Chapter Text
A long, slow clap of thunder rumbles outside.
The sound vibrates throughout the tiny cabin you're sitting in. You can feel the vibrations deep in your chest.
The rain has been merciless, for the past twenty minutes or so the storm hasn't let up, if anything it's gotten worse in its intensity.
You had seen on your phone the storm warnings as the clouds had built outside, and there had even been some alerts of maybe tornadoes possibly forming, but that had fizzled pretty quickly. Now it was just inky gray skies and lightning flashing followed by all the thunder.
Either way, it didn't really matter to you, you were tucked safely away in your parent's cabin, your favorite quilt wrapped around you. You were contentedly reading your favorite smutty book for the third time.
You see another flash of lightning light up the page, and then the unmistakable rumble of thunder, a little more brief this time.
You take a deep, contented sigh before turning the page.
There was something so comforting to you about thunderstorms. But only if you were inside comfy cabins, close to a wood burning stove, reading sexy stories. They were miserable if you found yourself outside stuck in them. Which you were not, thank goodness.
Just thinking about the freezing rain hitting your face and mud squelching inside your shoes makes you shiver and you wrap the thick quilt around you tighter.
You realize you lost your place in your book, and shift in your seat on the couch, looking down the page for the errant sentence.
Without really thinking about it, you notice that the soft rumble of rain outside had taken on a slightly different sound. The rain sounded slower, almost, and lower; almost like it was hitting the steps on the porch harder then before.
Almost like boots against wood…
Next thing you know, you hear a sharp knocking on the front door of your cabin. You nearly jump ten feet into the air.
"Who the hell?" you mutter under your breath. You turn your face to the front door in alarm. No one should be around for miles, this was your parents’ private land.
You lay your book in your lap, and freeze, not knowing what to do. You start scrambling in your mind if you remember where the gun was supposed to be kept in the cabin.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" A deep voice calls out. It sounds distinctly male.
Your heart is hammering in your chest. You slowly move the blanket off of you, and stalk up to the cabin's front door. The damned thing doesn't even have a peep hole you can use, so you slide over to the window on the wall and hesitantly move your head just enough so you can see through the glass.
You can definitely see a figure standing on your front porch. He's tall. Very tall, and hunched over, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. His face seems to be covered by a curtain of his long, dark hair, and he has his head bowed, looking down at the covered porch’s floorboards.
He's absolutely drenched and you see him hopping from foot to foot, shivering. It wasn’t quite freezing outside, you knew, but it was cold enough to not be caught in a pouring rainstorm, either.
Your heart goes out to this man who is stuck on your porch, cold and wet.
But you hesitate by the door, kicking yourself for actually considering opening it to a stranger, and a stranger of the masculine persuasion no less.
"If you were some dumb blonde in a horror movie, you’d probably be dead already!" you think ruefully to yourself.
"I'm really sorry to be banging on your door like this, and thank you for not shooting me!" The man yells, "But my truck broke down the hill, near your gate; and I saw your lights were on... if anyone's in there, I was just wondering if I could borrow your phone to call a tow!"
You scoff under your breath and think to yourself, "He doesn't have a phone? A likely story…"
The condensation on the window, and fog accumulating on the glass makes it hard to see his face clearly, and you squint to try and make him out. You see his figure look up at the door, and turn his head looking around the porch. He shivers again and brings his hands together, rubbing them and breathing into them to try and warm them up.
He looks over his shoulder briefly, and mutters under his breath, "Fuck…"
Against your better judgment, you move to the door and open it. You realize it wasn't even locked.
Yup. Definitely would be chopped to bits by the bad guy by now.
To your credit, you didn't think anyone would be out here, no one has ever come before.
Every time you’d come out to the cabin, it had always been you, by yourself reading, or eating snacks and falling asleep before a roaring fire before having to go back into the city and do your day jobs during the week.
You’re silently thankful to this man, who had enough sensitivity to know to avoid the handle of your cabin door, much less try and open it on you.
It’s a testament to the quality of the insulation of your cabin by how incredibly loud it is when you open the door. The rain is roaring around the two of you, pounding on the roof of the porch. Water sluices over its edge in sheets, and you can’t see farther than twenty feet or so around the two of you, the pouring rain is so thick. There’s another blinding flash of lightning.
"Hi!" he yells, his arms are crossed over his chest and you try your hardest to ignore how closely his wet flannel shirt clings to his obviously large biceps.
The crack of thunder overhead makes you cover your ears for a moment.
“Hi!” you say back, dropping your arms, “You picked a hell of a day to get stranded out here!” You yell.
He breathes a small laugh, “I didn’t really pick it, my truck did!”
You tentatively ask him if he'd like to come inside, and out of the rain, and he quickly waves you off, saying, "No, no that's alright, thank you."
You offer him your phone, unlocking it for him and he thanks you profusely. He quickly pushes numbers on the screen and lays it against his ear.
He turns away from you, and absently walks in a little circle around the porch, holding your phone against his head. You notice how the floorboards creak when his booted feet come in contact with them. This man is massive. Tall and solid, he has a presence that seems to draw your eyes to him, it’s hard for you to look away.
You hover in the open door way, your arms across your chest because it's colder than you thought outside, and start to think of going back to the couch and grabbing your quilt…
The man’s phone call must have connected because you see his head jerk up. “Poe? It’s me, Ben…” He speaks into the phone, “I know it’s not, my battery died...Yeah, yeah, it’s old and a piece of shit, listen…”
He pauses, and looks off into the distance, “Betsy broke down on me, I need you to come…”
There’s another pause. “Why not?” His voice takes on a sharper tone and you see his eyebrows start to knit together in frustration. “What does Finn have to do with this?” he asks, and his entire body stiffens waiting for a response from this Poe person he's talking to.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m miles from the precinct!…” You see him hunch over even further, his shoulders tightening, “I was fishing! What does it matter?! Get Finn to come…”
You finally can’t stand the cold, so you turn, leaving the door open and run and grab your heavy quilt from its abandoned place on the couch. You wrap it around your shoulders, and can hear Ben’s voice clearly from out on the porch because his anger finally spills over, and he yells, “What the fuck, Poe?!”
He rages, “I’m stuck in the middle of ass-fuck Egypt because your boyfriend decided to throw a temper tantrum?!” Another pause. “Yeah, no shit it’s raining!”
You return to your position in the doorway, and you see his lips curl into disgust, he shakes his head, “Yeah, no, it’s fine, whatever. All’s I’m hearing is that I’m about to spend the night in my fucking truck…” He stretches his back and looks directly up at the roof beams, exasperated.
“There’s no way I’m letting you go back to your truck,” You interrupt him, shaking your head. He turns his head towards you, looking faintly surprised.
You point a finger at his face, “You can stay here as long as you promise to keep any murderous serial-killer tendencies to a minimum,” you tease him.
He’s staring you down, smirking with an intensity that takes your breath away. He nods once, dipping his chin at you.
You almost hear the voice on the other line over the rain, it goes up in pitch like they’re asking a question. He speaks into your phone, “I found some help,” He says in the deepest voice you’ve ever heard, his full lips brushing against the screen. You could swear you see his eyes jump around your body, like he’s checking you out, and that he likes what he sees.
There’s a brief pause on the other line, and he blinks, “Yeah, she’s also helpful,” He stresses sarcastically, and turns back to his conversation. You are almost sure you hear laughter coming from the earpiece.
You try your hardest to keep your face neutral, but fail completely. This Ben and his inherent sexiness showing up at your door has you smirking all over the freaking place. You wrap the quilt around your shoulders even tighter and rest your temple against the door’s wooden frame. You wait patiently for him to get off your phone, and then maybe he’ll realize he can come in the cabin and finally start warming up.
He gives you another quick glance out of the corner of his eye but finishes up the conversation, “Okay, well I’m going to hang up on you now, you sack of shit. Could you try and come get me tomorrow, at some time? Whenever’s convenient for you?” He rolls his eyes, “Uh-huh. Well, I’m not going anywhere…”
There’s a pause that’s a little longer than the others, and he turns to look at you, his eyebrows knitted together again. You realize he’s speaking to you, “I’m sorry, but my friend wants to know your name, so he can call back tomorrow when he picks me up…”
You shrug your covered shoulders letting him know it’s no big deal, and you tell him your name. Ben’s face immediately registers pleasure upon hearing it, and he repeats it to himself under his breath, smiling a little.
He turns his face to the phone and scowls, “Did you hear that? Good… All right, Bye.” And he hangs up with his thumb.
He holds the phone out in his hand, shaking his head at it, and turns to you, “I’m so sorry about all this,” He gives your phone back to you, “This is a real nightmare…”
You shake your head, assuring him that it’s perfectly fine, and ask him if he’s ready to come inside and get comfortable.
“Yeah!” His eyes light up, “Yeah, thanks a lot…” And he strides past you into the cabin.