Work Text:
The quiet night was supposed to be peaceful. You were walking back to your room, lost in thought, a stack of folders under your arms and a faint smile still lingering from your last encounter with Ben. The halls were empty, the soft hum of distant city life the only sound. You turned around, when you heard a weird noise behind you. Squinting your eyes, you didn’t see anything weird, so you shrugged and turned around again, to walk back home.
The moment you turned, someone stood in front of you and pressed a cloth over your mouth. Panic surged through you, your body twisting and fighting, but whoever held you was strong. Too strong.
The world started to blur, your vision darkening as the faint, sickly-sweet smell of the cloth filled your lungs. Your last thought before everything went black was a desperate plea: Ben… help me…
When you woke up, your head pounded. The room was dimly lit, cold, and unfamiliar. Your wrists were bound, and you were cold. Panic bubbled in your chest as you took in your surroundings.
“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” a distorted voice sneered from the shadows. Your heart raced. You knew this voice and pure panic shot through you, when the leering face of your ex came in to view.
Stephen.
***
Ben was not a patient man. He could be cruel, cold, distant, arrogant, and annoying, but patience? Yeah, that was never one of his virtues... except with you.
The sex with you was amazing—better than he’d ever admit out loud. He loved your body, your smart mouth, the way you challenged him. He loved your fear, too—the way you trembled under him, but still trusted him. He revelled in it. And somewhere along the way, lust became something more.
Lust became affection.
This evening he sat in his apartment, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table, his fingers tapping impatiently against the glass. You said you’d come by. You promised you’d come by. Not just for sex, but because you had intel on a new gig and needed to go over that with him.
Where the fuck are you?
He looked at the clock. Too late. Way too late.
A mocking grin crossed his face, though there was little humor in it. “Of course,” he muttered to himself. Let her think I’m worried. But there was something that wouldn’t let go of him. Something gnawed at him. A gut feeling. And Ben had learned in his long life to always take his instincts seriously.
He slammed his glass down on the table, jaw tense. Maybe she’s just being stubborn. Let her think she can mess with me. But as he paced his apartment, the irritation slowly twisted into something else. Something darker. Something that made his heartbeat pound faster in his chest.
Ben yanked on his leather jacket and stormed out the door, his gaze hard, shoulders tense. His heavy boots thudded against the pavement with each determined step toward your room. Frustration coursed through his veins, sharp and relentless. This isn’t right. He felt it deep in his gut, even if he couldn’t explain why.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing. His jaw clenched tighter as he called Annie. Nothing. Hughie didn’t know. Billy didn’t know. Even Frenchie had no damn clue. Each dead end made his chest tighten, anxiety curling into rage. Not at you. Never at you. At himself. At whatever might have happened. If someone laid a finger on her… The thought alone made his fists curl tight enough to break bones.
When he reached your room and found it dark and empty, the weight in his gut turned to stone. Something’s wrong. Terribly wrong. Ben leaned one hand against the doorframe, his head bowed, breathing heavy and uneven.
“Where are you, baby?” he whispered to himself, voice rough, dangerous. He hated admitting it, even to himself. But he was scared. And a scared Ben…That was the most dangerous Ben of all.
He inhaled sharply, straightened his back, and narrowed his eyes. No matter what, I’ll find you. And God help whoever had the nerve to take you from him.
His knuckles were white from balancing between frustration and panic. He hated asking for help. But he hated even more that you were gone. And he had no idea where you were. He swallowed his pride and called the only people he could trust.
The first to show up was Annie. Her eyes wide and worried. “Where is she?” she asked immediately.
Ben turned around, hands at his sides. “If I knew, would I call you?” he snapped. Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, asshole. She’s my friend. So take that tone out of your voice.”
Kimiko appeared in the doorway, silent as always, but the flicker in her eyes told Ben that she was ready to spill blood.
“She’s gone,” Ben growled. “No one knows where she is. And I swear, if anyone hurts her…” His voice nearly broke, but he recovered quickly.
“I’ll help you,” Kimiko gestured determinedly. Annie nodded immediately. “We’ll help you.” Ben took a deep breath and nodded briefly. Great. Three bloodhounds to hunt with. And then there was a loud knock on the door. Butcher.
“Well, well, who are we missing? Our little handler? What a shame.” His mocking grin disappeared when he saw Ben’s face. “Okay then,” Butcher said, suddenly serious. “Let’s get her back.”
Ben nodded. His gaze dark, deadly. Someone was going to regret it. And fast.
***
Ben wasn’t a techie. His solution to most problems was to “hit it until it stops moving.” But this? This required finesse. And though he’d never admit it, he was damn glad Annie, Kimiko, and Butcher were there.
Annie sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open, her fingers racing across the keyboard. “I have access to some of Vought’s old security systems. There might be something on the cameras near her room.”
Ben paced the room, his fists clenched. “Hurry up, Starlight,” he growled. Annie shot him a deadly glare. “I’m sorry my hacking skills aren’t as fast as yours, Soldier Boy.”
Butcher, casually slumped in a chair with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, grinned. “Relax, kid. If she was taken by force, they’ll leave marks. And if they leave marks…” His grin grew more dangerous. “We’ll find them.”
Kimiko had her phone in her hands, searching through messages and videos, looking for something anything. She looked up, frowning, and gestured to Ben: Where were you last with her?
“In her room, two days ago,” Ben mumbled, his eyes dark. “Everything seemed fine. He clenched his jaw. After an hour, Annie suddenly sighed in relief. “Wait! I have something.”
Ben and the others rushed to her screen. “Camera from a side street near her room,” she said, clicking to enlarge the image. The group watched as you walked down the street, turned around, looked around you and how someone stood in front of you and put something over your mouth. You were struggling but it was futile, for they saw you went limp.
Ben’s breathing quickened. “Can you see his face?”
Annie typed furiously. “I’m trying… just a sec.” The image came into focus, slowly zooming in on the kidnapper. Kimiko’s eyes were already narrowing. And when the face finally came into view, Ben froze.
Stephen.
“Motherfucker.”
Ben’s fist slammed down on the table, the wood splintering under the force. “That bastard…”
Butcher raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”
“Stephen,” Ben spat. “Her ex. That jerk dared to touch her.” His breathing was heavy. “He’s living on borrowed time.”
Kimiko nodded, determined, and gestured: We’re going to find her. Ben took a deep breath and nodded. “We’ll find her. And when we do…” His eyes flashed dangerously. “He’s mine.”
The room was thick with tension, broken only by the rapid clicking of Annie’s keyboard and the soft, steady breathing of Kimiko. Butcher leaned against the counter, eyes fixed on Ben, who stood by the wall, cracking his knuckles impatiently.
“So…” Butcher drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. “How long’s this been goin’ on, then?”
Ben, mid-sip from his whiskey bottle, froze. His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You and your little handler,” Butcher grinned wider. “How long you been playin’ house, eh?” Ben scoffed, looking away, taking another swig. “What the fuck’s it to you?”
Butcher chuckled darkly. “Just curious, mate. Never figured you for the type to get all soft over a bird. Especially a bloody human.”
Ben clenched his jaw but let out a heavy breath. Finally, he muttered, “Not long. Started off… nothin’ serious.” Butcher raised an eyebrow. “And now?”
Ben shot him a cold, unflinching glare. “Now? Now she’s mine.” Butcher let out a low whistle. “Fuckin’ hell. You’re proper fucked, mate.” Ben growled under his breath, but deep down, he knew Butcher wasn’t wrong.
“I got somethin’,” Annie piped up, drawing everyone’s attention. Ben was at her side in a flash. “Where?”
“Stephen’s old address. He’s using a burner phone, but I traced the last ping.”
“Where the fuck is he?” Ben’s voice was low, dangerous.
“Abandoned warehouse. Outskirts of the city.”
Kimiko was already by the door, eyes sharp and ready. Butcher pushed off the counter, clapping a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “C’mon then, let’s go give that wanker a proper fuckin’ send-off, eh?”
Ben’s eyes burned with fury and determination. “We’re bringin’ her back.”
***
Your body ached in ways you never thought possible. Every shallow breath sent waves of pain through your ribs, your face was tender, and your wrists throbbed from the restraints. The cold concrete floor beneath you only made it worse.
Stephen’s voice echoed in the dimly lit room. “Look at you now, sweetheart. Thought you could leave me? Thought that supe bastard could keep you safe?” He crouched down in front of you, grabbing your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Pathetic.”
Tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. No. Don’t give him that.
Stephen sneered. “Still got that attitude, huh? Don’t worry. I’ll fix that.” He stood up, rolling his shoulders. “Maybe I’ll leave you with a little reminder. Something your precious Soldier Boy can’t ignore.”
Panic surged through you as he reached for something on the table behind him. A knife. Your breath caught in your throat. No… no, no, no.
As Stephen approached, a sudden, thunderous crash shook the walls. The door was kicked open with brutal force, splintering from the impact. Stephen spun around, startled, just as a blur of motion rushed through the doorway.
“STEPHEN!” Ben’s voice was a feral roar, the kind that sent shivers down your spine even now.
Stephen barely had time to react before Ben was on him. You could barely process what was happening as Ben’s fist connected with Stephen’s face, sending him crashing to the floor. Ben didn’t stop. Rage poured out of him in every punch, every snarl.
“YOU THINK YOU CAN TOUCH HER?!” Ben’s voice was gravelly, violent, filled with an anger you had never seen before. “YOU THINK YOU CAN FUCKIN’ HURT HER AND GET AWAY WITH IT?!”
Stephen groaned, trying to push Ben off him, but it was useless. Ben’s strength was unmatched, and his fury was unstoppable.
Annie and Kimiko rushed to you, Annie gently freeing your wrists while Kimiko helped you sit up. “Hey, hey, we’ve got you,” Annie whispered, her voice soft, though you could hear the underlying anger trembling through it. You tried to focus, but your vision blurred again. This time not from tears, but from exhaustion, from pain. The last thing you saw was Ben, his knuckles bloodied, standing over Stephen’s unconscious body, chest heaving, eyes wild.
“I’m safe now,” you thought faintly before everything went black. Ben’s fists were still clenched, knuckles bloodied, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he loomed over Stephen’s limp body. Butcher stood beside him, eyes dark, arms crossed, observing the wreckage Ben had left behind.
Annie knelt beside you, gently brushing hair from your bruised face, while Kimiko helped steady you. Their faces were tight with worry. Ben’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Get her outta here.”
Annie looked up sharply. “What?” Ben’s eyes were cold, unforgiving. “Take her. Get her to a hospital.” Butcher’s smirk was grim. “Yeah, love. Best not be ‘round for what comes next.”
Annie’s brows furrowed in concern, but she knew. She knew exactly what they meant. Kimiko’s gaze flicked between Ben and Stephen, understanding dawning in her dark eyes. She nodded silently and placed a gentle hand on Annie’s shoulder.
“Ben…” Annie started, hesitation in her voice. Ben’s eyes softened, just a fraction, when they landed on you, broken, unconscious, needing help. “Go,” he growled, though not unkindly. “She needs you more than this piece of shit needs breathin’.” Butcher’s voice followed with that familiar coldness. “We’ll… finish up ‘ere.”
Annie’s lips pressed into a tight line, but she nodded. “Be careful.” Kimiko helped lift you as gently as possible, your body limp between them. As they made their way to the door, Annie glanced back one last time. Ben hadn’t moved, his eyes locked on Stephen.
Butcher pulled out a knife, rolling it lazily between his fingers. “Right then,” he muttered. “Let’s have a proper chat with this prick.” As the door shut behind them, Annie whispered softly, “She’s safe now. We’ve got her.” The last sound Annie and Kimiko heard before they left was Stephen’s scream.
***
The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the dimly lit hospital room. You lay still, bruises visible even beneath the hospital gown, an oxygen line in your nose, and IV lines running to your arm. Machines kept track of your fragile state, but your body remained unmoving.
Ben sat in the chair beside your bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. His eyes, usually sharp and cocky, were shadowed with something foreign—worry. Real, bone-deep worry.
Annie, Kimiko, and Butcher lingered quietly in the room. Even Butcher, never one for sentiment, had the decency to keep his sarcastic remarks to himself. But as time dragged on, Annie finally spoke softly, “We should grab coffee… give him a moment.”
Kimiko nodded in agreement. Butcher glanced at Ben, who hadn’t moved or acknowledged them. With a low grunt, he muttered, “C’mon, let’s leave ‘im to it.” As the door clicked shut behind them, the silence in the room felt heavier.
Ben ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in the chair with a rough exhale. “Fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered to himself, voice barely above a whisper. “Could’ve lost ya…”
He glanced at you, still unmoving, and something broke inside him. You don’t get to feel this. Not you. Not after everything you’ve done. But it didn’t matter. His chest ached anyway.
“Dunno what the hell you did to me,” Ben muttered, voice gravelly and rough. “This was supposed to be easy. Just fun. No strings.” His green eyes softened as they traced the bruises on your face, the bandages on your arm. His fault. He should’ve protected you better.
“But now?” His voice cracked just a little, and he clenched his jaw, trying to hold it together. “Now I can’t fuckin’ breathe without ya.” He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “S’posed to be the big, bad Soldier Boy, huh? But one little thing happens to you, and I’m losin’ my damn mind.”
His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness.
“I don’t do love,” he whispered, almost like he was confessing to himself. “Never did. Thought it was bullshit.” He swallowed hard, his thumb ghosting over the back of your hand.
“But you? You got me, sweetheart.” His voice was raw now, no smugness, no arrogance. Just Ben. “You got me good.” He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles, holding your hand in his calloused grip.
“I ain’t lettin’ you go. Not ever.” A small, shaky breath escaped your lips. Ben froze. His eyes snapped to your face, watching your eyelids flutter slightly. His heart pounded as realization settled in.
You heard him.
“Sweetheart?” he whispered, leaning closer. “You awake?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough.
“You mean it?” you croaked softly, your eyes slowly opening. Ben let out a shaky laugh, his smirk returning just slightly, but his eyes were still soft. “Yeah, baby. I mean it.” He meant every damn word.
Your throat was dry, voice faint as you whispered, “Ben…”
His hand tightened around yours, grounding you, as he leaned in closer. “‘M here, sweetheart. Always.”
You blinked up at him, the weight of his confession still settling in your chest.
“I heard you,” you murmured, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the pain. “You don’t do love, huh?” Ben huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head.
“Guess I do now. Lucky you.” You squeezed his hand gently, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.
“Lucky me,” you echoed softly. His eyes flicked over your face, the bruises making his jaw tighten again.
“I swear,” he rasped, voice rough with emotion, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding despite your exhaustion.
“I know.”
Ben leaned in, brushing his lips gently over your forehead, whispering softly against your skin,
“Get some rest, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
***
Two days later, the hospital felt too bright, too sterile, and you couldn’t wait to leave. The bruises still ached, your body still sore, but at least you were walking out on your own two feet. Ben stood beside you, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on his nose like he owned the damn place.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he muttered, his hand resting lightly on your lower back as he guided you out. “Time to go home.”
Home. You blinked up at him. Your place was across town. “Wait,” you started, “I should probably head back to—”
“Nah,” Ben cut you off, not even looking at you as he opened the car door. “Already handled.”
Handled?
You frowned, sliding into the seat. He didn’t explain on the ride over, just his usual cocky smirk in place as he drove. When you finally reached his place, the knot in your stomach tightened.
“Ben, why are we—” But the words died in your throat when you stepped inside.
There they were. Your clothes neatly folded on the chair. Your books stacked by the shelf. Your favorite mug on the counter. Every little piece of your life… in his apartment. Your breath hitched, and you spun around to face him. “Ben… did you—”
He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Yeah. Brought your stuff over.”
You stared at him, wide-eyed. “You moved me in?”
Ben raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What? You thought I was gonna let you go back there alone after all that shit?” Your mouth opened, but no sound came out.
He chuckled softly, pushing off the wall to close the distance between you. His hands rested on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver.
“Relax, sweetheart. ‘S not a big deal.”
Not a big deal? This was Ben’s way of asking you to stay. Of telling you that you were his.
Your voice was barely a whisper. “Ben… what about Mallory?” His smirk widened, lips brushing your ear as he whispered,
“Let me worry ‘bout Mallory, baby. You just worry ‘bout unpackin’.” And just like that, you knew you weren’t leaving anytime soon.
***
"You did what, Soldier Boy?" Grace’s voice was calm, too calm, the kind that made even Ben hesitate for half a second. He shrugged, leaning back in the chair across from her desk. “Moved her in. Figured it was easier than pretending we’re not screwin’ around.”
Grace inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as if summoning patience from the heavens.
"You absolute idiot."
Ben smirked. “C’mon, Mallory. You knew it was bound to happen.” She exhaled a long, slow breath, tapping the ash off her cigarette.
"I knew you were reckless, but this? She's supposed to keep you in check, not shack up with you."
“She still keeps me in check,” Ben shot back, that cocky grin never wavering. “She’s got rules and everything. Real bossy, actually. Kinda hot.”
Grace pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a string of curses. "Fine. But when this all blows up in your face, don’t come crying to me."
Ben chuckled, standing up and heading for the door. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mallory.” Before he left, he glanced over his shoulder with a grin.
"Oh, and don’t worry. She’s a hell of a lot better at dealin’ with me than you ever were."
The door clicked shut, leaving Mallory alone in her office, already regretting every decision that led her to this moment.
***
You heard the door open and close as you lay on the couch, half asleep. You turned your head toward the sound and saw Ben standing in the doorway. With a bunch of flowers.
“Ben?” He raised his eyebrows and gave an awkward grin.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal outta this.” You snorted with laughter. “Flowers? Really?” He grunted something unintelligible and plopped down next to you, throwing the flowers in your lap.
“What? You almost died. Figured this is what people do or some shit.” You looked down at the bouquet, a messy collection of flowers he’d probably bought last-minute at a gas station or corner store.
“This the best you could do?” He gave you a smug grin. “Nah, sweetheart, I’m the best you could do.”
You rolled your eyes, but when you looked up, you saw his gaze soften. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours. “I meant it, y’know,” he whispered, almost awkwardly. “Ain’t lettin’ you go.”
You smiled softly, your fingers finding his. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”