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Twenty-one-hundred hours came and went, Hux too engrossed in the ever-increasing mountain of paperwork to fully take note of the time. Not that he was likely to have stopped, even if he had realised quite how late it had gotten, and it was only at Lord Vader’s insistence on walking over said papers on his desk, leaving little footprints in her wake as she mewled to be fed, that he finally sat up and took note.
His own stomach growled and he ignored it, plucking the little ginger cat from his desk and letting her climb up his shoulder, headbutting his ear as Hux made his way over to the small box he kept for the sole purpose of storing treats, toys and food for Lord Vader. It was well hidden, anyone simply visiting his quarters was unlikely to find it, and any who did were likely rifling through his personal effects and were liable to be shot for treason in short order.
Empty, save a half-eaten bag of treats and a toy mouse. Hux cursed, shoving the box back into place with more force than was strictly necessary, earning another plaintive mewl as Lord Vader was jostled on his shoulder. He would have to go to Ren now; the canteen would be closed for cleaning for at least another two hours, and the furry scarf that was pawing at his cheek was not likely to wait that long. Not without some serious property damage in the meantime, at least.
“I know, I’m working on it.” He huffed at the cat, not bothering to don his greatcoat as he stepped out into the hallway, taking a moment to secure his rooms, and reluctantly made the short walk to Ren’s quarters. Phasma might have had something for the cat, and Hux did consider taking a detour, yet her own living space was practically on the other side of the ship – near her troops, where she liked it – by which point Lord Vader would likely have chewed half of his ear off. She was already nipping at the lobe in annoyance, and Hux shifted her away with a sigh, not desiring a trip to medical to treat a bloody ear on top of everything else. He had far too much work to do.
“You’re late.” The door to Ren’s quarters slid open with a whoosh before Hux had even thought to press the intercom. Ren was maskless and glowering, moving aside so that the General might enter. Lord Vader, still perched upon Hux’s shoulder, grew still. The cat was purring loudly as he stepped into the slightly darkened rooms of the knight, apparently pleased at having been brought home or, at least, anticipating the inevitable bowl of food.
“I’m sorry?” It wasn’t an apology, and for a moment Hux could not understand Ren’s annoyance, until the scent of something delicious pervaded his senses. Glancing around, he noticed the table – clearly requisitioned from one of the well-furnished guest rooms – adorned with two silver cloches hiding whatever was creating that divine aroma, two glasses of white wine and a lit candle. There was even a tablecloth, white with a soft red swirl stitched into the fabric; Hux wasn’t aware that they even had table cloths aboard the Finalizer, and certainly not ones so nice as that, yet there it was.
“You don’t.” Ren replied to his unasked and barely-thought question, seemingly amused by Hux’s astonished expression and the accompanying, rather embarrassing growl of his stomach, though his annoyance was still palpable. “I traded for it, on my last mission. I wasn’t joking about dinner.”
“No,” Hux replied, not certain whether to laugh at the uncharacteristic and unexpected display, or to flee. “I can see that. Why, though?” Ren just shrugged at him, tugging out one of the two chairs that sat to each side of the small, round table, indicating that he should take it.
“The food is getting cold. Sit, before it is entirely inedible.” Disappearing off into one of the smaller side rooms, Ren reappeared with a small bowl of wet mush. In her excitement Lord Vader struggled against Hux’s grip, catching her claw on his cheek as she jumped down. The scratch was only shallow, but it welled up almost immediately, stark red against his almost translucent skin. He ignored it, sitting in his place as Ren had requested, still uncertain as to precisely what was going on yet not quite willing to let a meal go to waste, particularly if it tasted anything like as wonderful as it smelt.
“Who did you manage to persuade to cook for you at this time of night?” Hux watched in slight trepidation as Ren slid into the seat opposite, removing the oversized cloche only once Ren had, rewarded with more of that delicious smell and he could feel his mouth watering.
“I am more than capable of cooking, General, or did you believe my skills lay purely in destruction?” Perfectly steamed vegetables sat to one side of the plate, beside a cut of dark red meat with a side of what appeared to be some form of crustacean. It was relatively simple faire, yet entirely delicious as Hux popped one of the small, round snail like things into his mouth and bit down. It was buttery and soft and unlike anything he had ever tasted, a slow smile working its way across his lips.
“This is divine, Ren, where did you learn to cook like this? Where did you even get this?” It was certainly not standard First Order faire, he knew. There was no answer, and Hux looked up to find the knight staring down at his plate, prodding at his vegetables as though they had personally offended him.
Oh.
Hux knew better than to mention Ren’s origins, and that included both his family and, apparently, his ability to cook. He had, it seemed, walked right into that one with his eyes closed, and berated himself for his own stupidity at not having realised it sooner. A foot slid forward beneath the table to hook behind his own, and the General said nothing of his surprise, letting the knight take his comfort however he wished.
They were half way through the meal, sitting in silence, when the tension finally broke. Lord Vader, apparently deciding that they were paying her far too little attention, strolled past their tangled legs and made a point of brushing against both to leave an adequate trail of fur in her wake, before hopping up onto Hux’s knee beneath the table. A little ginger head peeked over the corner of his plate, watching first the slide of knife through meat, then looking up to stare at Ren with huge green eyes, as if daring him to try to move her. He was staring back, and as Hux watched the man’s shoulders relaxed just a little and his lips twitched into what might have been a smile.
A deft paw shot out, dragging the last mollusc from Hux’s plate and Lord Vader leapt from her seat upon his lap, racing off with her prize clutched firmly between her teeth and Hux’s surprised shout ringing in her ears. Ren snickered at the annoyed expression on the General’s face as the little cat hid herself in the bedroom, and Hux turned to glare at him yet there was no heat behind it.
“She’s taken to doing that.” Ren hummed, and a chirrup sounded from the bedroom seemingly in response, earning a low chuckle.
“And you didn’t think to warn me?”
“Why would I, when your reactions are so amusing?”
“I was going to eat that.” He threw a mock-glare at the cat, who was peering around the doorway, wondering whether to try her luck a second time. When he turned back to the table, Hux found Ren’s fork hovering just in front of his face, one of the buttery treats skewered on the prongs.
“You seem to be enjoying them.” Ren offered, by way of explanation, the remains of his own meal apparently forgotten in favour of watching Hux wrap his lips around the prongs of his fork. The knight had a soft smile on his face, and there was a fondness there that Hux was certain he would never have been allowed to see had Ren had any sort of control over his expressions. It suited him, Hux thought, wondering if those lips were quite as soft as they appeared.
Hux decided, while chewing on the offered mouthful, that he was decidedly not drunk enough for what he had found himself contemplating.
The buzzing was incessant. It had started in an ordinary enough fashion; a single if slightly extended press of the buzzer on his door panel, perhaps an over-enthusiastic younger officer looking for approval. Certainly not Phasma, she always buzzed twice in quick succession, short and sharp. Not Ren either; he had a habit of simply yanking Hux’s door open, regardless of his present condition or state of dress, and letting himself in.
Hux could not be bothered with company at that point in time. His head already ached from having to concentrate on the viewscreens on the bridge for so long, and then again with the datapad back in his quarters. They were in the midst of planning their next strategic maneuverer – or, at least, Hux was – and he could not afford to stop at that point, so close to a viable plan that would ensure minimal casualties on both sides and a near one hundred percent chance of success. He had managed to get it up to an estimated ninety six percent, higher than anyone else aboard the Finalizer or perhaps even the rest of the fleet would ever be able to manage, and yet he still wasn’t happy.
The buzzing continued. Hux’s headache worsened.
Finally, when he could stand the noise no longer – the person outside his door having kept their finger upon the buzzer for almost three and a half minutes straight by that point – he stood from his seat and stormed over, practically punching the button to let the door slide open, fully ready to demote whoever was standing on the other side unless they had a damn good excuse for such unprofessional behaviour.
“What?” He snapped, glowering, only to have a bundle of orange fur unceremoniously dumped in his arms. Ren stood on the threshold, looking somewhat frazzled, his helmet missing and a long scratch on his neck that was weeping slightly, deeper than the one on Hux’s own cheek that had almost entirely vanished by that point.
“Lord Vader wished to see you.” He huffed, and the knight looked almost…upset? Surely not, Hux thought, but Ren had never been particularly good at hiding his emotions no matter how much he tried to temper them. Still, ‘upset’ Ren was not something the General was used to seeing – at least, not without a lightsaber and considerable property damage involved – and it didn’t suit him.
“Ren?” The knight stopped, already half a step down the hallway. Hux shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he was due a break and Phasma had dropped off a holo movie that she had assured him he would adore only that morning. “Are you busy, for the next couple of hours?”
“No.” Ren replied, looking a little confused at the request, but at least he turned to look at Hux fully rather than simply storming off. “Why?”
“Wait here a moment.” Disappearing back into his quarters, Hux reemerged with a bag of cat treats in his pocket and the holo disc clutched in his hand, while the other held Lord Vader in place as the overly enthusiastic cat rubbed against the side of his face, talking to him in mewling purrs.
“What do you intend?” Falling into stride alongside Hux, Ren watched with an unbridled curiosity as the cat continued her assault on the General’s ear. Hux did not respond, merely offering the knight a knowing smile.
The holosuite on the Finalizer was seldom used, and never by the lower-ranked Stormtroopers, yet there was always the chance that someone else had decided to make use of the room. Hux could technically pull rank on anyone already in there, though he had no intention of doing so, his evening not so strictly planned out that he absolutely required the room. There was always the option of his quarters, yet the only truly comfortable place to sit would be his bed, and Hux was not quite ready to allow the knight such luxuries, not yet.
Fortunately, for both of them, the room was dark and deserted. The small holo disc slid into place with a click, the larger projector springing into life as he settled next to Ren on one of the large couches. It was slightly cool in the room, and the solid warmth at his side was more pleasant than he was quite ready to admit, though Ren did not seem to mind their closeness.
The movie was fairly dull; some action flick about a bounty hunter down on his luck. It was nothing spectacular, and Hux might have been tempted to switch it off, if not for the way Ren was almost riveted to the figures playing out the story in front of them, occasionally twitching at some of the more over the top scenes. Hux might have rolled his eyes at the almost childish display, if it wasn’t quite so adorable, and if not for the fact that Lord Vader had decided she was bored of exploring this new room and chose that moment to hop up onto his lap with a chirp. He reached up to pet her, ignoring the sharp pinpricks of her claws as she padded at his thighs before settling down with a low purr.
He must have fallen asleep at some point, awaking to the room in relative darkness, the projector unit providing a soft glow by which he could just about make out his surroundings, yet not so bright that it might hurt his eyes. There was a warm, heavy weight across his shoulders and over his arm, and he was pressed up against an equally hot body. It was pleasant, and he was sorely tempted to curl back into the tugging embrace of sleep, yet they were in a public space and it would not do for one of his officers to catch them in such a compromising position.
“Ren?” Hux’s voice croaked slightly, and he swallowed, the arm holding him in place tugging him closer as the knight nuzzled into his hair with a mumble that might have been a protest. Lord Vader had moved at some point, her ginger fur a stark contrast to the black of Ren’s robes, and she blinked sleepily up at him from the knight’s lap.
Warm lips pressed up against Hux’s forehead and the General’s next inhale caught in his throat as Ren shifted against him, murmuring something unintelligible. Hot breath ghosted over his his cheek, their noses bumped and Hux was completely rooted to the spot, eyes wide in shock, as Ren finally found what he had been looking for, mouth descending over Hux’s own without hesitation.
The first thing Hux noticed was that Ren’s lips were, in fact, just as wonderfully soft as they looked. The second, and perhaps more surprising, was that Ren was a remarkably good kisser. Really, when did the knight get chance to practice something like that? Hux found he didn’t much care to find out, parting his lips with a small sigh to allow Ren’s probing tongue into his mouth to brush against his own.
It was as though a surge of electricity had passed through them. Ren shot backwards, fast enough that he could easily have given himself whiplash, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with - Hux hoped - embarrassment. Lord Vader scrabbled from her place in his lap, vanishing under the couch with a frightened hiss, tail having tripled in size at the shock of Ren practically launching himself from his seat and fleeing the room.
Really, Hux thought as he tried to coax the frightened cat out from under the furniture, anyone would have thought the man had been shot. Ridiculous, he huffed to himself, when - half an hour later - Lord Vader finally, finally allowed herself to be bribed from her hiding place and into his waiting arms. Really, it was only a kiss and, well, if his own cheeks were still coloured pink as he headed back to his rooms, what of it? That was nobody’s business but his own.