Chapter Text
“I must say, you have surprised me, sergeant,” General Phasma commented mildly looking over the eight suited men, seated in even rows and watching the red-clad tall woman and shorter man dubiously. Finn stared right back at them in blatant amazement and confusion, torn between wondering how they were here and what to do with them. “Well, gentleman,” the general began, sounding chipper, “who would like to begin with--,”
“Not midnight yet,” grunted a pinch-faced man in the back row. He was elbowed in the ribs by a too-slick looking man with waxed blond hair and he added, “Your honor.”
Phasma blinked at that, and Finn barely restrained a snort, pinching his leg hard through his trousers. Finn’ and Phasma’s gaze drifted over their shoulders at the clock on the wall behind the desk, and everyone in the room watched as the second hand approached the twelve.
“Hold the boat to heaven!”
“That’s not how it works, idiot—ow!”
“How would you know—you have as much chance of seeing the pearly gates as Lo has of--,”
“Apologies, Sergeant Finn, for being very nearly late.”
“What in God’s name,” Finn blurted before checking himself as Rey and Jess, dragging a tall, peeved-looking man, and Iolo rushed into the mission and took the four empty chairs in the front row. Iolo whipped off his fedora and offered a small bow with what Finn thought was an apologetic smile before straightening and stepping forward.
“Compliments of Mr. Dameron, twelve genuine sinners for a prayer meeting,” Iolo announced, drawing a stack of paper and a crisp envelope from his blazer’s inside pocket. “He asked me to deliver this with his regrets,” he added a bit more quietly, holding the papers out, and Finn accepted them somewhat dazed.
“Well, now that midnight is upon us,” the general said as Iolo made his way to his seat under Finn’s piercing gaze, “welcome, all of you, to the Save-a-Soul Mission. It truly is gratifying to see so many repugnant sinners with us tonight.” Rey and Jess began a round of applause at that, and Finn had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from cackling at the look of utter befuddlement on the general’s face.
“No, hold it,” Iolo jumped to his feet, waving his hands. “I don’t think that was a compliment. Cut it out—Henry, we won’t have any of that nonsense tonight. Remember, we’re answering to Poe tonight personally. And I need hardly remind you that means in person. Sorry, sergeant,” he directed to Finn as the crowd slumped back in their seats, exchanging shrugs and raised eyebrows. “Your dice,” he offered with another gracious bow.
Finn, taking in Iolo’s meek expression and bowed shoulders, could almost understand what Bastian saw in the man. Almost. “We will begin with hearing your testimony,” he informed Iolo, who grimaced as the collective began whining in unison.
“Okay, okay, you heard the holy man,” Iolo snapped, crossing his arms and turning to his cronies and regulars. “He wants to hear what bums we are. Henry, on your feet.”
“I ain’t gonna be your stool pigeon,” the long-faced man in a flashy tie in the back corner croaked.
“You wanna bet on that,” Iolo shot back, his voice going hard as stone, and Finn goggled as Henry got to his feet with a disgruntled groan.
“Well, you see, your honor, I was a bad kid, once, back in the day. But as my twelve arrests and zero convictions show…”
*****
“It was nice of you to walk me home,” Bastian mentioned, the first words he’d spoken since the pair had left Maz’s. Poe didn’t blame him—the guy had a lot on his mind—and was a little thankful even because it meant he could keep a wary eye out for anyone that might wish harm on the young singer on his arm. A few misguided men and women had glanced their way, but Poe’s fierce glare had them looking away and scurrying off.
“My pleasure,” Poe replied gracefully, and Bastian chuckled at that, ducking his head and fiddling with the ring with two keys in his hands. “Why don’t you invite me in.”
The keys went still and Bastian squinted up at the other man. “Why do you want to come in?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking things over and I’ve got an offer for you,” Poe answered with a shrug, one hand in his pocket, the other holding Bastian’s small suitcase.
Bastian’s eyes narrowed even further. “And what kind of offer is that, Mr. Dameron,” he asked frostily.
“Not the kind you’re thinking,” Poe said laughingly, reaching out to pinch Bastian’s chin gently. “Go on; it costs you nothing to listen.”
Bastian visibly deflated and Poe knew he had won even before the younger man slid his key into the lock and turned it with a click. Bastian trudged into the darkened apartment, leaving the door open for Poe to follow after the singer had flicked on a small light beside a decrepit sofa. “Make yourself comfortable,” Bastian said with mock graciousness, looking around himself at the sad state of his home that he hadn’t noticed in months, maybe years. Peeling wallpaper, broken window blinds, thread-worn rug, and that was just the living room. He felt suddenly self-conscious, but the apology died on his lips as Poe just flopped down on the sofa, dropping his hat on the cluttered end table without any sign that he noticed. “Um, so—can I get you anything?”
“If you have any room after that cheesecake, you’re a stronger man than me,” Poe tossed out with a bright smile, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles, Bastian’s suitcase in his lap. Bastian’s eyes fell to the object and he frowned, heart clenching.
“I guess I won’t be needing that tonight,” he said, pointing at the case and then moving to grab it. Poe draped his arms across the item of luggage.
“Well, let’s not be too hasty about that,” Poe replied with a smile Bastian didn’t understand.
“Poe, it’s going to take a bit more than Lo’s signature on a piece of paper to convince me he might marry me this time around.”
“Glad to hear it,” Poe nodded with satisfaction. “It’s about time you stood up to him. Do you agree?”
“I—I guess so,” Bastian stammered, blinking at the oddly cat-like smile curling across the other man’s lips. “But there is a lot of good in him, you know. I know you don’t believe it, but he does love me, and he’s proven that, even if he--,”
“I might believe it,” Poe allowed with a light shrug. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t stringing you along.”
Bastian swallowed back the lump in his throat, his shoulders drooping in defeat as he dragged himself over to the small, deflated armchair to Poe’s left. “You’re not wrong,” he allowed, voice tight with emotion.
“Don’t go leaking on me,” Poe warned, eyeing Bastian’s glossy eyes. The singer snorted and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, dabbing at the corners of his eyes quickly and efficiently before offering a small smile to the man watching him. “That’s better. You ready to hear my offer or should I give you another minute?”
“This offer sounds a bit funny, if I’m being straight with you,” Bastian stated, and Poe winked.
“I already told you, I’m not working that angle.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“I want you to run away with me tonight.”
Bastian rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair. “If you’re not going to be serious--,”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” Poe interrupted, placing the suitcase on the floor and sliding across the couch in one motion. Bastian leaned away from the earnest man, suddenly a bit too close to him, and Poe took one of Bastian’s hands in his. “I’ve got to get outta town tonight, and I think you should come with me.”
“I can’t leave,” Bastian stated incredulously. “I—I’ve got a job and-and bills and a fiancé I’ve got to decide what to do with!”
“A job you hate, bills I’ll take care of, and a fiancé who needs to learn he can’t take you for granted,” Poe countered, giving the thin hand in his a squeeze. “Trust me, I’ll make sure your-friend who does God’s work is provided for.”
“B-but Iolo--,”
“Bastian, please, do me a favor,” Poe beseeched, cupping the younger man’s chin in his palm. “Do not start your next sentence with ‘but Iolo.’”
*****
“—and Mother was never around, always had somewhere more important to be or someone more important to see--,”
“Why’d you ask him,” Rey hissed over to Iolo, who was turned sideways in his seat, one arm crooked over the back of the chair, as Ren continued his autobiography to an overly fascinated General Phasma.
“Thought it might be a laugh,” Iolo drawled back, checking the time on the clock above the general’s head, seeing the seconds tick away like his chances of ever convincing Bastian to give him another chance.
“—and don’t get me started on my good-for-nothing father--,”
“Please. Don’t,” Jess agreed loudly, only to be shushed by the tall, stern blonde woman before her focus shifted back to Ren.
“Psst!”
“No, Henry,” Iolo sighed, not looking up from the pleat in his trouser leg that he was straightening, “no one’s leaving til the prayer meeting is concluded.”
“Arana.” Iolo’s head jerked up, blinking at Finn standing over him, envelope and a page of paper in his hands. “Did you read this?”
Iolo rolled his eyes and Jess scoffed next to him. “Finn, I’m a small-time lout, not an out-and-outer. I don’t read other people’s mail.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Finn retorted primly before trusting the letter at Iolo. “Read it and tell me if it’s true.”
Iolo rubbed his fists against his tired, dry eyes before taking the page and holding it close to squint at the jagged handwriting.
Finn,
If you’re reading this, then I have made my marker and I can at least have a clean conscience about that. I’m sorry I can’t keep that other promise, but at this point I don’t think you ever want to see me again, so we’ll call it a wash.
I know you won’t believe it, but that night in Havana was probably the best of my life. I guess I know how a gambler can give up the game now. As it is, I’ve got a few more gambles in me, and I hope you’ll forgive me for them.
“Hold on,” Iolo said, interrupting Ren mid-sentence. The no-good crook and the general of God both shot him reprimanding glares, and Iolo shot them his most charming smile.
“As I was saying, my father never understood…”
“Dameron told me you never went to Havana,” Iolo went on in a whisper as Ren continued.
Finn blinked. “He did? But the bet…?”
“He told you about the—well, that’s just dandy,” Iolo grumbled to himself before shaking his head in dismissal. “He gave me the grand, saying he lost the damn bet. Fat lot of good it does me now--,”
“Poe—he, oh no,” Finn hissed, eyes going wide. He glanced over to make sure Phasma was paying him no mind. She wasn’t, and he dropped to kneel next to Iolo’s seat, the blonde sinner looking perturbed by the action. “Tell me the truth, Arana: did Poe know that you were going to use the mission for your gambling hell?”
“No, I did not think of it until I thought he had you on a plane to Cuba,” Iolo replied, keeping his voice low. “Did he really forfeit a bet? Poe Dameron has never forfeited in his life and--,”
“He didn’t know,” Finn breathed, snatching the letter back and quickly rereading the letter with the new information in mind. Iolo, not for the first time thankful he could read upside down, craned his neck until his forehead was brushing Finn’s.
First, the twelve sinners you’ve got were won with a roll of the dice. I’m not ashamed of it, and frankly I think you might appreciate the irony.
Second, I’m leaving town. That won’t be a surprise, in fact I think you expect nothing less from me at this point. Cutting my losses and running scared, right? Well, you only have yourself to thank for that. You were talking about your dreams and all that night, and it got me thinking. Maybe an honest profession wouldn’t be too bad. But I can’t do that in New York; too many familiar faces, one of which I don’t know if I can see right now.
Thinking of your dream, I don’t know if it means much coming from me, but I think you need to go for it. That mission of yours is worthy, but it’s not your mission, and I think you know that. I’ll leave a little something to help you get started. I owe it to you anyway.
You might need to find a new songbird though. Don’t worry; I promise to take care of Bastian.
Fondly,
P. Dameron
“What does he mean he’ll take care of Bastian,” Iolo demanded, wide eyes meeting Finn’s own scared ones.
“He’s going to run away with him,” Finn gaped, and Iolo’s top lip curled in disgust.
“Why in the ever-loving world would he do that? What would have put that thought in his head—oh my God,” Iolo gasped, hand covering his mouth.
“What? Arana, tell me,” Finn growled, not caring at the mildly alarmed look sent his way from Jess.
“This—he—his retribution for the bet,” Iolo groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in defeat. “He’s hitting me in the only place that will hurt anymore.”
“I told him I wanted to take care of Bas,” Finn said, not sure why he was divulging the tidbit except that he’d never seen the blonde man look broken before. “I—Poe knows I wanted to get Bas out of that awful job of his and…and he thinks he’s helping.”
“He’s doing more for my fiancé than I have in years,” Iolo murmured from behind his hand, and Finn watched in shock as a single tear worked its way out of the corner of Iolo’s tightly closed eyes.
“And what are you going to do about it,” Finn heard his voice ask, and was sure he looked just as surprised as Iolo did as the rogue’s eyes popped open, tears waiting to rush if given the chance. The two men stared at each other for a long moment, and then Finn cleared his throat. “Well? Are you going to help me stop this, or aren’t you?”
Iolo was frozen for another too-long beat and then he inclined his head once with a jerk. “I’m with you.” Finn nodded back firmly, getting to his feet, pausing only when Iolo’s hand grabbed his wrist. “I gave my marker. I’m here until the meeting is done. I don’t have much, but my marker is still stainless.”
“Marker? This,” Finn asked, pulling out the crumbled pages from his pants pocket. He flipped through, dropping the ones he didn’t need on the floor until he found Iolo’s messy signature. Looking the blonde straight in the eye, Finn ripped the sheet of paper in half and let them float down. “Any other excuses you want to try?”
“Not anymore,” Iolo grinned, jumping to his feet. “We need to--,”
“Well, well, well.”
“So close,” Iolo winced sincerely as Lieutenant Hux strolled into the Save-a-Soul Mission, casually swinging a pair of handcuffs around his pointer finger.
“Returning to the scene of the crime now, are you? That seems pretty dumb, Arana, even for you,” Hux went on smugly.
“Crime? Sergeant, what is this man talking about,” General Phasma asked, frowning.
“Sergeant Finn, you told me you would be able to identify the miscreants who were partaking in an illegal craps game in this very mission last night,” Hux announced, his victorious sneer growing as the seated collection of rogues ducked their heads instinctively. “I ask you now, are these the people you saw this morning, fleeing the scene?”
Finn saw Iolo hold out his arms, wrists together in anticipation, and rolled his shoulders back. “Lieutenant Hux, I have never seen these people before in my life.”
“What,” Hux, Iolo, and Rey blurted out.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Finn continued, turning to grab his hat from the corner of the desk, “I need to catch my roommate before he steals my man. Come on, Arana,” he tossed over his shoulder as he marched out of the mission’s door, for the last time if he had anything to say about it.
Hux’s jaw hung limp, and Iolo couldn’t resist clapping the policeman on the shoulder as he passed. “Them’s the breaks,” Iolo laughed and jogged to catch up with Finn, who was making a good effort to hail a cab at one in the morning. “Finn, for that alone I--,”
“Oh, be quiet. I’m not the one you need to grovel to,” Finn dismissed easily, groaning as another yellow cab sped past him. “Got any tips on getting a cab?”
“Just one,” Iolo replied, judging the distance and stepping off the curb into the oncoming traffic. Finn shouted, turning away and grimacing at the loud screeching of rubber on pavement. He braced himself for the inevitable and felt his heart stop when instead he heard Iolo cheerfully call, “One cab, as requested. Hope you have some cash.”
*****
“I think that’s the last of it,” Bastian sighed as he helped Poe load the last suitcase into a red car that had appeared after Poe had made a phone call from the booth on the corner. Poe nodded, slamming the truck shut and shooting an apologetic grimace as Bastian flinched at the sound.
“It’s not too late, you know. If you need more time--,”
“I think if I think about it anymore I’ll drive myself insane,” Bastian stated flatly, crossing his arms against the cool breeze that raced down the street. “But…it will work out, won’t it?”
“Call me an optimist, but I think it will,” Poe replied with a shrug, leaning his hip against the car. “All that’s left is--,”
“Wait! Don’t--,”
“Bas, please, just,” and Bastian was spun around, his shoulders grabbed and shaken roughly, Iolo’s expression desperate. “Please listen to me. If you want to run away with some no-good hooligan--,”
“Hey,” Poe tossed in offended before Finn smacked him upside his head with a peeved look.
“—then run away with me! At least I love you,” Iolo finished in a rush.
“And you, mister,” Finn started but Poe held up his hand, his focus on the blonde and the singer in his arms.
“Hold that thought,” Poe said softly with an odd small smile on his face. “I need to hear this.”
“I know there’s nothing I can say anymore, I know you can’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth,” Iolo went on, not noticing his audience as his eyes rapidly scanned Bastian’s face as if he might never see it again. “But I swear I fell in love with you the second I saw you, when you were just a scrawny kid hiding from your screaming parents behind the dumpster. Remember that? I ducked there to hide from some cop who thought he caught me pickpocketing, and you were there, looking so tiny and-and fragile.”
“Lo,” Bas breathed, his hands rising to hold Iolo’s smooth cheeks between his palms.
“And you told me you wouldn’t let them catch me. You were such a little guy and scared to death, but you said you’d protect me. And I believed you,” Iolo said, pausing to gulp around the lump in his throat, “because I could tell you could do anything you put your mind to. Do you remember that?”
Bastian sniffed none too delicately and nodded. “And you—you said you’d take care of me. You wouldn’t let th-them hurt me ever again.”
“At least I kept that promise to you,” Iolo murmured, running his hands from the singer’s shoulders to his waist. “At least I have one thing to be proud of in these fourteen years.”
“Fourteen years,” Bastian repeated wetly, bowing his head. Iolo hummed soothingly, leaning forward enough to rest his lips against the crown of Bastian’s head.
“I’ve been terrible and you’ve-you’ve taken it, for fourteen years. God, why?”
“You know why. Everyone knows why,” Bastian choked out, swaying forward and resting his weight against his fiancé.
“I didn’t deserve it,” Iolo replied matter-of-factly, pushing down the ache that was creeping up from his stomach, his heart. “You were right, when you said I knew you would wait for me. I-I guess I’m not used to winning…and I didn’t know what to do when I got lucky for the first time in my life. When you fell in love with me.” Bastian let out a soft huff of laughter.
“I wanted to be your last bet,” Bastian whispered brokenly.
Poe was so entranced he jumped a little when a hand slipped into his. He glanced over to Finn questioningly, and found the man in smiling softly back at him.
“I want that, Bas, so badly it hurts,” Iolo answered, urging the younger man to look up with his nose. As if it weighed a hundred pounds, Bastian slowly looked up, his eyes rimmed red and puffy. “Show me how?”
Bastian swallowed drily, and his gaze shifted over Iolo’s shoulder to Poe, beseechingly. Poe nodded understandingly and gave Finn’s hand a squeeze.
“First you need to get out of here,” Poe stated, smile growing as Iolo’s head snapped in his direction. “You can’t get a fresh start in New York.”
“I—I can do that,” Iolo allowed, looking back at Bastian with a small hint of hope. “I can pack my bags now and—I will need some time but, but please don’t leave with Dameron.”
“He wasn’t,” Poe supplied as Bastian let out a little giggle and buried his face in the blonde’s shoulder while Iolo stared incredulously. “And your bags are packed and ready to go. With Bastian’s,” he added, banging his fist against the lid of the trunk. “No excuses this time, Arana.”
“Wait, you—you weren’t,” Iolo broke off and thrust his fiancé to arm’s length by his hold on the singer’s hipbones, bending his knees to marvel at Bastian’s giggling face. “You bluffed me.”
“I bluffed you,” Bastian agreed cheerfully. “But I meant everything I said, I promise you.”
“I don’t care about that, where were these skills when I needed to get bailed out of the pig pen last year?!”
“Arana,” Finn ground out, the blonde looking over, “priorities.”
“Huh? Oh! Sure, I—I guess we’re going,” Iolo marveled, looking around himself. “I thought I would feel—sadder.”
“Finn,” Bastian began with a contrite face, but Poe interrupted.
“No need for the sobbing farewells. I’ve never been to a wedding, but I think there needs to be a witness,” he said.
“Two witnesses, actually,” Finn corrected, tugging Poe into his side with a surprising amount of force. “And I think it’s at least four hours to the border.”
“What border,” Iolo asked.
“Maryland, you idiot,” Bastian scolded fondly.
“Of course. How stupid of me,” Iolo appeased, planting a tender kiss to the singer’s cheek.
“Which gives us plenty time to discuss what the hell was going through your mind when you thought you were going to take Bas and leave with nothing more than a note,” Finn said sternly, moving to stand in front of Poe as the affianced couple melted together.
“It was one of many plans,” Poe replied mildly.
“Which plan?”
“Plan—D.”
“Try again,” Finn challenged, and Poe heaved a deep sigh.
“Alright, hot shot, it was Plan A, but in my defense,” he rushed on as Finn drew himself up indignantly, “I really thought Iolo needed to learn a lesson and I was going to leave you ten grand in your apartment to tide you over until he was ready to come back.”
“Sweet and slightly insulting though that is,” Finn admitted, “I’d rather have you tell me to my face that you were running scared than some letter. Or cash.”
“Should I keep that in mind for the next time,” Poe asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“As if you’re getting another chance to run. You stuck with me now,” Finn declared with no room for argument, “and you can bet on that.”
“Alright, are you two done or what,” Iolo called over as he held open the passenger door for Bastian to duck into. “We’ve got an elopement that’s about fourteen years too late.”
“If you let me drive, I can get us there in three hours, tops,” Poe offered, reaching up to tweak Finn’s nose playfully before pulling away.
“I’m not having you kill us now that I’m this close to an honest life,” Iolo shot back as he closed the door and moved around to the driver’s side.
“Besides,” Bastian said, popping his head through the window, “I think it ruins the romance if we get driven to our shotgun wedding.”
“Your choice,” Poe shrugged as Finn climbed into the backseat through the driver’s door. “Don’t blame me if he makes a wrong turn and we end up at Belmont racetrack.”
“Lo!”
“I swear I won’t,” Iolo replied hastily, eyes wide. “Better hold on to my money a bit longer, just to be safe,” he muttered as Poe slid by him into the car.
“I’m not an idiot. You’re not seeing your wallet until that marriage license is signed.”
“Thank you, Poe,” Bastian chimed. “I like him,” he told Iolo confidentially as his fiancé took his seat and slammed the car door shut behind him.
“He’s impossible,” Iolo grumbled, adjusting the rearview mirror and catching sight of Finn and Poe talking with their lips nearly touching. “What are your thoughts on double weddings, scout?”
“I’m not opposed to them in principle. Why?”
“Just a thought,” Iolo said evasively, starting the car and gunning the accelerator, the two responding shouts of annoyance and surprise from the backseat causing him to smile satisfied.
“Lo?”
“Yes, light of my life?”
“We’re doing this?”
Iolo took the corner smoothly. “We’re doing this and you can’t stop me.”