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The thing about being a soldier - a trooper, an officer, a Knight, whatever - is that your life is, by definition, more dangerous than that of someone whose career it is to test the softness of mattresses, for instance. It’s there in the job description: regularly nearly die. Be exposed to more death-adjacent opportunities than usual. Fighting. Shooting. Stabbing. Exploding. All the fun -ings.
Any encounter with someone who wants to kill you in which they do not manage to kill you is at least partially a success, no matter the other parameters. Kylo tells himself this over and over, whenever he fails.
You walked away from it. You can win later.
He knows that’s the coward smuggler in him, the weak and pathetic part that isn’t strong enough to win, and he hates it, and when he’s alone he will snarl out his anger at the ship’s cold, uncaring walls.
But in front of others, he has to look as if he doesn’t care. As if the momentary set-back is just that. As if he’s still in control, still powerful, and fearsome.
He isn’t expecting to be undermined by Hux.
Hux knows he - knows he… isn’t… as together as he likes to appear. He knows. And somehow that knowledge - and their relationship, whatever it comes to - isn’t enough to offer him the courtesy of understanding.
Here on the bridge, in front of everyone. Kylo can feel everyone’s eyes on him, even when they’re not looking. He lost the contact, and they took heavy fire. Damaged ships, no casualties, but a bruised ego. It’s not the worst thing that could happen. No one died. It was a risky gambit, and one that didn’t pay off, but there’s absolutely no need to act like–
“Is there something you’d like to address with me, General?” he growls, not liking the stiff shoulders and stiffer spine.
“What more is there to say?”
“It is not as easy as you think, in the field.” The anger in his voice is palpable, a claw around his ribs that squeezes venom from his lips.
“Did I say that I thought it was?”
“You act as if this set-back is the end of everything.”
“Really? That’s what you think this is about? Ren, I’m not discussing this in–”
“Well what is it about?” Kylo demands. They’ve started this conversation, so they will finish it. Hux broke the ‘only in private’ agreement when he started acting like he hated him, or despised him, or - or - anything in front of the underlings.
“Really?”
“I think I have the right to know.”
“So you think you can almost die and I’m supposed to be okay with that?”
“It’s. My. Job.”
“And it’s my job to worry about your overgrown, immature ass,” Hux hisses. “I’m worried because I love you, you - you - child.”
Kylo stares.
Because.
Hux hasn’t… said that. Not ever. Not once. They’re… something, but it’s something ill-defined and shaky. An alliance, a hope, but no promise of more. Something that has him returning to the soft kisses and sharp bites. Something that makes his body do weird stuff (and not just in his crotch), and something that makes him feel keenly any distance, any time spent long apart.
But Hux hasn’t said it, not til now.
And Kylo… doesn’t know what to do. Or - rather - he doesn’t know for long moments, and then he strides up to the man, grabbing his shirt, holding on tight.
“You… do?”
“Why do you think I’m worried witless and making a fool of myself in public?” Hux’s voice is squeaky like an adolescent’s, aching with pain.
Hux. Loves him. And he just told everyone.
There is only one answer to give.
A single hand pushes the mask half up, and he pulls Hux in for a kiss, shrouded by his cowl, awkward under the lifted face-plate. No one else can see his eyes, but his lips need Hux more than privacy.
He kisses him hard, feeling the hands that grab his arms, and the wave of terror and hope in one from the man in front of him. Terror of loss, and of being exposed, and of being known. Hope… because he thinks this is worth the risk.
“Why did you never say?” Kylo whispers in his ear, once the kiss is gone and all that remains is clutching hands.
“I thought you knew.”
He did, but - also he didn’t.
And now everyone does.