Work Text:
“You work too much.”
Ben’s pretty sure his mother actually waited until he took a bite of the crepe to start her lecture. Not a bad ploy, he’ll admit. It is hard to scowl when one has pure bliss in their mouth. Even so, just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean Ben doesn’t try.
“So this wasn’t a random breakfast run,” Ben surmises, unfazed. Leia Organa masquerading means of manipulation through acts of kindness? How shocking.
Leia shrugs, feigning innocence, “Just a thought. I would have liked to meet you out for breakfast today, but dragging you out from behind that desk takes a miracle—or a funeral.”
“Well, around the next holiday, plan for either,” Ben says tightly, wiping his hands on the paper napkin before returning to his computer. “Maybe try the miracle first. Funerals should always be reserved for Plan B.”
The momentary lapse of bakery-induced happiness is gone. He’s back scowling at his inbox. Does Resistance only employ people who are illiterate? He clocks seven grammar mistakes in the first paragraph and makes sure to add the corrections in his reply before he even addresses their inquiry. He’s in the middle of typing, Per my last email, when Leia finally gets into what her treacherous pastry was a precursor for.
“You fired Varak last week,” she says. Her tone is mild, probing. “What was it this time?”
“He was sloppy in his work,” he replies.
“He put the wrong milk in your coffee?”
“Twice,” Ben confirms. “And then he fell asleep on the job.” Admittedly, it was when Ben was pulling an all-nighter and it had been at two in the morning when Varak tapped out, but. Still. He has a policy when it comes to assistants.
“Three strikes,” Leia responds humorlessly, probably just so he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of saying it.
Ben shrugs, “Maybe I’m just meant to work alone.”
“You know, for every temp you fire, I have to write a glowing recommendation just undo any damage to their reputation.”
“Sounds like a complete waste of time,” and that’s what you get for wasting mine. The addendum is only in his thoughts. Leia may be the CEO of a high-profile company, but she will still gladly slap the shit out of you if she recognizes disrespect. Her news surprises him though, and it makes him curious. “What’d you write for Binks?”
Leia’s neutral expression twitches into a tired frown, “I said that I admired his...eagerness.”
Ben tries to cover his laugh with a cough.
“Enough is enough, Ben. I’ve been letting you tyrannized your assistants because I thought you would tire yourself out,” she says. “But I’m putting my foot down this time. If you’re going to fire this one, it has to be for real reasons this time.” She’s gotten another one already? He’s so incredulous, he’s almost impressed. But then her words sink in. Real reasons.
“That’s not the law,” he reminds her. Sure, there has to be reasoning but it doesn’t have to be substantial . Substantial is circumstantial anyway. Maybe to him, a coffee repeatedly served without skim milk is more than enough grounds for firing.
“It’s my law.” She’s using her corporate meeting voice. It’s taken Ben years of practice not to wither at it now.
Instead he just glares at his computer screen, agreeing reluctantly, “Fine. Now if you’ll excuse—”
A knock at his door, and before he knows it, she appears in the doorway, dressed in a beige pants suit and nervous smile. Her eyes widen when she sees the two in his office, like she just realized her rude intrusion.
“Sorry,” she says, a belated reaction. “I just wanted to introduce myself before the work day started. I’m Rey.”
While Ben grimaces at her, Leia stands and smiles that signature politician smile, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the voice. I’m Leia Organa. We spoke on the phone.”
“I know,” Rey responds, sweeping across the room like she owns the place, just to shake her hand. “It’s such an honor, Ma’am. I did a dissertation on the Endor system for my undergraduate thesis.” Ben did his dissertation on the Death Star. Leia looks more impressed with her choice than she had with his.
“In that case, the honor is all mine,” Leia says. “We should meet for lunch sometime. I would love to get your perspective on it.” Ben gets why she’s named Rey. When Leia says this to her, the woman beams, like sunlight slicing through the pulled shutters of his office windows. The bouncing energy, the bright smiles...she’s new, fresh to the agency. He might even be her first job post. Poor girl, he thinks to himself.
“Well, I should be going,” Leia checks her watch. “I have an early meeting in fifteen minutes. It was nice seeing you, Sweetheart.” She taps his desk with her knuckles before turning to Rey, “Make sure he clocks out by eight tonight.” Ben has to stiffen an eye roll. Leia hires someone to work for him and she thinks they still report back to her.
When Leia closes the door behind her, Ben doesn’t give Rey the chance to moon over him like she had his mother. He ignores her extended hand, dimming her smile.
“Interrupting me during an important meeting,” he says, not even bothering to keep her gaze as he looks back to his bursting inbox. “Strike one.”
The smile finally evaporates. Good, he thinks as he feels narrowed eyes pinned on him, let’s make this one quick and easy.
:: - ::
A month passes. Rey delivers his coffee order twice a day, once at seven in the morning and again at seven in the evening. She clears out his spam folder and teaches him how to unsubscribe from all of the persistent mailing lists. She screens his phone calls with politeness and precision. She diverts intruding visitors from his office with mindless conversation and witty excuses. She reminds him of appointments and client names when she catches a faint inkling of his struggle.
“A month already?” Leia says. She sounds smug over the phone. Ben can just picture her face right now. It’s the longest he’s ever held down an assistant.
“She’s doing well,” is all Ben will begrudge her. “Anyway, back to the client…”
Rey even does things he never asks. She helps him with all of the endless amounts of paperwork. When his fingers cramp, she types out his emails for him. She sorts his mail from “important: please read now” to “don’t even waste a chance of a papercut.” She gives thoughtful notes on his design sketches.
So far, Rey has been... perfect . To the most annoying degree. Ben scowls every time he thinks about her. But at least the feeling is mutual. She is always cross when they speak. Her eyes spill over with resentment each time he gives an order. Ever since that first day, he never sees that smile directed at him again.
And the hate is good. He’ll use it. If Ben can’t find a way to fire her, he’ll find one to make her quit.
:: - ::
But Rey is not a quitter, he soon discovers. She’s too stubborn, though she listed the trait “determined” in its place on her resume.
Ben stills before he lifts the paper cup to his mouth, earning an indignant look from his assistant.
“What’s wrong with it now?” she asks—no, demands. “I ran to three different chains to find your brand of roasted beans .”
“I know about your efforts,” he says. “Which makes me wonder if this has been poisoned.”
She shakes her head, “They’d suspect that right away. I would go for something less obvious. Maybe put it in the spray of your humidifier.” That’s where their rapport is at right now: casual conversation of murder. They’ve actually come pretty far to reach this stage; at least they make small talk with one another now.
“A drop at the end of my pen would be the best place,” he advises. “I always lick the tip before I sign anything.” It’s a force of habit that’s become a sigil of good luck. Rey nods thoughtfully, as if filing the information into her mind. Ben takes a drink of his coffee. It’s incredible.
It wouldn’t be so hard to make Rey quit if her only interaction was with Ben. To his chagrin, she’s made fast friends around the office. She mostly hangs out with their younger crowd of employees, of whom Ben has not even bothered to learn most of their names. Her closest friend here ends up being Phasma’s intern, Finn Something-Or-Another. Every time Ben glances into the hall from his office, the man is always there, draped over Rey’s desk and distracting her from her work. And that would be perfect , except for the fact that Rey is an excellent multitasker. She can hold a deep conversation with intrusive coworkers while crafting an exquisite excel spreadsheet.
“So I’m the worst, huh?” Ben ribs as Rey drops a stack of folders on his desk. She looks at him blankly before she recalls Finn’s whispered wording just before he’d shut his office door to block out their incessant chattering.
She doesn’t correct him. Rey just shrugs, retorting coolly, “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Solo.” She doesn’t back down from his barbs. In fact, she rises to meet them with righteous ire. Ben’s mouth twitches into a quick smile before he can smother it.
She’s funny. Mostly insufferable, but still. Funny.
“We’re pulling an all-nighter on the Starkiller project,” he informs her.
She had plans. He can tell by the way her lips press together. But still she nods, “Okay.”
Rey purposefully doesn’t close his door when she leaves. She calls Finn to her desk and says, loudly , “You were right. Ben Solo is the absolute worst.”
:: - ::
Ben stares at the plans until his head burns; at one point, Rey even says she can see smoke coming out of his ears.
“It’s perfect. The sketch is seamless,” he always talks out loud when he’s frustrated. “The client approved it. They’re ectatic with the design.”
“But you think there’s something wrong,” Rey says, pouring herself the last drip of coffee into her paper dixie cup.
“There is.” He just can’t see it. Somewhere in the plans, there is a structural error, a fatal flaw. And he needs to find it tonight. Any minute after six a.m. will be too late.
Ben rubs his eyes and checks his watch. He has three more hours. As he contemplates banging his head on his desk, Rey walks over and picks up the sketch. Her gaze scans the sheet for a minute before murmuring, “What’s that?”
He looks at her pointed finger, ready to dismiss her question. But then he looks. He rubs his eyes. He looks again.
“That’s it,” he says. “One misstep in that zone and it all goes crashing down. The whole building is vulnerable. Rey, you solved it.” She’s too tired for a beaming smile, but it’s close. “Leave a voicemail to our construction team,” he instructs. “Halt operations. We need more time with the design.”
“On it,” but she’s not picking up the phone. She’s moving toward the door with a quickened pace. “Celebratory piss,” she waves him off before he can comment on it. “Coffee runs right through me. I’ll be back.”
She just saved their company from a multi-millionaire dollar mistake, and she’s taking a celebratory piss. Ben can’t hide it; he laughs. The noise seems to surprise her, and the ridiculous situation and their shared delirium makes her join in. But then she groans, clutching her stomach to halt the spasms of laughter, “Stop it. This is the cruelest thing you’ve ever done to me.” She disappears out of the room with a jolt. While she’s gone, he makes the phone call to the construction team. She just saved their asses; he can be bothered to make a fucking call.
:: - ::
After that night, Ben tries not to be The Worst. He still tries to trip her up enough to warrant two more strikes, but he doesn’t try to antagonize her anymore. He’s less picky about his coffee specificities. He doesn’t reprimand her when she misplaces his stapler. Ben even says nothing when she takes a little longer lunch break from time to time. His efforts don’t go unnoticed either. It loosens the tension between them. Rey is less combatant, more willing to speak her mind.
“You’re very pensive today,” she comments, sizing him up from her seat in front of his desk. Her feet are propped up by a wastebasket as she double-checks preliminary paperwork. Or she’s supposed to be looking at documents. Apparently she’s looking at him.
“I’m fine,” he asserts stiffly. His temples scream in defiance.
Rey doesn’t look convinced, “No, you’re not. You’ve got your pensive eyebrows on.”
“My what?”
She narrows her gaze, considering, “No, wait. Maybe it’s your headache eyebrows. Or a combination of both.”
“Do you spend a lot of time categorizing my eyebrow expressions?” he asks. “And follow up question: how much does that time take away from you doing actual work?”
“Don’t worry, Sir,” she says. “I save thinking about your eyebrows for strictly after hours.” It’s a joke. She doesn’t really think about him after she steps beyond these walls. Ben has to remind himself of that, but the work he puts into that reminder sends a wave of pain in his head, enough to make him hiss. Rey’s easy-going smile drops in concern, and before he knows it, she’s standing and walking behind him.
“What are you doing?” Ben asks. He gets feathery pressure at his temples in lieu of an answer. Her touch begins soft, rubbing cool circles with the pads of her fingers. Slowly, it ramps up until she’s physically moving his head, up and down, in her circular movement. The fist of pain around his brain loosens with each passing minute until Ben is just a liquid at her touch, free and blissful. Rey could have been doing this for an hour, but when she finally stops, it feels all too soon.
“One of my fosters used to have a lot of migraines,” she tells him, still behind him. Her hands have come down to rest on his shoulders. “She made me do that to her, like, every night I was there. ‘Earn my keep,’ she called it, though I thought that was what all the government checks were for.”
Ben doesn’t get personal. He should just nod and let the information drop down the drain. “How long were you there?” he asks.
“A few months,” she responds. “Her cat didn’t like me, and she obviously wasn’t picking me over that monster. I’m glad though; they deserved each other.”
“In foster care, I mean.”
“Oh,” she’s silent for a beat. “All my life, I guess. From when I was five up until eighteen.”
“And your parents?”
The steady hold on his shoulders tightens, “They’re fine. They just didn’t want me.” The idea is ludicrous to him. Who wouldn’t want Rey? She’s punctual and hard-working and warm and witty—
Ben beats the thought down to a pulp before it can venture elsewhere. She’s a great assistant. That’s all.
As she moves out from behind him, he catches her arm, waiting until their eyes meet before he says, quiet and sincere, “Thank you.”
Rey can categorized every mico-expression on his face with ease, but hers are as elusive as the wind to him. Ben doesn’t have a translation key to how her jaw works to one side and how her brow raises to kiss her hairline. He notices those things, of course, but without meaning, they may as well be ancient dialect on a page.
Her voice is just as soft-spoken as his had been, “No problem, Ben.” She visibly cringes, tacking on hurriedly, “Solo.” She finds her way back to her seat and brings the folder high enough to cover her face, like she needs it as close as possible to digest the words. They both resume their work, but every once in awhile, Ben will feel eyes peeking out from over the mountain of paperwork. Probably still concerned about him.
Without her hands, his headache has returned, but Ben tries to make his eyebrows as less pensive as possible.
:: - ::
“Six weeks,” Leia says. The statement has no relevance on their current conversation, but he soon figures out she’s talking about Rey. She must have caught his stare out the window, pinned on the girl working quietly behind her own desk.
“Can’t find a way to get rid of her,” he responds. Leia lets the subject drop, and Ben is thankful. He’s not ready for the I told you so speech that is practically foaming from her mouth.
:: - ::
“I want to be an engineer,” Rey tells him. She touches the designs in her lap gingerly, with reverence. “That’s why I knocked down your door that first way. I was so excited to be there. Resistance is a place I’ve only ever dreamed of.” The fondness and ambition in her eyes make a dangerous cocktail. Ben drinks it in, shocked at the reflection of himself in her gaze. He was eager like that once. So hungry for work. Desperate for opportunity. It caused him to make some pretty dumb mistakes.
“Are you still in school?” Ben recalls her tripping on her own feet that first day, blabbering to Leia about her thesis.
When she smiles, it is bittersweet. “Finished undergrad. Got halfway through masters before…” she shrugs. “You know, money.” Ben doesn’t know. Money has been an accessory for him all of his life. Even in his worst times, those of grief and selfishness, he always lived in comfort.
Rey goes back to her work, scribbling on a sketch with painstaking, detailed notes. Her comments have always been pragmatic, yet thoughtful. Ben is always so excited to see her work, sometimes even going behind her to peek at her intricate scrawl.
“You’re very talented,” he tells her, and he means it. Rey constructs castles in her mind. She unravels design flaws with her critical eye. She is curious and creative, critical and collaborative.
She is nothing like Ben had expected her to be, and he has never been more relieved to discover his mistake.
They start talking about something else, some innate reality show Rey has been binging on her off-hours. While she talks trashy television, Ben opens up his email, typing out a quick message to Leia. It doesn’t even have a subject line, and he only writes the words: I nominate Rey. He clicks send.
Rey crumbles up a piece of paper and launches it at his head, “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes,” he says, still looking at his computer. “Olivia took Brad on a date even though she’s coupled with Max. And that bothers you because loyalty is everything.” You’re not the only one who can multitask.
“I didn’t say loyalty is everything,” she points out. True, but it was greatly implied from her tone.
He challenges her, “But that’s what you think, right?”
Rey chews on the inside of her mouth, belatedly replying with reluctance, “Well, I mean...Yeah, of course. But isn’t it to everybody?”
Ben betrayed his parents for a quicker check and fast track to the top. He wanted to make partner at First Order so bad, he missed his own father’s funeral. And then he betrayed Snoke to work for Leia again, but it was too late. It doesn’t matter how hard he works with Resistance now. He’ll never make it up to his mother. There will always be a shadow in her eye, a rightfully held hesitation. Ben doesn’t know a damn thing about loyalty. He only knows how to abandon ship when the tide gets too rough.
Ben tells Rey all of that now. After all, since they work together, she should know what kind of person he really is. The truth doesn’t shock her; she’s probably heard a version of the events secondhand before. But it also doesn’t disgust her like he expected. If anything, her expression turns soft, like morning light at daybreak.
“You’re here now, though.” Rey says. “That says a lot.”
Does it? Ben rolls her words over in his mind throughout the day, wondering why a person like her would even try to comfort someone like him.
:: - ::
He noticed. Obviously.
It’s not like he’d been castrated (yes, that was an actual rumor floating around the office; Rey told him about it with barely suppressed giggles). He’s not a robot either (again, another rumor; this time he suspects it was probably started by Rey herself). He’s a straight man with a healthy sex drive. When a pretty girl walks into a room, he notices. Again, obviously .
And so of course he noticed Rey on that very first day she came tumbling into his office. He noticed her hair, tightly wound into three buns on the back of her head, had been a bit frazzled from kinetic energy and static. He noticed her cheeks flushed and her eyes round and brown. He noticed her delicate frame, pale skin swallowed by cheap pants suits. And of course he noticed her lips, pink and crackled like she’d been biting them all morning.
She’s pretty, he’d thought and then placed it to the side, like he did with most women—especially in a professional environment. He noticed, and so she got a first glance. Nothing more. It’s taken eight weeks for him to give Rey a second glance, and when he does, he can’t look away.
She’s leaning over his shoulder, her hand placed on the arm of his chair for balance. Rey looks at his computer monitor with a narrowed gaze, giving him vague instructions on how to work the confusing website.
“Maybe try the ‘our services’ tab,” she suggests, her breath tickling the shell of his ear. She’s so close, and he wonders if she notices, too. The drumming of his heartbeat. The electricity underneath his skin. The tightness of his jaw. Ben follows her instruction but the search for the product proves fruitless. He has half a mind to email the client back and recommend a software engineer.
Rey is wearing lipstick today. He wonders how long she’s been doing so—if she’s been using only nude shades until now and it’s just taken a deep red for him to notice. He glances over at her disposable cup, seeing the lip imprint around the lid. Such a thing should be mundane, not fascinating. Why is it holding his attention for so long, then?
“Try clicking over there,” she says, but Ben wasn’t paying attention.
He tries to follow her eyeline, “Here?” She shakes her head in frustration and then her hand is on the computer mouse. Or, more accurately, her hand is on his hand, which is on the computer mouse. She guides his hand over to a hyperlink, adding pressure into her floaty touch to click on it. And then the order menu pops up, just as the client described.
Her touch on his hand both lingers and is gone too soon. Rey stands up and steps back, placing distance between them once again.
Ben means to say thank you, but the filter between his mind and mouth seems to be molded over.
“You look nice today,” he tells her, surprising both Rey and himself. Rey’s hand goes up to her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. He’s made himself look creepy and her self-conscious. Great job, Ben.
“Thank you,” she says, and then she seems to have the same filter malfunction. “You too. You smell really good.” Rey had mentioned she liked the smell of cloves. Ben coincidentally bought a similar fragrance in aftershave the next day.
“Thank you,” he says, and just so she doesn’t think he’s a narcissist, he follows up, “With the website. I was about to lose my mind if it took me to one more pop-up ad.” It’s not funny—it wasn’t even intended to be a joke—but Rey laughs anyway, weirdly pitched.
“No problem,” she’s picking up all of her stuff, leaving all too soon. “I’ll be out in the hall if you need me.”
Ben was being unprofessional, and she noticed. Even worse, she was freaked out by it. Sighing, he turns his attention back to the computer, and if he punches the mouse harder than necessary with each click, that’s his business.
:: - ::
It’s strange to talk to one another outside of his office. On his way to the elevator, Ben runs into her as she’s lounging at another employee’s cubicle.
“He’s so hot,” Rey is telling her—no, it’s phrased more like a complaint. Rey is complaining . The conversation is abruptly tapered off when he comes into sight. Rey pushes herself off of the wall she was leaning on while the other woman hurriedly turns her face to her computer screen. Ben was hoping he’d be able to slip by unnoticed, maybe even eavesdrop on the two as he walked, but as soon as he rounded the corner, he has their full attention.
Great. Now it’s awkward if he just brushes past them and doesn’t say anything. Small talk with coworkers. God, is there anything worse?
“Aren’t you supposed to be out to lunch?” Ben winces at how accusatory his words come out. He sounds like a teacher, trying to trip a student in a lie. Rey notices his tone too, and it makes her draw further into herself.
“I’m waiting for Rose to finish up,” Rey responds. “We’re going to meet up with Finn and Poe.” She also sounds stilted, uncomfortable. This is not their usual environment where they can trade suggestions as easily as insults. Ben doesn’t know why thirty feet in distance makes a difference, but it does. Painstakingly so.
Finn and Poe. Both reasonably attractive men. But which one has struck Rey’s fancy? No. No. No. Ben doesn’t care. Rey can dream about boys all she wants; it’s none of his business.
“Where are you heading off to?” Rey asks. It’s a reasonable question. Ben rarely leaves his office, save for the restroom and the occasional trip to the break room vending machine. But Leia has finally put her foot down. They’re going out to lunch, she’d told him in a short but stern voicemail. And with Rey around, Ben didn’t have much work to pull excuses from. So he’s going out to lunch. For the first time in, god. Years, maybe.
Rey would probably get a kick out of that. Ben Solo rising out of his cave, she would say but, you know, actually make it funny somehow.
“I have a lunch date,” he says wryly, like it’s a joke. Rey will ask who, and Ben will say Leia, and they will laugh. He sees it play in his head like a scene from a cheesy sitcom. But Rey doesn’t follow the script. She doesn’t ask who. In fact, Rey looks like the last thing on her mind is laughter at Ben’s expense—which is entirely unlike her.
She looks surprised at the news, but there’s no curiosity there. Only a cold expression, settling over her warm features.
“Cool,” she says.
“All thanks to you,” he tells her. Maybe flattery will break the sudden chill between them. “I don’t have any work to hide behind.” Rey has already lost interest in the conversation. She’s looking down at her nails, like the hangnail on her left thumb is telling a particularly intriguing tale.
Having built such a rapport with her, Ben almost forgot that Rey doesn’t actually like him. It’s just a job, and right now, she’s off the clock. She doesn’t have to pretend anymore, especially in front of her friends. Ben knows the whispers that float in the halls of this building. He’s the bogeyman of their firm. He knows this.
But he thought maybe Rey didn’t listen to rumors. Maybe Rey forgave him for the weeks of hell he gave her in the beginning. Maybe Rey was his friend, the first one he’s made since...Jesus, maybe even college.
But Ben was wrong. Great. Good to know, at least.
“Have fun at your date,” she says as he turns away to leave. He doesn’t bother exchanging anymore niceties; he storms his way to the elevator.
At the restaurant, Leia notices his mood as soon as he sits down in his seat and buries his face in the menu.
“Outside air making you dizzy?” she needles. He doesn’t answer. He’s glowering at appetizers. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring Rey along,” she says. “You two have become attached to the hip recently.”
“It’s only because she has to be,” he reminds her tightly, as if she needs a lecture on how business relationships work. “I’m her employer.”
He feels Leia’s stare on him. “Yes,” she agrees. “But I think she likes you, too. Just a little.”
“I’m an asshole workaholic who works for his overbearing mother,” Ben snaps. “What is there to like?”
“You’re a brooding type, just like your father,” Leia informs him. The comparison makes his bones shiver. “Girls like that.”
No, Rey likes wide smiles and heartfelt conversation. She likes boys who are funny and approachable and don’t make her endure a forty-hour work week on a temp salary. Men like Finn and Poe, not like Ben.
He shrugs, his voice wooden, “Not all of them.”
The lunch is quick. Between Ben’s moodiness and Leia’s tight schedule, he’s only been gone for thirty minutes. He walks to his office with adrenaline, a need for work to busy his rattling mind. He’ll find something else. Maybe he should bug Ackbar about giving him more clients.
When he reaches his office, his quickened pace has slowed. She’s there, sitting behind her desk with her chin propped up by her hand. She looks morose. Pensive. Ben makes a mental note of her eyebrow placement for future reference.
“Any calls?” he asks, brisk and to the point.
She jumps at his voice, and when she looks at him, it’s with incredulousness, “What are you doing here?”
Ben blinks, “Uh, I work here.” A ghost of a smile tugs at her thinly pressed lips.
“How was your lunch date?” Rey asks. Ben almost forgets how much Rey admires Leia. She’s probably only been nice to him to get to her. Ben chases that thought away; Rey wouldn’t do that. She’s too kind.
“Manageable,” he responds. “She asked for you. She apparently thinks you run my personal life as much as you run the professional one.” Rey stares blankly at him, like his words don’t translate.
“Do I...Do I know her?” she asks.
Now it’s Ben’s turn to be lost. “Who?”
Rey answers stiffly, “Your date.” Oh. His pathetic little joke. He never got to the punchline.
“It was Leia,” he says. “The lunch date thing...I was kidding.” It hadn’t landed at Rose Tico’s desk but it lands right now, Rey’s sour expression fracturing into one of utter shock.
“Your mom?” she stutters. “It was with her?”
He scoffs, pointing out, “Who else do I hang out with?” Who else, besides his mother? Well, mostly... Rey . He talks to her every single day, morning to evening. They talk about bad television and good books. They talk about things that annoyed them that day, things that made them smile. Ben tells her about engineering schools in New York. Rey tells him about design plans she’s kept squirreled away in her mind. Ben talks about stories from his past; Rey talks about plans for her future.
Ben doesn’t know how he made it through a single day without talking to Rey. It’s become so natural and necessary, like breathing.
“How was your lunch?” he asks. It doesn’t matter if she only thinks of him as a barely tolerated superior. He can’t not talk to her anymore. He’s not strong enough for that.
“Horrible,” she tells him. She hasn’t stopped looking at him, her gaze quiet but consuming. “I couldn’t enjoy anything. I was brooding.”
“Hey, that’s my thing,” Ben points out, and he smiles when she can’t bear to suppress hers any longer.
They’re okay again. Ben can see it in her stare. And if colleagues is all Rey wants to be, Ben can accept that.
A few days later, Rey comes into his office like a woman with a vendetta. She stalks over to him, making him glance up from his work with curiosity and concern.
Before he can open his mouth, Rey demands, “Do you like me? Romantically, I mean. Like in a...romantic sort of way, I guess.” While Rey chokes on her words, Ben doesn’t even have a mind left to gather any.
“Because I like you,” she continues hurriedly, “It’s actually embarrassing how much I like you, Ben. Finn teases me about it constantly. I’m surprised you never heard him, or maybe you did and you ignored it because you don’t like me—which may be true. I don’t know anymore. My friends keep telling me that you do and I always ignored them, but then Leia said something to me in the hall yesterday about you being mad at lunch and I was also mad at lunch. So were we, like, mad at each other for not being at lunch together? Were you trying to make me jealous? You must have been, and it worked. It worked so well. But you don’t need to make me jealous to have me think about you because I already do. I think about you all the time. And I just need you to tell me the truth because—”
And then Ben is kissing her. He anchors his hands on her hips, ducking his head down to claim her lips into his own. He kisses her like he’s always wanted to kiss her, in ways he’d reserved in the most private parts of his mind. He kisses like he aches for it, messy and desperate and maybe a bit too hard—though Rey doesn’t seem to mind. Her hands have come up to look around his neck, delicate fingers tangling in his hair. If talking to Rey comes as easily as breathing, then kissing her is like waking up to a sunrise. It’s natural and expected, like a beautiful part of life, but it still takes his breath away all the same. When they break apart, Rey’s lipgloss is smeared. Ben wets his lips, tasting artificial strawberries.
“Do you want to go out to lunch with me today?” he asks.
When Rey smiles, she beams. “Yeah. It’s a date.”
:: - ::
Weeks later, Leia sits across from them at the diner, a stack of pancakes towering on her plate. Rey followed suit with her order. Though the pancakes are as big as her head, she doesn’t back down from a challenge. Rey eats like she does everything else—with care and determination and precision.
Ben takes a bite of his crepe. It’s pretty good. Not the best thing he’s had in his mouth today (the memory of Rey tangled in his sheets, reduced to gasps of his name, makes his ears burn) but it’s decent.
“All of my credits will transfer, too,” Rey chatters excitedly. “And if I pick up a few accelerated classes on winter break, he said I could be finished with my masters next spring.” She seems to still be in awe at Resistance’s scholarship offer, the amount of funds more than enough to pay back her student loans and help her finish school. It’s not like the company is doing her a favor. With their investment, the firm will be landing the brightest engineer on the market by next spring.
“I’m sure we’ll still have an opening by then,” Leia says, her gaze turning to him. “Thanks to Ben finally deciding to ease up on his workload.” Really, Resistance could hire three new employees with all of the work he’s taking a step away from.
Ben shrugs, his hand finding Rey’s underneath the table, “You were right. I work too much.”