For a prompt, have a plot bunny that I'm not bold enough to write: Kylo knows a lot about herbs and what wild plant is good for what. It's just practical because you never know what will happen on a mission on any given planet. Cut to Hux and Kylo on a mission together before they really know/trust each other, maybe before Hux has seen Kylo's face even. Hux falls a little ill, and Kylo makes him some impromptu medicine. But now Hux is sick AND he's sure Ren's trying to kill him. Could be Kylux?
Hux isn’t a fan of planetside missions. He dislikes the chaos of it all, the unpredictability that being out of a controlled environment inevitably brings. He’d much prefer to stay on his ship where he can command and keep control of everything. If he gets sick, there’s a whole team of medics and their high-spec droids to aid him.
Here, on the forecourt of a grand Jedi temple, there’s no help for his sickness.
The esteemed General curls up tighter into a ball in the makeshift tent—three large sticks for the frame and Kylo’s cape for the cover—wondering if this decrepit temple will be his resting place. Will Ren even erect a gravestone for him? Or will the brute simply leave him here and report his death to the Supreme Leader with nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders? He and Ren aren’t friends, barely acquaintances, so Hux can’t imagine that his co-commander would be particularly bothered by his death.
“Are you still with us, General?” Kylo’s deep, vocoder-modulated voice comes from the outside of the tent, which only makes Hux wish for a quicker death; Kylo’s deadpan sense of humour is not to Hux’s tastes.
“To your displeasure, yes,” he replies but finds that speaking only worsens his feelings of nausea. The fever is worsening with each passing moment and the entire planet feels like it’s spinning much too fast for him to cope with. “And thank you for leaving me to explore the ruins. How thoughtful.”
Kylo audibly huffs in obvious annoyance, whipping one side of the tent upwards so he can see his sick comrade. Hux squints at the sudden onslaught of sunlight, surprised when he sees Kylo holding a thick, hollowed-out tree branch in his hands.
“I didn’t go exploring,” Kylo says, aiding Hux in sitting up. “I went to find something to help you.”
“Help? We don’t even know what’s wrong with me,” Hux raises an eyebrow. “Though, it wouldn’t surprise me if it were you trying to poison me.”
Kylo’s helmet prevents Hux from seeing his expression but he wouldn’t even be able to guess what sort of face Kylo is making right now. Is Kylo even human underneath that ugly bucket? Hux is much too ill to consider the rumours that have run rife throughout the First Order since Kylo Ren joined them.
“If I wanted you dead, Hux, I’d cut you in half with my lightsaber and tell Snoke that you slipped. O wouldn’t waste my time making medicine for a dead man.” The tree branch in Kylo’s hand levitates from his hold as he raises his hands to his helmet and unclasps it, pulling it off in one swift movement. With a surprisingly graceful shake of his head, his dark hair falls into place around his youthful face, and Hux can only stare in surprise.
How unfair that Kylo has been hiding such a handsome face beneath a ghastly helmet.
“My eyes are up here,” Kylo says; it’s the first thing that Hux has heard the Knight say without the vocoder changing it into a ghoulish-tone. Kylo’s voice is like liquid velvet to Hux’s ears, and he doesn’t realise that he’s staring at Kylo’s plush lips until he speaks.
Kylo sets his helmet aside and shuffles closer to Hux, taking the tree branch from the Force’s hold and into his own, “It’s Force-null sickness.”
“An illness that strikes those who have no Force sensitivity when they’re in an area that’s strong with the Force,” Kylo explains, leaning in to slide his hand around Hux’s neck, holding him steady. “You need to drink this.”
Hux clamps his lips shut and pulls away, “Now I know you’re trying to poison me. That smells rotten, Ren. I can’t drink that!”
He gags with his hand over his mouth just to prove how much the blended concoction is making him feel though all it seems to do is piss off Kylo even more as he rolls his eyes and sighs.
“Fine,” the Knight settles back, letting go of Hux and sitting down with a shrug. “Don’t drink it. The fever will get worse until you’re passing out. You’ll go mad with hallucinations and voices as the dark side taunts you into an early grave. But if you want that, fine.”
“Give me the damned drink.”
Kylo smirks, handing it over. “Trust me.”
Those two words make Hux halt just as he lifts the branch to his lips. “Trust you? Your reputation as the Jedi Killer proceeds you, Ren. I doubt that potion master is part of your repertoire.”
“It is, actually,” Kylo sounds offended. “Though, I prefer the term herbology master. Drink it.”
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s fia leaves, jalani berries and red moss from the temple’s walls. It’s a blend for Force-nulls to combat Force-sickness. Drink it. It’ll make you better.”
Hux swallows hard but silently admits that he’s best to take his chances with Kylo’s potion than to risk the effects of this supposed Force-sickness.
Plus, it’s difficult to say no to Kylo’s puppy eyes. Hux almost wished he’d put the helmet back on to hide his beautiful but distracting features.
So Hux drinks, lifting the makeshift cup to his lips and takes a big mouthful of the red, pulpy liquid, finding that it tastes just as bad as it smells. He groans and screws his face up once it’s all gone, using the back of his hand to wipe it from his lips.
“It was poison,” Kylo says bluntly. “Goodbye, General Hux.”
Hux feels the neausa come back stronger than ever, moving to retch and cough the stuff up but Kylo grabs his arms, chuckling to himself.
“I’m kidding, Hux,” he says, smiling. “Kidding. We’re just getting to know each other. I don’t want to kill you yet.”
Hux growls, but can’t deny that he’s utterly infatuated with Kylo’s childlike laugh, “I wish I could say the feeling was mutual, Ren. Unfortunately, I plan to strangle you when I’m better.”
Kylo smiles, helping his comrade to lie back down on his spread-out greatcoat, “I look forward to it, General.”
