Archive of Our Own

For three weeks, what was left of the Resistance travelled through hostile space, stopping only to refuel and to pick up a small number of new recruits at designated rally points near the Outer Rim. There was no time for anything but the business of survival, which meant keeping away from the sharp eyes of First Order scouts in every spaceport and marketplace. Finn was skilled at evading them, and was quick and efficient on supply runs. It was something he could easily do to take the burden off the others and free up pilots for escort duty.

General Organa was calm and measured at the daily briefings, which all of them attended now. Finn watched as Poe stood quietly by Leia's side, his body always a tense wire, ready for action. When the spark lit behind his eyes and Poe began to speak, he was more measured in his responses than Finn remembered - still full of passion, leaning into each discussion, but he listened more than he spoke. Finn hadn't known Poe long, but he could still see this change in his friend, and how much the general trusted him.

All three of his new-found friends seemed destined for greatness, as a matter of fact. Finn was having a hard time shaking the feeling his place among them still hadn't been earned. More that he'd seized his chance with Poe, and run with it as far as he'd been able at the time - no plan, just a mad dash away from the First Order. His only mission thus far hadn't been sanctioned, and it had failed horribly.

He looked after his brave and wonderful Rose while she healed, and tried to be patient with her unwavering hero worship. It was hard sometimes; he couldn't see himself as a hero, but he appreciated having something to strive for. He also spent as much time with Rey as she had to give him, but her attention was always turned toward recruitment and training, and she seemed to be preoccupied all the time. She talked with Leia late into the evenings, puffy circles under her eyes signaling lack of sleep.

"You should rest," Finn would tell her, because he was learning not to be so direct, and it would be rude to imply she should start caring about herself as much as he cared about her.

"No, I'm fine, I'm just fine," she would say, with a reassuring smile, but Finn knew it for a lie. He had his own version of that exact smile, though his had felt more desperate, a cover for injuries hidden under dirty white armor. There were no second chances for injured troopers.

When finally they stopped running and chose an old Rebellion base as a place to regroup, Finn occupied his time with the hundreds of little tasks he was needed for. There was always something to do -- even for a former Stormtrooper who either cost Han Solo his life, or helped save the entire galaxy, depending on who was telling the tale. It had become known among the remaining Resistance fighters that he'd taken on the famed Phasma, and curious eyes followed him everywhere he went, in a silence ripe with unasked questions.

Finn had heard so many strange stories repeated back to him by the pilots and the maintenance workers, but most of them weren't true. Even those bits with a grain of truth were twisted in the telling. Some said he was a fool to drive a skimmer straight into an activated weapon; others said he was brave, and Rose was the fool for stopping him.

He refused to hear that kind of talk. If he was a hero, Rose was more of a hero. So were all the pilots who'd died. It was as simple as that.

It hadn't taken long after their escape from Crait for Finn to realize how much he owed Rose for stopping him. He might have taken out Kylo Ren or Hux, but more likely he'd have died. Either way, one thing Leia had shared with him over supper one evening struck true: no matter how many evil people cut down, first by the Rebellion and now by the Resistance, someone always rose to power in the vacuum left by their absence. It was a disheartening lesson, but it also made Finn think about the truth of the matter - fighting the First Order with old tricks wasn't going to end this galactic nightmare.

Finn also learned from Poe that while he'd been unconscious in the bacta chamber - it seemed like three lifetimes ago - he'd been the topic of a couple fights in the flight bay. "Well, buddy, have to tell you, most wanted you to stay, but one or two thought we should load you up with a few days' rations and shoot you off to the Outer Rim." Poe paused. "None of those guys made it through with us."

"I'm sorry," Finn said, because those had been Poe's friends, no matter what they thought of Finn. But BB-8 had sent up a long string of howls and whistles directed at Finn, then Poe, and the droid's distress was clear.

Poe gave a halfway smile as he rubbed BB-8's dome and said, "Nah, we all do our duty. And besides, I told them, if you were going, I'd be going, too."

It was then Finn realized Poe hadn't just seen the fights, and he had stared at his friend for so long, BB-8 had shocked him in the shin to get his attention. Good thing Finn hadn't known that information when he'd regained consciousness and began looking to steal a ship and find Rey. He wasn't used to carrying the weight of friendships with him, or organizing his thoughts and plans around them. Friendships had been forbidden in his youth. The joy of freely loving his friends was still fresh, and every time Poe grabbed Finn in an impulsive hug, or Rose regaled him with detailed descriptions of her sister's favorite recipes, his heart swelled in his chest.

No question of him leaving now. There were so few of the core Resistance remaining. Only a handful left after Crait, and then twenty-five more straggled in to join them as they made their way to Raka II. After that, no more for a while, and Rey went off on her own, for reasons only Leia really knew. Slowly, so slowly, they found more stray pilots with broken-down ships. They picked up old rebellion fighters, and people whose families had been killed by the First Order, and added their numbers to the ranks. The new ones might still gossip about Finn, about what he was, or what he had (or hadn't) done, but those tales they repeated weren't important.

What was important was that sometimes, Poe confided all his worries and troubles and truths about being a leader. Sometimes, Rey contacted him on a coded channel, and they shared dreams of the worlds they might visit. And sometimes, Rose laughed during one of Finn's bad jokes, and everything seemed bearable again.

One afternoon, Poe put his arm around Finn in the makeshift mess hall with all of the day shift workers looking on, and said, "So! You sick of doing odd jobs yet? Figure out where you want to put your talents to work?" His warm brown eyes held nothing but affection and curiosity, and any lingering questions people might have about Finn evaporated like ice in warm sunshine, because Poe was actually a hero of the Resistance, and his opinion mattered. No fights, this time, but the impact was the same.

Poe's friendship was unconditional. Finn could feel the depth and promise of it, and he held the knowledge close, trying to understand his own heart. He had his own path - or could choose one anywhere in the galaxy, if he wanted - but he knew he was going to follow Poe on any path he traveled, without a moment's hesitation.

Finn had lived his whole life among soldiers. He'd felt his share of wanting what he couldn't have. He'd never been immune to it, but it had never seemed practical; he might die at any moment, and what good was longing when you had a blaster hole in your chest?

Besides, everyone else seemed to be working on that greatness he'd noted, and he was still...well. A work in progress.

He knew he was mechanically proficient, and there were no exciting missions being offered to him while their forces rebuilt, so he signed on to help with repairs in the launch bay. Soon enough, maintenance became his primary job. Sometimes BB-8 would linger around his ankles, helpfully handing him tools and chattering away like a small child might. Finn could understand the sentiment behind the droid's noises, if not the language. It helped in those moments where Finn felt like he might be all alone among the many fighters surrounding him. There were two hundred personnel now, and a few stragglers arriving every day.

On bad nights, when he was awake into the late hours, he tried not to think of how many of their number he had killed in his former life, and how he could never atone for it, no matter how many ships he repaired. No matter how many Phasmas he knocked into oblivion.

"There's a reveler's market tonight," Poe said at dinner one evening, quiet even as the room was in an uproar around them, everyone choking down stale rations and getting to know one another. "A few traders that have accounts with the Resistance. Have you ever been to one?"

Finn thought it best not to say that he had disrupted one once with his squadron, had seen women thrown to the ground, and peddlers killed for trying to shield their wares. It seemed one never knew when a shallow bin of golden, ripe scilla fruits might be concealing a Resistance spy. "Not since I left the First Order, no."

"All sorts of frivolous things to see. And eat." Poe's eyes gleamed. "You want to come with me?"

"Yes," Finn said fervently, grinning. To have the time to themselves would be a rare pleasure.

They wandered among the stalls that night, jostling and laughing. Finn sampled scilla fruit at last, the taste of it like sunshine on his tongue. He touched everything of interest, earning a few sharp rebukes and a slap or two. After he'd seen what was on offer, he bought a shirt with a few of his hard-earned credits. It was made of blue fabric that slipped through his fingertips like Jakku's sands, fine and silky to his touch. He shrugged out of his old shirt and put it on then and there, just to feel its softness against his skin.

"Nice," Poe said, drawing one hand Finn's back slowly, just the barest pressure of his fingertips against Finn's spine, where a scar would always mark him. His eyes met Finn's, full of mischief, and then he turned away, tugging Finn behind him. "Take a look at these," he said, gesturing to a table full of dark, shimmering stones.

Finn picked one up and held it to the light. Inside the stone, an impression of red light: a comet of sparkling fire, crimson streaking across a night sky. He tilted the stone to the right, then the left; the comet twinkled at him from inside its tiny universe. "It's so beautiful!" Finn breathed, as Poe crowded close to him to see.

"Try this one," Poe said, handing him another, and another, blue stars and purple planets, hidden inside tiny chunks of darkness. But in the end, it was the red comet Finn took for his own. He held it clasped in his palm while Poe haggled down the price with the merchant. He warmed its cold fire until it was a part of his hand.

He slept with his fingers curled around it, dreaming of riding the comet into the sky, and finding Poe there, waiting.

--

Small objects began to proliferate on the shelf above Finn's bunk. He preserved the perfectly round green leaf he found beneath his boot, on his first solo watch atop the mountain. It joined the silver pebble which fell into his bedroll on an overnight sensor-setting expedition, and the silver bracelet Rose gave him with the writing none of them could read.

"Because it suits you," is all she'd said, smiling at him, as she pressed it into his hand. Finn's face had grown hot, and his gaze had flicked to Poe automatically, but his friend had only winked at him and gone on inspecting his landing struts. Finn had put the heavy circlet in his pocket, and later, he noticed Poe's eyes flick to his wrists, searching for it. He waited then to catch Poe's eye, and they smiled at each other with unspoken understanding.

Maybe there was some point in longing, after all. Finn set his feelings carefully aside, treasures in their own right.

Eventually, there wasn't any space left for new objects. Finn found calm in his collection of cast-offs and curiosities. When he couldn't sleep, his eyes roamed over them each in turn, until finally he found a few hours' peace.

In between missions, he shared most of his meals with Poe, and in the evenings when Poe wasn't off doing secret things somewhere, they sat by the campfires or in the old rebels' quarters, listening to stories of others' homeworlds. Always, Finn held back, because the sum of what he could contribute was points of destruction he'd left in his wake. He had no homeworld. No home. But Poe did, and it made Finn curious.

"You don't speak much of your world," Finn told him, as they walked to quarters one evening.

"Don't I?" Poe's smile was sweet and wide, and Finn wondered if it was his mother's smile, or his father's, or if he resembled his family at all. Or if Poe even noticed or cared about that, since it was so easy for those who did have families to forget how much it mattered. It was all Finn could think about sometimes. Where he might have come from, and did they miss him; had they ever known him at all?

Finn tripped the door control to the barracks, but Poe caught his hand. "The weather's so good, let's sit outside for a little while."

So many stars. Finn had examined them on charts, and while soaring through them. He had never found anything to distract him from that fascination, until Poe sat close to him on the cool grass and gazed up with him. "My mother was a pilot, and a good one. She died when I was small. My father was a rebel, of course."

"Of course!" Finn grinned.

"My earliest memory of her was the songs she sang as she cooked the evening meal. My father always brought her purple flowers - for the table, he said, but she wore them in her hair, and she sang -" Poe hummed softly under his breath, the tune a wordless memory as sweet as Tarian wine.

Finn fell asleep listening to Poe's stories, nestled against him with his head dipped down onto Poe's shoulder, which was steady and solid beneath him.

Poe left the next morning for a reconnaissance flight to the moons of Decis IV. When he returned, there were purple flowers waiting for him on his pillow.

"Where did you find them?" he asked, standing in Finn's doorway, and Finn's breath caught at the look on his face.

"On the side of the mountain," Finn said. "The tall one."

"Right, the tall one." Poe's arms looped around him, and he hugged Finn fiercely. "You did this for me?"

"You told me all about your family," Finn said, smiling into Poe's shoulder. "A gift for a gift."

It escalated from there, though never consciously. Finn found a small, sharp crystal glowing blue, and took it for Rey, because it reminded him of the 'saber she carried. Tiny shivers coursed through him when he remembered its power - a power he had wielded only for a moment, and not well - and how terrified he was of not using it well enough. His back ached at the memory.

Though her missions would keep her from them long days and nights, Finn would keep the stone for her until she returned. The longer he had it, the more he understood: the stone was not like the 'saber, but like Rey - beautiful, strong, sometimes sharp, always unbreakable. He smiled to think of what she must be accomplishing, and what Luke Skywalker must have learned from her.

She would have been an amazing soldier. He was grateful the First Order never found her and conscripted her to make it so.

A passing trader provided stories for the children, and Finn made a trade of some useless parts for a holo. Very old, and rare, the trader explained - Sorlo the Killik and the Chasm of Forever. Finn watched it avidly, absorbing the tale as though he were a child himself, wide-eyed and rapt with attention.

He left the holo on General Organa's work table, where she would find it when she had time and patience for it. It was, after all, one of the oldest legends of Alderaan.

Davel Carsk - known as the second-best pilot in the Resistance, although Finn secretly thought he could give Poe a run for his money as best, not that he'd ever tell Poe - rigged lights for his battered X-Wing, across the nose and down the wings, to impress a pretty med tech. He swooped and dipped across the field just after twilight, creating patterns in the air, and BB-8 circled below excitedly. Finn's heart recognized his own joy for freedom in the music of BB-8's language as the little droid spun beneath the lights.

It was easy to steal a few lights from the end of Carsk's line and trim the edges of BB-8's top-lamps with them. The squeal the droid emitted made Finn laugh with delight, and he sat on the ground, tools in hand, while BB-8 sped off to make laps around Poe's legs.

"Finn," Poe said, the grin on his face so wide it looked like it would dance into his eyes. "Did you give my droid a gift just to make him happy?"

"I did, yes, I did," Finn said, laughing a little. And Poe looked at him for a long time, joy and desire shimmering in his eyes, while the droid squeaked with pleasure and zipped between them, weaving a softly unbreakable line filled with happiness.

--

One day Finn discovered an image of Ben Kenobi, salvaged from the Temple at Coruscant and available on the black market, and he knew it was for Artoo. He studied it for hours, watching how Kenobi held his saber, and the grace with which he moved. He could never have hoped to be that kind of soldier - the thoughtful kind, the kind who fought for right things from the very beginning. He was an instrument of those he could best serve, nothing more.

He was on his way to give Artoo his gift, crossing the wide open landing field, when he stopped and looked up at the sky. One of Raka's moons was visible low on the horizon, not enough to cast light across the world, but enough to give everything a glow. He'd never even noticed or cared about the safety of all the worlds unseen until the first time he flew with Poe. Hundreds of possibilities had opened up to him, and in all of them, he wanted Poe to be there.

"Stargazing again?"

Finn turned and smiled. Poe was looking handsome in his black jacket and white shirt, his collar open and a silver chain glittering just beneath. "Thinking about Rey," Finn said. "When she comes back from training this time, I'll ask her if she'd like to talk about her family, too."

"I think she might like to share that with you," Poe said, and slid his arm across Finn's shoulder. "I did. Makes the good memories feel closer, and the bad ones hurt less."

"What's it like?" Finn asked. "To grow up with parents?"

"It was good," Poe said. "I was loved. I wish you could have had that."

"I had the others in my group," Finn said, turning his face away, and there was something aching in his heart, something lonely and wrong, even with Poe's arm steady around him.

"And now you have us." Poe pulled him closer, into a hug, and a smile ghosted across Finn's face as the ache in his heart diminished. This time, Poe didn't pull away; they held each other a moment, Finn's heart racing, and then slowly, slowly, Poe let him go. "You heard from Rey yet?"

"Not yet. Chewbacca told General Organa he would contact us when Rey felt her training was complete. Who knows when that will be?"

"Hang in there." Poe sighed a long breath, then said, "I'm going to be heading out for a while, too."

"Really? Where to this time? No, don't tell me, you're probably not allowed to tell me." Finn nodded seriously. Then he tilted his face toward Poe. "Are you allowed to tell me, though? I'm very trustworthy."

Poe grinned. "Balamak."

"Balamak? I know that place!"

"Wait, you've been there?" Poe's eyebrows shot up.

"...no. Not actually there. But I've studied it. My group was in line for deployment there. We were going to help beat back the Resistance. It was said they had been keeping the people from receiving food and medicine." Finn frowned. "It was the other way around, wasn't it."

"'Fraid so, buddy." Poe studied Finn's expression, and then brushed his fingers against Finn's cheek. "Don't suppose you want to share some of that knowledge, do you?"

"No. I mean, yes!" Finn grabbed Poe's hands. "What I mean is, you should take me with you. General Organa says I'm ready to take part in official missions. Activities. Actually, she assigned me to ship-refitting detail until there was something to do. But I can help you. I owe you so much."

"You don't owe me a thing. In fact, you have it backwards; we all owe you." Poe's expression was thoughtful. "But...this might be an opportunity to really get something done on Balamak. You really think you're up to it?"

"Yes. Yes! Take me along," Finn said fervently, the beginnings of a grin traveling the edges of his mouth.

"All right. I'll check with the General. If she clears it, you're good to go." Poe did grin, then, as Finn crowed and threw his hands up in the air. "But you'll have to take orders again. Sorry about that."

"I've taken your orders before," Finn said, because it was mostly true (even though it had been Finn's idea). Never mind that moment on Crait he'd decided to fly into the cannon; that was different. Mostly, following Poe's orders was as easy as breathing.

The two of them stood together, lit up with joy, until the blast doors opened and a group of pilots spilled out onto the field. With a plan taking shape between them, the two of them headed inside, walking in step.

**

The mission to Balamak did not go as planned.

Finn gave the senior officers the locations of all the barracks, and all his info about out-stationed troops and weaponry. "This might be out of date," he warned. "The last time I saw any information was days before I left -- the security protocols would have been changed once I defected."

"We'll work from what you've given us. No doubt it will save many lives," General Organa said, while aides bustled around her and Poe talked quietly with his senior staff. Finn felt the quiet glow of usefulness in his chest.

The attack strategy was based on his intel, and so the attack itself was successful. Finn's shuttle landed amidst the chaos, and he disembarked with a unit of ground fighters, blaster in hand, to do his part.

It seemed strange to be without armor in a battle, but he was growing used to it now -- the feeling of vulnerability, the raw closeness of screams, the scent of blood. No screen between himself and the death he brought. It had never been necessary anyway. Finn had always known what he was. What he was made to be.

The ground troops at the First Order base hadn't expected an attack, and were no match for Finn's Resistance battalion, or their X-Wing support, led by Poe. It only took one hour to overcome the last of them, and the pilots joined them on the ground to get the supply lines moving again. Two Resistance fighters were killed, and a few more injured, but they lost no ships. It could have been much worse.

Finn waited for Poe in the hangar, and occupied himself by loading a Resistance cargo shuttle with supplies for distribution all over the planet's surface. When he heard Poe shout his name, he turned with a grin - and saw two Stormtroopers emerging from the side tunnel, blasters in hand and pointed toward the pilots by their ships.

He didn't think, he only moved. His blaster was set aside, on the ground by the cargo pile, and he had nothing to stop the threat except his body - so he shouted Poe's name and threw himself at the nearest trooper. They struggled for the blaster; the trooper's armor was slippery, but Finn went for the wrist, below the joint of armor, and snapped it. The trooper howled and the blaster went sideways, trapped between them. Pain exploded in Finn's side, and when darkness overwhelmed him, the thread he followed was Poe's voice, calling for him.

When he woke, Poe was with him, one hand clasping Finn's wrist and the other covering his own face. There was cold stone under Finn's back, but a med tech was poking at him, and Poe was alive and well, so everything was fine. Or would be, once Finn's side stopped burning.

"I messed up," Finn croaked, and Poe leaned over him, relief erasing the exhaustion from his face. His face was streaked with grime, and his hair was a disaster, but he seemed otherwise fine.

"No, buddy, you saved us - me and Caro and all the others on the line." Poe scrubbed a hand over his face. "But we could have handled them ourselves."

"No time," Finn said, though that wasn't all of it. He still could feel the kernel of panic gnawing at his insides when he thought of Poe in the line of fire. "Too close."

"You're right about that." Poe was eyeing Finn's chest, where the edges of his shirt were still smoking and scorched. He wasn't dead, which meant he'd been lucky. The stormtrooper he'd fought was on the ground to his left, a heap of smoking armor with a larger hole in his side than Finn's scorching burn, and five or six additional blaster holes in his helmet and chest plate. Finn stared at the body, wondering if he'd known him. If he'd fought with him, in that other life.

The med tech spread bacta over his wound, and Finn hissed. Poe gripped his hand tighter. "You must really love that bacta, because you sure spend a whole lot of time with it."

"Could do without it really," Finn said. He tightened his fingers around Poe's, and Poe's squeeze back was just as fierce.

The wound wasn't serious, but it was two days before he was allowed to leave the medbay, and his string of visitors was impressive - General Organa, and then Threepio (with all sorts of terrible advice about avoiding danger); Rey on secure comlink to say she was coming home soon, and Rose, who brought homemade food (her sister's favorite recipe) and an epic lecture.

"I wasn't even there to push you out of the way!" she said, as she shoved him over and settled in beside him, putting her feet up on the bunk. "Now tell me all about how brave you were, and every word Poe said to you after. Was he worried? Did he hold you close when you were injured?"

"I am not telling you every word," Finn said, rolling his eyes, and stuffed his mouth full of fried claw fish to slow his impulse to do exactly that.

When the bacta had done its job yet again, Poe retrieved him and bundled him off to quarters to install him in a freshly-made bunk with extra blankets and dimmed lights. BB-8 twirled nervously around them, scolding Finn the entire time. He still couldn't speak droid, but he knew tone.

"We need to talk," Poe said, as he settled on the edge of the bunk. "About the way you tried to save me."

"Didn't just try; saved you," Finn said, with a smugness of spirit he wasn't exactly proud of, but Poe was looking very handsome and well, and Finn thought he was allowed to appreciate his own efforts.

"Except you didn't think twice about sacrificing yourself to do it."

"Not on purpose," Finn said. He rubbed at his chest, though the wound was healed. Poe's hands folded around Finn's and held them still.

"Doesn't matter. You ignored my orders on Crait, too, and if it wasn't for Rose, I-"

"You'd have done it for me. Or Rey, or Leia. Anyone, probably." Finn tried to smile, but now the idea of Poe diving in front of a blaster for any of them was lodged in his mind, and it made his breath come too fast.

"You didn't like it much when Rose almost died saving you," Poe said. Which was a losing argument, Finn wanted to say; Rose wasn't expendable, and she wasn't born to be a soldier. But Poe was going on - "You can be a hero without actually dying. Or so I've been told a hundred times by angry commanders." Poe's thumb was rubbing gently against Finn's. "I love you for it, but you have to stop."

"I'll stop when you stop," Finn said indignantly. "When every person here stops." His eyes were burning, but there was one thing he knew for sure: he wasn't ever going to sit by when his friends could suffer. And Poe was no better, he was always leaping into things, and besides, he must understand that Finn had a purpose and that purpose wasn't to sit idly by, he had sent Finn on a mission that was very dangerous in order to save the fleet, surely he didn't--

--love?

Finn blinked at Poe, his train of thought lost.

"Well then," Poe said, and as if something had been discussed and decided, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Finn's gently. It wasn't Finn's first kiss, but he had never had a kiss like this before, with a smile underneath it, and Poe's fingertips curled at the edge of Finn's collarbone. Just resting there, over the beat of his heart.

"No more missions apart," Finn said, at the same time Poe said, "No more taking dumb chances." They both laughed softly, Finn's hands cradling Poe's face as they pressed their foreheads together.

"We have to be smarter about this," Poe said, "so we both make it through this war alive."

"We're going to win this war," Finn said. "Together." He kissed Poe, liking very much the way Poe seemed to melt into him a little, and added, "Probably going to take a few more dumb chances, though. I've got a hothead for a boss, he sets a bad example."

"He's working on it." Poe smiled. "He's motivated. But I need to know you'll follow orders, Finn, I need to...I can't have my attention pulled away because you're...you."

Finn shook his head, because this wasn't going to be resolved there, not with Poe's hands already finding their way to Finn's bare skin. His skin was alight everywhere Poe touched him. "I've been waiting a long time for you to kiss me."

"That so?" Poe said, soft.

Everything else Poe said that night was sweet, and sweetly forgettable, whispered against Finn's skin, and laughed into more of those kisses. Finn was still tired, and even so, Poe fell asleep first in the middle of trading stories, sprawled next to Finn with his arm loose across Finn's chest. It made Finn think of all those nights he'd spent awake, worrying over his friends and wishing for a way to keep them safe.

"I'm here," Finn whispered, curling around Poe's sleeping form. "Safe as I'll ever be, home with you," he added, because he'd been waiting, and now it was true.

**

Morning shift came very early, and Finn kissed Poe awake, with BB-8 making whirring noises in the corner. "Have to report in," he said, and Poe made grumpy faces, and threatened never to kiss him again, and Finn ignored all that because there wasn't any possible future in which Poe would stop kissing him now.

It was like any other morning: late into the 'fresher, and no time for first meal in the mess hall, just a swoop through to pick up dried rations and tuck them into a pocket. On to the flight line, where everyone had already heard Rose's version of the 'Finn saved Poe from certain death!' story. "Even the parts you didn't tell me," she said sagely, which made the other mechanics laugh and Finn count his blessings that this wise, kind woman was his friend.

It was mid-morning when the pilots made it onto the line, Poe up front whistling, his hair in a state, his flight suit suspiciously wrinkled as if it had spent the night in a heap on the floor. He sauntered up to Finn, helmet in hand, and stopped, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "Hello," he said, looking Finn over. "Should you be working today?"

"Yes I should," Finn said, patting his own chest to show he was fine. "Where are you off to?"

"Very secret, can't tell," Poe said, and Finn sighed dramatically.

"Isn't this just cover for a transport run? A very not at all secret transport run?"

"Now that you mention it, yes, and you're not invited, because you don't know how to follow orders."

"I thought we agreed, no more missions apart," Finn said, stepping closer.

"Oh, no. No, we agreed to nothing at all. There's going to be a whole lot more talking about that." Here Poe paused, and looked pointedly at Finn's mouth, and then dragged his gaze up again, eyes twinkling. "When I get home."

"Better hurry up about it, then," Finn said, and before he could think too much about it, he leaned in and stole a kiss, and then two or three more, and Poe hauled him closer and Finn dropped his wrench, because -

"You heard me," Finn said, as Poe took his time putting distance between them. "Last night."

"Loud and clear," Poe answered. "Nowhere I'd rather be than safe with you."

"Except not safe, and with me?"

"Except that." Poe grinned and backed away. "Stay out of that bacta stash 'til I get back, I know how you are." He bent down and whispered a few quick words to BB-8, who warbled an answer and then made a beeline for Finn, banging around his legs as a reminder to keep his promises, Finn was sure.

Finn stepped out of the bay to watch the fighters rise, and the transport behind them. Nothing was guaranteed, no outcome assured. But every morning like this one would be a gift.

He remembered then, what he'd been planning to do before everything had become focused on the Balamak mission. The imaging cube with that long-ago holo of Ben Kenobi was still in the pocket of his coveralls. "Do you know where Artoo is?" he asked BB-8, who chirped a yes and immediately began rolling away.

Finn followed the little droid, whistling the same tune Poe had whistled on his way down. No better time than now to give a little happiness away. If he was lucky, maybe Threepio would be there, and would tell him the story about Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, and how they saved Princess Leia and the Rebellion. There was some truth in every ridiculous story about a hero, he supposed, as long as there was someone around to tell the tale, and someone else willing to listen.