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Something is going on.
Hux is sure of it at this point. The furtive glances between members of the bridge crew, the strange sideways looks they toss about when they think he's not looking. The whispered conversations that cut off as he passes, that resume the moment they think he's out of earshot. It's disconcerting.
Stranger still, they don't seem unhappy.
The crew isn't restless, aching for a new engagement, another battle. They aren't terrified, as they were during those long months of search for the map, when Kylo stormed about the ship like a caged hurricane. Not uncertain, scuttling like spiders away from his footsteps, as they were after Starkiller.
No, they're something else.
Bright smiles hidden behind fluttering fingers.
Eyes that quirk upward as he passes, as they look furtively down the corridors.
It's strange. And yet, there's nothing for Hux to critique. The work is being done, completed even to his exacting standards. He can hardly instruct them to display less happiness. So instead he walks about the ship half perplexed, half anxious, waiting for the other boot to drop.
He thinks Kylo can tell something's bothering him. The man hasn't been back to Hux's rooms in almost a week. And it's not as though Hux misses him. No, indeed, he's gotten quite a bit of extra work done, what with Kylo's continued absence. And he does not miss him.
But his room does feel a little empty when he finally gets back to it that night. And it marks six whole days since Kylo was there. Six nights of sitting alone at his desk, brandy clutched too hard between his fingers, lips clamped tight around a cigarette. Six nights of curling tight in his bed, too cold, trying not to nose into the pillow next to him. And as he lies beneath the sheet, stares at the ceiling, he wonders what he did wrong.
Was he too frustrated, too nervous about the crew?
Did he talk too much? He knows he likes to talk, knows Kylo is used to silences.
Did he hold too tight? He knows that late at night, when he thinks it's too dark for Kylo to see, he clutches fingers around Kylo's shoulders, leaving bright marks in Kylo's skin that take days to fade.
Or was it something more fundamental? Was it not what he did, but who he is? Because Hux, knows, deep somewhere behind his eyes, where he hoards up the things he doesn't want to examine, that he was never meant for this. And maybe, maybe Kylo has finally realized that as well.
It takes him a long time to fall asleep.
***
When he makes his way onto the bridge that morning, the smiles are still there. No. They're bigger. And he gets an actual “good morning, General” from CPO Unamo, so far outside her usual curt salute that he trips, stumbling a little as he passes her station. Mitaka grins at him, and even Thanisson looks slightly less terrified than usual. And once Hux gets to the front of the bridge, his heart is beating a little faster, his breath coming in short gasps that he's struggling to completely control. Because this is too strange, too out of the ordinary.
He calms down throughout the day. Alpha and beta shifts pass without incident, at least until the last half hour. Then Mitaka comes up to him – and why is the lieutenant working another double shift, Hux will have to look into that – and gives him a small smile.
“Ah. General. Lord Ren has requested our presence in the deck nine hangar.” Hux quirks an eyebrow, ignores the ache in his bones at Kylo's name.
“Our presence, Lieutenant. Surely Lord Ren did not request you and me specifically.” Mitaka colors, but Hux can practically see him stiffening his spine. If there's something to be said about the lieutenant, it's that he doesn't lack pluck.
“No sir. That of the entire bridge crew. Or at least, everyone who can be spared.” Hux sniffs. Just like Kylo. Ignore Hux for a week, then imperiously summon his crew to an empty hangar bay.
“Well then, Lieutenant. Don't keep Lord Ren waiting. I, myself, cannot be spared.” And Hux knows it's petty, knows he should just go, see what Kylo wants him for. But he can't help it.
“I... uh... he requested you, specifically, General. I... um... he was very forceful about it.” There's nothing for it, then. Hux will just have to swallow his pride. It's not fair to send Mitaka back to Kylo otherwise. Not fair for the lieutenant to suffer for Hux's small hurt, for Hux's own failures, for whatever has driven Kylo away. He gives Mitaka a curt nod, turns to the rest of the crew.
“We will be making our way down to deck nine now. Skeleton crew, keep to your stations.” There's a low murmur that passes around the room, but they all get up without complaint, and Hux leads them to the exit, the officers in the pits disappearing on their own separate ways.
And the corridors are strangely full, especially for a time like this, before the end of a shift. There are stormtroopers everywhere. There are officers dancing around, too much of a spring in their steps. And oddly, oddly they all seem to be making their way down through the ship.
And the lifts are packed when Hux and the bridge crew get to them, but people pull back to let Hux through. Yet. Yet there are the whispers again, and Hux has the horrible feeling that everyone knows something that he doesn't.
Then they're stepping off the lift onto deck nine, and there are still more people. And that's even stranger, because this side of deck nine leads only to the extra hangar where Kylo wants to meet them, and no one should be there except the few guards. Hux almost turns aside to ask someone, but a grimace from Unamo sends him back on track. She's right. He can sort this out later. Kylo will certainly not wait.
And then.
Hux steps inside the hangar.
Stops.
Because there are more people. Because there's some sort of music. Because the people are drinking something, eating, laughing together. Because there's some sort of decoration in red and black around the edges of the room.
Because this can't be what Kylo called them down for.
He closes his eyes, wonders what will happen when he opens them again. And then, then he feels someone behind him. And a low voice whispers in his ear.
“Open your eyes, General.” And it's Kylo, of course. Kylo, face bare, missing his cowl, standing there with a smile so wide that it looks like it should split his face in two. Kylo, with his eyes bright, sparkling in the light of the hangar. Kylo, who he has not heard from in a week.
Hux almost punches him.
But he can't, not when Kylo is grinning at him like that. Not when they're standing in the middle of a party – a real party – and Kylo is reaching out, pulling him deeper inside the room by a shoulder. Hux laughs, because there is nothing else to do. And he glances around, but the bridge crew has dispersed into the milling crowd, and he and Kylo, they're standing together at a still point, a silent center around which chaos swirls.
“What is this, Kylo?” And he keeps his voice low, stands close enough that Kylo can hear. Kylo presses a glass into his hand, red and black layers of some sort of alcohol.
“The Empire had Empire Day. The New Republic has Life Day. But us? What do we have?” And Hux has never really thought about it. At the academy, growing up, there had been no time for this sort of thing. They had given little thought to building their new society, to celebrating the First Order, that regime that had clawed its way into being in ash and smoke and ruin. A time for celebrating would come, but not until they had made a new world for themselves, had brought the galaxy to peace.
And he'd never thought that time was now.
Yet it is. The New Republic lies shattered in tiny motes of dust. The Resistance is on the run. And the First Order will soon be completely victorious. And suddenly, surprisingly, Hux feels a laugh bubbling up inside him. And it's pouring out before he can stop it, before he can tie it away deep inside. His head is thrown back, his shoulder shaking where Kylo still clutches him.
“Tell me, Kylo. What do we have?” He finally pants when he recovers. And Kylo's smiling even wider now, grinning at him.
“You don't remember?” When Hux shakes his head, Kylo snickers. “Today is the 22nd anniversary of the day the keel of the very first ship the First Order built on its own was laid. It's Ship Day.” Hux splutters on his mouthful of the sickly sweet drink.
“Ship Day? Who came up with this?” Kylo shifts his eyes slightly sideways, and suddenly, suddenly Hux knows. “You set this up? You dreamed this up?” And of course Kylo did, of course this is his work, his New Republican sentiment finally rearing its head. But somehow, somehow Hux doesn't care. Because they deserve this.
***
It's hours later, when his veins are humming, and he's got the top of his uniform slightly unsealed, that Kylo pulls him towards the buzzing forcefield at the end of the room. And Hux doesn't want to go, is having a perfectly pleasant conversation, thank you very much, but Kylo is insistent.
And when then get there, the lights suddenly dim.
Hux starts, but then. Then Kylo's arms are wrapping about him from behind. And he relaxes into the embrace, into the warmth of Kylo's touch, missing for a week. And it's dim and sweet, and Hux is a little drunk, and Kylo's chest is the perfect place to lean against.
Then he starts away.
Because the crew is all around them, and anyone could see.
And everyone will whisper, and snicker, and laugh.
“They all know already.” Kylo's voice is quiet as he draws Hux back. “They all know and they don't care.” And maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the knowledge that Kylo organized all this, kept it secret from Hux in order to surprise him with something special for the First Order, for him, and maybe it's just acceptance, but he relaxes back into Kylo's warm arms.
And colors explode.
Fireworks.
And he has no idea where Kylo found them, how he's setting them off outside the ship, but as he curls into Kylo touch, stands staring with his crew, his family all around him, looking as colors paint the black of space, he doesn't care.