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tfa_kink2016-02-07 01:55 pm
themodawakens) wrote in tfa_kink2016-02-07 01:55 pm
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PROMPT POST #3 - CLOSED
This post is closed to new prompts! Go here
prompt post one
prompt post two
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FILL pt. 9 - Roughing it. Hux is Not Amused
(Anonymous) 2016-04-06 12:11 am (UTC)(link)There’s something else. The itching, back-of-the-mind sensation of another consciousness in his head. Like having something stuck in his teeth. It withdraws, skittering away as he wakes more fully, but too late to avoid being noticed.
Hux takes a deep breath and forces it out through his nose because he cannot seem to unclench his jaw. Then another. He lifts his head off of Ren’s shoulder, craning his neck a little both to ease the knots out of it and to appear nonchalant. Ren is awake, and Hux is briefly perplexed that he’s made no move to shove him off. It’s what he would have done, were the situations reversed.
Ren holds himself stiff and expectant, like he’s waiting for something.
Hux leans forward, reaching for his boots. Every movement is excruciatingly measured. Deliberate. All the while he breathes, slowly, in and out. Calm. Controlled.
He doesn’t know how much of the dream Ren saw, but the sheer fact that he saw any of it… Hux wants to scream. He wants to rage. To smash things, feel something break under his hands. He wants to curse every single member of Ren’s family tree right back to the first single-celled organism that had the misfortune lend its genetic material to the man.
He does none of those things. He dumps out the sand that has accumulated in his boots- calm, calm, controlled- and pulls them on, one at a time.
Perhaps, if Hux is very, very lucky, Ren won’t say anything. They will both just pretend that it never happened and get on with what passes for their day. A fight couldn’t possibly benefit either of them. It was mutually assured destruction. If Ren had half the common sense of a dead tauntaun, he would just not say anything.
“What happened to him?” Ren asks.
Hux pauses for just a moment to consider the universe in which this is his life. He doesn’t bother telling Ren to stay out of his mind. All it does is undermine his authority to continually give orders which he knows will be ignored.
“Who?” he grates out, willing Ren to get the point.
“The man you were dreaming about. Lexander.”
He is unprepared for how much he hates hearing that name in Ren’s voice. Gut instinct is to recoil from the question. To snarl and snap and refuse to answer. He doesn’t want to talk about Lexander with Ren. He doesn’t want to do anything with Ren, and certainly not to spend his first waking hours dredging up the ghosts of his former lovers just to satisfy Ren’s vague, selfish curiosity.
But refusing to answer would seem too much like he had something to hide. Like he still cared. Hux is not maudlin. He will not allow Kylo Ren get it into his head that he’s the kind of man who simpers and pines and still has dreams about his schoolboy crush.
“I got promoted. He got married. He works in weapons research now, doing something or other,” he says dismissively, standing. When Ren says nothing he adds, “You met him. He designed the reciprocating power relays for Starkiller Base. He was the one you threw a chair at during that development meeting a few months ago.”
Ren frowns, thoughtful. “Oh. He cut his hair.”
Hux makes a vague noise in his throat, as if to say he didn’t notice. It’s better than lying.
Just when he begins to hope that Ren has let the subject drop, the bastard asks, “Did you love him?”
“I fail to see how that concerns you,” Hux snaps, shaking the sand off of his coat with a satisfying little crack, and surprised by how much venom is in his voice.
“You were dreaming of him while you were asleep on my shoulder. I’d say that concerns me.” Ren stretches out his long legs, unfolding from where he sits. He is a large man. The process takes a while.
“Careful, Ren. That sounded like jealousy.” Hux gets a vicious spike of glee when what parts of Ren’s face that aren’t sunburned colour faintly pink. He was actually blushing. “Is there something you need to tell me?” Hux adds with mock concern, just to twist the knife.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ren mutters, not quite looking at him.
Hux decides, quite belatedly, that he likes him much better without the mask.
He’d made it his business to learn to read Ren’s mood by his body language alone. More out of self-preservation than genuine interest. It wasn’t exactly hard. Most of Ren’s moods were variations on a theme of Murderous Anger. The only real difference was the intensity. To think that all this time, accompanying those clenched fists and that tense set of his shoulders, there was a petulant little moue and flushed pink cheeks hiding behind that mask. Hux is never going to take his tempers seriously again.
Perhaps that was the reason for the mask.
Ren stalks off, disappearing behind an outcropping of rocks. To relieve himself, Hux presumes. It could be to commit ritual suicide for all Hux cares at the moment.
He busies himself with spreading his coat out on the rock and transferring their little pile of supplies to it, stacking them neatly to minimize the amount of space they took up. A few more pieces of insulating foam. The laser spanner. The contents of the medkit. A long coil of thick copper wiring, as well as a few other odds and ends he’d thought might prove useful. The targeting crystals from the shuttle are wrapped up in his uniform jacket and dress shirt to cushion them and placed at the very center of the pile.
When he is nearly finished, Ren returns. Absent just so long as there was tedious work to be done and lumbering in just when he’s no longer needed. As usual.
“Where’s the water?” he asks.
Hux tosses it to him with more force than is strictly necessary. Ren catches it neatly, one-handed. It takes all of Hux’s practiced self-control to keep from sneering. He focuses on folding up his coat, neat military corners, until their supplies are secure and he can tie it across his chest.
When he’s done drinking, Ren stands there, useless, his hands clenching and unclenching. He huffs a sigh.
“I don’t see why you’re so angry,” Ren sulks, when his dramatics fail to draw Hux’s attention.
“No, I don’t imagine you do,” Hux says sharply without looking at him. Anger lashes through him. Control, he thinks. He’s no better than Ren if he doesn’t keep control.
“I’m the one who should be mad. You were pining so loudly I couldn’t sleep,”
“And you took that as an open invitation to stick your nose into my personal life?”
Ren cocks his head at him. “You’re embarrassed,” he says, as if realizing it for the first time.
“How very astute. I see why you’re Snoke’s favorite.” The sarcasm is thick enough that Ren could probably cut it with his lightsaber.
Ren opens his mouth as if to say something and then pauses. “…You think I’m his favorite?”
Hux sighs. This morning just got better and better. Maybe later if he’s lucky he will just trip and smash his own brains out on a rock. It would be an improvement from how things are going now. Nowhere on his agenda for the day did he remember adding, First thing in the morning: Nurse Kylo Ren’s pathetic favoritism anxiety.
He forcefully reminds himself that without Ren, his chances of survival on this planet would drop alarmingly. It helps. Slightly.
Hux saw no shame in admitting that he respected Snoke, nor that he got a certain… satisfaction from earning his respect in return. He appreciated the favors he had earned as a result of this respect. Ren’s fanatical devotion to their Supreme Leader bordered on the obscene. He danced in circles like a trained pet, desperate for every scrap of praise thrown his way. It was embarrassing to watch.
“No, I think he keeps you around for your sparkling wit and charming personality.” Before Ren can open his mouth to make an angry retort Hux continues, “Yes, you’re his favorite, Ren,” he says, as if he’s speaking to a particularly dim child.
“I always thought he preferred you,” Ren says quietly.
Of course he does, a small, quickly-stifled part of Hux preens. I do my job.
He says, “Thrilling as I find this conversation, can we get a move on before it gets hot? I don’t want to spend another day more than is necessary on this pathetic excuse for a rock.”
“And Ren,” he adds, in measured tones just before the man turns away. It is most definitely a mistake, but the rage coiled low in his belly is not dissipating. It begs for an outlet. “If I ever catch you in my head again…” he trails off when his voice threatens to shake. There’s no threat that seems sufficient.
“Yes?” Ren prompts, his eyes and his voice hardening. Without his helmet and cowl they are nearly the same height, but Hux is acutely aware that Ren has twenty kilos on him and far more combat experience besides. “What will you do, General?”
Hux allows himself a brief, indulgent fantasy of picking up a rock and smashing Ren’s pouting, childish face in with it.
It’s just that- a fantasy. Hux is a realist when it comes to his martial prowess. He had hand-to-hand combat training at the Academy, for what little occasion he’s needed it, but he’d be an idiot to use it against Ren. His preferred weapons had always been his mind, a measured word in the right ear, and when those failed, a blaster- only one of which was available to him here. Kylo Ren’s primary job duty was murder. In any semblance of a fair fight, Ren would tear him to pieces.
Which, of course, merely meant that Hux had no incentive whatsoever to fight fair.
“I’ll think of something,” he says coldly, meeting Ren’s eyes.
Re: FILL pt. 9 - Roughing it. Hux is Not Amused
(Anonymous) 2016-04-06 04:51 am (UTC)(link)“What happened to him?” Ren asks.
LMAO HOLY SHIT IT'S GOOD TO SEE THIS UPDATED I LOVE IT
Re: FILL pt. 9 - Roughing it. Hux is Not Amused
(Anonymous) 2016-04-07 01:48 pm (UTC)(link)And oh Ren, so tactless, so surly, so immature. So needy. There's almost no point in getting angry at him over personal boundary issues, he won't GET IT, but those qualities are just a whole other source of aggravation. Hux's life is so hard <3 I bet he's going to spend that day's journey LOUDLY thinking about all the weapons he can MacGyver out of copper wire and insulating foam, evaluating their effectiveness against Ren-shaped targets.
Absent just so long as there was tedious work to be done and lumbering in just when he’s no longer needed.
Force-Slacking, an advanced skill.
Re: FILL pt. 9 - Roughing it. Hux is Not Amused
(Anonymous) 2016-05-04 03:41 pm (UTC)(link)http://archiveofourown.org/works/5959048/chapters/15317542
Re: FILL pt. 9 - Roughing it. Hux is Not Amused
(Anonymous) 2016-06-20 03:08 am (UTC)(link)