Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As unbelievable as that is, when he first came aboard the Finalizer as co-commander Kylo Ren tried to make friends with Armitage Hux. Back when Ren was still the new kid who was much too awkward even while wearing a glorified black bucket over his head that apologized when stumbling into mouse droids and Hux was the frightening figure looming over the bridge in his underdeveloped pre-growth-spurt glory of five foot seven.

Obviously it's a wasted effort, because this goes as poorly as can be expected.

The thing is, Hux is not great at making friends. Not even halfway through to decent at it. Especially with people close to his age range. He gave up on gaining that ability somewhere between forcibly entering the Academy without having a choice in the matter and escaping from Arkanis on a shuttle with his father when the New Republic invaded, may the old man rest in pieces.

Rax giving him, savage orphan per excellence in all but name, a bunch of savage orphans to raise probably had a part to play in it too. Sloane tried to salvage the damage where she could, bless her heart, but she had to cut her losses fairly early on and admit that while she could teach him the basic skill he'd never be good at it.

What Hux is good at, however, is pulling people into his orbit - whether through necessity or through work - and keeping them there through blackmail and death threats until they develop stockholm syndrome. (Phasma is a fluke, Hux's thought about it, there’s no practical reason Phasma should've stuck with him for this long, she could've just killed him.)

So it goes to show that the only positive interaction he has with Ren that properly qualifies as such, beyond screaming matches about broken equipment, is when Ren almost dies and Hux is forced to save his black-clad behind from Starkiller Base as the latter is crumbling in on itself. Years after Ren comes on board and they have settled into a hesitant, somewhat hateful camaraderie based on petty rivalry.

It's a really short interaction too, to boot. Because Ren falls from halfway through to incoherent to completely unconscious after babbling something or other ominous nonsense about the galaxy coming full circle because a son had murdered his father instead of it being the other way around.

Which, alright. That was almost distressing to hear, honestly.

Then again, Ren's lacking day-to-day ramblings didn't so much waver while standing on the blurred line between nearly coherent and ravings bordering on lunacy as they stepped all over it until they'd stomped it to non-recognition. Superficially, he should've been used to the general madness of it by now.

… … …

He watches Ren sleep, afterward. When their lives no longer hang on the line. Not in a creepy way per say, but in a making-sure-he’s-still-breathing way.

Hux doesn't fully comprehend this strange need he's developed to make sure Ren is alright. It's something that predates Starkiller by a long shot, though Ren hasn't really been out of commission before so maybe that's why it hadn't reared its ugly head until now.

Something he'd rather not examine too closely beyond the fact that Ren is an asset to the First Order that has yet to outlive its usefulness and Hux would rather not have more blood on his hands at the moment after staining them with a star system's worth of it, thank you very much. Not Ren's rebellion-stained blood specifically.

Of course it could also be because the potential for experimental studies that comes with said blood is indispensable. As personal of an excuse as that one may be.

See, beyond the instinctive hatred of Force users drilled into him by his disciplinary beatings courtesy of Snoke and his father's impression of them as indecisive and fickle degenerates (ironically enough a fitting description for Ren) together with his own lasting impression of irritability and annoyance at damaged equipment lost due to temper tantrums, Hux was also more than a little fascinated with Ren's power. At first. Many years pre-Starkiller. Back when he and his ship hadn't been on the receiving end of it quite as much.

He'd tried making sense of it, at first. (Wondered who wouldn't, having the frustrating answer thrust upon him in the form of the pre-existing data on the subject's nonexistence.) Of how Ren can somehow wrap the space around something or someone to simulate a physicality that isn't present. (Ren had still been trying to be his friend back then and so had begrudgingly cooperated with being poked and prodded, even whilst loudly complaining about the unnecessariness of it all and the need to maintain a certain mysticism.) And he thought it might've had something to do with controlling the molecules of the artificial air on a ship or the atmospheric whims of a planet.

…At least he thought so. Until he witnessed it used in the vacuum of open space. (He muffled his screams into his hat for about a quarter of an hour after the crisis had passed.) He slaved away his scarce free time to scientific research settled before the impossibly nonsensical readings of all the available ship sensors for hours on end afterward trying to make sense of that.

(Ren of all people had been the one to drag him away from them, oddly enough - since Phasma had been on a mission and he'd arranged Mitaka's shifts parallel to his own with the express purpose of deterring from interruptions. It'd been on Supreme Leader's summons most often than not, but when not Ren's method was just plain annoying attention-seeking by destroying something unarguably important someplace else.)

Unsurprisingly, his first bare-bones hypothesis proved false. Then, out of desperation mostly, he theorized dark matter.

No idea how someone could inherently control dark matter, either, or of how the ability to do so could possibly relate to the oh so distinctive Force-user mind tricks. But among Ren's unscientific jabbering there was the mention of a Dark side, and Hux had immediately linked that to the theoretical concept of dark energy and a lack of the understanding thereof. And it'd been a start.

There has to be a scientific explanation for Force magic and Hux likes to think he was getting there before he deserted his efforts and stopped giving a kriff to stop from going raving mad. (Once again courtesy of Ren, who had by then tired of trying to be friendly and started his full-blown sabotage campaign on all useful equipment known to mankind.)

Now, however, would be a good time as any to resume his studies. Although Ren would regrettably not be awake to be uncooperative about it.

…He might've been obsessing over harassing the med droids with checking over Ren's vitals on the bacta tank for signs of an awakening more than he'd realized though. Because at the dawn of the third alpha shift of uninterrupted vigil during his breaks with no sleep in between Phasma came like the morning glory to drag him back to his quarters from his impromptu insomniac vacation plan in the med bay.

(Telling him - in no uncertain terms - that she thought his post-lifesaving obsession with Kylo Ren was narcissistic and unhealthy and made no sense whatsoever. Yet probably just happy Hux was spending time with someone that wasn't her or Mitaka for a change. Even if that someone had been unconscious the entire time.)

… … …

After that shit show is over and done with and Ren appropriately returned to commission without the infamous black bucket and with a brand new facial scar to show for it that Hux pointedly makes sure to check for infection every now and then, Snoke for some bizarre reason seems to be under the couldn't-be-more-wrong impression that Hux is Ren's self-appointed glorified babysitter. (Or well, even more so than he'd filled-in for the role before.)

Interrupting Hux's vital, important, relevant work just as much as his precious personal time almost on a daily basis to ask that he go snap Ren out of whichever mood the Knight is struck by. Telling Hux to ‘know his place’ whenever he complains, the absolute bastard.

Regrettably, he gets a prime introduction to Ren's living quarters during this period of respite from the Resistance. The fact that those quarters are all the way out of the officers' lounge, to the opposite side of the ship, notwithstanding. (Hux most literally can't complain. He'd been the one assigning the quarters.)

It usually goes like this:

Hux turns up uninvited on Supreme Leader's orders or because Ren hasn't been destroying anything aboard the ship lately and Hux is, dare he say it, concerned about that fact if not necessarily wanting it to change. He opens the door with his personal override code, because like hell would Ren let him in willingly.

Ren is sometimes sleeping or distracted or, dare-Hux-say-it, meditating (Ren's words not Hux's). And sometimes this means Hux stumbles into the ashes of Ren's enemies or other knick-knacks of the forbidden Sith variety that range from fairly inoffensive beyond the unhealthy supernatural feelings of dread they cause (Darth Vader's mask comes to mind) to elaborate magical traps that almost get Hux eviscerated whilst walking around that death trap of a disgracefully disorganized bedroom. Which, what’s a little disemboweling between friends really?!

And sometimes Ren will be tired enough or relaxed enough to let his ever-present guard down if only by the slightest inch to seriously admit he is not doing great. But mostly he'll be broody and stonewalling and at those times more than ever Hux truly gets why no one likes Ren or wants to put up with him. Ren is downright exhausting.

Hux is not a field-assigned therapy droid, he wasn't trained or programmed for this shit, and he shouldn't have to make do. But when he'd been having a particularly tiring day and tried to subtly leave the one with the highest success rate in Ren's quarters and call it a day, job done, it slammed against the door to his personal quarters completely wrecked barely an hour later.

So, he is stuck as a therapist, message received.

… … …

Ren has the rare decency to look mildly ashamed and slightly apologetic when Hux barges in on him mid-break shift in what Hux has personally dubbed Ren's ‘brooding room’ half an hour after such a rude awakening. But Ren’s the kind of dense that isn't good with apologies. Which Hux gets, shockingly.

(Worse is, Ren's quarters are way more spacious than his, by virtue of not having their previous primary purpose be that of housing human beings. Ren has a whole three roomfuls not counting the separate bathroom while Hux's living room connects to the kitchen in such a way that it might as well be part of the kitchen, which must've been Snoke's idea of a tasteless joke. He's barely got a bedroom as it is. And Ren is simply wasting all that space.)

Then Hux proceeds to notice, faintly through his rapidly decreasing righteous fury, that other than his First Order issued undergarments Ren isn't really wearing anything. Which, also shockingly, hadn't really ever been the case before.

It takes him a shamefully long while to properly register this.

So, while marching himself a straight paced line through the floor of Ren's brooding room purposefully avoiding the clutter into a mouthful of a tirade about the sacredness of private First Order issued property and how unbecoming of anyone never mind a commander it is to baselessly and carelessly destroy it like the forty pages worth of filled paperwork requesting further budget to cover the damages grows on trees, Hux's one-person argument withers ever so slowly unto nothing until he just stops and stares. And stares some more, face flushed but unreadable. Eyes traveling at hyper speed from Ren's bare chest to Ren's bewilderedly flustered expression. Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

"I'll uh, leave you to it, then." He says, because while he's got half a mind to he can't very well lecture the Knight on the value of proper public decency while performing an unannounced intrusion into the man's private quarters. Much less standing in the middle of them, proverbially gaping like a fish at their unruly owner. Though he does gain enough of his bearings to issue one final warning in the form of: "Don't make me repeat myself." (The ‘don't you dare or you'll regret it’ left implicit notwithstanding.)

He all but runs away afterwards. Not even exactly runs, really. Just speed-walks through the corridors slightly faster than usual and makes it back to his post in record time twenty minutes before his shift is due (thanks to Ren's quarters being the furthest from it) and without the proper uniform gear.

Not an abnormal occurrence at all, slanderous claims to the contrary be damned, that he happened to get the hour wrong despite all standard clocks on board being synchronized or that he happened to have foregone his hat for the first time in the history of his career.

If anyone with the proper clearance not to get shot for insubordination ever asked (which, Phasma did, and she apparently also told Mitaka too) he'd give them the abridged version, call it a practical retreat from a no-win scenario and leave it at that.

No one would dare question him on the matter, and he doesn't know why exactly, but that's a relief in and of itself.

… … …

Of course, Hux had expected that would be the end of it. Like any sane reasonable person would.

There, done, they wouldn't need to talk about it and would probably just pretend it never happened. And surely, with Ren now wised up to what it entailed having someone barging uninvited into his rooms at odd hours and apparently not wanting that fact to change, he'd always be somewhat decent.

It wouldn't happen again.

Oh, how wrong he'd been. How very naive, to believe that Ren would ever be anything resembling a sane reasonable person.

… … …

The next time Hux turns up, Ren has just destroyed an entire control room's worth of consoles on a whim. Bitching all the while about the stubborn scavenger girl.

Hux gets through the most of his own angry tirade before noticing nearing the end of it that Ren is wearing tights, and also lacking a shirt.

Which is still jarring, because but for the one exception Ren had always been dressed in full gear before.

He can't help but make a disturbed face so wound up that it would probably make Phasma question if he's constipated.

Stupid, honestly, but while he'd known in theory that that was the case he hadn't had the chance to think about Ren as a human being with a chest made off of flesh and bone beneath the pretentious robes for a long time now. Even if he's long accepted the fact that there's a face under the dumb-looking helmet and it is somewhat attractive, facial scar and all.

Unfortunately, he's so distracted by the realization that he forgets his train of thought mid-sentence and the ending to his argument falls a little flat.

Ren smirks at him afterwards. It's downright infuriating, so he takes to the road and doesn't even look back for a last minute threat this time.

… … …

It happens a third time, of course. Third time's the charm and all that.

Hux enters and Ren is once again clad only in black boxers, this time flushed by the heat of flexing muscles on a clean break among the crowded floor instead of barely awake halfway under the bed covers because of course he is naturally doing pushups. Doesn't even acknowledge Hux's presence as he continues.

Not that Ren isn't prone to ignoring Hux like this but now with the way Ren tensed up before forcing himself to relax the lackluster people-skills feel more purposeful than anything else.

Not that Hux has any ground whatsoever to stand on. With the way he promptly gains a myriad of colors at the display, doesn't even enter the room properly, calls out a very strong warning to leave the tech of the science department the fuck alone and turns tail.

By then Ren had been fully dressed at least twice so Hux, while still wary, had wrongfully let himself be led into a false sense of security at the fall back into routine. That mistake had been his and his alone and he'd forgone the tarine tea and petting Millicent for three days as self-purported punishment.

(He relented on the second by the first hour of the first day though, because poor Millie had looked so chastised at the perceived rejection. His beauty of a cat didn't deserve to believe she'd done anything wrong just because he'd gone and been an idiot about something.)

… … …

These first few times he chalks it up to coincidence. But it keeps on happening and happening and honestly he always thinks at some point he'll desensitize himself to it, but that point in time reeks of ‘not soon enough’ and the last few times he doesn't even say anything. Takes one look at Ren to gauge his varying state of undress, finds it wanting, then leaves.

He stops trying to remain in denial once he's established a pattern.

Stops himself from spending more time in the room than necessary once Ren stops bothering with a shirt.

Stops going altogether unless explicitly ordered otherwise once Ren stops bothering with the pants and just exhibits himself freely in his underwear for an irrational fear that that too will at some point be gone.

… … …

Ren walks out of the bathroom in only a towel once. Seemingly put out at first before grinning mischievously at the notion of getting under Hux's skin in such a minuscule, inoffensive way as public exhibitionism.

Thank the stars, the towel stays in place.

Hux closes his eyes, clutches his nose, shakes his head in exhausted exasperation, sighs - and exists the room not being able to remember what he'd come to complain about.

… … …

He fills the paperwork for the incident he didn't talk to Ren about. Fills the paperwork for all further incidents. Sends a therapy-droid each and every time Snoke orders him to go himself. None come back. He doesn't retrieve them himself. He doesn't go back.

About a standard week and a handful later there's an awfully loud knock on his door. He checks the security feed. Rolls his eyes. Doesn't answer it.

… … …

The next shift he coincides with Ren is spent with Hux barely able to get anything done, because the Knight seems set on invading his personal space and staying there, always somewhere in the vicinity of ‘too close for comfort’.

Mitaka eyes Ren dubiously, Hux mouths a plea for help his way but while the Lieutenant does conspicuously find and nervously suggest Hux things to do all about the bridge that day the Knight dutifully follows him everywhere like a personal bodyguard with too much free time and nothing else to do.

Not at all the attitude of someone who should be on duty, if you asked Hux, but then again this is one of those rare occasions that Ren's shown up on the bridge of his own accord instead of being dragged there by Hux as fitting equivalent to a young cadet's time-out.

(And Ren's duty basically consists of standing around looking menacing anyway; there's, sadly, no rule saying he can't harass Hux while doing so.)

… … …

Hux mouths an even more pronounced order for back-up Mitaka's way when Ren's persistence lasts the first two standard hours. But the Lieutenant just eyes him pityingly, eyes Ren warily, and conceals a mildly apologetical shrug - having deemed the madman nonthreatening enough today not to risk anyone's safety by doubling his efforts.

Phasma lifts a blond eyebrow beneath the chrome armor when she comes to report their cadets' progress (it's in her tone, he's certain of it, even though he can't see it) but otherwise doesn't comment on things. Thank stars for small blessings.

Everyone else on the bridge must be as weirded out as he is, honestly. But they know their place so they too don't seemingly comment on it. Either that or they're all much too desensitized to Ren's… Ren-ness by now. Hux sincerely can't tell the difference. (Thinks he himself might have the same problem, because he's certain he's not as uncomfortable or paranoid about this development as he would've been pre-Starkiller. As he should be, for his own sanity and safety.)

…He loves them all and hates them all just a tiny bit more for their silence. (Wishes someone would say something, mostly. But has absolutely no idea what he would do if they did.)

… … …

The first week of this interlude passes swiftly on. He doesn't talk to Ren at all. Has yet to address him directly for anything, going as far as talking of him in third person to other officers to get his orders across when strictly necessary. (Mitaka gave a disapproving stare once he caught on and every time since then.) Or simply delegating dealing with the childish Knight to someone else, anyone else, whenever possible.

Preferably anyone who's particularly annoyed him with their mediocrity that day.

(It's ever so slightly petty and certainly beneath him but it's also cold, sweet, sweet vengeance and he's never been above delivering payback.)

It becomes the new normal but direct Phasma won't stop asking intently and concerned Mitaka won't stop waiting patiently for him to breach the subject on his own and the rest other than his bridge crew won't stop gossiping about it. Horrifyingly enough, they're calling it a break up. Hux pointedly does not allow himself to dwell on that.

… … …

Two more weeks of this and then one more of Ren stalking him off-shift once Hux goes through the necessary channels to change both their schedules so that they never coincide (and Ren questioning angrily how in the galaxy Hux was allowed to do that but Ren wasn't, all the while being given the continued silent treatment that had started the day of the towel) find Hux in his quarters, midway throughout filling out a form requesting an official investigation for active harassment.

He makes sure the security feeds have a plain view of exactly what he's taking to his office the next alpha shift.

He doesn't actually file the thing.

Nevertheless his supposition that Ren's not only been limited to tracking his movements physically proves true when the automatized double doors to his quarters slam in their hinges at roughly the start of his first break shift with the force of the knocking.

Hux actually deigns to grant Ren entry this time, pushing in his code on the datapad resting in the nightstand next to the big light blue armchair he'd been comfortably lying sideways over with a tiredly theatrical put-upon sigh. Briefly musing on why Ren didn't think to try and use an override code even though Hux made sure that none but his own would open his door.

(He decides to pin it on Ren's budding idiocy and lack of foresight instead of dwelling too long on the fact that Ren might just know him well enough to know it wouldn't be that easy.)

He deems it necessary to sit up appropriately before he risks being seen. Then stands up altogether - because with the non-padded, casual attire he's wearing he'll look vulnerable either way.

From her place atop the kitchen counter that acts as an island in what's roughly the middle of his living room slash kitchen, Millicent meows soothingly. Hux thinks she might just be questioning his sanity. He can't keep from questioning it himself.

His early death, he muses darkly as the doors swiss open, will be no one's fault but his own. He'd known from the start that being exposed to Ren and his Sith paraphernalia (even though the Knight explicitly claims not to be one, which is bantha shit, discount-Sith is still Sith) was a sanity and health not to mention security hazard. Did his best to conserve the second and third relatively intact. Yet apparently hadn't stopped visiting on time to save the first.

He'd been expecting many things, of course. Mainly, a grand entrance. Because Ren is a dedicated fan of grand entrances on principle alone whereas Hux prefers to just appear. (Out of nowhere preferably, whenever it isn't a necessity to make a point of his being there.)

Expecting many other things too, things that make him suppress a flinch. To be slammed against the wall, for one. To be angrily demanded an explanation of. To have his neck snapped clean off in a fit of rage, whether on purpose or by accident yet to be determined. Not precisely in that order, either.

What Hux hadn't been expecting though was a shirtless barefoot Ren clad in black leggings with his head bowed down, dark hair falling over brown stormy eyes cast downward. Hesitating on setting foot inside Hux's quarters once provided the proper means, suspecting foul play. As though the Knight were an unstable poltergeist demanding penance of the carpeted floor he'd yet to step on.

A shirtless Kylo Ren who must've made the whole treck over to Hux's quarters from his own at the other side of the ship, through the very busy corridors during the start of a shift, in that very state of undress.

There is no grand entrance. This is still dramatic enough to qualify.

Hux can feel a migraine brewing. Preemptively, he snatches the bottle from were Millicent is dangerously close to knocking it over the edge and takes the appropriate amount of muscle relaxant pills he'll need to have this conversation. It's at least double the dosage recommended. Millicent meows in disapproval. He washes them down with a mug of tea he'd prepared ahead for the occasion, maintaining cat-to-owner eye contact.

You don't deal with him on a daily basis, he thought in resignation towards her general direction, you don't know what it's like.

She meows again, dubious. Clearly having her doubts but deciding to take his word for it. She blinks once, slowly. He gives her ear a proper scratch as an ‘I love you too’.

Ren glares incredulously at the medicine bottle before his eyes widen as they fall on Millicent's feline form while she headbutts Hux's arm where it's leaning over the counter. Hux briefly stops to keep petting her before he starts to regret ever getting up, moving again to collapse on the armchair. His stylish, comfy light blue loveseat that Ren is staring at like it were something foreign and alien.

Regrettably, Millie doesn't follow. Takes to observing Kylo with an assessing glance as he hesitantly strolls into the room. Granting the intruder a judgemental once over. The Knight visibly fidgets before extending a hand towards her.

She hisses a warning.

The hand retreats.

"You have a cat." Ren says, in a vaguely accusing tone that speaks of betrayal. He's staring at the cup now, trying to determine what was in it.

"Indeed I do." Hux deadpans, setting his empty mug on the nightstand as if to shield it before his gaze flickers wishfully to the hidden wine cabinet concealed in plain sight.

Millicent moves casually to block his view, sitting in front of it in that adorable authoritative way that cats have. Phasma taught her that, he thinks, equal measures rancor and begrudging respect mixed with something warmer.

He heeds the warning and his eyes flicker back to an emotionally stagnant Ren, who's feeling hurt for some bizarre reason and doesn't seem to know what to do with himself now that he's being listened and answered to.

"…A ginger cat." Ren says, after a pause, managing to sound chagrined about it.

Hux is stiff on the defensive before Millicent can think to scratch Kylo.

"Red is a nice color. You should try it." He gestures widely to the room as a whole, a rainbow in comparison to Kylo's bare-bones quarters. "Or anything that isn't monochrome black, for a change."

Ren's pained frown deepens.

Millicent knocks the silver bottle from where it had been set back down on the counter after its use. He'd forgotten to put the cap back on. Clever kitty, too clever.

Light grey pills scatter about to places unknown where they'll be indistinguishable from the fluffy white carpeting that had muffled the deafening sound of the metallic bottle hitting the ground until he happened to step upon them. Mitaka taught her that, he thinks. Equal parts fondness and frustration, with the latter turning the tide.

At this point it'd be an understatement to further visually convey how much this situation is both eerily tense and awkward.

"You never told me." Ren says. Or rather, growls.

(And there it is, out in the open.)

"You never asked." Hux mutters, shrugging. Eyeing the licor cabinet once again even through Millie, who'd sat right back down in front of it. Eyeing his plush non-regulation carpeting. Eyeing everything that isn't Ren.

"You didn't either!" Ren yells. And, oh, oh. Apparently they're not talking about the cat anymore. Alright.

Hux blinks once, twice. Doesn't open his eyes again as he snaps to his feet. Inhales. Exhales. Glares right back at the man who's once again invading his personal bubble. (When did Ren get closer than he already was?)

"Seriously, Ren. You want to talk? Talk. Tell me."  He huffs to keep from scowling. Not entirely certain it works. "What is it that you want from me?"

Ren growls again, an unintelligible yet fiercely violent noise. Like Hux ought to be a mind reader too, to instinctively know, and Ren finds it faulty for him to pretend otherwise. For a moment, Hux thinks Ren will just slam him against the wall anyway. There. Conversation over. (But of course Ren doesn't do that. He probably never intended to since he got here. Since Hux let him in.)

"S'rry." Ren says. Fast and jumbled but clear and clean-cut, like stripping a band-aid.

Which, Hux ought to have heard that wrong.

"What."

"…I'm-sorry." Ren repeats at last, cringing like admitting to something as simple as that could be physically taxing.

Which, for Ren? It just might.

In all the years that Hux has known this man, and there's been many, Ren has never apologized. For anything. To anyone.

(The kid that Ren had once been though? That one apologized an awful lot.)

He blinks, again. The slightest bit blindsided. Makes eye contact with Millicent again. Makes eye contact with Kylo right after. It doesn't last, Kylo averts it.

Huh, would you look at that? There might yet be…

"Are you apologizing for all the things you've wrecked in the past…?" He's wary, cautious. Searching Ren's troubled expression for the barest hint. Dancing around the edges of whatever it is this is, now. His voice reflects that. "Or should I take this as a blanket apology for something that you're going to wreck in the future?"

"I'm sorry," Ren says, his expressive face still pulled into that awful frown. As if the word tastes like bitter defeat and he'd like nothing more than to spit it. "Sorry that I pushed you away. There, I said it. I won't do it again, alright? Just… just don't leave."

Not you too, Hux hears. Everyone left already, not you too.

It strikes him harder than expected. Which is to say that it lands at all. It lands and hard. Like a punch in the gut. Kriff, he'd probably feel better if he'd been physically punched instead. At least that would fade. He feels like doubling over.

(It's surprising to hear it from this Ren. The Ren that has closed himself off. The Ren that had tired of trying. It does things to him. It makes him want to- makes him think that- makes him hope, maybe. He'd half forgotten how that felt like, he doesn't want to remember.)

"Kriff, Ren…"

His tone, although soft, was probably too neutral though. Because Kylo takes that entirely the wrong way. He's reaching out but not quite, certain that if he did he'd be rejected. Certain that he wouldn't be allowed to.

(Maybe Hux, too, has continually kept on trying. Reaching out, always, in his own twisted way. But, stars forbid, he didn't ever dare think he'd get that kid back - the one that Ren had been - hadn't stopped to think that he might actually want to.)

"I know I've been an asshole. Hux, I know I've been an asshole but if you just let me- I just- I didn't-" He breaks off into a tangent, averts his gaze. Hux can almost hear it, the choir of useless useless useless going off in Ren's brain. Can see it in the way Ren's expression closes off but the facade cracks. Has seen it in the mirror a few times before. "I was just messing around with you. You're very easy to mess with, so…"

"Ren what are you getting at here?" Once it looks like Ren will keep up the charade, he hastily adds: "And stop lying through your teeth, you're absolutely awful at it."

"I…" Ren starts. Aborts. Begins anew. "I just…" and yet can't bring himself to finish properly. "You were always around. I mean you've always been around, in a way. But not the same way you were, lately. And I guess I just thought…"

Ren trails off. Again. Shrinks in on himself like he's expecting…

Hux doesn't even know what Ren's expecting, he tells himself. (Though that won't stop him from assuming the worst.) But it can't have been nice, so he gives Ren a mildly encouraging verbal nudge instead. (Knowing he can't let this go or he might never have another chance to hear it.)

"You thought-?"

"I thought," Ren starts firmly, determined to finish this time. He's bitter, resigned. Staring at some space between the carpet and the far wall. "That if I got you to see what you'd be getting into then maybe you'd give me a chance."

The silence between them is thick and jagged. Hux didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't that.

Somebody did this to Ren.

(To Ren, who is confidence and self-indulgence and self-centeredness personified. Who shouldn't ever even have been capable of thinking that somebody wouldn't want him. Who shouldn't ever be this scared. Who shouldn't ever look like this.)

Hux is going to kill somebody. Once he finds them, they're going down.

He's felt this way before, faintly. When Ren would let that guard of his down the slightest bit and Hux could spot the clues that there was something there worth trying to find. That someone had hidden it away. But he's never felt so strongly about it. The surge of fierce protectiveness is almost enough to make his breath falter.

Kriff, he'd never seen the extent of whatever it is that happened to Ren to make him such a damaged drama queen until now. And he doesn't even find it satisfying, quite the opposite. He'd expected to find a weakness he could exploit at some point, with how much time he spend with the Knight, but this is-

Hux is going to find the nearest Resistance base and level it to the ground, mark his words.

Unfortunately, Ren seems to miss the direction Hux's anger is directed at entirely, because he takes a step backwards and shrinks in on himself even more.

"But I can clearly see that you're not interested General, so-"

Wait, what?

No.

No, Ren doesn't get to pull that off.

"What do you mean?"

Hux is going to behead somebody.

"I mean, I've never seen you with anyone. But now I'm certain Captain Phasma-" Ren must catch how something in Hux's expression instinctively darkens at that, because he repurposes. Changing directions. "So I am the issue- I mean then maybe you and that Lieutenant-"

"Mitaka?!" Hux wants to laugh, maybe. The kind of toxic laugh that might taste like cyanide if only he'd asked his father what that tasted like. "What are you, mad?"

Phasma is like the sister he wished he had when he'd still been at the Academy. Or back in Arkanis. Mitaka is more complex, different. He thinks maybe he is to Mitaka what Rae Sloane was to him, but he can't be certain because sometimes he feels too much like Gallius Rax.

"Then there's no one…?"

Ren's- Kylo's tone gives him pause. It sounds hopeful but sore in a way that says that he's already raised those hopes to the skies and outer space beyond just to raid them back down with a war cry. Hopeful in the cautious way of someone who honestly doesn't think they have something to hope for.

And yet…

"Kylo," he begins, has to begin somewhere or he'll lose it, because he has to ask since if he doesn't he might just burst. Ren startles as if he's been struck. That adds conviction to Hux's tone. "Kylo, tell me, what do you suppose will happen now?"

Ren backs away, hastily. A sloppy retreat if Hux ever saw one. One step, two steps, three. Hux's scarred, bare hand catches Ren's wrist in an iron grip before he can think to take a fourth or, Maker forbid, bolt for the door. Kylo let's a sound escape through grit teeth then, a pitiful cross between a desperate snarl and a whimper or sob. Hux's grip relaxes against his will, though not entirely yet. It can't afford to.

He muses, grimly, that if Ren deigned to take that wrist back there is little Hux could do about it. Nevertheless, Ren's cornered, corralled expression gives away that of course that particular scenario hasn't even occurred to Ren himself.

He thinks, darkly, on a paper he read once about how dangerous animals that have been kept in captivity for too long don't even contemplate escape anymore, as a real possibility. About how they give up tugging at the chain early on so that they can't break it once they're strong enough to manage it. Having resigned themselves to the fact that it's always been there. Will always be there. (He thinks about Snoke. And feels sick.)

He briefly contemplates backing up, giving into the satisfaction of smashing the cup near the armchair, for catharsis' sake. (Letting Ren go, clearing a way out.) But as always the urge is feasibly ignored.

Hux likes that cup. It was a gift from Sloane, the only keepsake of hers he's allowed himself to preserve. He won't lose it to childishness.

He's searching Ren's eyes now as they stare straight through him like they're seeing something, or someone, else entirely.

"Ren, what do you think I'll do, exactly?" He's snarling, tone crisp, bristling maybe. Patience visibly thinning. Straightening even though he knows, is aware that looking tall and threatening is counterintuitive and surely counterproductive, yet unable to help the instinctive response that this battered body of his (beaten to submission again and again and again) forces upon him. Much, he thinks, like Ren himself might be. "Report you? Have you executed?! Strike you down right here right now!?"

"I…" Ren growls back, pupils going haywire, examining to the minute detail what his lizard brain figures is a crouching predator ready to pounce him. "I-"

Inadvertently, he's the one to interrupt, fully conscious that he might later regret it. Nevertheless, Hux's patience's runs out much too soon and whitening knuckles collide with the kitchen counter he's also inadvertently very much backed Ren up against. Not good, this is all not good. Worse than not good.

The part of him that's been stretched to its breaking point for the past few months can't muster the will to care as it audibly snaps.

"What do you think will happen?!"

"I don't know!" Ren screams, barreling open palms first into Hux just enough to send him receding one begrudging step. "I don't know, alright?! All of the above maybe! Why do you think I didn't tell you!? I've absolutely no idea what you will do!"

A searing red part of him wants to cackle, to tackle, to bite down while Ren is at the most vulnerable, take the knife out then go in for the kill consequences be damned. The part of Hux that's good at compartmentalizing the real him. The part that's been there since he was five and he made a brainwashed child hit another one for… not for the fun of it, no, but for the statement of it. For the message it send. For the power it conveyed. The part that suppressed the maddening urge to scream with the hysterical one to laugh and most times let him do neither. Never let him do much but for the occasional sneer and scoff.

Sadly, the real him doesn't feel very much like cooperating, like being easily compartmentalized and tucked away for the evening within the cracks inside the darkest places of his psyche. No, it fights, much akin to Kylo it snarls. It claws itself a way to his throat and it doesn't seem to want out. Doesn't seem to want to do much of anything but to stay there, cutting, simulating broken glass. Choking him from inside himself. Crushing him with the weight of five inhabited planets bursting with life being blown up and the texture of ash and the smell of Arkanisian rain. Searing red like a deathly flash of light. Refusing to cede terrain yet not burning itself out.

Hux swallows, shallowly. Audibly. Tries to force it down before it manages to force him forward, but it's been a losing battle all along.

Armitage takes a purposeful step forward and Kylo Ren- Benjamin Solo takes a step further back, collides with the counter, tightens his fists willing to make himself a way out but Hux wouldn't let him. Armitage won't either.

Their foreheads are thrust together courtesy of Armitage's klutz. Their lips follow. It's savage and awkward and wildly messy all in one because rarely if ever has Hux ever felt the need to engage in activities such as these. Because he has been ashamed of the inexperience and such inexperience has been marred and furthered by that same shame.

Armitage would like to believe he's never been ashamed or afraid in his life, but truth be told expressing himself in this manner towards those deemed deserving is one of the very few things Armitage has never been afraid of. One of the very few remains of his mother that his father hadn't beaten out him. One of the reasons he'd had to be suppressed in the first place.

A ruthless, fearsome General couldn't be seen fraternizing. Indulging himself in simple touch, caresses, embraces. Drunk on human kindness. It'd be revolting, vile. He'd be reviled for this weakness.

Yet more and more over the years had Armitage managed to seep through the cracks. More and more had Phasma's visits for idle company or mourning vigil grown in number over the years as the number of soldiers in their armies that successfully came back depleted. More and more had Mitaka's extended in duration once they had started, together with his personal tuition. More and more had Millicent grown on him from a mere emotional support to a much needed crutch. It tastes like ash again, to realize this, all this.

Or it would. For Hux that is. Armitage is still himself though, still in control at the moment. And he's still too busy savoring the complicated mixture that's purely Ren to truly care for all of those other, pressing, troubling whirlwinds of surreal emotional things dragging him infinitely down.

Too busy reigning in the ravenous hunger for contact and touch and self that something undeserving within him so craves. That instills in him the need to draw impossibly closer even as he's panting for breath and seize Ren's chin to crash lips again and again while keeping the hand momentarily left unoccupied grounding Ren's forearm to the here and now and don't go until his breathing's gone even, again.

Until he feels like he can breathe at all.

The image of a distant ‘later’ is still fuzzy and unfocused. It's frightening but it's bright and it'll be all he has at some distant point. Yet, in the here and now, he can't afford to care less.

Chapter Text

At first it's all unbelievably nice. They get lost into the experience of kissing again and again in the here and now.

For a while it's all strength and teeth and brutal inexperience and him reaching out to maintain Ren in place because he's not yet certain if Ren wants this but he knows he needs this, and then it starts to deplete in intensity and it's just… kissing.

Contact. Calm. Reassurance. I'm here, I won't go, I won't. And he doesn't even know if that's Ren in his head or his own screwed up mind but, stars help him, he believes it.

It's…

He can't even begin to describe what it is.

It's- liberating.

That may be the word for it.

There are probably a thousand and five hundred words for it.

He's just not able to recall more than one because his attention span is wholly focused on Ren to stop from dwelling on all of the other million pressing matters that are screaming at him just how much of a failure he makes as a decent human being.

Of course, Ren wouldn't care about that. Ren doesn't really rank higher in that scale. Not that Armitage knows of, anyway.

He knows that Ren will keep on kissing him. Ren's not like him - where Armitage Hux is careful premeditation Kylo Ren is suicidal impulsiveness. Even if Armitage was the one to initiate this sensory overload they've both unwittingly locked themselves into, Ren'll be the one to carry in on.

He knows Ren will keep on kissing him and pressing against him and won't actually stop to think about it. Even while knowing that he blew up a star system and dedicates himself to the nurturing and training of child soldiers and what would his mother think and oh… oh, there it is, this is it, this is why he prefers to compartmentalize.

Guilt and grief and self-hatred can't get him when he's dissociating. When he's so focused on ‘it's all for the sake of the cause’ that while, yeah, he doesn't have to like it, he's not precisely able to see anything else either.

He'll probably have to send himself to reconditioning after this. For duty's sake.

No words can properly convey how much he absolutely loathes that process.

"Ugh," He mouths against Ren's lips. "Damn this, damn it, damn you. Why…?" Then proceeds to keep kissing the man anyway, just in case Ren manages to take that the wrong way too, in case the Knight somehow manages to translate it back from babble to standard. "What have you made of me, you- you spoiled, self-centered brat-"

"Hux, shut up." Ren says, in barely understandable drawl, hands finally finding their way from the front of Hux's lacking First Order issued undershirt that serves as casual clothes. One under, exploring its way to his back to press him closer still, the other grabbing uncomfortably at the front from the outside for a way to keep him in place, too. "Just, shut up already."

Surprisingly enough, he finds himself complying. Just so things will remain mildly nice for a little while longer before he snaps back to the-thing-that-is-not-himself-but-he-might-as-well-be as a fitting self-defense mechanism, and they both probably pretend this never happened.

… … …

Ren doesn't leave. Not really. Ends up asleep on the fluffy carpeted floor, where they'd both ended up at some point. In a pseudo-fetal position before the kitchen counter.

He lets Ren sleep, of course. Curls cautiously out of the messy embrace because it's better than taking the risk of waking Ren up and having to face this thing.

(This mess they both made that's surely gonna blow up in his face at some point or another, and he knows he shouldn't be stalling, but stars he doesn't want this ticking time bomb to explode just yet. He doesn't think Ren could take it. He doesn't think he could take it.)

The realizations weigh on him, for the longest. For far more than he'd been expecting them to. Far more than they have any right to.

The snap back to the person he knows he is doesn't happen immediately and it's all that he can do to sink into his armchair and tell it to hurry it up, for Maker's sake.

…It takes up the entirety of his break and leaves him sulking all throughout the rest of the day afterwards.

… … …

Mitaka doesn't ask. Armitage knows he wants to, but he doesn't ask and bless him for his reticence to breach certain lines out of familial respect.

(Phasma does ask. He ignores it. Cadet training goes awfully well - all of the cadets show sufficient promise. She sends him back relatively early because she worries about him.)

… … …

He doesn't actually send himself to reconditioning.

He thinks about it. Thinks really hard about it, steels himself for it even.

(Resigns himself to have the barest hint of personal individuality scrapped off of him via sheer psychological force, trapped in a gilded cage of his own perfecting.)

Objectively speaking, it'd be the best for everyone involved. Like taking foul medicine for a bothersome cough when he'd been very small. Like using his inhaler when he felt he could no longer breathe.

It wouldn't even be that hard, he's done it before even if never to this extent, he's prepared to do it again.

…Except he finds himself absolutely unable to go through with it.

Oh, at some point he almost does, but ends up backing out because he's always hated it in the confines of his own mind and he doesn't think this part of him wants to go back there. Not yet, maybe not ever.

He knows he should, yes. That's the right thing, the appropriate thing. But the thing about being emotionally compromised is: you lose all semblance of objectivity. Or good sense. Or his precious sanity that he used to value above all else. Puff, gone!

… … …

Ren isn't there when he gets back, or at least isn't immediately visible, and that hits like another proverbial punch in the gut. He doesn't know what he'd been expecting. (Except he does, and he's already chastising himself for it, because some part of him dared to hope-)

His brain catches up to the fact, right after, that while Ren isn't exactly where he left him, Ren is still there.

In the kitchen. Rummaging about it.

Ransacking it for anything edible for who knows how long before Hux showed up and having the gall to ask Armitage if he wants anything. Inside his own quarters.

Like Ren's already taken possession of the entirety of his stuff and also his life while they're at it. Still in the same state of undress that when coming in but with messier hair and disheveled clothing. (Hasn't even bothered to throw on one of Hux's shirts to complete the mutiny.)

Hux wants to scream, maybe. To yell at Ren to get out and leave him be so that he can pull himself together the way he was before, but then he remembers the haunted look in Ren's eyes and he shuts that part of him right the fuck up and tells Ren to just- make tea, or something.

… … …

Worse of all, the snap back to his old self doesn't actually come.

He stares at Ren, and he thinks this should be the moment his normal self rears its ugly head and starts questioning the basis to it all.

He waits for it. For the shame to fill him. The regret to hit. For it all to pass him by like pills along the rug, like trash through the ship's compactor. There. Done. Whatever this is: gone.

It does not come. Not any of it. Not even a semblance of it. (Ren is still here. Ren hasn't left.)

Faintly, he still feels free and exhilarated and like he could shoot Snoke with his blaster in that ugly, disfigured mug the next time he sees him and not ever regret it one bit even if he lived long enough to. (Shit, Ren is probably not going to leave.)

…It's a little jarring. A lot jarring. It's downright treacherous to everything he's ever stood for and that's- not good.

It shouldn't feel good.

Sitting here, datapad clutched in front of him, making even more much-needed changes to the Stormtrooper Program than he'd done before to the background white noise of Kylo fucking Ren preparing him tea of all things.

(Eliminating every single remnant of Brendol Hux that he's able to find more out of pettiness and spite than any search for a moral high ground, but achieving the latter by consequence.)

Wondering how to go about improving the Order's general methods for bringing order and peace all over the galaxy in all the human ways his mother would've approved of without setting himself up to be discovered and murdered, because his weakness constitutes treason and as such is as good as any other excuse.

He doesn't regret a thing. It doesn't register.

(Actually he regrets many, many things, now he's stopped to think about it. But kissing Ren isn't one of them.)

It says… well it certainly says many things about him too, that he's where he is, doing this. Mostly things he himself didn't even know could be declared truthfully until this very specific moment in time. Give a man with the suppressed outdated values of a starved, idealistic four year old partial control over a budding empire-

Ren hands him his cup. (Stars help him, Ren washed it beforehand.) Millie settles into his lap and he doesn't know what the kriff's possessed him, but he sets the datapad over the nightstand as he scoops over to one side and Ren takes that as an invitation for further personal space invasion, because as soon as he's done it Kylo goes to sit right down next to him like that's the place where he belongs.

It's… odd.

It's odd. All levels of fucked-up-fever-dream kinds of odd. (His life has felt that way from the moment onward that he took that first step, he's drowning.) And slightly uncomfortable for how crowded it makes him feel. (He's barely breathing, what is wrong with him?) Which Ren must detect with his freaky Force magic or something, of course, and since Hux's lap is unavailable for cat-related reasons (due to being filled with forty kilograms of purring, comfy, furry Millie) Ren takes it upon himself to correct it.

The madman positions one hand on Hux's back, the other under his legs, and with what aught to be enhanced strength or disguised telekinesis for sure drops Armitage in his lap as if he weighs nothing. His tea doesn't spill. Millicent doesn't even twitch.

It'd be all kinds of embarrassing if he wasn't taking into consideration the whole of what they've already done and, anyway, there's nobody else here. Except Millie, but she's not a snitch, she wouldn't tell on them. (Unless it were Phasma who asked, come to think of it. But she still probably wouldn't tell Mitaka. Millicent that is, Phasma would totally tell Mitaka.)

Honestly, he wants to be embarrassed, but truth be told he's not. All that was done is done, all that was said is said. No going back now, he's decided it. (Or, well - the majority of him has decided it, but that's enough.) Whatever happens now, he's not embarrassed. There's nothing, really, to be embarrassed about anymore.

(Except Ren's tea-making skills, maybe. Because the Knight over brew his first-class tea to charred non-recognition in what Armitage sincerely hopes was his own attempt at stalling instead of a genuine attempt at good tea. He drinks it anyway, yes, because it's Ren's and it's tarine tea. But he still hates it, and it's a familiar and oddly comforting emotion all by itself.)

They stay together like that until Hux's next shift starts. (It's warm and safe and strange in so many ways he can't even begin to describe it. But it might just be the kind of strange that he'd like to see himself getting used to. And that scares him, a little.)

Hux has to pry himself out of a clingy, two-way creature sandwich he's somehow ended up being the center of without his explicit consensus before he can even begin to contemplate leaving. Millicent is, unsurprisingly, the less problematic of the two.

Ren lets him go, at last. But not before he informs him, dully yet in no uncertain terms, that the next day he will be back. And the day after. And the day after.

"You won't get rid of me." Kylo says, pointing a purposeful finger to Hux's face. Too close. Close enough to his nose it's almost touching. And it sounds like a threat.

… … …

They don't talk about it afterwards. Not any of it. In any way. The subject is not breached. (Then again, they usually never talk about anything, so that part is to be expected.)

It's not acknowledged that Ren knows (that he has seen) this part of Hux that's purely- Armitage. That's just… himself. No fronts nor shields or smokescreens. No nothing.

(Just a frightened twenty-four year-old kid who hasn't the faintest what the fuck he's even doing anymore, most of the time.)

That Hux has seen the parts of Ren that aren't the scary, cruel, almighty Force user who deserted himself at eleven - nine years ago and counting - just to wound up dumped in his Finalizer at twelve. The bits and pieces that aren't… Ren, pure and simple. (The bits that scream Benjamin Solo.)

The bits that keep eyes cast downwards and talk about his mother who had good intentions and his uncle that tried to kill him and growing up and never ever mention his father, not even once. And Armitage doesn't ask of course - because he understands, or thinks he does, and he's nobody to try and pry.

(The pieces that sometimes stare into the distance seeming like there's somebody there that Ren is holding himself back from trying to talk to, and when Armitage asks he denies it, but nevertheless starts on talking once Hux gives him the go ahead anyway. Kriff Ren and his Force magic. Kriff Hux for not understanding it.)

And yes, this thing - this understood thing that they have, settling between them like an open communications' signal in a starship adrift - is dangerous and suicidal and will absolutely get them killed. But it's also tender and soft and it's theirs, and it's there.

… … …

Ren's stalkerish routine drops. Publicly? They're fine now. Or well, as fine as you can describe concerning people who are constantly at each other's throats on a daily basis. (Because, that part hasn't changed one bit.)

Phasma smiles at him like she knows that something went down and Mitaka sags in ill-concealed relief once it looks like he will not have to bear unwilling witness to more of their nonsense than necessary.

No one whose opinion Hux even faintly values has anything more to say on the subject. If the rumor-mill is anything to go by, they're all just happy the spat is over. Hux does not allow himself to dwell on that.

(But later, alone in his quarters except for his Knight and his cat, he huffs a laugh. The feel-good, all-consuming kind of laugh that leaves his chest feeling lighter.)

… … …

The project ‘Make Something Decent Out Of The First Order’ is still very much under development, and Hux has started to tentatively explore alternative avenues to Imperialism. Like democracy.

It… seems awfully inefficient as far as political systems go, and it hits too close to home as far as common ground with the New Republican view goes, but he's working on it. Has been polishing it into his own thing. It might yet be great.

(His mother approved of democracy, used to talk tirelessly about a necessity for it. Complaining loudly about the unfairness classicism that's par for the curse with a Galactic Empire… then again, maybe he shouldn't take political advice from a kitchen worker, but since when was his father the better role model?

…Sometimes he can delude himself into thinking Rae Sloane would approve of democracy too. It's not a very convincing self-delusion, all in all, but he can pretend.

Gallius Rax would absolutely hate it - but he would've been a good sport about it, pretending to be supportive whilst plotting its downfall. Since, well, that's just Rax for you.)

… … …

He finds his old research, at some point. (Spots it quite by accident, picks it up purposefully and then finds himself utterly incapable of putting it back down.)

He'd been examining old paperwork looking for foul-play to pin on old Imperials and such other people whose presence still pisses him off (Peavy, Canady and Pryde come to mind) and who he now has even more of a reason to want out of the picture altogether - their continued existence being detrimental, if not representing an outright threat, to his brand new personal objectives.

And then he'd seen it, and his actual purpose had been momentarily set aside. (And well, tragically, those people will still draw breath for a while yet - but hopefully not much.)

The research from when he hit that phase in his youth when every young man asks himself what the fuck is the Force, and it just so happened that he was the only one who had the resources to try and find out. (Unlike pretty much anyone else before him, or so it seemed at the time.)

He reads it. The whole of it. Finds it even more wanting than he thought it was when he left it for a lost cause.

The spark reignites there.

… … …

"I'm going to ask him." He tells Phasma on a day when their break shift happens to coincide with alpha shift and they're having breakfast. Eyeing the licor cabinet in an attempt to further his bravado for the future occasion.

"You're going to regret it." She affirms confidently, sliding swiftly into his line of vision from the other side of the counter. "You sure regretted it last time."

Managing to make the movement seem completely natural, too, with the manner she oh-so-inoffensively leans over said counter in a way that most men and many women would envy him being able to see.

Hux briefly feels bad for those men, because they'll never get a quarter of a chance.

He doesn't feel less bad for the women. Because while they'd have a chance, they wouldn't really know what they'd be getting into.

(Rax would've liked Phasma. Would've respected her for being unapproachable and terrifying, and smiled pleasantly at her as if she wasn't whilst commending her on it.)

Millicent, traitorous cat that she is, peeps in pleading - rubbing lovingly against Phasma's forearm. The terrifying woman rubs the kitty's tummy in retaliation, cooing.

"…I'm still going to ask him."

"Sure you will, 'Tage." She reassures, tenderly, not even turning to look at him. Moving a shiny silver gloved finger back and forth for Millie to chase, uncaring and safe from the danger of kitty-fangs.

…He doesn't ask Ren that day. No. But that doesn't mean he lets the matter drop.

… … …

"I'm going to ask him." Hux says, after an uncomfortable pause on his lecture in the subject of crowd management and the correct voice modulation to sound both menacing and authoritative when addressing people. "This time I'll really do it." Petting Millicent as she settles comfortably over the kitchen counter they're both leaning against.

Mitaka blinks, startled. It's far from the first time they've breached this particular subject as suddenly as this. Explanations are no longer required. But nevertheless Hux knows they'd probably be dearly appreciated.

"So you are, sir." The Lieutenant mumbles, placating, eyeing him somewhat hesitantly. "Are you still certain that'd be a wise decision?"

Millicent meows in agreement to the very valid inquiry. Hux's fingers stops scratching her ear in revenge for the betrayal.

"I'm certain if I don't I won't be able to sleep at night." He answers, sneakily slipping a medicine tablet into the water of a discard-able plastic cup. (Settling Millie aside on the floor with a pat on the head. Both security measures. Just in case.)

Predictably, Mitaka's elbow has casually collided with that cup before their ‘meeting’ is over. Without even bothering to spare Hux the fleeting chance to drink it.

It has also collided with the very open, self-prescribed medicine bottle - that he's rather certain he'd just closed and put away - at roughly the same time as said cup. (Even though it was settled directly on the other side of the counter from the Lieutenant for further preventative measures.)

"Whoops! Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, sir." The little devil says. Smiling that humble shit eating grin that Hux knows from having seen it in the mirror a few times. (From having seen it in Sloane's face a long time ago before the expression had been passed down to him.) "I profoundly apologize for my clumsiness."

Hux glares ineffectively at the counter, doesn't even glance his way as the Lieutenant settles in the kitchen and starts to fill Armitage's favorite cup with the tea he's of course preemptively prepared.

Millicent finds her way up again, like the clever kitty she is. And like the spoiled adorable thing she is, meows at his protege to give her affection. Mitaka complies. (Sloane would've loved him.)

"Sure, you do." Hux musters under his breath, sipping his cup, effectively defeated.

(Armitage is very proud to be able to say he'd sat Mitaka down and taught him to make tea after the wakeup call with Ren, because the Lieutenant's efforts result in the perfect mixture between bittersweet and sour that tarine tea is supposed to taste like, instead of whatever the hell it is that Ren did.)

…He doesn't ask that day, either. But damn does he want to.

… … …

In the end, he doesn't even have to voice it.

Ren, who's apparently still listening to Hux's thoughts, takes him aside after a meeting (a professional one, with the rest of the Generals) to claim that Hux has been thinking the question so loudly that he won't even let Ren think. And sets about explaining his lacking knowledge in excruciating detail about what the fuck is the Force and how its supposed to work.

The whole thing gives him some seriously unpleasant flashbacks from a few years ago, and ends up being just as useless as his original research papers were when he dug them up. If not more so.

Of course, after all is said and done Hux ends up being even more miffed about it than previously thought.

… … …

"The Force, Hux, is what grants the Force-sensitive power." Ren paraphrases tiredly, for the hundredth time. "It's an energy field created and conformed by all living things. And it's also just- there. It's inside us and it surrounds us and it binds the galaxy together."

"Alright, so, the uneducated man's dark matter. Got it."

"That is not what it is!"

"Yeah well then, if this is your area of expertise, what is it?! And do stop spouting the same nonsense."

Ren scoffs, offended. As if even asking that question again after such an insufficient answer were downright moronic. And Hux wants to reverse their roles from a few days ago when he'd accidentally angered Ren and choke the Knight into submission then and there.

(Ren apologized afterwards, and it'd happened in front of the man's Knights, and Ren'd been forced by peer pressure, and not doing so would've most assuredly resulted in both their deaths, yes, but that doesn't mean it's been forgiven.)

Either it must clearly show on his face or Ren is doing the mind tricks again because Ren's scowl deepens.

"Look, I doubt a Force-null like you would get it."

"Ren I doubt any sane, reasonable person would."

… … …

A few hours after, they end up in Ren's quarters trying to make sense of a massive bunch of ancient Sith tablets that the Knight had previously deemed useless as anything but paper weighs. (Because, what use would somebody like Ren have with ancient knowledge? Honestly, Hux is not even pretending to be surprised, though that doesn't mean he's not still pretty miffed about it. Takes issue with it, if only for the principle of the thing.)

Studying those isn't any more productive, at first, than anything he's tried before.

Turns out, ancient Siths didn't know shit about grammar nor writing. Not the first thing. Not even half of the first thing. (Massive understatement right there.)

… … …

Archaic, eons out dated words are spelled in a way one line and then they're so irreconcilable by the next one they might as well be another, equally as unrecognizable word altogether. (Ren is thrilled by this development, of kriffing course, because apparently he's been a closeted gifted linguist all along and Hux didn't even notice. Then again maybe he isn't, maybe it's just his mystical mojo giving him an unfair advantage, because normally this is not how languages are supposed to work.)

Style and structure and theories alike mutate wildly as the writer changes. (Or yet another one of Darth So-and-So's multiple personalities takes over, or yet another one of Darth This-and-That's murderous moods strikes, or yet another one of Darth Funny-Name's pets or apprentices or pet-apprentices dies or… you get the gist of it, most if not all these things are ultimately useless and read rather like overly convoluted, over-dramatic personal diary entries, which tells him a lot of where Ren gets it from. Apparently, the Dark side makes you a drama queen.)

He has to memorize all of the flimsy forms every single word can take if he wants to have a quarter of a chance at undertaking this massive task he's signed himself up for without bothering to read the proverbial contract first and so not knowing what it entailed. Each and every one of them.

Having those same forms variate so wildly between each tablet that all of the hard work he strives to make on one, progressing with his teeth set through the worst learning curve of any language to ever exist, turns out to be for naught more often than not whenever he picks another one up. (They span centuries.)

To make matters worse somehow, he couldn't help but feel like the creepy remnants of Darth Vader's mask were silently sizing him up from the background the entire time he spent futilely trying to concentrate. Like the spirit that the mask is undoubtedly possessed by (mark his words that mask is haunted) were sizing him up as a possible grandchild-in-law, and finding him awfully wanting.

He's seriously this close to ultimately giving up and calling it quits again, because if the Force is as sentient and all-powerful as some people claim it obviously doesn't want to be made any sense of. (No wonder no data was found, if everybody was this lucky.)

But once he and Ren have somewhat successfully separated the completely-useless pile from the only-the-slightlest-bit-less-useless pile (with admittedly less finesse than Armitage would've liked) he can only think to take that second pile somewhere, anywhere, else. Where he can dedicate himself to studying it the right way without fearing for his life and his sanity both all the while.

No wonder the New Republic outlawed the language. No wonder all of the original Sith went extinct, with an organizational hazard like this one. (He'd have extinguished them himself if they were still around, that's how much he despises them now.)

He almost wants to go back to the simpler times when all he could go about doing as far as studying the Force went was poking and prodding Ren. At least that was mildly satisfying. (In a ‘screw you for destroying my stuff’ kind of way.)

… … …

Two days later, they're making the trek of shame all the way from Ren's quarters to Hux's own and taking the things with them. Thank goodness, most everyone else who isn't working is too busy with using-up their spare time eating in the room designed for said purposes (like normal human beings) to patrol the hallways, and the ones that are on patrol duty don't pay them any mind besides a few weirded out side-eyeings.

Mitaka trails miserably after them, the majority of the tablets secure in a pair of cardboard boxes balancing precariously on his frail hands in a position that states they haven't managed to tumble soundly to the floor by some miracle of luck or subtlety of Ren's telekinesis. The upmost box obscures his face, but Hux is certain behind it Mitaka is masterfully suppressing a scowl that'd probably mirror his own if it were there.

It goes without saying that Hux had objected to this method of transportation. Because they all know that if he had it in him to try Ren was perfectly capable of levitating the things to Hux's quarters himself. But of course Ren is being an asshole about it, and dragging Mitaka into it too, in an effort to find out whatever it is that keeps Hux so invested in the Lieutenant's future. (Ren doesn't get mentorship. Probably never experienced it properly.)

At least the Knight has the decency to carry the one remaining box himself. Mostly because he'd been the one to explicitly order no one else could assist them, Mitaka was quite literally not physically capable of it, and Hux absolutely refused to.

These three unassumingly heavy boxes aren't even a half of the whole contents of Ren's room in number of Sith tablets alone. Hux has no idea where Ren even fits the stuff anymore. (Maybe, he muses grimly, this was all a ploy all along to be able to take up Hux's lacking space too. Because Ren's run out. Though Ren has yet to give signs of being particularly smart enough to have come up with that, Ren can be sneaky. He might be faking it.)

Trying to decipher the things inside said boxes once they're securely bound to his precious carpet is way, way worse than the tiring two-hours-long travel from one side of the ship to the other.

… … …

"With all due respect, Ren." He takes a deep, calming breath. Forwards the universe a request for further patience when dealing with Ren's bantha-headedness and prays something answers.

Predictably? It doesn't work.

They've started with the newest tablets, in so far as ‘recent’ applies, also the most easily interpreted (in so far as these things go, which is something, but not saying a lot) and thereby, by extension and virtue of that outstanding achievement, the ones of most dubious Sith origin. And he's already asking himself just what the kriff he's gotten into.

"Hux, I can hear your thoughts, use your inside voice-"

He's tired. He's done. The stars have put him on the longest waiting list to ever exist and no one important has gotten the memo.

"No, scratch that, this is bantha shit. Your ancestors' ‘research’ is unscientific bantha shit." He continues, before Ren can get angry and say something silly like ‘how dare you’ or slam him against yet another wall for his trouble. "What do these itty-bitty, worryingly radioactive, arguably cancerous, tiny organisms flowing through your veins that we can't even prove are more sentient than plankton- excuse me, midi-chlorians, which you refuse to let me dissect or even properly study because they're sacred, have anything to do with anything?! How in the galaxy could those- I don't know, make you able to shoot lightning? Gi-gi-give you precognition? The power to choke somebody with your hands tied behind your back or to easily convince them of impossibilities or to slam them against walls or make them fall unconscious and mind-rape them?! What the fuck does it matter? What is the correlation here!?"

"Hux, you made that sound way worse than it actually is-" Ren starts, rightfully irate but still very much the voice of reason at the present time. Because the universe fancies irony so.

But oh, oh no, no sir, Armitage Hux is on a roll now. Ren isn't going to stop him. The Resistance could raid the Finalizer and shoot it into an asteroid field and that wouldn't stop him.

"And another thing…!"

Mitaka tires of pretending his being officially dismissed is a necessity, rolls his eyes, and leaves them alone before Hux can work himself into a frenzy. (Kid knows how to pick his battles. And no one sane enough to know better would pick this one.)

… … …

"…Seriously what even is the difference between your ‘Cosmic Force’ and your ‘Living Force’ huh?! Are they two parts of the same whole, are they the same? If they are why in the galaxy would you separate them. Is one of them the one surrounding you and the other the one within you, or what, how the fuck does that even work?! Why are the lines so blurred!? Why did nobody literate write this down!"

"Hux-" Ren begins anew. Increasingly exasperated.

"Is it like that whole vague sacred trinity thing people believed back during the Clone Wars? Because if so, count me out, Ren. I refuse to be further dragged into more of your mysticisms and your mythical religious nonsense that you oh-so-insist you have gotten over-"

"Hux, I don't have all the answers either! I'm just translating the tablets!"

"Well translate them into something that makes any sense for a change!"

… … …

"Hux, the midi-chlorians are just the way the Force communicates, I think. I doubt they're truly- alive? In the, awareness-of-self, kinda sense. At least, it's not specified." Ren says, analyzing the ancient writing on the old Sith tablets arguably full of knowledge thought lost like they hold the answers to some profound mysteries of the universe instead of illegible nerf-herder scrawl. "And also-"

"Ren, seriously now. Nothing about this is specified. How is something that you have many times insisted isn't a sentiment being able to communicate-"

"Hux, we've been over this. The Force is a mantle, it's not alive in the conventional sense but it's made off of life, and so-"

"Well then, tell that to yourself and your people with your ‘it was the will of the Force’ or ‘the Force be with you’!"

"No one says that anymore!"

"Oh, I know that. Do you know that, Ren? Because it doesn't look like it!"

… … …

"What defines the Light side from the Dark side? Is it the use of antimatter vs dark matter, do Light-sided users somehow produce the former from the latter? And if not where's the line at?! How do you cross it?" He spouts question after question, rapid-fire, frowning from his place lying sideways over his armchair. "How much until you can't go back and forth from one edge to the other anymore? Is there somewhere in between?" Trying to make heads or tails of the heresy to the common dictionary that's ancient Sith.

"It has to do with a person's alignment." Ren states proudly from his place sitting beneath Armitage in said armchair, using the latter's stomach as a makeshift table. As if he were sharing some obscure, forbidden secret. "And there's always only been a ‘between’ for people. No person is all Light or all Dark, that I know of, though some might delude themselves into believing so. We can only hope to be as nearing one edge as we're allowed."

"Thanks for philosophying, but that tells me nothing." Hux deadpans. Positions his tablet upside down in case that will make the symbols make more sense, purposefully blocking Ren's line of vision all over. If possible, this action makes the characters appear even more convoluted. He smirks. Somewhere in the vicinity of his tablet, Ren scoffs.

"Ha ha. Very funny, Hux. I'm the immature one how, now."

… … …

"Wait, wait wait wait wait, you mean to tell me we, as in we humans, created the thing?" Hux whispers, yells, all in one. Because no shit. That tablet is kidding. And if not, fuck their ancestors from twenty-five thousand years back for making his life a living nightmare.

"It says here-" Kylo starts, pointing the line out, awestruck. " ‘The Force was created by life. That is why it must flow through it.’ "

"You mean to tell me we created the thing?!"

"I mean that's what I think it says!"

"How did we even go about doing that?! More importantly, can we reverse it?"

Ren stares, speechless. Downright horrified.

The whole of the tablets have levitated of their own accord all the way back to Ren's room within the next fifteen minutes. One of them hits a trooper over the head on the way there. Both trooper and tablet survive. (Hux files the paperwork for that incident. It's almost nostalgic.)

It takes Armitage a week and a half to convince Ren that, no, he is not seeking to destroy the Force. At least, that's not the primary objective. It's not even the secondary one. And can they please continue their study now.

… … …

"Hux, it says here that life passes away from the Living Force into the Cosmic Force and becomes one with it. One powers the other and one is renewed by the other. As such, they're interconnected. The Living Force is fueled by the energies of all lifeforms and it in turn feeds into the Cosmic Force. Which, yeah, that's the Force that binds everything together and seemingly communicates through the midi-chlorians."

Even from his place sitting on the floor leaning into the bed frame wearing sleepers Ren manages to sound infuriatingly smart about it. The desired effect furthered by his paraphrasing from the illegible text of something that's literally right in front of him. (Yet again providing further evidence to the ever-growing pile for the theory that Ren is secretly a geek for all things Sith. You know, the only theory this investigation has been amassing any real, groundbreaking progress on.)

Hux sits up from his sulking position on Ren's bed. Sparing a glance to the lovingly smug man himself before averting eye contact.

"So, I was half right. Fine. I still have my objections as to the sentience of both those things- as in, the Force itself and your microorganisms." Hux grumbles, flustered. "But at the very least that does clear the distinction up some, as frustratingly vague as it may be."

They start making progress, after that. Finally. Baby steps, yeah, but it's arguably better than going backwards and yelling at each other all the way through. (It helps that, although they don't identify it immediately, they seem to find the one exception to the rule thus far. Apparently there is one Sith Lord who'd been taught how to write. Oh, joy.)

… … …

"I think the Light is more about peace and calmness and selflessness, as in being stupid by coveting to the interest of other people - the needs of the many, strength in numbers and such but with an added detachment - and the Dark side is more about passion and feelings and being self-centered, craving strength and power for yourself above all else yet wanting to connect with people anyway, than either one of them is about moral alignment." Hux points out, when he thinks he can finally make out at least the basics of what a tablet says and fill in the blanks for himself. "Awfully counterintuitive if you asked me."

"You have to admit-" Ren says from his place resting his head in Hux's lap, after a long, drawn out pause that all but told Hux ‘I never thought about it like that, but now I do you're right, but I am not going to admit it’. "That that does seem like it has an awful lot of an influence in moral alignment."

"Well, this is a Sith tablet. You cannot tell me it's not biased."

Ren pouts at him as if he'd been personally insulted.

"You'd rather have a Jedi tablet?"

"I'm sure Jedi tablets are biased too." Hux huffs placatingly. Pets Ren's hair somewhat apologetically.

(…Definitely a closeted geek for all things Sith.)

… … …

He'd picked up a random, recent looking tablet from the bottom of the pile because it's placement had been unusual (read: suspicious) and Hux wasn't anything if not properly paranoid. Even so, he hadn't been expecting this.

"Hold up, back up a little. Is wishful thinking getting the better of me or does it say here that there's some stone that let's non-Force-sensitive people do what you do?"

Ren attention snaps back to him from the tablet he'd been focusing on so fast he might as well have gone and gotten himself whiplash as he attempts to snatch this particular tablet away from Armitage's prying eyes.

"Hux, I think you might be translating it wrong-"

He makes it a point to dodge Ren's attempts, retreating without moving per se until the Knight has to scoot over to his side from his place sitting beside him on the floor to try and reach him.

"No, stop misleading me. This one's properly redacted, so I'm one hundred percent certain that that's what it says."

"Hux-"

"Why aren't we mining this thing?"

Armitage's no-nonsense tone flattens all further attempts at futile misdirection. Ren, it seems, still has it in him to try.

"Hux, there's not a proper name to call it in the text," Ren cleverly disputes, feigning ignorance. "Here only says it's a blue stone."

Hux is not having any of it.

"There's tons of blue minerals out there scattered throughout the galaxy. Finding one more shouldn't be that hard." He dodges another one of Ren's uncoordinated lunges. Face unreadable as he keeps up his reasoning. "The side effects at short proximity aren't exactly common. I'm pretty sure we'd know it if we saw it. Why aren't we mining this thing?!"

Ren scoffs. Childishly lunges at him, instead of the tablet, in both desperation and sheer pure stupidity. Manages to end up half-sitting, half-lying awkwardly over Hux, making grabbing motions at the rectangular, delicate ancient thing they're both competing for the possession of while Hux's long, thin arms (bare in what they both recognize as a show of trust) maintain their position so they can keep it within Ren's view yet effectively out of Ren's reach.

"Hux, I don't think it's around anymore. This says it's extinct."

"Minerals can't be extinct, Ren-"

"It's legendary, Hux-"

"It's a mineral!"

… … …

"Hey, Hux?" Ren nudges him, continually, with the same needy determination of a hungry Millie. "Hux?" Softly knocking their shoulders together until the ginger himself rolls his eyes then looks over, showing Armitage the tablet he'd been deciphering with the same naïve prideful excitement that Millicent displayed after catching a hold of Phasma's armored finger in her small, frail kitty-cat jaw. "It says here there's supposed to be a map to the person who's sort of, the legendary future leader of all Sith. The only true Sith remaining in the galaxy."

Hux puts his own tablet down. (Does not regret it one bit, because he'd been reading the same line on repeat for the past half hour trying to make sense of it and he wasn't even making any real leeway.) Turns fully to glare accusingly at the accursed tablet, proceeds to level that same glare at Ren. Because the Knight sounds awfully excited about the prospect of going on a wild nerf chase trying to find the (probably) non-existent leader of the ancient illiterate's literary writing club, and Hux is not having it.

He's mentally kicking himself, because, he should've imagined this was going to happen when he himself ineffectively tried to decipher that particular tablet before giving up and handing it to Kylo.

"Ren, you're not following that thing."

"But Hux-"

"You don't even know where it is. It doesn't say. It doesn't even say it's a map!" He snatches the tablet before Ren can take it upon himself to try and hide it. (Not that Ren's got many places to, without a shirt on; his ridiculous pants don't even have pockets.) "Besides, this thing is centuries old. You don't even know if it's accurate anymore." You don't even know if it ever was, he doesn't say, but thinks it loudly enough for Ren to give him the stink eye.

"But Hux-" Ren pouts, grabbing a cushion to utilize as a makeshift weapon, reveling on the advantage that his side of the bed contains all of them.

"No, absolutely not. I won't have you getting yourself killed by the giant eyeball this tablet says is guarding the thing."

"I think that's the word for ‘oracle’, Hux."

He takes Ren's cushion too, for the sake of good measure and payback both. The Knight pouts even harder, like the spoiled brat he's always been or maybe Hux has unknowingly helped him become.

"Hux-"

"I said no, and I won't be repeating myself twice."

"Oh, it's only just me that's got issues? You order our technicians to search for blue minerals and I'm the one with the troubling tendencies-"

"I said no!"

(He hides the tablet all the way to the bottom of the ever-growing, miscategorized-as-less-useless-but-actually-completely-useless pile. He thinks he spies Ren picking it up anyway. Whatever, not his problem. He tried. The universe and Darth Vader's judgmental mask can't reproach him that.)

… … …

"So, midi-chlorians." Hux sighs, resignedly. Back to the beginning again. "High concentration of them equals Force-sensitivity, even higher count equals more power. At least that's what I can gather from here, beneath all the mystical nonsense."

"No wait. Actually- you're not wrong. You know, I think that's what this part is trying to convey." Ren muses, blinking rapidly. The slightest bit shell shocked.

"You wait," Hux says turning to face Ren, letting the tablet slide down towards the ground like he's been burned. (Which, given his experience with Ren's artifacts, is actually a real possibility.) "That's what it says? You mean the things are being somewhat clear about a subject for once?"

Ren shrugs non-committically, the effect somewhat ruined by the fact they're both sitting cross-legged upside down on the ceiling for research purposes. "I mean-"

"You mean I'm starting to understand these overcomplicated pieces of-"

"I mean-" Ren repeats, stubbornly trying to get them back into the relevant discussion.

"Let us down Ren, I think the lack of blood flow might be starting to affect me-"

"Wasn't that the purpose of this whole thing-"

"I was beyond desperate, I didn't think it would actually work-"

They go off on a tangent again and never come back to the original subject matter. Ren drops them unceremoniously and uncomfortably into the bed halfway through the argument thanks to his lack of an attention span. (And thank the Maker Hux had made them take that precaution beforehand, because if he'd dropped them into the floor who knows how the varied Sith paraphernalia would've reacted.)

… … …

"You know Ren, as much as this tablet tries to paint the ability to persist after death through the Cosmic Force - which I'm not sure I believe is possible by the way - as something of a crime against the nature of life and death as we know it just because it seems like only those attuned to the Light side can do it - stop bitching, I'm not finished yet - I think it's a pretty nifty thing. All things considered."

Ren growls at him, but doesn't really say anything. Armitage allows himself to grin in triumph. It's sincere, for once, if a little lopsided.

"It doesn't sound that way," Ren argues. "The way the process is described."

Hux knocks their shoulders together, soothingly.

"It's a Sith tablet, Ren. I don't think anything in it is able to sound nifty when interpreted out loud. Besides…" He stays there, lying directly beside Ren over the fluffy white carpet. Peacefully even while surrounded by Sith paraphernalia. Unable to resent Ren for starting on the process of filling his room with it, too. "I think an eternal afterlife without me would grow boring pretty quickly, don't you?"

Ren purposefully shuffles closer. Pointedly does not content this argument. Thank the stars for small blessings.

… … …

A whole three weeks after their break-shift-interpreting-frenzy picks up speed, Phasma's finally coincides with theirs. She comes like clockwork to drag them both back to the land of the living.

Mitaka helps, of course, even though for all intends and purposes the Lieutenant should be on the bridge and Hux tells him so. He also makes cookies, which shuts Armitage up some, because they qualify for bribery.

Hux ponders out loud, rather loudly too, on the why he didn't know that Mitaka could make cookies. Mitaka shrugs, the image of innocence, replying that Hux never asked. Which probably means he donned the skill last week.

Ren complains about the cookies, for lack of a better reason to complain about - grumbling because he never learned to have a real conversation with actual people that talk back to him, instead of remaining eerily silent like Darth Vader's mask.

Well, either that or Mitaka did put something in Ren's cookie. But Armitage knows it's not poison, because despite appearances or what his marks at the Academy could tell you the Lieutenant is ultimately harmless, so he's not too worried about it.

(…And if Hux actually saw Mitaka pick up the salt for a second time at some point after the batch was made, come to think of it, well - Mitaka is owned some vengeance, Ren had it coming, he deserves it.)

The small initial batch Mitaka made that'd only provided about one big cookie for everybody (and two for Hux, but the other one had been hazardously thrust into his hands - after he'd went to check on Mitaka's progress and caught the kid salt in hand - with an intended nonverbal warning to eat it then and there and be sneaky about it) runs out just as the futuristic oven rings the completion of the second, much bigger batch that Armitage's kitchen contributed the ingredients to. An appropriate number of cookies are given to everyone in equal measure. They sit on an awkward circle in the carpet and dig in.

Phasma crushes Ren's forearm with a pleasant smile and a glance at Hux in a silent but very serious threat as fitting greeting then proceeds to act as casually as if the situation were an everyday affair, Mitaka gives up the subtle glare he'd been leveling at Ren after Hux starts on instructing him on the appropriate way to seem dignified and menacing as well as authoritative whilst eating, and Ren himself stops complaining after the first cookie because apparently the rest he's been half-begrudgingly half-dutifully handed since haven't been custom made for him out of rancor (which was to be expected; because, Mitaka is a softy, not a monster).

No one chokes anyone. No one shoots anyone. No one is slammed against walls. All things considered it's a very nice get together.

… … …

"Ren," Armitage says, shaking the Knight awake on the next break shift as they're both lying in the dark at some standard hour many people planet-side would call unholy. "Ren, do you think if someone Force-null died carrying a blue stone that they could pass on to the Cosmic Force?"

Kylo pointedly slams a pillow over his own head in annoyance at being woken up.

"Hux-"

"I'm serious, this won't let me sleep at night Ren-"

"Apparently it won't let me sleep at night, either."

"Ren, make yourself useful-"

The pillow is slammed against his face, now. It's a half-hearted, awfully soft landing.

"Go the Force to sleep, Hux."