Work Text:
Hux sighs heavily, feeling the stale, heavy air of the office drain from his lungs. Leaning back against the plush back of his chair, he runs a hand carefully over the gel fixated, orange hair reaching for his brows. Neck craned to one side, indulging tics, Hux allows his gaze to fall on the neighbouring desk. Forehead, creasing in disgust.
The narrow desktop, shamelessly stealing away the last square of yellow afternoon sun from the nearest window, is barely visible beneath the layer of scattered plastic utensils, gum paper and wrapping foil from lunch. Filthy, Hux thinks with condescend, taking a moment to appreciate his own strategic placement of wires and pencil holders.
Now, if only he could be allowed to spread his order and organisation to the company in its entirety, effectiveness would surely increase with a double digited percentage! Hard work and glorious productivity, see those are words Hux lives happily by.
The neighbouring chair is blessedly empty safe for a rumpled jacket slung over the back. Hux must have been deep in his work, missing his co-worker slip out of the small room.
Armitage scowls at the wall mounted clock, realising that only fifteen minutes of his shift remains, leaving his work unfinished for tomorrow (or at least until he can make it home and reopen his laptop).
Fingers, stiff from typing furiously, clench and unclench, before reluctantly closing down the excel sheets. With a final click he watches as the screen dies out, leaving behind his pale reflection painted against the black glass. He makes quick work of locating his most personal belongings; his phone from the mousepad and his reading glasses perched on the small stand of the computer.
Chair pushed back, suit meticulously fixed to prevent wrinkles, cufflinks reapplied, leather bag retrieved from below the table, jacket draped over both shoulders and chair carefully inched back into place. This sigh is one of content. Perfection .
Hux allows a feeling of satisfaction to ease into his mind. It has been a good, demanding day's work. A shallow shade of a smile finds its place on his face. He takes pride in achieving well in the workplace and holds every victory and welldoing close to heart. Not to mistake this for settling! No, Hux does not settle. A low office worker today, but not for long. A promotion should be due soon enough and rising through the ranks will be his true pleasure. Places such as these, Hux thinks as he nudges an empty cardboard cup out of his way with the nose of his shoe, are for people like-
A quiet noise floats through the closed door of the room leading out to the hallway. Hux feels his eyes widen with horror. It can’t be… two long strides take him across the room before the door is opened to reveal an empty office floor. The subtle sound of the kettle’s howl is more comprehensible here. It is all Hux can do to keep upright.
Born under his father’s shadow, cursed with a slight figure and his childhood years of haunting neglect, Hux had had to be tough to survive. Coming from money did not mean much when your father was a narcissistic prick. On the contrary, kids at school had been awfully quick to teach him a lesson of the lack of popularity posh, underfed, redheaded children possessed.
Quiet corners and silent corridors had haunted the young boy’s schooldays. Beatings were unacceptable and punishable by further beatings. Blue marks and bruises inexplicably multiplied on Armitage’s skin overnight. By the time the boy rounded his eighteenth year, he had bolted. He could be, he would be , more than his fathers illegitimate whelp. The power he would hold, was to be born from his own two, hard working hands, frail as they were. No breaks, no excuses, just grand plans, great thoughts and expectations, flowing steadily and unstoppable, like a northern river in spring.
But no man can outrun the looming threat of overexertion. Hux is no fool, wouldn’t have made it this far, were that the case. A bodily breakdown might be months to make him succumb, but a catastrophe of such scale would cost him many days of work. It is unacceptable. Now, the ginger cat he had adopted helped with some of the nerves, but there are wants, like not wanting to be lonely, and then there are needs . Hux has a need, ah yes, an all consuming one: coffee.
Not just any coffee. That simply would not suffice. An extraordinary man such as Armitage Hux needed something… well, extraordinary. Such as the Jamaican Blue Mountain produce, one of the most expensive brands in the world. Nothing less would do the trick. Nothing short of it would leave him with the same warm, giddy satisfaction of self indulgent behaviour. He deserved as much, he would often find himself thinking, tears almost welling up in his eyes in self pity
Hux supports his swaying figure against one doorframe, clutching for dear life at the cheap wood. The office is abandoned at this hour, the open space lying dark and void of people. A single beam of cold, fluorescent light falls upon the grey carpet down the long hall. The walls seem to spin as he steps forward, away from the comfort of his workspace, barely noticing the thump of his commute bag as it slides down his shoulder and hits the floor. The sharp screech of the kettle joyfully carries its tune, uncaring of his inner turmoil. Eventually, it dies down. The absence of sound is what it takes to make Hux snap out of his stupor.
The air in his lungs struggle to reallocate as his body goes rigid, heat rising to fill his cheeks. A hesitant step turns to a stamp, turns to a brisk gait, breaks into a run. Soon he is unashamedly rushing down the office hall, before making a swift turn and coming to a sharp halt in the brightly lit kitchenette.
“Ren!” Hux rages.
The large man swivels around in surprise, gasping, as a red cup slips from his grasp. Time slows as the mug hits the counter, shatters, and proceeds to splatter everything in a wide radius in dark, precious liquid.
A muscle twitch under Hux’ right eye. Kylo Ren slowly wipes his wet hands on his pant legs. Silence.
“Oh hey, didn’t see you there,” Ren finally says. He even has the nerve to sound casual. As if he did not… as if he did not just.
Hux forces his nails to retract from the skin on his hands and sneers under his breath: “I bet you didn’t.”
“Sorry, but, I didn’t catch tha-”
“I. Bet. You. Didn’t!” Armitage hisses. “What the kriff do you think you are doing? That is my blend!”
Ren huffs and settles into a crouch to pick up shards of mug.
“No, it isn’t.” Hux is convinced his face must be beginning to resemble a strikingly colourful lobster. He makes an undignified noise and steps further into the kitchen.
“What do you mean it- yes it is! Was,” he realises with a start, “you absolute buffoon. You drank the rest, didn’t you? You don’t even drink caffeine!”
“I do,” Ren scoffs.
“Do not!”
“I sometimes do!”
Hux rests his tired head on a high-hanging kitchenette and lets the weariness of the day settle in his shoulders. This is what he gets, this is what he gets , trying to spoil himself on occasions.
“Listen…,” it eventually sounds from the opposite side of the room, “you seem to care an unhealthy amount about that sour shit-”
“It is not !-”
“What do you say, I make it up to you? Bring you back to mine, alright, fix you up a drink? We can order in; might even have a blend of that fancy stuff of yours lying about somewhere.”
“AHA,” Armitage hiccups, “don’t make me laugh! You want me to believe that you of all people have quality coffee-blends available to you? You wouldn’t know a ripe coffee bean if it were to bite you in the arse! The mere thought is laughable.”
“Don’t be a little bitch, Hux,” Kylo snaps, “Take it or leave it, alright? Why the fuck would I care?”
Hux angles his chin up to glare at Ren along the back of his nose.
“Why would you?”
“Yeah, why, that’s what I said.”
Carefully measured steps lead Hux into the centre of the kitchenette, clever eyes locking onto the taller man. Ren stiffens visibly under his attention.
“Interesting.”
“What?! Are you, like, going crazy without your shitty caffeine or some-”
“You do care, don’t you?”
“No! I don’t, I really don’t,” Ren counters, “just saying, if you wanna go home without a drink, that’s up to you- like, I just know that you always make a cup after work, well I noticed, at least, sometimes you do-”
Concluding his thought process, Hux stops the word streaming from his colleagues mouth, with a gesture of his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Ren, I accept your kind offer of a coffee date.”
Kylo sputters in protest.
“You are insane, you are not even making any- wait really?”
Kylo’s large body seizes it’s writhing, and he stills with a surprised and reluctantly hopeful look on his dumb face. Coffee spill temporarily forgotten, he plants both feet in the puddle to inch a bit closer.
“Yes, silly,” Hux rolls his eyes, “however, next time, do send me a meeting-request on my mail like a normal person.”
Kylo's forehead scrunches up, “Eh, yeah sure… you are a very complicated man, Hux.”
“Thank you,” Armitage replies promptly, “Now, one more thing before we leave.” stepping into Kylo’s space. Ren colours charmingly.
“Whatever you want,” he breathes. Hux pads him on his firm chest and nods sternly towards the emptied container on the counter.
“You are replacing that.”