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“Mr. Ren? What are you still doing here?” Kylo Ren bolted up in his chair, glasses flying off in the process, a small spot of drool on the corner of his mouth. What time was it? A brief consultation of his phone’s bright screen had him groaning—it was half past eleven at night, and he had fallen asleep, waiting for a merger’s phone call.
It wasn’t a good look, and he knew it, squinting to make out the figure in the doorway. In a moment, his office was flooded with light, the surprise illumination leaving the man stunned and hissing at the intensity of the fluorescents. It took his eyes a minute to adjust, the man attempting wipe the sleep away from his eyes. When his gaze remained bleary, he huffed, self-consciously, helpless without his glasses.
Again, not a good look.
Kylo startled as smooth metal nudged his hand, his fingers gingerly closing around his glasses, retrieved from god knows where. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He didn’t need his glasses on to guess who the speaker was now, her British lilt familiar but still distant, but still, he put them on, looking up.
“It’s alright, Rey. You just startled me.” She hummed at him before resuming her spot by the door, and he wondered if it was out of habit or a requirement, a tick developed by her training, her worklife so vastly different from his. He was chief financial officer of First Order, Inc., and she was Armitage Hux’s secretary, the right hand woman to the company’s COO. She offered him a terse smile as he struggled to pull himself together.
“What does Hux want?” She chuckled at his question, the laugh dry and low, the two’s bond stemming only from how insufferable the exacting chief operating officer could be. “He actually wants you to go home. Figures that it’s Christmas and all…might as well be at home when you get the phone call.” She snickered again as he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“He rerouted my office phone to my cell phone again, didn’t he?” He glanced at her, grateful that she was approaching him again, now standing before his desk, smirk playing on her lips as she leaned towards him. “He actually had me do it this time. Happy Christmas.” Another groan, and she was practically cackling at his frustration.
Rey was an interesting colleague to have, Kylo decided for at least the fifth time since she started the past year. Bold and blunt enough to tell you off, to befriend the higher ups (she had CEO Snoke wrapped around her little finger, Hux swore), and yet sweet and hardworking enough to remain loyal and dutiful to her work, Rey was still a bit mysterious as far as he was concerned. He could never tell if she actually liked him or not, her jabs sarcastic and yet relatable, her manner friendly and yet cool and distant. He knew that if anyone was to be biased against him, it’d be her, having to listen to Hux and any complaints the COO had about the CFO, and yet here she was, joking as always.
“Got any plans tonight, Ren?” She was looking past him, out the window, watching the snow descend, swirling against the glass panes. Rey wasn’t sure what she was doing right now—although that went without saying whenever she was around Mr. Kylo Ren. Since her first day at First Order, she had heard multiple complaints about him, though from the same person. In the beginning, she had been determined to stay out of his way, not particularly eager to be hit on or harassed in any way. (Though she’d be a liar if she claimed that she didn’t want to see him drunk—Hux had told her many colorful stories about Ren’s antics at past holiday parties and she looked forward to the New Year’s Eve office party a bit too much because of it.)
To say that she was almost disappointed when the complaints were unfounded is an understatement. Kylo seemed quiet, intense, flares of temper being more common than a wayward wink or comment. And he was funny, something that her supervisor was most definitely not, though she was sure that he was trying harder now, seeing how he’d bristle when she’d mention Ren, repeat a joke of his. He interested her, and she wasn’t sure if she should entertain that interest—but here she was, on Christmas Eve, almost Christmas, in his office, after Hux had left for the night, probably about to say something stupid.
“No…definitely no plans. You?” She couldn’t tell if he was actually interested, or if he was only being polite, his hands now rifling through a stack of papers, even though he didn’t have to work. She wondered if he was biding his time, waiting for her to excuse herself, to go home alone to her studio apartment. She was tempted to, suddenly longing for her pajamas and solitude, her face starting to burn, the blush’s flare spreading to the back of her neck—but still, she was too far gone to stop now. “Actually, yes. I’m planning on getting a bottle of schnapps so I can drink while I walk around, looking for the best Christmas lights in the city.”
She was so deadpan, her face so serious, that Kylo allowed himself to snort, laughter and surprise mixing in the sound. “That’s…oddly specific. Don’t you have a family to go home to? Or a party to go celebrate at?” He looked at her over his glasses, trying to decipher her face, her gaze intense on him. He was self-conscious as the seconds ticked by, a mere moment that felt like an hour, and he briefly entertained the thought that she found him attractive—but with his wrinkled shirt, and the fact that she caught him sleeping, he doubted it. Still, he had to wonder, watching a smile halfheartedly bloom on her cheeks.
“Not in the states. Besides, since Poe and Finn tied the knot, it’s been a bit odd to party with them.” She crinkled her nose, thinking of her friends, wondering how Resistance Tech, their startup, was handling the holidays, if their office was decorated or if it was like the First Order, where there was only a tiny tree on the receptionist’s desk, where silence replaced holiday tunes. She couldn’t complain too much though—Hux did let her listen to her Christmas playlist, and she caught him humming along sometimes.
“Well, since you don’t have any plans…why don’t you join me? It beats waiting up all night for a phone call, and anyways, if it’s like last year, I need someone to put me a cab at the end of the night.” At his raised eyebrow, she shrugged feebly: “One too many sips of schnapps. Can’t touch the peppermint flavored variety anymore—that was a bad night.”
Kylo hesitated, gaze sweeping over his desk, considering the stack of work before him, sparing a glance at his coatrack, where his coat and scarf hanged. Another glance, now on her face, hope and curiosity all sitting on a cocked eyebrow, and he was on his feet, reaching for his scarf, looping it around his neck. “Yeah. Yeah! What the hell…it’s Christmas.” There was her gleeful laugh again, and he wondered if there was a way to bottle the sound—he probably could get drunk off of that, schnapps be damned.
“We could go to Times Square. Plenty of lights there.” He watched her consider her hands, blowing on her fingers before she shook her head, taking another swig from the bottle he now offered, shivering despite the liquid heat coursing down her throat. Rey glanced up, looking at the stars, indecipherable in the mix of air pollution and falling snow, sucking on her bottom lip before answering: “They’re not Christmas lights—besides, there’s a million people there.” She huffed, as if he just didn’t understand, and he was about to open his mouth, defend his suggestion when he caught her smile, her wink.
This wasn’t Rey’s first time on this kind of expedition, a fact that was exceedingly clear as she took charge, rattling off streets that had favorable light displays years prior. When he had looked at her, eyebrow raised, mouth ajar to ask, she had shrugged at him again, a small, maybe bitter, smile forming an answer. “Tradition I started back in college. I used to do this back home, with my grandfather. This,” she raised the peach schnapps, as if to cheers, “just makes the journey a lot more interesting, y’know?” He could only nod, the mystery behind this girl deepening and yet clearing, his eyes having a hard time leaving her.
Of all his Christmases, Kylo was fairly sure that this was one of the more unique ones. Sure, there was that year that his father had insisted that the family take a road trip and they had ended up getting stranded in Tatooine, Arizona—but it didn’t quite compare to wandering the streets of New York with a buzz and his colleague’s secretary. She was tugging on his sleeve now, whining at him to look, and he did—but not at whatever light display she was pointing at.
At her. Maybe it was the peach schnapps (a choice that he teased her about), but there was a warmth in his chest and throat whenever he glanced her way, a fondness creeping up his joints, watching her fingers comb through her long brown hair, having finally harrumphed at her bun. He appreciated her openness, how frankly she talked to him, how poetic her words became when she was three swigs into the bottle. Rey was no longer hesitating with him, the liquor loosening her tongue as she told him about her grandfather, back in England; about her college days; about Beebee, the kitten she had gotten from Poe for her birthday two months ago, and how he wouldn’t sleep in his own bed.
In turn, he talked too. He told her about all the crazy Christmases he had growing up, about how his mom and dad would pretend that Uncle Luke was actually Santa, about how he missed the simplicity of childhood at Christmas. He knew better than to ask what Hux thought of him, especially after Rey had whispered to him, conspiratorially, that she was fairly sure her boss had a crush on her, that she thought he was nice. It burned him, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit why. Kylo knew that he was in trouble about four sips in, when she leaned into him at a stoplight, sleepily sighing and complaining that they hadn’t found enough Christmas lights, her pout adorable in the streetlights’ glow.
He found himself taking more sips of the schnapps, his intoxicated brain reasoning that it was as close to kissing her as he’d ever get, that she was too loyal to Hux to date his colleague, that she was more professional than he was, despite it being her idea to stumble across New York with him. Kylo wasn’t sure how they ended up at Central park, huddled on a bench, half a bottle between them, her eyes heavy lidded as she considered him, voice soft but slurred.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” It was a stupid question in Kylo’s opinion, and he wanted to tell her as much, that he thought her freckles were perfect, that her hair looked soft, that she looked better than any girl he had ever come across. What came out of his mouth, instead, much to his sober regret, was one word: “Yup.” His smile was sloppy, and he could only pray that the merger hadn’t called, wouldn’t call, because, if he couldn’t tell a girl why she was pretty, then how the hell would he manage settling a business contract?
Rey seemed content with his answer, humming and resting her head on his shoulder, scuffing her shoe through the snow under the bench. He wondered if he was allowed a question, or maybe a statement, turning to the girl at his side, face suddenly solemn. “Can I say something stupid?” Her nod was just as grave, and she patted his hand, as if she expected some dramatic news, some confession, some sin.
“I don’t believe in Santa anymore—but if I did…” The businessman burst into laughter now, imagining himself trying to tell Santa what he wanted for Christmas, his inebriated state making the thought that much more comical, “I would ask him to get me a kiss from you for Christmas. Like, that would be all I need.” He nodded solemnly again, another snicker escaping his lips, cracking himself up, his laughter almost sad, now that he considered his wish. It’d never come true—so maybe it was okay to believe in asking Santa for it. It was make-believe, just like every good thing in life.
When he looked up, at Rey’s face, he was expecting for her to have already left, to have been offended and to stalk off—but she hadn’t. Instead, she considered him thoughtfully, playing with her hands, the hem of her scarf, his gloves. He didn’t expect her to lean forward, didn’t expect for her to allow him to lean forward and touch his lips to hers. He could have sworn that she smiled into the kiss, that she was twining her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer—but even if she wasn’t, he’d pretend that she was, and be content with being allowed to kiss her. She sighed against his lips, and he wondered for a moment if she liked him, even just as a friend, that this kiss wasn’t out of pity. Even if it was, he’d take it. It was Christmas, after all.
The night blurred together after all. In the morning, he’d faintly remember walking to the street with Rey, hailing a cab and collapsing into the backseat in a fit of giggles, the secretary’s laughter making the sound sweet. He’d wonder if he kissed her again, if he had at least made sure that she got back to her place safe. He’d find that she had put her number in his phone at some point on the ride home, and he’d have only enough courage to ask her the second question, not mentioning the first, not mentioning any kisses, just in case she had forgotten. She’d confirm that she was safe, and he would wish he wasn’t so relieved, that he was detached, already reaching for his phone as it buzzed again, the merger finally calling.
It wasn’t the easiest phone call that he ever had, head pounding, stomach queasy—but it was still successful, a fact that let him end the call confidently, letting the phone drop to his side, mind busy on memories from the night before. Sure, he had woken up in his suit, and his hangover would be one of the ages…but his mouth still tasted like peach schnapps and Rey.
And if that wasn’t a good taste to wake up to, then he would gladly sleep through Christmas, a smile playing on his lips as he rolled over, wondering how soon he could ask her to join him for dinner, if she’d remember this Christmas like he did.