Archive of Our Own

“They don’t want him running off and disappearing into the Unknown Regions to start a new tyrannical cult,” Finn says in his office. “They don’t want to repeat the mistakes that allowed the First Order to come into existence in the first place. Poe, they’re right.”

Poe probably wouldn’t admit how much he loves the place, loves their new base of operations. It’s rewarding to have gone from the makeshift tents of Ajan Kloss to a proper solid structure with transparisteel windows and high ceilings. However, it’s not as rewarding as seeing the people who stuck around because they understood that evil takes many forms, many shapes, and many times to be defeated. It’s not just about the fabled idea of evil, either, it’s about the kind that slips through the cracks. Poe doesn’t love their headquarters more than being in the pilot seat among the stars, but he understands that that isn’t what the galaxy requires of him right now.

“Can’t they put a tracker on him?”

“You think that’d stop a smart, determined, industrious guy like Hux?” Finn asks disbelievingly. He’s got a point. “Their reasoning is, now that there are no Force users in his way, what’s to stop him from starting a new order, declaring himself Supreme Leader, and continuing his reign of terror? There are plenty of First Order sympathizers we don’t know about that would be willing to back him.”

“Yeah, but they know he helped us,” Poe says and drums his fingers on the table, uneasy with everything they don’t know yet, everything still left to fix.

“Sure, for his own reasons. He never actually defected; you dragging him here doesn’t count. He helped us to take down Kylo Ren. He can spin that as ‘trying to get the Order back to its roots’ or some other nonsense. Do you think he actually abandoned the values of the First Order?”

Poe sighs. “No, as much as I’d like to believe he did.”

“Look, he saved our lives and Chewie’s. I’m grateful for that, but it’s telling that he won’t publicly renounce his loyalty to the Order. And it’s not like he’s getting executed. I wouldn’t stand for them doing that.” Finn leans back on his seat across from Poe, and Poe gets a weird superimposed image of him the day they met, the day he saved Poe’s life. They’ve all changed and grown.

“He’s spending the rest of his life in a tiny jail cell. It’s not better.”

“He killed billions of people and is unrepentant about it, Poe,” Finn says.

“Everyone deserves a chance to redeem themselves and do better. Be better.” Poe firmly believes that anyone willing to do the work deserves a second chance. Death and suffering don’t transform anyone into a good person. It benefits no one, unlike the way that embarking on the long and painful path toward self-improvement does.

“I agree, but he’s getting that chance and he’s rejecting it. I get that he was fed all that Order garbage since he was a child, and it’s not easy to just let it go. He’s not just gonna wake up one day and decide to believe something else. It’s not as easy as that. He can get help there. They set up this rehabilitation program—” Finn shrugs. “Maybe it’s his best hope.”

“Have you spoken to him?” Poe asks.

“No, I — I don’t want to. I know it’s not very professional but— he’s. Well, you know him. Maybe you should?” Finn suggests, looking hopeful.

Poe groans. “Fine, but if I do this, you’re taking care of datawork for the next month.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “That’s not fair. I’m giving you an opportunity to amuse yourself by calling him ‘Hugs’ as many times as you want.”

“Oh, you’re doing me a favor? That’s considerate of you.”

“You have been looking pretty down lately, man.” A joke that hits a little too close. “Maybe doing some light pigtail-pulling will cheer you up.”

“Man, that’s not—” Poe starts, but Finn is already standing up to leave.

“I’m going to check if Jannah is back. Have fun.”

“You’re taking care of those reports, though. Right?” Poe calls after him.

“Is this what your government is stooping to?” Hux says when he enters the room, hands in binders and eyes calculating. The light overhead is bright yellow, making the white color of the walls seem blinding, giving everything an unpleasant washed out tint. There’s no comfort to be found inside this unwelcoming space. It isn’t a shelter, it’s a coffin. It unnerves Poe.

“Good to see you too. I have no idea what you mean,” says Poe, feeling the same urge he always gets to get under Hux’s skin, to rattle him.

Hux sits down across from him, the silver durasteel surface of the table almost functioning like a mirror, capturing his displeased features. “Since threats and other pathetic attempts at strong-arming me failed. They’ve sent you, to— charm me into doing what they want?”

Poe grins. This is actually the most relaxed fun he’s had in a while. He’ll examine that later. “Now, the reason you believe that is because you think I’m charming and that, as such, I have a good chance of changing your mind.”

Hux scoffs, but goes faintly pink around his nose. “I didn’t say that.”

“I’ll let it go, but you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he says, patting his hand condescendingly. Hux tenses for a second, but doesn’t pull away. “Since you know what I am here for, why don’t you tell me what the problem is.”

“There is no problem. I’m unwilling to play your government’s game and debase myself for a longer leash. That’s it.”

“You’d condemn yourself to spending the rest of your life in a jail cell out of pride?”

“I’m not doing that. They are.”

Poe can tell he genuinely believes what he’s saying, too. “They’re giving you a second chance.”

“A chance to broadcast my public humiliation for the entire galaxy to amuse themselves? I’ll pass.”

“You have to understand where they’re coming from,” Poe says patiently.

“I’m not going to try to regroup the Order’s remnants into a new movement where I can make myself the Supreme Leader just to soothe my wounded ego. The point of the Order was not power for power’s sake.” He must really mean it; cracks show in his previously blank façade and something manic comes through. “It’s not my problem if they don’t believe me.”

Poe can tell why Finn would not want to do this (beyond the obvious) with Hux. Hux drives him to new depths of frustration every time. He’s insane to enjoy it. “It literally is, though.”

“Why do you even care? I get why they want me to do it. They want to cremate the Order’s already rotting remains. But I’ll be locked away in a jail cell for the rest of my days, so what difference does it make to you?” Hux asks, tilting his head and setting his piercing gaze on Poe.

“You deserve a second chance,” Poe says without missing a beat.

Hux frowns at him. “No, I don’t. Is the idea that everyone can be good if given the opportunity so comforting to you that you would extend that courtesy to a mass murderer? You should reevaluate your priorities.”

The long months since the war ended have taught Poe a lot; they have given him a different outlook on the future. Locked in prison, the same thing has happened to Hux. Though not for the better. “I hope you find your cell very comforting, then.” Poe stands up and vows to put this out of his mind. He tried, but there’s no winning, no reasoning with Hux.

Poe can’t stop obsessing about it, though. He didn’t realize how much of his time has been taken up by datawork lately but now that Finn’s temporarily taking care of that, he finds himself with a little more free time. He makes plans to go flying to relax, clear his head, but instead, he productively spends it thinking about Hux.

He sits in his office poring over the terms of release that were handed to Hux and pauses when he finds something — confusing. The wording is awkward enough that he convinces himself it can’t mean what he thinks it does. Entering into the marital condition...

The party must provide documentation or testimonial.... He rereads it, but it seems like a dead-end, anyway. Where is Hux going to find a law-abiding New Republic citizen with good community standing willing to marry him? It’s mostly interesting in that it’s weird and archaic. Entrusting Hux to a spouse to keep him in line. The thought is unpleasant and it lodges itself in Poe’s brain. It’s late and he’s tired. He’ll try to make sense of it in the morning.

“You heard the news?” Rey says while they’re waiting for Finn to join them for breakfast. She has roughly eighty percent of the cafeteria’s content in front of her, but she doesn’t mind sharing. These days, at least.

“What news?” Poe asks, taking a sip of his too-sweet caf before putting it back down.

“General Hux is getting married,” she says, sounding amused.

“He’s no longer a general,” he says distractedly before he processes what she said. “Wait, what?”

“Right, force of habit.” She shrugs. “Anyway, yeah. There’s some weird clause in the terms of his release about marriage. Finn and I are going there next week. You wanna join us?”

“There where? The prison?”

“Yeah, apparently they’re swamped with applications.”

“He can only marry a true law-abiding citizen, no priors or anything. Where are those people coming from?”

“You knew about this?” Rey asks, frowning at him.

Poe shrugs. “Yeah. I figured, no one would be crazy enough to go there.” There’s something deeply horrifying in knowing he was wrong about that. Maybe they’re doing it as some sort of revenge scheme. That’s actually not better, though.

“We doubt these people will pass a background check, but we’ll go there and meet with the ones who do. Make sure it’s not some ploy to recruit him.”

“You’ll—” He makes a vague hand gesture meant to convey ‘use the Force on them’ without actually saying words he’s uncomfortable with.

“Nothing invasive,” she says firmly. “Since hardly anyone knows about Finn, I’ll distract them while he gets a light read on them. He’s much better at being subtle.”

One day he’ll stop feeling vaguely uneasy about conversations surrounding mind reading, but not today. “What does Hux think about it?”

Rey frowns at him. “What do you mean? Presumably, he’s excited about getting out.”

“You know what? I think I’ll join you.”

“You’re relentless,” Hux says, walking inside the visitation room. There are no binders around his wrists, but he’s wearing the same scowl as last time. He looks paler each day too, though maybe that’s the aggressive white-on-white aesthetic the prison seems to be going for.

Poe grins at him and motions him into the seat across the table. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Is this about all the sham marriages? I’m not interested in being part of that kind of spectacle either.”

“No, but we’ll get to that. If you’re truly not planning on doing anything to carry on with the Order’s vision, why not just say so? Why not just renounce their ideals? Do you still believe in what the Order supposedly stood for?” Poe wants to be certain, as certain as he can be anyway, that Hux getting out isn’t a horrible idea.

“Fine. I reject the ideals that the First Order stood or ever claimed to stand for. I shan’t associate or wish to be associated with any organization that professes to hold said views as I no longer share them and recognize their harmful and destructive methods. Happy?”

“It means nothing if you say it to me,” Poe says. It sounded eerily convincing, though.

Hux looks at him intently for a long moment and leans forward, placing his fingers on the edge of the table. “Of course it does.”

“I meant I’m not the one who needs to hear it.”

“You’re the one I want to say it to.” Hux winces, almost imperceptibly. There once second, gone the next. “Do you believe I was being truthful?”

Poe doesn’t know him, doesn’t know how he’s changed or remained the same since that day he saved Poe’s life. He seemed very sincere, but it’s hard to tell if it was an act. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t matter either way. They’re not going to release you based on my word.”

“Your regard should carry more weight than some elaborate circus where they put me on display.” He looks away and clenches his jaw after saying it.

Poe frowns. “What about these marriages? Do you know who these applicants might be?”

“My guess is, people interested in getting me to design weapons for them, maybe serve as a figurehead for their clandestine organization. I’ll pass. I’m not interested in having my freedom dangled in front of me while I’m expected to be grateful for the opportunity to prove myself. I’d rather rot in here than have another master.” There is something raw and genuine coming from his words, from his sharp gaze.

This time, at least, Poe can tell he’s telling the truth.

“—exhausting our resources,” the warden is saying to Finn and Rey when he joins them in the lobby. It’s not a bright white void like the other places Poe’s seen so far, but the dull, washed-out beige isn’t an improvement. “You must talk to some government officials. Have them send someone to deal with this, or even better, they can take over. These people— they’re not going to stop. We’re all working overtime to deal with this, but it’s not sustainable.”

“We’ll take care of it,” says Rey reassuringly, with the confidence of someone who is going to delegate the task or has never dealt with bureaucracy. Poe would know, seeing as he leaves that kind of thing for Finn to handle. He’s more patient and all-around better at it than Poe could ever dream of being, anyway.

“Why not just completely get rid of the marriage clause?” Poe says later, on the way back. The landspeeder smoothly making its way through the busy streets of Coruscant.

“Agreed. It’s weird and dangerous.” Rey looks troubled by the prospect, which reassures Poe somewhat. “They have to know whatever union comes from that won’t be genuine. Couldn’t possibly.”

“That’s going to be my first suggestion,” Finn says, next to Rey on the other end of the speeder’s semicircular seat. Their personal space melts with each shift of the landspeeder, their knees bumping together.

“Hux is not interested, anyway. So there’s no point in keeping that as an option.” Poe looks out the transparisteel window at the tall, imposing buildings; the people inside it, around it, going about their day unperturbed. He sees the newly inaugurated above-surface park and the couples and families inside the turbolift making their way to the dome-sheltered gardens in it. This is what they fought a war for. He feels something calling to him; an urge, an impulse. A bad idea.

“He’s not?” Finn and Rey say at the same time, either doing their freaky Force thing or their sweet True Love thing.

“Nope, he thinks it’d basically be the equivalent of indentured servitude,” Poe says. “It’s not as if they’ll find someone who meets the criteria, anyway.”

A couple of days later they find someone who qualifies. Poe makes himself wait a few more days and then goes to visit Hux. “Have you met them?” he asks, skipping greetings and pleasantries. Nothing’s pleasant with Hux, anyway.

Hux’s sitting across from Poe with his back ramrod-straight and his eyes alert, but he looks worn out, tired. It gives Poe the urge to slouch for him. “Met whom?”

“Your— suitor.” Your intended, he doesn’t say.

Hux glares at him. “No, and I won’t. They are very insistent, though. They’ve been coming to visit every day and now they’ve begun writing. Can’t you make sure they get arrested for something?”

“For what? They’re clean.” Clean but deeply unwell, at best, going by how desperately they want to marry Hux.

“Don’t you have a Jedi who can dig through their darkest secrets?”

“Finn and Rey don’t do that,” Poe says automatically.

Hux frowns. “What does the former stormtrooper have to do with anything?”

Kriff. “Nothing.”

“He’s a Force user? Huh.” Hux stays quiet for a moment. A very brief respite from his charming thoughts. “I wish I had known that. We could’ve gotten rid of Kylo Ren and promoted him to take his place. Maybe he wouldn’t have defected.”

Poe groans. “Finn didn’t defect for lack of career advancement.”

“I’m sure that was a factor, though,” Hux says and shrugs, his posture going a little lax.

“I have—” Finn pauses awkwardly by the door. “News. About Hux.”

Poe puts the datapad aside. He had been rereading the same report for the past fifteen minutes, anyway. “Lay it on me.”

Finn walks into the office and looks around at the cluttered desk and chair. He clears the chair but doesn’t comment. Poe’s been a little busy, that’s all. He sits down and says, “first, they’re adamant about keeping the marriage clause in.”

“Why?” Poe asks, genuinely confused.

Finn shrugs. “They framed it as being a good thing for Hux. It’d give him a support system, make it easier for him to reintegrate into society.”

“Do you believe them?” It sounds like bantha shit to Poe, but he trusts Finn’s judgment.

“No, and it gets weirder. They didn’t outright say it, but one of them implied that maybe they could go ahead with it without Hux’s consent.”

“What?”

“It’s just the impression I got. They don’t want to have him rotting in a cell, but they also don’t want to have to deal with him. They want to wash their hands off of him without having to worry or feel guilty about it.” Finn pauses for a long, awkward moment, shifting in his seat and visibly steeling himself for something. “They— well, one of them suggested something. You’re not going to like it.”

At that moment, Poe imagines everything from human sacrifices to finding out Palpatine has somehow returned. Again. “I already don’t.”

“They think— it should be you,” Finn says and immediately winces.

“What should be me?” Poe says, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

Finn shrugs, casually. “They think you should marry him.”

Poe closes his eyes and replays the words, but when he opens them, the room remains the same. “Why would I do that to myself?”

“They’d feel comfortable releasing him into your custody.” Finn, at least, looks twice as pained and uncomfortable as Poe feels.

“I’m not interested in being someone’s jailer or babysitter.” Poe wonders exactly where his life went wrong that he’s given anyone that impression. Is this what people meant by ‘the burden of command’? “They mentioned me specifically?”

After a pause, Finn awkwardly says, “well, yes.”

“Oh, I see. You suggested me,” Poe says, pointing a finger in his direction.

“No, they suggested me and I said no, for obvious reasons. Then they suggested you. It’s not the worst idea. You guys have a rapport,” Finn says reasonably.

“Putting everything else temporarily aside, he would never. He finds that marriage clause disgusting, as he should. What am I supposed to do? Force him to marry me?” Poe can tell he’s been gesticulating a little wildly, so he makes himself stop and reach for his caf. It’s gone cold but he grimaces and drinks it anyway.

“Just talk to him? If you’re open to the idea, that is. Rey and I met the other guy. He genuinely seems fine.”

If they ignore that that guy actually wants to marry Hux.

“Maybe they’ll suggest Rey next,” Poe says with a laugh.

Finn is not amused.

Hux looks genuinely horrified as Poe basically replays the conversation he had with Finn about the marriage clause a few days earlier. “They suggested that?” he asks, making a face and scoffing.

“Buddy, you would be marrying well out of your league here,” Poe says. It’s not like he wants to talk Hux into it, but it’s the principle of the matter.

He looks at Poe, tilting his head, like he’s actually considering the merits of marrying him and concludes, “that’s debatable.”

Poe’s offended now. He thinks marrying Poe is a fate worse than prison? Or— “What? You like the other guy better?”

Finn sighs. “I did not come for this. This is not helpful.” From his place at the head of the long table, he seems like a mediator or a judge. Poe gets the weird image of Finn marrying them right then and there and has to briefly close his eyes.

“I don’t want any Force users in the room,” Hux says pointedly.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Poe snaps.

“Poe, you told him?”

“No,” Poe says at the same time Hux says, “he did.”

Poe glares at him. “He guessed.”

Finn shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Poe turns to his right and tells Finn, “you see what I would have to put up with, though? You would saddle your best friend with this?”

“Excuse me,” Hux says, offended. Offended by what? Poe wonders. The truth?

“As I said, a rapport,” Finn says.

“I don’t think my presence is required for this conversation,” Hux says, standing up.

Poe points at him. “Sit back down.” To his surprise, Hux does. He turns back to Finn. “He doesn’t even want to do it. He’s happy spending the rest of his life here. Tell him, Hugs.”

“I’m not. I obviously want to get out of here,” Hux says.

“No, that’s not what you told me before. You said—”

Finn interrupts him, leaning forward, and asking Hux, “would you be willing to marry Poe to get out of here?”

“Yes,” Hux says without missing a beat.

“There you go,” says Finn, sounding satisfied at having given Poe a problem he did not previously have.

For a heartbeat, Poe can’t focus on anything over the loud buzzing in his ears. “I’m sorry. What?” He points a finger at Hux, accusingly. “You said you wouldn’t do it because you didn’t want a new master.” Poe believed him too.

“Is that what your goal is? To master me?” His accent comes out sharp and his words pointed. His gaze is unwavering.

Poe swallows. “I— no, I—”

Finn clears his throat. “I think we’re getting a little off-topic here.”

“I said yes because I thought you were offering,” Hux says rationally. It doesn’t make sense as far as excuses go, though. If that were the case, he would’ve said yes to the guy who’s been actively pursuing him.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Poe says.

“You can always get a divorce later,” Finn says reassuringly, as they make their way out, walking down the long and narrow corridor. “I mean, if you want.”

Why wouldn’t Poe want that? They turn a corner and, instead of the expected exit, they come face-to-face with a locked door, no exit in sight. Poe starts to feel trapped. “Does the clause specify for how long we have to stay married?”

Finn hesitates. “No, but long enough for it not to look like a sham? You know, until he has—”

Poe steps in front of him and urgently says, “please don’t say ‘redeemed himself.’”

Finn pats him in the arm twice and keeps walking. “I was going to say ‘gotten better.’”

But it’s not like Hux is sick, so gotten better at what?

Once you start something, you gotta see it through. Poe’s a firm believer of that. So whatever reservations he might have get pushed aside and the wedding preparations continue apace. There’s not much to prepare; it’s all very bureaucratic and impersonal. Hux must love that part, at least.

“You look good,” Rey says when he lets her in, sounding surprised.

Should Poe feel insulted by that? “Thanks, you too.” Though it is weird seeing her with her hair down and clothes unsuited to Jedi training. He goes back to the mirror, feeling weirdly self-conscious, unprepared for this performance.

She claps her hands together. “Are you trying the all black-on-black look for him?”

Poe looks down at himself. His long jacket is black, but it has two white stripes going down the front and his shirt is not all black. He looks good. “Oh, I see. You’re making up for all the jokes Finn promised not to tell.”

“It’s gonna be fine. I have a good feeling about this,” she says, moving closer. She grabs his hands. “Stop messing up your hair. You look fine.”

“Now it’s fine? A couple of minutes ago I looked good.”

“Yes, but you messed up your hair. Don’t worry, he’s going to be blown away by you regardless.” She shrugs easily and moves to the floor-to-ceiling window that everyone who walks into Poe’s home is drawn to.

“You’re very funny. Don’t worry, I’ll get you back for this when you and Finn get married.”

Rey laughs, obviously flustered, and says, “oh, that’s— I mean, there’s—” before awkwardly clearing her throat and fixing her gaze outside.

The ceremony is thankfully short, brief, and private. Held in another one of the seemingly endless fluorescent white rooms inside the prison. It’s cold, the air is stifling, and the room is small; too small for guests, if they had them. His dad had actually wanted to come, even after Poe had explained it was a sham marriage. Poe didn’t understand the logic there.

They avoid each other’s gazes and stand as far apart as possible while still being in the same room. They approach the screen pad at the center of the table and scan their fingerprints and, just like that, they’re officially married. Poe places the ring in front of Hux and awkwardly puts his on, flexing his fingers a couple of times.

Afterward, they tell him he needs to wait a couple of hours while they process Hux and the documents that release him into his — custody, he supposes. The implications that Hux is trading one prison for another make him extremely uncomfortable. He hopes Hux doesn’t see it that way and if he does, Poe hopes to prove him wrong.

Finn and Rey keep him company for a bit, looking somewhat uneasy. Poe doesn’t blame them when they leave. He doesn’t blame anyone for wanting to escape the piercing, blinding nothingness that makes up every single wall in this place.

After what are definitely more than a couple of hours, they bring Hux out and they can finally go home. Poe hesitates over the threshold, not sure he’s ready or capable of keeping someone like Hux out of trouble. This is something he should’ve considered before saying ‘I do,’ though.

“You only have one room? Where will I sleep?” It’s the first thing Hux’s said since the ceremony.

Poe looks around the place. He’s been living here for a few months and he likes it, especially for the view. He touches the transparisteel surface that makes up the entirety of the left side wall and the low glow of the room is replaced by the bright light of the outside sun. The artificial dark shade gives room to the open view that captivated Poe the first time. At night, the glow of the stars is reflected in the living area and they feel within reach.

“The couch is not bad.”

“Are you offering to take it, then? You did not plan for this at all, did you?” Hux says.

Poe didn’t let himself think about any of the important little details, knowing anything could become an excuse not to go through with it. “There were time constraints. You know this. Look, we’ll figure this out as we go along. It’ll be easier now that you’re here and I don’t have to guess what you need.”

Hux looks like he wants to argue, but then just sighs and walks over to the window, focusing on the outside. His hand, pale and sun-deprived, traces a shape on the transparisteel. Today must be his first glimpse at the outside world in months. “Fine. I’d like to take a shower and have something to eat, if that’s okay with you.”

Good to know he can be polite, but just chooses not to. “Of course. And Hux, you don’t have to ask. From now on, this is your home too.”

The room is already bathed in light when he comes out of the bedroom the next morning. Hux must’ve been up for a while. “How was the couch?” Poe asks, making his way to the kitchen.

Hux glowers at him. “It made me miss the bunk I slept on in prison.”

Poe laughs. He felt a little bad when he left Hux to maneuver his long awkward limbs into a couch that is maybe half his size. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll figure something out.”

“You could let me have the bed.”

Poe can’t believe how entitled he is. He doesn’t feel that bad. “I’m not giving up my bed. Can you power up Beebee for me?”

“What?”

“My droid. He’s in the corner.” Poe finishes his caf while Hux kneels down in front of Beebee and carefully powers him up. Hux moves away, startled when Beebee makes loud beeping noises at him, and turns away to helplessly look at Poe. Poe laughs again. “Beebee, it’s fine. I told you, remember? He’s gonna live with us now. You guys need to get acquainted with each other. Some other time, though. We’re running late, Beebee. Let’s go.”

“Where are you going?” Hux asks.

“Work.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Poe didn’t really think about that. Hux is going to be alone, completely unsupervised for hours on end. He could do anything, go anywhere, disappear. There’s nothing Poe can do, short of locking him inside the place, and he’s not going to keep him a prisoner in his own home. “I don’t know. Make yourself at home.”

Poe has a fun day filled with people congratulating him on his marriage (some more earnestly than others), telling him they can’t wait to meet his husband (literally no one means it, but Poe can’t blame them), telling him “back already? Go spend some time with your husband” (Finn), and “is married life everything you hoped it would be?” (Rey), so he’s relieved to be back home, where his husband is hopefully waiting for him and hasn’t run off to start a criminal organization. Yet, at least.

“Hux? I’m home.” When he gets no response, he goes to the living room and then the kitchen. Luckily, there aren’t a lot of places Hux could be hiding in. He opens the door to his room and finds Hux lying on the bed, his hands crossed against his midriff, his hair standing out against the grey sheets. Poe’s relieved but— “What are you doing in my bed?”

“It’s our bed. Everything that’s yours is mine and vice versa. Isn’t that the deal?”

Poe scoffs. “That’s a convenient deal. For you.”

“How was work?” Hux asks with an insincere smile.

“Fun. How was—” On top of everything else, now Poe needs to figure out what to do to keep Hux occupied all day. “—your day?”

Hux looks away from him, focusing intently on the ceiling. “Fun.”

Poe glances around the room and frowns. “Did you reorganize all my stuff?”

“Yes, and I changed the sheets. You’re welcome.”

Poe sighs, annoyed. He definitely needs to find something to keep Hux busy.

Poe’s always heard that marriages are all about compromises. Also, communication, respect, and genuine affection, but he’s working with what he’s got. He’s not happy with the solution he found to their sleeping arrangements, but it’s simple and easy to implement. Even Hux saw it that way, though his mouth turned into a flat, irritated line as he agreed. Possibly offended at the idea of having to share something.

“Don’t look at me like that. This was your idea. You can always go back to the couch.”

“I’m not looking at you,” Hux says, from where he’s lying on his — their, Poe supposes now — bed.

The first couple of nights are rough and Poe finds himself on the floor on more than one occasion. Hux apologizes each time (though Poe’s not sure it counts as an apology when he follows it by blaming Poe for being too close) but he’s tempted to kick him back to the couch anyway. Poe’s not convinced he’s not doing this on purpose just to get the bed to himself.

On the fifth day, he wakes up with Hux wrapped around him, spooning him. He doesn’t exactly mind, but he knows Hux will freak out when he wakes up and find a way to somehow blame this on Poe.

He tries to remove Hux’s arm from where it’s resting against his middle, but it only makes Hux cling tighter. He shifts a little and can tell the exact moment Hux wakes up. He tenses all over and his breath comes out fast and shaky against Poe’s neck.

“Don’t freak out. It’s fine.”

Hux doesn’t respond and they quickly disentangle, avoiding each other’s gazes.

That night, Hux voluntarily takes the couch. He keeps it up for a couple of nights, unfailingly looking miserable the next morning.

Eventually, Poe takes pity on him and tells him, “come back to bed. That couch is half your size.”

Hux keeps the room at a claustrophobic pitch-black darkness, so Poe is mostly speaking into the void, save for the small lamp on the right side of the couch and the warm blue light that comes from it.

“I’ve slept in more uncomfortable places. At least here I don’t have to worry that someone will kill me in my sleep.”

“Do I have to worry about you killing me in my sleep if you come back to bed?” Poe asks, and after some consideration, Hux shakes his head. “Do I have to worry about you cuddling me in my sleep?” Poe laughs when Hux glowers at him. “I’m kidding. I put up with you literally kicking me out of bed. Multiple times in one night, even. This is fine.”

“I can’t control how I behave when I’m asleep,” he says, sounding defensive.

“And I don’t expect you to.” When Hux doesn’t say anything, he goes back to his room. Poe is not going to force him to share his bed.

After a few minutes, he hears the door slide open, followed by Hux crawling into bed next to him.

“Goodnight,” Poe says, patting his hand. Hux only flinches a little. They’re making progress.

A few days later Poe wakes up with his leg thrown over Hux and his head resting on his shoulder. Hux is very bony so Poe doesn’t know why he nevertheless finds it comfortable. He tries to carefully extricate himself, but notices that Hux is already awake. He’s absentmindedly tracing his fingers around Poe’s hand where it’s resting on his chest and staring at the ceiling. Poe lets himself relax.

It feels good to wake up next to someone and for the foreseeable future, that someone will be Hux.

They skirt around playing domesticity and then they embrace it. They go shopping and they cook meals and he discovers that Hux is a terrible person to watch holofilms with, and he spends an entire weekend watching in dismay as Hux reorganizes everything in their place. Poe comes home every day to Hux waiting for him and they share a bed, a house, a life.

It’s domestic in a way Poe hasn’t experienced before. He’s almost sad that he’s doing all this for the first time with Hux, of all people. On the other hand, Hux has no idea what he’s doing, so they get to fumble around each other until they land on a configuration that works for both of them.

Poe still feels as if he’s adjusting back to civilian life and Hux is adjusting to the culture shock that is life outside the Order. To freedom, in general. Poe likes to believe they make it easier for each other.

Poe comes home one day and Hux is not there. He tells himself not to assume the worst. He’s sure Hux is out doing totally legitimate things with people who are definitely not criminals in any way, shape, or form. Hux certainly isn’t secretly putting together a paramilitary terrorist group right under Poe’s nose.

The more time passes the harder it gets to convince himself of that. Kriff, Poe is such an idiot. He got so comfortable around Hux that he stopped being suspicious of him. What is wrong with him?

When Hux gets home, he’s visibly surprised, but at least doesn’t say something like, oh, I didn’t expect you to be home so early.

“Where were you?” Poe says from the couch.

Hux must’ve brought all the cold from outside with him because the room feels several degrees colder now. “Out.”

“Yeah, I can tell as much. Out where?”

Hux glares at him. “Why don’t you just accuse me of whatever it is that you’re going to accuse me of and we get it over with?”

“Why don’t you just tell me where you were and we get it over with?”

“You’re taking your role as jailer a little too seriously, Dameron,” Hux says, walking past him.

Poe clenches his jaw and breathes out. He’s not going to let Hux derail this conversation. Hux closes the door to their room behind him but doesn’t lock it, so Poe follows him inside. The more reluctant Hux is to tell him, the worst it looks. At this point, Poe’s past worst-case scenarios and has landed at damage control. “Hux, just tell me.”

Hux sits down heavily on the bed and starts to furiously take his boots off. “The counseling program that the government set up. It’s two hours, all Zhelldays. Feel free to double-check,” Hux says, gritting his teeth.

Poe stares at him for a second. He looks like he’s telling the truth, at least. “No, that’s — I believe you. If that’s where you say you were, then that’s where you were.” Obviously Poe is going to check, though. He’s not an idiot. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I didn’t know that was in the terms of your release.” He’s read the conditions several times and there wasn’t a mention of government-mandated counseling, which was definitely an oversight. The government was not joking about not wanting to deal with Hux. They haven’t gotten a call, a visit, nothing. Out of sight and out of mind.

“It’s not.” When Poe just looks at him, waiting for an explanation, he says, “I tire of spending all day here, waiting for you. I’m not used to being so aimless.”

“You’re doing it voluntarily?” Poe can’t keep the astonishment out of his voice, but at Hux’s look, he adds, “it’s great. I’m — glad.”

Hux scowls at him. “I don’t need your approval.”

“All I said was that I was glad. Look, next time I’ll pick you up after work.”

Hux lets out an annoyed breath. “You don’t need to keep an eye on me at all times.”

Poe knows this, but he’s nonetheless relieved he won’t have to worry about Hux for two hours of the week. “I just think it will be nice.”

If anything, that makes Hux look disgusted.

Just as they’re getting settled into a routine, Hux decides to shake things up.

“Where are you going all dressed up?” he asks Hux, placing a cup of tea on the kitchen counter for him. He looks good, some black-on-black First Order-casual type of ensemble.

“I’m going with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he says, and Hux scowls at him. “I know you’re bored, but it’s gonna be pretty boring there too. Not a lot for you to do there.” He realizes that even though they’ve been married over two months, he doesn’t actually know Hux; what he likes, what he’s good at, what he enjoys other than murder and terror.

“Dameron, if you didn’t want to be seen with me, then you shouldn’t have married me,” he says reasonably. He’s right.

“I know. I know, I just— you’re gonna behave, right?”

“Excuse me?” Hux says, outraged.

“I need you to be on your best behavior.”

Hux glares at him. “I’m not going to embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Poe shakes his head. “I don’t care about that, but it’s very different from what you’re used to. I don’t want you disrespecting anyone because they’re different from you. They deserve to be treated with decency and I won’t tolerate your fucked up views. No one is going to bother you or antagonize you, and I expect the same from you.”

“I might offend someone accidentally,” he says, like the obnoxious pedant he is.

“That’s okay. I trust you know how to apologize.”

Almost everyone does a double-take when they arrive together, but they’re polite enough to just wave as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. When they’re in Poe’s office, Hux meticulously goes through everything on the desk, reading things he definitely shouldn’t be reading.

“Put that down.” Poe misses when he got under Hux’s skin for fun, instead of the other way around.

“Do you have anything on the First Order I can look at?” Hux asks, sitting down in front of the communications module and reading the transmissions on the screen.

Talk about your bad ideas. “Nope.”

He turns to look at Poe and frowns, leaning back against the chair and looking completely at ease in Poe’s workspace. “You have nothing on the Order? I find that hard to believe.”

Poe begins scanning an inventory report, hoping Hux gets the hint. “Nothing I’m comfortable with you going through.”

Hux scoffs. “What exactly do you think I’ll do? I probably already know whatever’s in your reports.”

“No reason for you to go through them, then.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Hux asks.

“I don’t know,” Poe says slowly, putting his datapad down. “It’s not my job to entertain you. It was your idea to come here, remember?”

“Fine,” Hux says and storms out.

Poe sighs. “Beebee, can you go check he’s not causing trouble?” At Beebee’s indignant reply, he adds, “please?”

After a couple of hours, Beebee still hasn’t returned, so he assumes Hux is behaving or just left. He still goes to check. Just in case.

“He’s good,” says an engineer whose name he’s forgotten, giving him a thumbs up, and walking past him. Poe needs to get better at putting names to faces.

He pokes his head in one of the workshops and finds Hux. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and has exposed his thin, delicate wrists. Poe follows the movement of his hand, how he opens a bottle of water, takes it to his lips and swallows, his throat working in a way Poe’s reluctant to look away from.

“What are you doing?” Poe asks.

He doesn’t look out of place in the middle of the wide, rectangular room, boxed in by a large recurved table with various tools and droid parts on top. “Don’t worry. I’m staying out of trouble. Otherwise, your droid would’ve let you know.”

“Are you conspiring with Beebee against me?” Poe asks horrified.

“No, I think he likes you too much to make a move against you,” Hux says, making the emphasis all weird. I think he likes you.

“So what’s this?”

Hux puts the bottle on the table and picks up a hydrospanner, using it to point. “This... is a droid.”

“No way. Tell me more,” says Poe, smiling at him. It’s not something he usually does around Hux. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s done it before.

Hux motions expansively around the room. “You have too many decommissioned droids. A whole room of it.”

“We’re a little short-staffed.”

“No, you’re not, but your numbers are all skewered. You have too many pilots and fighters and not enough — well, everything else. It’s not an optimal configuration for peacetime.”

He’s right, but Poe wonders when he had time to gather that information in the two hours Poe left him out of his sight and in between droid repair. “You want a job?”

Hux laughs, borderline-but-not-outright derisively. “I’ll finally get to prove to everyone they were right about my career being the direct result of nepotism.”

Poe frowns. “Who?”

“No one. They’re dead.” Hux doesn’t clarify how they died, but he doesn’t really need to. “I was going to say ‘everyone who thought I made my way up the ladder by getting on my knees’ but it wouldn’t really apply in this case.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re only doing this to keep your — husband—” Hux stumbles only a little on the word, before continuing. “—occupied and out of trouble.”

“Not if he’s good at it.”

“Maybe I’m just pretending I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you think I’m nothing but a pretty face, but I have done that before, so I do know what you’re doing and can follow along just fine.”

“I don’t think you’re just a pretty face,” Hux mutters.

Is Hux flirting with him? No, Poe’s not going to let himself think about it like that.

It is alarming how many people seem to easily accept and adjust to the idea that Poe just married a war criminal. It says something about them or maybe about what they think of Poe’s judgment.

“But you did marry him,” Finn points out helpfully. He leans to his left and jostles Poe, causing his podracer on the screen to veer dangerously off-course.

His racer nears a ramp on the screen and Poe grips his controller tight, pushing Finn back to the other side of the couch. “Yes, I know, but not out of love which seems to be their impression.”

“To be fair, no one was getting that impression until they saw you two together,” Finn says as Poe’s podracer approaches a sharp turn.

That just raises more questions than it answers. “What?” Poe turns to stare at him. A loud clashing sound comes from the screen. “Oh, come on,” he says as he turns back to the game. He winces as his racer’s speed boost just makes it crash harder.

Finn laughs. “Wanna go again?”

“Yeah, but no talking this time.”

Poe hasn’t bothered taking the box out before. Instead, he’s kept it safe and hidden; he had no use for it. He’s never decorated any living space he inhabited, though some people around the base did. The war not being able to take that tradition from them. It was nice. Poe figures this is another way to adjust, adapt to the idea of permanence. He has a home now, one he shares with Beebee and Hux.

“What is that?” Hux says, coming into the room and crouching near the box.

“Decorations,” Poe says and dangles a bauble in front of Hux.

Hux looks around the room as if trying to determine any changes. “Why?”

“For Life Day.”

“Oh, I see.” He stands up and goes to sit on the couch, already engrossed on his datapad, his interest gone.

“Have you ever celebrated it? Anything like it?” Poe knows the answer already, but having Hux here and ignoring him, feels lonelier than doing it alone.

“It’s a Wookiee holiday.”

“Don’t start,” Poe warns him. Hux’s come a long way in terms of knowing when to shut up, but he’s still pretty terrible.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Just that obviously we wouldn’t celebrate a Wookiee holiday in the Order. That was all,” Hux says defensively.

“We can celebrate it this year.”

“I don’t really know anything about it.”

“That’s fine. I do,” he says, probably more eager than he intended. He doesn’t know why he feels this is important. It won’t mean anything to Hux, but these things are better shared.

Hux puts his datapad down on the cushions and comes closer, peers into the box again. He sits down awkwardly on the floor in front of it and turns to Poe expectantly. “Well? Can I see what’s inside?”

“What is this?” Hux has been asking that with every other item they take out of the box. Poe must not be very good at explaining himself because he only gets a confused frown in return each time.

“It’s a music box. It belonged to my mom.”

Hux nods, then tilts his head consideringly. “Where did this come from?”

Poe bites his lip. He remembers his mom’s hands on it, remembers the cheerful sounds filling the room as he ran around it, remembers getting up on his tiptoes trying to reach it. Remembers his mom picking him up and helping him. He clears his throat. “Huh. I don’t actually know. I remember it always being there. I guess I could ask my dad.”

“No, I mean all of this.”

“Oh, my dad sent it.”

“Oh, I see,” Hux says, in the same stiff one he uses whenever Poe mentions his dad. Poe doesn’t know what his problem is, but it makes him dread their inevitable meeting even more. “He doesn’t celebrate?”

“We kind of— stopped celebrating after my mom died. It was—”

“I understand,” Hux rushes to say. Less don’t revive those painful memories and more don’t subject me to your feelings.

“Go ahead and open the music box.” Poe watches as Hux’s long, elegant fingers lift the golden lid and soft, melodic music fills the room. Hux sets it in the low table to his right and traces its surface, its edges, with precision, as if trying to find a secret mechanism that will make it open up further. Poe hadn’t noticed, but his hands look naked without his gloves. He looks away.

“I think these are unsalvageable,” Poe says as they take out the last of the items on the box. The string lights miraculously still work but are tangled up together in ways Poe wouldn’t even begin to know how to set right. He gives them up as a lost cause.

He finds Hux on the couch that night with the knot of lights next to him. Hux takes a strand he’s managed to separate from the rest and sets it aside, puts it around Beebee’s dome. He repeats this a couple of times, his hands dexterous, his work efficient.

“What are you doing?” Poe asks.

“Isn’t it evident? This is actually fairly easy to do if you start with the connector and work your way toward the knot at the center.”

Poe nods. Hux seems like he knows what he’s talking about. “You don’t have to do that, y’know?”

Hux scowls at him. “My mistake. I thought it was amongst my spousal duties, right after—”

“Okay,” Poe cuts him off, not wanting to hear whatever horror will come out of his mouth. “Do you want help? I can take the other end.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” he says, his words dripping sarcasm.

Talking to Hux can be such a minefield. Poe has no idea how he offended him now. He sits down on the floor, to Hux’s left, his back resting against the couch, and reaches for the mess of strings Hux hasn’t gotten to yet.

“Do you think we should find a bigger place?” Poe’s been thinking about it since his dad started talking about visiting. They don’t have a guest room.

“A bigger place for what?” Hux asks, putting another freed string around Beebee. Poe doesn’t know how Hux is getting him to be mostly still.

“To live in.”

“Oh, it makes no difference to me,” Hux says dismissively.

Poe puts down the strings, and gets a hissed careful from Hux. “Hux, what? It would be your home too.”

He pauses for a moment to think, his hands stilling around the cord. “I suppose it depends on the size. It might be too big for you after we get a divorce. Unless you’re quick to replace me.”

They have not been married for even six months, but Hux is very fond of discussing their future divorce. Poe gets it, he wants out. “Right. No new place, then.”

“As I said, it makes no difference to me,” he says sullenly, moody for no reason.

Poe frees another strand from the knot and regrets bringing it up. He wouldn’t have if he had known Hux would get like this.

They work in silence, untangling strands of fairy lights for long enough that the room gets bathed in shadows. After a long moment, Hux uses the cover of darkness to break the silence. “The only place I’ve lived that ever felt like home was the Finalizer. Until I moved here, that is. When I said it made no difference I didn’t mean I didn’t care. I meant I’m happy with whatever you choose,” Hux says, reaching for more tangled strands.

Poe tries not to let a deep feeling of relief overwhelm him at the idea that maybe Hux feels as entangled with him as he does with Hux.

The twinkling lights glow in different colors on the surface of the kitchen. The soft morning sun filtering through the window makes them almost vanish into the floor. It’s a lovely, peaceful scene until Hux interrupts.

“What are you cooking?” Hux asks, looking at the various trays and bowls Poe set on the counter with an unreasonable amount of suspicion.

"We are baking,” Poe says, scrolling on his datapad until he finds the recipe he’s after.

“Oh, that’s alright. No, thank you.” He turns around and starts to walk out, completely unconcerned by how fucking rude he is.

Poe glares at him. “I was informing you of our plans. I am well aware that you only voluntarily step into the kitchen to eat the food I make for you.” Poe doesn’t mind. He enjoys cooking and Hux is always appreciative no matter how subpar his efforts are. He just doesn’t want to do this alone.

Hux frowns. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“I’ll teach you.” That’s part of the appeal, as well.

“Are you a good teacher, though? I doubt that.”

“I’m a great teacher. The best way to teach is by showing, anyway. This will be more fun if we do it together. I’ve done this with Finn and Rey, it was great.” He doesn’t expect the same level of enthusiasm or appreciation from Hux, but it’ll have to do.

“Why don’t you invite them over, then?”

“Because they’re doing coupley things. I don’t want to intrude, especially when Finn is going to leave soon.”

Hux looks away and visibly swallows, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. He didn’t look nearly this conflicted when he got sentenced. After a long pause, he says, “fine. I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Poe assumed it would take a lot more convincing.

Of course, Poe always forgets that other than the marriage, everything he does with Hux, he comes to regret.

“What are those supposed to be?” Hux asks a while later, leaning against the kitchen counter and frowning.

“Trees,” he says and moves the tray so Hux can get a closer look.

Hux looks dubious. “What kind of trees?”

“Wroshyr trees, like the ones in Kashyyyk.”

“Those look nothing like wroshyr trees.”

“What would you know? I don’t believe you’ve seen one in person,” Poe says.

“I don’t have to. No tree would ever look like this.”

Poe shrugs. “I’m not an artist. I would like to see you try.” So far, Hux’s contributions have been limited to scooping dough with a spoon and licking it in an almost obscene way. He had been reluctant to try it at first and now Poe regrets having insisted.

“What do trees have to do with Life Day?”

“It comes from the Twi’lek holiday, Longest Night? The moons grow completely dim and enshroud the whole place in darkness. Some people believed that ghosts came out and roamed the land, so they brought conifer cones into their homes to remind themselves that there was life outside and there would continue to be life past that night. It got adopted into the traditional Life Day celebration because... they both celebrate life? I might have to ask Chewie about it. Anyway, people decorate trees and display them in their homes now.”

Hux, instead of being impressed with his history lesson, says, “inside their—? You’re not doing that here.”

“I would like to. But no, we can’t get one in here. Sadly.” When he catches Hux’s horrified expression, he moves the bowl of dough away.

When they get to work the following day, Kaydel and Rose are putting up string lights around the transparisteel windows.

“How festive,” Hux says with obvious judgment and disdain as he locks himself in his office.

Poe sighs. He tried. That had to count for something.

The flickering lights cast a soft glow over the room and catch in Hux’s hair, his eyes, where he’s looming over Poe.

Poe sets up the holoprojector on the table and queues up the holovid. “Okay, ready?”

“What is it about?” Hux asks.

“Didn’t I tell you? Either way, you promised, Hux.” Poe laid it on a bit thick too. It’s Life Day. Give me this. Hux predictably replied but it isn’t Life Day yet.

“A Dathomirian Zabrak tries to steal Life Day from Wookiees for the Feast of Ha’ran?” Hux reads from the other end of the couch. “This sounds borderline nonsensical.”

“There are also songs. You’ll like it.” Poe lies on the couch with his knees bent and nudges his feet against Hux’s thigh. Hux tenses at the contact, but slowly settles back against the cushions.

Poe turns to the projection and only flinches a little when he feels Hux’s hand settle on his ankle. He lets the first lines of the song wash over him and relaxes. In this town, don’t we love it now?

“So, what did you think?” Poe asks when it’s over.

Hux watched the entirety of it with a frown on his face but had, at least, not made any comments in the middle of it. “I thought it was fairly unrealistic,” Hux says, looking ready to launch into an explanation of everything he found unrealistic about it.

“It’s meant to be hopeful. It’s meant to show that everyone can learn from their mistakes and, when given the opportunity, will choose to make up for them.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “And then they’ll be redeemed and find true love? No, I didn’t like it.”

“Well, it’s no Airtaxi Driver, that’s for sure,” Poe says sarcastically. He turns off the image but leaves the music on. When he turns around, he doesn’t find Hux glaring as he expected.

“I want to exchange presents right now,” Hux says.

“That’s not really how tradition goes, actually. You’re supposed to wait until tomorrow.” He is hoping Hux will defer to his superior knowledge on this and not press the issue, but this is Hux after all.

“We’ll be visiting your friends tomorrow. Let’s do it now.”

Poe sighs. “Look, I haven’t wrapped your present yet, okay? I was—”

“—that’s alright. I—”

“—what? Of course it’s not. I was waiting for you to fall asleep. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind any of that. Can I give you your present now?”

“If you want? I’ll give you yours in the morning. Really.”

“Dameron, it’s fine.” Hux reaches behind the couch and pulls a square black box, thrusts it in Poe’s direction. “Here.”

Poe takes it carefully and holds it in his hands. It’s a little bigger than a datapad and about as heavy. “Can I shake it?”

“I suppose you can, but I would prefer you didn’t and I don’t see why you would.”

When Poe opens the box, he frowns. It looks a little like a mix between a datapad and Beebee’s charging station. Rectangular, silver, thin, and with a round, black button in the middle. He bites his lip and hopes he doesn’t offend Hux much when he says, “I don’t know what this is. Can I press this button? Is it going to explode on me?”

His finger is drawn to it before he finishes the question, but Hux says, “wait. Do it here.”

They move toward the middle of the room and Hux tells him to put it on the floor once they’ve pushed the low table aside.

“So I just press it? Nothing bad’s going to happen?”

Hux rolls his eyes, starting to look genuinely annoyed. “As I said, no. I’ll do it if you don’t believe me.”

“That’s fine.” Poe crouches down and pushes his finger against it. He’s momentarily blinded by the green light surrounding him, blanketing the room. He walks toward Hux, by the threshold, and can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as the lights take a familiar shape. “It’s a tree.”

“It’s a holographic image of one, yes.”

“You made this?” It’s beautiful, with the kind of attention to detail he would expect from Hux, but not from someone who had never celebrated Life Day. Glowing golden dots surround the green glittery structure of the tree as if covered in stars. It bathes the room in shimmering colors, casting their features in a festive light.

“It wasn’t particularly difficult. I asked Rey for design help, but she wasn’t much use. She’s never had one. I researched until I had a better idea.”

“Thank you. I love it. It’s—” he breaks off, feeling something unknown bubbling up the surface, unraveling him. He bumps into Hux playfully. “I really love it.”

What does it mean? What does it mean? comes quietly from the speakers.

“It’s the anniversary of the Hosnian cataclysm in a few weeks,” Poe says over lunch, a couple of weeks into the new year. They’re eating outside, the cool wind brushing against them. The restaurant is crowded and suffocating inside and the view is better from here. Their feet bump against each other every time they move. Like the most platonic game of accidental footsie.

He’s not sure how Hux will react, but he is prepared for something horribly insensitive to come out of his mouth and make Poe regret the past few months. He almost, almost wants it. It has been too comfortable, too easy; good, even.

“I know. It has not exactly been easy to miss,” Hux says and points at the building across them. They’ve begun to put up billboards announcing the event everywhere on the streets. It’s the first time it’ll be observed in a post-war galaxy.

“I’m expected to make an appearance.”

“Is this the type of thing spouses are meant to attend? I’m not sure my presence would be welcome. Or that it would reflect well on you,” Hux says, moving his food around, but not eating. He’s a picky eater, which is infuriating when they eat out but he is willing to eat everything Poe cooks without protest. It makes his refusal to cook for himself a little less intolerable.

“I think it’s a little too late to be worrying about how being married to you reflects on me. You can come if you want, but — you know.”

Hux grips the fork tightly and grits out, “behave.”

“Well, yes. I know you know how to, but—”

“What exactly is it you think I’m going to do?” he hisses, careful to keep his voice low and not make a scene. He’s good at fighting in public, better than some of Poe’s exes. “Extort the virtues of Starkiller to their grieving faces? I know better than that.”

The way he says it gives Poe hope that maybe he doesn’t just know, but understands why he shouldn’t.

Delegating is not a problem. The problem is that there are more tasks than people to delegate to. Every new volunteer brings its own set of to-dos and datawork to take care of while Poe’s list of tasks multiplies by the second.

He rubs his eyes with his palms and looks at the chrono on his desk. Kriff, he’s going to be so pissed if Hux didn’t pick up dinner. He collects his things and makes his way down the narrow corridor when he notices the lights on the conference room still on. “Hey, I thought you were going home. Were you waiting for me?” he asks Hux.

Hux is hunched over some files, a couple of datapads strewn across the table, a cup of caf on a corner. He furrows his brow. “What?”

“It’s late. Let’s go home.”

He hesitates, putting the datapad down before picking it back up. “I’ll meet you there. I’m almost done.”

Poe closes his eyes and breathes out. “What are you working on?” He really tries not to make it sound like an accusation, but from the look of Hux’s face, he doesn’t succeed.

“Nothing,” Hux snaps, which validates Poe’s concerns.

Poe walks closer to him, slowly, not wanting him to feel caged and lash out. “Hux, I need to know. Whatever it is—”

“What do you believe it is?”

Poe sighs. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to give Hux ideas and he knows better than to underestimate him. “Let me see,” he says, reaching for the datapad. On the screen, there are forms and messages exchanged with the Hosnia Legacy Group. It doesn’t actually paint a clearer picture. He looks up to find Hux across the room, putting on his black coat, his back to Poe. “What is this?”

Hux turns around and grips the back of the chair in front of him. “I got in touch with some of the organizations involved in the planning of the commemoration event and asked if they needed help with the logistics. I didn’t do it under my name, I did it on behalf of your organization, and no, I’m not making you look bad.”

Poe wasn’t worried about that, but engaging with Hux will only lead to a fight. “What are these requests for relocation forms?” he asks instead.

Hux looks away. “Your government has demonstrated its usual level of incompetence in aiding the people who were off-world, but lost their homes during—” He swallows. “They lost their homeworld and have nowhere to go. It’s been almost three years and they’ve gotten no response. Just platitudes.”

“Did you volunteer to do this too?”

“I have experience with the bureaucratic aspect of it. That’s all,” he says, his words clipped.

“Okay, that’s— do you need help?”

“You’re helpless at anything involving datawork or bureaucracy.”

“You wanna get this done before the anniversary, right?” Poe asks, the pieces coming together now. It’s not their old home, it’s not even a new home, but it’s hope for one in the future. Progress. The knowledge that they haven’t been forgotten, left behind.

“There’s still a lot of work to be done. It’s not logistically possible.” Hux doesn’t think it’s possible, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

“But we can try, right? Let me order some dinner and then I’ll help. You’ll get to tell me what to do for once. That’s gotta be fun for you.”

“Only if you actually do it.”

Poe grins, feeling something drive the breath from his lungs. “I’ll be right back.”

“Stick close to me or Rey, okay?” Poe says before they leave for the anniversary event. Hux and Rey get along most of the time and he doesn’t want Hux wandering around alone, potentially getting recognized or offending someone. He could ask Finn (who is civil to Hux) or Rose (who is a little less so) but he doesn’t want to saddle them with Hux.

“I don’t need a babysitter. You can drop the leash for one evening.”

“Wait, which is it? Are you a baby or a pet in this scenario?” Poe hands him the blue scarf he got him as a gift (the only thing with color in Hux’s entire wardrobe) and grins when Hux huffs out an annoyed breath.

The place looks like a proper celebration rather than a memorial. A completely different mood from when it took place last year and it was submerged under a dark cloud of grief and hurt. An open, bleeding wound. There are food stalls and music and holovids talking about honoring death with the unique sentiment of valuing the joy of life. It is crowded and loud and Poe keeps reaching for Hux for fear of losing him in the crowd. Eventually, Hux reaches back for him and tangles their hands together, which Poe admits does make it easier.

“Is it bad that I almost miss it?” Poe says, pointing to the Starkiller memorabilia filling the stalls. It’s morbid. “Those.”

“What? Planet-destroying superweapons?” Hux looks uneasy, and Poe pretends it’s for the same reason he does. Comforts himself with the belief that he is not alone and isolated in what should be a joyous celebration. “I miss them too. Though perhaps for different reasons,” he says, shattering Poe’s illusion.

“It felt easier to deal with those than with — everything else.” Poe feels as if he should get a sense of I’ve defeated planet-destroying weapons and the machinery of war and terror behind them! There’s nothing I can’t do! but he feels woefully underprepared for each new challenge. “I don’t miss the losses. I just — I’m not sure what I expected to see on the other side.”

“I didn’t expect to see the other side.”

I’m glad you did, Poe doesn’t say. Hux being alive and willing to make amends in some way has more value to the galaxy than wanting him dead out of revenge would. The sentiment isn’t any less true just because it goes unvoiced.

Senator Hedsard expresses interest in visiting their headquarters. She’s always been neutral on most issues, adamant about separating her views from anything that could be seen as taking sides on the war. As if that had been possible. Rumor had it, the First Order had gotten to her family; they couldn’t buy her cooperation but they could strong-arm her abstention.

When they meet, she’s gracious and seems regretful for not having taken a stance. She wasn’t the only one and she does appear to be genuine. She stares at Hux for an uncomfortably long moment when Poe introduces them. He used to worry about what people would think of him for having married Hux out of love, but he finds that it’s better to deal with any concerns swiftly and head any problems at the pass.

Also, he’s found people tend to be more accepting of Hux when their second impression of him is as Poe’s polite, loving husband instead of when Hux gets to make a second impression for himself. He’s still not comfortable leaving them alone, though.

“Go,” Hux says, barely refraining from glaring at Poe.

“I’m sorry. I really need to take care of this, but I can get someone else to—”

“Poe, I am perfectly capable of accompanying her to the exit,” Hux snaps and then overcompensates by doing his weird cringe-smile, which makes it infinitely worse.

He leaves them by the atrium engaged in what appears to be a pleasant conversation, but with Hux, you never know.

It’s a nice day outside. The heat from the bright sun is not overbearing and the breeze is cool and almost peaceful. Across the bench from him, Hux glares at the sun before taking another bite of his lunch— rice with soypro and pumpkin seeds, his favorite and Poe’s most recent specialty.

“How did your chat with the senator go?” Poe asks him carefully.

Hux tenses. “It was fine.”

Oh, that’s not good. “Hux, what—?”

“She wanted to congratulate me on my defanging. Pat me on the head and call me a good boy. That’s it. I didn’t insult her back and made you look bad in the process if that was your concern,” he says, putting his drink in the space between them with more force than necessary.

It’s a valid concern, Poe wants to point out, but he doesn’t want to navigate the minefields that are Hux’s issues.

The day was long and tiring, with the rain taking away the sun way too early. It continued undeterred throughout the afternoon and well into the evening. He won’t admit this, but he also missed having Hux around, who took the day off for his counseling sessions.

Poe gets home hungry and tired and wanting a nice, relaxing evening when the first words he hears out of Hux’s mouth are the ominous ‘we need to talk.’

“If you’re divorcing me, it can wait until tomorrow.” Poe honestly wouldn’t be surprised. Hux has been acting secretive and distant for the past two weeks. He claims it has to do with the program and the counseling and Poe is hesitant to pry any further.

Hux is sitting straight-backed on the couch and has a blank expression on his face. “Dameron, I’m serious.”

Poe sighs. “Fine, but please tell me you at least made dinner.”

Hux looks at him uncomprehendingly. As if he doesn’t understand how the word ‘dinner’ can relate to him in a context that isn’t eating it.

“Of course not. What’s up?” Poe sits on the other end of the couch, unsure if he should try to keep his distance and maybe offend Hux or sit closer and risk him feeling trapped.

Hux places a data drive and a datapad on the low table in front of him. “It’s about senator Hedsard. She’s attempting to continue the Order’s mission, along with several other senators. They’ve gotten funding and are aggressively looking to recruit and expand.”

Poe leans forward and reaches for the datadrive. It feels heavy on his hand. “How do you know this?”

“All the evidence is there. I’m not lying,” he says defensively. Expecting, as usual, the worst from Poe.

“I believe you. That’s not what I asked.”

“I’ve been meeting with them for the past couple of weeks.”

Poe takes a deep breath and then stands, goes to the window, and darkens the transparisteel surface, hoping irrationally that he can keep Hux’s words from reaching the outside world. He turns around and slowly says, “Hux, that is a direct violation to the terms of your release. What were you—?”

“Are you going to report me?”

He wouldn’t, but the point is— “I can’t because I am responsible for you. This is the kind of thing I’m supposed to— you did this on purpose.”

“It was the only way of doing it.”

Poe goes to sit on the table in front of Hux, letting their knees bump together, and holding onto his hand. He needs to make sure Hux gets this. “You could’ve come to me. You didn’t have to do it like this and you didn’t have to do it on your own.”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“Yes, I would have.”

“That’s easy to say when presented with hard evidence. I needed proof.”

Poe’s not going to convince Hux of anything here. He’s learned to pick his battles. “Look, your goal was to do the right thing, I get it. Will you be offended if I tell you I’m proud of you?”

Hux glares at him. “Will you tell me I’ve been a good boy too?”

“Is that what you’re into? I could roll with that,” Poe jokes, but Hux is being his usual single-minded self.

“I could have taken them up on it,” he says.

“I know,” Poe says, in lieu of why didn’t you?

As if reading Poe’s mind, he adds, “I wouldn’t know how to execute it, though. My — the vision of order in the galaxy that I grew up believing in. It was always dependent on having the backing of a military junta behind me and — I now realize the Order wasn’t a model for a healthy, functioning society. If we extrapolate from it as— I should’ve, perhaps, questioned it more.” Hux looks conflicted, and Poe tries to figure out if he should offer comfort or if that would be insulting. “She told me she knew I would never betray our ideals. That I would never give up on the galaxy.”

Poe squeezes his hand, trying and probably failing to reassure him. “You haven’t. What you’re doing now is more worthwhile than anything you ever did with the Order. You know that, right?”

“You would say that,” Hux says, looking somewhere above Poe’s shoulder.

Poe sighs. He doesn’t know how to get through to Hux on the best of days, and this one certainly doesn’t qualify. “Next time, if there is a next time, come to me. You can trust me.”

“Because we’re married?”

“Because you’re not alone. I’m here for you. You can trust me,” he says, resorting to repetition for lack of something more effective to say.

“Like you trust me?”

“It’s a work in progress, but yeah. Like I trust you.”

Hux quickly looks away. “I don’t think there will be a next time once this is dealt with. I think I’ve successfully burnt my bridges.”

Poe tries not to let it show how relieved that makes him.

“Dameron?” Hux says from the threshold. The dim light from outside falls across the room, across his silhouette. Keeps him visible but distant.

“Yeah, I just got in. Sorry, did I wake you?” He was planning on sleeping on the couch because he’s too tired to do anything beyond taking his shoes off.

Hux comes closer, standing right in front of the couch, and looks down at him, frowning. “Come to bed.”

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” They’ve been following up on the information Hux gave him. It all checks out, but it somehow only scratches the surface. Hux’s intel was comprehensive to put it lightly and yet, there’s so much more they don’t know.

Hux crosses his arms and looks away. “What are you accusing me of now?” He sounds bitter, frustrated.

“No, I mean, you knew that if we took down the First Order, half a dozen groups just like it would pop up in its place. Intent on doing as much harm as possible, right?”

“Well, yes. Didn’t you?”

“I knew, I just — the perks of not being involved in the last war, I guess. I’m kind of wondering where they get the energy. I was just hoping for a little more time before—” Poe cuts himself off. Just because Hux is surprisingly good at playing ‘caring husband’ in public, doesn’t mean he actually cares.

“Poe, come to bed.”

In the half-dark of the room, Poe can’t make out his expression. Can only guide himself by the sound of his voice. He sits up and finds himself closer to Hux than expected, he can touch him. He leans his head against Hux’s hip and places his hands on the back of his knees. He’s not even going to be offended when Hux pushes him away because he knows he’s stepping over their clearly traced boundaries.

Hux goes rigid all over and breathes loudly before he places his hand on Poe’s shoulder. Not pushing him away; a careful back and forth movement with his thumb that occasionally grazes Poe’s bare skin.

Poe doesn’t move his hands away when he stands up, so they follow his upward trajectory. He places them on Hux’s hips and then moves them a little so that his fingers flirt with the skin alongside the waistband of his sleep pants, right under his shirt. He leans his head forward and breathes warmly against Hux’s collarbone, exposed by the vneck of his shirt. He can hear, feel, sense Hux swallowing. When Poe lifts his head and lets his lips briefly brush against his jawline, Hux steps away.

“Stop,” Hux says firmly.

Poe takes his hands away and rubs them over his face. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t— I wasn’t—” trying to fuck you? It’d be an embarrassingly obvious lie. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No,” Hux says fiercely. “It’s our bed. There’s no reason we shouldn’t sleep in it.”

Poe feels a thrill course through his body at hearing him say ‘our bed’ and it leaves him aching.

After, Hux turns his back to him on the bed, but he’s not tense or skittish like the first few nights. They’ve done this more than a hundred times by now, why should he be?

The next morning, Hux comes out of their room fully dressed and already absorbed in his datapad, reaching for his tea without taking his eyes off of it.

Poe reaches for the bread and powers up the therma-slice, looking away from him. “I should apologize about what happened.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hux says, not looking up from his datapad.

He takes out six slices, gets the plates, goes through the familiar motions. “It’s not gonna happen again. Last night I—”

“You were looking for comfort. I happened to be the closest warm body around. As I said, don’t mention it.”

It’s an accurate representation of events, but it makes Poe uneasy to hear Hux describe it like that. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t — that is, that you didn’t get the wrong impression.”

Hux puts down his datapad and turns his laser focus on Poe. “What impression would that be?”

“That it was going to happen again. That I expected you to—”

“Let you fuck me in exchange for my freedom?”

Poe swallows. “I wouldn’t do that, Hux. I wouldn’t—”

Hux laughs humorlessly. “I know, Dameron. I know you wouldn’t.” He sounds almost sad when he says it. Poe doesn’t understand him and probably never will.

He gets used to the idea of being married. It used to take him a couple of seconds at first to remember that he had a husband, but by now enough time has passed that he’s used to it. The thought is vaguely terrifying.

Everyone at work refers to Hux as that, never by his name. He supposes it helps them compartmentalize things better. It’s all ‘your husband’s waiting in your office’ and ‘your husband came looking for you while you were gone’ and ‘your husband said to pick up dinner.’ Even Hux does it (Have you seen my husband?) Hux is nothing if not smart, though. He probably correctly assumes that reminding people he’s married to Poe makes everyone treat him better, even go out of their way to assist him with whatever he needs. He’s not using his powers for evil, so Poe’s not going to tell him to stop.

Hux is talking to someone when Poe gets home. He’s surprised that out of the two of them Hux is the one who leaves work on time. He sticks around waiting for Poe sometimes, but Poe honestly prefers to work without him around. He can focus better that way; doesn’t find his attention randomly drawn to Hux, regardless of how quiet he usually is.

“Yes, I understand, sir.” Hux chuckles, the sound is so unnatural that it grates. “Of course. No, that’s alright. I think he’s home, actually. Poe?”

No more eavesdropping for him, then. “Hey, babe.” He tried honey and baby, but if he was going to use it in public he had to go with the one that made Hux glare the least. He only glares a little when Poe forgets and uses it in private.

“I’m talking to your dad. He called wanting to speak with you,” he says almost urgently.

“Oh hey, dad,” he says, leaning over the communication screen. To Hux, he says, “do you want to start dinner?”

“Yes, I do,” he says eagerly, even though he doesn’t know how to cook, doesn’t care to learn, and simply doesn’t do it. “It was a pleasure talking to you, Mr Dameron.”

Kes chuckles on the line, his voice coming across as clear as if he were in the room with them, his image a little shaky. “It’s Kes and I enjoyed talking to you too, Armitage.”

Hux cringes, but says nothing, hurrying out of the room instead.

When he’s certain Hux is far away enough that they won’t be overheard, he sits down and asks, “dad, were you giving him a hard time?”

“I’m good, I’m glad you ask.”

“Sorry. How are you? I’ve been meaning to call, but I keep forgetting. I’ve been busy with work.”

“I know, it’s okay. To answer your question, I wasn’t giving him a hard time. We were just talking. He’s unfailingly polite. Unlike anyone else you’ve introduced me to,” he says pointedly. Never forgetting (or letting Poe forget) all the bad first impressions Poe’s partners have made on him.

“Don’t worry, he’s not that polite when he’s bossing me around.” Just this morning, he was complaining that Poe doesn’t respect Hux’s side of the bed, that he steals the covers, that he suffocates Hux by draping himself all over him, that he needs to stick to their schedule for making the bed. He gave Poe detailed solutions to each problem. Poe is planning on ignoring half of them, but it’s the thought that counts. He briefly entertains himself with the idea that Hux bosses him around in bed, but immediately squashes the thought. What is wrong with him?

“How is married life treating you?”

Poe half-laughs and leans back on the chair. “Good. Better than I expected. He’s — very adaptable.”

“I would like to meet him.”

Poe tenses and shifts on the chair, rolling it back, as if putting distance between himself and the idea. “You just did.”

“I meant in person.”

“I know. I can’t take time off right now. I really do want to visit.” He hopes the dread he feels at the idea of Hux and his dad being in the same room doesn’t come through.

“Well, that’s actually what I was calling about. I’m going there next week. To visit you. I already told Armitage.”

Poe winces, even though Hux isn’t around to have heard that. “Oh, okay, yeah. Let me know when exactly, I’ll take the day off.”

“It’s been over six months, you know. This is the first time I talk to my son-in-law.”

“Dad, he’s not— it’s not real. You know this.”

“He’s still someone you willingly chose to intertwine your life with. As far as I know, the first in a very long time.”

He’s right. It’s been at least six years since Poe’s gotten serious with someone. There was no time during the war and no one with whom Poe felt he could share his experiences, after. Hux gets it, though. For better or worse.

“I just want to check on you and get to know him a little,” Kes continues.

Sounds fun. No reason to dread this.

“Do you want me to tell my dad you don’t like to be called—” Poe starts, but Hux turns to glare at him before he can continue. What? He’s not even allowed to mention it? It’s not worth antagonizing Hux over this, though. “—by your first name?”

“No, that’s alright.” He comes closer to Poe and goes through the table on the left side of the bed.

“What? But I can’t use it.”

“Why would you want to?” Hux says, moving to the other side of the bed.

“I don’t, but that’s not the point.”

“I don’t care to make a good impression on you,” Hux says, moving to rummage through the wall cubby by the headboard.

“Why do you care to impress my dad?” Poe asks. Hux keeps pacing all over the room and ignores him, though. “Hux, you’re making me dizzy. What are you looking for?”

“My chrono.”

“Top drawer, left side.” Poe shrugs when it looks like Hux is about to complain about Poe not putting it in its case. “You left it lying around. Answer the question.”

“Because—” Hux pauses, adjusting the watch on his wrist. “He might convince you to divorce me and get me sent back to prison.”

“He wouldn’t do that and that’s not how the terms of your release work. In any case, if you don’t want that then shouldn’t you try to impress me? Since I’m the person actually married to you?”

“You don’t want to divorce me. We’re happily married,” Hux says matter-of-factly.

“That’s a stretch.”

“Fine, we’re miserably married.”

Poe chuckles. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I know. My marriage is better than my father’s was. I’m almost proud of myself. On the other hand, his reason for marrying wasn’t as pathetic as needing to be saved from prison.”

“Was it love?” Poe asks.

“No, that would be more pathetic.”

Around Poe’s dad, Hux is polite and attentive, listening carefully and making questions when appropriate. He smoothly passes Poe a plate of biscuits before Poe has a chance to ask and expertly discusses the flora native to Yavin 4. Poe doesn’t know when Hux had time to learn all that. It’s such an obvious act that Poe spends most of the conversation glaring at him.

“Cut it out already,” he says when they’re alone in the kitchen.

“What?” Hux asks, reaching for a teacup.

“Stop pretending to be nice around my dad.”

“You want me to antagonize your dad?” Hux says.

“No. I want—” He falters, not knowing exactly how to finish that sentence. Poe doesn’t know why it bothers him so much to see Hux acting like this. “Just be yourself.” On second thought, maybe not. “Just tone it down a little.”

When they go back to the living room, Hux at least doesn’t try to hold his hand.

Poe gets a message on his datapad in the middle of their conversation. And then another and another. An endless symphony of beeps coming from their bedroom. He tries to ignore it but no one else in the room does.

“I’m sorry, I have to— I’ll be right back,” he says, being forced to rapidly come to terms with the idea of Hux and his dad interacting while he’s not there to play mediator.

He checks his messages and is mildly annoyed when he sees that half of them are variations of actually, we figured it out and false alarm and never mind. We got it. At least nothing’s wrong.

Pee goes back to the living room with a great feeling of trepidation, expecting anything short of murder to have happened in his brief absence. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he hears his father’s easy laugh. Hux hasn’t managed to offend him too much, then.

“I really didn’t think I would be able to successfully combine them but part of the fun is in trying. Do you know anything about it? Baking or gardening?” Poe hears his dad ask.

“No, I’m mostly unfamiliar. Though I guess I could always — learn,” Hux says, sounding pained and unenthusiastic about the prospect. Poe really should go put him out of his misery, but he’s enjoying Hux’s obvious, yet harmless, discomfort.

“I would love for you both to come to visit—”

Poe grimaces. Time to put a stop to that.

He reenters the room just in time to hear his dad say, “—I could teach you. I think you could like it, son.”

Poe sees Hux’s hand give a violent, awkward jerk, a reflexive twitch, before he moves it to tightly grip his own knee. “Is everything okay?” Hux asks, his voice a little shaky, as Poe sits down on the couch next to him.

“Yeah, false alarm. Everything’s okay,” he tells Hux, squeezing his hand.

“What did you think of him?” Poe asks his dad while they’re waiting for his transport home at the spaceport. The busy, sterile landing strip stretches out in front of them, the frantic pace of everyone around them making them seem anonymous.

“He seems, well, nice. Determined to make the best of the situation. If you hadn’t told me it was a sham marriage, I wouldn’t have known. You seem very settled, comfortable around each other.”

“That’s forced cohabitation for you. We live and work together.” There’s no room for them to be unused to each other.

“How long will you stay married for? He’s not bad. I like him, but I’d like to have a real son or daughter in law someday. I would like it for you to have some real companionship,” his dad says.

But I do, Poe almost says. This is why didn’t want Hux pretending to be a caring husband. It’s confusing for everyone.

On weekends, Poe teaches at one of the nearby flight academies. It’s almost exclusively kids between twelve and sixteen years old, older than he was when he was left without his mom and teacher. It’s fun, doesn’t take a lot of his time, and it takes him back to the stars.

“We’ve got company, buddy,” he says from the simulator’s copilot seat to Vyna. She always talks about her desire for exploration and adventure. To go beyond. She’s maybe too impatient, too eager to take shortcuts. She reminds him a little of himself when he was young. He points to the navicomputer. “And they’re not friendly. What do you want to do?”

“Let’s return fire,” she says with an eager gleam in her eyes. He doesn’t remember being this trigger-happy at her age. Kids these days.

When they come down from the simulator, Poe spots Hux sitting in one of the sleek silver benches by the far wall, engaged in deep conversation with two of his other students. Hux rolls his eyes at something and the kids laugh as if he said something genuinely funny. He has clearly warped those poor impressionable minds. Poe turns to talk to Vyna’s mom who wants to know how he sees her daughter’s progress.

“She’s doing well. She has a real future as a pilot, take it from me.” It makes them both beam at him, but he’s trying to soften the blow. “She needs more hours in the sim, though. She’s not ready to go up.” They both try to convince him otherwise, which is not surprising. The parents are the worst about it, though.

By the time they’re done talking, Maxir and Naiad are still sitting on either side of Hux and paying rapt attention to whatever he’s saying, but Maxir is up next so Poe goes to interrupt. “There is no way that what he’s saying is more interesting than going up there,” he says with mock offense.

“Your boyfriend was just telling us about the time you helped take down a star destroyer,” he replies excitedly.

He turns to look at Hux and feels his smirk turn into a genuine smile. Sometimes Poe can’t help himself. “Was he?”

“I was merely recounting the facts. If they got some sort of heroic image, it wasn’t from me.”

“Of course not,” he says exaggeratedly. He has the wild urge to close the distance and kiss him, never mind that they’re in public, there are children around and, most importantly, they don’t do that.

“Kids these days,” Hux says later, echoing Poe’s earlier thoughts. “All they want is to hear about the heroic tales of the Poe Dameron.”

Poe is taking them back home. The airspeeder always feeling like a poor substitute to even the simulations back at the school. “Emphasis yours.”

“Emphasis theirs. You forget we’ve actually conversed. They want to know all about your adventures in hyperspace skipping.”

“I don’t forget. They love you.” It makes a giddy feeling bubble up inside Poe. The way Hux easily fits into his life. He knows it’s not effortlessly but that makes it mean more.

Hux scoffs. “They do not.”

“Don’t act offended. It’s a good thing. You’re not like those other grownups, apparently. And they like your sense of humor. They like you.”

“They don’t know who I am,” Hux says, looking at the crowded streets outside. The rays of light coming from the fading sun frame him in luminescent shades, making his hair almost glow.

I do and I like you, Poe wants to say, but maybe there is such a thing as too honest. “They don’t need to. They like the person they’ve interacted with, the person who apparently didn’t treat them like little kids.”

“They are little kids. They should not be forced to be invisible because of that, though.” A quiet moment goes by with both of them focused on the outside. “They only like me because I’m your husband. You make me likable by proxy.”

“I have likability to share and spread around. What can I say?”

Hux scoffs but doesn’t deny it, so Poe is taking that as agreement.

“I lost my ring,” Hux says into the darkness that night in bed.

Poe turns his head and squints at him in the half-darkness of the room. “Where? How did you lose it?”

“If I knew where I had lost it then it wouldn’t be lost, would it?” Hux bites out. How is he able to maintain this attitude at all hours of the day and night?

“Maybe you lost it down an abandoned sarlacc pit. You know where it is but you can’t reach it,” he mumbles, feeling sleep insistently calling.

“What? Is this funny to you?” Hux asks. Hux isn’t used to sleeping a lot, but instead of staying up doing whatever he wants, he uses the opportunity to have what he deems to be pressing conversations.

Poe turns around in bed, but keeps his eyes closed, hoping this will be a short conversation. He reaches his hand out and touches the first part of Hux he can grasp, his hip; moves it toward his ribs. He has the urge to place it under Hux’s shirt, where he can feel his warm skin, but knows that would be inappropriate. “Well, it’s not a big deal. We’ll get you a replacement. It was a cheap ring I bought two hours before the ceremony. It had no value.”

“Right.” Hux breathes quietly for a moment, his ribcage expanding under Poe’s hand, but he’s never quiet for long. “What series of events could have possibly led to it falling into an abandoned sarlacc pit?”

Poe groans and buries his face in the pillow.

“There are two agents from the New Republic Security Bureau looking for Hux,” Kaydel says, leaning on the door to his office. “I told them to wait in the lobby but I wanted to let you know.”

Poe gets a freezing-boiling feeling that goes through his body at the words. What did Hux do? is his first thought, followed by they know our marriage is a farce. He doesn’t know what more they could’ve done to sell it short of consummating it in public. The idea brings the same icy-hot sensation back. “Where’s Hux?”

“I haven’t told him,” she says sheepishly. “I wanted to tell you first.”

“Send them here and then get him.” And don’t lose him out of your sight, he wants to add, but it would be unfair to both her and Hux. “Give him all the details.”

They introduce themselves as Agents Leven and Elson as they shake his hand. “We were actually hoping to speak to your husband.”

“He’s on his way. What is this about?” Poe asks with his most charming smile, motioning for them to sit on the couch.

They look at each other, but Agent Leven says, “we’ll wait for Mr Hux.”

Clearly Poe is losing his touch.

There’s a hostage situation and the kidnapper is demanding to speak to Hux, they explain. They don’t sound happy about anything involving the situation, including — or especially — having to interact with Hux.

“Why?” Hux asks, his body tense and rigid under the hand Poe has placed on his knee. He looks on the verge of something; maybe bolting, maybe having a breakdown.

“As far as we have been able to gather, it’s because of your previous involvement—”

“Of course,” Hux says quickly.

“Is this someone — Armitage knows?” Poe winces internally, but only stumbles a little on the name. They’re not here to sell their marriage, but he did get an uncomfortable do you call him Hux in bed? once and he would prefer not to give anyone any reason to look at their marriage too closely.

He can see Hux tensing his jaw, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

They extend a datapad with the information they have on their subject, but Hux clenches his shaking hands into fists instead of grabbing it. Poe covers one of Hux’s hands with his, feeling the acute urge to comfort him even as he can’t escape the reminder of Hux’s past.

“Be careful,” Poe tells Hux as they’re getting ready to leave, but only gets a frown in return. There are only a few steps between them, but Hux feels light-years away.

“Your husband will be perfectly safe, Mr Dameron. He will have no contact with the suspect,” Agent Elson says.

Her partner nods. “And we appreciate your help. We wouldn’t normally—”

“Perhaps we should wait to congratulate ourselves until after we’ve actually done something,” Hux says, putting on his coat.

Poe watches them leave with an immense sense of trepidation. He has a bad feeling about this.

The first thing Poe registers as he watches the footage is that Hux is less than twenty feet away from the kidnapper. It only adds to his sense of unease.

“You’re right. Maybe I am nothing more than a tool of the New Republic, but it’s not much different than being a tool of the First Order,” the Hux on the screen says. “If you think differently, if you think this is the way to make a difference, then yes, you should go ahead and use the blaster on yourself.”

In the near dark of their living room, the bright glow coming from the screen is the only thing strong enough to cut through the darkness. Poe keeps telling himself that he’s not blind to who Hux is, but seeing his cold, unemotional, calculating nature, he second-guesses himself. Still, he is relieved when Hux makes it back home. Not relieved that he came back — that he comes back and stays — but that he’s back in one piece.

Poe shuts down the footage — he technically shouldn’t have it in the first place — and goes to greet him. “Hey, you okay?”

Hux frowns, confused. “...yes?” Of course he’s completely disaffected. It was just a human life.

“So I take it that it went okay?” Poe carefully watches him. Hux takes off his scarf, his gloves, unclasps his coat, and neatly folds it in his arms. It’s the same Hux that Poe has breakfast with every day; the one who has nightmares and rejects Poe’s attempts at comfort; the one who waits for him and, when Poe’s too tired, gets them home.

“I take it you already know the answer, but yes, it was fine. All I did was distract him and gain time for them to take him down.”

“And try to talk him into blasting himself.”

Hux rolls his eyes and moves past him, toward their bedroom. “It would have been for the best. The government’s policy of leniency is ineffective at best.”

“Leniency you’re benefiting from,” he says to Hux’s back.

Hux turns around and fixes him with an intense stare. “That is exactly my point. Are they going to offer him counseling, marry him off to one of the New Republic’s most eligible bachelors, and hope for the best? This is exactly the kind of attitude that allowed the Order to thrive. The idiotic believe that anyone can be redeemed by love and acceptance.”

“It’s worked out just fine for you.”

“No, it hasn’t,” he says angrily and closes the door between them.

Things have been tense with Hux since the fight. Poe understands that Hux is miserable, but there is nothing Poe can do about that. He has done everything in his power to make their marriage not seem like a death sentence, a jail cell. But he can’t (and wouldn’t, in any case) return Hux to his old life of rampant murder and terror. Hux is alive and free to live and rebuild his life. He’s just going to have to settle for second best if that’s how he sees things.

It started as idle comments. When are you going on your honeymoon? Poe laughed it off because, well, it was funny, he supposed.

He starts thinking about it, though. Why not go on a honeymoon? Maybe some time away would help, would make the routine seem less suffocating. It could be a well-earned vacation. Of course, he’d have to convince Hux first.

“Where would we go?” Hux says over dinner, sitting on the floor around the low table.

“Well, there’s a moon cruise that takes off in a couple of weeks. It’s two standard weeks long. I thought you might like it.” Poe was delighted to have found it. He has been feeling the strain of being grounded lately and he figured that Hux, who had lived in starships his whole life, must miss some of it, as well.

“I do, but we would have to plan and make arrangements for our time away,” he says with a faraway look. “Do you have their planned trajectory?”

They are responsible for their living space in a way that speaks of permanence, in a way that housing barracks or quarters in a military base don’t. They will need to find someone to take Beebee, make sure they don’t come back to a house full of rotting food. Poe would suggest having someone housesit, but Hux is territorial.

In the starship’s atrium, overlooking nothing but the stars, Poe feels weightless and heavy at once. A deep sense of belonging calming his nerves. He turns to his left where Hux is watching the constellations, rapt. He has a feeling Hux can relate to what Poe is currently experiencing. It warms him in a way that has nothing to do with Hux’s body pressed against his side.

They are in the Stargazer suite, which has a view worthy of its name. The room is circular and full of smooth chrome surfaces. A massive floor to ceiling window covers the far wall, its display alternating between the scenery of the moons in their trajectory and the all-consuming vastness of space surrounding them. On the left corner is their bed, framed by a thin steel structure with shimmering see-through curtains around it. It looks cozy and even somewhat romantic.

Poe throws himself back on the bed and groans, stretching his arms toward the wall and briefly gripping the elaborate silver wire pattern that makes the headboard, before moving lower and stretching his legs. Hux is intently staring at the viewport, at the moons rising in the distance.

“Come here,” Poe says, patting the bed. “We need to change our bed. Get one like this.”

Hux walks over to the windows, touches the surface, and the lights dim until they are a muted shade of blue; the room is immediately bathed in near obscurity, shielding them from the outside world. “Nocturnal mode,” says Hux. He walks over and stands in front of Poe on the bed, between his spread knees, looms over him with inten. A moment of unbearable tension threatening to snap. It passes and Hux moves away.

The bed is big enough to fit at least four people; it would be a nightmare to try to get something like this into their room, but Poe can dream. Despite all the space available, Hux lies down right next to him, their thighs brushing.

The breakfast buffet is not only lavishly stocked, but it’s also stocked with exotic food from planets that Poe is only faintly familiar with. He dreads going there with Hux, who would undoubtedly prefer the Order’s version of gourmet food: a flavorless and nutritive beige square. It was supposedly so good it put nutrient paste to shame.

“How about I get different things and you can try them all? See which one you like?” Poe suggests, as they make their way through the breakfast area. There’s a giant screen occupying the middle of the spotless white room and announcing their varied menu. “I’ll taste them first, even. I have a pretty good idea of what you’re into.”

Hux scoffs. “No, you don’t,” but he ultimately agrees.

They settle on flatcakes, of all things, made with an exotic fruit from Tunerth, so exotic that its name is unpronounceable to Poe. The flatcakes are drowning in carbosyrup and are decorated with the same fruit on top. Its shell is bitter, but once Poe bites into it he discovers a buried sweet taste; it’s faint but it lingers long after he’s swallowed.

“Do you want to sign up for the ‘bridge experience with the crew’ event? You would get to play captain for a day,” Poe says, looking across the brightly lit table. He doesn’t mention that from what he’s seen it’s mostly children who sign up. That just means it’s guaranteed to be fun because kids know how to chase their joy.

“Passengers don’t belong on the bridge. It’s not a tourist attraction.” Hux chews carefully and then dips his finger into the carbosyrup pooling on the plate. He does it quickly and sucks it into his mouth, as if afraid of getting caught.

“I don’t think you’ve clued in to the fact that this whole thing is a tourist attraction.”

“I’m not interested in some childish theater. I am aware I can’t have the real thing, but a protracted play-pretend won’t exactly satisfy me. Regardless of how realistic it feels,” he says, some heat behind his words.

“Okay, then,” Poe says, slowly. Kriff, Hux gets intense about the weirdest things. “What do you want to do instead? I think the softplay area might do you some good.”

“That’s for children,” he says, outraged. “It’s a pool full of rubber toys.”

“I’m sure they let in the occasional high-strung adult.” He swipes on his datapad to the next one. “Oh, hey, supernova watching. You in?”

For the event, they turn the atrium into a sort of theater. It’s like watching a holofilm without Hux’s annoying running commentary. The lights are dimmed and there are dark plush seats meant for two arranged in a semi-circular formation, far apart enough that it makes the setup seem intimate. Cozy.

Once they get close enough for the supernova to be within viewing range, the sight is mesmerizing. It looks as if the entire galaxy is right in front of their eyes, attainable, directly within reach. The luminescent blue glow enveloping them and framing their surroundings and the immediate beyond of the beautiful debris in front of them is gripping. Only a tiny amount of stars — out of the billions and billions of stars — will ever become supernovas, will ever have the potential to do so. It’s a monumental occurrence how falling victim to its own gravity allows the star to give them this unique moment.

Somewhere along the way, they migrate to the center of the sofa, their arms brushing together. Hux’s warmth is a comforting presence next to him and he gets the urge to move nearer. After a few moments, he moves down on the sofa and Hux moves closer until he barely has to tilt his head to carefully rest it on Hux’s shoulder. It’s bony and not very comfortable but Poe doesn’t move away.

It’s a massive, gigantic cruise ship. Hux was gone when he woke up and Poe hasn’t seen him all day. Poe’s not trying to keep an eye on him, but it’s almost lunchtime and he doesn’t like to eat alone if he can help it. He also found himself in something they call The Great Void, which was nothing but a big grey room with no discernible features. Just clean, grey surfaces all around. He thinks it’s exactly the kind of place Hux would like.

Poe goes wandering through the ship’s labyrinthine layout to find him. It takes him ten minutes to get frustrated with the methodical ‘check every station’ approach, so he decides to think like Hux instead. He finds him in the observation deck less than five minutes later.

Hux is focused on the stars glittering in the distance. Their beauty tends to draw people closer while they remain unreachable. He hasn’t noticed Poe’s presence, so Poe enjoys watching him as he is, when he doesn’t feel the need to fake something. Sometimes it’s less about knowing where to go and more about feeling your way to your destination, Poe thinks.

It’s a few weeks after their honeymoon when Poe’s calendar alerts him of an upcoming date.

“Do you want to do something for your birthday?” Poe asks while he’s getting ready for bed. It comes out a little garbled because he’s brushing his teeth, but Hux gets the general gist.

“No, I believe celebrating birthdays is an embarrassingly self-congratulatory tradition.”

“I’m glad you found it in yourself not to share that piece of wisdom on my birthday.” Poe had gone out to celebrate after work and Hux had stayed home, which at the time, Poe thought was for the best. That had been six months ago, though. He likes to think they’ve made some progress.

“Not everything needs to be celebrated.”

When Poe comes out of the refresher, Hux is already in bed, the room completely bathed in darkness. “It’s about celebrating another year of your life, having made it through it. I would have thought you’d appreciate that. Have you ever celebrated a birthday?”

He slides in bed next to him, and Hux says, “will you stop this attempt at a heart to heart if I agree?”

No, Poe will just try for the heart to heart later. “Yeah, sure.”

“Fine, then. I don’t presume I’ll be able to stop you.”

“See? There’s that enthusiasm I’ve come to expect from you.”

Hux is tense on the flight over. He always gets like this when Poe takes him up.

“You’ve spent your whole life on starships. What do you have to feel anxious about?” Poe told him the first time. He tried not to take it personally.

“That had felt differently,” Hux said. Poe doesn’t know if he meant physically different or something else. Maybe Poe should get out of the habit of assigning deeper meaning to Hux’s words.

When they land on Shownar, they take a landspeeder to the restaurant and Hux says, “is there something particularly special about this restaurant that the restaurants back home are missing?”

“You’ll see.”

It is a tourist trap, undeniably so. But the view is worth it and the place, while definitely at full capacity, isn’t crowded. The setup allowing for a lot of distance between each table. They make their way up a sturdy platform made of real wood, one of the planet’s many natural resources, and enter the almost alcove-like table setting. There is a golden filigree dome structure surrounding their table, sheltering them together, giving it an unquestionable air of privacy.

The open night sky is above them, the stars bathing them in a dim glow while the colorful radiance coming from the Torch Nebula illuminates them.

“What do you think?” Poe asks.

Hux looks up at the sky, his throat bobbing. “I guess it’s a unique view. Interesting.”

“But do you like it?”

“It’s memorable. I had never seen anything like it before. Thank you.”

Poe grins. “You’re welcome. I’m not being completely selfless here, though. I had always wanted to come here. That is, bring someone here. Share the experience.”

Hux frowns, but says nothing, turning to look at the sky again.

After dinner, they walk past the restaurants and shops and toward a long clearing where he can see benches and low chairs; couples huddled close together taking advantage of the romantic ambiance provided by the fireworks-like display the nebula creates, parents with their children, pointing toward the sky and maybe infusing them with the same longing for the stars that possessed Poe from a young age. He tears his eyes away and focuses on Hux walking up ahead.

They find an empty bench on the edges of the tourist camp and spend a long moment in silence, maybe appreciating the scene before them or soaking up the mellow energy around them or, in Poe’s case, taking a moment to second guess himself. It’s what he wanted, how he had envisioned it. The privacy and intimacy provided by the general faint glow of the stars, the quiet afforded to them by their relatively remote position, the distance from their everyday life, a new context.

“I have something for you.” Poe takes his necklace out of his jacket pocket and takes Hux’s hand, places it inside it, and lets their palms brush together. “Here.”

Hux looks down at his hand with a shellshocked expression for a long time, before saying, his voice steady, “I can’t take this.” Hux passes it back to him, and Poe’s chest aches, empty.

“You’re not supposed to reject it,” he says but barely stops himself from snatching it back.

“I just meant, is this intended to be a loan? A temporary replacement for my ring?”

Poe frowns. “A loan? It’s a gift.”

Hux shakes his head. “You’ll need it back. For when you find — the right person to give it to. A real—”

“It’s yours. It’s — don’t lose it.”

“I won’t. I’ll—” Hux swallows and looks away. “I’ll keep it for you, but I’ll give it back when you need me to.” He looks fixedly toward the distance and clutches the ring in his fist. “Thank you.”

Poe stares at the glowing blue and golden sparks coming from above them. From the surface, it’s a pretty and enjoyable view. Safe. He is familiar with the dangerous and terrifying feeling you get when you come too close to it, though. “Happy birthday, Hux,” he says and doesn’t turn to look at him.

Hux’s routine of coming into Poe’s office to watch him work is by far one of the things Poe dislikes most about him. “It’s Kaydel’s birthday and they’re going out to celebrate,” Hux says, sitting in front of him, his fingers intertwined against his stomach.

“That’s nice.” He hopes Hux gets to the point because he’s too busy for small talk.

“They invited me,” he says, but sounds a little unsure about it. It’s almost a question.

Poe looks up from his datapad. “Did they?”

“Yes, are you coming?”

“I can’t. I’m busy. I have to finish up here,” he says pointedly. Hux doesn’t seem to get the hint, though. “Look, no one wants to party with the boss, anyway. You should go, though.” He stops himself from adding please and now, preferably.

“No, that’s fine. I can wait for you.” Hux is tense, his posture rigid and his gaze focused intently on Poe. These are not optimal working conditions.

“Please don’t. If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. Feel free to use me as an excuse, even. But I have a ton of work to do, so please don’t stick around.” Poe doesn’t want to have to tell him I work better without you around because he knows how it’ll sound and how thin-skinned Hux can be.

“But you’re okay with me going?”

“Of course. Kriff, you don’t have to ask for permission. Just go, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That narrows it down.” Hux stands and walks to the door. “I’ll see you at home.”

When he gets home, Hux is already in bed. Poe wants him to socialize and make friends (presumably he has reformed criminal friends from the program, but Hux only talks about it in the vaguest of terms, so Poe wouldn’t know) but he knows Hux is not his pet project. He’s free to do as he wants.

Poe takes a shower and, as he’s getting dressed for bed, he hears, “are you hungry?”

“Nah, I just wanna sleep,” Poe says, lying down next to him. “Did you not go out?”

“I did. Why?”

“I expected you home later. Must’ve been a brief celebration.”

“No, I just left early.”

Poe tenses. He can’t help always being ready for the worst when it comes to Hux. “Why? What happened?”

“Nothing. It was just boring. I behaved.” He turns his back to Poe, clearly annoyed.

“Hey, no. That’s not what I meant.” Poe moves closer, unthinkingly sliding behind him and placing a hand on his flank. He only touches Hux when necessary, except when they’re in bed. Here, he gets handsy and Hux lets him, doesn’t seem to mind. “Did you have fun? Did you enjoy it?”

Hux turns around and suddenly they’re much closer than Poe expected. He thought Hux would put some distance between them. “It was fine. Mildly interesting.”

“What did you do?”

“Talked a little, drank a little, observed them a lot.”

Hux angles his head toward him, and Poe says, “what is this?” He places his thumb on Hux’s neck. “Is this a hickey? Hux.” He can clearly make out the symbol of whatever fancy club they went to, though.

Pushing him back, Hux rolls his eyes. “It’s a temporary mark. They scanned it to let us into the club. They told us it would fade within a couple of hours.”

“Sounds fancy. We should go there,” he says, lying back down on his side of the bed.

“No, thanks. You have to crawl through a conservator to get in and all the seats are designed with maximum discomfort in mind. I appreciated how far apart each seat was from each other, though it didn’t lend itself to easy conversation,” says Hux, never missing an opportunity to vent.

“That still sounds good. We never go out anywhere.”

After a long, blessedly silent moment, where Poe starts to doze off, Hux asks, “why would it be a hickey?”

Poe stares at the ceiling, at the shadows created by the small slivers of light that the stars outside bring. “I thought you were fucking around on me,” he deadpans.

He’s obviously joking and he’s mostly amused by the idea, but Hux says seriously, “I wouldn’t do that.”

Early on in their marriage Hux asked him to please not date or sleep with anyone while they were married. He was very rational about it and made his request seem reasonable, so Poe agreed. He didn’t think to ask Hux the same.

“I know.” Poe feels Hux’s hand on his wrist and turns his hand so that their palms press together. He falls asleep like that.

After seeing what happened with the refugees from the Hosnian system, Poe decides to do whatever he can to avoid a similar fate for the refugees from Kijimi. It takes them a couple of months, but they establish a temporary settlement on Phars. It’s an ice planet with similar environmental characteristics. It’s not the same — can’t and won’t be — but it’s the best they can do for now.

He leaves for almost two weeks, volunteering for transport duty. It’s not the daring, fun kind of flying; it’s better than that.

“Can you even fly one of these anymore? I thought you were all about filling forms, datawork, and domestic bliss now,” Zorii says, while the passengers are being grouped according to their extensive, yet incomplete census.

“I don’t feel threatened by your skills if that’s what you mean. They’re a reflection of me being a great teacher.” Poe ignores the comment about his marriage, but Zorii has never been one to settle for subtlety.

“Congrats, by the way. It’s a little late but I missed the ceremony,” she says, like Poe knew she would.

“Yeah, well, he’s the jealous type.” It sounds true enough and he doesn’t want to go into details.

“It’s not the only thing he is, right?” Zorii has seen him make questionable decisions before, even encouraged them. She was right there making them alongside him. Marrying Hux doesn’t feel like a questionable decision anymore, but it’s one he’s unwilling to justify to her. Not while they’re surrounded by living proof of the Order’s crimes. “You always saw the best in people. I’m not exactly surprised.”

Poe turns to look at her, but she’s looking at the first group of refugees as they board a shuttle. He thought she would somehow see through him and know it was all fake.

He comms Hux every other night. It’s the longest they’ve been apart from each other in the past ten months. He’s surprised they haven’t killed each other yet.

“Where are you?” Poe asks, feeling Hux’s voice like a warm tangible thing wrapping itself around him in the cockpit of his ship.

“I’m in our bed,” Hux says and it sounds a little suggestive in the darkness. The only light comes from outside the viewport, blue and bright.

Poe leans back against the seat and stretches his legs, feeling tired but restless. “What have you been up to?”

“I’m already executing step three of my plan for galactic takeover.”

Poe grins, glad no one can hear them. “I feel left out. If had some wild megalomaniacal plans, I wouldn’t exclude you.”

“Because you would need someone to deal with the bureaucratic aspect that you find tedious,” Hux says, his voice coming out hushed and sleepy.

“What else have you been doing?”

“I have actually been talking to your dad a lot.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought I was allowed.” Hux’s annoyance comes perfectly clear and, when it reaches Poe, it feels comfortably familiar.

“That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to know what you were talking about.”

“You, his hobbies.” He confirms Poe’s worst fears with his next words. “He wants us to visit.”

“Don’t make any plans without me, okay?”

“Are my takeover plans also meant to be put on hold until your return?”

“No, carry on with those. I meant, don’t make plans with my dad without talking to me first.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you catch up when you return.” The way Hux says it sounds like a promise, but Poe doesn’t let himself read into it.

Hux says, just as Poe’s falling asleep, “your friend Jessika is pregnant.” His timing perfect as usual. Poe's been back from Phars for all of six hours and has been in bed for less than five minutes. For someone who despises heart to hearts, Hux is really fond of having conversations while they’re in bed, half-awake, and bathed in near-darkness.

“Yep. She’s been pregnant for months.” Everyone is rebuilding their lives, planning for a future again, no longer living under the uncertainty of war.

“She invited you to a pre-naming day party she is having,” Hux says, his voice quiet, like a secret between them. “I mean, she invited me and—”

They’re a package deal. “Right. Sounds like fun.” It doesn’t really, but he doesn’t want to encourage Hux’s complaining.

After a long pause, Hux asks, “do you want kids?”

“Sure, baby. Let me put a baby in you,” Poe says, turning on his side so he can place his hand on Hux’s stomach.

Hux doesn’t push him away and, in the moonlight that filters through the window, Poe can even see him suppress a smile. A few months ago he would’ve glared and pushed Poe away. “It was a serious question. Did you want them before we got married? Do you want them— after?”

After what? Poe almost asks before he remembers that this thing is meant to have an expiration date. Hux doesn’t forget that. “Not really, no. I like kids, but it’s better when they’re someone else’s and you only get them in small doses. After — after my mom died I was a nightmare. I don’t know how my dad did it.”

“He did a good job. Raising you, I mean.”

“Is that a compliment for me or him?”

“For him,” Hux says, very obviously trying not to smile.

“I would offer to pass the compliment along, but he likes you too much already. You’re apparently the son-in-law he always wanted.” It horrifies Poe to hear his dad say that and that’s probably why he says it in the first place. That, or he’s trying to matchmake Poe to his own husband.

“Good,” Hux says, obviously very pleased with himself.

Poe chuckles. “How is that good?” He doesn’t mind letting Hux borrow his dad to get the parental approval he lacked as a child, though. Poe’s happy to if it makes him even a tiny bit happier and better adjusted.

“I’ve worked for it. I’ve worked hard to get him to see me differently. I’ve set the bar high for the next— the next person you introduce him to,” Hux says, uncomfortably intense as usual.

He has set the bar high. Surprisingly and absurdly so. Poe can just hear himself saying yes, my ex was a mass murderer, but you just don’t measure up. Well, he wouldn’t say it, but he would think it.

“Why are you meeting with Gar Dello?” Hux asks him over breakfast, greeting him with a bowl of cereal that he served especially for Poe; he even added sugar the way Poe likes. Poe tries not to be touched.

“Oh, he’s backing one of our projects. He wants to get us the funding we need. We’re pitching him the specifics today. Why? You wanna sit in?”

Hux scoffs. “I don’t see how that would help. He hates me.”

“If we went through a list of politicians who don’t hate you, we’d be left with a very small sample,” Poe points out. Hux is either a traitor to his cause or a war criminal that got off too easy. Neither is exactly a lie.

“And an undesirable one, at that. He campaigned extensively for my execution, though. He said, ‘no jail cell or tracking device would ever be secure enough to contain Armitage Hux.’ He even felt the need to visit me and repeat those exact words.”

Poe reaches across the counter intending to hold Hux’s hand, maybe, but changes trajectory at the last second and grabs Hux’s bowl instead, taking it to the sink. “What do you suggest? We turn him down?”

“No, I’m just saying I hate him.”

If Poe had a credit for every sentient being Hux hated, he wouldn’t need to suck up to politicians.

When he goes to pick Hux up for lunch later that day, he finds him and Dello by the entrance, engaged in conversation. Dello says something and smiles at Hux before leaving. Poe is too far to hear what he said but he can read Hux just fine. He has a neutral expression on his face, but his body is one rigid line of tension.

“Everything okay?” Poe asks when he reaches his side.

“Yes, of course,” Hux says quickly and turns back inside.

Poe touches his elbow and stops him. “What were you and Dello talking about?”

“Nothing,” he says without looking at Poe.

Poe sighs. At least there’s no one around to witness this. “Hux—”

When Hux fixes his gaze on him, Poe almost recoils. He’s angry in a vaguely deranged, murderous way Poe hasn’t seen in months. “It’s none of your business. I don’t have to share everything with you. Not more than I am already forced to,” Hux snaps.

“It is my business because as you recall I’m not only meant to be your spouse, I’m also meant to be your keeper.” It’s probably not fair to say that. After all, Poe wasn’t asking because he was suspicious of Hux.

“No one asked you to do that. Knowing how bad you were at handling your responsibilities, you shouldn’t have taken one more.”

“Well, good luck finding another idiot willing to fuck up their lives to save you from a worse fate.” Poe immediately regrets saying it and the brief stunned look on Hux’s face only makes it worse. Before he has a chance to apologize, Hux pushes past him, toward the door, and leaves.

Hux doesn’t come back for the rest of the day, and Poe worries. He goes home in the late afternoon, but Hux isn’t home either. He has to come back sometime. Poe repeats the thought in his head until it sounds vaguely true.

When Hux walks in, Poe gets a weighty feeling in his chest; relief that's nothing short of euphoric. Hux’s face is red from the cold and his hair is falling in his eyes. He looks pathetic, like Poe feels.

Poe stands up from the couch and approaches him, but Hux crosses his arms and stares at him, his gaze steady. Even from a distance, Poe can feel the cold coming off of him. “I’m sorry I said what I did. It was horrible and it’s not even true.”

Hux scoffs. “You married me to keep me out of prison. I don’t delude myself into thinking this marriage has improved the quality of your life.”

“I was being an asshole when I said that. Being married to you hasn’t ruined my life in any way.” He’s actually pretty happy. In the beginning, he kept telling himself try to make the best of it. Don’t go out of your way to make yourself miserable, and he just decided to roll with it. Let whatever was going to happen, happen.

“Well, there’s still time if we stay married.” He looks toward the far wall, toward their bedroom, and then back to Poe. “Maybe we should get that divorce now.”

Poe hasn’t truly considered a divorce in ages, so the idea is jarring to him. He thinks about it as something that will happen sometime in the future, but mostly, he doesn’t think about it. “What?”

“It would be good for you. You would get to meet other people,” Hux says calmly, rationally. “People you can fuck.” He overenunciates his words, not a trace of emotion behind them.

I could fuck you, pops into his head. Poe’s not fully out of the habit of chasing bad ideas. “This is not about sex, Hux.”

“There are millions of people — billions, even, that you could—”

Is that what Hux thinks about? How his mind works? “Billions of people? Are you insane? Like I said, this is not about sex. This is about whatever that guy told you.”

“He didn’t say anything to me,” Hux says flatly, his face blank.

“Lie about it, then. Fine,” Poe says, turning back to the sofa. This conversation clearly requires more patience than he currently has.

“It’s not what he said. It’s that I can’t kill him for having said it,” Hux says, stopping him in his tracks. He sounds and looks disturbingly serious about it. Like it’s completely normal that his mind jumped to murder at the smallest provocation.

Poe doesn’t want to worry that Hux will, at any moment, fall back on his problem-solving 101 methods, also known as rampant murder. “But not really, right? You wouldn’t really kill him,” Poe says, trying to convince himself and if he’s really lucky convince Hux too.

“Of course I would. I would find the most creatively painful way too. I’m not sure what’s stopping me.”

“But is something stopping you?” Poe doesn’t know what he’ll do if Hux outright says no. He knows what he should do, but they’re probably two different things.

Hux stares at him for a long moment but says nothing.

“Fuck, Hux. I— I thought—” He walks to the couch, maybe wanting to walk away from his own idiocy.

“You thought what? You thought you had changed me? You thought you had tamed me?” Some almost-suppressed emotion bleeds through his words.

Poe turns around to face him, wanting as much context as he can get for Hux’s state of mind. “Is that what he said to you?”

Hux clenches his jaw and looks away. “No.”

Poe knows him, though. His tells and his habits and his insecurities. Knows him better than he ever wanted to and not as much as he currently wishes he did. “I never sought to tame you. You know that. All I wanted was for you to try to make amends, lead a different life.”

“But it’s the whole point of the clause, isn’t it? Marrying me off to someone who’ll keep me in line. Manipulating me into wanting that because it’s the lesser of two evils. It’s very effective too because this way I’m complicit in my own—” Hux breaks off and breathes shakily. “I cooperated. I played nice. I played their game. It’s what they wanted all along.”

“Hux, that’s not me, though. I’m not playing games with you. Dello hates you and was an asshole to you. I get that. It doesn’t mean he was right, but most importantly, it doesn’t mean you can kill him.”

“He wasn’t wrong. I don’t care if people make wrong assumptions about me, that’s happened all my life, but he saw me.” He sounds genuinely hurt, upset like Poe hasn’t seen him before. Like something within himself betrayed him, swift and unexpected.

Poe’s exhausted from this conversation. He almost wants to comfort Hux and not deal with the rest. He has no idea when his priorities got so fucked up. “You won’t have to see him again. I promise you.”

“Don’t do that. You can’t let personal matters get in the way of professional advancement. We’d get nowhere. You don’t have to worry about me killing him either. There is something stopping me.”

He doesn’t clarify what.

That night Hux says something right as Poe is falling asleep. “What? What’s wrong?” Poe says, turning around and reaching for him. Feeling reassured to find him warm and solid next to him.

“I said, I am grateful. I was trying to say thank you. I haven’t said it before.”

“Ever in your life? I can believe that.” It doesn’t lighten the mood and Hux goes quiet. “What were you trying to say ‘thank you’ for?”

“For marrying me.”

Poe sighs. “Don’t. You don’t have to,” he says, looking at the ceiling now. He honestly doesn’t want to deal with Hux’s gratitude, doesn’t know how to.

“I want to. It’s long overdue too. No one had ever done something like this for me before.”

Poe focuses on the light that’s reflected on the ceiling above their bed. Like constellations inside their bedroom. “What’s that?”

“Protect me at great cost for themselves, expecting nothing in return.”

“Hux, I get more gratitude than I know what to do with from the rest of the galaxy. I don’t want that from you.”

“I thought you’d appreciate hearing all about how you were the kind of brave, daring hero I needed,” Hux says, his words sounding almost fond.

Poe laughs. “You don’t actually see me like that, right? I don’t want to play a part with you.” At one point, Poe had enjoyed cultivating that image, it had been validating. Proof that he was more than his past mistakes. It made him uneasy now, to live the reality of it.

“You’re very good at it, though.”

“At what?”

“Playing a role. You are exceptionally convincing at playing ‘loving husband.’”

He turns his head when he feels Hux shift. “Am I?”

“Yes,” Hux breathes against his lips.

They’ve been married for almost a year now and this is the first time they kiss. Poe tangles his fingers in Hux’s hair and pulls him close until Hux moves to sit on top of him, his hands resting against Poe’s chest. They separate and pant against each other’s mouths for a moment before Hux moves downward and hesitantly touches the waistband of his pants.

Poe reaches out and touches his hands. “This isn’t another way of saying ‘thank you,’ is it?”

“Does it matter? Just let me.”

Fuck. “No, Hux. Let’s just — not,” he says and moves him off his lap.

Evidently, Poe’s not the only one good at playing a part. It had seemed so convincing.

It has gone on for far too long, that’s the problem. It has confused Poe and shifted his priorities in ways that have blinded him to what he should do. He’s enjoyed being married to Hux, horrifyingly enough. They’ve built a home together and that has been a comfort to Poe, but it’s not real — a fact that Hux never forgets.

He doesn’t believe Hux has been redeemed by his presence or his supposed watchful eye. Hux wanted the change, had the excuse, and took the opportunity. He chose to do it and unless Poe is willing to take full credit for it, he will continue to make that choice even without their legal bond. He’s not worried about Hux, and the galaxy shouldn’t be either.

Poe’s submerged himself in the comfort of a role he never wanted, but it’s time to resurface.

As it turns out, initiating divorce proceedings is far easier than he expected. He assumed it would be needlessly complicated and bureaucratic, giving him time to come to terms with the overwhelming sense of finality.

He’ll do it after the anniversary. It would look troubling otherwise. Far more troubling is how willing he’s been to lie to himself.

He finds Rey sitting outside her training warehouse with Beebee and Dio. “Hey,” he says, even though she probably sensed his approach.

“Oh, hey. Do you need Beebee back?” she asks with a laugh.

“No, it’s fine. “ Right now you could use the company more, he doesn’t say. “How are you? How long has it been?” He sits down next to her and stretches his legs in front of him. There’s a deep sense of calm surrounding them, stretching far along the wide-open field in front of them. The sun is low in the sky and there’s a cool breeze brushing past them.

She pretends to think for a second, but it’s not a very convincing act. “Almost sixteen weeks. It’s nothing. It’s just— maybe a little longer than I expected.”

Finn and Jannah have been setting up their deconditioning and rehabilitation center for former stormtroopers. From the updates Poe’s gotten, the program seems promising, but the center demands a very hands-on approach to management. “You guys have been— communicating through the Force, though, right?”

Rey flushes a little and looks away. Poe doesn’t wanna know. “Yes, it’s good. It’s just — I miss him.”

“I know.” Poe misses him too; his reassuring, solid presence. Misses the comforting knowledge that he wouldn’t slip through his fingers even while being in the same room. He can’t imagine how Rey feels. “You could go visit?”

“No, he needs to focus on this. The same way I needed to focus on my training. We agreed, no distractions. It’s not like we need to spend all our time together, or like I’m all alone. I mean, the Rey of five years ago, she wouldn’t be— and she was all alone.”

“It’s okay to change. To have our priorities change.”

“I know,” she says, with her usual steely determination. “His presence is very comforting, his familiarity. I’ve gotten so used to it. Do you know what I mean?”

Yes, Poe thinks he does.

Finn returns a week before Poe and Hux’s one year anniversary, so everyone at work decides to throw a dual party to celebrate both events. Poe feels a little cheated, to be honest. He knows it’s not a real marriage, but they don’t. Fake marriage, real parties. That’s what Poe believes in.

A couple of days after he comes back, Finn resurfaces from wherever he and Rey had locked themselves in to — reconnect and stops by Poe’s place. It’s not the first time he’s visited — it’s not even the first time he’s visited since Poe got married, so he doesn’t understand at first why Finn’s acting so shifty.

“Is Hux around?” he asks as he walks in.

“No, you wanted to talk to him?” Poe asks dubiously. Primedays are when Hux goes out and catches up on all the holofilms he missed while he watched nothing but propaganda. He comes back at the end of the day and tells Poe in extreme detail everything he loved or hated about them. It’s better than their previous routine of Poe going with him, only for Hux to mutter throughout the whole thing and point out the things he hated in real-time.

He sits down on the couch and drums his fingers a little on his knees. “I wanted to talk to you, but it’s kind of personal.”

“You can tell me anything.” Witnessing the aftermath of his and Rey’s many experiments in the Falcon should’ve cleared that. “What is it, buddy?”

“Well, this might seem weird, but I’m not friends with anyone else who’s married,” Finn says, shooting him a pained look.

Not a great start. Poe has a bad feeling about this. “I’m not really, y’know. I’m technically married, but it’s not real.” The words threaten to stick in his throat, but only briefly.

Finn frowns. “What d’you mean?”

Poe laughs awkwardly, but nothing funny is happening here. “You were there when we decided to get married. You technically proposed to him for me.”

“Oh, no, I know. I meant it’s real now.”

Poe can’t even begin to contemplate why someone might think that. Especially Finn, of all people. He shakes his head. “No, it isn’t. It’s not.”

Finn frowns again, like he thinks Poe might be lying.

Poe can’t do this. “What were you going to tell me?”

“I’m thinking of asking Rey to marry me.”

“Do it,” Poe says bluntly. He tries to tone down his enthusiasm a little. “I mean, you guys are already committed to each other and happy together. I don’t know any two people more suited to be together than you two.”

“Yeah? I just— the past few years have felt twice as long as they actually were. I thought, ‘why wait?’ I’m thinking of doing it at the party, actually,” Finn says awkwardly. “You don’t mind?”

Oh great, now they’ll have to share their anniversary party with an actual joyous event. “No, no, that’s great. You’re not going to do it in public though, right?”

“Why? You think she’ll say no?”

“Of course not. But it’s a private moment, just for you guys. Something you can fondly look back on later. You don’t need spectators.” Poe’s glad he’s not in love and doesn’t have to overthink things like these.

“Right, yeah. I wasn’t really considering that. I also wanted to ask you about, I don’t know — married life, but I guess that’s not—”

“Nope, it’s definitely not. But you don't need— you guys are family. That's what marriage is, choosing someone to be your family.” Poe doesn't have any actual helpful advice. What can he say? You get used to and even come to like all the things about each other you thought you would hate? The back-and-forth and negotiation become part of the routine and not something to dread?

He only barely stops himself from twisting his ring.

The party is, well, it’s definitely a party. He’s genuinely touched by how much thought and effort went into it. There’s a whole table of vegetables cooked and presented in different ways specifically to accommodate Hux’s strict diet of no animal products. Not that he’s around to appreciate it. Hux disappeared as soon as they walked in and he spotted the doorways decorated with light blue vines and white string lights, frowning and leaving Poe to deal with everyone.

Poe looks outside, past the transparisteel doors, and sees a secluded little hallway that faces the grass field. It’s illuminated by small candles placed on a balustrade. He doesn’t know where Finn is planning to propose but Poe would do it there.

The ambiance of the room doesn’t change the fact that it’s uncomfortable to see people celebrating and congratulating him on this pure, true love that’s strong enough to apparently reform mass murderers. Everyone’s is downright impressed by the power of it.

“I know what you’re gonna say, but congrats, man. Real or not, it’s still been a year spent together. It couldn’t have been easy,” Finn says. “Where is he, anyway? Your other half?”

Poe’s going to let him make as many jokes as he wants because he’s clearly nervous about proposing and looking to distract himself. It’s so obvious how committed they are to spending their lives together that Poe doesn’t see what he has to be unsure about. “Hiding somewhere. Probably wishing he was anywhere but here.”

Finn snorts. “You’re one to talk.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Poe asks.

“He’s been rubbing off on you.”

And not in a fun way, Poe refrains from saying. Finn already has the wrong idea, no need to make things worse. “That’s not true.”

“The reverse is also true. He’s much more tolerable now.”

Is that how people see them? How they see their relationship? Poe figures Finn’s assessment of Hux is more or less right, though. For the longest time, the list of people who more-than-tolerated Hux only included Poe. Maybe that should’ve told him something.

There’s a wide, open field in front of him. The white grass almost glistens in the direct reflection of the golden sun. It’s deceptive in its nature, the cool light it emits giving the impression of a colder disposition, but it’s hot, warming Poe through his clothes, making him itch out of his skin.

“I’ve been looking for you. You left me alone to suffer through the couple being obnoxiously happy,” says Hux, approaching the railing Poe is resting his forearms against.

The reality of their impending divorce is weighing on him, weighing him down. It’s making him sulky. “Sorry.” When Poe turns in his direction, Hux is intently staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He’s been doing that a lot lately. Poe can tell there’s something on his mind and he dreads finding out what. Hux moves to stand next to him, leaning on the pillar to his left. “What he said was that you had tamed me with your cock, which is both true and false.”

“What. Wait, who?”

“He was, perhaps, a little less crude. The point is that it was nothing more than the idea of it that did the trick, actually. This infectious belief that I could make amends and in turn be good enough to— it kept me on my best behavior because I wanted the life you had offered me. I wanted you to believe that sharing that with me was worth it.” He turns to look at the sun and squints, blinking a couple of times. “Do you want a divorce now?”

Poe hates how Hux bombards him with information and gives him no time to process it. Maybe he hopes Poe will fuck up by saying the first thing on his mind, vindicating Hux in his erroneous beliefs. “No, I don’t want a divorce.” He should’ve realized this sooner, should’ve accepted it sooner. “If you want it, come out and say it. Don’t put it on me.”

Hux sighs, irritated. “There has to be a limit to your self-sacrificing hero complex. I promise I won’t go back to a life of crime if you divorce me. It never brought me any true happiness. I know that now. Everything I did— it never felt— it wasn’t enough. I thought that meant I needed to keep aiming higher, but that wasn't the answer. In any case, it has lost its shine now, so I won’t go back to it. I don’t know how to convince you.”

“You don’t have to. I believe you.” Poe trusts him.

Hux exhales. “You don’t have to feel responsible for me, then.”

Poe is still catching up on what Hux said and he unthinkingly blurts out, “kriff, you know how to flatter guy.”

“What?”

Poe rubs his temples and then runs a hand through his hair. He’s getting a headache. “Just — you made it sound as if the idea of getting access to my cock was powerful enough that it kept you on the straight and narrow.”

“That’s not what I said. Are you mocking me?” Hux says, pulling away.

“No, fuck. I’m processing. Look, I don’t want a divorce, I told you that already. I would like to give the sex a try, though,” Poe rushes to say. There was a better, more tactful way to say it but it’s out there now and it has reached Hux.

“No, I don’t want that.”

Poe never feels prepared enough for any conversation with Hux. “What? You just said—”

“I don’t want a pity fuck. I want the real thing. I want — all of it.”

“Let’s do that, then.” They have that already— have had it for a year, could have it for another.

If anything, Hux looks even more offended. Poe’s tempted to just give up. “You don’t want to fuck me badly enough that you would lie like that,” Hux says.

“You’re right. I’m not lying. I— you don’t know how I feel about you?”

“Is it the same way I feel about you?” Hux says, scowling, as if resentful of his own feelings.

Poe laughs. “Man, I hope so. Let’s get married again.”

“No, the first one was bad enough.”

“We could do it here. My dad could come.” Poe can tell Hux is warming up to the idea, so he tries his luck. “We could do it the same day as Finn and Rey’s wedding and upstage them?”

Hux exhales, a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. “You don’t want that. Even I would feel bad doing that.”

“You’d feel bad? You’ve truly changed.”

“Not that much.”

“Not that much,” Poe agrees against his lips.