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Hux felt like he was slumping, slowly starting to fall over from exhaustion. His daily travel mug of coffee was long gone, and as 4 o’clock rolled around, exhaustion started to kick in. His phone buzzed, jolting him out of his stupor.
What time do you finish in the lab?
He stared at his phone. Why would Kylo want to know? 4:15. Why?
Do you have plans for the evening?
That was no less suspicious, but at least gave Hux an idea why he’d asked. Just studying, but I can put it off for another time
Meet me on the other side of the circle outside the Union at 4:30
Are you going to tell me why?
Nope
The weather had finally broken into true spring weather, not just the cold, damp sprinkle that left the greening grass muddy and the roads a slurry of the winter’s sand and salt. If the texts hadn’t been enough to lift his mood, the weather certainly was. It was warm enough to tuck his jacket into his messenger bag, even enough to roll his sleeves into cuffs. It was a casual, pressed look, and he glanced at himself in a window as he walked past.
Clean-cut and presentable, bordering on metro. It was a look he knew Kylo liked, a direct contrast to his leather and motorcycles and bad boy vibe. They were an almost hilarious contrasting pair.
He walked toward the central grassy mall, checking his watch as he went. 4:30. Just in time.
And there was Kylo.
His stomach dropped. That was entirely unfair.
It was unfair that he could be leaning against his bike, relaxing. It was even more unfair that he looked downright dangerous and devastating as he did so. His hair was swept back, like he’d run his hand through helmet hair to ruffle it up, and his eyes lit up when he saw Hux.
“You look rather like some sort of…bad boy biker. Was that what you were going for today?”
“Isn’t it what I go for every day?” Kylo’s mouth quirked up into a bit of a grin. “And you look like an intellectual prick.”
“Yeah but you like this look.”
“On you I do. For now though, here.”
Kylo held the jacket out to him and his brain screeched to a halt. “But that’s…” your dad’s jacket he couldn’t finish.
With a single smooth sweep, Kylo threw it over his shoulders, motioning for him to pull it on as he turned, grabbing the helmet and pushing it into Hux’s hands. “Come on, let’s go.”
“But this is your jacket. And your helmet.”
“I care a bit more for your sorry hide than my own.” He flung a leg over his bike and nodded his head in a clear indication to get on.
“But where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Hux was running out of excuses. “What about…?”
Kylo leaned close looking up through lashes that were almost absurd and had no right to be as pretty as they were. “Get on the bike.”
Hux didn’t need to be told twice. Kylo’s voice, low and smooth, could have played him like a piano. One leg flung over the back of the bike and he scooted closer than was probably publicly permissible, but who even cared? His arms wrapped around Kylo’s waist and he hung on, resisting the urge to press his chest to Kylo’s spine. There was a vague ache in his chest, but if he was enjoying clinging to Kylo, the rumble of the bike between his legs, and the rush of air rippling over the too-large jacket…who could really blame him?
Their destination wasn’t all that far away, a ridge covered in trees just off the road, close enough to see the small university airport at the edge of the trees. To the other side of the ridge was little more than boring fields, planted for the spring and finally starting to sprout. In the distance, the highway was visible, a constant hum of traffic on the concrete near the airport.
Hux stared, nearly dumbfounded, as Kylo dug a bag out of the saddlebags, following it with a blanket that he spread out on the ground. He started opening up boxes and tupperware, and Hux stared, unable to find the words to express the flurry of feelings that seemed to catch him.
When he finally found words, they were off-topic and uncertain. “Is this…private property?”
Kylo shrugged. “Technically, but there’s nobody around that’s going to see.”
A flagrant disregard for the law. Somehow Hux wasn’t surprised. He sat down on the blanket and watched, uncertain how to help as Kylo started opening up food.
He eventually found words. “So.”
“So?”
“A picnic?”
Kylo nodded. “It finally seemed nice enough out.”
“Is this a date?”
That blasted half-smile was back, like Kylo knew he’d put Hux on the spot. “Do you want it to be?”
“Maybe? Yes?” Hux felt like he’d been disarmed, his usually quick wit abandoning him at the worst time.
Kylo’s smile widened. “Hey. It’s Friday. Take a breath and enjoy yourself.” Kylo raised a tupperware container in an offer. “Sandwich?”
It was nice. Quiet, but for the hum of cars on the highway and the buzz of planes taking off and landing. The sun dropped low to the horizon, silhouetting the planes in solid black. The few buildings and trees in the distance were stained black as ink by the shadows cast by the falling sun.
The food was delicious. He’d never understand how Kylo could whip up a picnic like this, seemingly on a whim. He’d known for awhile that Kylo was an absurdly good cook, but somehow it still managed to catch him off guard.
They talked over food, sometimes settling into a companionable silence. The sandwiches had a couple different types of meat in them, offset by roasted red peppers and other toppings, all folded together in the airy bread. He’d packed something that seemed to be eggplant and pasta salad, and cut up honeydew in another tupperware.
By the time they got to dessert, Hux could hardly believe Kylo had found the time to put it all together. “Orange crostata, but I tried a new recipe.” He held one out for Hux to take a bite, pulling it away and laughing when Hux tried to pluck it from his fingers.
Hux sighed and rolled his eyes, playing along with the nonsense and swearing to get back at Kylo later. He took a bite and stilled, the smell and taste wrenching at his memory, trying to drag something up from his early childhood. His eyes flickered shut and he tried to think, tried to let the memory surface properly. It was something with the candied orange peel, maybe something his Nonna had made?
“Is…is everything alright?” Kylo’s voice was uncharacteristically nervous. Hux opened his eyes to find him watching worriedly.
“How do you get in my head like this?” The words were inadvertently quiet.
Kylo looked genuinely alarmed. “What?”
“What is that?”
“Uhm…it’s crostata. Sort of like a tart. Is something wrong?”
“I remember these from somewhere.”
“I don’t…I don’t know your life?”
Hux shook his head. “I know. You just have an uncanny way of getting in my head.”
“It sounds like it’s usually pretty menial stuff.”
“Which is why it’s so weird.”
Kylo shrugged. “Do you want me to apologize or something…?”
“No. No, of course not.” He reached out and ran his thumb over the fresh scar that ran over Kylo’s cheek, still somewhat puckered from the stitches. At that, Kylo closed his eyes, but Hux could see his skin flush with embarrassment. Hux leaned over and kissed him without prelude, leaving Kylo blinking with surprise when he pulled away.
There was a beat of hesitation before Kylo seemed to clear his mind and a grin split his face. Before Hux could register the action, Kylo practically launched himself at him, pinning him down on the blanket and leaning down for an overenthusiastic and rather sloppy kiss.
The sun had fallen below the horizon entirely when Hux tried to disengage himself from Kylo’s arms. It was getting dark, soon it would be cold, and there were few things Kylo hated more than the cold. Instead of detaching as Hux gently tried to pry him away, Kylo clung tighter and spoke into his skin, the hum of his words making a shiver of anticipation flit across his skin. “Your place or mine?”
Hux forced himself to think past the pleasant distraction of Kylo mouthing at his neck just below the line of his jaw. “Carol’s home. She doesn’t care, but I do. You’re loud.”
“My place, then.”
Hux managed a mumbled, “Mmmhm.”
It wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his evening, but…he could justify it. How much more could he study? He was going to pass the class anyway, it was a fairly easy seminar. Besides, there were better things to spend his time doing. At that very moment, the best one was attempting to suck a bruise into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. From the feel of it, he was succeeding.
Hm. Studying could wait.