Chapter Text
It’s Rey’s idea.
Kylo Ren is violently opposed to the idea; so violently that he spends a good ten minutes destroying an entire couch before he even lets Rey explain how the plan will work.
“Look, there’s no way the Resistance is just going to let you on Base without some reassurance that you’re not dangerous. Short of freezing you in carbonite, this is the best way to keep you from getting killed on the spot.” She paces, ignoring the shreds of couch that are scattered on the floor. “I don’t like this any better than you do, but we’re short on time and options.”
Rey’s not sure this is going to work. It’s her idea, and she knows it has the possibility of working, and it’s definitely better than just showing up at the Base and hoping for the best, but she’s still not sure she can do it. Rey’s a good actress; she’s had to be. On Jakku, if she wasn’t pretending she wasn’t scared when other scavengers looked over her haul and gauged if they could take it or not, faking a confidence that she didn’t always have, she never would have eaten, much less survived (mostly) unharmed. But this is different.
Kylo Ren runs a gloved hand absently through his hair; his mask is nestled in what used to be one of the couch cushions. It is slightly distracting to be able to see his face, to be reminded that he’s a person and not simply the stark figure that’s been the terrorizing specter of the First Order, but it also makes it easier for Rey to predict what he’s thinking, and for that she’s grateful.
“So this option, this ridiculous plan of yours, that’s what you think is going to be the easiest way for us to waltz on Base and not get killed?” says Kylo Ren, the barely concealed undercurrent of rage that runs so close to the surface harshly tinging his words.
Rey sighs. “I didn’t say it was going to be easy. I said it was the best way, but it’s definitely going to be…difficult. We’re going to have to be really convincing from the get-go and make everyone immediately believe it.” She stops, hesitates. “And we’re going to have to practice.”
There’s a pause. A pause that turns stifling as Kylo Ren takes her words in and then--
“What do you mean, practice?” Kylo Ren says, with gentle menace, and Rey feels the air around her ever-so-slightly constrict. She swallows twice, nervously, unsure of how to explain further without digging herself into a deeper hole, or worse, igniting Kylo Ren’s temper again. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the smoldering shreds of what used to be the couch; it’s not reassuring in the slightest.
“I know you don’t want to do this, and I sure as hell don’t want to, but we’re going to have to make sure before we get there that we’re at least somewhat used to, you know,” Rey flaps her hand in front of her face, “uh, touching each other in public. Holding hands. Pet names? Couple things.” Rey hesitates; she’s not really sure what that means, if she’s honest. She’s seen the odd couple here and there on Jakku, of course, but those were usually scavengers or mercenaries, disinclined to be affectionate in public, and she’s never been with anybody either. Rey had always been waiting for her family to come back for her, and even if she’d met someone who’d interested her, she wouldn’t have wanted to get involved for fear of that relationship complicating her return home. But she has at least a vague idea from old holovids, and she knows that if they seem awkward or unused to touching each other, they’ll never be able to pull this off.
All the same, Kylo Ren’s brow furrows, and he somehow manages to look even more dangerous than he did while melting couch cushions. “I take that to mean that you would prefer for us to spend time together becoming more…intimate,” he says, in a voice that is no longer altered by his helmet; it is deliberately warm, silken, and very, very dangerous. Rey shivers at the suggestiveness of the sentence and the tone of his voice
“I would prefer not to have to any of this; I would prefer to drop you off at the Base and leave without having to deal with the situation at all, but I’m stuck and we’re going to practice and that’s that.”
Kylo Ren knows she’s right. Physically, he doesn’t mind, not really; she looks strangely appealing, just then, for a scavenger. Her cheeks are dark red from anger and embarrassment, making her freckles stand out more clearly, and her eyes are wide and shimmering with that anger she is trying desperately to reign in. It’s the temptation and the distraction that she represents that trouble him, and for that, he knows he’s going to have to be careful and stay focused on the mission that’s in front of them.
“Fine, then,” Kylo Ren says, somewhat stiffly. “We’ll make it part of our daily routine. We have a week until the rendezvous. That should be sufficient time for us to learn how to do couple things.” He imbues that phrase with so much sarcasm that he almost chokes on it.
Rey takes a deep breath, but before she can say anything, Kylo Ren very flatly says “No.” Rey frowns, but Kylo Ren keeps going. “We’re not starting today.” Rey frowns harder and opens her mouth to protest, but Kylo Ren is implacable; he turns, scoops up his helmet and puts it back on in one smooth motion. He pauses at the doorway, looks over his shoulder at her for a moment, then says, once more in the modulated voice of his helmet, “We’ll start tomorrow. If we survive tonight.” And then he’s gone in a swirl of cloak and heavily booted footsteps.