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He doesn’t bother turning the lights on as he gets in, navigates through the living area of his quarters by memory, and only catches one squeaky toy with his foot as he does so. In his bedroom, he pulls off his boots without sitting down, he knows if he sits, he won’t get back up again, and once they’re sat neatly in his wardrobe, he pulls his uniform off and shoves it into the laundry.
Soft old pajama bottoms and a ratty old shirt that was probably Ren’s judging by the size make him feel slightly more at home, and he throws the lights on in the refresher as he goes through the bare minimum of his evening routine. Looking at his face in the mirror as he cleans his teeth, he looks exhausted; bruised bags under his eyes, dry red patches on his skin from the dry air of the ship and the starts of a beard growing. He sighs as he scrubs his face.
Back in his room, lights off, he checks his alarms, checks there have been no emergencies in the ten minutes that he was in the ‘fresher and then finally peels back the covers and crawls into bed.
Flat on his back, covers pulled halfway up his chest, bone weary and too tired to think properly, he finds he can’t sleep, and wants to cry in frustration.
He tosses and turns, punches his pillows, shoves the covers down and pulls them back up. He stretches his legs out, curls them up to him to try and relieve the ridiculous ache in them
Millie jumps up, padding over to him and bumping her nose against his shoulder.
“Hey,” he breathes out, reaching up to scratch behind her ears. She circles round, making herself comfortable, and somehow he manages to doze for a little while, her rumbling purr just starting to soothe him into sleep when he remembers something he needs to note down to be dealt with in the morning, and lurches for his datapad. She jumps away from him, resettling herself at the bottom of the bed, licking herself in feline retaliation.
He makes his notes and stretches back out, finds himself in exactly the same predicament as he’d been in before.
Despondent, he turns onto his stomach and buries his face in his pillows, using years of practice to try and will himself.
He just can’t help thinking about the compounding pile of setbacks that had plagued him over the day. The little inconveniences that he should have anticipated, should have been able to deal with.
But no, he wasn’t quick thinking enough, hadn’t got the right contingencies in place.
Millie chirruped at him as he tossed and turned again, legs restless and head hurting.
He was vaguely aware that he was dozing, but time was without meaning as he lay in the dark, refusing to let himself look at his chrono.
It’s that dozing that he’s pulled from by a heavier weight settling under the covers. He moans and flops his head against the pillow as he shifts again, letting Kylo settle and quickly drift off to sleep.
Millie shifts so she’s lying over Kylo’s legs, and while Hux mutters “traitor” at her half heartedly, he doesn’t really mean it.
“Hux, what the fuck?”
He’s woken again, this time by Kylo trying to disentangle Hux’s fingers from his hair.
Hux rolls onto his back again with a groan, tries to close his eyes, but he still can’t get comfortable, and it’s only a couple of minutes before he’s fidgeting again.
“Hux, seriously,” Kylo sounds groggy, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hux replies automatically, pulling one leg up so it’s crossing the other, ankle over knee. “Just trouble sleeping.”
“Do you want me to go?” Kylo asks, and Hux considers it, but he was having this problem before Kylo came to bed.
“It’s fine.” he mumbles, thinking maybe, just maybe, he’s found the right position. Kylo stays still, and Hux starts to doze off again.
Right up until his leg spasms in discomfort and he kicks Kylo, who responds by trying to manhandle Hux.
“Kylo,” Hux warns, trying to push him away. Kylo is always too warm and too big, and usually fidgets more than he does.
“Hold still,” Kylo succeeds though, because he’s stronger and Hux is groggy, and Hux finds himself with Kylo wrapped round him, spooning him and holding him just tight enough that he’s not getting away anytime soon.
He wriggles, trying to get away because he hates being the little spoon, but Kylo holds him firm.
“Relax, tell me what’s got you so tense.”
Hux shakes his head.
“Hux,” Kylo rearranges himself slightly so they fit together better. “You’re radiating discomfort, don’t try and deny it.”
Hux sighs, reluctant to admit that he’s already starting to feel better. “Stupid things. The head of department meeting overran, half the crew who had leave last cycle have come down with Tagari flu. High Command want more ships in places that we just don’t have resources, and now I can’t fucking sleep because everything just, aches.”
He feels a hand in his hair, and the light movement of Millie curling up in front of him.
“Do you need to be on duty first thing tomorrow?” Kylo asks, and Hux shakes his head. “Right, do I need to threaten any of your senior staff?”
Hux tenses, but relaxes quickly enough when he feels the rumble of Kylo’s chuckle. “No, thank you.”
“You’ve had all your shots, and implemented an emergency booster for the rest of the crew?”
“On my schedule to do first thing,” it had been what had woken him from that first fitful doze.
“And there’s nothing serious from High Command, just the usual blustering?”
Hux hummed in agreement. Whether it was just the warmth behind him, or if Kylo was actually doing something with the Force, the incessant ache in his legs was finally easing, and his mind was finally quieting down enough that he was properly going to sleep.
“So sleep, and I’ll deal with the emergencies in the morning.”
If Kylo says anything more, Hux doesn’t notice; Millie is purring against his chest, and Kylo is solid and warm, and proper sleep finally finds him.
He wakes to the familiar sound of Millie grooming herself next to his head, the lights on low, and the smell of caf wafting over to him. Hoisting himself up, he finds he doesn’t ache as much as he thought he would, and while he’s sweaty, he’s better rested than he’s felt in a while.
There’s a sealed hot mug of caf on the bedside table, and his datapad, which tells him that he’s slept through all of his alarms, has an alert to say that vaccination boosters have been scheduled for all crew, and a polite reminder from the ship’s chief medic that all crew should check and schedule relevant boosters before going planetside.
There’s also a message from Kylo.
“I’ve spoken with Snoke and High Command who now understand the material strain the fleet is under, and will be pushing for fleet expansion in the next quarter. I’ll be on the bridge.”
He takes a long shower, trims the ends of his hair as best as he can, and shaves. He’s still hollow eyed, but it’s better.
Kylo apparently hadn’t dealt with the laundry, or Millie’s litter tray, but Hux is willing to forgive him after what he did for him the night before.
He makes it to the bridge an hour before his second shift is due to start, having been marked as ‘unavailable’ for his first shift.
Caf mug and datapad in hand, he strides onto the bridge, nodding to his officers and making a beeline for Kylo, stood staring out at the stars.
“Ren,” he greets him, trying at least not smile too widely.
“General,” and despite the mask, Hux knows that Kylo is smiling.