Chapter Text
Hux loved his flat. It was just large enough for himself and Millicent, an elegant Victorian conversion with an excellent view of the park. His own little sanctuary amid the hustle and bustle of London. He split his time between home and work, preferring the solitude of his flat to the noise of the architect’s office. It was a quiet area, free of fuss and noisy neighbours, which suited him perfectly. He spent the majority of his time at home in his study, looking out over the narrow cobbled lane between his building and the next. This house was Edwardian, a dark, imposing building, but beautiful nonetheless. Hux had a certain fondness for it, ever the architect. For as long as he could remember, the opposite flat had been empty, he had stared down the dusty hallway often enough in the brief breaks he allowed himself.
Today though, things were changing.
There was movement as he looked up, boxes and furniture being brought in and a dark haired man gesturing around. He was tall and broad with, in Hux’s opinion, excellent arms. He flicked his eyes back downwards, not wanting to seem like one of those nosy neighbours. Interest fluttered in his stomach despite himself, eagerness to see exactly who would be living opposite him for the foreseeable future. The man walked towards the hall window, throwing it open to let the air in, giving Hux the first real look at his face. Dark eyes, large nose, full lips, lopsided smile, ears you wouldn’t hesitate to nibble on. Very nice. Hux brushed a hand through his hair and returned to his work, mind settling back into it’s usual routine.
It wasn’t until later that evening that he remembered he was no longer unobserved. He wandered into his living room with Millicent under one arm and a watering can in hand. He leaned out to his window box, inhaling the scent of fresh herbs and was startled by the sound of grunts and slaps echoing up the brickwork of the lane.
Hux tilted his head, peering across to what he assumed was the living room of the opposite flat. A punching bag now hung from the ceiling and his new neighbour was, to put it lightly, beating the ever loving shit out of it. He was shirtless, muscles gleaming with sweat and Hux was suddenly acutely conscious of his own skinny self, stood there in boxers and a threadbare t-shirt. He noticed the other man look towards him and turned away, focusing on his chives.
Maybe he looked over again once or twice, but that was all.
It soon became apparent that the other man worked hours almost as irregular as Hux, although admittedly in Hux’s case, that was down to himself. He would often be sitting at his desk in the early hours of the morning, poring over blueprints in the light of a single lamp when he’d see the hall light flicker on across the way, announcing his neighbour’s arrival. Hux guessed he might be a bouncer or security of some sort, at least if the muscles were any indication.
Every observation followed the same pattern. Upon his arrival home the man would stretch, pulling his shirt off, throwing it into what Hux guessed was his bedroom. He would then wander down the hall to where Hux’s view was clearer before practically falling into the next room. In the dark of night his silhouette was distinct in the frosted glass of the bathroom, the steam slowly blurring it away. This was when Hux would stop his observations, his neighbour’s return was a usually a good indication that it was time for bed.
And so it became something of a routine for Hux, glancing over, checking in. He found himself picking up little things, details of the man’s life, slowly piecing together a picture of his neighbour.
For one thing, he was fit, the punching bag just one of his workouts. He also lifted weights and every so often Hux would spot him running in the park, always just a little way ahead of him. By the time Hux got back he would already have showered and changed into what Hux recognised as his work clothes. Probably as they were the only ones not completely covered in paint.
It seemed that the man was something of an artist in his spare time, either that or he was making some absolutely terrible decorating choices. Hux would see him, bare chested with brush in hand and paint flecks on one cheek and wonder what exactly he was working on. Whatever it was, it came complete with loud music and grunts almost as intense as those Hux heard when the man was attacking his punching bag. The sounds did things to Hux, setting a low burn in his stomach and raising little prickles on the back of his neck, making him acutely aware of just how long it had been since someone had made those noises because of him.
As it turned out, his neighbour had no such troubles. A few weeks after the man had moved in he was jolted from his work by the sound of a door slamming open. The night was warm, leading Hux to leave the windows open, amplifying the sounds that echoed through the lane. His brows creased and he shot upright, his first thought being that his neighbour was being attacked. He had someone pressed against the wall and Hux’s hand hovered over his phone, at least until the man’s head tilted back, allowing the stranger to run a tongue up his neck.
Hux’s cheeks immediately flared, burning hot. Oh. He turned back to his work, running a hand through his hair. None of his business, of course not. Now where were his files?
The shadow of a moan fluttered across the lane, making Hux’s stomach flip, it was nothing like the punching noises, not at all. He peeked over to see his neighbour and the other man laugh, stumbling into his bedroom, the door slamming shut, a note of finality in the still night air. Hux rose to latch the window, trying not to think of bruising kisses and deep moans, the overwhelming feeling of being pressed against the wall by someone well muscled. He brushed his hair back from his face with a sigh, it wasn’t fair.
Hux woke the next morning tangled in his sheets. He’d been consumed by dreams of dark hair and soft lips pressed against his skin. He grumbled, throwing his pillow to the floor only to receive a glare from Millicent.
“Oh stop it, it landed nowhere near you.” Hux stretched out with a sigh. He was due in the office today, a prospect that meant the dreaded spectre that was public transport. Scratching idly at Millicent’s ears he waited for his alarm to go off before swallowing down his usual anxiety medication to start his morning routine, mind still drifting back to the half formed images of the night before.
Breakfast was quick, for both himself and Millie and before Hux knew it he was pushing his way out of the door into the damp grey morning. His bus stop was just across the road, right at the entrance of the park, empty at this time except for the most serious of joggers. Hux wrapped the grey wool of his coat around him, knowing that by the afternoon it would be unnecessary. His eyes flickered over to the house next to him, seeing the door fly open as the bus pulled up with a screech.
A vaguely familiar dishevelled man jumped on with an apologetic smile to the bus driver and sat himself just in front of Hux. Hux’s eyes narrowed, trying to place him as the bus pulled away. There was a low buzz and the man pulled out his phone, voice low but still audible to Hux’s ears.
“Hey, yeah it’s me. No. I didn’t go home last night.” Realisation slowly dawned on Hux, this was the man who had spent the night with his neighbour. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not really wanting to overhear any more. “Ha! Yeah, Kylo, the American guy.” The man leaned back, a note of smug satisfaction in his voice, “Nah, good for a night but I might have accidentally given him the wrong number.” Hux found himself clenching his fists in his lap, not entirely sure why the one-sided conversation was sending waves of irritation through his body. The man continued, letting out a derisive laugh, “You should have seen his flat, he thinks he’s some sort of painter on the side, honestly, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Yeah? Well maybe. If I want someone clingy who moans like a whore then maybe I’ll think about finding his number again.” Hux felt his lips pursing, the rudeness of this man already putting a dampener on his day. “Okay, yeah. Talk to you later. Bye.” The stranger leapt up at the next stop, still smirking to himself and leaving Hux silently fuming. For once he was actually looking forward to the office, maybe shouting at people would make him feel better.
Hux spent the next few days keeping an eye on the man across the lane, what had his one night stand called him, Kylo? He’d been visibly cheerful for the first little while, all lopsided grins and the sounds of love songs before his mood took a sudden spike downwards. The paint stains on his clothes and bare chest became darker, the spatters more violent. The light happy music he played turned to screeching guitars and ridiculous drumbeats that made Hux grateful for his triple-glazed windows. The time at his punching bag increased and Hux could hear his growls of frustration and exertion echoing up the lane before cutting off with what sounded alarmingly like a sob. He peered across, faint concern welling up, seeing only a glimpse of dark hair before the lights went out. Sighing he rose, heading for his own bed, a last thought fluttering to Kylo as he turned away.
Things stayed silent and Hux’s concern grew. The opposite flat was dark and still and he found himself watching over more often than working. In the back of his head he considered going over there, but what would he say? ‘Hi I’m your neighbour and I know you’re feeling down but believe me the guy was a dick so cheer up.’ Hux shook his head, that simply wouldn’t do. For all he knew the man didn’t know he existed, let alone that Hux knew his name and was checking in on him.
Try as he might though, Hux was distracted from his work. He wandered the flat, paperwork in hand, constantly watching for signs of life from across the way. He made some phone calls, organised his files and may have indulged Millicent with a mouse on a string for far longer than was necessary. Still the opposite flat seemed empty. Hux sighed, knowing all too well the bitter tang of rejection, his own love life was pretty much nonexistent, not that he was looking. Everything he needed was right here.
It wasn’t until after dinner that he caught his first glimpse of Kylo. Hux was tending to his plants, clippers in hand, trying not to seem like a madman who whispers encouragement to his peonies when a shadow moved in the corner of his eye. It coalesced into the form of his neighbour, hair dishevelled, deep shadows beneath his eyes. He was wrapped in a blanket as he shuffled through his flat, pausing when he saw Hux watching from across the lane.
For a second Hux considered turning away as he had the first time, ignoring the man, pretending he hadn’t been watching but something inside told him that wouldn’t do. Instead he smiled, trying not to look like he knew Kylo had been rejected, if that was indeed something you could convey in a look. Kylo nodded, lips curving in a half smile of their own and Hux’s heart lightened. He raised his hand to wave across and swore instead, eyes widening as his leaf cutters dropped into the lane below. He turned from the window to race downstairs, not noticing the genuine smile that had spread across Kylo’s face.
After that moment Kylo’s mood slowly began to improve, the music that floated up the lane became lighter, less distinctly emo. He still beat his punching bag within an inch of its life but the noises at least were those of exertion rather than suppressed emotion. Finally Hux could return to his work.
He was still distracted on occasion, one of the problems that came with having a perpetually shirtless neighbour who insisted on being covered in paint, but he made do. It wasn’t until he came home from the office one day to hear music bouncing through the walls, freezing at the sight of Kylo dancing along in nothing but his boxers that he realised just how badly he had it. He’d usually have called the police on his neighbour by this point with the amount of noise he made, but something about the pure joy and freedom flowing from the man made him stop.
Instead Hux watched, flutters just starting to bubble up in his stomach, lips parted in a silent gasp. Kylo’s body shone with the faint gleam of sweat in the early evening light, pale yellow sunlight on his skin. His hair shone, twisting and dancing even more than the muscled body. It was shaken back with a flick and Hux got a glimpse at the smile on Kylo’s face, completely free, unconcerned with anything in the world outside and absolutely entrancing. Hux could feel the blood slowly rising to his cheeks, the rest of his body starting to tingle. He tore his gaze away, he and Kylo may have finally acknowledged each other, but watching the man dance in his underwear was quite another thing. Hux shook his head, attempting to clear away the image of swivelling hips and panting pink lips and decided the best course of action was to take a shower. Preferably a cold one.
For the next few days Hux avoided looking over, choosing to bury himself in his work. It was ridiculous, developing an interest in someone he’d never actually met or spoken to. Never mind the fact that he didn’t actually know the man’s name, all he had to go on was half a conversation from a guy on the bus. No. He didn’t have time for any silliness like that, design proposals for the new Heathrow Terminal were coming up and Snoke was determined that the contract would be theirs. He had work to do, and nothing was going to distract him.
Hux’s late nights now stretched into early mornings. He worked from home every day, only stopping for the occasional food run to the supermarket. At least on the rare occasions when he remembered to eat. When his eyes began to burn he switched from contacts to glasses. When sleep threatened to overwhelm him he dosed himself with caffeine, and when the first light of the sun started to creep over the trees of the park, only then would he call it a night. He slumped into his bed, eyes itching and fingers aching, letting out a sigh as Millie twined herself into a ball at his stomach. There were three weeks to go before the proposal date, Hux just had to keep up the pace. No distractions.
The haze of tiredness didn’t set in until the end of the second week. Hux was ahead of schedule and barring the burning behind his eyes and the now near-constant throbbing in his head, he was feeling very positive. In his estimation he would be finished in three more nights, giving him plenty of time to recover before the meetings actually took place. The stubble of his rapidly growing beard tickled against his palm as he leaned his cheek into it, head heavy. The lane outside was still dark, the giggles of late night partygoers long since gone. Hux blinked slowly under the light of his lamp, focus wavering on the paper before him. He could hear the blood pounding in his head, the rush of it through his veins, an ebb and flow like water, lulling him to sleep. He imagined fingers stroking through his hair, cool and soothing and a gentle voice in his ear, go to bed. He sighed at the deep tones, losing himself to the warmth.
“Dude seriously, go to bed.”
Hux’s eyes blinked, fuzzily focusing behind his glasses. Through the window, across the lane Kylo stood, his own window open, leaning out across the distance.
“You’ve been up for days. Whatever it is you’re doing, it can wait. Go to bed.”
Hux didn’t reply, only nodded blearily, eyes still not focusing properly. All he knew was that the voice was warm and soothing and strong. He flicked off the lamp without a second glance backwards and fell into bed with a sigh.
Somehow he managed to stay ahead of his schedule despite returning to his standard routine. The click of Kylo’s door was his signal for bed and he made sure it stayed that way, wanting to avoid another interaction. He could still feel the phantom imaginings of hands in his hair every time he closed his eyes. Pushing it down became second nature by the time it came to present his proposal and Hux made a mental note to himself that if things went well he would find a way to introduce himself to the man properly. He always did work better with a rewards system in place.