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Ben worries his ticket stub as he scans the crowd. He’s in some airport with a name that doesn’t seem like a word, waiting alone for a man he’s never met, whose real name he doesn’t know— who flew him to Germany because they had one thing in common.

Ben wants to die, and the General wants to kill him.

Details aren’t nearly as important when the worst-case scenario is what you’re hoping for.

“Schön dich zu sehen!” startles him, and Ben’s stomach drops at the approaching middle-aged man. He brushes by, embraces an elderly woman. Ben lets out a breath.


Ben turns to see a man: pale, ginger, attractive, and smiling pleasantly. This can’t be his guy; the General’s German, and the man in front of him looks as Irish as they come. “Guten… tag?”

The smile breaks to bare his teeth. “Your accent is terrible. Guten tag, Kylo.”

Kylo Ren is his screen name, just like General (and some series of characters he doesn’t recall) is the alias for the man he’s speaking to. The General speaks English, he’d said, but they’d met on a German forum, so they mostly stuck to that.

“Yeah, two years high school German…” Quickly, he translates (however haltingly), “Zwei jahre deutsche…”

“Please stop, you’re embarrassing yourself,” the General replies laughingly, sounding really not all that German. “Most of my schooling was in England, so I’m probably more fluent in your language than you are in mine.”

“Probably… definitely,” Ben agrees. He can’t get over how attractive he is: tall and slender, with pink lips and blue eyes and red hair, and his black coat buttoned up to the neck just makes all the colour stand out brighter. Ben finds it hard to imagine a man this pretty finds him at all appealing.

Ben finds that he’s torn his ticket stub, and he doesn’t have any luggage. Remembers why he’s here. “Uh, General…”

“Hux, please. You’ll get my attention much easier that way.”

“Hux,” he retries, “are you…” He bites his lip, facing a cocked brow. “Is this really happening?”

Hux smiles, gently, puts a cautious hand to Ben’s neck and tilts down enough to whisper in his ear, “I fully intend to slaughter and devour you.”

Immediately, Ben’s pulse spikes. He wonders if Hux can feel it.

Either way, he pulls back, folds his hands behind him nonthreateningly. “If that’s alright with you.”

Ben nods; his throat’s suddenly too dry to answer.