Work Text:
Rey’s phone rings at the godawful hour of three in the fucking morning, but she scrambles to answer it anyway because he’s been on the west coast for two weeks and she needs to hear his voice again.
“Ben?” Her voice is scratchy from sleep, and her mouth feels like mush. She hasn’t really slept while he’s been gone. “It’s really late, is something--”
A roar of sound comes from the other end of the phone and she jerks away quickly, frowning at the earpiece.
What the fuck?
Ben’s voice finally comes through over the noise -- voices? music? it’s hard to tell -- and he’s laughing like an idiot.
“Reyyyyyyyyy,” he says, drawing out the syllable and then giggling, “Hey. Hi.”
“Wait,” she says, sitting up in bed. “Are you drunk?”
He giggles again. “Only a little.”
She stares off into the dark, trying to decide what to say.
Another rush of sound from the phone. “Rey? Are you there?”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” She tries not to be annoyed with him, because damn it, she misses him, but it’s unreasonably late for him to be calling drunk off his ass.
“Yeah,” he starts, then hums. “Almost midnight here, so that means... nine-ish there.”
“Oh my god, Ben. No,” she groans into the phone, fully awake now. “It’s fucking three in the morning, Ben.”
“What?” He laughs again. “That... what?”
“Yes. It’s later here than there.”
He’s quiet for a moment and she can almost picture his furrowed-brow expression. “Are you sure?” he offers skeptically before loosing a half stifled giggle.
She lets out a small sigh, but doesn’t answer.
“Shit. Shit, Rey, I’m sorry,” he blurts, and he must move away from whatever the rest of the noise is -- some kind of party, maybe? -- because suddenly it’s just him there and none of the clamor. “I just... I wanted to hear your voice and I thought...”
“It’s fine,” she says softly, caught off guard by the emotion in his (inebriated) voice. He’s very drunk, but he means what he says.
“No, don’t do that,” he bites out, serious now. “It’s not fine. I always do this shit and you don’t deserve that.”
“Really, Ben--”
“Listen, Rey. I’m serious. I wanted to talk to you but I should’ve...” He pauses, grumbles into the phone. “I’m sorry.”
And now, damn it all, she’s crying in the dark, afraid to say anything and him hear her voice break.
He saves her the indignity by continuing his ramble. “I’m always worried you’re going to find someone better and then I do stupid shit like this and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted someone... not me.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ben,” her voice cracks as she shouts into the phone.
“Look, I’m not wrong, is all I’m saying.”
“Yes you are, dumbass,” she sighs. “I’m such an idiot.” She lays heavily back onto her pillow.
“What?” He doesn’t sound drunk anymore, at least. He’s entirely focused on this, on her, and she knows if he were sitting beside her he’d be giving her that look -- like he thinks she’s some bright spot in his life when she rarely feels that way.
“Just...” she starts, her tears streaming into her hair, “I keep thinking that about you. That you’ll get tired of me and you’ll leave and I’ll be alone again.”
“Wow,” he says, and laughs quietly. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, Rey.”
She laughs, too. “Right? But... I still think it, sometimes.”
He’s quiet for a minute and she fights to stay awake, needing to see this through.
When he speaks again, she can almost feel him there. “I couldn’t love you more if I tried.”
She covers her face with her arm, hiding in the dark. “I love you, too.”
He hums into the phone. “Well, I’m going to go not have any more booze. I’ll um...”
He trails off, as though after all they’ve said he’s afraid, still, of her reaction.
“I’ll meet you at the airport,” she offers. “Good night, Ben.”
“Okay,” he answers. “Yeah. Okay. Good night.”