Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hux honestly doesn’t know whether he’s looking forward to or dreading the imminent confrontation he’s currently striding down the corridor towards. On one hand, if the ship damage reports he’s still signing off paperwork on are anything to go by, he’s walking into a shitstorm. On the other, Ren’s absence from the tactics meeting provides him the opportunity to criticize Kylo’s complete lack of discipline, if only implicitly, as well as to question exactly why the ship, his ship, once again looks like the ripped-up chew toy of a particularly large, exceptionally stupid dog. Honestly, the knight’s behavior earlier that morning seemed out of place and erratic, even by Ren’s standards. He had been known to use the Finalizer’s nearly priceless console tech as a saber punching bag in the past, but only after a particularly harsh training session with the Supreme Leader or a failed mission. Today, however, he was indiscriminate between trooper blasters and overhead light fixtures, among other things, all of which had burst suddenly at his abrupt, unprovoked shrieks, according to witnesses. Hux doesn’t know what to make of it, but he’s definitely not surprised. How is he supposed to bring order to the galaxy alongside a man who does nothing but wreak havoc, even within the confines of something as relatively small as his command ship? Hux reaches Ren’s door and knocks curtly. No response. He waits, sighs, and knocks again. Ridiculous Hux thinks, entering the override codes to Ren’s private quarters without hesitation. His location doesn’t register on Hux’s Padd, so he must be here.  The lights are down, and for a second Hux considers the possibility that Ren is offboard. Then, he hears it. Faint, raspy breaths keep an unnaturally slow but steady rhythm. Hux exercises restraint and stops himself from rolling his eyes for his own safety. Vader wannabe. He’s not in the mood for this melodramatic nonsense.

“Ren, the tactics meeting you failed to attend was mandatory.” Aside from the wheezing, Hux is met with uncharacteristic silence. “I’ve come to brief you, as it is imperative for you to know this information if the First Order is to continue on track.” He pauses, still void of a response. Perhaps this is a tactic meant to unnerve him, he muses. If he knows Ren, though, his co-commander won’t be able to keep his mouth shut for long. “Don’t expect this every time you decide to display your astounding lack of responsibility. I’m not your babysitter, Ren.” The breath doesn’t so much as pause, and Hux is beginning to feel genuinely disarmed. He’s done playing games. “Lights full capacity!” he snaps. The lights flash on, and all at once Hux is standing before a scene so bizarre his hand jerks toward his blaster on instinct from sheer surprise.

He is instantly grateful for the breathing that irked him before; without it, he would believe what he’s found to be Ren’s corpse. The Knight lies unnaturally still, sprawled between tangled black bed sheets. Force knows how, but he’s managed to turn shades paler than his usual lily white, drained of all signs of life besides his heaving chest and the rattle that accompanies it. Hux orders an emergency medical droid before taking another step forward. Then, he’s beside the bed, resting two figures firmly against Ren’s carotid artery. Hux is caught off guard yet again, this time by the burning heat of Ren’s skin. Just below that, he can feel the flutter of Ren’s heartbeat, so rapid he doesn’t even bother to count it. Now that he’s closer, he notices the sweat beading along Ren’s hair line, the sunken purple circles under his eyes, and the red chapped skin along his damp nose. Hux wills his brain to process this. Force users, he remembers, are resistant to disease. An ill Ren is not an impossibility, but it would have to be a hell of a strain. Hux removes his hand at once and takes several steps back. Poison, he realizes, is still on the table. He finds himself actually hoping that he’s been exposed to some godforsaken plague instead of having walked in too late on the assassination of Snoke’s greatest asset. His Pad sounds a soft alert; the med droid has arrived outside the door. Thank Force! Ren remains unresponsive, even through the poke of IV and blood sampling needles. “Report diagnosis!” Hux barks.

“The patient is in critical condition as a result of dehydration and Dantari Influenza.” The droid supplies. Hux is as relieved as he can be, considering Supreme Leader Snoke’s apprentice is still lying incapacitated beside him. Dantari Flu makes sense considering the contained outbreak in sector 4 a few weeks ago. The only reason he didn’t consider it before was-

“Isn’t he vaccinated?”

“Negative. The virus has progressed in his system for a prolonged period. Fatality is a possibility if he continues without medical attention. He is currently being treated with fluids and antiviral serum through liquid intravenous, but transport to Med Bay is highly recommended. The patient’s command status requires authorization for transport.” The droid hovers expectantly. Of coarse Ren’s been wondering around his ship with a fever, too stubborn or stupid to report to Med Bay himself. Groaning, Hux realizes he was wrong to announce that he wasn’t Ren’s babysitter. Apparently, it took more than a level 8 ship-wide medical order to give Ren a simple vaccine.

“WHY isn’t he vaccinated?” Hux demands. Even Ren wouldn’t risk catching this to be contrary. Then again, maybe he was confident in his disease resistance, the idiot.

“Checking medical records…” the droid pauses, emitting a low hum. “He did not attend his allotted appointment, or the subsequent rescheduled appointment.” Hux indulges in a deliberate eye roll. Of course he didn’t. Hux feels like blowing up a planet. He didn’t work his entire life, clawing his way up the ladder to deal with this man-child.

“The patient’s command status requires authorization for transport.” The med droid repeats.

“Authorization granted.” It wizzes out as soon as the words leave his lips. Hux hovers by the bed, unsure exactly what to do. His rival looks so weak, so helpless. He shouldn’t be concerned, Hux reminds himself. After all, Ren got himself into this, and he certainly deserves it. If anything, Hux should be happy that Ren’s immature behavior has finally caught up with him. But he isn’t. Hux was sickly as a child, a waifish little boy whose size and health came as a great disappointment to his father. Ren’s breathing really does sound awful. Hux knows the pain of a flu gone to the chest; he worked through one milder than Dantari once in military school and ended up hospitalized over the summer with pneumonia, all to keep his perfect attendance record intact. Even unconscious, Ren looks miserable, lying there with strands of his tangled dark hair plastered to his glistening forehead. Hux resists the urge to brush them aside. Then again, he reasons, it wouldn’t hurt to check Ren’s fever. Hux gently strokes back the hair as he cups Kylo’s forehead. He’s burning up! The knight moans softly, leaning into Hux’s cool touch. Good, the fluids and meds must be bringing him around. Kylo’s eyes begin to flutter, and as he cracks one open, he cries out suddenly. Turning his face into the pillow, he shakes with wet, chesty coughs from the sudden shift. Hux whips his hand away at the outburst, catching on a few seconds into the fit. “Lights 20%!” he nearly yells over the coughing. “Just breathe, Ren.” He instructs firmly, wavering between thumping Kylo on the back and backing away to avoid being choked himself. Luckily, Ren is able to catch his breath without help. For a few moments, he lies still and takes Hux’s advice, audibly gasping until he falls back into a regular pattern with only a few wheezes here and there.

“…General?” he croaks. “Wha..What did you-?”

“I found you holed up in here in critical condition because you refused to attend your medical appointment.” And the tactics meeting, but I suppose being unconscious is a valid reason for that. Never mind the fact that officers from other ships were there, and he would have been a walking biohazard. Ren blinks blearily.

“…Biohazard?” Kylo’s voice is at least two or three octaves lower. It’s almost as deep as when it’s processed through his voice modulator, though he can’t seem to raise it above a gravely whisper and it’s natural hint of nasal reverb has been multiplied tenfold.

“Get out of my head!” Hux snaps. Kylo narrows his eyes. Hux assumes in anger, but is met with a tone of confusion.

“I didn’t…I…” Hux gets the feeling Ren isn’t completely with him.

“You did.” He offers mildly.

“Then don’t think so loudly...it hurts…” Kylo pinches the bridge of his swollen nose. “Appointment?” he asks after a few moments of silence, during which Hux had tried in earnest not to think loudly despite having no idea how to accomplish such a thing.

“For a flu vaccination.” Hux explains softly. He’ll wait to rebuke a Ren that can process the difference between thoughts and speech, not this mess of a man. Kylo blinks. “You would have been notified.” Kylo stares. “Twice.”

“I wasn’t.” Ren scowls, looking a bit like himself for the first time. Hux sighs and pulls out his Padd; better to just show the man than to argue with him while he’s so ill. He may honestly not remember. Skimming through his executive orders, Hux brings up Level 8 Quarantine, Sterilization, and Preventative Procedures and selects the attached file, the vaccination schedule. He begins to scroll through sectors, then names, trying to ignore the bout of sniffling that has gradually sprung up from the bed beside him.

“ HHHHhhakkXXXSHUU!! ” Ren thunders abruptly. Hux nearly jumps out of his skin at what is quite possibly the deepest throating-scraper of a sneeze he’s ever heard and the simultaneous sound of glass shattering from somewhere in the refresher. Normally Hux would be embarrassed by his lapse in composure, but at the moment, Kylo seems too busy trying to stop coughing to enjoy startling Hux. Disgusting. Hux can see mist settling on the sheets. He has to remind himself he’s vaccinated several times over. You can’t catch it, don’t think about breathing it, it doesn’t matter.

“Shudd up!” Kylo comes as close to yelling as he can, sniffing indignantly and flopping down on the mattress as dramatically as is possible from about a foot above it. “I swear, whend I get oud of dis bed I’ll.. I’ll… heh … I- haahhh …. HHhheeEEEEXXSHHOO!!! …ughh.” Kylo snaps at the waist, curling in on himself as he sneezes freely.  Hux would be amused, if not for Ren’s involuntary groan and the training weights that fling themselves from the wall.

“Damnit Ren, cover your mouth!” With a thick snuffle, Ren carefully readjusts himself and fixes Hux with the bitchiest glare he can manage, apparently deciding to save threats until after his nose settles down. Hux sighs, pulling a meticulously-folded black silk handkerchief from his coat pocket. Ren makes no move to take it, and the way he glances at it before continuing his steely scowl confirms Hux’s suspicion that he’s never used one in his life. By way of explanation, Hux unfurls it with a flick of his wrist and says, “Clean yourself up.” After a moment’s hesitation, Ren finally breaks eye contact, accepts the peace offering, and runs it under his tortured nose. Hux turns his attention back to his Padd, hoping to give the young man some semblance of privacy in case by some small miracle Ren decides to swallow his pride instead of his snot and actually blow his ridiculously long nose. He finds Kylo’s file, which, sure enough, has two marked absences from scheduled vaccinations. His eyes widen at the dates, and he scrambles to pull up Ren’s mission records. He was offboard!

“Huh?” Kylo mumbles tiredly from under the handkerchief.

“Blow your nose!” Hux replies snippily. Kylo coughs a bit and, to Hux’s great surprise, allows himself a productive-sounding honk. He must really feel awful then. Hux wills himself not to panic; a clerical error like this will be impossible to trace, but he’s not directly responsible for every member of the crew. He pulls up the order and the Med Bay appointment schedule again, aaaaaaannnnnnnddd there’s his signature at the bottom of each. He nearly jumps when his Commlink goes off.

“Yes? What?”

“General, a med droid arrived requesting first responders to, uh,” the officer pauses nervously, “Lord Ren’s quarters.” For once Hux is glad the knight is so volatile. The crew goes out of its way to leave his rooms undisturbed, even, it seems, when facing a direct order to report there. Supreme Leader Snoke will be furious when he realizes his asset is compromised, especially by something as commonplace as a case of the sniffles, however severe the case may be. If he realizes. “Just checking to see if you authorized that,” the voice continues, “or if the droid is malfunctioning.”

“I have the situation under control. Lord Ren is undergoing classified endurance training.” Hux lies placidly. “Only I have the clearance level to supervise him, so I’ll need a team of droids equipped for every possible medical scenario on standby. Detach their transmitters from the medical log, and wipe their memory after they assist me. Clear my schedule for the day, and only contact me again for a code red alert or above.”

“Yes sir.”

“It goes without saying that Ren’s quarters are off limits to all staff.” Hux adds to be on the safe side.

“Yes sir.”

“Very good. You are dismissed.” The Commlink shuts off with a soft click. Hux turns back to face Kylo, who is looking at him as if he’s some kind of force apparition.

“What?” he snaps. Ren looks as if he’s about to reply, but instead he casts his gaze away from Hux. Noticing the subtle quivering of Ren’s nostrils, Hux runs his hand uncertainly down the back of his neck and says “Oh, go ahead, Ren. I’ll wait.” Sure enough, his co-commander’s breath hitches desperately, and with a flare of his obscenely large nostrils, Ren smothers a wet “ hhhetchuuh.. he.. he… HHhehh.. EXXshubbbehh!!!” into the folds of the dampened handkerchief.

“Gesundheit.” Hux supplies generously, glancing down at the now cracked screen of his beloved Padd. “Do you always, um, break things when you sneeze?” Ren nods embarrassedly, then scrubs the underside of his nose with the well-abused handkerchief. “I suppose I’ll have to get some more of those..” Hux comments offhandedly.

“Why?” Ren looks utterly lost.

“Well they aren’t much use soaked through, and at the rate you’re going-”

“But why are you…here? You ordered…privacy here…instead of sending me to Med Bay. Am I…dying?” Finding Kylo collapsed in bed earlier that day, Hux was certain he would never see the man in a more vulnerable state. Wrong again, he supposes.

“What? No! You’ve only got Dantari Flu! It feels like hell, but it’s perfectly manageable as long as it’s treated.” Hux can’t help but roll his eyes when Kylo’s widen, then narrow venomously at the good news. “You are being treated, Ren.” Hux deadpans, gesturing towards Kylo’s IV. “We’re under strict orders not to kill each other, remember?”

“But-”

“Alright, look. The Supreme Leader will not be happy about,” he waves a hand in Ren’s general direction, “this. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. So, I’ve arranged for you to recover off record. I suggest you do it quickly.” Apparently satisfied, Kylo visibly relaxes, an impressive feat for a man already lying down. “Need anything?” Hux asks bruskly.

“Water.” Ren sounds exhausted, but he answers at once. Hux wordlessly makes his way to the refresher, where he works delicately around the freshly broken mirror shards. Over the rush of the sink, he hears a poorly muffled “EExxshuhh!” and an accompanying clatter from the other room. I suppose he can’t help it.

“Gesundheit.” Hux offers casually as he makes his way to the bed with a full glass of water in hand.

“Thank you.” Ren sniffs. Hux can tell by the intensity of Ren’s gaze that the man isn’t only referring to the blessing or the water.

Chapter Text

Hux reaches for his Commlink with the deliberate ease of a snake about to strike, allowing himself a singular exasperated intake of breath before answering. “Where. is. he.”  It’s not so much a question as it is a command. It’s only been four days since Hux prevented Ren from dying of stupidity, and he’s nearly thirty-six hours behind schedule from playing nurse and correcting errors made under subpar management in his absence. But, here it is, the sixth damage report of the day. Hux prefers Ren bedridden, possibly even unconscious, seeing as now that he’s unsteadily back on his feet he’s more of a petulant wrecking ball than ever.

“The training room, sir.” I should have known. Of course he’s exerting himself surrounded by weapons. Hux is beginning to think that the Rebel’s best chance of killing Ren is simply leaving him to his own devices. Hux delegates the day’s procedures over the Commlink as he strides across his ship, steps briskly into the training room, and stands before Ren with tension in every ounce of his military posture. 

“You should be resting.” he informs Ren in his most terrifyingly calm ‘I have an army’ voice.

“You were the one who said I should recover quickly, General.” Ren’s helmet replies mechanically.

“And I see you’ve decided not to recover at all instead.” Hux may not be able to see his face, but he knows Ren’s hardly at his best. The force user didn’t seem to anticipate Hux’s entry; Hux would be willing to bet his senses are dulled. And Hux never makes bets he can’t win. “You’re only weakening your body. And destroying the Finalizer while you’re at it. Don’t assume I won’t order another quarantine! If it’s the only way I can run the damn ship, I allow this…incident to enter the Supreme Leader’s radar just to keep you confined.”

“You’re threatening me?” Ren straightens to his full height and steps closer to Hux, who signs sharply through his nose at having to look upwards to address him. Ren may be compromised enough to bluff to, but he’s still too prideful to buckle. “Ren,” he reasons, “This is senseless, dangerous, and-”

“ BRRRAAAASSHHHRR!!! ” screams the voice modulator as what Hux can only assume is a sneeze tears through Kylo and splits cracks down the blaster-proof walls.

“-unsanitary.” Hux concludes with slightly less contempt, fishing into his pocket for one of handkerchiefs he’s been keeping at hand. He extends the fastidiously geometric, uniformly folded square to Ren. When the man makes no move to accept it, Hux blesses him in a tone far gentler than he’ll ever admit to using. “Gesundheit.” The seal of the soiled helmet hisses and a disheveled Ren emerges, hastily pressing the silk to his riggling nose. “Ren…” Hux’s eyes dart to the weapons case as Kylo’s breath begins to follow a pattern of hitching Hux has been unlucky enough to grow accustomed to.

“ h-heh..hehh… ”

“Don’t!!” In one swift motion, Hux saddles an arm around Kylo’s back and whisks them into the corridor.

“ EHXX shhhuh !” Hux is anticlimactically lifted about an inch off the ground and dropped back into place, “ hep’ eeexxSHHH !!! ” then thrown flat on his back. Brushing himself off testily, Hux secures victory over the snuffling disaster before him with two syllables.

“BED. NOW.” 

Chapter Text

Not that he needs to lie down or is necessarily enjoying it, but the bed does remind Kylo how heavy and sore his entire body feels, and, he thinks as he sinks into the mattress, that there really isn’t any reason to get up again today. He could, of course, if he wanted to, but he has graciously decided to stay in his quarters to humor Hux, who would otherwise only nag him and disturb his focus more than this wretched illness. 

Muted behind the pressure of congestion, Kylo senses a sentient presence outside the door. Reaching out, expecting Hux’s mind, he is disappointed to discover a med droid. Not that he misses Hux, who he hates, Kylo reminds himself firmly; the droids have simply managed against all odds to be more annoying than Hux this past week. It requests entry with a soft ping, and, knowing Hux must have sent it, Kylo briefly considers leaving it outside or destroying it so that Hux will be forced to come himself instead. This, though, would mean he wants Hux to come, which he does not, so in the droid skitters. 

He allows it to flit around him like the irritating gnat it is, to prod him and take his temperature, which to his dismay has risen significantly. He vaguely remembers waking up to Hux taking his temperature manually a few days ago when he was first diagnosed. Though he had been confused and disoriented, the feel of human touch had been…comforting. Not that he was weak enough to need comfort, even in this state. He had just forgotten what it felt like, he reasoned. After all, he hadn’t been ill since he was a youngling, and even then, with a busy politician for a mother and an inattentive smuggler for a father, he hadn’t exactly been coddled. 

The subtle hum of the med droid’s thoughts, which are more pre-programmed operating procedures than anything else, is a dull monotone void of any definition or discernible emotion. The white noise echoes in his aching head and grates on his nerves. It’s nothing like the sound and feel of Hux’s mind, which has a calming effect on Kylo as it works in an overly-organized fashion to grasp full control of its environment. Unlike most, its emotional sound is generally quiet and consistent, a beating of irritation and stress in the background rather than a fluctuating rhythm blaring out above practical thinking. Not that Kylo likes it; he’s only gotten used to it with Hux being so close as of late. Hux’s thoughts sometimes project themselves as clearly as if Kylo is reading them, particularly realizations and orders Hux is mentally imposing on himself, which is hardly likable. Still, Kylo supposes he prefers Hux’s mind over any other he’s come across. Not because he likes Hux, Kylo reminds himself yet again, but because he hates people. Besides, its unobtrusive planning tendencies were grounding throughout the worst of the fever, when Kylo had no idea what to do himself. 

The droid leaves Kylo to the total silence of isolation, something he prefers. Usually. He really should meditate. If only it didn’t take so much effort. Groaning, he sits up and crosses his legs despite the protest of his body. He supposes it will be alright to mediate from the bed and to keep the blankets just this once. Just as he begins to focus, he feels it, a deep-seeded sting in his right nostril. It always starts like this. Even with the very little experience he has with illness, Kylo knows he’s prone to sneezing fits. It enrages him; he loathes these unexpected losses of control. As far as he knows, his Force reaction is unheard of. Ben Solo, foolish and insecure as he was, had never sought training to correct it when he was young enough for force sensitivity struggles to be expected, and now there was no chance of revealing such a ridiculous vulnerability to his current master.

“ he…hptt’ SHHHHUU!!! EXXSHUH!! ” He launches forward, nearly slamming his head on his knees. He looks up just in time to see a chair crash against the opposite wall, narrowly missing his Grandfather’s helmet as it wizzes across the room to meet its maker. Kylo pounds his fist against the bed and starts to scream, but ends up coughing.  He’s scarcely caught his breath when he feels another sneeze coming on. The only thing Ren’s learned to hate more than sneezing is stifling, but he’s willing to suffer solitary indignity to save the last relic of his idol. At least there’s one benefit to Hux’s absence. Disgusted to find it dripping, Kylo grips his nose and suppresses a wrenching “ hep’shhh! Exshuh! EXXshh!! ”, flung against the bed and held down by his own Force for the duration of the fit. No longer locked in place but too exhausted to move anyway, Kylo gives a gurgling sniff that triggers a bout of coughing. He eventually decides he’d rather blow his nose in his scarf than choke, so he summons the last of his energy to float it over from his abandoned layers on the floor. Hux would have a handkerchief.

 Hux would, in his ignorance of the Force, not see this as a failure. Though he was wrong, it made Kylo feel less pathetic to sense Hux’s view of illness; a hassle, a disadvantage, a contamination, but an accidental inconvenience bound to happen to everyone. Astoundingly, Kylo even senses empathy in Hux. He should see this as a weakness in Hux, but inexplicably, he doesn’t. Not that he needs empathy, Kylo thinks hazily as he begins to drift off. It's nice Hux is willing to…help him, he supposes, without pitying him, which would leave Kylo seething. Not that he needs help. Normally, such genuine regard would guilt Kylo; he knows he doesn’t deserve to be looked after. But Hux’s ministrations are almost always coated in mild distaste, so Kylo is comfortable enough to accept them without emotional consequence. Not that he needs Hux, Kylo thinks as sleep engulfs him. He jolts awake mid-snore.

“Lord Ren!” comes a distinctly un-Hux-like yell from the corridor followed by another cautious knock. Force, he feels terrible.

“WHAT?!” he roars into the poor officer’s mind, not so much as bothering to open his eyes again.

“Supreme Leader Snoke has ordered your audience,” the voice replies more meekly than ever, “immediately.” Well shit. For a second, Kylo actually finds himself hoping Hux will be there. Force, he hates himself right now. Just look what a simple virus has reduced him to. He did not, does not, will not, under any circumstances, need Hux.

Chapter Text

The Supreme leader senses his weakened state. Kylo is sure of it. As the colossal projection pierces him with its unwavering gaze, time seems suspended. That is until Hux strides in. The echoing hiss of the unsealed entrance accompanies the steady beat of a military gait void of hesitation, and Kylo finds himself fighting to conceal a sense of relief on top of the urge to attempt sniffling in the broken silence.

“Supreme Leader.” Hux stands at attention without sparing Kylo so much as a glance. And just like that, Snoke’s attention is split; Kylo feels it as palpably as a shift in temperature. If competition as ruthless as General Hux has seemingly failed to notice he’s wearing thin, Kylo reasons, the Supreme Leader may at least believe that he’s done a respectable job of powering through and masking his vulnerability. Hux has lunched enthusiastically into a report on the state of the First Order, one that Kylo should probably pay attention to incase he’s asked for input. Force, he tries, but Hux is speaking at nearly incomprehensible speeds, spouting out numbers and schedules that don’t resonate with anything but the pounding behind his eyes. Kylo decides early on that his energy is best spent standing up straight and suppressing shivers, which he hopes have inopportunely sprung up in response to a lack of blankets and not a rising fever. Most difficult of all is avoiding drips from his nose without the option of risking even one well-timed sniff.

 Kylo really does loathe his nose. He knows it’s too big. He was made fun of for it by classmates when he was a Padawan, and even now, when no one without a death wish would dare do such a thing, it gives his face an unintimidating childishness that he is far more confident hiding behind a mask. And an air filter, for that matter, seeing how annoyingly sensitive it is. It’s always the first thing to act up when he’s sick; he had been sneezing his way through the finalizer before he’d developed even a tickle in his throat. As far as Ren’s concerned, it’s his weakest point. He’s honestly considered slicing off with his Saber more than once, but with his luck that would just make him even more prone to sneezing. It’s so sore and stuffed right now, he’s actually considering subjecting himself to the humiliation of asking Hux for another one of those wonderful handkerchiefs, if by some miracle this meeting ends. 

He really was feeling better before this. Everything still ached, but not quite as much, and every breath no longer felt like the onset of a cough or a…..oh no. As though just the thought of a sneeze has triggered it, a familiar sting tingles at the base of his nose. Kylo presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth and holds his breath. Though Snoke’s eyes remain on Hux, Kylo feels his attention shift back to him; he can’t so much a rub at his nose. After a stiff few seconds of painstakingly doing nothing, Kylo allows himself the necessary evil of a slow exhalation through his mouth. Though slowed a bit by his efforts, the sneeze continues to build. His throat stings. His eyes sting. The prickling itch spreads down his nose rapidly, all the way to the reddened tip. His nose, practically buzzing with the insatiable need, begins to twitch involuntarily. He simply can’t help it. With an reflexive gulp of air, Kylo unleashes a monstrous “Hept’ AAKCTSHEEEW!!!”

It never gets easier, especially when it comes to Ren. Just once, Hux wishes a Kylo-related problem would work itself out, but it seems the man can’t even manage to kick a cold so long as Hux is depending on him to do so. He had planned to proceed in the meeting with the Supreme Leader as if nothing was out of the ordinary and had been foolish enough to hope Ren would be able to do the same. However, as soon as he caught sight of the knight, who turned his obscenely pale face to watch Hux enter, the General felt like slapping said face. How could a grown man spend no less than a week in bed and still look like a kitten that’s just been pulled out of a freezing lake? Force, even Ren’s body hates him. Well, Hux decides as he begins his report, he’s done all he can in the way of attempting mutual benefit. He was practically Ren’s personal nurse for Force’s sake. Ren had failed to recover in time and was going to have to take the fall. After all, Hux reasons, only he knows how Kylo managed to come down with the bug. Ren may make the connection once he’s finally well, but Hux doubts he’ll be willing to remind anyone of his bout of vulnerability, especially not the Supreme Leader. Who knows, maybe Kylo will be able to pull through the meeting after all. Hux hasn’t heard a peep out of the man so far, a definite improvement over the snuffling human disaster that’s been consuming his week, or any version of Kylo for that matter. But then, just as Hux begins to turn his full attention to his briefing, he’s interrupted by an all too familiar explosion from his left. The sneeze throws Kylo forward and leaves him swaying limply like a ragdoll, setting off a miniature avalanche of rocks that fling themselves through Snoke’s flickering hologram.

“Kylo Ren.” the Supreme Leader’s growl cuts through the faint echoes of the sneeze and its aftermath with the effectiveness of a lightsaber. “In all my years I have NEVER,” he bellows, standing suddenly, “seen such a PATHETIC display!!” Kylo crashes to his knees, coughing as he gasps from the shock. He can’t seem to catch his breath, hacking over the venomous silence. Mortified, Hux can’t look away. Snoke glowers down, eyes maintaining all the rage of his screams as he sits again to assess his apprentice. Chest heaving, nose dripping on the bare floor, Ren shudders against the chill of his persistent fever. “You, heir of Vader, despite my training, have demonstrated the Force control of an INFANT. And because of a weakness so common. You have FAILED!! You are an utter disappointment, you useless, wretched child.”

This hits Hux a bit harder than he was expecting. For the first time in years, he remembers his father. Properly remembers; not a flash of the cruel face in his own reflection, not a disassociated skill from his own “training” to make use of, but the man, Bredol Hux himself. Suddenly, standing aside to let Kylo crash and burn becomes difficult.

“To lack such basic discipline, over your mere physical body, is deplorable. And to let your feebleness affect your control of the Force...” Snoke takes a sickening pause, and for a moment Hux thinks Ren may be executed right then and there.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux steps forward and intervenes far more meekly than he intended, “I take full responsibility for Kylo Ren’s state of health. His vaccinations were mis-scheduled during a quarantine I directly ordered.” Abruptly joining Kylo on the floor, Hux lands on his face rather than his knees.

“I know, General.” Snoke allows himself a satisfied smile. “Do not ever interrupt me again. Remember, your life is worth less than his.” Ren coughs. “You are lucky I expect total disclosure from my subordinates. Consider hiding anything from me again, and you will be replaced. And you,” he turns back to Ren, “Your training will become far less comfortable…when your strength is back. You’re weaker than I could have ever anticipated.” With that, the giant vanishes. Hux stands immediately, but Kylo, apparently down for the count, gears up for another sneeze. By now, Hux can see one coming from a mile away. He sees Ren’s nostrils quiver and decides to take matters into his own hands; considering the rockfall earlier, this isn’t the safest place for Ren to let loose. Hux may not have ever seen the field, but he does have military training. Despite his thin frame, he’s perfectly capable of slinging the majority Ren’s oversized, overheated body onto his shoulder.

“he…hehShh! EXXXshuh! Uhh..EXXSHOO!” Hux winces as a bit of the spray hits the back of his neck.

“How many times do I have to tell you to cover your damn mouth, Ren?” he snaps, receiving only a groan in response. At least the damage is minimal. A few lights flicker weakly overhead. Ren must be drained. I should take him to Med Bay. He should be on the mend by now.

“No!” Ren croaks, and begins to squirm in what Hux can only assume is a sad attempt at an escape. But Hux has already decided.

Chapter Text

Even before he’s oriented enough to realize he’s lying down, Ren senses the sterile environment. It’s not the smell of disinfectant or the quiet cacophony of machinery that reach him, but the artificial minds of the med droids, which are more or less as efficiently barren as their workplace. There’s no immediate need to wake. Kylo can feel the glare of fluorescent light through his eyelids, so he keeps them shut for a few minutes, maybe hours, as he drifts in and out of consciousness and pieces together his last memories with varying degrees of effort.

Pain. Weakness… Immaculately polished shoes tracing a whirling floor. Hux.

 Kylo’s eyes snap open, and, attempting to bring his hand to his face as a barricade against Med Bay’s lighting, he is alarmed to find he can’t lift it.

“Remain calm.” A droid recites in a soothing female voice as it wheels over. “You are experiencing the effects of sedatives. Relax and maintain a comfortable position. You will regain full mobility shortly.” Feeling too hazy to argue with a piece of medical equipment and admittedly better that he has in weeks, Kylo fights his rising frustration. He shuts his eyes against his abrasively reflective surroundings and tries vainly to find his way back to sleep. He’s beginning to feel his body, though it still can’t seem to remember how to move. Most of the aches have died down, but, even under the thin insulating Med Bay blanket, he still feels chilled. He refuses to allow himself to wish for his scarf, though truthfully he hasn’t felt warm since he’d started sniffling a week ago. But only so many symptoms can go ignored; he feels the beginnings of a sneeze nipping at the base of his nose. Still unable to puppeteer his hands, he scrunches his eyes tighter together and gives a desperate sniff, only to shudder with a gasping “ He’ EXXhuhh! ...ugh ”

He lies uselessly still as a second Med Droid rushes over to sanitize between his liquid sniffles. This is all Hux’s fault! He hates Hux, for daring to patronize him, for drugging him until he’s an invalid, for keeping every single obnoxiously red hair perfectly coiffed in place, for carrying him here slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, for….for- oh force, he’d sneezed into Hux’s coat. He remembers now, he had sprayed the General in the shoulder in a fevered attempt to nuzzle into the warmth of his collar. Hux had muttered darkly about dry cleaning under his breath. Without even trying, he manages to bring his palms to his eyes to give them a mournful scrub. He looks down at them, and just like that, he’s stumbling out of bed. 

Compliance thrown to the wind, he lumbers past the droid as it instructs him to “remain in a reclined position” and offers him a glass of water, only to discover he’s locked in the quarantine wing.

“I order you to release me immediately!” He bites in a harsh whisper without evening turning to address the nurse bot.

“The General has temporarily overridden your command authority due to medical incapacitation.”

“WHAT!?” Kylo’s disused voice cracks as the glass smashes against the floor.

“The General has already been alerted that your readings met the requirements he dictated for you to be taken off long-term sedatives. He ordered your discharge and status be finalized only after he personally examines you.”

So he’s a prisoner on his own ship. “Connect me with him now!” he chokes out. As much as he’s trying to yell, he can really only let out a raw bark chased by a dry cough.

“The General has been alerted. He has ordered you to rest here until his morning report tomorrow.”

Kylo leans against the door and concentrates; Hux should still be within reach on board. He sways in place and lets the door take on almost all of his weight, shifting through passing minds as the droid rattles on about exertion. Kylo considers exerting himself just a bit more to blast it, but the search is almost too exhausting as it is. Still, he knows exactly what he’s looking for. Hux’s mind and energy are unlike any other. He’s surprised to find it more relaxed than usual; this will be satisfying.

“ LET ME OUT!! ” He screams into Hux’s mind.

Before he breaks the link he hears Hux mentally curse. He smiles.

Chapter Text

“Come in Ren.” Hux instructs coolly as the doors to his chambers slide open with a soft hiss, and his co-commander lumbers forward, deepening his glower at being ordered to continue on with what he was already in the middle of doing. Hux is so infuriatingly formal. He doesn’t so much as glance up from the displays at his desk. Kylo considers smashing one of the holoprojectors to get his attention, but he’d agreed to come here in the first place to get on with his day without worsening the ache in his head. Fighting wouldn’t exactly ease the process; Hux would occasionally make efforts to avoid conflict, but not when it came to upholding bureaucracy.   “Sit down.” Hux still hasn’t graced him with eye contact, but he’s begun to flick away a few of the windows of text between them. At first, Kylo thinks the man has worked up the audacity to ask him to sit across the desk like one of his underlings, but the general is currently occupying the only chair in his personal office. “Quit looming in my peripherals, Ren, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Hux pulls away from the screens for just a moment to glance past him at the expansive sofa. “There’s tea if you’d like it.” He comments off handedly, turning his attention back to scroll through the last of the projections as he takes a sip from a mug Kylo’s just noticed.   

 Indeed, a standard issue kettle, second cup, and plate of neatly arranged lemon slices sit on the dark glass of the coffee table, looking out of place against the tasteful design of the rest of the sitting area. Like Kylo’s own chambers, Hux’s living quarters are more spacious and tailored than the uniformly industrial scape of the rest of the ship, but nothing aside from the desk looks used, or even touched. The black suede sofa seems a price tag short of being brand new. A bit disoriented by the bizarreness of the situation on top of simple exhaustion, Kylo finds himself imagining Hux uncovering it from the squeaky plastics old women on backwater planets use before putting the kettle on to prepare for his visit. He sniffs and shakes his head a bit as if to clear it, crossing the room to sink into the surprisingly soft cushions. What’s wrong with him?

“That’s not necessary. I don’t appreciate being smothered…or confined.” He mutters.

“How presumptuous to think I ordered it for you. You’re the one who insisted on interrupting my time off duty.” Kylo raises an eyebrow, letting his gaze flit to the encrypted files hovering above the desk as Hux pauses to glare and take another sip of his own tea. “I didn’t say off work. Not as if I ever am, especially now. I’m still nearly a cycle behind where I’d like to be thanks to the time I spent on your… situation, even if the ship is technically running back on schedule.”

“I didn’t ‘insist’ on anything other than being released.” Ren grumbles darkly.

“Yes, well,” Hux finally minimizes the last of the files, picks up a pad from the desk, and strides over to sit across from him, “You’re lucky I got you to medical when I did. There was fluid building up in your lungs. I wouldn’t have had to put you under if you’d have taken care of yourself. Dantari Flu has been classified as pandemic level threat on quite a few planets, even if they are underdeveloped ones. It doesn’t just vanish if you ignore it.”

“You have your work, I have mine. I’m never off duty.” Hux closes his eyes to indulge in a quick roll before turning his attention to the pad.

“Your labs are passable, at least.”

“Then why am I here?” Ren’s temper is beginning to fray.

“Oh that’s simple. I don’t trust you.” Hux stares intently into Kylo’s eyes. “You could have rested in medbay instead.” He rises and closes the distance between them, placing a hand on Kylo’s shoulder as he shuffles to stand as well. “Stay put. I want to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible, just like you do.” With that, he rests the back of his fingers against Ren’s temple. Mildly surprised when Ren doesn’t flinch away, he turns his hand to cup Kylo’s brow. The other man shudders almost imperceptibly. “Feeling chilled?”

“No.” Ren glares forward.

“I won’t send you back to medical even if you do. Your fever’s passed.” Hux sighs. “It’s important you be honest. I won’t pretend to know what your training with Snoke entails, but both our necks depend on you actually being fit for it. He’s already disappointed. Taking whatever time you need to rest won’t change that. However, we’re on thin ice, and we’ll fall through it if you have another poor performance, or Force forbid, collapse again.” At first, Hux assumes Ren is purposely ignoring him, but then he hears his ragged pattern of his breath. “I’d rather you not sneeze all over me. Do warn me if you’re about to.”

“I- I’m…” Kylo’s dark lashes flutter. He takes a deep sniff and scrubs the underside of his long nose with his fist. Hux side steps with an air of annoyance and writes ‘ continuous sneezing ’ in the lab notes. “ Heh…eehh XXCHUhh!! ” Ren’s polite enough to at least turn his head, but that’s of little consequence to the teapot. At first, Hux thinks it’s exploded within some kind of force field, but as the suspended droplets of splattered tea drift to seal back together and form the rough shape of the container, he realizes Ren’s managed to catch the debris. Hand hovering just above his lap with two fingers pointed directly at the pot, Kylo snuffles to hold back drips from his untended nose as ceramic shards shimmy along the edges of the tea and snap together, finally setting the dismally cracked but functional kettle back on the table with a soft click. Hux raises an eyebrow. ‘ Reflexes improved ’ is added to the notes.

“Gesundheit.” He fetches a stack of black handkerchiefs from the top drawer of one of the dressers and places it beside the newly resurrected kettle. Ren contemplates the pile for a second or two, then stares blankly at Hux. “What, Ren? Have you forgotten how to wipe your nose?”

“Why do you have so many of these?” Kylo supposes he assumed Hux carried a handkerchief out of properness, but this stash goes beyond what a man putting up the front of perfection would really need. In fact, he’s just now feeling well enough to consider how many of these things he’s gone through himself. Hux clears his throat, and Kylo senses uncertainty within him, which is truly an anomaly for the general.

At first, Kylo thinks he may have uncovered a significant weakness, but then Hux clears his throat again and concedes, “I am human, Ren, despite what my subordinates say.” in a soft but steady tone before punctuating the statement with a sip of tea. Oh. So he’s making the conscious decision to be vulnerable. Kylo would usually regard such behavior as foolish, but he’s known Hux too long to be manipulated into underestimating him. What could he have to gain from this? “Project Starkiller is nothing but a damn chunk of ice with a wisp of an atmosphere, and the labor force building it is mostly comprised of war prisoners. It’s hardly comfortable or sanitary to oversee. You’re not the only man in the First Order expected to push through a cold.” How could he not have known Hux was prone to illness? Physical weakness usually resonated off men in palpable waves, yet he senses no insincerity in Hux’s confession. How could he have possibly missed this?

“The difference between you and I,” Hux goes on, “is that I understand how to take care of myself when I have the privacy to do so. It’s a skill I suggest you pick up. Now, I’ll ask you again. Are you feeling chilled?” So, this is a tactic to persuade him to be cooperative. Kylo hesitates. This all seems too transparent, too fair. Really, Hux is only doing what he’s asking of Kylo. It’s unnerving. Finally, Kylo gives a stiff nod. “I thought so. It’s not surprising, really, what with how drafty the Finalizer is.” Hux heads to his linen closet and reels out a thick red and black tartan blanket. “I understand ventilation is necessary when so many of the crew’s uniforms are full-body armor, but the rest of us are dressed for winter. None of the officers ever take their coats off.” He scoffs, handing the blanket over. Ren holds it inanely. “Don’t be stupid, wrap up.” Hux snaps. Ren scowls, but drapes the offending article over his shoulders and sags a bit under its comforting weight. ‘ Sensitive to temperature drops, post fever. ’

Hux sets the pad on the table and steps forward to place his fingers just under either side of Ren’s sharp jaw. “Now then, I’m going to apply some pressure.  You’re going to have to tell me what feels uncomfortable.” Being touched at all should feel uncomfortable, but somehow it doesn’t. Force, it’s been so long. Hux’s hands, usually gloved in leather, are thin and delicate, almost like a girl’s. Kylo would have expected everything about Hux to be cold, but the tips of his slim fingers resonate with a heat that reassures Kylo he is alive and real and solid. While Hux’s demeanor is professional at his warmest, his touch is far softer and more accommodating. “Your lymph nodes are still swollen.” He murmurs just to have something to say while so close to another person. “Swallow.” Hux hums softly and frowns. “Your throat still sore then, is it?” Kylo glares listlessly. He’d made an effort not to wince.

“…Yes, a little.” Hux turns away to scribble on the pad, then fills the second mug with tea and begins to dose it liberally with lemon juice. He smirks in a self-satisfied way at Ren’s narrowing eyes.

“If you didn’t want lemon, you should have taken the initiative to fix your own cup.”

“I didn’t want anything.” Kylo is more certain now than ever that Hux must have minored in condescension at military school. He would say majored, but he knows that Hux has mentioned that it was actually some kind of battle strategy.

“Even with chills and a sore throat? No wonder you still feel ill, Ren. You refuse to help yourself, even when I make it as easy as possible. You choose to be the mess that you are.” If looks could kill, both men would have dropped dead simultaneously. Luckily, the staring match is interrupted by Ren’s nose. Without breaking eye contact, he summons a handkerchief to prepare for an onslaught of sneezes, holding back until the last possible second. He won’t be able to keep Hux’s living quarters in one piece through the duration of the fit he feels coming on, and even though he’d like to destroy it, laying the room to waste involuntarily would no doubt give Hux the upper hand in their impending argument. There’s really only one other choice. At least he’s sitting down. Clamping his nose closed with the handkerchief, he launches forward. 

“ ahh..ehXCH! hep’ SHUH!! exSHUhh! XCHUoo! heh….uhhg… ” His own Force has left him pressed into the back of the sofa, sniffling frantically. Stifling has only agitated the tickling. Maybe if he lets just this one sneeze loose, he can rid his desperate nose of the irritation plaguing it. “ He-Huh…SNffff..heh… haTCHUUUUUHHeh!!! ” He feels his Force rush past his raw nostrils and lash against the coffee table, which he reaches out to assemble before enjoying the relief. He concentrates, fitting the glass back together. As he’s collecting the last of the tea, which he’s been holding just millimeters from the lush carpeting, he feels another prick deep in his nose. He groans in frustration.

“Ren?” Hux’s voice cuts through it all. It should be angry, flustered at least, but it’s perfectly calm. It’s the voice of a man who knows exactly what to do, or at least how to sound like he does. Kylo hurriedly sloshes the tea back in its cup and lets the stray handkerchiefs flutter to the floor.

“My nose- SNFFF . Ugh.. I’m going to sneh- heh! Huh.. Neh -not again!” he hitches. He’s not sure how much longer he can control the damage.

“Try blowing your nose.” A fresh, dry handkerchief is pressed into his free hand. He obeys; cupping it in both hands with the first damped kerchief doubled behind it, Ren lets out a resonating honk, then turns the wad to press firmly against his chapped septum. He pauses a moment, gives a cautious sniffle, and relaxes with an involuntary sigh. Hux is also relieved, though not visibly. He turns the other way to give Ren some semblance of privacy as his co-commander floats over another handkerchief. A few smaller but equally wet blows are followed by a light coughing spell, which, to Hux’s great satisfaction, is chased by a couple of swigs of tea. ‘ Heavy congestion, dry cough ’ he jots down next to ‘ inflamed throat, swollen lymph node s’.

“Blessings.” Hux is generous enough to use a tone that’s better suited for a single ticklish sneeze rather than the slogging fit he’s just witnessed. Ren nods tiredly. “I expect you’re experiencing fatigue as well. You’ve just come off a sedative dosage meant for something with four times your body mass. It’s been just under a week, by the way.” Honestly, he’s seen Ren bounce back from anesthetics used in post-battle patch-ups like no other, cybernetically enhanced soldiers included. Stupid force-users. Still, blaming the drugs will be easier on Ren’s pride, which he expects hurts most of all. Not that he cares. Kylo will be more cooperative if he’s coaxed, Hux reasons.

“Yes.” Ren’s voice has managed to drop an octave or so since his congestion has shifted. Hux nods curtly and takes note on the pad.

“One last thing then.” Hux gently cups Kylo’s face in both hands, pressing his thumbs under his eyes and along the sides of his reddened nose. “Experiencing any pain?” The two have locked eyes again, this time without tension.

“No.” Kylo answers in an uncharacteristically calm voice.

“Good.” Hux tuts professionally, and just like that, it’s as if they were never touching. “Well, Ren,” he says, scribbling ‘ swollen sinuses ’, “Looks like your symptoms have died down to amount to nothing more than a nasty head cold. I don’t expect to see you on deck regardless. You know better than I do that Snoke is watching closely. I suggest you hunker down until you’re actually ready to train, and that you turn the temperature in your rooms up a bit higher. Wrap up warm and get on with it. I’ll reinstate your command status.” Ren nods resignedly and begins to remove the blanket. “Oh, keep a hold of that. I’d rather you have it washed before it comes back in here. The same goes for these.” Hux hands over the remainder of the handkerchiefs. It’s so quick he can’t be sure, but Hux thinks he catches a glimpse of a smile. Hux would expect such a thing to look out of place on the knight, but instead it transforms his face entirely. For less than half a second, it’s as if Ren is someone Hux has never met. Caught off guard, Hux frowns. “I detest having your germs all over my things.”

“Of course, General.” Ren tosses back the last dregs of his tea and towers over Hux before plodding gracelessly to the doors. I hate him…

Ren quirks an eyebrow and tosses the blanket across his shoulders like a scarf. “I know.”