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The rebellion wasn't what Finn had imagined. It seemed to involve a lot of talking about his health, staring at blank walls, and staring at blank ceiling. And despite the fact he'd rescued, in his opinion, most of the known universe, he wasn't even allowed to go on missions.
The base was sparse, functional, and boring. Finn thought he'd walked ever inch of it that he was allowed in, and walked it again. It wasn't anything he wasn't use to. But in his mind rebel bases should be something different - dens of card-playing, holographic dancers, underground rooms with music and merrymaking. Or at least a library.
What Finn actually had was a thin bunk, the mechanical thrum of activity through the thin walls, and a small stack of Poe's prized holocrons. There were a smaller number of holobooks ("I'll help you learn to read then," Poe had said, patting Finn on the shoulder), neatly piled under Poe's bunk. Most of both were flying related, but a few were adventures about young hero starpilots who shot across the galaxy and always got the girl - or at least their romantic partner of preference. Finn enjoyed them, and he had little to do but watch this one again as he waited for Poe to return.
Space was clearly at a premium on the base. That's why Finn had been surprised when Poe had offered - no, insisted - that Finn share his room. He'd had it to himself before, a rare privilege, and Finn was certain there was a fair bit of gossip going around.
There needn't have been. All Poe seemed to do recently was emerge in the evening, hair mussed and sweaty from his helmet, face and clothes dusted with ash, and crawl into bed for a few hours. The mornings Finn caught him, Poe would flash him a crooked smile and offer a light "I'll be back soon". He never was. But there was something strange in being able to look across the room at night, see the tangle of limbs and sheets in Poe's bed, and feel that odd twist in his chest he would have been discouraged from having before.
Finn had barely been watching the holocron at all. He sighed, shut it off, and flopped back on his bunk. His back still hurt like druk, but anything had to be better than this.
There was a fumbling at the door, and Finn sat bolt upright. Poe opened the door with his shoulder, helmet cradled carefully in his arms, and gave Finn a nervous smile.
"So," Poe said. "I, er, brought something back. From the mission."
Finn eyed Poe suspiciously, switching between worry, excitement, and curiousity about why exactly Poe was holding his helmet like it was a newborn. Poe just stood there, looking at him.
"You're not ill, are you?" Finn said. "I'm not staying awake all night listening to you cough."
"Very funny." Poe walked over to Finn's bunk and placed down the helmet. Inside was what looked like a small, grey-speckled, fuzzy sphere.
Finn tilted the helmet to get a better look at it. It was making an odd, rhythmic noise. "Is it suppose to be vibrating?"
"Purring," Poe said, and punched Finn softly on the arm. "It's called purring. You've got a lot to learn."
The - thing, creature - started to move, and Finn could see it better as it uncurled itself. It two huge eyes in its tiny head, two batlike eyes, and when it stretched and yawned Finn saw it had two vicious needles of teeth. It was the second most adorable thing he'd ever seen.
"Is it poisonous?"
"No," Poe chuckled. "It's a cat. They're pretty common pets."
"Are they useful?" Finn asked.
Poe shrugged. "They kind of cute. You can stroke it. Don't be scared."
"I'm not scared," Finn said, and tentatively stretched a hand towards the tiny thing. It was soft and warm, and crawled out the helmet on four stubby legs to flop towards him. The 'purring' got louder. "Why'd you keep it?"
"I don't know. It was alone, I couldn't leave it there," his voice was casual, but his face was tinged pink. "It reminded me of you, y'know."
Finn snorted with laughter. The creature looked up at him, startled, and he could have sworn it was offended. "You picking up strays from around the galaxy now? Gonna give this one a name too?"
Poe reached down to stroke the thing's head, his fingertips brushing against Finn's wrist. "I was thinking Smudge."
"Hmm," Finn said. "Better suited to it than me."
He continued to stroke Smudge, pleased as the tiny thing burrowed into his legs, when he felt the weight of Poe's hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," Poe said. "Are you doing ok?"
"Why wouldn't I be doing ok?" Finn replied, keeping that arm completely still. The warmth of Poe's hand radiated through his thin shirt.
"I've got a couple rest days now," he said. "Maybe I could show you some things. I've been cleared to let you poke around an X-Wing."
Finn smiled at him. "I'd like that. I really would."
In his lap, Smudge purred louder.