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She woke on Christmas morning not to the sound of her alarm (she had been planning to jump into Finn’s bed and wake him and Poe up with twin snowballs to the face), but the sound of something hitting her window.
“What…” she begun groggily, pushing herself off from her mattress half heartedly, yawning wide enough to make her jaw crack.
Clack.
She frowned, rubbing sleep form her eyes. The clock next to her bed read “08:17”.
Clack.
She groaned, walking to her window and wrenching the curtains open, flinching violently and cursing as sunlight burst into her room.
Clack.
She struggled to open her eyes, and when she did, she wasn’t at all pleased with what she saw. Turning the handle, she unlocked her window and pushed it out, shivering almost immediately at the bite of the cold.
“I told you not to come here!” Rey hissed crossly down at the figure cloaked in black, the only pop of colour a bright red box with a gold ribbon clutched in the figure’s arm.
“You told me not to call you.” Ben said, grinning roguishly up at her. “You didn’t say not to come visit.”
“You’re not welcome here.”
“Aw, c’mon Rey.” His smile turned sincere, brandy brown eyes reminding her of the logs that had been roaring away merrily last night in his fire place, of the drink he had pressed into her hands and shared with her until - until -
“No.” She made a move to slam the window shut.
“Sweetheart.”
She stilled.
“Sweetheart, please, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Can you come downstairs? Can I at least give you your gift? I’ll leave, I just wanted you to have this.”
How could she resist that pout?
“Fine,” she sighed, “I’ll be right down.” Closing the window, she checked to make sure it was locked, and went down the steps, taking her time.
She took great care to tiptoe pass Finn’s room, because she was not letting Ben Solo jeopardise her Christmas morning prank.
She passed by the coat rack to grab her threadbare shawl, wrapping it around her and wishing she had something warmer.
She opened the door to find him leaning against the doorframe, gazing down at her.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” He inclined his head towards her, smelling like fresh snow and toffee nut lattes.
“Merry Christmas,” Rey whispered back, relishing the warmth of him, his unique smell. She tilted her head up, going on tiptoes and closing the distance between them -
Only to be stopped by a box pressing into her stomach and an impish grin on his lips.
“I’m just here to give you your gift,” he teased. “I didn’t think you’d want anything else.”
“I don’t,” she protested, trying to look haughty.
“Merry Christmas, Rey,” Ben said, eyes softening into twin pools of liquid heat. “I’m sorry I annoyed you. Will you open this?”
“And then can I have my kiss?” She grumbled.
He chuckled. “Yes, anything you want.”
“Fine,” she conceded the second time in five minutes.
****
“Oh Ben,” she gasped, “it’s beautiful.” She held up the ivory shawl in front of her, marvelling at the woollen texture, old shawl discarded on the ground behind her.
She didn’t seem to notice, or care. She wrapped his gift around her shoulders and beamed up at him.
He watched, cataloguing every emotion on her face, pleased beyond measure. He knew he’d have to play this next part carefully.
Swallowing, he asked, “am I forgiven?”
“Yes,” she murmured, looking up at him under thick lashes. “Yes, you are. Just promise to not do it again.” She beseeched, gaze turning firm.
“I promise.”
She gaze moved to his lips, licking her own. “Kiss me.”
And he did.
He took his time, slowly deepening the kiss, gently nipping her lips and allowing her tongue to part his mouth, copying her action and licking into her.
She moaned quietly, hand coming up to graze his jaw, sinking her hands into his hair and finding purchase there, pulling him down further to her.
Ben dropped the empty box he had still been holding, arms snaking around her supple waist, crushing her to him and enjoying the little “oh!” she made against his lips.
She nibbled at him now, pace becoming slightly more frantic, before she broke apart from him, gasping.
“It seems I’m being a terrible host,” she dimpled up at him, coy.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He asked, voice slightly coarse from desire.
“Yes.” She grinned. “Come on in,” she stepped back, pointing at the coat rack, “take off your jacket - ”
“But babe,” he let his voice rise to a shout, trying not to grin, “MAN’S NOT HOT!”
Her countenance turned stormy. “YOU JUST PROMISED!” Quick as a flash, she slammed the door closed in his face. He doubled up in laughter as he heard her harpy shriek through the thin wood of the door, tears running down his face.
“Sweetheart,” he gasped between giggles, “sweetheart please.”
“I fell for that once, Ben Solo!” Came her muffled, livid reply through the door. “You can spend Christmas alone!”
He laughed and pulled out his phone.
Ben: Hey Finn, you up?
Finn: Yeah man, just got woken up by some shouting downstairs my house, actually.
Ben: That was me. Do you mind letting me in? Don’t tell Rey, alright? I want to surprise her.
Finn: ????
Finn: Yeah sure, hold up.