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amberlynnmurdock · 4 months

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Aim For My Heart (Part 1)

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Reader

Summary: One random morning, she buys him a coffee when the barista gets his order wrong–and ever since, Dex has been entranced.

Genres: light angst in the beginning, fluff, making out

A/N: This first part is all fluff! So I hope you guys like it! This is my first time writing Dex so I hope I got his character right :)

TAGS: @danzer8705 @pcrushinnerd (let me know if you want to be tagged or if I missed you)

credit to the owner of this gif!!!

Drip drip.

Benjamin Poindexter’s brown eyes shoot open at the annoying sound of his sink’s leaky faucet.

Drip drip.

He attempts to ignore the sound. He shuts his eyes and readjusts himself in bed. He takes a deep breath.

Drip drip.

He’s had enough. He can’t stand it.

Kicking the sheets off himself, Dex huffs out of bed and stomps to the kitchen to fix the faucet. He rips a paper towel off a roll seamlessly and wipes the nozzle. He waits a moment to see if it works. Hand on his waist, he stares at the nozzle of the faucet, almost daring it to drip again. After 45 seconds, he decides it worked.

He goes back into his room and crawls into bed. In an instant, he falls back asleep.

***

Another dreadful day.

He can’t remember when his days started to feel like chores he had to get done. Was it when he was put in an orphanage? Was it when his dreams of becoming a professional pitcher were taken away? Was it when his therapist, Dr. Mercer, the only person who ever understood him, passed away?

When was it?

It seemed he was accurate with everything else in his life except when it came to pinpointing an exact moment when it started to fall apart. And it’s been falling apart slowly every day.

Still—he needs to have coffee to somewhat function. He throws the empty coffee bag out in the trash and turns his hands into fists as he rests them on his clean marble countertop. Why do things like this get under his skin? Something as simple as running out of ground coffee? He looks up and is met with his reflection in the microwave. Sometimes, he can barely recognize himself.

After a few moments, he decides he’ll have to stop at the corner coffee shop, which he hates to do. He hates being around people. He hates pretending to be normal. He hates that he has to put on an act. He hates the fake smile he gives when he orders his coffee; he hates waiting in line. The anticipation of waiting kills him inside. He hates seeing the barista accidentally spill a little of his coffee on the counter. It takes everything in him to not throw the cup away out of spite. It takes everything in him to not react violently over something so small.

“You will build your life on pillars of order,” Dr. Mercer had once told him. Pillars of order. Pillars of order. Pillars of order.

He’s trying to be better every day. He tries to follow his code, but it’s so hard without someone to guide him, like a North Star. Even though he doesn’t have that anymore, he still tries to be better. He still tries to act normal. Often though, he wonders if he’ll ever be able to live his life on his own without a guiding light.

No, he thinks to himself. Because people get hurt. Every time. Including him. Most of all, including him.

As he takes a sip of his hazelnut coffee, he immediately frowns at the taste. It’s not hazelnut at all—it’s mocha. He hates mocha. And he hates the fact even more that he has to go back inside that dreadful place and order a new coffee—one they will probably charge him again for.

And of course, the line of people. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. Was it the people he didn’t like, or the thought of interacting with them?

After five whole minutes of waiting in line—Nadeem would be on his ass for being late—Dex finally approaches the same barista at the counter who took his order before. As calmly as he can, he forces a smile.

“Hi. I ordered a hazelnut coffee, but I got a mocha instead. Could I please get a new cup?” Dex asks as he tries to ask the question like he hasn’t rehearsed it in his head a thousand times. He slides the cup across the counter.

The barista, a young man with red hair and freckles, nods and looks at the screen in front of him. He frowns. Dex’s heart plummets in his stomach.

“I’m so sorry. We just sold our last hazelnut of the day. We can do—“

“He can have mine,” a third voice interjects. The person it comes from is feminine—light, and friendly. Qualities Dex isn’t used to being around. Qualities Dex pretends to have. When he follows the sound of the voice, he meets a young woman standing a few feet beside him.

She's younger than him, but not by much. She has the most beautiful smile and kindest eyes he’s ever seen. The smoothest, most perfect face. Yes, she’s perfect, he thinks. Perfect to him. He’s speechless as she holds out her cup of hazelnut coffee for him to take.

“I didn’t drink from it yet if that makes you feel better,” she said sheepishly as she caught him staring at her.

“Then what will you have?” Dex asks her.

“I told myself I’d do one kind act today and not expect anything in return. I’m okay. You can have my coffee,” she smiles again, and Dex’s chest feels as warm as the cup in his hand as she hands it to him. Their fingers brush for the smallest of seconds and it’s entrancing to Dex. He smiles at her—not forced at all. She’s already on her way out as she wishes him a good day. He watches as her shrinking figure exits the coffee shop. He doesn’t want this to be the last time he ever sees her. She's the first person to show him an ounce of kindness in a long time. Her hair swayed back and forth as she walked out the door and it flew behind her as the wind came in. She's the most beautiful person he’s seen in a long time.

And she was so nice to him. That feeling was addictive.

“Sir?” The young barista called. “I need to take the next guest’s order.”

Dex ignores him, ignores all the people in the coffee shop he pushes past. His gaze is stuck on her path. He follows where she left, her coffee in his hand. He exits the coffee shop. How could she already be gone from his reach?

He sees her down the block as she makes a right turn.

Dex isn’t far behind.

***

The next time he sees her, he owes her a coffee.

He made sure to get to the coffee shop earlier than normal the next day. He ordered two medium hazelnut coffees from the same barista who had taken his order the previous day. Dex feels lighter in his step—a rare surge of confidence in his entire body. He even decided to wear his FBI bomber jacket. He normally liked to hide what his profession was but thought that maybe it would impress her… and hopefully not scare her. He brushed his dirty blonde hair neatly and even sprayed on cologne.

He waited at a table near the front and kept an eye on the clock. He had enough time to bring her coffee and make it to work before nine. He watched the door like a hawk, watching carefully as each person entered the shop.

And then finally, she came in.

She wore a long trench coat and tall boots. Her hair was freshly windblown and she looked slightly flustered, like she was in a rush. Good thing she wouldn’t have to wait in the already growing line to order coffee.

Dex sees as she audibly sighs at the sight of the line.

“I owe you a coffee,” Dex calls out confidently as he rises from his seat. She looks over at him, frazzled at first, until recognition settles in her features and she seems to—dare he think—calm down. He’s made her calm down.

“You don’t,” she says carefully, eyes glancing at the FBI logo on his jacket, “but something tells me if I don’t accept this coffee, you’ll put me on the Most Wanted list.”

Dex laughs—a real laugh—and hands her the cup of coffee. Their fingers brush again. He’s entranced by her touch, again.

“I could never,” Dex says. “I didn’t get to say thank you for yesterday. So thank you. You have no idea how messed up my day could’ve been without my morning cup.”

“Trust me, I do,” she smiled. “And you’re welcome. And thank you—for my cup today,” she blushed as she fumbled over her words. Dex felt that familiar warm feeling spread through his chest the longer he looked at her.

“I’m Ben Poindexter… or Dex,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand. She accepts it with ease and shakes his hand. She introduces herself and smiles. Dex repeats her name in his mind to memorization.

“On your way to work?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she answers, “late, honestly. But now that I got my coffee early, I can spare a few minutes. Where’s the uh—FBI office?”

“Just a few blocks down. Mind if I walk with you?”

“Not at all,” she smiles.

Dex holds the door for her and lets her walk out first. He scans the area outside—normally he doesn’t check for threats (like he should) but now he has a reason to make sure the surrounding area is safe.

They both begin to walk down the block. He matches her steps.

“What do you do?” Dex asks.

“I work at a therapist’s office. Client relations—not as daunting as being an FBI agent—is that what you are?”

“Special Agent,” Dex gently corrects. Dex perks when she mentions she works at a therapist’s office. “It’s not as fancy as it sounds, though.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen some shit,” she replies, shivering a little.“I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, it can get tough,” he sighs, “but you get used to it after a while. Do you like working at the therapist’s office ?”

“I do. You learn a lot about people. I’m not a doctor, but I help where I can.”

“You must have a lot of patience,” Dex muses. He enjoys the cool breeze hitting his face. She looks like she's fighting against it. If the cold weather were a physical being, he’d choke the living life out of it for making her uncomfortable.

“I try to,” she smiles again, crossing her arms across her chest to keep warm. Dex feels a strong urge to wrap his arm around her, but he doesn’t.

Dex already knows where her work building is—he followed her yesterday up until a certain point. He’s passed his office already. He doesn’t care. As long as he knows she makes it to work safely—he doesn’t care.

The rest of the walk, they make small talk. Dex doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, the entire time walking, he’s thinking of ways to ask her out on a date. Do I run into her at the coffee shop again? Do I ask her right now?

Finally, she stops in front of her building. She takes a sip of her hazelnut coffee that Dex bought for her and smiles at him. Dex catches her smile and looks away, almost shy.

“Thank you again for returning the favor, even though you didn’t have to,” she held up her cup in a cheersed way. Dex shrugs, and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly. “Was it a good cup?”

“Yes,” she nods. “Hit the spot.”

If it wasn’t good, Dex thinks he might’ve taken it out of her hands and thrown it against the building. Nothing should ever disappoint her, or not live up to her standards. He’s relieved she enjoyed it.

“Could I—ask you out for dinner, sometime?” Dex stutters slightly, as he feels his heart pound against his chest. From the way she smiles at his question, it puts him at ease.

“You could… but are you going to?” She teases, squinting her eyes a little at the handsome blonde FBI agent before her. Dex laughs and looks down sheepishly, before meeting her eyes again.

“Would you like to have dinner with me this Friday night?” Dex officially asks her, smoothing any nervousness in his voice. Confidence.

“Yes,” she nods. “I would love to.” Dex can’t help the blush that creeps on his cheeks. She’s holding her coffee as she searches through her bag for her phone. She almost drops the cup before Dex—with lightning reflexes—catches it before gravity can win.

“Oh my goodness,” she gasps. “I would’ve been so sad if I dropped it! Thank you—again," she breathes. Dex smiles and holds the cup for her as she looks for her phone.

“It’s no problem,” he says.

She asks for his phone number and sends him a text so he’ll have her number saved. Dex is impressed by the way she takes the initiative to his contact information. She must really be interested—though definitely not as interested as he is. He feels his phone buzz in his jacket, confirming he received her text.

“Well, have a good day, Dex,” she says in a sing-song way, a way Dex will never forget. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

***

She wasn’t one to go to someone’s house after a first date, but Dex might be testing that theory for her.

She’s watching him carefully over the leather-bound menu. Stealing glances and looks every so often as she pretends to look over the list of red wines. Squinting her eyes, studying his face. He’s completely focused on the menu—he almost looks confused as he reads it. It’s a confusing menu because the place Dex chose has four Michelin Stars. She doesn’t mind though. It buys her time to keep looking at him.

His skin looks soft…but it’s the way his jaw cuts that brings a sort of harshness to his look. No less handsome, however. She’s not sure if it’s because she knows he’s an FBI agent, but his presence is commanding, whether he realizes it or not. Commanding and sweet at the same time. Even the way his hands look strong and have surely held a gun against someone (because isn’t that what FBI agents do?) are now holding the menu so softly… it’s mesmerizing to see such hands that are capable of doing rugged things hold a leather-bound menu so gently. It only makes her wonder what else he could handle with gentleness—or roughness. Whatever she wants.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Dex asks her, his silky voice bringing her out of her train of thought. She inhales sharply and quickly scans the menu again.

“I think a glass of cabernet,” she replies, “and the burrata to start?”

“I was thinking the same,” he grins, warm brown eyes looking into hers. She glances away quickly—the way she feels when he looks at her is unsettling by how much she likes it. “You look really beautiful, by the way.”

And of course… he had to make it worse. There was no use in fighting the blush on her cheeks. She smiled.

“Thank you.”

The waiter took their orders, and Dex watched her carefully as she spoke. She was pleasant. She smiles at the waiter—but not the same kind of smile she gives to him. Dex leans back in the velvet chair and sighs in content. He never thought he would get this far with her.

When it was finally the two of them, Dex cleared his throat.

“So, you do client relations at a therapist’s office? What does that exactly mean?”

“I greet them, I bring them into the room before the doctor gets there. I ask them questions and fill out their intake form. I’m basically a glorified receptionist except sometimes I get to ‘play’ therapist,” she explains rather sheepishly. Dex thinks anyone would be lucky enough to be greeted by her. If he were a patient, he’d ask to never see the doctor.

“Do you want to become one?” He asks with curiosity.

“I think one day,” she answers. “I like talking to people. Never mind doing it to help—sometimes just a person to talk to is all someone needs.”

Ain’t that the truth, Dex thinks to himself. “I agree. I used to see a therapist myself.”

“Really? There’s no shame in it at all.”

“I know… well. We’ll save that conversation for another time.”

“Have you always been in the FBI? I’m not even sure I know what the requirements or credentials are,” she asks.

Dex laughs, “It’s a lot of background checks and training before you start. And no, I haven’t always been in the FBI. I was in the army before.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, wow. Thank you for your service. Now I definitely think you’ve seen some shit. And I can see why you’d go to therapy. Why did you stop? You said you used to see one.”

Dex sighs uncomfortably. She picks up on it immediately.

“Never mind. You said another time. Have you always wanted to be in the FBI?”

Dex smiles a little, appreciative of the way she stopped the conversation about his therapist.

“I used to want to be a professional baseball pitcher,” he admits.

“I love that. Do you still play?”

“Not really,” he says softly. “Other interests came to mind. Life.”

“I know what you mean. Life.”

A comfortable silence falls between them—they catch each other gazing into the other’s eyes and laughing at the same time. Dex can’t remember the last time he felt so enamored with someone, so comfortable and so attracted. He’s grateful for running out of coffee that morning. He’s grateful the barista got his order wrong. Most of all, he’s grateful for the young woman who sits across from him at this restaurant. And he’s grateful for the way she’s smiling at him.

***

It didn’t take much convincing for her to agree to go to his place after dinner. While she promised herself she wouldn’t let it get too far, she was curious to see where the night would go. Dex held her hand the entire walk back to his apartment. She cuddled against his arm, an attempt to feel more warm. Dex pulled her in closer.

He lived in a humble building just outside of Hell’s Kitchen. His apartment was even more humble: small, but very nice. White walls. White marble countertop without a spec on it. Everything was in its place from the spices to the napkins. Everything was labeled. His couch was placed perfectly in the middle of the room. Picture frames were all aligned on the walls. He dimmed the lights a little.

From where she stood, she could see his bedroom door slightly ajar. She caught a glimpse of his bed with white sheets—his bed was perfectly made. From how organized and clean he seemed to be, she thought he would freak out to see her mismatched decorations and colorful bedsheets.

“This is such a nice place,” she said aloud.

“Thank you. I don’t ever have guests, so I’m sorry if it’s a little boring.”

“Not at all,” she moved to sit in the corner of his gray couch. She placed her bag on the floor, and Dex picked it up to move on the coffee table.

“It’s better to keep it clean off the floor,” Dex murmured as he sat down next to her with two glasses of red wine. He gave her a soft smile as he handed her a glass, which she gladly accepted. They clinked glasses and took a sip, all while holding each other’s gaze.

“Can I tell you something?” Dex asks suddenly.

“Of course.”

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Dex gestures to the two of them. “It takes a lot in me to do this. I—I really wanted to ask you out. And I’m happy you’re here. I just—“ he feels himself breathing fast. It’s an awful habit he has, getting overwhelmed by every little thought in his head. Bring a beautiful girl into the mix—it was a terrible concoction for his mind to handle. His mind won’t allow him to enjoy this pleasure because it’s already thinking of ways it could go wrong. Like she’ll never want to see him again.

“Hey,” she whispered, placing a hand on his knee to calm him down. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out in embarrassment, covering half his face with his hand.

“Don’t need to be sorry,” she said softly.

“I just don’t want this to be the last I see of you,” he admits. “I had such a good time at dinner and here you are now—“

“Dex,” she began, “I had an amazing time at dinner with you. Truthfully, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have agreed to come to your place. I’m happy I’m here. If it’s all the same to you, I definitely don’t want this to be the last I see you.”

“Absolutely,” Dex agrees immediately, turning to face her more. “I’m so happy you’re here too. I’m happy you gave me your coffee that morning and it’s led to this.”

She smiles. “Me too.”

Her hand is still on his knee. Dex is reminded of it when he feels that area of his leg getting warmer from her touch. He glances down at her hand on him and memorizes the image. He doesn’t want to imagine too much, imagine her hand slowly trailing up his thigh…

To stop his thoughts, he places his hand on top of hers and trails his fingers up the length of her arm, until he reaches her neck and brushes his fingers through her hair. He brings her closer to him, some force guiding him with confidence. Her eyes are half closed as he slowly brings her in for a kiss. A kiss.

He first brushes his lips against hers, almost as a way to ask if this was okay—if the way he was guiding her to him was okay. She doesn’t protest. Dex kisses her softly at first, memorizing the way her lips feel on his. And then he kisses her with a newfound force. She opens her mouth for him to enter his tongue and Dex breathes her in. He places his arms around her waist and lifts her up and into his lap so she’s straddling him on his couch. She has her hands on either side of his face as she kisses him just as passionately, holding him in place. He runs his hands up and down her back, pulling and pushing her to and fro himself.

He pulls back, breathless, and looks up at her.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, running his hands in disbelief through her hair. “Everything about you is perfect.”

She kisses him again and again. Dex’s heart is pounding like it never has in his chest, so much it hurts, so much he thinks his life depends on kissing her. After a while, he pulls back again.

“Let me take you home,” Dex whispers in her ear. “I don’t want to get too far, and we’re treading that line.”

She can’t help but laugh, even though she agrees. “Okay. Walk me home.”

Dex holds her hand the entire walk home. When she says they’ve arrived at her apartment building, she kisses Dex one last time and makes him promise he’ll text her as soon as he gets home.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Dex smirks, enamored by the look in her eyes.

“I do,” she argues, “I do now.”

“Goodnight,” Dex whispers.

He watches as she walks into her building and enters the elevator. Dex moves across the street and waits to see which apartment light turns on. When he sees one turn on, he immediately falls into a dark alley and pulls out a mini telescope.

He found her. And he watches her. Through a small slip of her curtain. He watches as she moves around her kitchen and living room. She changes into a silk robe in her bedroom.

He stays there for another two hours until she’s turned off the lights and headed to bed.

“Goodnight,” Dex whispers to her from afar.

#wilson bethel #benjamin poindexter #ben poindexter #agent poindexter #dex #daredevil #daredevil born again #poindexter x reader #poindexter #ben poindexter x reader #i have no idea how to tag this lol #aim for my heart #bullseye #bullseye x reader

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amberlynnmurdock · 4 months

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Aim For My Heart (Part 2)

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Reader

Summary: Dex contemplates opening up to her.

Genres: FLUFF, with angst at the end

A/N: No idea what I'm doing with this story but here's an update LOL. Enjoy!

Tags: @danzer8705 @pcrushinnerd

Your moral compass isn’t broken, Dex. It just works better when you have a North Star to guide you.

Routine was important for Dex’s way of living. Routine helped him keep on the straight and narrow path. It was important nothing disrupt his routine or else things could turn upside down for him. Every morning he woke up at six o’clock on the dot. He brewed a fresh cup of coffee. He made his bed. He got ready for work. He tidied up the dishes. Doing these things gave him a sense of control. Doing these things made him feel normal.

Pretending to be normal didn’t come easy to Dex. Pretending to feel remorse after he’s pulled the trigger on someone didn’t come easy to him. Pretending to care about someone’s feelings was foreign. His heart has felt like a frozen block of ice for almost his entire life.

Until her.

Doing things for her—nice things—did come easy. Not for the sake of being nice, but for the reaction that it emitted from her each time. Whether it was bringing her coffee every day before work or sending her a goodnight text, he enjoyed the emotion it evoked in her. He enjoyed doing it because he knew she enjoyed it.

Slowly, and then all at once, she was becoming part of his routine. Eventually, his entire routine.

There was a purpose now behind the mundane things he did every day. He made his bed so it looked nice for her. He tidied up the dishes so nothing was dirty when she came over. He got ready for work with ease because she was also getting ready for work. In a way, Dex felt connected to her knowing they were both at their day jobs at the same time. The only thing that got hard for him was trying to focus on anything else in his life. His thoughts were consumed by her. Everything he did, she was always at the front of his mind. Guiding him to get through each day he didn’t get to see her.

Well… at least each day he didn’t get to be with her.

He still saw her.

Every day.

Even if she didn’t know it.

When five o’clock finally struck, Dex whipped out his phone and immediately sent her a text:

DEX: I hope you had a great day. I can’t wait to see you on Friday.

She’s never been with a guy who gave her this much attention. As she slid her trench coat on at the office, she was delighted to see her phone light up with Dex’s name.

“Who’s got you smiling like that lately?!” Emma, her co-worker, teased her. Emma had reddish hair and a bright smile. She couldn’t help but blush being called out by her.

“This guy I've been seeing,” she answered quietly. “He’s an FBI agent.”

“Good Lord, __,” Emma placed a hand on her chest. “You’re messing with an FBI agent?! That’s hot.”

“He is hot,” she bit her lip and stared at Dex’s text, anxious to reply. Never has a guy ever texted her as much as Dex has. Never has a guy ever paid so much attention to her. And it’s only been two weeks of seeing him. “And if you’re implying what I think you’re implying—no. We haven’t messed around like that. Yet.”

“And there’s the keyword,” Emma laughed. “Well, when are you seeing him next?”

“Friday,” she said, “he’s taking me out to dinner again.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it on Monday.”

When Emma clocked out and left, she immediately opened her phone again and saw another text from Dex.

DEX: Get home safely. It’s cold out here.

Dex parked his car right around her building and waited at the end of the block to watch her come home. He looked around the streets of people and sighed. No sign of her yet. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Of course, it was her.

I can’t wait to see you either. About to be home now. Did you make it home okay?

Dex smiled. She cares.

DEX: Yes, I did. :)

Dex looks up from behind his steering wheel and fiddles with his binoculars. He watches as the rush hour crowd crosses the street, people going their separate ways. Some went into the corner bodega, others crossed the street or entered cabs. After a few minutes of people-watching, Dex finally catches a glimpse of her walking down the street.

She was so mesmerizing to look at. So effortlessly beautiful. How did it come so easy to her to smile at strangers? Dex watches her through his binoculars and smiles to himself. He watches as she dodges a crowd and enters her apartment building. He waits again until he sees her apartment light up. When it does, he leans forward for a better angle.

“Welcome home,” Dex whispers to himself. He imagines being in her living room, waiting for her. Maybe with a fresh plate of dinner. What would he make her for dinner? Penne vodka? Roasted chicken? Anything she wanted.

She throws her bag on her chair and leans over her countertop, scrolling through her phone. After a few minutes, she puts her phone down and runs her fingers through her hair. Dex could almost feel her now. He sighs in content as he watches her prepare dinner for herself. Something she takes out of the fridge and heats up in the microwave.

When she goes to her bedroom, Dex waits patiently for her to come out. He’s not at an angle where he can see her room—he doesn’t want to be. It didn’t feel right to see her intimate like that. While she’s out of view, Dex closes his eyes and rests his head on the car seat.

He understands that what he’s doing may not seem normal to most people. But Dex wasn’t like most people. When he’s alone, everything feels cold around him. Everything he touches turns to gray. He doesn’t feel like he can radiate warmth from inside. The only way he can bring life back into things is to surround himself with people who can do that. And even then, it was hard to find people like that.

Watching her makes him feel that warmth. It makes him feel closer to understanding something like it. It gives him hope that maybe one day he can even have a fraction of it.

She doesn’t come out after a while. And when she does, she turns off the lights in her apartment and retreats to her bedroom. Dex sighs in content. He pulls out his phone.

DEX: About to hit the hay. Goodnight. :)

He starts up his car. His phone buzzes.

Me too. Goodnight, Dex :)

“Goodnight,” he whispers out loud.

***

Dex stared at himself in his bathroom mirror for a long time. He was in a suit jacket and white button-down with no tie. Friday finally came, and doubt was filling his mind again. He could never let himself be completely happy, even if nothing had gone wrong. What if this ended up being their last date? What if he somehow scares her off and she leaves him? He knows he would find it really hard to let go.

His phone buzzes. It’s her.

Ready when you are :)

After picking her up and making it to the restaurant, a different one from the last date, Dex sat across from her and watched her over his menu. She looked at the menu calmly and she looked as angelic as ever. He didn’t want to be at this restaurant, surrounded by all these people. He just wanted to be with her. He looked at her more to drown out the noise of the restaurant. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder navy blue top and black jeans. Her hair was curled at the ends, but her hair was pushed behind her shoulders. He could never tire of looking at her—watching her.

She closes her menu. It startles Dex. Preparing for the worst, Dex feels his heart plummet in his chest. He feels his anxiety course through his veins. He braces himself for her rejection. And then—

“Do you want to ditch this place and get ice cream instead?”

Dex flinches at the question.

“Uh—what?”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re serious?” His mouth is half open as he looks at her in disbelief.

“Yes,” she laughed, resting her chin on her knuckle. “I don’t like this menu. I feel overwhelmed. And I've been craving chocolate ice cream since eight this morning.”

Dex raised his brows in amusement and surprise, unable to hide his smile. “I mean, if that’s what you want—then yeah. Let’s go.”

Dex left cash on the table for what drinks they already ordered and she apologized to the waiter. She met Dex at the door and shrugged her coat on. Dex put his arm around her shoulders.

“Do you know where to go?” Dex asks, letting her lead the way down the block.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Just a few blocks up.”

He unwraps his arm around her shoulders and instead finds her hand to hold. She intertwines her fingers with his and squeezes his hand. He suddenly feels that weight he felt before being lifted off his chest. He mirrored her spontaneous nature and couldn’t stop smiling all the way to the ice cream shop.

When they arrived at the shop, Dex looked at the giant LED ice cream sign in the window. Luckily, there wasn’t a long line. There weren’t a lot of people. He sighed in relief.

The bells jingled at the door, and a young girl at the counter greeted them.

While Dex looked around the shop, scanning for threats, her eyes were glued to the menu.

“I definitely want chocolate, but what toppings? Cookie dough? Fudge? Definitely fudge,” she thought aloud. “What are you getting, Dex?”

“Oh, I think just vanilla,” Dex shrugged.

“Just vanilla?!” She asked incredulously. Dex laughed at her reaction. “No cherry? Sprinkles?”

“I don’t know. Should I?” Dex asked. If she wanted him to get toppings, he would.

“Absolutely.”

She orders their ice cream for them and Dex sits at a table, wiping it first with a napkin and making sure it’s clean. For him. Mostly, for her.

He feels that warmth radiating off her when she sits down next to him at the table. She moved the chair so she could be closer to him. Dex adjusted himself in his seat so he faced her. She handed him his cup of vanilla, with sprinkles and whipped cream. She had her own cup of chocolate with oreo crumbs and fudge.

“Cheers,” she tapped her cup with his. Dex smiled. And then it dawned on him like a gray cloud over his head. Like it always has.

“What is it?” She asked, a spoonful of chocolate in her mouth. “Do you not like the toppings?”

Dex blinks hard at the cup as the memories fill his mind instantly. Painful memories. Well, the memories itself wasn’t painful. It was the reminder of this cup of ice cream that brought him back to a time when he didn’t know what painful memories yet were.

“I just…” Dex trails off, furrowing his eyebrows. “I haven’t had ice cream since before I was sent to an orphanage. Yeah,” he remembers now, and he meets her eyes, “that was the last time I had ice cream.”

She sits for a moment, taking in what he just said—he’s said an awful lot in just a few sentences. He’s revealed an awful lot that she didn’t know before. Dex is an orphan. His parents aren’t here. He hadn’t tasted ice cream since he was a kid; it was practically a taste of his childhood. She’s not a doctor, but she knows how to handle people when they reveal something so deeply personal. She’ll listen. And she’ll turn it into something positive.

“Well,” she says softly, “it’s been too damn long since you’ve tasted something so sweet.”

Dex looks at her when she says this. He smiles. But he disagrees with her. Because he remembers kissing her just last week. He takes a small spoonful of the ice cream and lets the creamy goodness soak in his tastebuds. He sighs in relief.

“How does it taste?” She asks.

“Good,” he nods. “Really good.”

His heart breaks at the same time. But looking at her mends it back together.

“Do you want to try mine?” She asks with a small smile. She scoops some for him and feeds it flirtatiously to Dex. Dex groans.

“Aw, come on. Yours is way better,” Dex shakes his head.

“Let’s switch,” she urges, handing him her ice cream. “Seriously. I want yours.”

Dex looks at her in amusement and trades cups with her. She couldn’t be any more perfect. Caring. Kind.

“How are you so naturally… kind?” Dex finds himself asking between bites.

“I’m really not,” she says sheepishly, “you’d be surprised. Most of the time, I really hate people.”

Dex laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe you. You? Come on.”

“It’s true. People are fake—they’re selfish and judgmental. It’s just easier to choose peace and kindness than to fight back.”

“Is it?” Dex questions.

“It’s easier to sit with your choices in the end. You feel better knowing you chose peace. At least, I do.”

He wants to say he does too, but he can’t. Because it’s not true.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

“Is it tough as an FBI agent? It must be hard to choose peace in a setting like that. Retaining bad guys and whatnot.”

“It’s hard,” Dex nods, echoing what he’s learned to say years ago. “It’s really hard. Tensions are always high. You have to have a hard exterior. It’s a lot to be like that all the time.”

“You don’t have to be like that with me,” she says.

“I know,” Dex affirms. “That’s why I like spending time with you. I don’t have to be a certain way.”

She smiles and takes a bite of vanilla ice cream.

“I am so glad I added toppings to this.”

***

On a rare winter night that it’s not freezing outside, Dex and she opted to walk back to her apartment. Hand in hand, Dex holds her tight and close. She rests her head on his shoulder, and that makes him feel important.

“I had a good time tonight, Dex. You’re nice to me.”

Dex smiles. “You’re nice to me.”

“You can’t copy what I say,” she laughs.

“It’s true,” Dex slows down his pace, knowing they’re approaching her apartment soon. He doesn’t want this night to end.

She stops him from walking and faces him. She places her hand on his cheek and caresses his cheekbone under the dim light of the street. He takes the initiative and wraps his arms around her waist, bringing her closer to him. He brushes the hair out of her face and looks deeply into her eyes. He pauses, carefully watching her like a beautiful piece of art that’s only meant to be looked at, not touched. Or at least not touched by someone like him—someone unworthy of being allowed to be this close to her. If she knew about his childhood, what would she think? Would she think him a monster?

Would she understand him?

Would she leave?

His confusion must be etched on his face.

“What is it?” She whispers.

Dex shakes his head in response.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says in a regretful tone. She squints her eyes, cocks her head.

“It’s only our second date,” she laughs lightly but quiets down when she sees the serious look on his face. It’s all in his hazel brown eyes, that he means what he says. She doesn’t know a lot about him other than that he was an orphan. That he was in the army; he had a therapist. He must have done some things he’s not proud of—but she can’t see herself ever thinking differently of him. Not when he’s been sweet to her.

He looks away from her like he’s trying to figure out something in his head. She noticed he often had that puzzled look on his face.

“Dex,” she calls his name before leaning in and kissing him. The kiss is slow…tantalizing. If she were a black hole, he’d surely be sucked in. Whatever worries he had in his head seemed to be gone by the look on his face. His hardened features became soft. There wasn’t a darkness in his eyes anymore—even though she would gladly get lost in it if he let her.

“I get lost in my head a lot,” Dex struggles to say. “I need someone—I need an anchor when that happens.”

“Is it your job?” She assumes he means about his line of work. She can’t imagine it being the easiest job in the world. Being surrounded by so much violence and danger.

“Sometimes,” Dex says, “but other things too.”

“Like what?”

Dex swallows—and looks away again. He wants to open up to her so badly, but he doesn’t want to scare her off. Not when he’s got her exactly where he wants her.

“You don’t have to tell me about it now,” she continues. “Another night.”

“Another night,” he repeats. He leans down and kisses her again, pressing his lips on hers for a long time.

Soon, they reach the door to her apartment building. Dex already feels that familiar weight fall on his chest, the moment he knows he’ll be alone again. Away from her, away from the reality he wants.

He won’t know what to do with himself when he’s home again.

“I had another great night with you, Dex,” she says, pulling away from his hand but letting her fingers linger.

“Me too,” he sighs in disappointment. A tone she doesn’t pick up on.

“You know, if you ever need to talk, you can always call me,” she offers. “I know what it feels like to be alone.”

Dex was hopeful to hear her words but wasn’t sure if she was ready for his kind of loneliness. He sincerely hoped that when he did open up to her, she wouldn’t see him differently.

“That’s good to know,” he tells her. “Goodnight, __.”

“Night, Dex,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

When she entered her building, Dex waited outside for a few more minutes until he saw she reached her apartment. She’s safe. He contemplated staying, watching from afar. But truthfully, he was exhausted. It took a lot for him to do what he did tonight—almost open up to her. For once, he felt satisfied with the interaction he had with her, down to the way he kissed her. He was happy she offered to call her anytime he needed it. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t need it now. He always needed it. His mind was always racing.

And it always got louder the closer he got to his apartment. The closer he got to being alone. His hands twitched as he waited for the elevator to reach his floor. When it did, it was like his feet turned into cement blocks as he walked to his door, to enter his quiet and cold apartment. Away from the world, away from her. Doubt filled his mind again, as it always did. Worried that this ounce of happiness he’d been given would be taken from him as quickly as it arrived.

He hangs his coat in his closet. He pushes the rack of clothes to reveal the safe tucked in the back. Opening it, he grabs the first tape he can find and plays it on his cassette.

He falls back in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It stares back at him.

#dex #aim for my heart #benjamin poindexter #ben poindexter #wilson bethel #benjamin poindexter x reader #ben poindexter x reader

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