Work Text:
General Hux’s silhouette against the observation deck’s floor-to-ceiling windows is striking, a tall, dark figure of sharp lines, carved out against the expanse of stars scattered beyond the transparisteel of the Finalizer. At this time of night, there are only a handful of officers around, a sparse scattering of them bustling around the monitors. Occasionally, a Stormtrooper patrol clods through the observatory as per routine, mechanically making its nightly round. Officers and troopers alike give the General a wide berth of space, leaving him to his eerily peaceful stargazing. There is a rumor that he doesn’t sleep, not anymore; no one knows how true this is, but in the months since the destruction of Starkiller Base, the long nights have seen Hux outlined among the stars more often than not. He stands there, a slim but intimidating statue, always with his great coat slung over his shoulders, draped with a liquid, cascading effect that is as carefully constructed as the rest of his appearance.
Tonight, the General’s silent vigil is breached. There are only three others on the deck when the entrance way opens with a quiet rumble, huddled in a far corner of the room quietly discussing over a holographic map that glitters in the air between them. One of them, a lieutenant, glances over, expecting to see the hourly patrol.
It’s not the patrol. It’s Lord Ren.
A second officer, the head navigator, elbows the first officer sharply in the side, frantically shaking her head at the wide-eyed splutter that comes from his mouth. The lieutenant quickly swallows his surprise and he and the two others burst into a hushed discussion of the hologram, a pretense that is perhaps a bit too forced. If it’s obvious that they are sneaking glances, the Knight makes no sign that he’s noticed. Or cares.
His footsteps are heavy, muted, as he crosses the floor slowly, approaching the General, who has not moved or shown any signs of acknowledging his visitor. Lord Ren halts just a step behind the red-haired man. His larger frame joins the General’s in the outline against the sky, a second figure of equal intimidation now painted into the stars. His own dark cloak seems to shimmer, an ocean of black fabric swept asymmetrically about his shoulders. For a while the two statues say nothing, and it’s a thick, taut silence that extends out into the room, suspending time and freezing the air. The conversation of the lower officers to dwindles to a stop, the trio suddenly unable to find it within themselves to break the unstable absence of sound.
There’s a sudden mechanical hiss, followed by a sharp click that is magnified by the heavy silence. Ren reaches two hands to the sides of his helmet, shaking off his hood and removing his voice-altering helmet with a single, deft movement. After another brief lapse in time, the force-wielder lets the helmet fall from his grip with a deafening thunk as it crashes to the ground at his feet, almost certainly denting the floor.
Hux flinches.
“To what do I owe this encounter, Kylo?” His voice is measured, barely above a whisper. His gaze does not stray from the stars.
“You need sleep.” Without the helmet, Ren’s voice has a surprisingly gentle, rich quality to it.
“No, I don’t.”
“You are human.”
“So are you.”
Lord Ren reaches, perhaps to place a hand on Hux’s shoulder, but the General tenses noticeably and steps away, leaving the force-wielder’s arm to fall uselessly to his side. Hux tears his gaze away from the stars, turning his back to his visitor. His shoulders draw protectively in on himself, as if to shrink away from the man behind him. “Leave,” he rasps, but his voice cracks on the word, filling the single syllable with bitterness. His face twists into a pained grimace that Ren cannot see.
The knight shakes his head, his ebony locks glinting. His hair is longer than it’s ever been, curling slightly around his face. A sharp red scar divides his pained expression in half. “I will not,” he says, frowning. “Look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“Hux.”
The three officers in the corner, their hologram completely abandoned, hunch together in baited breath, feeling as if they are definitely trespassing on a very private moment that their superiors could have their heads for witnessing. The third officer, a small, round colonel, exchanges terrified glances with his companions. He jerks his head anxiously toward the exit, but the other two shake their heads. Then, there’s a noticeable, cracking shift in the tense atmosphere—the trio freezes and looks back at the General and Lord Ren.
Hux breaks, turns around, and as soon as he does he chokes visibly on a poorly concealed sob. His eyes are glittering with wild, unshed tears as he finally meets Ren’s gaze.
“Why can’t you be satisfied with knowing you’ve won?” He sounds like he wants to scream, his voice terrible and raw. “I’m ruined. I’m nothing.” He grabs the collar of the knight’s cloak with two angry fists, pulling the other closer. He’s trembling now. “Stop playing this stupid game, Kylo.” In the faint blue glow of the observatory’s dimmed floor lights, he looks dangerously beautiful.
“Hux—” Lord Ren’s face crumples. He stares brokenly at the man seething before him, an openly anguished expression so uncharacteristic of the cold, violent monster that stalks the corridors of the Finalizer by day.
“This was never a game, you idiot,” he whispers, his own eyes watering. Something gives between the two, and when the dark-haired man reaches a hand up to cup Hux’s cheek with a gentle, shaky caress, the General makes no move to stop him. When the most powerful Knight of Ren wraps lanky arms around Hux’s slim torso and pulls him in, the General willingly goes, visibly melting into the embrace with the crushed sigh of a man beyond exhausted. The observation deck falls silent once more, save the racking, quiet sobs of the General muffled into Ren’s shoulder, who threads fingers into Hux’s fiery hair and holds the other close, quietly carding fingers through his hair with small, calming motions. His eyes fall closed and he presses the side of his face against the General’s neck, an act of open vulnerability. Hux wraps his arms almost desperately around the knight, his knuckles white with the shaking strength of his grip as he grabs the back of Ren’s cloak like a lifeline.
The trio of fear-stricken, wide-eyed officers start edging for the door, almost certain the pair really is oblivious to their presence, but just when they think they’re in the clear to make a getaway, Lord Ren looks up and stares, a sudden cold and unforgiving gaze that halts the three in their quaking boots. The force-wielder blinks once and the three feel themselves surrounded by an unseen pressure, not enough to hurt but enough to feel the potential crushing power of the air folding around them.
“Get out,” says Lord Ren in a quavering voice, riddled with barely controlled fury. The officers don’t need to be told twice, all but scrambling over each other to get to the exit first as soon as the Force releases them from its grasp. The door shuts with a swift, heavy sound just seconds after they escape, piled onto the floor outside the observatory and gasping for breath and too thankful to be alive to immediately contemplate what they’ve just witnessed.
But it doesn’t take them too long. “Holy shit,” the round colonel eventually whimpers, casting a nervous look at the heavy door now separating them from the two leaders of the ship. “Holllly shit.”