Hey guys! This is my first fanfiction in a really long time. The Force Awakens gave me the bug again. This will mostly focus on a father/son relationship between Han and Kylo Ben. But there is an element of Kylux as well. Hux will be more prominent in future chapters. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks.

Coming Home

Chapter One

The air was frigid. Yet, Kylo Benjamin Solo had reason to believe that the cold winter air was a much warmer atmosphere than what awaited him inside the two story red brick colonial house that stood just fifty feet in front of him. The home seemed so massive to him, even now as an adult. When he was a child the house loomed large in his mind in terms of mere size. To his young mind, it was giant, far larger than the homes of his friends and other family. Now, as he stood in front of the home as a thirty-year-old man, its physical size did not loom quite as large, but its imprint on his mind was as giant as ever.

The house represented his past. It was his childhood home, the place where he had spent his formative years - years that he so desperately wanted to put behind him. Physically, it was a classic symbol of where he came from: an upper middle class white suburban family. It was a classic home. Simple. Quaint. Painfully normal. All that was missing was a white picket fence. He hated it.

He always thought that the house had put forth the image of a perfect family, something taken out a black and white sitcom. After all, he had successful parents. His mother was a tenured professor of political science and military history at Yale University, his father a former Marine turned commercial airline pilot. He himself was an honor student. To the average citizen it seemed like the Solo family walked out of a Norman Rockwell painting. But Kylo knew the truth.

Kylo knew all too well what it felt like to be trapped under the weight of expectations. He knew the horror of lying awake at night praying for sleep while listening to the sound of screams, thrown objects, and profanities coming from downstairs. He knew the pressure of living up to impossible expectations. He knew the pain of living with temperamental and short fused father who would fly away for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. He knew what it was like to have to rely on an emotionally distant and unavailable mother both as a young child with recurring nightmares and as a young man with longings not just for girls at school, but other boys too. He knew what it was like to stare at his parents' wedding picture, seeing his baby self being held between them as they kissed his cheeks and knowing that if it wasn't for his existence, the wedding probably would have never happened, and that his parents would have been happier for it.

Clenching his fists inside his fur lined black leather gloves, Kylo tried to relieve some of the tension he hadn't been able to shake since he'd climbed in his car and made his way from Manhattan to Connecticut to be here. Currently, he was leaning up against the door of his Porsche Cayman, trying to psych himself up and gather the courage to head inside. His pocket buzzed. Pulling out his phone, he saw a text notification from Hux.

Don't forget to smile. ;)

Sometimes his boyfriend was an asshole. He also wondered if he may have some sort of psychic ability. The timing of Hux's texts were often uncanny, as was the case at this particular moment in time. He'd lost track of how long he'd been standing out here, dreading getting even one step closer to the door. His black wool coat was covered in flakes of snow, and by now, even his hood wasn't keeping his hair dry.

He'd been dreading this visit since the moment his mother had somehow managed to talk him into coming. He hadn't spent Christmas with his family in over four years, not since he'd come home a year after law school announcing his career plans and making the mistake of bringing Hux along with him. The fight that ensued between him and his father had been large enough for Kylo to consider never speaking to either of his parents again. Yet, his mother, although sometimes distant and demanding, had done nothing to deserve alienation from her only son. As much as he liked to paint himself a paragon of indifference, even Kylo didn't have the heart to cause her that much pain.

His mother was the the reason why he was home now. Her phone calls to him were sporadic. Sometimes she would call to check in, but most of the time she only reached out to her son if it was a matter of importance. That just happened to be the case regarding the last call that she had made.

Remembering the conversation, he felt a tingling sensation behind his eyes and his hand flexed again. He willed the tears not to fall, but when he closed his eyes to fight the growing wetness, he could hear his mother's deep voice in his head.

"This will probably be his last Christmas. Please come home."

A lifetime of smoking had finally caught up to Anakin Skywalker. Since Kylo was a child, he could remember Anakin's emphysema plaguing the old man. It frustrated him how quickly he could become winded and exhausted while trying to keep up with his grandson. Even simple activities like throwing a ball around for too long could leave him struggling for breath with his hands on his knees. Kylo could remember the first time he saw his grandfather have a particularly severe attack. He froze in terror as Anakin began to cough uncontrollably as he struggled for breath. He only moved when his mother came running outside to help her father to the nearest lawn chair.

"Grandpa just needs to catch his breath, sweetheart. Why don't you go get him some water? He's going to be fine."

But this time he wasn't going to be fine. After decades of struggling with COPD, he'd been diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. His mother said that he'd been lucky to make it this long, to see both of his grandchildren grow up into young adults. Kylo guessed that was supposed to be a comfort to him, but he didn't find it particularly comforting at all. His grandfather had been the one member of his family who truly understood him, the one link that he was always proud and happy to have.

Since he was a young boy, he'd always felt a pull to his gruff and surly grandfather. The man was a curmudgeon. The early loss of his wife and his years serving in the Air Force during the Korean War had left him hardened and cynical. He was a self made man, born of working class roots to a single mother in New Mexico. He'd enlisted in the Air Force immediately after graduating high school and returned home to put himself through business school where he met Kylo's grandmother. They married and she died shortly after while giving birth to his mother and uncle. His grandfather had never quite gotten over her death.

His mother and uncle had always said that Anakin had been a difficult man to please. He was hard on his children, demanding excellence and leaving little room for the flights of fancy that came with childhood. He was rude to their friends as kids and the habit only grew worse as they got older and started bringing home romantic interests. Anakin's unadulterated hatred for Kylo's father was one particular aspect of his personality that Kylo always found endlessly amusing and relatable. Anakin had even been boorish to some of Luke's young and innocent girlfriends if he deemed them too stupid, vapid, or ditzy. Yet, Luke's late wife was one of the only people to ever receive a truly sincere word of praise from the man. Kylo could remember being a young boy and asking the man what his grandmother was like.

"She was a lot like your Aunt Mara," he had said with a wistful look in his eye. "But much prettier."

Aunt Mara had died three years ago. Her funeral was the last big family event that Kylo had attended. He spent most of his time hiding away from his family with Anakin, actively avoiding his father and trying his hardest not to display any emotion. His mother was angry at Anakin the entire time. She cursed him for not being more sympathetic and supportive for his Uncle Luke. The truth was the Anakin was grieving. He loved his daughter-in-law dearly. He was saddened at the loss, angry that his son had to experience the horror of losing the love of his life, and resented that fate had left his teenaged granddaughter motherless. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. He didn't see the need to cover them up and pretend to be strong or happy in front of guests. Kylo liked that about him. He was free of pretense. He was honest.

He'd barely spoken to his family since, with the exception of the occasional phone call from his mother which he felt obliged to respond to. Now, he was about to break that streak, and it was taking every ounce of self restraint he had not to hop back in his car and drive away. But he had to do this for grandfather. All he needed was two more minutes to collect himself and he would be able to go inside. Yet, just as that thought ran through his mind a brown blur appeared in the window surrounding the front door, cutting his preparation time short.

"Chewie, no!" he yelled, but his words fell on deaf ears. The brown sheep dog's ears perked up and Kylo could hear his loud bark even from his spot on the street.

"Chewie, hush!" It was too late. His father's dog had ousted him. Just moments later his mother's short figure appeared in the window. Kylo watched as she hooked her hand through Chewie's collar and tried to pull him away, but the dog was too excited. He kept barking, prompting Leia to look outside. Kylo saw her eyes light up when she caught sight of him. With a deep breath he started walking to the door as his mother hurried to open it.

"Ben!" She cheered. He noticed instantly that her voice was almost choked with emotion, but in true Leia Skywalker-Solo fashion, she swallowed it down. She moved toward him, wrapping her sweater tightly against herself as a shield from the cold and snow.

Kylo shuddered at the name. It was his middle name, but it was what he had always gone by as a child. As he grew older and tried to distance himself from his past he'd started using his first name. It started in his very first collegiate class. He simply didn't bother to correct the professor when she called out attendance. He realized in that moment that he could create an entirely new identity for himself. Very few people in his new life called him Ben, most didn't even know his middle name. Hux was the exception.

"I go by Kylo now, Mother," he stated as Leia drew closer. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and Kylo let her embrace him without fully returning the gesture.

"Don't be ridiculous," Leia scolded. "You'll always be Ben around here. Do you need help with your bags?" she asked, gesturing to the black duffel bag slung across his shoulder.

Kylo almost laughed. His diminutive mother offering to help him with his luggage was an entertaining thought, but it was just like her.

"I just have this, thanks."

"Where's Hux?" Leia asked as they crossed the threshold into the house. Kylo dropped his bag on the hardwood floor in front of the stairs and took a deep breath. "I thought you would bring him." He scoffed and looked at his mother incredulously.

"You're joking right?" Memories of the first and last time he'd brought his boyfriend home to meet his family resurfaced. His father's angry expression. Hateful word tumbling out of both their mouths. Hux's look of sheer panic and utter discomfort. His mother's tears. It was not an experience he wanted to relive. It was the experience that had driven the final wedge in his relationship with his father. "So Dad can cast aspersions at us again? I'd rather not subject him to that."

Leia's hand was suddenly clenching his forearm. She looked her son in the eye and brought her other hand to his cheek. "He is always welcome here."

Kylo wanted that to be true. He could see in his mother eyes that she wanted it to be true as well. Ever since his argument with his father, his mother had been trying to explain away his behavior. She insisted that Kylo didn't understand, that there had been a massive misunderstanding. She begged and pleaded with him to talk to Han, but Kylo didn't know if he had it in him to open up those wounds ever again. Avoidance was much easier.

"Tell that to your husband."

"You need to talk to him," Leia urged yet again. "I know you think that he disapproves of -"

"I don't want to talk about Dad."

"He loves you. He wants you to be happy."

"And he made that abundantly clear the last time I came home," Kylo stated sarcastically.

"Your father was upset with many of the choices you were making the last time you came home," Leia stated, her eye contact never wavering. "The sex of your partner was not one of them."

Perhaps is was his mother's piercing gaze, or maybe it was the painful dredging up of memories, but in that moment the tingling feeling before came back behind his eyes. In an effort to stop it, he looked up, noting the dust on the chandelier and a faint cobweb on the ceiling. A tense silence fell between them only to be interrupted moments later by another bark from Chewie.

"Chewie!" A voice called from the other room and a rush of blood flew to Kylo's ears. His heart started pounding and the tingling behind his eyes started growing to unacceptable levels. "Shut up will ya!"

Han Solo's disembodied voice grew closer to the foyer where Kylo and his mother were still standing. Kylo chewed on his lip and cast his eyes to the stairs. He wasn't ready to face his father yet, especially not with the memories of their last meeting so fresh in his mind.

"I'll just go put my stuff upstairs," he said. He turned quickly and bounded upward. His mother did not even have time to protest. On the way up he passed pictures of himself and his baby cousin lining the walls. With both of them being only children, and his uncle being his mother's twin, they were closer than average cousins growing up. They were more like siblings. He missed her almost as much as he missed his grandfather.

Once he reached the top of the stairs he turned to the right, following the all too familiar path to his bedroom. He didn't need ask his mother where he would be staying. He always slept in his childhood room when he returned home. Even after all these years, he knew he would be staying there tonight.

As he closed the door behind him and flicked on the overhead light, Kylo suddenly felt as if he had traveled back in time. He felt like Ben again, retreating behind the walls of his bedroom to escape another painful fight between his parents. His room was exactly the same, as if his mother had kept it under lock and key for all these years waiting for his return. He threw his bag on top of the black comforter covering his queen sized bed and sat down. He smiled wistfully at the posters on his wall – Nirvana, The Smiths, Donnie Darko. He really was an angsty little shit when he was young. No wonder he drove his father crazy.

A collection of model airplanes and Legos still took of residence on his shelf, along with mismatched collection of old VHS tapes, DVDs, and CDs. There were a few books still remaining but most of the books he'd been attached to as a child had made the journey with him to his apartment in Manhattan. His old computer was still sitting at his desk, and he wondered if the damn thing would even still power up. It was his Christmas present in 1999. It was already giving him problems when he left for college in 2003, probably a result of virus contracted from watching too much porn.

Thinking of porn, Kylo walked across the room to the spot right in front of his closet where a loose floor board creaked under his weight. Grabbing his keys from his pocket, he wedged a key between the slats and pried the loose board up. He smiled when his eyes landed on the prize. Three old issues of playboy he'd stolen out of the trunk of his Dad's Mustang when he was thirteen years old. Han never even noticed they were gone. He's probably forgotten he'd even had them in there. Underneath the magazines was a small bag of weed, a half smoked pack of Camels, and a single bottle of Southern Comfort with about two inches of liquid remaining. Kylo smiled. His room really was exactly the same.

In an act of nostalgia (and self preservation) Kylo opened the bottle of Southern Comfort and took a swig. He winced at the taste and wondered how he could ever stand this garbage when he was young. He then shoved the cigarettes and the weed in his pocket, resolving to throw the dried out cigarettes away and flush the drugs down the toilet. Even at thirty years old he didn't want to face the phone call from his mother if she ever did find the stash.

Forcing himself out of his trip down memory lane, Kylo turned his attention back to the bag on his bed. Opening the zipper, he started pulling out his clothes and hanging them in the closet. He set the presents he'd bought for his family on the desk, and flopped down on the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Maybe a fifteen-minute power nap might give him the strength he needed to face his father. Yet, just as he resolved himself to clear his mind his phone started buzzing. His boyfriend's timing was, once again, right on target. Groaning, he reached down in his pocket and pulled out the device. It was Hux, but it wasn't the text he was expecting.

Heading to the office. They finally responded to the requests for production. We've got thousands of pages to go through. Told Snoke ur in Connecticut. Expect emails.

Until now, Kylo didn't realize it was possible for this night to get any worse. This case was quickly becoming the bane of his life. If it didn't end up killing him, it might end up killing his relationship. The amount of stress he and Hux had been living under these past few months was taking its toll. They never got a break from each other. They spent most of their time in the office, and when they got home they rarely had time to unwind. They were at each other's throats over the tiniest things. They hadn't had sex in weeks. Yet, even so, while he was lying on the bed and listening to the vibrating of his phone, Kylo wished that he could reach over and run his fingers through Hux's red hair. He dreaded the thought of sleeping alone in his old bed tonight. Then, in sudden burst of emotion, Kylo found himself entirely pissed off.

He grabbed his phone and wrote a clipped reply.

Did you remind him that it's Xmas eve?

He worked during Chanukah.

Was that your response or his? I thought you were going to your sister's?

One of us has to show. Especially after the shit you pulled last week.

JFC! I didn't throw that reporter! It slipped out of my hand. Shattering the desk was an accident. How many times are we going to have this argument!?

Until I stop having to clean up after your tantrums. Ur welcome.

That was Hux's way of ending this particular conversation. He knew better than to reply. He tossed the phone roughly onto the mattress and raked his hands through his hair. Recently, he was beginning to understand why so many people had rules about workplace relationships. He'd been with Hux for four years after meeting at the firm. They were both almost fired when they were found out, but they had somehow managed to convince their bosses that their relationship wouldn't affect their job. So far, that had been the case. However, he couldn't say that their job hadn't affected their relationship.

Of the two of them, Hux was far more career driven to the point where he could become obsessive. He was determined to be made partner by the time he turned thirty. Lately, his way of achieving this goal was to drive his head so far up Leonard Snoke's ass that he practically disappeared. He was driving himself crazy, taking on loads of work that could easily be delegated to paralegals. He often got angry that Kylo didn't throw himself into the job with the same amount of dogged dedication.

Kylo took his job seriously. He did his work and got results. He knew how lucky he was to have a position in a reputed corporate firm in New York City. His job had earned him a more than comfortable living, introduced him to the man he loved, afforded him many luxuries, and gained him respect among his peers. Yet, although he hated to admit it, there was a small part of him that still yearned for something more. He had all the money he could need, but no time to use it. He fantasized about surprising Hux with a trip to Paris, Hawaii, or Dubai, but knew in his mind that Hux would hate receiving a gift that could be considered a sentimental frivolity.

The most sentimental fantasy he had as of late involved purchasing a home similar to the one he was in now. That was the fantasy that he hated himself for having the most. It involved a sappy wedding, children, a dog, a place to live in the country away from the maze of Manhattan, jobs that didn't make them want to kill themselves or each other – or their clients for that matter. It was the white picket fence. It was everything he had grown up hating. It was everything he had vowed to run away from. Yet, part of him wanted it still. And he wanted it with Hux.

Reaching across the bed to his bag, he palmed at the side pocket where he'd placed the box. He hadn't wanted to leave it at home where Hux could find it. He'd bought the silver ring months ago. His phone had buzzed with a notification from one is his favorite news apps, summarizing the newly released verdict on Obergefel v. Hodges. He happened to be walking past a jewelry store on Fifth Avenue at that exact moment and was suddenly hit with the crushing reality that he needed to spend the rest of his life with Hux.

He surprised himself with the epiphany. Hux was the first long term relationship he'd ever had with a man. Of course there were a few other men in high school and college that he's had some flings with. But until Hux, all the long term relationships he had were with women. Before, when he thought about the possibility of a sappy saccharine future, he'd always pictured settling down with a woman and living a painfully hetero-normative life with kids that had his eyes and her nose. But Hux has changed that picture. Now when he pictured a family he saw two fathers, children who needed a home adopted into theirs, maybe a dog. But none of that mattered. That wasn't what either of them really wanted. Buying the ring was a moment of foolish weakness. Although he did kind of miss Chewie. Maybe they could still get the dog.

Right then, as if the old dog could hear his thoughts, the door to his bedroom creaked open and a furry mass came bounding inside. Chewie jumped on his bed and settled in right next to him, lying his shaggy head on his chest and letting out a huff. Kylo smirked and scratched the dog behind his ears. He then smiled as Chewie began pawing at him for more attention the moment he moved his hand away.

"I missed you too, buddy," he whispered, as though he was afraid someone might hear him.

Chewie whined in response, and for a moment Kylo was content. The moment did not last, however, as reality reared its head. A tentative knock sounded on the door, prompting an even more dramatic pounding in Kylo's heart. After all these years, Kylo knew that when Chewie was near, it meant that his father was not far behind.

Kylo instantly went on the defensive. He sat up on the bed, disturbing Chewie in the process. His father's grey haired figure stood in the doorway for a few awkward and tense seconds, although it felt more like a lifetime. The first sound uttered between father in son in three years was a gruff clearing of the throat.

"Your mother said you were here," Han finally uttered. Kylo didn't quite know how to reply to the…greeting? He wasn't sure if his father meant it as a statement or a question. Was he trying to start a conversation? Han Solo had never been known for his social graces, and as much as Kylo hated to admit that he'd inherited anything from the man, he wasn't exactly known for his people skills either.

"Here I am," he answered, throwing his hands out in the air in a sarcastic flare. Silence once more followed as Han merely nodded and cleared his throat a second time.

"Well… she went to pick up your grandfather. Luke and Rey will be here at 7:00. Dinner is at 8:00."

"Okay."

The silence was there again. Kylo observed his father as he attempted to make eye contact but was unable to follow through. His gaze remained on the wall behind Kylo's bed, just to the right of his eyes. Kylo was tempted to end the silence in an effort to stop the awkward and tense suffering that was clearly affecting both of them at this moment in time, but his pride wouldn't let him. He refused to be the first one of them to speak about the confrontation that was so obviously at the forefront of both of their minds. If his father had something to say about it, he could be the one to bring it up. Han merely cleared his throat a third time and scratched the crown of his head.

"Okay," he said. "I'll see you later then."

"Okay."

Han called for Chewie and shut the door behind him as he walked out of the room. Thus marked the end of the interaction. Kylo's head flopped back on the pillow and he let out an aggravated sigh. He then felt his phone buzz with the first string of emails that he was sure would be coming in all evening.

It was going to be a magical Christmas.