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"Morning, General," bellowed Kylo Ren through the modulator of his helmet as he stalked up behind the crisp silhouette of Brendol Hux, who furrowed his brow with a reluctant "good morning" that presented itself as more of a question than a greeting. The general turned to face Ren, perplexion distorting his habitually phlegmatic features; Kylo, in a halfassed attempt at irking the general, gave no response to the unasked but obvious question.
Kylo never did this; to be conscious at such an early hour, and out in the perpetual winter of Starkiller, was not part of his daily routine - and with the general, no less, the one soul Ren went miles out of his way to badger. He truthfully wasn't sure why he spent so much of his time and energy doing things to piss off Hux, he just . . . did them, and Hux presented him with a more than adequate amount of disciplinary action to correct the wrongs of any other (normal) being; any other normal being would have crumbled to the floor under the raucous wrath of the ginger-headed man. Hell, just being in the same room with such an intimidating presence was enough to induce a state of panic in most of the troopers. The knight, however, couldn't get enough of the attention. Perhaps he was starved of healthy human interaction, perhaps he was attracted to the general, perhaps he was simply bored in the extremist steel-and-black scheme of Starkiller Base and Hux's hair offered a much-needed dose of color. Whatever the reason, Kylo kept finding ways to see that chiseled face again, whether it be mindlessly destroying valuable equipment or attending a meeting he was not required to attend.
In this case, sleep had evaded Ren the previous night, so he got out of bed an hour before he had to and had been wandering the corridors of the bleak military base when he spotted a flash of orange from through a window. Standing next to the general now, Ren adopted his position - spine ramrod straight, shoulders squared, his hands folded behind his back - just to pull his leg.
"What brings you here so early in the morning?" asked the knight.
"I believe I should be the one asking that question," the general scoffed, but continued, without emotion. "I'm here every morning."
"Why?"
"It's just something I do."
“ Why? "
"It's relaxing -" the redhead roared, catching himself and pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily, and muttering under his breath: "It used to be, anyway."
"Standing in the snow?" Kylo sneered, smirking behind the mask, though he was genuinely confused. He'd never admit to it.
"Just watch."
"Watch what?"
Hux gestured in front of him. Kylo looked, and saw nothing - snow, trees, some rocks maybe, but nothing relaxing , or even mildly interesting. He looked towards the general.
"The sky," sighed Hux, who inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if trying to decontaminate himself of the irritation caused by the childish man.
So Kylo looked up. A lovely shade of indigo flecked with glinting stars above his head dissolved into a soft periwinkle towards the horizon, and the shadows of clouds billowed in the air. Ren pursed his lips; it was quite a nice color, the deep violet. Imperial, almost, like the color of royalty. He decided that the stars looked nicer against a lush purple rather than the cold, black void of space.
"It should only be several minutes now," breathed Hux, with a tone that Kylo thought sounded like anticipation and something . . . warm . He didn't move his gaze from the sky - he was intrigued now. A band of light yellow began seeping up from the trees. The clouds that had once been shadows were now an almost fluorescent coral. As minutes passed, the corners of the yellow sky turned a warm scarlet. Like the color of Hux’s hair, Ren thought to himself just as the top of a glowing red orb peered over the trees.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hux murmured, almost to himself. Ren risked a glance at the other man.
He found that he couldn’t turn away.
Hux was radiant, washed in the luminous light of the morning, shimmering with gold. Kylo searched his vocabulary for a word to describe it, and only one was anywhere near accurate: he looked absolutely glorious. For a moment, all of the breath left his body, and his jaw fell slightly agape; Hux’s normally stone-cold eyes were soft now, and they sparkled . Kylo knew that they were green, but the rising sun turned them a glittering gold, and he could see every one of his long lashes. The incandescent orb illuminated his cheekbones, and the slant of his nose, and his lips . . . oh god, his lips . They looked so soft, so full; for a fraction of a second Ren wondered . . . no, that’s absurd.
He directed his focus upward, to his hair, which was a fierce orange in a sea of black at any other hour, but now he couldn’t find something to compare it to: fire, bronze, amber, all paled in comparison to the perfectly combed and now wildly hued coiffure. And there were freckles, hundreds of them, which Kylo had never noticed before; awh hell, those are cute, he thought, admiring the little spots that decorated the general’s face and neck. The corners of the redhead’s mouth turned up slightly into a smile that made the knight absolutely weak. He looked like a god, wrapped in gold, dripping with beauty.
“What do you think?” Hux asked, gleaming eyes still fixed on the scenery before him.
“ Breathtaking ,” Kylo breathed, without thought, without missing a beat.
Ren was suddenly aware of a rapid pounding, and a heat in his face that he typically associated with anger, but he wasn’t angry. Far from it, in fact. He became aware of himself again. His knees were shaking, his heart was hammering, his ears were hot - why the fuck are my ears hot? - and there was a particularly odd warmth in his chest, clawing at him, engulfing him . . . oh.
Oh, fuck .
Nervously and quickly the knight turned away, fidgeting with his leather-clad hands as he tried to come to terms with this . . . new information. At least now I know why I like bothering him so much.
Hux lifted his arm to check the time.
“I’d best be off now,” he announced, and then turned to Kylo. “You’re welcome to join me tomorrow morning if you’d like, same time, same place. I must say, you’re much more . . . enjoyable at this hour.”
The raven-haired man, standing at a towering 6’3” frame, packed with muscle, face shrouded by a menacing mask, choked out in a flustered voice that was bizarrely altered by the modulator, “I, ah, yeah. Yes. Yes, tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning sounds nice.”
He continued to babble like that for a moment until he turned to see that the general had since vanished, and he was left alone in the cold with his thoughts, which consisted of one central idea:
Damn, he’s cute.