A/N: Here's more fluff, because ... why not.
Warnings for: cisgirl Kylo, Kylo/Hux, sexual content (not super graphic), references to pregnancy/babies.
Hux is uncharacteristically quiet when they land. He tucks Padmé against his chest to keep her out of the cold and marches behind Kylo through the snow, at ease for the first time in days – or as at ease as Hux ever truly is, at least. The house is just as Kylo left it – empty and dark – and Hux stays silent right up until they shuffle inside. Then he notices the mess.
"Fucking hell," Hux hisses, staring at the broken pottery pieces littering the kitchen counters and floor. They're going to have to get new plates. "What happened here?"
"Me," Kylo says grimly, sweeping past him. Shards of glass catch on the hem of her robe and she shakes them loose irritably. In truth, Kylo had forgotten about all of this; all she really remembers of that morning is reaching out for Hux in a blind panic, telling him to run all the while knowing it was too late – and then she remembers the overwhelming surge of terror and white-hot rage, bursting out of her the way it so rarely does nowadays. She'd come down to the sound of Padmé wailing in the other room, confused and frightened but out of harm's way. From there it had been a matter of snatching up Padmé's necessities, stuffing an uncooperative and screaming child into heavy winter clothing, and getting the hell out of there.
Hux sighs. He's not exactly disappointed or even angry, but he is – unsurprised and annoyed. He crosses the kitchen, glass crunching under his boots, and carefully untucks Padmé from the folds of his coat. She whimpers vaguely in her sleep, then rouses as Hux settles her into her crib. A moment passes with Padmé half-asleep, on the verge of waking fully – but then she feels it, the powerful aura of home, and goes still and quiet once more. She needs a bath and a fresh pair of pajamas, but Kylo and Hux have come to a silent agreement not to wake her.
"I'll clean this mess up," Kylo says finally.
"No," Hux says abruptly. "I'll take care of it. Light a fire – it's bloody freezing in here."
Kylo probes at him briefly, trying to gauge why he's so eager to clean up a mess he didn't make. He thinks he did make it, in a way – he was taken and Kylo was powerless to do anything but watch, and while he'd considered how distraught she would've been, he hadn't given much thought to the consequences. He also hadn't given much thought until now of what it would've done to him, had their roles been reversed. The idea discomfits him.
"Kylo," Hux snaps, crossing the kitchen again, this time to fetch a broom. "Stop poking around in my head and light a fire before we all freeze."
Kylo rolls her eyes – not that Hux can see her all that well in the semidarkness – but moves toward the hearth. She can't actually remember putting the fire out before leaving, and supposes she should be relieved that this place still stands. Kylo resolves not to mention this to Hux, as she doubts it would be of any comfort to him.
Lighting a fire takes little time at all, but Kylo presumes that any attempt to help Hux clean will be rebuffed, and thus leaves him to it. She wants little else but to crawl into bed, even though she's not really all that tired – but she hasn't meditated since before she got Hux back, and her sleep is always worst when she hasn't meditated recently. She takes off her boots and robe and sits on the floor by the hearth, then settles into herself for the first time in days. It's easier now that everything is as it should be.
Kylo opens her eyes again when she feels Hux grow abruptly near. Time has passed; outside, the sun has fully set at last. "You're hurt," Kylo murmurs, blinking up at Hux.
"It's nothing," Hux says dismissively, winding a scarlet rag around his index finger. He's shed his coat and his boots by now, but not his socks. "Hardly worth the trouble."
"Let me see," Kylo says, heedless, and Hux huffs irritably but drops to the floor next to her as gracefully as he can manage. He holds out his hand and lets Kylo remove the cloth, which covers a cut that runs down the side of his index finger. It takes barely any effort at all to heal such a small wound. Hux's breath hitches when the skin knits itself back together, but otherwise he's quiet, watching as Kylo lifts his hand to her face and kisses it.
"You've got blood on your lip now," Hux says, wrinkling his nose and swiping at her bottom lip with his thumb.
"I don't mind blood."
Hux rolls his eyes – she's stating the obvious, just a bit. "Disgusting," he hums, even as he slides his hand over her cheek, then around to the back of her neck. He kisses her, lightly at first, but Kylo turns it eager, fervent. She's been craving this for what feels like eons – having Hux close again is good, more than good, but he's yet to be close enough. Privately, Kylo thinks he could never truly be close enough, but – that's not the sort of thing she can allow herself to dwell on.
Hux pulls back, though not before nipping Kylo's bottom lip lightly. "We're not fucking on the floor," he warns her, untangling his hand from her hair.
Kylo raises her eyebrows at him. She sort of likes the idea, although she isn't overly attached to it. It'd be murder on one of their backs, or perhaps both, but the firelight glints so nicely off of Hux's hair. "We've fucked on the floor before," she muses. "More than once."
"The floor is much colder and harder than our bed," Hux points out, and something about the way he says that, our bed, gets Kylo even after all this time. Kylo follows willingly when Hux stands and makes for the bed, and within seconds they're under the blankets, pawing at each other like teenagers. Kylo feels vaguely drunk on all of it – on Hux's mouth at her throat, on finally being able to touch him like this, on being home.
"Cold?" Hux mutters when she shivers under him.
"Your hands," Kylo lies, squirming when Hux skims his fingers over her recently bared hips.
"My sincerest apologies," Hux hums, and when his fingers slide between her legs, Kylo stops complaining. Instead, she reaches for him, fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers until she can get her hand in.
They could finish just like this – his fingers in her, her hand on him – but that's not what Kylo wants, not right now. She pushes at him, one hand on his shoulder, and commands hoarsely, "Move."
She doesn't need to tell Hux what she wants, how she wants it; he knows, or perhaps he just wants the exact same thing. Hux moves so that she can shift onto her elbows and knees – lying on her back for this feels too much like being smothered right now, and not in a fun way – and then he fucks her like that, his mouth at the curve of her neck, stifled gasps hot against her skin. Kylo clutches at whatever parts of him she can reach, during and even after, when he inevitably must pull away.
"Still cold?" Hux inquires, running a hand over her back once Kylo settles onto her side next to him. Without even needing to be asked, he moves his hand down to her thigh, carefully massaging the new skin there. Copious amounts of bacta have made her leg nearly as good as new, but it still twinges occasionally. She hasn't told him, but Hux can be quite observant when he wants to be.
"You were the one that was so cold," Kylo mutters, and Hux hums a laugh. "Do my back, too."
Kylo knows he's pulling a face, even as he moves his hands to knead against her lower back. "Anything else, my Lady Ren?"
Kylo huffs. Hux can feign annoyance all he likes; the post-coital contentment dripping off of him betrays him. Besides, they both know he appreciates being bossed around, in the right context. "You're the reason my back is sore. You get to fix it."
"I'm only fifty percent of the reason your back is sore," Hux says, reaching a hand around to skim lightly over her stomach. He's making a point, the smartass, but it is a fond touch nevertheless.
Kylo allows this for a moment, pleased, then swats at him lightly. "Get to work, General."
Hux's hands are just as clever as always; Kylo isn't tired enough for sleep yet, but she'd be perfectly content to let him keep at it until she is. She'd also like some food, and maybe a shower, but – she has no interest in moving yet.
The baby, however, disagrees; he keeps shifting, restless. Quiet, Kylo thinks, aiming this at the vague pulse of energy within her that signifies his presence. We're alright now.
"Are you checking on the baby?" Hux asks, curious.
"Hmm?" Kylo says, opening her eyes and tilting her head to look at Hux.
"You get a funny look when you do," Hux says. He doesn't elaborate, but Kylo hears what he's thinking – peaceful, sort of happy.
"He's squirming," Kylo explains. "I was asking him to knock it off."
"Well, do let me know if he listens," Hux says dryly. "It might be nice to have one obedient child."
Kylo snorts. Padmé is a great many things – wickedly clever, affectionate, independent – but she's only obedient when it suits her. Kylo prefers it that way; she likes the idea that Padmé might be less easily swayed than other children, even if it makes her harder to manage at times. Hux can't hope to understand that, given the nature of his own upbringing.
Kylo would rather not dwell on thoughts of Hux's childhood, something she's given an unusual amount of consideration lately, given what she now knows about his father. The impulse to tell Hux that particular bit of news hasn't struck yet, and Kylo strongly suspects it never will. It's a needless concern, one Kylo can prevent from ever crossing Hux's mind.
"We should start thinking about names," Kylo suggests then, in the interest of changing the subject.
"Oh, let's not fight, I'm really not in the mood for it," Hux says quickly.
"We don't have to fight," Kylo says, laughing. Hux gives her a reproachful prod in the middle of her back, thinking of Padmé asleep in the next room. Kylo does not stop laughing, and fortunately Padmé does not rouse. "We won't fight. All you have to do is stop being so picky."
"Standards do not make me picky," Hux says irritably.
"Fine," Kylo says, once she's able to speak normally. Hux has moved to squeezing at her shoulders now, and no doubt can feel her still trembling with suppressed amusement. Nevertheless, he sometimes requires a bit of coaxing when it comes to these things, so Kylo controls herself. Besides, she's relatively sure she'll get her way eventually. "We'll come up with something eventually, I suppose. I think we did fairly well the first time."
Hux grumbles. "The hell we did, that was your mother's doing. I'm issuing a moratorium on family names, anyway."
"You and your two-credit words and your standards," Kylo mutters, rolling her eyes and stretching lazily. Hux stifles a bark of laughter into the crook of her neck, and despite herself, Kylo cannot help but join in.