Apologetic - Benedict x reader
A/N: god, it's been so long! Sorry, guys, but I was travelling and nowhere I went seemed to have any internet, so yeah... There's a lot of fluff in this one, hope you guys enjoy it :D
Requested by anon: Hi can I request a Benedict x reader were Benedict gets really jealous all the time and they have an argument but a happy ending please:)) I love all your stories so much you are so talented ❤️
Word count: 1875 Warnings: none
Benedict sighed for what felt like the fifteenth time that night.
His hands were working on stirring the pasta he was preparing on the stove, but it was safe to say that his head was somewhere else entirely.
He’d sent you about thirty texts by now and called you four times, this being the fifth one.
Benedict waited patiently for the beeps on the speakerphone. He’d practically lost all hope that you’d pick up your phone, and was already in the process of pressing the red button to hang up when suddenly your voice boomed through the speakers.
“Hey, Ben! My god, you’ve called me like fifty times, I’m so sorry I didn’t pick up!” you said loudly on the other line and Benedict frowned slightly, tempted to press the phone to his ear, but unable to since both his hands were occupied.
“It’s—it’s okay, love,” he replied, taking a deep breath. "Where are you, (Y/N)?” The two of you had been planning to have dinner together for ages, but you were supposed to be at his place thirty minutes ago.
He heard someone laugh on the other end. “Chris brought me to Carmichael’s!”
Chris. Benedict tried to pretend that his grip on the wooden spoon didn’t tighten at the mention of that name.
“What?” Benedict shook his head in confusion, even though he knew you couldn’t see it.
"You know—“ you giggled, talking so loudly that Benedict cringed a little, “—that pub I told you about.”
Suddenly, Benedict’s hands stilled their movements. He felt the anger gradually fill his lungs when he inhaled, and had to control himself in order not to scream at the phone when he opened his mouth to speak.
“A pub?” He spoke steadily, but his tone was forceful and his breaths were coming out in sharp outbursts. “You’re at a pub, and you’re with Chris?” Benedict asked rhetorically, taking the wooden spoon from the pan with tomato sauce and practically throwing it in the sink.
“What—yes, why? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that I’m standing here in my kitchen like a bloody fool making you dinner, while you’re out in a pub god knows where with Chris, of all people!” Benedict was yelling the words out before he could even think about what he was saying.
There was a pause and an audible gasp on the other end of the line. “Oh my god… Was that tonight?” you asked helplessly, your voice echoing through the kitchen along with the pub’s background noise. “Oh my god, Ben, I’m so sorry!”
Benedict had to inhale twice before he could mutter a response. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. “Enjoy the pub,” Benedict murmured before he hung up.
He tried to taste the pasta in front of him—to create a distraction from this disaster of an evening—but all it did was burn his tongue in the process.
…
“Shit,” you hissed, running a hand through your face in frustration.
You were sitting on a booth in Carmichael’s beside Chis and two of his friends. The music was loud even though you were upstairs in the VIP section of the club, but Chris heard your curse anyway.
He eyed you with a puzzled look on his face, his blue eyes seeming to ask a silent question. When you only sighed and threw your head back, Chris frowned. “What happened, (Y/N)?”
You looked him in the eye and felt like crying. He was a newly acquainted friend and your costar in one of your latest movies. You’d met on the set of a big Hollywood production, and though Chris had invited you out many times, this had been the first one you’d actually accepted—mainly because Benedict seemed to be irrationally jealous of him.
“I—it’s Benedict…” you shook your head, deeply disappointed with yourself. “I really fucked up,” you said and tried to contain the tears that were threatening to start falling.
“Well, shit,” Chris answered sympathetically. He’d really turned out to be a good friend, but Benedict simply couldn’t understand that you really had no interest in him romantically. It was already bad enough that you’d completely forgotten about your date night, but the fact that you were with Chris… You knew that was what had really angered Benedict. “Want me to take you home?”
You smiled thankfully at him, but shook your head. “No… I think I’ll just take a cab to his place—“ you let out a humourless laugh, “—then we'll have to wait and see if he'll let me in…”
“That bad, huh…?” Chris grimaced and patted you in the back comfortingly.
“Yeah,” you exhaled, trying not to puke from the anxiety that rumbled in your stomach. “That bad…"
…
Benedict woke up with the sound of keys opening the door.
He took a few deep breaths, but otherwise remained completely still. Maybe if he stayed really quiet you’d think he was asleep and just leave him alone… He really wasn’t in the mood to talk at that moment.
Unfortunately, the universe seemed to be against him that night.
“Ben…?” you asked quietly from the doorway, your eyes roaming the bump on the right side of the bed. He was with his back to you, but you knew he was awake by the way his breaths came out harsher after you spoke. “Ben, I’m sorry…” you whispered into the darkness of the room, taking the liberty of approaching his side of the bed.
You kneeled in front of him, afraid that if you touched him he’d back away. Your hands came to rest at your thighs instead. His eyes were closed, and you watched as he pulled the covers away from his chest and turned onto his back so he was facing the ceiling.
“There’s pasta for you on the fridge,” his eyes never opened as he murmured, and you only sighed in defeat.
“Look,” you started, not really knowing what to say. “I’m really sorry, okay? I swear I completely forgot about tonight, and I…” your voice cracked a bit and you looked down, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
Benedict sighed too, looking painfully tired and defeated. He lifted a hand to massage his temples. “You know that’s not really what bothers me, (Y/N)” he answered, his voice grave and serious in a way that would’ve scared you if it wasn’t for the spark of annoyance in your chest.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” you said a bit more forcefully than you’d intended and even though you knew exactly what he was talking about. This jealousy of his was really beginning to annoy you.
Benedict’s hand dropped suddenly and he finally glanced at you, his eyes dark and a frown on his eyebrows. “Do I? It seems to me that you already know what I’m going to say.”
You scoffed at that. “Really, Benedict?” You shook your head and ran a hand through your hair.
“Yes, really, (Y/N).” He seemed pretty riled up by now—you could tell by the way his nostrils flared and how he suddenly sat up in bed. You followed him with your eyes all the while. “You should know by now that I really—I don’t like Chris at all.”
You were speechless for a moment. “Well, I’m sorry, but Chris is my friend, and I will keep hanging out with him wether you like it or not!” you responded furiously, to which he only shook his head.
“And I’m sorry, but I’m just stating how I feel!” he countered in the same tone as you and took a deep breath. When he exhaled, it came out in an annoyed hiss. “Did you come here just so you could tell me that?” Benedict threw his legs out of the bed and watched as you rose to your feet and crossed your arms over your chest indignantly.
“Um, no—I came here because I love you, and because I wanted to apologize—“ you spoke in a serious and accusatory tone, “—but clearly that was a terrible mistake given that you can’t get over this stupid jealousy of yours!”
The silence that followed your words was both deafening and heavy. Benedict glanced up at you with a frown, but you couldn’t bare to look at his face at that moment, so you started making your way to the door.
Benedict pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes with a sigh. “(Y/N)—wait,” he called after you, his voice quiet. You stopped right before the doorway, hugging your own body but making no motion to turn back.
You heard the ruffling of his bedsheets and the sound of his footsteps approaching you.
“Look, I—you’re right,” Benedict all but whispered behind you, and you turned wearily to look at him. His eyes were cast to the ground sadly, and you felt the urge to lift your hand to touch his face, but decided against it. “I really have no right to tell you who you should or shouldn’t hang out with…” He lifted his eyes to your face slowly. “I wasn’t thinking straight when I said those things, and… I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
When he was finished, you finally released the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You opened your mouth a few times before any words came out, avoiding his eyes. “It’s alright, really… I know that sometimes you can’t help feeling jealous, and that it can be a bit hard to control it,” you sniffed. “But I need you to trust me, okay?” Your eyes finally connected with his and you watched him nod in response. “I’ve said it before—Chris is my friend, but that’s all. I love you, and that’s not going to change, no matter who I hang out with. Okay?”
Benedict nodded again, and you felt your eyes water a bit as you lifted a hand to rub your nose. He didn’t hesitate before closing the distance between you and enveloping your body in his arms. His hug was a welcoming comfort, and you placed your mouth against the crook of his neck and uncrossed your arms so you could bring him closer by the waist.
“I’m really sorry…” Benedict murmured against your hair and you couldn’t help but smile a little.
You let go of him so you could cup his face with both hands. “Let’s forget about that for now, okay?” you stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. Benedict sighed against your lips and just as you were about to pull back he brought you closer for another more passionate kiss.
“I love you.” He said as he broke the kiss and rubbed calming circles on your back with his hands.
“I love you too,” you replied with a slight rub of your nose against his. His hair was soft underneath your fingertips, and though all you wanted was to lie back in bed with him, your stomach grumbled hungrily in protest. You half laughed, half gasped, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow before asking with a slight pout, “Now what was that about there being some pasta for me on the fridge…?"
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