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the_dala at 02:07am on 27/12/2015
the_dala at 02:07am on 27/12/2015Star Wars introduced me to the concept of fandom nearly twenty years ago, and now I've written my first Star Wars fic. The same eyes, and all that. You'll spot some obvious homages to the Original Trilogy (also about half a dozen of my bulletproof fic kinks). Two more fics in the works, both of them Finn/Poe/Rey -- this one just bit the hardest.
Title: Something Borrowed
Five times Finn and Poe borrowed each other's clothes.
Author: Dala
Fandom: Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Pairing: Finn/Poe (or StormPilot if you prefer)
Rating: PG13/Teen
Word Count: 2795
Warning: SPOILERS for SW:TFA
Also available on AO3: Something Borrowed
1.
Thinking back on it later, Finn would have to admit it all started with that damn flight jacket. It wasn’t in the best condition when it came into his possession, having seen its owner not only through years of service but also a recent stint in a First Order interrogation unit. Still, battered or not, it protected his head and his eyes from the swirling sands and merciless desert sun. Even without the cover it provided, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to leave it behind. The jacket was a piece, however small, of the pilot who’d ferried him off the Finalizer -- the man who had become his first real friend, however briefly.
He felt a prickle of discomfort and disloyalty as he settled it over Rey’s shoulders when she shivered, and was absurdly glad that she shrugged it off a short while later (good thing too, because it would have only hampered her in what she had to face). He was wearing it when Kylo Ren struck him down, of course. Small wonder that the med team hadn’t just tossed it down the garbage chute. Apparently BB-8 had scolded them until they handed it over.
But he didn’t realize that when he woke up. The first thing he saw was a bundle of scorched and scored leather on a chair, with Poe’s hand resting atop it.
Finn shifted, raising up on an elbow before thinking better of it and sinking back down to the pillow. The motion stirred Poe out of his bedside doze.
“Hey,” he said, blinking, his voice thick like he’d been the one in a coma. “Good luck charm worked, huh?”
He patted the folded jacket, and Finn ignored the dull throbbing at his temples in order to crack a watery smile.
“Looks like.”
2.
“I don’t know, it just doesn’t look right.”
Poe stepped up to the mirror, thumb pressed to his chin in consideration.
“Seriously, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look great. That outfit’s not any different from what most of the command staff wears.” Except it was in slightly better condition than everyday Resistance-wear, the dark gray pants crisp and the boots polished, and he looked very handsome in that shade of blue. It beat orange any day, in Poe’s opinion (not that he’d ever consider taking a commendation in anything but his flightsuit).
Finn tugged on the hem of his tunic yet again, frowning at his reflection. “I guess it feels like...a costume. A mask that everyone’ll see through.”
His voice had gone low and his gaze dropped from Poe’s eyes in the mirror to his shiny boots. Poe turned toward him and laid a hand on his elbow.
“It’s not a mask, okay? You’re done with that. All anyone will see is the work you did in taking out Starkiller before it could destroy another system -- our system.”
Finn rubbed his right hand down the sleeve of his left arm. “Yeah.” But he still looked troubled, no doubt thinking of the last uniform he’d worn.
Poe pursed his lips and held up one finger. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Ducking into his room adjoining the ‘fresher, he rummaged in a bedside drawer until he found what he was looking for.
“Just a little something extra,” he suggested, sliding the thin scarf around Finn’s neck. “For luck.” It was dark green, woven out of some soft native fabric. He’d picked it up planetside years ago, though he couldn’t actually recall where. His fingers brushed Finn’s throat as he tucked the ends into the collar, and he felt more than saw Finn swallow.
They both glanced back in the mirror. Finn squared his shoulders and nodded once.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said, turning on his heel with a stormtrooper’s precision.
Poe followed him down the hall. He didn’t much care about pomp and circumstance, but if it made Finn feel more like he belonged, then he’d let General Organa pin a dozen medals to his chest.
3.
“As soon as we get back, I’m putting together a formal proposal for the admiral: no more cold planets.”
Poe didn’t reply, but Finn took the flutter of his dark lashes and half a smile as encouragement -- and stars knew he could use a little encouragement right about now.
“I’m serious,” he continued, readjusting the pale fur-lined coat so it covered as much Poe as possible. “I’ve been reading a history of the Rebellion, which is a hell of a lot more accurate than what we learned in training. Did you know there was a base on Hoth? Hoth! With all the ice and the snow and the monsters with giant claws!”
Belatedly it occurred to him that Poe probably did know this, and that one or both of his parents might even have been stationed at that base, but he didn’t think his companion was in any state to answer questions. He checked the bandage at Poe’s temple, careful to keep his touch light. It seemed to have stopped bleeding, which was a good sign. The same could not be said for the ugly break in the pilot’s right leg. Though Finn was trained in first aid and had splinted it as best he could manage with a few dead branches he’d found in the cave, pain kept Poe hovering at the edge of consciousness.
“So anyway, we are definitely not recommending this planet for relocation. I expect you to back me up on that, buddy.”
He was mostly talking to keep himself calm, but to his surprise Poe voiced a reply.
“Noted. Will you shut up and lie down here with me?” His voice was steady, if weak, and his eyes (too bright, infection was setting in and why hadn’t Finn thought to grab an emergency pack before they made their escape?) were fixed on Finn’s face.
Finn obeyed, telling himself it was just protocol -- conserve body heat and keep each other alive -- and that he hadn’t spent a good portion of the last few weeks thinking getting this close to Poe. Granted that being attacked, injured, and stranded on some frigid backwater was not exactly what he’d had in mind.
He did his best not to jostle the bad leg, but cursed himself at Poe’s sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said hastily, tucking the jacket sleeve around them both.
“S’okay,” Poe said without opening his eyes. His arms were drawn up against his torso; unclenching one first with visible effort, he curled his fingers in Finn’s shirt. “Glad you’re here.”
We’re going to die here, Finn thought, fighting despair. He inclined his head until Poe’s sweat-damp hair brushed his brow, their breath mingling in the chill air. Close as brothers, until Poe brought them closer still: he lifted his chin to press his lips to Finn’s.
Cold and afraid and heartsick as he was, Finn was pretty sure he hadn’t imagined it.
“Poe?” he whispered.
The only response was a sigh as Poe succumbed to exhaustion once more. Finn kept one hand on his wrist to monitor his pulse, sliding the other into the coat pocket to reassure himself that the rescue beacon was still working.
4.
“She keeps looking at us,” Finn muttered, sidling from foot to foot.
“Would you stop fidgeting?” Poe was manfully resisting the urge to lay hands on him. That was, after all, what had gotten them into this mess in the first place -- and he hadn’t even started it this time.
He was trying to keep a neutral but attentive expression on his face as General Organa went over some procedures they’d put in place for the new base. This abandoned underground city suited their needs, but the tunnels near the hangar bay needed a lot of modifications. Poe wasn’t looking forward to being penned up beneath the earth, but it could have been worse; it could have been that frosty hellhole where he’d nearly died.
“I”m telling you, she definitely knows something.”
Poe felt Finn’s shoulders twitch. This time he caught the brief shift of the general’s eyes in their direction. He stifled a groan. Of course she knew something was up -- nothing got past Leia Organa. Whether it was due to Finn practically vibrating with nerves (and standing too close as usual), their hissed conversation, or some other recent sign, he couldn’t be sure.
He preferred not to imagine that she’d noticed they had accidentally tugged on each other’s trousers in the dark. They were near enough in size and height that they hadn’t realized the error until they were hustling down the warren-like hallways to the briefing. Finn preferred his pants a little looser and Poe’s legs were a bit longer, so they were each slightly uncomfortable with the trade-off.
But if the mismatched pants had indeed tipped the general off, it meant she’d spent enough time studying their asses to note the difference, and that was not a path he wanted to walk down with his commanding officer.
Major Ematt closed out the briefing with a reminder to check the updated shift schedule for meals. Poe scratched an itch at the waistband of his unfamiliar trousers and began to follow the crowd toward the doors when General Organa's voice rang out from the back of the chamber.
“Captain Dameron, a word.”
Poe half-turned towards Finn only to find that he’d already scurried away, BB-8 quick on his tail. Cowards, both of them.
“At your service, General.”
Leia Organa clasped her hands behind her back and leveled a steely gaze at him. “I expect all squadron leaders to be on time for important briefings and meetings, Captain.”
“Of course, General -- it won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” she said crisply. “And on another topic, I know you’re aware that we’re short on both space and supplies, which I presume is why you elected to share quarters with Ensign Finn even though you are entitled to a private room.”
Poe hadn’t made a habit of blushing since he was a teenager, but he could feel the tops of his ears beginning to grow warm. “Thought I’d do my part, ma’am.”
“Then I’m sure you won’t mind returning the second bunk to the supplies division, if it isn’t needed.”
The floor wasn’t hard-packed earth, it was quicksand and he was going to sink right through it.
“Right away, General Organa.”
When he could finally bring himself to look up from the all-too-solid ground, he saw a grin hiding at the corner of her lips. “Relax, Dameron. Fraternization isn’t against regs as long as it doesn’t interfere with performing your duties. There’s not a lot of fun to be had around here these days -- I couldn’t resist taking a shot.”
Poe let out a long breath and raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t exactly blame you for that. Do I have your leave to go find Finn and make him move the mattress?”
She waved a hand at him with a chuckle. But as he turned to go, she called him back.
“I know what it’s like to have someone at your side in the trenches,” she said, her brown eyes softening. “It makes some things easier, and others much harder. Take care of each other, Poe.”
He nodded, knowing she was looking into the past even as she looked into his eyes. “Thank you, General. We'll try.”
5.
It’s just a mission. It’ll be fine. Admiral Statura is leading it, and he’s taking a handful of highly-trained ground troops, and they’ll only be gone for a few days -- a week at the most.
Be cool, Finn, he told himself for the umpteenth time. And he was. Even though Poe wouldn’t tell him what the mission was about -- couldn’t tell him, in point of fact. Finn did not do well with intrigue and espionage. Troopers weren’t assigned to anything covert or special ops, and even if they were, Finn had worked Sanitation. His few attempts at being stealthy had all fallen apart pretty quickly. Wasn’t that how he’d gotten here, after all?
“You ready, BB-8?”
The droid chirped acknowledgement as he settled into his berth on the X-wing. His head swiveled to peer down, central eye finding Finn on the ground. He didn’t understand Binary, but the stream of clicks and beeps sounded like it was meant to be reassuring. Not quite as cool as he hoped, then.
Poe finished up his preflight checks and turned, helmet tucked under his arm. His face lit up when he spotted Finn.
“Hey! Didn’t know you were coming up to see me off.”
His voice dropped at the end of the sentence, the quirk of an eyebrow reminding Finn that they’d already said goodbye back in the privacy of their quarters. Not that he needed such a reminder; he knew he’d be holding tight to that memory. Poe laid out on the oversized bed he had somehow finagled from the supply chief, his legs wrapped around Finn’s waist, his mouth hot on Finn’s neck as he said please and Finn and more -- he had asked and Finn had given. At the end he’d whispered promise you’ll come back and heavy silence had fallen between them. Finn regretted it now even more than he had then, which was why he’d shown up at the hangar. He wasn’t about to let Poe leave thinking on that promise they both knew he couldn’t make.
Problem was, he didn’t know quite what to say to replace it.
“I…” Sudden inspiration struck and he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I wanted to give you this. You know, for luck.”
It wasn’t the jacket which hung at the back of their tiny closet, or the scarf Poe had lent him at the commendation ceremony (which he’d stashed in his pillowcase instead of giving back). Finn had received it a month ago in a packet from a distant outpost. According to the note Rey had sent it was meant to be a pair of socks woven from seagrass, only it was vaguely trapezoid-shaped and she’d never finished the second one. Apparently her Jedi training frequently incorporated mundane tasks like cooking and fishing and constructing local crafts. Though she had expressed frustration in the letter, he’d read between the lines: she had spent so long on her own that the process of learning from a mentor was healing some old wounds, no matter how paltry the skill set.
He placed the rough little sock-thing in the center of Poe’s palm.
“This is from Rey,” Poe said softly.
It was the first time he’d actually seen the sock, although he’d know about the package. Finn didn’t have a lot that he could call his own, and it wasn’t like it held any practical value, but something had compelled Finn to keep it to himself.
“Yeah,” he said, closing Poe’s fingers over the gift and meeting his eyes.
Poe caught his bottom lip between his teeth. With his free hand he framed Finn’s jaw and kissed him soundly. Finn got too lost in it to worry that they’d never done this before, not out where the whole base could see, and apparently it went on for awhile because they broke apart to the tune of a loud, low whistle.
“Piss off, Wexley,” Poe growled in the general direction of Blue Squadron.
Finn felt a bit like he had the first time Poe had introduced him to Corellian ale. He shook his head to clear it, glancing over his shoulder to see Snap Wexley offering them a double thumbs-up.
“Nice going, Finn! ‘Bout time someone ran maneuvers on this guy. I could tell you all kinds of stories…”
“Please don’t,” Finn called back. He spotted a few more pilots and techs looking over, most of them affably curious (though there was one Bothan who rolled her eyes and stalked off to some more vital operation). He caught the barest glimpse of Admiral Ackbar somewhere in the south bay and ducked his head to avoid that awkwardness.
Poe laughed and tweaked his nose. “No take-backs, pal. You better be here when I get back or I’ll never hear the end of it from Snap and Jess.”
“I will be,” Finn said, tucking Rey’s not-quite-a-sock into a pocket of his flightsuit. She was going to lose her mind when he sent her a transmission about this. He only hoped BB-8 didn’t beat him to it; the droid was humming innocence now, but Finn could have sworn he saw a holorecorder sneak out from some inner storage compartment.
Just in case, he tugged Poe around to the left and pressed him back against the nose of the ship to kiss him again.
Title: Something Borrowed
Five times Finn and Poe borrowed each other's clothes.
Author: Dala
Fandom: Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Pairing: Finn/Poe (or StormPilot if you prefer)
Rating: PG13/Teen
Word Count: 2795
Warning: SPOILERS for SW:TFA
Also available on AO3: Something Borrowed
1.
Thinking back on it later, Finn would have to admit it all started with that damn flight jacket. It wasn’t in the best condition when it came into his possession, having seen its owner not only through years of service but also a recent stint in a First Order interrogation unit. Still, battered or not, it protected his head and his eyes from the swirling sands and merciless desert sun. Even without the cover it provided, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to leave it behind. The jacket was a piece, however small, of the pilot who’d ferried him off the Finalizer -- the man who had become his first real friend, however briefly.
He felt a prickle of discomfort and disloyalty as he settled it over Rey’s shoulders when she shivered, and was absurdly glad that she shrugged it off a short while later (good thing too, because it would have only hampered her in what she had to face). He was wearing it when Kylo Ren struck him down, of course. Small wonder that the med team hadn’t just tossed it down the garbage chute. Apparently BB-8 had scolded them until they handed it over.
But he didn’t realize that when he woke up. The first thing he saw was a bundle of scorched and scored leather on a chair, with Poe’s hand resting atop it.
Finn shifted, raising up on an elbow before thinking better of it and sinking back down to the pillow. The motion stirred Poe out of his bedside doze.
“Hey,” he said, blinking, his voice thick like he’d been the one in a coma. “Good luck charm worked, huh?”
He patted the folded jacket, and Finn ignored the dull throbbing at his temples in order to crack a watery smile.
“Looks like.”
2.
“I don’t know, it just doesn’t look right.”
Poe stepped up to the mirror, thumb pressed to his chin in consideration.
“Seriously, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look great. That outfit’s not any different from what most of the command staff wears.” Except it was in slightly better condition than everyday Resistance-wear, the dark gray pants crisp and the boots polished, and he looked very handsome in that shade of blue. It beat orange any day, in Poe’s opinion (not that he’d ever consider taking a commendation in anything but his flightsuit).
Finn tugged on the hem of his tunic yet again, frowning at his reflection. “I guess it feels like...a costume. A mask that everyone’ll see through.”
His voice had gone low and his gaze dropped from Poe’s eyes in the mirror to his shiny boots. Poe turned toward him and laid a hand on his elbow.
“It’s not a mask, okay? You’re done with that. All anyone will see is the work you did in taking out Starkiller before it could destroy another system -- our system.”
Finn rubbed his right hand down the sleeve of his left arm. “Yeah.” But he still looked troubled, no doubt thinking of the last uniform he’d worn.
Poe pursed his lips and held up one finger. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Ducking into his room adjoining the ‘fresher, he rummaged in a bedside drawer until he found what he was looking for.
“Just a little something extra,” he suggested, sliding the thin scarf around Finn’s neck. “For luck.” It was dark green, woven out of some soft native fabric. He’d picked it up planetside years ago, though he couldn’t actually recall where. His fingers brushed Finn’s throat as he tucked the ends into the collar, and he felt more than saw Finn swallow.
They both glanced back in the mirror. Finn squared his shoulders and nodded once.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said, turning on his heel with a stormtrooper’s precision.
Poe followed him down the hall. He didn’t much care about pomp and circumstance, but if it made Finn feel more like he belonged, then he’d let General Organa pin a dozen medals to his chest.
3.
“As soon as we get back, I’m putting together a formal proposal for the admiral: no more cold planets.”
Poe didn’t reply, but Finn took the flutter of his dark lashes and half a smile as encouragement -- and stars knew he could use a little encouragement right about now.
“I’m serious,” he continued, readjusting the pale fur-lined coat so it covered as much Poe as possible. “I’ve been reading a history of the Rebellion, which is a hell of a lot more accurate than what we learned in training. Did you know there was a base on Hoth? Hoth! With all the ice and the snow and the monsters with giant claws!”
Belatedly it occurred to him that Poe probably did know this, and that one or both of his parents might even have been stationed at that base, but he didn’t think his companion was in any state to answer questions. He checked the bandage at Poe’s temple, careful to keep his touch light. It seemed to have stopped bleeding, which was a good sign. The same could not be said for the ugly break in the pilot’s right leg. Though Finn was trained in first aid and had splinted it as best he could manage with a few dead branches he’d found in the cave, pain kept Poe hovering at the edge of consciousness.
“So anyway, we are definitely not recommending this planet for relocation. I expect you to back me up on that, buddy.”
He was mostly talking to keep himself calm, but to his surprise Poe voiced a reply.
“Noted. Will you shut up and lie down here with me?” His voice was steady, if weak, and his eyes (too bright, infection was setting in and why hadn’t Finn thought to grab an emergency pack before they made their escape?) were fixed on Finn’s face.
Finn obeyed, telling himself it was just protocol -- conserve body heat and keep each other alive -- and that he hadn’t spent a good portion of the last few weeks thinking getting this close to Poe. Granted that being attacked, injured, and stranded on some frigid backwater was not exactly what he’d had in mind.
He did his best not to jostle the bad leg, but cursed himself at Poe’s sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said hastily, tucking the jacket sleeve around them both.
“S’okay,” Poe said without opening his eyes. His arms were drawn up against his torso; unclenching one first with visible effort, he curled his fingers in Finn’s shirt. “Glad you’re here.”
We’re going to die here, Finn thought, fighting despair. He inclined his head until Poe’s sweat-damp hair brushed his brow, their breath mingling in the chill air. Close as brothers, until Poe brought them closer still: he lifted his chin to press his lips to Finn’s.
Cold and afraid and heartsick as he was, Finn was pretty sure he hadn’t imagined it.
“Poe?” he whispered.
The only response was a sigh as Poe succumbed to exhaustion once more. Finn kept one hand on his wrist to monitor his pulse, sliding the other into the coat pocket to reassure himself that the rescue beacon was still working.
4.
“She keeps looking at us,” Finn muttered, sidling from foot to foot.
“Would you stop fidgeting?” Poe was manfully resisting the urge to lay hands on him. That was, after all, what had gotten them into this mess in the first place -- and he hadn’t even started it this time.
He was trying to keep a neutral but attentive expression on his face as General Organa went over some procedures they’d put in place for the new base. This abandoned underground city suited their needs, but the tunnels near the hangar bay needed a lot of modifications. Poe wasn’t looking forward to being penned up beneath the earth, but it could have been worse; it could have been that frosty hellhole where he’d nearly died.
“I”m telling you, she definitely knows something.”
Poe felt Finn’s shoulders twitch. This time he caught the brief shift of the general’s eyes in their direction. He stifled a groan. Of course she knew something was up -- nothing got past Leia Organa. Whether it was due to Finn practically vibrating with nerves (and standing too close as usual), their hissed conversation, or some other recent sign, he couldn’t be sure.
He preferred not to imagine that she’d noticed they had accidentally tugged on each other’s trousers in the dark. They were near enough in size and height that they hadn’t realized the error until they were hustling down the warren-like hallways to the briefing. Finn preferred his pants a little looser and Poe’s legs were a bit longer, so they were each slightly uncomfortable with the trade-off.
But if the mismatched pants had indeed tipped the general off, it meant she’d spent enough time studying their asses to note the difference, and that was not a path he wanted to walk down with his commanding officer.
Major Ematt closed out the briefing with a reminder to check the updated shift schedule for meals. Poe scratched an itch at the waistband of his unfamiliar trousers and began to follow the crowd toward the doors when General Organa's voice rang out from the back of the chamber.
“Captain Dameron, a word.”
Poe half-turned towards Finn only to find that he’d already scurried away, BB-8 quick on his tail. Cowards, both of them.
“At your service, General.”
Leia Organa clasped her hands behind her back and leveled a steely gaze at him. “I expect all squadron leaders to be on time for important briefings and meetings, Captain.”
“Of course, General -- it won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” she said crisply. “And on another topic, I know you’re aware that we’re short on both space and supplies, which I presume is why you elected to share quarters with Ensign Finn even though you are entitled to a private room.”
Poe hadn’t made a habit of blushing since he was a teenager, but he could feel the tops of his ears beginning to grow warm. “Thought I’d do my part, ma’am.”
“Then I’m sure you won’t mind returning the second bunk to the supplies division, if it isn’t needed.”
The floor wasn’t hard-packed earth, it was quicksand and he was going to sink right through it.
“Right away, General Organa.”
When he could finally bring himself to look up from the all-too-solid ground, he saw a grin hiding at the corner of her lips. “Relax, Dameron. Fraternization isn’t against regs as long as it doesn’t interfere with performing your duties. There’s not a lot of fun to be had around here these days -- I couldn’t resist taking a shot.”
Poe let out a long breath and raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t exactly blame you for that. Do I have your leave to go find Finn and make him move the mattress?”
She waved a hand at him with a chuckle. But as he turned to go, she called him back.
“I know what it’s like to have someone at your side in the trenches,” she said, her brown eyes softening. “It makes some things easier, and others much harder. Take care of each other, Poe.”
He nodded, knowing she was looking into the past even as she looked into his eyes. “Thank you, General. We'll try.”
5.
It’s just a mission. It’ll be fine. Admiral Statura is leading it, and he’s taking a handful of highly-trained ground troops, and they’ll only be gone for a few days -- a week at the most.
Be cool, Finn, he told himself for the umpteenth time. And he was. Even though Poe wouldn’t tell him what the mission was about -- couldn’t tell him, in point of fact. Finn did not do well with intrigue and espionage. Troopers weren’t assigned to anything covert or special ops, and even if they were, Finn had worked Sanitation. His few attempts at being stealthy had all fallen apart pretty quickly. Wasn’t that how he’d gotten here, after all?
“You ready, BB-8?”
The droid chirped acknowledgement as he settled into his berth on the X-wing. His head swiveled to peer down, central eye finding Finn on the ground. He didn’t understand Binary, but the stream of clicks and beeps sounded like it was meant to be reassuring. Not quite as cool as he hoped, then.
Poe finished up his preflight checks and turned, helmet tucked under his arm. His face lit up when he spotted Finn.
“Hey! Didn’t know you were coming up to see me off.”
His voice dropped at the end of the sentence, the quirk of an eyebrow reminding Finn that they’d already said goodbye back in the privacy of their quarters. Not that he needed such a reminder; he knew he’d be holding tight to that memory. Poe laid out on the oversized bed he had somehow finagled from the supply chief, his legs wrapped around Finn’s waist, his mouth hot on Finn’s neck as he said please and Finn and more -- he had asked and Finn had given. At the end he’d whispered promise you’ll come back and heavy silence had fallen between them. Finn regretted it now even more than he had then, which was why he’d shown up at the hangar. He wasn’t about to let Poe leave thinking on that promise they both knew he couldn’t make.
Problem was, he didn’t know quite what to say to replace it.
“I…” Sudden inspiration struck and he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I wanted to give you this. You know, for luck.”
It wasn’t the jacket which hung at the back of their tiny closet, or the scarf Poe had lent him at the commendation ceremony (which he’d stashed in his pillowcase instead of giving back). Finn had received it a month ago in a packet from a distant outpost. According to the note Rey had sent it was meant to be a pair of socks woven from seagrass, only it was vaguely trapezoid-shaped and she’d never finished the second one. Apparently her Jedi training frequently incorporated mundane tasks like cooking and fishing and constructing local crafts. Though she had expressed frustration in the letter, he’d read between the lines: she had spent so long on her own that the process of learning from a mentor was healing some old wounds, no matter how paltry the skill set.
He placed the rough little sock-thing in the center of Poe’s palm.
“This is from Rey,” Poe said softly.
It was the first time he’d actually seen the sock, although he’d know about the package. Finn didn’t have a lot that he could call his own, and it wasn’t like it held any practical value, but something had compelled Finn to keep it to himself.
“Yeah,” he said, closing Poe’s fingers over the gift and meeting his eyes.
Poe caught his bottom lip between his teeth. With his free hand he framed Finn’s jaw and kissed him soundly. Finn got too lost in it to worry that they’d never done this before, not out where the whole base could see, and apparently it went on for awhile because they broke apart to the tune of a loud, low whistle.
“Piss off, Wexley,” Poe growled in the general direction of Blue Squadron.
Finn felt a bit like he had the first time Poe had introduced him to Corellian ale. He shook his head to clear it, glancing over his shoulder to see Snap Wexley offering them a double thumbs-up.
“Nice going, Finn! ‘Bout time someone ran maneuvers on this guy. I could tell you all kinds of stories…”
“Please don’t,” Finn called back. He spotted a few more pilots and techs looking over, most of them affably curious (though there was one Bothan who rolled her eyes and stalked off to some more vital operation). He caught the barest glimpse of Admiral Ackbar somewhere in the south bay and ducked his head to avoid that awkwardness.
Poe laughed and tweaked his nose. “No take-backs, pal. You better be here when I get back or I’ll never hear the end of it from Snap and Jess.”
“I will be,” Finn said, tucking Rey’s not-quite-a-sock into a pocket of his flightsuit. She was going to lose her mind when he sent her a transmission about this. He only hoped BB-8 didn’t beat him to it; the droid was humming innocence now, but Finn could have sworn he saw a holorecorder sneak out from some inner storage compartment.
Just in case, he tugged Poe around to the left and pressed him back against the nose of the ship to kiss him again.
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