#sending you many hugs and kisses from benny and our favorite boy meatball

[sagesolsticewrites]

Happy holidays, @supervalcsi! I was so excited to be your Secret Santa 🥰 I hope you enjoy your gift, a little one shot featuring our favorite boy and his dog 🫶

Treat under the cut!

and i would take a hundred years just to tell you how i feel

title from Almost Home by Keston Cobblers Club bc it was stuck in my head almost the entire time i was writing this 🤭 1.1k, friends-to-lovers, cuddling, reunion if you squint?

You woke slowly, drifting into consciousness almost lazily, and the world was so quiet, the moonlit night so calm, that for a moment you weren’t sure what woke you.

And then you heard the telltale sounds of slippered feet shuffling down the hall, the light tap of paws thudding just behind.

Your heart sank the slightest bit, and you reached for your robe, continuing the now familiar routine as you followed the sounds down the hall to the kitchen.

Your best friend since childhood, Benny DeMarco, was pacing around the dark kitchen when you caught up to him, robe clutched tight around him, Meatball already facing you, having sensed you following.

“Benny?” You said softly, and he only jumped a little before turning to face you, guilt already clear on his face.

“I woke you again.”

It wasn’t a question, but the answer was plain all the same.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N—”

The familiar apologies— ones you’ve heard every night for nearly two weeks now— are met with a shake of your head. “It’s fine, Benny, I promise.”

You took a cautious step closer, reaching down to give Meatball a scratch between the ears as you watched his reaction carefully, “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

Sometimes Benny just needed to talk about his nightmares and his time overseas aloud— never going into detail, but just enough to get it out of his system— and other times he just needed you there, a physical reminder that he was home, that he was safe.

He answered with a shake of his head.

“‘M fine. Just… couldn’t get back to sleep. Woke up cold all over, you know how drafty it gets upstairs.”

His gaze drifted to the old, slightly lumpy couch in the sitting room. “Might stay out here for a bit.”

“Want some company?”

There was a beat. You’re afraid he’ll say no, that you’ll have to spend the rest of the night straining your ears from your bedroom for any noise because you know you won’t be able to sleep knowing he’s like this, but then:

“That would be nice, Y/N. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” You said softly, “You know that, Benny.”

Meatball curled up on the carpet next to the old grey-green couch as Benny laid down, his eyes falling on what the blanket you had taken from the arm of the couch had been hiding.

“Oh man, I forgot that was still there,” he laughed, brown eyes shining in the moonlight.

There was a stain on the arm of the couch, slightly faded, but not going away anytime soon— a mark of the first and last time Mrs. DeMarco had let you and her son partake in her specialty hot chocolate in her living room instead of at the table.

“Oh goodness, that’s right,” you laughed, “Your ma was furious at us—”

“I don’t know why she was mad at me,” he raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who thought it would be funny to steal my cup right out of my hands.”

“Well if you had just shared, like I asked you to—”

“You had your own mug!”

Your laughter turned into telling story after story from your shared childhood, and something in your heart lightens, seeing some of the boy you knew before the war return to his face.

The lightness turns into a flutter, which you tamp down quickly, cursing the way your feelings for your dearest friend seemed to constantly remind you of their existence at the most inopportune times.

“Hey, c’mere.”

“Hm?”

You turned, seeing Benny squashed up against the back of the couch, patting the open space beside him.

“If you’re gonna stay out here, I’m not watching you sit like that all night. I can see you shivering.” He looked sternly at the way you were perched on the edge of the couch, giving him as much space as possible, “Just come here. Please.”

The stern look melted away, leaving just those pleading puppy dog eyes Benny DeMarco was criminally good at— ones that could even put Meatball’s to shame, and have you relenting with a sigh.

You slot neatly against him, your back pressed to his front, and after just a moment’s hesitation, his hand slips around to rest just hovering over your stomach. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest at your back, his gentle breaths against the back of your neck making the hairs there stand up.

There’s a long silence, the only sound in the room your harmonizing breaths. You think Benny’s finally fallen asleep until he speaks, his voice a murmur barely audible in the near-silent house.

“I thought about you all the time when I was over there.”

A familiar refrain, you reply the same way you always do.

“Me too.”

You expect the conversation to end there, but Benny goes off-script.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you before I left. And then… well, I didn’t, and I wanted to tell you a thousand times while I was gone, but I figured you deserved better than hearing it in a letter. And then when I got back…”

His voice falters, and a faint glimmer of hope flickers to life in the back of your mind. He isn’t talking about… He couldn’t be. Could he?

A soft, self-deprecating chuckle escapes him as he continues in that whisper-soft voice.

“I’ve wanted to tell you a thousand times since I’ve been home, but…” He takes a steeling breath, letting it out in a huff of warm air that you feel against your neck.

“Turns out it’s hard to tell your best friend you’re in love with her when she’s right in front of you. So here I am, doing it in the dark and… kind of hoping you’re asleep, honestly, so I can call this a practice run and do it properly later, but if you’re not….”

Your breath hitches, and here in the dark with Benny pressed warm against your back, you’re not entirely sure you’re not dreaming.

Slowly, you shift around to face him, noses brushing with your proximity on the small couch. You can’t make out much of him— he’s not much more than slices of light and shadow at this time of night, sparkling brown eyes turned a deep grey in the darkness.

You speak in a trembling voice, hardly daring to hope.

“Benny,” you breathe, doing your best to meet his eyes, “Do you really— you mean it?”

”Yeah,” he says simply, softly. “I do.”

There’s no need for words as your hand cups his cheek, thumb stroking gently along his skin. No words as you slowly lean in, noses brushing, the distance between you slowly lessening until it’s nonexistent, and with his mouth on yours in the dark of the living room, on that damn lumpy couch, Benny melts.

He’s home.