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sagesolsticewrites · 5 months ago

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Pyaar Dosti Hai

Benny DeMarco x Ruthvika Patel (OFC)

Ruthie Patel runs into a certain furry member of the 100th Bomb Group— and his owner— on her way to celebrate her friend Juliet’s engagement to John Brady. The gang quickly welcomes her into their found family, but there could be something more between her and Benny DeMarco— if either of them ever finds the courage to make a move.

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: implied racism (being a brown girl in 1940s New York… oof), mentions of strict parenting, I think that’s it? Please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: the final member of the Book Club Girlies is here! Writing our little girl gang with @winniemaywebber and @ginabaker1666 has been so much fun, I can’t wait for y’all to see more of our darling girls! And a huge thank you to @hephaestn for the gorgeous moodboard!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

Ruthvika Patel— Ruthie to her friends (and to, well… pretty much everyone outside of her small immigrant community)— rummages in her purse for the scrap of paper she had been referencing the whole way to the city. It was the address of the restaurant her old school friend had given her, where she was hosting a small get together with her and her fiancé’s friends, and had insisted that Ruthie come along.

“Are you sure, Jules?” She’d said over the phone, glancing over her shoulder for any sign of her mother— Ranjan Patel would be livid if she knew her daughter was using their hotel phone for a personal call, “I won’t really know any of them, I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“Absolutely, Ruthie!” Her friend’s bubbly voice insisted, “You’re one of my best friends, I want you to meet Johnny. And it’s been too long since we’ve seen each other. Please? Jean and Jo will be there, we had so much fun with them last time, didn’t we?”

Ruthie could practically hear her batting her lashes pleadingly, and her resolve crumbled.

“Alright,” she relented, reaching for a pen and paper, “What’s the address?”

The Patels ran a hotel just on the outskirts of New York City, but that didn’t mean Ruthie was in any way prepared for being in the heart of it. Glancing from the street to the paper in her hands, and doing her best to ignore the stares of passers by— her mother always said she was lucky to get her father’s lighter tea-with-milk complexion, rather than her mother’s darker tones, but that didn’t mean she didn’t stand out in a crowd— she tries to get her bearings, but her efforts prove futile. She was utterly lost.

She doesn’t have long to mourn her circumstances, though, before a large mass of fur barrels into her legs.

Benny DeMarco grins as he strolls through the streets of New York, Meatball trotting happily by his side.

“You excited to see everyone, buddy?” He asks, the husky barking happily in response before returning to sniffing the air in earnest.

He’d been glad to get the invitation from Brady & his fiancée for a get together to celebrate their engagement, and he was looking forward to seeing his friends again. It had been a while since he’d seen anyone from Thorpe Abbotts, but last he’d heard, Olive and Dougie were still together and very happy, and he was happy for them.

Meatball tugs at the leash, straining to chase after all these new sights and smells.

“Hang on, buddy, we’ve still got a few blocks to go—“

Meatball pays no heed to Benny’s words, and soon the leash is tugged out of his grip entirely.

“Meatball! Get back here!”

He weaves through the crowded streets, chasing after the husky who’s getting farther and farther away. Eventually he loses sight of him completely and has no choice but to just keep running, hoping that his dog runs out of energy before he does.

Benny slows, gasping, as Meatball comes into view, sniffing eagerly at the feet of what Benny can’t help but notice is a very pretty girl.

“There you are, bud.”

“Oh!” The girl looks up from petting his dog with a sheepish smile, “Is he yours?”

“He is,” he laughs, noting her slight accent accompanying her rich brown skin and lush black waves, “Meatball’s first time in the city, he got a little excited.”

“Well, Meatball,” she grins, giving him one last pet before he returns to Benny’s side, “We have that in common. Is it yours as well? First time in the city, I mean.”

“Yes, sort of. I’m from Philly, but I’ve got a few friends who live here and I feel like I’ve been here already just from hearing them talk about it,” He laughs.

“Oh, I see,” the girl nods politely, seeming to wilt the tiniest bit before gathering herself, “Well, I hate to bother you, but…”

The girl seems to turn shy for a moment, fiddling with the scrap of paper in her hand, “Would you happen to know where to find—?” She says the name of the very restaurant he’s on his way to— “I’m a little lost.”

“Lucky for you,” he grins, “I’m on my way there now. I’d be happy to walk with you.”

“Thank you so much,” she says earnestly, falling into step beside him, “My friend’s waiting for me and I cannot be late.”

“Oh? What’s the occasion?”

“She’s having a small party to celebrate her engagement, and I promised I’d be here to meet her fiancé.”

It’s too much to be a coincidence.

“Your friend’s fiancé wouldn’t happen to be named John Brady…?”

“I— yes!” She blinks, surprised, “You know him?”

“I’m on my way to that same party,” he grins, “Brady and I served together. Bernard DeMarco,” he holds out his hand, “But everyone calls me Benny.”

She shakes his hand, “Ruthie Patel.”

“Ruthie?”

He tries not to sound too surprised, but a name like Ruthie doesn’t exactly match up with what he had imagined…

“Well, it’s actually Ruthvika, but Ruthie’s easier for everyone, so—”

“Ruthvika?” He tests out the syllables, hoping he isn’t butchering them too badly, “That’s very pretty. You really prefer Ruthie?”

She flushes, and he backtracks quickly, hoping he didn’t overstep. He just met this girl, what was he thinking?

“Not that Ruthie’s not very pretty too! It’s just… if I had a name like that I’d want everyone to use it.”

“It’s not exactly a matter of preference,” Ruthie says shyly, reaching up to fiddle with the thin gold necklace resting between her collarbones, “But most people don’t want to bother trying to pronounce something like Ruthvika, so I went by Ruthie in school, and it just… stuck. Helped me assimilate.”

“Well,” he says, “You deserve to have your name pronounced correctly. Especially one as pretty as yours, Ruthvika.”

She does her best to smother her grin at his attempt at her full name, helping him with the pronunciation as they approach their destination.

“Ah, we’re here,” Benny says, beaming at his last nearly-flawless attempt at her name.

“I never would’ve found my way here on my own,” Ruthie admits with a laugh, “Thank you very much, Benny.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” he shrugs, “It’s really Meatball we should be thanking, otherwise I never would’ve run into you. Good thing he has excellent taste,” He can’t help adding with a wink, if only to see that pretty rose flush cover her cheeks again. “Shall we?”

Ruthie follows her new friend and his dog into the restaurant, scanning the room until she spots her friend seated at a secluded table on the back patio, along with several other people.

There’s some whispering around the room, and she can feel eyes on her as she makes her way out the back, but she does her best to ignore it and plasters a smile on her face just in time for Jules to meet her gaze.

“Ruthie!” She all but squeals, standing to pull her into a hug, “I’m so glad you could make it, it’s been too long. You look wonderful!”

“It’s so good to see you, Jules,” she beams, squeezing her friend tight.

Juliet steps back, seemingly taking in her friend, before turning to the table and beckoning over the man in the chair next to the one she had just left.

“Johnny,” Juliet grins, green eyes sparkling as he moves to stand next to her, hand resting easily on her waist, “this is Ruthie, my friend from school. Ruthie, this is John, my fiancé.”

Ruthie could practically see the little thrill that went through her friend at that last word, and her smile widens.

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” John smiles, blue eyes crinkling as he reaches out for a handshake, “Jules here hasn’t stopped talking about how excited she was to see you.”

“She’s told me so much about you, it’s very nice to finally meet you as well.”

“Come on, let me introduce you to everyone!”

Jules guides her over to the other people sitting at the table, as Ruthie is reintroduced to Jean & Jo — their day at Coney Island and the sleepover at Jo & Jean’s apartment wasn’t an experience she was likely to forget anytime soon — and introduced in quick succession to Val DiRosano, Olive Lewis, and the men settled next to them: Harry Crosby, Rosie Rosenthal, Everett Blakely, and James Douglass (who insisted she call him Dougie, “everyone does”).

“How do you all kn—?”

Ruthie is in the middle of asking what their connection is to Jules when the relative quiet on the patio is broken by a chorus of “DEMARCO!” from the gentlemen in their group, a shout that has Ruthie nearly jumping out of her skin.

“Egan does that to me one time—” Benny grumbles good-naturedly as he pulls Brady in for a hug, reaching out for handshakes from Croz, Rosie, Blakely, and Douglass.

“A running joke from during the war,” Benny leans over to explain with a smile upon seeing the confused expression on Ruthie’s face as everyone settles into their seats.

“Ruthie, how do you know Benny?” Olive asks as she leans down to pet Meatball, calming the husky’s whines for attention.

“Oh! Well… I don’t, really? We just met—”

“Oh I’m sorry!” The Brit says hurriedly, “I just saw the two of you come in together, I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, it’s fine!” Ruthie assures her quickly, “Completely understandable—”

“That troublemaker’s the reason we met,” Benny interjects, putting a stop to the cycle of nervous politeness as he nods to Meatball, “I guess he got a little excited being in the big city, because he bolted away from me on our way here. Ended up chasing him for I don’t even know how many blocks until I found him with Ruthie here.”

Ruthie misses the knowing smile playing on Olive’s lips as she continues the story.

“I was trying to find the restaurant and was… completely lost,” she admits with a slightly embarrassed smile, “But luckily Benny here offered to walk with me.”

“Ever the gentleman,” Olive grins, with a teasing smile directed at the man himself, “Well I’m glad you made it. Jules has told us nothing but wonderful things.”

“I was so excited she invited me,” Ruthie smiles, “My parents’ hotel has been so busy, I’ve hardly gotten a second to breathe. And I was looking forward to meeting all of you.” Her smile turns soft, one meant just for Olive, “I know your letters to her were a great comfort, and I wanted to thank you for that.”

“I’m glad,” Olive says, “I was grateful to her as well for indulging me with that first letter, and now—” she gestures around the table at the girls, then towards the bar where the boys have migrated, “— what a friendship it’s turned into.”

“So Ruthie,” her attention is pulled towards Val, sitting across the table, “tell us about yourself! You said something about a hotel?” Val asks, innocent curiosity on her face.

“Oh, yes!”

She can’t help falling into her please-help-my-parents-stay-in-business persona, the one she usually reserves for her time at the hotel.

“My parents own a little hotel just outside the city— perfect for if you want a bit of quiet after a night out on the town or a day of sightseeing— and I’ve helped them run it since I was a little girl.”

She can’t quite hide a smile at the fond memories of helping carry meals up to rooms, helping change sheets between guests— her parents were right in assuming that her youth would earn her a few extra sympathy tips, and every little bit helped— and as she got older, she progressed to helping check guests in and out on top of all that, making sure everything was running smoothly for her aging parents.

At the rest of the girls’ insistence, she tells story after story of growing up in the hotel, Juliet chiming in with a story or two of her own from their school days— “That scratch behind the front desk is still there, by the way.” “No!”— and soon they’re all laughing and chatting like old friends, occasionally bending down to indulge Meatball with a pet when his whining becomes insistent enough.

Ruthie finds herself relaxing as the chatter envelops her, a smile stretching wide across her face and growing each time her eyes are drawn towards Benny leaning up against the bar with the boys. Her gaze repeatedly flicks back to the table before he can catch her staring, though apparently she hasn't been as subtle as she thinks when Olive leans in to whisper, “he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Heat rushes to Ruthie’s cheeks.

“Oh— your fiancé?” Her eyes flick to the man next to Benny as she attempts to recall his name from the fairly rushed introductions, “Dougie, right? Yes, he is very handsome, you did well,” she makes an attempt at teasing her new friend.

“Oh, I know,” Olive grins, then clarifies, “But I was talking about Benny! I noticed you looking over at him and, well… you should know he’s an absolutely wonderful fella, such a gentleman. I could put in a good word for you if you want,” she adds with a friendly wink.

“I— no, no, that’s not necessary,” Ruthie scrambles to say as her cheeks heat even more, “I wasn’t— he was just nice to me,and I appreciated it, that’s all. But… you seem to know him very well,” she nods with a laugh to Meatball sitting comfortably at Olive’s feet, his head resting in her lap, “if his dog is any indication. Did you two meet during the war?”

“We did,” Olive smiles, “I was with the Red Cross on base, he was one of the first people I met there…”

As Olive tells the tale of her and Benny— strictly a friendship and nothing more, she assures her new friend— Ruthie notes out of the corner of her eye Val heading over to the bar.

“Benny,” Val nods in greeting as she squeezes between the boys to reach the bar, ordering another French 75.

“Val,” he smiles, “Sorry for stealing your man away.”

“I’ll live,” she says, catching Ev’s eye from where he’s chatting with Dougie to shoot him a wink and a red-lipped smile before turning her attention back to DeMarco and switching seamlessly into Italian.

“Ask her out, Benny.”

Benny blinks, quickly translating in his head before replying in the same.

“Ask who out? Olive’s already engaged, Val.”

“Don’t make me smack you, just because the war is over DeMarco…”

An arched eyebrow is all he needs to know that his glances over at Ruthvika weren’t as subtle as he’d hoped.

“…how did you know?”

“Um, because you’ve been staring at her all evening and I can tell you’ve barely listened to a word Croz has said.”

“To be fair, Croz is going on about some jazz record and only Rosie is listening at this point.” Benny laughs, glancing over to where Croz is conversing animatedly with a captivated Rosie Rosenthal, John Brady only half-listening next to them with his eyes fixed on his fiancée.

“Then, bring Ruthie a drink and maybe talk to her?” She flicks her gaze over to Ruthie, prompting Benny to glance over at her too, and he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face seeing her laughing with Olive.

“See?” Val says, gesturing to him, her eyes almost accusatory, “You’ve been looking at her like that all night and you expect me not to notice. Talk to her, Benny.”

With a final friendly nudge, she wanders back to the table, glass in hand.

Ruthie nods politely as Olive’s story winds down, her attention now captured by Val and Benny together at the bar, leaning into each other as they speak a language that, as far as she can tell, is definitely not English.

“And… I don’t mean to pry, but are Val and Benny close as well?”

“Hm?” Olive follows her gaze to the bar, “Oh, in a way.”

On Ruthie’s other side, Jean Crosby turns from her conversation with Jo, frowning slightly as she registers Val’s empty chair and her current place at the bar.

“Oh darn, I was hoping I could ask Val for a refill while she was over there,” she says, ice tinkling in her now empty rum and cola, brow furrowing as their voices reach the table, “Are she and Benny doing that thing where they speak Italian so none of us can understand them again? It’s a beautiful language, I’ll grant her that, but I can’t handle anything other than English after a few of these.”

At Ruthie’s somehow even more confused expression, Olive jumps in to explain.

“Val and Benny became good friends when we were on base, both being Italian and whatnot. I guess he was like a bit of home for her, giving her a chance to stretch her legs with her Italian, and I’ll admit it was very fun trying to figure out what they were saying at times,” the Brit adds with a laugh.

“Oh yes honey, they’re just friends, never been anything more” Jean adds from her place on Ruthie’s right with a knowing smile, “You’ve got nothing to worry about. We're all just one big happy family, aren’t we?”

A flush of embarrassment races through Ruthie at the knowledge that her attraction really wasn’t as subtle as she’d thought, but her smile grows at the tender way Jean refers to the group as a family. Given her own experience with family was largely with strict uncles and aunties, even stricter parents, and cousins competing ruthlessly for praise from the adults, the idea of a friendship of the kind she had seen Jo, Jean, and Juliet share becoming a kind of chosen family sent a warm thrill of happiness radiating from her heart.

“Family,” she murmurs, “That sounds wonderful.”

Jean lays a gentle hand on Ruthie’s arm, kind eyes sparkling, “And you’re one of us now, Vika sweetheart. Family whether you like it or not.”

Ruthie blinks back sudden tears at the use of the name she’d told the girls she preferred at their sleepover all those months ago. The young cousins who used to call her that had switched to Ruthie when they started school, along with using their own Americanized names at home, and it was so nice to hear even just a part of her true name from someone other than her mother.

Jean’s words echoed through Ruthie’s head. Family. One of us.

She could get used to that.

“Oh dear… I’m sorry, honey, did I say something wrong?” Jean fusses, seeing Ruthie’s watery eyes.

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” she assures her, brushing away her tears, “I just… you’re all so nice,” she laughs, unsure of how else to explain the overwhelming joy and disbelief welling up inside her.

“Just wait ‘til you see Val before she’s had her coffee, chicken,” Olive says lightheartedly, bumping Ruthie’s shoulder playfully, “You won’t think we’re all so nice then.”

“Vika’s seen what Jo and I are like in the mornings, Ol,” Jean replies with a laugh, “I’d say she’s ready for anything after that.”

“I think your infamous martinis had more of a hand in that than the early morning, Jean.”

Feeling bold, Ruthie takes a shot of her own at her new friend, much to the table’s delight.

“There she is!”

“Alright, Ruthie!”

“Oh goodness, what did I miss?” Val grins as she returns to the table, a fresh French 75 clutched in her perfectly manicured hand.

“Just Vika teasing me about my martinis,” Jean says, flashing Ruthie a grin.

“Vika?” Val looks momentarily confused.

“A nickname from when I was younger,” Ruthie explains, “But of course Ruthie’s fine as well if that’s easier—”

“Nonsense!” Val waves away Ruthie’s anxious rambling, “Vika’s a gorgeous name, I love it.”

Ruthie’s shoulders relax at Val’s smile and the compliment.

“So, we were talking martinis?” Val says, moving the conversation along, “Is now a good time to bring up the lasagna story?”

A chorus of good-natured groans tells Ruthie that this isn’t the first time Val has brought this up, and whatever it is, it’s sure to be amusing.

Val leans in with a grin, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“So, the first time Jean made me one of her martinis…”

The group, some a little tipsier than others, decide to call it a night as the bright sunshine warming the patio begins to fade to the red-gold of sunset. With plenty of hugs and several exchanges of addresses with Ruthie, most of the couples depart, leaving Benny and Ruthie with John and Juliet at the table, Meatball curled contently at their feet.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride, Ruthie?” Juliet asks, “I don’t love the idea of you taking the subway alone.”

“I'll be fine, Jules, I promise,” she assures her friend, tamping down the anxiety spiking in her chest at the thought of being alone on a dark subway platform. She made it here on her own, she can surely make it back.

“I’d be happy to go with you,” Benny says, leaning down to pet a whining Meatball, “I know this guy could use some adventure before being cooped up on a train tomorrow.”

“Well…” she pretends to think about it for a moment, then nods. “If it’s for Meatball’s sake, then yes,” adding sincerely, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Benny grins.

They say their goodbyes and depart, Ruthie glancing back to catch a glimpse of John pulling her friend into a tender kiss.

It takes them a moment to get their bearings in the fading light, but with Benny’s help, Ruthie manages to guide them onto the subway for the hour-long commute to her little town of Lynbrook.

“So,” Benny says from his place beside her as he pets a snoozing Meatball, the excitement of the day having worn out the playful husky, “Have you… always lived here?”

Ruthie’s heard this question enough times to know what he’s really asking.

“I was born here, yes. In Harlem, actually, not too long after my parents came over from India,” A smile crosses her face at the fuzzy memories of playing with the neighbor children in their tiny, run-down apartment building, of visiting her uncle’s jewelry shop and begging to try on some of the cheap costume jewelry he sold alongside the much more valuable items.

She continues, “My parents moved out to Lynbrook to start their hotel when I was five, and we’ve been there ever since.”

“You like it there, don’t you.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but she answered anyway.

“I do,” she smiles, “Don’t tell Jo and Jean this, but I like being a little removed from the hustle and bustle of the big city, getting to choose when to be part of all the excitement instead of having it all around me all the time. And my parents love the hotel— love having something they own, love being their own bosses, so to speak. And I love getting to help them live their dream.”

A warmth blooms in Benny’s chest seeing the tender look in Ruthie’s eyes when she talks about her parents. It’s clear to him how much she cares about her family, how close she is to them, and he feels extremely lucky to see that softness in her come to the surface.

A question floats to the front of his mind that… well, he’s not sure if it’s too personal, but he’s had a few drinks and his filter isn’t quite where it should be tonight.

“Do your parents call you Ruthie too?”

“Sometimes,” Ruthie replies, seemingly unfazed by the way Benny blurted out his question, “They usually stick to Ruthvika, though. My little cousins used to call me Vika, but when they started school they switched to their own Americanized names and started calling me Ruthie.”

“Vika…” Benny hums, testing the pronunciation, “I think I heard some of the girls calling you that tonight. Is that a favorite nickname of yours?”

“I don’t really have a favorite,” Ruthie lies. Ever agreeable, ever flexible Ruthie. Her parents had trained her to keep most of her opinions to herself, especially with men, to be seen and not heard, and that training was coming in handy now.

Benny sees right through it.

“Are you sure?” He asks sincerely, “It’s your name, you can have a preference.”

His warm brown eyes meet her own, fingers brushing ever so slightly in the space between them.

The courage she’d managed to reach for during her conversations with the girls seems a bit farther away now, but she manages to summon a scrap of it to say, “I do love being called Vika.”

She meets Benny’s gaze with a small smile, but can’t help adding: “But I’m also fine with Ruthie— it’s easier for people to pronounce.”

The corner of Benny’s mouth quirks up into a smile.

“We’ll work on that. Vika’s a very pretty name.”

He resists adding for a very pretty girl. Now isn’t the time to be trying out lines, no matter how true the sentiment is.

Ruthie— Vika— ducks her chin to hide her smile, changing the subject quickly.

“Has Meatball always been yours?” She asks, smiling down at the sleeping husky at her feet.

“Feels like it,” Benny grins, “Won him at craps during the war.”

His smile grows at Ruthie’s raised eyebrows, and he continues.

“We stopped in Greenland on our way over to refuel, I ended up taking this troublemaker with me to base on our way out. Sorta became our official mascot.”

“You didn’t— he didn’t come up in the plane with you, did he?”

“Only on that first flight to base,” he replies, wanting to soothe away the slight hint of alarm in her voice, “He stayed with Olive and Val and the rest of the Clubmobile girls when I went up. Got a thousand complaints about fur in the donuts, but come on, imagine staying mad at a sweet boy like him.”

Vika laughs, “He does have a way of winning people over.”

Their banter continues for the rest of the ride, so engrossed in each other that the time speeds by and the pair have to scramble to make it off the train at Ruthie’s stop. They hail a taxi to get to the hotel, at which point Benny asks:

“There wouldn’t happen to be any available rooms at your parent’s hotel tonight, would there?”

“I… believe there are. Why?”

Benny gestures to the suitcase he’s been carrying all day, the one Ruthie had wholly forgotten about, “My train doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning, and I don’t exactly plan on sleeping under the stars tonight. Not that I have anything against that, but,” he shrugs, “what can I say? I like my creature comforts. This will be much more convenient than going back and trying to find someplace to stay in the city, and besides,” he flashes Vika a teasing grin, “I’ve gotta see what all the fuss is about.”

The taxi pulls up to a modest two-story hotel, the words Forest Inn lettered in vibrant red above the doorway. Ruthie finds herself suddenly nervous as they pay the fare— or rather, Benny does, despite Ruthie’s protests— and exit the car, scanning over Benny’s face as subtly as she can as he takes in the building.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she rambles as she leads Benny and Meatball to the front doors, “But my parents have put so much work into it and, well… it’s home.”

The group steps into a small lobby, and something in Ruthie relaxes at the familiarity of the polished wood floors, rich burgundy wallpaper, the lamps along the walls washing everything in a golden glow, the soft red carpet leading to the dark wood front desk where—

“Mammi?”

Standing at the front desk, Ranjan Patel looks up from the ledger she’s writing in, a tired smile crossing her face when she sees her daughter.

“Welcome home, beta. Did you have a good time with Juliet? How is she? Is her fiancé nice?”

“It was fine, she’s good, I—“ Ruthie blinks, “Mammi, I thought Pravi Auntie was going to take over for you at 6–“

Mrs. Patel waves away her daughter’s concern, “One of her little ones took ill, I told her to look after her daughter. I don’t mind staying here.”

Ruthie lets out an exasperated sigh, but it’s clear her annoyance stems from concern for her mother.

“You were up at the crack of dawn today, Mammi, you need rest,” She steps behind the desk to usher her mother out of the way, “Please? I’ll take over until Ronny Uncle comes in for the night shift.”

Ruthie’s mother sighs, relenting, then straightens when her gaze catches Benny standing in the middle of the room.

“Alright, beta, just let me get this gentleman checked in—”

“No, Mammi, I’ve got it,” Ruthie says hurriedly, waving Benny over, “This is one of Juliet’s friends, he was kind enough to give me an escort home and needed a place to stay before he leaves town tomorrow. I told him I could get it all taken care of. Benny, this is my mother.” She introduces anxiously.

“Bernard DeMarco, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Benny greets with a beaming smile, “Your daughter’s told me nothing but wonderful things about your hotel.”

“Very nice to meet you, sir,” Mrs. Patel says with a tight smile, glancing with a slight frown down at Meatball, before putting on her customer service mask once more, “I hope you enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Introductions finished, she turns back to Ruthie, “Ronny Uncle should be here at 10, Ruthvika, but I can send over your father if you want him with you.”

“I’ll be fine, Mammi,” she waves her away gently, “Good night.”

“Shubh ratri, beta.”

With that, her mother slips out the side door towards their apartment in the building next door.

“Sorry about that,” Vika says with an embarrassed laugh, “She’s always working too hard.”

“No, I understand,” Benny says with a soft smile, “Mothers never think they’re doing enough, even when they’re going above and beyond.”

A quiet moment passed between them, interrupted by a whine from Meatball— the husky’s apparently eager to get to bed.

“Oh, your room!” Ruthie starts, “Sorry about that…” She reaches for a key with one hand as she begins filling out paperwork with the other.

“You’ll be in room 213,” she beams, turning the paper towards him for him to sign as she holds out the key.

Benny’s brow furrows as he notes the price stated on the paper— it’s much lower than the rate they have posted on the signage.

“Hang on, uh— Vika, I’m not much of a math whiz, but this seems—”

“Consider it a friends and family discount,” she says, waving away his concern, and the look in her eyes brooks no room for argument.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely once she’s noted it in the ledger, concern sparking in his mind as he notes the darkness outside and shy, sweet Vika manning the desk. “You’ll be alright out here until your uncle comes?” He asks, recalling her conversation with her mother.

“My uncle?” Her brow furrows, then her expression clears as she understands, “Oh, Ronny isn’t really my uncle, he’s my neighbor,” she explains with a laugh, “It’s just a thing Indian people do, showing respect to our elders. We’re raised to refer to elders, even ones not related to us, as Uncle or Auntie as a sign of respect. But anyway,” she ducks her head down to hide her embarrassment— she must be more tired than she thought to be rambling like that— “Yes, I’ll be fine, Benny. Have a good night.”

“You too, Ruthvika.”

A wide smile stretches across her face as Benny leads Meatball towards the stairs.

His pronunciation of her name had been almost perfect.

#benny demarco x oc #benny demarco #pyaar dosti hai: benny & Vika #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #oc: ruthvika ‘Ruthie’ Patel #oc: ruthie patel #oc: vika patel #Book Club Girlies #sage speaks #my writing #mota #bernard demarco

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