#huxcapacitor

There were few holidays celebrated as wildly as the coming of a new year, and that much was true even within the ranks of the First Order. Alcohol flowed freely on that last night of the year, parties after shifts were far from uncommon, and even higher-ranked officers seemed intent on getting in on the fun.

Mitaka had definitely already had too much to drink. It hadn’t been intentional, either. He’d started with one glass, and had been handed another by Thanisson, another by Rodinon, hadn’t been able to refuse a fourth serving, not with his cheeks flushed and warm and the whole world just the slightest bit hazy. It was after that fourth drink that he spotted someone across the room, a wide grin tugging at his lips, and he quickly closed the distance between them, rather unceremoniously throwing his arms around General Hux’s shoulders and tugging him into a probably very inappropriately-timed hug.

“Bold of you to assume anyone can help what they feel.”

Poe had assumed that from the very beginning that his feelings for anyone were out of his control. Though he’d only ever cared about someone like this twice in his life and it was just as scary as it had been back then. So perhaps Hux was right about one thing, they should stop this.

But Poe didn’t think he could. Not unless Hux threw him out that door.

It's strange, how his body seems to know exactly where to take him when his mind is too shot to remember the path back to his own base. The adrenaline has long since worn off, but whatever they had slipped into his body is still flowing strong through his veins and everything feels like a nightmare.

He's distinctly aware of warm blood trickling down from his nose and a cut on his forehead, as well as some nastier contusions and open wounds along his ribs and down his sides. His left leg feels like it's on fire and he's favoring it considerably, but he knows it won't last him much longer.

Poe Dameron can usually talk his way out of anything. This, however, had proven to be quite different. The drugs help keep his mind cloudy enough as to not recall every detail, but the trauma remains close to his chest where he knows it may suffocate him once he's sober.

He comes to a door after at least an hour of wandering around, one he recognizes somewhat distinctly - something he had found in recon once and made a mental note of.

He knocks weakly before he remembers - these quarters belong to General Hux.

There's something oddly comforting about the fact that a familiar face might answer the door, regardless of their opposing positions in this war. Familiarity would do, right now - and stars, would he just hurry up and answer already?

           “If you’re going to say it--just come out with it,”  Jack had expected that he’d be arrested, he already thought that he’d been found out, undercover had never been his strong suit.  But he wasn’t going to lose the attitude, he’d never been all that good at that either.

Kylo stared at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look as bad as he thought he would with the uniform on. It was perfectly fitted just for him. New and clean, no creases. He turned sideways and his ass stole his attention. Well... that looked flattering. He turned back and looked down at his shiny boots. They were surprisingly comfortable. 

Something had to be done to his hair though. Kylo didn’t feel like wearing the cap even though he had it. Fifteen minutes later he was ready, and he walked out confidently. His hair was in a neat bun and the sight of him was really different.

           Ava’s face turned to the door as soon as it slid open, her vision might still be blurry, but the mop of red hair she saw was clear.  And yet she hadn’t heard the harsh words of the father of her child come out--maybe he was gone, like the other soldiers had said.

            Was it wrong for her to be happy about that?

“You know it’s funny. I was born here and raised here and yet it never felt like home.” The prince said before looking away from the view from his chamber to the green vineyards of the Organa royal house. “Ironic too that this planet is supposed to be peaceful and yet it’s leaders have participated in and endorsed the Rebellion and now my mother’s pet project, the Resistance. Won’t they be in for a shock when they learn that they will at last be following order and sense.” 

Whether this had been the Supreme Leader’s plan or not, things were soon going to be going smoothly for the First Order. His uncle’s temple had been destroyed with Luke Skywalker vanishing in the process. His father was off flying somewhere halfway across the galaxy while his mother was preoccupied building her Resistance to fight up the new threat of the First Order. The only ones standing in the prince’s way of rulership over Alderaan were his elderly adoptive grandparents. 

“In any case, General, perhaps you should sit and have something to eat. You’re my guest. And if anyone asks, we could always use a cover story that you are the man who was fortunate enough to miraculously find me wondering about from the destruction of Skywalker’s temple and bring me back to Alderaan.” He suggested. 

“...brushing up on your Clone Wars history, General? Or are you just a secret admirer of vintage female Coruscanti fashion? And here I thought a ranking officer in the First Order would have more pressing matters to attend to on the day-to-day?”