The sound of a chime stirred him, but only enough to wonder blearily if the unfamiliar noise was a droid. None of the other options – a door, a comm, a randomly overheard electronic sound – were worth waking fully. When he heard movement beneath him, though, Hux sucked in a sudden breath, gripped the knife's handle, and came entirely, alertly awake. Daylight was streaming through the window, creating a bright spotlight on the floor and illuminating the rest of the room well enough to see clearly. He froze as his memory of how he got to this unfamiliar place snapped into place a second later.

"Yeah, yeah," came Dameron's voice from the bunk below, slurred with sleep. "I got it." The man half-stumbled to the table, wearing only his pants – no shirt, no socks, no obvious weapons or defenses, not even looking Hux's way. His pants were even unfastened, as he had to grab them before they slid off. Hux did his best to calm himself from the jolt of adrenaline. Dameron picked up a comm device from the table. "What?"

A female voice issued from it, the same as the officer who had been in the ready room the day before. "Poe, tell me you finished the report last night?"

"Well, you're in luck. I finished the report last night." He spread his legs, letting go of his pants to rub his face. The fabric collapsed around his hips, but didn't drop further. Hux's brows rose slightly. It took a lot of ass to do that. He'd never had the opportunity to see someone do … that. Not only was the physique impressive, but that it was so unguarded, casual, and relaxed.

"Good," the voice continued from the comm. "The commission wants it. Where is it?"

"What?"

"Where is it? The commission says you didn't send it to them. What did you do with it?"

"Oh!" Dameron tugged up his pants and fastened them one-handed, ending the suspense of whether they would fall off. Hux puzzled over why he had found that so intriguing. Was it envy? Jealousy? … Sexual attraction, perhaps? Dameron said into the comm, "Kriff. I left it on the holotable." There was a moment of silence from the other end. "It's there," he insisted.

"There's nothing on the table, Poe."

"No, I mean, it's in the holotable. I saved it."

"In … your folder? Under your access code?"

Dameron groaned. "Kriff. Yes, I probably did. I was logged in. Shiss. I wasn't thinking. It was really late."

Hux sheathed his knife. He wasn't sure what to make of himself or his feelings, but he definitely didn't need to stab anyone at the moment. He kept his motions under the blanket, even though Dameron was facing away. Reasonably, Hux said, "It's only a few minutes away from your quarters. We can return to the ready room and you can access it there. Surely they can wait that long."

Dameron turned in his direction. "Yeah, yeah, that … we'll do that."

The voice on the comm became … not exactly frosty, but wary maybe. It definitely changed. "Is that Gen- I mean Arm- uh, Hux?"

Well, kriff himself, then! He'd assumed Dameron had been using the comm in the usual civilized manner of pressing the button to speak and not just leaving the channel constantly open. Who did that?! Hux climbed off the bunk and straightened his clothes. He would face this embarrassment on his feet. He narrowed his eyes at Dameron. Dameron narrowed his at the comm.

"Yeah," Dameron said, drawing the word out with a suspicion Hux found gratifying to hear. His next word was as quick as the other had been slow. "Why?"

"No reason. Nothing!" she said hastily. "Yeah, just come up here when you can so we can get that sent out."

Dameron clicked it off and turned to smirk at Hux. "I think we know what she's thinking."

There was indeed an obvious read of the two of them sharing a room, one that he hadn't thought about the night before, when safety drowned out everything else. He wasn't sure he minded it. "Yes. Well. You wanted to pretend we were dating." The full impact of the man hit him then – hair tousled, face stubbled, clothes rumpled, and looking half-hungover. He should have looked terrible. He did not. The pang Hux felt was definitely sexual attraction. Kriff.

There was pendant around Dameron's neck – a ring or a band of some kind, dangling over the middle of his sternum. Hux stared at it: Was it a wedding band from a deceased spouse? A token from a liege lord? A unit of currency? An identification chip?

Dameron leaned on the table with his free hand and bit his lip as he looked Hux over in return. His bare, muscled chest rose and fell with a heavy breath. The pendant went along for the ride. He reached up to touch it with the hand still holding the comm. Hux knew he should be worrying about the strategic implications of the woman's tone, but thinking was suddenly difficult. Dameron said, "You're going to have to tell me when we're not pretending anymore. I seem to remember you saying flirting was okay, though." He flicked the ring to the side and scratched idly at the center of his chest.

Hux swallowed tensely, remembering that most abortive of fantasies from before he'd fallen asleep. Maybe instead of the knife, he'd just grab that chain and yank him in close … Hux managed to get his eyes up to Dameron's, but by the time he did, there was nothing else in his head aside from the appealing way the man's eyes were shaped. Seconds ticked by. What the kriff was wrong with him? Should he say something flirtatious? What was there to say? He had no idea.

Dameron pushed away from the table, tossing the comm on it. He walked forward. Hux stopped breathing. … And then he walked by. "Just let me know when."

"I … I will." Hux swallowed again and resumed breathing. He sagged against the bunk bed as his second adrenaline dump of the day coursed through him. His fingers and toes prickled with the sensation of pins and needles. Around the partition, Dameron urinated into the toilet, unfazed. Hux resolved to do the same, or at least act like it. When Dameron finished, Hux asked, "This … dating thing. Is there no social prohibition for it between us?"

"Nope." The faint whirring of a grooming device emanated from around the partition.

Then why had her voice changed? "I don't believe you."

The whirring went on, then stopped. "Put it this way: no social prohibition I care about or intend to conform to." He leaned out to look at Hux intently. "People can be friends with me, or more than friends, no matter where they came from or what they were. Got it?"

He'd shaved off his bristle and combed his hair. Hux couldn't say the man looked better, but he certainly wasn't worse. Just fascinatingly different. Dameron was handsome. He was powerful. He could have anyone he wanted. But he wanted Hux. Did he really? Truly? Was Hux being an idiot to think this could work?

"Are you receiving?"

A cold sweat ran over him. He'd screwed up and missed something. He reviewed what had been said, catching the question he'd glossed over, too zoned out and distracted to notice. Swiftly, before Dameron could speak again, he said, "Yes. Got it."

Dameron peered at him, brows furrowed. Hux ignored him by turning to make up his bunk. Dameron moved on to whatever hygiene process he followed. When Hux took his turn in the refresher, he kept it quick – relieved himself, washed hands and face, shaved with what he hoped was a communal appliance, and rinsed his mouth. He didn't know how it was here, but in the Order, hygiene devices were personal, which put the dental unit off-limits. He presented himself.

Dameron had dressed. "Ready?" Hux glanced at Dameron's unmade bed. There was a sock sticking out from under the blanket. He looked back to Dameron, who said, "We'll just make a mess of it later."

The insolence! But he couldn't deny the thrill that ran through him. "I'm ready." Dameron started to say something, looked pointedly between Hux and bed as Hux realized a dirty mind could just as easily read that as 'I'm ready to make a mess of it now'. Hux snapped, "Don't be presumptuous! We have our duty to get to."

Dameron grinned toothily. "Yeah, okay. But … you know?" He was moving out the door as he spoke. His tone was knowing and playful, the sort of flirting Hux had expressly said was allowed. But in this case, it was morning and people were moving in the hall. Several took obvious note of the two of them leaving Dameron's quarters together.

"I do know," Hux said, irritated by the audience and taking refuge in being arch. "You have no respect for social convention or regulations, but you're useful to me so I'll overlook it."

"I'm 'useful' to you? Is that how you say 'I love you'?"

"I-" Wait, was it? And also, there were far too many people in hearing distance, which in the current situation meant the one walking toward them and the two some ways behind them. He couldn't imagine how he should respond, so he didn't.

Dameron nudged him with his elbow, which was less jarring than it might have been had Hux not been so off-center already. He said, "Don't worry, Hugs. You're useful to me, too."