#Santi is bi and u can fight me on it if you want

[brewsterispunkk]

sunshine state

PART THREE: DREAMS

pairing: benny miller x f!reader

WC: 10.5k (oops <3)

warnings: 18+ mature! PTSD, dirty dreams about friends, will’s fiancé being a shitbag, bi!santiago—(if you have a problem with santi being gay then hit the road)

Summary: you and Benny join the guys on a weekend trip to the gulf. But, when pope unexpectedly brings a plus one, you and Benny are forced to share a bed. so it begins.

A/N: heyyyy. this was so long. & not sure if I like it :/ so sorry in advance if it sucks. as always, feedback is appreciated ! love y’all.

PART THREE: DREAMS

There were times you didn’t mind the heat. Times when the heat kissed your skin like the sun in golden hues, instead of oppressing your nerves and lungs. Growing up further north meant that you didn’t take the heat for granted; you were all too familiar with hot summers, yes, but also with frigid, icy winters. The warm, gentle morning heat of Florida mornings were the kind you could get behind.

You propped your feet up on the dash, leaning back in the worn seat, your playlist opened on your phone and ready to play. Beside you, Benny’s eyes were focused on the road, his aviators sat low on the bridge of his nose. If you were more awake, you’d make fun of him for it; tell him he looked like some sheriff or cop from a shitty network T. V. show, but it was barely a quarter past 7:00 and you hadn’t had your coffee yet. The teasing would have to be at a minimum until at least then. Hitting shuffle on the playlist you’d made the night before, you sighed, Stevie Nicks’ voice filling your ears.

Benny groaned beside you, obviously just as cranky as you were. He hadn’t had his coffee yet, either, and for such a kind, sweet, caring person, he could be a pain in the ass when he was caffeine-withdrawn.

“Really?” He asked. “Do we have to listen to this hippie-dippie shit?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, moving to sit criss-crossed in the passenger seat.

“Excuse me, Miller?” You replied. “I know you’re not shit-talking Stevie. The reigning queen of rock n roll, the white witch herself.”

“I don’t like her voice.” He said blandly. You snorted. “And all she sings about is break-ups. It gets old. She needs new material.”

“Benny, you listen to Taylor Swift.”

“And?” He countered. “You listen to Taylor too.”

“Yeah,” you continued, leaning your head on the glass of the window behind you, still facing him. “But Taylor is much more sappy than Stevie.”

“Okay, that’s debatable.”

You laughed, a full belly laugh, one that made your shoulders shake. You shook your head, smiling. “Okay, whatever you say, Miller.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn that you saw him staring, but when you turned, he was focused on the road.

“So,” he drawled after a moment of silence. “Wanna listen to some CCR?”

“Absolutely not,” you chimed cheerily. “We will be listening to Stevie Nicks. I’m gonna convert you.” You could tell he rolled his eyes beneath his sunglasses. “Honey—“

“No, Ben,” you interrupted. “You promised me the aux cord the whole way there if I came. No backsies.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, defeated, as the lyrics to Fleetwood Mac’s Sara floated through the car.

The comedy of it all wasn’t lost on you; it seemed that Benny was always having to convince you to do things; go to the bar, go to Mikey’s party, take edibles with him. The truth is: you’d have done all those things without convincing (besides that first night at the bar—you really were tired), but Benny’s incessant nagging was endearing. This time, though, you truly had been a bit reluctant to come.

Earlier in the week, Benny had come over with takeout and plans to watch the Bachelor, (which you’d recently hooked him on), when he declared that he had a proposition for you. This time it didn’t involve bars or partying or drugs, though, it involved something more foreboding: a weekend at the beach with the guys and their significant others. Meaning Anna would be there.

Your initial response was no. You had Thursday and Friday this week off, blessedly, and were not looking to spend them in the awkward company of Will’s fiancé and all of his and your friends who she hated. But, with the promise of the aux and free food as well as a weekend full of sunshine, Benny had convinced you. Like he always did. You were pretty sure that Benny could convince you to do anything if he kept looking at you with those soft eyes and that stupid, stupid smile.

As the song ended, Benny pulled into a run-down 7/11 that looked like it was pulled straight from the 1980s.

“Alright,” he turned to you, and the look on his face made you think that this is what he must have looked like as a soldier. It was mission-focused. “I’m gonna fill up the tank, you got breakfast?”

“And coffee,” you added, already opening your door and slinging your bag over your shoulder. You got a few paces away from the car before Benny called your name.

“Yeah?” You turned. He was leaning against his open car-door.

“For my coffee, get me—“

“Two cream, four sugars,” you finished for him. “I know.”

“Yeah, honey.” He smiled to himself, turning to the gas pump.

Inside the gas station, you picked up a few snacks, a bag of chocolate covered donuts, and yours and Benny’s coffee, loading the latter up with as much cinnamon you could muster. You even snuck some into Benny’s, convinced that you could successfully turn him to the dark side. The two of you had gotten into an argument weeks ago about whether cinnamon belongs in hot drinks. You had argued that it did.

When you hopped back in the car, Benny was already in his seat, texting away on his phone, no doubt to Will about your ETA.

“Cheers,” you said, setting the donuts on the center console, and holding his coffee cup to him. He grabbed it, setting his phone down, and clinked it with yours.

“Cheers,” he smiled, taking a sip. “Mmm,” he hummed when it hit his tongue.

You sighed as you swallowed your own coffee, immediately feeling a bit more loose. You leaned your head back in your seat and closed your eyes, feeling more relaxed than you had since before you’d woken up. Benny put the keys in the ignition and started the rickety truck.

“Yknow,” he began to pull out of the gas station and onto the swampy backroads that you’d be taking til you got to the highway. “Out of all my friends, you’re the only one who has ever managed to get my coffee order right. To remember it at the very least.”

You hummed in response, before adding, “that’s why I’m the best, right?” Only half joking.

You hadn’t mentioned the whole “you’re my best friend,” conversation that you’d had the night of Mikey’s party. You’d meant to bring it up the morning after, but Benny had been too hungover to remember much of anything from the party, let alone his unintentional confession. You weren’t complaining though; it had answered the question that you’d been secretly poring over for months. You were just important to him as he was to you. Which is why you had absolutely no idea why that had just slipped out of your mouth.

“I’m only—“ you began to panic. He didn’t give you the chance to.

“Yeah, I guess that would make you the best one, honey.” He said casually, leaving you momentarily stunned. You let out an involuntary chuckle.

“But what would make you an even better friend—“

“—no—“

“—is if you let me put on some Langhorn Slim—“

“Benjamin, I said no!” You smacked his hand away from where he’d reached for your phone, before snatching it for yourself. “We’re listening to Fleetwood Mac, I’m putting my foot down.”

Benny cast you a look that you could tell he meant to be menacing, but seeing it on his face only made it look pouty. Your eyes held his obstinately. His cat-like gaze held yours for a minute before he sighed, turning back to the road.

“Fine,” he huffed, reaching for his coffee again. “Let’s see what Stevie has for us.”

You giggled, setting Rhiannon to the queue, and preparing for the long drive ahead of you.

- - - - -

You’d always thought the highway was lonely, especially after the move.

You remember the drive down to Florida being awful, your only company being Salem and the radio. Driving a car full of your life packed into boxes, knowing that your destination held no familiar faces or loved ones.

But with Dreams playing in the background, and Benny’s fingers tapping away on the steering wheel, you caught yourself thinking that maybe it wasn’t that bad.

“Wait, so you’re telling me they almost broke up?”

“Yeah,” you giggled.

“So, we almost didn’t get the album?”

“Yup,” you continued, reaching over to turn down the dial. “One of the most best selling albums of all time.”

“Well, shit.” Benny shook his head, one hand on the wheel. “Lindsey Buckingham sounds like a bitch.”

You snorted. “Cheers to that.”

The sun still shone high in the sky and was hotter than ever now that you’d been on the road for a couple hours. That was another thing about Florida you’d underestimated before moving here; the sheer size of it. It was massive.

The group had planned the outing weeks ago, Benny had just been late to ask you to come. It was supposed to be a couple’s weekend getaway for Mari and Frankie; she was heavily pregnant and it would likely be the last one they got before the baby was born. Frankie’s parents owned a vacation house (a fact that the boys never ceased to tease him about) on the Gulf, and had given him permission to use it. That was before Pope had announced that he’d be in town and invited himself along. From there, to your understanding, it had snowballed: first with Pope, then Will and Anna, and by association, Benny and you.

Pope had finished his stint in South America a little over a month ago, unexpectedly, from what you understood. You knew better than to ask questions, but it seemed that whatever it was had ended and ended quickly. Since then, he’d been living a few towns away and no one had really heard from him. While you’d been initially worried about that because what the fuck, Benny and the guys’ reactions made you realize that this kind of behavior was normal, at least for Santi. It’s just how he was.

“Can you replay that one?” Benny asked, cutting your inner monologue off. You hadn’t even realized that the song had ended. You nodded, quickly pressing the replay button on your phone. The bass line of Dreams pulsed through the car once again.

“Told you so,” you said smugly, facing forward.

“Told me what,” Benny relented dryly, feigning annoyance.

“That Stevie is amazing. I’ve converted you.”

“You haven’t converted shit. I just like the bass.” He cast you a sidelong glance.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, completely not buying it.

In the center console, Benny’s phone buzzed. He grabbed it and handed it to you, his eyes staying trained on the road in front of you.

“See who it is?” He asked.

You opened it to a text from Will.

Pope’s bringing someone, it said, with absolutely no clarification at all.

You gasped, chuckling a little bit.

“What?” Benny looked at you.

“Pope’s bringing somebody.”

“What?” He took off his sunglasses, eyes wide. “Whatdya mean ‘somebody,’ was that him?”

“No it was Will.”

“Quick, call him!” Benny sounded like a middle-schooler waiting to hear the nearest gossip.

“Okay, okay!” You laughed, dialing Will’s number and putting it to speaker. You muted the music.

It rung a few times, before the line picked up.

“Hello,” a bored voice answered. Anna. You and Benny exchanged a look.

“Hey,” Benny said, “can you put Will on?”

“What for,” she asked again with no cadence to her voice. Jesus Christ, this woman. You began to itch with annoyance.

“Nothin’ Anne, just put him on.”

“Fine,” she scoffed, voice venomous. Benny rolled his eyes.

“Yes?” Will’s deep tambre answered.

“Okay, what the fuck was that about?” Benny asked, referring to his brother’s fiancé. Will sighed on the other end.

“Don’t worry about it, man.” He sounded tired.

You felt your skin prickle at his tone. It felt like he’d been sounding like that more and more recently; weary and quiet. A bit unsure. So unlike the Will you’d met when you first moved here, so unlike the Will you’d grown to love like a brother. You couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with Anna.

It’s not that you hadn’t tried to like her–you did. Multiple times. And every single time, it was as if she’d made it her personal mission to make it impossible. It had begun the first time you’d met her. You’d planned to get dinner with Will and Santi–a sort of last hurrah before Santi headed down to South America. Benny and Frankie couldn’t make it. Marisol was home sick because of the pregnancy, so Frankie was playing nurse, and Benny had a class to teach at the gym. That left you and Will as the only two in attendance. Until Will had mentioned that Anna would be tagging along, something that had perplexed you. Not because you’d have had a problem with her being there–in truth, you had been anxious to meet her–but because you were under the impression that she hated Santi. Something you were, in fact, very correct about.

The dinner had begun well enough; Anna had been late. But when she arrived, she was in a sour mood, barely even blinking at you when you were introduced. You’d brushed it off at first, guessing that she was just having a bad day. Then, the digs at Santi started. It began with an offhand comment on how he was graying; something about the salt and pepper hair that was beginning to sprout at his temple, which had alarmed you. But no one else at the table had batted an eye, so you’d assumed you’d misread the comment. As if. Then, the remarks about his job began. She’d begun to mention how you and Will both had “real jobs,” and whatever Santi had set up down south was going to fall through. That you couldn’t chalk up to a misunderstanding. You’d been about to say something when Will had changed the subject. Rather abruptly.

That had been your first interaction with Anna.

The next had been at one of Will’s barbecues. You’d all been eating when she’d made an offhand comment about Will’s shirt—one clearly meant to embarrass him. You’d opened your mouth to protest when you’d felt Benny’s hand on your knee. You looked over at him and he merely shook his head. Saying, it’s not worth it.

Since then, you’d stopped giving Anna the benefit of the doubt, and she’d proved you right every single time. You had a strange feeling that this trip would be no different.

Will’s voice from the phone brought you back to the conversation at hand.

“Is something wrong, or—“

“No,no!” Benny sputtered. “What do you mean Pope’s bringing someone?”

Benny said it like it was something outrageous. And, to be fair, it sort of was. It wasn’t that Pope was disrespectful, or a womanizer in any sense. It was only that he didn’t get attached easily, at least not with relationships. From your understanding—based off of what you’d observed and heard from Benny—he’d had many flings with men and women alike over the years, only none had stuck. So for Santi to even be with someone long term was a big deal, nevertheless introducing them to the whole group. This was gonna be interesting.

“Yeah,” Will chuckled. “I just found out. Same with Fish. You’re just as freaked as I am.”

“Well who is she?” You asked, leaning into the phone a bit.

“Hey smalls.” Will said fondly.

“Yeah, hi.” You replied dismissively. “Back to the question: who is she?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “From what I know, he is someone he met at a bar. Guy’s real quiet though, from what I’ve heard.”

“Wow, honey.” Benny raised his eyebrows. “Heteronormative much?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, Benny. I taught him that word and now he will never shut up about it.” He snickered beside you, prompting you to smack his arm.

“Sorry, Will. Anyway, so he. Who is he?”

“I know just as much as you, kid. Hell, Frankie just found out, like, 20 minutes ago. Guess we’ll find out later. Speaking of, what time are you getting here?”

“Ahh, about two hours, give or take.” Benny responded.

“Perfect,” Will said. “See you then. And I’m grilling tonight, so you don’t have to worry about dinner.”

“Nice,” you said, already salivating at the idea of Will’s ribs.

“Ah,shit.” Will spat under his breath. You could still hear it through the phone though.

“What is it?” Benny asked.

“Well,” Will paused. “Since Pope didn’t warn us about bringing a plus one until, well, twenty minutes ago, we’re a room short.”

“Sorry?” You asked, a bit confused by the wording. Will sighed.

“There are four bedrooms,” he explained. “We’d planned on having Santi and Benny bunk together and giving you the extra, but since Pope’s got his boyfriend, looks like you two are roommates.”

There was a beat of silence that followed, before Will added.

“… Unless you wanna room with Anna for the weekend—“

“God no,” you burst, not thinking before the words came out. Benny snorted next to you.

“Sorry, I didn't mean—“ you tried to correct yourself before Will laughed.

“No, I get it.” In the background, you heard someone, a woman, call his name. Probably Anna. “Alright, I gotta go, see you in a few hours.”

“Bye!”

“-bye!”

You sighed before leaning back in your seat. Benny glanced at you, serious for a moment before that slow smile crossed his face.

“C’mon honey,” he teased. “I can’t be that ugly to have you huffin’ and puffin’ about sharing a room with me—“

You smacked him, rolling your eyes at him.

“Eyes on the road, Miller.” He merely chuckled. A beat passed.

“You better not snore,” you added.

- - - -

The rest of the ride was uneventful. Mostly. It went by without a hitch, if you didn’t count Benny making you jump by yelling “gator!” at you while you were driving down a backroad. He’d found out about your irrational fear of alligators about a week ago and hadn’t stopped teasing you about it since. It was nearly 2:00 pm by the time you made it to the little beachside cottage on the Gulf—thanks to Benny’s shitty sense of direction, you’d gotten lost. More than once.

Frankie and Will were already there when you’d arrived, along with Marisol and Anna. While the guys had exchanged pleasantries, you’d had a cordial, albeit brief, greeting with Anna before Mari had engulfed you in a hug, sighing into your ear about how glad she was you were finally there. You gulped, realizing that you’d been naive to hope that there wouldn’t be any drama with Will’s fiance-from-hell.

The good news though, was that Santi was due to arrive any minute, and since Frankie’s parents’ home was in a retirement community, there wouldn’t be any hustle and bustle of the usual Florida tourism. It would be a peaceful, relaxing weekend away. At least you hoped so.

“God, Mari!” You looked your friend up and down. It had been a few weeks since you’d seen her. “You look amazing!”

She scoffed, looking down. “Yeah, I’m as big as a house.”

She wasn’t completely wrong. Her stomach was round. She was 8 months pregnant—in the homestretch—and was very obviously ready for her pregnancy to be over with. She’d told you as much when the two of you had gotten coffee nearly a month ago. Still, though, she looked gorgeous as ever. In fact, she looked more gorgeous than ever. Her dark, curly hair looked fuller, more shiny, and her bronze complexion was practically glowing. Motherhood already looked good on her.

“Oh please, you’re glowing.”

“All the baby hormones,” she laughed. “I guess that is a plus side to all this. I just can’t wait for her to get out.”

You laughed in response to her.

“No, seriously!” She continued, “my feet hurt, like, all the time!”

“So,” you leaned in, “have you and Frankie decided on a name yet?”

“We have,” she smiled fondly, hand on her belly. “We’re gonna name her after my grandmother—Alma, and then her middle name after Frankie’s mom, Magdalena.”

“Alma Magdalena. That’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, before puffing out a breath. “Woo, is it just me, or is it hot out here?”

“No, it definitely is,” you agreed, already beginning to feel sticky in the heavy Florida heat. “And humid.”

“Yeah, I’m going inside.” She patted your arm before beginning to waddle to the front door.

You looked over at Frankie, watching his eyes follow Marisol with an almost overbearing concern. His brows were furrowed, as he watched, making sure she got into the house without problem. It made your heart ache a bit, watching them. Not in jealousy, but in envy. You wondered what it would feel like to be cared about so deeply by another person.

As if on instinct, your eyes snapped to Benny, who was talking at Frankie, and completely missing the fact that he was paying absolutely no attention to what he was saying. The live-wire look in his eyes made your lips twitch. He always looked so animated. So full of life and charisma—your heart clenched. You could stare at him for days, you thought. Just like this: hands gesturing, eyes alight, hair falling haphazardly over his forehead. Gaze so full of love for his friends, his brother. You snapped yourself out of it before you could let your mind run further.

It was high time you got over this little crush on your best friend.

He was everything to you; that much you knew.

In the few months you’d known him, he’d completely changed your life for the better. You’d gone from working a 9 to 5, staying in every weekend, merely surviving in every sense of the word, to living, and it was all thanks to him and Will. You would forever be thankful to them for that. They’d given you friendship, family, in a way you hadn’t had it in a long time. Then, your stupid emotions had to get in the way.

Benny had always been pretty. Gorgeous, really. From the moment you saw him, you’d been able to acknowledge that. But he was Will’s brother, and so kind and easygoing and you two got along so well that you decided early on that there was no way anything would ever happen between the two of you.

You couldn’t ruin the friendship; you wouldn’t ruin the friendship. That fear mixed with your decided lack of dating experience and trust issues was enough to keep any romantic thoughts about Benny at bay. At least, until now.

You shook your head, walking up to the boys, who were talking about Will’s barbecue methods—how they were “much better than yours, Fish”—and put a hand on Benny’s shoulder.

“You ready to unload the truck, Miller?” You asked. “I’m sweating buckets out here.”

“Still not used to the Florida heat, kid?” Frankie asked, arms crossed over the plain tshirt he was wearing.

“I’m an adult, you know.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “And, yeah, hell no. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“Sure, honey. But you’re not helping.” He started making his way over to the truck.

“Oh, shove off, Ben.” You followed him, not letting him unload by himself. “I’m helping.”

After about five minutes of bickering, he caved, and the two of you brought your luggage into the little cottage.

Mari was napping on the couch when you walked in, curled up next to Frankie, who’d draped a blanket over her while he read a book. Anna had resigned herself to her and Will’s room, and Will was preparing for dinner in the kitchen.

“Your room is the third door on the left,” Frankie called as you and Ben dragged your duffle bags into the house.

The little cottage was quaint; exactly what you’d expect from a senior’s home on the coast, all light pastels and beach-themed bathrooms. And most importantly, the AC was on. Thank God.

- - - -

There was only one bed. Because of fucking course there was.

You stood, staring at the patchwork quilt on the Queen sized mattress, frozen.

Logically, in your mind, you knew that there would likely only be one bed. Still, you held a sliver of hope that there would be something: a blow-up mattress or even a trundle. But no.

Just your luck, you thought bitterly. Benny cleared his throat beside you.

“So,” he eyed the bed. “What side do you want?”

And there he was. Your best friend who could dispel any type of awkwardness with only five words. This would be fine. It was just Benny.

In truth, the idea of sharing a bed with him had excited you—not that you’d ever admit that. But it scared you at the same time. You’d sometimes been known to talk in your sleep; what if your tongue got the better of you sometime during the night? Or what if during your sleep, you hugged or cling to him, like you’d been tempted to do before? You decided that there was nothing you could do about it now.

“Hmmm,” you drawled, before walking over and sitting down. “Right side.”

“Well,” he smirked, falling backwards to lay down on his side. “That is just perfect, because I always sleep on the left. Small world, huh, honey?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, resting your head on the pillow and closing your eyes, laying down yourself. “Small world.”

“You tired?”

You peeked over at him, cracking one eye open. He was laying on his side, facing you, hands clasped beneath his cheek. It made your breath hitch.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, pushing down the emotions that the man next to you invoked. “Some asshole woke me up too early.”

“Early, you say?” He was amused.

“Yup. Asscrack of dawn.”

He hummed. “And this guy, he’s an asshole?”

“Mmm, yeah.” You mumbled back, feeling the fatigue of the early morning catch up to you. “The worst. Weird guy, too. Following me around, showing up and my house—“

“Sounds like a creep, honey.” He stretched a little, rolling in his back, and moving his hands above his head. “Want me to beat him up for you?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, feigning indifference. “I’ll think about it. Honestly, I think he might be stalking me—“

Benny cut you off with a laugh, nudging you with his elbow, causing you to groan. “Shut up.” You laughed halfheartedly back, already feeling sleep pull at your eyelids.

“Hey, kid, you going to sleep?”

“Don’t call me that,” you grumbled, face smushed to the pillow as you turned on your side.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Well, I’m gonna play candy crush. I’ll wake you up for dinner, but don’t hit me this time.”

You mentally rolled your eyes.

“That was one time.”

“I’m serious, honey. Not trying to go back to work with bruises—“

“Fine, Ben. Won’t hit you, let me sleep.”

His only response was a chuckle.

The only sound in the little room, beside from the distant crashing of waves from the gulf, was the sound of the ceiling fan twirling above you. Breathing in, faintly, you could smell Benny’s cologne. Heady and soft and masculine and all him.

You slept like a baby.

- - - -

The first thing you noticed about Santi’s boyfriend was that he was nervous. It was something you’d come to recognize fairly well about people, being someone who’d spent most of their life nervous. And Everett, the wiry, shy man who Santi had brought with him, was definitely nervous.

And you didn’t blame him. After all, that was you merely a few months ago. Taking in his flustered, sheepish, careful appearance, you thought back to yourself meeting Will’s friends for the first time all those months ago. And god, did you feel for him.

He was slight, though a bit taller than Santi, and had curly dark hair atop a pale face. His glasses were as wiry as he was, sitting atop his nose as he chewed demurely at the barbecue.

You looked at him across the dinner table, Marisol and Santi laughing at something to the right of you and Benny at your left. When your eyes met, you gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, and his lips quirked in response, before honing on the conversation between his boyfriend and Marisol.

Benny was true to his word and had, in fact, woken you up before dinner. Right before dinner, which gave you less than optimal time to introduce yourself to Everett.

“So, Everett,” you spoke up when the conversation waned. “How did you and Santi meet?”

Santi chuckled a bit, and a small smile crossed Everett’s lips as he took a sip from his beer.

“You wanna tell the story, Evs?” Santi asked, looking at his boyfriend fondly, his hand splayed over the back of his chair. Everett shrugged.

“I guess,” he said. “We met at a bar. I was out with some people from work, really not enjoying myself honestly, and I guess Santiago noticed. I was shy at first, I’m honestly kinda surprised he didn’t get bored.”

“Oh please,” Santi gave him an incredulous look. “How could I? Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Everett’s face turned beet-red, gazing at his plate before looking over at Santi. Santi’s own face held a look so soft that you felt by just observing the interaction you were intruding on them. You smiled, looking over to Benny, who was gazing fondly on the two. Your eyes met his knowingly. Santi was whipped.

“But—uhm—“ Everett sputtered. “How long have you two been together?” He gestured to you and Benny. Your eyes went wide, before you snorted, looking at Benny, who’d choked on his beer. Will chuckled from down the table.

“We’re not,” you stopped, laughing a little, out of awkwardness more than anything. “We’re not together.” You finally corrected, smiling kindly at Everett, who looked mortified at his mistake.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought—“

“You’re fine,” Benny excused him with a wave of the hand, bringing his other arm over the back of your chair, mirroring Santi’s posture. “We’re just best friends.”

You nodded at him.

“Gee, thanks Ben.” Santi drawled dramatically, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, what am I, a roach?” Added Frankie, his mouth half full of food. You snorted.

“Nah, man. More like a fungus. Can’t get rid of you. Besides, she’s the one who puts up with all my bullshit.”

“—begrudgingly!” You added, earning you a playful glare from Benny.

“And she knows my coffee order. By heart. So you two,” he paused, playful as ever, “can suck it.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Interjected Mari, who was drinking soda in contrast to everyone else’s beer and seltzer.

Conversation came easier after that, laughter and jokes passing easily among the group. Anna had kept quiet mostly, and reserved herself to judgy glances and rolled eyes. That you could tolerate. And Everett had fit right in with the group; true, he was quieter than the rest of you, but what he lacked in boldness he made up for in wit. There were a few moments throughout the night when his snide or sarcastic comments left all of you howling in laughter.

Any awkwardness that may have existed between you and Benny at dinner had dissipated by the time you were both ready for bed. Whether that was genuine or due to exhaustion, you didn’t know, and you honestly did not care. Things were normal. At least, they were if Benny’s sense of humor was any indicator—(he’d cracked a joke about how “you know he sleeps naked, right?”, which was evidence enough for you).

You were practically asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow, sleeping like the dead through Benny’s incessant tossing and turning at being in an unfamiliar bed. Surrounded by that scent that was purely Benny, you didn’t have that problem, and though you woke up alone, his pillow still warm beside you as bacon crackled in the kitchen and he laughed with Frankie, you dreamed that during the night, he held you.

- - - -

The next day was supposed to be a beach day. The house was, quite literally, beach front, and made you wonder exactly how much money Frankie’s parents had, because holy hell, this place was nice. After a hodge-podge breakfast of bacon, eggs, and some fruit Mari had picked up from a fruit-stand on her and Frankie’s way there, you’d all prepared for a day in the sun, just as Benny had guaranteed.

Walking down to the beach through the long grass, the white sand burned the bottoms of your feet. You silently cursed yourself for opting to walk barefoot instead of in sandals like Benny had encouraged you to. You sped up, hobbling a little bit down the beach, until you reached some semi-damp sand, finally able to slow into a walk.

You looked further down the beach, where the rest of your group had set up camp, putting down towels, blankets, and even an umbrella. In the water, Mari was floating on her back, with Frankie behind her, holding up her shoulders. You smiled. She’d mentioned earlier how floating had helped relieve some pressure in her stomach that had been giving her pain, since it was towards the end of her pregnancy. Of course, Frankie had been waiting on her hand and foot, doing anything he could to ease her pain. Sitting on some towels they’d laid down, Pope was lathering up Everett’s pale back with sunscreen,

SPF 100, probably, you mused, remembering how pale he was.

Beside them, Benny laid in a beach chair, sunglasses over his eyes. As you reached them, you noticed he looked asleep. Under the umbrella was Anna, headphones in, and a sour look on her face as she rested her eyes. Will was in the water, wading out to Mari and Frankie.

You sighed, laying down on the blanket next to Benny. You’d applied sunscreen back at the house, having Mari help you with your back, and were now ready to soak up the sun, the cool sea breeze making the heat bearable. You put your headphones in, closing your eyes, and letting the music take you.

It was maybe fifteen minutes later when you felt a familiar hand on your calf, shaking you. You pulled out your headphones, seeing Benny crouching at your feet.

“Hey, wanna get in?” He asked, eyes hopeful and excited. “Santi challenged me to chicken and Frankie and Will won’t play.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, sitting up on your elbows. You glanced behind him in the water, where the rest of your friends (minus Anna) were standing in a circle, water up to their chests. Besides Pope, who had his arms crossed and was looking at Benny, a shit-eating grin on his face.

That was one thing about you: you didn’t back down from a challenge. You smirked, holding your hands up to Benny.

“Well, we can’t have him getting a big head, can we?” Benny’s eyes danced with mirth as he took your hands, pulling you up.

“God, I love you.” He laughed, before grabbing your hand, and pulling you with him as he began racing toward the water. Your heart stopped at such a declaration. A platonic one, obviously, but one said so casually. Your family wasn’t one that just declared that. It was more something that went unsaid, sometimes questioned. You’d never received such direct affection so unexpectedly. Your mind was reeling. But, the cold gulf water at your ankles forced you to refocus on the task at hand: defeating Pope.

“I see you’ve accepted the challenge?” Santi raised an eyebrow when you and Benny he waded out to where everyone else was standing, hands on his hips. You crossed your arms under the water.

“Why, that surprise you?”

“Not at all, smalls,” he taunted. “I can respect the bravery. Naive, but still.”

Benny rolled his eyes, standing part way behind you, hands on his hips. He was so close, you could feel the warmth from his bare chest on your back, through the water. Not touching, and not far enough away at the same time.

“Ya done chit-chatting, or are you gel gonna stand around all day?” Frankie called from a few feet away, prompting Mari to smack his bicep.

“Yeah,” Will added. “Wanna see you fight!”

“Since you were too chicken to do it!” You called back, causing Frankie to throw his head back in laughter and Will to roll his eyes.

“You gonna play or what?”

“Fine,” you play-glared at Will.

“But after we beat them, I’m takin’ you down next!” Benny added. You chuckled.

“Alright,” Benny turned to you, hands finding your shoulders. Your brain short-circuited a bit. Behind you, Santi and Everett were talking their game plan, with Everett obviously being the one on top, due to his slighter stature. “Let me get on your shoulders.” Benny looked at you expectantly. You blanched.

“I—“ your brows furrowed. Bennys laugh cut you off.

“Kidding, honey.” He shook his head. “I’m kidding. I’d crush you.”

That’s the idea, you thought immediately, before catching yourself. Your cheeks tinged pink.

I can’t believe I just thought that, you scolded, silently telling yourself to reign it in.

“Honey?” His voice broke you away.

“Hmm?”

“I said, you ready?” He raised an eyebrow. You nodded, before he turned around, his back to you. “Okay, when I dunk, get on my shoulders.”

“Benny, are you sure—“

He was under the water before you could finish. So, you did as he said. You grabbed onto his shoulders, before sliding your legs on either side, balancing as he came up for air.

Playing chicken was kind of like riding a bike: no matter how long it had been since you’d done it, it was easy to pick up again. You’d played before, often, when you were a kid with your cousins. This was just the same. Mostly.

What wasn’t the same as then, was Benny’s warm palms holding onto your knees, his fingers spanning up on your thigh a bit. You ignored the flutter in your heart.

“You all balanced, honey?” He patted your thigh, shaking his head to get a salty strand of hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah,” you patted his head. “I’ll try not to crush you.” He laughed, his shoulders shaking a bit.

“I’m not worried a bit, honey.” You smiled, looking over to where Santi had Everett on his shoulders. Frankie, Mari, and Will were on the sidelines, watching amusedly as Santi stared Benny down.

“You ready to go down, Garcia?” Benny taunted, walking over slowly, until you were right across from them.

“Oh, you’re dead.” Santi chuckled. Everett looked over at you apologetically.

“Sorry,” he said lamely. “In advance.”

You snorted, reaching out to shake his hand. “Me too, Ev. You two ready?”

“3,” Will began, being the self-proclaimed referee, “2, 1. Go!”

- - - -

The first clouds appeared around 2:00.

After beating Santi and Everett three different times in chicken, (effectively dubbing yourselves the dream team), Santi, ever the sore loser, demanded another rematch.

“Bullshit!” Santi cried, only half joking. “It’s Will, he’s biased! Catfish, you judge next!”

Benny rolled his eyes, floating on his back.

“Already told you, Pope. I’m not playing again. Think I got burned on my shoulders.”

Squatting in the water so it was up to your chin, you looked over at him lounging peacefully in the after, head tilted back. His shoulders were a little pink, along with his cheeks.

“Sounds like a cop out to me,” Frankie drawled casually, prompting a pointed look from Mari.

“Stop that!” She said.

“What?” Frankie asked, defensively. “I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re enabling them. Stop.”

You laughed, tilting your head at Pope and Everett, the latter of which was looking amused. He didn’t care about winning or losing; he just thought his boyfriend’s competitiveness was funny.

“Ya’know, Santi,” Benny had stood up again, shaking out his hair. “If you’re embarrassed you got beat by a girl, just say that.”

You snorted.

“You little—“

Santi’s voice was cut off by a deep rumble from the sky, one that you felt in your chest. All conversation ceased. You jumped, and so did Benny, his hands flying up to cover his face. A few feet away, Mari shrieked, grabbing onto Frankie. Santi grabbed Everett, before realizing that it was only thunder, and turning his face out toward the sea.

“Jesus,” he breathed, looking out toward the line where the ocean met the sky.

On the horizon, maybe a mile out, there were swollen stacks of clouds, so dark that they were a blue-purple color. They were ominous against the sea, which looked gray now. Thunderheads. The wind had picked up, sending goosebumps up the skin on your arms that were out of the water.

“That’s coming in fast,” you pointed out. Your aunt had lived by the sea, and after spending many childhood summers there, you’d learned to tell when a rain was coming.

“That’s my cue,” Mari said, eyebrows in her hairline.

“Yeah, yeah.” Frankie snapped his gaze from the dark clouds rolling in. “We all better get back to the house. The waves are picking up, and besides—that was thunder. Lightning won’t be far behind.”

You nodded as the others turned to head back to the beach. Turning back, Benny was still staring out at the clouds, shoulders stiff. Coming up beside him, his face was stony, eyes holding a type of seriousness you’d only seen a few times in them before.

“Ben?” You reached out and touched his shoulder, and he jumped, jerking away. His eyes went wide, looking at you.

“Shit,” he breathed, out of breath. He shook his head. “Sorry, honey.”

“S’okay.” You said warily, hand falling away from his shoulder. You bumped your shoulder against his.

“Let’s head in,” you continued. “Before the rain comes in.”

He nodded, turning back to the ocean one more time.

Back at the beach, you packed up your stuff: towels, blankets, bags, coolers.

He turned to you as you made your way up the sandy dunes, eyes on the ground.

“You think it’ll storm?” He asked. You furrowed your brows.

“I mean,” you looked over your shoulder. “Seems that way. Looks like it’s gonna be a bad one. Feel that wind.”

When you looked at him again, his face was grave.

“But,” you added, trying to sound more hopeful. “Maybe it’ll miss us. Maybe it’ll just rain a bit.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, walking a little faster toward the house.

Behind you, the sky rumbled again.

- - - -

It was a tropical storm.

When you’d made it back to the cottage, the wind at your backs as you struggled to shut the sliding glass door, Will, Anna, and Mari were sat on the couch, eyes glued to the television.

“Well, folks,” the weatherman stated, standing in front of a brightly colored map of Florida, focused on the gulf.

“I’d hunker in for the night, as a tropical storm rushed through the Gulf of Mexico and into the coast of central Florida. Winds may reach up to 60 miles per hour, so the national weather service has recommended that everyone on the coast stay indoors, and stay safe.”

“Well shit,” Will stated, leaning back. Looking outside, you noticed it had gotten extensively darker, the sun now hidden behind a cover of grey clouds.

“Good thing we went grocery shopping yesterday.” Mari shook her head, getting up and stretching. Beside her, Anna scoffed.

“This is just perfect.” She huffed, sourly. And suddenly, the air was charged with tension, with awkwardness, as you and Benny exchanged a look. This was definitely not going to be good.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you to check the weather, Will. What the hell even is this? Are we just going to be cooped up in here all weekend?”

The air could be cut like a knife, and this time, you didn’t keep quiet.

“Will can’t control the weather, Anna.” You said dryly. Benny shot you a side-look.

Anna snapped her head around, eyes sharp.

“I told him to check the weather, so I wouldn’t be stuck here all weekend with—“

“—Frankie checked the weather, too, before we left, and—“

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Anna’s tone was venomous as she interrupted Mari, who was trying to mediate. Will jumped into action at that.

“Okay, that’s enough.” His voice was firm, more firm than you’d heard it. “Anna, we can talk about this in private.”

The two exchanged a look, Anna’s eyes fiery. His gaze held.

“Fine,” she pursed her lips, huffing as she exited the room, Will at her heels.

“What a bitch,” you pushed out after she’d left the room, outraged at how she’d blown up at both you and Marisol. Mari rolled her eyes, waving her hand.

“It’s fine,” she said, “I could’ve handled it.”

“But what was her problem?” You asked.

“I’ve never known what that girl’s problem is,” she laughed a little bit. “I’m not sure I’ve ever even seen her smile.”

Benny snorted at that.

“Me either, actually.”

Mari sighed, looking outside.

“Well, I’m gonna shower then start dinner. It’s Frankie and my turn to cook.”

The Anna situation forgotten, and food on his mind, Benny perked up at that.

“Ooo, what’re you makin’?”

Mari gave him a knowing look, rolling her eyes amusedly.

“Well, we were going to make burgers, but seeing as we won’t be able to grill, I think we have everything for chili.”

“Yes,” He said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a messy kiss to her forehead. She scrunched up her nose. “That’s why you’re my favorite Morales.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed, pushing him away. “Alright, Miller, you stink. I'm gonna go take a bath. I’ll see you both later.”

A slight rain had begun to patter at the windows outside, the wind whirred against the house, howling. The A/C in the house was still on and working as the storm had done absolutely nothing to quell the heat, causing your damp swimsuit to feel freezing against your skin. You shivered.

“It’s freezing in here,” you said. “I’m gonna go change. Maybe take a nap.”

“You want the first shower?” Benny asked as you made your way down the hallway to your bedroom.

“Nah,” you snorted. “I won’t do that to you. You know I take forever to shower.”

“Touché,” he laughed, opening the door to your room and shutting it behind him. You sighed, throwing your bag on the bed.

“Well,” you began. “This should be cozy.”

“Pardon?” He laughed, his back towards you as he gathered what he needed to shower from his bag that was sitting on the dresser.

“You know, the storm. It’s gotta last til at least tomorrow morning. Don’t know how long Anna’s gonna last in here with all of us.”

When you looked back up at him, his back was stiff and straight. How you’d imagine a soldier would stand. Similar to how he stood on the beach, staring out at the approaching storm.

“Ben,” you said quietly after a minute of him standing there, still. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Ye—yeah,” he said, voice breaking and then trying again. He cleared his throat, before turning and walking out of the room.

This was unlike Benny. He was never this aloof, high strung. Never this nervous. It hurt your heart to see your happy, easygoing, kind best friend like this.

He obviously didn’t want to talk about it right now, and you respected that. You did. At the same time, though, you wanted to make it known that he could talk to you about it, if he wanted to. So, you decided you would. Later, after dinner, when you’d both had time to wind down.

Over and over again, he’d been there for you, so now you would be there for him. If he’d let you.

- - - -

You decided to shower later that evening, and after spending over thirty minutes under the steamy spray, you finally felt free of the sand and sweat from your day at the beach. After drying off and getting dressed, you wiped some of the condensation off of the bathroom mirror, taking in your appearance.

You hadn’t gotten a sunburn—thank god—you’d remembered to reapply, unlike Benny, who still had a light spread of pinkness across his cheeks and shoulders. A few new freckles had showed up, though, across your cheeks, thanks to the sun. Your hair, though wet, had decided to behave, not looking crazy like you’d anticipated after being soaked in the drying salt water. You wore sleep shorts and a large T-shirt as pajamas.

Halfway through brushing your teeth, you heard a knock at the door.

“Almost done!” You called. The familiar feeling of guilt spread through your chest, hoping you hadn’t used up the last of the hot water. You hadn’t realized you weren’t the last one to shower.

“Sorry, take your time!” The soft spoken voice came from the other side. Everett.

You smiled at the thought of the skinny man you’d become fast friends with. After dinner, the two of you had gotten a chance to talk more—about work, college, and, of course, being the new person in such a tight knit group. He’d confessed that he’d been nervous out of his mind at the concept of meeting Santi’s friends—his found family. You’d recounted how you first met the guys, and had commiserated with him, before assuring him that you all loved him. He was one of you now.

Opening the door, the cool air of the air-conditioned hallway hitting you refreshingly as you exited the humid bathroom.

“Sorry,” you cringed, looking at a very sunburnt Everett, holding his towel and toiletries. “I may have used up all the hot water. I thought everyone had showered.”

“Have you seen me?” He asked, giving you a look. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to shower with hot water right now. It hurts just to move.”

You tried to hide your laugh, though failing miserably when looking at him. He very much resembled a lobster.

“No,” he laughed with you. “You can laugh, it’s funny.”

“It’s just—“ you snorted. “How did you burn? You reapplied like four times.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Santi said the same thing. Getting on my ass about not putting on a fifth coat. Overbearing as hell.” He said it fondly, a small smile on his face.

“He loves you.” You stated. And it was true. A blind man could see it.

“Yeah,” he sighed wistfully. “He does. I don’t deserve him.”

“You do.” You replied immediately, looking into his eyes that had suddenly turned shy.

“I’m serious,” you continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at someone like that. Even Fish.”

He snorted at that, eyebrows raised.

“Speaking of couples,” he segwayed. “Again, I’m really sorry for assuming—“

“What, about me and Benny?” You asked, pointing your thumb in the direction of your bedroom. “Don’t worry about it. I’d have probably assumed the same thing.”

“It’s just,” he paused, catching himself.

“What?”

“No, it’s nothing—“

“Tell me, please.” You affirmed, sensing he was holding something back.

“Okay,” he sighed. “What’s going on there?”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows.

“Oh, come on.”

“What?” You laughed. He shook his head, laughing.

“It’s just, I mean, and I may be wrong, but I’m rarely wrong-“

“Just spit it out,” you laughed.

“You guys are obviously into each other .”

Your breathing stopped, the idea of being so see through made your head spin.

God, did everyone else know? Did Benny know?

“Or maybe not. It’s like when,” he stopped himself again, seeing the wan look on your face. He shook his head, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line—“

“No, it’s okay.” You tried to sound easy, carefree, and failed miserably. He started toward the bathroom.

“I should—“

“When what?” You asked abruptly.

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You said, ‘it’s like when,’ earlier before you stopped. When what?”

He sighed again, looking at you with a genuine smile on his face, his eyes soft. “It’s like when Santi looks at me.”

And your chest expanded, heart beating a bit faster. You smiled at him thinly, trying to keep your composure. You wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That you and Benny were friends and that’s all you’d ever be. That he was an asshole for giving you false hope, and that you weren’t Benny’s type anyway. That you didn’t—couldn’t—believe what he was telling you for fear you’d break your own heart. But you couldn’t.

“He’s my best friend,” you settled for.

“Yeah,” he gave you a knowing look.

“Night,” you smiled. “Sorry again about the water.”

“Don’t be,” he laughed, already shutting the door. You sighed, turning back to walk down the hall, ready now more than anything to sleep.

- - - -

Warm hands ran up your waist, your chest, your neck, before threading into your hair and tugging. A moan escaped your chest involuntarily.

“You like that, honey?” His breath was hot against your neck, making you arch your back into a firm, familiar chest.

“Benny,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders and squeezing in the way you’d never been allowed to—never allowed yourself to.

“I’m right here, baby,” he breathed in your ear, pressing hot kisses to your neck. There was that nickname again: baby. You shivered.

“What do you want?” His deep voice rumbled, lips pressing to your shoulder.

Your breath stuttered, unable to form words, unable to think about anything other than his lips on your neck and his hips pressed tightly to yours.

“I-I,” you tried breathily.

“Words, honey, use your words,” he chastised, teeth running along your jawline.

“You,” you finally got out, hands moving to the back of his head. “I want you.”

“No,” his voice said again, more serious this time.

“What do you really want?”

You weren’t in control anymore, your mouth moving by itself.

“I want to tell you,” you stopped as he ran his lips over the curve of your collarbone, sucking a bruise there.

“Tell me what?” He sounded mocking now.

“Tell you that I—“

“What?” He asked again, more demanding.

“That I—“

You snapped awake at the sound of thunder, gasping, and jerking to the side of the bed like you were falling. The words you were about to confess in your dream, the words I love you, stamped like a scarlet letter in the front of your mind.

What the hell was that, you thought.

You leaned over your side of the bed, arms braced on your knees, for a moment before sneaking a glance over to Benny, and hoping to god that he hadn’t awoken too. Behind you, he was curled up on his side, hair falling messily over his pillow, his breathing steady. Thank God.

Outside, the raging tropical storm did little to soothe your nerves. Your throat was dry. You needed a glass of water.

You went to the kitchen and leaned your forehead against the cool metal of the fridge as your cup filled up.

Okay. Let the cool water wash whatever that was away, you told yourself. You could do this.

Padding back to the bedroom, you slipped in through the door, before setting your cup down on the bedside table. You lifted up the covers, eyes still adjusting to the dim light in the room before your eyes caught a movement. A thrash.

On the other side of the bed, Benny was curled up, knees bunched up to his chest in the fetal position. His breath was no longer calm and even, but deep and shallow. His brows were scrunched together, and his head was shaking. His lips moved, mumbling sounds in his sleep, trying to speak, but failing.

He was having a nightmare.

You moved to his side of the bed, sitting on the corner, and leaning over to see if you should wake him up or let him sleep it out.

Thunder cracked again, a flash of lightning lighting up the room, and Benny jerked, like he was embracing himself to be hit. He curled in on himself again, arms curled into his chest, and a whimper escaped from the back of his throat. The wind was louder than the rain, catching on the gutters and shutters of the house in a hissing moan.

Benny pressed his face into the pillow, brows scrunched in pain.

“No,” he whined, voice higher than you’d ever heard it. Your heart broke in your chest.

You pressed a hand to his shoulder, running it down to his bicep.

“Benny,” you whispered, squeezing, trying to rouse him gently.

He was stiff, like before, only more so now. His shoulders were tight, coiled, and he was shaking, fists clenched to his chest.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled, sounding close to tears. He turned onto his back. “No, please.”

“Benny.” You stated firmly, not able to take any more of this. Your hands pressed into his shoulders, effectively pinning him to the bed.

His eyes snapped open, a ragged gasp leaving his lips. You sat back, giving him space to get his bearings. He panted.

His eyes moved wildly, looking around the room, darting, before finally landing on you. He sighed, leaning back on the pillow, hands shaking as he brought them up to wipe down his face.

“J-Jesus,” he whispered shakily, still trying to catch his breath.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a clap of thunder sounded, making both you and Benny jump. He stiffened up again, seemingly folding in on himself.

“S-sorry, honey.” He said, voice shot. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.” He sounded on the verge of a panic attack, his breaths coming out in deep, shallow pants.

“You didn’t,” you said, trying to meet his eyes, but his were blank, haunted as he breathed deeply.

Oh shit, you thought. You knew where this was going.

“Okay,” you said, pulling him to sit up, and sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Benny,” you started, bending your head to meet his eyes. “Benny,” you said more firmly this time. His panicked eyes met yours. “Okay, I need you to breathe, okay, Ben? Can you do that?”

“I—I don't know,” he said, scared, out of breath. “I can’t,”

“Okay,” you said, trying to sound as calm as you could, wanting so desperately to help the man in front of you.

You thought back to your last panic attack, at the museum with Will. You knew exactly what to do.

“Just look at me, Benny.” You said, and his eyes met yours. You brought his hand up to your chest, scooting closer to him. “Okay, feel that?” He nodded.

“Okay, breathe with me. When I breathe, you breathe, got it?” You inhaled deeply, still holding his hand right below your collarbone. He nodded with you, breathing in raggedly. Still, it was a start.

“Good,” You cooed. “Now exhale. Good. Deep inhale.”

He breathed with you for a few minutes, eyes never leaving yours. Sometime in that time, his other hand found your hip, gripping it tightly, like a lifeline. Eventually, his breathing evened a bit. He was still trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he broke the silence, sheepish. You shook your head, nudging him.

“Hey.” You said firmly. “Stop that. It’s okay. I get them too, sometimes.”

He smiled gratefully at you, eyes softer than you’d seen them.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, still quiet, not wanting to break whatever this was. He sighed.

“I was back,” he swallowed. “Back over there. Bombs, blood, carnage.” He looked grave. You squeezed his knee.

“Do they happen often?”

“No,” he began. “Only when—“

Another clap of thunder, and Benny’s grip on your hip tightened, unconsciously pulling you closer. He squeezed his eyes tight.

“The storm?” You asked. He nodded, sheepish.

“It’s like,” he paused. “When they happen, either I can’t sleep and I’m a nervous wreck all night, or,” he sighed. “Or I can and I have these nightmares. It’s like, I can’t catch a break.”

“Does anything help?” You whispered, desperate to help him. You peeked over at the clock. 2:00 a.m.

“Sometimes, Will would—“ he stopped himself, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“No,” you said, with maybe too much force, “Benny, Will would do what?”

He sighed, shaking his head.

“He would—just, sometimes when we were deployed or—or I would get really bad, he’d,” he stopped, squeezing his eyes shut. “He would let me, like, listen to his heart. To give me something else to focus on. Like, his pulse or something.”

You blanched.

Oh. Oh.

He took your silence for awkwardness.

“You know, nevermind, it’s okay,” he began to move back, but you caught him by both arms, earnest.

“No!” You insisted. “No, it’s fine.”

He let out a breath. A beat of silence passed.

“I’ll,” you paused, swallowing. “You can—listen to my heart. If you want.” You added the last part lamely.

“Honey,” he sounded desperate, straining. You weren’t sure why. “You don’t have to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable—“

“Benny,” you glared at him. “I think we’re past that.”

He looked at you, brows pulled together in uncertainty.

“I mean, you were between my legs earlier—“

“Oh my god,” he laughed. Finally. A genuine smile out of him. You smiled back, falling back onto your side of the bed and getting comfortable on your own pillow. You opened the covers, looking over at him.

“Come here,” you said, and he obeyed.

He settled his head against your collarbone, his hips settling between yours, his arms braces under your back. He was wary to put his whole weight on you.

“Benny, are you gonna lie down, or are you just gonna hover?”

“I don’t wanna crush you—“ he began, obviously still nervous.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his shoulders and pulling down to you, prompting an “oof,” from him.

As if on queue, another crack of thunder boomed, his grip tightening around your middle. He let out a breath that brushed your collarbone. You tried to ignore how it made you feel.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asked, shaky. You ran a hand through his hair without thinking. He shivered against you.

“Yeah, Ben.” You said softly. “It’s okay. Go to sleep.”

“Okay,” he breathed, barely audible, before sighing again. This time, in relief. He sagged against you.

You scratched your nails over his scalp, and pretended to ignore the noise that escaped him in response. Your fingers threaded through his hair, trying to sleep yourself, enjoying Benny’s warm, firm weight on top of you entirely too much. After a moment, Benny spoke again.

“Honey,” he mumbled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed.

“Thank you.”

You didn’t respond, only tugged a little on his hair, exhaling deeply.

He was asleep within minutes.