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“Ah, Mr. Ren!” Mitaka greets the newcomer warmly before he turns to gesture at Rey. “Have you met Ms. Smith? She’s new here as well, just joined us this past week–”
Ren offers her a polite smile and extends his hand. “Hello, Daisy.”
“Hi again, Mr. Ren,” she says with a shy little smile of her own, shakes his hand and subtly clears her throat when his touch lingers a little longer than appropriate. Mitaka is puzzled yet pleasantly pleased when they both turn back to him – always pleasant, always pleased, this one – and Rey takes it upon herself to explain. “We shared an elevator this Monday, had a little chat when we both realized it was our first day.”
“How nice!” Mitaka beams, looking from her to Ren to her again. “You should know, everyone here at First Order is so excited to welcome the both of you aboard. How are you finding everything so far?”
After twenty minutes of listening to Mitaka sing FO’s praises and watching Ren give away his impatience with distracting little motions, Rey excuses herself to the bathroom and takes the opportunity to give herself a little pep talk. “You’re at a work event, this is work, you are not going to jump him–”
All of it proves to be for naught when she emerges from the single-stall bathroom only to be pushed back into it by a worked-up Ben.
“Fuck,” he hisses against her ear as he locks the door, rests his hands low on either side of her waist as he backs her up against the wall. “Do you have any idea how distracting you are in this dress?”
Rey grins. “Oh, this old thing? I’ve had it hanging in my closet forever,” she shrugs as Ben leans in for a thorough kiss, their first all week.
“I know,” he mumbles between kisses. “You wore it on our third date, and on our honeymoon, and on our second anniversary. This, Mrs. Solo, happens to be your favorite fuck me dress.”
“Quite a memory you have there, Mr. Solo,” she says teasingly, smiles into one last kiss before she brings her hands up to his chest to give him a slight push away. “And you’re one to talk. Every time you run your fingers through your hair it makes me think of how it feels in my hands when I’m sitting on your face.”
Ben leans down, hides his face in her neck with a groan. “This is torture. How much longer?”
“Poe has us down for two more weeks,” she recalls mournfully, carding one hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe the both of them.
“When that asshole said he was sending us undercover together, I thought he meant together,” Ben grumbles before he presses a trail of kisses along her collarbone. “I can’t take this anymore, Rey. Can’t sleep without you by my side.”
“I know, love,” Rey sighs, closes her eyes and lets her head fall back against the wall. “Me too.” She keeps her eyes closed, lets them have this little moment with her hand in his hair and Ben’s lips on her skin.
“Screw the mission, let’s go home,” he mutters into the hollow of her neck after a minute.
“You know we can’t,” she points out, but what was meant to be a stern reminder comes out shaky and weak instead. “Hey, tell you what,” Rey says, using her grip on his hair to make Ben look up at her. “Your access codes should be activated by Monday, and my credentials have been cleared. If we work together, we might be able to get our intel and get the hell out of here in one week rather than two.”
She watches the cogs in Ben’s head go to work. “Doable, but it’s gonna be a challenge,” he finally declares. “We can’t risk communicating outside of work, and it’ll be suspicious if we suddenly start spending all of our time at the office together.”
“Well…” Rey smiles. “Maybe Kylo Ren could ask Daisy Smith for a dance when we get back in there.”
“He could?” Ben asks, only the slightest bit confused as he waits to hear the rest of her plan.
Rey can’t resist the urge to stretch up on her tiptoes and give his scrunched-up nose an Eskimo kiss; seeing her confident, assured husband all clueless is just too adorable. “Mm-hmm,” she hums. “And maybe that could be the start of an office romance for our two protagonists.”
Ben exhales, a little huff of barely-detectable laughter against her lips. “Sounds hot,” he says jokingly.
“Oh, it’ll be torrid and passionate,” Rey agrees as she stands down, holds Ben back with a palm pressed to his chest when he tries to chase after her. “The kind of affair that involves at least three not-so-secret quickies every day.”
“I immediately and wholeheartedly approve of this plan,” he decides, and Rey shakes her head at him fondly.
“We won’t actually be having sex in a supply closet, Ben,” she clarifies with a little smack to his bicep. “It’ll give us the perfect cover to meet throughout the day and compare notes. Totally professional.”
“Terrible plan, I hate professionalism,” her husband frowns.
Rey rolls her eyes. “You can fuck me after we’ve completed this mission in half the time.”
He drops his head back onto her shoulder, moves lower so that his lips brush against the swell of her breasts. “But I want to fuck you no-o-ow,” Ben whines, one hand sliding past her waist and her hips to pluck at the skirt of her bandage dress.
“Ben!” Rey chides him with barely-suppressed laughter in her voice, more amused than scandalized.
Her rascal of a husband knows it too, judging by the way he lifts his head from her chest to flash her a challenging smirk. “Bet I could get you off in five minutes.”
Oh, she knows he can. And it’s been a week now, one full week of a bed that feels too big without him in it and fingers that feel too small in comparison to his.
“Screw it,” Rey mutters, throws all caution to the wind and smiles despite herself as she helps him hitch her dress up to her waist.
Ben immediately drops to his knees, and Rey’s last coherent thought is to thank every god there is that Poe ruled out having them wear comms for this mission.