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Hux started smoking before they got into this mess, all this ridiculous murder business, but he hasn’t stopped now that they’re in it. Has actually become a little more addicted. The spare time, the easy money... He wouldn’t admit it if you put a gun to his head (easily a more plausible idea as the days go on) but it’s also partially out of worry.
For Kylo, specifically, who is currently standing next to him with his gun. His hands are shaking, and he’s obviously crying, even though he probably thinks the rain will disguise it. They’re here for some big lawmaker, someone Snoke has a grudge against or something. He’ll have bodyguards, and Hux doesn’t like the idea of anyone shooting back at Kylo.
He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, shielding it from the rain with one hand. They’re under a tiny sliver of roof, but- well. He needs this cigarette right now, and he’s not taking any chances with it.
“Put that out,” Kylo says. “It smells like ass.”
This is the first thing he’s said today that hasn’t been some kind of hopeless poetic rambling, and Hux welcomes it; he turns away from Kylo slightly and smokes in the other direction. Of course, the wind is still blowing towards Kylo, but he is sure as shit not giving this up because his partner- or whatever the hell Kylo is, he hasn’t figured it out yet- has an issue with it.
“No,” he says flatly.
In response, Kylo turns and grabs the cigarette from between Hux’s fingers with a shaking hand. He puts it to his lips, inhales desperately- coughs. Badly. Hux turns back toward him, suddenly needing to hold him, make sure he’s alright.
“Augh- fuck.” Kylo chokes, almost dropping the cigarette- somehow it hasn’t gone out- and Hux absentmindedly moves nearer to him, holding him to his side. He braces a hand against Kylo’s back, and Kylo bursts into tears; again. He’s sobbing, loudly, and normally this would bother Hux; would make him want to shove Kylo away and yell at him to just do this already; and yet he only rubs Kylo’s back gently and moves closer to share a little warmth.
“Don’t worry,” he says, hating the way it sounds- childish and ridiculous, in the pouring rain. Of course Kylo is worried. They’re trying to fucking assassinate someone. Someone who has a significant amount of protection. He might die.
So instead of muttering his usual indignant frustrations, Hux simply holds Kylo close to him in the dark. He whispers quiet comforts to him, knowing it takes force to concentrate on what he’s saying through the shattering rain. Hopes this will distract Kylo, feels it when it does. Kylo drops the cigarette and grinds it into the sidewalk, then huddles closer to Hux and puts a hand to his chest. They lean against the wall together as if they’re in bed. A little colder and sadder and soaked to the bone, but it’s enough.
It’s enough.