Work Text:
Poe’s eyes flew to the door of the coffee shop as the little bell tinkled. He held his breath for a split second before he deflated. Not him.
He sighed and went back to his writing. Well, really editing. The proofs for his latest book, The Mystery of the Willows, were in and he was doing one last check before sending them back to his publisher.
Truth be told, he was doing a half-hearted job.
For two reasons.
One, while he’d managed to become a fairly successful author of mysteries and thrillers, he wasn’t feeling the same sort of excitement with his writing lately. At least not with the stuff he sent to his publisher.
Two, there was this guy.
Poe smiled thinking about him. He knew the guy’s first name was Finn, that he stopped by Rey’s Coffee Shop every afternoon for a black coffee (no cream, no sugar, no nothing), and that he had to be the most amazing guy Poe had ever met.
Errrrrrrr…..
Well, technically, they’d never met.
Poe frowned at his laptop and chewed his lip. Poe had written plenty of scenarios in his head where the two of them had met. And then fallen in love and lived happily ever after.
But he’d never talked to the guy.
Heck, he barely made eye contact.
He’d eavesdropped plenty on the guy’s conversations with Rey and he’d watched him when he’d stuck around the coffee shop instead of running out on some sort of exciting adventure.
But Poe had never worked up the courage to say anything.
Poe shook his head and closed out of the proofs. I’ll finish them tomorrow.
He looked at the door, wishing Finn would come in.
Poe sighed and logged on to Ao3 to see if John’sLongWinter had updated his latest fic yet. At least I can console myself with some angst while I wait.
# # # #
Finn stretched his neck and looked at the clock on the wall. Need to get going.
In a sec.
He frowned over the chapter one last time and then hit “post.” He smiled. He knew it was too early for XavierCrossing to leave a comment, but he knew it was coming and he couldn’t wait.
The Saint’s Alley fandom was based on a series of books written in the 1980s. They were cheap thrillers about a band of outlaws living in a small northeastern town. Most of the characters were trying to go straight, but evil just seemed to find them.
Finn smiled. His mother had put the first Saint’s Alley book in his hand when he was a little kid, and since then, he had devoured them all.
Then, about five years ago, he’d discovered the Saint’s Alley fandom online. Soon after, he’d started writing fic as John’sLongWinter, a nod to one of the shadier characters in the series—John Calhoun, who was a former mercenary trying to keep his little town safe.
It was a teeny-tiny fandom, and there was really only one other active person writing anything, XavierCrossing.
Finn loved XavierCrossing’s stuff and for some strange reason—probably because he was the only other person posting fics—XavierCrossing loved what Finn wrote at John’sLongWinter.
The two of them eventually started emailing each other, and now Finn considered XC one of his best friends.
Well, as much of a friend as anyone can be with me, he thought, pushing back from his desk and walking over to his dresser. He pulled on his shoulder holster and checked his gun before sliding it into place.
Time for coffee.
# # # #
The bell at the door jingled. Poe looked up and held his breath. It’s him.
Don’t be creepy.
Poe tried to nonchalantly watch as Finn walked up to the counter and traded a quick joke with Rey.
I love you. Poe shook his head. DON’T BE CREEPY, DAMERON.
He looked back at the document open before him. His latest fic: A Spy’s Final Rest, which was a Saint’s Alley Spy AU.
He watched Finn and Rey talk, listening to the conversation about a mutual acquaintance named Leia.
Finn smiled and pushed away from the counter, turning towards Poe, who quickly looked back at his screen. Not creepy. Just a normal guy typing into his laptop. Poe peeked over in time to see Finn wave to Rey and walk out of the shop.
Poe sighed. I am so kriffed.
# # # #
Finn smiled as he left Rey’s. Seeing her always made him feel better and Cute Writer Guy had been there.
Finn chuckled taking a sip of his coffee. Cute Writer Guy.
Whoever he was, he was nervous as hell, and he kept sneaking glances when he thought Finn wasn’t looking, but he was also adorable and…
So what if I have a crush?
It’s not going to go anywhere.
It’s just a harmless little crush.
For a moment, Finn let himself get lost in a fantasy of what it would be like to run his fingers through Cute Writer Guy’s hair, tug at those curls and kiss him…
Finn sighed. Sorry, Cute Writer Guy. My life’s just a bit too complicated for any of that at the moment.
# # # #
Fourteen hours later, Finn fell back against his door, shrugging out of his jacket and toeing out of his shoes. The problem with living a double life was that it was tiring. And it usually meant that he didn’t get home until 3 or 4am. If he got home at all.
Finn sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. He went to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl and filled it with Capt’n Crunch and milk and walked to his bedroom. He flicked on his computer and sat in front of it, munching his cereal.
He smiled as he saw both a comment on his fic, Saints Resisting, and an update on A Spy’s Final Rest. He opened the comment from XavierCrossing:
BUDDY! Seriously, how could you do this to me?!?!?! You have to give us the next chapter right now. I can’t wait to see what happens! URAGH!!!!!!
Oh and this:
John crossed over to Tyler, refusing to blink or even breathe. “You think this is easy for me? You think this is what I want?”
“Isn’t it,” Tyler said, tears already in his eyes.
“Just go,” John said, shaking his head, turning so he didn’t have to see it happen.
Tyler opened his mouth. He wanted to reach out, to grab John and end this stupid argument, but instead he simply turned and left.
WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO US???????
Finn laughed. He typed out a reply and then opened A Spy’s Final Rest.
About halfway through the chapter, Finn frowned. He looked at the section where the spy, one of XavierCrossing’s original characters, had just met another spy at the local coffee shop to exchange information. Finn read it and then re-read it.
He re-read it again.
It’s just a coincidence.
Finn leaned back. Except I don’t believe in coincidences.
He stood, pacing his bedroom while staring at the computer screen. There’s no way anyone could know about… He closed his eyes. I’m just being paranoid. I need to go to sleep and tomorrow I’ll… He looked back at the screen. Tomorrow.
Finn shut down his computer and crawled into bed.
No one has made me. It’s just a stupid fic that only ten people will ever read.
I’m safe.
This is all in my head.
He turned on his side.
All in my head.
# # # #
“So, let me get this straight. The guy comes into that coffee shop on third street every single day. The same coffee shop that Snap and I were considering forwarding your mail to because you are always kriffing there, and you haven’t ever talked to him?”
“No,” Poe said, staring at his beer, wishing that Snap would get out of the bathroom already so they could unpause and quit talking.
“Not once?”
“No,” Poe said.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
Poe looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He then waved his hand across his body from head to toe. “Uh, pretty much everything?”
Jess growled and pitched her head forward into the coffee table. “No.” She then raised her head, yelling, “Snap!”
They heard the water running in the sink and then Snap ran out, drying his hands on his jeans. “What?”
“Poe’s doing that thing again.”
“That thing?”
“That thing where he pretends he’s not the prettiest guy either of us know and that he’s not a bestselling author who could afford to move out of this apartment but doesn’t because…”
She turned back to Poe, who said, meekly, “I like it here.”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to Snap. “That thing.”
“Who is he,” Snap asked, settling back on the couch and grabbing Poe’s controller before Poe could unpause the game.
“Who said there’s a he,” Poe said, sulking.
“Oh, there’s a he,” Jess said. “According to Poe, he’s the,” she fluttered her eyelashes, “dreamiest.”
Snap choked on his beer. “Wow.” Then he looked at Jess. “So what’s the problem?”
“Problem is, this moof-milker won’t go talk to the guy. They’re both in the same coffee shop every single day and…” She shrugged and then took a long drink of her beer. “Poe’s an idiot.”
“Well, yeah,” said Snap.
“Thanks guys,” Poe said, leaning into the armrest of the couch. “Let me know when we’re through berating Poe, okay?”
Snap said, “Okay, so what’s really the deal with this guy?”
“I’m shy,” Poe said.
“Nope,” Jess said. “Try again.”
“I’m with Pava on this one. You’re a mess and yeah, you may be a little shy, but I’ve seen you walk up to new guys before. So what gives with this one?”
Poe closed his eyes, thinking of Finn. “He’s perfect,” he sighed.
Jess gagged.
Snap laughed. “Oh man, you have it bad.”
Poe opened his eyes. “So bad.” He reached for his controller. “Now, can we please get back to the game?”
Snap looked at Jess. “What do you think?”
Jess frowned. “Might as well. Not like this idiot is going to take our advice and JUST TALK TO THE GUY!”
Snap tossed Poe the controller and Poe had never been so grateful to get back to flesh-eating zombies in his entire life.
# # # #
Two days later, Finn walked into Rey’s to find himself at the end of a long line of customers. He glanced over to the booths on the far edge of the shop and sure enough, Cute Writer Guy was hunched over his laptop. Finn couldn’t help but smile, watching him.
Cute Writer Guy’s eyes were wide and his mouth was moving slightly as he read something. His hands had grasped the sides of his laptop and his whole body seemed focused on whatever was on the screen.
I wish you’d look at me like that, Finn thought, before blushing and turning away.
It’s a stupid crush.
No time for romance.
Finn glanced back over. Cute Writer Guy was now smiling, his eyes crinkling. Oh seriously!
“Finn?”
“Finn?”
“Finn,” Rey yelled.
The entire coffee shop turned to see Finn standing there, unaware that the line had cleared and he was the only customer left at the counter. He ducked his head. “Way to be subtle, Rey.”
She smiled at him and nodded over at Cute Writer Guy, who was trying hard not to stare. “You too, Finn,” she said.
“Just give me a coffee,” Finn said, sneaking one last glance over and meeting Cute Writer Guy’s eyes for a split second before the guy turned back to his laptop and started furiously typing.
# # # #
James Beck strolled into Rachel’s at 3:15pm every day, rain or shine. John looked up from the corner booth. Even though Rachel and most of the other residents of Saint’s Alley had sworn that Beck was a nice guy, John had a feeling he wasn’t on the up and up. He glanced over at Peter, who was fretting with a crossword two tables over. Well, at least that’s what Peter wanted everyone to believe.
John watched as Peter’s eyes would dart up to James and back down again, furtively trying to catch glimpses of the man as he ordered his coffee.
John took in a breath and considered James. He was young with dark skin and close-cropped black hair and bright eyes. He had an easy smile, the kind that instantly disarmed you, and an infectious laugh. There was a hint of a British accent to his voice, which made everything sound just a bit more melodious than it might otherwise. Plus, John thought, he’s well built.
John frowned. He wondered what his husband would think of him ogling other men. He shrugged. He’d probably be proud of me. He shook his head and looked back over at poor Peter, who had given up any pretense of working his crossword and was now, in fact, chewing on his pencil as he watched James pay and walk back out the door. John couldn’t help his chuckle.
As soon as James was out on the street, he leaned forward. “Pete?”
Peter startled and looked over at him, his pencil falling out of his mouth. “Uh, yeah?”
“Is there a reason you haven’t asked him out yet?”
“What? Him? Who?” Peter scrambled to rescue his fallen pencil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right,” John said, leaning back. He waited a moment and then added, “But just remember that fortune favors the bold.”
Peter rolled his eyes, muttering, “Bold, yeah right.”
“I’m just sayin’—”
“Not the bold type,” Peter said quietly.
“How about fortune favors the brave, then?” When Peter didn’t respond, John said, “Just think about it, okay?”
Two days later, almost the exact same scenario played out in Rachel’s. Only this time, just after James walked back out into the street, Peter muttered, “Screw it,” and scrambled out of his chair. He left the shop, abandoning his papers and laptop as he chased after the other man.
“Uh, James,” he asked, jogging after him.
James turned, smiling, as he spotted Peter rush up the sidewalk. “Peter, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Ummmm,” Peter looked down at his feet. “Look, um, I was wondering if maybe you, uh,” he glanced up at James through his eyelashes, “would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
James’ smile was blinding. “I’d love to.”
Poe leaned back as he imagined the scenario: him on the street, finally having gathered up the courage to ask Finn out. Finn saying yes and being genuinely interested. And then, there’d be a great date, and a first kiss and… Poe’s cheeks flushed.
He closed his laptop and got up to get some water.
# # # #
Three days later, Finn drug himself into the office. He had a small cut under his left eye and a bruise running across his right thigh. He tested his shoulder as he walked through what looked like a normal row of cubicles. Karé looked over. “You still with us?”
Finn nodded.
“Good,” Iolo said, “because we may have an issue.” Finn raised an eyebrow. “Reports are that the Order is in the vicinity.”
Finn, Iolo and Karé worked for the Resistance, a spy agency trying to protect the world from all sorts of evil-doers, and the number one evil organization on the Resistance's hit list was the First Order. Finn had been "recruited" into the First Order as a child, but he'd defected to the Resistance several years ago, determined to make his ex-employers pay.
“Kriff,” Finn said. “What are they doing out here?”
“Seems they’re hunting for an agent who used to work for them.”
Finn sighed. “I swear, they’re like some sort of nightmare ex.” And then he thought of what it would’ve been like if he’d actually dated any of the First Order agents instead of just working with them. His face scrunched up.
“Exactly,” Karé said.
“Just be on the lookout, okay?”
“Will do,” Finn said.
# # # #
The next day, Poe leaned back in his booth, trying to figure out what was supposed to happen next in A Spy’s Final Rest when a tall red-headed man with a scowl on his face came in. The man ordered an overly-complicated latte and then sneered when Rey gave it to him.
Poe rolled his eyes. Jerk.
But then, an idea came to him. Poe looked back over at the red-head—who had since taken up residence on one of the couches, his eyes never once leaving Rey—and he started typing. “You sir,” Poe whispered, “are about to be immortalized in my latest fic.” He quickly fleshed out a subplot with an enemy agent who had come into Rachel’s Coffee looking for trouble. Poe smiled as his hands flew across the keyboard, but after a few minutes (during which time Poe had noticed that the red-head had never once taken a sip of his coffee, nor had he stopped watching Rey), Poe stopped writing.
Okay, this guy is like super creepy.
Poe frowned. He wasn’t the type to directly confront someone, but… Poe felt his feet leading him up to the register.
Rey looked surprised. “Can I get you something?”
Poe nodded. “Another cappuccino please.” I mean, I’ve already had four but who’s counting.
“Sure.” Rey turned to make it.
Poe fished the money out of his pocket and then leaned forward, whispering, “Is everything okay?”
Rey turned back to him.
He tried to glance over at the red-head without being too obvious.
“Him,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
Rey pressed her lips together. “I think it’s okay.” She looked over at the red-head, who didn’t even bother to pretend he wasn’t staring. “But if something comes up, I’ll let you know.”
She slid Poe’s drink over, taking his money and quickly making change.
“Well, I’m not leaving until he does.”
Rey wanted to laugh, figuring that with her martial arts training and the taser Finn had loaned her, she was more than equipped to handle a creep like the red-head in the corner. Especially considering that the writer, as she called him, didn’t look like he’d win in a battle with an alley cat, let alone a six-foot-tall man. “Thanks,” she finally said.
Poe nodded, slipping a dollar into the tip jar and making his way back to his booth.
# # # #
Rey frowned. The red-head had been sitting on the couch, with a full cup of coffee in front of him, for four hours.
To make it worse, the writer was sitting in his booth, getting progressively more and more agitated. While she didn’t worry about her own safety, she did worry about him.
Besides, this smelled a lot like Finn’s business, not hers.
She pulled out her cell phone and called Finn.
“Peanut!”
“Rutabaga,” she said. She then hung up.
Ten minutes later, a van from the gas company pulled up out front and two burly men got out. One of them came in. “Who runs this place?”
“That would be me,” Rey said.
“We may have a gas leak in the building. We’re going to need to clear the coffee shop and then we’ll need you to show us around your kitchen.”
“Of course,” Rey said, with a smile on her face. “Sorry,” she called out into the shop. “I guess we’re closed.”
The red-head rolled his eyes and got up, without touching his coffee cup, strolling out of the shop.
Poe quickly gathered his things, not even bothering to stick them in his bag. “You okay,” he asked, his laptop and about a dozen loose papers perched precariously against his chest.
“I’m fine. Really. But thank you.”
Poe nodded and left, shaking his head at the strange coincidences in life. “Gas leak,” he muttered. “I guess that’s one way to get rid of a creep.” He stopped on the sidewalk, suddenly filled with inspiration.
He ran home so he could write it down.
# # # #
Two blocks from the coffee shop, Finn leaned against a wall, smiling as the red-head approached. “Looking for me?”
“Finn,” the tall man hissed.
“Why are you harassing my friends, Hux?”
“Who said I was harassing? Can’t a man have a cup of coffee in this town without it being a big to do?”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “What do you want?”
“I want to give you a chance to come back to the winning side.”
Finn snorted. “I’m happy where I am.”
“You’ll be dead in a week then.”
“Threats? Really?”
“That wasn’t a threat. That was a simple statement of fact.”
Finn pushed himself off the wall. “You don’t scare me.”
The red-head smiled, shaking his head. “Then, more’s the shame for you.” He walked past Finn and called back, “You’ve been warned.”
“And I’ll be ready,” Finn called after him.
# # # #
“Everything okay with Rey,” Karé asked as Finn walked back into the agency.
“Yeah, she’s fine.” He laughed. “We really should’ve recruited her. She was calm as a cucumber.”
“Cucumbers are not calm,” Iolo muttered. “They are the least chill vegetables in the world.”
Finn raised an eyebrow at Karé who said, “Ignore him. Anyway, you were telling me about Rey?”
“Yeah, she’s good.” Finn sat down. “Had a run-in with Hux, though.”
“Oh,” Karé raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And…same old line. You should come back. You’re going to die. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Why in the world would he—”
“I saved his life once on an op and he has this strange sense of chivalry. I mean, the guy is an absolute monster, but he feels like he’s in my debt, so…” Finn shrugged.
“Okay,” Karé said, “so we know they have something planned.”
“And it’s within the next week.”
“Great,” Karé said.
“Plenty of time to plan,” Iolo muttered.
“You’ve been paying attention,” Karé asked.
“Yep. Finn saved Huxy’s life. Huxy tipped us off. Rey is a badass, and cucumbers are evil. What else is on the agenda?”
Finn shook his head. “I’m going to talk to the General. You see what we can find out from the analysts.”
# # # #
Later that night, Finn heard a pounding on his front door. He opened it and Rey stomped in. “You promised me that your work wouldn’t spill into my shop, Finn!”
“Hi, Rey. Come in,” he said, closing the door behind her.
“You promised!”
“And he didn’t do anything.”
Rey raised an eyebrow. “He came in and glowered at me for four hours! And he made the writer so nervous, the poor guy was trying to defend me!”
Finn’s heart melted a bit as he tried to imagine it. Rey swatted his arm. “It’s not cute, Finn.” She stormed into Finn’s office and sat at his desk. “I want your word, in writing,” she clicked open the computer, “that…” Finn had left up Ao3 and A Spy’s Final Rest was on the screen.
Finn moved to click it off, but Rey slapped his hand. She scanned the screen. “Seriously, are you still reading this stuff?”
“It’s my guilty pleasure. And besides, don’t even act like you don’t lurk in your own dark fandom corners, missy.”
“Missy?”
Finn shook his head, trying to close the document, but Rey pushed him away and started scanning the fic.
As her eyes darted along, she murmured, “This isn’t bad.”
“See? I told you it was good!”
Then, she stopped. “Wait, what?” Rey frowned. “But is this your fic or is it the other guy’s?”
“The other guy’s. His handle is XavierCrossing.”
She looked at Finn and then back at the fic.
“And you’ve told him what you do? That you’re a spy?”
“Hell, no! You’re the only civilian that knows, peanut, and I wouldn’t have told you except—”
Rey shook her head. “I would’ve found out anyway.” She leaned forward, quickly reading the rest of the chapter. Then she sat back. “Finn, this is about you.”
Finn laughed. “Yeah, right.”
She turned to him and pointed at the screen. “Finn Smith, I am telling you that this spy, this James Beck, he is you.”
Finn looked at the screen. “What in the world are you talking—”
Rey scanned the document and then pointed to a sentence. She read it aloud, “Beck wasn’t terrifically tall, but he somehow managed to radiate a sense of stature. The young man kept his dark hair cropped short and while he was well proportioned, his broad smile managed to offset any sense that he was full of himself. He had a friendly demeanor and a kind gleam to his eyes.” She continued, “Beck could often be found in Rachel’s Coffee House talking about his love of David Bowie or his favorite Mickey Spillane novels, and while he was apt to try any new pastry that the woman offered, he always took his coffee black.”
Rey looked over at Finn.
“Yeah, and?”
“Finn, that is you.”
“Peanut, I think that’s a bit of a stretch.”
“Who else do you know who reads freakin’ Mickey Spillane, Finn.”
“Lots of people.”
“Yeah, lots of people who come to my coffee shop every day and always order black coffee and who also love Bowie and who look like you?”
Finn shook his head, closing out the document. “You’re imagining things.”
“Later it mentions a hint of a British accent.” Rey got up and huffed. “It’s you.”
“No, it isn’t. But thanks. Beck is an awesome character, so it’s a high compliment.”
Rey snorted.
Finn walked over and hugged her. “I think there’s ice cream in the freezer.”
“You think that’s going to distract me, but—”
“Strawberry.”
“Strawberry?” Rey jogged into the kitchen.
# # # #
Two nights later, Finn pushed back from his desk, staring at the latest chapter of A Spy’s Final Rest.
It’s a coincidence, he told himself.
He closed his eyes, the rational voice in his brain saying, Yeah, a coincidence that he’s described Hux perfectly, down to that stupid scowl that’s permanently on his face.
And that Beck likes Bowie and Spillane.
And that the fic perfectly describes the drop with Maz…
Finn had been a spy long enough to know that the horrible feeling in his gut was probably spot on. And that’s when it all clicked into place: Crap. Rey was right.
XC is an operative for the Order. He’s on to me, and he’s sending me a warning.
“Kriff,” he whispered. “Kriffing fragging kriff.”
# # # #
The next morning, Finn sheepishly stood in the door of Kaydel’s office. “Ummmmmmm?”
The small woman looked up at Finn with a certain gleam in her eye. “You want a favor.”
“Uh, yeah.” Finn looked at his shoes.
“And?”
“And?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“My undying love?”
Kaydel sighed. “What do you need?”
“There’s a user on Ao3. His handle is XavierCrossing.” Finn slid a piece of paper over to her. “This is his email address. Can you do a standard workup on him? Name, address, stats, all of that?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Finn.”
Finn looked up. “Kaydel, he’s…he’s…”
She burst into a wide smile. “Wait. Is this the guy you’ve been emailing for the last few years?”
“Uh, yeah. How did you know—”
“Karé,” she said.
“Karé,” he grumbled.
“Fine. I’ll look him up.” She winked at Finn.
“No. It’s not like that.”
“Sure, it isn’t.”
Finn wanted to argue, but explaining the truth was going to get way too complicated, so he caved. “Thanks, Kaydel.”
“I’ll give you everything tomorrow.”
# # # #
Later that afternoon, Finn, Iolo, and Karé got a call from one of their informants, Nein, that Gwen Phasma, one of the Order's top operatives, had been spotted on the outskirts of town. Finn tensed. If Phasma was in town, the Order meant business.
“And so it begins,” Iolo said, pushing away from his desk.
Finn nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
Karé laughed. “I love how you two act like this is a bad thing." She shook her head. "Seriously! We’re the good guys! Act like it!”
“Yay,” Iolo said without feeling. “It’s fun to get shot at!”
Finn relaxed and smiled.
Karé said, “Well, I, for one, am looking forward to getting back at the Order. I’m tired of sitting around here waiting for them to make a move.”
Finn pushed himself up. “She’s right,” he said, his voice booming as he added, “It's time to be big freakin’ heroes and save the day!”
“That’s the spirit,” Karé said.
Iolo stared at them, unimpressed. “Yay,” he repeated. They both shot him a look. “What? I said, yay.”
“Oh, just come on already,” Karé said, pulling Iolo towards the door.
# # # #
Four hours later, Finn leaned back and surveyed the damage. They’d managed to trace Phasma back to a warehouse near the docks, and there’d been a shootout. A bullet had grazed Iolo’s left arm, but otherwise, Finn’s team was all intact. Plus, they’d caught Phasma and seventeen other lesser Order operatives, so the day was definitely a win. But Hux had managed to slip away, and there was no sign of the Order’s top operative, Kylo Ren.
Finn frowned, wishing that this strange stalemate between the Resistance and the Order would just end already.
He also hated that now he had a call to make.
The other end picked up after one ring. “Yes?”
“It’s Smith. The location is secure. We have Phasma and seventeen other operatives in custody.”
“Good work.”
“Hux escaped.”
There was a pause on the other end and then the voice asked, “And Ben?”
Finn closed his eyes. “No sign of him, ma’am. I think he sat this one out.”
There was another pause and Finn’s heart broke. Finally, the voice said, “Bring them in and we’ll work up a plan for catching Hux and Ben.”
“Will do.” Finn hung up.
Finn closed his eyes. Not many Resistance operatives knew that the head of their organization, Leia Organa—who they lovingly referred to as the General—was the mother of Ben Solo, who for the past ten years had been working for the Order under the pseudonym Kylo Ren. Finn wanted nothing more than to bring Ren in so that the General wouldn’t have to wonder what her son was up to, but he was proving to be quite elusive.
That’s the problem, Finn thought, watching as his people started putting the Order operatives into vans. There is no room in this business for a real life. Family, friends, love…it just complicates things.
He thought about Cute Writer Guy, yearning for something he knew he couldn’t have. He imagined what it would be like to take Cute Writer Guy out on a date, maybe make dinner for him or kiss him…
Karé bumped her shoulder into Finn’s. “Hey,” she said.
Finn snapped out of his reverie. “Hmmmmmm?”
“Iolo’s over there whining about his injuries to anyone who will listen, and I’m pretty sure that the Order guys are going to claim cruel and unusual punishment if you don’t put a stop to it soon.”
Finn nodded.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just tired,” Finn said.
“No, that’s not it.” Karé pressed her lips together and studied Finn. “Something else is bugging you.”
Finn shrugged. “You ever just wish you had a normal life? Like, a partner and a dog and going to the movies on weekends?”
Karé threw back her head with a laugh. “That sounds so kriffing boring.” Finn looked hurt. “To me,” she added. “I’m sure it would be great for you.”
“Yeah,” Finn pushed himself off the wall. “But it isn’t gonna happen.”
“Why not?”
Finn raised an eyebrow at her. “Uh, we’re spies.”
“And no one has ever retired from being a spy before?”
“Tried that. Nearly got killed for my troubles.”
“So, try again.”
Finn shook his head. “Not until we have Kylo Ren." He started towards Iolo, who was now making wailing noises and clutching his arm. Finn called out, “Can someone put a muzzle on him?”
Iolo stopped wailing.
Karé grabbed Finn’s arm. “Look, Finn, I don’t know if this is genuine burnout or if you’re just frustrated we didn’t get Hux , but look, if you really want out, I’m sure the General could make that work.”
Finn shrugged. “Come on. We’re gonna be filling out paperwork for a month.”
# # # #
The next day Finn stared at the photo Kaydel had attached to the intel document. He blinked. No. It can’t be.
Cute Writer Guy.
Finn sighed. I mean, that’s definitely him. He scanned the document. Poe Dameron.
Cute name.
Kriff!
I did not just fall for a guy who…
Kriffing hell.
He closed his eyes.
Of course. He gets close to me online and then tracks me down and keeps eyes on me in real life, and all of the new fic is some sick, twisted joke.
Finn shook his head, got up and called out to Karé, “I’m going out.”
“Out?”
“Personal business.”
“Whatever you say.”
# # # #
Finn jogged into the coffee shop, looking around desperately. He spied Rey wiping down the counter. “Is that guy around?”
“That guy?” She looked up at Finn, annoyed. “Can you vague that up a bit for me?”
“Poe.”
“Poe?”
Finn sighed. “I don’t know. He’s the one with the…” He pointed to the sides of his eyes. “Like the little crinkly, you know?” Rey was trying not to laugh. “And the curly hair and a beard. Oh, you call him the writer and I call him Cute Writer Guy, and…” Finn crossed his arms. “Rey stop laughing at me. Do you know who I mean?”
She pointed to one of the booths in the back. “The guy who sits over there and looks like that dude from Inside Llewyn Davis?”
Finn laughed. “Oh my gosh, yes! That’s exactly who he looks like.” He shook his head. “And yeah, that guy. You seen him?”
Rey shook her head. “Not today, but,” she shrugged, “it’s still early.”
Finn pressed his lips together, sliding over a card with a number on it. “If he comes in, could you give me a call?”
Rey raised an eyebrow. She looked at the card. “This isn’t your number.”
“It’s my…business number.”
Rey cocked her head and frowned.
“Nothing like that. I just want to talk to him.”
“Yeah, right,” Rey said. She leaned in, whispering, “Do not go assassinating any of my regulars, Finn.”
Finn chuckled leaning out. “I’ll try not to.”
# # # #
Three hours and one phone call later, Finn walked back into the coffee shop. He marched over to Poe’s booth and slid in.
Poe jumped, slamming his laptop shut. “Uh?”
“Poe Xavier Dameron,” Finn said.
“Yes,” Poe said, already pushing out of the booth.
“No,” Finn said, holding his hand out. “You and I need to have a little talk.”
Poe froze. “We do?” He knows. He knows that I have a massive crush on him and that I write erotic fan fiction about him and oh hell, this is going to be bad. Poe swallowed. Act calm.
Finn smiled. “You’re a writer.”
“Yeah.” Poe drummed his fingers against his laptop.
“Mostly mysteries and the occasional thriller. Your books do pretty well, actually.”
“Yes,” Poe said. Maybe he doesn’t know about the—
“And then, there’s the other stuff you write.”
Poe stopped breathing. “The other stuff,” he squeaked out.
Finn leaned forward. “Yeah, the fan fiction.”
Poe was sweating now. “You know about that?”
“Yep,” Finn said, leaning back. “You’ve been writing a lot of Saint’s Alley fic lately.”
“Saint’s Alley is a great underappreciated series and…” He looked down at his laptop, as if all his stuff wasn’t out on the internet but was instead hiding in the slim metallic case. He gripped the sides of it. “It’s not against the law to write fic.”
“No, it isn’t,” Finn said.
Poe was sweating. He started drumming his fingers against his laptop again.
Finn bit his lip. Either he is the best actor in the world or this guy… No, Smith. He’s a First Order spy and he’s been toying with you for months, years!
Finn smiled. “Your original characters are especially interesting.”
Poe closed his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Especially the one who’s a spy. In your latest fic. The one who comes in for coffee every day at Rachel’s?”
Poe lowered his head onto his laptop. “Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled by the computer. “You like him?” He’s based on you. Poe glanced up at the other man. Oh kriff, this is bad.
Finn laughed. “I do.”
Poe whimpered and lowered his head back down. “Of course, you do,” he muttered.
Finn was really having a hard time of it. Usually, his gut instincts were spot on and they were screaming that this guy wasn’t a spy, but… How did he know all of that stuff, then? “Where did you get your inspiration from?”
“You know.”
“I do?”
Poe’s whole body slumped forward and then after a moment, he pushed himself up. “Why are you doin’ this to me?”
“Doing what?” Poe’s eyes were red and he looked so defeated that Finn felt a momentary pang of guilt. No. He’s a spy, Smith.
“Fine,” Poe said, leaning forward. He hissed, “He’s based on you, okay?” Poe scrubbed his hands over his face. “I watched you come in here every day and I started writing this fic and…”
“But how did you know all those things about me?”
“What? Like the music? You were talking about it with Rey, and I saw the book you were carrying and—”
“No, Dameron, how did you know I was a spy?”
Poe froze. He blinked a few times and then said, “You’re a what?”
He didn’t know.
Poe opened and closed his mouth several times. “Uhhhhhh….”
He really didn’t know.
He’s not a spy.
Oh kriffing hell.
Finn opened his mouth, but Poe was already scrambling up out of the booth and across the shop. He was out the door and jogging down the street by the time Finn realized he’d left his laptop. “Great,” Finn muttered. He grabbed the laptop and took off after Poe.
# # # #
It wasn’t that Poe was out of shape, so much as... He was really out of shape. He was gasping by the second block. On the third block, he realized he’d left his computer at Rey’s. “Crap,” he yelled, causing the little old lady across the street to shoot him a nasty look. “Sorry, ma’am.”
He ducked into an alley and was about to cut over to Snap’s house when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun to come face to face with Finn. He jerked out of Finn’s grasp, slipped and tumbled into a trash can. “Ow,” he said, as much out of embarrassment as pain.
“You okay?”
Poe sat up, shaking his head. “No.” He pulled his knees up to him. “But my ass will be fine.”
It already is, Finn thought before remembering, Don’t be creepy, Smith. Finn walked over, holding out the laptop. “You forgot this.”
Poe stared up at him. “You’re really a spy?”
Finn nodded. “I thought you knew. I thought that’s why you put it in the story.”
Poe shook his head, pushing himself up with a groan and then taking the laptop. “I thought you looked like James Bond.” He shrugged. “Or at least what I thought James Bond should look like.” He rubbed his behind. “Are you gonna off me now or something?”
Finn chuckled. “No, but I still want to talk.”
Poe nodded to the far end of the alley. “My place is about two blocks that way.”
“Lead the way,” Finn said.
They walked to Poe’s apartment in silence. Poe unlocked the door to a flurry of barking. “That’s Bee. She’ll bark at you until she decides you’re friendly.”
Finn reached down, letting the dachshund smell his hand. The barking almost immediately stopped.
Et tu, Bee, Poe thought as he led Finn to the living room. He picked up a few of his coffee cups and plates as he moved through, dumping them in the kitchen.
Finn stared at the paintings on the wall. “They’re good.”
Poe nodded. “My mom. She was—”
“Shara Bey. Painter. Had some minor success in the 1980s and probably would’ve been one of the big names in the art world now if…”
Poe looked pained as he nodded. “Yeah.” He pointed to the couch. “I guess you’re thorough.”
“When a guy I don’t know starts writing scarily accurate fan fiction about me, I tend to do my homework.”
Poe sat down next to Finn and shook his head. “I didn’t know.” He turned. “And how in the hell did you even find that fic? There are only ten people in the entire Saint’s Alley fandom. Those books are like a million years old and…”
Finn said, “I’ll tell you how I found the fics after you tell me how you got that character so accurate.”
“I don’t know,” Poe said.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
Poe leaned back. “I…uh…” He sighed. “Fine. I saw you come in every day and talk to Rey and…so yeah, I might have been eavesdropping a bit, but that’s how I get stuff for all of my books. You two would talk about music or books or mutual friends and I’d just sort of write it down.”
“But that doesn’t account for how you knew I was a spy.”
“I didn’t!” Poe shook his head. “I was reading this fic by the only other person who ever posts in the Saint’s Alley fandom and he had a fic about a spy and I thought, yeah, that’s cool. I should write a Spy AU.” He blushed. “And then I see you and you’re…” He gestured at Finn. “So fragging hot that I figured I’d base my spy on you.”
He thinks I’m hot? Finn smiled. This is business, Smith. Focus! “But, uh, how did you know about the drop?”
“The drop?” Poe’s mouth fell open. “That really happened?”
“Yes,” Finn said. “It happened almost exactly like you described it.”
“Holy kriff! Was that the time that you got a booth with that one really old lady and you two had the same style briefcases?”
“Yes,” Finn said.
“Holy freaking kriff,” Poe said. He started laughing. “I just thought it looked like a drop, so I incorporated some of it—”
“All of it.”
“—into my fic. I had no idea that’s what was really happening and…” Poe straightened up. “And what in the hell are you doing having a drop in Rey’s shop?”
Finn got defensive. “It was a last-minute thing.”
“Yeah, well, that seems like a crappy place to do that sort of thing.”
“I agree, but like I said—”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Are you really trying to tell me how to do my job?”
“No, I’m just—”
“Dameron,” Finn said.
“Fine,” Poe said. “I still think it’s a crappy place for a drop,” he muttered.
Finn sighed. “And the enemy agent, how did you come up with that character?”
Poe said, “There was a creepy guy hanging around the shop, and he made Rey nervous. She never gets nervous.”
“And that’s it? That’s all you had to go on?”
“Yeah,” Poe said. “Are you saying that he…?”
“Yep.”
“Kriff,” Poe said. “It’s like I’m psychic or something.”
Finn snorted.
“Well, I figured you out, didn’t I?”
“Don’t push it, Dameron.”
“Fine.” Poe studied Finn. “What’s your last name, anyway? I know you’re Finn, but…”
“Smith.”
Poe snorted. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
Finn shook his head, pulling out his wallet. He handed his driver’s license to Poe. “Yeah, but this could be fake.”
“It isn’t.”
“Finn Smith,” Poe said, handing it back. “That’s so boring.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Finn said.
“I was hoping it was Finn Stryker or Finn Steele or something.”
Finn started laughing. “Finn Steele?”
Poe shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it sounds—”
“Like a hero in a cheap romance?”
Poe crossed his arms. “Everyone’s a critic.”
“Sorry.” Poe frowned. “Don’t pout.”
“I’m not pouting.”
“Yeah, right,” Finn said.
Poe chewed on his cheek. “So, are you gonna tell me how you found out about the fic?”
Finn nodded. “Yeah, about that…” He looked at his hands on his knees. “You know user John’sLongWinter?”
“Yeah, that’s the other person who writes Saint’s Alley fic.”
“That would be me.”
Poe closed his eyes. “What?”
“I’m John’sLongWinter.”
“Like hell you are.” Poe turned to face Finn. “Prove it.”
“Prove it?”
“Yeah. If you’re John’sLongWinter, then you and I have been—”
“Emailing each other about Saint’s Alley for about four years now,” Finn said. “We started after you left a comment on every single chapter of Saint’s Demise and I left comments on every chapter of A Hero’s Welcome.”
“John’sLongWinter wrote an original character for Saint’s Demise. What was her name?”
“Are you talking about Glenda? The bartender who helped the crew out and then got killed at the end of the fic?”
“Fine. You know about that, but you could’ve looked that up online. Tell me what the last Saint’s Alley book that Johnny Carver wrote before he died.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, John’sLongWinter would know that, but some spy who just wanted to pretend to—”
“You want me to say The Long Dark Alley because that was the last one published, but the last one he wrote was All Saint’s Day in 1987.”
“Kriff,” Poe said, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “This is too much.”
“It is a bit surreal,” Finn said.
Poe leaned forward again. “No, you don’t understand. I’ve been…” He shook his head. “You’re telling me that you are a spy and in your freaking down time, you write Saint’s Alley fiction. No, scratch that. Absolutely amazing Saint’s Alley fan fiction that makes me cry, and that you and I have been friends for four years and…” He leaned back again, bringing his hands to his face. “No, this is too much.”
Finn got up. “I want a drink. You want one?”
“Tea in the cupboard,” Poe said through his hands.
“I was thinking something stronger.”
“Coffee?”
“Poe.”
“There’s vodka in the freezer.”
Finn moved to the kitchen and came back with two glasses of vodka. He handed one to Poe. Poe took the glass and downed it in one go. “Holy kriff, Poe.”
“Yeah, I needed that.”
Finn sipped his.
Poe leaned back against the couch again. “This isn’t happening.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“No, it can’t be happening.”
“Why not?”
“The guy I have a crush on and turn into an original character just happens to be my best friend in the fandom and oh yeah? He’s actually a spy.” Poe looked at the empty glass in his hand. “Is there more vodka?”
Finn nodded. Poe padded to the kitchen and came back with a full glass.
Finn smiled as Poe sat down again. “Crush?”
NOOOOOOOOOO. Poe leaned his head into the armrest. “Did I say that?”
“Yes, you did,” Finn said, his smile getting wider.
“Can I just crawl into a hole and die now?”
“You have a crush on me?”
“Fine. Yes,” Poe’s muffled voice said. “You’re amazing.” He took a long drink of his vodka.
Finn wanted to hug the other man. “Really?”
“No,” Poe said, shaking his head. “You don’t get to pretend you don’t know that. You’re a freaking super spy and you look like you and you write so well and you have great taste in music and you always smile at the little kids in the coffee shop and you…” Poe looked at his glass of vodka. “Am I drunk?”
Finn chuckled. “I think you’re definitely tipsy.”
“Great.” He turned to Finn. “You are amazing. And I’m sure you’re even more amazing when a person gets to know you, but…” Poe shook his head and took another drink. “So yes, there’s that.”
Finn took the glass out of Poe’s hand. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“It’s been a rough day,” Poe said.
Finn nodded, pulling Poe towards him. Poe’s head landed on Finn’s chest. Finn wrapped his arm around Poe’s back. “Yes, it has.” He hugged Poe. “How about I put you to bed and we continue this conversation later?”
Poe nodded. “Maybe it will be less embarrassing then.” Probably not, but a guy can dream. He let Finn help him up and lead him to his bedroom.
“You okay?”
Poe nodded. “Gonna sleep for a few hours.” He walked to the bed and fell on it. Less than a minute later, he was sound asleep.
Finn shook his head. He has to be the most adorable human who ever lived.
# # # #
A few hours later, Poe stretched and looked over at his window. It was dark outside and he was still wearing his shoes. “Did I,” he mumbled. And then it all came back: Finn sliding into his booth at the coffee shop, running away, drinking and confessing his feelings.
Poe rolled over onto his back, swallowing. It sounds like a bad fic.
He chuckled. It was a dream.
A really strange dream.
He pushed himself up and stretched, padding to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
He froze.
Someone was in his kitchen, cooking and humming.
It was a dream, he tried to convince himself. And I’m still in it.
“Finn,” he called out. Please don’t answer me. Please let this be a really embarrassing dream.
“Yeah,” Finn smiled, poking his head out of the kitchen and looking Poe up and down. “Feel better?”
“No.” I’m going to go die now.
Finn chuckled. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
Finn nodded to Poe’s small dining room table. “Sit.”
Poe fell into a chair. He stretched. “So, it wasn’t a dream?”
Finn laughed. “Afraid not.” He looked over at Poe, his brow furrowing at the look on Poe’s face. “What?”
“What? Seriously?” Poe leaned back. “Well, let’s see…there’s the fact that I found out that my best fandom friend is really a spy. Oh and that he’s also the guy I’ve been crushing on for months. AND there’s the fact that I admitted to my crush that I like him.” Poe’s head fell forward into his hands. “And then there’s just the general embarrassment of falling on my ass and getting drunk and…” He let his head collapse onto the table. “I’m gonna have to move and change my name.”
Finn couldn’t help but smile. “Would it help if I said I had a crush on you too?”
Poe looked up. “It would, but I don’t believe you.”
Finn walked over, hands on his hips. “Why not?”
Poe sat up. “Look at you! You’re…” He shook his head. I’m a professional writer, dammit! Come up with a word. “You’re, you’re resplendent!”
Resplendent. Finn smiled. “And?”
“And I’m…” Poe looked down at his ratty jacket over his black tee. He ran a hand through his unkempt curls and scratched his scraggly beard. “I’m not.” Way to go with the words, Dameron.
Finn shrugged and turned back to the food. “I beg to differ.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Finn stirred his sauce as he said, “You get these really nice eye crinkles when you smile, which you do a lot. You’re a really animated reader. And sometimes, you hum to yourself in the shop. You’ve got this…I don’t know how to describe it. Your voice reminds me of heartbreak, but like, in a good way? And don’t even get me started on that ass.” Finn blushed, staring at the food.
Poe felt like he was having a stroke. “You…noticed me?”
“Kind of hard not to,” Finn said. He dipped his wooden spoon into the sauce, bringing some up. He blew on it and then walked it over to Poe. “Taste.”
Poe leaned forward and tasted. He let his eyes fall closed. “That’s wonderful,” he said.
Finn smiled. “Thanks.” He moved back to the kitchen.
Poe watched him cook and sighed. He’s so pretty. Finn looked over and winked. Poe shrugged out of his daze. “So, uhhhhh…should I,” he made to stand, “I should get plates or something, right?”
“You always this nervous, Dameron?”
Poe stopped with his hand on the cabinet. “No.” He let his arm fall to the counter, his back to Finn. “I’m only this way around you, actually.”
Finn turned off the stove and turned to look at Poe. “I make you nervous?”
Poe nodded, refusing to turn around and look at Finn.
Finn stepped forward, crowding Poe a bit. “Really nervous?”
Poe nodded again and made a little Ummmm-hmmmm noise.
Finn stepped up. His body pressing into Poe’s. He leaned forward, his lips right next to Poe’s ear. “What are we gonna do about that?”
Poe whimpered.
Finn felt the sound like a spark travelling throughout his body.
Poe’s hands were gripping the counter so hard it hurt. It’s a dream. He started shaking.
But it’s the best kriffing dream you’ve ever had, so you should just go with it. He leaned back into Finn, pressing his body into the other man’s.
Finn groaned. “What do you want, Poe,” he asked.
“You,” Poe whispered. “I want you.” Poe turned and grabbed Finn, pulling him in for a kiss.
# # # #
At some point, they’d ended up on Poe’s couch, Poe straddling Finn, Finn’s hands carding through Poe’s hair as they kissed.
Eventually, Poe leaned back, gulping in a huge breath. Finn moved one hand to Poe’s cheek, rubbing across it with his thumb. Poe’s pupils were blown wide, his lips were swollen and his hair was a mess. In short, he looked beautiful. Finn shook his head.
“What,” Poe asked.
“You,” Finn said. “You’re…” He pulled Poe back towards him, whispering across Poe’s lips. “You’re stunning.”
Poe blushed, looking down.
“You are,” Finn said, tucking his fingers under Poe’s chin and pulling his head back up. He pressed a light kiss to Poe’s lips. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
Poe smiled. “A guy could get used to compliments like that.”
“A guy should get used to compliments like that.”
Poe studied Finn, marveling at the fact that this was the same guy who’d spent the last four years arguing with him about Saint’s Alley. He leaned back a bit. “So you really think that John Calhoun is the hero of the series?”
Finn let his head fall back with a groan. “Oh, not this again. I will not listen to you try to defend your crackpot theory—”
“Crackpot? What’s crackpot about a theory—”
“That Marisol was the actual hero. Just because—”
“I can’t believe you won’t even consider that she—”
Finn started laughing. “What say we have dinner and try to discuss this like two, rational people,” he asked.
“Okay,” Poe said, slowly removing himself from Finn’s lap. “But just for the record, I’m right.”
“Maybe in an alternate universe,” Finn said. “But in this one—”
“Time out. Tell me what you want to drink before you tell me your incredibly boring theory about John.”
# # # #
An hour later, they had finished dinner and a bottle and a half of wine.
Finn shook his head. “I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree.”
“Yeah, because you aren’t willing to see the truth.”
Finn chuckled, shaking his head.
“What,” Poe asked.
“No,” Finn said. “This is just the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
Poe tilted his head to the side with a strange look on his face.
“What?”
Poe shook his head. “No, I just…” He shrugged. “I would’ve figured that a spy’s life would be exciting. Fast cars. Fast women. Exotic locales.”
Finn leaned back. “Well, usually boring cars for undercover assignments. I’m not really into women, as you might have guessed, and in the last few years, the most exotic locale I’ve visited has been Dallas.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, the stories are a lot more exciting than the reality.”
“Why do it then?”
“So that the bad guys don’t win.”
“Damn,” Poe said. He scrambled up and to the kitchen counter where he started writing. “I’m using that in my next book.”
Finn laughed. He got up and walked over behind Poe, crowding the other man and placing a kiss on his neck. “Perhaps we could move this back to the living room, work on one of the sexier scenes for your next book?”
“Damn,” Poe said, his pencil falling to the counter. He turned around. “We should definitely do that.”
Finn took his hand, but just as they walked into the living room, something crashed through the window. Finn’s eyes tracked the object. Kriff! Flash grenade. He grabbed Poe, angling him away from the device, and closed his eyes, covering his ears.
It went off and both men wobbled.
Finn grabbed Poe, who was blinking and yelling, and ran for the front door. He heard footsteps on the stairwell, so he drug Poe towards the far end of the hall and the fire escape. He pushed a still blinking Poe onto it, pulling his gun from the holster on his ankle. Just as Poe got through and started stumbling down the stairs, one of the Order’s operatives made them. Finn shot at him before crawling through the window. He started pushing Poe down. “Go! Go, go!”
As they jumped to the ground, Poe stood there, still dazed. Operatives were on the fire escape and they started to shoot. Finn grabbed Poe’s arm and drug him towards the street and then he stopped. Kylo Ren stood on the sidewalk across the street. “Kriff!” Finn shot out the door of the closest building and pushed Poe inside. He quickly looked around. Great. It was a bakery.
“Behind the counter,” he yelled, turning and keeping an eye on the front. Ren was walking over. Finn backed up behind the counter. He saw a small room behind them. “Go in there,” he yelled.
“No,” Poe said. “I’m not leaving you.”
“This is my job, Poe.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Ren walked in. “Finn, Hux sends his regards.”
“Why isn’t that moof-milker here himself? Too scared he’ll get caught?”
“I think you’re the one who is caught.”
Poe reached into the display in front of them and grabbed an armful of donuts and started launching them at the tall man.
“Are you throwing donuts at me,” Ren yelled, indignant.
“Yes,” Poe said.
Finn shot him a look.
Poe shrugged. “I don’t have a gun. What am I supposed to do?”
“Sit there and not get shot.”
“He’s shooting at you!”
“Not yet.”
“But he’s gonna!”
“Do you two need a minute,” Ren yelled.
“Shut up, Ren,” Finn yelled back.
“Or maybe you need more donuts,” Ren answered.
“Screw you, man,” Poe said, rising and pummeling donuts at the taller man.
Ren stood there, fully aware that he could easily shoot the man currently hurling crullers at him, but he couldn’t help but smirk. “Finn, could you please explain to him how bullets work.”
“I know how bullets work,” Poe spat out.
Finn said, “Poe, could you maybe…”
“Fine,” Poe said with a huff. “Fine! I’ll stay out of it. You two fight it out.” He pointed to the breakroom. “I’ll be in there. Whoever wins, come find me.”
He sulked though the door.
Ren chuckled. “That is your boyfriend?”
“Hopefully.”
Ren shook his head. “What’s the draw?”
“You burnt down an orphanage, Ren, so it might be hard for you to imagine being attracted to someone because he thinks that throwing donuts is a viable option in a gun fight.”
From in the breakroom, they heard Poe yell, “Believe it or not, I know how this works. I was trying to distract him while you took him out, Finn!”
Ren laughed. “Okay, fine. He is adorable.”
“I heard that,” came Poe’s voice.
“We gonna do this or what,” Finn asked.
Ren shrugged. “Don’t know that I’m feeling it now.” He leaned back against the wall. “And just so we’re clear, it was an empty orphanage.”
Finn laughed. “Ren, why are you really here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you didn’t take the shot when Poe stood up. And I’m behind a crappy glass case, which is about the worst cover ever, and your men upstairs were definitely shooting wide.”
Ren sighed. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
Ren raised an eyebrow.
“I meant, sure. Ask away.”
“How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Leave.”
Finn stood. “Are you serious?”
Ren nodded.
“Kriffing hell.”
“Hux and Snoke are getting on my nerves and…” Ren refused to look at Finn. “And…”
Finn smiled. “You miss her, don’t you?”
Ren looked up sharply.
Finn raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry!” He lowered his hands. “But…”
Ren muttered, “Yeah.”
The two were quiet for a moment when Poe yelled out, “I don’t hear any shooting.”
“You can come out,” Ren said.
Poe poked his head out the door.
Finn nodded. “Uh, I hate to cut our evening short, but I need to take Ren in and that’s gonna…”
“I understand,” Poe said. He walked over to Finn and whispered, “You trust him?”
“Ren?” Finn smiled. “Never.” He looked over at the taller man. “But I have a feeling he’s on the up and up here.”
“Okay,” Poe said. He looked around at the wrecked donut shop. “Uh, should we leave a note or something?”
“I’ll send a clean-up team.”
“Okay,” Poe stared at Ren and then Finn. “So, uh, do I leave first? Do you leave first?”
Finn said, “Why don’t you leave and then we’ll follow.”
“Sure.” He started out. At the front door, he paused, “See you later?”
“Definitely,” Finn said.
# # # #
A week later, Poe frowned, running a hand through his hair. He pulled at the collar of the white button-up shirt that Jess had convinced him to wear. “Unbuttoned,” he mumbled, undoing the top two buttons and studying his reflection. He sighed, picking at some imaginary lint on the lapel of his jacket.
There was a knock on his apartment door. He jumped, knocking his cologne into the bathroom sink. “Yeah,” he called out. “Kriff, kriff, kriff!” He grabbed the cologne and put it back into the medicine cabinet and jerked open the bathroom door. “Coming,” he said, trying to sound calm.
He walked to the door and stopped, taking a deep breath before pulling it open. Finn stood there in a grey tee-shirt and jacket, a huge smile on his face. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Poe said, mesmerized. “Wow.”
Finn blinked, taking Poe in. “Yeah. Wow.”
Poe blushed and looked down. “Uh, did you want to…” He motioned in.
“Sure,” Finn said. He walked in. “Looks like they did a good job fixing your window.”
“Yeah,” Poe said, following him. “Good as new.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “Uh, you want something to drink?”
“Sure. Water would be great.”
“Water. Water,” Poe said, moving to the kitchen. “I have water.” He pulled two glasses down and then fumbled them, just barely catching them before they hit the counter.
Finn walked up behind Poe. “Nervous?”
“Yes,” Poe said. “So kriffing nervous.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea,” Poe said, his head bending forward.
Finn pressed in, taking Poe’s shoulders in his hands. “I have to tell you, for some reason, you being nervous just makes me like you even more.”
“Well, at least there’s that,” Poe laughed.
Finn pressed a kiss to Poe’s neck. “I figured after last week, you knew that I liked you.”
“Yeah, but you’re still…” Poe turned to face Finn. “You’re still a spy and you’re still…you.” He looked down, shaking his head. “I promise, I’m usually better with words than this.”
“I know. I read two of your books this week.”
Poe looked up, wide-eyed. “Really?”
Finn nodded. “Yep.”
“And?”
“Loved them. You’re really good.”
“Yeah?”
Finn nodded, taking Poe’s hand and leading him to the couch. “In fact, I was planning on spending the first twenty minutes of our date telling you just how much I liked them, but I think that instead,” he sat down and pulled Poe down next to him, “we cancel dinner out and we order some pizza, and…” He tugged his jacket off. “We talk.”
“Talk,” Poe asked, shrugging out of his jacket.
“Yeah,” Finn said. “Because as adorable as the nervous stuff is, I kinda like it when you aren’t nervous too.”
“Yeah,” Poe asked. “Like when?”
Finn blushed, looking down. “The last time we were on this couch. Or in the donut shop.”
Poe laughed. “I was still nervous then. I was just pissed because that jerk ruined our date.”
Finn laughed. “I don’t think it counts as a date if it starts with one person running away from the other.”
“I think it counts as a date if you end up making out on a couch for an hour.”
“Well…”
Poe raised an eyebrow. “I’m calling it a date.”
“So that would make this our second date, then?”
“Yep,” Poe said. Finn seemed to be considering something. “What,” Poe asked.
“I’m just wondering how far you typically go on the second date.”
Poe smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Well, buy me a pizza, Mr. Smith, and I just might let you find out.”
# # # #
Peter opened his door to find James standing there, a cut under his left eye.
“What happened,” Peter asked, pulling him in.
“I found Tobias.”
“What? You found him? Where is he?”
“He’s taken care of,” James said, falling onto Peter’s couch with a groan.
Peter froze on his way to the medicine cabinet. “Are you telling me you went up against Tobias Nash on your own?”
“Yeah,” James said.
“What in the hell were you thinking?”
James stared at Peter. “That someone had to do it?”
Peter stomped into the bathroom, reappearing a moment later with a first aid kit. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not the point, James.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Peter sat down next to him and began dabbing at the cut.
“Ow,” James hissed.
“Stop being such a baby,” Peter said. He shook his head. “Why do you do it?”
“What?”
“All this spy stuff. Why do you do it?”
“So the bad guys don’t win.”
Peter paused, his hand just over James’ cheek. He shook his head and leaned forward. “That is the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”
James laughed as Peter kissed him.
As Peter pulled back, James said, “So all a guy has to do for a kiss is get roughed up?”
Peter shook his head. “Don’t push your luck, mister.”
“What say I order us a pizza and we have a proper second date and then maybe I get another kiss?”
“Maybe,” Peter said with a smile.
“Works for me,” James said, already pulling up the number for the local pizza place on his phone.
The next morning, James stretched and let out a contented sigh.
“Hmmmm,” Peter asked.
“So the way to your heart is through pizza?”
“Now you know my secret,” Peter said.
James laughed, hugging the other man to him. “Yep.”
“I’m also a fan of Chinese.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for our next date,” James said.
“Oh, you’re so sure there’s going to be a next date?”
James raised an eyebrow and then pulled Peter in for a kiss. “I’m banking on happily ever after, actually.”
# # # #
Finn stared at the computer screen for a full minute before yelling, “Poe Xavier Dameron, you did not write about our love life in a freakin’ fic!”
Finn heard a yelp from the next room as Poe called out, “Late for work. See you tonight!”
Finn laughed, running out and grabbing his boyfriend before he could leave and pressing him against the front door. “Just remember, turnabout is fair play, Dameron.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you will when that new character in my fic starts throwing donuts at the bad guy.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Try me,” Finn said, leaning in for a kiss.