Chapter Text
Poe doesn’t know much of the jedi other than what little Leia had shared with him in quiet, tired conversations over the fire, and, if he thinks hard enough, what stories his mother used to lull him to sleep with. Fantastical tales of the Force, of cosmic sorcery and the universe being connected by it. She painted pictures of the jedi knights who had sworn to practice and protect it, spoke of their loyalty and their honor, of their constant pull toward the light. What he most remembers, though, is the way she’d brush back his unruly curls from his face, place a helmet far too big for him on his head, and tell him that pilots were kissed by the stars and guided by the Force, too, not unlike the jedi.
When he was little, it made him feel invincible. As he grew, he learned that maybe it was her way of giving him the courage to fly, no matter the odds.
But, knowing what he does now of the jedi, or what had once been the jedi – what vows they took, what sacrifices they made in service to the Force and the Light and what their order stood for – some small, selfishly strong part of him thanks the stars that Rey didn’t have to follow those same rules.
(Not that his Sunshine does very well with them to begin with, mind you.)
But Poe thinks of Leia and of Han Solo, and of the child that may have turned their backs on them, of their love for each other that may have faltered—but he thinks of them and thinks that they had that chance. They were free to love and to lose and to love again. They were free to choose this path for themselves, and he knows, Poe knows with every cell in his body that Leia, had she chosen to continue the path with her brother, that her dedication to the Light and the Force wouldn’t have been dampened simply because she was a wife and a mother. Having a family, having something other than the Force to fight for, wouldn’t have been a weakness. It wouldn’t have caused Leia to stray from what she was dedicated to. If Leia had lived in the time when the jedi laws were still in place, she wouldn’t have had the chance to walk the same path as Luke.
And to Poe, that would have been a damn shame.
Just as it would have been a damn shame for Rey to sacrifice even more – to give up her chance at love and a family – in order to follow the Light.
It would have been ridiculous. Rey is the Light. Rey, his Rey, is made of stars and sunshine, born from every sun in the galaxy.
She deserves the whole damn universe. She doesn’t have to sacrifice, to make some vow, to let her choices be taken away, to prove her worth or her loyalty.
She’s enough. She’s more than enough, and he can’t imagine a life where he doesn’t belong to her as much as she belongs to him. Because she does. She’s his. She’s his warmth and his light and his center of orbit, and when he thinks of some archaic belief that might have, once upon a time, gotten in the way of that? Of them?
He laughs.
No jedi law would stand a chance.
“I can hear you thinking, flyboy,” a voice mumbles into his skin, lips curving against his collarbone, and Poe feels his smile stretching as lithe, slender fingers find the curls of his hair with ease, combing into them, twisting them in their grip, the smooth pad of her thumb brushing over his temple, over and over. He glances down at his chest where Rey is curled against him, half on top of him, face pressed against his neck, hair tickling his skin, and he runs his palm up the curve of her spine, pulling her closer, brushing a kiss against her tangled hair. She lifts her head, twirls his curls around her fingers as she peers up at him. “What could possibly be bothering you first thing in the morning?”
She’s smiling, though, because his sunshine is always smiling, and his smile widens at the sight of her, at the pink in her cheeks and the way her eyelids are still a little heavy with sleep, even as she holds his gaze.
“Nothing is,” he corrects, arm hooking around her waist, and she lets out a peel of laughter, light and delighted and pure music to his ears, as he rolls them over. His hips slot into place between her thighs, and he hopes he never gets over the little thrill that swoops in his stomach when their bodies fit together with ease. “I was just—thinking.”
Rey presses her delicate lips together, eyes twinkling in a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I gathered that much.” She arches an eyebrow. “What about, exactly?”
He shrugs, nuzzles his face against her cheek and presses a gentle kiss there. “Impossible things,” he mumbles, breathing in her sweet scent.
“Ah.” Her breath is warm against his ear. “Impossible things, such as your hopes of getting to sleep in before sunrise now that we’ve got a little pilot on the way?”
He laughs, the sound coming out of him in a loud burst, and he lifts himself up, just enough to slide his hands down her body, cradling her stomach and the very faint, very firm curve forming there. He always hesitates to touch her there, but in the same way his hand always hesitates over the controls of his X-wing, as if his entire body is holding its breath in anticipation, itching for the free-fall of sensations, craving the dizzy blur of stars outside his cockpit as he swoops and soars in the sky. He’s ready. He’s ready.
And even if he wasn’t from the start – even if he wasn’t counting down the days, the hours, the damn seconds until their little jedi is in the world – he’d get there, eventually.
With Rey, how could he not?
“Are you kidding?” He curls forward, pressing his face into her stomach, dropping a kiss there before flashing his teeth in a smile as he peers up at Rey. Her smile is wide, too, her hands coming down to comb into his hair, cradling him in her hands. “I can’t wait until I have a little comet to run after.”
“Hm,” she hums, feigning doubt as her eyes twinkle in excitement, in hope, “I’m certain your enthusiasm for losing sleep goes against some rules of parenting somewhere.”
He kisses her stomach again, then gently, gently nips at her skin, relishing in the peel of laughter that spills from her lips as her body jerks in response, curling toward him, drawing him in close once more. “Well, sunshine,” he says, bringing his face to hers, tasting her smile on his lips, “it’s a good thing I don’t mind spinning a few laws.”