Chapter Text
The day she finally brings Ben back to her studio apartment, the first words out of his mouth are:
“You have a loft bed.”
It’s the first coherent sentence uttered between them since they rushed out of the restaurant like desperate, giddy teenagers thirty minutes ago, and it’s accompanied by an amused little quirk of Ben’s lips as he turns to her. Rey flushes under his observation, feeling unbearably childish and small as they stand in the doorway of her humble abode that’s worlds away from his proper, fancy grown-up apartment.
“It's a good way to maximize your space,” she says defensively. She'd taken the tiny fourth floor apartment because no one else wanted the long climb - the elevator hasn't worked in years - and it was slightly cheaper, but as a nice bonus at least she has high ceilings and rooftop access for a little garden. It's not much, especially compared to Ben's place, but at least it's hers.
Ben blinks at her tone and offers her a rare boyish grin. “I always wanted a loft bed,” he admits.
“Oh.” Rey’s not quite sure if she’s reacting to his unexpected confession or his disarming smile, but she allows a slow grin to bloom on her face as she tries to picture little Ben clambering up his tiny stairs to his tiny bed. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Ben shrugs as he walks further into the apartment, leaving Rey to close and lock the door behind them. “But my parents were always worried I’d fall off during a nightmare. And by the time those stopped, I’d already hit puberty and outgrown the one I wanted.”
He doesn’t want pity, Rey knows; doesn’t need it, or an awkward sorry, or some clumsy attempt to dismiss his past by pointing out that hey, at least things are better now. So she bites back the urge to react to his words the way she thinks a good girlfriend should and glances over her shoulder at her tiny, flimsy bed instead, and bites her lip in silent consideration for a second.
“I’d invite you up, but I’m pretty sure it’d collapse.”
She doesn’t even mean it that way, is only thinking of Ben’s weight and hers and the way the bed creaks even when it’s just her climbing her way up, but–
It’s too late. Ben turns back to raise a single brow at her – he knows she hates it when he rubs that particular ability in her face – and gives her a little smirk as he pretends to size up the bed.
“Oh yeah,” he tells her with a serious nod and a little furrow between his brows, even as his lips twitch with the effort to fight off a smile. “There’s no way this thing would survive us.”
God, he’s such a cocky little bastard.
Rey absolutely adores him for it.
“There’s always the couch,” she points out as Ben advances upon her with an all-too-familiar look in his eyes.
She shrieks when Ben sweeps her off her feet with no warning, can’t help but giggle when he throws them both onto the couch with such force that they nearly bounce off the squishy old thing.
“Thank god for the couch,” he says as he rolls onto his back and lets Rey straddle him.
“Thank god for the couch,” she agrees, and leans down to kiss all thoughts of couches and beds and nightmares away.