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Finn Skywalker-Dameron has never had a home.
He had a troop, many, many years back. Back when the concept of him having a name other than FN-2187 was a fleeting fantasy he hadn't even considered. They were barely comrades.
He has never had a home. And yet, and yet.
Watching as Poe and Rey spar over who gets to cook dinner - as far as Finn is concerned, neither of them will. They can't cook for shit - listening as Beebs and ArTwo chirp for their respective Jedi, feeling his cheeks start to hurt with how much he's smiling at them.
It feels like a home.
The way Rey will burst into his room early in the morning, dragging him out to mediate with her because -
"You're the only one who is able to help me do it, Finn!" Rey will whine, pulling him out of the house and into an empty clearing, filled only by their soft chatter and yelps as they lose focus with every terrible joke the other throws at them. It feels like home.
The way Poe greets him in the morning, with a small shoulder bump and a coo of love, one of them handing the other a coffee as the sun rises -
"Pretty," Finn murmurs, leaning on Poe as the sunrise slowly fades into their everyday sky.
"Not as pretty as you." Poe says, his voice filled with… something that Finn does not dare to name, but it's fond and adoring and makes him want to cry, during times like these. These stupidly domestic times.
"Drama queen." Finn replies, instead, rolling his eyes, no heat behind his words or actions because, well, how could there be, really?
It feels like home.
The way Beebs chirps for him, first, when she wants to prove a point, maybe because she knows he'll agree with her, defending her from Rey's oh-so-ruthless remarks. And maybe she'll make a chirp about how Finn is her favorite now, dad! And Poe will look like his firstborn just said that they disown him, and really, she kinda did. It feels like home.
Finn Skywalker-Dameron had never had a home.
He does now.