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Chapter Text

Hux told him not to wait up, and he knew he shouldn’t’ve—he was exhausted.  But Ben had only moved into Hux’s tiny studio last week (kicked out of his university-owned apartment when he dropped out of med school) and still felt weird about going to sleep without Hux there.  Still felt like a guest in his home.

At quarter to 2, Ben was about ready to call it a night.  He had just finished brushing his teeth when he heard keys in the door.

“Hey, babe, how was your show?”  Ben called from the bathroom.  He stepped out and headed toward Hux, who was enveloped in shadows, taking off his shoes.  “Did you do the routine to that song that samples the Imperial Mar—”

Ben froze, stunned by the being before him.  Hux took no notice.  “It’s not the Imperial March, I’ve told you a million times.  It’s from an old jazz song by...why are you looking at me like that?”  When Ben didn’t reply, Hux looked to him, and saw where his eyes were fixed.  “Oh, right, yeah.”  Hux arranged the shoes by the door neatly as he spoke, bending over in a way that was really starting to fuck Ben up.  “Joanna, who is so sweet—I mean I absolutely adore her,  but she’s kind of a lush, and quite clumsy, she spilled her drink all over my regular clothes.  One of my favorite sweaters, in fact.  I’ll have to go to the dry cleaner tomorrow...but anyway, with my clothes unwearable, I had to wear my costume home.  Which sucked, because I spent almost all of my tip money from tonight on the cab.”  He stood and brushed down his skirt, a silky, dusty pink mini with a row of buttons up the front.  He had already shed his coat, revealing the vintage bell-sleeved black lace crop top he had recently found at a charity shop.  Ben was biting at his lip, in awe of the long legs, the soft exposed skin of his torso and neckline, the long red hair, the nearly-gone stain of his burgundy lipstick.  

“Ben.” said Hux, smirking.  He crossed his arms and cocked a hip, and Ben’s head seemed to be pulled forward by an invisible tether.

“I, uh, I think those shoes are still crooked.”  Lied Ben.

Hux gave in and bent over slowly, pretending to organize the already meticulous arrangement of shoes by the door.  Underneath the very short skirt, Hux wore black briefs, and Ben was enthralled by the small yet full ass that peaked out from under his underwear.  Rising back up, Hux employed a move inspired by the Bend-and-Snap.  Ben made a noise.

Hux laughed and made his way towards Ben.  “What is it about me dressed like this that gets you so hot and bothered?”  He laid his hands softly on Ben’s broad shoulders, dragging them down over the cotton of his tee-shirt slowly.  His breath was too close to Ben, right in his ear, hot, wet, everything.  The low light in the apartment caused a breathtaking glint to appear in Hux’s eyes and illuminated the near translucence of his fine eyelashes.

“You’re just so pretty.”  Ben managed, disappointed with himself that he couldn’t articulate just what it was.  The magic, other-worldliness that radiated from Hux when...when…

Hux pressed his lips to Ben’s and moved his hands to his own hips, ready to push down his skirt, when Ben stopped him.

“No, wait.”  Ben ran his hands down Hux’s torso, feathering the tiny buds of his nipples, squeezing the warm softness of his waist, dragging fingers over his belly button.  Now Hux was the one breathing heavy, and soon Ben was in front of him, on his knees.  

“Ok, fine by me.”  With a slow, slight bend, Hux’s thin fingers worked dexterously on the lowest button of his skirt, then the second, slowly teasing, putting on a show.  At the third button, though, Ben pushed Hux’s hands away, and, unable to wait any longer, he pushed up the skirt and stuck his head under the smooth pink fabric.  “My goodness, you’re impatient,” moaned Hux as Ben began stroking Hux through the cotton of his underwear.  Not a moment later, Ben had pulled them down and thrown them to the wayside.  

The next thing Ben did truly impressed Hux.  He must’ve used echolocation or some supernatural ability, because he lifted Hux by the ass, carried him to the desk in the corner, and set him on top of it, all with his head still under Hux’s skirt.  With Hux now seated, Ben pushed at the inside of his thighs gently, and Hux spread his legs quickly and eagerly.  Ben went to work, feeling the lovely softness of Hux’s skin on his palms while the backs of his hands glided against silky fabric.  He reached under Hux and grabbed hold of his full ass cheeks, which seemed to fit perfectly in the palms of Ben’s large hands.  He licked and sucked with loud hums, punctuating tongue flickers with ass squeezes, admiring the strange, soft glow of pinkish light he saw from his new favorite hideout under Hux’s skirt.

“Jesus, Ben, this is a new skirt, if I get cum stains on i—ah!”

Ben could tell Hux was close.  When he pulled away for a second to reply, Hux seemed to tense desperately, body begging for Ben’s mouth to return.  “I’m happy to swallow you up, Hux, no need to concern yourself with stains.”

Ben cupped his hands around the tops of Hux’s thighs, stroking up and down at a relaxing pace.  At the same time, he prolonged each lick of Hux’s cock, dragging them out till Hux was basically whimpering.

“Fuck, I’m gonna, ah, I’m—”

Hux came.

Ben wiped his mouth with a smile and emerged from under the tent of Hux’s skirt.  Hux’s hands reached down hungrily to Ben’s face, pulling him up and kissing him deeply.  Ben returned the kiss and picked Hux up again, carrying him towards the bed, where he dropped with a bounce, and then plopped down beside him.

“I suppose one major benefit to living together is the ample opportunities for spontaneous sex, hmm?”  mused Hux as he undressed.  Once naked, he rolled into his usual, Hux-shaped dent near the wall.  Ben pulled off his shirt and boxers and rolled in next to him, chest pressed to Hux’s freckled back.  He arranged the blankets around them and then draped an arm over Hux’s waist.

“Major benefit indeed,” Ben mumbled sleepily into Hux’s shoulder.

“Shall I take care of you before bed?”  Hux offered, more than willing, especially when he wiggled back and felt the semi-hard press of Ben's length against him.

“Mmm, no, too tired.  Raincheck.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Well, thank you for the treat.  Pretty damn lovely.”

“You’re pretty and damn and lovely.”  Ben’s voice grew softer with each syllable.

Hux snorted.  “Jesus, you are tired, aren’t you?”

“Tired.  Love you.  Goodn—”  Ben’s signature elephant snore finished the last word.  Hux smiled and let his eyes close.  Goodnight, indeed.

They awoke to the incessant buzzing of the buzzer.

“Who the fuck is here this early?”  Hux moaned, glancing at the bedside clock.  7:45 am on a Sunday.

“Fuck, did I order pizza in my sleep again?”  Ben reached frantically for his phone, and was relieved to find no record of an early morning dial to Papa John’s.

Hux rolled over Ben and shuffled to the intercom, pressing the button to communicate with whoever was buzzing.

“Who are you and what do you want?  It’s a Sunday morning, for chrissakes.”

“Enda?”  came as a response.  Ben wasn’t sure from the short word alone, but the voice was high and the accent sounded Irish.  Did that mean…?

“Mam?”  

“And Dad!” came a lower, thicker-accented voice.  “Are ya gonna let us up, son?  We’ve been buzzing for ages, y’know!”

The fear in Ben’s eyes perfectly mirrored the fear in Hux’s.  The apartment was a mess, but that was the least of their worries.  There were feminine clothing items on the floor, remnants of make-up on Hux’s face, and a man the Huxes didn’t know in their son’s bed.  

“Uh, yeah, just a minute, please!  I’m putting the tea on!”  Hux grabbed his bottle of Zoloft and popped a pill in his mouth, willing himself to dry-swallow.  “Studios are fucking terrible, there’s nowhere for you to hide!”  Hux groaned to Ben as he frantically kicked his clothes under the bed.

“I could hide in the bathroom?  In the shower?”

Hux seemed to consider it, but ultimately shook his head ‘no.’  He charged Ben with finding them decent clothes while he went into the bathroom and scrubbed his face clean.

Ben had found them both conservative jeans and nice-enough sweaters, which they threw on haphazardly before brushing their teeth with lightning speed.  Hux popped in his contacts and began preparing tea, while Ben, wordlessly, buzzed up Hux’s parents.

“Are you ready?”  Ben sighed as they waited for Niamh and Brendol Hux to ascend the three flights of stairs.

“Nope!” chirped Hux with fake cheeriness.  “Unless you mean ready to die!”

There was a loud rap at the door.

Fuck.

It was time.

Chapter Text

“Dad, Mam.  What brings you here?”  Hux opened the door just the width of his body, keeping Ben (who was frozen with fear on the daybed/couch) out of view.  

“I have some business down here this week,” Brendol said cheerfully.  He was a broad man, stocky and tall, with a thick beard that was once reddish-brown but was now gray.  He had a head of thinning brown hair and his eyes were the same green as Hux’s.  Next to him was Niamh, a very slight woman who was clearly once a stunning beauty, but age and stress had gotten the best of her.  Still, one could see the cat-like features she had passed on to Hux—the shape of the eyes, the lioness’s nose, the curve of the cheeks, the demure smile.  Her hair was a brighter, bottled version of Hux’s color, with gray visible at the roots and around her face.  Hux clearly took after her, aside from her height; she couldn’t have been more than five-foot-three.

Hux looked to his mother with weary, worried eyes.  She gave him a look that said relax, not that kind of business, that’s far in the past .  Still, Hux was uneasy about his father being in London, and not just because of the whole secret-boyfriend thing.

“You could’ve rang first, let me know you were coming.”  Hux said as Brendol gently pushed his way in (he had a way of forcing barriers around him to dissolve at his will), eyeing the painting on the entryway wall.  One of Ben’s, abstract, reds and blacks mostly.  Brendol didn’t care much for painting that weren’t of lakes and mountains.  “I’d’ve bought some nice wine, good food.  I haven’t gotten groceries since last wee—”

“And who is this?”  asked Brendol, not unkindly, noticing the terror-stricken refrigerator of a man on the daybed.    

“Oh, Enda, you should’ve said something when we buzzed,” said Niamh.  “Brendol, perhaps we should have breakfast at that lovely cafe down the street?  We can come back when you don’t have company, it’s no trouble.”

“Well, actually, uh—”

“Does this creature have a name?”  Brendol studied Ben as if he were a rare bug.

“This is Ben.”  said Hux.

“And who is Ben?”  asked Brendol.

“Um,” Hux raised a finger and pointed.  “Him.”

Niamh stepped forward and tugged on Brendol’s sleeve.  “Really Brendol, let’s go eat.  I’m terribly hungry and you heard Enda, no groceries!  Let’s come back later, okay?  Enda, dear, you just give us a ring when your friend has gone home, alright?”

Hux pasted on a smile.  It looked more like a grimace.  “Well, Mam, that would be a great idea, but the thing is, Ben actually lives here.”

Ben moved for the first time since the knock.  “But I can go to the gym or the park or something, it’s not trouble, I’ll leave you to your family time and—”

“No, Ben,” Hux shook his head. “You don’t have to do that.  It’s raining.”

“I’ve got an umbrella, Hux.”  

But Brendol was blocking Ben’s path, a hand outstretched.  Ben shook it cautiously.  “A new roommate, eh, son?  Rent got to be too much down here, huh?  I tell ya, the prices in this city—”

“Ben isn’t my roommate, Dad.”  Hux braced himself for what he was sure was coming.  “He’s my partner.”

“Business partner?”

“Jesus, Brendol!”  Niamh gave Brendol a weak but loud whack on the head.  “Are you being intentionally thick?  He means partner as in lover.” She shook her head, exasperated, and under her breath Hux could hear her muttering, “Brendol, you dolt.”

In a moment that almost restores Hux's faith in God, the kettle whistled, breaking the awkward silence.  “Ah, the tea!”  Hux rushed to the stove and told his parents to take a seat at the small round table near the kitchen area.  

The apartment was much too small for all of them, especially considering the broadness of both Ben and Brendol.  It was cramped when it was just Ben and Hux, claustrophobic when Julia stayed over, and right now?  Suffocating.  God, how Hux needed a bigger place.  Too bad his entire income (including what Ben called his “panty pounds”) was going towards getting First Order Press off the ground.

The new business.  Hux spent as much time talking about that as he could.  Business was a safe topic.  And even though Brendol didn’t see much value in fiction and poetry (except for Yeats, of course), he was very proud of his son for starting his own business.

“Like a phoenix, son.  From the ashes of that terrible corporate imperial company you slaved away for—”

“They’re still going, Dad, there aren’t any ashes—”

“You rise like a phoenix!  Creating something new, something better!  And what is it you specialize in again?”

“We try to publish mostly from authors with marginalized identities.  So, like, immigrants, people of color, queer and trans people, authors who face discrimination for their religious beliefs, um—”  

“You got some Irish writers in there, son?”

“Yeah, Dad, but—”

“Good man!  How many books do you have out?”

“Well, none, so far, Dad.  We’ve got four in the works right now, being edited and all.  But we probably won’t publish the first one till at least, I dunno, March?  It’s hard to get going, money isn’t really flowing right now so—”

“Well I can give you a little start-up cash, son, it’s no trouble!  How’s, oh, five grand to start?”

Hux cocked an eyebrow.  Niamh sipped her tea.  Ben was in his happy place, far far away.  “Since when do you have five grand to hand out, Dad?”

“I’ve made some good investments in the last few years, son.”

“Nothing illegal, I hope?”

“All legal, all legal.  I’m on the up and up these days, y’know.  Don’t you fear, now.”

“Five grand is a lot, Dad, I don’t know that I could—”

“I think,” Niamh interrupted with a delicate clearing of her throat, “that money and business are best discussed after lunch, don’t you all?  It’s early, yet, our minds aren’t warmed up.  Besides, we’ve completely ignored dear Ben here!”

Ben shook back into this realm. “Hmm, what?”

Thus began Niamh’s interviewing of Ben Solo.  Where was he from?  What did his parents do?  Any siblings?  Where did he got to school?  What does he do now?  What brought him to the U.K. (he lied about the answer to that one)?  How did he and Hux meet?  How long had they been seeing each other?  How long had they been living together?  Did he have any hobbies?  Was he a Catholic?

Hux interrupted by pretending his phone buzzed and checking a fake text.  “Oh!  Rachel’s got a last-minute meeting so I have to go pick up Julia.”

“A meeting on a Sunday morning?”  Brendol asked.  “Isn’t she a schoolteacher?”

“Yeah, uh, well...why don’t you and Mam go to that cafe, Ben and I will get the Tube, head down to Rachel’s, be back in an hour or so.”  He rose and began gathering everyone’s coats, ushering out the door.  “It really is urgent, we must hurry—”

“We drove down, Enda,” said Niamh.  “We have the car.  Why don’t we all drive over to pick up Jules together?”

Hux looked to Ben for help, but he just shrugged weakly.  “Yes,” sighed Hux.  “Why don’t we?”

Brendol insisted on driving, even though he was terrible at following directions and not too familiar with this side of London.  In the back seat, Hux was frantically texting Rachel, explaining the situation and begging for her cooperation.  He was supposed to pick up Julia at noon, anyhow.  What could be wrong with being three and a half hours early?

To up Hux’s stress levels even further, Ben kept nodding off when Niamh tried to ask him questions.  His ability to hold a conversation, while never terribly impressive, was truly lacking today, and Hux really didn’t want to hear his mother call his boyfriend a dolt, too.  

Fuck, why wasn’t Rachel answering?!

Chapter Text

Rachel was understanding, God bless her.  She knew all about how difficult Hux’s parents could be (she was the “kindly unwed Jewish whore” who gave them their grandchild, after all), and so she made up some (not terribly believable) excuse about an emergency parent-teacher conference and sent Julia off with her father.

In the car, Julia sat nestled between Ben and Hux in the back seat, her nose buried in a tattered copy of Bridge to Terabithia.   Niamh tried to make conversation with her granddaughter.

“My, Julia, how long your hair has gotten!  It looks very pretty.”

Julia smiled but didn’t return completely to the world of the car, so absorbed was she in her novel.  “Thanks, Nana.  Mum says I look just like you and Dad now.”

Brendol took this as an opportunity to question his son.  “When’s the last time you had a haircut, son?  I know money’s tight but Jesus, I’m sure you can afford a pair of scissors.”

“I like Dad’s hair long!”  Julia protested.  “It’s pretty.  He looks like a fairy queen.”

“You do know your father is a man, right, sweetheart?”  Brendol said.  

Julia turned the page and said, sounding rather bored, “gender is a social construct, Granddad.”  She yawned and continued.  “And in the fairy world, no one gives a damn—”

Hux whispered, “Remember what we said about cursing?”

Julia rolled her eyes.  “No one gives a darn about silly things like that.  Anyone can be a fairy queen.  Provided they are a kind and just ruler, of course.”

Niamh smiled slightly, and Hux couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just polite.  “Of course.”  

The ride back to Hux’s flat was longer than the way there, the cramped car caught in the swell of church and brunch traffic.  Hux felt as if he were holding his breath and wouldn’t be able to exhale until they returned home.  Julia noticed his discomfort, and looked to Ben, who was white as a sheet, eyes wide, staring at nothing.  She poked him in the side.  “Why are you so quiet, Benjamin?”

Ben startled out of his stupor.  “I didn’t want to disturb your reading, Jules.”

“Will you teach me more fighting today?  I want to get good at that one kick, y’know, the one where—”

Hux quieted her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Maybe Ben can teach you tomorrow.”

“Well why not today?”  Hux glanced his eyes forward.  Julia sighed.  “Because of Granddad and Nana?  What do they care?”

Brendol’s interest was piqued.  “Fighting, eh?  You’re teaching Miss Julia to tussle, Ben?”

Ben shook his head defensively.  “No, sir, I—”

“Ben is a martial artist.”  Julia said.  “He knows all sorts of cool stuff—karate, tae kwon do, kickboxing, that other one that I can’t pronounce….He’s really good!”

“I’m just teaching her some self-defense, is all,”  said Ben, panicky.  “It’s important that she can defend herself.”

“Ben teaches it to poor kids so they don’t get jumped,” said Julia confidently.

Hux shook his head.  “Jules, that’s not—”

“He teaches them to paint and stuff, too!  Cuz not everyone’s as lucky as I am, Dad says, to have cool stuff and a good school and dance lessons and all that.  So Ben teaches them fun stuff for free.”

“It’s a community program, government funded.”  Ben explained.  “After school programs for underprivileged kids.”

“I imagine the pay isn’t much,” said Brendol.

Niamh shook her head.  “I think it’s very noble, Ben.  Giving back and all that.  Selfless.  Good for you.”

“Nothing is selfless,” said Ben.  “I do it because I selfishly want to make other people like the same hobbies I like.  And if it helps them, great.  But mostly I want to be paid—even if it’s not much—to slap paint on canvas, and show other people how to do it, too.”

Hux smiled.  It was nice to hear Ben talk a little, instead of sitting there like a statue.

“Ever done any boxing?”  asked Brendol as he turned onto Hux’s street.  Thank god.

“When I was younger, yeah.  I gravitated more towards kickboxing because I really like to get my legs involved, but I think it’s a great sport.  The basis for so much.”

“Brendol was a local boxing champion before Enda was born,” said Niamh.

“Looooong before Enda was born.” Brendol put the car in Park and Hux’s body relaxed.  “Nearly forty years ago, now.  My glory days, I guess.  When I fought with my hands instead of….Well.  Physical fighting, or self-defense as you call it, it’s so much...purer, I suppose than fighting with weapons or tactics or manipulation or what have you.  It’s so...base.  Animal.  Pure and honest and noble.  I respect a man who punches me square in the nose much more than a man who outsmarts me.”

“Ok, Dad,” Hux sighed.  “Let’s head in, I need to feed Millie.”

The walk up and the first ten minutes in the flat were spent by Brendol blathering on about his days boxing, and asking Ben all sorts of questions about his martial arts.  He didn’t listen to Ben’s answers, though.  Just launched into the next thing that came into his head.  Hux rolled his eyes and prepared Millie’s tuna while Julia and Niamh pet the spoiled cat.  

“I remember when you got this little one,” Niamh smiled as she stroked the cat’s head.  “You were so nervous.”

Hux remembered, too.  It was nine years ago.  He had called his mother and asked her to come down to London for the weekend.  Just her.  Niamh was panicked, thought Enda must’ve been hurt, in some kind of trouble.  He told her nothing over the phone.  

She was on the first flight out.

“I have something important to tell you,” said Hux when he picked her up from the airport.  Niamh hadn’t seen him in over a year and a half (though they talked frequently) and was taken aback by the faded pink of his shoulder-length hair, the small studs in his ears, the tightness of his jeans, the traces of scrubbed-off purple polish on his fingernails.

She knew he was gay, of course.  He had told her when he was 16, and though she certainly wasn’t thrilled, she quietly accepted, though avoided discussing with him such topics as romance and sex.  Hux was comforted, though, by his heterosexual younger sister, Naomi, confirming that Mother never discussed such subjects with her, either.  Niamh studied her son, his long fingers curled around the steering wheel with a nervous death grip.  What news did he have to share?  What major changes were coming their way?

“Mam, please don’t be mad.”  They had found their way to a cafe near the airport, Hux too nervous to drive the hour back to his flat.  “What I’m going to tell you...please promise you won’t be mad?”

He was so young, just turned 21, eyes clear and face bright.  Yes, Niamh promised with a smile.  She wouldn’t be mad.  She would love him no matter what.  No matter what he had done, or he had become.  Still, she braced herself.

“I...I’m going to…fuck.”  He pulled at his hair, near the scalp, and twisted up his face.  “I’m going to be a dad.”

Niamh was not mad.  In fact, she was elated.  Confused, certainly, and very, very surprised.  But thrilled.

“Honey, that’s wonderful.”  She took his manicured hand in her own and squeezed.  “When is the wedding?”

This was the tough part for Hux.  To explain to his mother that there would be no wedding, that his relationship with Rachel was purely platonic, aside from that one, inciting incident.  He affirmed and reiterated (though he knew she didn’t want to hear it) that he was gay, and not interested in women, and he knew that for sure now.  She nodded, understanding, though disappointed that her grandchild would be born out of wedlock and to a couple that...well, weren’t a couple.

Niamh wondered aloud why they intended to keep the baby.  So young, wild, and carefree.  And not in love.  What was the motivation to keep this...accident?

Hux stiffened.  He didn’t like the word accident, even if it was accurate.  Rachel and he had discussed their options, of course.  Abortion was talked about quite openly, as was adoption.  Pros and cons charts were made.  Friends who had experienced surprise pregnancies were talked to.  The internet (though unthinkably slow in those days) was scoured.  But in the end, in their guts, despite all logic, Hux and Rachel knew they wanted the child.  And so the decision was made.  They would live together for the first year of the child’s life (they were currently flat-hunting for 2-3 bedroom places) and then, if they decided to live apart, would share custody evenly.  

All he told his mother was, “because we want to.”

And that was that.

But Niamh insisted he prepare himself, taking him to a bookstore and loading his skinny arms full of parenting books.  She then took him to a humane society, pulled him back to the cat area, and said:  “Pick one.”

Hux must’ve looked dumbfounded, so she explained.  “You have to practice taking care of something other than yourself.  A cat isn’t a baby, not even close, but at least you’ll learn to be responsible for another living thing.  So.  Pick one.”

He didn’t even have to think about it.  A tiny ginger kitten was clawing at his purple Converse, begging him to take her home.  So he did.

And now the fat, spoiled thing was stretched out on his floor, purring as her belly was scratched by his mother and daughter.  He set the tuna down, and the familiar clink of her bowl wound her up.  She rejected Julia and Niamh’s strokes and ran to her bowl, chowing down like there was no tomorrow.  Julia laughed, Brendol talked Ben’s ear off, and Niamh smiled at the little family her son had created for himself.  She worried about him often, if he was happy, if he was lonely, if everything was alright.  They didn’t talk so much anymore, and she never one to ask about such things, even when they did.  Their conversations centered on Julia—the grades she was getting, the activities she was doing, how tall she was now.  And that was all fine and good.  But still, she wondered about Enda.

Brendol was saying something about how he was famished, and were there any biscuits?  Before anyone could respond, he had lifted the lid off the goat-shaped cookie jar, and when he stuck his hand in, his fingers found no chocolate biscuits—only small denominations of cash.

Hux’s “Panty Pound” stash.  His evening tips from Finalizer.  Ben and Hux’s eyes met in panic.

“Where the hell does all this come from?!”  Brendol asked, alarmed.

Hux felt a panic attack coming on.

Chapter Text

“That is, uh…”  Hux searched his brain for something to say, some way to explain away the small bills in the cookie jar, the tips he made for shaking his ass in the burlesque shows at The Finalizer .  And not only was he dancing for money in a club—he was dancing for money in a queer club, usually scantily clad, and when he wasn’t, he was clad in what others would consider to be women’s clothes (Hux, of course, was of the opinion that once he purchased the clothing items, they became his clothes, not women’s clothes).  Thus, the true source of the cash was not something Hux wished to reveal to his rather traditional parents.

“It’s our vacation fund!”  Ben interjected, giving Hux a telepathic shrug and speaking too fast.  “We put change from our wallets in there at the end of the day so we can go to France next summer, hopefully.”

“France!” Brendol snorted.

“Can I come?”  Julia asked.  Millicent had returned to her and she was playing with the cat’s tail.

“Of course, Jules,” replied Ben.

Brendol peered back into the cookie jar, suspicious.  “There are no coins in here.  Who keeps a change-based vacation fund without coins?”

“I, uh, I take all the coins to work for the vending machines.  Because the bill things don’t work, they won’t suck the bills in...so they’re obsolete, the small denomination bills.”  Ben was talking faster than Hux had ever seen him.  “Except for for the vacation fund, of course.  They’re good for that.”

Brendol, not quite buying it, turned to Hux, eyes narrowed.  “Are you selling drugs or something, son?”

Hux laughed awkwardly.  “I don’t know what kind of narcotics I could sell that cheap, Dad.  Maybe if the jar was full of hundred pound bills, I’d understand your suspicion.”

Luckily, scantily-clad dancing didn’t occur to Brendol as a potential source of the cookie jar money, and he dropped the subject, after stuffing a couple of pounds in his jacket pocket.

“I’m bored,” Julia piped up, and Hux, for once, was thankful for her constant need for entertainment.  “Can we go to the park or something?”

“The park, yes!”  Hux exclaimed, finding his sneakers, as well as Julia’s.  “Great idea, sweetheart.  Mam, Dad, why don’t you head to your hotel and we’ll catch up with you for dinner later?”

“Nonsense!”  Brendol exclaimed, buttoning up his jacket.  “A visit to the park sounds lovely!  We’ll join you!”

Through gritted teeth, Hux squeaked out an unconvincing “great!”

It was really too cold to enjoy the park, Hux thought as the early November sky turned overcast.  Julia, though, didn’t care, practicing the football tricks Hux and Ben (though Ben, the heathen, called it “soccer”) had been teaching her.  She was trying to bounce the ball on her knee, Ben steadying her, when Niamh sidled up beside Hux and began her line of questioning.

“So, Enda.”

“So, Mother.”

Brendol was on a bench a couple meters away, smoking a cigarette and barking into his phone.  Ben and Julia were absorbed in their sport, and Hux figured he could jump in to get away from Niamh’s interrogation, but he really wanted them to bond on their own.  He had so enjoyed watching them laughing together, studying the gentle hesitance Ben displayed with Julia, the enthusiasm and sarcasm she gave in return.  And here was his mother, interrupting his nice moment of observation.

“Ben seems nice.”  Hux was surprised to hear it.  His mother never commented on such things.  Granted, she’d never really met any of his previous partners, but still.  Relationships just weren’t something they discussed.

“He is.  He’s very nice.”  Hux said.

“He’s good with Julia.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is he the one, do you think?”  Niamh said it so quickly that Hux thought he must’ve misheard her.  She wouldn’t ask him that.  No, she wouldn’t.  He looked down at her, and she was watching him expectantly, a smile playing at her carefully painted lips.  Again, she whispered, “is Ben the one?”

“The ‘one’ is a myth, Mam.  Don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t.  And I don’t think you do, either.”

Hux was speechless.  Where was this coming from?  Since when did Niamh talk about deep, interpersonal things with her children?  Did she have a brain tumor?  Oh no, was she dying?

“You don’t have to answer,” she sighed, tucking the long lock of hair that had fallen in Hux's eye behind his ear.  A surprisingly affectionate gesture.  “I just want you to know that if he is the one, I’ll be glad for you.  You don’t need my approval, of course.  But I like him.  I have a good feeling about him.”

“I, uh, well, thank you, but...we haven't even been together a whole year yet, you know, and you only just met him three hours ago, and who knows—”

“Enda.  Don’t work yourself into a panic.  All I’m saying is, from the little I’ve seen, you seem like a good match, and he’s great with Julia, which is important and rare.  Plus,” she glanced away and lowered her voice, “he’s not too bad on the eyes.”

“Mother!”  Hux practically yelped in surprise.

“I’m menopausal, Enda, but I’m not blind.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Dad!”  Julia called, to Hux’s great relief.  “I think I finally got it, look!”  

Hux jogged over to where Ben and Julia stood in the field, and with a determined look on her face (punctuated by a lip-bite and knit eyebrows) she kicked the ball up onto her knee, bounced it up, caught it with her other knee, and bounced it again.  This time, the ball veered too far left, and Ben had to go grab it, but Julia beamed with pride.  Hux ruffled her hair.

“That’s amazing, Jules!  You’re going to be a pro in no time.”

“Next, Ben said he’ll teach me to bounce it off my head!”  Julia grinned, and Ben looked sheepish, knowing how anal Hux was about safety.

“Let me do some research first on how soft the skull is at eight years old, ok?”  Hux tried to reason.  “I don’t want you to grow up with a big dent in your head.”

“But then I’d be really good at headstands, wouldn’t I?”

“I...let’s get some hot chocolate, yeah?  I’m getting cold.”

Julia nodded and Hux swung her onto his back.  She giggled as she settled her arms around his neck, and Ben took his hand cautiously, wary of Mr. and Mrs. Hux’s glances.  However, Hux felt good (albeit a little weirded out) after his conversation with his mother, and so he squeezed Ben’s hand tightly as they walked towards the little beverage kiosk.

To Niamh, he called, “Do you want any tea or coffee, Mam?”

She shook her head with a polite smile but joined them at the kiosk, handing her debit card to the clerk before Hux could object.

“Oh, no, you don’t have t—”

“Please, Enda, it’s ten pounds.  A parent’s greatest joy is spending money on their children, and I never get to spend it on you!”

Julia’s face lit up.  “Is that true, Dad?  Is your greatest joy buying me stuff?  Because if it is, Lilly G. just got this cool new button maker and I was thinking, if you bought me one, it could be a real investment—”

“It’s more of a mother thing,” Hux lied.  “A mother’s greatest joy is spending money on her kids.  You should talk to your mum about it, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”   

Ben chuckled and Niamh shook her head, a smile on her face.  Hux thanked her for the hot chocolate, “and, well, everything,” and they found a picnic table nearby to chat and drink.

Chapter Text

Brendol and Niamh left Wednesday morning after Hux dropped Julia off at school.  The rest of their trip had gone smoothly and uneventfully.  No more feelings talk from Niamh aside from a brisk “take care, love you,” when she departed, and no note-worthy outbursts from Brendol.  All in all, Hux was pleasantly shocked at the success of their stay.  

“Phew, glad that’s done,” said Hux, collapsing onto the bed.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic.  Aside from a bumpy beginning, that wasn’t bad at all.  Just wait till you meet my parents…” Ben shuddered in horror.

“You’re right.  It wasn’t so bad.  It was actually kind of nice, in parts.”  Hux leaned against the wall and took off his sweater, feeling the cold concrete through the tissue-thin fabric of his tee-shirt.  Ben scooted next to him after taking his socks off and throwing them into the corner laundry pile (Hux hated that, and glared).  “My mother really likes you.”

“Really?”  Ben seemed to light up.  “She told you that?”

“Yeah.  She asked me if you were ‘the one.’”  Hux tried to downplay the importance of such a phrase, gesticulating with airquotes and rolling his eyes.  

Ben, however, was stone-serious.  “What did you say?”

“I told her the notion of the ‘one’ is a myth.”

Ben studied Hux’s face.  Hux noticed a bit of hurt in Ben’s big brown eyes.  “Do you really believe that?”  Ben’s voice was small.

Hux let his head flop onto Ben’s shoulder.  “No.”

Hux couldn’t see it, but Ben grinned so wide his face grew sore.  Hux fiddled with Ben’s fingers, inspecting the chipped black paint.  His parents had said nothing about it, maybe didn’t notice.  Hux was grateful he had switched to press-on nails for his shows instead of painting them.  There would’ve been no explaining hot pink nails to his father.

“Really, Ben, thank you for enduring these last few days with me.”

“Of course, babe.  God, I hope you never have to experience the suffering of meeting my parents.”

Hux sounded only a little surprised.  Ben complained about his parents all the time, sure, but he figured it was just how everyone talks about their parents.  “I’d like to meet your family.”

“Believe me, Hux, you really don’t.”

“Hm.”  Hux really did , in fact, but knew better than to push it.  “Well, as a thank you for being so good these past few days, I thought maybe I could be...good...for you.”

Ben practically got whiplash from turning his head so fast, needing to peer into Hux’s face, needing to know what exactly he meant.  “What...what exactly do you mean?”

“I mean,” Hux leaned forward, lazily slinking his arms around Ben’s neck.  Breathing into Ben’s ear, he said, “I’ll do whatever you want, today.  Fulfill your wildest fantasy.  What do you want to do?  Tie me up?  Roleplay?  Something weird with balloons—no judgement!  Anything you want.”  He gave Ben’s ear a good nibble and smirked at the deep sigh Ben released.  “What do you want, darlin’?”

“A-anything?”

Hux pulled back, admiring the dreamy-eyed look of surprise on Ben’s face.  He kissed Ben’s hanging-open mouth and gave a wry smile.

“Anything.”

“Really, Ben, of all the things you could’ve asked for...this is your wildest fantasy?”  Hux stood in the doorway of the bathroom, which he had been in for over an hour, preparing.  He was freshly shaven, red hair curled loosely ala Rita Hayworth, a dark rosy shimmer on his lips.  A sheer pink kimono-wrap hung on his slender frame, much too short, the hem hitting just an inch below his hips—   God, those hips , Ben couldn’t help but think, in adoration of the slight curve of them, of the softness gathered at the sides.  Under the silky wrap, Hux wore gorgeous lacy panties, styled like a string bikini, cut to reveal the strength in Hux’s thighs and the soft perkiness of his ass cheeks.  His smooth, strong calves were to die for in purple open-toe stilettos, which showed off freshly painted pink toenails.  

Ben, mesmerized, almost dropped the tub of hot, soapy water that he was carrying from the kitchen towards the bed.  Setting it down, he pulled a lighter out from his pocket and lit the candles he’d placed around the apartment, trying to calm himself.  He wanted this to be long, drawn-out, sensual, ultra-romantic.  He needed to pace himself and his...excitement.

“Not what you imagined?”  He asked, eyes pulled magnetically to the vision that was Hux.  He poured their champagne and brought over the tray of chocolate strawberries, smirking when he saw Hux’s eyes expand with desire.  Hux loved chocolate strawberries.  “I thought you’d like this.”

“I do...that’s just it.”  Hux stepped out of the doorway, one long leg in front of the other, perfectly graceful like a seasoned supermodel or…

“God, you look like an angel, Hux.”

Hux smirked and pulled at his lower lip with one maincured finger, giving his best bedroom eyes.  “A Victoria’s Secret Angel?”

“Even better.”  Ben approached Hux and immediately went for his ass, squeezing it gently and pulling Hux against him.  Hux responded by lifting one perfect stem and hooking it around Ben’s waist.  Ben stroked up and down the full, creamy thigh, teasing the thin bottom of Hux’s panties with a hungry finger.  “But what were you saying?  This was a bad idea?”

Hux rolled his lightly lined eyes.  “Not a bad idea.  Not at all, it’s just...I was expecting something a little more out there.  Something I wouldn’t be so interested in doing but would do anyway, to please you.  When you said, ‘Hux, I want to praise and worship you while you’re dressed like a slutty old hollywood starlet, massage your feet and feed you treats and champagne, then eat your ass till you come,’ I thought maybe you misunderstood what I told you.  I’m supposed to be pleasing you , not you pleasing me. ”

“Pleasing you pleases me.”  Ben stroked a finger down the line of Hux’s crack, loving the feeling of hot skin on one side of his finger and cool silk and lace on the other.  Hux shuddered and swung his other leg up.  Ben carried him to the bed, pressing soft kisses along the long, smooth neck.  “And I always feel weird asking you to dress up for me.”  He set Hux down on the edge of the bed and knelt down before him, extending his left leg, admiring it.  He slowly took the stiletto off Hux’s foot and set it to the side.  Tickling the sole of Hux’s foot (and grinning at the stifled giggle Hux emitted in response), he gently kissed the top of it, the skin so unbelievably smooth and soft.  Then, he lowered the foot into the tub of hot water and began to massage it.  

Hux’s eyes fluttered closed.  “Why do you feel weir—oh, that tendon right there.  Shit, Ben, my feet have been killing me, this is just what I needed.”

With one damp hand, Ben reached up Hux’s thigh, kneading the flesh there while simultaneously massaging his foot.  “I don’t know,” he said, squirting a bit of lotion on his hands and then rubbing it into Hux’s skin.  “I worry that you’ll think I don’t like you enough just as yourself, or that I want you to be more womanly than you are, or something like that.  Which isn’t true.  You’re just so pretty, I like to see that accentuated once in awhile.  And you seem so happy when you're onstage, all done up...I don't know.”

Hux leaned forward just enough to kiss the top of Ben’s head.  “Ben, I love that you like to see me like this sometimes.  This is a part of myself.  Onstage it’s performance, but I feel like I never get to channel my femininity in a genuine, private way.  I love that you encourage me to do that.”

Ben bit back a grin and began working on Hux’s other foot.  “So maybe this can become a semi-regular thing?”

Hux smiled and extended his foot in a perfect point.  “Speaking of semi,” he smirked, trailing his lovely toes over the front of Ben’s jeans, adding gentle pressure against the growing bulge there.  “I didn’t know you had a foot thing, Benjamin.”

“I don’t have a foot thing, I just…” Ben looked up into Hux’s extremely skeptical face.  “Ok, I have a very minor foot thing.”

Hux wrapped a leg around Ben and dug his heel into his back, pulling him up and towards him.  He licked a line across Ben’s lips before pressing their mouths together and reaching for the fly of Ben’s jeans.  He undressed him quickly and soon the only thing between their flesh was the smooth silk kimono.

A blur of sensations followed.  The fizzy burn of champagne.  The sweet juiciness of a chocolate covered strawberry.  The waxy smear of lipstick across a cheek.  Soft, pliant flesh under lovely lace.  Warm massage oils.  Pink elastic between teeth. The cool wetness of strawberry-flavored lubricant.  A tongue.  A finger, then two.  Wet, focused circles and tight heat.  Warm red blush all over a creamy body.  A light tug on shiny red curls.  A stronger tug in lank dark waves.  Mouths.  Wet.  Tongues.  Pink.  Heartbeats.  Fast, fast, so fast.  Whispers of come for me, baby, come for me darlin', just like that, God I love you to see you so undone, Fuck, so gorgeous like this, so sexy, you're amazing amazing amazing...

Gasps.

Whispers.

“I love you.”

"I love you."

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re my knight.”

“You’re my queen.”

“Hey,” Hux nestled his head into the crook of Ben’s neck and corrected him sharply.  “I don’t tuck, I’m no queen.”

“You’re my ethereal goddess of love and beauty residing in the body of a sexy Irishman?”

Hux laughed.  “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Hux?”  Ben adjusted his arm so that he held Hux tightly at the waist.

“Ben?”  Hux forced his leg between Ben’s and drew little circles around his nipple.

“You’re the one.”

“And you, Benjamin.  And you.”