Chapter Text
Ben takes her hand as he unfolds his legs and stands. She's certain he'll let go of it within seconds - surely they're not actually doing what she hopes they're doing? But he doesn't let go - instead he changes hand positions, lacing his long fingers together with hers, his hand warm from the coffee he’d been cradling. Rey has no idea what he has in mind, but she loves his first question. “Are you hungry?”
“Always,” Rey replies. But I think I’m starting to understand what the kids mean by thirsty. She’s somehow able to think that with a straight face.
“Oh, thank god. I’m starving. In the mood for anything?”
Could he stop asking questions like that? “I dunno, something different? Interesting? Some place where they definitely don’t skimp on the portions.” She lets him start to guide her down the sidewalk, past the group of people setting up a slackline between two maple trees. “I was at work today for over twelve hours, with only enough breaks to have a Monster and inhale a Clif bar, so I’m not picky.”
They stop at a crosswalk to wait for the walk signal, then make their way through a tall arched open walkway, into a covered shopping area. Small storefronts line each side and the ceiling has got to be about three stories up, if she had to guess.
“Is it in here?” she asks, her tone hopeful. The corridor is lit up by hanging lights and the small amount of sunlight that still streams in through the skylights that line the ceiling.
He tells her it’s not, but as they walk by, he points out a coffee shop on the right side that she should stop into. “The place I’ve got in mind is a couple blocks away, one or two past Main Street. I hope you don’t mind the walk.”
“Not at all, especially if it's worth it.” When she turns her head upward to look at him, he’s already looking back down at her.
“It’s a little Korean bibimbap place, and it’s worth it, I promise.” They get to another block and Rey starts to cross, stopping when she feels him squeeze her hand to get her to stop for the walk light. “I’ve been going there since I was in high school.”
“You’re a townie?”
“Sort of. We moved all over the place when I was a kid, but my uncle lives here so we'd visit a lot. My parents decided that I needed a normal life for high school, so they had me move in with him. Went to high school at Community,” he explains, then remembers she’s lived in town for less than a month. “Ya know, the sort of hippie alternative school by the farmers market? And I've been in town ever since.”
A few more blocks and Ben stops in front of a brick storefront, the name Kosmo’s displayed above two large windows in colorful lettering. The walls inside are covered with vibrantly colored cartoonish graffiti - a tiger holding a bowl of bibimbap, various ingredients, and a cartoon version of a man holding a spatula. The girl behind the counter who takes their orders is adorable, Zoe Deschanel bangs and a septum piercing, wearing a black T-shirt with the same style mural as on the walls. They order almost the same exact bowls, white rice, bulgogi beef, with some differences in toppings, and they take the cashier up on her suggestion to sit outside in their newly approved-by-the-city sidewalk seating.
They've barely had time to get settled at their table when they’re approached by a man in a chef’s apron with a colorful bandana tied around his forehead, holding two bowls like she’s seen at other tables.
“Ben-ssi!” the man says, his voice loud and excited. He quickly sets down two large metal bowls, long spoons, and a plastic bottle filled with a dark red sace in front of them, before he turns his attention back towards Ben. “Orenmanida!”
Ben answers cheerfully, without missing a beat, saying god knows what and nodding his head. Rey’s eyes are wide as she watches their conversation - she understands nothing. She’s apt enough to realize though that he's proficient in what she assumes is Korean, and has enough of an ear to notice no discernible difference between his accent and the native speaker he talks to. They talk for another minute or two, before the other man looks at Rey, then back to Ben, saying something that makes him blush a bright red and stutter through his response. The man laughs at how Ben blushes, then claps him on the shoulder before heading back inside the restaurant.
“Sorry, he’s an old friend and I haven't been in for a while.”
“Don’t apologize, just… you speak Korean?” He nods. “And from my googling, you also speak Greek, Italian, and French?”
“That’s correct.” Ben grabs the bottle of chili sauce, squeezing out a liberal amount on top of his food, before passing it to Rey. “Along with Spanish, German, Russian, Arabic, Japanese, enough Swahili to get by, Hindi… oh, and Latin. But that's a dead language, so I’m never certain if I should count it.”
She’s gawking, mouth wide, holding the chili sauce bottle in mid-air above her bowl. “Oh, is that all?”
“I can read sheet music too.”
Alright, so she laughs at that one. And loudly, the table next to them side-eyes her as if she’s interrupting their dinner. “I do expect an explanation, by the way. Since I can only speak English, Cancun spring break-level Spanish, and read medical charts.”
Over dinner, he explains - when he says he moved around a lot when he was little, he means it. “My mom’s actually in the foreign service, still. So every two years she’d be assigned to a new consulate, with a short stint back in DC in between. I’d lived in… shit, maybe eight different countries by the end of middle school.”
“And your dad? Did he do the same thing?”
“He was… in and out,” he explains with a shrug.
“Shit, Ben, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. He’s photographer, National Geographic. Couldn’t exactly bring a kid along with him on his work trips. My parents are… flawed, I guess. Both very passionate about their careers and each other. It was a weird childhood, that’s for damn sure, but if it hadn’t been for that I wouldn’t have all these other languages rattling around my head, and I wouldn’t be here, researching what I’m passionate about.”
“Then that’s good. Because I’m glad you’re here.” Rey winks as she points at him with her spoon.
“Really?” Ben sounds like he isn’t sure how to take her statement. “That because you found someone whose scores you can crush?”
“And take me to delicious places for dinner,” she adds. “Seriously, it’s amazing.” She tips the bow towards him, showing him that she’s finished, and he does the same.
“Where to next? Dessert?” Rey asks as they walk their empty dishes to the cart outside.
“You ate all that and you've still got room for dessert?”
“Let’s get some things straight.” Rey stops on the sidewalk, just outside the seating area. She physically stops Ben from further, whipping her hand out to his chest, like what you’d do to the passenger when you slam on the brakes, then turns to face him. “First, I had two breech deliveries today that we had to c-section. Two , Ben. Two babies determined to make their debut into this world ass first. I had a husband faint and concuss himself . That takes a lot of a girl. Second, there’s always room for dessert.”
“Right, betsu-bara.”
“Pardon?”
“Betsu-bara,” he repeats. “It’s a Japanese phrase meaning separate stomachs, like one that’s specifically for dessert.”
“Oh, see now that is definitely me.” Crap, still awkwardly touching him. She drops her hand then, adjusting her fanny pack that didn’t really need adjusting.
“Your choice then, handmade ice cream or handmade gelato?”
“Ughhh, Ben,” she groans, stretching his single syllable name into two. “How am I supposed to make that kinda of choice?”
“You’re a resident for at least a year, right? I’m sure you’ll have time to try whichever you don’t pick.”
“You choose then. You were spot on with the bibimbap.”
“Gelato.” Ben’s answer is almost instant. “I haven’t been to Iorio’s in a while.”
“Lead the way.”
This time, he takes Rey’s hand. She tries so hard not to, but she knows there’s a big silly grin on her face. Chill the fuck out. Since when do you get all outta sorts from hand holding? You’re twenty six.
“What’re you so smiley about?”
Definitely not your hands, or how big they are, or how they’d fit perfectly around my waist, pressing bruises into my hips, and holding me down against your mattress. Christ, that escalated quickly.
“Just excited about gelato. I seriously can’t remember the last time I had it.” She flashes another bright smile up at him.
“Iorio’s is amazing. You’re in for a treat, babe.”
Melting. Screw the gelato, I’m melting. Change the topic, Rey.
“Good, that's what I like to hear.” Change the topic, change the topic… hah! Got it. “So, I’m a little curious about something.”
“What's that?”
“Your research. Language acquisition and contact? I understand the words individually, but I still really don’t get what you’re studying.”
XxXxX
If I had a dollar for every time I’m asked that question, Ben thinks, I’d still have a depressingly large amount of student loans for someone planning on a career in academia.
“I hear that a lot, don’t worry. Linguistics isn’t the most popular of fields. Seems most people are in med school, like you, law school, or B-school.”
He tells her that he’s used to it, and he’s almost got a monologue fully ready for when people ask. Diving right in, he explains the different concentrations available in the linguistics program, the ones he choose to focus on, and his dissertation topic. When he starts getting nothing more than “uh-huh” and head nod reactions from Rey, he realizes he’s gone a bit too deep.
He stops talking, which gets her attention. “You’ve got that glazed over look in your eyes.”
“What? No. I totally understand everything you said.”
“As someone who almost has a doctorate in the scientific study of language, you should know that I’m picking up on your sarcasm. You can’t trick me.” He gives her hand a squeeze, attempting to be reassuring. “It’s right up here though, so you’re saved from more of my geeking out.”
They stop at the storefront; the shop is small and there’s a little bit of a line winding its way out of the front door. It’s nowhere near long enough to deter either of them from dessert.
“Are you gonna floor me again and speak Italian to the owner?”
“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s usually just high school kids or undergrads manning the counter here. We could take a look at the flavors while we wait though. I know how hard it is for you to make a decision.” He pulls up the store’s Facebook page while they wait, bringing up the latest daily post of all the flavors. Rey mulls over the majority of them while they make their way to the front of the line, and Ben is certain that if there weren’t easily twenty people behind them, that she’d ask for a sample of each flavor.
He’s not completely wrong. Ben orders his first, his distaste for overly sweet flavors makes it a simpler choice, and he watches as Rey starts to get samples. He lets her have her taste test, and moves down to the register, paying for both - he’s pleased she lets him treat her and doesn’t try to stop him, just asks if he wants to sit on the benches out front.
He shakes his head. “Too many people. I’ve got a better idea. Trust me, I think you’ll like it.”
It’s not more than two blocks until he leads her to an open square, next to the Michigan Union. There’s a large steel sculpture of a fifteen foot tall cube, standing upright on one of its vertices. Rey looks across the way at it, then back to Ben. “Is this what you wanted me to see? A… cube?”
“Not just a cube, The Cube. Go check it out. Seriously.”
Confusion showing on her face, she hands over her gelato cup. “If you say so.”
He watches as she walks up to The Cube, holding her hand out and giving it a tentative nudge, then another, until -
“Oh my god, it spins !” Rey yells, her head whipping back towards him and then back to the sculpture. “You didn’t tell me it spins!” She shoves the side and it spins faster, then once the next edge comes around, she wraps her hands around it, running alongside, likes it’s a playground carousel.
“Ben! Come play!”
“No, no, I'm fine. I’ve made myself sick and dizzy spinning that thing enough times by now.” He finds he really, really enjoys watching her instead. Her surprise when she realized it moves, her laughter as she runs around it. “Besides, you know how feisty campus squirrels are, someone has to guard the gelato.”
She finally stops a minute later, walking, well, wobbling back to him, arms out to keep her balance. “Gelato, please.” He stands up from the long stone bench as he hands it to her. “What’d you get?”
“Half chai latte, half earl grey,” he replies. Walking normally now, she follows his lead out of the square towards State Street, popping out onto the sidewalk along the busy main road, next to the Union. “I usually go for the espresso but they didn't have it today.”
“Can I try?” she asks, holding her spoon up as they cross the road.
“Knock yourself out.” He stops walking, pausing next to a large stone cylinder with flyers for everything you could imagine taped to it. They’re in front of the university art museum, and with the lights from the lamps along the sidewalk, and the spotlight the illuminates a huge red steel sculpture across the way, it’s easy for him to watch her reaction. Or, more accurately, the careful way she takes spoonfuls of both scoops, how her mouth wraps around the spoon and she turns it over once before pulling it out, and how she closes her eyes for a second, like she really has to concentrate on the flavors.
“Interesting. I think I like the chai better.”
“Me too.” With a hand on her shoulder, her turns her to face the entryway of the art museum. “Next stop on the tour is right over there.” He points towards another large statue, bathed in spotlights.
“Just how much public art are you gonna show me?” Rey asks, walking up to it. “Does this one move too?”
“This town has enough public art that’d it’d take days for me to show you everything.” Please, please let me. “And yes, this one moves. It’s a swing.”
Her face lights up and she sits down cautiously, scooting all the way to the right side of the seat.
“Come on, you’ll fit too.” She pats the open bit of metal next to her. Ben hangs on to the side as he presses himself into the spot, there’s just enough room for the two of them. “Did you wanna try some of mine? White chocolate raspberry,” she tells him, in singsong voice.
“I’ll pass, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”
“Oh, come on. You might like it.” He watches her make a pouty face, confident she’s faking by how far she sticks her bottom lip out.
It’s adorable though, her pouty face and those big doe eyes looking at him “Fine, you win.”
Her expression changes instantly, pouty face changing to a beaming smile, like she’s won. She carefully scoops a spoonful out, making sure to get some if the raspberry swirl and he realizes she intends to feed it to him.
Ben locks his eyes with hers as she brings the spoon to his mouth. He tastes the raspberry first, which isn’t bad until the white chocolate overwhelms it. his face contorts and scrunches up, and he twitches, just once, a little shiver running through him.
“Ben! I wish I’d gotten that on video. You made a face like when people feed babies lemons.”
“I told you I didn’t like sweet things.” Except you. Oh, well, just missed my chance for that line.
They fall into a comfortable silence, finishing their own gelato, though Ben doesn’t protest when she steals a few more tastes of the chai latte from his.
“That’s about all I can think of to show you,” Ben tells her, once he notices they’re both finished. “I promise there’s a lot more cool stuff to see when it’s light out, or if the art museum was open later.”
“There's still a lot of evening left.” It’s an open-ended statement and he’s very interested to see what she’s thinking of.
“Have anything in mind?”
“Why not Maz’s?” Rey pushes herself up from the swing, the force causing Ben to rock backwards. “They don’t close ‘til two and I’ve got a fanny pack full of quarters.” She shakes her hips a bit to make the coins clink together. “Take the night full circle.”
Ben did not plan on any of this happening. He’d planned on getting that americano after leaving the arcade, then doing the pile of dishes he’d ignored all week, maybe later seeing if Phas wanted to meet him at Pizza House for dinner, and then definitely falling asleep watching West Wing reruns on Netflix. The words came out of his mouth and then she’d said yes and grabbed his hand and… here we are. It’s been a while since he’s been out on a date. This is a date, right? Yes? The last one he recalls is months ago - Phas had set him up on a blind date with this guy she knew from god knows where, and Ben was convinced he’d never met anyone with a stick up their ass quite like that guy. He knows he’s very type-A, can get anxious if ill-prepared, and has had the same stick comment said about him before… but compared to him, Hux didn’t have a stick, it was more like… one of those giant logs they throw in the Highland Games.
Stop thinking about that, he tells himself. You’ve somehow ended up out with a girl who’s not only way too pretty for you, but she’s smart and a little impulsive and adorably amused by everything you’ve shown her.
Maz has this look in her eyes when she sees them walk down the stairs, hands together, that tells him she thinks she saw this outcome coming a mile away. She makes eye contact with Ben, nodding once then retreating to the back room.
“Can I ask you something? The other week, the change machine was broken… that, was that you?” Rey’s cautious when she asks this, and he regrets his outburst even more than when it just meant a dent in his bank account. The last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of him, and thank god, he knows why the change machine was broken and knows it was not his fault. At least, not completely.
“Partially my fault. Maybe two percent, if I had to put a number on it.”
“How does that work?”
“Some kid tried to put a fruit roll-up in the bill slot and it got all jammed up. No pun intended.”
“And that’s two percent your fault because…?”
“I just watched him do it.” Ben shrugs. His face says he knows he should’ve stopped the kid.
She shakes her head. “Alright. I’ll give you two percent of the blame for that.”
“Thank you. So what’s the plan?”
“Pinball, first,” she says, as she pulls him towards the wall of machines. Rey stops in front of the vintage KISS game and finally lets go of his hand.
“You're not gonna play too?”
“Nope. You got to hide out somewhere and watch me play last week, it's my turn. You’re supposed to be a big deal around here, right? Show me what you’ve got, Bally table king.” She plucks two quarters out of the zippered fanny pack pouch, sets one down on the glass, and rolls the other back and forth across her knuckles before she offers it to him.
It’s not often that Ben has someone else watching him play. When Phas comes with him, she usually plays skee-ball or one of the older arcade games, like Space Invaders or Centipede. Other than that, sometimes the other pinball regulars he recognizes will watch for a minute or two, but they usually just wish him good luck and go about their own business with the machine they want to play.
If that’s what she wants though, let her watch. He pushes both quarters in and the machine comes to life, drops a single silver ball down the right side. Ben eases into his playing stance, similar to hers but a mirror image, and sets the ball rolling.
Above the sounds of game, the speakers play a constant stream of classic rock and indie new wave, expertly curated by Maz herself, if he had to guess. No one knew too much about her, but he’d heard rumors that she’d been a DJ on the student radio station back in the sixties.
It’s not the music that’s distracting, it’s Rey. It’s how she bends over the glass, bottom lip pulled in between her teeth as she watches. It’s how she sings along, loudly, not under her breath, and dances when Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark comes on, as if she’s in her living room and not in public.
When his game is over, he comes up quite a bit short on points and Rey still has the high score. He’s having a hard time being able to give a shit anymore, especially when she reaches up to ruffle his hair and tells him, “Better luck next time,” before pulling him to the next game she wants to play.
A little over an hour passes and they've made their way around to most of the games they're interested in. He's learned Rey makes the cutest surprised noises playing air hockey, and while he beats her 7-2, she crushes him at the basketball game. They're evenly matched at Street Fighter II and earned enough tickets at Skee-ball for two Airheads, six Jolly Ranchers, and an eraser shaped like a watermelon.
“What next?” Ben asks. He’s having a tough time thinking of anything they’ve managed to miss out on so far.
“...pick something you’ve never played.”
“I told you I've been coming here since I was fifteen, I’ve played just about everything.”
“Think harder. ...what about the photo booth?” Rey suggests.
“You don’t play the photo booth, Rey, and besides, the ones in Japan are far superior.”
“Ben Solo, you will get in that goddamn photo booth.” Rey moves behind him, placing her hands at his waist and pushing him in the direction of the handful of photo booths.
He was aware he was tall, but he's way too tall for the photo booth, comically so. He has to bend down to get in, and once he’s inside he has to stay hunched over, hair falling forward into his face, unable to stand up completely straight.
“Alright, what color background do you—”, he starts to ask, turning around towards her, but she’s standing so close, so very close. Close enough that his eyes have to adjust to get a clear look at her. He tries his damnedest not to stare at her mouth, but sees her eyes flick up to his, he starts to wonder why he’s bothering to show this amount of self restraint, but before he figures it out, she’s closing what little gap she’d left between them. Her right hand goes for his hip, pushing him back towards the angled control panel, he’s able to almost sit, bringing him closer to her height as she moves his knees apart and slots herself in the middle. Rey holds him in place as she takes the quarters she’s been holding and plunks them one a time into the coin slot, like she’s buying whatever time the booth is going to give them.
Her left hand runs up his leg, knee to thigh, and settles on his other hip, fingers squeezing his hipbone, holding tightly as she brings her gaze back up to his eyes. “Do you want this?”
Ben barely gets his yes, please , answer out before she leans in.
Her first kisses are tentative, as if he’d deny her, until he pulls back a moment. She grabs fistfuls of his t-shirt collar and hauls him to her, and he worries for a split second she’s going to rip his shirt.
Fuck Joy Division. He’ll buy a new shirt.
Rey’s the one who started this and he's more than happy to allow her to take the lead. When she deepens the kiss, he tastes a hint of that white chocolate raspberry flavor of the gelato she’d made him try earlier; he wasn't a fan of it then, but now, now it's in the running to become his absolute favorite.
She angles herself against him, trying to get as close as possible, and it takes all his good sense and willpower to keep his hands at her waist, when he wants to reach down and run his hands up her thighs and under her skirt. He wonders how much she'd let him get away with.
Her skirt is so short and it’d be so easy to — no. No. They’re in public and though the photo booth affords then enough privacy to makeout, there’s other people in the arcade and no guarantee they won’t get interrupted by a couple kids, or worse - Maz.
It’s starting to get to be too much - her sighs in his ear when he kisses down her neck, her hands, that’ve moved from fiddling with the hem of his shirt to diving under, fingertips skirting across his abs and short nails digging into his back.
Think about something else. Anything. Teaching undergrads syntax. Phasma putting salsa in cottage cheese. Think of Marv, the pinball tech who fixes the machines and smells like wet dog… it works for a second, but she catches his bottom lip in her teeth again, and his mind exercises cease working.
He finally pulls away then, resting his forehead against hers. She relaxes, removes her arms from under his shirt and throws them over his shoulders, fingers lazily playing with his hair. After a moment he decides to be the one to break the silence.
“Just for the record, if you wanted to kiss me, you didn’t need to spend eight quarters to do it.”
“Is that so?”
“Yea, the Jurassic Park game is just as private, but only takes four quarters.”
He makes a silent promise to go to temple with his mom next time she asks, because there is a god, there has to be - there’s no other explanation for how there’s this beautiful woman in his arms, laughing at his stupid jokes. It’s been an amazing night, really the best he’s had in ages, and rather out of the norm for him - he’s a planner, if he’d have known this was going to happen he’d have planned out every detail in advance.
“Or, ya know… I only live like three blocks away and I don’t charge admission.”
“Oh well, when you put it that way…” Rey pulls back and takes his hand. Dimples appear on her cheeks that he hasn't noticed yet; it’s much brighter in the photo booth than anywhere else they’ve been that night. Ben leads this time - past Maz at the counter, past past the fixed change machines, and past the brand new candy machines.
“Night Maz,” they yell in unison as they walk up the stairs.