A/N: first of all, thank you for more stories, and for making me want to physically beat everybody who ever fucked with you with a rake.

second of all, you guys are babes.

third of all, please love me.

fourth of all, this dedicated to the lovely purple_princess143 for the beautiful banner which I am in love with!! :D

Chapter 35: Sweet as Cindy Lou Who

I started laughing. "Ben, that's a potato peeler."

He looked at peeler and then back at me with raised eyebrows. "So what?"

"I asked you to cut the carrots," I said.

"But shouldn't I peel them first?" He frowned and stared intently at the cutting board, where'd I'd put the freshly washed and cleaned carrots.

"I'm sure you would've had to, if I hadn't already done it, Ben."

Ben pursed his lips, turning his face away from me. I clapped a hand to my mouth in an attempt to not burst into laughter. "Oh," is all he said.

I paused to keep from laughing at his annoyed expression. He really wasn't a cook, was he? How did he even function at his apartment? "So...are you going to, you know, cut them any time soon?"

"Just keep the sass coming, Lottie," he grumbled, putting down the potato peeler in exchange for the knife I handed him. "Keep it coming, I have a thick head. I can take it."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Ben."

He didn't say anything, just reached out and touched my cheek, running his thumb across my cheekbones before nodding and facing the cutting board. I noticed his mouth thinning and his face turning pink, and that made me grin.

I opened the freezer and stuck my head inside as I searched for frozen beans, hoping that I could cool off the rising heat in my own cheeks. It didn't work though. I pinched my elbow and breathed deeply.

I wished he could be happy. I wished that permanent crease between his eyebrows would smooth out. But with his dad acting like such a...

I wanted to know more about Ben. I wanted to learn more about him than just his general likes and dislikes or his overall personality. I wanted to know his story.

I sighed and closed the fridge, my mouth turning down. I looked over my shoulder at his back. His broad shoulders moved up and down with each chop of the knife, and his head was bent over.

Would he ever let me in? He'd said he would tell me a story, but he ended up saying he wanted to wait until after dinner or something. He was avoiding the subject.

"You working hard there, pal?" I asked.

"Who's your pal?" he said sullenly.

I ignored that and skipped over to him, peeking around at the cutting board. The small circles of carrot he chopped weren't the same size, but the cuts were smooth. I beamed. "Beautiful," I said cheerfully. "You could be a professional carrot chopper, Ben."

He glanced down at me, and I was sure that he was about to smile. That made my grin grow, and I patted him on the arm before pouring the beans into a pot. "Where should I put these?" he asked.

"In the pot, if you please."

I stirred the pan that held the chicken and spices and then dumped the chicken into the pot with the beans and carrots. I hummed a little while I stirred the pot around, and then once the carrots cooked, I took the pot of cheesy roux and poured it in as well.

"It smells good." I jumped in surprise at the sound of Ben's voice right next to my ear, my heartbeat immediately skyrocketing. I turned my head and saw him standing right beside me, smirking. He wiggled his eyebrows and pinched my nose closed.

I laughed and shoved him away, even as I tried to control my erratic breathing. "Don't do that."

Ben straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets, watching as I took out a pot and filled it with water.

"Do you know how to make mashed potatoes?" I asked hopefully, spinning around to meet his gaze.

He scoffed. "Not unless they come out of a box."

I stuck out my tongue and shook my head. "That's gross. You're gross. Don't eat that stuff." He scowled at me for three seconds and then lunged.

Before I knew it, Ben had me in a headlock, knuckling my hair frantically. "Take it back!" he ordered.

I twisted and tried to push him off, laughter bubbling in my throat. "Get off me, you oaf!" I grabbed his hand and tugged on it, but he had me in the tightest hold imaginable, and I couldn't even turn around to see his face.

"Not until you take it back." He shoved me gently, so that my knees were on the floor. My face warmed at the awkward position he'd put me in.

I could feel his warm chest against my back, and closed my eyes. "Ben, the food's going to burn!"

"Then apologise for calling me gross and an oaf."

I felt him breath right on my neck, and I froze, my eyes snapping open. "B-but you don't want me to lie, do you?" I teased, stuttering slightly. Being so close to him still had me going crazy.

"Don't be nervous, Lottie. Am I making you nervous?" he cooed softly.

"Yeah, when you say creepy things like that!"

In the span of one second, Ben had let go of me and flipped me over so that I was lying on my back, and then he pinned me in place with his hands while he sat down right on my stomach.

My chest started to hurt from laughing so hard. "Ben!"

"Yes?" he said loftily, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his palms.

I tried to shove him off. "Get off me!"

"All you have to do is apologise, babe."

My heart fluttered in my chest when he turned to look at me and grinned. It made his dark eyes crinkle up at the corners and made his already strong cheekbones stand out more. My eyes literally glazed over from being so in awe of him.

"I'm waiting," he said, patting my cheek.

I wondered how on earth I could stand him sitting right on top of my stomach, and then I noticed that he held most of his weight on his arms. I sucked in a breath and looked away from his arms to his face, but immediately regretted it. He looked so smug that I started blushing immediately. "I'm sorry for calling you gross," I said in a monotone, struggling to keep straight-faced when he frowned at me.

"Say it with meani-"

Before he could finish his sentence, I reached out and shoved him hard. He tumbled right off my stomach and I shot to my feet, running out of the kitchen. "Make sure you turn off the heat!" I called.

"What the fu-"

I laughed and ran into my room, locking the door and jumping on my bed. I liked it when Ben was being all playful.

The knob jiggled and I heard Ben's exasperated groan. "Goddammit, Lottie."

"Sorry, not sorry."

"Are you really going to make me do something drastic like break down the door?"

"I don't think you're strong enough," I said absentmindedly, wandering over to my old desk. I hadn't been in here in months, but everything was exactly how I'd left it. Subconsciously, I paid attention to the violent jiggling my door was going through, but in reality I stared at the picture frames lining the edge of my desk.

I leant over and blew, and dust flew in all directions. I picked up one frame in particular and smiled, wiping the glass with the corner of my sleeve.

"That's your mum?"

I wasn't even surprised that Ben had managed to fit the key to his flat's bathroom in my bedroom door to open it. "Yeah," I said. The picture was of when she had first been admitted into the hospital, when she still glowed and shined like a star. I had her lovely smile, I hoped, and her soft, round features.

"She looks kind of like you," he said. His voice was low and hesitant, and it made my chest swell at how careful he was being.

"We do share the same DNA." I put the picture frame down and smiled. "You never told me your story, Ben."

He sat down on my bed and frowned. "What?"

I waved my hand around. "About your dad. About you. About what happened."

His hands moved to cup his elbows and he shifted awkwardly, hunching over his lap. He avoided my gaze and starting shuffling his feet. I watched him carefully. Ben wore his heart on his sleeve without even knowing it.

I sat down beside him, just a few inches away. He stared at the space in between us dazedly. "You don't have to," I said, looking at my hands. I was wringing them like a worried mother and I didn't know why. "But I just..." I leant my head on his shoulder. It was big and broad, and it was very, very comfortable. "Ben, are you going to tell me about you?"

His arm flexed next to my waist and he shifted so that his arm was draped around me. "What do you want to know?"

Ben's chest moved up and down with each breath, and I matched my own breathing to the sound of his steadily beating heart. "I want to know about what makes you you. And I want to know about your family, and Archer, and I want to know what's going on with your parents."

"Nosy git," he muttered, but I knew him enough by now to know that he was just teasing me.

I reached across his lap and grabbed his other hand. "Tell me about you, Ben," I said.

"You have to promise me that your opinion of me won't change," he responded, his tone quiet and serious. "Or at least don't judge me."

I squeezed his hand tightly, trying to transfer a bit of the faith I held to him. I trusted Ben as much as I trusted Ginny or Zach or my dad, and I wanted him to know that. He seemed to understand, because he began to speak.

For probably the first time, Ben Fisher spoke to me. He spoke to me, and I knew it was hard for him. Sometimes he would stop and sigh, as if he was tired, and sometimes he would pause and glance at me to make sure I was listening.

And I listened.

I listened as he described his childhood, made bright and sunny by only by Archer and Clark, but dampened by his father's constant disapproval and his mother's inability to go against his father. His expression was smooth, as if he didn't mind anymore.

When he started to talk about his destructive teenage years, his muscles tensed, and he began to glance at me every few seconds. He was worried about what I'd think of him, and I didn't know why. I mean, I fell in love with him because of everything about him. I loved every little bit of him, and I loved what made him himself now. Not then.

He was a bit of a plonker a few years ago, but I didn't mind. Those years had matured him and had shaped him. They had caused him a pain that I could feel as he talked about it, and my opinion didn't change.

I loved the way he spoke. His voice, gruff and hesitant, painted a picture with his words. He never assumed an arrogant tone, or said anything that seemed conceited or depressing. He didn't downplay or overplay anything. As always, he was honest.

I didn't loosen my grip on his hand. If anything, I clutched on tighter when he started talking about his parents.

"Mum never liked to do anything Dad didn't like," Ben said. Somewhere along his tale, I had thrown my legs over his thighs, and then he'd moved me so that I was sitting on his lap. He held me like a teddy bear, and tucked my head at the base of his neck. His heartbeat quickened, but he carried on speaking without a hint of a stammer. "And my dad never liked anything I did."

I frowned. I hadn't spoken up once, but I wasn't sure how long I could keep still while he talked about his dad. Who, by the way, I still wasn't keen on.

"But when I was over there, he said he'd welcome me back, and not disown me anymore."

I brought my head up and examined his expression. He didn't look happy, but he didn't look sad, either. "Really?" I asked, confused.

"He said he was sorry for throwing me out, and he asked to come back and help him with his company. He said he would help me."

I breathed in. That was good news, it really was, but... "What about uni?"

Ben's eyebrows furrowed and his jaw locked. "He wants me to transfer to University of York, where I would've gone if...that hadn't happened."

"York," I echoed. That was a brilliant school, and my eyes widened. But... "That's kind of far away." Ben didn't say anything.

I blinked harshly. Okay, Ben was going to York. That was a lovely school, and he deserved it! And his father was trying, I supposed. My head felt foggy thinking about it. Seriously, what was up with me and my selfishness? I had to be happy for him.

"That's wonderful, Ben," I said honestly. "That's so, so wonderful."

His expression changed, and I didn't understand it. "I guess," he said reluctantly.

I wondered why he suddenly seemed upset. I didn't like it. "That's good, right?" I asked, kind of desperately. "Don't you want that?" He didn't say anything, and I started panicking.

If he even had the slightest inclination to not go there, I'd do everything in my power to make him stay. I didn't want him to leave, I didn't want him to leave me. But I also didn't want to be the reason he split from his family, the reason that he didn't go to the university of his choice.

I grabbed his face and turned him to look at me. I was wide-eyed and my eyebrows were raised so high that they disappeared into my hairline. "Ben," I said slowly.

"Lottie, just say it," he said.

My heart thumped loudly in my chest. "Say what?" I asked, confused. What did he want me to say?

His gaze drilled right into my eyes. "Whatever you want to say about this, your completely honest feeling, I want to hear it." He wanted me to say something specific, but I didn't know what he wanted me to say.

Was I supposed to wish him off like the selfless person I tried to be? Or was I going to try and take the only thing I've wanted since wishing my mother didn't die?

I peered right at him, my face so close to his that I could feel him breathing on me. His hands tightened and a flicker of uncertainty passed through his expression.

My eyes began to burn, and I laughed the short, breathless kind of laugh that you make when you've got so many pent-up emotions inside you that the only way to release them was a laugh. Ben looked confused at my reaction. I blinked rapidly and my hands trembled. I didn't know what I wanted to say. I had so many things to say to him.

"I'm in love with you."

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please don't mind me, I'm just waiting for you to love me

don't mind the awkward writing, okay?