Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hux’s mother and father were not soulmates. Nor was his father’s wife-- Maratelle Hux- his father’s soulmate.

Unnecessary. Foolish. It was idealist nonsense to distract from accomplishing real goals, nothing more. That’s all it was.

Soulmates were not the end-all of one’s reason for existence in Hux’s opinion, nor was it the singular drive to which he would ever devote his own life. He considered such a thing below his notice and ambitions. Foolish pursuits indeed. He wouldn’t entertain the belief of such things if he hadn’t experienced the force that Leader Snoke possessed personally. That was another lesson he’d learned; not to discount the impossible.

He wouldn’t make such assumptions quite so quickly again.

Still, the idea that he would have a soulmate was ludicrous. At thirty-two, he had no unaccounted-for marks on his body that might belong to some unknown other half, and after reaching the rank of general, he found it childish to cling to such thoughts.

He wouldn’t leave the responsibility of his future up to some force-induced nonsense anyways. Everything he had in life, he’d accomplished on his own merit. No predestination would take credit for that.

The likelihood of someone actually finding their soulmate when the universe was as large as it was bordered on an exercise in a waste of one’s life, anyways. It was rubbish, something he had no need for, and something he frankly wasn’t even sure was real, or if it was, it didn’t apply to him.

...Until he noticed a mark on his arm the day after they captured a Resistance pilot off Jakku.

He’d written it off as a bruise of some sort, or a case of dry skin. But no amount of ointments or passage of time had made it dwindle. The possibility of what that discoloration could mean made a snort of dry mirth go through him, but he chalked it up to overuse of stims and the deadline for Starkiller to become operational. Occupational stress and all that taking it out on his body.

He’d actively kept it from his mind until almost a year later on the day they’d lost the Fulminatrix over D’Qar. Humiliation on the bridge was only added to when he noticed that evening that the mark on his arm had gotten considerably darker, and taken on a more definitive shape. It looked reminiscent of blaster fire. He’d seen enough scars on the veterans in their ranks to identify the work of a blaster, but he’d never been shot in the arm before.

Perhaps, though, his soulmate was.

He was ashamed of the hope that blossomed in his chest at the idea that he himself might have a soulmate, and yet he couldn’t entirely begrudge himself the things it made him feel in the part of himself he kept locked away.

Maybe it was true, just like the impossibility of the force itself. The one was said to have come from the other, or be philosophically related at the very least. He had no force-powers to speak of, null and void, but it didn’t mean such a force couldn’t act upon him. He’d experienced what the force was capable of firsthand.

So he very-probably had a soulmate. That was… something that required much contemplation. It made him wonder what kind of person could possibly be his other half; someone on the wrong end of a blaster, at least.

A soldier of some kind. Within the First Order, perhaps? But no, if it really was true that proximity to meeting one’s soulmate darkened the mark, then Hux’s own general presence amongst his troops would have made it stand out much sooner against his pale skin by now. The fleet was vast, but Hux had personal influence on everything from engineering to what kind of food was served in the Order; surely his mark would have shown a long time prior if his soulmate was among his subordinates.

...Which left a far less favorable option, but one which was statistically more-likely: his soulmate might be among the Resistance. With the kind of luck that seemed to favor him, it probably wouldn’t be a defector to the First Order, either, which only complicated matters and threw the whole idea of him being worthy of a soulmate back into the impossible.

The implications of such a thing haunted Hux as he considered the actual likelihood of such an assumption. The frustration that a potential partner-- and thus ally- was among the Resistance bothered him more than he should allow it. It occupied his thoughts after Kylo Ren had near-strangled him over Crait; after his mark darkened once again on the actual planet’s surface. He’d felt it when it happened. Like an itch or a twitch of the muscle, but in his skin on his arm. Not painful, just… unmistakable.

It made his heart race. Made him anxious in traitorous dreams while his brain tried to reconcile how there might truly, actually be a possibility out there that-- for someone- Hux was the perfect match. Someone meant to be with him, and him by virtue them.

On the opposite side.

It was cruel, even of the unfeeling universe. He saw no possibility of him ever abandoning his post for some unknown Resistance member, soulmate or not. And the possibility of one of their ilk defecting to the Order-- especially for him- was laughable. It was inconceivable.

As inconceivable as the First Order having any kind of future under a leader who wasn’t Hux.

Kylo Ren might’ve usurped the title of Supreme Leader for now, but Hux was patient, and he was clever.

Or he thought he’d been, at least until after Crait. Until Ren populated his new command with men Hux mortally despised.

In barely the span of a year after the incidents at Crait, Hux lost all power and influence he’d once held. He’d very quickly learned to hold his tongue before Ren, though sometimes he couldn’t quite manage it; the insult to the way his Order was being run sometimes got the better of him. The man was destroying everything Hux had worked towards, and everything he’d built.

Ren wasn’t fit for the power he’d stolen, and to prove that undeniable fact in the hopes of inspiring an uprising against him, Hux began to sabotage the force-user’s effort when he could. Little things here and there that were satisfying but likely to go unnoticed, like withholding information he knew he could get away with, or lying by omission.

Hux didn’t start actively passing information to the Resistance until after he’d woken up in the medbay following being throttled by the force hard enough to crack his ribs. He still wasn’t entirely sure what exactly Ren had done to him, only that the pain had made him black out completely, and he had neatly-delineated bruises that matched the paneling on the bridge-console as a result. The combination of bitterness and stims had made him go through with it: warning the Resistance of the foolhardy plan that Ren devised for seizing assets from one of their allies.

It gave him a small sense of accomplishment-- getting information about their operations to the Resistance- to spite Ren and leave his missions unsuccessful. It amused him as well in consideration to the mark he carried on his arm. Was this the link between him and this supposed soulmate that existed on the opposite side? Is this how it begun? The idea had been unfathomable before, yet here he was, forging contacts and unknowingly building the bridge that might bring his soulmate that much closer.

Maybe they’d even help him remove Ren from power. Now there was a fanciful idea.

Hux had been getting away with passing information for months, a perverse little thrill running through him every time a successful information drop was made. Little things here and there-- tip-offs to evacuate Resistance strongholds when a lead on their location proved correct. Political prisoners going missing due to clerical errors. Omitting key cultural facts to the point of insult by those diplomats that the First Order-- or Ren in particular- would benefit from allying with. Small things going wrong that-- on their own, were not suspicious- but together added to the headache of chipping away at Ren’s goals.

Hux was intent to bide his time slowly sabotaging this new path Ren thought he could put the Order on, patient in his assurance that the man would eventually be ousted by all of high command for his incompetence, force-user or not.

It came as a shock-- another cruel laugh from the universe- that everything Hux thought he knew, including the path his Order had been on, was based on lies.

A military might that Hux had only dreamed about now gave the man nightmares; a Sith fleet waiting in the wings to subjugate the universe; the Final Order. Force-users and mysticism; disorder and chaos.

More people like Ren who saw those like Hux as easily-crushable beneath their boot. People who regarded those without the force as beneath themselves. People like Snoke. People like the Emperor. Unnatural and frightening.

It terrified him. Men like Ren didn’t prize merit or skill. They didn’t earn their rank through dedication and hard work, and they had no respect for those who had.

It was enough of a fear that Hux sent everything he could gather on this Final Order to the Resistance. Everything that had been made available to high command, and anything else he could get his hands on with what authority he still possessed.

The fleet these sith madmen possessed would infect the universe, wiping out anyone who stood in their path. The obvious first, decisive target would be the Resistance. They’d barely been hanging on these last months without Hux’s influence and warnings for them to clear out. They’d be found and dealt with swiftly when the fleet made their move.

With the way things had changed these last months, Hux saw the mark on his arm in a different context. Maybe his soulmate wouldn’t easily escape from what was coming. The odds were staggering. But Hux could give them all the warning he could while he could. That was something he could do, giving him the illusion of some kind of control as his plans all went to hell.

The idea of not warning this supposed soulmate never entered Hux’s mind. Now that he knew such a thing could even exist-- exist for him- he wanted to protect even the slightest hope of it; protect whoever among their rank knew who and what Hux was, but was still capable of loving him anyways. Again, something he considered impossible, but enjoyed indulging in stolen thoughts about it.

Hux knew the Resistance forces were small, but their troop-to-kill ratio was impressive. They could handle themselves; survive the coming storm if they fled from known space. He liked the idea that his soulmate might survive if they were smart. There was some sense of victory in that for him, even if he never got to know them.

The Order had been over the frigid planet Kijimi when he became aware of the mark on his arm darkening. Like a tingling, static-y sort of feeling beneath his skin. He put his hand to the spot over his uniform, pressing gloved fingers over the sensation that lingered longer than he’d felt in prior instances.

It made his heart speed up as the implications hit him all at once: his soulmate was near; they hadn’t run from the warned threat. And furthermore, this planet-- at least to his knowledge- was not a Resistance-operating base, which meant his soulmate must be one of those they were currently pursuing.

His heart beat nearly out of his chest while his stomach jumped to lightspeed without him-- anticipation and the gravity of it all becoming as real as the mark on his skin. Was this how they’d meet? Was he destined to shoot his soulmate?

They were on opposite sides. He was certain of that now. Where did that leave him, though? His soulmate among the Resistance… The idea was too much to grasp.

A report interrupted his thoughts: They had Resistance members on board trying to escape with the wookie. They were in custody now, the situation handled and awaiting further instruction.

Hux touched his arm again in the spot there, considering how it looked not unlike a blaster wound, and let his feet follow the officer towards his other half.

Chapter Text

It could be worse, he decides, as the prisoners are brought forth into his custody. He knows who all three of them are-- their files, their histories, their personal engagements in battle- but with a hammering heart he doesn’t betray, he notices that it’s Dameron that’s been hit in the arm.

The size and shape of the injury the pilot has is something Hux knows quite well, aside from what he knew in official capacity. After the embarrassment over D’Qar, Hux had studied all files and records they had about the Resistance commander they’d once held captive.

Poe Dameron has officially been on Hux’s personal shit list for ages-- someone to get vengeance on for making a fool of him- but he’d be lying to himself to say he didn’t enjoy looking at the pictures of the man on file.

Dameron was objectively attractive.

As far as soulmates went, it couldn’t be more ironic. How many times had their paths crossed in the years since Hux had made the rank of general? How close had they come to killing each other as a fact of war?

And now here he was, formulating their freedom as the three were marched by the contingent of stormtroopers towards their execution.

He would have liked to say that it was something more romantic motivating him when he took the blaster from one of his own troopers, but the fact was that he’d been undermining Ren’s Order for months now, and with the sizeable threat facing the entire universe, he had no intention to stop doing so. These three would be instrumental to any opposition that might stand against a Sith fleet.

That his soulmate happened to be a particular thorn in the Order’s side was just a happy coincidence. And that the other man would live felt like-- at least to Hux- some kind of victory. Some tentative connection in a soulmate to a freedom Hux would never experience. Dameron didn’t know-- how could he? There were no marks Hux carried that might appear on the pilot anyways- but he supposed it didn’t matter.

Dameron likely wouldn’t take kindly to the fact of who his soulmate was anyways. Hux understood himself to be the antithesis of everything the other man stood for. Just because there was a common goal now didn’t mean anything. Just because he’d found his soulmate didn’t mean any priorities had changed. Having a soulmate didn’t negate acts of war.

It was a rubbish concept anyways. Something Hux would spare the other man the indignity of having to reconcile himself to.

Hux had expected shock when revealing that he was the spy, but Dameron’s voice sounded pleasantly surprised. Pleased even as all three of them regarded him with what passed as confused gratitude.

It made something inside of Hux satisfied. He liked defying the expectations of others, and this was no different for the facts of the matter.

Hux freed them and quickly led the way to the hangar bay where their ship was being held. There was barely time for them to hide the troopers he’d murdered to free the three, and his heart was beating nearly out of his chest as he realized there was no turning back from what he’d done; betrayed the Order, killed his own; directly helped prisoners to escape. Now it was a waiting game, to see how much further damage he could do before being caught.

He looked at Poe’s blaster-shot arm again as they approached the hangar, and the pilot saw his inspection.

“I’m okay.” Hux hadn’t asked. “One of your boys got in a lucky shot.”

“I’m sure luck had nothing to do with it.”

Poe only grinned, meeting his eyes with encouragement and the thrill of being alive. “Come with us!”

Hux’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“We don’t leave people behind. You’re one of us. Come with us.”

The invitation made blood rush in Hux’s ears momentarily.

The pilot didn’t know he was Hux’s soulmate, but Hux did, and the urge to give in to that request-- to see what might become of it; to test the will of the universe- was very great indeed. Did that secret factor into the offer without him knowing? The other man had infuriated him in the past, but the invitation without even knowing.... Hux was stunned.

Would he still offer if he knew? Would he be disgusted, or would he smile the same way he had when Hux had revealed himself?

Hux wouldn’t be going with them. He could do more damage if he stayed; sabotage this Sith fleet somehow from the inside. He had work to complete towards that end, and none were more capable than himself.

Besides, he told himself, there was no future for a Resistance pilot and a First Order general together anyways.

The idea itself was eye-rollingly melodramatic and cliche as any old holo-drama. Whatever potential for happiness this mark on his arm foretold surely wouldn’t last. Finding one’s soulmate was supposed to be a happy thing, as Hux heard, but there were exceptions to every rule.

It would be better to stick to his plans until he succeeded, or was found out. At least with those options, he knew what to expect and how to safeguard against it. He didn’t expect to survive but he sure as hell wasn't going to expire before he saw Ren fail.

Hux didn’t want to forget this moment, though; the offer to go with, the secret pride that he had a soulmate at all.

One he’d successfully gotten to safety, not going with the other man, watching as they made their way to the turbolift that would take them to the hangar bay floor.

“Wait!” Hux stopped the man once known as FN-2187, keeping him from joining on the turbolift that Dameron and the wookie just reached.

Hux removed his attention from Poe, knowing it would be the last time he ever saw him, but glad for the opportunity to have such knowledge. No matter what anyone had said otherwise-- about his worth, his stature, his life- Armitage Hux had a soulmate; was worthy of a soulmate. Furthermore, he’d actually found his, an accomplishment most would never achieve given the vastness of the universe.

It was a fact he’d take comfort in and memorialize to himself as he made a request of the ex-stormtrooper.

“Blast me in the arm, or they’ll know.”

Finn gave him a look like he was crazy, but then lifted his blaster, training it where Hux indicated; the same place as the mark that matched Poe’s own injury. He’d have the mark be as real as the one his soulmate carried.

Finn changed his aim at the last minute, pulling the trigger before he could change his mind, and Hux went down as the blast got him right in the front of his thigh.

It infuriated Hux that his private, romantic little notion to himself was denied, but it hardly surprised him. It filled him with a disappointed acceptance that maybe soulmate bonds were only a prophecy of meeting and nothing more; that he’d overplayed the significance of such a thing, and only had himself to blame for dissatisfaction.

It left a tightness in his chest that he attributed to the sudden stress of being shot at point-blank range in the damn thigh. He grimaced up at the man standing over him, annoyance fighting pain for his attention.

“Why are you helping us?” Finn asked as he heard Poe reapproaching, the ex-stormtrooper watching with some sort of satisfaction as Hux grimaced at his feet. Hux was a lot less frightening like this, wincing as he made comments about Kylo Ren and not caring whether they won or not.

Finn frowned at the pettiness, not surprised, frankly, and looked to Poe’s approach.

Poe gave Finn a look as he rejoined them, to which Finn immediately explained, “He asked me to shoot him.”

“In the arm,” Hux hissed petulantly.

“Where’s Chewie?”

“Falcon,” Poe responded. He was intensely staring at Hux’s leg, ignoring Finn as the other man told him they needed to go; to find Rey.

Poe bent and before Hux could even squawk indignantly about being manhandled, Poe was lifting the general like he weighed nothing, and hauling him over his shoulder while quickly making back for the turbolift.

Finn trailed behind him with aghast shock, wondering exactly what in the hell was going through Poe’s mind and did he finally lose it.

“Poe what in hells--”

“Unhand me this instant!”

Poe did the exact opposite and tightened his hold, and he hit the lift button as Finn quickly boarded it with him. He adjusted his hold as Hux squirmed while the turbolift moved.

“Dameron you--”

“Are you taking him hostage?”

“-put me down!”

The lift stopped at the hangar bay floor and they quickly made for the Falcon.

Finn demanded an answer as he covered Poe in case they had company, Hux still cursing from over Poe’s shoulder. “Poe, we don’t have time for this, what are you doing?”

“He’s my soulmate!” Poe announced clearly over his shoulder, tone booking no argument as he didn’t stop moving towards the Falcon with Hux over his shoulder.

Hux was shocked silent at that shouted assertion, and he stopped squirming over Poe’s shoulder as the man brought him up the ramp and into the interior of the ship. Finn’s shocked eyes met Hux’s own, and something in the general’s expression told him that he knew it to be true.

Finn made no further argument, anyways, as Poe made off with Hux down a different hallway than the one Finn ran down, the engines of the ancient freighter coming to life.

Poe deposited Hux in the bunk room with much more care than he’d snatched the other man, mindful of Hux’s injury. The expression on Poe’s face was full of so very much that any words Hux had about this abduction had vaporized in distraction. He was nearly paralyzed by the weight of that gaze on him, years of bloodshed no longer the only thing connecting them.

Their eyes met-- something full of mirth and wonder in Poe’s face- and he clasped a hand to Hux’s shoulder warmly, squeezing once and swallowing thickly before he spoke. Poe’s voice was earnest, and his gaze moved about Hux’s eyes, plaintive. “I wasn’t lying. Just, give me a moment after we’ve made it out of here safely.”

Hux’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Poe squeezed him again with nearly casual familiarity, patient with time he didn’t have to spare. He could feel the Falcon moving and needed to get to the cockpit to help.

Poe let go, standing up straight and giving Hux another smile, holding his gaze another moment before turning to go.

Hux’s voice came to him as he’d only taken two steps away; voice full of uncertain acceptance. “Okay.”

Poe turned at that single word, offered Hux another brilliant smile, and was still grinning even after they’d jumped to lightspeed.

Chapter Text

It was a quick conversation and declarations made before Poe was leaving the cockpit with a smile of trepidation on his face.

He didn’t care what any of them thought. Not only had Hux saved them all, but he was Poe’s own soulmate, a matter which was not up for debate. Hux was the one person the force had designated for Poe above all others; the one he’d be happiest with, and in turn make happiest.

And yes, Rey was right, Hux had done unforgivable things, but so had Poe. Things he could never make up for; forgiveness he wouldn’t ask for and didn’t deserve.

At least the force matched them in that aspect; they were both men of war.

Poe wouldn’t let them do anything to Hux regardless, least of all entertain ideas of dumping him somewhere. Not if they wanted Poe to stay. He didn’t want to run, but this was his soulmate. It might not be who he expected, but a man who would risk his life for theirs said plenty about his character right now.

Poe wasn’t going to just give his soulmate up because others had a problem with it; not after waiting for his soulmate all his life. He wanted to know Hux; learn about the man who’d stopped their own execution at considerable risk to himself. The Hux who had fired the Starkiller weapon was very clearly not the same man who’d turned spy for the Resistance.

Poe's heart felt like it was beating nearly out of his chest, but the smile wouldn’t leave his face.

His thoughts were disjointed as he stood outside the bunk room he’d deposited Hux in. All the suave words and seduction-fantasies he’d ever visualized in the meeting of his soulmate completely fled his mind with the reality before him. The fact he’d finally found his soulmate was overwhelming in the best possible way. It had happened later than his mom had found his dad maybe, but better late than never, and very-much wanted.

Hux looked up from where he still sat as Poe entered the bunk room, and Poe paused just inside, a smile on his face as the other man met his gaze.

This was a momentous occasion right on the back of a major escape. It was clearly a shock to them all: Hux’s role in everything; that the First Order general had been the one tipping them off and keeping them all alive.

Poe couldn’t find the words to fit the smile on his face, but his expression said enough. “So, um… heh, yeah… We’re in the all-clear now. All good. Headed home.”

Poe felt the same inside as he usually did when he pulled off some risky maneuver in his X-wing: exhilarated, giddy, a sort of relief from the uncertain, but still very much alive.

He looked at Hux and Hux looked right back. There was a sort of wary, open-hopefulness in the other man’s face that Poe was certain Hux didn’t intend to broadcast. It made Poe think of something he’d noticed as he’d shouted his reason earlier for snatching Hux: that the general had stopped fighting him, going compliant over his shoulder instead. He’d been hanging on to the back of Poe’s shirt, even, with one hand. Hux had later wrapped an arm around the back of Poe’s neck-- as necessity, yes, but he wasn’t in a rush to not touch the pilot- as Poe had sat him where he was still currently sitting.

Poe knew from Finn that the First Order didn’t put much stock in the idea of soulmates, but clearly Hux did, based on what little he knew about the man.

Or at least, he was receptive to it; receptive to Poe.

A smile began to bleed onto Poe’s face. He couldn’t be more pleased about the situation, and it showed as he held Hux’s gaze not-uncomfortably. His voice was as warm as his smile as he looked at Hux with soulful eyes. Hux looked back with cautious optimism.

“I’ve always wondered what the story behind this would be,” Poe said earnestly in touching the top of his own thigh in indication as he came to stand just before the other man. Hux’s eyes went to his own wound before returning to Poe’s face. “I always checked in on the medbay after battles to see; I figured whoever it was must be among us.” He smiled and blinked at the slight furrow in Hux’s brow. “I’m not unhappy about being wrong, though. I uh, I might’ve thanked Finn for shooting you, I’ll admit that right now.” He gave a sort of awkward chuckle as Hux scoffed.

“...I asked to be shot in the arm.”

Poe’s eyes lingered on the wound to Hux’s leg, then met the other man’s eyes once more. It was a sizable wound-- Poe would know- but the one benefit to a non-mortal blaster injury was the instant cauterization. His soulmate wasn’t dying, but that had to hurt. Poe wondered if he’d let him take care of it for him or not.

A second thought occurred to him, and he looked at his own arm where he’d been shot before turning his attention to Hux’s own. Realization hit the pilot, positive now that the mark Hux most likely carried must be from Poe’s own recent wound. It couldn’t simply be a coincidence that he’d wanted to be shot there.

Poe was gratified when pink bloomed across Hux’s cheekbones. He’d hit the target with that one.

“That’s really sweet, you know? Most people get tattoos to remember their other’s mark, but I can appreciate the timing,” Poe told him with a grinning bite to his lower lip. A warm sort of pleased look took Poe’s face, and he watched as Hux’s cheeks went scarlet with his words. That blush was telling, and he was genuinely touched at the idea. “...Oh also, before I forget to actually say it, I didn’t thank you for saving our lives.”

More like the opposite; they’d shot the man for all he’d helped them escape.

It probably hurt Hux a great deal actually, being shot at point-blank range like that. Poe’s arm throbbed where he’d been hit after they’d freed Chewie, but he could feel how minor his own injury was compared to the knowledge of the wound on Hux’s leg. Poe had spent countless moments tracing the stain with his fingertips, musing on what kind of person his soulmate might be; what the story behind such a large mark was.

Poe wasn’t pondering his soulmate’s identity or the cause of such a mark anymore. He’d felt it tingle on his leg when Finn’s blaster bolt took Hux down; that strange sort of sensation he’d come to know meant his other half was somewhere nearby, unbeknownst to him.

And to think, it had been Hux all along, a man considered infamous to a large part of the galaxy.

Yet he’d saved their lives of no benefit to himself. That made him interesting in ways Poe definitely wanted to learn about.

“Thank you. I mean that,” Poe continued with genuine gratitude. Hux’s lips parted in what was acute surprise, Poe’s eyes tracking that movement. Hux blushed and looked away while Poe smirked. “...We’ll be back at base in a few hours. That, uh… should give us some time. Not that we need time for anything, I mean, uh... Just, we’ve got some relative privacy to talk openly,” Poe spoke awkwardly, hanging somewhere between just saying everything he was feeling at that moment, and holding himself back.

His excitement was trying to choke him; speaking to his soulmate. The absolute one Poe was best complemented by. And he was fumbling over his words as he tried to get them out: “About um, well-” I found him I found him I found him! “about this-” us “-this bond between us. The uh--” Poe paused to shake a sort of laugh out of himself, awkward but encouraged. “Hell, I’m still kind of in disbelief to finally have this moment after wondering for years,” Poe stated plainly in one exhaled breath. “I’ve wanted to find you for a very long time. And then, I knew. Right then, I knew.”

Hux’s mouth opened just slightly again at hearing those words, himself struck speechless. He held Poe’s gaze, events turning over and over in his mind at such earnestly-spoken words, the throbbing in his leg a distant annoyance as they looked at one another. He could hear the sound of blood rushing in his ears while Poe scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, but the pilot never stopped smiling at him.

He’d never gotten so many words regarding the desire of his presence spoken to him in his entire life. Not after he’d made General; not after he’d completed the impossible with Starkiller base; and not for any of his other life-accomplishments. It was unearned, undeserved, and yet the man who’d blown up his dreadnought was so happy with this discovery; happy about him, a man from the other side. And not just anyone: Hux knew his own reputation amongst the rebels and Resistance sympathizers. That they would be soulmates struck him as impossible, yet here they were.

Hux didn’t know what to do, and was furthermore still shocked to get to be in this position at all. He didn’t know how to proceed. What to say. What could he say to that? No one had ever wanted him before. Not in the way that was being communicated to him right now: as a soulmate. A partner, if his limited education on the subject was true. Someone to love; someone meant to be loved by another in particular. Did Hux have that kind of feeling in him? To return such sentiments? He sure as hell wasn’t his father; refused to be, if ever put in familial circumstance. Hux knew he wasn’t the product of soulmates, but Dameron seemed to genuinely want him anyways.

...Like Hux was worth keeping; someone wanted so much that previous acts of war wouldn’t stop Poe from having him; embracing the will of some force-nonsense with grins and encouragement. To be wanted so keenly, so decidedly...

It left Hux completely out of his element.

All he knew was that the pilot had claimed him loudly once already-- an idea that both rubbed Hux the wrong way and oddly pleased him in equal measure- and that the tone of Dameron’s voice when he’d done so had sunken itself deeply into Hux’s being already.

Hux’s silence as he drowned in his own thoughts-- and tried to navigate emotions he wasn’t used to feeling- drew more words from Poe:

“You uh… You alright? Aside from the flesh wound, I mean. I know I kind of just snatched you there, but I couldn’t leave you,” Poe said earnestly with a shake of his head, stepping close enough to see that Hux had golden eyelashes over stormy green eyes. His smile grew again. “I won’t say I’m sorry for bringing you with, though. This is one of the best moments of my life, and I’m not gonna act like it’s not.”

Those words so definitively spoken made something in the center of Hux’s chest tighten in a terrifying and exciting way. He was wanted. Found. By a hotshot pilot with a warm smile and handsome face; a look of depth and welcome in those dark eyes as his entire focus was on Hux.

Hux had seen such looks before, but never aimed his way. It shook the foundations of everything he’d been told to believe. A soulmate. And that look on his face was in response to Hux.

Poe Dameron was well-known to the First Order, but his file held stale appeal compared to the pilot in person. Hux had heard his voice before, of course, but never sounding so warm and inviting. He had a natural charisma about him that further threw Hux in the intensity of his own want for everything to really be true. Even the momentary silence between them was not uncomfortable.

“I… am uncertain as to how to proceed,” Hux finally spoke, earnest, looking at the burned hole in the arm of Poe’s shirt before again meeting the other man’s eyes.

“However you want,” Poe said easily. “There’s no right or wrong about it; no autopilot or anything. I haven’t had this happen before, so it’s all new to me, too.”

They looked at one another for a few moments still. Poe could feel his heart beat with excitement and adrenaline that Hux was also floundering some, reminding himself to be calm and patient. He was just so pleased-- so proud- that Hux had done a full one-eighty on the Order to help them. It spoke of inner growth, regardless of the circumstances. Poe wanted to know all about it; understand him.

But he could do that after taking care of Hux’s leg.

“Can I take a look at that?” Poe asked with a nod of his head towards Hux’s thigh. A multitude of microexpressions played across Hux’s face. His eyes darted to the pilot’s thigh where he’d indicated he carried a mark, before Poe clarified, “Patch you up, I meant. That’s gotta seriously hurt.”

Hux felt heat in his cheeks, but he nodded, voice a bit unsteady. “I… yes. Please.” Hux had let him talk, the pain in his leg a nuisance that he could force himself to ignore if it meant getting more of those gently-spoken words. Dameron didn’t seem at a loss for them yet, though, going so far as to thank him for allowing him to treat him.

Poe removed his gloves and then retrieved the medkit. He set the gloves aside and popped open the supplies next to Hux on the bunk. The medkit had definitely seen better days, but it had all the items he’d need to clean Hux’s wound and wrap it up. There was an antihistamine and some sort of steroid available as well, but the painkiller hypo beneath them was what he was really looking for.

He held it up to Hux. “You’ll probably want this. It should help.”

“...what is it?”

“Just a generic painkiller,” Poe said with a casual shrug, offering it again. Hux took it gingerly from his hand. “If my arm is throbbing this bad, your leg’s gotta be killing you. I’d know.”

Hux inspected him, wondering at the offer and looking at the burnt hole in Poe’s own shirt. He didn’t know if it was strategy or desperation for connection with the man that had him handing it back-- ignoring the hurt in his leg- and prioritizing Poe’s own wound.

He’d had much worse before, after all. “Use it on your arm.”

Poe met his eyes with raised brows. “You were shot at point-blank range,” he reminded. “Count me impressed, you’re definitely a badass,” Poe said with earnest amusement, “but really, I can handle this.” He raised the elbow of his left arm in indication of how minor it was. “Don’t forget, I have your mark on my leg. Take it.”

Hux turned red at the intimacy of the implication that Poe knew some fact about him; that he technically knew about the wound before it had ever been made. That would make Poe an expert on it-- expert on some minor fact about Hux’s person that even he didn’t know yet- and he liked it for reasons he wasn’t entirely sure of.

He conceded with a single word: “Okay.”

Poe set the other hypos aside, unneeded for now, as Hux administered the painkiller. He gave himself the whole thing, and was grateful a moment later. Hux could feel relief instantly, the throb of the burn pulling back to a gentle sting. He sighed a bit in relief, hanging his head slightly between his shoulders as he sat on the edge of the bunk and took a few deep, pain-relieved breaths. He watched Poe’s hands as they picked and chose the necessary items to bandage him up. Though he’d worn gloves, Hux could see the evidence of someone who worked with their hands.

The pilot had very nice hands indeed.

He addressed himself to those hands, not looking up at Poe. “Is it... normal to have a- a soulmate that goes against everything you’ve ever believed in?”

“...Are you disappointed?” Poe said with a nonjudgmental smirk. Hux’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked up. “It’s gotta be a shock, right? ...I mean, I’ve figured you-- my soulmate- might end up being someone in the First Order for a while now-- Especially when we suddenly had someone in it who was helping us! I mean, if my other half is anyone in the Order, it’d be our spy, right? But I’m still surprised it’s you,” Poe said, giving Hux a quick but brilliant grin.

He was quick to clarify: “I’m not disappointed at all, by the way. Just, you’re one of the few people in the First Order I’ve actually spoken to- read your file. It’s weird in the best way. Like, I’ve talked to you. And I had no idea then.” Hux’s brows slightly creased, and Poe was certain he was also remembering that specific interaction over D’Qar. It had been the first time Poe’s mark had darkened. “I didn’t expect that my soulmate would be someone I’d already exchanged words with on opposite sides of the battlefield, so, I mean, I can understand if this isn’t what you expected out of a soulmate.” He looked at Hux for a moment, smiled down in thought, and then looked at him again. “I’m so glad I found you, though. It’s-- it’ll be an adjustment, but this is… Here we are,” Poe finished brokenly with a pleased smile. “It’s not the first time someone’s soulmate has been from the other side, no,” he finished with a pleased sort of look on his face.

The initial indignation that had begun to manifest in Hux’s chest at the reminder of humiliation over D’Qar vanished at such words and warmth; so much warmth in the look aimed his way. He’d never been looked at like that before in his entire life, and now it was all he was getting. From a man who was his soulmate; who wanted to be his soulmate. It was impossible, but one of those impossible things Hux needed to adjust his view on. This existed, and so did the potential of more, so much more.

He spoke without thinking. “...I… I never expected to have a soulmate.”

Poe paused in what he was doing. “But everyone has a soulmate.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Even now?” Poe asked with a grin. He had his tools and supplies laid out and ready, an unopened tin of bacta in his hand. His smile grew as he waited for a reply.

A slight blush took Hux’s cheeks, his eyes darting to the hole in Poe’s shirt again before meeting his gaze. “Still, yes. Even now.”

Poe chuckled and set the tin back down next to Hux. “You wanna see?” He touched his own thigh. Hux blushed, and Poe found it immensely charming as well as gratifying. “Just to see,” he promised easily. “Nothing uh- I mean, you know where it is already, right now,” he said with a little grin. “Maybe seeing will help?”

“...I didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” Hux spoke softly, dodging the question. He very much wanted to see-- to unequivocally know- but he didn’t want to show an eagerness to gawk. “I find it the opposite of likely that such a concept can exist. Dismissive Republic fantasy. However, here we are.... I still do not think this is something that happens to everyone.” It would be cruel if this had always been a possibility for everyone. Even the old Imperials had sneered at it, but how unnecessarily miserable had the ones Hux had known been for the very fact? How many people had never even gotten to meet their soulmate out of denial, like Hux almost hadn’t?

Hux had to re-examine what he knew about the universe once again.

Poe met his gaze with a playful smirk. “So not everyone; you’re just lucky?” He winked.

Hux snorted. “Luck has nothing to do with it.”

Poe grinned at hearing those words once more, and retook the bacta tin to inspect its expiry. Still good. There was enough that he should be able to patch them both up properly. “So… Y’wanna get these off, or should I just cut the pant-leg off? You’re hurt kinda bad, but we could still salvage these, I think. I’m sure we have a change somewhere on board if it’s easier to cut the whole thing away.”

Hux considered the point-blank range at which he’d been shot, and that the blaster had not been recalibrated before firing. Had he been shot in the arm as requested, and it might’ve taken the whole thing off. Maybe luck did have something to do with it. The wound was big, but his trousers were mostly serviceable otherwise.

...Everywhere they hadn’t melded with his skin, anyways. “...I would prefer to keep them as intact as possible.”

Poe hummed an acknowledgement before taking up the scissors, and kneeling before Hux to better assess the wound. Hux didn’t move or speak again as Poe knelt there, his face hot for so very many reasons. He was out of his element, on the other side of the war after being… well, he didn’t know entirely where he stood. A traitor? But the First Order was not at all as he thought it was; what he had pledged himself to molding and leading. All he did know was that the man carefully handling him on his knees before him wanted Hux-- for a partner, an ally, maybe also for the work he’d done as their spy- and Hux certainly couldn’t go back to the First Order now regardless.

He didn’t want to, anyways.

“This isn’t actually as bad as I thought. What’s this weave? It’d be good if nothing was stuck in your skin,” Poe commented as he’d cut a sizeable piece out of the uniform trousers, a splotch of material now stuck to Hux but the rest of the trousers free to remove.

Together they were able to separate singed-material from flesh, cutting away only how much was necessary before helping to remove the trousers fully. Hux’s face was still just a bit pink as he sat there once more-- in his socks without his pants and boots on- but Poe made no comment. The pilot was as aware and respectful as he’d be with anyone, but the fact that this was his soulmate lended considerable shine to the task.

Poe apologized over the clear delight on his face as the entirety of the wound became apparent; the worst of the edges cleaned up and a nasty burn left in its wake. It matched the stain on Poe’s leg perfectly. And he couldn’t stop grinning over that fact, blinking away moisture several times as he kept looking at Hux’s thigh.

“Y’know, my dad used to tell me stories when I was little, about meeting my soulmate. How it worked, how long it might take,” Poe spoke as he sat back on his heels a moment to grab a sterile wipe to clean his hands. “It’s really different seeing it, though.”

His eyes were still focused on Hux’s wound, the burn there standing out starkly against pale skin and a dusting of hair the same color as that on Hux’s head. Poe was shocked and amazed at how Finn had shot Hux in the exact same place in exact same size as the mark that had shown up on Poe years prior. He’d seen a few other soul marks in his life on friends and allies-- not many, but a few- and while it had only reinforced what he knew, it was entirely different to see his own on his own soulmate.

He had to reign in the size of his grin yet again, not wanting to give the wrong impression. “I’m not happy you’re hurt, but… it’s wild finally seeing this.” He met Hux’s eyes a moment before setting aside the wipe and resuming his doctoring of the wound. Since it was already cauterized, it would be relatively simple to clean and bandage him. “I’ve been waiting to know you my whole life. That’s no exaggeration. Doesn’t matter what side you were on before; you’re here now.”

The way Poe said it made something tighten in Hux’s throat. Like he believed it; like he wasn’t disappointed. Like he was satisfied, even, with this turn of events; like he was excited, glad to be bound to someone like Armitage Hux.

Hux took his attention from observations about the man that made him blush, to Poe’s unruly hair. He addressed himself to the curls there in echoing sentiments of those who never thought he was good enough. “...You can’t just accept that I’m your soulmate. You know nothing of me outside of war. And from the other side as well.”

Poe looked up with raised brows and a smile that was warm at the level of contention in the other man’s voice. “I don’t need to know more in order to accept this. Or, not just accept it, I mean-- Look it’s been a wild few hours. Shot, taken prisoner, thought we were gonna be killed, saved--” Poe beamed up at him, “--by our spy- who’s you, and then I finally get to meet my soulmate, and it’s also you.” He gave a pleased laugh. “Even if I didn’t have the mark, the past few hours tells me plenty about you right there-- the you you are, not the one we’ve been fighting, if that makes sense. Uhh… It’s not just because of the mark, is what I’m saying. You didn’t have to save us. It was a risk a lot of people wouldn’t have taken.”

Poe understood that their situation was the very definition of complicated, but the stain on Poe’s leg made it an undeniable truth for the pilot; the force at work. He might not be force-sensitive, but he was still touched by it just the same. Furthermore, he wanted this. It was something to embrace wholeheartedly. “But I do have the mark on my leg to prove it. Like I said, I’m not unhappy about this at all. We found each other. That in itself can take your whole life... We can go at our own pace from here on out.”

Hux was silent long enough that Poe figured he’d heard what he’d needed to, fears about how Poe accepted this or not put to rest, at least for the moment.

Hux spoke up before Poe could so much as open the tin of bacta. “I… I would like to see it.”

Poe looked up at him again with pleasant surprise, finding something cautiously hopeful on Hux’s face. He set the tin back down. “Yeah, that’s okay,” Poe agreed, smirking and getting up from the cold bunk room floor. The other man wanted further proof while his own wound was on display, and that was just fine for Poe. Whatever he needed to make this easier. “What do you have of mine?” Poe asked conversationally as his hands went to his belt without pause. He looked at Hux and caught the other man’s gaze move from his hands back to his face, watching him. Poe only smiled as Hux’s blush deepened, but he didn’t tease him about it. “It is this-” Poe continued with a tilt of his head to indicate his shot arm, “-isn’t it.”

Hux nodded, trying to ignore the dexterity of the pilot’s hands as Poe quickly rid himself of his belt and unceremoniously opened his trousers. The wound Hux had received was fairly down Poe’s thigh, and would require near-full exposure for him to see it. Hux had already steeled himself for seeing the other man’s undergarments or lack thereof, but he was still unprepared for the reveal of Poe’s underwear: it was the most garish color of yellow Hux had ever laid eyes on.

He couldn’t help the snort which left him as soon as it became apparent. Poe’s head shot up at the noise, and Hux looked away in what was a clear indication of immediate guilt. His face was the picture of complacent innocence, though, as if he hadn’t just judged him without a word.

Poe grinned widely and looked back down at himself, knowing his vivid underwear was known to cause eye-pain. There were any number of things he could say to that little noise, but it really was the loudest color of yellow in existence. It refused to fade, sometimes despite his best efforts and whatever harsh detergents he could find. “Yeah, they’re real ugly, but you’d be surprised at how visible this color is from atmo when you need to get someone’s attention. It makes up for being useful.” The grin on his face was wide, but his voice wasn’t remonstrative. The Resistance wasn’t exactly rolling in credits anyways, made up of volunteers; everything needed to serve more than one purpose sometimes, and that was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Hux’s gaze crossed Poe only to casually look away again, denying making such a judgment on the man’s personal wardrobe choices. “I wouldn’t presume such a thing.”

“Well... you could if you wanted to,” Poe told him with a grin that earned him brief eye contact. “You get to. If anyone does, you get to. You’re my soulmate; I’m yours,” he pointed out again, never getting tired of saying it. Thinking it. Feeling some sort of galactic, otherworldly validation for the fact and greedily clinging to it. After being the cause of the deaths of so many of their friends with his poor past decisions, Poe was extremely grateful to still get to meet his soulmate.

...to be allowed to have one, after what he’d done-- so many of their friends dead from his leadership- it felt almost wrong. But he was going to hold tight to this chance that someone might still have him anyways; someone he could make happy despite the deaths he’d caused. That someone might still have him no matter how badly he screwed up.

Poe put both hands aside his open trousers once more, giving Hux a sort of arch look for drawing attention back to the color, then sort of chuckled to himself with a more serious shake of his head. “...I’ve been wondering about my soulmate ever since I understood what it meant, and I’ve been wondering about you-- this-” he indicated his leg with a nod of his head, “-for over three years. It’s-- You’ll see. We match.”

Poe hooked his thumbs in the sides to ease the waist of the pants down his own thighs. He jutted his left leg out just slightly to keep his trousers from entirely falling down, keeping the eye-searing shade of his underwear in place. As Poe framed the stain on his skin with his hands, a reflexive laugh left him as he sort of looked at it just as avidly as Hux.

“It’s… it’s darker,” Poe reported softly, blinking quickly and grinning. He looked up to meet Hux’s eyes, but the man was looking quickly between the mark there and his own wound, making silent comparisons of his own. Poe smirked and stood up straight with a sudden idea. “Here, one sec,” he said, moving to actually sit next to Hux on the bunk.

He sat to Hux’s right, the stain on his left thigh more easily comparable as their viewpoints aligned. Poe kept his knees a bit taut so his trousers wouldn’t fully fall as he sat, then his breath caught a moment. “Wow. It really is an exact copy from this angle, isn’t it?” he said, looking from his mark to the wound he very much wanted to bandage for Hux already.

Poe laughed a little with pure wonder, and looked into Hux’s face. The other man looked cautiously hopeful; like he was afraid to fully let himself believe it. Poe looked back at their legs as they sat there, outer thighs touching. It was strange, but also felt so right. “I’ve had this for so long. It’s really strange to have watched it happen. You didn’t have an injury there before today, right?”

“No,” Hux said with a shake of his head, his heartbeat picking up speed. He could feel his pulse in his neck. Dameron’s bare leg was warm against his own, those deep eyes looking at him with such emotion. It felt nice, both to be looked at that way and sitting so close. Intimate in a way that was foreign to Hux, but he was desperate for more of.

He wanted this. He wanted so badly for it to be real. He took his attention from the well-defined thigh next to his own. “I would like to see your arm,” Hux stated. The way his eyes watched Poe told the pilot that he wasn’t just asking, but also testing the things Poe had said before; what special boundaries one’s soulmate might have with them.

Poe smiled. If anyone could ask, it was Hux. “Hey, you’ve got it.”

Poe was mostly lucky that the bolt his arm had taken wasn’t as serious as it could’ve been. At least he could still pilot with it. There were some minor fabric burns in his skin, but it was a relatively simple ordeal to remove the singed shirt from his arms compared to the delicacy required for Hux’s trousers.

Hux’s idle interest in the pilot’s bare skin on display was ripped away as his gaze sought out Poe’s left arm as it fell between them. He felt his throat tighten almost so he couldn’t breathe, recognizing the fresh blaster wound there as Poe laid his arm out over his own leg.

It was the same mark as on Hux’s arm. It was dirty, of course, with much more detail to it, but there was the curvature… the burn that looked like a burn… the part where the mark dipped due to where the fabric had made contact with Poe’s skin… Detail after detail in vivid disclosure.

Hux knew it all intimately, and he swallowed over the lump in his throat, barely hearing Poe as the mark he bore was there on the other man’s body.

“Heh, we both have them on the left side,” Poe noted, unaware of the way Hux’s foundations were being shook by what he saw. “Do you-- Oh. Yeah, okay, let’s see ‘em both at the same time, too.”

Hux was quickly removing the upper half of his uniform, the material tossed behind him without a care as he needed to see them both at once: irrefutable proof before his eyes. His gaze darted once to meet Poe’s own in the only warning he got before he seized the pilot’s arm between them, turning it to get a better view. Poe made a sound of amusement and allowed the manhandling. Hux could feel himself begin to shake.

He’d had to get used to the idea intellectually before, but his brain still reasonably denied the existence of anything it didn’t happen to see. He could always shrug it off.

But seeing the mark now-- marks; multiple, and on two people- solidified everything to Hux. The truth of it. The undeniable, factual truth of it; the clear designation that this man was meant for him. That some impossible force or will of the universe or whatever had caused the wound he’d just received to match the spot on Poe’s leg like a shadow; his own mark on the arm that he’d studied with frustration for years, right there and recently-made on Poe’s own skin. Hux looked at the wound rather dumbstruck.

It shook him. His framework for his sense of self. Shook everything he thought he knew-- almost the same way his foundations had been shocked the first time he’d experienced the force, and knew it was a real thing.

This was different though. So very, very different. It didn’t just challenge his view of reality as he knew it; not like experiencing the force had. But it challenged everything he’d ever believed in. Everything he’d ever been told. It invalidated the words of his father; of snide Imperials or smug instructors who discounted such things as childish nonsense. It wasn’t any of those things. It was real.

Armitage Hux had a soulmate. One who cared about whether he lived or died enough to abduct him; claim him. He doubted his rank meant anything to Poe; the pilot really wanted him. Was meant for him. Nothing anyone did or said would ever change that fact, because it was true. And the impossible proof was right in front of him, and sitting right next to him. It didn’t mean he was someone to love, but someone meant to be loved. By Poe Dameron specifically. It was true. It was real.

He might’ve missed out on it if the pilot hadn’t grabbed him when he did.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Poe’s voice came gentle next to him, and Hux realized he was crying.

“Don’t look at me,” Hux snapped, flooded with embarrassment as he looked away, dabbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t even know why I’m-- I’m not crying.” He awaited some manner of ridicule from the other man as he couldn’t stop, but Poe did nothing of the sort as he sat there next to him.

“Okay.” His voice sounded pleased, warm, but not smug; no ridicule incoming for the tears on Hux’s face. “Can I hug you, though?”

Hux still wiped at his eyes, unable to meet Poe’s own. This was embarrassing, lacking any dignity at all. He felt Poe’s hand between them turn to lay palm-down against his thigh. Poe didn’t grope him or squeeze him, but just left it there in some form of tacit support. Hux reached for it with the hand he wasn’t wiping his face with, wanting the kind touch desperately. He could have that much. Dameron was his, was he not? That’s what he kept implying, anyways, while Hux inwardly went to pieces over this new thing that suddenly existed in his life.

And he got to actually have it.

Poe moved slowly, giving him a chance to say no, but once his arm slid over Hux’s shoulders-- bringing himself in close to the crying man instead of pulling Hux to him- Hux found himself willfully pressing himself into the hug. His own arms were between them tentatively, uncertain of being so familiar with the pilot so quickly, but he wanted to be close. He could feel that Poe was smiling again, and the pilot kept on hugging him, one hand gently stroking his back.

Hux never wanted it to stop. It was the best feeling in the world; something almost nostalgic, though he certainly couldn’t remember ever being hugged. Not by his father. His mother then, maybe. He was never sure if the memories he had of her were actually that, or just dreams. He wrapped an arm around Poe, and heard the pilot hum an affirmative before readjusting his grasp on Hux. And he kept on hugging him.

If anyone had said a year prior that Poe would be hugging the man most knew as the Starkiller and liking it, he would’ve told them to go sober up or check into the medbay. But here he was, holding the man who was his soulmate, and thanking everything that might be listening for granting him the opportunity.

Hux was still clinging well after the time Poe thought he might’ve shunted him off. It was a good hug. It felt right. And he held him still after the tears had mostly dried up. Poe spoke softly as if not to spook him, still hugging the other man, “I’m so glad I found you. I’m so, so glad I found you.”

Hux squeezed him as he also squeezed his eyes shut. “...again.” His voice was also quiet; soft in a way Poe would definitely like to hear more of.

“...huh?”

“Say it again.”

It was no longer an exercise in probabilities or weeding facts from fantasy: having a soulmate was a distinct fact. A truth to the universe no longer questioned. Hux had a soulmate in the pilot who held him so gently, and no manner of denial would ever change that fact. It was as if a switch had been flipped in Hux’s mind; the same way his opinions on the force had once been turned on its head. Hux would meet this thing head-on, test the boundaries, and revel in the fact that-- at least to this one person- Hux was the most perfect match Poe would ever find.

Such a concept was intoxicatingly bewildering.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Poe gladly repeated. He let all the relief he felt from it sink into his voice as well, warm as Hux hugged him back. “I’ve been looking for you for three years. It was so worth it.” Poe grinned to himself a little as he tried to swallow over the swell of emotion he felt.

Hux pulled back somewhat to look at Poe. The pilot’s own eyes were moist, and the smile he gave Hux nearly knocked some of that moisture free. It was crying, but it wasn’t. There was so much more in his face than any one simple thing. Hux swallowed over the lump in his throat. He could feel the beat of Poe’s heart under the hand he had at the pilot’s back. “This is real.”

“Yeah. Real as real can be.” Poe gave him another squeeze as if to give the thought weight. “I don’t know what the future might hold, but this is really-real. We’ll figure it out. You saved my life, don’t forget. That means it’s your problem.”

Hux could feel something between a smirk and a genuine smile take his face. His eyes stung from crying, and he was so warm everywhere Poe was touching him.

This was so unreal, and yet, it was.

He touched Poe’s cheek as a tear broke free, wiping it away with cautious movements in case it wasn’t allowed. Poe only smiled and turned his face into the other man’s hand. Hux went still with contemplation. “What sort of relationship does this… imply?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” Poe told him, unable to keep the grin from his face as he realized Hux was giving in; embracing the bond between them marked by the force. “No pressure. Zero pressure. Having said that, you are extremely good looking.”

Hux snorted at that, looking down between them. He could see the stain on Poe’s leg that matched his thigh. “What does a standard arrangement between a pair like us look like?”

Poe’s hand was moving idly behind Hux’s back, shamelessly enjoying being able to touch his soulmate even over an undershirt. “Well, like I said, there’s no flight manual for this. But for the most part... it usually ends up being a love match.”

Hux’s eyes snapped to his, checking for any sort of teasing. Not finding any, he spoke cautiously. “...you would be interested in that?”

“I am. I mean, I would, yeah. That’s--” He cut himself off, nodding quickly at a loss for words as his eyes became moist again. “I really really would.”

Hux thought again how this felt too good to be true and so undeserved, but he looked down between them and saw his own marks; saw Poe’s. He looked back into the other man’s face and the unshed tears in his eyes as he grinned at Hux.

“I would… be receptive to pursuing that.”

“Yeah?”

Hux nodded, and Poe brought in close to hug him again. Hux wrapped both his arms around the other man, and this time hugged him properly back. It made a delicious sort of ache in Hux’s arms-- nothing of actual pain, but more akin to longing- and he held onto Poe that much tighter before eventually letting go.

Poe smiled and looked at him anew. Hux’s eyes were red rimmed, and he was sure he was very much the same, but there was so much joy in it he didn’t care.

“Could I bandage that up for you, now?” Poe asked, looking down between them towards Hux’s thigh. He’d wasted enough time not finishing with his freaking soulmate’s wound already. He wanted to do right by him; prove to the universe that he was grateful to be able to have this after all the death he’d caused.

Hux made a noise halfway between a huff and a laugh at that simple request, and nodded with the most hopeful of looks back as he released Poe. “Please.”

Poe gave Hux’s shoulder a squeeze before hopping off the bunk. He hiked his trousers back up over his waist but didn’t bother past doing that, sinking back to his knees to carefully apply bacta and then wrap the entirety of the thigh. It would be quick work now, and then maybe Hux would treat his own wound for him.

The door to the bunk room opened, and Finn took a single step inside before his eyes went wide at the sight before him and his jaw went slack. There sat General Hux stripped of his uniform down to his undergarments, face red and moist; Poe on his knees before the general-- shirtless, beltless, trousers half-fallen down and opened to reveal eye-bleeding yellow. One hand of Poe’s was on Hux’s bare thigh in a decidedly-intimate sort of way, the other out of sight on the other side.

Whatever he’d walked into, Finn walked right back out. “Whatever I think I saw, I didn’t. ....I’ll tell Rey you’re preoccupied.”

Before Poe could even ask what the issue was, the bunk room door closed behind Finn, and they were left in light silence.

Poe looked up at Hux with a grin, and gave the side of the man’s good leg a pat with his hand. Hux’s face was red, and Poe gave a slight laugh. “Um… I left it unlocked ‘cause I didn’t want you to think I was trapping you in with me or anything while we talked…” He shrugged. “I didn’t entirely know what to expect. I can lock it now if you want, but I can also leave it.”

Hux blinked at him, and tentatively put a hand over the one Poe had against his thigh. The action received a wide smile from the pilot. “I would prefer if you locked it, unless more problems may arise which require your attention.”

“If it was something serious in any way, he wouldn’t have left,” Poe affirmed with a chuckle as he tried to hold Hux’s hand there. The angle made it awkward, but it was still wonderfully encouraging. “They can fly this thing just as good as I can back to base. Like I said, we have time right now. For us. To talk or just rest after I get you patched up. It’s still a few hours, and they won’t bother us.”

Hux’s stomach felt as if it were making a jump through lightspeed all on its own as he looked into Poe’s face. His other raised of its own accord to touch Poe’s cheek with his fingertips. Poe turned his face into the palm for a second time, and Hux brushed the pad of his thumb over Poe’s cheekbone once, and then twice.

Hux nodded, reconciled to the alteration of reality as he knew it, and of his new reality as Poe Dameron’s soulmate. It didn’t look bad at all when taking the form of Dameron’s sweetly-smiling face looking up at him with such warmth.

In that moment, Hux didn’t want to share him with anyone else. “Lock it then. Please. I have… questions…” Hux stated with uncertainty. “This is all foreign to me, but I would know it properly.”

His thumb was still on Poe’s cheek. Poe nodded into his hand, but didn’t get up from his knees. He made quick work of finally applying bacta and sterile gauze about Hux’s wound, and the other man did the same for him. With the door locked and nothing but time to waste, Poe sat next to Hux in companionable silence, content to sit there holding hands with the other man until the questions finally came.

Poe’s hand held Hux’s in his. Hux held Poe’s hand right back. The tentative squeeze Hux gave was a question all its own.

The firm squeeze Poe gave back in response was all the answer that was needed.