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coweye · 5 months ago

Text

Commitment Issues - rewrite (part 1/2)

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Words: 33k

Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

Warning: Smut, Unprotected Sex, Choking, Angst, Fuck Boy Benny.

AN: Hey Ya'll - So I feel my writing has come a long way since I started this fic all those years ago. So I took the liberty of compiling all 10 parts into 2 handy dandy easy to find parts.

If you want just the ending chapter or prefer the old fic, I respect that and will post and include a link to the masterpost here✨

I love you all so much and thank you for your support over the years.💖

Lets end this bitch out.

“Fuck- you’re tight… baby, how are you always so fucking tight?” Benny Miller croons into your neck leaning over your half clothed body as his large calloused hands eat at the flesh of your hips giving him leverage to thrust himself even deeper inside of you.

Your eyes roll back into your head on his next stroke, somewhere in the back of your mind you hear the clang of his head hitting the metal roof of the pickup truck as he repositions himself to get a better hold on your hips but he doesn’t seem to care as he instantly resumes losing himself in your body. Skin slapping against skin and a cocktail of your groans is all that can be heard as you both chase your pleasure.

Benny and yourself had been engaging in a mutually beneficial relationship for around two years now. The two of you would make late night calls, summoning the other to your bedroom, living room or truck, apparently.

Before you knew it you had irritatingly started yearning for the man for more than the relief he provided; things like stupid fucking memes he sent you at all hours of the day or his irritating commentary that supplemented movie nights (they almost always turned into sex).

However, Benny was always resolute in his one and only rule of sleeping over. Sleep overs were off the table, unequivocally and indiscriminately banned.

Never once had he stayed in your bed, basking in post coital bliss with your body wrapped around his own as the two of you fell into a restful slumber.

For all intents and purposes your two relationships were separate entities; You were friends and then you were lovers.

Though it felt sometimes that Benny only really saw you as the former - despite the amount of times he had painted your inner walls with his seed.

Your hands gripped at the headrest in front of you as you pushed back against him, managing to take him even deeper inside of you until it felt like he was going to hit the opening of your womb. Benny pulled your t-shirt clad spine back to his chest, his hot tongue began trailing along your ear, down to your neck as he whispered filthy praise to you and ‘your tight little pussy’.

Your eyes rolled back as his hand wrapped around your throat and his other palm left its iron grip on your hips to find your clit, he rubbed slow lazy circles, causing a steady pressure to build inside of you.

“Come for me, baby.”

“Fuck-Ungh.” Your pleasure explodes, shutting down any and all brain function, killing your ability to worry about boundaries.

Your head locks backwards into his chest, as his hold on your throat keeps you upright against him as his thick cock scrapes against your walls in a now thundering pace as he chases his own release inside of you.

Once, twice, three times before he grunts and his hands abandon their individual tasks to hold your hips and push deep inside of you as he comes. His head is buried in your shoulder blade as yours finds the plush fabric of the backseat. Bare ass in the air with his softening cock inside you on the backseat of his pick-up truck nearly passed out from exertion is surprisingly not the least dignified way the two of you had ever finished.

Barely a moment has passed before the soldier is pulling his shirt over his head and mopping his seed from your thighs.

Ever the gentleman as he then wipes his own release from the fabric of the back seat. You try to push away the snide observation that he puts more effort to clean his upholstery than your body as you begin to redress.

This hadn’t been apart of your grand plan for the evening, when you’d called him and asked him to come over. Tonight was the night. It was either the day you and Benjamin Miller were going to go steady - or the last time you’d grant him the privilege of doing those wonderful things to your body.

Do or die, so to speak.

Finally he pulled up in front of your apartment building.

“You wanna come up?”

“Can’t sorry, Darlin’- told Will I’d come over to watch the game.” The lack of an invite was obvious to even your rose tinted glasses.

“Ah, don’t worry - I mean this isn’t how I wanted to do this… but I guess…” You trailed off, you were hesitant because you were pretty sure you knew how this conversation was about to go and the second those words left your mouth, they couldn’t be unsaid.

“Y/N?” Ben’s head tilted as he brushed his hand against your jean clad thigh.

“Look - I can’t - It’s just… This isn’t enough for me anymore Ben.” You finally gasp out frustrated. The car is silent for a moment as you stare at your hands currently gripped anxiously in your lap, after a moment you glance up and Benny is looking ahead, eyes boring into the windshield.

He says nothing, the hand that was on your thigh has slid to the seat, the warmth of it is still there but he somehow feels a million miles away.

“I lo-like the time we spend together doing this, but this has been going on since we were deployed. We’re home now and honestly, I need more; I want try and -”

“Y/N. You know I’m not looking for anything serious like that right now. I can’t… give you that at the moment.” His voice is stretched and sounds almost painful.

For a moment you almost break, a lifetime spent trying to ease pain as a medic had made you soft, but this was something you could no longer compromise on.

Benjamin Miller had been somewhat of a problem for you longer than you cared to admit and this was the make or break.

The nut up or shut up.

Colloquialisms aside you needed closure, if Ben was going to go back to just being your friend then so be it, but you couldn’t waste another moment in his shadow.

“I’m not asking for serious Ben, but I just need a little more, I can’t wait around forever.”

“I’m not asking you to.” You couldn’t help the swing of your head at his words, Benny wasn’t even fighting you on this, his face was blank as he stared you down.

This was the worst version of the Benny’s you’d faced over the course of your friendship, the bull headed one - though it had never been directed at you before - He had convinced himself of what he needed to do and was an image of icy resolve; deaf to everything around him and blind to reason.

“Ben…”

“I can’t give you what you need, but I’ll always be your friend, Y/N.” You blanch, in all your fantasies it had never gone this way, the worst of them had all included some kind of fight.

An argument would be preferable to this, this felt like you’d meant nothing to him.

Perhaps that was true.

As you attempt to pull yourself together and pick up the pieces of your ego, you bite at your top lip to stop any shameful tears from falling.

“Friends.” You nod and pull at the door before the words fall out of your lips, you can’t bring yourself to look at him as you exit the vehicle. “Just give me a couple of days, okay?”

A few days morphed into a full week before you could even think of responding to the text messages from the guys and that was only because Catfish threatened to turn up at your place if you didn’t.

In order to deter, or in the very least, delay him you’d spouted some fictitious bullshit about a break up, you’d received a few awkward words of consolation from your brother in arms - promising you your continued privacy and a shoulder to cry on should you need it.

William however, made no such promise and your period of convalescence came to a swift end on the eleventh day when Ironhead turned up at your front door.

Admittedly it was poor timing on your part as ‘All Too Well’ was blasting from your speakers and you were in pajamas at around 5pm.

The hammering on the door had interrupted your session of self reflection as you were sprawled on the couch.

You could only imagine the figure he was presented with when you angrily whipped open the door, ready to give your neighbor a piece of your mind - three day old sushi pajamas, a glass of rosé in your clutches and severely unwashed hair.

♫ Well, maybe we got lost in translation, Maybe I asked for too much, But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'Til you tore it all up♫

The man who had for all intents and purposes been a brother to you for as long as you could remember - your secret coital acts with his own brother were not a factor in the bond you shared - stood on your doorstep with an unimpressed edge to his jaw.

“Turn this depressing crap off.” He huffed whilst pushing past you to turn the knob on the speaker to zero himself. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“Didn’t Francisco tell you? I got dumped.” You sigh dramatically and fall back onto the sofa after downing your glass of wine.

Will takes a seat in the arm chair opposite, his keen eyes surveying every detail of your disarray. You’d think he was checking you out if he wasn’t so delightfully Ironhead - or if you’d at least showered in the past three days.

“Over a guy? You? Come on Y/N, Buck up. You’re made of stronger stuff than this.” You can’t help the glare you send his way as your eyes rove his face finding the similar features to the man who had crushed your heart, you have no control over the ugly bile of resentment that rose.

“I just needed a bit of self care. A few days to sort myself out.” You know the second the words leave your mouth you’ve played your cards wrong, that would’ve scared Frankie or Santi off but Will, no, William Miller was like a dog with a bone. It was far better to rip the band-aid off and find out exactly what it was he wanted.

The raised single eyebrow as he picked up one of your old discarded wine bottles from the floor by his feet tells you exactly what he thinks of that statement. He sets it on the side table before he continues. “We’re all meeting down at Flanagan’s. Come on down with the guys, it’ll be good for you.”

“You’re saying that like I’ve got a choice… Why can’t you just let me sleep.” You whine burying your face in your dressing gown, exaggerating the very real exhaustion you felt in your bones.

“Oh yeah, there’s no choice here.”

“Dick.”

He nods your way and swipes the remote control from your coffee table. Switching the television on and flicking through until he lands on some boring documentary before he finally gives you his attention. “Go and get ready, I’ll wait.”

There was no way to know if Benny was going to be there tonight.

One of the many downsides to your sordid rendezvous with the youngest Miller was the secrecy, Will didn’t know he was walking you into a nightmare.

Fuck it, better to get it over with, you decided finally despite your tired bones.

You and Benny were friends first and foremost - you couldn’t let this get in the way.

Somewhat cowardly, you took your time as you began to shower trying to wash the last week of self-pity down the drain taking the layers of sweat and grease with it.

It didn’t take you long to feel human again, a bit of makeup and a brush through your hair had worked miracles and before you knew any better you were walking into the Irish bar, you and your closest friends had always frequented.

It turned out you and Will were the last to arrive and much to your relief Benny was in the bathroom - his leather jacket hung off the back of one the chairs and in front of it was a half drank beer.

You took your seat to the side of Valerie Morales, it just so happened it was the furthest you could get away from Benny without sitting on a different table.

“Frankie mentioned there was a guy…” She trailed off sympathetically once you took your seat.

“Cariño! We’re taking her mind off of him!” Frankie reminded his wife with faux annoyance at her prying. “Where the hell’s Ben? Cheap Bastard… disappears when it’s his round.”

Your eyes searched the room for the man of the hour until you spot him leaning lazily against the bar smirking like the cat who got the cream, deep in conversation with a remarkably busty blonde woman.

You can’t help the drop of your stomach or the narrowing of your eyes at the discovery, though the latter gives you away as Will follows your sights.

“Looks like he found himself a friend.” He mutters with an eye roll at his brother’s slutty antics. You try for a conspiratorial smirk but it lands somewhere between a grimace and a flash of teeth.

You’re annoyed at yourself for being so weak; you might as well have ‘BENNY’S THE GUY’ painted on your forehead.

So, in a display of sheer strength and will. You pull yourself together, you can be okay for three hours, you decide. Three hours and then you feign tiredness and leave.

Three measly hours - hell, you’d been pinned down being shot at for longer - you could totally sit in a bar with your not-quite-ex for three, maybe two hours. No problem.

“You get the first round in Will. You dragged me away from a great nap for this!” Your jesting tone doesn’t sound quite right even to your ears but you try your best to ignore it and persevere. The others grant you the same favor, though they believe it is a generalized agony in response to your dumping, rather than the conduit sitting at the bar currently flirting with your replacement.

Will holds his hands up in surrender, you assume he’s just glad that you’re trying for an air of normalcy and the next hour goes on with casual small talk, all dancing around the subject of your elusive suitor until you’re suddenly two drinks in and Ben hasn’t returned to the table.

He’s now running those stupidly long fingers up and down the woman’s bare arm, sitting on the barstool whispering what was no doubt filthy sweet nothings into her ears - you should know, he’d done it to you in secret more times than you could count.

This was textbook Benny before the two of you had begun your indiscretions. He never hit on other women in your presence as a sign of what you assumed was respect.

This meant that this behavior wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for him, as such nobody so much as raised an eyebrow when he returned to the table in passing to grab his jacket before the two of them left.

“You don’t come over to say Hi?- What would Ma say?” Will berates him jokingly as they embrace.

“Ma, would kick our asses for drinking in a dump like this! … Y/N.” He nods in your direction finally acknowledging you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the action in itself is strange and you know he’s caught Valerie’s attention with it.

“Hey, Ben.” Your voice has a relaxed edge to it and you impress yourself, appearing unaffected.

He breaks eye contact and fixes his sights on Catfish before the easy smirk rises “I’m heading out, boys.”

Catfish makes an awful catcall which both Will and Valerie thankfully ignore. The latter glaring at her husband before turning your way, trying to piece together the information she had gathered in your brief interaction with Benjamin. If the sympathetic eyes are anything to go by, she’s guessed correctly.

Two years of secrecy taken out with one idiotic greeting.

A sudden wave of nausea overtakes you.

You don’t know how you even manage to find the toilet after giving a quick ‘Excuse me’ to the table but you quickly find yourself revisiting the beers and Nachos you’d ordered.

When finally your stomach seizes its spasming, you lean back against the stall. You can’t help but close your eyes and focus on the buzzing of the harsh bathroom lights. Your eyes well with unshed tears half from the gagging, half from the constant weight in your chest you just seem to carry around with you these days.

Your throat clenches, though not in the urge to regurgitate but to hold back emotions you knew were about to flood you.

“You okay?” You hear Val’s muted voice through the door and see her trainers through the gap in the bottom of the stall.

“I’m good.” You manage brokenly despite the constriction in your throat, taking a strip of toilet roll you wipe under your eyes and then your mouth, attempting to make yourself semi-presentable.

You barely have time to look up at the mirror before she’s on you like a flash.

“You and Benny…” Val doesn’t quite question, leaving it open ended. Your eyes meet her own in the mirror as they scan your form.

You don’t have any fight left in you, not to lie to Valerie, besides who cared anymore, it was over. What was the point in keeping up the lies, you had no face left to save.

“eh … yes?”

It’s somewhat freeing as the truth hangs in the air between the two of you. You and Valerie weren't what you’d call particularly close, at parties and functions you’d stick together and talk but beyond that you simply didn’t have much contact with her, you were Catfish’s friend first and foremost.

Don’t misunderstand, you liked Frankie’s wife. She was the perfect fit for him, she bought him out of his shell, she made him happy, gave him their beautiful daughter and she stood by him whilst he had his… struggles. Though tonight Valerie is the apparent key to your liberation.

She’s stunned into silence for only a moment, before bombarding you with question after question.

Where, when, how long?

For the first time you let yourself talk to another person about the intricacies of yours and Bennys situation. It's easy to talk to Valerie, she is a step above an acquaintance, whilst she knows most things about you, they have been presented to her through the eyes of Catfish. A man who loves you like a big brother. Whilst you’re initially hesitant, you find yourself divulging details that make you blush.

You unloaded the heavy weight you’d been carrying around for nearly two years and it was almost cathartic.

A secret shared is a burden halved, that’s what grandma always used to say and to her credit, the old woman had a point; your stomach felt lighter than it had in years.

Valerie listened with sympathetic eyes, never interrupting or asking for more than you were willing to give. Just taking it all in and nodding from time to time and when you’d told her all you could, she wrapped you in a hug; one so comforting it could only be from a mother.

Fat warm Tears ran down your cheeks uncontrollably and in that moment you despised the man; you’d never been much of a crier before Benjamin Miller.

“Enough with the pity party.” You huffed through your tears. “Damn, I haven’t been able to stop crying. I’m turning into such a pussy-.”

Valerie chortled heartily “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were pregnant!”

That single word brought your world to a crashing stop.

The comfort you’d found in sharing, well that metaphorical rug was ripped from beneath your feet as your internal bells tolled.

Frantic mathematics and tracking of your periods began.

Vomiting, crying, exhaustion - All reasonable symptoms of heartbreak and copious alcohol consumption.

As Valerie took in your widened calculating eyes her laughter died off with one last snort of disbelief “You’re not right? Of course you’re not. You couldn’t be…”

The whites of her eyes slowly exposed themselves until the two of you stare at one another through matching sets of saucers.

A baby.

A real life crying, vomiting, crapping baby that was half you and half Benny Miller.

As you sat on the floor of the bathroom in the Morales family home waiting for the four pregnancy tests on the counter to declare your fate you couldn’t help the sense of irony that had descended over you.

When you’d told him you wanted something more you had meant a few activities beyond sex - maybe mini golf or breakfast on saturdays and to be allowed to fall asleep after sex at his apartment. Not a full blown fucking kid and white picket fence!

The panic hits you hard.

You scrape your hair back from your face and put your head between your knees, Val spares you a concerned look from where she stood with the timer on her phone counting down five minutes.

Your heart was beating in your ears and a funny realization descended upon you; you’d never felt this level of stress in the service.

Not whilst your fellow soldier bled out beneath your palms as you waited for the promised medevac that was hours late to arrive. Everything was easier in the field, you sometimes wish you’d joined Santiago after the Columbia debacle that had claimed Redfly’s life, however third wheeling Santi, your persistent tremor in your dominant hand and your entanglement with Ben had all combined forces to keep you firmly planted in Colorado.

Leaning back you looked up at Valerie, your eyes catching her own before you finally spoke “How long?”

“It’s only been one minute, thirty six seconds, hon.”

“Fuck.” You grunt and resume your staring at the black and white tiled linoleum flooring.

“Would it be so bad if you are?”

“Valerie.” You huff “I’m a fucking school nurse; I barely scrape by as it is and Ben - well, Ben gets the shit beat out of him for a living, how are we gonna afford a kid? That’s even if he’s gonna be around for the baby- who am I kidding it’s Ben. Of course he’ll accept the kid. He’ll ask me to marry him out of a sense of duty and we’ll all live miserably because if he’s honest with himself he doesn’t want to be with me, then we’ll end up resenting each other and divorcing the second the kid turns eighteen-”

“-Holy Shit. Y/N. Y/N. You’ve skipped like a million steps there. You need to stop spiraling, there’s every chance it’ll be negative.” Valerie is kneeling in front of you now, a comforting hand on your knee. “Besides, even if it’s not, there are a million different solutions to your problem. You’re trying to guess the answer before you’ve even finished asking the question!”

Valerie, the beautiful Valerie, how were the two of you not closer when she had the power to stop your infamous anxiety attack in their tracks.

You took her hand in your own and the two of you sat on the cold bathroom floor, side by side for what felt like hours as you watched the timer move painstakingly slowly.

There was a knock at the door.

“Cariño, you two still in there?” You hear Catfish’s muffled voice through the door.

“Yeah Frank, use the downstairs toilet.”

“The hallway bathroom is-”

“Use the downstairs bathroom, Francisco.” Valerie’s voice was harsh and left no room for argument; clearly Francisco had not yet been forgiven for the encouragement he’d given Benny and his lady friend.

The guys were confused initially at your insistence to leave the bar after disappearing for 20 minutes and later returning with a puffy face though the rush to the Morales bathroom where Valerie had apparently stockpiled pregnancy tests since the beautiful unexpected but not unwelcome surprise that was Marianna.

“You know, if you are, it won’t be the worst thing in the world.” Valerie mumbles bringing you back into the moment despite she, herself, sounding somewhat distracted, you turn to look at her in disbelief. “Your cheekbones, his nose - ooh! his eyes but definitely your Jawline.”

“I like his jawline” You huff defensively before you correct yourself. “Sorry … liked his dumb fucking jawline.”

“All I’m saying is-”

The shrill ringing of the alarm cuts your newfound friend off.

Valerie placed her phone on the floor and turns to you, taking both of your hands in hers. “No matter what happens. I’m here now and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

You nod, squeezing her hand in thanks, the words can’t get through the clench in your throat as you once again fight tears. You release her hands and reach behind you pulling them from the counter in one swipe.

You place them in your lap and breathe deeply before you look down.

The definitive results knock the air out of you.

Positive, all of them.

Every single one.

You fall back against the counter, eyes wide and mind racing a mile per minute.

Valerie is talking to you but you don’t hear the words.

A baby.

Benny’s baby.

Your breathing is heavy now, your heartbeat is back in your ears and you can’t quite catch your breath. Valerie is stroking your shoulders with what you assume is kind, calming words but it does little to help as your ears ring; realizing this, she swipes the tests from your lap to preserve your privacy and calls for the guys in the lounge.

This isn’t your first panic attack by far, but this is time you can’t get a handle on it.

You’d had plenty since arriving back after your honorable discharge caused by your fun little tremor and little by little they had gotten easier to manage, though the catalyst had never been an unwelcome squatter in your uterus, so your usual mantra simply wasn’t working.

It didn’t matter that you were home, it didn’t matter that you were safe because the perceived danger had taken up residence inside of you.

Will rounded the corner and instantly kneeled before you.

“Breathe,” You hear him but it’s like you’re underwater. You look up into his eyes, as he takes your face in his hands.

Blue eyes, Benny’s eyes stare back at you. Though they’re not quite right, Will’s are guarded and calculating, but Ben’s are pools of emotion, they allow every thought that crosses through his brain to reflect it. Will does let some slip by his defense as worry not quite verging on panic, plays across his face.

Slowly you begin copying his breathing, all whilst staring into the circular oceans so similar to the man whose baby is inhabiting your womb and that alone felt like torture.

That was about three hours ago now and you were now in your own bed; completely and utterly exhausted. After much reassurance and many promises to call them all tomorrow you had been reluctantly dropped at your apartment.

Despite your exhaustion it was about three in the morning and you couldn’t sleep.

Benny’s baby.

You repeated for the tenth time this evening.

You weren’t stupid, there was a lot to iron out and the thought of a termination had been on the table. You didn’t have the money for a child and you weren’t with its father, you’d be lying to say the thought hadn’t crossed your mind.

Though ultimately you had dismissed the thought after much careful consideration, you were Pro-choice; a woman’s right to choose was important but at some point in the hours staring up at the dark ceiling you’d admitted to yourself you wanted this baby.

This time the thought didn’t cause you to panic or bring you to tears.

Instead, you imagined a blonde little boy with big kind blue eyes, your nose, his jawline and a huge irreverent grin that was entirely Ben as he played with his Father and Uncles in the garden at a barbeque.

Things like a big house with a goddamn golden retriever were suddenly something you wanted. Things that up until three hours ago would have caused you to break out in a cold sweat, the thought of becoming a soccer mom was never something you’d wanted for yourself.

Hell you’d never had a boyfriend that lasted more than 4-months, you’d never said those 3-words in a romantic way. Benny was your longest relationship by far and you could barely even that shit show a relationship!

You were cut out of your day dreams or rather just dream dreams, by a pounding knock at the front door.

Sitting up with a gasp you hurried through the apartment, treading lightly so as not to alert your intruder, you lifted to your tiptoes to peek through the peephole not before a quick glance to the safe by your bed where your firearm lived.

There stood in all his not-so glory the haggard looking father of your child.

The gun wasn’t completely ruled out as you whipped the door open, furious at his presence.

Refusing to speak, you stared at him. He could do the talking now, he could explain exactly why he was on your doorstep in the middle of the night reeking of alcohol.

“I miss you, Y/N/N.” Suddenly he advanced and clumsily cupped your cheek in his palm, his eyes were glassy and not quite focused. “I keep going to message you and every time I remember you hate me.”

“Ben… This isn’t fair.” You feel those tortured baby blues dousing the fire raging inside of you.

“I don’t want you to get over me,” With the grip he has on your face he surges forward and joins your lips, it’s sloppy and erratic in his drunkenness. It’s like a bourbon distillery has opened up shop on his tongue as he breaks away for only a moment to groan. “I want to fuck you so bad, baby.”

“Ben. Ben - BEN! Stop. You’re drunk.”

“I know, but it’s so good.” He’s kissing down your neck in the way he used to do when he was trying to make something up to you, this usually ended in copious amounts of pussy eating. Goddamn, you missed that. You felt your resolve waiver if only for a second as your lower stomach pulsed remembering just how many times he could make you cum on his tongue. (Five - if you’re wondering.)

Only, in the past you didn’t have a fetus depending on you for sound and responsible decisions, in an instant you pushed him away.

“You need to go home now. How did you get here? Christ, Benny you better not have driven.” He shrugs as he stumbles away to your kitchen and begins pouring himself a glass of water.

He was a selfish dick and you were furious with him - you briefly considered sending him on his way. Your rage, hormones and tiredness render you too exhausted for anymore antics after the day you’d had.

Your eyes are drawn involuntarily to the polaroid picture of the two of you in khaki grinning at a camera in a country you barely remember now. When things were simpler and you were still just friends.

Despite it all, he still was your friend and when time healed your pride, you would accept that maybe you didn’t want him to die in a drunk driving accident. After all he had been the one who had never underestimated you when you first met, not like the rest of the men in your unit.

Benny, your senior, who had picked you for a special op, introducing you to Pope and Catfish, then later Ironhead and Redfly. He had given you a chance when no one else would, when you were completely alone in the world, and it was long before you even thought of sleeping together; he did it because he was a good man.

It was for that reason and that reason alone, that after the shit he had pulled you withered and let him stay.

“You can stay here… to sleep, Miller. Nothing else.”

Benny grabbed at you in desperation, you readied your knee ready to rupture his family jewels if this was another ill-advised attempt at seduction, but instead he just … held you. All six foot of him wrapped around your body, dwarfing you in an all encompassing embrace.

His nose buried itself in your neck, inhaling the collar of the pajamas you wore. Finally after what felt like an hour of forcing your arms to remain at your sides and reminding yourself on an almost constant basis that you were beyond furious with this man, he relinquished his hold on you.

The two of you stood there for a moment or three. Awkwardly unmoving, unspeaking as you refused to look him in the eyes.

Neither one of you were quite sure how to break the silence - in Ben’s defense he’d most likely drank an entire liquor store on his way over here, if the sway in his knees was any give away.

For the second time this evening and rather altruistically of you, you take pity on the swaying man and you give him a “Let’s get you into bed!” with an enthusiastic pat on the back. It was only as he turned towards your bedroom that you realize your mistake in phrasing.

By ‘bed’ you meant ‘sofa’ and by ‘Let’s’ you meant ‘get your dumb drunk ass onto the sofa before you vomit on my rug’.

Though as Benny was currently making himself comfy on your pillows as if time hadn’t passed you found your resolve wavering for the second time of the night.

Now, it was entirely self-indulgent and so incredibly stupid of you, but after a milisecond of consideration you vetoed the sofa for yourself.

The sacrifices would be sure to come, but this didn’t have to be one of them. Sharing a bed with a man you may have complicated feelings for, undoing all the work of the two-weeks spent mourning, you could allow this ridiculousness for a moment of peace in his arms.

You could deal with it tomorrow.

In a decision you didn’t entirely make before your lips began molding the words you spoke out into darkness. “Benny?”

Only silence answered.

“I’m having your baby.”

For a moment nothing. Then in the darkness an arm wrapped around your stomach. Your heart dropped. How was he going to react? Why did you do that? Why would you ruin this small moment of peace? Why, why, why?

Before Benny tiredly mumbled into your hair, “I missed you too, baby.”

Silence made way to the rumbles of snores, you lay there waiting for your heart to slow back to its regular rhythm staring into the darkness with your stomach in your throat, disbelieving at your sheer luck.

You don’t know what time you fell asleep, though when it finally claimed you it was with the singular promise to the life growing inside you; Good decisions, they begin tomorrow.

The good decision policy, whilst great in theory, was not so easy in reality. You lasted all of thirteen hours before you were back to making poor decisions left and right.

Sometime during the night of sin, as you and Valerie had dubbed it.

As you lay in the arms of the man who didn’t want you, God had been watching and God had to be a woman, up there utterly furious at your flamboyantly anti-feminist display.

This wasn’t hyperbole as your world was slowly crumbling around you and you couldn’t keep up with it.

First, Benny being Benny and incapable of complicated adult emotions had dipped out before you woke up.

You’d awoken disappointed, furious and alone.

You’d tried his phone a grand total of seven times before you left him a voicemail saying you needed to talk.

A voicemail, he felt was appropriate to ignore.

For six whole days he dodged your calls, wasn’t at his apartment when you turned up and actively pretended not to see you in the fucking 7/11 parking lot.

It quickly became clear that you were having a child with a child.

On the eighth day of his avoidance, you sat in the Morales family kitchen - your visits much more regular since Valerie became your only confidante; your keeper of secrets.

It was as you were perched at the breakfast bar with the only person able to cheer you up these days that the second cataclysmic event of your week occurred.

Said person; Marianna Elvira Balmaceda Morales - was currently multitasking with one eye on the iPad infront of her and the other on her mission of placing as many Cheerios as humanly possible on your exposed neck as you rested your head on the cold counter top.

Needless to say the baby reveal brainstorming sesh was not going well. When she turned to face you both her mother huffed “Ay mija, no. Don’t do that to your tía.”

Valerie swiped the wheat circlets from your hair as you raised your head to grin at the child. She was 20% cute, 80% pure unadulterated evil.

At five years old you already feared her. She was a born and bred weapon, with all the charm of her father and confidence of her mother.

The loud clatter of keys in the door signaled Frankie was home. The man of the hour came around the corner and fixed you with a grin. You don’t know how Val explained your increased presence in their home, but he wasn’t surprised anymore when he rounded the corner and he always seemed pleased to see you. Though from time to time he did express jealousy that you didn’t come to see him, as by all rights you were his friend first.

This time however, his brown calculating eyes darted the room scanning for other presences before he pulled out a bag from inside of his coat. He planted a strong kiss on Valerie’s lips and a matching one on Mari’s head as he passed, you couldn’t help the jealousy that flamed in your stomach at their little family unit.

He made his way to you placing one on the crown of your head as he had done to the child beside you.

“Just the lady I wanted to see!” You eyed him suspiciously at his words. “These are for you!”

He placed a CVS bag in front of you that rattled upon impact with the island. This did nothing to combat your suspicion, so, hesitantly, you pulled apart the handles of the plastic bag in front of you before picking up the plastic container in the bag. You spun the bottle in your hands to read the label and dropped them on instinct.

Prenatal Vitamins.

“You told him?!” You gasped in betrayal at your new friend.

“In my defense I lasted like fi-no-six days! - He found the tests and he thought they were mine!”

“Y/N/N.” Drawing your glare from his wife. “I want to be here for you, just like you’ve always been for me. You’re one of the most important people in my life and damn it, I want to say congratulations! - And if the B- A- B- Y- S- Dad won’t step up then I will. Me and Val, we’ll be here for anything you need, Gordita.”

Your eyes welled at your friend’s words. He had been with you on some of the worst and best days of your life and his words were everything, they were words you hadn’t even known you needed to hear.

You stood up abruptly, the stool screeching under you as you pulled him into a hug. You couldn’t help yet another sniffle as you whispered in his ear “I love you so so much, Frank - but if you ever call me fat again I’ll make her a widow, Pendejo.”

Frankie hugged you back with equal vigor laughing at your words, you think he may have a tear or two in his eyes which he’d no doubt vehemently deny.

“You tell me who this punk is, I’ll take Benny and Ironhead and we’ll kick this freeloaders ass.” Everything in your body wanted to send a look of gratitude and apology Val’s way, every goddamn cell, but you held steady. She hadn’t given you up completely, you owed her a hug.

Catfish knowing about your baby was a problem waiting to happen but the addition of him knowing Ben was the father, well, that was a grenade you didn’t currently feel like jumping on especially when the asshole was currently screening your calls.

“Can you keep this to yourself? The father doesn’t know and I don’t want him to find out like that. Plus, you know Ben and Will can’t keep a secret to save their lives.”

With a huge jet-black lie, the second ball was in the air.

The juggling began when the third ball entered into play, in the shape of William Miller.

For the third time in as many weeks, you found yourself looking through your peephole to spot a Miller on the other side and quite frankly, you were over it, those blonde haired, blue eyed, chiseled adonises bought nothing but trouble with them.

“Hello, William, what another great unannounced surprise.” You snark, grinning at the older man fondly.

“We need to talk, Y/N - Ben told me.” You blanch from your position holding the door ajar, you can’t quite find the right words, so instead you simply move out of the way.

You severely doubt this is a conversation to be had on your doorstep.

It’s in the moment or two of recess you have making your way to the living room that you rediscover your ability to speak.

“Told you? About what?” You aim for easy-breezy but it comes across pained and guttural.

“The two of you. And the … activities you get up to.”

“Ah - what a lovely violation of my privacy, the asshole.”

“You’re angry at him.”

“Great deduction.”

“He told me he hurt you, that he regrets it and that he wants to fix it.”

“Does he now? Do you know what might help? If he answers any one of my calls or y’know turns around whilst he’s sprinting to his car.”

Will sighs and rubs at his face, it’s not the first time he’s had to put out one of Ben’s fires and you doubt it’ll be the last.

“Will - It’s not your fault, but please don’t come here pleading his case. He’s a big boy now, he needs to grow up and fix his own messes.”

“What I mean is - I need you to promise me, you’ll still show up. No matter what happens between you two. That you’re not gonna be the divorced parents who can’t stand to be in the same room.”

“I’ll show up - I won’t do that to Ben, everyone knows the kids always wanna go with Mom.” You light your face up with all the bravado of a smirk, it’s false but these days you’ve had more than enough practice.

Instantly Will pins you with a look that screams ‘Cut the shit’.

“I’ll show up, Will. I’ll always show up, but please keep it to yourself, I can’t stand any more sympathetic looks from Frankie.”

He answers with a nod and genuine smile of his own, it isn’t quite as cheeky as the grin Benny would fix you with, but it’s charming in its own way.

“Pizza?”

“Thought you’d never ask” He mutters as he pulls off his coat and gets comfy.

Three measly days, is all you managed to juggle the various combinations of half truths and point-blank lies.

It was all going so damn well, the guys both kept their word and kept their pieces of the puzzle separate, nobody beside Valerie had enough information to connect the dots and that was the way you wanted it.

It was Christmas Eve and with your parents being away, renewing their connection on a god forsaken tantric cruise, for the love of God don't ask, you’d promised you’d spend it at the Morales.

Festivities were just starting up when you arrived promptly at Five o’clock, you were showing up, just like you promised Will, despite knowing Ben would be here.

You were completely thrown when none other than Pope opened the door to greet you. You should’ve called time of death on your secret right there and then.

You see, whilst Benny was your oldest and closest friend, Santiago was your favorite. He made you laugh more than anyone, he was your platonic soulmate and you cherished him.

“Santi!” You all but squealed like a child given a present on Christmas morning. You grabbed him pulling him to your chest as he lifted you from the ground somehow he already had alcohol seeping from his pores.

“Y/N/N!” You chuckled as he placed you back on your feet.

“Jesus, Pope. Have you been pregaming Christmas Eve?”

“Guilty, come on, vamos, I’ve bought some Whiskey from down under.” He grabs your hand and pulls you through the door.

You’re undoing your coat preparing one of the many excuses for your sudden aversion to alcohol that you’d cooked up. In the moment you decide on; “I’ve been having migraines again, I’m not feeling like drinking tonight.”

You’re practically minding your own business hanging your coat on the rack when he grabs your arm and pulls you into the downstairs bathroom.

“Maldito mentiroso! I had an interesting conversation with Frank - turns out someone got herself knocked up.” You gasp at his accusation.

“You bitches… gossip like… like… bitches!”

“You get pregnant and you don’t call? You were just gonna wait until the baby pops out and phones me itself?”

“Hey! You’re the one that left me!”

“I didn’t leave-” He pauses for a moment and takes in a calming breath. “- That’s not what we’re talking about. Who’s the fuckin’ father? Why isn’t this cabrón taking care of you?!”

“Santi… taking care of me? It’s not the 60’s I’m a grown ass woman!”

“Look, you tell me who it is. Me and Frank can beat the shit out of him. My knee’s are fucked and Fishes back isn’t great but we’ll give as good as I get!”

“Nothings gonna get fixed by you and Frankie getting your asses kicked, Pope.”

“Fine then - you marry me.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at his suggestion “Christ, Santi. I’m not going to marry you. I’m not a teen mother in crisis, I’m in my 30’s with a stable income. We’re going to be fine!” After a pause, you sigh and hug him once more, as if the marriage proposal wasn’t an indication, he is very intoxicated if the smell of booze is anything to go by. “But, I appreciate the sentiment all the same, dummy.”

“Well, offer stands.” He shrugs and continues onto another topic about your baby. Your mind is racing as the two of you exit the bathroom at the exact wrong moment, as Valerie opens the front door to the Miller boys and a very blonde, very beautiful plus one.

For a dark second you fix the woman with all the scrutiny of the hot sun, your eyes must burn a path in hers before you realize she’s hand in hand with Will.

Instantly you’re ashamed of yourself; that wasn’t very ‘Girls Support Girls’ of you.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you got here!” Val is positively cheery with a little sympathy laced in there for the unfortunate timing.

Though the tension is cut as Pope rushes them, the surprise and joy on their faces at the presence of their old friend is enough for even you to begin doling out hugs and ‘Merry Christmases’ to the new guests, yours aren’t quite as hearty as your drunk counterpart’s but you like to think it still counts.

It’s slightly awkward as you and Ben linger for a moment too long before you move onto the newest of Will’s girlfriends, who you have to physically shoo Santiago off of as he’s being far too friendly, far too soon.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Jennifer!” You grin at her, a hearty genuine grin; all the relief at her being Will’s plus one rather than Bens shining through, before you follow the troupe through to the lounge.

Marianna rushes you all, hugging her uncles and welcoming the newbie, all too happy to take the gifts from their hands.

Watching the way Ben picks her up, kissing her cheeks and placing the bag in her hands makes your heart swell about two sizes, he might actually make a great father, y’know once the terror makes way.

From over his shoulder Marianna fixes you with her sly grin and you were all too happy to place the wrapped box of the barbie she had specifically pointed out to you on Amazon.

“I wonder what Aunt Y/N got you.” Ben over exaggerates his voice, grabbing at her sides whilst she squeals manically before she is placed on the floor.

“I don’t!” She grins and gives you a poorly executed conspiratorial wink which turns out to be more of a strong blink.

“Shh, don’t let your Mama hear, get out of here!” She places a finger over her lips and nods before returning to her fathers arm chair where the two of them were watching The Grinch on the big screen.

Gloriana, Valerie’s mother was present for the holidays, a very chatty older woman, just what you needed.

Please note the sarcasm.

“Y/N! Hermosa Y/N!” She calls your name before pulling you into a hug. You know it’s a trap but you embrace the older woman all the same.

She catches your left hand on her retreat. “No husband! No babies! Your mother will want to be a Grandma! A gorgeous woman like you, should have no trouble finding a handsome man!”

You’d promised both Will and Valerie you’d be nice to Ben, but a week of ignoring you couldn’t go unpunished, so with the Miller party at your side you begin reparations.

“You’d think, Mrs Balmaceda, but it turns out men don’t like to settle down, they prefer to sleep with random women at bars and then turn up at your-” You don’t quite finish your sentence as Benny hugs the older woman and begins charming her with all that Benny panache.

Will chuckles from his place beside you. “Low blow.”

“I could’ve gone lower.” You snigger behind your wine glass of orange juice, which had been placed in your hand by a smiling Val.

Santi then grabs your attention by pulling Valerie's mother into a hug doting on how beautiful she’s gotten despite spending the better half of a day with her.

This fearless weathered ex special forces soldier is well and truly wasted. He’s a complete mess as the two of them converse in Spanish. Too quick, for your beginner ears to follow.

Mrs Balmaceda’s hand has slowly snaked around his lower back, it occurs to you that perhaps Valerie’s mother might take advantage of the young man's state, that’d certainly be a sobering experience - hard to come back from, you think with a chuckle - but, you make a note to intervene if it went too far.

“They’ve been drinking since this afternoon.” Val nodded her head to where Frankie had already sat back down with a fresh glass of whiskey in his palm and is currently stroking Marianna’s head like a cat.

You snickered at their flushed cheeks whilst nodding to the Miller boys you mutter “Why not, It’s Christmas and there’s plenty of time for you guys to catch up!”

Benny returns to your side before looking around the room and nodding at his brother as he grabs your arm pulling you into the hallway.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“What the fuck was that? ” You mimic his deep voice for a moment “What the fuck was avoiding my calls for a week. A-and get your hand off me.” You slap lightly at the hand that is still wrapped around your jumpered arm.

“I needed to get my shit together.”

“Oh, do you have a spare eternity?”

“Dick.”

“I’m the dick? You’re the dick!” You whisper shouted at him, poking him in the chest and narrowing your eyes.

You told yourself good decisions. Y/N. Good decisions.

The two of you stared one another down, he stepped forward until your noses were practically touching, you’re ashamed to admit, you did absolutely nothing to stop it.

Pregnancy hormones, desperate longing?

Horrified with yourself, you pull back.

Only, he doesn’t allow it, he grabs the back of your neck in his strong palm and pulls you back to him and devours your mouth.

This time he doesn’t taste entirely of whisky, it’s there in the undertones; a quick drink for courage before leaving the house, maybe? The taste of him is all Benny as you lock your fingers in his long hair and his tongue explores your mouth as if no time at all has passed.

You hear a cough behind you, bringing you back to reality.

You turn, utterly dreading seeing Santiago lurking in the doorway, however it’s Valerie and Jennifer, the former showing the other lady to the toilet.

“Don’t mind us!” Valerie is a glass of wine or two in as the chuckle in her voice is quite distinct and she makes no attempt to cover it.

You look at Benny who is basically a deer in headlights as you’ve trapped him against the wall. To Valerie who is barrelling past and then to Jennifer who looks like she’d rather piss in the kitchen sink than have to deal with her new boyfriend’s dysfunctional family.

“This … uh … it isn’t good.” You whisper to him before rearranging your skirt and reentering the living room with what you hope is a smile.

“Y/N! Where’s your drink?!” Santi shouted from across the room. Then, the smile became real, Pope was home for Christmas, this didn’t happen every day.

You decided to focus on that, rather than Benny and the fact you couldn’t drink that whiskey to forget the weight in your stomach.

It was cocky, when you look back now, to have underestimated the impact Santiago would have on your juggling. He was a nosey motherfucker who, deny as he may, loved gossip, of course he was going to disturb the peace.

It started with an olive branch of an offer from Benny for a glass of wine at the dinner table, which you politely declined. In your current state you of course couldn’t drink, you weren’t actually trying to make a subtle dig across the dinner table.

To which he retaliated by slamming the wine down on the table - much like a petulant 10 year old.

“Don’t take it so personally, Benjamin!” Catfish hollered obnoxiously.

“Shh - That’s a secret!” Pope hissed at his equally drunk partner in crime.

Valerie looked down at the table as if she wanted it to swallow her and Will’s girlfriend, Jennifer, looked as if she would happily go with her.

Marianna, however was unphased, currently showing a distracted Ironhead her school book, sparing annoyed looks at the loud adults.

“You told everyone?!” Benny all but shouts in disbelief across the dinner table. Gloriana to your left looks utterly lost, ready to question you.

Your worst nightmare is unfolding before your eyes, your dirty laundry is being exposed by people that didn’t even fucking know it!

“I didn’t tell anybody.” You hiss in annoyance, the whites of his eyes expose at the realization of his mistake.

It’s then, everyone decides to speak over one another, with the exception of poor Jennifer, the girl Will is currently holding hostage.

“Can everyone be quiet! It’s Christmas for christ sake!” Valerie shouts, trying to get everyone under control for your sake.

“I want to know! What are you not telling anybody?!” Santiago points his blunt knife your way in suspicion.

You’re about to tell him something much to this effect when a school book slams on the dinner table.

“Uncle Will can’t hear me whilst everyone's talking about Uncle Benny and Aunty Y/N’s stupid baby!”

Nobody needs to be told to be quiet anymore as the entire room is stunned into silence, Marianna’s abuela included for fucking once in her life.

You look across to the man who’s just had a life changing secret dropped on him by a five year old and if you had to estimate how that was going for him internally, you’d guess, probably not well.

Once the grenade had been dropped Marianna was forcibly removed by her Abuela and sent to her room, you had half a mind to rip the head off of that Barbie you’d bought her for Christmas, the little asshole.

The hell that broke loose once the young ears were removed was exactly what you had expected but not from Benny.

He sat there staring at you or more accurately, your belly motionless. All systems shutting down as the commotion raged on around you.

Valerie was defending you best she could, though Frankie was furious she’d kept Benny’s involvement from him.

Will was outraged at you for hiding his niece or nephew from him, poor Jennifer was sat in between him and Benny staring at her plate hoping this would all be over soon and Santiago, well, Santiago was just angry at the world - it was hard to pin down exactly his complaint as he spoke too rapidly in Spanish though if were to hazard a guess he was a teensy bit let down at not being told the whole truth after forgiving you for hiding the pregnancy initially.

“I appreci- I appreciate you’re all upset but this is between me and Ben.”

“The hell it is-”

“Santi. I’m tired, I’m angry and I’ve just been outed by a five year old. Don’t. Test. Me.” Your strained tone was enough to stop the drunk man in his tracks.

In fact it was enough for everyone as blessed silence returned to the room.

“We’ll give you some time.” Frankie muttered, his voice still layered with betrayal as he pushed his seat back.

Poor Jennifer morphed into Usain Bolt and was out of the room before you could blink.

There were general mumbles of protest but all followed suit except for Will, who was looking between you and his brother. He stood after his initial hesitation and followed suit, though somewhat reluctantly.

Once the room had emptied, you cleared your throat.

Benny was acting very … un-Benny like.

He was a hot-head through and through, always quick to react.

The man hadn’t given a single measured response in all the years you’d known him. Perhaps the only exception to that rule was when he was in the field where he’d give his train of thought an extra moment or two before it left the station.

And yet, he had yet to speak. Not a single syllable to help you navigate his feelings about the child.

So you had no choice but to go in blind.

“Ben?” His eyes shifted to meet yours but they were hollow; the lights were on but nobody was home.

You sighed, not quite encouraged but relieved he was at least semi-responsive. “I’m pregnant, it’s yours and I’m going to keep it. I don’t expect anything from you and it’s your choice if you want to be it’s father.”

He processes this for a second and when he speaks his voice catches in his throat “W-We used protection, you’re on the pill.”

“Remember that morning, when you bought me my antibiotics, on the sofa? - they can make it less effective.”

“You’re a doctor, how the hell-”

“I told you we needed to be careful!”

“I thought you meant my technique! Not-”

“I said that-” You huff in a calming breath before resuming “It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

“I guess not…” He mumbles, he’s abandoned his chair and pacing now, his hands are crossed in front of his chest, assessing the problem in his head.

The silence stretches out for a moment or two longer.

“I’m in.” You look up in surprise as his despondent tone betray his words, but there could be no doubt in what was said.

He had slowly begun pacing back and forth like a caged tiger prowling a tiny zoo enclosure. “This kid, I’m in. But right now, I need to … not be here … in this room.”

The ‘with you’ was silent.

You stared at his back as he retreated, on any other day the way your eavesdropping loved ones dispersed as he opened the door would’ve made you chuckle but the punch to your gut had you bowled over, leaning your weight on the dinner table as you watched him leave.

BENNY’S POV✨

Benny disappeared into the darkness of the backyard and sighed heavily as he pulled the door closed behind him, utterly thankful for the cold breeze that brought him back to earth, it eased the pressure behind his eyes that made his head felt like it was about to explode.

He took a careful seat on one of the tiny chair’s from Marianna’s summer set, the plastic creaked underneath him unsure, but ultimately bore his weight.

A fucking kid.

He was about to be someone’s dad when he could barely remember to eat dinner some days. His life was a fucking mess.

A baby with Y/N.

If he was less fucked up this would be a dream, but this was real life and he had little to offer a baby or her.

Only Fights, training and recovery scheduled around bottle feeds and sleepless nights.

He’d been trying to get his shit together, to be a better man for her. To try and get to the point where the thought of a relationship, of being tied to another person for life didn’t make him feel like he wasn’t able to catch his breath.

It was proving to be easier said than done. That night at Flanagans that you’d turned up unexpectedly, he’d been trying to fuck you out of his system.

Only it had left him feeling hollow and burning harder for you, that blonde was a nice enough girl. Pretty and sweet, but she didn’t laugh like you, with that goofy little snort and that pinch in your eyes.

He put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes, hoping to ease the pressure to no avail and this was how Will found him.

“You alright?” He asks as he takes the equally small and pink seat opposite. He takes a moment to get comfy on the groaning plastic before he pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “Frankie’s. Don’t know how old they are - found them in the kitchen drawer.”

“Those things will kill you,” Benny mutters, his voice all gravel in his despair. “Gimme’ one.”

The two brothers sat on the ikea kids chair set in the pitch black of Christmas Eve night, smoking and contemplating life in complete silence for a few moments.

“So… a kid…” Will starts with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

“Honestly … I want to chuck … and it's not cause’ of these shitty menthols.”

“You’re a good man Ben and you’re gonna’ be a great dad.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Are you ever gonna leave the kid?”

“No.”

“Are you ever gonna do anything to hurt Y/N?”

“My track record in that department ain’t so great.”

Frankie’s voice joined from the darkness as he leaned on the building watching the two men talk with his arms crossed. “At the end of the day, you and Y/N, you’re gonna screw things up - but half of being a good Dad is just showing up for the kid and if you’ve got that down, the rest will come. You’re a good guy Benjamin, underneath the stupidity, don’t sell yourself short.”

“What he said,” Will muttered with a smoke between his pink lips. He reached up and took it from his mouth holding it between his fingers before throwing the rest of the pack back to Frank. “That being said, if you don’t get your ass in there and talk to that woman who’s chain you’ve been jerking for the better part of the past two years, brother or no, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“Honestly, Ben - Keeping Y/N a secret. She’s a catch!” Frankie huffed, sounding every bit the scolding father. “You need to make it right. For the two of you, not just the kid! But, honestly, you fuck about with her again - I’ll be right next to Will beating the shit out of you.”

Benny stubbed out his cigarette “Great pep talk, Gentleman. Some mixed messages towards the end there, but overall strong.”

For a single moment you despised every well meaning meddler, every annoying relative. Every person in your life was suddenly too much.

Your ears were ringing; you were furious.

Always it was about Benny’s feelings, Benny’s incapability to deal with everything, yes, he was going to be a father, but right now you were carrying another human being inside of you.

Your hormones were through the roof, you had vomited for the majority of the morning and your boobs were fucking killing!

So, much like he had, you left.

It was your turn to have a dramatic strop.

You went straight out the way you’d come in and you were seated in your truck long before anyone was the wiser.

You were done - so fucking done, with everything and everyone in your life.

Santi and Frankie’s drunken looks of disbelief and betrayal.

Will’s eyes filled with abject rage.

And Benny. Fucking Benny.

Everyone could mind their own business as far as you were concerned, this baby was yours. If Ben didn’t want to be around 100% then he didn’t need to be, you and this baby weren’t a ball and chain, you weren’t anyone’s problem.

That’s what you told yourself as you sat in your truck in the 7/11 car park, a half drank slushie in your hands and the heating on full blast.

You could do this alone.

Leaning back against your headrest, your eyes clouded with tears and your throat constricted almost painfully as you fought the urge to breakdown, you blamed this entirely on hormones, fucking Benny.

You were a battle hardened soldier, you hadn’t cried in years - you couldn’t. You had fought tirelessly to prove yourself amongst men who believed you had no place amongst the elite. Even when comrades died in your care, you mourned them silently with a tough upper lip.

You mourned their loss in your heart but you carried on. Not a tear shed.

And then that beautiful blue eyed bastard had dug his claws in and destroyed you, completely ruined you. There hadn’t been a day in the last two weeks you hadn’t cried.

Taking a few calming breaths, you closed your eyes. You felt exhausted; both emotionally and physically drained by the day’s events.

Your eyes were flooded with tears as you finally allowed yourself to feel all your feelings.

The melodies of Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift were a backing track transporting you all the way back to your teenage angst. Allowing yourself to break down was almost cathartic.

You’d held all these difficult emotions inside of you for weeks. It was like lancing the infection out of the wound. It was regenerative and eased the pressure in your chest.

You couldn’t say how long you were in that parking lot, whether it was an hour or three, perhaps it was 10 minutes but the busted analogue clock on your dashboard currently read that it was mid afternoon. Judging from the night sky, you could safely say that was incorrect.

Finally, deciding that crying in your car on Christmas Eve probably wasn’t the healthiest choice.

You wiped at your cheeks and took a breath or two to calm yourself.

You started your engine and began your completely uneventful drive back to your apartment. It wasn’t until you rounded the corner fantasizing about peeling this dress off and putting on some pajamas that anything gave you pause.

There sat the father of your child, leaning against the main door to your apartment block, his arms crossed and eyes closed as if it was a summer’s day and he hadn’t a care in the world as he bathed in the sun.

You couldn’t begin to guess how long he’d been here out in the biting cold.

Anger flared deep within you, maybe just maybe, if this had been three days ago it’d have melted your icy heart but it was quite frankly too little too late.

Instead, it pissed you off something rotten; he thought this worked on his timeline.

When he was ready.

When he could deal with it.

Melancholy gave way to her sister; fury.

Thrusting your key fob over the door scanner in one jerked swipe, the lock gave way. Allowing the door to open and jarring the man awake. Somehow he caught himself before he hit the thinly carpeted concrete, that in itself annoyed you a little.

Ever the soldier, he shook the grogginess of sleep from his mind and his eyes focused on you.

“…Y/N.” His voice was gruff with sleep whilst he dusted off his jeans.

Forgoing the lift that would slow you down, you childishly took the steps two at a time, kicking off the heels along the way until two flights of stairs were behind you and you stood before your front door.

Out of breath, you huffed to realize he was right behind you, your heels under his arm.

Benny was fitter than you on a good day but three going on four months pregnant, you hadn’t stood a chance of losing him.

After unlocking the door, you stepped in and went to close the door behind you, but his boot caught it a centimeter from closing.

“Move.” You hissed.

The surprise was evident on his face; he’d never seen you like this, not with him as the subject of your ire.

All you wanted was to take off your dress and get into bed, you weren’t in the head space to weather his self destructive, idiotic tendencies right now.

However, the size 11 currently stopping your door in its tracks clearly felt differently. So you fixed its owner with a glare that would stop any sane human in their tracks.

The thing about Benjamin Miller was, he wasn’t completely sane.

So he placed a palm on the door, not pushing but not conceding to you just yet.

“Y/N, Please.” Those baby blues weren’t going to melt you, not this time. He’d pushed you too far and this fury was too fresh. So in a moment of pure pettiness, you pulled back the door, his eyes lit up at what he thought was your surrender.

Alas, when you used the momentum to swing it closed on his foot, well, Benjamin should just be thanking his lucky stars that he wore his work boots.

You on the other hand were cursing whatever foresight he possessed, as the lack of pain meant that your plan had been severely underwhelming and his foot remained in the door jam, only now he was pissed off.

So like the children you apparently both were, you struggled against one another, him pushing; not quite with his full strength, but just enough to slowly slide you back with the door.

Just as he nearly had enough space to slide his shoulders through the gap you gave in.

Suddenly moving out of the way of the slab of wood, the shoulder he’d been using to push it open gave way quickly, his only saving grace had been the measured force with which he pushed against the door as he had been unwilling to hurt you. This gave him enough control to stop himself in his tracks as he barreled towards your living room floor.

If he wanted to be a child, you could be too.

“Really?!” He huffed in disbelief throwing your heels onto the floor, his eyes wide as he stared at you as if you were a feral creature who’s next move he was attempting to predict. You quite simply weren’t acting like yourself, you were always calm and measured.

Always thinking before acting and look at where that has gotten you.

So, to bring this infantile act to its crescendo you turned on your heel with a shrug and began phase two; Blanking him.

As it turned out, quite fantastically, that was kryptonite for Benny.

He tried over and over to get you to engage, but you carried on as if he wasn’t there getting ready for bed.

“Really, you’re not talking to me?” He sighed whilst he leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom. “You?”

“You call me immature, whilst you’re pulling this shi-” You pull your dress over your head and you assume it's your newly rounded belly that has captured his attention bringing his sentence to a swift end.

He had seen you naked more times than he could probably count, though your swollen belly gave him pause.

He came forward as you stepped into your pajama bottoms, it wasn’t until he went to place a hand on your tummy that you reacted.

“Don’t touch me.” It held half of the venom of the last words you’d hissed but it was enough to make him heed your words.

Reaching into your drawer, you pulled out a large tee and pulled it over, concealing your bump from those prying baby blues.

“So what, you’re never gonna talk to me? Not gonna let me see my kid.”

You ignored him.

It was difficult to ignore the bait, but you managed somehow.

So you got into bed.

As your head lay on the cotton pillow in the dark room, you heard Benny moving around your apartment.

He didn’t leave.

No, you heard him settle on the sofa and turn on the TV.

Even that made your blood boil.

“…just needed some time… acts like an asshole…” You hear him brokenly mutter under his breath.

Suddenly blanking him just didn’t seem like a punishment, smashing the Television over his head however, much moreso.

“I’m sorry? I’m the asshole?” Benny’s head swings around and searches for you in darkness, you know he’s suddenly cursing your studio apartment. You’re sure the regret would be clear as day in his eyes, but it’s not enough to give you pause.

“I-”

“-No, actually. You’ve had your turn to speak… you… fucking… fuck… prick. I have tried reasonable, I’ve tried nice, hell, I’ve even tried understanding, but I am done babying you Ben.” You take a few steps to stand before him. You’ve stunned him into silence so you continue your tirade, letting out all the weeks of heartache. “Me… Asshole… You’re the fucking asshole, Miller! Maybe if you could act like an adult for once in your fucking life, you’d be able to see I don’t want anything from you. Nothing, not anymore. Running from me at the 7/11 - What are you 8?! Fucking face me like a fucking - .” You can’t help the heavy breath that escapes you at the stabbing pain that lances your ribs.

Ben’s out of his shock, over the back of the sofa and at your side in a matter of moments, his eyes wide and filled with fear.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t Call Me -” The sensation takes your breath away again “Its the baby, I’m not sure - I’ve not felt this before, I haven’t read that stupid fucking book yet.” You huff pointing to the pregnancy guide on the coffee table, the pain returns again and you can’t help yourself as you grab at the sleeve of his shirt to ground yourself. It feels like a bad stitch, but instead of breathing causing the pain it’s sporadic and twice as painful.

“Hospital now.” He says sternly.

“I don’t need-” You gasp in a breath of air at the sharp pain - it’s not the worst you’ve ever felt but the risk it poses to your child terrifies you, finally your fear outweighs your rage “Okay, hospital, now.”

“Have you been under alot of stress recently?”

“No more than usual.” It’s an involuntary response, almost a defense mechanism - You don’t want Doctor Clarke to think you’re already a bad mother to a fetus.

“Y/N… What?.. Yes. She’s been under alot of stress recently.” Benny huffs, stood by your shoulder with his arms crossed watching as the Doctor takes your blood pressure, the snitch in question hadn’t left your side since your pains had started.

The blood pressure cuff currently cutting off your blood supply in your arm was bound to give you away anyway making your attempt at deceit futile, but you were still annoyed with him - so blame was firmly placed at his door.

Your Doctor said nothing, just fixed you with a knowing pointed look as she listened to the baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope. Moving from point to point for a moment before she found it. “You’re growing a person Y/N. You need rest, a balanced diet and maybe some more rest for good measure”

Ben was nodding along like he was receiving orders from a CO. He had yet to look you in the eyes, but you imagined it was going to be hard to escape the idiot for the foreseeable future.

The BP machine beeped twice and of course, much as you expected Doctor Clarke sighed. “I’m not happy with these numbers.”

After a urine test and then a blood test. It had already been fifteen minutes of uncomfortable silence between you and your baby daddy as you waited for her to return with your prognosis.

You stared at the wall devoted to the shrine of Mothers hugging their babies, their names written beneath them, babies that you assumed Doctor Clarke had personally delivered.

“If you had to?” You questioned suggestively gesturing your head to the wall of Moms. Boredom finally getting you to break the heavy silence, that you had no doubt that Ben was too scared to.

Ben snorted from sheer surprise, the first words you’d uttered to him since arriving at this nauseatingly warm hell hole almost three hours ago were a lewd game.

He said nothing for a few moments, you couldn’t tell if he was just picking or still angry with you and ignoring your attempt to draw him in to conversation.

When finally, his voice gruff from lack of use he uttered. “Y/H/C one, third from the right; Carly. Got a thing for Y/H/C.” You ignored the butterflies his words inspired as you looked at the photo of a woman giving her child a piggy back. It’d take more than a few honeyed words to forgive him, but it was a nice start. “-Plus she’s got a dump truck, look at that kid hanging off of it.”

You couldn’t help your own snigger at his completely unexpected comment. Emboldened by your chuckle, he extended the truce “How about you?”

Taking a moment, you observed your fellow Mothers.

There was one with three kids at her legs, beaming. “Top Left; Trisha. I respect a woman who can have three gremlins and still smile - not to mention she's got a great set on her.”

Ben was still chuckling when Doctor Clarke wheeled in an Ultrasound Machine and settled on the stool next to it.

“How bad?” You grit your teeth preparing for the worst, you were a combat medic turned school nurse, prenatal medicine wasn’t your forte but you remembered the very basics at least. “Preeclampsia?”

“I was worried about it - your blood pressure and proteins in your urine weren’t great signs and you’re at risk being around 20 weeks but your blood tests showed high levels of PIGF - it’s most likely stress causing the cramps; your body’s way of telling you to slow down - which isn’t good but it is manageable.” She smiled reassuringly at you both, Benny placed a hand on your shoulder in relief. “To be safe I’m going to do an ultrasound to check the blood flow through the placenta and make sure all is well with the baby’s growth - we’ll have you out of here before you know it.”

Nodding as she begins to prepare the machine, you pull up your shirt to expose your rounded belly, Benny’s eyes follow your movement, his gaze almost reverent as he stares at your swollen midsection.

Closing your eyes you lean back against the reclined chair, your nerves get the better of you. You’d come a long way from the Morales bathroom. You couldn’t see a life without this baby now, it had taken almost losing him or her to realize that.

A warm hand gripped at your own, you knew the calluses better than you knew your own palms. Instead of pushing him away, you allowed yourself this comfort.

It wasn’t forgiveness but it was a truce; a ceasefire for your baby’s sake. Hostilities were suspended as you both held on for dear life to the other’s hands.

A steady heartbeat filled the room.

Badom, Badom, Badom. Badom.

Slowly tears tracked their way down your cheeks as Benny’s hand gripped yours tighter, he leaned down to a kneel as you both stared at the monitor in disbelief.

You couldn’t help it, you looked his way, trying to find the fault in something he’d done to ruin the moment, but you came up empty.

In that moment Ben looked like he was trying his hardest to school his face, to suck up the tears and stop them falling, but as he lost the war his eyes welled with unrestrained emotion.

Carefully he leaned forward, part of you braced for the awful mistake that was coming, but those plump lips instead, met your brow, as he wrapped his unencumbered arm around your shoulders in an embrace.

Those rosy lips remained there for a moment, your hands still intertwined before he lifted them to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of your hand.

It was the most tame kiss the two of you had shared and yet somehow it was your most intimate moment.

The smell of him was everywhere, it was intoxicating. The aftershave he wore and a smell that was distinctly Benny; the piney smell of the outdoors, mixed with whatever drugstore deodorant he favored this month.

The two of you waited in tense silence as Doctor Clarke took images on the ultrasound. She was at it for about fifteen minutes, yet neither of you said a word. You merely sat there clutching one another’s hands, terrified the axe was about to drop.

Finally, when it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the too warm room she spoke up, her voice distracted as she stared at the screen in front of her, analyzing her findings.

“Everything… looks… good!” She smiled, taking her glasses off and focusing on the two of you “Your Baby looks healthy and the placenta is getting plenty of blood flow. I’m going to send these away for a second opinion to be sure, but you’ve got a healthy little … one.”

Benny squeezed your hand and placed yet another kiss on your forehead as he gave out a gruff hollar of relief.

Once again, your eyes began to pour as you sniffled. You couldn’t help the thought that popped into your head.

“You know the gender?”

“I do, I can say with about 80% assurity. Would you like to know?”

“YES”

“NO” Both you and Benny utter in sync. It seemed the two of you couldn’t agree on anything.

“I mean… you’re the one who’s had to deal with everything these last few months… if you want to know.” He trailed off rubbing the back of his neck, you knew he wanted to fight his corner but didn’t have the footing for an argument.

“Why wouldn’t we? It’d keep me up all night not knowing, plus I can paint the nursery and buy tiny little clothes… I want to know Doc.”

Doctor Clarke spared Benny a quick look to which he nodded his concession, she looked troubled for a moment before she fixed her smile.

“You’re having a girl!”

The noise you made was somewhere between a gasp and squeak of joy.

“A little girl … a daughter.” Benny mumbled almost reverently before giving a small laugh, a grin fixed on his face as he got lost in his thoughts. “Hell of a Christmas present, Y/N.”

The chuckle you gave him was nowhere near what his joke deserved but it was one of relief and elation, as you readjusted your hand around his own, you thought maybe, just maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

And so, you made your way home, you weren’t quite ready to face Christmas at the Morales’ house, so you and Ben were going to go to your home, order whichever takeout was available and sleep for the foreseeable. (Sleep. Just Sleep.) However you needn’t have bothered with your plan as two distinct cars were parked in front of your building.

“Judas. You told them!” You slapped at his arm, your eyes narrowed in betrayal.

“You need to stop hitting me woman and yes - I told Will, didn’t tell him we’re having a girl though.” His voice lifted in pride at the end, whether it was of the daughter you were soon going to share or his resilience in the face of his brothers prodding, you couldn’t tell.

“Let’s get the guilt party over with then.” You huff pulling open your door.

Your key is barely in the lock before it’s whipped open and a worried Santi is on the other side. “Are you and the kid okay?” He asks forgoing any and all welcome, his eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he’s had better mornings.

“We’re fine, completely fine!” He hugs you, still stinking of liquor from last night, at your words and there’s a collective cheer from the other squatters in your apartment. Your arms can’t help but rise to meet his embrace, it’s Santi. He was drunk and you had technically betrayed him.

“I’m sorry - I was belligerent and just a bad friend all round.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for lying to you-” You turn and fix them all one by one with a stare “-to you all. Keeping her as my secret, it made this whole situation not real for me, so I didn’t need to deal with it.”

“Her?” Will ever the observant pain in the ass, called out.

It had been a genuine slip of the tongue, you turned to Ben to give him a silent look of apology, to which he nodded. It wasn’t exactly like he could reprimand you for anything short of murder these days - and even then you imagine it’d be an internal dilemma for him.

“We’re having a girl.” Ben announced, his arm wrapping around your shoulder, the weight of the limb was heavy and spoke of all the things the two of you had yet to discuss. But it was Christmas, your dysfunctional family was all here; dinner cooking in the oven and cartoons blaring out from your Television.

You were exhausted from a sleepless night spent in the emergency room, but as you sat on the sofa, ushered there by an incredibly hungover Frankie and Will, a mocktail in hand (Val’s ever tireless effort to be thoughtful) you couldn’t help but feel warm inside.

Ben came and sat opposite you in the armchair his brother had frequented weeks ago and rubbed at his eyes, clearly exhausted to his core also, though rallied to spare you a tired smile when he noticed your glance. It was a gesture of peace and one you were happy to return.

With your loved ones around you and this foreign contentment deep in your soul, you couldn’t help yourself.

“So, what time’s Jen getting here?”

NEXT PART✨

#benny miller x reader #benny miller #benjamin miller #commitment issues #triple froniter #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic

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