more than i can hold in my heart.

favorite type of art

When Ben was a kid, he’d have so much energy and adrenaline, his parents tried everything to get him to focus on just one thing.

Nothing worked, except one day, his father entered him to an art class.

He was talented, and it kept him sitting down long enough so he wouldn’t cause problems. He’d always thought it was because his eyes flitted from detail to detail and it kept his adrenaline in check.

Ben grew older, and his sketchbooks piled up. He had a compilation for his parents, his siblings, nature, and whatnot. He had only one sketchbook for all the girls he’s ever dated though. He liked them, but after a few sketches, he didn’t really take interest in drawing them anymore.

Until Miranda Bailey.

Every angle her head turned, there was something interesting, always something beautiful about her. Even before she noticed him, she filled his sketchpads, and he’d always wanted to capture her beauty, and the emotions in her eyes. He never could. She was just that special.

Miranda was sleeping, but he couldn’t. Ben got out of bed, and pulled out his sketchpad, his third one made for her. He never told her about his hobby. It’s been 10 months. Excluding their break. Honestly, he was shy and scared that she’d think he wasn’t good enough.

He sat beside her, and smiled as he watched her breathe. Her hair was up in clips, but a stray hair fell down her face. He wanted to move it, but he couldn’t risk waking her, so he just started to draw her.

With each shade, it all started to come together. His eyes and hands worked diligently and in tune with each other. The shadows settling on her face made the sketch focus on the goddess before him. The surroundings melted and he highlighted all of Miranda’s features clearly.

Before Ben knew it, he was done. It wasn’t quite enough for him, as always because it never really put her beauty justice. He glanced at the clock, and it showed 2:06 AM. He yawned, and closed his eyes for a second, clutching the sketchpad in his arm, while the pencil lost itself from his hand, and dropped to the floor.

The next morning, when Ben woke up, he tried to discern what actually woke him. The curtains weren’t open, but he could hear the faint tapping of the rain on the window. No, it wasn’t that. The bed creaked as he stirred, but it wasn’t that either. Beside him, on the bed, Miranda was flipping through a familiar sketchpad with a shocked face, and--

Wait, what?

His eyes blinked awake, and it widened in shock. He sat up, reaching for his sketchbook, but she didn’t let him take it. “Miranda, what are you doing?” Ben’s heart was beating fast against his chest, and blood pounded in his ears.

Miranda opened her mouth to talk, but nothing came out. She looked back down to his latest work, the one with her sleeping last night. Now, in the present hours of the morning, it wasn't as bad as he thought. He'd captured the peacefulness, the slope of her nose, the plumpness of her lips, and the gentle way her eyelashes rested on her upper cheeks. It didn't quite measure up to the real thing, but it was good. Really good.

"Since when?" She asked. She flipped back to the other pages. There was one with her and Tuck, talking at the breakfast table, some with her down in the OR, the angle definitely from the gallery, and others were random portraits he made from memory. "T-these are… beautiful, Ben."

He blushed. "It's a, uh, hobby. I didn't know how you'd react, so…" he shrugged.

She laughed, tears suddenly falling down her cheeks. "Miranda…?"

Miranda smiled at him. "Is this… how you see me?" She scoffed. "I-I'm not this beautiful. But your, your drawings are stunning. I-I'm far from this."

Ben shrugged again and kissed her tear-stained cheeks. "What are you talking about? They barely do you any justice."

She blushed. She flipped through more of the pages and traced her face gently. He laid his head down her shoulder and kissed the side of her neck.

"You wanna see the others?" He murmured against her skin.

"There are others?"

He chuckled at her shocked voice. "Woman, I've been drawing since I was a kid. Of course there are more. But this, this isn't the first one filled with your beautiful face." He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

Miranda blushed again. "Yes. I wanna see. All of it, please."

"If my lady wishes," he bowed as he got out of bed to grab his sketch pads from his hiding place. Miranda giggled at his antics.

A few days later, Ben had his sketchpads lying on the ground, while he frowned in concentration, trying to find some inspiration for a gift to Miranda. He needed it for their upcoming anniversary.

He heard heels clicking down the stairs, but he didn't look up. Miranda was probably going out for a girls' night.

"Benjamin Warren." Her seductive voice was the one that made him look up.

He dropped his pencil, and stared at her girlfriend in amazement. "Miranda?"

She was wearing a trenchcoat, and her hair was up in an elegant updo. She had red lipstick on, making her lips more plump and juicy than usual. Her curves went on for forever, and she was giving him that seductive look that made him weak in the knees.

"Benjamin Warren," her lips moved in slow motion, and all he wanted to do was kiss her. He felt his pants tighten as he stared hungrily at her. "Draw me, like one of your french girls."

He almost rolled his eyes at her Titanic reference. He would, but he was so turned on. "What?"

Miranda walked slowly towards him, unbuttoning her coat with every word. "I said, I want you to draw me like one of your french girls."

The coat dropped to the ground, and all thoughts left him. He stuttered, not making any sense, as he stared at her naked body.

She smiled seductively at him, and bit her lip, the eye contact making him squirm in his seat. "With this?" She pulled up a necklace, the one he gave her for Valentine's. "Only... this."

She was enjoying herself too much with these Titanic references. It made him smile. "O-okay."

Miranda smiled back, and walked to the couch, lying down, showing all of her. God, she was so beautiful.

"Tell me what to do." Her voice lowered significantly, and Ben could tell she was getting turned on too.

He cleared his throat, and collected his pencils. He looked up at her, and traced the way her body curved with his eyes. She was so goddamn stunning. He was so lucky that she trusted him enough to just lay there, bare and ready. Something was caught in his throat, and he needed to say it before he started, "I love you."

Miranda smiled softly. It's the first time he said it. And he didn't regret it. The way he was looking at her, like she was the most valuable thing in the world, made her ache to say those words back to him.

"I love you too."