AN: Inspired by a prompt from Xanderlike, and well, it was my birthday yesterday.

Birthday.

It was said that Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader, did not celebrate the passing of years. He had aged, of course, but there was never any celebration. No tradition, nothing marking the day except the changing of a number logged in datapad somewhere in the depths of the First Order archives, buried so deep not even Hux had been able to retrieve the details.

And this day, his actual day of birth, finds Kylo in his quarters, contemplative. Where was she tonight? What would she do if she knew it was his birthday? Would she, could she possibly care? When he was very young, he remembers silly cakes and hastily wrapped gifts from Han. Of more love than he's ever experienced in his life. Kylo's hands clench into a fist. Memories of another time.

He wonders of the passing of her years. What would a scavenger's birthday be like? Stuck on Jakku, alone in the desert, who had it worst? The years forgotten by Leia, with apologetic notes sent from distant planets, or no one but desert rats to share the day with? What could be worse than Luke, within Kylo's Jedi training, knowing the precious order was more evolved than something as elementary as a birthday.

Are you there?

Kylo moves to the window and looks out into space. He knows not where she is. As always, he can only see her. Against his better judgement, he keeps the bond open. Yes. Why do you contact me? She had made it obvious departing Crait she wanted nothing to do with him.

I… Felt. Nothing, I'm sorry-

No, I'm glad you contacted me.

Is there something about today?

Is she that in harmony with his feelings? Sighing, he feels too tired to lie and answers aloud. "It is my birthday."

She is silent for a moment, then speaks, "I… I do not know what to say." He doesn't either, and then she asks, "What do you want for your birthday?"

For the man who can everything, whose will is law in the galaxy, her request seems a silly question. If anything, he wishes for the gift of time. He would go back in time, back to...maybe all the way to the birthday when he was last happy, before things got complicated. Before Luke and Snoke and the mess that is his life.

"What would you wish for?" He turns the question back to her.

"It is not my birthday. I…"

"Surely there is something you desire?"

His word causes a reaction. A faint rose color tinges her cheeks. "It is your birthday, not mine. As you've said previously, I am nothing. What could I possibly give the Supreme Leader?"

"I…" He pictures - not for the first time - some of the many things she could give him, then shakes his head.

Apparently, Rey understands the intent of his of his pause and while he thinks she is repulsed by him, she hesitates, then, after some apparent inner debate, says, "Close your eyes."

As if commanded by the force, he immediately closes his eyes. The air around him feels closer, more tense and although he keeps his eyes shut, he's convinced himself he can smell the dry air of the desert around him. Then, for the first time since her reassuring presence behind him as they fought against the guards, he feels her hand on his chest.

A small amount of pressure. An intake of breath. Soft lips tentatively connecting with his. He bends down and places one of his large hands behind her head. She yields to him and opens her mouth, allowing them more access to each other. There is heat. Passion. Fire. She twines herself around him.

When he finally opens his eyes, she is gone.

Happy birthday, Ben.