Will You Love Me?

Chapter 1

"Morning, Martin," Ben happily greeted as he walked on the set of Sherlock. He's been in an oddly happy mood for some time now. Most people might say it's because he's satisfied with how filming is going, but Martin knew better. As his best friend, it was his job to know. 

"Morning, Ben," Martin replied with a sly smile. "Thinking about a certain make-up artist this morning, are we?" Ben shot a sharp look to Martin. Only a few people knew about the embarassingly huge crush he had on you. And by a few, he meant Amanda, Louise, Mark, Steven, Rupert, Una, Andrew, and...just about everyone. Except you, of course. You tried to keep away from the gossip going around set.

Ben and Martin continued to walk towards the make-up trailer and Ben, Martin noticed, was getting nervous. He started wiping his hands on his jeans, licking his suddenly chapped lips, and his breathing grew a tad heavy. "You alright, mate?" Martin asked with a knowing smile. Ben rolled his eyes and muttered, "Shut up."

They both walked into the make-up trailer, but only saw your boss Hayley waiting for them. Usually it was you. "Where's [Y/N]?" Martin asked, mostly to calm Ben's raging nerves. Hayley guided them down to the chairs, while saying, "Making a run to Louise. She'll be back in a moment. In the meantime, Martin, I'm going to wash your hair and Ben, [Y/N] will be washing yours as soon as she gets back. The hairstylist is sick today, so we'll be taking that on, as well."

Oh no, Ben thought. You don't know about his sensitive hair. If it gets pulled the wrong way, he's going to make an absolute embarassment of himself! He can't do that in front of you!

"Actually, Hayley," Ben urgently said. "Would you mind if you wash my hair, instead? It's just...well, I know Joan has told you I'm very specific on how my hair is properly washed and I don't want [Y/N] to ruin that." Way to sound like a complete dick, Benedict, he scolded himself. Hayle just laughed at him and said, "I promise, you'll be fine. [Y/N] is a great hairstylist as well. You'll be perfectly good hands."

She led Martin into the back, but not before he gave Ben and huge eye roll. Ben grunted and threw his face into his hands. He knew he was going to make a fool out of himself, and then you'll think he's an even bigger idiot. Little did he know, you didn't think of him as an idiot. A goof? Yes. Childish? Yes, but in a good way. Adorable? Yes. Sweet, kind, and funny? Yes. And idiot? No.

He lifted his hands from his face when he heard the trailer door open. You stumbled in with four coffees and several bags on your arms. Ben immediately shot up and rushed over to help you. He took the coffes and one of the bags. "Is the run Hayley made you go on?" He asked. You huffed and dropped the rest of the bags on the counter. "Yep," you sighed. "Plus, I had to grab more make-up and the shampoo and conditioner you liked, since Joan took it home with her." 

Ben looked a little brought back. "You really didn't have to do that, [Y/N]," he insisted. "I'd be fine with whatever you decided to use." You opted to ignore him and asked, "Shall we?" You lead him to the back where Martin was almost finished with getting his hair prepped. Ben leaned back on the chair, with his neck on the uncomfortable edge of the sink. 

"Here," you said, while lifting his head up. You set a couple layers of washcloths under his neck and put his head back down. He sighed in relief. "Thank you," he gratefully said. You began washing his hair by running warm water over it. Ben smiled to himself and relaxed. This was always his favorite part of getting ready, though him possibly embarassing himself in front of you was still nagging at him.

The water was gone after a moment, but then he felt you hands run soap through his hair. Oh, your hands. They were pure magic to him. Joan would always just roughly tug and rub harshly, but you...you were practically giving him a massage. Had he known you would've been doing this, he would have insisted that Hayley do his hair, commanded it because this was pleasurable torture.