[ao3] So this isn't very smutty but... I hope I delivered on the angst? ---
He dislikes that FN-2187 is on the ground with them.
The Stormtrooper in question has never left the ship before; if Kylo recalls, he’s always been on sanitation duty. Every dog has its day, he supposes. If he had it his way (though Kylo knows the First Order and Sith alliance is feeble and he has no real rank here,) FN-2187 would never leave the ship. Since he doesn’t and can’t have it his way, he pays a distinct amount of attention to where FN-2187 is, and who he is amongst the ranks. He’s steady on his feet when he descends the ramp and takes care of business, but he casts a nervous look towards the Stormtrooper before reentering the ship.
(Their last tryst had been an all-consuming fire. There’s something about the ‘trooper that’s irresistible. Maybe, he thinks, it’s the coil of force sensitivity sleeping soundly within him. He’s never been afraid of it, only drawn to it; the Order keeps it fawn-legged and small as long as needed. Forever.)
Kylo spends an absurd amount of time wanting to see him, touch him, and assure himself that FN-2187 is back on board. He can feel that little spark, far away, shaking and pinprick-bright at the back of his mind. It’s not as comforting as it should be, as he needs it to be.
The escape of the prisoner is annoying, but him leaving brings on a mass of hot betrayal and rejection. It washes through him with no warning, comes upon him in unsuspecting waves.
(He can’t help but to remember: warm hands on his hips, fingers clenched between his, full lips open in a gasp upon his neck. The foreign sensation of a smile, both on his own face and also on the ‘trooper’s. Pillow-talk whispers of a life before the Order. Shy, bumbling voice at first; hoarse and confident after riding Kylo to within an inch of his life.)
Snoke doesn’t belie any sense of pride, but Kylo thinks he has to be pleased with how little he’s struggling with the Light in wake of this betrayal. (There’s almost nothing Snoke doesn’t know, no matter how much Kylo might try to hide something. FN-2187 had been an inconsequential number to the First Order, mattered even less to the Supreme Leader. The emotions involved in sex and relationships were powerful, raw. Kylo being involved with someone was a good thing, on that level.
What he doesn’t know: the carefully built wall in a corner of Kylo’s mind, bricking up the knowledge that FN-2187 is force sensitive. There’s something new and ugly and wholly wrong in Kylo, that he wants to protect the ‘trooper. That spark had always been there, Light without ever having been stoked. Perhaps he should have always seen this coming, but he’d hoped; and what was hope if not an emotion of the other side?)
He’s breathless, out in the snow. The cold cuts into him from his point of injury, pain knifing through him, aching in his entire body. He keeps a hand at his side, fingers digging into blood-wet and warm skin, hissing through his teeth. FN-2187 has never looked quite so beautiful.
The way he’s looking at Kylo is something like a fervent mixture of regret and something inscrutable. He’s braced against the cold, fitted in a new (but worn) jacket that highlights the breadth of his shoulders and the build of his chest. His stance is sloppy, used to a gun rather than a blade, no doubt. His fingers, however, are firm around the hilt and Kylo- Kylo curls his fingers in deeper, feels blood soak into his clothes and cold creep at his skin. He focuses on the pain rather than the crushing longing.
It’s like- it’s a painful memory- but it’s like fighting master Luke when he’d been fifteen and foolhardy and weak. Except now he’s the master and Finn’s the one with a burgeoning flame of Force and the angerbetrayalDarkness bubbles up. Kylo goes from taking it easy on him to slamming their lightsabers together with a jarring impact, knocking FN-2187 into the snow. He himself trips back, fumbles in the snow and the ragged end of his cloak and pounds his fist into his side. Pain explodes through him, once, twice, five times. He chokes on a noise of desperation and agony.
He blocks FN-2187, and their eyes meet through the burning cross of plasma. The heat and light are oppressive, sweat highlighted on their faces and cooling almost immediately. Kylo’s fingers shake.
“I loved you.” He says.
The way FN-2187’s face twists in despair is so much worse than the pain of any wound on his body.
Kylo pushes back, the sizzle of their sabers loud and frightening. Defeating the man gives Kylo no pleasure. He aches all over, longs for rest, longs for a bed and a home no longer his own. Rey leaves him bleeding and broken in the snow, but so does FN-2187.
A deceleration from hyper speed wakes Kylo. He’s alone in a nondescript medical room, brain fogged by anesthetic or painkillers or both. When he extends the reach of his force, strains to search, he can feel it; a warm, glowing ember and a flower in mid-bloom. He smiles to himself, wry.
They should have left him to die.
The next time he wakes, the lights are dimmer. His neck is stiff and his mouth is dry, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He turns his head slightly and there he is, slumped into an uncomfortable position halfway between the chair and the edge of Kylo’s bed. There’s a bulge of bandages under his threadbare black shirt, just on his shoulder where Kylo had nicked him. (He would’ve cited a killing blow gone awry if questioned by his master, but here and now he can privately admit that he’d held back.) Kylo lifts his hand.
“Ben.” The voice of his mother is so startling, he flinches with his entire body. There’s a tug in his abdomen, a rough throb on his face, and his heart rate skyrockets.
She’s on his other side and he uses it to his advantage to not have to look at her. It’s enough that he can feel her sadness and regret. He can’t do this, not now.
“Your father and I will be waiting.” She says, quietly, before she leaves the room. Kylo closes his eyes so as not to watch her go.
FN-2187 wakes up a few hours later. (Kylo had filled the time with angry, brooding looks in his direction.) He’s confused, and hurt. The former Stormtrooper sits back, slowly stretches, and, surprisingly, moves to pour and lift a glass of water to Kylo’s lips.
The silence between them is a tad excruciating.
“FN-” He begins.
“It’s Finn.” He interjects. Kylo swallows, still feeling parched, but unwilling to ask for help and still unsure if he can drink on his own.
“Finn,” He starts again. All the words are on the top of his tongue. I’m sorry. How is your shoulder? Why did you leave? Why didn’t you leave me to die? Why heal me when my punishment must be death? He’s frozen by the look on Finn’s face, by the way he won’t falter from looking him right in the eye. Kylo averts his, feels the distant and familiar burn of tears.
“Why wasn’t I enough?” Says Finn. “Why wasn’t I enough for you to stop this?”
“Finn.” It’s all he can say. But you were, is what he wishes he could get out. (He’d been ready to kill his father, mind being torn in two by the decision, but he’d felt them. Felt them both. The way their eyes had locked had made pursuit and answers more important than wasting time on a father that didn’t deserve it, anyway. Of course, running away had earned him a blaster shot to the side.)
“You didn’t have to go that far, Ben.” He says, and the way Kylo’s name sounds on his tongue is something like agony.
“You don’t understand.” His voice is small, hoarse.
“Then make me.” Finn leans forward, and his frame is suddenly so big and threatening and Kylo is small and fragile and when did the ember seem so hot, threatening to melt him? “They wanted you back and I- I knew you were good, somewhere in there I knew you were, but you kept going. You-” There’s a twist of disbelief and pain on Finn’s face. “You hurt her. You hurt me. You almost…” His voice stutters and there’s the man Kylo knows, vulnerable and strong in vacillating bursts. “You almost killed your father.”
His lungs feel too tight and the air too thin. The Light is so bright.
“You said you loved me, Ben.” He sets his jaw. “Well I love you.” His face looks like this is a conclusion that has come to him at a terrible time, in a terrible way. Kylo raises his hand, parts his lips and his voice is so shaken.
“I’m sorry.” And he is, but it’s difficult to pinpoint what for.
“That’s not enough.” Finn’s eyes are shining in the way Kylo knows he’s going to cry. He finds his hand and a sick sense of relief washes over him when Finn doesn’t pull away.
“I know.” Because he does.
Finn kisses him, soft mouth and angry tears and a little shake to his shoulders. Kylo (“Ben.” The Light corrects.) leans into it, slants their mouths together. His stitches pull but he ignores them, raises his other hand to Finn’s cheek.
“We want you here.” Finn says against his mouth when he pulls back. He’s shaking and clutching at Kylo’s hand. The contact is delicate and needed. Kylo struggles to understand the concept behind the words he’s just said.
“I know you can be good.” He says, hushed, lips brushing Kylo’s before surging in for another kiss. Kylo’s not sure that he can be. But there’s an aching hole in his chest, a crumbling wall in the corner of his mind. Ben wants to try.
FILL: i want to burn skin and brand what once was mine
So this isn't very smutty but... I hope I delivered on the angst?
---
He dislikes that FN-2187 is on the ground with them.
The Stormtrooper in question has never left the ship before; if Kylo recalls, he’s always been on sanitation duty. Every dog has its day, he supposes. If he had it his way (though Kylo knows the First Order and Sith alliance is feeble and he has no real rank here,) FN-2187 would never leave the ship. Since he doesn’t and can’t have it his way, he pays a distinct amount of attention to where FN-2187 is, and who he is amongst the ranks. He’s steady on his feet when he descends the ramp and takes care of business, but he casts a nervous look towards the Stormtrooper before reentering the ship.
(Their last tryst had been an all-consuming fire. There’s something about the ‘trooper that’s irresistible. Maybe, he thinks, it’s the coil of force sensitivity sleeping soundly within him. He’s never been afraid of it, only drawn to it; the Order keeps it fawn-legged and small as long as needed. Forever.)
Kylo spends an absurd amount of time wanting to see him, touch him, and assure himself that FN-2187 is back on board. He can feel that little spark, far away, shaking and pinprick-bright at the back of his mind. It’s not as comforting as it should be, as he needs it to be.
The escape of the prisoner is annoying, but him leaving brings on a mass of hot betrayal and rejection. It washes through him with no warning, comes upon him in unsuspecting waves.
(He can’t help but to remember: warm hands on his hips, fingers clenched between his, full lips open in a gasp upon his neck. The foreign sensation of a smile, both on his own face and also on the ‘trooper’s. Pillow-talk whispers of a life before the Order. Shy, bumbling voice at first; hoarse and confident after riding Kylo to within an inch of his life.)
Snoke doesn’t belie any sense of pride, but Kylo thinks he has to be pleased with how little he’s struggling with the Light in wake of this betrayal. (There’s almost nothing Snoke doesn’t know, no matter how much Kylo might try to hide something. FN-2187 had been an inconsequential number to the First Order, mattered even less to the Supreme Leader. The emotions involved in sex and relationships were powerful, raw. Kylo being involved with someone was a good thing, on that level.
What he doesn’t know: the carefully built wall in a corner of Kylo’s mind, bricking up the knowledge that FN-2187 is force sensitive. There’s something new and ugly and wholly wrong in Kylo, that he wants to protect the ‘trooper. That spark had always been there, Light without ever having been stoked. Perhaps he should have always seen this coming, but he’d hoped; and what was hope if not an emotion of the other side?)
He’s breathless, out in the snow. The cold cuts into him from his point of injury, pain knifing through him, aching in his entire body. He keeps a hand at his side, fingers digging into blood-wet and warm skin, hissing through his teeth. FN-2187 has never looked quite so beautiful.
The way he’s looking at Kylo is something like a fervent mixture of regret and something inscrutable. He’s braced against the cold, fitted in a new (but worn) jacket that highlights the breadth of his shoulders and the build of his chest. His stance is sloppy, used to a gun rather than a blade, no doubt. His fingers, however, are firm around the hilt and Kylo- Kylo curls his fingers in deeper, feels blood soak into his clothes and cold creep at his skin. He focuses on the pain rather than the crushing longing.
It’s like- it’s a painful memory- but it’s like fighting master Luke when he’d been fifteen and foolhardy and weak. Except now he’s the master and Finn’s the one with a burgeoning flame of Force and the angerbetrayalDarkness bubbles up. Kylo goes from taking it easy on him to slamming their lightsabers together with a jarring impact, knocking FN-2187 into the snow. He himself trips back, fumbles in the snow and the ragged end of his cloak and pounds his fist into his side. Pain explodes through him, once, twice, five times. He chokes on a noise of desperation and agony.
He blocks FN-2187, and their eyes meet through the burning cross of plasma. The heat and light are oppressive, sweat highlighted on their faces and cooling almost immediately. Kylo’s fingers shake.
“I loved you.” He says.
The way FN-2187’s face twists in despair is so much worse than the pain of any wound on his body.
Kylo pushes back, the sizzle of their sabers loud and frightening. Defeating the man gives Kylo no pleasure. He aches all over, longs for rest, longs for a bed and a home no longer his own. Rey leaves him bleeding and broken in the snow, but so does FN-2187.
A deceleration from hyper speed wakes Kylo. He’s alone in a nondescript medical room, brain fogged by anesthetic or painkillers or both. When he extends the reach of his force, strains to search, he can feel it; a warm, glowing ember and a flower in mid-bloom. He smiles to himself, wry.
They should have left him to die.
The next time he wakes, the lights are dimmer. His neck is stiff and his mouth is dry, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He turns his head slightly and there he is, slumped into an uncomfortable position halfway between the chair and the edge of Kylo’s bed. There’s a bulge of bandages under his threadbare black shirt, just on his shoulder where Kylo had nicked him. (He would’ve cited a killing blow gone awry if questioned by his master, but here and now he can privately admit that he’d held back.) Kylo lifts his hand.
“Ben.” The voice of his mother is so startling, he flinches with his entire body. There’s a tug in his abdomen, a rough throb on his face, and his heart rate skyrockets.
She’s on his other side and he uses it to his advantage to not have to look at her. It’s enough that he can feel her sadness and regret. He can’t do this, not now.
“Your father and I will be waiting.” She says, quietly, before she leaves the room. Kylo closes his eyes so as not to watch her go.
FN-2187 wakes up a few hours later. (Kylo had filled the time with angry, brooding looks in his direction.) He’s confused, and hurt. The former Stormtrooper sits back, slowly stretches, and, surprisingly, moves to pour and lift a glass of water to Kylo’s lips.
The silence between them is a tad excruciating.
“FN-” He begins.
“It’s Finn.” He interjects. Kylo swallows, still feeling parched, but unwilling to ask for help and still unsure if he can drink on his own.
“Finn,” He starts again. All the words are on the top of his tongue. I’m sorry. How is your shoulder? Why did you leave? Why didn’t you leave me to die? Why heal me when my punishment must be death? He’s frozen by the look on Finn’s face, by the way he won’t falter from looking him right in the eye. Kylo averts his, feels the distant and familiar burn of tears.
“Why wasn’t I enough?” Says Finn. “Why wasn’t I enough for you to stop this?”
“Finn.” It’s all he can say. But you were, is what he wishes he could get out. (He’d been ready to kill his father, mind being torn in two by the decision, but he’d felt them. Felt them both. The way their eyes had locked had made pursuit and answers more important than wasting time on a father that didn’t deserve it, anyway. Of course, running away had earned him a blaster shot to the side.)
“You didn’t have to go that far, Ben.” He says, and the way Kylo’s name sounds on his tongue is something like agony.
“You don’t understand.” His voice is small, hoarse.
“Then make me.” Finn leans forward, and his frame is suddenly so big and threatening and Kylo is small and fragile and when did the ember seem so hot, threatening to melt him? “They wanted you back and I- I knew you were good, somewhere in there I knew you were, but you kept going. You-” There’s a twist of disbelief and pain on Finn’s face. “You hurt her. You hurt me. You almost…” His voice stutters and there’s the man Kylo knows, vulnerable and strong in vacillating bursts. “You almost killed your father.”
His lungs feel too tight and the air too thin. The Light is so bright.
“You said you loved me, Ben.” He sets his jaw. “Well I love you.” His face looks like this is a conclusion that has come to him at a terrible time, in a terrible way. Kylo raises his hand, parts his lips and his voice is so shaken.
“I’m sorry.” And he is, but it’s difficult to pinpoint what for.
“That’s not enough.” Finn’s eyes are shining in the way Kylo knows he’s going to cry. He finds his hand and a sick sense of relief washes over him when Finn doesn’t pull away.
“I know.” Because he does.
Finn kisses him, soft mouth and angry tears and a little shake to his shoulders. Kylo (“Ben.” The Light corrects.) leans into it, slants their mouths together. His stitches pull but he ignores them, raises his other hand to Finn’s cheek.
“We want you here.” Finn says against his mouth when he pulls back. He’s shaking and clutching at Kylo’s hand. The contact is delicate and needed. Kylo struggles to understand the concept behind the words he’s just said.
“I know you can be good.” He says, hushed, lips brushing Kylo’s before surging in for another kiss.
Kylo’s not sure that he can be. But there’s an aching hole in his chest, a crumbling wall in the corner of his mind. Ben wants to try.
Ben wants to stay.