Work Text:
“Crap,” Kylo swears into his phone. “Crap, Rey where are you? Pick up your goddamn phone, come on.”
“You can relax,” Rey calls out from behind him. Kylo wheels around in his desk chair and heaves a sigh of relief. “I got the gift and you’re very welcome.”
Kylo shushes her and all but rips the neatly wrapped package out of her hands. “You saved my skin. Thanks for bringing this over.”
“Whatever.” Rey rolls her eyes but there’s a hint of fondness in the gesture. “Just remember to bring the spiced rum tomorrow, yeah? We need it for the eggnog.”
“I thought Luke was vegan?”
“Not for Dad, for the rest of us,” Rey laughs. “And don’t be late. Aunt Leia has already texted me thrice to make sure you’re coming.”
Kylo frowns. He’ll definitely need the spiked eggnog tomorrow to deal with his family. “I’ll be there, don’t worry.”
“I do worry, Kylo,” Rey clucks her tongue. “You left the present at home, which means you forgot today was Christmas Eve, you dolt.”
“I’ve been busy!” Kylo says defensively, looking around his desk to make sure no one else heard. Thankfully, it seems everyone is still at lunch.
Well, everyone except for one person.
But his desk is across the floor and he always has headphones on –– Kylo can just make out the top of his head from this vantage point and sure enough, he easily spots the black stripe of headphones cutting through red hair. Kylo has always had mixed feelings for the office’s open-floor plan, a love-hate relationship of sorts: it means he can easily see him from his desk, but it also means no privacy and plenty of distractions.
Rey snaps her fingers in front of Kylo’s face, drawing his attention back to her. “There you are again, distracted.” She follows where his gaze had been and smirks. “Still haven’t asked him out?”
“I’ve been busy,” Kylo repeats through gritted teeth, inspecting the present Rey brought to hide the faint flush creeping up his cheeks.
“Yeah all right,” Rey says, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I put your spare key back under the philodendron pot which, by the way, needed watering desperately. I’ve done it but please take better care of your poor plants, will you?”
Kylo stares at her before muttering a sarcastic ‘thank you.’
She sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“Yes,” Kylo mutters.
“Yes,” Rey parrots his sullen tone. “You’re welcome, Kylo. See you!”
She sweeps out as silently as she came in, leaving Kylo to stare dumbly at the box in his hands.
A part of him feels like he’d left the gift at home on purpose; as if forgetting it would give him an excuse not to pass it along to its intended recipient. Now that it’s made it into the office, Kylo really has little excuse not to march across the floor and hand the present over to Hux.
And yet.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Kylo pens ‘to Hux’ in cursive on the small card dangling from the ribbon, but after writing the word ‘from’ he hesitates. There’s no reason he should be embarrassed about the gift itself, it’s a perfectly good gift; he’s simply afraid to cross that line, to make his affections (he refuses to say crush, he is not in high school anymore) known. It’s not like coworkers exchanging presents for the holidays is unheard of ––they used to do an office Secret Santa before Hux transferred here, after all–– and Kylo is likely overthinking it, but after a year of harbouring these feelings he’s suddenly too nervous to do anything about them. He’s starting to think his plan was silly and childish, and in the end he signs the card ‘from Santa.’ The present will, at least, not go to waste, and he’s confident that because no one knows he can write script that his secret will be safe.
Kylo sits heavily back in his chair, a sigh escaping him. This Christmas is turning into yet another failed attempt at asking out Armitage Hux.
The smile on Hux’s face is completely fake as he tries to graciously accept the mug of hot cider from Thanisson: in an attempt to ‘brighten up the office spirit’, the receptionist had brought in an old hot plate ––which Hux is very tempted to report to the Fire Marshal, seeing as it goes against the fire regulations of the leased office space–– and a steel pot to warm up the five gallons of apple cider Mitaka dropped off in the break room yesterday. Just why they couldn’t use the microwave to warm up the drink ––and why they had to warm it up in the first place–– is beyond Hux, but he feels bad to dampen any of his coworkers’ holiday cheer.
Just because he isn’t overly fond of the holidays doesn’t mean he has to spoil it for everyone else.
“Are you sure you don’t want a dash of cinnamon?” Thanisson asks him, wiggling the small shaker of ground cinnamon in Hux’s face. “It really adds an extra something to the cider.”
“I’m all right, thank you,” Hux answers tightly. He makes a show of taking a sip from the mug and humming in approval. “It’s delicious as is.”
Thanisson shrugs and moves onto his next victim, leaving Hux to escape the holiday-scented pandemonium of the break room; all he’d wanted was to refill his water bottle, which, thanks to Thanisson, he hadn’t even succeeded in. Better to retreat before getting roped into other festivities.
Hux makes it three steps before he halts in his tracks. The downside of having a desk near the best view in the office is the fact that crowds of his coworkers liked to gather there from time to time, like they are now, to hold gossip sessions and conversations — why they must do so by his desk and not in the break room, where such activities should take place, is beyond him. Another fault of the open-floor plan. Hux usually avoided involvement with his noise-cancelling headphones, but now, however, Phasma and Unamo lead the pack —no doubt discussing plans for the Christmas party tonight— and he knows neither of them would let him skirt around them.
With a sigh, Hux glances around the office, wondering if anyone is where they’re supposed to be — working, at their desks. It confirms his suspicions when he realises most of his coworkers aren’t. But he does spot Kylo taking a seat in his chair —probably returning from the bathroom or something— and can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face.
He wipes it off as soon as he realises it’s there.
In the year since he transferred to this branch, Hux accepted that he could do nothing about his...feelings. It’s not that it isn’t allowed; half the office is sleeping with each other, anyway, so HR apparently has set no restrictions. No, his restriction is of his own volition: he swore off one night stands and refuses to risk the awkwardness he might feel around the office if his advances were rejected. So Hux limits his interactions with Kylo to that of amicable coworkers, with only the occasional stop by his desk and lunchtime conversations in the break room, interspersed here and there with company events.
Phasma’s ringing laughter reminds Hux that his desk is still not safe territory at the moment, and with a swivel on his heel he turns and heads over to Kylo’s desk.
“Afternoon,” Hux greets him. “Not participating in any Christmas cheer?”
Kylo startles, looking up at Hux as if caught red-handed. He relaxes after a beat, and flashes Hux the half-smile that sends Hux’s stomach somersaulting every time he sees it.
“Christmas isn’t really my thing. But don’t let me stop you,” Kylo responds, nodding his head at the mug in Hux’s hands.
“This?” Hux chuckles. “This was thrust upon me. It was entirely my mistake to attempt a water run to the break room.”
“So the holidays aren’t really your thing, either?” Kylo raises an eyebrow at him.
Hux shakes his head. “My family never really celebrated anything.”
He doesn’t mention that Brendol and his stepmother Maratelle did used to celebrate; just not including him.
“Fair enough,” Kylo concedes.
“And you? Why aren’t you overly fond of the Christmas spirit?”
Kylo’s expression darkens; Hux immediately backtracks.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, if it’s too personal.”
“No,” Kylo says, a polite smile returning to his face. “It’s all right. Aside from my cousin, I don’t have the best relationship with my family — I haven’t seen most of them in a while. We’re trying to patch things up this year, but spending two days with them was a bit...much. I’m just going for dinner tomorrow instead.”
Hux hums. “Seems like a good compromise.”
Kylo nods somewhat sombrely. “It’s a start. But it means I’ve no excuse to skip the Christmas party tonight, or Phasma’ll have my head.”
“That?” Hux lets out a laugh. “You’re going? God, it was awful last year.”
And it had been. Hux had gotten too drunk, embarrassing himself in front of his then-new colleagues, and ended up going home with a random man who turned out be a jerk, a reminder of why he had avoided one night stands for so long.
Kylo frowns. “You’re not? How did you get out of it?”
“Phasma has figured out by now I’m better company when I actually want to go to events.” Hux smirks. “Besides, my Christmas Eve tradition since I left for uni has been to get Indian takeout and watch Monty Python. I fully maintain that my horrible Christmas last year was because I’d failed to do so.”
Kylo looks at him for a moment and then huffs a short chuckle. “You’re a lucky one then. Enjoy your quiet time while the rest of us suffer Mitaka’s rousing rendition of Santa Baby and Kaplan’s attempts at conducting Joy to the World.”
“Well, Kylo, you’ve got to always look on the bright side of life…”
Kylo laughs loud and hard then and Hux grins, rife with self-satisfaction at being the one to entertain him so.
Unfortunately, the sound draws the attention of Phasma and Unamo’s group across the floor, and Phasma calls out to them as that group begins to disperse.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing!” Hux calls back innocently. He turns to Kylo and smiles apologetically. “I’ll let you get back to work. I was about to head out for the day, anyway, before Phasma changes her mind about my excuse.”
Disappointment flashes in Kylo’s eyes but his smile returns easily. “It’s not a problem. Enjoy your traditional Christmas Eve.”
“And I hope your family dinner isn’t so bad, tomorrow.”
He gives Kylo a small wave and turns to walk back to his desk, covertly abandoning the mug of untouched cider on a windowsill along the way. He plucks the jacket off the back of his chair, re-bundling himself in his winter wear as if dressing in armour for a battle against the cold, and piles his thick scarf high against his jaw. When he stoops to pick up his messenger bag from the floor he notices a gift sitting in the center of his desk.
Hux barely stops the noise of surprise escaping his lips.
Glancing around, no one seems to be paying him any attention: everyone is either back at their desks, packing up for the day, or chatting by the break room, the group by Hux’s desk having migrated to join the others there. No one seems to want to claim responsibility for the gift; surely it can’t be for him? The tag has his name on it, signed neatly ‘from Santa,’ so this must be some kind of sick joke. Who would get him a present? Not even his own father ever gave him gifts, and the last time Hux participated in a Secret Santa back in boarding school, he’d received £5 in an envelope — their minimum spending limit. Hux eyes the gift with suspicion, cautiously and slowly opening the wrapping paper to peak inside.
Hux gasps.
Three pairs of thick, soft, patterned socks sit inside the package.
Hux scans the coworkers left milling about the office. Someone had listened to his complaints of being constantly cold, and someone had actually gotten him a gift accordingly? But who?
He decides to investigate the mystery after the holidays, when everyone is back and he can interrogate more people. For now, he can’t help the wide grin and the faint flush of his cheeks as he daintily stuffs the gift in his bag, shoulders it, and heads home.
Maybe the holidays aren’t so bad after all.
“I’ve got you a gift,” Phasma announces as she knocks on Kylo’s desk to get his attention.
Kylo looks up at her, in the middle of packing up his laptop, and furrows his brows at the tablet Phasma is holding out at him.
“This isn’t mine,” he says, even as he accepts it. The leather case is very soft and probably expensive; he runs his thumb along it a few times, appreciating it.
“Turn it over,” Phasma responds, a mischievous look in her eye.
Kylo stares at her questioningly a minute longer, finally acquiescing when she just looks at him expectantly. On the back, the case has ‘A. Hux’ embossed neatly in a corner.
“Why are you giving me Hux’s tablet? Did you steal it?”
Phasma laughs. “He was so flustered by your gift he left it here. And don’t deny it, I saw you leave it on his desk — you’re not as subtle as you think.”
Kylo frowns at her. “Please don’t tell him?”
“He loved the gift, you know,” she teases. “He got all flustered and was grinning all the way out of the office.”
Kylo feels heat creep into his own cheeks at the thought. “That doesn’t explain why you’re giving me his tablet,” he asks instead.
Phasma sticks a post-it note with an address written on it onto the tablet. “You’re going to return it to him.”
“Why––”
“Because,” she interrupts, “like I said, you’re not as subtle as you think. Either of you. Anyway, his place is closer to yours than mine, and I thought you might like another crack at convincing him to come to the party tonight. I know you want him there.”
Kylo can only gape.
She smirks back at him. “You’re welcome, and Merry Christmas. See you tonight!”
Phasma turns and stalks away with a flourish, leaving Kylo to wonder just how he managed to get himself in this situation. He finishes packing up his laptop and bundles himself in his outerwear before he allows himself to look at the address. Phasma was right about that part, at least; Hux apparently lives only a few blocks from Kylo.
Taking his usual route home, Kylo gets off the subway a stop early to walk the last few blocks to Hux’s apartment. It’s an older building, but obviously newly renovated if the shiny foyer is any indication. He’s about to buzz Hux’s apartment when someone emerges from the building and holds the door open for him, so Kylo enters without announcing himself and makes his way up the stairs. The hallway on Hux’s floor is dark compared to the brightly lit streets outside, and Kylo makes sure to double check the apartment number before daring to knock.
He hesitates with his hand raised. Will Hux find him showing up at his apartment creepy? What will he say to convince Hux to come out to the party, when neither of them actually want to go? Should he tell Hux it was him who left the present on his desk?
Kylo sighs. All this deliberation is doing him nothing –– has been doing him nothing for an entire year. He inhales, counts to five, and knocks loudly. When he hears footsteps approaching the door, he holds his breath.
“Kylo!” Hux exclaims when he opens the door, his eyebrows shooting up. Kylo exhales slowly and has to blink at the sudden flood of light in the dark hallway, but he swears Hux’s cheeks pink slightly. “What are you doing here?”
Kylo reaches into his bag and unceremoniously holds out the tablet. “You left this in the office. I figured you might need it.”
Hux opens the door wider, revealing a luminous but simple living room behind him. “Yes, I…I do,” he says, his voice laced with surprise. He releases the door knob, and bends over to search his own messenger bag dumped behind the door. “How did I forget this?”
Kylo tries very hard (and fails) to not steal a glimpse at Hux’s ass. It’s not a fair fight; Hux changed out of his slacks and work clothes into some loose pants that somehow accentuate his…features.
“Never mind how,” Hux dismisses, rising. He finally offers an unusually warm smile and accepts the tablet. “Thank you. You needn’t have come all the way –– I would have met you somewhere. Or had I found out it was missing I’d have probably headed back to the office anyway.”
“It’s no problem,” Kylo replies as he tries to plaster an innocent smile on his face. “Your place isn’t too out of the way for me. Phasma gave me your address when she figured out it’d be easier for me to drop it off on my way home than for her.”
Hux swallows, nods. “Well, thank you again. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
They stand in silence for a minute, neither seeming to want to say goodbye. With each passing second it starts to become more awkward, and Kylo breaks first: his excuse is up, he can’t possibly prolong taking leave any longer.
“Well––“
“Are you still looking for an excuse to skip the Christmas party?” Hux asks suddenly. There’s a look in his eyes as if he’s even surprised himself by blurting out the question.
Kylo smiles at him in a peace offering, to show Hux he has nothing to be embarrassed about.
“Of course.”
Hux steps aside, making room for Kylo to cross through the doorway, and beckons him inside the apartment. “How do you feel about butter chicken and Life of Brian?"
Phasma is going to kill both of them; Kylo can’t quite bring himself to care.
“Pretty great.” Kylo can’t stop how his heart rate seems to double as he crosses the threshold into Hux’s apartment.
He starts to unzip his coat and unwind his scarf but Hux stills him with a hand on his wrist.
“Hang on a second, you don’t have any pet allergies, do you?”
“No, not that I know of–– wait, pets? As in plural?”
Hux playfully rolls his eyes and lets go of Kylo’s wrist, letting him finish peeling off his outer layers. “Just a cat and a dog. They’re friendly but will also leave you alone, don’t worry about them jumping all over you. And before you say that’s an odd combination, they grew up together and, according to the shelter, were absolutely inseparable.”
“All right then,” Kylo concedes. “No, I’m not allergic to cats or dogs.”
“Good.” Hux plucks Kylo’s coat out of his hands and starts to stuff it into a closet by the front door. He gestures vaguely further into the apartment. "The menu for the Indian place is on my kitchen counter, look it over if you want anything else.”
Nodding, Kylo moves further into the apartment, taking in the decor as he crosses over to the kitchen adjoining the living room. An orange tabby is curled up on the ice blue couch, not even sparing him a glance as he treads across the plush carpet, and though he sees two different-sized bowls nestled next to each other on a mat draped on the tiles in the kitchen, there’s no dog in sight. Kylo instead picks up the menu, on the counter as Hux said, and peruses it before Hux joins him in the kitchen.
“What were you planning on ordering?” Kylo asks.
“I was thinking butter chicken and lentils. I usually get two entrees and some rice so that I have leftovers,” Hux explains, peering over Kylo’s outstretched arm to peruse the menu with him. “I’m not too fond of cooking, so I order plenty of extra food when I get takeout.”
“You should try meal-prepping,” Kylo suggests absentmindedly, turning to look at Hux.
Hux scrunches up his face in a way that Kylo should definitely not find so cute ––they’re both thirty something, for goodness’ sake–– and shakes his head. “Like I said, I’m not too fond of cooking. I’m not that good at it, either, so I’d hate to make a big batch of something I don’t even like.”
“It’s fairly easy with a recipe. If you wanted to try some suggestions, I could cook for you sometime.” Realising belatedly the implication of his words, Kylo quickly pulls out his phone and starts to dial the number on the menu before Hux can respond.
“What are you doing?” Hux asks, trying to snatch the menu out of Kylo’s hand. “I invited you, I should buy dinner.”
Kylo jerks his hand out of reach and flashes Hux a playful smile. “Too late, I’ve got this.”
“No, this is––”
“Hi,” Kylo says brightly and loudly over Hux’s complaints, “I’d like to place an order for delivery?”
When he’s finished ordering and rattling off his credit card details, he hangs up and turns back to Hux who has a sour expression on his face.
“You should at least have let me paid for it,” Hux complains.
Kylo shrugs innocently. “I love giving, what can I say.”
Hux rolls his eyes, but there’s a fondness in it. “Right. Well, at least take the leftovers home, since they’re technically yours.”
“I’ll have plenty of leftovers from family dinner tomorrow, don’t you worry.”
“Then,” Hux hesitates for a beat, but pushes forward, “I’ll take you to lunch, or dinner, sometime. If you’re all right with that. It’s really the least I can do.”
“I’d like that,” Kylo says, suppressing a smile.
Hux nods. “Good. If you, um, want to sit on the couch, I can start setting up the movie?”
“Sure.” Kylo moves around the kitchen counter and back into the living room, settling down on one side of the couch. The cat stirs, observes him for a moment, and goes right back to napping. Kylo takes the opportunity to pet the cat’s head.
“That’s Millicent,” Hux calls out to him. “Do you want something to drink? A beer? I think I have a bottle of wine if you’d prefer…”
“Beer is fine,” Kylo responds, preoccupied with scratching behind Millicent’s ear.
At the sound of the fridge opening, a small, black and grey shiba inu bolts down the hallway towards the kitchen, tongue lolling and tail wagging. Kylo cranes his neck to trace the dog’s path and sees Hux gesture at the dog to calm him down.
“Down,” Hux says in a voice at least an octave higher than Kylo is used to. He glances at Kylo and his voice returns to normal. “This is Niney, he loves ice, for whatever reason, and goes mad whenever I open the fridge. There’s no ice, Niney, I’m just getting out two beers.” Hux pats the dog’s head twice when Niney moves out of the way and sits. “Good boy.”
“He’s awfully well behaved,” Kylo observes as Hux pops the caps off two beers and approaches him.
“Quiet, too. They both are.” Hux rounds the counter and hands Kylo one of the beers ––of course it’s some fancy IPA from a brewery Kylo has never heard of–– before grabbing a remote off the coffee table and sitting down on the other side of Millicent. “They usually keep each other entertained enough and are good, calm company in the evenings.”
Kylo watches Hux turn on the TV and scroll through his collection of digital movies.
“How long have you had them?”
“Hmm?” Hux asks distractedly.
“Millicent and Niney,” Kylo says, scratching the cat’s ears again to illustrate his point. “How long have you had them?”
“A few years. I adopted them not too long after grad school,” Hux pauses to reach over and give Millicent a loving scratch on her belly, “and they’ve been with me ever since.”
“They participate in this Christmas Eve tradition, too?” Kylo teases.
Hux lets out a single chuckle, turning back to the TV. “Well, seeing as this been my tradition since I was eighteen, they didn’t really have a say in the matter.”
Kylo has noticed that Hux rarely mentions his family ––apart from the offhand comment today–– and suddenly feels bad for constantly mentioning his own, even if he tries to emphasise that he’s not particularly close with them. If this has been Hux’s holiday routine for over a decade now, it implies that Hux is on even worse terms with his family than Kylo is with his (that is, if they’re even still alive, since Kylo hasn’t bothered to ask; he can’t anymore, not without it being awkward). He can see why Hux would rather spend the holidays at home, with his cat and his dog, eating takeout and watching a cult classic, than be around people discussing their plans for family Christmas dinner. All Kylo can do for Hux now is be glad to participate in this little tradition –– surely it means Hux trusts him. Maybe, just maybe, Kylo dares to hope, something more.
“Well, thank you for letting me join in this year. This sure beats listening to our drunk coworkers trying to sing Christmas songs.”
“You’re welcome.”
They quiet as the choir sing the opening chords of Life of Brian, settling into the movie and chuckling at the appropriate moments. Kylo has almost forgotten dinner by the time the buzzer rings. Hux pauses the movie and buzzes the delivery driver into the building, crossing over to the front door. Kylo follows him and signs for the food while Hux accepts the fragrant, steamy bags from the driver. They scatter the containers along the kitchen counter and pile their plates high with rice, fresh naan, yellow daal, butter chicken, and palak paneer, before heading back to the couch to eat in front of the TV.
“Mille,” Hux tsks at his cat, who has changed position and is napping where Hux had been sitting instead of the middle of the couch. “Sorry, she usually likes the middle but probably thought my vacant spot was warmer.”
Hux coos at her but the cat simply opens her eyes to stare at him before going right back to sleep. Kylo settles on his side of the couch and Hux flashes him an apologetic look as he sits down next to him, much closer than before. As they eat, and the movie continues, their arms brush several times –– Kylo is glad the food is spicy, so he can blame the colour rising in his cheeks on it. Not that Hux would notice, anyway, since he’s staring hard at the movie while he eats.
When they finish dinner, Hux gathers both of their plates (making Kylo sit back down when he offers to help clean) and goes into the kitchen area to organise the leftovers. Kylo pauses the movie out of politeness, even though Hux insists he can let it play, and moves across the couch to distract himself with petting Millicent while Hux fights off Niney in the kitchen.
“Kylo,” Hux says, his tone cautious, after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“Yes?” Kylo looks up from Millie.
Hux is staring at the receipt for the food.
“It was you.”
Kylo stands, brows knitting in confusion, and crosses into the kitchen. “Yes, I bought the food? Remember?”
“No, it’s––” Hux picks up the receipt and points at his signature. “Your cursive handwriting is awfully similar to your signature. You bought me the Christmas present.”
Kylo winces.
“Yeah that was...that was me,” he admits.
Hux stares at him for a moment. “Why? I mean, I should say thank you for the gift, first. So, thank you.”
“You’re...welcome?” Kylo makes a face at his own awkwardness. “I hope you liked it?”
“I— liked it?”
Kylo grimaces, bracing for the worst. He knew Phasma was lying.
“I loved it, Kylo, but that’s not— that’s not the point. Why?”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kylo acknowledges Hux’s question, but he can only grin and focus on ‘I loved it.’
“You did? I’m so glad you like the gift, I was concern—”
“Of course I loved the socks,” Hux interrupts, “not only are they just what I need but they’re the first real present I’ve ever gotten. But I asked why, Kylo.”
The sheepish grin slides off his face. “It’s…silly. Not that— it wasn’t a joke, it was a genuine gift. But the reason is…you might laugh.”
Hux steps closer, sticking his chin up defiantly. “Try me.”
Kylo sighs. “I thought...I wanted to use the gift as a way of asking you out, like I should have done a year ago. Like I should have tried to do at any point in the past few months. It was a clichéd idea and I chickened out at the last minute.”
“You…” Hux takes another step towards Kylo, dangerously close now. “You wanted to ask me out?”
“Yes…?”
“This whole time?”
“I—”
Hux looks like he’s holding in a laugh as he speaks. “That’s a little embarrassing, because I’ve been...feeling much the same way.”
Kylo holds his gaze for a beat before they both start laughing –– at themselves, at each other, at their awkward situation.
“Well, what do you say?” Kylo asks once the laughter has subsided.
“Yes,” Hux answers with a coy smile, “I’d very much like to go out with you sometime. But for now, shall we finish the movie?”
One Week Later
“Hux,” Kylo protests, his teeth chattering as he props wedges a brick in the door of the roof behind him to keep it open. “Why are we up here? It’s freezing. We’ll miss the countdown.”
“I said to bring your jacket,” Hux chides, searching behind the dead potted plants along the edge of the roof for the bag he stashed here a few days ago. “Not my fault you didn’t.”
“You haven’t answered my question!”
Hux finds the small paper bag and smiles. “A-ha! Here!” He picks it up and walks it over to Kylo. “Consider this a belated Christmas gift.”
Kylo raises an eyebrow at him but accepts the bag nonetheless. Hux leans forward to rub his ––extremely nice–– biceps in a feeble attempt to warm him up while Kylo peers into the bag.
“Hux?” Kylo glances between him and the contents of the bag. “Are these fireworks?”
Hux bites his lip in an effort to suppress his grin.
“You got me a bag of explosives for Christmas?”
Rolling his eyes, Hux reaches into the bag and pulls out a pack of sparklers. “Don’t be so dramatic. I couldn’t get any of the big ones so they’re just sparklers and small fountains. But I thought, since you’re spending New Year’s Eve with me and not setting off fireworks on your uncle’s farm, that you might find these fun.”
Kylo unceremoniously drops the bag, but before Hux can protest, Kylo cups his face in both of his cold hands and pulls Hux in for a kiss.
“They’re perfect,” Kylo says around a wide grin when he pulls back.
Hux can only beam back at him. “I’m so glad you like them.”
He produces a lighter from his pocket, which Kylo eagerly accepts and goes about opening the first packet of sparklers, practically bouncing with excitement.
It turns out that maybe, the holidays aren’t so terrible after all –– so long as you find the right people to surround yourself with. And on this rooftop with Kylo, Hux can’t think of a better way to ring in the new year.