TechieHux

glass-oceans:

Modern AU. Ben and Hux haven’t met, they’ve just heard each other via game play. They’re crushing on each other based on voice. What do they visualise? What do they think the other’s like? You don’t even have to have them meet other than they first see each other and each smiles… But what are they imagining now?

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“There’s one coming up behind you.”

The voice in Ben’s ear is low, and for a moment me imagines what it might be like, lying in the long grass as he presses his cheek to the side of the rifle as he takes his sight. He spies the enemy player moving up easily and snipes them before they can move in on his position.

“Got him,” he replies, already moving to a new position, guiding his avatar one handed while taking a swig from his soda with the other. There’s no wasted conversation as he takes his new place, though he hears Dearg curse as someone snipes him. He calls up the running game score. It’s close. That hit has pushed the enemy team closer to their score, and it’s going to make it tight for the final round. Ben leans forward, a feral grin on his face as he prepares to shoot again.

“Where are you?,” Dearg asks, his voice a low hiss over the comm. Ben can just make out his location on the mini map, a dot moving rapidly away from the respawning zone.

“Ensuring our victory,” Ben replies.

Ben hears Dearg laugh, a sharp bark of sound that makes his chest tight even as he watches Dearg’s icon move out into a more open position. The effect is immediate, and Ben could laugh at the predictable reactions of the enemy team. As they move out to try and take out Dearg, he picks them off one by one, the enemy respawn point too far away from them to get back in time for any more combat. As the last one falls, he gives up his hiding place, waiting for Dearg to reach him so they can take their customary victory screenshot.

The in-game siren sounds, declaring their victory, and Ben captures the moment, saving the image in his ever growing collection. Since he and Dearg started teaming up instead of just trying to take each other down in the free -for-all, their rankings in the PVP games have steadily increased.

“So what has you up so late?”

Ben stares back at the screen, as if expecting to see Dearg’s face there instead of the loading page on the screen of his desktop computer. Normally he’d log off as soon as the game was done. And late?

“Late?” he repeated out loud, glancing out his window where the setting sun could still be seen. “I’ll have you know it’s not even 9pm.”

“It is late,” Dearg said. “Well, it is here.”

“And yet,” Ben said, hovering over the option of signing them up for the next game. They’d only have ten minutes to wait before it started. “You’re playing on an American server.”

“Ugh.”

Ben felt himself grinning at Dearg’s noise of disgust.

“Maybe I should ask what you’re doing lurking on a foreign server?”

“Trying to find something other than idiot kids to play against.”

“Must be hard being old,” Ben taunted.

Dearg’s accept slipped when he got angry, and Ben felt himself blush as he remembered the last time it had happened, an ill-fated attempt at joining a battleground game that required they team up with eight others. Several of the team refused to follow Dearg’s tactics, resulting in fumble after fail, and Dearg screaming his frustration at them. Ben had listened in silence to Dearg’s rant, his heavy breathing after they’d finally quit the battleground and gone back to their usual game. They’d played out the rest of the evening as usual, but Ben had heard Dearg’s voice echoing in his head as he rocked against his sheets that night.

“Oh piss off,” Dearg’s voice came across, a hint of the lilt sneaking in. “I’m in college, not fucking ancient.”

Ben grinned, glad for the distraction.

“So what are you studying?”

“Game development. Among other things.”

“Ah, so this is research.”

“Eh.”

“And what am I?”

“Test subject.”

“What are you testing?” Ben asked, his forehead drawing in as he pondered the question.

“Things.”

“Things,” Ben repeated. “I think I deserve to know more than that if I’m going to be part of your thesis.”

“What age are you?”

“Nineteen,” Ben replied. “I’m a freshman.”

“And you take the piss out of me for being a student.”

Ben grinned. This was really why he enjoyed these nights so much. Talking with Dearg was always so easy. Even the silences were easy. He never smiled so much as he did on saturday nights.

“You’re clearly a final year student,” Ben replied, full of confidence. “That kind of weary attitude only comes from people who’ve been ground down by the system.”

Dearg snorted. “You’ll have your turn yet.”

“Not likely,” Ben replied. “I’m studying art. I’ll be a hippy forever!”

“Ugh, I could practically hear the flounce from here.”

“Why were you asking my age?”

“Check your messages.”

Ben looked down at the text bar scrolling on the bottom of his page. They always used voice chat, so they never really used the text box, but there was a link sitting there. Curious, he clicked on it, waiting as it took him outside the game and loaded a new page.

Ben felt his mouth dry up as a photo loaded, one taken in a dark room, the lighting off as it came from the fluorescent glow of a computer screen. It showed up the dark circles under his eyes, the skin pale from more than just the game itself, but also the red hair, the sharp, bright eyes.

“Now, do I really look beaten down?”

Ben’s eyes roamed over the image as Dearg’s words filtered through his headset. Ok, sure, Dearg looked tired, but he also looked like he could cut down everyone in his path.

“That bad?”

“What? No, no, I was just…”

“Game’s up. Get your ass back in here.”

Ben licked dry lips as he tabbed through his screens, clicking accept on the new arena challenge. His heart was beating too hard in his chest, he couldn’t parse that image with Dearg’s voice drifting with false laziness through his head set.

“Ready?”

Ben looked down at his hands resting over the keyboard, fingers already in place. His eyes darted away from the screen as he considered Dearg’s photo.

“Yeah, I guess.”