Chapter Text
The ad said this:
Looking for a random family to let me take a Holiday portrait with.
$20 –
So my name is Ben and I am a 24-year-old student. This year for Christmas/Hanukkah, I really want to confuse my relatives by making a Holiday card with myself and a random family saying something like “Seasons Greetings for the Solo-Organas!” Making it look like I married some random person and had kids. It will be an awkward photo for sure with lots of turtle necks and ugly clothes. I want to baffle my uncles and especially my parents. For maximum effect and contrast, I would prefer to have a picture with someone from the Order military…It would be harder for them to wrap their minds around. If you let me take a picture with you or your family, I will give you $20 and some copies of the card when I get them printed off. I think it will be pretty funny.
Message me if youre interested with a picture so I can start sorting out candidates.
Hux studied the attached photo of a crumpled twenty dollar bill. The post was, without a doubt, the strangest thing to ever show up on his Facebook news feed. It was also kriffing perfect. He needed a bit of cash and something to do with his Saturday. This killed two birds with one stone, and he was all for efficiency.
He sent off a photo of himself in his Order uniform, red hair slicked back as he glared out from the screen with practiced ferocity. Then, Hux followed with a few pictures of his roommate Mitaka’s siblings, little balls of glee he’d steal to fill the family requirement.
Within three minutes, Ben replied, “Youre exactly what Ive been looking for.”
When Hux arrived at the Goodwill, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Ben’s profile had provided him with very little insight on the man’s character. The only thing he could say with any certainty was that Ben was a strange-faced giant who posted a significant number of @dril tweets on Facebook, which seemed like the sort of internet sin only a madman could pull off. So, as he stepped out onto the pavement and pulled Mitaka’s little brother and sister from their car seats, he moved with caution. There was no telling who he was coming up against.
The Goodwill, like all Goodwills, smelled of dusty old carpets and something very close to urine. The overhead lights, fluorescent and old as the Watergate scandal, cast everything in sickly yellow. The old ladies sorting through the knick-knack aisles moved in rotation, picking up broken china pieces like it was all they’d ever done. The cashier said something but her voice, drained by an eternity spent haggling over holey sweaters and old shoes, came out in a whisper.
The children hugged closer to Hux’s leg, dragging along behind him as he pressed into the store. They were two and five, doe-eyed and all too sweet for his own sullen expression. Mitaka was more than happy to hand them off to Hux for the weekend. Heaven only knows that that poor little man never got a break.
Ben was easy to spot among the sweater racks. He was even taller than expected, head and shoulders above the old women that scurried by. His hair was pulled back, revealing the massive ears Hux had spent a few minutes studying online. They were awkward, if not a little cute. Hux found himself thinking of the Dumbo rat he’d stolen from his eighth grade biology class. He’d wanted to save it, spare it from the next week’s dissection exercise. The tiny thing lived in his dressers for six weeks before his father found out and threw it to his hunting dogs.
Fortunately, Ben looked like he could wrestle a dog or two.
“Excuse me,” He said, pulling the children along as he entered the aisle full of worn pullovers. “I believe you’re the one I’m looking for. Ben, yes?” He put on the closest thing to a smile that he could manage. It was lopsided and strained, closer to a grimace than a grin, but it suited him far more than anything genuine could have.
Ben’s eyes ran from Hux’s red hair to his shined boots, a smirk appearing on his own lips. Hux’s uniform was fine-pressed and starched, so perfect it seemed straight out of a military drama. The second his mother saw it, she was going to lose her goddamn mind. “Yeah, I’m Ben,” He said, extending his hand. “And the pleasure is all mine.”
They shook hands and Ben ducked down, kneeling before the children. The boy, the youngest of the pair, pressed his face to Hux’s pant leg. His sister narrowed her eyes at Ben, staring at him with her arms crossed over chest. Ben offered her his hand, nearly as big as her whole torso, and she refused it.
Ben laughed and pulled his hand away, nodding. “She drives a hard bargain, doesn’t she?” He said, brushing off his pants as he stood back up. There was no telling what evils lurked in the dull commercial carpeting of a Goodwill.
“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hux said. He lifted the boy into his arms, holding him to his chest. Ben laughed again and Hux felt his heart pause. “These, ah, aren’t actually my kids, you know,” He added. With Ben picking through ugly sweaters and smiling, it became very clear that he needed to emphasize he was childless. And unmarried. And totally single and unattached and open to things.
For no real reason, obviously. Just for honesty’s sake.
Ben raised his brows. He looked from the boy to the girl and then back to Hux. “So,” He said, leaning closer as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Where did you steal them from?”
Hux choked back a laugh, holding onto his dignity like it was a kite in the wind. Before he could give an adequate response, the little girl spoke up.
“He stole us from watching cartoons!” She declared, and Hux was done for.
Hux laughed alongside Ben, though he stood so much more to lose. As his chest heaved, lungs burning, his childhood shame leapt out of the past to trample him. His laughter came to a halt with a great inhale and then a snort, so loud that even the children looked up in surprise.
Ben’s smile grew ten-fold and Hux turned bright red. The kids started laughing the moment the adults fell silent. If there was ever a moment to die, it was right then and there.
Ben clicked his tongue and turned toward the racks like nothing had happened. He pulled out a lime green top with chevron print, running his fingertips over the ragged knit. “You know,” He said, looking to Hux from the very corner of his eye. For a moment, he seemed to become the devil himself. “I think I’ll have to make a note of how charming I find your laugh on the card.”
Hux looked to the ground, unable hide his flushed cheeks any other way. “If you do that,” He said, hugging Mitaka’s brother even closer, “then I’ll be forced to divorce you.”
The green sweater fell from Ben’s hands and he stepped forward, brows furrowed. “You don’t mean that,” He said, unable to stop smiling despite the overplayed desperation in his voice. “Would you take the children from me, too?”
Ben was only a foot away now, Mitaka’s brother filling the space between them. Hux looked up and, despite the redness of his face, managed to sneer. “And the house and the car and all four of our dogs,” He said, sticking up his nose. “I’d leave you a pauper.”
“What if I just said sometimes you blush hard enough to match your hair,” Ben said, turning his head to one side. “What would you do to me then?” His voice had taken on a new quality, dipping lower down and sending chills up Hux’s back.
Hux scoffed, stepping forward and holding his ground. “Well,” He said, sugar-coating his voice enough to give Olympic athletes type-two diabetes, “then I suppose I would be collecting your life insurance policy.”
Ben felt his heart leap into his throat, beating against his larynx hard enough to leave him breathless. He backed away from Hux and fumbled with the sweaters, unable to explain the way his fingers were starting to tremble. What could he say? There was just something about a man willing to joke about murder with a bright smile that left him sweating in a way most would find questionable. If he was still sixteen and fighting the misfortunes of puberty, he might have popped a boner right then and there, surrounded by cat-haired covered coats and geriatrics.
Growing up had its perks, it would seem.
“Well, then I’ll just, uh, let you be then,” Ben stammered, half-buried in hangers and wool.
Hux looked down at the children with an all too pleased expression. Ben’s embarrassment was apparent to all three of them. Hux had evened the score. Now the only issue was unseating Ben a second time and keeping himself collected. Then, he’d win. What precisely that meant and why it mattered wasn’t wholly clear to him, but Hux found that it didn’t matter. He’d win, and that was enough.
By the time they left Goodwill, Ben had purchased an excess of awful Christmas sweater and “props." Hux wasn’t one hundred percent clear on what the blender was for, but then Ben had specially asked him not the question his “art." As they loaded up the back of Ben’s car, an old sports model from the 60s with a beat-up black paint job, Mitaka’s sister started whining.
“What is, Myrilla?” Hux asked, staring down at the little girl as she stomped her foot against the sidewalk. Her face was already bright red with frustration, dark brown hair pulled over her face like a shroud.
“I’m hungry!” She snapped, throwing her arms up in the air. Her brother responded by nodding his little head and burying his face against Hux’s shirt.
Ben hopped over to Hux’s side with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Well, there is a pretty okay taco place within walking distance,” He said, jerking his head in the direction of this “pretty ok taco place." “It’ll be on me, wifey.”
Hux snorted. “We’re both men, you oaf,” He said, readjusting the squirming two year old in his arms. His mood soured at the realization that Ben was probably just some straight boy looking to make his joke “extra funny” by making it gay. Not that it particularly mattered, of course. He was here for twenty dollars and a laugh, nothing more.
Except, perhaps, tacos.
“Well do they have anything for a two year old?” He asked, gesturing to the boy with his hand. “He doesn’t really have the stomach for anything spicy or the teeth for anything too hard.”
Ben shrugged and started walking, trailing down the road even as Hux stayed in the same spot. “I’m sure we can ask them to put beans and cheese in a cup or something,” He called back once he’d made it down half the block, leaving Hux to sigh and shake his head.
“Would you even eat that, Erel?” Hux asked, taking the two year old’s little hand with his own. He half wanted Erel to refuse, to say he’d only eat gummy worms and glue so that Hux could deny Ben, take the photos, and get on with his life. But Erel nodded instead and Hux was forced to continue in the mad journey he’d only just started.
The taco place was colorful and family-owned, a small fixture in their college town. A few students there, pressed together in booths with laptops and notebooks, gave Ben a nod of recognition. They sat down in one of the corner booths, seated just below a large mural of women braiding the tail of an ass. Hux might have called it well composed if not for the sharpie scrawl obscuring most of the work.
The menu straddled the line between authentic and Chipotle. Hux ordered a wet burrito to split with Myrilla and a cup of ground beef and beans for Erel. Across from him, Ben wrinkled his nose.
“I said it was an okay taco place. Didn’t you hear me?” Ben said, picking at the tortilla chips the waiter set on the table. “You’re going to get sick, eating a burrito here.”
“You could have told me as much,” Hux mumbled, chewing the end of his straw. Gastrointestinal issues were the last thing he wanted right now, though getting Myrilla sick was a close second. Mitaka, sweet as he was, could get pretty defensive of his siblings. Hux liked being alive, so he’d have to hope she’d fill herself up on chips. Given the number of crumbs on her face, she was getting close.
Ben nodded his head before setting both his elbows on table and setting his chin in the palm of one hand. “So, where do our children come from? You aren’t a kidnapper, right?”
Hux shook his head. “No, they’re my roommate’s siblings. He watches them on the weekends,” He said, waving his hand in the air. “He was all too happy to let me borrow them. Poor guy never has any free time with these little devils around.” Hux flashed a smile at Myrilla, teasing, and she stuck her tongue out in return.
Ben was pretty certain that ranked among the cutest things he’d ever seen but, then again, Hux’s snort was pretty high up there, too. “You seem to get along with them okay,” He said, eyes drifting to Erel, who sat quietly and awaited his beans. “Bodes well for your character.”
“Does it?” Hux asked, stirring his drink with the straw. The ice clinked against the glass, distracting the children a moment. Hux leaned forward over the table, boring his eyes through Ben’s soul. “And why, pray tell, does my character matter at all for this exchange?”
Ben swallowed, unsure what could possibly qualify as an answer. Seconds ticked by filled with silence, tension crackling in the air. The muscles in Ben’s shoulders twitched, unsettled by the concentration of Hux’s gaze. Ben wondered if Hux’s eyes had always looked so deathly white. They were green in the photo he sent over. Certainly eyes couldn’t change that much between a computer screen and reality.
The waiter set down their plates just in time to interrupt the standoff. Hux’s shoulders drooped and Ben exhaled, grateful for the rising steam that blocked Hux’s stare. Erel tried to shove his hands directly into his beans, piping hot and buried in molten cheese. He was saved only by Hux’s reflexes and Ben, in turn, was saved by the distraction. He gathered his thoughts and, free of scrutiny, produced his excuse.
“Fake married or no,” He said, already folding one of his tacos into his hand, “I’m a traditional man. I’d like to know who my husband is. I need stories to tell when I get back home, after all.” Ben smiled like there was nothing strange about the idea of maintaining the joke beyond Christmas time, biting into his food and ignoring the way Hux furrowed his brows in response.
“Pardon me if I don’t believe you, but I don’t know many traditional men who get fake married,” Hux said. He cut his burrito in fourths and inspected the inside, pulling up the tortilla with his knife and fork. It looked safe enough, though the beans were a touch greyer than he’d have liked. “Or fake marry a man, for that matter,” He continued, setting Myrilla’s portion down on her plate. She went at it like a ravenous animal and Hux sighed, certain her dress would never survive the meal.
Ben shrugged his shoulders and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, smearing a bit of hot sauce down onto his chin. “Well, fake marrying a man is pretty run of the mill for me. Can’t see myself fake marrying a woman, you know?” He shifted in his seat, staring over at Hux with a locked jaw.
Ben’s expression was familiar to Hux. Staring at it, he felt a cold chill creep over his shoulders, empathy thick in his mind. Few things in life were as stressful as the five seconds after coming out to someone new. Heart screaming in your ears as you wait for the other person to nod their head or pull away with curses. Tongue dry and too large in your mouth, eyes pleading for acceptance but ready for disgust.
And Hux was disgusted. He wrinkled his nose and picked up his napkin, reaching across the table despite his usual aversion to contact and dabbing away the bit of sauce on Ben’s chin. “Well,” He said, matter-of-factly, “if we’re pretends husbands, I won’t have you walking around like a slob.”
Ben’s face went through an evolution of emotions, turning from fear to confusion and then to a giant grin in less time than it took for Myrilla to drop half the contents of her burrito into her lap. He laughed and turned pink at the ears, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.
Hux couldn’t help but think he was lovely.
He decided it was good that Ben wasn’t some straight boy out for humor, after all. Not that it really mattered, of course. It was just good.
“Alright, alright! I’ll be more careful, honey,” Ben replied, emphasis placed on the final word in a way that made it harder for Hux to breathe. “But, in exchange, you have to tell me about yourself.”
Hux picked at his burrito and stared down at his lap. “And what would you like to know?” He asked.
“Anything,” Ben replied, drawing a laugh from Hux.
“I doubt you really mean anything,” He said, taking his first real bite of his burrito. The meat tasted like meat, which was well enough. “Would you like me to bore you with my military academy scores? Or will my shoe size suffice?”
There was very little about his life that seemed worth sharing, here. Hux was not nearly as fun or quirky as someone willing to put an ad out on Facebook looking for an Order officer to annoy their family with. What wasn’t humdrum was depressing. But, despite his attempts to downplay curiosity, Ben continued to stare across the table like he was in the presence of something truly momentous.
“I said anything,” Ben replied, smirking. He leaned further over the table, head tilted down so that his eyes peered up from behind dark lashes, mischievous glint making Hux’s tongue dry up. “What is your shoe size, then?”
“Ten and a half or eleven,” Hux replied without a beat, brows wrinkling the moment the words left his mouth. Had he really just replied to such an absurd question? And without even stopping to think? This situation was driving him past madness. He continued picking at his food, trying to place the situation off. “Why, are you some kind of foot fetishist?”
Ben snickered and shook his head, leaning back against the booth. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” He said, winking.
Hux felt his face heat up and grabbed hold of his drink, gulping down liquid and turning himself toward Myrilla and Erel. They played with their meals and smeared beans across their plates, oblivious to the total hell in which Hux was suffering. Children, he thought, had it too good.
“You know,” Ben said. His voice, sing-song and playful, tickled Hux’s skin in a way that reminded him of the weird ASMR videos Mitaka always watched. “That was a weird thing to ask around kids. What if they go back and ask your friend what that means?” He lifted his drink to his lips, biting down on the straw. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
Myrilla perked up, now aware she’d heard something “adult." If she wasn’t going to ask Mitaka what a fetish was before, she certainly would now.
Hux sighed and rubbed his temples. Well, this was just perfect. “Now I will,” He said, fighting the urge to smack Ben’s stupid grin off his face. Hux ate out the contents of his burrito and pushed the soggy tortilla aside, nose wrinkled as Ben scarfed down his own meal. Why had he come here again? Was he really so bored? Did he really need twenty dollars that badly?
Or, was this all because Ben looked good online and he was thirstier than Tom Hanks in the critically acclaimed, Oscar nominated film Cast Away?
As Ben stood up to go to the bathroom, Hux resigned himself to his own trickery. He’d played himself. Flirting and dating - romantics as a whole - were petty distractions. They’d impede his goals and complicate his straightforward, enjoyable life. Yet, somehow, he’d managed to convince himself wasting a whole Saturday hanging around with some guy had nothing to do with how handsome that guy was, with how starved he was for affections. In playing the fool, he’d landed himself precisely in the position he didn’t want to be in. Here he was, flirting and playing cute when he should have been at home working at his next project proposal.
No matter, Hux told himself. It was only one day. He could go that long without growing attached.
A moment later, Ben returned with a soap dispenser in hand. It was shaped like a taco and Ben was laughing, pointing at it. He bent down to show it Erel, saying, “Isn’t this ridiculous?”
And, in that moment, Armitage Hux could only think one thing:
Fuck.
They arrived at Ben’s house forty-five minutes later. The place was rickety and old, second story perched precariously on the first. A dozen cheap cars lined the driveway, bodies dinged and bumpers folded in. Above the door, a large plank of wood spanned several feet. The ghost of old lettering peered out from beneath a layer of beige paint. Hux studied it and tried to recall the Greek alphabet - Omega Kappa something or another - and followed Ben across the sparse, yellow lawn. Erel wiggled in his arms and Myrilla trailed after him, her bright white boots turning dust brown by the time they reached the door.
Ben didn’t look very much like a frat boy. He was too old for it and too soft in the eyes. Hux couldn’t imagine him drinking very much or rallying around sports. Then again, maybe frats were nothing like their movie counterparts. As an Order soldier who’d never attended college, he had no way of being certain.
“Interesting place,” he said, stepping over the threshold once Ben made his way inside. Closed down or not, the place smelled exactly as he expected a frat house might. Something sour, like old milk or a man left out too long in the sun, hit his nose. For the first, and only, time in his life, Hux found himself yearning for the comforts of Goodwill.
Ben threw his jacket on an overcrowded coat rack and moved deeper into the house. The main entrance lead out into the living room where some other man lay, shirt hiked up around his stomach and laptop burning a hole in his thighs. Ben gave the stranger a high five and exchanged a few words with him in a language Hux could not understand. They laughed together and the stranger gave Hux a wave, one which he stiffly returned.
Hux followed behind Ben, closing the space between them as they passed through rooms with other people in them. He took hold of Myrilla’s arm, tightening his grip every time she tried to pull away and explore a new pile of dirty laundry and dishes. He was already running the risk of dying over foot fetishes and burrito poisoning. Adding “strange fungal diseases” to that list wasn't exactly his top priority.
The kitchen was worst of all. The sink was overflowing, dirty contents spilling out over the surrounding countertops. Hux couldn’t distinguish between what was set out to wash and dry, only certain that half the dishes interspersed in the pile were actually paper and had no right to be there in the first place. The garbage wasn’t much better and the fridge, which Ben opened and crammed his half-eaten taco plate into, seemed moments from composing it’s last will and testament before giving in to the stench of its contents.
Hux considered asking where the bathroom was but, taking all this into consideration, decided he’d rather die than relieve himself here.
“Was this place closed down for misconduct or just condemned as a possible source of biochemical weaponry?” He asked, setting Erel down on the cleanest part of the kitchen’s marble-topped island. The boy took up playing with a nearby spoon, fascinated with the bent handle.
Ben held up his hand, shaking a finger in the air. “You’re actually pretty on the nose there,” He said, rounding the island and returning to Hux’s side. “Ten years ago, some undergrads tried to foster anthrax in the basement. They wanted to kill some professor or something - I’m not really clear on the details. Point is, the school shut down the frat and the house went up for sale for mere pennies. My landlord got a pretty great deal.”
Hux lifted an eyebrow. “You’re happy living in a house where someone tried to make anthrax?”
Ben smiled and tapped his finger against Hux’s chest. “The key word is tried, right?”
The tap on his chest made Hux’s heart stop. He struggled to breathe and, for a moment, he was convinced he’d contracted pulmonary anthrax from just standing in the house. The earlier tingling sensation returned, spiraling out from the point of contact. He stepped back and laughed to conceal his desire to choke. “You’re crazy,” He said, more to himself than anything. Why the hell was he being such a child?
Ben returned his laugh, though the muscles in his face pulled against it. He grimaced for only a moment but Hux saw it, took note, and buried it away in the back of his mind. Ben clapped a hand on Hux’s shoulder and took Erel up in his free arm, guiding them both out of the kitchen and through the sliding door into the backyard “Yeah, maybe,” He said. “Always been a possibility.”
The patio was old and the wood posts were rotting at base, but the grass was green and full. Little bushes with pink flowers lined the lawn, shaded by the veil of a tall oak tree. Plastic chairs with bent legs crowded a fire pit, glass beer bottles rising up out of the grass like shining towers.
Ben walked toward the fire pit and tossed the props and outfits he’d purchased on one of the chairs. “Wait here,” He said, dashing back into the house. Hux looked through the Goodwill bag, fingers tracing the fraying edges of old sweaters. He still couldn’t imagine what the blender was for, but all things in good time, he supposed.
Ben returned with a tripod under one arm and a pricey camera in his other hand. In the company of such disarray, the poor device looked painfully out of place. “Alright,” He said, breathing slightly heavier as he set up the tripod and camera. “It’s a bit bright out for this, but we’ll make do. I think the overexposure might make it funnier, anyway. It’ll be unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” Myrilla asked, reading Hux’s mind. She marvelled at the tall beams of the tripod and reached up for the camera, criminally too short.
Ben obliged her request and handed Erel off to Hux. He exchanged the boy for his sister, lifting her to inspect his camera. She ran her hands over the side, feeling the raised texture of the grip under her soft palm.
“Yeah,” Ben said, voice turning satin soft for the children. Hux raised his brows, still surprised that a man with such austere, odd features could show such great warmth. “My family sort of expects me to be good at things like this. I was never very good with numbers, so I think they convinced themselves I’m the spiritual, artsy sort.”
Hux inhaled. There was a story in that, somewhere. But he was here for one day, for one joke. There was no point in pressing too hard. And, yet, as he made up his mind to stay out it, his mouth opened and said, “And are you?”
Ben paused, eyes lifted from the camera to Hux. He fell quiet for longer than he had back in the Goodwill, struggling around his words. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and he brought Myrilla to the ground, fleeing to the other side of the camera and pulling the lens cap off. “I don’t know,” He said, fussing with the settings of his camera. “I guess you’ll have to tell me once this is done.”
Hux stepped back and let him work. It was obvious he’d unseated Ben again, embarrassed him, even. This is what he’d wanted back at the Goodwill. A victory. Now, only a few hours later, it felt more like a failure. Hux pursed his lips and took his place in front on the whitewashed yard fence. “We’ll see, then,” He said, straightening his back. “For now, just shoot me.”
“Am I the one collecting life insurance now?” Ben said, looking up from underneath his mess of hair. His self-satisfied grin had returned with record speed. Hux was happy to see it back.
“Oh, haha,” Hux said, hugging Erel closer to his chest. “You think you’re so very clever, don’t you?”
“As if you’re any different, Hux,” Ben replied. He walked across the yard, peeling his t-shirt overhead and tossing it on the grass.
Now, Hux prided himself on his good composure. As a member of the Order’s military, he’d learned to wear a stoneface in even the most strenuous situations. There wasn’t a drill sergeant alive who could make him flinch. And yet, as Ben’s shirt came off, back muscles flexing through the motion, Hux felt his brows raise, pupils dilating. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected it. Ben looked fit even with the shirt on. But, much like conceptualizing a nuclear blast and experiencing one, there was just something different about actually seeing it. He swallowed hard and turned his eyes toward the house. He followed the contours of the uneven shingles and thew a hastily composed Hail Mary together in his mind.
He wasn’t even Catholic.
“Wow,” Erel said, pointing at Ben with his stubby little fingers. “You’re strong!”
Ben stopped halfway through pulling a Christmas sweater on, looking over at Erel. “Mhmm,” He hummed, approaching even though he was only three-fourths of the way dressed.
In another world, one where manners or consequences didn’t exist, Hux might have shoved Ben away and fled to the hills. What right did this man have to stand so very close with his abs and the tops of his hip bones exposed? Fucking low-waisted jeans. The world would have been a better place if everyone wore Mormon underwear.
“Do you want to grow up big and strong, Erel?” Ben asked, finally pulling his sweater the rest of the way down. It was lavender with green stripes, adorned with crude embroidery of elves dancing, and two sizes too small around his arms. His biceps looked vacuum-sealed in overstretched, itchy wool.
Hux would have been thankful for the sweater if it weren’t quite so ugly and if it were long enough to cover those damnable hipbones. He kept his eyes to the roof, ignoring Ben’s presence to the best of his ability, as Erel nodded yes.
“Well,” Ben said, bending at the knees to get closer to Erel. It was an awful move, particularly because it also meant he was closer to Hux’s face. “You know all that stuff your mom and dad say about eating vegetables?”
Erel blinked his big eyes, sparse brows cinching in the middle. “No…,” He mumbled, folding his hands against his chest.
Before Hux could defuse the situation, Myrilla put her hands on her hips and, grinning ear to ear in the way only an oblivious child or a sociopath could, shouted, “Our parents are dead!”
Ben’s smile turned to ash and his face turned white as bone. His lips moved wordlessly, hands caught in the air like he meant to pull his statements from time and space. When he finally managed to speak, it was gibberish. “Oh, God, I’m so, I didn’t really know or anything I,” He stuttered, unable to make sense of himself. He looked to Hux with wide eyes, brow wrinkled. “Hux,” He said, exasperated. He needed help. He needed a way to get out of this awful mess.
Hux just laughed.
He roared, eyes squeezed shut hard enough to make them water. His cheeks grew red with exertion, body bent at the center where the laughter made him heave. Ben shattered in front of him, shoulders drooping as he tried to find an explanation in all this. Myrilla jointed in with Hux, giggling and hopping up and down on the lawn. Ben could only narrow his eyes, struck silent by their cackling as Erel stared on, just as confused.
By the time Hux calmed himself, he was struggling to breathe. He held up one hand and gasped in air, diaphragm stinging inside him. “Wait,” He said between gulps of air, still smiling, “I promise I’m not a psychopath. It’s just…” He shook his head and wiped the tears from his face. For a moment, Ben considered that he might not mind if Hux were a psychopath. He was almost pretty enough with a smile to excuse it.
Hux gathered the shambles of his composure, turning his eyes down on Myrilla. The girl smirked up at him, nose stuck in the air like all the world could kiss feet and leave her sacred offerings. “This one here,” Hux said, reaching down to press his fingertip to her nose, “has pulled a little bit of a prank on you,” He said, making Myrilla laugh again. “Her parents are absolutely fine, though I can see why she lied.”
Ben exhaled and fell back on his ass, head tipping toward the sky. He rubbed one hand over the front of his face, cheeks burning. Myrilla kept up her giggling, running little circles around Ben and Hux. “I got you!’ She cried, arms flailing. Slowly, Ben’s smile returned.
“And why was it alright for her to pull one over on me, Hux?” Ben said, standing back up. He was only three two inches taller than Hux, but those two inches became torturous once Ben decided to start staring down with half-lidded eyes. “What was so funny about that, to you?
“Well,” Hux started, shifting Erel in his arms. “I’m a little mean, to be honest.”
“A little sadistic, perhaps?” Ben continued, still grinning ear to ear.
Hux narrowed his eyes. The air between them seemed to crackle, straining under some unseen tension. The world was being pulled taught around them and, as it stretched further out, Hux could not deny his urge to step closer and make things worse. “Perhaps,” He replied, eyes falling from Ben’s eyes to his lips. Had they always been that pink? Somehow, he hadn’t noticed before.
“Well,” Ben said, stepping away and back toward his camera. The tension shattered and air rushed back to Hux’s lungs, world pulling itself back together. The sound of the wind was all too clear, rushing overhead as Ben finished fiddling with camera and gestured for his “family” to join him in front of it. “I guess I know one thing about my husband, at least.”
“I suppose you do,” Hux replied, taking Myrilla by her hand and taking his place at Ben’s side. He stared down the black lens of the camera, hugging Erel closer and taking military posture.
When they were first invented, many people feared cameras. The superstitious claimed they stole away a person’s heart and mind, that cameras robbed men of their very souls once the flash cleared. As Ben’s arm came around his waist and pulled him close, Hux almost believed that to be true. The camera didn’t flash, simply clicked, but he could have sworn he felt both his heart and mind leave his body.
Ben ran back and forth between the camera and his “family”, setting up the next shot after checking the last. The first dozen were normal, Ben smiling as Hux, the diligent Order officer of Republic nightmares, glared onward. Meanwhile, the children did their best not to blink. After they’d finished with that, Ben took pause at the camera, admiring their work before looking over at Hux.
“Are you ready for the wild stuff?” Ben asked, grabbing the Goodwill bag. He pulled out more chunky sweaters, tossing them toward Hux and the kids. The blender rolled out onto the grass, clinking against the discarded beer bottles.
Hux sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I can’t back out now,” He said, stooping to the grass to help Erel into his outfit. It was snot yellow and dotted with brown smudges that Hux imagined were supposed to be reindeers but, worn away by years of abuse, looked more like tiny turds. Erel, ever calm, didn’t seem to mind. He was, after all, only two.
Myrilla, on the other hand, pouted. She pulled her sweater on over her dress all by herself, running her hands over the front and the Santa Elmo sewn there. The burrito stains from the restaurant were covered, but she did not seem pleased.“I hate Elmo,” she whined, turning toward Ben. “He’s evil!”
Ben quirked a brow as he walked back over, various Christmas ornaments and decorations balanced in his arms. “Why is Elmo evil? I always thought Elmo was a nice guy.”
Myrilla shook her head. “No!” She shouted, throwing her arms up in the air. “He makes Mr. Noodle live in his closet! Elmo is a jerk!”
Hux and Ben shared a look, smirks on their faces. “Well,” Ben said, setting up the camera for another round of shots, “I’m glad you know kidnapping is wrong. Makes us look like better fake parents.” Ben draped tinsel over her shoulders and pressed a ceramic gnome in her hands. Meanwhile, Hux unfolded the bright green sweater Ben had thrown his way.
“I don’t remember seeing you buy this,” Hux said, turning the sweater toward Ben. The face was emblazoned with a ring of four leaf clovers that centered four, simple words: Kiss me, I’m ginger. Hux was pink from head to toe, fidgeting as Ben started to snicker. “I might be mistaken, but I’m fairly certain this isn’t a Christmas sweater, Ben.”
“It isn’t, but then this isn’t supposed to make much sense, now is it?” He said, giving Erel a stuffed reindeer to hold and hoisting the boy into his own arms. “Besides, I think you’ll look cute with it on.”
That struck any rebuttal from Hux’s mouth and he fell into silent compliance. He pulled the jacket of his uniform off and tossed it over one of the chairs, grateful for the few moments of darkness provided when he pulled the sweater overhead. In that time, he was spared the trying agony of seeing Ben’s stupid, gorgeous face. “Alright,” he said, smoothing out the front of the sweater. It was too large on him, hanging off his shoulders and showing too much of his collar bones. “Let’s get on with this.”
They spent the next two hours racing against the sun, taking as many photos as they can before darkness shuts them out entirely. Forty-five minutes in, it occurred to Hux that he could have made more money in less time simply by offering to watch Mitaka’s siblings. However, before the thought had time to mean anything in his head, Ben asked him to strike a pose against the fence. After six or seven photos and a few laughs, he’d entirely forgotten what he was thinking about.
As the sun started to brush against the horizon, Erel rubbed his eyes and whined. He tugged at Hux’s pant leg and stared up with bleary eyes, little body tuckered out from a day of location hopping. This was the time to leave. Erel was tired, Myrilla looked moments from chucking her gnome on the ground just for fun, and he’d earned his twenty dollars. And, yet, he found himself scrambling for excuses to stay.
“The kids look pretty worn out,” Ben said, pulling the Santa hat he’d worn in the last few shots off. Hux nodded in response, unwilling to speak lest he come out and say something foolish. Ben kicked his foot against the grass, exhaling slowly. He played with the puffball on the end of his hat, watching as Hux helped Erel out of his sweater.
“Yeah, I think we’re going to go now,” Hux said, making sure to keep his eyes down. There was no reason this should be uncomfortable. He’d done more than he’d promised he would. Their transaction was complete. Or, it would be, once Ben gave him the twenty.
Ben rolled his shoulders, nodding. “Shame, I was hoping to make you guys smoothies. I bought that blender for a reason, you know.”
Hux raised a brow, sending Erel off after his sister. “And here I thought that reason was ‘art.’”
“Smoothies can be art,” Ben said, straightening out his back as Hux turned back toward him. Their eyes met in an awkward accident, forcing Hux to hold his breathe and his body steady. Ben pursed his lips and let silence fill the air between them. Though the sun had yet to set, the air was brisk. They could both appreciate their sweaters, ugly and stupid as they were.
Hux shoved his hands in his pockets and struggled to look away. Soon, Ben would hand him that crumpled twenty and send him on his way. Soon, this whole fiasco would be over and he’d be back in his home, telling Mitaka all about the day he lost his mind and decided to waste hours taking photos with a stranger.
Ben held out his hand and Hux reached for it, expecting money. Instead, their fingers bumped together and Hux found nothing but an empty palm. He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat, yanking his hand back down to his side. Ben, just as rigid, continued moving his hand toward its intended target, resting it on Hux’s shoulder.
“Why don’t we take a few photos of just us? The happy couple, and all that?” He said and Hux nodded before better sense could stop him.
Ben took his camera in hand and they walked to the far corner of the yard, still able to see the children bouncing through the grass. They settled down on a large rock framed by bushes, thighs touching together because their make-shift seat didn’t leave enough room for anything else. Hux placed his hands on his lap and stared at the camera, inhaling as Ben’s arm came over his shoulder. They were closer now than they’d been in any of the previous shots and Hux heard his heart beat like horse hooves on the day of the Kentucky Derby.
As Ben lifted the camera in the air, he leaned toward Hux. His breath tickled Hux’s ear, forcing a tingling sensation down over his shoulders. “Say cheese,” He said and Hux forced a smile, head swimming with sensations he dare not describe or confront. Ben’s voice was low and handsome, enough to make him melt like a plastic toy left on a stovetop. If there was a God, he was cruel.
The first few shots went over fine. They smiled and posed, Hux grinning through the way his skin burned where their legs touched. Around the seventh or eighth shot, something went horribly wrong. Hux’s mind turned against him, rushing back against his body like flood waters. His sense that, “It’s only one day,you can resist this,” crumbled under the pressure of their proximity. With Ben snickering at his side, he could only think, “It's only one day, what harm can it do?”
Hux stopped Ben as he moved to set the camera away. “You’re trying to convince your family this is real, right?” He said, voice clipped and serious. Ben blinked a few times then nodded, allowing Hux’s madness to persist. “So,” He said, turning to face Ben, straddling the rock just to stay atop it, “Don’t you think we should give them something to substantiate all this?”
“Substantiate?” Ben repeated, weighing the word on his tongue like he’d never heard it before. He took a few seconds to try and pick up what was laying down, but he came up short. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Hux leaned closer, coming in only inches from Ben’s face. Now, Ben was the one shifting under the feeling of breath skirting across his skin. “I mean that young, happy couples taking cheesy holiday photos often follow through on the things their ugly sweaters say,” Hux whispered, looking from Ben’s eyes to his lips and back again. He set one hand on Ben’s knee, smiling. “So, for the sake of the ruse, shouldn’t we kiss?”
Ben’s eyes widened and he sat up stick straight. He looked like he’d been struck by lighting, all the hairs on his body standing on end. Hux kept a calm face, staring him down even as his stomach tied itself in knots.
It was entirely possible Ben would hate him for this. He’d known the man for only a few hours; there was no telling how he’d respond. So, as Ben lifted his hand, Hux closed his eyes and delved into the darkness behind his eyelids. He imagined himself being shoved back off the rock and falling into nothing. He imagined a fist coming against his jaw and harsh words against his ears, the children crying out from across the yard. He imagined soft lips against his own, just firm enough to make him gasp.
Then he opened his eyes and saw that Ben’s lips were pressed to his own. The hand he’d envisioned as a fist traced the edge of his jawline, coaxing him into the kiss. Hux obliged, sinking deeper, knotting his fingers in the front of Ben’s hideous sweater. He felt his pulse reach a fever pitch, willing him forward even as common sense threatened to spill in and set things straight.
The camera clicked once before they parted, an afterthought in their minds. Their faces lingered near one another, breath intermingling. Hux stroked the pad of his thumb over the knit of Ben’s sweater, unwilling to move away and uncertain how he’d do it even if he wanted. Ben mirrored his expression, lips parted as his eyes lingered on Hux’s mouth.
“Do you,” Ben started, words falling short as he steadied his breathing. He bit down of his lower lip, fingertips still petting Hux’s jaw. “Do you think they’d be grossed out if we used tongue?”
“Yeah,” Hux said, leaning back in. “Definitely.”
Their lips came together again, harder than they had the first time. Ben parted his lips for him, allowing Hux’s tongue to press against his own. His hold on Hux’s face shifted, fingers falling back to curl in his hair. His hair was hard with gel, but Ben caressed it anyway. Hux moaned into his mouth, spreading his fingers out across his chest. They nipped at each other's lips and Hux felt Ben’s heart against his hands, his own rattling in his chest like a beast against its cage.
When they pull apart again, it was because Myrilla was screaming across the yard. “I want to go!” She shouted, stomping her boots against the ground. “I’m bored!”
Hux looked at her and exhaled. His heartbeat slowed and he cooled, hands falling away from Ben. He stood and Ben followed suit, standing on shaky legs. Hux looked him over and swallowed, squaring off his shoulders. It was done, now. He’d enjoyed himself a little and now, finally, after so many slip ups, it was time to go.
“Do you, ah, do you think you got the shot?” Hux said, pulling the sweater off and handing it back to Ben. He smoothed his hair down, fingers lingering on the place Ben had tangled with his own.
Ben inhaled, eyes widening as he looked down at the camera. “Actually,” He said, voice quiet, “I think I forgot to take it.”
He looked up at Hux and stared, silent. The sun was almost gone, just peaking over the horizon, and the wind came in colder and colder. Hux braced himself against the chill, eyes falling to the sweater he’d given away and the man holding it. The world fell down upon his shoulders, gravity wrapping around his limbs and demanding he stay. It would be easy to indulge, to relent yet again and allow himself to open up. Ben was charming and handsome and kind. It would be so easy to stay. It would be so easy to try. Was there really anything to fear?
Myrilla shouted again and Hux turned his face toward her. He was losing sight of what really mattered. He was losing touch with reality, with his goals. He was an officer of the First Order, a man cut out for glorious and demanding work. He did not have time for pretty Republic boys, brilliant as their smiles were. Nice as their lips had felt against his own. A night’s indulgence was already too much. So, even with the world to break his stride and pin him, he walked away.
Hux pulled Myrilla out of her sweater, set it aside, and collected his uniform jacket. He took Erel back into his arms and lead Myrilla by her hand, guiding them back through the frat house. Ben trailed them through the dark, empty rooms. When they all stopped at the front door, Ben pulled out his phone and offered it to Hux. The light glew too bright in the dim house and Hux squinted against it, staring at an empty notepad screen.
“Your address or P.O. box,” Ben said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You know, for the Christmas card when it’s done.”
Hux considered handing the phone back without typing. But, he’d come all this way. The least he deserved was some indication of all his “modeling” work. He typed in his mailing address and handed the phone back. Ben opened the door for him and he inhaled, stepping out on the front porch. “I hope the pictures come out alright,” He said, looking back over his shoulder.
“I’m sure they will,” Ben said, leaning against the inside of the doorframe. He gave a lopsided smile and Hux forced himself to maintain his frown.
“Goodbye Ben,” Erel mumbled, waving his hand and blinking back sleep. Ben chuckled and tipped his head forward.
“Goodbye to you, too,” He said, reaching out and shaking Erel’s hand. Ben did the same for Myrilla, whispering, “And the same to you, Myrilla. I have faith you’ll keep being trouble for Hux here.” She beamed and Ben stood back up.
Hux and Ben watched each other, each waiting for the other to move first. Hux, with a child wriggling at his side, lost the battle. “Ben,” He said, voice crisp and professional.
“Hux,” Ben returned.
“It was nice meeting you. I hope you have a good night.” Hux turned and went on his way, trailing down the front steps and past the crowded driveway. Behind him, Ben stayed in the doorway, watching until Hux had placed the children in their carseats and taken off down the road, headlights blinding.
“Yeah,” He said. “It was nice meeting you too, Hux.”
Four miles from home, Hux gasped and pulled over. He put the car in park and set his forehead against the steering wheel, cursing under his breathe. Myrilla squirmed in her seat, trying to see out the window. “Why are we stopped?” She asked, searching the dark road for monsters and criminals.
Hux’s face slipped to smile and then he laughed hard enough to make himself snort again. He threw his body back against the seat, wracked by laughter and aching. Erel stirred from rest and whined, Myrilla’s eyes narrowing to slits. “What is it?” She asked. “What is so funny?”
Hux covered his mouth his his hand, choking on his laughter. When he finally calmed, he was panting and grinning. He closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to believe himself. “I forgot the twenty dollars.”
Two weeks later, Hux opened his mailbox to find four bills, an advertisement for rushed auto-loans, and a letter in a mint green envelope. He tossed the ad out and turned the green envelope over in his hand, reading the handwritten addresses. He stood up straighter as he read the words “Ben Solo-Organa," heart leaping into his throat.
He peeled open the letter, careful not to damage the envelope, and pulled the Christmas card out. It was double-sided and made of shiny photo paper, smooth against his fingers. On the front, the words “Season's Greetings from the Solo-Organas!” stood out in swirling red font, surrounded by various photos of their “family." He smiled at the one where Myrilla was up on Ben’s shoulders, tugging on his hair and squealing with delight. The ones where he stood, statuesque and ferocious, in his uniform beside Ben’s vibrant face made him chuckle. They’d kill Ben’s family for sure.
When he turned it over, Hux found three things. First, there was a description of the family’s “goings-ons.” It described how “proud” Ben was of Hux’s ascent in the Order military, how Erel had just mastered buttoning his coat, how Myrilla had a strong anti-Elmo stance, how Hux’s laugh was adorable and precious. But, despite how sweet that was, Hux found himself unable to look at it. For, spanning the rest of the back, was their picture.
Their lips were pressed together, bodies pulled close. Hux’s hair looked like wildfire in the sunset light, Ben’s cheeks dusted pink. Hux’s heart fluttered in his chest as he traced the image with his eyes. Ben was holding him close, arm over his shoulder. They looked happy. They looked like they were lovers. They looked like they were in love.
It wasn’t true. Hux knew that. But, staring down at their photo, he could believe it. He almost wanted to.
His eyes moved to the hand scrawled note covering all the blank space on the backside. The letters were looping and gorgeous, smeared at the edges where too big hands had brushed over wet ink.
The message said this:
Hux, I really enjoyed meeting you. These pictures came out absolutely perfect. In fact, and this just a thought, but I think they came out well enough to warrant a follow-up. I can’t imagine how my family would act if they actually met you. If you’re down to come to our Christmas Eve Party, call me at (555)-450-3297. Hoping to see you soon, Ben.
Hux cradled the card in his hands, reading Ben’s message over and over. It was madness. He had no reason to go through with this. He had his own parties to attend, his own life to deal with.
Then again, Ben Solo-Organa seemed to have a way of making him do crazy things.