Hopefully this’ll be the first in a series of mini modern AU Kylux oneshots! Everyone in the fandom is just so amazing that I just had to write something of my own
It’s obscenely early in the morning, but Hux sweeps into the Starbucks promptly at 6:30, articulating his order through crisp, clipped tones, other finger flying over the screen of his phone, replying to emails and texts.
The barista nods, scribbling his order as neatly as she can on the cup, punching numbers into the cash register, but Hux is already reaching into his suit pocket to find his wallet as she says “That’ll be 4 dollars 30, sir.” when, shit.
He scrabbles in his pocket, but all that turns up are bits of thread and cotton, no wallet.
He curses, almost slamming his fist on the counter in frustration as he vividly remembers leaving his wallet on the kitchen counter as he left this morning. “Sorry,” he apologizes to the flustered barista. “You can cancel the order, I’ll-”
Hux starts as he hears a quiet, deep voice behind him, and he turns, breath catching in his chest as he sees a man with a mess of black, curly hair rifle through his wallet to pull out a crisp fiver, brown eyes steadily meeting Hux’s as he hands it across him to the barista.
“Thanks,” Hux finally says, voice coming out a bit higher than he would’ve liked, magnetically aware of the sliver of distance between them.
“No problem,” the man replies, and Hux can feel himself staring, at the man’s strangely handsome face, the bold nose, those lips--
”Aren’t you going to order?” Hux forces out coolly, gesturing at the counter; he can only imagine his expression; he’s never felt this off-kilter.
The man raises an eyebrow, and gives him a slow, crooked, smirk (and by god Hux can feel it in his knees), walks around him to the counter.
Hux doesn’t hear what he orders; he’s too preoccupied with the frantic beating of his chest.
He paces in place, brings his thumb to his mouth, chews on his fingernail anxiously. The stranger finishes ordering, turns to look at Hux again. He leans against the counter, looks him over.
“Nothing,” the stranger says, and Hux can hear the smile in his voice.
This must be what they call sexual tension, Hux thinks hazily, and he’s never been more grateful for anything in his life than when the barista calls out, “Hux, Caffe Misto.”
He rushes over to the counter with wobbly legs, snatching the drink and almost dashing to the door before he remembers his manners, turns around to face the stranger, who’s tall enough to look him eye-to-eye (a rare occurrence, these days) and says, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” The stranger cocks an eyebrow, gives him another smirk.
Hux pushes open the door, breathes in the city air, takes a sip of his coffee before he notices the number scrawled on the side of the cup, accompanied by a note--
Nice butt. Call me! I’m Kylo :)
Hux scoffs, takes another sip of coffee that definitely wasn’t meant to calm his racing heart.
And he definitely doesn’t want to think about why he didn’t just throw the cup away.
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