Comfort

They started touching more. That was probably the most noticeable change.

Not that they never touched before, they did plenty: a kick to the shin here, a flick to the nose there, even the occasional wet ear (and hadn't that been an awful way to get woken up. Who knew Gwen had it in her?).

But in the two weeks following the omnitrix's near self-destruction, their touches had gotten different. Whereas before he'd have been thrilled to get Gwen soaked with a water balloon or something, now he'd sooner go for the ticklish spots on her sides. Where before she would happily kick him to the curb with her (admittedly) mad karate skills, lately he was likelier to get put into a stranglehold than to get a butt-whoopin. Whatever gave them an excuse really.

And the strangest development, as least compared to before, was that the touches extended to, well, friendly contact too. They'd walk closer together while going into the mall; instead of shouting at each-other to get their attention they'd tap the other, or in the case of Gwen just outright grab Ben and drag him over to whatever caught her interest. Usually dweeb stuff. Why she felt the need to grab him for that he didn't know, but he held onto her anyway. Wouldn't want to lose her in the crowd.

Not that he was one to talk about taking any excuse for contact. In the second week after his- their- space adventure, after a long day of fighting more alien activity then he cared to remember, he decided that the best place to grab a nap (and annoy Gwen, because annoying the dweeb gave him life) was by using her lap as a pillow while she sat reading in the booth. He expected an outburst. A spell. A karate chop to the face. What he got instead was a grunt and a hand absently stroking his hair. The motion had sent him off to dreamland in no time. He'd never tell her, but that was the best sleep he'd had since coming back to Earth. He'd woken up to the RV basked in the light of sunset and Gwen's hand still tangled in his hair, her sad green eyes looking down on him lost in thought. He knew that his eyes were the same.

Grandpa took it in stride, seemingly happy that they were finally getting along. He just saw two kids arguing half the time and spending the other half in companionable silence (even when they did speak, it was usually softly). Ben was fine with that. Making their grandfather happy was one of the few things Ben and Gwen could agree on. He'd been their rock throughout all of their lives, a shoulder to cry on. But he didn't need to know about this; this was their burden to carry.

He didn't need to know that he'd wake up every other night in a cold sweat from nightmares, or from a choked gasp from the bunk beneath him, followed by muffled sobs as Gwen buried her face in her pillow. He didn't need to know how desperately he needed to check the watch as often as he could to be sure it wasn't counting down. Didn't need to know that he all but crashed out of bed after his nightmares to check on Gwen. Didn't need to know that his heart started racing whenever he wasn't sure where she was. Didn't need to know that his first instinct whenever the bad guys showed up was not to kick their butt, but to pick Gwen up and get her as far away from danger as he could.

Grandpa didn't know that the touches were their way of telling each other that they were alive. That he wasn't going to explode. That she hadn't been eaten by a Wildvine. They needed the contact to stave of the fear. They needed to know.

Waking from sleep to the sound of her cousin calling her name while he was crashing out of bed should have pissed Gwen off. It used to. He pissed her off just by breathing. He used to at least. Her relationship with Ben had gotten a lot more complicated over the summer.

But this was far from the first time he'd woken her up, or vice-versa. She doubted it would be the last time.

She shot up in bed just in time to see Ben scramble up from the floor, eyes wide with fear and tears. As he all but launched himself toward her bunk she caught him halfway and hauled him onto the cot.

"You were gone- you were gone- please don't go not again-"

Gwen just held him closer as sobs wrecked his small frame, whispering comfort. Nightmares about his own near-death experience would get a panicked gasps and a tear or two out of him, but only reminders of her close call could sent him into a blind panic like this. She could feel his small heart hammering in his chest as she pressed it to hers (a small heart, but so big at the same time).

Just weeks ago she would have – well she wouldn't have just brushed him off. She wasn't that heartless. But she sure would not have had the patience with him that she had now. It was only fair ththough; two days ago it had been her that climbed into his bunk. She'd woken up the next morning with her head in Ben's lap, the boy snoring softly as he sat up against the headboard. His muscles had been stiff all day from sleeping like that. He'd never complained about it though.

Gwen kicked off the covers, pulled him in and pulled them back on, all the while never letting go of the small hero. The cot wasn't really big enough for two people, but they were close enough for it not to matter. She settled back onto her pillow, laying on her side with Ben's face buried somewhere in her neck and collar area, his arms around her waist. She smiled fondly.

"Grandpa is never going to let us hear the end of it if he finds us like this in the morning, doofus." She honestly didn't really care. Plus it was a cold night, they had plausible deniability.

Ben snorted tearily and snuggled even closer. "If he's got a problem with it he can bring a crowbar. I'm not moving."

Gwen rolled her eyes but didn't protest. Let grandpa Max think that they secretly got along, or snuggled. He didn't need to know that   not  touching Ben for a while sent her into a panic. Didn't need to know that whenever Ben transformed back into himself, she'd look at the omnitrix to check if it wasn't counting down. Grandpa didn't need to know that she didn't dare to step foot inside the forest they were camping at the edge of without the doofus in tow. He didn't need to know that the only time she ever felt safe anymore was when Ben was with her.

That was probably going to be a problem in the near-future. They were three days out from Bellwood and not nearly stable enough to be separated. She tightened her hold on Ben. Not while I have anything to say about it.

"Hey, Gwen?" Ben's whisper snapped her out of her thoughts, and she backed up a little in their embrace so she could scoot lower, looking him the eye. She'd always been proud of her eyes, and used to think that having to share them with  Ben  of all people was terrible. Now, as they gazed at her with gratitude, she didn't mind at all.

"What is it doofus?" She muttered, trying to act annoyed. It was a paper thin act to satisfy what little remained of her dislike of him. There wasn't nearly anything left.

"Do you-" he gulped, turning a little red. "Do you wanna hang out when we get back to Bellwood?"

What a ridiculous question. She would barely last a day without him, or he without her. They both knew it.

She scoffed and smirked at him. "Well, I suppose, if you can't sleep without your new teddy-bear. Or am I a stress toy?" Gwen teased him.

Ben flushed crimson but didn't skip a beat. "Puh-leeeease. I've just gotten so used to your dweebiness, I gotta wean off or I'm gonna go crazy from shock when I meet sane people."

"Stress toy it is. I feel so objectified."

"Gwen," Ben grinned sheepishly. "we both know I don't know what that word means."

Gwen snickered. "I guess I'll have to stick around to teach you then. Can't have you slack of on your vocabulary. Or your math."

Ben groaned. "Great, now you're gonna tutor me? I get enough school as it is!"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "You sleep through all the school you get, doofus. And then sleep through your homework."

Ben shrugged, quite a feat considering they were still a tangled mess of limbs. "Lets see if you can keep me awake for it than." he challenged. Gwen's smirk returned tenfold, making Ben eye her nervously.

"Oh, I think I've got that covered." She said, sneaking a hand under the hem of his shirt to tickle him.

"Gwen!" Ben tried to smother his own laughter while fighting her off. It was a losing battle as she managed to roll over him and pin him beneath her. "No fair!"

"All's fair in love and war!" She declared triumphantly, although she did stop tickling him, allowing him to catch his breath beneath her. She hovered over his face with a catlike grin, though a twinge of worry wormed its way into her eyes. "Feeling better?"

Ben took a few more breaths to quiet his racing heart. "Yea, much better. So is this love or war? Asking for a friend."

"You tell me, doofus." Gwen shrugged and pecked him on the tip of his nose lightly before rolling of him partially and laying her head on his chest. "Lets get some sleep, tomato."

Ben, living up the nickname, grumbled about unfairness once more before he burrowed back into their embrace. Gwen felt him peck the crown of her head and smiled to herself. She didn't know how long it would take for them to heal, or how long it would take till they stopped needing each-other like this. But for now she'd treasure the blanket of safety and affection that Ben's touch offered.

Gwen wouldn't have nightmares tonight, and neither would Ben. Not if she had anything to say about it.

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