Ooh ooh Kylux and 18. Pretty please.
Okay so this one definitely got away with me, it’s 3.5k and somehow wandered into kidfic benarmie territory? I hope that’s alright, the idea bit me (or should I say stung me? ;) ) and I couldnt let it go!!
also this is a modern au and they reference star wars, but Han’s name is still Han so um, ~~~magical realm where both exist~~~
warnings for winnie the pooh references and abusing the italics function.
18. “This is by far the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”
Crash Bandicoot is squashed flat under a huge digital boulder for the third time in a row, the screen of his little boxy tv flashing an obnoxious yellow GAME OVER. Ben groans and tosses his Playstation controller into the empty beanbag chair opposite the one he’s sinking into. He’s been working on this level for two whole days now and it’s way too hard, and that boulder is stupid. He’s halfway standing and contemplating walking over to Rey’s house and making her play knights with him when he hears something tap sharply against his window.
It taps two more times before he can un-fuse from the beanbag chair, so hard it’s rattling the glass. When it taps a fourth time and he peers down into his backyard he scowls, hoping his annoyance is clear through the glass. Hux is throwing rocks at his window from across the fence that divides their backyards, which is fine, except he’s using his fancy slingshot his dad got him for Christmas last year and Ben has told him a million times not to. The last time he knocked a pebble-sized hole in the glass Ben had told his mom that a woodpecker flew over and thought his science project sitting on his desk was a real tree (because he’d done such a good job painting it, with hardly any help at all) and pecked through his window to get to it, and he’s pretty sure she won’t believe him if he tells her it happened again.
He wrenches the window open angrily and snaps out, “What?” He’s about to yell at him about the slingshot again but he stops short when Hux stares up at him with his face all screwed up and splotchy red.
“Ben!” He shouts up at him, high-pitched and almost whining; A very bad sign, Hux never whines. “Millie got out!”
Ben freezes. This is bad. This is really bad. He’s pretty sure Hux loves that cat more than he loves his parents, and Ben’s iguana is super cool and all and his parents are kinda lame, but, dang. Ben knows that Millie is strictly an inside cat (he’s been yelled at to keep the doors closed when he goes over enough times, that’s for sure), and if she got out then that means Hux is about five minutes away from a meltdown, maybe even less.
“Where’d she go?” He shouts down to Hux, straight to business. He’d only seen Hux get this worked up once before, when a girl in their class pushed him on the playground and said nasty things about his orange hair. He was really upset, grabbing handfuls of dirt and squeezing it tight, but she came back from recess to a dead frog in her lunchbox and had to go home early, she was crying so much. Nobody in all of fourth grade wanted to sit next to him after that, except for Ben, who begged Miss Sloane to let him move seats and sit closer to him. When Ben got home later that day he told his parents very firmly that orange was his new favorite color.
Hux just purses his lips and points up at the tree that sits right up against Ben’s fence and hangs over both yards, where his treehouse sits high up and exactly halfway over each yard.
Oh crap.
Ben turns from the window and snags a grey hoodie from the corner of his desk chair, stepping into his chucks and not stopping to tie them as he bolts down the stairs.
–
They’re standing shoulder to shoulder in Ben’s yard, looking up at Millie’s huddled fluff through the leaves and Hux squirming at his side, wringing his hands. He told Ben that his father’s stupid new girlfriend left the door open to bring groceries in from the car and she’d run out into the yard, and straight up the tree. It was their tree, because it held up their clubhouse, built by Ben and his dad but painted and ‘supervised’ by Hux. The wood was spray-painted a shiny silver and the words Starkiller Base were hand painted in big black letters that were only a little wobbly.
It would be easy to just climb up and coax her down, maybe have Hux hold out a blanket and catch her, if not for the humongous hornet’s nest that she’d somehow crawled behind. It had been up there for almost a month, his dad kept promising to go knock it down but never getting around to it, and he and Hux had to meet up in a popup tent in Hux’s backyard in the meantime. It’s a cool tent, but it’s just not the same.
“She’s going to get stung Ben, they’re going to sting her, what if she’s allergic?” Hux sounds like a strange mix of frantic and angry, looking anxiously between the buzzing nest and Millie, hunched small and mewling miserably.
“They won’t sting her unless she’s dumb and messes with them or something,” Ben says, trying to think of a way to fix this that has Hux thanking him and not whichever parent they end up having to call to come help them. His mom warned him about playing out here while that thing was still up there, but he thinks Hux is definitely worth getting grounded over. “Also I don’t think cats can have allergies.”
Hux snaps his head to snarl at him. “Millie is not dumb, she’s perfect, and cats can too have allergies, my nan’s cat Ziggy is allergic to dry food.” The end of his sentence lilts like he’s enlightening Ben in some fact that Hux only knows because he’s smarter than him, and Ben hates when he talks like that.
“He’s not allergic, he’s just a spoiled brat, like some other cat I know.” He bites back. He knows Hux is upset and snappy right now but Ben is not dumber than some stupid cat. Even if it’s Millie.
“Take that back right no-” Hux cuts himself off with a gasp as Millie takes a shaky step forward and stumbles, clinging lower and tighter to the branch where she’s perched. The nest sits between her and the trunk of the tree, the branch thin and flimsy underneath her.
Hux is letting out a high-pitched sound that Ben knows from experience comes right before the tears start, and it’s like Ben’s not even there anymore, angry retort forgotten and replaced with loud, blaring fear. Ben looks up at Millie, ears pushed back and tail fluffed up like a toilet brush, and sighs. He knows what he has to do, and even though it sucks he knows that a few hornet stings will be worth it if it makes Hux dry his tears, maybe even smile, just for him.
Ben’s gonna be his hero, and Hux better appreciate his bravery and awesome tree-climbing skills.
“I have an idea.”
Hux whips his head around to look at him fiercely. “What is it?”
“I saw it in a cartoon once, it’s gonna sound dumb but hear me out okay?” The look on Hux’s face is anything but encouraging, but Ben continues. “So basically, oh. Wait,” He stops, looking around the yard, before dashing inside through the sliding glass door. He comes back out moments later to Hux’s confused and screwed-up face clutching a throw pillow from the couch and his Darth Vader umbrella.
“Okay. So. You’re gonna take this,” He thrusts the buttoned-up umbrella into Hux’s hands, “and you’re gonna walk around the tree and say ‘tut tut, looks like rain!’”
Hux stares at him, hands wrapped around the umbrella. “Why.” He says it more like a statement than a question.
“Because then the hornets won’t be suspicious of a raincloud creeping up on them.” Ben says, hoping for Hux to catch on and stop looking at him like he’s crazy.
No such luck. “There are no rainclouds out right now, where’s this cloud exactly?”
Ben grins, gives Hux a wink, and shoves the couch cushion up under his hoodie, making him look bulky and hopefully cloud-shaped.
Hux stares at him. “That’s stupid.” Ben tries not to wilt.
“It’s not stupid, and it mostly worked in the cartoon so, like, it’s worth a shot-”
Hux cuts him off. “It didn’t even work in the cartoon, if you’ll remember, and those were bees, not whatever those are, so it’s double-not-going-to-work.” Hux concludes, prim and snotty. “Triple-not-going-to-work, actually, because that’s a cartoon and this is real life. Obviously.”
“Are you in or what?” He snaps. “It’s not like we have any better ideas, and I can climb up and grab her before they even know I’m not a cloud-” He’s interrupted by angry tutting from Hux, who turns and looks up at Millie for a long moment before speaking.
“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had,” His face softens when Millie cries louder down at them, before pinching up again. “Of course I’m in.”
Ben fist-pumps in victory silently behind Hux’s back and slowly makes his way to the base of the tree.
“You’ve got the easy job, and look, you’re already in costume.” He gestures to Hux’s shiny yellow rainboots, squeaking in the grass.
“Just shut up and climb the tree. Clouds can’t talk, you have to be believable.” Hux sneers, opening the umbrella. The weak sunlight makes his face glow an eerie red through the vinyl.
Ben takes a deep breath, and with one last look over his shoulder to check that his mom’s not in the kitchen, clambers up the little rope ladder.
The buzzing is a lot louder up here, and he has to force his limbs to move once he reaches the clubhouse. Suddenly he’d much rather stay inside the crooked wooden walls where it’s safe, but he’s got to be brave. If not for himself he’s got to be brave for Hux, who’s standing under the umbrella and looking up at him like he’s about to throw up on his shoes, sick with worry. He knows it’s for Millie but telling himself a little bit of it is for him gives him the strength to keep climbing.
He hooks a foot on the windowsill of the treehouse and hoists himself shakily onto the roof, the bulk under his sweater squishing beneath him. The buzzing is even louder, like the hornets are bouncing around angrily inside his head, and he lets out a shaky breath.
“I’m just a little black raincloud… pay no attention… to me…” He mutters as he crawls further, the nest dead ahead and menacing and Millie just behind it. He steps off the roof and onto a branch just underneath the one the nest dangles from, so that he’s about chest-level with it.
He takes a shaky step, arms outstretched and just shy of Millicent, when a thin branch snaps under his foot, jostling the whole section of tree. The buzzing crescendos and two or three angry little scouts fly out and dart around his face, staring him down.
“Hux!” He hisses as loud as he dares. “Say it!”
“This is stupid, we should just go get your dad-”
“Say it!” He pleads, squeezing his eyes shut when one of them lands on his nose to investigate.
He hears Hux sigh dramatically below him before finally an overdramatic, “Tut tut, looks like rain!”
He can hear Hux’s boots squelching in the mud and slowly opens his eyes when he feels the little investigator fly away, fooled by his very clever disguise. They seem to have flown back into their hive and he breaths out heavy, inching along further on his mission.
“Tut tut, looks like dumb rain,” Hux says again, and even with that dig at him it spurs him on. The hornets seem to be satisfied, and he just might kiss Hux if this works. Only we won’t, kissing is weird, and Hux probably wouldn’t want to kiss him anyway, that was dumb, nevermind, if this works he’ll, heck, maybe, do a backflip or something. Rey tought him how and then Hux would be even more impressed.
A few more tiny steps and Millie is within reach, shaking and mewling louder when she recognizes him. Slowly and very gently he scoops her into his arms, inching back down the branch the way he came and already tasting victory; she’s tucked in one arm and holding onto the shoulder of his jacket for dear life, and he’s glad to have the padding protecting him from her claws. He hears Hux gasp in relief from the ground.
After what seems like an agonizingly long time he’s scooted past the nest undetected, and he climbs carefully back up onto the roof of the clubhouse. In relative safety, he lays on his stomach and carefully lowers Millie in through the window, where she’ll be safe until Ben can climb down. With a sigh of relief he stands, turns, makes to climb down himself.
When he takes a step forward the metal sheeting they used for the roof shifts, his foot sliding underneath him, and it yanks him off balance. The squeal of the metal must have tipped off the hornets and they zoom angrily out of the nest, flying around his face and ready to attack the suddenly person-shaped cloud intruding on their kingdom. He’s swatting frantically at them with a shout and loses his footing, falling backwards. All of his weight slams into the loose roof panel and with a scraping crash of metal he’s falling straight through and landing hard on the floor of the treehouse.
“Ben!” He hears Hux shout vaguely, shaking his head and groaning as seemingly all of his bones feel snapped in half. He landed hard on his back, the pillow underneath his hoodie doing nothing to cushion his fall. Some great idea that was.
He tries to push himself up on his hands and a scream is ripped from him, his right arm screaming right back at him in pain and feeling like Darth Vader himself has just sliced it off.
“Get my dad!” He shouts at the ceiling, now with a Ben-shaped hole busted through it. “Hux, go get my dad!”
Millie comes over from the corner she’d been huddled in and licks gently at his cheek, where his face is damp with tears he did not give his body permission to squeeze out. He doesn’t want Hux to see him cry, he wants to look tough and strong, but it freaking hurts. He hears his dad’s gruff voice shouting for him so Hux must have heard him, and he just hopes he doesn’t end up getting grounded on top of having to get his arm amputated. Maybe they’ll at least let him get a cool robot arm, but cooler than Luke’s.
Before he can decide what color he wants his new arm to be his dad’s face is filling up the treehouse doorway, pinched up and angry.
“Kid I’ve told you not to play out here until I knock that thing down, what were you doing on the roof? You know that shit’s not nailed down, I’ll get to it but. Jesus,” He crawls in towards him when he catches sight of Ben’s arm, bent in an unnatural direction and now starting to throb and hurt very much seriously this hurts so much–
He hears Hux speaking frantically from outside and his dad snaps back at him, gingerly inspecting Ben’s arm. “Calm down Red, yes, there’s a cat in here, she’s fine.”
Seeing her exit route Millie bolts past Han and pauses briefly before leaping down, probably into Hux’s arms. Good. He did it, he rescued Millie, and now Hux will probably smile at him every day from now on and save a seat for him at the lunch table. He drops his head back against the hard wood floor, closing his eyes with a dreamy grin. Maybe he’ll let me hold his hand…
Suddenly his arm doesn’t hurt so much anymore, and all the excitement and heroic adrenaline is leaving him and he’s mostly just sleepy, a little bit hungry. He doesn’t protest as his dad gently carries him down and out of the clubhouse, and he can hear Hux still sounding worried.
He’s got Millie back now, so he’s not sure what Hux is upset about.
–
After three excruciatingly long and boring hours at the hospital Ben walks out into the waiting room with a clunky red cast on his uncool and still-boringly-human arm. He’s sulky, dreading all the crap he’s gonna get from his teacher having to scribble his homework with his left hand, and he stops in his tracks when he sees that his dad is not alone sitting out there waiting for him.
Hux is sitting in the next chair over, absurdly clutching Millicent to his chest like she could bolt at any moment. She really could, and Ben can’t help but snort a laugh at the sight of a cat in a hospital waiting room. Why hadn’t they at least dropped Millie off at Hux’s house first? Why was Hux even here? He might be a little loopy from whatever medicine made his arm feel floaty and not painful at all, but Hux didn’t have to know that, so he kept his mouth shut.
He looks irritated as it is, or maybe– worried? And his eyes are red and puffy, like he’d been–
“There you are, finally,” Hux sniped, which was totally at odds with how fast he stood up in his chair when he noticed Ben was back.
“Yeah, this thing took forever to dry.” Ben says lamely, trying not to smile at the worried crease in Hux’s brow that he can’t fake with mean words. He was worried sick about Ben, if he was okay, had even cried over him it looks like. It feels awesome. “Broken in two places, the nurse said, but it didn’t even hurt.”
Hux leveled him with a look, Millie squirming in his arms and making him want to laugh again. “You were crying for your daddy before you even hit the floor.”
“I was not,” He ground out, angry and even more so when he realized he couldn’t ball his right hand into a fist, just had to stand there with it in a weird angle and not looking intimidating at all.
“Hey hey, can it you two. Let’s get out of here before your mother freaks out and tans my hide.” Han stands and stretches his back, throwing down the magazine he’d been flicking through way too fast to be actually reading it.
Ben really isn’t looking forward to the screaming match that will explode the second his mom sees his arm, but maybe they’ll let him go lay down if he plays up how much it hurts.
“Whatever,” He mutters, adjusting his arm. “Is Millie okay?”
Hux sniffs and pulls his eyes away from where they were lingering on the bright red fiberglass. “She was terrified, but,” He holds her close and meets his eyes, sneering veneer gone and only honest gratitude and some other warm feeling left in their watery blue. “Thank you, for. You know. Falling out of a tree for her.”
Ben grins. “I didn’t fall out of the tree, only most of the way down.” Hux gives him a look but he’s smiling now, too, and they stand there in a charged silence, scuffing their feet.
Han coughs from the doorway, jerking his head towards the parking lot.
“Wait,” Hux says, turning to him. “Mister Solo, do you have a marker I could borrow?”
Han rolls his eyes and digs around in the pockets of his banged up leather jacket, producing an equally banged up looking black sharpie. Ben doesn’t even try to hold in his laughter when, all business-like, Hux walks over to Han and takes the marker, handing Millie over into his dad’s arms (and ignoring his protests) before turning around and marching back over to him.
“I better sign it first, before everyone at school clogs it up with nonsense.” Hux squeaks off the cap of the marker and delicately wedges it on the top end before lightly grabbing hold of Ben’s cast and scribbling on it, quick and efficient.
Ben watches him in stunned silence, hoping his face isn’t as hot as it feels when Hux pulls away and squeaks the cap back on, revealing the words ‘tut tut’ in Hux’s pretty handwriting and a little drawing of a raincloud.
He looks up at him, trying to think of words to say that all his feelings can fit inside, and they all tumble out his ears when Hux leans in rabbit-quick and gives him a soft, warm peck on the cheek. He turns away before Ben can say anything, if he even knew what to say to maybe someday get him to do it again, but he can see that Hux is blushing red all the way down his neck as he walks out fast after his dad.
If his own face wasn’t hot yet it certainly is now, and his cheeks are starting to hurt with how hard he’s smiling as he trots along after him, out into the parking lot.
He looks down at the stiff red cast on his arm and thinks, with Hux’s addition, he wouldn’t trade it even for the coolest robot arm in the whole world.
send me a pairing and a number!
