what her mouth didn’t reach. Her big hazel eyes flicked up to watch him, and he knew what she saw. His jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling, and his eyes locked on hers.

From the smile in her eyes, the way she adjusted her angle, and the way she hummed when he moaned, Ben could only conclude that Rey enjoyed this. Her tongue worked the underside of his cock, and she moved faster, setting a moderate pace. She hollowed her cheeks and swirled her tongue over his sensitive cockhead, and his hips jolted up. She stilled him with one hand on his hip, keeping him from pushing too far. But her lips and tongue didn’t let up. Time narrowed to the space between them, and Rey didn’t speed her strokes, letting him soak in every ounce of pleasure.

Ben felt the tell-tale tightening between he legs, the hot sparks of heat that would turn into flames if she didn’t stop. He brushed her hair back from her face. “Rey—”

She pulled back, her lips slick, her breath warm against him.

“Not yet,” he murmured. The sight of her kneeling above him, so fucking gorgeous, nearly made him come.

She ran her hands up his thighs, slowly, leaning in to press a kiss just above his hip bone. Ben let out a shaky breath. She kissed him again, directly between his pecs, then again, higher, moving up his neck until their legs readjusted, and she straddled him, wet heat pressing against his aching cock.

This time, when their mouths met, it was all tongue and promise and hunger. She rocked her hips against him, and they both moaned at the sensation. She was so wet, so ready, and he’d almost forgotten how good it could feel.

“Condom,” he gasped, already reaching for the drawer.

“I’ve got an IUD,” she said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’m clean,” she added.

“Me too,” he said.

“Then come inside me,” she said. “And don’t be quiet about it.”

“Huh?” he asked stupidly.

“I love your voice. And I want your weight on me if that’s okay.”

Ben’s breath stuttered, and he rolled Rey onto her back, bracing himself above her, their bodies aligned, bare and burning. She lay back beneath him, legs parted, fingers brushing up his sides. Her eyes were wide, freckles dotting her cheeks and chest, and Ben had never seen anyone so lovely.

Not in a lecture hall or on paper or in poetry.

The only sounds between them were their ragged breaths, but Ben could swear he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, anticipation tight like the moment before a match struck.

He positioned himself, one hand steadying Rey’s thigh, and her fingers brushed his cheek. When he pushed forward, it was with her gaze intent on his own and a slow, careful stretch that was hot liquid heat squeezing the life out of his cock. He buried himself, not looking away from Rey’s face as her nails dug into his back and her legs wrapped around his thighs.

Her hands cradled his face.

“You okay?” she whispered.

“Yes,” good gods yes. “You?”

“Nothing has ever felt so good,” she said, wiggling her hips until they fit perfectly. She kissed him, and he moved.

They found a rhythm slowly, building heat and familiarity with every stroke and lift of hips. Their kisses grew sloppier and messier, Rey’s ragged breaths changed to panting whimpers, and Ben felt the heat inside him flare. It was as much the hot burn of arousal as it was a flicker of bright light where they had only been dimness before. It brightened with every whispered gasp, every tilt of hips, every desperate please, and more, and just there.

Ben tried to remember to talk, to murmur praise. She liked his voice. “You’re so perfect, baby” he choked. “Let me feel you.” He moved faster, bracing himself on his forearms, their bodies slipping together, sweat collecting between them. The air smelled of Rey’s skin, of longing and heat.

“Ben,” she warned, breath hot against his lips. “I’m close. Don’t stop.”

Her admission edged him close to spilling, but he held strong; he wanted her to feel her coming around him. Her thighs tightened around his waist, her body clenched around his cock, and she ground her clit into his pelvic bone. Her fingers clung to his back, blunt fingernails dug in.

When she came this time, it was with a cry into his neck and with her arousal leaking over his cock. The wet sounds followed by her desperate cry made him follow a thrust later; his hips jerked, and pleasure and light flooded his body as he spilled inside her with his own graceless cry, panting against her, murmuring praise, telling her how beautiful she was and how perfect she felt wrapped around him. His hips stuttered, and pleasure coursed through him, warming him from head to toe. It was almost too much, and his entire body shook with it. He collapsed against Rey with a trembling breath, burying his face in her shoulder.

Rey pressed a soft kiss to his jaw and held him tight, arms and legs still wrapped around him, sweat cooling on their skin. She liked his weight on her, she’d said, and he had no objection except that he was softening and wet and slipping from between her legs.

Eventually, Rey shifted beneath him, and he lifted himself enough for her to breathe more easily.

She didn't let go.

Her fingers slid from his back to his sides, light and languid, tracing the sweat-cooled skin there.

“Too heavy?” he murmured.

“No,” she said softly. “Just right.”

A beat passed.

Then she smiled, small and crooked. Ben huffed a soft laugh and leaned in to kiss her, unhurried. Her lips were warm and slack beneath his, lazy with satisfaction. When he pulled back, she sighed.

They moved together, rolling onto their sides, legs still tangled, the sheets a wet mess between them. They faced one another, their noses only a few inches apart.

Rey’s cheeks were red and her lips swollen, and she looked well kissed and well loved and real. He kissed her, a brush of lips, then another, and she kissed him back, and such soft, lazy kisses felt more intimate in the afterglow.

They stayed like that for a while, facing each other, trading slow kisses and not speaking.

Ben didn’t want to break the quiet. Rey’s fingers were idly playing with the necklace at her throat, the small pearl he’d returned to her on a new chain. It rolled gently between her fingers, back and forth, like she didn’t realize she was touching it.

Ben’s eyes followed the movement, and she dropped the necklace, the pearl resting against her collarbone.

“You look good in it,” he said.

Rey glanced down, then back at him, a slow smile curling her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He traced a fingertip just below where it lay. “It suits you. Strong. Kind of impossible to forget.”

Her smile deepened, and she leaned in to kiss him with a soft brush of lips, warm and sure. Ben reached to tug a blanket over their cooling bodies, then laced their hands together. Their palms pressed, cool and damp and perfectly still.

The room was quiet, save the hum of the city beyond the windows and the soft sounds of their breathing.

And Ben was struck with the quiet certainty that whatever this was, it was something they had chosen. Together.

*

The porch light was on when Rey pulled up. It was domestic and familiar and nothing like the first time she came here, buzzing with nerves and pretending she wasn’t.

Tonight, she carried a Tupperware of Maz’s famous oatmeal cookies. Ben had texted her that morning, letting her know that Han’s surgery had gone well.

She knocked once, then let herself in, as instructed. Chewie barked from the back of the house and came barrelling toward her, tail wagging, nails clicking across the wooden floors. She crouched to greet him, laughing as his tongue swiped her cheek.

“You’re a menace,” she said fondly. “I missed you, too.”

“Join the club,” came Han’s voice from the living room.

Rey straightened and stepped inside, smiling as she took in the scene. Han sat in his armchair, one leg elevated with pillows and bound in a thick brace. Leia perched on the arm of the chair, a tablet in her lap, her eyes crinkling as Rey entered.

“Say, are those cookies you got there, Stingray?” asked Han.

Rey relinquished the container. “How are you feeling, old man?”

“Right as rain, little lady,” replied Han, helping himself to a cookie. “These pills aren’t so bad. I feel a little floaty, if I’m honest.”

Ben appeared from the kitchen, wearing slippers with his jeans and a red apron that was much too small and clearly belonged to his mom.

Rey crossed the room, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek, slow and sweet. Han made a soft sound of protest.

“None of that near the injured,” he warned in his typical gruff voice.

Leia rolled her eyes. “You’re just sore because you can’t… get up at the moment.”

“I don’t mind you waitin’ on me, princess,” replied Han.

Rey smiled while Ben grimaced, and Leia’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. They weren’t subtle, Ben’s parents. Not even a little. Leia handed Han a second cookie. He looked smug as he took it.

Rey had grown up thinking love had to be quiet to last. Maz had taught her that and Finn had cemented it. But Han and Leia showed her that love could be different—loud and fierce. And Ben had taught her that it could be messy and consuming. It was banter and comfort wrapped in sarcasm and good food. It was Leia’s raised brows and Han’s pointed glances.

The way they made space for her without making a big show about it.

Ben passed her a cup of tea and nodded toward the back patio. “Come outside for a second?”

Rey followed him through the sliding door and into the cool night air. The stars were out, scattered across the inky sky. Ben led her to the porch swing. The chain creaked as they sat, close enough for their thighs to touch, and Rey tucked her legs up beneath her.

Ben wrapped one arm around her, his eyes on the sky.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said quietly.

Rey glanced over. “Believe what?” That she was here? That she’d spent the last three nights at his place? That she was so deliciously sore, it might be affecting her gait?

“That you were here, on this porch, less than a month ago. And the day before, we’d had class, and I was trying not to stare at you.”

Her heart gave a soft flutter.

The porch light caught the wide curve of Ben’s mouth as he turned toward her. “You looked like trouble long before you sent that email,” he said. “And I wanted every bit of it.”

Rey smiled, feeling heat rising in her chest. “I was trying to look unbothered in class.”

“You succeeded.”

She leaned into him, the swing creaking as they swayed. Crickets chirped beyond the hedges, and a breeze stirred Leia’s rosemary. The warm scent filled the air. From somewhere inside, Han’s voice floated faintly through an open window, rumbling, amused, at something Leia had said.

Rey glanced down at their joined hands.

“I loved my life before this,” she said. “Finn. Rose and Poe. Han and the shop. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.”

Ben squeezed her hand.

“I still love it,” she added. “But I love this, too.” Rey’s voice was quiet as she looked at Ben. She wasn’t just visiting anymore. She was home.

“Me too,” he said, and he pulled her in for a kiss.