Chapter Text
Hux woke at an unknown hour to the muted tone of his datapad, twisted up in the sheets along with his discarded uniform. He stabbed at the screen blindly until the sound stopped, and inhaled deeply under the covers, feeling a deep full-body muscle ache from tightly held tension.
The room was dim, and the ever-present white noise of the ships ventilation was soothing to Hux, who had spent the better part of his life on board starships. The endless background murmur meant they had air. He drifted, semi awake, the exposed parts of him cold, but not enough to move.
The datapad screen lit up again, a few inches from his head, this time with a different, louder tone that indicated a direct message. He squinted at it, sitting up. The initial tone had been Captain Jonek’s shift report, while the second message was from Mitaka. He opened direct messaging, already feeling the tension creeping into his back, pulling the blades of his shoulders together.
Ren had returned.
The way the hair stood up on his arms and his nape was just a natural response to the cold.
Hux scrolled absently through the details, dragging his legs towards the edge of the bed to sit up. Ren’s ship boarded his preferred Hanger 7, no reported losses from the contingent he’d demanded. Phasma would be pleased, unless Ren had traumatised her ‘troopers again in some other way. She remained convinced FN-2187’s defection was a result of exposure.
Hux dropped the datapad on the bedside table and tugged the sheet-and-uniform tangle off the bed to dump in the laundry chute. He didn’t look in the mirror on his way to the refresher, already knowing how deep the bags under his eyes were. Consistent sleeping schedules were the only thing that kept him from looking like an animated corpse, but they were hardly realistic.
He counted the shower tiles in sets of twelve up to a hundred and forty-four when the refresher switched off, hands moving mechanically to complete the various self maintenance tasks. He didn’t think about other bathrooms, or other bed sheets, or Ren at all.
Thinking about the tasks at hand was the best way to avoid thinking about unfortunate things. Direct, actionable, controllable tasks.
He gelled his hair, brushed his teeth, and wiped the sink, each container on the vanity neatly placed in a row dictated by his routine. Life was much easier when there was a certain order to things. It increased efficiency and allowed him to see exactly when items needed to be replaced. There weren’t any questions, or mysteries.
His hand hovered over the most recent addition to the lineup. The bruise cream was thick and had a slight medicinal scent. He applied it very carefully, not making eye contact with the pinched face in the mirror, and washed his hands. Then he had to wipe the sink again, so he moved the cream to stand in between the toothpaste and the wipes, because that was more realistic.
Who knew how long he’d be using it for.
Though, Hux mused, watching his datapad light up and ding repeatedly while he donned his uniform, if Ren would just finish the job properly then he wouldn’t have to keep doing any of this. They could just space his corpse and get on with the merry business of catering to Ren’s whims.
LT. MITAKA D.>>>>>23.12>>>>>CMDR. REN H7 arrival. Please see attach
LT. MITAKA D.>>>>>23.41>>>>>CMDR. REN bridge. Course change attach. Please confirm
LT. MITAKA D.>>>>>23.42>>>>>CMDR. REN bridge. Please advise
CPT. JONEK H.>>URGENT>>23.42>>>>>RE:CMDR. REN
LT. MITAKA D.>>URGENT>>23.42>>>>>CMDRREN URGENT PLS ADVISE
Hux glanced at the time. 23.46. Four minutes was a long time for Ren in any mood. Perhaps by the time Hux arrived, they would be replacing the staff again after all. He shouldered his greatcoat, holstered his preferred blaster and pocketed his eyedrops. Which would be more useful remained to be seen.
Ren stood in the centre of the room. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his customary tatty black robe, his arm outstretched. He looked bored, and Hux supposed the whirlwind of violence around him would seem quite tame, given his usual appetite for larger-scale drama.
Captain Jonek was red faced and quickly purpling, trapped a foot off the ground against the left wall of the bridge, while a number of the crew milled nervously on the right, variously clutching datapads and each other. Simmons, the flight director, was either dead or unconscious, face-down next to his empty station. Mitaka and an unknown female officer were cowering under the adjacent station, hidden from Ren’s view.
“Supreme Leader!” Hux snapped, not bothering to fake respect, and Ren turned his head to face him. Jonek dropped to the floor, gasping with a hoarse rattle. Ren turned away from her fully, apparently no longer interested in his casual asphyxiation of senior staff. He faced Hux, who stopped several feet away, shoulders stiff and posture perfect.
The man’s face was bare, which was usual for him now, but Hux privately thought was part of the officer’s reluctance to follow his orders. The hard grill of his mask had been far more menacing than his sloppy hair and wobbly lip, even with the threat of the Force.
There was a long pause, where the sniffling of one of the petty officers was the only sound.
Ren had that odd, blank stare and slight moue that Hux supposed was what he usually looked like under his mask, where no one could see him. Hux suspected he'd been the kind of lonely, pathetic child to secretly peer out from behind trees with that exact expression.
Hux didn't sneer, because that was childish.
Ren just blinked at him, apparently slow to realise that Hux was waiting for some kind of response beyond a vacuous expression.
“General,” Ren eventually said, sibilant, with his usual confident arrogance. “Your crew seem ignorant of my command here. Perhaps you could advise them.”
“Your proposed flight course is illogical," Hux replied, leaving off any respectful address.
Ren didn't appear to notice.
"It sends us to the other side of the galaxy, into disputed territory,” Hux continued, giving Ren a slow once-over now that he didn't appear to itching to throw Hux across a room again.
Ren seemed uninjured, though his dark gaze had a popped-pupil gleam that spoke of recent painkillers. Or, who knew, Ren might be snorting powders in between jetting around on the First Order’s dime and having public fits of temper. Regardless, he was upright, and annoying, and extremely unlikely to just disappear.
Hux ignored the slight thrill of the thought, mostly because he was getting a familiar Ren-related headache.
“Perhaps,” Ren continued, stepping into Hux’s space, and the pressure in the back of Hux’s skull increased, “The General needs reminding of my command here.”
Hux glared at Ren’s left eyebrow and concentrated very hard on a mental fantasy where Ren was strapped down and Hux was using a knife to rearrange his facial features. He cut off his stupid bat ears to start, and stitched his horrible eyes closed.
Ren’s real eyebrow twitched.
“So vicious, General.” He sounded faintly amused, and Hux felt his lip curl at the confirmation that Ren was riffling through his head. His temples throbbed, but that was just as likely to be from his clenched jaw.
Jonek was still wheezing against the wall.
“A word, Supreme Leader,” Hux sniffed, and spun on his heel, striding out of the command room as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run. The pain in his skull tightened, blurring his vision, but the stomp of Ren’s boots following him out was enough to make him grin savagely. He got five steps down the empty hallway before he was stopped in his tracks by an invisible force, yanked backwards and barely keeping his footing.
“I don't answer to you!” Ren was probably aiming for a commanding tone, but just sounded petulant.
Hux turned to face him with a snarl, stepping rapidly into his space. He grabbed Ren’s cowl in a tight grip and was gratified to see his expression shift from annoyance to open confusion.
Hux was dragging him through the side door before Ren could say anything else, but that he let himself be led was telling enough. Hux locked the meeting room door one-handed, tugging Ren closer.
Whatever he was planning to say died in his throat though, because now Ren was blushing, his face much closer than Hux intended, and Hux was suddenly reminded just how long it had been since they’d stood so close together. Hux swallowed thickly, achingly aware of how warm Ren was, his body heat radiating even through their clothing.
Ren was just looking at him, pupils blown wide, something disgustingly open in his expression even as his arms hung loosely at his sides. His gaze dropped to Hux’s lips and then he licked his own, and Hux had the intense, visceral memory of the coppery taste of Ren’s ripped bottom lip, and the wet slide of their mouths, of the way he moaned.
Ren blinked, meeting Hux’s eyes with startled expression, looking as flushed as Hux felt.
Cheeks burning, Hux released his grip on Ren’s cowl and turned, dropping his greatcoat on the table. He didn’t think about cramped, dusty quarters on a backwards outpost, or the specific prickling sensation of being watched, or the small freckles that hid in the dip of Ren’s spine.
There was a long silence where neither of them moved.
“Stop—choking everyone,” Hux said haltingly, tugging the collar of his uniform. It seemed very warm in this room, despite the rattle of the ventilation and the cold, dead vacuum of space. “It’s bad for morale.” He tugged his gloves off without much thought, tucked them into a pocket of the greatcoat, and turned to give Ren a long look.
Ren was frowning, but didn’t appear especially volatile. He watched Hux watch him for a moment, then looked away with clenched fists.
“I don’t care about morale.” Ren's tone was strange, and he must have thought so too, because he cleared his throat.
“You should be taking my orders,” he continued with a passable imitation of his usual arrogance, and gave Hux a glare, saying, “They should be taking my orders.”
Hux snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back against the table. “I doubt half of them even knew who you were until you started throwing people around.” The strange tension was bleeding out of him, even as Ren’s frown grew more thunderous.
They were on the Finalizer, they had their shakily-defined roles, and they didn’t do things like that, no matter what mistakes were made in the past. Regrettable, but he was sure they would eventually be forgettable. Nothing had changed. Nothing needed to change.
Hux didn't need to taste the thin, ghostly pale skin in the hollow of Ren's collarbones ever again.
Ren was glaring at him, but somehow also managed to look slightly lost. When Hux just glared back at him, Ren's gaze sharpened, his shoulders hunching.
Hux’s head started pounding again, and he clenched his teeth, thinking very hard about how stupid Ren was and how annoying the head of the Accountancy department had been lately.
“You’re not very good at that,” Ren said plainly, frown smoothing into something snottier. “I thought you were meant to be trained.”
Hux sneered, trying to ignore the burning gut-clench of embarrassment at the implication of incompetence.
“And what would the Supreme Leader suggest, to block him out permanently?” Hux queried, only a little mocking. Ren was customarily reticent about Force business, and information was information.
Ren, in his infinite childishness, rolled his eyes. “It’s not like— you’re just doing it wrong. You can’t block me, you’re Null and I’m too powerful.” He said it casually, offhandedly, like his mystical, untouchable power was some minor trait like eye colour.
Hux hated him.
“You just think about the wrong things," Ren continued, tossing his head dismissively like some great ugly horse. His hair was longer again, messier than ever, and seemed to have even more volume now that he didn't spend hours with it all somehow crammed inside of his helmet.
Hux's fingers twitched, and the urge to reach out and yank on the offending tresses was almost impossible to ignore.
"You don’t care about Accounting, its really obvious you’re avoiding thinking about something else.” Ren continued obliviously, giving him a smirk, and now Hux wanted to choke him until his larynx gave. “If I wanted, I could find out what.” His smirk widened, lopsided and crooked like so much about him, and he looked ready to continue, but Hux cut him off.
“So how would I stop that?” He snapped. He was remembering why he and Ren had never managed a casual conversation in all the years they’d ostensibly been equally ranked. Neither of them were any good at them, and they rarely liked what came out of the other’s mouth.
Ren shrugged, looking big and ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room empty-handed in all his layers. He didn’t seem to notice.
“I don’t know,” he said, despite being one of the only creatures in the galaxy who should, in fact, know the exact answer.
“You won’t be able to block them out,” he said, giving Hux a strange look, “But you could—delay, I guess.”
He shrugged again, round-shouldered, and Hux wanted to slap him, the way Hux would have been slapped.
“You could—", Ren stepped toward him, just a little, that same strange, stupid look on his face. “—distract, think about other things—”
“Isn’t that what I was doing?” Hux watched Ren inch closer, wary of the strange mood that seemed to have overtaken the small room.
“No, not with—thoughts, like casual thoughts, about random things, you could use, uh—,” Ren was blushing again, mumbling and stiff-limbed, and Hux suddenly had an awful suspicion about where this was going.
“Memories,” Ren continued, stepping into Hux’s space, “Because, that’s what I’m usually— what they’re usually— looking for, but use...” and he really was quite close, “...other memories… like...” Ren trailed off, because they were practically nose-to-nose and he was apparently incapable of finishing anything properly in his entire miserable life, even some atrocious attempt at what? A seduction?
Hux wanted to laugh in Ren’s face, but Ren had a look of concentration, and Hux had a blinding headache, so he gave Ren what he wanted, for a second. Dredging the most sordid, sweaty memory he could muster from that night months ago, and he didn’t try to be nice about it, picturing the moaning, howling wreck that had spread his cheeks so easily for a man he barely knew, that he barely even liked, biting the pillow and letting Hux fuck him stupid, like the dumb slut he was. Letting Hux take from him again, and again, and Hux let him see the thoughts he’d had then, the ways he’d wanted to ruin him, scar him and slap him and choke him, keep him plugged so full of his cum that he couldn’t even think about using the Force to make Hux’s temples pound, or throw him across a room.
Ren was breathing hard, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide and dark a scant inch away, and Hux realised that maybe this wasn’t having the exact effect he’d intended, because of course Ren was wired just as twisted as Hux was.
Hux tried to calculate the realistic potential of using sex to bring Ren to heel, against the likelihood of Ren killing him randomly in a horrifically embarrassing lover's spat. It was difficult, because Ren's mouth was as plush as always, breathing hot and sour into Hux's face, and he had that look, open and intense, so ready to be played with— besides, Hux decided, the Order wouldn't collapse overnight, not if Ren wasn't there to have a hand in it.
Hux reached up to wind his fingers into Ren’s hair and dragged him down to a wet kiss, tongue sliding into his open mouth easily. Ren’s gloved hands came to rest on the table behind him, and Hux used the hand that wasn’t tangled in Ren’s hair to pull him closer, flush against him in his ridiculous robes. Ren's bulky frame was firm and he shuffled as close as he could to Hux, so eager, to press their bodies together hard against the edge of the table.
Ren’s attention successfully diverted, Hux tugged Ren’s head sharply to the side, breaking the kiss. Hux sighed as his headache eased, his grip on Ren's hair just as firm.
Ren made a soft breathy sound, like a question, his mouth open and lips shiny with spit. His eyes were closed and his blush went all the way down his neck, just like Hux remembered. Hux stayed there a moment, lips pressed to Ren’s neck, then he licked a stripe up the side of Ren’s neck and murmured in his ear.
“Come with me.”
He pushed Ren back a step, releasing his hair and picking up the greatcoat. Ren seemed struck dumb for a moment, but ran his fingers through his hair roughly as Hux palmed the door lock open.
“To where?” Ren said, looking thoroughly kissed, hair still mussed, his lips drawn into a red pout. Hux gave him an arch look and stepped out into the hallway. Thankfully, the hall was still empty. The skeleton staffing had some benefits, it seemed.
“You’ll see.” Hux listened to the stamp of boots following behind, and allowed himself a smile.