Chapter Text
Ben blinks once, then twice, staring at his therapist with raised eyebrows. "A dog," he says, skeptical.
His therapist, having known him for the past six months, is not bothered in the slightest by his reaction, and she simply nods, the hair around her face moving as she does. "A dog," she repeats.
Ben can't still wrap his mind around that. He breathes in, then breathes out, furrowing his brow. "Four-legged, tail-wagging dog?" he asks, as if the whole concept of dog was foreign to him.
She takes a deep breath. It's not quite a sigh, because it would be a little bit unprofessional, as she has repeatedly put it, but it's the closest thing to a sigh she allows herself to let out, and Ben doesn't blame her. "Yes, Ben," she says, with all the patience she can muster, which is a lot, since she has been dealing with him once a week for months, by now. "That's the general idea".
He presses his lips together, then proceeds to stare at his hands, as if fascinated by the pattern of moles and freckles on his pale complexion. "I don't think that's a good idea," he says, in the end, not daring to raise his eyes.
Her gaze cuts through him all the same, even if he doesn't look back at her. Sometimes, he feels awfully exposed, but, he supposes, that's the point of therapy, so complaining about it seems pointless anyway. "Are you allergic to dogs?"
It seems just as pointless to lie. He shakes his head. "No".
"Are you afraid of dogs?"
He shakes his head again. "No," he replies. "Not at all".
She stays in silence for a minute, and Ben can still feel her gaze on him. "Then why do you think it's not a good idea?"
He hates this part - the part in which he has to explain what he feels, and why he feels that way. He supposes that's why he ended up in therapy in the first place - because he didn't know how to put a name to the feelings that were eating away at his heart day by day, and didn't know how to solve the tangled mess his own emotions had become. He knows this, he's aware of this - but it's still pretty difficult to give a reason for his feelings, when he has spent years of his life just avoiding his emotions altogether, pretending there was nothing wrong with that and hoping for the best.
"It's just ..." he shrugs, pressing his lips together. The doctor doesn't press him, and waits patiently for his answer, her gaze still on him. It's not unkind, and it doesn't make him feel uncomfortable. It's just ... well, new. "I don't think I'll be very good at taking care of another living thing. I can barely take care of myself on a good day".
His words are met with a small laughter. He finally raises his eyes, surprised, and he notices the kind smile on her face as she looks at him.
"We have already talked about this, Ben. You have to give yourself some credit," she tells him. Her voice is warm, and her gaze is steady, and Ben doesn't know how to react to all of this, so he just presses his lips together as usual and hopes for some sort of guidance. "You're doing better. You're actually making efforts here, and you're improving. I'm not saying you should go and get a dog the second you get out of my office".
He raises his eyebrows. "No?"
She laughs again, softly. "No," she confirms. "But what I'm trying to say is that pets, especially dogs, help us to deal with anxiety and depression. They give us unconditional love, and a structure, something to care for when we can't take care of ourselves".
Ben stares at his hands again. "What if I'm not able to ..." he tries to say, fighting the urge to shrink into his own shoulders. Being so tall and broad, he has always felt like all he wanted to do was curl up and hide himself. "I don't know, love them the way they deserve?"
It's not about the dog. He knows it, his therapist knows it - probably even the walls know it. Nobody mentions it, though.
"I think we both know you're able to," she says, and to that, Ben doesn't know how to reply.
He stays a few minutes in silence. "I'll try," he whispers, in the end.
*
"You know what," Poe starts, as he dips one of his fries in the ketchup and then proceeds to bring it to his mouth. "I think it's a great idea".
Ben groans, throwing his head back as he usually does when Poe says something he doesn't agree with. "You also thought it was a great idea to eat ramen on an upside down Frisbee instead of on a plate," he reminds him, raising his eyebrows, to which Poe replies with an offended expression and a finger pointed in his direction, ready to defend himself. "Forgive me if I don't exactly trust your judgment on things".
Poe makes an equally offended noise that matches his expression. "I was seventeen!"
"Twenty one".
"Same thing," he replies, with a vague gesture of his hand that probably means something along the lines of stop bringing up the mistakes of my youth, I am a grown man who can deal with responsibilities now. Ben knows he's probably right about it, but he decides not to mention it. "Look, it's a good idea. When me and Finn first started to date, I was worried he'd be bothered by BB8 but instead it kind of helped? You know, with his anxiety and stuff. He was more relaxed when BB8 cuddled him. It helped a lot".
Ben runs a hand through his hair, as he brings the bottle of beer to his mouth and takes a sip of it. "I don't know, Poe," he says, shrugging again, almost desperate to shrink into his seat and disappear. "I'm not that great at taking care of myself".
To say that Poe knows it by now would be an understatement - Poe fucking knows everything about him, after all. He knows at what time he gets up in the morning and at what time he crashes into bed at night, and what he does during the day. He knows his favorite movies and the ones he can't stand. He knows how he likes his coffee, how many plaid shirt he owns, and exactly how drunk he got at his sixteen birthday when they had sneaked out of his parents' house to down one can of beer after another in the old treehouse in the Damerons' little garden.
That's the point of a best friend, Ben supposes.
So that's why Poe gives him a knowing look, staring at him above his burger with the expression of a man who has had to deal with Ben for far too long. Ben doesn't blame him either. "That's the point," he says, and, before Ben can reply, he raises his hand and stops him. "No, listen to me for once, you idiot. You can take care of yourself, I know you can. The thing with the dog, it gives you a routine. A structure. You'll have to step away from your computer every once in a while and exit your goddamn house. That's why I think it's a good idea. When was the last time you went out?"
Ben raises his eyebrows again, confused. "Now?" he asks, gesturing vaguely around him, as if he wanted to show the whole pub to Poe, who's probably already aware of it anyway.
Poe, of course, groans, because that's how people react when Ben acts like himself. "Yes, after I pestered you about it for nearly two weeks. You even keep on putting off the double date with that friend of Finn, it's getting ridiculous," he mutters, as he takes another fry. Before Ben can protest and say that he doesn't really want to date right now and he has other things to take care of, thank you very much, Poe sighs. "Yes, yes, I know you've got a book to write. But you could use some fresh air too, Ben. You look really ... pale".
Ben knows he has fought the urge to say he looks like shit, so he doesn't complain or try to defend himself anymore, and he actually gives Poe points for at least trying. He knows he's right anyway. He does look pale. And shitty. And probably like someone who hasn't seen the sun or the real world, for the matter, in months. "I know," he says, in the end, letting out a deep breath. "I just ... a dog? What if I can't take care of it? What if I end up hurting it? What if it hates me?"
His waterfall of questions is met with a deep laughter, which he thinks he deserves, in the end.
"Shut up," Poe says, simply, shaking his head. "Look, Finn works for a dog shelter nearby. It's a very nice place, I'll text you the address".
He can recognize a lost battle when he sees one.
*
The shelter is different from how he had pictured it. It's a lot more colorful and vibrant than he had imagined it, even from the outside. There are a few plants around the building, many flowers, and the walls are painted in a nice pastel red. It's - well, very different from what he expected.
He stares at it, awkwardly standing in front of the door, glancing down at his phone to check the address Poe had texted him a few days ago, afraid of having messed it up somehow and ended up in the wrong place, but no. It's the right place - he just didn't imagined it like this.
He takes a deep breath, staring at the door. He still can't believe he's doing this - he's listening to Poe, the same person who convinced him butterflies were made of actual butter, when he was a kid, and that got him impossibly drunk the night before graduation.
That Poe, who somehow, between a fuck up and the other, has managed to become a well-adjusted adult who actually has some sort of right to give him advices. Still, a dog.
"Hey," a voice says, bringing him back to reality. "Are you okay?"
He realizes he has been standing in front of the door for at least ten minutes, and a blush starts to creep on his cheeks, as he turns to face the person who has spoken. He's met with curious hazel eyes, a constellation of freckles and raised eyebrows. The girl in front of him seems as unexpected as the whole shelter - she has chestnut hair that brushes against her shoulders, and her skin is almost golden. She seems to glow, in the light of the sun, and he's taken aback for a moment.
All the words he has ever known immediately disappear from his mind. His mouth is dry, and when he parts his lips to say something, nothing comes out of it.
When he doesn't reply immediately, her eyebrows shoot even higher, and she stares at him, expectantly, nodding in the direction of the door. Oh. Right. Fuck, that's why he doesn't ever leave the house.
"Oh. Yes, sorry," he murmurs, stepping aside and letting her open the door.
"Want to come inside?" she asks, keeping the door open for him, and staring at him with a questioning look. No, he wants to say, thank you but not really, but he can't exactly back down now - it would be even more awkward to walk away as if nothing ever happened, so he takes a deep breath and follows her inside.
"Sorry for ... well, that," he murmurs, bringing a hand at the base of his neck and rubbing his skin. "It's just ... not exactly what I expected from a shelter," he adds, as a sort of explanation for his awkward behavior, as she closes the door behind him.
The girl lets out a little giggle. It's a silvery sound, pure and sincere, and it suits her well, he thinks. Don't be stupid about this, he tells himself, but when exactly has he not been stupid about anything at all? "Don't worry, we get that a lot," she says, as she makes her way into the lobby. He raises his eyebrows, confused, and she laughs again. "I work here. It's a smaller shelter, we take in fewer dogs, but we try to provide them a comfortable home until they get adopted".
Oh. "Oh," he murmurs, pretty stupidly, as he looks at her. He's fascinated by the pattern of freckles on her nose - he has never seen someone with so many freckles before, and they suit her face. Stop it, you idiot, stop staring, for God's sake. That's what you get for never leaving your house. "Makes sense," he add, and then he cringes, waiting for the ground to swallow him whole.
Her smile widens, and she exhales, loudly, as if she found him particularly funny, even if Ben doesn't know how she manages to. Nobody has ever found him funny, if not in an exasperated kind of way, a sort of you're so annoying it's funny kind of way. "Are you here to adopt?"
His stomach twists as she stares at him, expectantly.
"Yes. No," he says, because he's himself, and after all these years he still doesn't know how to handle that. He cringes again, as she watches him with a raised eyebrow, clearly confused. "I don't know it yet," he adds, as explanation, hiding his hands in the pocket of his jeans.
Surprisingly, she nods. "It's understandable. It's a big decision, after all," she comments, and her smile doesn't falter for one minute. She looks - so warm, Ben thinks. Maybe it's the deep brown of her hair, or the golden of her skin, or maybe the way she smiles, but she radiates warmth the way he radiates social anxiety and general awkwardness.
She clears her throat, bringing him back to reality again. "Would you like to see the dogs?"
Well, that can't hurt. After all, he's here for that and not to make a fool out of himself. He nods. "Yes, thank you".
Her smile grows wider still, and she guides him in a sunny hallway, Ben trailing besides her, his eyes never really leaving her frame. Standing so close to her, he realizes she barely reaches his shoulders - she's not short, for a girl, but he's so unnecessary tall that she seems petite, next to him.
She clears her throat again. "Have you ever had a dog before?" she asks him, casting a glance into his direction. Her profile is sharp - high cheekbones, straight nose, a dusting of freckles dotting her skin - and Ben is fascinated by her to the point he doesn't remember how to talk anymore.
He tries anyway. "No," he says, then he scrunches up his nose. "Yes. No".
Congratulation, Solo, you really have a way with words. How you even manage to write books is really a mystery.
She barely turns into his direction, staring at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. It makes him blush even harder, red ears peaking through his hair. "Do you answer all the questions like that?"
A strangled little sound escapes his lips, and she lets out another giggle. The sound reverberates in the small hallway, and it envelopes him. "No, sorry," he replies, wincing at his own awkwardness. Talking has never been his stronger suit, and he has spent - well, probably the last year of his life avoiding every social contact, with the exception of his therapist and Poe, so it's not exactly unexpected, but he cringes all the same. "My father used to have a dog, when I was a kid. He wasn't around much, though, so ..."
Stop talking about your life traumas with a stranger, for God's sake.
The smile falters from her face, and she bites down on her bottom lip, her eyes skimming over him. "Oh," she whispers, simply. Her voice sounds unsure, as if she didn't really know what to say.
An awkward silence falls on them, and Ben curses at himself in his mind. He hates this, but he must admit Poe is right - it's been far too long since he has stepped into the world, and even if he has never been quite the social butterfly, it's becoming unbearable. He'll probably end up with a permanent frown on his features from wincing too hard and too often, after this conversation.
He's relieved when they reach the end of the hallway, and she opens a door, the smile back on her face. "Here we are," she says, keeping the door open for him. He steps in, before he can actually say something stupid that will make him regret his existence as a whole, and he's left gaping for a moment.
He had expected - well, dogs, obviously, but also cages and a general mood of sadness, with all these abandoned dog confined in a small space. Instead, he's stepping into a lush, sunny garden and he has to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust to the blinding light, and by the time he can actually see, he's been surrounded by puppies.
Ben has never considered himself a dog person. He loved Chewie, and Chewie loved him, licking his face and rubbing his giant head against his legs every time he wanted to be petted, but that was it. He has never been a dog person, but it's hard not to become one when you are literally surrounded by a sea of excited puppies, with wagging tails and warm, pleading eyes. There's a lot of barking going on, and he feels something rasp against his jeans, as he tries to get his bearings.
"Wow," he says, stupidly. "That's, like, a lot of dogs".
He can hear the by now familiar giggle, somewhere behind him. "Yes," she replies, the laughter so easy to hear into her words. "That's the point of a shelter," she adds, but she's not mocking him. It's more like gentle teasing, and he's surprised to realize he likes it.
He tentatively tries to pet the dog in front of him - an excited, tail-wagging beagle that's looking at him with his big, sad eyes - and something in him goes soft when he notices the way the puppy leans into his touch, nuzzling his little head against his palm. Oh. That's - that's nice.
Maybe Poe was right. Damn him.
"It's nice that they're in the open," he murmurs, turning to face the girl. She's standing a few feet behind him, her arms crossed over her chest, and there's such a radiant smile on her face that he forgets to talk for a whole minute, before he realizes he's staring at her. He blushes. "I mean, I expected cages and all".
Her smile widens. It shouldn't be possible, but instead, it is, and he watches her in fascination as she takes a few step into his direction, coming to pet the dogs circling him. "Easy, now," she whispers, gently. He knows she's talking to the puppies but the sweetness of her voice kind of makes him wish she was talking to him. He blushes again, as she raises her eyes to look at him. "Sorry, they're always like this when someone visits. We have cages, of course, but, well, they're dogs. They should be able to be active and play".
He nods, as he looks around. The garden is not that big, but it's green and sunny, and it kind of reminds him of his childhood, and it makes him want to lie on the grass for a while, just basking in the sun. Now that the dogs have finally calmed down, he notices there are fewer puppies than he expected, but they all look - happy? He expected sad eyes and mournful glances, but instead, they all look healthy and contented.
Now he realizes why Poe has recommended this shelter to him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a warm spot of color at the edge of his vision. He turns a little bit, and he realizes it's a dog, a small, ginger poodle staring at him with wary eyes, as if mentally deciding if being petted was worth the risk of befriending a human.
"That's Buttercup," the girl tells him, as she notices his gaze. He turns into her direction again and she's crouching on the ground, the sun shining kindly on her hair giving them a faint halo. "Come here, sweetheart," she whispers, extending her hand. The poodle stare at her, and then slowly, very slowly starts to walk in her direction, doing its best to avoid him altogether.
The girl smiles, sweetly, as the dog rubs its head against her open palm. "Sorry, she's a bit wary of strangers at first," she says, raising her eyes to stare at him, the smile turning almost apologetic. "Good, Buttercup, you're such a good girl," she coos, as she starts to scratch the dog behind her ears.
Ben, of course, being Ben, snorts. "Who the hell gave her that name?"
The girl doesn't blush or averts her eyes. Instead, she stares right at him and squares her shoulders, trying to look as intimidating as she can while crouching on the grass and petting a small poodle. "I did," she replies.
That's definitely why you should never leave the house, Ben.
He blushes, his face burning under her gaze, but before he can say anything, she continues. "Look, we didn't know her real name when we found her and I had just rewatched The Princess Bride, so," she says, shrugging. He swears he can see a faint pink on her cheeks, but it could also be his mind playing a trick on him. "Buttercup".
He presses his lips together as he clears his throat. "It's ..." he tries to say, staring at the way she pets the poodle. The dog looks at him with the same suspicious look from before, as if she could see in his very soul and was not very impressed. "It's a nice name".
The girl laughs again, and he doesn't notice how tense he is until he hears the familiar sound of her giggle, his stomach twisting. "Shut up," she says, shaking her head. Her hair falls around her face in waves, and he's fascinated by it. He knows he should stop staring, but he doesn't know how to. "As far as we know, she was abandoned on the side of road by her previous owners. She didn't try to run after them or come back home, she just sat there for a few days. Waiting".
The girl stays in silence for a minute, and he sees her gulp, as she pets Buttecup. "Maybe she hoped they would come back for her".
He knows how that feels, he thinks bitterly. He remembers all the nights he has awake in his bed or sitting right in front of the window of his room, hoping his parents would come back to him sooner, just this once, just to let him know that they did care a little bit about him.
Don't project your issues on a fucking dog, Ben, that was not the point of this.
He lets out a deep breath, as he watches the girl pet the small poodle, that's looking at her with such an adoration in her warm eyes it's almost too much. "Can I ..." he tries to say, as he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, as usual when he's embarrassed. "Can I pet her?"
She eyes him, and flashes him a smile. "Sure, come here, let her sniff you first," she says, gently, as she nods in Buttercup's direction. She must notice him hesitating, because she lets a small laugh. "She doesn't bite, don't worry. She's just a little bit scared of strangers but she's a sweetheart".
He finally crouches next to the girl, and extends his hands, letting Buttercup sniff him. The poodle stares at him, as if daring him to attempt anything, her eyes both warm and wary as her snout brushes against his fingers and sniffs him. Then, she must reach some sort of conclusion, because she nuzzles against his palm and licks his hand.
Ben is left gaping. When the girl reaches for his wrist and moves his hand so he can scratch Buttercup behind her ears, he jolts, a shiver running down his spine as her fingers brush against his bare skin.
When he meets her eyes, she's still smiling, but there's something tender in the way she looks at him. "She likes you," she tells him, and bumps their shoulders together.
Buttecup looks up to him, and nuzzles against his palm again, as he scratches her head. "She's such a good girl," he finds himself saying, and it's true. The small poodle rest her little head on his knee, as she basks into his affection, and he's surprised to realize how nice it is, how her warmth bleeds through his bones, reaching a part of him that was deeply frozen. "I want to adopt her".
The girl stares at him, and when he turns to stare back at her, her eyes are big and full of surprise. "Really?"
He realizes he's surprised too. "Yeah," he says, bringing his eyes again on the poodle looking up at him with big, warm eyes. "Really".
*
"You know what," Poe starts, petting Buttercup who has fallen in love with him barely ten seconds after meeting him and is now all curled up in his lap, contented. "There must be some sort of irony to the fact that you are a six-foot-three broad, muscled giant and you got a tiny ass poodle named Buttercup".
Ben blushes, as he watches his dog bask into the affection. "Shut up," he murmurs. "It's a nice name".
*
Having a dog is weird.
First of all, it takes him a few weeks to get used to another living thing around him. Having been on his own for more than ten years, it's new and surprising to realize he's not alone anymore, but he has to share his living space with another creature - a creature that barks and whimpers and nuzzles her head against his legs when she craves his attention, rasping against his sweatpants if he doesn't immediately drop everything to pet her.
It should bother him - after all, he is trying to write a book, despite what Poe says about it -, but, instead, he finds the countless interruptions almost pleasant. Somehow, Buttercup seems to be picking up his mood, because when his thoughts get too dark and gloomy and he grows frustrated because he can't work out a scene the way he wants to, she comes to sit beside his desk, looking up at him with her warm eyes full of affection, and he can't help but sigh and get down to pet her.
He's surprised to realize that, after this, writing comes easier.
And, of course, there's the whole sleeping thing.
Ben has always been on his own - except for the few times Poe has drunk-crashed in his bed during college because he was too wasted to remember how to get to his room, he has never slept with someone beside him, so it's with a sense of curiosity that he regards the warm weight of Buttercup against his back, as he tosses and turns beneath the sheets. He has never slept well - always plagued by nightmares that have only grown worse in the last year -, and he's stunned by how soundly the small poodle can sleep, nestling her small body right against his. It must be uncomfortable for her, because he moves all the time during the night, but she settles right beside him and doesn't ever leave her spot.
The first night is weird. The second, is just new. By the third, Ben is almost soothed by the warmth Buttercup radiates. In the span of a few weeks, he finds himself sleeping better than ever. The nightmares don't leave him, of course, but when he wakes up in the middle of the night and finds her snout pressed against his cheek, her head nuzzling against him as if to comfort him, it's easier to fall back asleep.
And, despite how much it pains him to say it, Poe was right - having a dog to walk gives his life structure, and seeing the light of the day more often than one time at week is ... well, surely nice. He's surprised to realize how much he likes to walk around his neighborhood, Buttercup happily strolling by his side and wagging her tail with wonder everytime she sees something she likes. She picks up fallen leaves, and he has to wrestle them out of her mouth.
She's the most affectionate little puppy he has ever seen, and Ben realizes he loves her and he'd lay his life down to make her happy pretty much after two weeks, as they walk around the block and she leaps to bark at some birds.
Buttercup turns to look at him, and he knows the little devil knows.
*
His therapist looks at him with a small smile, her arms resting on her desk, her fingers intertwined as her eyes are fixed on him. "So, how are you holding up?" she asks him, as she does every week.
And Ben, for the first time in the last six months, raises his eyes from his hands, and manages a small, barely-there smile. "Not bad".
*
It's early in the morning and he's walking Buttercup around the neighborhood as he usually does when it happens.
One moment, he's just slowly strolling toward his building, Buttercup by his side as she plays with ever-more-frequent fallen leaves, and the next he loses hold of her leash as she leaps toward someone walking in the opposite direction.
It happens so fast he doesn't ever realizes, and by the time his mind catches with the reality of it, Buttercup has already fled, and she's excitedly circling a girl, barking and wagging her tail as if she had seen something extraordinary.
"Buttercup!" he exclaims, running after her. He's tall and he has really long legs, so it only takes him few steps to reach his dog and the poor girl who Buttercup has decided to shower in affection. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I don't know what it took over her ..."
All the words die on his lips as he meets her gaze. The girl in front of him is the same girl from the dog shelter, and she's staring at him with her big, warm hazel eyes, an excited smile on her lips as she does. The pattern of freckles on her face still reminds him of a constellation in the night sky, and when he opens his mouth to speak again, he finds himself at loss for words.
"Hey," she says, instead. She never loses her smile, and she bends down to pet an excited Buttercup, who's still wagging her tail at the sight of her old friend. Now Ben gets why she has run so fast. A part of him tells him that he'd run too, if it meant finding this girl at the end of the road. "Hi, Buttercup, sweetie! How are you? Is she doing okay?" she adds, raising her eyes on him.
Ben nods, still too surprised for words. "Yeah," he says, in the end, pressing his lips together. He can feel his face burn, and he's probably as red as the autumn leaves right now, but he pretends not to care about it. "I'm sorry, I promise I don't usually lose her. She was probably too happy to see you to care about anything else".
The girl laughs. He's surprised to realize he still remembers the sound of her laughter, and how it makes his lips curve upwards almost unconsciously. There's a faint trace of red on her cheeks, and he finds himself liking it all too much. "I'm happy to see her too," she says, bringing her eyes on the poodle again. Her hand flies to her little head, and she pets Buttercup as if she had wanted to do nothing else this morning. "I missed her".
He presses his lips together, unsure of what to say. It kind of saddens him to think he has brought Buttercup away from this girl, and he feels guilty. His gaze skims over her, as he awkwardly shifts on his feet, and it's in this moment that he notices the big stain of coffee on her shirt, and the cup she's holding in the hand that's not currently petting his dog.
"You have coffee on your shirt," he states, stupidly. The girl in front of him raises her eyes and stares at him as if he had suddenly gone mad, but then looks down on her shirt and a horrified expression makes its way onto her features.
"Shit," she says, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it further down, as if to assess the damage. The shirt is white, so the coffee stain is pretty visible, right against her chest. He tries his best not to stare at her. "Shit, I have to go to work. I'll miss the bus if I come back home".
He should not say it. He should shut up, grab his excited little dog and let her go to work. Instead, because he's Ben, he says it. "I live here, just around the block," he informs her, gesturing vaguely as if to point out the direction to her. She looks up to him again, confused. "I mean, you can ... I don't know. Try to fix it. Or borrow something of mine. I swear I'm not a serial killer. I just feel sorry, it's my fault you got coffee on your shirt after all".
Jesus, just stop talking.
She stares at him, and he can't read her face at all. It doesn't surprise him - he's always been as emotionally-savvy as a rock, which is really inconvenient if you're a writer, but somehow written things have always been easier to read than human emotions, to him.
He blushes under her gaze, and he really hopes the early September breeze has not swept his hair too much, making the tips of his ears peek between the strands. There's a reason for keeping his hair this long.
"Okay," she says, in the end. Her lips curve into a smile, and she throws the now empty cup of coffee in the trash bin, before stepping beside him. "Thank you," she adds.
Ben is so dumbfounded he almost forgets to speak for a whole minute. "It's the least I can do," he says, in the end, as he grabs Buttercup's leash and starts walking towards his apartment. "I mean, it's kind of my fault".
She laughs, so quietly and gently. Buttercup strolls happily besides him, her little head turning from him to the girl beside him, as if she couldn't quite believe her luck this morning. Little devil, he thinks.
"By the way," he adds, as they reach his building. He opens the door and keeps it open for her. There's no elevator - it's an ancient building in the middle of Coruscant, he didn't expect it to be, so they start climbing the stairs. He's lucky he lives at the fourth floor, because he has the distinct idea that Buttercup would flop on the ground and refuse to climb more than a few flight of stairs. "I haven't really introduced myself. I'm-"
"Ben, I know," she says, flashing him a smile. He's left gaping, his brows furrowing. "Sorry, I read it on the papers when you adopted Buttercup. I'm Rey".
He opens the door of his apartment with an astonished look, because it's kind of becoming a habit. "Oh," he says, as they step inside. "Nice to meet you. I'm, like, sorry it had to involve spilled coffee".
Rey laughs, shaking her head as they step inside, and Ben closes the door behind them. "Nice to meet you too," she says. She seems really happy to see him. Or Buttercup. Maybe Buttercup. After all, she had seemed pretty close to the dog.
He unleashes Buttercup, who goes to drink out of her water bowl, and then he presses his lips together, staring awkwardly at Rey. It's weird to see someone else in his living room, especially since he doesn't remember the last time a girl had been there.
Never, probably.
His eyes take her in almost eagerly, as if a deep hunger had momentarily possessed him. "Uh, the ... the bathroom is this way," he says, remembering why she's here in the first place. He shows her the way, and she trails beside him, her eyes taking in his apartment with attention, the corner of her lips barely curving upwards. "I don't think you can salvage the shirt, though. I can lend you something of mine, if you want to".
Rey shrugs, seeming unbothered by the whole thing. "Okay, thank you," she says, as she follows him into his room. Ben has to repeatedly tell himself to keep it together, because otherwise he'd be blushing and stuttering on his words until the end of time. He knows the tips of his ears are still red, and he hopes Rey hasn't noticed yet.
He busies himself browsing into his drawers, trying to find something that would suit Rey, but, after a bit of rummaging, he has to settle for one of his many plaid shirts that will definitely be to big on her wiry frame. "Here," he says, handing her the shirt. He grimaces, pressing his lips together in a pout. "Sorry, I have nothing that will actually fit you".
Her hand brushes against his, as she takes the piece of clothing. Her fingers are warm and delicate, and a shiver runs down his spine. "Don't worry," she replies, her smile as bright as ever. "Thank you for this. You're really saving my life here".
He chuckles. "Anytime".
Rey disappears into the bathroom, and Ben is left in his living room, staring at Buttercup, who has decided to sit upon his couch with the expression of a dog who has just had the beast treat of her life. "You monster," he tells her, but he can't help the fondness in his voice as he leans to pet her. Buttercup seems all too happy to bask into his affection.
After, he walks into the kitchen, and, without much thought, he starts the coffee brewer, the familiar scent of caffeine filling the air after a few seconds. He ponders about it for a minute, then decides to pull out both cream and sugar because he doesn't know how Rey likes her coffee. It feels weird, to make coffee for someone else, but it's not unpleasant, and he finds himself humming, as the first rays of morning sun shine through the windows of his kitchen. He's starting to pour the coffee in a mug, when he hears her footsteps.
"You were right, it doesn't fit me," Rey says, a hint of humor in her voice. "Be honest, do I look ridiculous?"
Ben turns around, the pot of coffee in one hand, the mug in the other, and he knows he's blushing, but he can't help himself. The shirt looks definitely big on her, falling past her thighs, but she looks - good, wrapped in his shirt. A part of him tells him he'd like to see her wearing his shirt and nothing else. He tries to shut the part of him up.
"No," he's quick to say, blushing even harder. "I mean, you never know, maybe oversized men plaid shirt will be the next trend in the fashion industry".
Rey laughs, throwing her head back for a moment. Her laughter fills his kitchen, and makes it look even brighter. He notices Buttercup strolling right beside Rey, rubbing against her legs to catch her attention. That little monster.
He clears his throat. "I made coffee," he tells her, even if it seems pretty pointless, since she can clearly see it for herself. "I mean, I made you spill yours, so ..."
He finishes pouring the coffee in the mug, and then he hands it to her, trying for a smile. He doesn't know if he manages - he isn't exactly very used to smiling, especially since the last year happened - but the look she gives him, warm and affectionate, is enough to make him willing to try. She takes the cup of coffee and tastes it, then proceeds to scrunch up her nose and grimace.
"Needs cream," she says, as an explanation, and he's quick to point it out to her where the cream is. She fixes her coffee in silence, her eyes skimming over his kitchen.
It feels new - a sort of intimacy he has never shared with anyone, he realizes. Poe has been there a few times, especially in the last few months, but he has never stayed till morning, and Ben has never made coffee for anyone.
It's nice, he thinks.
Don't get used to it.
"Your apartment is beautiful," she says, after a while, bringing her coffee to her lips. She takes another sip, and this time her face melts into a contented expression, and Ben feels something warm spreading through his bones at the sight. "Really. It's amazing. What do you do to afford it?"
She stays in silence for a second, then winces. "Sorry, that was rude".
He chuckles, quietly. "No, it's okay. I write, by the way," he replies, shrugging a little bit, his hands finding their place in the pockets of his jeans. When Rey turns to face him, her eyes widening a little in wonder, his face goes red again. "Novels, mostly. I mean, I tried poetry when I was in high school, but it was atrocious".
A giggle escapes her lips. "Are you, like, famous or something?"
How do you answer to something like that? Yeah, but nothing serious?
Ben rubs his neck again, his eyes darting from Rey, perched up against his kitchen counter, to Buttercup, who's currently happily sitting beside the girl, as if to guard her. The traitor. "Uh, not really," he replies, in the end. Then, because he dies to change the subject, he continues. "Buttercup seems really happy to see you".
Rey stares at him, then she lowers her gaze to find the poodle there, her little head resting against her leg. "I've missed her," she says, in the end. Her voice is fainter than usual, as if she was afraid of admitting it. "I mean, I'm happy she got adopted and she seems really happy and cared for, with you. I just ..."
She shrugs a little bit, and for a moment, she looks younger than she probably is, all wrapped up in a shirt too big for her frame, her expression something almost vulnerable, without the usual smile.
"When I started working for the shelter, I knew I couldn't get attached to the dogs we rescued. They were going to get adopted anyway, so it was only a matter of time before I had to say goodbye," she says, in the end, turning to face him with a small smile on her face. "But Buttercup has always been special".
He smiles too, unable to help himself. "Yeah, she has a way of making you love her," he comments, eyeing the poodle, currently curled up against Rey. The next words come out of his mouth without him trying to stop them. "Listen, I know it may sound weird, but ... if you want to, you can visit her sometimes".
Her gaze shoots up, and she looks at him with a surprised expression, her eyes wide and her lips parted. Before she can say anything, he continues. "You don't have to come here, I mean. We can meet somewhere, like, in a park. And you can play with her all you like, if you want to," he says, words spilling from his lips almost as in a dream. "I suppose it's only fair. You love her, and she obviously loves you too, otherwise she wouldn't have leapt, earlier, so ..."
It's mental. It's the worst idea he's ever had. Rey will probably think he is a serial killer, and she will punch him in the face and then run away from him with Buttercup under her arm. He doesn't know why he has blurted out all of that, but something in chest had gone tight watching her stare at Buttercup with such a longing on her features, and he's an idiot, so he's not actually surprised he has come up with the worst idea ever.
Instead of punching him, Rey smiles. "You're serious?"
Ben rubs his neck as usual, pressing his lips together, not even daring to hope. "Yes," he replies, trying to smile too.
Rey squeals - there's no other way to put it, she fucking squeals. "That- that would be amazing!" she exclaims, happily, as if he had just handed her the solution for all the world's problems. She looks - so radiant, and vibrant and full of happiness, like this. He tries his best not to like it so much. "I must hurry to work right now, but, here ..."
She grabs the pen and the post-it he has on his kitchen counter - he has bought them in a futile attempt at being organized, when he thought he could do normal things like a grocery list -, and scribbles down something, quickly. "Here's my number. Call me, when you want to," she adds, with a smirk.
Ben tells himself it doesn't mean anything.