Chapter Text
"It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no..."
Hux woke slowly to the sound of the radio and his companions enthusiastic singing. His neck ached, his aviator shades had dug a groove into his scalp, his mouth felt like a carpet, and the sun was streaming through the trees at a steep angle. Clearly this wasn't midday, the time he'd specifically asked Kylo to wake him and pull over for food. His stomach growled. Yes, he's definitely missed lunch. Once again Kylo bloody Ren had gotten distracted by the radio and kept right on driving whilst Hux slept with the air con pointing directly at his face. No wonder he felt like shit.
"Learn to fucking drive!!" Kylo was in form as always, leaning on the horn and waving a fist as he swerved. "It ain't me, it ain't..."
Grabbing the now flat and disgusting diet coke from his cupholder Hux did his best to pour it straight down his throat. He wanted the benefit of the hydration without having to suffer the taste.
Kylo glanced across at him and snorted, hands tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. The younger man's voice echoed slightly as he spoke directly into his mind. General Deepthroat demonstrates his skills once more. Without pausing in his task Hux gave him the middle finger.
"Some folks inherit star spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord
And when you ask 'em, "How much should we give?"
Ooh, they only answer "More! More! More!"
It ain't me..."
"Do you even hear yourself?" Hux asked, running the back of his wrist over his mouth. "You are a senator's son and you are a millionaire's son. Hell, you're even a military son."
"Yeah but I'm not like them, Hux," Kylo retorted, his expression sour. "I didn't give in to their parental expectations."
"Fuck you." Hux said in a singsong voice. It was an old, well worn, and utterly pointless argument that they'd repeated at least once a week for the last three years. He fished in the back seat for his huge leather satchel as the sat nav directed them to leave the interstate.
"You can do that later, General." Kylo said. "Unless you want to further demonstrate the skills you just used on that bottle?"
"Oh yes, that'd look lovely on my death certificate. Major Donal Hux, 34, casualty of an automative collision. Cause of death- blunt force trauma from steering wheel exacerbated by choking on the penis of similarly deceased companion Ben 'Kylo Ren' Solo." Hux grumbled, turning fully in his seat as he struggled to catch hold of the bag's strap. "Yes I'm sure my stepmother would appreciate that. She still hasn't forgiven me for failing to end my military career on the high note of an heroic death, I'm sure dying with an eccentric ghost hunters cock in my mouth would finally give her the heart attack she so richly deserves."
"It's more likely that you think." Kylo said in a dramatic tone as the radio rambled through the local weather report.
"Ha!" Hux crowed, the bag finally captured and pulled onto his lap. Dragging his largest moleskine notebook from the bag he began flipping trough it for his notes on the current area. "Pffft. As if. You're not that well endowed."
They'd only just left the interstate and already the road had become little more than two deserted lanes of winding woodland highway. Hux squinted at the approaching sign, sighed and dragged off his shades. It was far too dark under the trees to be wearing them now.
"Fulton County?!" He read, perplexed, "where the fuck is Fulton County? It's not on the map. Ren where the fuck are we?"
"I heard back from a friend of mine," Kylo said. "When you were asleep. She... Ah shit." He spat at the rear tires suddenly lost traction, spinning them across the thankfully empty highway and into a start of a gravel drive.
"What the fuck was that?" Hux peered out of the windows. "Did you hit something?"
"I dunno," Kylo moaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eye sockets. "We passed the sign and... Fuck, I don't feel right. Dude, somethings not right."
This wasn't entirely unusual. Generally it happened on roads much more remote than these when the engine would fail and the car's internal clock would lose time. In those cases they usually drifted gently to a stop rather than slewing across both lanes. Just as Hux unfastened his seatbelt to lean towards his companion he heard the sound of another engine, two in fact, though one was more distant. On a hunch he refastened his belt, an decision he was glad of when the Crown Victoria with Sheriff decals slowed to a halt beside them.
"You boys ok?"
The man inside the car was older, probably the same age as Donal's father, but he'd aged in that way that turned some men into steel and teak, grey hair perfectly coiffed over ears a little too large for him. Idly a part of Hux' mind wondered if Ren would be that kind of silver fox, assuming they lived that long. However, it was mostly drowned out by the rest of his mind which was shrieking 'wrong' at the man's presence. He exuded power in much the same way as Kylo did, but with far less balance. There was rage and spite in that face, mixed with the kind of care an Emperor might have for beloved yet expendable citizens. Hux found that he liked him, though he'd certainly never be foolish enough to trust him.
"We're fine thank you...Officer..." He paused, unable to see any badge or insignia on the man's trench coat and button down shirt. The other engine sound was getting closer.
"Sheriff." He said with a half smile. "Sheriff Lucas Buck. With a B. That's quite an accent you got there, you boys from New Zealand?"
"No, Sir," Hux said, laying on the military precision, "I'm English. Major Donal Hux, with an H, formerly of the British Army, Paratrooper Regiment. My companion is Benjamin Organa Solo, from D.C."
The Sheriff eyed the scarred and tattooed form of Kylo Ren suspiciously, clearly unconvinced that the long haired youth could be related to Defence Secretary Organa and her notorious playboy husband. It didn't help that Kylo was still rubbing at his eyes in a slightly suspicious manner. Hux was preparing to talk his way out of whatever trouble the lawman intended to invent for them, when the approaching engine noise resolved itself into a Harley Davidson ridden by possibly the tallest woman Hux had ever seen.
Throwing up gravel against the black paintwork of Kylo's Plymouth Fury she swung to a halt between the two vehicles. The Sheriff looked displeased, like a schoolyard bully who'd just been spotted by the teacher.
"Evening Ms Emory."
"Good evening Lucas," the voice behind the helmet was much more refined than Hux had been expecting given her leather attire. "Are my friends causing you problems?"
"I just thought I'd offer them a helping hand," Buck said, gesturing toward the fresh skid marks on the asphalt. Hux knew instantly that the man meant he's caused the situation, rather than having any intention to remedy it. No wonder Kylo felt unwell. He would dearly like to cross reference his notes right about now, but that was never a good idea in front of a subject.
"They look fine to me, they didn't hit anything." The woman said, never actually turning her helmet away from the Sheriff.
"They staying long?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly losing interest fast now there was a witness.
"We'll be in Alabama by Monday."
Kylo nodded vigorously at this whilst Hux tipped his head once in agreement.
"Good. See you around Ms Emory." He said. The car was peeling away into the gathering dusk before the sentence ended.
"What a prick." The woman muttered as she pulled off her helmet to reveal a pleasant face with ivory eyelashes and full lips, all framed by the loose strands of a blond mohawk. "Hello Kylo, gonna introduce me to your friend?"
"Hux, this is Captain Phasma, she served in... I dunno Iran or Afghanistan, wherever you were." Kylo waved a hand vaguely, the other still covering his eyes. "Phasma, this is General Deepthroat, he's the one with all the book learning."
"Iraq."
"Sand. Urgh. Whatever."
The laugh Phasma let out at the blank, seething look that settled on Hux' face was surprisingly lyrical and would have been pleasant if it hadn't been directed at him. "It's Major Donal Hux actually, not General. I'm not going to comment on the rest of it."
"I think you should take over driving until we come back over the county line, Major," Phasma said, looking in the direction the Crown Victoria had taken. "I should have warned Kylo, but it didn't occur to me that this place would affect him. Sorry. You can turn the sat nav off, it won't help you here anyway. Just follow me, ok?"
"Thank you, Captain," Hux nodded as he climbed out of the car and walked around to the drivers side, leaning heavily on the hood as his knees objected to the sudden movement after so long. It was always odd to him how easily he slipped back into the formality of military address, even after three years.
Kylo shifted over the passenger seat, shoving Hux' satchel and books out of the way of his excessively long legs, then leant his head against the door pillar. Hux watched him with concern for a moment as the younger man closed his eyes tight. There was a tap at the window. Nodding to Phasma he started the engine.
"Carry on my wayward son!!"
"I swear to god Kylo, I'm gonna smash this fucking radio."
-----
The house was older than Hux had expected- some ostentatious wooden affair with a wrap around porch and a genuine swing. Kylo had claimed that, sprawled across it, all long limbs and arrogance, whilst Hux tried the relax in a wicker monstrosity that probably housed a million spiders. Phasma's brandy helped. Hux could never say no to free booze. It would be a problem if he ever took the time to acknowledge it. But he didn't, so it was added to the apparently endless list of things Kylo worried about but never addressed.
"So, what's in Alabama?" Phasma asked, throwing a stack of pizza boxes onto the table between them and hopping up onto the railing to eat her own slice.
"Some tiny nowhere town with a haunted cowshed." Kylo rumbled, taking a swig from his beer before rolling up two pizza slices and cramming them both into his mouth.
"How delightful, Ren. Lovely." Hux sneered. "And it's not just a 'haunted cowshed'. It's an 'animals turning up dead and mutilated' problem with maybe a side of 'strangers going missing' thrown in. It's all just a jumble of internet rumours. Could be a few things."
"This sounds more like a 'holy shit, leave it to the professionals' kinda problem." Phasma said with concern. "You know you're not actually FBI right? If people are going missing..."
"I don't know that anyone is. It's mostly just reddit chatter about abandoned cars, no signs of violence." Hux shrugged, fastidiously peeling the pepperoni from his slice. "Silverhill is a really small town, if there was a genuine issue then it would have been noticed by now. I don't think we'll be in any danger."
"... But just in case we thought we'd ask you to come with us since you're from that part of Alabama. A third set of eyes, some able-bodied muscle. We don't know anyone in the area so we figured a support crew might be a good idea." Kylo cut in. The break gave Hux the opportunity to eat his stack of pepperoni discs, ignoring Ren's exasperated eyeroll over his habits.
Phasma agreed to this line of reasoning with a shrug. She'd be getting paid, there didn't seem to be any real danger, and it would be an excuse to get out of Trinity for a while. What more could she ask for?
That settled the conversation turned to the reasons they'd each left their respective childhood homes, which for Donal and Phasma soon lead to them swapping literal war stories. It was an hour before they realised Kylo was asleep in the swing.
They managed to rouse him enough to stagger up to the room Phasma had set up for them. It was nice, if a little old fashioned, except for one feature.
"That's not a bed." Hux observed dryly. "That's a mattress on the floor."
"Kylo broke the bed frame last time he visited, so I took the liberty of removing it in advance this time."
"Whilst I see your reasoning," he replied, eying the impossibly massive torso of Kylo Ren as he shambled around the space, allegedly organising their bags but actually making a terrible mess. "These aren't my original knees. I can't sleep like that Phasma, I'm sorry."
Phasma looked stricken for a moment. "No, you shouldn't be the sorry one. I assumed, I apologise. You guys take my room tonight and I'll get Ren to help me move the bed frame back in the morning when he's more human."
"That might take a while."
"Fuck you, Hux."
"Please don't, not in my bed!"