Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Did you hear? Hux got invited to a coronation," Kaydel Connix said, sitting down at the cafeteria table with her tray.

"A what now?" Rose Tico asked, shooting her a bemused glance.

"A coronation! It's for Prince Dulgan of Hynestia Prime," Kaydel continued.

Poe Dameron had been chewing a slightly too-large mouthful of food, which he now finally wrestled down his throat.

"Hugs knows a prince?" he asked in disbelief.

"Apparently?" Kaydel said, shrugging. "The invitation came with a huge bouquet of white and orange flowers — it took two couriers to carry it from the shuttle to Hux's quarters. You should have seen it!"

"And he's actually going to go?" Rose asked, looking at Kaydel quizzically.

Poe found that he was also staring at Kaydel as though she knew all the answers to the universe's questions.

Poe had so many questions. First off — apparently, Armitage Hux knew a prince? Like — how had that happened? Hadn't he been raised on the fringes of Wild Space?

And second, this prince had decided to invite him to his coronation?

And third, he had sent flowers?

"I mean, he'll probably go, since the invitation said Prince Dulgan would send a shuttle for him," Kaydel said, stabbing a piece of fish and popping it into her mouth.

"Handy!" Rose commented. "Well, I gotta say, I've been all over and met a lot of people, but I've never been invited anywhere by a real live prince before."

Poe opened his mouth only to close it again right away. He had to admit that he was in the same boat as Rose. Not only did he not know any princes — he didn't know any dukes, baronets, earls, or even any aldermen.

Not that alderman was a hereditary title.

It wasn't. Was it?

And another thing. He didn't know how he felt about their ex-adversary and ex-spy, Armitage Hux, being invited off-world. Would Hux be safe away from the Ajan Kloss base? There were still a lot of people who wanted to see him dead for his role in the war.

"I don't suppose the invitation had a plus one?" Poe was horrified to hear himself asking.

Kaydel and Rose both looked at him, then looked at each other and sighed, almost simultaneously. It would have been cool how in sync with each other they were, if Poe hadn't felt so affronted.

"What?" he snapped.

"Trust Poe to try to crash any party, just 'cuz it's a party," Rose said, slanting her eyebrows at Poe.

"Hey!" Poe objected. "I'm just worried about him. What if someone sees him out and about and tries to assassinate him? There are a lot of people who lost someone in the Hosnian cataclysm. A lot of people who'd be more than happy to take the life of the guy who gave the order."

The thing was — Poe felt that Hugs's later spying on behalf of the Resistance made up for his role earlier in the war, but he knew that most other people did not. Most other people didn't know what Hugs had done — how he'd saved them, again and again, by passing them vital intelligence in the nick of time.

"You heard it's on Hynestia and that's why you want to go," Kaydel said wisely. "They're known for their underground caves and hot springs."

"I'm just worried," Poe repeated, with less force behind it. He couldn't bear the thought of someone offing Hux while Poe was light years away, back on this stupid base, shuffling paperwork from one side of his desk to the other.

"Okay, so you're worried, but it's also because you want to crash a really cool party. Admit it!" Rose said with a grin and a light punch to his shoulder.

"Hey!" Poe grinned back, and the rest of the meal devolved into the easy camaraderie of squabbles between friends.

Poe couldn't stop thinking about the invitation — from a prince, a real, honest-to-Force prince, apparently.

He looked up Prince Dulgan in the databanks and found that he was a tall, handsome Hynestian, in the prime of his life, with an impressive list of accomplishments and a rather pleasing physique.

Poe immediately hated him. He had never liked Hynestians, he was just now realizing. Of course, he had never particularly thought about them much before now, but he had a definite sense that they had always been on his bad list.

He was particularly irked to scroll to the section on Prince Dulgan's intimate relationships and find that he was single.

Poe stopped by Hux's quarters to try to catch a glimpse of the famed floral arrangement that had taken two couriers to carry, but Hux wasn't home, so that was a dead end.

Poe didn't know what was even happening here on Ajan Kloss base anymore. It seemed like things were spiraling out of control — floral arrangements, and princes, and who knows what else.

Poe was pretty sure he was against all of it.

Apparently the shuttle was going to arrive for Hux in just two days. Rose and Jessika and some others were chattering away to each other about how that hadn't left Hux much time to get his outfit together.

"Why does he need a new outfit? I think he looks plenty good in what he already wears every day," Poe asked, only to be stared down by everyone else in the room.

"Poe — it's a coronation," Rose told him kindly, but very condescendingly. "People need to wear their best."

"He's getting a suit made," Jessika Pava volunteered. "I heard about it from Snap."

"Snap knows about this?" Poe interjected, feeling betrayed. It was one thing if all the women on base apparently knew everything there was to know about Hux's outfit choices. It was something else to learn that his bud Temmin Wexley, aka "Snap," was also in on the whole thing.

"Yeah, sure — it's his friend Auros who's making it," Rose said. "He trained as a tailor back on Sullust."

"Hmm," Poe said, and then casually found out where this Auros could be found.

Auros was working out of one of the prefabricated storage huts that littered the grounds of the base. It wasn't the most scenic place — certainly nothing compared to one of the fancy tailors that could be found on big planets in the Core. Still, Poe wasn't exactly used to visiting tailors, and he found he was slightly nervous as he approached.

Pushing open the door, he peered into the dim interior, calling out, "Hello?"

No answer. Poe poked around the empty front of the shop until he heard murmured voices coming from behind a door behind the counter. So naturally he had to follow them, especially once he heard a Standard Imperial accent.

"What do you think?" a Sulustan was asking as Poe came around the corner.

Hux was there, standing in front of a three-fold mirror. He was wearing —

Poe's mind could not immediately take in what he was wearing, because he wasn't sure he knew all the words for all the pieces. But he did know that Hux looked real good in it.

It was some sort of suit, maybe? Only fancier than normal suits. Not that Poe had seen Hux in a suit before! But if he had, then this particular outfit would have been several huge steps up. It was a sort of shimmering dark greenish-gray and it fit him like a glove.

Speaking of — Poe's eyes flicked to his hands, and yes, he was also wearing gloves. And his jacket sleeves had ruffles? But very understated ones — tasteful — not over-the-top ruffles that would drag in someone's fancy appetizer platter.

The overall impression was elegance. Subtlety. Refinement.

He looked like the sort of person who could stand next to a prince and belong there.

Poe's throat was dry, so he swallowed, but it got dry again almost immediately.

"Dameron. What are you doing here?" Hux asked, pinpointing Poe using one of the three mirrors. The green of his outfit brought out his eyes, which was no doubt why the tailor had chosen this color.

With all three Huxes staring at Poe judgmentally with their six vibrantly green, piercing eyes, Poe found himself getting a little bit flustered.

"Oh, hey Hugs," he said brightly. "Just stopping by to check on how the, uh, outfit — thing — is working out. You look good. Great! I mean, you always look good, but right now you look extra good."

Kriff. He stumbling over his own tongue. He was better than this, damn it. He was supposed to be smooth.

Hux was looking at him amusedly. He had the air of a pampered housecat surveying its domain, secure that all was right in the world.

"I believe it will do. Mr. Auros has provided exemplary service," Hux said, returning his attention to the mirrors to critically examining himself from various angles. He turned around and peered over his own shoulder in order to see what he looked like from behind, which meant that now there were three Huxian derrieres in the mirrors, which was three times as many as one.

Poe glanced away before his eyes were dragged inevitably back.

"So, I hear you're going to a fancy party," Poe said, deciding to just plunge in and seize the tauntaun by the horns.

"Word does get around this base," Hux commented, adjusting his lapel.

"Well, I was wondering — do you need a pilot to take you there?"

"Dulgan is sending a shuttle for me. You need not inconvenience yourself," Hux replied. He was still examining himself in the mirror, very seriously.

Poe licked his lips. "And you've — been there before?"

"Oh, yes. That was where I met Dulgan originally."

"It's interesting that you just call him Dulgan," Poe asked, feeling sour. "Not 'Prince Dulgan'?"

"We've known each other for many years now," Hux replied. "Dulgan loathes ceremony for its own sake — one of the many things he and I have in common."

"Right." Things Hux had in common with someone? Things Hux had in common with a prince?

Poe didn't think Hux had much in common with anyone. He certainly didn't seem to have much in common with Poe.

What even was Poe's life right now?

"The Hynestian palace is a magnificent sight," Hux said. "My father and some other officers had occasion to negotiate with the Hynestian royal family, who had been aligned with the Empire, and they saw fit to take me along on several occasions."

"Oh," Poe said. Well, that explained how Hugs knew an actual prince.

"He taught me a variant of stick fighting that I've had occasion to use in more than one subsequent encounter," Hux added.

Poe's mind instantly flashed to a much younger Hux, all gangly limbs and crazy red hair, battling a young, handsome Hynestian with sticks. Maybe on a training field belonging to the royal palace.

Poe had been friends with Princess Leia during the war, but it's not as though she'd been acting like a princess — she'd been acting like a General. He didn't even know how princes related to non-royal people.

"So he's a good fighter?" Poe asked, inanely, in his own opinion. It's just that he couldn't think of what else to ask right then.

"Excellent," Hux said, sticking out one slender ankle and rotating it in mid-air to examine the look of his shoe in the three mirrors. "They train since birth, you know."

"I, uh, I did not know that," Poe said. Had he trained in anything since birth? Well — piloting, since age five or six — that was the closest thing. But now that the war was over, there was a lot less need for pilots.

And sure enough, apparently, Hugs didn't need him as a pilot, even a little bit.

Poe felt like he was losing the plot of whatever this conversation was, and so it was probably time to let discretion be the better part of valor and dip out.

"Well, if the shuttle falls through for whatever reason, just let me know!" Poe said, making his way back towards the door.

Whether Hux got a lift to this coronation thing had nothing to do with Poe, he knew. He should be focusing on his actual job — you know, rebuilding the galaxy after the ravages of war? The important work that the New Republic government had somehow chosen Poe, of all people, to do?

That really just proved they had no idea what they were doing, as far as Poe was concerned. He was really far better at flying places and blowing things up than at administering government aid programs, or whatever they wanted him to do now.

He returned to his office and tried to work. He stared at a piece of flimsi for so long that the black markings on it ceased to convey any meaning to his mind. Then he put the flimsi on a pile of other flimsis and tried again, with the same results.

It's just that he couldn't help filling his mind with visions of Hux in that form-fitting dark charcoal and grayish-green suit, his slender figure cutting a swath through a crowd of dancing, richly jeweled wealthy people. Then Prince Dulgan — what a dumb name — would catch his eye across the room, and before you knew it, they'd be dancing together!

Somehow, Poe figured Hux would be an elegant dancer. They'd probably look really good together. They probably already knew each other's bodies and ways of movement from all the stick fighting training.

And apparently they had other things in common.

What other things?

He couldn't help worrying about this Prince Dulgan being too forward. What if he took advantage of his new position as king? What if Hux wasn't used to fending off amorous suitors? What if he needed someone there to rescue him?

Worse, what if Hux liked these theoretical amorous advances? What if they were some of the things they had in common? That was a troubling thought.

Poe didn't like the thought of any of that.

As a rule, Poe was not a person who brooded. He hated how his brain started going around and around in circles if left to itself for too long. He was a person who needed to do something about things.

So the next morning when he saw Hux in the cafeteria, he slung himself into the opposite chair.

"Heya Hugs!" Poe said with a huge grin. His heartbeat was slightly elevated, but that was probably because he'd trotted right over, and the cafeteria was a big room.

"Dameron," Hux replied, lifting his eyebrows just slightly.

Poe had to admit that sort of imperial look would probably go over really well at a royal court. Like the one on Hynestia, for example. He'd probably have everyone there eating out of his hand, vying for his favor, scared to death he'd deliver one of his merciless quips.

"Just wondering if you changed your mind about needing a pilot," Poe said, jiggling his right knee under the table so hard that it might enter hyperspace all on its own.

Hux glanced at him up and down, coolly.

"If I did, I might hesitate to employ your services at the moment. Did you sleep last night?" he asked.

"Me? Oh, I'm fine," Poe said. "You know, I can sleep anytime, anywhere. Catching a few winks in between runs is par for the course!"

"Hmm," Hux mused, stirring his tea. "The thought of a pilot who can fall asleep 'anytime, anywhere' is hardly comforting."

"Oh, I mean — not while I'm flying, of course!" Poe said hastily. "I'm all about the job when I'm on the job! I mean — I'm all business."

He winced. He knew his reputation did not really support that statement. So he amended it by adding, "That is — I'm all, business in the front, party in the back!"

Ouch, Poe thought, because that had sounded remarkably dumb, even for him.

"I do recall your businesslike destruction of Starkiller Base, yes," Hux said, daintily tapping his spoon against the side of his cup before placing it on the saucer. His tone was as mild as if they'd been discussing the weather.

Poe scrubbed one hand over his face and through his hair. Kriff — was Hugs still mad about that? That had been years ago!

Still, he rallied. "So it's no problem for me to fly you to Hynestia. I could even, ya know. Go with you, inside the, uh, temple. In case anyone wanted to —"

Here, Poe made a vivid-sounding 'gack' noise that ended with a distressed gurgle, along with a slashing and twisting hand motion.

Hux tilted his head. "You're inviting yourself along as my plus one? You're aware it is an overnight stay, and I am allotted just one room? We would need to share."

Poe felt his face flushing. He'd need to share a room with Hugs? He'd never been in close proximity with him for that long.

His mind instantly spun through a wide variety of scenarios, some of which were likely; others of which were extremely dubious.

Poe could feel himself blushing more. He needed to wrest this conversation back under control.

"As your bodyguard. I'm just saying — there are still a lot of people out there mad about the war," he said, trying to be delicate. "Someone could attack you."

"Prince Dulgan's guards —"

"Wouldn't be right next to you. Glued to your side. Like I would be."

Poe felt his flush deepen, but he valiantly held Hux's eyes, willing him to see the benefits of what he was proposing.

"Glued to my side?" Hux mused, taking a sip. "That seems unnecessary. What if I wish to recreate by taking a turn down the Hall of Icicles?"

"Oh, I mean — if you want some privacy, for whatever reason, like maybe if you wanted to, uh, catch up with someone, I mean, that'd be fine," Poe said, his heart falling into his stomach. Now all he could think about was Hux and this Prince Dulgan — no, he would be King Dulgan by then — strolling down an ethereal looking collection of glowing icicles, reminiscing about the things that they had in common, of which there were apparently many. Then King Dulgan would lean past Hux, getting into his personal space, so he could pick some sort of ice flower with his own royal hands, and then his dark eyes would shine in the reflected glow of the icicles as he presented it along with some cheesy line, and Hux —

Hux was looking at him. "Are you quite certain you're well rested? You seemed to drift off there."

Poe gave him a grin that he could tell was a shade too manic, so he tried to rein it back in. "Fine! I'm totally fine. And you strolling through halls, or whatever — that's all fine, too. More than fine! It's good to get off the base every so often, right? And I could, uh. Wait in the room. If you wanted."

Poe did not at all like the thought of pacing up and down the room, wondering where Hugs was, and if he was all right, and if he was currently being kissed within an inch of his life by a tall, dark, and royal Hynestian against a giant icicle. But if that's what he needed to do to go along on this trip and at least have a chance of heading things off, then that's what he would do.

Hux seemed to come to a decision as he finished his cup of tea. "I will inform Dulgan that I'll be taking him up on the offer of a plus one, after all," he said. "You will need to acquire suitable apparel, and be ready precisely on time. The shuttle pilot will not wait."

"Oh, you don't need a pilot if you have me," Poe said, elated. Hugs was going to let him go along, too! This was great!

Hux sniffed down his nose. "If you're attending as my 'bodyguard,' it is unnecessary for you to also attend as my pilot." He stood up, gathering his tray. "As I said — be ready on time. I've heard tell of your creative relationship with deadlines."

"Sure thing, Hugs!" Poe called after him, grinning like a fool.

I get to go!

I get to go!

Kriff. What am I going to wear??

Chapter Text

In the end, Auros was able to throw something together for Poe, and he thought he looked okay. His fancy outfit was dark red and black, kinda snazzy looking. It wasn't Poe's usual 'vibe' — the Resistance had a huge stash of clothes to give out to new recruits, and for some reason they were almost uniformly done in plain, earthy tones, so that was what Poe usually wore. But yeah — this outfit definitely made him look good.

Rose and Kaydel agreed when he showed it off in his room the day before departure.

"So you're really going as Hux's plus one?" Rose asked dubiously.

"Why did you ask me that question in that tone of voice?" Poe shot back. "Like you don't think I'm good enough for that?"

"You're not," Kaydel said with devastating accuracy.

"Thanks, Kaydel. You're a pal."

"Why is Hux going to the coronation, anyway?" Rose asked from her spot on the couch.

Kaydel answered her. "He's is probably dying to get off this stupid base, now that the war is over. Maybe if he makes a friend on Hynestia —"

"Yeah, well, he already has a 'friend' on Hynestia," Poe snapped back, feeling his pleasure at his new outfit fading rapidly. He unbuckled the weird black vambrace on one arm and started in on the other, but it was tough to do with his off hand.

"Lemme get that," Rose said, popping off the couch and making short work of the second vambrace. "What do you mean, he already has a 'friend' there? You said it weird."

Poe blew out a breath of air in frustration. "I mean — apparently he and this 'Prince Dulgan' go way back," he said, making punctuation signs in the air with his fingers. "And they have 'so much in common.' Apparently they used to train against each other stick fighting!"

Rose glanced back at Kaydel, who made some sort of expression with her face that Poe could not immediately parse.

"And I'm not going as his plus one, anyway," Poe said glumly, casting himself onto the other end of the couch. "I'm going as his bodyguard."

For some reason, this fact bothered him, which was stupid, because it had been his idea in the first place!

"That's... good, right?" Kaydel asked. "You said you were worried someone might try to assassinate him. But if you're right there, you can stop it."

"Yeah," Poe said. He suddenly felt really, really tired. Everything just seemed so heavy.

It was just — imagining himself standing at the side of the room, scanning for threats, while Hugs moved through the steps of one of those fancy elegant court dances, the kind of dance that Poe didn't know anything about, all while receiving the attentions of a real life King — it just felt off, somehow.

And what if Kaydel was right, and Hux was going to this shindig because he wanted a path off Ajan Kloss base — a permanent path off? What if King Dulgan offered to let him stay on Hynestia indefinitely?

What if Poe had to leave him there, and come back to his stupid job on this stupid base? What if he didn't get to see Hugs anymore?

"You look tired, Poe," Rose said kindly, urging Kaydel up and off the couch. "We'll let you get some rest."

"Thanks, Rose," Poe said as they left.

He was getting what he wanted, right? He wanted to go to the coronation, and now he was. He wanted to be Hux's plus one, and now he was.

So this was all fine, Poe decided. He was just feeling weird for no reason. That was all. A good night's sleep and he'd be right as rain again.

Poe was at the departure pad a full hour early, wearing comfortable traveling clothes, carrying a duffel bag with his fancy outfit and some other necessities.

A full hour was probably overkill. But he wasn't getting anything done pacing up and down in his room. He might as well pace up and down in the spot where he was supposed to be.

He kept looking around for Hugs, because Poe had this sort-of idea that Hugs was always early to everything. But there was no sign of him anywhere.

How ironic would it be if Poe was the punctual one and Hugs was late?

Finally, a shuttle came in for a landing. It had barely settled onto the landing pad when Hux was striding across the turf towards it, right on time.

"Hugs! You made it!" Poe beamed, hefting his duffel bag.

Hux gave him a rare half-smile. "You're on time," he said in a tone of voice that might almost have been approving.

Poe felt as accomplished as though he'd just earned another medal.

"Well, sure, 'cuz this is important," he started to say, but just then, the shuttle pilot came up to them both, and then they were all exchanging pleasantries and piling their stuff into the shuttle.

The shuttle had just two seats in the cockpit, which was a problem, because Poe didn't want to sit in the back, all alone with no one to talk with. He had kinda been thinking that he could chat with Hugs on the way there. Maybe figure out what more things he and this Dulgan fellow had in common.

"As the invited guest, you should ride in comfort in the rear of the ship," the shuttle pilot informed Hux. "Your bodyguard has piloting skills, yes? He can serve as my copilot."

"There is no need to inconvenience Commander Dameron," Hux said, looking at him critically. "I believe he could benefit from a small nap during the journey."

"I don't need a nap!" Poe announced. "I'm fine! Can't I ride in the back with you?"

But after more back and forth discussion, it somehow ended up that Poe ended up in the copilot's seat after all, while Hux rode in the back — the royal treatment, Poe thought glumly as they blasted off.

The trip was uneventful, except that the shuttle pilot insisted on talking the whole time, telling story after story. That would have been fine, except all the stories were intensely boring. Poe couldn't help pushing his head back into his seat cushion in frustration.

What was Hugs doing in the back all by himself?

He just hoped that the actual coronation part would be less annoying than this trip.

Hynestia was a frigid planet, only habitable around the equatorial region. Poe did have to admit that it was interesting to look at it from the viewport as the shuttle came in to land. He could see a vast structure rising half out of a mountain, its dark stone architecture setting off the green that immediately surrounded it, as well as the snowy mountains in the distance.

"That's the royal palace, that is," the shuttle pilot told him, gesturing. "The work of generations!"

"I suppose King Dulgan will have to secure his succession?" Poe asked. It might be a bit of a tricky topic — people often didn't like speculation about whether they were going to marry and have babies — but he found that he was intensely curious. And by getting coronated, if that was the word for it, Dulgan was kind of forfeiting any expectation to privacy he might have otherwise enjoyed.

"Oh, no worries about that," the pilot returned. "Prince Dulgan has eighteen nieces and nephews of various ages, any one of whom could inherit the crown according to our ways. And a lively, promising bunch they are! Why, just the other week, Princess Gyell —"

"So he doesn't need to marry a woman?" Poe asked, knowing that interrupting was rude, but doing it anyway. He just didn't want to hear more interminable stories about royals he would only meet once.

"Oh, no — we don't enforce anything like that on Hynestia. We're enlightened here," the pilot replied, looking as Poe as though he were some sort of cultureless boor.

"Great," Poe said. "That's great for you."

They were welcomed at the landing pad by an efficient major domo who checked Hux off on an official list, and looked at Poe dubiously before scribbling a note on his pad.

"Nice to meet ya," Poe told him with a blinding smile, which was returned at a much lower volume — if smiles had volumes.

Next, they were taken to their room, which had a balcony and a stunning view of the farmlands below the palace, arches of stone draped with trailing white curtains, polished floors, a huge comfortable-looking bed, and an entire room of cold, medium, and hot pools to bathe in.

"I mean - I knew this was a palace, but damn, this is a palace," Poe commented, looking around wide-eyed. "I'll need to hop in my X-wing just to make it down the hall."

"Oh, good," Hux said, glancing through the door into the pool room. "We got a suite with mineral pools."

"What's that?" Poe asked. "I mean, from the name I figure it's a pool with minerals in it, but why is that good?"

"Hynestia is rich in underground hot springs, powered by geothermal and volcanic activity," Hux said, his voice sounding as though he was preparing to give a lecture. "Some of the units have this hot water piped up, so guests can enjoy a soothing soak while looking out on the valley. Hynestian hot springs can have healing effects, due to their traces of sulfur, calcium, and magnesium. Or so they say." He shrugged, a slight smile on his face. "I do not attest to the healing capabilities, but I admit a good soak can be quite relaxing."

"Oh," Poe said, dropping his stuff on a table near the balcony. "So you've tried them before?"

"Dulgan and I used to sneak down to the sixth sublevel," Hux said, a far-off look in his eye. "There were springs and waterfalls and pools down there, some of which hadn't been disturbed in years..."

Poe felt something low and snakelike coiling through his belly. It took him a moment to identify it, but he finally did — jealousy.

Kriff. I'm jealous, Poe realized.

Several connections happened very quickly in Poe's mind. He was jealous because Prince Dulgan had experienced something that Poe, it turned out, also wanted to experience for himself. And apparently that something was Hux, in a hot-springs setting. Because he — liked Hux. He liked him a lot, and he wanted to experience more with him. Of him.

Huh. Who could have seen that coming? Not Poe, that was for sure. Not until this very moment.

He licked his teeth through sheer force of habit, making sure they were nice and clean for the next time he smiled.

He'd need to smile at Hugs pretty soon, to try to lure him in. Poe was actually pretty good at seducing people. He'd had plenty of practice over the years. And he already had an advantage here — he and his target were sharing a room. It should be easy to try to advance his brand-new agenda — after the distraction of this dumb coronation, that is.

"But I was last in those pools years ago," Hux said, returning to himself. "It will be pleasant to experience it again."

"Yeah," Poe agreed, his mind flashing to an agreeable vision of him and Hux sitting in the same hot tub together, maybe toasting each other with a glass of something mildly alcoholic, as stars came out over the valley. And in this vision, King Dulgan was nowhere to be found.

Heartened, he surveyed the room.

"Big bed," he commented. "Plenty of room for us both."

That was no exaggeration. This bed could probably accommodate at least two refugee families fleeing from civil unrest in the Outer Rim. It was covered with a fluffy, fuzzy-looking blanket of a substance Poe could not immediately identify.

Poe added something new to his to-do list: Make full use of that bed. Preferably after a romantic evening eating fancy finger foods, avoiding the new King altogether, and maybe getting frisky in the hot tub.

He wondered what Hugs would be like in bed. Demanding? Persnickety? He could work with that. Or softer, more hesitant, more affectionate? That would be even better. Poe loved giving people what they needed.

He was still staring at the bed, lost in agreeable visions of his possible future, when Hux darted him a glance from near the closet, where he was unpacking his things.

"Did you get any rest on the shuttle? The ceremony takes place in slightly less than a standard hour. I don't know if that's enough time for you to 'catch a few winks.'"

"That's plenty of time!" Poe announced. There were many times in his life he'd only had fifteen minutes to rest, and had popped back up after, refreshed and ready to fly again.

"Very well. I will avail myself of the pool room while you rest." With that, Hux swept into the room beyond and closed the elaborately carved door.

Poe kicked off his boots and flopped down across half the bed, sighing. He dutifully closed his eyes to try to catch a little sleep.

But unfortunately, all he could think about was Hux, in the next room over, the one with all the pools of water and the floor-to-ceiling view over the valley. He was probably already naked, maybe slipping into a pool of water, maybe giving a tiny sigh as the heat from the hot tub started to seep into his flesh.

Poe couldn't help imagining all that moon-pale skin, and how it might pinken from the heat. He couldn't help wondering whether the water was lapping at Hux's nipples, and whether they would turn pinker from the hot water, too.

If Poe were to get up and join him, he'd suddenly have an eyeful of far more Hux than he'd ever seen before.

Kriff; now he was hard. And he couldn't even rub one out real fast because Hux was just on the other side of the door and might come back at any moment. Maybe wearing nothing but a robe, or a towel, with his limbs all warm and loose from soaking in hot mineral water. He would probably smell like it — clean and metallic, just waiting for Poe's mouth to keep on lapping at him the way the water had started.

And kriff, now Poe was even harder.

He groaned to himself, rolling onto his front and grinding his erection into the softness of the bed to try to relieve some pressure. If he just thought cool, calming thoughts, this would go away.

Poe tried to think calming, cool thoughts, but unfortunately, by the time Hux returned from the pool room, he hadn't managed to gain even a shred of rest or relaxation.

"I shall dress for the ceremony," Hux announced from the opposite side of the room, near the closet.

"Right," Poe muttered, cracking one eye open. It immediately zeroed in on Hux's pale back, which was shifting as he shrugged off some sort of satiny black robe. His milky shoulder flexed as he reached for the closet door.

"I'll just freshen up real quick," Poe blurted, rolling off the opposite side of the bed and resolutely averting his eyes as he strode for the pool room and attached water closet.

Poe really, really didn't want Hugs to decide to stay here on Hynestia Prime. Even if it was better for him — even if it gave him a better life — Poe just didn't want that to happen.

Poe was surprised at the intensity of these jealous feelings, or whatever they were. Typically, Poe didn't 'do' jealousy or possessiveness. He figured that if the other person wanted to go, who was he to stop them? There was always someone else new and interesting to spend time with.

But right now, he wanted to stop what he could clearly see was going to happen — the path where Hux and this Dulgan guy would rekindle whatever it was they'd had way back when, and Hux would end up moving to Hynestia, and Poe would never see him again. He wanted to stop that ship before it ever had a change to get off the ground.

Fine, okay. So, what are you gonna do about it, Poe? he asked himself.

I mean, obviously, I'm going to try to stop that from happening, he replied to himself while stripping down and splashing into a nice warm pool.

What I'm not gonna do is sit around like a lump while this Dulgan guy snatches him out from under my nose. That was not going to happen. Not on Poe's watch.

What was his play here? He needed to somehow outshine a prince — almost a king — on his home turf. How could Poe do that? He could barely figure out how to bow to someone correctly, and he knew there would be intricacies to Hynestian table etiquette that he would flub hopelessly. He would pretty sure that in this situation, he would end up looking like a country rube.

If only this were a flying contest! Poe could win at that easily. Or some sort of test of fitness. Poe was probably in better shape than some royal who sat around having meetings and bon-bons all day long.

Poe scrubbed at himself viciously with a spongy object and some tart-scented liquid that was probably soap. He at least wanted to smell okay when he met all these fancy people at their fancy ceremony. He didn't want to give Hux even a moment of embarrassment on his behalf.

"Dameron? I am heading down," Hux's voice sounded from outside the door.

"Okay," Poe called back, relieved that he'd have a bit of privacy.

"There are servants in the hallways to direct you," Hux added.

"Okay," Poe said again, more impatiently. His hand was already drifting towards his cock.

"Do not delay much longer. The ceremony does not accept latecomers," Hux continued.

Poe screwed his eyes closed, then rolled them so hard he almost saw his own brain.

"Got it," he ground out, willing Hux to leave as quickly as possible.

Presumably that was what happened next, because blessedly, there were no more interruptions.

And so Poe finally had the privacy necessary to crank one out — which took an embarrassingly short amount of time.

He just hoped he could figure out how to worm his way into Hux's good graces, because otherwise, he would have a miserable time of it, sleeping right next to the object of this crush, or whatever this was.

Of course, that's assuming Hux even came back to the room tonight. Maybe he'd be out partying with someone he had 'so much in common' with.

The whole thing was so unfair. Who knew that such an elaborate palace would include suites that had only one bed?

Poe put on his fancy outfit and asked a servant to direct him to the venue — the Temple of Ancestors, attached to the palace. He arrived just in time, and in fact was the last person through the mammoth wooden doors before they were closed.

Seeing Hux, he made his way through the ranks of assembled attendees to take a place in the seat next to him.

I'm already failing at this bodyguard thing, Poe thought. So much for 'glued to his side.' More like 'glued to my own hand.' I'm gonna have to do better than that.

Hux tilted him a look and handed him some sort of fancy metal spoon, then returned his attention to the front of the temple.

"What's this for?" Poe whispered, examining the spoon. It had whorls and spirals carved into it.

"For use later in the ceremony," Hux replied in a low voice. "Plus it's a keepsake."

"Cool," Poe said. He enjoyed participating in other people's strange rituals. Plus, how many other people in the New Republic Navy could say they had a Hynestian coronation spoon? Not many, that was probably certain.

Three important-looking matrons began the ceremony, which included chanting and a slow procession of several dozen people from the opposite side of the temple. Then everyone stood up at once, making some sort of ceremonial reply to something the matrons had chanted. Poe didn't know what he was supposed to say, so he just stood there, feeling remarkably useless.

"Prince Dulgan will be in the center of the procession," Hux murmured to Poe, his gaze sharpening. Since he was so tall, he could easily see over the heads of the people in front of him.

Poe wasn't so lucky. He was stuck behind a man and a woman who were each wearing an elaborate headdress — the woman's looking like some form of snail, and the man's a tall, conical hat covered with some sort of fuzzy material.

Come to think of it, that same fuzzy material had formed the bedspread up in their room.

The chanting seemed to reach a crescendo, and then stopped. Everyone took a seat, and Poe was grateful to have a better view. Not a perfect view by any means — those headdresses were ridiculous and should not be allowed — but a better view.

"Is that him?" Poe whispered, his eyes zeroing in on the most elaborately dressed man standing at the front of the cavern. He was handsome, yes, but just in a 'regular handsome guy' kind of way. And he looked a little on the older side, and slightly pudgy. He was handsome in the kind of way that Poe could compete with, no problem. A slow curl of satisfaction started up in his belly.

"No — that is," Hux whispered back, gesturing.

"Oh," Poe said, his stomach plunging.

The man Hux had indicated was a tall and severely handsome man with dark skin, a chiseled jawline, and long, straight dark hair gathered in a low ponytail. He was wearing some sort of sleeveless tunic that set off the knotted muscles in his arms. If Poe had to guess what his function in society was, he would have said 'hot fireman,' or possibly 'hot lifeguard,' or maybe 'hot thresher of grains.' He looked like the type to have washboard abs from throwing a scythe around all day.

Poe would definitely not have guessed 'hot crown prince.'

"He's very fit," Poe murmured, half to himself. The slow curl of satisfaction in him had curdled in an instant into a sour mass that was now oozing the buttermilk of jealousy.

So much for Poe being able to 'easily' beat Dulgan in some sort of fitness test, like he'd been assuming he could. That ship wouldn't fly. Hell, that ship wouldn't even make it off the launch pad.

"I told you — they train since birth," Hux murmured. "Now hush. This next part is important." He hadn't stopped looking at Prince Dulgan once the entire time, Poe noted.

The 'important' part turned out to be stripping Prince Dulgan's tunic off.

Great. Now he's even more naked, Poe thought. Dulgan apparently had not skipped Abs Day any more than he had skipped Arm Day, and Poe ventured to guess that he also had not skipped Leg Day. But apparently he had skipped Bon-Bon Day, because there were no spare inches of flab to be pinched anywhere on his well-built frame.

Poe sucked in his own belly to try to compensate for letting his training relax a few too many notches. He darted a glance up at Hux, who was staring intently at the ceremony.

Too intently. Poe didn't like it. He could already see the ship revving its engine, about to take off. The bad ship — the ship that would take Hugs away from him forever.

He wanted to tug on Hux's sleeve and bring his attention down to himself. But why? What reason would he have to do that?

He couldn't think of anything. Although maybe he could fake a heart attack? No — too much fuss. Poe didn't want to attract any unwanted attention to himself and Hux. He was still hoping they could both fly 'under the radar' and get away without having to interact directly with any member of royalty.

Just think about the hot tubs, Poe, he told himself. Get through this, and then we can soak our troubles away in a sexy pool of mineral water. Maybe Hugs will let us rub his back. Maybe lower. And then there's that huge, comfy-looking bed.

This was a much more pleasant train of thought. Poe relaxed, thinking about what his evening might hold in store, if he played his cards right.

Next, the various elders brought out icicles of different lengths, widths, and qualities, pressing each one in turn against Prince Dulgan's handsomely sculpted arms, chest, back, or sides. Something must have happened in response to each icicle, because after every test, they conferred with each other, then gave their judgment to some sort of official recorder standing on the sidelines, who gave a complex signal to someone else, who rang a gong. Different gongs sounded at different intervals. Try as he might, Poe couldn't figure out what it all meant.

At one judgment, a murmur of admiration went through the crowd, and Hux gave a small nod.

"What?" Poe asked him quietly. "What'd they say?"

"The fates foretell that he will be a wise and stable leader," Hux murmured down into his ear. Poe's whole side broke out in goosebumps at the touch of his breath.

How they can tell that just from poking him in the nipple with an ice cube is beyond me, Poe thought. Out loud, he muttered, "Great. That's just great."

The woman in the snail headdress turned around and glared at Poe, then returned her full attention to the front of the temple, where people were now sprinkling Dulgan with some sort of liquid as a priestess chanted, then processing around through clouds of smoke.

From there, Poe kinda lost track. He stood and sat when other people did, and tried to murmur the right things at the right times, but mostly he was watching the crowd. He didn't really think anyone was going to try to assassinate Hux right in the middle of the coronation of a head of state, but preventing that possibility was his entire reason for being here, so he figured he might as well do his best.

The only danger Poe encountered during the coronation was the very real danger that he was going to pass out from boredom. There are only so many minutes you can listen to incomprehensible chanting in another language before your eyes glaze over, he thought.

Finally, the ceremony seemed to build to a crescendo. Everyone in the procession took turns throwing some sort of colorful dust over Prince Dulgan, and most of it ended up sticking to him.

Then everyone in the temple began filing up to join in the ceremony as well. Poe watched as, one by one, everyone in the line ahead of him reached the front. There, they dipped their ceremonial metal spoons into a platter of colorful dust being held up by a page, and scattered it over the former Prince, now King Dulgan.

"Do we have to do that too?" Poe muttered to Hux.

The woman in the snail headdress twitched, as though she really wanted to turn around, but did not.

"Yes," Hux murmured back. "Don't get any in his eyes; it's bad luck."

Poe shuffled forward in line, watching the graceful sway of Hux's lower back, which was right in front of him. Okay, he was also watching Hux's ass. He could hardly avoid it. It was right there, within easy reach, eminently grabbable.

Focus, Poe, he told himself. It's not like he could get a double handful right here in the middle of the Temple of Ancestors.

He noticed that after each person sprinkled the dust, they would say a handful of syllables in a language Poe didn't know. As he got closer to the front, he listened carefully and tried to memorize them so he could say them correctly. The syllables weren't complex — just 'In Fa Tee No.'

In Fa Tee No, Poe repeated to himself. In Fa Tee No. It was far simpler than the call signs he regularly had to memorize in order to fly.  

When Hux got to the front, he dipped his spoon into the orangey-red part of the platter, which was heaped with little piles of dust in every color, and then elegantly dusted it across King Dulgan's upper chest.

Poe couldn't help but notice that all the glittering colorful motes clinging to his skin were highlighting his physique in a very scenic way. He clenched his ceremonial metal spoon so hard it dug into his hand.

"Armitage," Dulgan said with a smile. "You came!"

"King Dulgan," Hux said politely.

"Don't you start now," Dulgan replied with a twinkling smile that transformed his face from severe and forbidding to something much warmer and more lively. "You know I can't stand all that ceremonial stuff."

Great, Poe thought. He's even more handsome when he smiles. Love that for him.

Hux nodded to him with a faint half-smile, said the ceremonial syllables, and then moved along, meaning that now it was Poe's turn to do the thing.

He dipped his spoon into the blue part of the platter, then tuned to sprinkle it, just as Hux had.

But unfortunately, some stray dust made its way into Poe's nose.

He tried to fight back — he did. He tried not to sneeze.

But the thing about Poe's sneezes were that the harder he tried to muffle them, the louder and more explosive they turned out to be.

This sneeze could not be denied. There was dust tickling the inside of his nose, practically reaching up into his brain! He couldn't help it — the sneeze exploded out of him, violently, unstoppably. He tried to aim it away from the member of royalty standing right in front of him, but the damn dust in his nose did such a number on his balance that he ended up stumbling to the side, then turning and spewing his mammoth sneeze all over Dulgan anyway.

To say his sneeze was loud would be an understatement. Poe was pretty certain that not only had everyone in and outside of the Temple of Ancestors heard him, but probably all of the Ancestors themselves had heard him, too.

"Sorry," he said after he had recovered his breath. "Some, uh, got up in my nose."

Belatedly, he looked down at his spoon, which was currently empty. He had sneezed so hard that he'd lost all the dust.

"Lemme try again," Poe said, turning back to dip the spoon in another dust pile.

But then the pudgy embroidered-robe guy he'd noticed at the beginning was at his side, ushering him along and handing him a handkerchief to dab at his teary eyes and watery nose.

"Tin Fa Nee To!" Poe told King Dulgan, trying to perform at least part of the ceremony correctly. 

King Dulgan looked at him quizzically. He didn't look angry, but he certainly didn't look pleased that Poe had sneezed all over him. And Poe couldn't blame him. No one else seemed to have any dust-related breathing problems. No one else had sneezed so loudly that it had probably stunned birds for miles around. No one else had spilled their dust spoonfuls all over the ground at Dulgan's feet, instead of doing what they were supposed to do with the stuff.

Great, Poe. Just great, he thought, as Robe Guy was sweeping him away. Way to make a good first impression.

When he finally made it back to his seat next to Hux, he could tell Hux was trying to catch his eye. But Poe did not want to let his eye be caught. He didn't want to see the pity, or the judgment, or the disappointment.

So he just kept his eyes fixed right in front of him for the whole rest of the ceremony, right up until it was time for dinner. That was probably the safest possible thing for him to do.

Poe couldn't believe that he'd wanted to come to this ceremony so much when, so far, all he'd done was make a spectacle of himself in front of Hux's handsome, fit, well-born, and jovial-seeming old friend. The guy he had 'so much in common' with.

Well, at least he'll remember me, Poe thought.

That was what Poe aimed to be. Memorable.

Just usually — not in this exact way.

Chapter Text

Hux finally caught his eye as they left the Temple of the Ancestors. Everyone around him was too polite to stare directly at him, but Poe could definitely sense that he had been Noticed.

Hux was giving him a mild frown. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yeah," Poe said, smiling a bit too hard in an effort to prove he was just fine, actually. "Just — some of that dust got up my nose. I tried, but I really couldn't stop it. Sorry for making a spectacle."

"It was more of an auditory phenomenon," Hux mused, which actually kinda made Poe feel better, because first, he wasn't wrong, and second, he didn't sound mad.

Maybe I can still pull this out, Poe thought hopefully.

The dining hall was filled with hundreds of small round tables, each of which had four place settings. Hux led him to one and directed him to one spot, while he took up the opposite spot.

"We'll rotate to another table soon," Hux told him as servants placed food on their plates, and two strangers came up to fill the other two spots.

Hux greeted them and took the lead in the conversation, which was great, because Poe was still recovering from that sneeze.

He watched Hux elegantly eating his food while also leading the two strangers in conversation. Apparently they were lichen farmers, and Hux got them started about their recent challenges in that area.

Poe sipped at a drink moodily and cast his eyes around the dining room. Wherever he glanced, he got the feeling that the eyes of other people had recently been staring at him, and he had just missed them.

Usually, I don't mind being stared at, Poe thought as the two lichen farmers got up and rotated to another table.

Their replacements turned out to be the couple who had been standing in front of Poe during the coronation. The woman in the snail-shaped hat sent Poe a syrupy sweet smile that he didn't need to be a mind reader to know spelled trouble.

They settled in, introducing themselves, and as before, Hux took the lead of the conversation. But Snail Lady would not allow herself to be led.

"I just think it's so interesting that you brought — I'm sorry, exactly who are you again?" Snail Lady asked Poe.

"Commander Poe Dameron of the New Republic Navy," he replied with his customary charming smile.

"Ah, yes, the Navy," Lichen Hat Man said.

"I've never believed in long-range fighting," Snail Lady sniffed, dismissing Poe's entire branch of the military as though it was beneath her notice.

"You don't — believe in it?" Poe asked. "It's very real, trust me."

"Oh, I believe that it exists. I just disapprove of it. Real combat happens within the length of a stick, and no farther. Don't you agree?" she asked Hux with a smile.

Hux took a sip of his drink, then replied, "That is what I have been led to believe here on Hynestia. The wider galaxy does not concur, however."

"There's really no substitute for up close and personal combat," Snail Lady said, raising her eyebrows at Poe as though him flying a fighter craft during the war had been not only dishonorable, but an even worse sin — the sin of being unfashionable.

"Well, that's true," Poe started, without quite knowing how he was going to finish that sentence. He could mention that Armitage Hux was no slouch when it came to long-range destruction, but he wouldn't throw Hugs to the rancors like that. Mentioning the things the First Order had done during the war was definitely not conversation for a festive occasion, like a coronation feast.

He ended up petering out, and tried to recover by popping a small green fruit into his mouth.

"Up close and personal is the best way," Lichen Hat Man nodded. "You can look into your opponent's eyes. Get a sense of their worth. Really understand them, before you kill them."

"Uh, sure," Poe said, feeling uncomfortable. As a rule, he didn't stare into the eyes of his enemies as he was killing them.

"You know all about that, Mr. Hux," Snail Lady said deferentially. "We remember your Coming of Age."

"Yes indeed," Lichen Hat Man agreed. "You demonstrated cunning and guile! Most impressive!"

"Wait, what?" Poe asked, flummoxed. "Hugs, you had a ceremony here too?"

"It was years ago," Hux said dismissively. "My father had returned for another bout of negotiations, and Dulgan decided that it was time for me to take the Coming of Age Ceremony."

"Right," Poe said, mentally stunned. After knowing someone for so long, you kinda think you know them — but I guess Hugs has hidden depths!

Why hadn't Hux mentioned this before, at all? What else about him did Poe just not know?

The others were chattering away to each other about something that Poe wasn't paying attention to, because he was spiraling inside, wondering about Hux's past, wondering why he'd never mentioned it. Wondering whether maybe, he just wasn't important enough for Hux to tell things to.

Lichen Hat Man and Snail Lady moved on to another table, and were replaced by two new strangers. By this point, the liquor was kicking in. Poe took another drink to keep that feeling going, because numbing himself was sounding better and better as a coping strategy.

The new strangers at their table were also slightly tipsy. One of them rounded on Poe belligerently.

"You sneezed on King Dulgan," he accused.

Poe winced. "I really did not mean to."

"Sneezing is bad luck!" he continued. "Especially sneezing and spilling the Color Dust! What were you thinking?"

"Some dust got up my nose. I couldn't help it," Poe said. "Is there any way I could, like, apologize to him? Maybe some light groveling?"

The other stranger pinned Poe with an accusing look. "Are you aware that at the end of the coronation, after sneezing all over him like an uncultured boor, you wished King Dulgan one thousand years of ants?" she asked.

Hux choked mildly on his drink.

"I — what?" Poe asked.

"The ceremonial phrase was In Fa Tee No, or One Thousand Years of Blessings, in Old Hynestian," the new lady told him, condescendingly. "But you said Tin Fa Nee To, which means One Thousand Years of Ants."

"I... did not know that," Poe said, cringing internally. Had he just caused an international incident? Were ants particularly insulting in Hynestian society? Or was this just another way he'd found to make himself look foolish?

Hux didn't look foolish. He was dabbing at his mouth with a napkin and taking another sip of his drink, and looking competent, calm, and collected.

He hadn't messed up the ceremonial phrase. He hadn't sneezed all over the system's new ruler.

Poe suddenly felt so very out of his depth.

Why am I here? Poe asked himself, finishing his food through sheer habit, but not because he was enjoying it. Hugs is obviously just fine. What exactly do I bring to the table here? The ability to sneeze at inappropriate times?

It seemed like these people didn't even value the role of fighter pilot, or the entire concept of having a Navy. Usually, Poe got a lot of admiration and respect for being a pilot. But here, all the people seemed to care about was hitting each other up close and personal with sticks.

Music swelled in the background, and Embroidered Robe Guy made a general announcement that the dancing would now begin.

"We don't need to dance, do we?" Poe asked Hux. Servants were clearing away the small tables, revealing a vast polished floor.

"I'm afraid we must, at least a bit," Hux murmured down to him. "You heard Princess Gyell. Hynestians value the up close and personal. Dancing is vitally important to their culture."

"Snail Hat Lady was a Princess?" Poe asked in surprise.

Hux smirked. "Not only was, but I imagine she still is, since it has only been forty minutes or so since we spoke."

The crowd was forming into groups for some sort of communal dance, which Hux apparently knew, because of course he did. No doubt he'd learned it during his adolescence, which had practically all been on Hynestia, as far as Poe could tell.

Poe had to sit out the dance, because he didn't know the complex steps, arm-crossing, and patterns that everyone else did. He watched Hux moving through the crowd with self assurance, his footwork as crisp and precise as his engineering designs.

He fits in here, Poe thought, feeling a sense of preemptive loss. He seems to like Hynestia. And the Hynestians seem to value him.

It would probably be good for Hugs to stay in a place like this — a place where he had history. Apparently people still remembered his Coming of Age Ceremony, and approved of it, and of him.

Could Poe honestly say the same was true on Ajan Kloss base? There, people mostly remembered Hux for the Hosnian cataclysm.

Wouldn't it be better for Hux if he decided to move here permanently?

As one dance concluded, King Dulgan swept up, wearing clothes, for once. His new kingly outfit was all dark grays and greens, and he wore a dark-gray crown forged out of some variety of dull metal.

He approached Hux, who bowed. King Dulgan nodded and smiled at him, said something Poe couldn't hear, and then swept Hux away into another dance.

He doesn't need me as a bodyguard at all, Poe thought, watching the two of them move through the patterns of the new dance. Not only do I bring nothing to the table, but I'm actively in the way here. If I'm not sneezing on royalty, I'm messing up the ceremonial phrase, or getting Snail Princess to glare at me.

What am I even doing here?

Poe knew what it was like to feel low. He'd felt low plenty of times before — after Crait being the most devastating example, but at many other times, too. But always, he'd been able to pick himself up, dust himself off, and keep on fighting.

This would be the same, he decided. He had a simple choice. He could stand here feeling sorry for himself. He could run away, back to Hux's room, and huddle under the lichen blanket until it was time to go back to Ajan Kloss. He could let himself be defeated.

Or he could try to change something. Do something.

It seemed certain that if he did nothing, King Dulgan was going to end up winning this, and Poe would end up losing.

I might be wrong for him, Poe thought. In fact, I probably am. But I'm going to at least give Hugs the right to tell me so. I'm gonna let him reject me, and not pre-reject myself.

Poe squared his shoulders. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he muttered to himself, to the surprise of some of the other nearby guests. He started picking his way through the crowd so he'd be closer to Dulgan and Hux when the next dance ended.

"Hux," Poe said with a bright smile once the music drew to a stop. "May I have a dance?"

Hux blinked down at him in surprise. Poe noticed that King Dulgan's hand was on Hux's upper arm in a way that Poe did not like at all.

"Ah, Mr. Sneeze," King Dulgan said with a genial smile. "You certainly made the ceremony memorable!"

Poe shot him a smile that he tried to ensure was free of subtext, but he wasn't sure how successful he'd been.

"Well, I've heard that Hynestians like it up close and personal," he quipped.

Several bystanders gasped, but King Dulgan just looked more amused.

"So this is the man you brought along as your plus one," King Dulgan said, releasing Hux's arm and giving Poe a long, slow glance from his boots to the top of his head, and then back down.

"As his bodyguard," Poe corrected. "And I'm sorry for wishing you one thousand years of ants. And for sneezing on you. I really didn't mean to."

King Dulgan paused, considering Poe, who felt as though he was being judged right down to the very core of who he was as a person.

"One thousand years of ants could prove to be useful, though," Dulgan mused. "Ants are hard workers. They pollinate our lichen. Yes — in fact, I believe you have blessed me with your small mistake. One thousand years of ants would be a great blessing to Hynestia."

"Uh, great," Poe said in disbelief. Was there a hidden 'but' about to happen here?

"Another great blessing to Hynestia would be your continued presence in my court," King Dulgan said, pivoting to Hux. "You could name your position in my cabinet. Perhaps — Lord of the Seas? Commander of the Skies?"

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," Poe said, alarmed, his eyes ricocheting between Dulgan and Hux. "Are you — that is, have you —"

"Dulgan has invited me to stay on Hynestia," Hux said. "I am weighing how to respond."

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Poe blurted out, staring at Hux. "Alone?"

Hux stared at him, and Poe honestly had no idea what was going on behind those green eyes. Had he already made his decision, then?

Hux made his excuses to the King, then took Poe out of the dining area, down a long underground hallway lined with icicles on both sides.

"Hugs, I can understand why you might wanna stay here," Poe said. His heart was pounding. This was it — he had to make his case, or Hux was going to make a decision that would take him away permanently.

"You do?" Hux asked. His face still gave nothing away.

"Yeah. I mean — they seem to like you here," Poe said, gesturing back towards the dining room. "Dulgan seems, uh, honestly he seems great. I guess the two of you could be very happy together."

"Wait, what —"

"But I don't want you to be happy with him," Poe barreled on. "I want you to be happy with me."

Hux's face was no longer smooth and distant. Now he looked perplexed.

"Dameron, what precisely —"

"I care about you, Hugs," Poe continued, stepping closer. "I care about you a lot. I think you're hot, and sexy, and smart, and you make me laugh. I can't stop staring at you. I want to do all sorts of things to you — with you. Anyway — I don't want you to stay here on Hynestia and marry a King. If that makes me selfish, then I guess I'm selfish. I know it would probably be better for you if you stayed here. You could be Lord of the Skies, or whatever, and Dulgan is, like, extremely hot. Unfairly hot."

Poe sort of ran out of steam. Towards the end there, it had sounded like he was actually arguing against his own position.

Hux was blinking rapidly. For once in his life, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

Poe needed to clinch this.

"But please, Hugs — I know it's asking a lot, asking you to not to marry your childhood buddy who is also a super hot king of his own planet, but would you consider a Resistance pilot instead? Even if I'm not as right for you as he is?"

He stepped even closer, looking up, and Hux was not stepping away, which seemed like a good sign.

Slowly, Poe reached up to touch the side of Hux's face. He leaned into his hand, closing his eyes, which seemed like an even better sign.

"If you are serious, and this is not mere tipsiness, or one of the New Republic's 'pranks,' then I accept," Hux said, reaching up to press Poe's hand into his cheek more firmly.

Poe's mouth fell open. "You do?"

"Yes." Hux drew himself up in determination. "You are wrong about a great many things, Poe Dameron."

"Uh, thanks," Poe said. His heart was hammering in preemptive happiness.

Hux wasn't done. "But even though you are often wrong, I find that it's the sort of wrong I want."

He peered down at Poe, a strange, hopeful look on his face. "So, if you are serious —"

Poe surged up to kiss him, and Hux was letting him, which was great! And Hux was not only letting him — he was kissing Poe back.

Poe was extremely in favor of this development. He twined his arms around Hux's slender body and pulled him down, kissing him deeply and thoroughly, then reaching up to rake his fingers through Hux's glorious orangish-red hair.

How many times he'd wanted to mess up that hair. And now he was doing it!

I don't know what changed, Poe thought, kissing him with more fervor. But I'm certainly not going to argue about it.

They kept kissing each other, almost losing their balance, until Poe pushed Hux to stumble back. Finally, Poe got him pinned up against an icicle. From this extremely pleasant position, Poe used his hands, mouth, and his whole body to press forward, trying to sink into Hux so deeply he would never come out.

"As for 'unfairly hot,' I think you have the crown there," Hux gasped. His hands had groped down to find Poe's ass, and he was currently kneading it like a cat. "You drive me wild. You look so good in red. Your smell — mmm. I had no idea how I was meant to sleep next to you. In the same bed. Without — uhhh, that feels good — without going mad."

"Oh really?" Poe grinned, grabbing onto Hux harder. He dropped his voice. "Do you wanna go find out?"

Hux insisted that Poe should ride in the back section of the shuttle on their return to Ajan Kloss.

"I was terribly bored on the trip here," he complained, pulling Poe closer to him. Technically, there was only one seat, but it was a large seat, and it was certainly no hardship for Poe to be draped all over him this way.

Neither one of them had gotten much sleep after the coronation, but neither one of them was at all upset about that lack. Poe felt like he'd never need to sleep again. He would just keep on kissing Hux, and with every kiss, he would feel more alive, more awake, more singing with happiness.

"So was I," Poe said as the shuttle blasted off. "The pilot guy would not stop talking!"

"A pilot who runs his mouth? Impossible to imagine," Hux snarked. His face was lightly flushed all over, possibly because Poe had been kissing that flush onto him all night long.

They kept on talking, interspersed with kissing. Halfway home, Poe decided he was just gonna come out with it.

"So — I gotta know," he said, twirling some of Hux's hair around his finger.

"Mmm?" Hux asked. He was lying back against the seat, no tension in his entire body.

Poe ran his lips down Hux's cheek. "Why'd you choose me and not your hot royal childhood friend?"

"Dulgan and I were friends. Nothing more," Hux said. "I fear you may have gotten the wrong impression, from various coincidences and pieces of peripheral information that you misinterpreted."

"Oh — so, you were never into him? I never had any competition?" Poe asked, his face splitting into a wide grin.

Hux rolled his eyes. "And there's the pilot ego, rearing its ugly head. Perhaps I should make up stories of how Dulgan and I were each other's first everything. Of how he ravished me in every hot spring under the Hynestian Royal Palace."

"Ravished in a hot spring, you say?" Poe asked, looking thoughtful. "We should try that sometime."

"Oh — ravishing me in a pool last night wasn't enough for you?" Hux asked, turning his face.

Poe kissed him again. He would never get tired of this.

"It was great, but I dunno. We might have to try again and see if the results are repeatable," he said, rubbing his face down Hux's.

Hux gave him a rare full-face smile. "Science requires repeatability."

They kissed some more, until Poe had another thought.

"The Hynestians do have one thing right," Poe said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Up close and personal is by far the best."