Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Finalizer was cold and lonely. Hux had gone through so many of his shifts freezing beneath his gabberwool coat, but he reminded himself of his Order - if his men froze, so did he. But his men had camaraderie. They went through their lives in the Stormtrooper Forces together, making bonds and falling in love or into each other’s barracks. With his promotion came a bigger office and a possibility of acquiring a pet, but he couldn’t bring himself to fill out the form. He was haunted by his dead father’s last words - that no one would ever love him for the rest of his life. So he resigned himself to being alone, and he told himself that he liked it. 

“General Hux.”

Well. Not entirely alone. The masked menace had arrived nearly a decade ago. They had been on mission after mission together, first as Major and Apprentice and now General and Lord of the Knights of Ren. The Finalizer, new in her birth, was their shared child by Snoke’s law, making them Co-Commanders. Hux hadn’t been sure of what to make of the man when they had first met, but was now familiar with most of his dimensions: brute, careless, furious, lethal, and exhausting. But somehow, they had developed a strange… not-hate. He didn’t know exactly what to call it, the fragile iceberg that dangled between them every time they spoke, always threatening to crack under the ever-mounting pressure.

“Lord Ren.”

As usual, Ren was a silent presence beside him, only catching Hux slightly on the side after he bumped into him. When the man wasn’t costing them thousands of credits in his rage-induced tantrums on their very fragile consoles, he was almost a decent presence to be beside. 

A beep sounded on his datapad, and he checked it.

>> General, you’re needed on Deck 3. - P

<< Be there soon, Captain. - H

He went to walk away from the bridge, and then realized that he wouldn’t likely see Ren again for the remainder of his shift. “Perhaps next cycle, for our oh so thrilling conversations,” he teased. What could be the harm?

He briskly walked down to Deck 3, putting on his best “I’m not mad, just disappointed” face for the Troopers that Phasma wanted him to lecture. As per usual, once he actually got down to the Deck, their morale was low, and their ship was an ashy mess of parts.

“We’ve failed, General,” one of the Troopers said, voice dejected underneath the helmet.

“We should have double-checked for sightings of the Resistance, especially their bombers,” another added with the typical whine of one holding back tears.

Hux should punish them, and send them to re-conditioning. But Phasma’s already put them through the ringer, and the best thing he can do for Troop morale is to show them that their Order can be kind.

“The filthy Resistance will pay for this. Go to medbay and run through simulations with your Squad again, so that you can kill them for their actions next time.”

“You mean it, General?!”

“Go before I change my mind, Troopers.”

They all salute to him, then hurriedly scamper off to the medical facility, some of them obviously hurt.

“Good call, Hux. I hate to be the bad guy in these scenarios, but otherwise those knuckleheads would never listen to me.”

He chuckled and turned around with her, ready to go on to the next task in his shift, when a familiar black figure caught his eye. Huh. What was Ren doing in Deck 3? Lurking about his Silencer again, Hux figured, and left the thought alone. Surely it was just an unfortunate coincidence that the man had seen him be nice.

Just the thought made him shiver. “What’s next on your docket, Captain?”

“Individual combat training with the junior units, and then I’m off for the cycle. You?”

“Check-in with radar techs, more Starkiller meetings, and then a round of simulations before I crash for four hours.”

“You need a vacation,” Phasma bluntly pointed out.

“Starkiller is in its final phase, I can’t take a break now. I’ll sleep when it’s finished.”

“I’ll take the simulations tonight, Hux. Just… get some rest. Can’t have our General dropping down from exhaustion in the middle of his shift.”

“Thank you, Phasma,” he offers, giving her a small smile, “our next round of drinks is on me.”

“Mhm, I’ll hold you to that, Hux.”

With a salute, they branch off, and the weight of responsibility taken off of him lightens his gait as he heads over to the Radar quarters. A few nervous officers awaited him there, each likely with their own excuse why their technology was down at the worst possible time. 

Just as Hux was about to get into the lecture, he heard the familiar clacking of angry boots along the durasteel floors, and saw that same mask-clad figure following him.

“Just a moment, Technicians,” he said, and they granted him it, likely wanting to get their stories straight when he returned.

He marched out into the hallway, scowling at the approaching figure of Ren.

“Are you following me? I’ve seen you three times today, which is far more than you’ve ever deigned to show yourself to me while I’m on shift.”

“...It wasn’t meant to be intentional,” he said, although even through the voco-coder he sounded unsure.

“Yes, well, you would say that, being a stalker. What on earth was so important that you had to follow me around like a shadow during my very important shift?!”

“First, I wanted to tell you that today’s meetings were cancelled before you left the bridge. You didn’t take your datapad with you so you didn’t see it.”

Hux’s hands immediately went to his side, where he normally kept his datapad on constant alert. Kark! He really had left it behind.

“And second, I wanted to return this. It accidentally fell off when I bumped you earlier.”

Kylo presented Hux with his own glove. He looked at his hands - how had he not noticed all shift long, why had no one told him! - one glove-clad, and one scantily shown.

With burning cheeks, he made to grab for his glove, but Kylo snatched his hand with his own before he could.

“Ren! Let me go this instant!”

With a practiced ease, the man used one hand to remove his helmet, and Hux found himself blushing harder at the very handsome face that greeted him. Ren smirked, and Hux was speechless, blundering a long series of “Uhm”s and “Wait”s. 

“All those hours spent watching you flaunt this pale wrist, like there was no one watching,” Ren admonished, gripping his hand tighter. “Do you know how that made me feel?”

“You- no, of course not, it’s my karking hand, let me go!”

Ren ignored him, pulling him in closer. “I wanted to hide it from all those eyes, wanted to make it so that only I could see your pretty hands, not a callus on any of your fingers. Those wrists of yours peeking through your gloves while you’re on shift is the most erotic sight I’ve ever witnessed. Just a glimpse can have me hard for weeks.”

Hux didn’t think it possible, but his embarrassed flush grew, spreading across his whole face - he felt its heat encompassing him. And then as the final nail in his coffin, Ren brought his lips down to kiss at the pulse point of his wrist, his pupils blown with the marks of a man consumed by lust.

“I- I- Ren, you-”

“I would gladly stalk you for the rest of your shifts if it meant only I ever saw the beauty you hide behind your uniform,” Ren declared.

With that last declaration, Hux’s knees buckle, a combination of two many nights spent awake and too many revelations at once. Before he can hit the ground, Ren sweeps him up in his arms, still holding onto his hand.

“Don’t fret. I’ll take care of you now.”

With a strange calm settling over him, Hux felt his eyes begin to close. How lovely it would be to have someone constantly watching and caring for him, making sure he was never lonely again. Maybe Ren could be, was his last thought before he slipped into the familiar cycles of REM.