The Truth Came Out (Benedick / Beatrice)
Based on this prompt on Tumblr: 'you're so attractive but every time you open your mouth i want to strangle you how did you end up in my bed exactly how many tequila shots did i have last night' au for beatrice and benedick?
Beatrice floats down the stairs to the formal dining room where the rehearsal dinner before the wedding is held. Beside her, her love-sick cousin wears a smitten smile and giggles excitedly when she makes eye contact with the Count. She bites back her urge to roll her eyes and opts to brush the non-existent wrinkles on her luxurious wine coloured dress that compliments her hair rather than fight it. Dressing up is the last thing she wanted to do, but her aunt insisted that she should at least be properly dressed for dinner. She has to admit that her aunt does have a good eye for clothes.
Her breath catches in her throat when she spots Benedick from across the room. That man can wear the hell out of a suit, she thinks then berates herself for thinking that way. She hates that she thinks his scruff is a little sexy to her, and she hates herself even more when she catches herself itching to run her fingers down his scruffy jaw.
She makes a beeline for the bar and downs a shot of tequila quickly before her aunt sees it, then reaches for a glass of wine.
“My dear Lady Disdain. Are you yet living?”
The lady freezes in her spot and she can hear him smirking from behind her when he realises that he has caught her off guard.
“Is it possible disdain should die, when she has such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?”
Beatrice replies easily, gaining an impressed smile from him as they clink their glasses together.
“Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence.”
“Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain that I am loved of all ladies only you excepted, and I would, I could find in my heart that I have not a hard heart, for truly I love none.”
“A dear happiness to women,” she exclaims. “They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than hear a man swears he loves me.”
Benedick raises his brows in amusement, taking a quick sip of his wine. “God keep your ladyship still in that mind, so some gentleman or other shall ‘escape a predestined scratched face.”
“Scratching could not make it worse if it were such a face as yours were.”
“You’re a rare parrot!”
“A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.”
“I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer, but, keep your way in God’s name, I have done.”
“You always end with a Jade’s trick. I know you of old.”
The Signior very nearly smashes his glass on the table, ready for a proper fight with the lady when the old governor announces the start of the banquet. The two of them glare at each other, reluctantly making their way to the table.
The night went on without a hitch, and though Beatrice feels so much joy for her sweet cousin, she couldn’t help the dull ache in her heart when she thinks of herself. Once upon a time, she thought she’d be in Hero’s position. She thinks of Benedick and a wave of anger and disappointment rushes through her.
Wordlessly, she makes her way back to the bar and is surprised to find the man she’s been thinking of sitting by his lonesome self.
“Shouldn’t you be entertaining the Prince?” Beatrice asks quietly, announcing her presence. This time she spooks him and she smirks.
“Despite what you think, Lady Beatrice, I am not the Prince’s jester.”
“Hard to believe,” she mutters and reaches for the bottle of tequila sitting in front of him and pours herself a generous serving.
They sit in silence, listening to the crowd behind them celebrate and then hear them make their away out until eventually, even the bartender leaves.
“I think you’ve had quite enough, my Lady,” Benedick tells her gently as she downs another shot of the booze.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she replies in defiance and take a long hard sip from the bottle itself.
“You’re going to regret it in the morning.”
“I regret a lot of things,” she answers darkly, “like ever meeting you.”
“You really hate me.”
“Of course I do!” Beatrice glares at him and to his surprise, her eyes well up with angry tears. “You abandoned me!”
“Beatrice…”
“All those years ago, you swore you love me. I, like a fool, believed you. I gave you my heart and trusted that you’d keep your promise to marry me,” she reminds him furiously. “Then without a word, no explanation whatsoever, you leave. You didn’t even bid farewell. You just left. You abandoned me, just like everyone I ever truly loved, you bastard.”
Benedick’s heart crushed when the tears she’s been holding back roll down her cheeks. She brushes them away madly with the back of her hand as if she’s ashamed of being vulnerable in front of him.
“Bea…” he sighs, reaching for her hand but she pulls away as if it burned.
“Don’t call me that.”
Undaunted, he reaches for her again and pins her between the pillar and himself. She struggles fruitlessly against him and stills in his arms, but not without glaring at him. He looks straight into her eyes and brushes her hair away from her face like he has been dreaming of doing ever since he left.
“I still love you,” he whispers tenderly against her lips.
Maybe it is the alcohol or maybe she’s just too tired to be fighting any longer, she closes the small distance between their lips.
The following morning, Beatrice wakes up with Benedick’s arms tightly around her and the fuzzy memory of last night in her mind. She doesn’t remember a lot, but she can’t bring herself to forget him chanting how much he loves her as they commit themselves to each other.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she whispers softly into his chest.
“I know and we will talk.”
“You still never told me why you left.”
He lets out the deepest, most painful of sighs and holds her tighter. “I asked your uncle for your hand in marriage,” he begins quietly, “no matter how I begged, he wouldn’t agree.”
“My uncle… Why?”
“He…he said I’m not worthy of you. He can’t and he won’t let his precious sister’s only daughter marry a boy who hasn’t proven himself to be worthy of a gem like you,” he explains sadly. “So, like a boy who was driven mad with anger, I joined the army in a haste.”
“You could have told me!”
“I can’t, love.” He kisses her forehead in apology. “I’m sorry. I went away to war and I know that I may not be lucky enough to come back to you.”
“Then why did you go?”
“I had to do something to prove to your uncle that I at least tried to be good enough for you, but I couldn’t make you wait for someone who may never return. I couldn’t do that to you, sweet Beatrice.”
“So, your best bet was to leave without a word and let me think that you never loved me at all?”
“I was young and stupid and angry,” he laments apologetically. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Beatrice rolls her eyes and smacks his arm angrily. “You shouldn’t have made the decision for me,” she tells him, running her fingers over the angry red marks left by her on his skin. “I would have waited. I would have wanted to wait. None of you should have the right to decide what I should and shouldn’t do. Look where it got us…”
“I’m sorry. I really am. It won’t happen again.”
“It better not or I swear, you wouldn’t live to see another day. Don’t leave me again.”
“Never,” he grins for the first time that morning.
“I love you.”
“I know Bea. I know.”
This one is actually based on a theory that I had since the very first time I read the play when I was fourteen. I always believed that two intelligent and witty people wouldn’t just fall for a simple trick like that. They have to have some kind of feelings for each other.
And I just thought that maybe once upon a time, they were very much in love and I believe that marriage was on their minds. But in that time, status meant quite a lot to people, especially someone of Leonato’s standing in Italy. He couldn’t let his niece marry some random boy from the town, no matter how well off his family is. I like to think that he wants his niece to marry someone who has proven himself to be a reliable and honourable man.
In the play, he was a little hesitant to help Pedro with his little plan to get the two of them together initially. However, as soon as the prince vouched for Benedick’s honour, he agreed to the match. So it sort of works for my headcanon.
I hope you liked it and please, please tell me what you think! This is one of my favourite pieces and I would love to hear your thoughts!
Beatrice floats down the stairs to the formal dining room where the rehearsal dinner before the wedding is held. Beside her, her love-sick cousin wears a smitten smile and giggles excitedly when she makes eye contact with the Count. She bites back her urge to roll her eyes and opts to brush the non-existent wrinkles on her luxurious wine coloured dress that compliments her hair rather than fight it. Dressing up is the last thing she wanted to do, but her aunt insisted that she should at least be properly dressed for dinner. She has to admit that her aunt does have a good eye for clothes.
Her breath catches in her throat when she spots Benedick from across the room. That man can wear the hell out of a suit, she thinks then berates herself for thinking that way. She hates that she thinks his scruff is a little sexy to her, and she hates herself even more when she catches herself itching to run her fingers down his scruffy jaw.
She makes a beeline for the bar and downs a shot of tequila quickly before her aunt sees it, then reaches for a glass of wine.
“My dear Lady Disdain. Are you yet living?”
The lady freezes in her spot and she can hear him smirking from behind her when he realises that he has caught her off guard.
“Is it possible disdain should die, when she has such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?”
Beatrice replies easily, gaining an impressed smile from him as they clink their glasses together.
“Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence.”
“Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain that I am loved of all ladies only you excepted, and I would, I could find in my heart that I have not a hard heart, for truly I love none.”
“A dear happiness to women,” she exclaims. “They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than hear a man swears he loves me.”
Benedick raises his brows in amusement, taking a quick sip of his wine. “God keep your ladyship still in that mind, so some gentleman or other shall ‘escape a predestined scratched face.”
“Scratching could not make it worse if it were such a face as yours were.”
“You’re a rare parrot!”
“A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.”
“I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good a continuer, but, keep your way in God’s name, I have done.”
“You always end with a Jade’s trick. I know you of old.”
The Signior very nearly smashes his glass on the table, ready for a proper fight with the lady when the old governor announces the start of the banquet. The two of them glare at each other, reluctantly making their way to the table.
The night went on without a hitch, and though Beatrice feels so much joy for her sweet cousin, she couldn’t help the dull ache in her heart when she thinks of herself. Once upon a time, she thought she’d be in Hero’s position. She thinks of Benedick and a wave of anger and disappointment rushes through her.
Wordlessly, she makes her way back to the bar and is surprised to find the man she’s been thinking of sitting by his lonesome self.
“Shouldn’t you be entertaining the Prince?” Beatrice asks quietly, announcing her presence. This time she spooks him and she smirks.
“Despite what you think, Lady Beatrice, I am not the Prince’s jester.”
“Hard to believe,” she mutters and reaches for the bottle of tequila sitting in front of him and pours herself a generous serving.
They sit in silence, listening to the crowd behind them celebrate and then hear them make their away out until eventually, even the bartender leaves.
“I think you’ve had quite enough, my Lady,” Benedick tells her gently as she downs another shot of the booze.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she replies in defiance and take a long hard sip from the bottle itself.
“You’re going to regret it in the morning.”
“I regret a lot of things,” she answers darkly, “like ever meeting you.”
“You really hate me.”
“Of course I do!” Beatrice glares at him and to his surprise, her eyes well up with angry tears. “You abandoned me!”
“Beatrice…”
“All those years ago, you swore you love me. I, like a fool, believed you. I gave you my heart and trusted that you’d keep your promise to marry me,” she reminds him furiously. “Then without a word, no explanation whatsoever, you leave. You didn’t even bid farewell. You just left. You abandoned me, just like everyone I ever truly loved, you bastard.”
Benedick’s heart crushed when the tears she’s been holding back roll down her cheeks. She brushes them away madly with the back of her hand as if she’s ashamed of being vulnerable in front of him.
“Bea…” he sighs, reaching for her hand but she pulls away as if it burned.
“Don’t call me that.”
Undaunted, he reaches for her again and pins her between the pillar and himself. She struggles fruitlessly against him and stills in his arms, but not without glaring at him. He looks straight into her eyes and brushes her hair away from her face like he has been dreaming of doing ever since he left.
“I still love you,” he whispers tenderly against her lips.
Maybe it is the alcohol or maybe she’s just too tired to be fighting any longer, she closes the small distance between their lips.
The following morning, Beatrice wakes up with Benedick’s arms tightly around her and the fuzzy memory of last night in her mind. She doesn’t remember a lot, but she can’t bring herself to forget him chanting how much he loves her as they commit themselves to each other.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she whispers softly into his chest.
“I know and we will talk.”
“You still never told me why you left.”
He lets out the deepest, most painful of sighs and holds her tighter. “I asked your uncle for your hand in marriage,” he begins quietly, “no matter how I begged, he wouldn’t agree.”
“My uncle… Why?”
“He…he said I’m not worthy of you. He can’t and he won’t let his precious sister’s only daughter marry a boy who hasn’t proven himself to be worthy of a gem like you,” he explains sadly. “So, like a boy who was driven mad with anger, I joined the army in a haste.”
“You could have told me!”
“I can’t, love.” He kisses her forehead in apology. “I’m sorry. I went away to war and I know that I may not be lucky enough to come back to you.”
“Then why did you go?”
“I had to do something to prove to your uncle that I at least tried to be good enough for you, but I couldn’t make you wait for someone who may never return. I couldn’t do that to you, sweet Beatrice.”
“So, your best bet was to leave without a word and let me think that you never loved me at all?”
“I was young and stupid and angry,” he laments apologetically. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Beatrice rolls her eyes and smacks his arm angrily. “You shouldn’t have made the decision for me,” she tells him, running her fingers over the angry red marks left by her on his skin. “I would have waited. I would have wanted to wait. None of you should have the right to decide what I should and shouldn’t do. Look where it got us…”
“I’m sorry. I really am. It won’t happen again.”
“It better not or I swear, you wouldn’t live to see another day. Don’t leave me again.”
“Never,” he grins for the first time that morning.
“I love you.”
“I know Bea. I know.”
This one is actually based on a theory that I had since the very first time I read the play when I was fourteen. I always believed that two intelligent and witty people wouldn’t just fall for a simple trick like that. They have to have some kind of feelings for each other.
And I just thought that maybe once upon a time, they were very much in love and I believe that marriage was on their minds. But in that time, status meant quite a lot to people, especially someone of Leonato’s standing in Italy. He couldn’t let his niece marry some random boy from the town, no matter how well off his family is. I like to think that he wants his niece to marry someone who has proven himself to be a reliable and honourable man.
In the play, he was a little hesitant to help Pedro with his little plan to get the two of them together initially. However, as soon as the prince vouched for Benedick’s honour, he agreed to the match. So it sort of works for my headcanon.
I hope you liked it and please, please tell me what you think! This is one of my favourite pieces and I would love to hear your thoughts!