Work Text:
‘Poe,’ Finn nudges him. ‘You busy?’
Poe blinks up from his cup of caf. He’s slouched in one of the corners of the Falcon’s main hold, nursing his first hot drink of the day.
‘What’s up?’ Poe asks.
‘I wanted to show you something,’ Finn says. He holds his hand out to take Poe’s cup while Poe gets to his feet.
‘Yeah?’ Poe shuffles after Finn, curiosity piqued. Finn leads him to the narrow cabin where they’ve been sleeping two-to-a-bunk with half the other survivors from Crait.
‘Here,’ Finn puts Poe’s caf on a crate, next to the tools he’s discovered while ransacking the ship for anything useful.
‘What’s this?’ Poe blinks at the setup.
‘Well, you said you didn’t know how to sew,’ Finn says, sitting on the bunk.
‘I did?’ Poe frowns, but he sits next to Finn.
‘Yeah,’ Finn shrugs. ‘So I thought, you know, it might keep us busy.’
Poe takes another drink of caf, and his eyes clear some more. ‘You know how to sew?’
‘Basic kit repair,’ Finn picks up the needles, holding one out to Poe. ‘They don’t teach that at the Academy?’
‘Uh, no,’ Poe scratches the back of his head. ‘We had droids.’
‘We had work harder, not smarter for a motto,’ Finn says.
He cuts them each a length of thread, and Poe takes one.
‘Like this,’ Finn holds his needle up to eye level, and Poe mirrors him. Finn feeds his thread through the eye on the first attempt. His focus shifts to check on Poe: Poe’s brow is furrowed in concentration. His thread twists and splits away from the needle.
‘It’s okay,’ Finn murmurs, and Poe lets out an embarrassed laugh. ‘It can help if you wet it.’
Poe looks confused, so Finn takes the thread from Poe and presses the tip between his lips. He refines the edge by twirling it between forefinger and thumb, then passes it back to Poe.
‘Now try.’
Poe swallows, then concentrates on the needle. The thread almost catches, and finally it slides through. Poe exhales with such satisfaction that Finn feels it blowing on his skin.
‘Okay, you got this,’ Finn grins. Poe rolls his eyes, but he smiles back. ‘Knot the end.’
‘Any particular knot?’ Poe asks.
‘Just something thicker than the needle,’ Finn ties off his own, and Poe follows. He holds it out for Finn to check, even though it’s a perfectly good knot.
‘Are we sewing these?’ Poe picks up the rags Finn had laid out on the crate. He pokes his finger through the hole Finn sliced in the middle of it.
‘Yep,’ Finn grabs the other rag. ‘There’s a few ways, but for something this thin, you usually just…’
He starts slowly. Poe shuffles closer, neck craning until his face is right beside Finn’s.
‘Knot on the inside, so it looks neater,’ Finn talks as he works. ‘This is a basic running stitch. Good for soft stuff like this.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Poe murmurs. Finn feels his nod.
‘Always leave more thread than you think you need…’ Finn reaches the end of the slice. ‘Then you tie it off. Tight, but not so much it pinches.’
He flips the rag over, looping the thread into a knot.
‘Could you…?’ he presses his pinky to the base of the knot.
‘Oh,’ Poe realises, pushing his finger to cover Finn’s. Finn’s paying more attention to the callused skin than the lesson, but it’s okay: he knows how to sew. What he doesn’t know is how to get Poe to touch him again.
‘Now you do yours,’ Finn prompts him, and Poe makes a start. He goes quickly, zig-zagging across the hole.
‘Easy,’ Finn reminds him. ‘Pull through, or you’ll have too much slack.’
Poe snorts, hiding under his curls. He fumbles with the rag until the stitches sit neatly.
‘How’s that?’ he glances up at Finn when he reaches the end.
‘Looks good,’ Finn says, and Poe gives him a smile.
It’s a funny smile. Finn hasn’t known him that long, not really, but this smile is smaller than all the others he’s seen. Sweeter.
‘Okay, you got the basics,’ Finn says. ‘Now, if it’s a heavier fabric, like a jacket…’
‘You just staple it together?’ Poe raises an eyebrow.
Finn laughs. He takes Poe’s rag and folds it over, then does the same with his. He aligns the thick edges of the two pieces.
‘You need a thicker needle and sturdier thread, usually,’ he says. ‘But this’ll work fine for practice. You wanna thread it?’
‘Alright,’ Poe takes it eagerly, measuring out the thread and hesitating before Finn nods in approval at the length. Poe snips it, and sucks the tip into his mouth.
Finn’s throat is suddenly dry. Poe threads the needle on his first attempt, and Finn has to gulp a breath of air before saying: ‘Good.’
Poe knots the thread, glancing up at Finn to check he’s on track.
‘Start from underneath again, and I’ll show you the pattern,’ Finn tells him.
Poe’s more confident already, making taut first stitch. He passes the project to Finn, his hands in Finn’s palms for a moment before they’re gone again. Finn barely has a chance to miss them before Poe shuffles closer, so their legs are touching and both of them are hunched over the rags.
‘You move the needle at right angles,’ Finn says. ‘Straight across on top, along underneath, then another straight line. You see it?’
‘Yeah, I think so,’ Poe says, gingerly taking the needle back when Finn proffers it.
‘Looks a bit like staples,’ Finn smirks.
‘Mm,’ Poe agrees, but he’s concentrating on mimicking Finn’s stitch. Finn watches his pattern get shorter, then reach a more even length as Poe finds the rhythm of it.
Finn’s eyes start to wander. He almost gasps: the pink tip of Poe’s tongue is poking out. Poe’s brows are drawn tightly together, eyes crinkling as he peers at the rags.
‘Ouch!’ Poe flinches, pulling his finger away.
‘Ooh,’ Finn reaches out, but Poe hides his hand under the rag again.
‘I’m fine,’ he insists. ‘Just clumsy.’
‘It happens,’ Finn assures him. ‘I do it all the time.’
‘I guess BB-8 usually does the fine work like this,’ Poe shakes his head fondly. ‘Should’ve let him fix the your jacket.’
‘Hey,’ Finn tilts his head, until Poe will look at him. ‘I’m glad you fixed it. I liked it.’
Poe bites his lip, and Finn is suddenly warm all over. He can’t take back that confession, now he’s said it.
‘Okay,’ Poe whispers. ‘I hoped you’d still wanna wear it.’
‘Of course I did,’ Finn insists. ‘You put all that work into it, and I went and lost it.’
‘No, no, I didn’t mean it like that.’ Poe shakes his head. He’s rumpling the fabric, the needle glinting loose between the two scraps. Finn gently takes the rags from where they’re clenched in Poe’s grasp. Poe’s knuckles are stiff. Finn brushes his thumb over them until they relax.
‘I just…’ Poe sighs, and his breath catches halfway through. ‘I couldn’t put you back together.’
Finn’s heart kicks him in the ribs. ‘Poe…’
‘That’s silly,’ Poe hunches his shoulders. ‘When I say it out loud.’
‘It doesn’t sound silly,’ Finn murmurs.
‘You were in that bacta suit for so long,’ Poe traps Finn’s thumb between his fingers. ‘Every day, you never looked any closer to waking up.’
‘I got there in the end,’ Finn says gently.
‘Yeah,’ Poe draws a heavy breath. ‘Had to be the one time I was away.’
Finn cocks his head wryly, and some of the tension disappears from Poe’s shoulders.
‘Here,’ Finn straightens the rags, and flips them over. Poe’s neat stitches hold the fabric together tightly. ‘You wanna tie this off?’
‘Uh-huh,’ Poe’s fingers are a little shaky, but he manages with Finn’s help.
‘It looks great,’ Finn tells him, setting it back on the crate.
Poe ducks his head. Finn has never seen Poe act like this.
‘Thanks,’ Poe says. ‘I’ll do a better job of fixing your stuff next time.’
‘I’ll do a better job of hanging onto it,’ Finn promises.
Poe laughs softly, and his eyes are shining when they meet Finn’s.
‘You were there every day?’ Finn asks.
Poe glances down, his lashes fanning across his cheek. A dimple appears as he murmurs: ‘Yeah.’
Finn closes his eyes and hopes he’s right about this.
Poe gasps when their lips meet. It makes Finn hesitate, but then Poe’s hands are on his shoulders, pulling him closer. A whimper slips between their mouths and Poe’s mouth opens, chasing Finn’s kiss. Finn sinks into it, drawing Poe’s lip into his mouth, and both of them slide back until Poe hits the wall of the bunk. Poe ignores the thump, grabbing Finn’s shirt to keep their bodies flush together. Finn follows Poe’s example, opening his mouth and then shivering when Poe’s tongue slips in. He groans, and when he flicks his tongue against Poe’s, Poe tenses, clutching at Finn’s chest.
They both stop at the ripping sound. Their foreheads press together as they look down, Poe’s hands untangling from the hole he’s just torn in Finn’s shirt.
‘I can fix that,’ Poe promises, a guilty twinkle in his eye.
‘Yeah,’ Finn laughs. ‘I should hope so.’