“I’m not changing my name. Ren isn't even really a name, it’s a … noun.”
“I’m not going to explain it to you - ”
“Thank the stars.” He paused on the ramp from their transport and took a deep breath. Clean, recycled, optimized air. No plants to stuff their pollen up his nose, no faint whiff of an animal shitting upwind from him, no rain or heat or ice to make him uncomfortable. No kriffing itchy wool garments that wrapped and folded like textile origami. No family members to get all up in his business or demand his labor for some inane superstitious ritual. Everything was back to the way it should be - controlled, designed, peaceful.
Well. One thing was different. And it stalked off the transport at his side like a grumpy teenager at a child’s birthday party, scowling at everything. Hux stifled a smirk; Ren was so full of it. Most of his attitude was affected. Hux liked him better on his back.
Hux stepped off the ramp and paused to let Phasma fall into step beside them as she joined them at the base of the ramp of the shuttle. “Captain Phasma, report.”
She rattled off a bullet list of specs from the Finalizer. Hux nodded along with her. When she finished her list, she followed it up directly with, “How was the funeral?”
He knew what she was really asking: would his loss impact her troops in any way. He gave her the closest he came while in command to a smile. “A relief. She had been dying for a long time. I had already said my good-byes, already grieved for her. Besides, it is not my people’s way to linger on the past.”
She nodded curtly. This event was a non-impact for her.
“And the changes I requested?”
“Completed, sir,” she said, “though … those were some unusual orders for your quarters. A larger bed, a second wardrobe area added … One might think a whole other person might be living there.”
Hux gave her a cold look. “What are you insinuating, Captain?”
She took off her helmet and slung it under her arm. “Insinuating, nothing!” she said, much lower, in a non-officer tone. “You returned to your home planet. Your people are very practical and undemanding about marriage, by your own description.”
“Yeeessss?” He could almost feel Kylo beside him, itching to shock her.
“SO? Brendol. Did you marry some woman while you were planetside?”
Hux scoffed. “Most certainly not.” His face broke into a shit eating grin. He couldn’t help it. “I married Kylo here.”
Phasma snorted. “Oh ha ha.”
Kylo looked around Hux. “Phasma, tell this cold, practical, warlord that he has to exchange rings with me.”
“Kylo, we both wear gloves. And you won't take my name.”
“My name’s not mine to change! You better have some fur remover stuff, I don't want cat hair all over my robes.”
Hux picked at Kylo’s cowl. “No, couldn't look unkempt, could we?”
Phasma gaped. “Oh my stars. You’re serious. How could you possibly be serious?”
Hux shrugged. “He’s incredible in bed.”
Kylo caught Hux’s hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed the back of his knuckles. “You’ve seen nothing yet,” he purred.
Phasma abruptly turned as soon as they exited the shuttle bay. “My world has just turned upside down. I’m done. The ship is yours, General.”
“That’s not all that's mine,” Hux said, grinning at Kylo. “Come on. Let’s go break our new bed in, like a good set of newlyweds.”