Chapter Text
It had been a long day.
It was hard enough to be an engineering major, but Rey must have liked punishing herself. To work forty hours and take fifteen credits simultaneously, Rey had set up her fall schedule to fit all her courses into Tuesdays and Thursdays. The five other days of the week were split between two jobs. Three shifts at Plutt’s Hardware & Paint and three at the box office of Emperors Theatre. On Wednesdays, her jobs overlapped and it was hell, to put it mildly. She thought she might die any day now from pure exhaustion.
Her apartment was small, though she preferred to call it efficient. She considered herself fortunate she could afford to live on her own at all. There was no wasted space, everything served a purpose. After locking the front door, she dropped her backpack on the kitchen counter to make her way to her bedroom. She had only a square window, perhaps two feet from the carpet, and Rey threw it open, frowning at how it briefly stuck halfway up. Her window faced a featureless, brick facade, a fact she took regular, full advantage of.
Turning back to her bedroom, Rey gathered the bottom of her sweatshirt in fists and tore it over her head to toss it aside vehemently. She hadn’t bothered with a bra and in an instant, stepped out of her shoes to peel her leggings from her thighs. Since she had spent the entire day indoors, sitting next to the phone, Rey supposed she could get a second day out of the ensemble before she added it to her overflowing laundry bin. It wasn’t as if she had much free time to be constantly popping over to the corner laundromat.
Dropping her shoulders, she opened the box of incense on her squat dresser, lighting the tip and propping it in her cheap, ceramic holder before letting down her hair. There were knots along her spine from sitting in an old office chair for nine hours. A hit was still left in her bong, so she snatched it from the scuffed top of her dresser and kneeled by her bedroom window.
The summer air clung to her skin, offering no relief to the stuffiness of her room. There was something dangerous about leaning her naked torso through the open window to smoke but she didn’t want her apartment--or her clothing, for that matter--to smell like a stoner’s den and it wasn’t as if anyone could see her, this far away from the street.
She ignited her lighter, grumbling to herself as it flickered in the night breeze, then lowered the short flame over the remaining round spot of green in her glass bowl, taking a deep gulp and watching the orange glow of burning weed deepen. Rey continued to swallow sharp smoke as she lifted the bowl from the downstem, clearing the chamber. It was faintly sweet and the strain lived up to its name, Strawberry Cough; a tickle formed in her throat but she held the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds, choking shortly as she exhaled.
The thick cloud dispersed in the darkness. She could feel the tension in her face easing, slowly blinking.
“Holy shit.”
Rey nearly dropped her bong. Her gaze darted to the source of the voice to find a man standing directly underneath her window, pissing against her wall, staring right back.
The dress rehearsal had gone well. The whole company had decided to throw back a few beers before going their separate ways and Ben had had one too many. It wasn’t that he was drunk, but his bladder was uncomfortably full and he was tipsy enough to think taking a leak in the alleyway next to his building was a good idea. He didn’t want to rush up five flights of stairs.
So, Ben had unzipped his jeans and aimed his dick at the wall. A faint cough above his head startled him and he narrowly missed peeing on his own boots. Assuming he’d been caught, he looked upwards.
“Holy shit.”
The first thing he saw was a pair of dainty tits hanging three stories over him.
Then the skunky stench of weed hit him and he noticed the bong she was holding. His neighbor had stuck her naked chest through her window to get high. Ben’s mind, addled by alcohol, couldn’t quite process what he was seeing, only that he liked seeing it.
She let out a brief shriek before retreating, lovely, bare skin darting back into her apartment.
“You’re urinating on my wall!”
Ben couldn’t prevent the tumble of unexpected laughter from bursting past his lips.
“It’s my wall too, sweetheart,” he called up to her, “besides, I’m not the one leaning out of a window naked to smoke weed, am I?”
She made an indignant cry. “Asshole!”
He was tucking himself back into his jeans as she slammed her window shut and Ben snickered to himself. “Don’t be shy now.”
Little-miss-tits-out .
No. This was not happening. It couldn’t be.
She had known it was a possibility that they could pass each other on the stairs of their apartment building or at the mailboxes in the downstairs lobby, but here? Behind the glass window of the box office she worked in?
It had never occurred to her as a possibility.
She offered a customer service smile, flipping the switch to her gooseneck microphone as he approached with cautious steps.
“How can I help you?” she forced between her teeth.
He stared at her for a long moment, as if he didn’t recognize her, and just as that idea had started to soothe her, it occurred to him where they had met before.
“Little-miss-tits-out?”
She scowled at the unnecessary nickname, her face growing uncomfortably warm.
“Wall-pissing-guy,” she greeted in kind.
He smirked, unphased by what should have been an insult. “What a small world it is.”
A little too small, if you asked Rey.
“What do you want?”
His smirk grew into a broad smile that highlighted his dimples and adorably crooked teeth. “Plenty of things, neighbor, but I’ll save that for later. For now, though, I was hoping to get my comp ticket.”
Somehow, knowing he was an actor really made sense. Well, he and everyone else in this city, so it wasn’t shocking.
“You couldn’t wait until will call opened?” she muttered to herself before asking, “What name is it under?”
“Ben Solo.”
Rey typed his name into the ticketing system, frowning when the only order that turned up was two tickets for a showing of A Christmas Carol from six months ago. Rey sighed, reaching across her desk for the comp list, in case his order hadn’t been entered, but she didn’t see anything under his name.
“Is there any other name it could be under?”
“Uh, maybe try Leia Organa.”
Of course they were for a woman. She shouldn’t have felt disappointed, it wasn’t as if she was in any way interested in the guy who pissed on walls. But it rubbed her the wrong way that he had teased her about her tits and flirted with her when the ticket was for his girlfriend. She found Leia’s name on the comp list and copied the order number into the system to print the ticket.
“Next time, you can let your guest pick up their comp,” she informed him, sliding the ticket through the slot, his long fingers grazing hers as he took it.
“If I did that, I wouldn’t get to see you.”
What...the hell?
He offered a wink and spun away from her window, turning the corner to head towards the stage door.
Rose, who was working at the window beside hers, twirled in her chair to face her, crossing her legs and giving her an expectant look.
“So...what was that?”
Rey rolled her eyes, focused on her screen as she went to the event page. She usually didn’t pay too much attention to the cast for different performances, even if she did have the spare time to attend plays, she wasn’t interested in having a night out at her place of work, and it wasn’t as if employees got free or discounted tickets.
“Nothing,” she muttered back.
She scrolled through the page featuring Burn This, the actor in question listed right at the top, playing the role of Pale. There was a small picture of Ben dressed in a leather jacket and wearing a gold chain. She should not find it attractive.
“It didn’t look like nothing.” Rose snickered, crossing her arms. “Come onnnn, it’ll be slow until will call starts and we don’t have anything to do. Tell me!”
Rey huffed. “There isn’t much to tell. The other night I was smoking out the window, and he started peeing on my wall, drunk off his ass. Apparently, we’re neighbors.”
Rose laughed. “Oh my god, a match made in heaven. That doesn’t explain why he called you--” she deepened her voice to imitate Ben, “--little-miss-tits-out.”
Rey really wished she hadn’t heard that part.
“He just thinks he’s being funny.”
“Ah, no. I don’t believe that for a second. I think he saw your tits. And that he’s very interested in seeing them again.”
“He just picked up a ticket for his girlfriend, so I sincerely doubt that. He’s probably making fun of how small they are.”
Rose shook her head. “What I’m hearing is he totally saw your tits. Also, you don’t know if it was for his girlfriend.”
“Okay, fine,” Rey said, unable to keep from smiling. Rose had that sort of effect on people. “If I plan on wearing an outfit again, I won't wear it while I’m smoking. No one has ever caught me before.”
“You live such a life of danger,” Rose giggled.
Ben hated those last fifteen minutes before showtime. He knew his lines and cues, he was more than prepared to perform, but the wait between finishing with costume and makeup and stepping on stage was agonizing. His company could be so damn rowdy. He paced the narrow alley where the stage door was, working his body up in an attempt to get into character, and the steaminess of the city was perfect. Pale always was complaining about being hot.
The last thing he should be thinking about is his cute neighbor and the fact she would be in the building. Would she step in to watch? Did he want her to? There may have only been a single set but his role felt so...physical. Passionate. He put his whole body into it and half of his lines were shouted.
The stage door creaked as Poe poked his head out. “Hey, Solo, we’re on in five! Get in here before all of your makeup melts off.”
He rolled his shoulders, pulling the door fully open and stepping into air-conditioning. The girl sitting at the stage door check-in glanced up from her book and gave a nod as she released the weighted door into backstage with a remote.
Kaydel eyed him up and down with a frown, her hair blown away and held in place with so much hairspray it was detrimental to the environment.
“Is he all worked up again?”
“Naturally,” Poe answered for him.
“You do this every time, Ben,” she complained.
He exhaled slowly through his nostrils, trying not to be annoyed. “I’m fine. Just getting in character.”
Kaydel and Poe shared a look he didn’t care to interpret.
“Gather round, everyone,” Amilyn, their fearless director, called. “It’s showtime!”
The words were a signal to his brain. Just like that, there was no worry, no thoughts, really, but what he had to say and where he had to go. He wasn’t Ben Solo, actor, and occasional carpenter.
He was Pale.
There was no room for anyone else.
There were only a few orders in the will call that hadn’t been picked up, and Rose had thankfully let the topic of Ben Solo go. For now, at least.
They were slowly working on closing up the box office, though they wouldn’t be able to leave until after intermission was over, and Rose was chatting about the date Rey had set up between her and Finn, a success by the sounds of it.
“Girl,” Rose sighed, leaning into her palm, her elbow resting on her desk, “when are you going to find some love for yourself?”
This wasn’t the first time Rose had asked her this, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.
“I don’t have time for that. I have class, and my jobs, and--”
“Excuses are what you have. There’s always time for love...or at least some lovin’ on the side. You’ll graduate soon and get an amazing job and have the schedule of a sane human being. What happens then?”
“I guess I’ll consider it then.”
Rose groaned. “How do you deal with all this stress without sex? I mean, weed is great but it is not a replacement for being dicked down on the regular.”
Rey laughed. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
“I’m sure, but don’t pretend it’s the same as a good fuck.”
“Rose, I don’t want to argue--”
“Okay, okay,” she said, pushing back her chair to stand up, bending backward to stretch her spine.
“I’m going to turn on the sound. I heard this play is supposed to be funny.”
Rey did not argue, it was better than Rose nagging her, though she knew it was how she showed she cared. And she wasn’t exactly wrong--it had been way too long since her last sexual encounter. Two years too long.
Rose flipped the switch to the speaker connected to the theater, the same system that played in the bathrooms for those who couldn’t wait until intermission.
Ben’s voice filled their little office.
“--e too. You got almost no tits at all.”
There’s a brief pause as eruptious laughter spilled from the speaker.
“I know. Thanks,” a woman’s voice answered with a hint of sarcasm, though it’s almost buried by the continuing laughter.
Ben didn’t respond until he knew he’d be heard again, his voice deep and smooth like dark, dark chocolate melting against the roof of her mouth.
“No, that’s beautiful,” he insisted with a sincere tone. “That’s very provocative. Guy wants to look, see just how much there is. Tits are very deceptive things.”
Rey knew it was a line. She knew that he wasn’t speaking to her, and more importantly, that there was probably a girlfriend in there who was watching him perform. But having only his voice to listen to felt more intimate, somehow. Personal. Her whole body felt warm and she couldn't bear to look at Rose.
Then he sang softly, “I’d...rather...be...blue...thinking of you…”
Rose giggled.
The woman told him, “You’re burning up,” but he just keeps singing as if in a daze.
“Oh...oh...oh...I’m on fire… That’s just the toaster oven. Always like that.”
“You’re not sick, you don’t have a fever?”
“Normal temperature about a hundred and ten,” he answered. “Aw, man, I’m so fucked. My gut aches, my balls are hurtin’--”
“I bet they are,” Rose snorted.
“--they’re gonna take stitches on my heart; I’m fuckin’ grievin’ here, and you’re givin’ me a hard-on--”
Rey lurched forward, certain that she couldn’t hear more without combusting. Why did hearing him speak like that make her so...so aroused?!
“I think that’s enough of that,” she yelped, flipping the switch back off. “Let’s finish counting the cash drawers and do the reconciliations.”
Rose booed. “Please just make yourself happy and bang this guy. It’s pretty obvious you want to.”
Rey took a long-suffering, deep inhale, willing herself to be patient, but her restraint was dangerously fraying on the edges.
“Rose, I love you, but stop.”
“But--”
She interrupted with a stern tone. “I can and will tell Finn about last year’s office Christmas party.”
They stood at a stalemate for several seconds, Rose turning over in her head whether this was worth fighting over if Finn found out about the puking-on-Santa fiasco.
At last, she muttered, “Touché.”
She had won this time, but there would always be another guy flirting at her at her window, another opportunity for Rose to remind her how badly she needed to get laid.
They finished closing up the office with minimal discussion, besides what they had planned for the rest of their evenings and what sounded good for dinner. By the time they saw each other for work again, the annoyance would be long forgotten.
Rey walked to the nearest subway station while imagining how she would spruce up her instant ramen for dinner--probably just an egg and some sriracha sauce--letting the stress of the day fall away in the cooling night air. Her commute home was mercifully short, and when she reached her little apartment, she kicked off her boots at the door.
The pain in her lower back was impossible to ignore after all day in that ancient office chair, so she decided to indulge for once, undressing as she headed for the bathroom to draw herself a bath. The tub may have been too small and abysmally shallow, but she ran the water hot enough to be on the edge of pain, dumping in the last of her coconut bath salt to dissolve in the scalding water.
It was hot enough that her toes felt like ice as she stepped into the narrow basin, hissing as she forced her skin to acclimate to the water. She slowly slipped further into the bath, her knees jutting out as she rested her feet against the tiled wall where the faucet was, allowing her torso to fully submerge. She sighed, savoring the burn.
She wouldn’t be able to stay in the bath water for too long without getting light-headed but it was worth it to feel her thoughts melt away. All her thoughts but one--and in the privacy of her home, miles from the little theater she worked in, she allowed herself to remember the rich timbre of his voice.
She imagined how it would sound, murmuring into her ear, telling her how beautiful he thought her small bosoms were.
Her fingers trailed down her abdomen, gently brushing lower so that her fingertips grazed her clit. Would those long fingers of his be rough, taking all they could? Or would he be delicate, letting her need build until she burst?
Rey didn’t reflect further, sitting up with a jerk that sent water splashing over the lip of her tub. There would be no more of that.
She cleaned herself briskly, letting her rose scented conditioner soak into her hair as she used a loofah to scrub the length of her limbs in perfunctory motions. By the time she was fully rinsed, she could feel the effects of the too-hot water, her head dizzy as she stepped out of the tub and reached for her towel.
She dried her body before wrapping the towel around her hair and collapsing onto her bed, arms and legs stretched akimbo as she listened to her heart pounding, the air chilling her skin.
The show was a success, to Ben’s relief. He gripped Kaydel’s hand in one of his and Poe’s in the other, bowing deeply to the audience as they cheered, then once more. The curtains closed and everyone sagged slightly as the tension of standing in front of the full house broke. As stressful as it was in the moment, Ben enjoyed doing plays over his short stint on television. It felt more alive.
His mother greeted him backstage with a hug around his middle and a bouquet of red roses, as she always did after a premiere, even though he insisted it was unnecessary and it wasn’t as if he had a vase at home to put them in.
“Your father would be so proud of you,” she told him, another constant he could rely on.
Ben shook his head with a smile. Han hadn’t done much to encourage his interest in acting as a boy, but his mother would say it invariably. He wouldn’t take that from her, now that his father was gone.
“I think he would have liked this one,” Ben admitted. “He liked raunchy things.”
Leia chuckled, patting his chest. “That he did.”
She left, and he hurried through the motions of washing off his stage makeup and changing back into his own clothes, becoming himself again. The rest of the cast and crew were loudly making plans to go for drinks and usually Ben would join them to shake off the post-show high, but there was someone else he’d rather spend his evening with. He waved them off, impatiently checking out with the stage door assistant and dashing around the theater to the box office in the hopes of catching her in time.
He didn’t even know her name. It was probably silly that he wanted to celebrate the night’s success with her. But he did.
When he reached her window, the shade had already been pulled, a closed sign in place. Ben was too late. He glanced at his watch, it was a little past ten. For all he knew, she was back in her cozy apartment, ready to snuggle into bed.
Blind hope lingered on. Would it be creepy to find her apartment? He already knew what floor she was on.
Ben didn’t deliberate for too long, jogging down the street. Maybe it was reckless but he bought a bottle of cheap champagne and rushed back to his building, lurking on the sidewalk for a minute before making up his mind. He leaned down to pick up a shard of broken cement and stepped into the alleyway. This was definitely the most stalker-ish thing he’s done, but her window wasn’t open and if she was asleep she’d never know.
He chucked the piece of cement at her window and it clinked against the glass, hopefully loudly enough to catch her attention.
Ben waited for a breathless moment, then another, waiting for her to answer.
He was about to scrounge on the ground in the dark to find something else to chuck up at her window when he heard it slide open.
“What now?” she cried into the alleyway, glaring down at him.
He could see a towel carefully tucked into her armpits, her skin pink from the heat of her shower and wet hair clinging to her shoulders. Fuck, she was so cute. He stared at her dumbly, almost forgetting what he was there for until she moved to close her window again.
“Wait!” he called up to her.
“What happened to Leia? Shouldn’t you be bothering her?”
He laughed in disbelief, his voice amplified by the brick walls surrounding him. “I love my mom, but not that much!”
“Oh.”
Her lovely face twisted in embarrassment, and he could see her considering making a break for it. Ben couldn’t let that happen.
“Anyway, the show went well and I was wondering...share this with me?”
He raised the bottle of champagne over his head, silently pleading for her approval.
She gaped at him for what felt like minutes, silently deliberating his offer. He felt oddly exposed, standing there in the dark, waiting to hear her answer.
At last, she said, “I’m in 3-C,” slamming the window shut.
That was all he needed to hear, giving a short whoop at his unexpected success. She probably heard him, but he didn’t care, rushing to the front door of their building. He took the stairs two at a time, storming down the hallway of her floor, finding himself in front of her door.
This was insane. Genuine madness. Rey didn’t know anything about this man besides the fact his name was Ben and his mom went to his performance. Oh, and he pissed on walls when he was drunk stupid. She could hear him approaching her door with heavy stomps and of course he couldn’t have at least given her the time to dress properly. Had he run up the stairs?
She yanked on a pair of shorts and a camisole in her rush to answer the door. It flung open and he stood on the other side, even taller than she remembered. His hair was a wreck, dark curls pointing in every direction, and his face was pink and sticky from the damp heat outside.
“You shouldn’t let me in unless you consent to me fucking you,” he said with no uncertain terms, leaning into her doorframe.
Rey nearly laughed but he was serious, the glint in his dark eyes sharp as they settled on hers. She wanted to look away as she remembered his voice through the speaker before, talking about little tits, but it was impossible--his gaze had captured her and Rey’s heart beat like a bird in a cage, flighty and frantic, caught.
She felt her face grow warm. “You’re rather...forward, aren’t you?”
He smirked, crowding her against the door. “I know what I want.”
It was pointless to fight it when she wanted the same thing. Breaking away from his gaze, Rey opened her door wide, allowing him to enter. When he didn’t move she was drawn back to his eyes, now dancing with mischief. Flustered, she knew her cheeks were shamefully pink as he murmured in a smooth tone.
“No, no, sweetheart, not like that. You have to say it. Out loud.”
All the excuses she had given Rose but hours ago fell away like stones, leaving her lighter than she had felt in years. Maybe she should be afraid to float away, but those mesmerizing eyes of his helped teether her to earth. Her mouth spoke of its own volition.
“I consent, if that’s what you really want.”
“Hmm,” he considered her, “what I really want? That might be too much.”
Her heart thudded against her ribcage as he stood a little too close to her, radiating heat like a goddamned portable sun, his face dipping forward, and Rey let her eyes slip shut as she tasted his breath in the space between them, fully expecting him to breach the gap. She was startled when his plush lips landed on the tip of her nose instead, her eyes blinking back open.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “I don’t even know your name yet.”
She laughed in disbelief. He was right.
“It’s Rey,” she said. “With an ‘E.’”
“Well, Rey, may I come in?”
She fumbled out of the way to let him in, wondering what it was about him that seemed to distract her so. He made himself at home, taking great, lumbering steps into her kitchen, setting the bottle of champagne on her counter, browsing her cabinets for wine glasses she didn’t own. Rey didn’t want to admit that she’d never tried it before--why drink when weed got her where she wanted to be? It was probably sacrilegious to drink champagne out of a mug, but Rey didn’t have the space in her mind to care at the moment.
He poured them both a hearty mugful with a silly grin on his face, handing her one before lifting his own. “To second impressions, because the first is usually bad.”
Rey giggled, shaking her head as they clinked mugs, and took a sip. It fizzed in her mouth and down her throat, softer than any carbonated drink she’s ever had, warm as it settled in her empty stomach. It was nice, she decided.
Ben leaned back into her tiny refrigerator, casually crossing his legs as he seemed to peer into her soul.
“So, Rey with an E, what’s your deal?”