#thank you writers for giving us intoxicated benedict

[mango-n5]

Just too precious ❤️

[krispyalpacaduck]

Passing Notes

My first Benedict X Reader fic :). Let me know what you think :)

Benedict Cumberbatch x reader

A/N: This was inspired by this photo on Facebook (Credit to the original poster whose name escapes me). This wasn’t supposed to be this long but it kind of got away from me. I shouldn’t have to say this, but I feel I must...For the reminder, this is fanfiction, so anything that happens in it is exercising artistic creativity, not a deliberate attempt to make the writer look like a housewrecker :)

It had been a rough day at the office. On the tube you maintained eye contact with the floor, not bothering to look at anyone lest someone decided to strike up a chat that you were just not in the mood for. Nearing your stop, you tilted back your head,rolling your neck around. Coming back full circle you opened your eyes and froze when you saw Benedict sitting opposite where you were standing. He looked as though he were sleeping, a book sitting lazily in his lap, his head slightly off to the side.  You argued with yourself as you stared at him. 'That could be anyone',  'Is that really him?!' and 'Nah, can't be." were at war with each other. He moved slightly, his head coming up and you knew in a second it was definitely him. You could feel your heart racing, slamming into your ribcage as you tried to remain calm instead of "OMG OMG OMG! You're Benedict Cumberbatch!" bursting from your lips. You put a hand to your mouth in effort to conceal a squeal of excitement at the prospect of being in the same tube carriage as Ben, the opportunity to talk to and see in person the one and only! As you turned to walk towards him, you suddenly remembered something he'd said in an interview about an, at times, irrational fear about people coming up to him questioning if he was indeed Benedict Cumberbatch.  You sucked in a harsh breath as you put eyes on him again, mentally berating yourself with a slight physical shake of your head as you thought about how you would feel if a random person woke you up when you had dozed off in a public place.  Thinking quickly, you remembered the notebook you had with you. Taking it out, you overheard the loud speaker announcing your stop was coming up. You wrote quickly but legibly: Hi Mr. Benedict Cumberbatch, I saw you on the tube but you looked quite content so I didn't want to disturb you. I just wanted to say that I am a huge fan of your work and I absolutely adore you. Well, stop's coming up. Take care! Cheers! Sincerely, Y/N Your stop was announced then. As gently as you could, you slipped the note into his book, hoping he would see it. As the pressure sounded, releasing the doors, you took one last look to see Benedict stirring. He looked around and then to you, offering a smile. You instantly offered one back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you walked out onto the platform. Had it not been for all the people around, you would have done a Sherlock in A Study in Pink and jumped in the air in excitement. You were so dazed by the encounter you nearly bumped into people.  Making your way out of the tube station, you fancied a cup of tea. You went to your favorite shop that was close by and ordered your favorite, a blueberry green tea. It always hit the spot when you were stressed out or just needed a chill out time. You chucked to yourself thinking, 'This is definitely a chill out time.'  The wind had picked up outside, twirling leaves and debris into a mini-tornado as people started filing in to warm up. You decided to stay for a bit, taking out Hamlet to study it. The play was coming up and you needed to be ready. It was some time before you looked up upon hearing the door bell jingle. A gush of wind screamed at the pages of your book, shutting it violently. Loose papers flew around the shop haphazardly, their owners scrambling to grab them.  You looked to the door, curious to see who had let in the offending element. You felt a whoosh of air leave your lungs as you stared at the door, or rather, the figure at the door. Standing there brushing leaves off his coat with leather gloved fingers was Benedict. His creamy tan coat graced his shoulders, the collar turned up against the wind. The bottom of the coat moved in a sensual, sinful dance as he walked to the counter, hugging his legs. Naturally he would make an entrance like that, you chuckled to yourself. He glanced to you as he passed and offered a smile, seeing a twinkling of recognition in his eyes. Pulling off his gloves, he ordered, the sound of his voice carrying across the small shop. Music to your ears. You closed your eyes as he made small talk with the barista, relishing in hearing it in person.  The smell of Annick Goutal Eau de Monsieur caught your nose. Hints of mandarin orange, bergamot, mint, geranium, patchouli and sandalwood intoxicated you, making you feel lightheaded. It wasn't enough that the man himself was sinfully gorgeous but he smelled amazing too. Not that you were surprised. You opened your eyes, glancing around the shop, seeing others breathing in deeply, eyes closed, letting out a breath with half-lidded eyes. You noticed another peculiar thing when sweeping your eyes across the room; there were no seats left. Not daring to look for Ben again, you opened your book again and tried to focus on the words, silently praying (yet secretly wishing that he hadn't) that Ben had gotten his tea and left. You waited for the gush of wind from the opened door, but none came.  "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"  The voice came suddenly, causing you to jump, the book closing again. A waft of his cologne assaulted your nose again as the wind from him walking and stopping at the table caught up. You glanced up slowly, locking eyes on his and felt your face break out in a blush. "Not at all. Please!" You said, gesturing to the open chair. "Thank you." He said cheerfully with that to-die-for smile on his face. Be cool, be cool, be cool! You admonished yourself. Ben crossed his leg and turned in the chair, looking around the shop at the soft light and decorations that lined the rafters. You took the opportunity to look at him while he was distracted. He wore a maroon shirt like the one he wore in Sherlock, the buttons seemingly straining to keep it on him and black pants that outlined his legs. You trained your eyes back to his face, studying it. Your eyes focused on several points of interest, most notably his neck. A pale thick column of muscle as it was elongated to search the ceiling, matching up perfectly to his chiseled jawline. Your fingers twitched involuntarily, taking on a life of their own, desperate to feather down its length. Of course you would never be so brazen but you couldn't help but entertain the thought. Benedict turned then to face you, both of you letting out a chuckle at the normal than longer eye contact. You tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear, an action you unconsciously did when you were nervous, as you tried to calm the heat in your face.  "So, what's your poison?" Benedict asked. The question took you by surprise. "I'm sorry?" "Tea, I mean." "Oh, duh. Haha. I really like blueberry green tea. It's a lighter green tea but very good. What about you?" I like a blend of Earl Grey with Lapang Souchong. It's a very smokey black tea, the Lapsang but it pairs nicely with the Earl Grey." "Is that what I smell? It smells like a brisket." "It does, doesn't it?" You share another chuckle together. You brought your hands up yo your tea mug, thumbs lightly stroking the sides. You didn't know what to talk to him about. It was awkward. "I have to say," you began, keeping your eyes fixed on your cup. You had a chance to tell him exactly what you had written in your note to him  and you were going to take it. "I'm a huge fan and I'm honestly a little star-struck at having tea with you." You finished, looking up at him. It was his turn to blush, circling his finger around the top of the cup. "I'm flattered, thank you. I'm just like everyone else though. Nothing special." You threw him a look, you head slightly tilted, eyebrow raised with a smile on your face. He responded in kind, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He looked to the book on the table. "Hamlet?" You looked down to the book, then back to Ben.  "Yeah, I'm taking a Shakespeare class and we are performing Hamlet as a grade. I was awarded the part of Ophelia." "Oh, wow! How nice! I was Hamlet myself." "I know! And you were superb!" He laughed again, turning his face, giving you an eye full of those adorable crinkles. He faced you after a few moments.  He seemed to be mulling over something in his head. He leaned back, crossing his leg, hand on the table. "Let's hear it, then."

"What?" "Let's recite a little bit. Pass the time." Your cheeks flared up, anxiety hitting you full force. Benedict Cumberbatch was offering to help you with your lines.  "Oh, no. I couldn't possibly-" You stammered. "It's a great exercise. It will help with the anxiety of a live performance. May I?" He asked, gesturing to the book. "Of course." You said, passing the book to him.  He picked it up, scanning for a good place to read from. You listen carefully as he begins, reading ahead in your mind to your lines so you can come in on time. "Ah! Here we go. Act III, Scene 1.  To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life; for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sick lied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.--Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remember'd." You shook yourself out of the stupor that had befallen you as he recited. It's like you were seeing him preform live right in front of your eyes. You stuttered as you struggled to think and once you'd placed them, you gave it your all. "Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day?" "I humbly thank you; well, well, well." "My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them." "No, not I; I never gave you aught." "My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed as made the things more rich: their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord." "Ha, ha! are you honest?" "My lord?" "Are you fair?" "What means your lordship?" "That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty." "Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?" "Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once." He was mesmerizing to watch as he slipped into the character. Seeing him like that helped you to relax and really pull yourself into the part. What better way to practice than by reciting lines with someone who not only had grown up in theatre but who had played the lead role himself! "Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so." "You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not." "I was the more deceived." "Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father?" You struggled to retain your composure after the intensity of his delivery, the shy, uncertain meekness creeping back in. "At home, my lord." Your voice was quiet. "Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewell." "O, help him, you sweet heavens!" "If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague forthy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go,and quickly too. Farewell." "O heavenly powers, restore him!" "I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go." He finished his part and looked to you, expectantly, waiting for you to continue. You let out a deep sigh.  "I can't." "Why not? You were doing so well!" "I'm sorry, it's just...I pale in comparison to the amazing delivery that you have.  I feel as though I'm watching you perform live right in front of me. This is so surreal. From seeing you on the tube, to having tea with you and now reciting Hamlet with you...it's extremely overwhelming." He reached over the table and grabbed your hand, squeezing it in comfort.  "I'm sorry if I have upset you." "Oh gosh, no! The anxiety of doing this in public and if the intensity of the delivery is making it difficult to keep the good lid i have in my emotions secure." You finish with a small smile, not meeting his eyes. "I understand completely. In all the theatre productions I've done, I still get nervous." He squeezed your hand harder, making you look at him. "You've got this." He said with a smile. You smiled and let out a small, nervous laugh. Sitting back in your chair closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, let it out, opened your eyes and began Ophelia's monologue. "What a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!" You had been looking off, focusing on a distant point as you recited. You took another deep breath when you finished, your body slightly shaking and met Benedict's gaze once again. He was smiling brilliantly at you. He opened his mouth to say something when the roar of applause interrupted. You and Benedict looked around startled, seeing everyone in the coffee shop standing and clapping. Your face was immediately hot as Ben looked back at you laughing, his own face red. He reached his hand out to yours, taking it in his as you both stood up and bowed to the cacophony. "That was brilliant! You were wonderful!" He looked taken aback then appalled by something. "Oh my God. I am so sorry. I don't even know your name. I am so sorry." You couldn't help but chuckle as he looked so stricken not knowing your name. "It's okay. It's Y/N." "That was a most ungentlemanly thing to do on my part. I am so sorry."  "Mr. Cumberbatch, I assure you it is okay." "Ben, please." He offered his hand, which you met. "It is a pleasure to meet you." "It is an honor." You replied, to which he chuckled softly.  You glanced at your watch, not realizing it was so late.  "Oh, my goodness  Is it that late already? Well, this has been lovely but, sadly, I have to head home now or frankly, I would be here all night with you.  Thank you very much for your time today. It was wonderful and I will truly cherish this once in a lifetime encounter." You stood up, putting your coat on and grabbed your messenger bag. You stuck your hand out to shake Ben's. "It was a pleasure, Benedict." "The pleasure is all mine." He said as he kissed your hand. You grabbed the table quickly to avoid falling over. "You do know that I have to walk out of here, right? My knees have now been effectively reduced to jelly." He chuckled and stood up, offering you his arm. You blushed and took it, just because you'd never get another chance too. You both chuckled softly as you walked to the tea shop door, Ben slipping his arm out of your grasp to hold the door open for you. "Thank you, sir. How gentlemanly." You both shared a laugh at the inside joke until you met each other's faces again in an awkward stare. "You take care and I look forward to seeing you on the big screen soon." You stuck your hand out once again for him to shake, fighting every sensor in your body that wanted to hug him. He took it firmly but softly. As your hands parted, you pulled the collar of your coat up and turned to walk towards your flat  your heart hammering in your chest as you recounted the day's events in your head.  A few minutes later you thought you heard your name being called. You sometimes heard things even when there wasn't anything to be heard and passed it off to the wind. As the seconds passed, it became harder and harder to think it wasn't your name being called by a deep voice. "Y/N! Wait!"  You turned to see Benedict running towards you, walking towards him as he caught up to see he was carrying something. "You...you forgot your book." "Oh my gosh," you said, taking the outstretched book. "Thank you so much! I would've gone crazy looking for it." "You're welcome." He bent over, trying to catch his breath.  "Are you going to make it?" You asked, laughing. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Gimme a minute." He said in between large breaths and gulps of air. You looked to him, then around you, then back to him. He was still bent over, hands on his knees. You placed your hand on his back, leaning down near his face, prepared to ask him again if he was okay, when his head suddenly popped up. In a hot second, his hands had encompassed your head, his lips joining yours in a passionate, yet gentle kiss. You leaned against the rail for stability, bringing your own hands up to his neck and head. When you finally broke the kiss, you kept your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath after he literally and figuratively took it away. You unconsciously drew your bottom lip into your teeth, savoring the taste of cinnamon on it. His forehead touched yours and you both started to laugh. 

 “Well…that’s a fine goodbye.” You said on a giggle, swallowing thickly while you looked at the ground.

 He lifted his head from yours, looking straight into your eyes, still holding your neck in his hands, just a breath away.

 “Gotcha.”

 You met his eyes, looking back and forth between them.

 “I could stare into those eyes until the end of time and never grow tired of it.”

 He moved his hand up higher, thumb dragging lazily up and down your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, placing your hand on the outside of his. As if suddenly remembering himself, he dropped his hands and stepped back.

”I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”He said, a soft laughter escaping his lips, shaking his head slightly, touching his lips nervously with his fingers.

You put your hand on your hip, sticking it out in a mock display of drama. “You cheeky monkey! You said.

He met your eyes and upon seeing that you weren’t angry with him, he laughed in return. 

“I could say the same about myself. Kissing a man I just met. In all honesty though, I can’t honestly say I’ve never thought about it. Thank you for making this day so much better.”

 He smiled really wide then and pulled you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and let yourself feel him as he laid his cheek on your head, both of you slightly turning side to side.

It was the night of the play and you were feeling all kinds of nervous. Shaking your fingers and bouncing on the balls of your feet, you waited for the production to begin, trying to calm yourself and anchor down by remembering the time with Ben in the tea shop. You hadn’t seen him since that day, but then deep down, you hadn’t been expecting to. It was a chance meeting, a random encounter with an even more random surprise kiss. He went on about his life, filming the upcoming limited series Patrick Melrose. So did you, albeit a little changed.. You still didn’t quite understand what the day had been, but you would remember it forever. But, deep in the recesses of your mind, you wished he could be there to see what the fruits of his kind gesture had produced. The show went spectacularly, garnering a standing ovation for all of you. You and the actor playing Hamlet took your final bow before the curtain fell in front of you  the cast all yelling together in triumph of a job well done. Letting down your hair and shaking it out, you made your way back to your dressing room. Rounding the corner, you saw people standing at your door. Confused, you quickened your pace. "Guys, what's wrong?" The whispers stopped as you made your way to the front of the crowd. On the table was a huge assortment of roses, each one more beautiful than the last. You walked over to it, picking up the card and reading it silently. To my dearest Y/N, I told you you got this! You were marvelous. Well done.    - Cheeky Monkey "Who is that from?" A stage hand asked. You tried hard to hide your smile. "I don't know." you lied. You knew exactly who it was from.

Epilogue

A few months later, Ben was on The Screen Actors Guild awards, receiving his award for best actor in a limited TV series. "Yay! He got it!" You exclaimed to your dog, who wagged her tail at you. You sat down next to her, barely on your seat as he spoke. As he took the cards out of his pocket, you noticed something fall to the stage floor. Your eyes went wide as you stared at the TV, recognizing the floral print paper you had written your note to him on. He cleared his throat as he put the piece of paper back into his shirt pocket. You were hanging on every word he said, tears in your eyes. "'These moments...are a treasure...and I'll shall cherish them always. Thank you so much." He had looked straight into the camera, sneaking in a wink at the end, knowing deep down that last bit was meant for you.