Chapter Text
The season six premiere of MTV’s Teen Wolf is mid-November. Poe has made it very clear that they all have to watch with him every week except for Thanksgiving.
“It’s the last season,” he told them during a board game night several weeks earlier. “You guys can’t not come. I’m literally offering to cook for you all once a week so you can enjoy a quality television program with the one and only me.”
He has also made it very clear that he will no longer tolerate his introverted friends avoiding him or his social events.
“You can’t be shy with the old Dameron,” he said to Rey, nudging her.
When Poe began dating Finn several years ago, Rey knew immediately, with a sick feeling, that it would work out. Within twelve months, she watched Finn move out of the apartment they shared in Rosslyn and into Poe’s one bedroom.
It took a long while for her to warm up to Poe, who was so perfect in every situation that she resented him. Always laughing, always able to put people at ease (even her, which only made her resent him more). Rey didn’t (doesn’t) have a lot of things in life, but she had Finn. She’d always had Finn. Two foster kids who’d found each other in college on the same scholarship. Someone who understood where she came from and didn’t ask too many questions, a luxury she granted him, as well.
She was not (is not) good with change, but eventually she adapted to seeing Finn frequently, though not constantly. It wasn’t until long after he’d moved in with Poe that she finally began to like Poe. At first grudgingly, and then adamantly.
Now, two years on, Poe and Finn have a mortgage on a townhouse right on the border of the District and Maryland.
Which is how she finds herself on a bus straight after work to watch a show that she’s willing to venture has to do with high schoolers and werewolves. She would’ve come with Kaydel and Jannah, her current roommates, but Kay has already returned to Iowa for Thanksgiving (a whole week early), and Jannah works in the opposite direction (plus she has a car).
Rey pulls the cord and gets off the bus, the remnants of the sun filtering in through the remaining leaves hanging persistently on the trees.
It’s already cold, which is good. She’s a little paranoid about global warming, so when the weather behaves as it should, she feels better about the world. The air is nippy in the way that fall air is just before it dips into freezing winter.
Poe throws open the door dramatically. “Fair Rey, please, do come in.” He leaves her in the front area, where she unlaces her boots.
There is a pair of very large men’s shoes – too large to belong to either Finn or Poe. Dread drips down her chest. Every so often, the two men try to set her up. But that won’t happen now, surely; they usually give her warning.
A low voice comes from further in the house, thick with midwestern vowels similar to Poe’s, but harsher, undiluted. The unexpected stranger (though strangers are never really expected) stands in the kitchen with Finn, Poe, and her friend Rose, all of whom have a glass or bottle of something in hand. He leans back against a counter, hunched, ineffectively disguising his height. He has black hair that drops just below his chin, fair skin, and massive hands dwarfing the IPA he holds.
“Peanut!” Finn says. “Alcohol or no alcohol?” He’s already moving to the fridge, bypassing the very large man.
The man looks up at her for a moment, then returns his stare to the bottle in his hand.
“Just water is fine. I can get it.” She wants to stop Finn from going to any trouble, but that would involve getting closer to this man, and she doesn’t want to do that.
She hates meeting new people. She’s just so bad at it. If she’d known there would be a newcomer tonight, she would’ve prepared. Mentally. She would’ve psyched herself up and come up with talking points, like something about the Nats. Except their season is over, so she can’t. Has football started yet? Not all men like sports, she reminds herself, trying to will the feminism back into her body.
Maybe she can just avoid talking to him altogether?
To make it worse, he’s kind of hot. His presence is too imposing. His striking features unnerve her. Men, especially handsome men, freak her out.
“You probably didn’t see my text,” Poe says, turning her attention to the opposite side of the, admittedly, small kitchen. “But this is my friend Ben from back home. I’ve mentioned him to you before.”
He has, along with a handful of other names that she struggles to keep straight, because they have previously meant nothing to her. She now recalls bits and pieces of high school friends, though she can’t be sure which one is Ben. There was the friend who started a makeshift fight club in the parking lot of a party-planning store, the friend who tagged the side of the gym and almost went to juvie, the friend who was so nervous before an orchestra performance he puked inside his own tuba. So, Ben is one (or multiple) of these. An anecdote Poe tells to amuse companions in his vicinity. Knowing now what Ben looks like, she certainly won’t confuse him with anyone else again.
“I’m Rey,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”
She doesn’t put out a hand for him to shake and he makes no move to proffer his own. He nods in acknowledgement but keeps his stare on the beer bottle. The hair hanging in his face works to hide his expression. The tips of his ears, however, turn pink from where they stick out.
The doorbell rings, and Finn goes to get it, handing her a glass of water on his way out.
“As I was telling Rose, Ben decided to take an impromptu trip to the nation’s capital,” Poe says.
Ben tears the label on the IPA. He has lovely nail beds, especially for a guy.
“Little did he know,” Poe continues, “that he would be just in time for the premiere of the final season of Teen Wolf.”
“Impeccable timing,” Rose says, because she likes riffing off of Poe. “Almost fated.”
Poe’s eyes gleam. “Precisely, my dear Rosalind. Precisely. As if the spirits of Tyler Posey and Dylan O’Brien were calling out to him.”
“Ben’s dream, obviously,” Rose says. “The moment I walked in, I thought to myself, ‘Now that is a man in his late twenties who watches MTV.’”
Rey snorts.
Ben, who hasn’t given any indication that he’s listening, looks up at her for a moment. She can’t make much of this expression. It isn’t reproachful or embarrassed – it's searching, like he’s trying to figure out what to make of her and still hasn't come to any conclusions.
“I’m sorry, Ben,” Poe says, sounding anything but. “Here I am, your benevolent host, making fun of you. What ever would my mother say?”
“Something full of censure,” Ben says, a small smile on his lips.
His voice is even better up close. Just as low, but she detects a wry note in it.
When Jannah arrives, introductions are made, and Poe pushes everyone out to the dining room, where an extensive buffet of dishes perch atop the table.
“I know I said Teen Wolf night would be a waste of time,” Jannah says, “but I’d like to retract that statement. If this is what it’s like every time, I have no complaints.”
“It won’t be,” Finn says, taking a seat on one side. “Poe just wanted to show off for Ben.”
Poe shoots Finn a betrayed look, sitting in the seat at the opposite end of the table. This leaves the sides open for everyone else, which is how Rey finds herself with Poe to her left and Ben on her right.
She should probably say something to him. That would be the nice thing to do. But just thinking about opening her mouth prompts a cold pit to develop in her stomach. This is why she doesn’t like meeting new people. She’s not good with new people until at least five meetings in, and by then they’re not even new anymore.
He’s just so stupidly big and broad. The longer she sits next to him the more sure she is of her initial assessment: he is imposing, and not outwardly warm. Almost uninviting.
Eventually, she adds awkward to the list. The few times Rose or Jannah – talented conversationalists that they are – try to include Ben, without fail, he stumbles awkwardly over his words, his ears turning pink again. It becomes apparent that his uninviting quality manifests from extreme discomfort and shyness. She understands that; being uncomfortable was a constant companion growing up.
“So, Ben, what do you do?” Rose asks.
His face goes white (impressive, since it shouldn’t be possible to be paler than he already is).
Poe swoops in. “Big Ben over here is a lawyer.”
“I’m in between gigs right now.” He keeps his focus on his plate, where his fork stabs at a few carrot slices.
“He decided to pay his oldest, bestest friend a visit with all of his free time.” Poe smirks.
Ben remains tight-lipped.
Rose and Jannah appear a little unsure, which is confirmation for Rey that this is, in fact, awkward.
After a beat, Jannah asks, “How long are you staying?”
Ben looks back up, confused as to why he’s still being spoken to. “Um.”
Poe once again rescues him (absurd, since physically, Ben doesn’t seem like someone who needs saving). “That’s the joy of spontaneity. He could leave tomorrow, he could leave in six months.”
“I will not still be here in six months,” Ben says, “but I am also not leaving tomorrow.”
“Are you going to be here for Thanksgiving?” Jannah asks. “Rey and I are doing something at our place, if you want to come.”
“Our other roommate, Kay, already went home, so it’ll just be us,” Rey says.
He turns to her for a few seconds before nodding. “I didn’t realize it was Thanksgiving next week.”
She raises her eyebrows. Does he not have family badgering him about coming home? Were people at his previous place of work not requesting time off? It’s becoming clear to her that Ben’s trip, though it may be spontaneous, is not just a social call. Who makes a spontaneous ten hour road trip to see a random friend from high school during the holidays?
Is he running from something?
Rose and Jannah grow merciful and stop trying to include him. His painful attempts at conversation should probably make Rey reticent to talk to him, but if anything she feels a camaraderie, a kinship.
That’s why, in the kitchen much later, she doesn’t mind being near him in the same way she did earlier in that same space. The rest of the gang hangs in the living room for an episode of TV that will only make sense to Poe. She finishes up some of the dishes and Ben is doing something behind her, though she isn’t sure what.
“Famously, Rey loves Teen Wolf,” Poe says to Ben.
She jumps for a second, not realizing Poe’s entered the room. Peering behind her, she sees both men, Poe facing Ben while Ben faces her – Has he just been staring at her this whole time? – another beer bottle in his hand, label fully intact.
“Famously,” she agrees; it’s better to go along with Poe’s antics.
Hearing the faint sarcasm in her tone, the corner of Ben’s mouth lifts, but only for a moment. He forces it down again, like he remembered he’s not supposed to show any emotion.
Her chest clenches with pride, knowing she successfully undermined whatever facade he has in place.
Obviously feeling as though he’s set the two of them up for a fruitful conversation, Poe retreats to the living room.
She places the last tray on the dishrack and dries her hands. “Have you ever watched the show before?” she asks.
His eyes flicker up to hers several times. “No, I haven’t had much time to watch television.”
It’s an odd thing to say; it gives next to nothing away but it begs for clarification. “Oh? What do you do instead?”
He grimaces. “Work. Until very recently.”
He’s a little stony now, so she doesn’t ask anything else. Instead, she does something she almost never does: she offers up something about herself. “Work’s a killer. I’m an engineer.”
He looks up again, his gaze unwavering now. In the low light of the kitchen, his eye color is a mystery. Green? Hazel? Or brown with flecks in them? “What kind?”
“I studied chemical engineering in college.” Then, she adds as an afterthought, “That’s where I met Finn.”
“Is that the kind you do now?” He very endearingly tilts his head.
“No. Actually, I’ve never done any chemical engineering.” The thought makes her laugh.
Another momentary smile lands on his face, vanishing the moment he realizes it’s there.
“I was on the night shift, my first job after college. It was biomedical engineering out in Cumberland. Terrible commute, but at least there was no traffic.”
He sets the beer down on the counter behind him, then folds his arms against his chest. An intent look on his face. People don’t pay her this kind of attention. Not even Finn. Ben seems like he’s preparing to cross examine a witness on the stand.
“Night shift? I didn’t know engineers had to work night shifts.” His head is still tilted.
“Neither did I,” she says. “I’m not sure I would’ve signed up to study engineering if I’d known I was going to get stuck with not seeing anyone for a few years.” She’s joking, a little. Back then, there weren’t many friends to see, anyway, except for Finn, so it wasn’t much of a hardship.
“Do you still do biomedical engineering?”
She shakes her head. “No, not anymore. It turns out that if you want to do the cool stuff, you need another degree. I liked school okay. I mean, I did well and everything. But.” She shrugs.
He breathes out through his nose. “I wish I hadn’t gone to law school. I wasn’t cut out for it. It kind of wrecked me.”
His bluntness is shocking, but it’s a clue; a little piece of him. She now realizes that she’s collecting them. “No?”
“No. I’m not the right fit. The Socratic method freaked me out, so I’d study all the time, just in case I was called on.”
It sounds like a miserable way to spend three years. “I guess it makes sense why you’ve never seen Teen Wolf.”
He blinks a few times, evidently surprised to return to the show. “It does?”
She gives a solemn nod. “Lawyers are not famous for their work-life balance.”
A laugh punctuates the air, his chest heaving underneath the casual button-down he wears. His teeth are on full display with the smile he allows himself. Crooked, but well taken care of.
For a few seconds, she also allows herself to grin. Her body tingles, proud of making him lose his composure so completely.
He shakes his head, still smiling. “No. We are not.” Reaching behind himself, one hand swiftly brings the beer bottle to his mouth. His throat undulates with the swallow. It’s a pale neck, dotted with moles, but it appears smooth, like he shaves regularly.
For a millisecond she wonders what the skin there tastes like.
The thought is so jarring she slips, despite leaning against the counter.
“Are you okay?” His body moves slightly toward hers.
If she were actively slipping, would he put his hands on her? His large, strong hands exerting pressure on her waist?
Rey is a woman of middling stature: not too short, not too tall. A man has never made her feel dainty, not like Ben would. Sure, men have made her feel small and unimportant, but they’ve never made her feel precious.
Ben putting his hands on her would be a dangerous thing.
“Totally fine,” she says.
He opens his mouth to say something when an exasperated Poe walks back in. “Are you two ready to quit gabbing? It’s about to start.”
She and Ben exchange a quick look. There’s amusement in his eyes, though she doesn’t know what’s in hers.
The only place left to sit is on the couch, where Rose and Jannah are already seated. It’s a tight squeeze, so that she’s right between Rose and Ben, his thigh pressing against hers the whole night. At a certain point, he throws his arm along the back of the couch. She’s almost tucked against him. She’d just have to nuzzle into him, a little.
He’s got a nice scent, too. She didn’t notice it in the kitchen because it’s subtle. There’s a little bit of spice, but he also smells clean, which she wasn’t aware was a scent until right now. He smells clean and manly, which is a stupid thing to think but she can’t help it.
Ben is a man.
An incredibly obvious fact, something her subconscious probably made a note of the moment she walked into the kitchen several hours ago. But it means something different now than it did then. Then, it was something to fear, something that made her uneasy. Now, it makes her stomach flip.
He catches her stare at a certain point in the show. His eyes are definitely hazel, but dark in the glow of the television, pinning her own gaze for several seconds. Warmth tingles her limbs and her chest tightens.
When the show ends, her bones creak trying to move, so she lets Rose and Jannah unstick themselves first. They go off to the front hallway, Poe chattering excitedly behind them with Finn walking after. She pulls herself off the couch, her body lighter without the pressure, but now decidedly individual. No longer part of a conglomerate.
Ben stretches his back. His chest puffs out and his arms flex underneath his shirt. God almighty, he is large.
She surprises herself when she asks, “Can I see your phone?”
His eyebrows rise. “My phone?”
“You’re here for a while, right?” she asks.
He shrugs. “Kind of indefinitely.”
“So,” she says, marveling at her own assertiveness. “You’ll need friends.” But that’s not quite right. “People to hang out with,” she amends.
It takes a second, but once he understands his jaw drops. “Like, one-on-one? You’d want to hang out with me, just the two of us?”
She’s a little nervous when he puts it like that, as if it’s inconceivable.
Oh God, what if he has a girlfriend back in Indianapolis? The thought lands like lead. She quickly backpedals, “It was just an idea. I’m sorry. You’re here to visit Poe, not, like, meet new people or whatever.”
She walks away, embarrassment leading to shame so rapidly that she’s nauseous.
He puts a hand on her elbow, halting her progress. “Wait.”
She turns in his light grasp. She was right; Ben Solo’s hands on her are very dangerous, indeed.
“We can totally – I mean, that is, if you don’t think it’s weird.” He quickly removes his hand from her person, and digs into his pocket from which he procures a nice smart phone. “Put your number in.” He holds it out for her.
A pink ear peeks out beneath thick, long strands of hair.
She can’t help the pleased smile on her face. “Oh. Okay.” She puts in her information then sends a text to herself from his phone. “Just so I have yours, too,” she says.
His cheeks turn red. “Cool.”
If anyone notices that she and Ben are blushing when they make it to the hallway, they’re all kind enough not to comment. Even Jannah and Rose, when they get into Jannah’s car, don’t mention it, though they exchange a giddy look through the rear-view mirror that Rey pretends not to see. All Jannah says, once they drop Rose off in Tenleytown, is, “Tall.” When she doesn’t say anything else, Rey decides to leave it, letting a wide grin snake its way across her face, hidden in the dark of the car.
***
The next morning, the cold wakes her, not her phone’s alarm. The prominent dip in temperature signals what she has long suspected: Winter is here. Putting on a sweatshirt, she walks to her window and peers outside.
Icy spikes drip from the plants along the building’s front walk up. The white dulls the color of the few flowers that have managed to make it this long. A precise criss-cross decorates the edges of plants and building surfaces. With winter’s first frost, the world glitters under the tender beams of sunlight.
A repetitive dinging makes her jump. Her alarm. Leaving the window, she goes to turn it off. There’s a text notification from Ben, sent long after she went to sleep:
(1:33 AM) So, all the museums here are free. Do you have any suggestions for where I should start?