Lunch break. White collars scatter past the shade of the high rise umbra; stop at eateries for overpriced sandwiches. Hux has packed lunch, and chooses the local park squander his hour. It is mostly empty, other than a few parents tending to very small children in swings, and a black swathed twenty-something intently sketching the spring flowers. His strokes are quick and clever; every leaf and petal recorded with care.
Interesting. The man’s ink strands hang unbound, partially veiling a splash of dark moles. He is handsome in the best way, the businessman thinks: the kind of beauty that is up for debate. Long digits flex and linger over a zinnia, then flip a page. No doubt skillful hands. Hux takes care not to let his eyes linger too long. Staring is rude.
A toddler breaks the relative peace by sobbing over his skidded knee. The handsome stranger folds his small black sketchbook and pockets it, heading towards the gate. Hux questions himself for a split second before packing the remains of his lunch and following.
He has not gone far; only enough to light a cigarette within safe distance from younger lungs. Hux has a light in his bag, but elects to ignore it when he takes out his menthols.
“Left my lighter in the office,” he lies, feeling foolish.
The man examines him with a look not unlike one he gave to the flowers. Hux feels flattered almost, and leans in to the little flame in his palm. He receives a nod when he breathes in; smells the smoke, smells the cheap cologne on the artist’s jacket.
It is more intimate than it has any right to be.
“Sorry, I peeked at your work. It’s good.”
“Oh.” Seems to have taken him by surprise. “Uh, thanks.”
Ben Solo is the son of Leia Organa, who caused a scandal in her time by wedding Han Solo, a man of much lower birth, poor nobility with a scandalous reputation. He resents that.
Hux is the son of Lord Hux, who was once a high ranking officer in the Queen’s army. An almost caricature of a proper gentleman, only much less charming. He is cordial at parties, but nothing more and seems to just look down on every one.
Ben Solo often goes roaming the less reputable areas of London, getting into fights and rumor says even killed a man once. He calls himself Kylo Ren in those times, which only fools those who have never seen Ben Solo before.
Hux too goes to those seedy places, because he is gay AF and there are only so many places he can go to have the sex he really wants without getting caught. He once had a night of intense, violent sex with a low life named Kylo Ren. It was really good. He is not going to stoop so low as to go looking for him again.
Except Hux and Ben Solo meet at a social gathering, and oh.
They pull each other to the side, fight, snap at each other and agree “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Hate sex.
Keep meeting, keep fighting in a very aggressively polite way. The word goes around that they hate each other, which surprises no one. So when they come back together with their outfits ruffled and hair unkempt, everyone thinks they just fought.
It all ends in an affair between, hate sex that turns not so hateful, and slow despair that the illicit rendez vous are all they will be able to have.
The Emperor knew that the Knight was cheating, but saying so would be admitting that it was working.
A.k.a. Kylo and Hux are training and Kylo is playing dirty by distracting his opponent. It’s not working. Hux is all like “Stop showing off and get back into position why am I putting up with this I don’t need to learn how to use a lightsaber what kind of sick fantasy of yours is this can I go back to my work please.”
dispatches from the dumpster 