Chapter Text
If Hux hadn’t been there Kylo probably would never have answered the phone.
They were sitting on Kylo’s shabby couch trading slow, dragging kisses that tasted of the too sweet wine they’d been drinking, the starched collar of Hux’s oxford crinkled from being fisted in Kylo’s hands while Hux’s thumb pressed into the throbbing point of Kylo’s neck just hard enough to pull a moan from him. Kylo was trying to work up the courage to slide his hands around Hux and pull his shirt loose, skim his broad hands up the perfect line of Hux’s back and hoping his voice won't break with nerves when he whispers why don’t we take this to the bedroom because even now, months in, after so many nights spent pressed close followed by lazy mornings where they only regretfully pull away from each other Kylo still sometimes can’t quite believe that he gets to have this, have Hux, in his life.
He’s just opened his mouth, hoping the words won’t come out all in a rush, when his phone buzzes against the scratched table he had tossed it on earlier. Hux makes a small, frustrated noise but pulls back anyway. “Do you need to get that?” He asks, as though Kylo ever has important calls to take, as if Kylo hasn’t gone weeks without his phone ringing before Hux came along. Even knowing that whatever it is can wait, unlike Hux who has to sometimes apologetically excuse himself in the middle of dinner to keep a near disaster from becoming a full on disaster at work, Kylo picks up his phone because he’s too embarrassed to admit to Hux, beautiful, successful Hux, that he’s not important enough anyone would ever need to get ahold of him right away.
“It’s my mom,” he says, a little dumbfounded when he reads her number on the cracked screen.
“I’ll just get us some more wine then,” Hux offers, giving Kylo’s leg a firm squeeze before rising gracefully up from the couch, snagging the glasses on the table and heading for the kitchen. Kylo almost stops him, protests that he doesn’t want to pause what they were doing to talk to his mother, but there’s a softness in Hux’s eyes that stills his tongue. He doesn’t know much about Hux’s family, only vague bits and pieces, but he knows Hux’s mother died when he was very young and that he always gets a sad, wistful look, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes pulling deeper, when he thinks about her.
That’s the look Hux wears as he walks to Kylo’s kitchen, so with a sigh, because he’s lucky enough to still have a mother to dodge phone calls from, he answers.
“Hi, Leia.”
“Ben!” She greets, startled. Clearly she hadn’t expected him to answer, just as he hasn’t answered in the past six months, preferring to call her back when he knows she’ll be busy and communicate solely through voicemails.
He grits his teeth as she scolds him for being so unreachable, says in a tone that would be concerned from anyone else’s mother that they were worried his phone had gotten turned off, or maybe he had lost it and hadn’t been able to afford a new one with his low wages. He lets her talk, tries to let the judgment she never comes right out with roll off him even if looking around his small apartment and mismatched, thrift store furniture only proves her right. There’s no point in arguing, in pointing out that this isn’t the life he’d imagined he’d be living at almost thirty either, but it’s his life. Movement catches his eye and he turns his head. Hux is leaning against the door to the kitchen, elegant fingers caught around the stem of a wine glass while he looks at Kylo with a smile.
His life definitely isn’t all bad.
Kylo realizes he’s stopped listening, too enchanted by the sight of Hux in his home, until Leia calls his name in a way which lets him know it’s not the first time.
“Yeah, Leia. I’m here. Sorry.”
She huffs a short breath, a perfectly performed show of put-uponess she’s perfected over years of politicking that relays her disappointment without having to say a word. “I was asking if you’re coming home for Thanksgiving dinner. Ben, it’s the holidays, and we’re your family.” He winces, at the use of the name he hates, at the guilt trip he knows is waiting for him at the end of the next sentence. “I hate to think of you, alone during the holidays. We should all be together.”
“I’m not alone.” It slips out. He hasn’t told his family about Hux yet, greedy to keep it to himself, desperate to avoid the inevitable picking apart all his choices are subjected to by his family. (And maybe, a voice he tries so hard to ignore whispers, if he doesn’t tell his family about Hux now, he won’t have to tell them when Hux decides Kylo really is just another complication he doesn’t need and leaves.)
Leia’s saying something but Hux flicks his tongue along the rim of his wine glass as his other hand works open the top button of his shirt. Kylo’s mouth goes dry at the patch of skin, that tempting dip of throat he wants to bite revealed, and Hux gives him a look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Mom, I gotta go,” he tells her, hitting the end call button and cutting off her protests while Hux smirks at him.
“All done? How’s your mother?” Hux asks, teasingly innocent. Anything else he may want to say is lost when Kylo bites a kiss to his lips and hauls Hux close with an arm around his waist.
The barely touched wine is left on the table by the couch, his phone lost in the cushions, as they takes turns leading and being led down the hall to his bedroom.
In the morning Hux leans against Kylo’s chipped laminate counter and swallows down a cup of hot coffee so fast just watching makes Kylo’s throat burn. The morning light filters in through the faded curtains that were up when he moved in and paints Hux’s fiery hair a burnished gold, the deep bruise Kylo sucked against his collarbone stark against all that pale skin.
Kylo has to look away, has to leave the room, scared that if he stays looking at Hux much longer he’ll say words it’s much too soon for, words it’s getting harder to keep from saying everyday, when Hux fits so seamlessly into his life, when all the odd parts of Kylo that never made much sense before seem to line up perfectly with Hux’s.
Picking up the discarded wine glass from the night before is the perfect excuse to turn away and try to talk a little sense into himself. His phone is still on the cushions and he knows he needs to charge it otherwise it won’t make it through the day. Kylo pick it up to take into his bedroom and frowns when he sees there’s an unread text message.
It’s from Leia. He braces himself for a scathing tell off, for Leia’s diplomatic brand of telling him he’s an ungrateful child and making him feel six years old again without ever actually saying a mean word.
What he finds is so much worse.
Leia: Bring them with you! We’d all love to meet them!
____
As soon as Hux parks his BMW outside of Han and Leia’s house Kylo’s hand shoots out and grabs Hux’s still of the gear shift, and squeezes. “There’s still time to change our minds,” he offers. “Spend tomorrow with Chinese takeout and Netflix.”
Kylo had ignored the message from Leia for three days, thrown himself into writing papers for his classes and picking up as many extra shifts at the restaurant he served at as he could while still finding time to spend with Hux until his cousin Rey had called. He hadn't answered while he was at work, but when he got off and stood huddled at the bus stop to go home he had listened to the message, which had been a single, accusing word.
‘Coward,’ was all she had said, and after he had gone home and showered Kylo had sat on his bed and stared at his phone, willing himself to call Hux.
Hux had seemed quietly pleased with the invitation, accepted easily and hadn’t made it sound like he was doing Kylo a favor at all, hashing out details with the same serious tone he used when working. “I’m looking forward to meeting them,” Hux had said right before hanging up and Kylo had had to swallow the urge to respond that at least one of them was.
Kylo had spent the next two days trying to convince himself this wasn’t a terrible idea and the previous hour drive had only made it worse. By the time they arrived he had chewed the skin around three fingers bloody and worn a hole in the cuff of his sweatshirt. Hux hadn’t said much, just gave Kylo a look that wasn’t quite a smile but was so fond it made Kylo’s chest ache and kept the music, something light and instrumental that Kylo was sure he should recognize but Hux was the one with the sophisticated taste in classical music, not himself, turned low and reached over to take Kylo’s hand in his own when he began biting his thumb nail so at least not all of Kylo’s fingers would be picked raw, a silent, heady reminder that whatever was waiting for him he wouldn’t face it alone.
Kylo had almost cried with relief at the touch.
“We can, if you want,” Hux tells him, soft and easy, as if he wouldn’t be mad Kylo had just made Hux pick him up and drive an hour to his parents house only to turn around again before they even went inside. Hux leans across the center console and drops a kiss to Kylo’s cheek. “Or we could just sit here for a minute, until you’re ready.”
Kylo blows out a heavy breath, grateful for Hux, for his unquestioning support. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” Hux turns his hand, curls their fingers together, and says nothing, just lets their breaths fill the silence
It had taken Kylo a while to figure out why Hux had been so willing to come, had agreed so easily to spending two nights away from home with strangers. Hux’s family consisted of a cold father and an even colder step-mother. Kylo’s family, especially to an outsider who hadn’t endured a lifetime of their disapproving remarks and unmet expectations, must seem near perfect.
Kylo takes a deep breath, steeling himself. For all that he’s lacking he can at least offer Hux this, a family to be with for Thanksgiving.
“Alright,” he says, and squeezes Hux’s hand tight one last time before letting go. “I’m ready.”
They gather their bags and it’s with a trembling hand that Kylo rings the doorbell. As they wait under the porchlight Hux reaches up with the hand not holding his bag and tuck Kylo’s hair behind his ear. The morning after their first night together Hux had rolled against him in bed and suggested a shower, voice going low and throaty as he ran a hand down the plane of Kylo’s chest. Kylo had bitten his lip and almost refused, but the delicious drag of Hux’s hand on his skin was too good. When they had ducked under the spray and the water had flattened his hair Hux had reached up with a curious hand and traced a finger along the shell of Kylo’s ear poking through his hair. He had winced, the desire to hide that overgrown part of him with his hair the reason why he had almost refused the shower, and had braced himself for the mocking words he knew were coming. But instead Hux had simply smiled at him, and reading the sudden stiffness in the way Kylo held himself said nothing. But ever since he’s made a habit of brushing Kylo’s hair aside. He had hated it at first, but there was never anything but affection in Hux’s touch, and slowly he had decided that maybe it didn’t matter if he hated his ears so long as Hux saw something in them worth liking.
Except this time Hux’s hand stays, slides around to the back of his neck and then cuts a path Kylo swears he can feel the warmth of even through his coat to settle in the small of his back. That’s how Leia finds them when she opens the door and Kylo can’t help his flush because there’s something so intimate about the touch, just simple contact he can draw strength from, a reminder that Hux is here, beside him, that it feels wrong to be seen sharing it.
“Ben!” Leia greets, and if she notices his discomfort she pretends otherwise.
Kylo flinches at the name and realizes he never told Hux about the name his parents gave him, the one he changed at eighteen but a decade later his family still insists on using. He glances at Hux but there’s no surprise on his face, only a warm, if bland smile.
Leia makes a face when Kylo ducks her outstretched arms and instead of the hug she was anticipating gives her a quick handshake. “Leia, this is, this is Hux,” he introduces, dropping her hand and stuffing his own into his pockets.
Hux straightens even more and smoothly holds out a hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to your home. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Hux says, and if Kylo hadn’t spent every moment he could with Hux over the past three months he wouldn’t notice the stiffness to the words. Hux is nervous.
Kylo ducks his head to hide his smile.
“Yes, well,” Leia begins in a tone that implies if she were less diplomatic she’d be turning her nose up while she briefly accepts Hux’s hand. “I wish I could say the same.”
“Leia!”
“Well really, Ben. What do you expect? We don’t hear from you for months then you show up on the doorstep with a stranger.”
He opens his mouth to argue, to tell Leia that her harsh words are just fine for him but Hux deserves better, but the hand Hux has kept on his back presses in, Hux’s thumb digging into a growing knot of muscle, and his anger drops as he’s reminded of what’s important here.
He sighs. “Can we come in? Our bags are heavy.”
Leia’s eyes dart to Hux, to how close together they’re standing, Hux’s constant, steady touch, and her eyes sharpen for a flash, expression unreadable, before it softens. “Of course,” she says, and finally steps out of the doorway.
Hux’s hand finally slides from it’s resting place but Kylo doesn’t feel bereft for long as he loosely tangles their fingers together. It’s with Hux’s hand warm in his that Kylo steps into his childhood home.