It was not, Hux considered, the worst thing he’d ever done.
In fact, it didn’t even rank as the worst thing he’d done this week. Which probably said more about him than he would have liked.
Luckily, his conscience had always been a thing that he could switch on and off at will, as easy as putting out a light. It was the first skill he’d learned after the Academy; how to smile and laugh and seem to care, right up until the moment that caring no longer benefited him.
~
“Where did you learn to do this?” Hux asks, some time later. The two of them are clustered around a pitifully small campfire, struck with the heat from Ren’s lightsaber and some strips of the insulating foam from their ship that Hux had carried in his makeshift pack. Their supper is roasting over the fire. The rest of what Hux is tentatively thinking of as ‘rations’ has been laid out to dry on a large stone. Ren’s idea.
He’s not entirely sure he wants to know the answer to his question, but surely anything will be better than this awkward silence.
Ren stares at him, expressionless, for long enough that his skin starts to crawl. “Self-reliance is a part of my training,” he says finally, just when Hux is beginning to reconsider the many merits of awkward silences. After a moment’s hesitation, he adds, “And we used to go camping when I was young.”
“Camping?”
“It’s when you-“
“I know what it is,” he grates out. “I can’t picture you doing it.”
Ren doesn’t answer. He never has been one for small-talk. The first time Hux had met the man, he’d thought to give Snoke’s favorite an official welcome by hosting a formal reception with a handful of his senior officers. He’d thought it would make a good first impression. What he’d got had been Kylo Ren sitting awkwardly at a dinner table, giving hostile, monosyllabic answers to questions and refusing to remove his helmet even long enough to eat until, one-by-one, everyone else had stopped eating too out of sheer discomfort. As a finishing move, halfway through the dinner Ren had simply gotten up and walked out. Their relationship, such as it was, had only gone downhill from there.
Hux sighs, vaguely irritated at being forced to work both ends of the conversation. He missed TR-4022 already. “Where did you go camping?”
“Kashyyk, mostly. Tattooine once.” There is an edge of anxiety in his voice, as if he’s being interrogated
“Did you enjoy it?”
“No. You know you don’t have to talk to me.” Ren says. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t need you to boost my morale.”
Hux pauses, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He considers denying it. Considers, ‘nonsense, I want to talk to you,’ but they would both know he was lying. Anyway, he doesn’t think he could manage it with a straight face and so he doesn’t try. “It’s that or think about what we’re eating,” He offers, levelly.
“Protein,” Ren says, with a little shrug of one shoulder.
“Oh, is that all it is?” he says, dryer than the sun-parched sand around them.
“Ultimately, yes. It’s no different than eating an animal. Out of everything I’ve done, this isn’t going to be one of the things I lose sleep over.”
‘One of the things.’ Hux files that observation away for further perusal. What do you lose sleep over, Lord Ren?
He says, “I suppose you’re right,” leaning back on his elbows and stretching his legs out alongside their fire to warm them while Ren prods at the food. The promise of a full stomach in the very near future has made him amiable, even to the likes of Kylo Ren. The insulating foam smells acrid and chemical as it burns, but it’s doing the job well enough. He ticks a small mental box of congratulations for himself on bringing it.
“I’m surprised you’re so calm,” Ren says, after a while. “Considering.” He indicates their makeshift supper.
Hux frowns. “Why should I not be calm?”
“He was your friend.”
“I was friendly to him. We weren’t friends. There’s a difference.” Friendship, like weather, was one of those things that happened to other people. It was a weakness he couldn’t afford.
“Is there?” To Hux’s surprise, Ren sounds genuinely perplexed.
“Obviously.” He manages a wan smile as he takes a small but unhesitant bite. “You might be surprised what people will give you if you offer them something other than piss and vinegar in return, Ren. It doesn’t cost me to be nice.”
“You’re never nice to me.”
“You irritate me. Something which no one else manages, I might add. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Hux huffs an almost-laugh, “It wasn’t-“
“I know,” he cuts him off, quietly.
They eat in silence, neither of them quite managing to look the other in the eye while he does so.
“This isn't bad. A bit tough,” Ren says, chewing thoughtfully.
“Well, a good soldier ought to be.”
Ren snorts so loudly that he chokes on air. His shoulders shake as he makes short little gasping sounds. It takes Hux a moment to realize that he’s laughing.
“Did… did you really-“
Hux frowns, pulling a face as he mentally reviews his previous statement. “…It just sort-of slipped out.”
Ren is full-out laughing now, with one fist pressed over his mouth to stifle the sounds. It isn’t a terribly menacing laugh. He snorts.
The ridiculous sound of Ren’s laughter makes him snicker, shaking his head, and before he quite realizes what is happening they are both giggling like children at some immature joke. The sheer absurdity of the situation only adds fuel to his laughter- had anyone told him a few days ago that in the very near future he would be laughing with Kylo Ren, over a terrible pun of all things, he would have had them sent for reconditioning. And yet, here they are.
They don’t go much further that evening. Hux is displeased, reassessing the distance and rate at which they will have to travel yet again, but Ren insists that their supplies will take time to dry properly. He comforts himself with the thought that, with just the two of them, they will move an estimated 8% faster.
The wind kicks up just around sunset, gaining speed and strength as it whistles through the rough outcroppings of stone where they have holed up for the night. It howls, tugging at his clothes and pushing chilled fingers through the bundle he has made for himself out of his greatcoat and the cloak. Every time he thinks he has managed to secure a bit of comfort, the wind catches at a corner of fabric and yanks a new entrance for itself. It is testing his strength and his patience.
He glances up at Ren, who is asleep sitting up, leaning back against a large rock. He has hunkered down under a bit of an overhang, the stone sheltering him from the wind. It had seemed ridiculous to Hux at the time, but after what feels like hours spent fighting the elements, he is beginning to reconsider. After a moment, he stands, dragging the coat and cloak with him.
“Move over,” Hux says, nudging Ren with his leg. Ren shuffles sideways obligingly, only half awake, freeing up a bit of space under the overhang for Hux to sit and curl his knees up against his chest. He tucks the coat around himself, bunching it up around his shoulders to ward off the cold.
After several minutes of taut shivering as the wind buffets around the rock-face, Hux finds himself finally beginning to drift. The last thing he is aware of before sleep overtakes him is his head slipping sideways to rest on Ren’s shoulder.
He dreams about Lexander. It is the sort of pining, pathetic dream that he thought had beaten into submission years ago. Hux dreams of their first deployment together on the Mercenary, fresh out of the Academy, and of slipping down the hall to his quarters in the middle of the rest cycle. About picking his way across a floor scattered with clothes and belongings in the dark, taking care not to trip over a stray belt or crush a datapad under his feet as he went. As always, he made a mental note to badger Lexander into picking up his mess when the next cycle started, knowing that no matter what he said, the conversation would end with Hux doing the cleaning. It always did, though somehow he rarely minded.
Whenever his head was buzzing too loudly with plans and counterplans and worries for him to sleep, Hux would slip into Lexander’s bed, curling up behind him and burying his face in the other man’s soft hair. Lexander had a mass of black curls that he wore up in a tight regulation tieback when he was on duty, but he left it loose when he slept. Hux loved his hair. Had. Had loved his hair. He would be asleep in minutes after crawling into Lexander’s bed, lulled by the sound of his breathing.
That is what he dreams of now. Of the familiar warmth and comfort of shared body-heat and the peaceful little sounds of another person asleep beside him. It’s soft and sweet and completely deplorable. Disgustingly unfair. He has barely even thought about his first lover for years. What possible reason could there be for it to happen now?
He wakes torn between the lingering sweetness of the dream and the growing horror of someone poking around the back of his mind. Somewhere in the middle there is a fleeting sensation of Kylo Ren standing over the bed watching him and Lexander sleep.
FILL pt 7. (warnings for non-graphic cannibalism, bad puns, and fluff)
In fact, it didn’t even rank as the worst thing he’d done this week. Which probably said more about him than he would have liked.
Luckily, his conscience had always been a thing that he could switch on and off at will, as easy as putting out a light. It was the first skill he’d learned after the Academy; how to smile and laugh and seem to care, right up until the moment that caring no longer benefited him.
~
“Where did you learn to do this?” Hux asks, some time later. The two of them are clustered around a pitifully small campfire, struck with the heat from Ren’s lightsaber and some strips of the insulating foam from their ship that Hux had carried in his makeshift pack. Their supper is roasting over the fire. The rest of what Hux is tentatively thinking of as ‘rations’ has been laid out to dry on a large stone. Ren’s idea.
He’s not entirely sure he wants to know the answer to his question, but surely anything will be better than this awkward silence.
Ren stares at him, expressionless, for long enough that his skin starts to crawl. “Self-reliance is a part of my training,” he says finally, just when Hux is beginning to reconsider the many merits of awkward silences. After a moment’s hesitation, he adds, “And we used to go camping when I was young.”
“Camping?”
“It’s when you-“
“I know what it is,” he grates out. “I can’t picture you doing it.”
Ren doesn’t answer. He never has been one for small-talk. The first time Hux had met the man, he’d thought to give Snoke’s favorite an official welcome by hosting a formal reception with a handful of his senior officers. He’d thought it would make a good first impression. What he’d got had been Kylo Ren sitting awkwardly at a dinner table, giving hostile, monosyllabic answers to questions and refusing to remove his helmet even long enough to eat until, one-by-one, everyone else had stopped eating too out of sheer discomfort. As a finishing move, halfway through the dinner Ren had simply gotten up and walked out. Their relationship, such as it was, had only gone downhill from there.
Hux sighs, vaguely irritated at being forced to work both ends of the conversation. He missed TR-4022 already. “Where did you go camping?”
“Kashyyk, mostly. Tattooine once.” There is an edge of anxiety in his voice, as if he’s being interrogated
“Did you enjoy it?”
“No. You know you don’t have to talk to me.” Ren says. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t need you to boost my morale.”
Hux pauses, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He considers denying it. Considers, ‘nonsense, I want to talk to you,’ but they would both know he was lying. Anyway, he doesn’t think he could manage it with a straight face and so he doesn’t try. “It’s that or think about what we’re eating,” He offers, levelly.
“Protein,” Ren says, with a little shrug of one shoulder.
“Oh, is that all it is?” he says, dryer than the sun-parched sand around them.
“Ultimately, yes. It’s no different than eating an animal. Out of everything I’ve done, this isn’t going to be one of the things I lose sleep over.”
‘One of the things.’ Hux files that observation away for further perusal. What do you lose sleep over, Lord Ren?
He says, “I suppose you’re right,” leaning back on his elbows and stretching his legs out alongside their fire to warm them while Ren prods at the food. The promise of a full stomach in the very near future has made him amiable, even to the likes of Kylo Ren. The insulating foam smells acrid and chemical as it burns, but it’s doing the job well enough. He ticks a small mental box of congratulations for himself on bringing it.
“I’m surprised you’re so calm,” Ren says, after a while. “Considering.” He indicates their makeshift supper.
Hux frowns. “Why should I not be calm?”
“He was your friend.”
“I was friendly to him. We weren’t friends. There’s a difference.” Friendship, like weather, was one of those things that happened to other people. It was a weakness he couldn’t afford.
“Is there?” To Hux’s surprise, Ren sounds genuinely perplexed.
“Obviously.” He manages a wan smile as he takes a small but unhesitant bite. “You might be surprised what people will give you if you offer them something other than piss and vinegar in return, Ren. It doesn’t cost me to be nice.”
“You’re never nice to me.”
“You irritate me. Something which no one else manages, I might add. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Hux huffs an almost-laugh, “It wasn’t-“
“I know,” he cuts him off, quietly.
They eat in silence, neither of them quite managing to look the other in the eye while he does so.
“This isn't bad. A bit tough,” Ren says, chewing thoughtfully.
“Well, a good soldier ought to be.”
Ren snorts so loudly that he chokes on air. His shoulders shake as he makes short little gasping sounds. It takes Hux a moment to realize that he’s laughing.
“Did… did you really-“
Hux frowns, pulling a face as he mentally reviews his previous statement. “…It just sort-of slipped out.”
Ren is full-out laughing now, with one fist pressed over his mouth to stifle the sounds. It isn’t a terribly menacing laugh. He snorts.
The ridiculous sound of Ren’s laughter makes him snicker, shaking his head, and before he quite realizes what is happening they are both giggling like children at some immature joke. The sheer absurdity of the situation only adds fuel to his laughter- had anyone told him a few days ago that in the very near future he would be laughing with Kylo Ren, over a terrible pun of all things, he would have had them sent for reconditioning. And yet, here they are.
They don’t go much further that evening. Hux is displeased, reassessing the distance and rate at which they will have to travel yet again, but Ren insists that their supplies will take time to dry properly. He comforts himself with the thought that, with just the two of them, they will move an estimated 8% faster.
The wind kicks up just around sunset, gaining speed and strength as it whistles through the rough outcroppings of stone where they have holed up for the night. It howls, tugging at his clothes and pushing chilled fingers through the bundle he has made for himself out of his greatcoat and the cloak. Every time he thinks he has managed to secure a bit of comfort, the wind catches at a corner of fabric and yanks a new entrance for itself. It is testing his strength and his patience.
He glances up at Ren, who is asleep sitting up, leaning back against a large rock. He has hunkered down under a bit of an overhang, the stone sheltering him from the wind. It had seemed ridiculous to Hux at the time, but after what feels like hours spent fighting the elements, he is beginning to reconsider. After a moment, he stands, dragging the coat and cloak with him.
“Move over,” Hux says, nudging Ren with his leg. Ren shuffles sideways obligingly, only half awake, freeing up a bit of space under the overhang for Hux to sit and curl his knees up against his chest. He tucks the coat around himself, bunching it up around his shoulders to ward off the cold.
After several minutes of taut shivering as the wind buffets around the rock-face, Hux finds himself finally beginning to drift. The last thing he is aware of before sleep overtakes him is his head slipping sideways to rest on Ren’s shoulder.
He dreams about Lexander. It is the sort of pining, pathetic dream that he thought had beaten into submission years ago. Hux dreams of their first deployment together on the Mercenary, fresh out of the Academy, and of slipping down the hall to his quarters in the middle of the rest cycle. About picking his way across a floor scattered with clothes and belongings in the dark, taking care not to trip over a stray belt or crush a datapad under his feet as he went. As always, he made a mental note to badger Lexander into picking up his mess when the next cycle started, knowing that no matter what he said, the conversation would end with Hux doing the cleaning. It always did, though somehow he rarely minded.
Whenever his head was buzzing too loudly with plans and counterplans and worries for him to sleep, Hux would slip into Lexander’s bed, curling up behind him and burying his face in the other man’s soft hair. Lexander had a mass of black curls that he wore up in a tight regulation tieback when he was on duty, but he left it loose when he slept. Hux loved his hair. Had. Had loved his hair. He would be asleep in minutes after crawling into Lexander’s bed, lulled by the sound of his breathing.
That is what he dreams of now. Of the familiar warmth and comfort of shared body-heat and the peaceful little sounds of another person asleep beside him. It’s soft and sweet and completely deplorable. Disgustingly unfair. He has barely even thought about his first lover for years. What possible reason could there be for it to happen now?
He wakes torn between the lingering sweetness of the dream and the growing horror of someone poking around the back of his mind. Somewhere in the middle there is a fleeting sensation of Kylo Ren standing over the bed watching him and Lexander sleep.