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Sophie Beckett tugged down the hem of her silver dress. She wasn’t sure how she’d let her roommate talk her into wearing something so short, but it was probably the last party of her school career, so what the hell.
She felt self-conscious in it. The clinging fabric drew attention to the fact that she didn’t have the curves to fill it out and to her flat chest. After only a few months on estrogen, she still lived in fear of being constantly misgendered. At least the dress helped decrease that.
She ducked into the frat house’s kitchen to find something to fill her cup. Anyone she knew had abandoned her long ago, and she was almost ready to leave.
A very drunk man was in the kitchen, guzzling whatever was in his cup. He whooped in victory when he slammed it down.
Sophie looked around the kitchen. If the man had ever had any mates in here, they were long gone.
He apparently noticed the same thing but tried to play it off by shooting her finger guns.
“Pretty cool, huh?” he asked, slightly slurring his words.
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” she said, starting to back out of the kitchen.
“Waaaaait don’ leave me,” he said, lurching clumsily forward, “You’re so prettyyyyy.”
“And you’re drunk,” she said.
He stopped in his tracks. “‘M not drunk; I’m buzzed. And Ben. Buuuuuuuzzed and Ben. Alliteration.” He giggled.
Sophie stared in horror. “Do you have anyone you can call to pick you up… Ben?” She asked. She could at least make this idiot someone else’s problem.
He exaggeratedly patted all of his pockets and then giggled again. “I have no phones,” he said, immensely pleased.
“And you’re too drunk to know any numbers,” Sophie sighed
A dark-haired woman in a fantastically stylish dress entered the room, giggling, with an entire bottle of Vodka in her hand. When she saw Ben, she stopped laughing.
“Fucking hell, Bridgerton, again?” She said incredulously.
“Hiiiiiiii Genevieve,” Ben slurred, grinning dopily. He was probably on weed. No one was naturally this happy drunk.
“Phone,” Genevieve snapped, gesturing to a phone behind Sophie. Sophie obligingly grabbed it. Genevieve unlocked it with Ben’s thumb and called one of the emergency numbers.
“Colin. It’s Delacroix. Yeah, hi. Ben’s drunk. 314 College Street. Yes! Well, I’m not fucking babysitting him. What the fuck do you think happened? Henry finally dumped him for someone with a better ass. Not my fucking problem!” She barked. She hung up the phone and shoved it into Ben’s pocket. “Later, slut,” he bade Ben. She saluted Sophie.
Sophie waved shyly. Ben, who was apparently a clingy drunk and a happy one, reached out and grabbed Genevieve’s wrist. “Staaaaaay,” he whined. “Sleep with me again, Genny?” He asked, attempting to grind on her.
Sophie blushed. Her eyes and ears begged for bleach.
Genevieve just rolled her eyes and tugged herself free. “No, thank you, that happened three too many times already. And I’m dating Sienna now, so you are high, dry, and heartbroken,” she said, punctuating each word with a jab of a sparkly nail to his chest. She sashayed out of the kitchen.
“Wait, you’re not going to- aaaand she’s gone,” Sophie called after Genevieve. “I don’t suppose you can wait here on your own until your ride gets here?” She asked Ben. He wrinkled his nose.
Sophie sighed. Fucking good-person instincts. She took hold of one of Ben’s arms and started steering him towards the exit. “Maybe the cold air will clear your mind a little.”
Outside, Sophie shivered and rubbed at her arms. Her pleasant buzz evaporated in the cold and did little to protect her. Ben shook his head a couple times like a dog climbing out of water.
“Better?” She asked.
“Blegh,” he said, then leaned over and vomited in the dead flower beds.
She reposed her question.
“‘M still drunk,” he said slowly, although now he seemed unhappy about it. He started shrugging out of his jacket.
“No, no,” Sophie started quickly, trying to stop him.
He wrestled out of it anyway and held it out to her. “You’re cold.” He said. He chuckled and then said, “Hi, cold; I’m drunk!” Then he sat down on the ground, perilously close to his puddle of vomit, and started bawling his eyes out.
Sophie stared in horror. Maybe she should go back inside- Genevieve had already told whoever was picking him up the address. But she had already taken his jacket, and she would probably just end up going home if she left now.
She sat down on the front steps. “Don’t sit there,” she advised.
Ben pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.
“Seriously, move. You’re right by the sick.” She gestured to the offensive puddle.
Ben reluctantly stood up and sat down next to her.
“I’m Ben,” he said, offering her a hand. He was still slurring, but he seemed more of a sleepy, coherent drunk now. Sophie used two fingers to shake it.
“So why are you here?” She asked, throwing caution to the wind. “I mean, sitting on the steps of a frat house at two a.m. with a total stranger, completely wasted.”
Ben tilted his face one way and then the other. “‘M an art student. And I got dumped.” He deflated exaggeratedly onto the steps.
“What kind of art?” Sophie asked, going with the safer of the two options.
“Painting mostly. Occasionally digital or pencil. I like acrylic. This is my….” He started counting on his fingers, but once he got past three, he just put them all up. “Lotta art school.”
Sophie took a moment to decipher what he meant. “Why do you keep transferring schools?” She asked.
“Jus’ don’ like ’em,” he said. “What about you? How many schools you been to?” He slurred sleepily.
“Just this one, I can’t move. I have a partial scholarship, but I have to pay the rest myself. My stepmom’s a bitch, and my parents are dead,” Sophie felt the words come spilling out of her.
He huddled quietly on the steps. “Sorry,” he said. He hesitated. “Wanna drink? I wanna drink.”
Sophie grabbed his sleeve as he tried to stand up and yanked him back down. “Sit. Your ride is coming.”
“Don’ have a ride. He dumped me.” Ben flopped exaggeratedly forward onto his knees. “Fucking photography majors. Don’t fuck a photography major.”
Sophie giggled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Leas’ yer nice,” he slurred, still resting one cheek on his knee. He looked perilously close to falling asleep. “Don’ stop bein’ nice, mystery lady. The world needs more people who aren’t photography majors.”
“There, there,” Sophie consoled, patting his arm.
A car pulled up to the curb, and the window rolled down. “Holy shit , Benedict, get in the fucking car before Anthony wakes up and notices I’m gone,” the driver hissed across the lawn to them. Two teenage girls were also in the car, one with dark hair and one redhead.
Sophie guessed this was Ben’s ride. She pulled Ben to his feet and herded him to the car.
The man in the driver’s seat looked at her suspiciously, but he unlocked the doors. Sophie opened the closet one and shoved Ben into the backseat. She tossed his jacket and phone after him.
Ben lunged over the driver’s headrest to hug the driver. “HIIIIIII Colin,” he shrieked, much louder than Colin’s vengeful whisper.
“Don’t you fucking ‘hi Colin’ me! It’s almost midnight, and here I am sneaking out of the house to get your sorry ass ! Do you know how fucking mad Anthony will be if you flunk out of another fucking art school?” Colin snapped back.
Ben flopped back into his seat. He finally noticed the girl in the back with him. “Wheeze!” He declared happily.
“Holy shit,” she said slowly, looking at him.
“Eloise, blackmailing me into midnight ice cream for you and Penelope does not mean you can say whatever the fuck you want; stop cursing,” Colin hissed. Sophie finally won her battle to buckle the lap belt.
“It does if I might tell Mother and Anthony about you taking us.” Eloise retorted. Sophie slammed the car door shut. Penelope gave her a shy wave as it pulled away.
Sophie stared blindly after it for a moment, then she turned and went back up to the house to grab her own coat and head home. You meet the strangest people at parties.
~Two years later~
Sophie hated working at McBurger King. But bills demanded to be paid, and by combining this with cleaning houses on the weekends and trying to get her home repair business off the ground, she could just about get by. Never mind that ‘get by’ sometimes meant strategically hiding a tear in a shirt she didn’t have time to mend or money to replace.
“Welcome to McBurger King; how can I take your order,” she droned as the next person in line stepped up. She put their order in the computer.
The door chime rang. Two guys walked in. The one on the right looked vaguely familiar…
Oh, fuck no. It was that guy from the house party a few years ago- what was his name? Ben!
For a moment, Sophie contemplated the idea that he wouldn’t recognize her- it had been two years, he had been shitface drunk, and she had transitioned more fully since the party. But she really didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially anyone she knew. She quickly ducked under the counter and beckoned one of her nicer coworkers over to take her till.
She could hear Ben and the other guy talking as they got closer.
“What the fuck is a McBurger King?” The other guy said, probably in the same tone he used to pronounce ‘poor person.’
“It’s normal people food, Anthony. I’m surprised Kate hasn’t made you come here yet.” Ben retorted. Sophie checked her phone. Her shift was almost over.
“Kate is a woman of great taste,” Anthony said. Then he hesitated. “Her pregnancy cravings are just driving her crazy. I caught her eating a spoonful of mayonnaise with peanuts sprinkled in yesterday.”
Ben gagged audibly, voicing Sophie’s reaction.
She stayed under the counter until they had gone to sit down at a table. Sophie waved off her coworker when they tried to ask why she had hidden. She made it through the rest of her shift without incident, sneaking out the back before Ben and Anthony could see her. Just one quick bus ride, then she could go home.
Until she heard someone calling her name. “Sophie! Sophie!”
Shit. Her manager had followed her out. “Mr. Cavander,” she said, plastering her customer smile on her face.
“Oh, no need for formality; I’m not that much older,” he said. Sophie wanted to crawl out of her skin. And here she thought she would get away with not having to interact with humankind.
“In fact, I was thinking,” Philip continued. “That we could go out sometime. For some real food, not the crap we serve.”
“You’re too kind,” Sophie said, although he was anything but. “But I really don’t think-”
“Oh, come on,” he said before she could even finish her refusal. “I promise I could make it worth your while,” he said suggestively.
Sophie had to keep herself from physically recoiling.
“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to.” She stood firm.
Philip grabbed her wrist. “Don’t be a fucking prude, Sophie. Go on a date with me.”
“I don’t want to!” Sophie insisted more harshly this time, trying to yank her wrist free. Were all the assholes in the world pulled to her by magnetic attraction?
“I promise I’m a good kisser,” Philip said. His other hand grabbed her other arm, and he leaned in, trying to kiss her. She strained backward and turned her face away. She yanked both of her arms desperately, trying to free herself.
Finally, she settled for bringing one of her knees up as hard as she could, kneeing Philip in the groin. He threw her to the ground, groaning in pain.
“I said no!” She yelled. “Leave me alone!”
“What the fuck is going on over there?!” A third voice joined in. Sophie turned to see Ben and Anthony rushing toward them.
Anthony grabbed Philip and dragged him backward as Ben helped Sophie off the ground.
“Are you alright, miss?” Ben asked as he helped her up. He didn’t seem to recognize her.
Anthony physically hurled Philip toward his car. “Get the fuck out of here! And if this lady tells me you’ve tried this before, or if you ever do again, I’m calling the fucking cops!” He yelled after him. Philip cowered and ran, still whimpering in pain.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ben repeated.
Sophie tried to clear her head. She was shaking, she realized, and Ben still had a hand on her elbow to steady her. She quickly tugged her arm out of his hand, and he took a step back. “I’m fine, I think,” she stuttered out, trying to get control of her body again. “I’m just shaken. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Do you need a ride home?” Ben asked.
Sophie quickly shook her head. The thought of waiting alone for the bus was abominable, but it was still better than getting into the car of a veritable stranger.
“No. I’ll just- I’ll stay here and call my stepsister.” Of Sophie’s stepfamily, Posey really wasn’t that bad. She was just always cowed by her bitch mother and sister. She might pick Sophie up if she could get away.
“Would you mind if one of us waited with you? Or we could call our mum; she lives just down the road.” Ben offered.
Sophie breathed in shakily. “No, I wouldn’t mind. Let me just call my ride.” She stepped out of their earshot and dialed Posey’s number.
Her heart sank as she heard Posey’s response. “Hello? Who is this?” She was whispering too. She must be with her family, and now there was no way she would get Posey to come to pick her up.
“It’s Sophie. Posey, I really need to come pick me up; something awful happened at work-” Sophie cut herself off before the tears could enter her voice.
“Sophie, I can’t. I’m with my mother. Just ask someone else for a ride.” She hung up.
Sophie choked back tears and swallowed her pride. She turned around. Ben was standing there alone now, on his phone.
“Where’d Anthony go?” She asked.
“Home. His wife is pregnant, and she wanted McBurger King; that’s why we were here in the first place. I don’t mind waiting, though.”
Almost as soon as he finished speaking, a practically cataclysmic torrent of rain poured out of the gray sky, drenching Sophie and Ben. As she spluttered in shock, feeling icy rain soaking her to the bone, she made up her mind that she was not waiting for the bus in this.
“Actually, um, my stepsister can’t come get me. Is that offer of a ride still on the table?”
“Of course,” Ben said quickly. “We drove here separately. I can drop you off anywhere. Just tell me.”
Ben quickly directed her to his car (a piece of shit), and they both dove inside to seek shelter from the rain.
“This is really kind of you. Thank you.” Sophie said, swiping at one of her watery eyes.
“Don’t even worry about it. I’m just being a decent human.” He hesitated before speaking again. “Truthfully, Anthony and I have four younger sisters, and anytime I see a situation like earlier, all I can think of are them. It would make me feel better, too, to know you got somewhere safe.”
Sophie felt a little safer as she climbed into his passenger seat. She gave him the address of her apartment building.
The drive there was silent, with Sophie trying to hold back tears and playing the event over and over again in her mind, and Ben driving, his face inscrutable as he focused on the road through the harsh rain.
By the time they pulled up outside her door- she lived on the first floor- the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Sophie could see a slip of yellow paper tacked to her door. “No, no, no, nononononono,” she started saying before she’d even climbed out of the car. Ben, noticing her distress, threw it into park.
It was exactly what she thought it was. A notice of eviction, addressed to her, with the day and time she could get her things. Sophie’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and numbly she pulled it out to check- maybe it was Posey. It wasn’t. It was a text from Philip telling her she was fired.
Sophie finally broke. She sat down numbly on her step, starting to sob. Tears rolled down her face as her breath hitched, and she buried her face in her hands.
After a moment, she felt a cautious hand on her back. She startled, looking up to find Ben there.
He tugged the slip of paper out of her hand and read it. He knelt down beside her and wrapped her up in a hug. Sophie didn’t even care that he was a stranger. She just turned her face into his shoulder. He rubbed a hand up and down her back to comfort her.
He sat with her quietly for a moment before pulling away. “I can take you to see my mother,” he offered softly. “She can always fix everything; she can help you.”
Sophie, her brain hardly functioning, nodded stupidly. Ben shepherded her back to the car, and Sophie briefly remembered their roles being reversed at that party.
Sophie barely registered them leaving or turning into the driveway of a fucking mansion sometime later.
“Ben?” She asked nervously, now more conscious of her surroundings.
“Don’t worry, my mum can help anyone. She’s awesome like that.” Ben walked around to the passenger side and opened Sophie’s door. He helped her out.
Ben rang the doorbell. “I left my key at my place. Didn’t think I’d be swinging by today. Someone’ll be home, though.”
The door swung open. A heavily pregnant woman leaned on it. “Benny,” she said happily. “Thanks for the food. And who’s this?” She said, noticing Sophie.
“Kate, this is Sophie Beckett. She’s a- friend. Is Mum home?”
Kate looked confused. “She’s up in the attic. Apparently, Hyacinth spent all week setting up a tea table; she has Francesca and Penelope and Daphne with her.”
“Alright. Well, I’ll just have to interrupt them. Come on, Sophie, I’ll show you in.” Ben led them both over the threshold. Then he paused. “Where’s Eloise if Penelope’s at a tea party?”
“Sulking on the couch with Simon. And Anthony. I bit his head off because he got the wrong dipping sauce.”
Ben reached into his jacket pocket and offered Kate a handful of various sauces.
“Fuck yeah,” She cheered quietly. “Let me see if we have any more pizza from last night. Lovely to meet you, Sophie.” Kate waddled off.
“That’s Anthony’s wife,” Ben said. “I’ll show you in.”
He led her through the house, up the stairs, and down the hall. The attic hatch was already open, with a ladder extending out. And Ben started climbing up it before turning to make sure she followed.
She did, although by now, the shock had worn off enough that she was questioning why exactly she was here. It would be too rude to just leave, wouldn’t it?
In the attic, a low table had been positioned on a dusty rug, with very antique-looking tea cups and other china spread out on it. Five women were sitting around it- a young girl drinking plain water, a redhead teenager in hideous yellow, a dark-haired teenager sitting primly on a cushion, an auburn-haired woman holding a stack of gossip magazines, and presiding over it all, a matron, seated on the only chair, nibbling on a scone.
“Mother, Daphne, Penelope, Francesca, Hyacinth, may I present-” Ben gave a formal bow to the little girl- “Miss Sophie Beckett. Sophie, this is my mother, Violet Bridgerton.” He gestured to the matron.
Sophie waved shyly to them all.
Violet looked surprised for a second but recovered quickly. “Miss Beckett, how lovely to meet you. Would the both of you like to join us? Hyacinth enlisted Kate to prepare the tea, so it is very delicious.”
Ben snickered- Kate’s preferred tea was much stronger than any of theirs; no one else really had a taste for it. “Thanks for the invite, but I was actually hoping to talk to you privately, Mother.”
Again, Violet looked confused, but she rose gracefully from her seat. “Of course. Ladies, I’ll be right back.”
They all clambered out of the attic- Violet apparently did have a little human in her because she almost missed the last step and laughed it off.
“What did you need to ask?” She said when they were out of earshot of the tea party.
“Mum, Sophie’s in a bit of a rough patch.” He stopped and turned to Sophie. “Do you wanna, uh, explain?”
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry; I don’t want to be any trouble; I’ll just go-” Sophie started. She was cut off by a motherly hug.
Violet started stroking her hair. “Honey, you don’t have to explain anything if you’re in trouble, I trust Ben’s judgment, but do you need to talk?”
To Sophie’s horror, she found that her eyes were watering again. “That would be nice.” She squeaked out.
~
Half an hour later, Sophie found herself seated in the Bridgertons’ living room (Eloise, Anthony, and a grumpy-looking man named Simon had been kicked out), drying her tears with a handkerchief as she finished telling Violet everything that had happened.
“Your stepmother sounds like a nasty piece of work, treating a child like that. Of course, you’re more than welcome to stay with us as long as you need. Three of my babies have already flown the coop; I’m practically drowning in spare rooms and empty-nester syndrome. And Simon was looking for a new secretary just last weekend; I’m sure he would hire you in a heartbeat,” Violet offered kindly. “My sweet Ben is always bringing home strays; he has such a tender heart.”
Sophie blew her nose violently into the handkerchief. “Oh, no, I couldn’t take advantage of your kindness. You’ve only just met me today; I couldn’t possibly do that to you.”
“Nonsense! You’ve been through such a terrible ordeal; it’s the least I could do to offer a bed and some hot meals,” Violet said comfortingly, brushing Sophie’s hair out of her face.
“But I don’t have any way to repay you,” Sophie sobbed.
“None of that is necessary, love; I just want to see you get back on your feet. My family has been blessed with so much to share, so why not share it? If- and only if- you must insist on doing something, we do have a few home repair projects lying around- none of my children are very mechanically gifted. But I want you to know that they are absolutely optional.”
Sophie sniffled. “That would make me feel a lot better to be doing something. I promise not to overstay my welcome.”
Violet just wrapped her up in another comforting hug. “Your welcome will last as long as you need it to.”
Sophie looked up at the sound of knuckles rapping on the doorway.
Ben was standing there. “I hate to interrupt, but you have several young ladies upstairs demanding your presence.” He waited until Violet left the room to sit next to Sophie.
“I’m sorry for just dragging you here. I should have waited until your mind was more clear to ask you. I’m glad we could help you, though.”
“Don’t be sorry; you just wanted to help. You did help,” Sophie told him. “Your mum is quite possibly the most -and I mean this unironically- saintly person I’ve ever met. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay any of you.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’re just happy to help.”
~
Two days later, Sophie found herself up on a ladder, clearing leaves out of a gutter. Anthony was standing on the ground, steadying it, with Eloise circling around him and admonishing him.
“I fucking told you the gutters weren’t broken! And look, I was right; they just needed to be cleaned!”
Anthony had apparently tried to fix the gutters in a fit of playing ‘man of the house,’ and Eloise had already looked at them because she insisted she knew everything. They had accompanied Sophie on most of her projects, cheerfully arguing with each other.
“And I told you,” Anthony retorted, “you are not going up on a fucking ladder to clean them with no supervision. And watch your language.”
“You’re both right!” Sophie called down. “Now catch!” She hurled down a bag of rotting leaves to Eloise before moving on to the next section of the gutter.
There was a suspicious amount of glitter in it. Sophie attacked it viciously, no longer fazed. She had already found a number of questionable items in the gutters, only about half of which Anthony and Eloise could explain. Bridgertons, Sophie had learned over the last few days, were untamable forces of nature.
“Are you hungry yet? I sliced up some cucumbers inside!” Sophie heard from below her. She turned on the ladder to see Kate poking her head out of the back door.
“I think we’re good!” Anthony called back to her lovingly. Eloise rolled her eyes.
Kate had already brought some other finger foods to them earlier. Sophie was pretty sure she was just tired of eating alone.
“Well, how about lunch then?” Kate continued. Eloise groaned and rested her face on the ladder. “I thought I could warm up some pizza. I still have some dipping sauce left. How many slices do you want?”
“None for me,” Sophie told her. “I have a job interview at the supermarket downtown in an hour.”
“Well, what are you letting us hold you up for?” Anthony asked, moving the ladder a little. “You should go get ready.”
“I’ll be fine; I’m not walking there. I’m taking the bus,” Sophie waved him off. A small shower of glitter fell from her hand.
“You should make Benedict pick you up. He’s coming to dinner again.” Eloise said.
“I don’t think so; I don’t mind the bus,” Sophie said.
“If you’re sure, hun,” Kate said, still listening in the doorway. “I’ll pack you some lunch anyway. No sauce for you, though! Sauce is for people who eat lunch with the rest of us!”
“Thank you!” Sophie said as she started climbing down the ladder. She had been worried the rest of the Bridgertons would feel awkward about a stranger in their home, but they had quickly warmed up to her.
Three hours after climbing off the ladder, Sophie walked out of the interview into the fresh air. For once, the English sun was shining, and she squinted in the light. The interview had been fine- it could have gone better, but it could have gone worse, which was job hunting in a nutshell.
A car horn startled her. Sophie shaded her eyes. Ben was sitting behind the wheel of his car. He gave a sheepish grin as Sophie glowered.
She walked over to climb into the car. She had to kick aside a bunch of dirty tissues to put down her purse (Ben had taken her to pick up her things from her old apartment already).
“Sorry,” he said. His voice sounded awful and nasally. “Forga’ I put those there.”
“Are you feeling OK?” Sophie asked. She waited until he stopped at the parking lot exit to feel his forehead. It was a little hot.
“‘M fine,” Ben said slowly. “Jus’ a headcol’.”
“You can’t pronounce hard syllables,” Sophie pointed out.
“I’ll take some medicine after dinner,” he retorted, purposely enunciating each word.
Sophie rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat.
~
Ben did not, in fact, take medicine after dinner. Instead, he hung around the house, looking progressively worse and worse, until even Anthony had commented on it.
Finally, he was so ill that he was reduced to lying miserably on the couch, propped up by a pile of pillows so he could breathe.
The responsible adults decided he should be sent home before he infected Kate or the younger children.
“I’ll drive,” Sophie volunteered. “I owe him.”
“I’ll follow behind and bring you back after,” Anthony offered.
“No, you should all be getting to bed. I’ll just bring a bag and stay the night after I put him down. He probably shouldn’t be left alone anyway. Someone’s got to force NyQuil down his throat.”
Ben made a miserable noise. He attempted to talk but gave up. Sophie crossed over to his side of the couch and sat him up. He flopped back over and then straightened up again when he realized that made it easier to breathe. He blew his nose as hard as he could. “I can drive myself,” he protested when he could breathe again.
“Yeah, OK,” Sophie said sarcastically, pulling him to his feet.
He continued complaining as Sophie bundled him into his own backseat (tossing a box of tissues after him) and as she pulled out of the drive, waving at Anthony, Kate, and Violet on the doorstep. And as she pulled him into the elevator and then into his apartment. As she bullied him into changing into sleep clothes, and as she hunted through his kitchen and bathroom cabinets for cough syrup.
“ Shut up ,” She finally grumbled as she shoved the spoon between his lips. He only had the liquid kind.
Ben made an unhappy noise around the spoon. Sophie just patted his head and left the room to stick it in the sink. She ducked into the bathroom to change into her own pajamas.
When she was done, Ben was lying in bed on a pile of pillows, resigned to breathing through his mouth.
Sophie perched on the edge of the bed and smoothed his hair out of his face. “Where are your spare blankets?” she whispered quietly.
“Ottoman,” he mumbled quietly, relaxing under her hand.
Sophie got up and walked into his living room. His apartment was surprisingly well organized and clutter-free, considering the manic artist vibe the rest of his life gave off. He probably had a studio somewhere else.
She pulled up the top of the ottoman to find a stack of fluffy blankets. She pulled a particularly soft one out and settled down under it on the couch. There were already some throw pillows, which was better than nothing.
“Good night!” She called toward the bedroom doorway.
Ben made an incoherent noise.
~
The next morning, she woke up to the smell of eggs.
“What the fuck?” She grumbled as she sat up. Someone had pulled the curtains behind her open while she had slept.
“Morning sunshine!” She heard Ben say cheerily. He was, in fact, cooking eggs. He also had two wadded-up balls of toilet paper stuffed into his nose, making him sound ridiculous.
“What’s going on with your nose?” She asked, gesturing to her own in demonstration.
“Damn cough syrup is making my nose drip. I got tired of wiping it.” He grumbled.
“You’re going to make your sinus infection worse by bottling it up. Blow your nose, dumbass,” She chided. She sat down at the tiny breakfast nook table.
“I will. But first…” He grinned in a way that was very concerning. He held up a bottle of water and a bottle of Indian seasoning. “I’m gonna make it run really fucking fast, so it all comes out at once.”
Sophie plopped her forehead onto the table. She only looked up when Ben pressed a glass into her hand. It was orange juice. Sophie mumbled her thanks and took a deep sip.
“I hope you like scrambled eggs cause I don’t have any other foods. Been meaning to make a grocery run.” Ben chatted as he ladled the eggs into the plates. He added a hefty dose of seasoning to his, and Sophie winced.
Five minutes later, Sophie was hunting through his fridge for milk as he stubbornly refused to admit he was crying. “There’s just water coming out of my eyes,” he insisted stubbornly, attempting to get another bite onto his fork. He had to abandon the effort to blow his nose again- the seasoning really had made it run faster.
He slumped back in his chair and conceded defeat by accepting the glass she put in front of him. Sophie was only half sure that it wasn’t expired, but if it was, he seemed too relieved to notice.
“So you’re feeling better?” She asked when she had sat back down. Ben had finished the glass and moved on to the carton.
“My cold, yes.” He winced. “My mouth, no. All Bridgertons have a historically low tolerance for spice. You should have seen Anthony the first time he tried real Indian food. I can’t wait to see what his and Kate’s baby turns out like.” Ben blew his nose again miserably.
“That is vaguely horrifying,” Sophie said as she finished her own eggs. She had added a little of the seasoning herself- Ben hadn’t put any salt. (It was probably too much for his incredibly low spice tolerance).
“Thank you, by the way, for bringing me home and putting up with me. I’ve been told before that I’m not always the best patient,” he said after chugging some more milk.
“Well, I can’t say I disagree, but it was nothing. You and your family have done so much for me,” Sophie reassured him, starting to pick up their dishes. “I’m glad to help out where I can.”
“Putting up with me is a different level of patience, I’m sure,” he grumbled, gathering up his piles of tissues to put them into the trash.
“Don’t say that,” Sophie chided, “your mother told me you had a tender heart, and she was right. Not many people would have helped me like you have. I’m glad I met you.” At a house party in college, though he clearly didn’t remember.
“I’m glad I met you too. If anyone deserves a helping hand every now and then, it’s you. You’re a great person, Sophie.”
Sophie blushed, but she was saved from responding by her phone buzzing angrily in her pocket. She pulled it out, distantly registering that she should probably cancel her phone plan before it burned through the rest of her emergency savings, and read the text.
She shrieked for joy. “What? What?” Ben asked quickly.
“I got the job as a clerk at that little boutique!”
Ben yelled happily too. They both jumped happily up and down, cheering for joy. Ben picked her up and spun her around. Sophie squealed and grabbed his shoulders for balance.
“Sorry,” he said, still laughing, grabbing her waist to steady her. Sophie giggled again, feeling sort of light-headed.
“Hey, Sophie?” He said quietly, his hands still on her hips.
“Mm-hm?” She asked, not moving away, her hands still on his shoulders.
“Can I kiss you?” He whispered.
Sophie nodded, already moving in. He surged forward to meet her, one hand coming up from her waist to tangle in her hair.
Sophie allowed him to push her back against the kitchen cabinets as they kissed each other hungrily, as though if they allowed themselves to part, the fires of hell would consume them.
Benedict lifted her from the cabinets, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. They made their way to the bedroom rather slowly, pausing to shed shirts and bump into walls but never separating.
~
When Sophie woke up from their nap (with a twinge in her back that meant she hadn’t imagined that very good time) she could hear Ben’s breathing, now raspy and labored again. She winced, desperately hoping that she hadn’t caught his cold (she probably had- her tongue had been down his throat half of the day.) It took a minute for the full ramifications of her actions to hit her.
She had slept with Benedict Bridgerton- the man whose mother she was currently living with. Fuck. Literally.
Unfortunately, Ben picked that exact time to start waking up. He groaned and stretched before rolling back over and snuffling adorably into his pillow. Sophie thought for a moment that he might go back to sleep, but he apparently remembered that there was another person in his bed and sat upright, looking at her.
“Shit,” he said. Despite the fact that she had been thinking the exact same thing a few seconds ago, Sophie had the presence of mind to feel a little offended.
“Try not to sound so disappointed,” she grumbled.
“Erm, sorry, it’s just ugh- you’re going to think I’m crazy. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.” He started, holding his hands as though trying to placate her.
Sophie felt a little concern. She tried to remember where she’d tossed the keys to Ben’s car if she needed to make a quick getaway.
“It’s just that I’m kind of hung up on somebody else,” he said sheepishly.
Oh. That wasn’t as bad as she’d been expecting. And people thought he was crazy for that? She wondered who he was hung up on. Maybe that photography major- or vodka girl.
“The thing is,” he said, still rambling on. “I don’t know her name. I only met her once, at this house party two years ago. But she inspired me to actually stick to one art school for long enough to get my degree. All I remember- I was black-out drunk, of course, I went through a phase- was her silver dress.”
Oh, shit.