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Gifts were sentimental, unnecessary, frivolous. General Hux does not give gifts. But this was not a gift for no reason, he had decided when he brought the object to Ren. It was something that would boost morale, something Ren sorely needs right now, after Starkiller. Boost Ren's morale and Hux's plans will move more smoothly. He's really helping himself.
"What the hell is it for?" Ren asked, not unkindly, just surprised. Maybe a little suspicious. This surely seemed strange to him, getting this not-gift.
The days after Starkiller have been strange. By day cycle, Hux acts little different, except busier. Hungrier to succeed. After his initial depression, and it was dark and deep and howling, and it was bad, he found himself mentally reset like a machine that had been wiped clean, repaired, and back to itself. Plotting retribution, he has found, is invigorating. Tiring, yes, but in a good way.
By night, Ren almost always finds a reason to come by. He's wrecked another bed. He's wrecked the temperature controls. He's wrecked the door. Can he stay here? It's almost impressive, his willingness to destroy in order to have his way. Hux usually is in the middle of something and sighs, lets him stay, points to the bed and works for another hour or two before joining him. They haven't so much as kissed yet, besides every now and then kissing each other's foreheads almost like they were kidding, or mocking the other, but on the nights Ren does not come, Hux slept worse, shivered more, as though he'd grown too dependent on Ren's warmth.
Hux sniffed at Ren's question, as though he couldn't believe anyone wouldn't know what this is for.
"I imagine a spiritual, metaphysical guru such as yourself would already know." Then again, it was from Arkanis, a place Ren has never been, so it might be unfair to expect him to know.
"What, is it a good-luck charm?"
"There's no such thing as luck," Hux responded crisply, dangling the object from his gloved hand, twirling it back and forth in his fingers. It was a stone on a chain, a stone that is so deep red that in low light it was a dull black. In sunlight, or high artificial light, though, the redness of it practically pulsed. "There's only determination and opportunity. But these are supposed to help with concentration and clear-headedness, and keep the owner safe because they're thinking more carefully and less impulsively. Something you could do with." He hated that he had to tinge it with an insult in order to justify handing it over, but the barb didn't seem to affect Ren. He held out his hand so Hux could give it to him.
"Do I hang it from my saber?" Ren quipped, and his smile was so warm and sly that Hux began to hate how happy he felt for a moment.
"Cram it directly up your ass if you want to. It's nothing to me."
Ren's smile only grew more wolfish and Hux burned, thinking of what the implication of that might have been. "It was expensive," he continued. "Don't lose it."
Don't lose it. Don't get lost. Don't let me lose you.
That night, Ren arrived in Hux's quarters once again.
"What is it this time?" Hux asked, bored and distracted, playing along.
"The lock on my door."
"You broke it?"
"I really didn't mean to this time," Ren admitted. This is part of their nighttime game, occasionally stepping back and acknowledging, like Ren did that first night, that none of this is happening accidentally. "I just was trying to reprogram it and--nothing on this ship works right."
"Everything works perfectly. They're just not meant to be manhandled the way you do."
"A warship seems like the kind of thing that should withstand a manhandling."
Hux rolled his eyes. "My apologies, Ren, I'll have everything you're likely to come in contact with reinforced."
Ren began to strip for bed and Hux, from the corner of his eye--or so he thought-- noticed the dull red sparkle of the stone around his neck. Ren caught him. "You said not to lose it. I had to strap it to me." The chain was delicate, strangely so against all the rest of him, which was for the most part not in any way delicate. The little stone sat just at the top of his breastbone.
"Good."
When they curled up together that night, in the quiet, agreed-upon calmness, Hux ran his thumb along the stone, warmed from sitting against Ren's skin. Ren might have agreed with him more than he realized. There's only determination and opportunity, and Ren had taken advantage of both, and that was why they were there lying in each other's arms.
"Has it worked yet?" he asked Ren.
"Your present?"
"It'd be nice to know if it was worth the money."
"You keep telling me how much you spent on me. I'd like to think you're boasting."
"I'm just making a point."
"Is it supposed to make me focus on what I want, and do it better?"
"Yes," Hux said, through a yawn. "I thought I already explain--"
Ren leaned in and kissed him, not too much pressure but certainly not a fearful, shrinking kiss, just the right intensity and the rest of Hux's sentence warped into a surprised little moan, a good one, a happy one. It wasn't a long one, only a few seconds, but when Ren pulled away, Hux found himself opening his mouth soundlessly as a fish, wanting more, hoping for more, his blood rushing hot and reckless under his skin.
It was hard to see anything besides Ren's gleaming dark eyes in the low light, the little stone sparkling, matching, but Hux knew just what his smile looked like.
"You got your money's worth, General."