Rey wakes to the sound of dishes being stacked in the kitchen sink and the smell of something wonderful baking.
She stretches languidly in the bed, and turns her head to the side. Sure enough, Ben is gone, the side of the bed he’d slept on cold and empty.
More noises come from the kitchen. Now it sounds like he’s rummaging around for something in the fridge. And not having much luck finding it, if the muttered swearing she can only just make out from here is any guide.
It’s still pretty early, but by this point Rey’s wide awake, so she decides she might as well go investigate. She sits up, letting the soft sheets fall to her waist, and scans the pile of clothes on the floor. She grabs her underwear, and Ben’s t-shirt from last night, deciding they’ll do.
Rey finds him standing at the kitchen counter with his back to her, stirring something she cannot see. He’s shirtless, dressed only in his plaid boxers, and Rey takes full advantage of the fact that he didn’t hear her come in to look her fill. She takes in his broad shoulders, his slim waist--
--and his tight, perfect ass.
She’d had her hands on that ass just last night, urging him on as he fucked her, hard, into the mattress.
Mine , she thinks, possessively, smiling at the memory of it, as she watches him work undetected. All mine.
It’s only been two weeks. Two short, incredible weeks. Hardly any time at all, really. Even still, Rey’s not sure she’ll ever get used to this.
Quietly, so she won’t give herself away, Rey creeps up behind him, and then slides her arms around him from behind--marveling, once again, at just how perfect the hard muscles of his chest feel beneath her hands.
He jumps a little at her touch, clearly surprised.
“Hey,” she says, pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades.
He sighs contentedly. “Hey.” He doesn’t turn from what he’s doing to face her, but she can hear the smile in his voice all the same. “Are you hungry?”
As if on cue, Rey’s stomach growls audibly. She cringes, burying her face in his back. But he only laughs.
“I guess I am,” she admits. “What are you making? It smells incredible.”
“Waffles.” Ben sets down his whisk and turns so he can pull her into his arms. “Although it was supposed to be a surprise. I didn’t expect you up so early.”
Of all the things Rey has learned about Ben the past two weeks, the fact that making big breakfasts is kind of a thing for him might be the biggest surprise. Even now, while he’s technically unemployed, he’s the hardest-working person she knows, spending hours each day on the phone with his mother, with members of the local bar, with partners of law firms in other cities--everyone falling all over themselves to encourage him work for them , rather than a competitor, next summer. (Standing up to someone like Snoke, as a law student, apparently comes with it a certain amount of respect.) But when Rey’s with him, everything else in his life seems to fall away. All of his focus, all of his attention, is on her.
And every morning she’s woken up in Ben’s bed there’s been something delicious waiting for her in the kitchen. Something he’s made, especially for her, with his own two hands.
It tugs at her heart, how close they’re growing. How comfortable, and unexpectedly easy it’s all been, falling into this still-unnamed thing that’s sprung up between them as quickly as summer grass.
It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced before. Like nothing she ever expected to experience.
“I.. don’t really know how to do this part,” she blurts out suddenly, just as Ben’s reaching into a cupboard for the plates.
Ben pauses, and blinks at her, confused. “This part?”
She huffs out a breath and closes her eyes.
This has been on her mind for weeks. But she’s never known how, or when, to bring it up. The earnest look he’s giving her now, though, over the waffles he woke up at the crack of dawn to make for her--
She stares down at her feet. “The part that comes after the sex, I mean. The... this … relationship part.” She swallows. “I don’t know how to do it. I’ve… never done it.”
Not like this, anyway.
She chances a glance at him. To her relief, if he’s surprised by her confession, or upset in any way, he shows no sign of it. He only pulls her to him again and kisses her forehead.
He says: “Well, maybe this part... we can learn how to do together.”
He smiles a little. The earnest, honest, hopeful look he gives her takes her breath away.
She smiles back, and reaches up to cup his face in her hands. He leans into her touch, eyes fluttering closed.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” she murmurs, her heart full of hope and wonder.