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It begins with Kylo throwing one of his legendary tantrums. Hux is called ("DO something, he's wrecking a lot of expensive equipment and you're the only one he ever seems to listen to!") and he storms into the control room that Kylo is destroying, watches him scream and break things for a few moments, then stomps up to him, grabs him by the shoulder, spins him around and slaps him soundly across the mouth.
Kylo stares. Phasma stares. The two-- three-- four-- six stormtroopers clustered at the end of the hall stare. Hux points a gloved finger in Kylo's face. "That stops," he says through gritted teeth. "Now." Then he turns and leaves, pushing past the growing crowd of onlookers.
It takes a few moments, but eventually Kylo blinks once, twice, closes his mouth and then holsters his sabre. The gawkers in the doorway scatter at once. Someone undoubtedly starts taking bets on how long Hux will last before Kylo finds him and chops off one of his arms. Because of course that's what's going to happen, no one's ever done that to Ren, just whacked him one across the face like a hysterical maid. That nutty ginger's days are numbered.
Kylo's lip swells and he could just wear his mask to hide it but instead he sulks in his quarters, paces back and forth, mutters, prods the tender bruise and examines it in the mirror under a harsh fluorescent light. He spends three days in there, eats sparingly, ignores all calls.
Hux is sent again. Of course he has all the override codes to the doors, and Kylo's swishes open at his command. He sweeps into the room, seizes Kylo by the front of his cloak and hauls him to his feet. "You are wasting everyone's time and trying my patience," he snarls. "Get out there and do your job."
He does. Phasma watches Kylo walk past her, waits half a beat, then holds her hand out for the handful of credits owed to her by Trooper R-8259.
Weeks go by and Kylo remains remarkably tractable, if quieter than usual, and some of the techs actually start to think they won't be called in to repair sabre-ravaged consoles anymore. But old habits die hard, and after a particularly trying day chasing down fleeing rebels through a forest full of tripping vines and dripping branches, a damp and bedraggled Kylo silences the incessant bip bip bip of a broken proximity alarm by jamming forty eight inches of sparking red death through it.
Someone is sent to summon Hux. Others gather at a safe distance, some wondering if there will be a lot of blood to mop up, while others assure them that lightsabre wounds cauterize instantly. Whatever chunks of the general are left can be easily bagged up and disposed of. Then Hux arrives and everyone goes quiet, waiting, watching.
Hux enters. Hux leaves. Several breaths later, Kylo leaves as well, stiff-backed but otherwise calm. Phasma collects another eighty credits. Someone starts to applaud, but is quickly shushed.
Night falls and the stars are cold and bright in Hux's window-- or they would be, if Kylo weren't standing in front of it. "You'd think no one ever put you in a time out before," Hux says, eyes on a report describing a power failure and subsequent repair that was only slightly more dull than watching silicone sealant cure.
"Supreme Leader Snoke--"
"Doesn't have to deal with your outbursts."
"You hit me." Sullen.
"Yes," Hux murmurs, flicking to the next report and praying it wasn't about Stormtrooper Rear Plate Allocations again. "And if you continue to act like a spoiled child, I'll do it again."
There's a pause. Kylo takes a breath.
"Promise?"