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“Ow.”
“Quit it.”
“Ow, damn it—”
“Finn, quit squirming, just let me—”
“I’d quit squirming if you’d stop trying to take it off.”
“Buddy, it’s gotta come off, we’ve gotta get you cleaned up.”
“No, no no just—just let me lay here for a minute, for star’s sake.”
Finn hisses when Poe makes another pass at the jacket. He dodges Poe’s insistent hands, then instantly regrets it. Everything hurts, and that means everything. Why Poe’s so set on getting the thing off is beyond him. It’s ruined now, anyway. Again, he thinks bitterly. The first jacket he left on the Supremacy and felt bad about after the dust settled on Crait. Poe’d given him this jacket after the Battle of Batuu. He’s not even sure where or when Poe had had time to get the damn thing. Maybe he bought it, maybe he’d had another jacket in storage, Finn’s just not sure. Poe never said anything beyond, “Take it, you look good,” with some kind of look in his eye, which makes Finn feel even worse about ruining it. Like he can’t keep up with the things Poe gives him. That’s the last impression he wants to give. They’ve been running at breakneck speed since Crait, but having Poe’s good opinion is starting to mean more than he’d freely admit. And he’d liked this one so much, all the sticky, pleasant feelings he has about Poe aside. Though, in his defense, this one was ruined for a very good cause.
“C’mon, Finn, relax your shoulders,” Poe tries as he tugs gently at the sleeves.
Finn pushes out a deep breath and tries to do just that but new scrapes and bruises and bloody spots make it easier said than done. Poe eases one sleeve loose and Finn works at the buttons of his shirt with the other. This mission hadn’t been a complete wreck—they had managed to oust First Order forces on Lonera—but the disaster struck hardest on a very personal level. His jacket’s not the only thing that’d been ruined. Finn’s shirt is bloody where the leather didn’t protect him fully. His pants are dusty and torn and this would all be easier if he could just lick his wounds in peace. Take a nap, maybe.
Finn glances over his shoulder. “Poe, just leave it. Shouldn’t you be flying this heap?”
Poe frowns at him and Finn can already tell by the set of his mouth he’s not going to take no for an answer.
“Snap’s got it more than covered, damn it, let me help you.”
Poe’s got a point there. “Fine.”
He drops his head in defeat and Poe starts loosening the sleeves again. He sighs, trying to hold in a wince when Poe peels the leather back from his shoulders and exposes the worst of it to the transport’s chilly interior. Damn, that stings.
“Shit,” Poe hisses, echoing his own sentiments, “good thing you had this on. Did you have to pull a stunt like that?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Hm, but getting dragged behind a speeder probably’s not been your best plan.”
“Hey, it was that or let ‘em get away.”
“You know we caught up to them, right?”
“Yeah, after I disabled the thing.”
“Maybe I should get you a vest. Might last a little longer.”
“Don’t count on it,” Finn grouses. “Apparently, I have terrible luck with clothes.”
Poe snorts but he sucks his teeth in sympathy as he pulls again. Finn doesn’t bother to look. For one, it hurts like hell. Two, he can feel exactly what Poe might be making a face at. As Poe pulls the jacket free, it catches on the roughest spots: forearms, the side of his shoulder, a few spots on his stomach and side where the thing had ridden up. He hates it, but Poe’s right. Having the jacket off feels waaay better. Before Poe can catch him, Finn eases back on the med unit with a groan. His shirt’s coarse fabric irritates the worst spot on his stomach so he pulls it up and away. It’s not perfect, but it helps. When Poe turns back to him, his lips part a little. Finn would ask about the look but now that pain isn’t sharpening his mind, he’s exhausted. He closes his eyes, hears Poe puttering around the sick bay. Maybe he’s leaving. A little part of Finn is…well, disappointed isn’t quite the right word, but it’s close.
What he doesn’t expect is something frigid and slimy suddenly sliding down his arm. His eyes shoot open as he scrambles back, only to remember, oh yeah, everything still hurts.
“Fuck, Poe, what the hell?”
“What?” Poe settles next to him and follows with a cloth and a bacta salve, clearly the source of the slime. “Do you want these to get infected?”
“Ow, no—” Poe gets him again, Finn wriggles back. Not far enough. “Shit, that stings, can you not?”
“Don’t freak out, this’ll take a minute and you’ll feel better,” Poe frowns, swiping another bloody patch with bacta.
He’s right, damn him, Finn knows he’s right. But he’s tired and it hurts and he doesn’t want the fuss right now. Poe’s coming at him with all the focus of a bombing run and he can’t get any farther away.
“Ah, Poe, will you just stop?”
Poe reaches for him again and Finn catches his wrist in a tight grip. The pilot yanks his hand back, frustrated, mouth set in a worried line.
“Well, damn it Finn, where doesn’t it hurt?”
“I don’t know.” He pulls a face and points to the most facetious spot he can think of. “Here.”
His elbow. Which somehow escaped unscathed. To his immediate and breathless surprise, Poe purses his lips, leans forward, and kisses the spot he’s picked with a very pointed look. Well. Finn’s mouth goes a bit dry, Poe’s looking at him like he’s daring him to keep complaining. Maybe he’ll take that dare. Shit, where else doesn’t hurt?
“Here.” He points to his forehead, the side closest to Poe.
Poe leans forward again, this time a little slower, and plants a long kiss on the spot. A sigh tickles Finn’s hair. Poe’s careful to keep their bodies apart, but where they do touch sends a pleasant zing right down to Finn’s toes. Poe sits back, lifts an eyebrow. Ready for action, as always. Finn immediately misses him. Might as well keep pressing his luck.
“Here’s not too bad,” he mumbles, pointing to the crest of his cheek.
That’s a lie, a ‘trooper clocked him good there, but Poe kisses him gently enough it doesn’t really matter. A few fingers find their way to Finn’s jaw, turning his face more toward Poe. Oh, shit. The heat of him is exhilarating. All the air in the med bay is condensing thick between them. Poe doesn’t say a word, just looks down at him. Waiting. Would Poe do it if he asked?
Only one way to find out.
He points to his bottom lip, busted and bloodied in the corner, glances up with a question, “Here?”
Poe’s face softens. Stars, is he going to go for it? He bends back into Finn’s orbit, settles a hand on the other side of his waist to hold himself up, bacta long forgotten. Yes, he is. Poe’s nose bumps his, lips press tenderly to the corner of his mouth that isn’t split, and Finn forgets how to breathe. His head spins. It hurts and it’s wonderful. He gasps a breath. Poe’s tongue dips in to meet his for just an instant, then he’s gone again. Finn chases after him, because hell, who wouldn’t? His body protests and he bites down on a groan, but Poe’s hand is on his chest, easing him back to the bed.
“Take it easy, Big Deal,” Poe murmurs, thumb brushing Finn’s chest almost imperceptibly. “You gotta get cleaned up before you have any fun.”
Finn blinks slowly at him, scraping his teeth across his bottom lip. “Fun?”
His brain’s not quite back online yet. Poe chuckles quietly, leaning back in to press a kiss to his forehead. Finn’s hand gets the better of him and it settles on Poe’s thigh. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he threads his fingers with Finn’s and squeezes. Finn’s heart leaps a bit.
“Only compliant commanders get fun,” Poe teases. “You gonna listen to reason and let me work?”
Finn’s skin tingles at the insinuation, so he offers a jaunty if tired salute. “Yes, sir.”
Poe’s eyes widen a bit before he fumbles for the bacta salve and sets to work again. Oh, they’re definitely going to explore that later. In fact, if he has any say, this is just the start. Finn’s going to make sure of it.