Impossible

nightsofllyn:

The meeting with Snoke runs late but even when it’s over Ren doesn’t stop arguing—following Hux all the way back to his quarters and then inviting himself inside, still talking.

“Ren—”

Still talking. Taking a seat on the bed, one hand outreached to Millicent’s cautious sniffing. 

“Ren,” Hux says, shedding his greatcoat. Ren doesn’t stop talking, so Hux talks right over him, loud, “Do you want a drink?”

Ren freezes in place, as if he’s just realized where he is. Millicent knocks her head against his fingers, with meowing impatience. “No,” he says, standing up suddenly, spooking the cat, ”No, I should—” he trails off. Hux has peeled off his jacket. It’s been a long day, he aches, he doesn’t care about Ren’s unfathomable objections to the mission. He strips down to his undershirt, then pulls that off, too. That’ll be Ren’s cue to leave.

So, of course, Ren doesn’t leave. “You can’t go to Corb alone,” he says, which is what he has been saying for the past hour, but this time the statement is followed by the hiss of his helmet’s release, “General,” Ren’s voice always sounds naked and raw without the modulator. It draws Hux’s attention up from where he’s poured himself a generous portion of chartreuse. Ren’s eyes are stuck on his collarbones when he says, “You need me to protect you.”

“I’ll have a squad with me,” Hux says.

“It’s not the same,” Ren finally meets his eyes, all dark curls and fanatic stare. He chews his lip. Hux pretends not to notice. Ren’s mouth is problematic, “Take one of my knights.”

“What—you in disguise?” Hux drains his glass to hide his smirk as Ren glares at him, plan foiled, “When did you get so protective?”

Ren’s gaze drops like a scolded pet, but instead of reaching the floor it catches near Hux’s navel, Ren biting those horrid lips again, and Hux has had enough.

“I don’t need you on this mission, and that’s final. It should have been final an hour ago, in the holochamber, but here we are,” he says, flapping a hand dismissively, “I could use you elsewhere, though.”

“Where?” Ren asks quickly, as if he is in the habit of being useful. 

“You could have drinks with me,” Hux shrugs, “like a real person. You could help me take off my boots,” he says, then regrets it, feeling himself flush with embarrassment. He turns back toward the sidetable for the chartreuse, but before he can pull the cap off Ren presses him tight against the table from behind, the fabric of his robes coarse against his bare skin, wide belt biting into his lower back.

Ren catches Hux’s wrists in each hand, first guiding the bottle down to the table, where Hux lets it go with stunned obedience. Then he pins them to the table’s surface leaving no room to wriggle free, draping himself over Hux like a cloak.

“I know what you really want,” Ren says, softly, near his ear, “but it’s impossible.”

“It doesn’t feel impossible,” Hux says, too busy feeling smug with Ren’s hardness rubbing against him to be surprised by the swiftness of Ren’s attack.

“It is impossible,” Ren says, “You wouldn’t be the man you are if we–” Hux opens his mouth to interrupt but feels his breath stolen, like a hand around his neck, just tight enough, “Sssh,” Ren says.

The sound Hux makes in response draws a low laugh from Ren, who seems to forget for a moment how impossible it is, dragging his bottom lip up the side of Hux’s neck to let a shaky breath out near his ear. 

Then the pressure is gone and Ren is storming toward the door.

Hux breathes out, watching him go, holding on to the table in case he falls over. “Don’t forget your helmet,” Hux calls when he hears the door panel activate.

The door swishes closed and Ren tromps back into the room to retrieve his helmet from the bed. He stands still for a moment, head down, helmet in his hand as if awaiting orders, finally willing to listen, but Hux says nothing, too overwhelmed, still goosebumped from the cold he hadn’t felt until he’d felt Ren’s heat and lost it.

Whatever Ren is waiting for, it passes. “I should—” he says, then flees the room.

Hux shakes it off. Pours that second drink. He can’t help but smile at Ren’s cowardice. Such a paradox of a man–strong and weak and smart and dumb and clumsy and graceful and ugly and beautiful. Then Hux’s smile fades, and he’s left holding his empty glass, frowning at an empty bed.