Chapter Text
The cold wind slices up between Ren and the weird guy as Ren hesitates. He's so cold and wet that he'll do whatever he needs to to be able to shut the door.
"Yeah," Ren says. "Come on. Close that door behind you."
The guy smiles, and does as he's told.
Ren's been dressing birds since he could tie his shoes, and dispatching the duck that the guy is holding out to him comes naturally. If working in fundraising hadn't worked out for him, he could have been a butcher. A little blood has never bothered him, provided that it's not his own.
"You going to cook that?" the guy asks.
"What a question," Ren says, not even turning around to address him, just focuses on cutting. "Yes."
"Some people like their meat rare."
"Some people, yes." Despite himself, Ren's first thought upon hearing that is doubt as to whether this guy could count as a person. "Not me."
"You're the host," the guy says mildly.
"Thank you for sharing," Ren answers. "You didn't have to."
The guy is sitting at the table, on the edge of his seat like he's not sure he's allowed to sit back all the way, his legs splayed carelessly, tracing a crevice in the old wooden table with one finger. He tosses his head, letting his hair slip over his ears. "I thought you'd like it. Saw a fox steal a duck you shot a few days ago."
"You did? How do you know that?"
The guy shrugs. "The fox went by with a shot duck and, as I've said, no one else is hunting around here. I thought you might appreciate getting one back."
"I'd appreciate getting that fox more."
This delights his guest, who doesn't bother to conceal his grin. "Would you, now." It's not phrased like a question.
"I would," Ren answers anyway. "This cabin's on its territory, it looks like."
"Mmhm," the guy affirms. "I'm sure you've taken cautions to keep it from getting in."
Ren says nothing, but feels the skin on his arms begin to prickle, despite the closed warmth of the cabin, despite how he's standing over the stove to cook the duck.
"They're smart, though," the guy offers.
"They're a pain," Ren growls. "I suppose that all the trouble will only make it more satisfying when I finally do catch it."
"You know," the guy says, easy, shifting in the chair to lean on arm against the table. "You haven't said you were going to kill it. You said get, and catch. You didn't say kill. Are you going to kill it?"
Ren says nothing for a few minutes more, finally breaking the silence to offer some of the duck to his guest. "Rare, like you wanted."
Just when Ren's forgotten what a dumbass this guy is, he tries to shove a whole mouthful of duck down his throat when it's just come off the pan. He makes a choking sound that makes Ren panic--Ren was never CPR certified, never learned the Heimlich--and then spits the duck back onto the plate, a thin line of blood and saliva and grease running down his chin.
"You wanna like, let it cool?" Ren asks, a little more sharply than he intends to.
"Hmm. Sorry about that." After a few moments pass, the guy picks up the piece of barely-chewed meat and gives it another shot. This time he gets it down.
"What's your name, anyway?" Ren asks. The guy says something muffled through the mouthful. "What? Fox?" No way this guy's name is Fox.
"Hux," the guy enunciates after he swallows.
"Do you live by yourself, Hux?"
"What a question," Hux asks, mocking Ren. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted to know because you have ill intentions."
"I don't have any ill intentions."
"No one comes riding up with a gun who doesn't have ill intentions."
"I don't have any ill intentions for any people. As for the animals, I hunt responsibly. Only in season, and only the amount and species allowed by law."
"I touched a nerve, it looks like," Hux says. "I didn't mean it that way. I hunt too, you know. And if I'm being honest, those laws are bullshit. You should be able to hunt whatever you can catch, whenever."
Ren suddenly comes to the realization that there was no shot to be removed in the duck he just dressed.
"You've mentioned that," Ren says, carefully. He's cooking his half of the duck a little bit longer, trying to get it just right. "Just you up here, then?"
"Just me."
"Must get lonely."
"Depends."
"Depends on what, if I may ask?"
"Depends on who comes camping or staying out here, and for how long." Hux looks at him, the gold in his eyes catching the artificial light of the cabin same as they catch the sunlight. There's still a shimmer of something on his chin, obscene and fascinating. "I can't tell if you're asking because you want to fuck me or murder me."
"I'm not a murderer. Anyway, you asked to come in, and I just let you. If I kill you, you have no one to blame but yourself. Just like how you were hunting without a goddamn vest."
"You've said a lot about not wanting to kill me but nothing about not wanting to fuck me."
"Was the duck a courting gift, then?"
"In the woods, it's a big deal for anyone to give up his prize."
"Unless you're trying to score a bigger one."
"Do you think of yourself as a prize, Ren?"
Ren pulls a bit of skin from his duck, perfectly golden-brown, exactly the way he wanted it.
"When did I tell you my name was Ren?" he asks slowly.
Hux just smiles.
"So tell me. What are you going to do with that fox when you catch it?" he asks Ren, licking his fingers.
Ren realizes the answer as he says it.
"I don't know."
There are only bones left on Hux's plate.
"I suspect your luck hunting will turn around when you stop chasing the fox," Hux says.
"What makes you say that?"
"Suppose the fox you're looking for has sway over this part of the forest."
"Has sway? What the fuck does that mean?"
Hux is unbothered. "Suppose that, instead of hunting it, you treated it with honor. You gave it minimal tribute. Suppose it was not a greedy animal, and it needed very little. But you gave it those things--a little share of your hunt, a safe warm place to sleep--a safe warm bed, perhaps....and in return you had more bounty than you could have imagined." His eyes flash. "And suppose you did keep hunting it. And then you were plagued with nightmares. And your hunting was dismal. And your car broke down, and your phone died, and you were stranded and hurt and lost in the woods."
Hux daintily picks up one of the duck bones and sets it down again, then licks his fingertips.
"Is that a threat, then?" Ren asks.
"It's a possibility. One I don't want to think about very hard, either." Hux smiles. "But I don't think it will come to that. I knew what you'd pick from the moment you let me in." He pauses, watching Ren, who is trying to remain expressionless. "I'm so happy you let me in."
It's nearly Christmastime. Everyone at the office drew Secret Santa names, and one of the new employees, in an effort to curry favor with her new coworkers, has brought in no fewer than six batches of sugar cookies. Ren takes one from the communal plate as he walks down the hallway to his boss's office, whistling "It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas" to himself.
"Come on in," his boss says, gesturing. He's just finishing an email and looks the very picture of holiday cheer, a regular Fezziwig, smiling as Ren sits. "This is a new one, Ren. First employee to get Employee of the Month the day after he comes back from vacation. I mean, true, it was for November, but nevertheless. What can I do for you?"
"I was hoping to take the first week of February off, if that's manageable. I've asked around, and it sounds like no one else has asked for that week." He turns the cookie around, admiring the icing pattern on it.
"Mm, a little taste of freedom got you wanting more?"
"My hunting trip couldn't have been more successful," Ren says with a smile. "This time I'm staying with a friend, and I'm hoping I'll get just as lucky the next time around."
"It's good for a man to have a hobby," his boss says. "Now, myself, I'd rather it be on a tennis court than out in the woods, but to each his own. Yes, I'll put you down for the first week of February..."
Ren returns to his cubicle, still whistling, and helps himself to a bite of the cookie he took.
"You really needed that vacation, huh?" asks one of his coworkers, who has the next cube over. "You've been in such a great mood since you got back."
Ren touches the little acorn that he brought back from the woods with him, sitting on the desk next to his mousepad. A reminder.
Nobody at the office knows he is bruised and bitten under his button-up shirt, covered in love bites, covered in attention. They only know that he returned with as much game as he could carry, and promises to make jerky to share.
"I really did."