strongerthanblood | (no subject)

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ben solo

(no subject)

While out doing her normal grocery shopping, Rey buys a bottle of whiskey. She isn't even sure what compels her to do it, because she has never had a drop of alcohol before in her life.

She knows, in theory, what alcohol can do to a person. Never once in her life has she felt like she was safe enough to let her guard down like that.

Until now, apparently.

After dropping the rest of her things off at her apartment, Rey takes the bottle and heads instead for the Falcon. It's a beautiful night for a walk, so she takes her time with it. As she does, she amuses herself by sending subtle hints to Ben through the bond, trying to send him the urge to follow her without actually asking outright.

When she reaches the massive ship, she heads for the booth. On the table their last game of Dejarik sits unfinished, and Rey smiles to herself as she sets the bottle down next to it.

It's your move.

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Ben stubbornly, teasingly ignored her for about twenty minutes, before finally giving in. If he'd really wanted to be left alone, he could've shut her out, but instead, he pushed back, deflecting her gentle invitations, the two of them sparing without ever lifting a finger.

Tossing his book aside, Ben tugged on his boots, grabbing his keys and wallet while leaving his saber behind. Their lives were changing daily, in ways he never could've predicted. All the progress was accompanied by the mundane. The walks to coffee shops. The trips to grocery stores. The chores around his apartment. The idle search for a employment.

The quests to find her were not so different from his life before.

Entering the ship, he strode through the long entryway, ducking into the living quarters and sliding into the booth across from her. "Is this what the board looked like, when I left?" He asked, eyes narrowed playfully.

The game amuses her, because she knows that if Ben had wanted to be left alone, he would have made it known and she would have respected it. Instead, she sits and waits for him to arrive, and it's no surprise when he does.

She can't help the warm smile that stretches across her face at the sound of his footsteps, and it's still on her face as he sits on the other side of the semi-circle booth. Too far away, she thinks, but she doesn't push the issue.

"Are you accusing me of cheating?" Rey places her hand on her chest in mock outrage and then rests her elbow on the table so she can prop her chin in her palm. The whiskey seats on the seat next to her, just out of view, and she looks at him curiously.

"Have you ever had alcohol before?" If she had to guess, she would say he hadn't. Perhaps, maybe, when he was younger, but she would be surprised if Kylo Ren ever allowed himself the indulgence. Most likely for the same reasons she never did. "I haven't."

"I'm not," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement as his hands folded placidly across the edge of the table.

She was practically buzzing with excitement, delighted by her own innocent scheming. Her smile was infection, and for once, he didn't stop himself from returning it.

"A sip, here or there. I never saw the appeal."

In fact, the idea of losing control of oneself frightened him immensely. He didn't say so, but he knew he didn't have to.

“Me neither. It never felt safe,” she admits, knowing that she wouldn’t have to explain herself. For a moment, she’s distracted by the easy smile on his face. They’re still rare enough that she feels like she needs to stop and appreciate each one.

“But I was curious.” Rey lifts the bottle of whiskey from the padded seat and sets it onto the tabletop, pushing it along with the tip of one finger. Here in Darrow, she’s curious about a lot of things. She doesn’t always drag Ben along when she satisfies these curiosities, but she wanted him around for this one.

“I thought maybe we could try. Make a game of it.” As she says it, she realizes that the idea is a little silly, like something children might do. Maybe that was part of the appeal. She never really got to be a child. And neither did he. “If you want to. I know it’s silly.”

"It is," he answered truthfully, because it was foolish and childish, indulging for the sake of it, and something likely frowned upon by their Jedi predecessors.

Before she could recoil, hurt by his bluntness, he reached for the bottle and unscrewed the cap. "But so what?"

Perhaps deserving wasn't the right word, but he could admit that they could both could use a little fun.

"So, what are the rules to this game?"

Her nose wrinkles in slight embarrassment, but Ben surprises her by taking the bottle from her and removing the cap. It’s only then that she realizes that she hadn’t actually expected him to take to the idea so easily.

“I hadn’t gotten that far,” she admits, biting her lip as she drums her fingertips on the table. “The only drinking games I know are the ones I saw on Jakku, and I am not eager to play any of those.”

"So, we just drink," Ben shrugged, tipping the bottle against his lips. The liquor slid down his throat, acrid and tepid, and he stifled a cough, wincing as he passed the bottle over to her.

"It's terrible. Enjoy."

The face Ben makes has Rey slap a hand over her mouth to hide a laugh, because she’s never seen him make it before. Being flayed open with a lightsaber hadn’t even made him make such a face.

Still, her curiosity remains and she can’t back out now, so she leans over the table to take the bottle. She gives the rim a little sniff and feels her eyes immediately water, so she holds up a hand and slides out of the booth to go grab a couple of cans of soda from the galley.

When she returns, she slides in next to Ben rather than across from him, and cracks open a can to pass over to him before reaching for the bottle again. Gamely, she takes a giant gulp and nearly coughs as it burns all the way down, settling hot in her belly.

“You’re right. It is terrible.” She takes a sip of soda and then holds the bottle out to him with a grin. “Another?”

"Hm," Ben said, struggling to hide his amusement. She set the can in front of him but he left it untouched, its cloying sweetness almost as unpleasant to him as the liquor.

"Why are we doing this, again?" He asked, his voice tight around another swallow, nudging the bottle towards her with a softly warning: "Easy."

“Because I wanted to,” she says easily, because she can’t quite imagine Ben doing something like this on his own. “And you indulge me.”

She smiles over at him, soft and warm, before turning to pick up the bottle again. After another too-big gulp, she chases it with the soda and stares ahead as she feels a lazy sort of warmth spread through her body. It isn’t an unpleasant feeling, and she lets out a soft laugh as she presses her shoulder against his. “Another for you. Because you’re so big.”

"One of us should've stayed sober," he realized, even as he tipped the bottle against his lips again, taking a larger swig, if only to keep up with Rey's enthusiasm.

Heaving out a sigh, he stifled a belch, a faint huff of laughter jostling his shoulders.

"You're a terrible influence."

“What’s the fun in that?” She can’t help but to let out a snort when the always impeccably composed Ben Solo burps, and already she feels like this was a wonderful idea. He looks so beautiful when he smiles.

“That’s slander, Ben Solo.” Rey grabs the bottle and kicks off her shoes before climbing up onto the bench. After taking another swig, she turns and steps over his lap before sitting down on the table top. She’s terrible at sitting on things properly, but this way she can face him and tuck her bare toes under his thighs. “You take that back.”

"I don't believe I will," Ben said haughtily, leaning back in his seat and looking up at her, his brow arched in a subtle challenge.

Apart from one hand curling loosely around one of her calves, he did not touch her.

“Is that right?” Rey’s eyes narrow as she leans in to stare at him, hovering there nearly nose to nose, before nipping at the tip of his nose with her teeth. The action surprises even her and she sits back up with a gleeful cackle, one hand on her stomach while she keeps the other curled around the bottle of liquor.

“I happen to enjoy reaping the benefits of my influence on you,” she admits, offering him the bottle as she leans in to press a soft kiss to the spot she bit.

Lifting his hands to her face, Ben smiled.

One of the benefits of her influence happened to be that he'd given his life for her own, a fact which he didn't feel compelled to remind her. He would do the same, ten times over, but it never would've happened if she hadn't shown him the same compassion on the ruins of the Death Star.

"So do I," he admitted, leaning up to press a kiss to her brow.

The look he gives her makes Rey’s cheeks feel warm, and her eyes flutter closed at the first touch of his hands. It’s incredible how much a simple touch can soothe her, warming her more than the whiskey.

She slides forward off of the table until she can straddle his lap, legs folded on either side of his thighs as the table presses against her lower back. Once she’s settled, she reaches up to pull the ties out of her hair so it can fall down around her shoulders in loose waves.

“Do you have happy memories of this ship?” Her voice is soft as she reaches up to slide her fingers through his soft hair. It’s grown longer since they’ve been in Darrow, and she curls a strand of it around her finger. It might not be something he wants to talk about, but she wants to know more about him, always.

"A few," he said, leaning back to accommodate her, his hands moving to bracket her hips.

"My father didn't like sharing the pilot's chair, but I have flown it, on rare occasions. It's a smuggling ship— he rarely used it for day trips, if that's what you're thinking," he murmured, his mouth twisting into a regretful smile.

"But yes, a few."

Edited 2020-06-27 01:35 (UTC)

Rey can picture it clearly in her mind. Ben, maybe a bit younger than she is now, with all his inky hair and ears he never quite grew into sitting in the pilot’s seat, with a smirk just like his father’s. Again, she aches for that boy.

The mention of Han causes a slight pinch to her brow, because she had cared so deeply for the man, and now she’s sitting in the lap of the man that killed him. It isn’t as simple as that, not so black and white, but it does remind her of just how complicated their situation is.

But that’s only when she thinks about it. When she just lets herself feel, it’s the simplest thing in the world.

The wry smile on his face nearly breaks her heart, and she cups his cheek as she leans in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. When she pulls back, she twists enough to grab the bottle.

“For your father,” she says quietly, before leaning back to take another sip. This time it barely burns, and she smiles loosely at him as she lifts his hand to curl it around the neck of the bottle between their chests.

"I'd rather not think about my father," he admitted softly, even as he tipped the bottle against his own lips and dutifully took a drink.

"Where is Jyn?" He asked, brow slightly arched. "She's not likely to walk in at any moment, is she?"

That's fair enough, she thinks, and she nods as she rests her hands on his shoulders. The question makes her arch a brow, and she bites back a smile before answering.

"I might have checked in with her on my way here," Rey tells him as she traces her fingertip along the line of his jaw. "She said she's staying elsewhere tonight. Why do you ask?"

Edited 2020-06-29 02:40 (UTC)

"No reason," he murmured, turning to press his lips to the palm of her hand. Without another word, he slid out from the bench. Then, before she could voice her possible displeasure, he urged her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, hooking his hands beneath her knees and hefting her into his arms.

He carried her deeper into the ship, following the narrow corridor into the sleeping cabins. "Which one is yours?" He asked, jerking a nod to the bunks built into the hull of the ship.

Rey locks her knees over Ben's hips and watches his face as he lifts her easily into his arms, burying the fingers of one hand into his thick hair as he carries her through the ship. Her lips part in an easy smile and she curls an arm around his shoulders.

"The last one on the left," she murmurs without looking away from him. She isn't sure she could even if she tried, and she tightens her thighs around him as they move. "It's the quietest."

With a soft huff of laughter, he carried her over to it, setting her down on her feet and urging her to climb up into it. "I thought so, too," he admitted, crawling into it behind her, ducking to clear the low hanging overhead.

He hadn't slept there in years, but he recalled behind small, curled up there in the warm recesses of the Falcon and listening to his parents bicker affectionately nearby.

Rey wobbles slightly on her feet as he sets her down, sliding her hand down the center of his chest before pulling off her zippered sweatshirt, leaving her leggings and a tank top. She tosses the sweater aside and smiles to herself as he crawls in behind her, twisting around to face him in the small space.

Finally, his words cut through the slight haze of her mind and her expression brightens, brows lifting as she smiles happily at him as she presses in close. "This one was yours, too?"

"It was," he murmured, shifting to try and get comfortable. It had been cramped for him, as a teenager, and now, he couldn't quite stretch out all the way, his knees slightly bent and tangled with her own.

"It's smaller than I remembered."