Work Text:
Night has just fallen when Poe, Prince of Yavin, reaches the Resistance camp.
“Ho! The Prince of Yavin!” one of the guards announces him with straight face and booming voice. Poe does not recognise him, but his young features might be the cause of that. He has been gone for too long, after all.
He reins his steed and smiles at the guard. “Announce me any louder next time, the First Order will be here ere the sun breaks dawn.”
The boy – he cannot possibly be more than that – sputters and tries to find words. “A-apologies, Your Majesty, I—”
“Did what you were told to do, I understand,” he smiles, would clap his hand on his shoulder if the boy were any taller. “That voice of yours, it could carry across the most brutal of battlefields. Such a thing is important,” he nods, feeling sympathy for the boy, standing guard while the others have their meal, and possibly encountering royalty for the first time. “What is your name?”
“Dío,” the boy says hesitantly, standing a bit taller still.
Poe smiles, vowing to remember the name. “Dío. I shall have an ear out for your guiding voice. On the battlefield,” he adds and winks, delighting at the flush creeping up on the boy’s cheeks.
“I shall keep it down until then,” Dío says, gripping his spear tighter, a tentative smile tugging on his lips.
“Wise decision, soldier,” Poe nods solemnly and then spurs his white steed to ride farther into the camp.
Makeshift tents surround him, shaded by the trees and brushes. A few fires are lit, people sitting around them, laughing over their food and drink, sharing stories and jests. Far more among their ranks than when Poe left three years ago, and he cannot help but be relieved at that, tension visibly easing from his shoulders.
He feels eyes on him, laughter turning to murmurs and whispers as he rides past, but the time for acquaintances is later. Not turning his head, he makes his way to the largest tent where he assumes Leia and her most trusted commanders to be.
With an elegance that serves his reputation as much as his pride, Poe slides out of the saddle and lands on the ground on sturdy feet. He does not bother to entrust someone with his steed, knowing she will wait for him right where he left her, not allowing anyone else to touch her lest they have a hunger for great pain. Still he pauses and pats her, thanking her for her loyalty, and presses a kiss to her blaze, a brown blotch on her forehead almost in the shape of a star.
“I’ll be back soon,” he whispers to her, not caring for the guards’ confused frowns before he enters the tent swiftly.
The sight that greets him is just what he expected. General Leia pondering over a map, admirals Ackbar and Statura at her shoulders in ever-welcome guidance. Simultaneously, the three of them look up and greet him with wide eyes and surprised smiles.
“Your Highness!” Admiral Statura is the first to find his tongue and stands at attention briefly before approaching him in quick steps, taking Poe’s hand in his. “I was not aware we were expecting You.”
“We were not,” admiral Ackbar smiles, bowing slightly before Poe who gladly returns it. “We know to never expect the Prince of Yavin, lest you make room for disappointment.”
Poe laughs. “Do you really hold me in such low regards, admiral?”
“I am merely an old man who has been told many a story of the Fearless Prince, favoured by the stars but not by time,” he grins, and Poe returns it. There truly are many stories adorning him, not all of them earned.
“Fearless Prince is just one term I have heard used for him,” the voice he missed so dearly perks up behind the men who immediately part to make room for the General. “I should rather call you Reckless Rider. It has a ring to it, has it not?”
“And a great amount of truth, it would appear,” Poe adds, stepping forward to embrace her.
A sigh falls from her lips as she wraps her arms around him, too. “It is good to see you alive, Poe,” she whispers and holds him tighter momentarily.
Poe smiles, even though she cannot see it. “I am not so easily taken from this world, General. You know that.”
“I do,” she nods and steps back. “But let an old lady worry for those she loves. There are but few left.”
There is a pain in her voice, ages old. Terrors have cast their shadow over Leia even before the war started, and they are still present when Poe looks at her. He sees it in the weakness of her smile, the weariness of her eyes, and the distrust she regards him with, bracing herself for bad news he is likely to bring.
He takes her hands and holds them gently between them, her eyes fixed on his in anticipation and dread. A smile on his lips. “I bring only good news, Leia,” he says, but before he can continue, there movement by the entrance of the tent.
“General, you called?” a female voice speaks, the cadence of it familiar to Poe, yet he finds himself unable to quite place it.
He turns around the moment Leia looks up, and the two of them speak at the same time. “Rey!”
The girl looks at Poe and he can see her memory working, trying to come up with the correct memory. Then, it seems to come to her as her eyes go wide. “Poe? You yet live?”
The Prince laughs and steps forward. “I could ask you the same, young scavenger.”
“Oh, I have long moved past that,” she grins, allowing for a short hug.
He regards her with suspicious eye, knowing of the shadows that steal supplies and life like the night steals the light. Assassins, scavenging First Order camps of its stock and its soldiers. Poe knows of Rey's skill. “Have you?”
Rey’s eyes show mischief at his suggestion.
Before their private conversation can continue, however, admiral Statura clears his throat delicately. “Pardon the intrusion, you two know each other?”
Poe turns toward him and grins. “We have met,” he nods. “She tried to steal my horse. And she tried well. I sent her here shortly after, knowing you could make something of her yet.”
“She stole your horse, Majesty, and you have not punished her?” Ackbar asks.
“Oh, I would say there was plenty punishing involved,” Poe shrugs. “Yet not on my behalf.”
Before further discussion of events long passed can evolve, Leia steps in and raises her hands, her eyes fixed on Poe and then Rey. “The Prince comes bearing news. You are welcome to stay, and I will have word with you after.”
Rey nods and stands a little straighter under Leia’s gaze. “General.”
Gathering around the collection of maps spread out on the table, Poe tells them of the known locations of First Order bases – those he took out with the help of angry, vengeance-hungry villagers, and those he has gathered first-hand intelligence on. Their numbers are declining, the bases retreating further back every day the Resistance gains more fighters while the Republic stands motionless.
“Those are good news indeed, Poe,” Leia says and grabs his shoulder gently. “But please be careful when you take out another one of their bases. They know of you by now. There is a bounty on your head, and I will not see you captured again.” Her gaze is intense, boring into his soul, pleading with him to stay safe.
Poe ducks his head and grasps her hands. “I know I give plenty reason to worry, General. But you taught me well. And if I die for this cause, for freedom of the Kingdoms of the Republic, then you may haunt me in the afterlife.” She chuckles at that and shakes her head.
“It would make quite the story,” she muses. “Poe Dameron, errant Prince of the United Kingdom of Yavin, slain on the battlefield, forever to be haunted by disgraced leader of the Resistance.”
Poe laughs and lets go of her hands after a final squeeze. “I am far from errant.”
Leia shrugs, doubtful. “You are the only royalty to take part in this war.”
“Royals,” Poe says disdainfully, “are not known for their brains or their bravery. I find myself among much better company within the Resistance.”
“Giving me many a headache,” Leia adds, ad Poe huffs in amusement. “How long will you be staying?”
He sighs and steps back. “Only for two nights. I would give Bee-Bee some rest, have her tended to, and share the rest of my knowledge with you and your fighters tomorrow. But first light the day after that, I must leave.”
“The war waits for no one,” Leia nods, though Poe sees questions clear in her eyes. “You must be tired. Get some rest, join the others for a meal, and have Finn tell you what you have missed.”
At the mention of that name, Poe cannot help but perk up. “Finn? He kept the name?”
A fond smile makes its way onto the General’s lips. “He did. And he proves to be one of our best fighters. One of the kindest, too. Surely you have heard stories of him carried across the kingdoms.”
“I have,” he nods. “And I longed to see him. I just… wasn’t aware he kept the name I gave him.”
Something flits across her face, but it is too fleeting for Poe to recognise. “You will find he has kept more than just your name.”
Before Poe can ask what she means, however, she extends her arm and sees him out – a gesture only Leia Organa has the audacity to perform in public.
Outside, the chilly air of the night greets him in a welcome embrace, a slight shiver running through him. Bee-Bee, his loyal steed, is nursing at a spot of green grass beneath her feet, and Poe allows her to seek the other horses, to get some food and rest with them. After a gentle tug on her reins and a pat to her neck, she neighs and trots off.
Poe allows himself to take a look around the camp, quieter now than it was upon his arrival. Meals finished, drinks shared, many are now tending to their weapons. A welcome sight. Comfortable. Good spirits.
By one of the fires, Poe spots Jessika with two young women by her side, enraptured by whatever she is telling. One of them is familiar to Poe, though it takes a second to fully register. Kaydel Connix. A masterful strategist, even better with a bow in her hands, even at her young age. The other one is a stranger to Poe. He vows to meet her once the sun rises again.
Letting his eyes wander over the picture presented before him, Poe seeks but one person among the many faces.
A brief moment of panic oppresses his mind when he realises that he has been gone for three years. He might not even recognise Finn anymore. The picture of the young man long faded from his memory, only a shade of it left, the expression of naïve determination and wonder in the deepest, darkest eyes he ever encountered burnt into his mind forever.
Oh, but he needn’t have worried. There he is, nursing a loaf of bread by a secluded fire, his flank secured by a large tree. Three years, Poe now realises, is a lot of time for a man to change. Plant a seed and three years later, life will have grown. Three years of training with a sword and shield, muscles will grow. Three years of fighting in a war, tension will build in the shoulders and in the way the eyes observe the world. Three years of fighting among friends, ease and comfort will find their way. Three years added on the shadow of Finn’s beauty as a young man freed from slavery, he was bound to become a sight for sore eyes.
If Poe was enraptured by Finn three years ago when he brought him to the Resistance after they helped each other escape the grasp of the First Order… He has no words to describe what he feels as he sets his eyes upon the man. For Finn is a man now, there is no doubting that. More so than he was three years ago.
With stuttering breath and fluttering heart, Poe takes determined steps to approach his old friend, not sure of what to say when he finally reaches him.
Once more, it turns out he needn’t have worried, because Finn raises his head and all but drops the loaf of bread in his hands.
“Poe Dameron, you’re alive?” he stands and approaches Poe.
“Why does everyone here doubt my ability to stay alive lately?”
“Apologies,” Finn grins as he wraps his arms around Poe in a more than welcome embrace. “I am more than happy to see my fears have not turned into reality.”
“I am not bested that easily, Finn,” Poe tells him, arms still tight around the other man’s shoulders, adorned with much more muscle than he remembers.
“That I know,” the other man laughs, then his eyes widen suddenly and he takes a step back. Flustered, almost embarrassed, Finn speaks in a more controlled way. “Apologies. I overstep. That is not the proper way to address royalty.”
Poe frowns, pain making its way through his chest. He doesn’t want formality, especially not with Finn. He has longed to see the man again, to reunite with an old friend over a cup of bad wine. To encounter that his affections for Finn lie deeper than expected is one thing, but to have Finn be distant and proper, for Finn to possibly even fear repercussions? No, he would not stand for that.
He reaches for Finn’s elbow and gives him a smile that he is sure comes from a place deep inside his heart. “Please. None of that.”
Uncertainty is clear in Finn’s eyes as he searches Poe’s for motives. “But—”
“Please.”
People are always shocked when they hear this word on Poe’s lips, but he finds he does not mind using it. Especially not with Finn. Especially when it makes him smile like that, when it makes him duck his head and lay his head on Poe’s still resting on his elbow. He would gladly beg on his knees if it means that Finn smiles like that.
Oh. His affections really turn out to be of a completely different nature than he had expected. This might yet be cause for trouble, especially when it was a hopeless endeavour.
“Come then,” Finn smiles. “I shall tell you everything you’ve missed these past few years.”
You. I’ve missed you. Will you tell me about that, too?
He does not voice his traitorous thoughts, though. Only follows Finn to the warmth of the fire and his company, listening to his smooth voice, deeper than he remembers, as Finn tells him about everything that happened since they last saw each other.
“What about you, then?” Finn asks once his own tale is finished. “News about the Order?”
“They have a considerable sum on my head, but they have yet to catch me,” Poe grins, taking another bite from the stale bread.
Finn smiles at him over his own food. “Nothing’s changed then.”
Poe pauses and meets Finn’s eyes. These dark eyes that have so much more depth now. Eyes that used to be full of hope and dreams of freedom, now filled with determination and terrors passed. Eyes that draw Poe in like fire the moths. “Everything. Everything has changed,” he muses. The marvel of a man before him, so different yet still the same in many ways. “A lot has happened since last we parted, has it not?”
“Undoubtedly,” Finn agrees, not really understanding what Poe means. And how could he? He would have to see himself with Poe’s eyes to fully understand.
Poe muses on in hopes of making Finn understand. “You were but a boy. Now? Now tales of your bravery are told all over the kingdom all the way to the next. Even in Yavin they know of your place in the Resistance.”
“Exaggerated tales of Glory in pursuit of hope, Prince, nothing more.”
Poe shakes his head with a smile and takes another bite of the bread. “I doubt that. But it is not only your stature that has changed. Your eyes, too.”
Finn frowns. “What about them?”
Poe smiles once more, not daring to meet those eyes he talks about, but he allows himself to be a bit reckless yet. “They are the eyes of a hero. Fearful but determined. Far away even as we speak. But here you are. Present. Grown. And so strong. Yours is a captivating presence, Finn, not only on the battlefield.”
A silence settles between them, filled only by the way Finn bites his lip to hide a smile as they continue their sparse meal. Hope flares up in Poe’s chest, a thick layer over the beating of his heart. Perhaps Finn’s affections are of the same nature as his own?
“How is it?” Finn breaks the silence moments later. “Your kingdom, I mean.”
“Yavin?” Poe says, barely able to keep the smile off his face as he sees his beloved home before his mind’s eye. “Strong. Prospering even after the war raged through it.” He allows himself to meet Finn’s eyes. “Beautiful. Resilient.” He clears his throat before he has the chance to lose himself in those dark eyes again, glittering in the fire’s flickering light. “I shall show you. After the war is won, I will take you.”
Finn chuckles and rolls his eyes delicately. “You jest.”
“I do not,” Poe smiles, itching to reach out. “Never when it comes to such matters. You have my word.”
The smile slowly slipped from Finn’s lips as he regarded Poe with a guarded, calculating, confused glance. “You give your word to a mere soldier, Highness?”
“I give my word to you, Finn.”
Finn looks away from him then and a heavy silence settles between them, filled only by the loud beating of his own heart, attempting to make its way out of his chest to keep beating in Finn’s. Poe’s gaze never wavers from the man’s strong features as he takes in the sharp edge of his jaw, plumb lips, and the working of his throat as he swallows unsaid words.
Poe cannot help but smile. Noble ladies swooned in the books he used to read when he was yet a young princeling, and he never could understand them. Now, though, in the face of Finn and his dark skin shining in the firelight, the implication of those broad shoulders and the memory of his bright smile, now he can finally empathise.
A barely contained sigh makes its way out of his throat as he sets to finish the last bites of a scarce meal.
“How long will you be staying?” Finn asks after a while, his tone almost hesitant.
“I will have to leave first light the day after tomorrow,” Poe tells him, an apology ready on his lips. “Message received me that First Order troops will attack the Ileenium region next. In one, maybe two weeks. They’re slow, so we have the advantage of speed and strategy.”
Finn nods. “Then I will join you.”
The way he says it, with such conviction and determination, not allowing for arguments, it is no help for Poe’s heart. He smiles and reaches for Finn’s knee. To console, he tells himself. Not to feel the warmth of him radiating through the clothes. Not to have an excuse to let shivers run through his body. Not to be closer yet to the man.
“You are needed here, Finn,” he says calmly. “I would love your company, to fight by your side, but the Resistance needs you.”
“It needs you, too,” Finn counters, but there is no heat behind it.
Poe smiles, elated that Finn would not let him go so easily. “The people need me more. They need someone to lead them.”
Finn frowns at that. “You are not the Prince of Ileenium, though. Yavin is not even taking part in the war. Why are you fighting a war that is not yours? Why are you leading people of a strange kingdom?”
Ah, the ever-lasting questions. “The Republic does not care for its people or for the cause of the Resistance. If I didn’t do anything in my power to help people fight the First Order, they would be helpless. And I will not stand idle and watch the world fall to the feet of a power-hungry dictator. Not if there is anything I can do to stop him. What good is it to be King when you have never fought a war? When you never found out what it is you are ruling? And what good is it to be King when the world is doomed to fail?” He meets Finn’s eyes, desperate for him to understand. “I am nothing more than a soldier. Nothing more than a man with a cause. No different than every single Resistance Fighter.”
Finn shakes his head, something akin to sorrow in his eyes. “You are the bravest man I know.”
The Prince smiles at that. “Only because you have not had the chance to meet yourself.”
Finn swallows but does not let his eyes waver from Poe’s. “You have a way with words, Highness. You flatter me.”
“Would you rather I stopped?”
A moment of silence, the world around them fading to the background in the face of the small, hopeful smile Finn is gifting him with. “No,” he finally breathes into the heavy air between them, and Poe is suddenly acutely aware of his own hand still resting on Finn’s knee.
“Good,” Poe whispers, overwhelmed with elation. More so, when he feels Finn’s own hand coming to rest on top of his, calloused fingers bigger than his, a gesture deeper than comfort.
They stray from this unspoken topic for the rest of the night. Poe tells him of his own adventures, the battles he fought with the help of angry villagers, wrath and revenge their only motive. He tells him of lives lost and those restored, and Finn listens eagerly.
All too soon for Poe’s taste, a yawn interrupts their conversation, and with it the realisation of how tired he really is. Exhaustion forgotten in Finn’s company.
“I am sorry,” Finn smiles apologetically. “I have kept you too long.”
Would that you would keep me longer still, Poe thinks.
“We can continue where we left off tomorrow, yes?” Finn continues, and Poe’s hopes of keeping Finn’s company for yet a while longer diminish immediately. He would not ask for company where it was not freely given. And perhaps it was a good idea to be by himself for the night and come to his senses where Finn is concerned.
“We shall,” Poe smiles and rises from the log he has been sitting on. “Have a good night, Finn.”
“You, too, my Prince.” His tone is playful but Poe can detect a certain reverence, a truth, a depth behind it. He would object, would ask for Finn to not address him so, but all he can think about is the way the words came out of Finn’s mouth. ‘My Prince’.
Yes, certainly yours.
Sleep comes quickly to Poe, but his dreams are filled with dark skin, strong arms and radiating smile.
Morning light embraces him warmly and gently, his bones as rested as his mind.
The day is spent talking strategy with Leia, sparring with Jessika and hunting with Rey.
“Hunting is not suitable for Princes,” admiral Statura frowns, but Poe only laughs as he shoulders his bow.
“You would be surprised, my dear admiral.”
The come back before the sun sets with five birds, a rabbit and a doe. Statura only gives an impressed nod and Poe claps his shoulder in friendly mirth.
It is only when dinner has been prepared that Poe finds Finn in the same place he found him yesterday. With smile on his face, his plate packed with meat for two, Poe approaches him.
Finn’s posture changes immediately the moment he sees Poe. His lips widen to a smile so bright it could put the burning fire to shame. The Prince finds himself helpless in its presence. Wants to sink to his knees and bury himself in Finn’s presence, wants to feel his warm skin on his body, wants to never again be rid of his company.
“Good evening, my dear Prince.”
Poe’s breath catches and any chance of reply dies on the tip of his tongue. He can only smile, feel his skin prickle in Finn’s mere presence, and hope not to make a fool of himself. If last night has been a revelation as to his affections, tonight the fire in him only finds itself blazing away every other trail of thought.
“I have missed you today, it seems,” Finn continues, unaware of Poe’s insides burning only for him.
I have missed you, too. Every second of the day torture without your presence.
Internally kicking himself for his unseemly thoughts, Poe worked up the nerve to speak actual words. “It seems so. But now you have me.”
Oh, the treacherous business of speaking words when your mind and heart were preoccupied with yearning! So much for not making a fool of himself. If only the ground would open itself up under him and swallow him whole. The flush is hot on his cheeks and it is nearly impossible that Finn does not see it.
Before the other man can say something about it, however, Poe holds out his plate. He would say something but words fail him. Finn’s look otherworldly tonight, his braided hair tied up with a black leather band, the sides of his head carefully shaved. His beauty unmatched, the fierceness of him should be carved into stone and yet could never do him justice.
They share their meal in silence and Poe curses himself for it, but he fears that if he opens his mouth, words will fall from it that shouldn’t yet fall.
“Would that you could stay longer,” Finn mumbles after a while, finishing his last piece of meat and licking his fingers clean under Poe’s hypnotised gaze.
“Would that I could keep your company upon leaving,” Poe muses.
Finn stares at him with something in his eyes Poe does not dare hope to recognise. He swallows hard and raises his chin, his eyes never leaving Poe’s. “Would you keep my company for the rest of the night?”
Poe’s heart picks up intensity, but Poe is not sure he really understands.
Finn continues before he can say something. “Would you let us share some wine and make the best of what little time we have left, my Prince?”
Poe’s beath hitches and he bites his lip upon the look in Finn’s eyes and the heat it evokes in him. Worry comes to the forefront, the thought that Finn might feel like he has to do this. Like he owes Poe and now has to serve him.
“Finn,” he breathes, his heart breaking at the rejection on the tip of his tongue. “I cannot ask this of you.”
The man frowns and leans back. “Ask this of me? What are you talking about?”
“You do not owe me anything,” Poe begins to explain, but Finn cuts him off.
“I know that. I don’t owe anyone anything. But I never could forget you, Poe. I kept your name, I kept your memory close to my heart and feared for you every day, longed that you would return. And now here you are, for but a fleeting moment. I would like to spend that fleeting moment in your company, however you will have me.”
Poe could not find words to reply, his tongue tied, his throat closed up lest his heart beat right out of it.
“Forgive me if I overstep,” Finn adds. “But I doubt that I am wrong in assuming your affections.”
At that, Poe smiles. Finn, brave enough to speak his mind after years of conditioning that were meant to break him and his will. Finn, man enough to stand up for himself. Finn, wise enough to see right through Poe, royalty or not.
He breathes deeply and allows himself to hope, allows the fire in his chest to blaze on. “You are right in every word,” he whispers. “And in assuming.”
“Let us have this, then,” Finn pleads. “Just for tonight.”
Just for tonight. A part of Poe knows that between the uncertainty of their survival and the upcoming distance between them, these words are justified. Another part of him hopes that Finn does not mean it as a one-time thing. And a third part would gladly give himself over to Finn even if it really were only a one-time thing. The biggest part, however, of his heart hopes that this will only be the first night of many yet to come.
Morning finds them in a warm embrace, sharing smiles and gentle touch. When Poe rises, Finn joins him, not willing to miss a single moment of his company. Poe takes only a light breakfast and conversation is scarce, neither of them having the right words to fill the upcoming emptiness.
Poe saddles Bee-Bee and comes back to see most of the Resistance Fighters risen, come to bid him farewell. Leia shares a few parting words, urges him to be safe, and he promises that he will try.
Facing Finn, words fail him again. There is nothing he could say that wouldn’t start rumours, nothing that he hasn’t already told him last night, whispered into his skin when Finn was asleep in his arms. They share a meaningful glance, a tentative smile and a last hug before Poe has to turn away from him once more.
Just when he thought the silence between them would remain, Finn breaks it.
“When will I see you again?” he asks the moment Poe mounts his loyal steed. Poe lays amused, enamoured eyes on him and delights in Finn’s blush. “I mean,” he stammers and moves his weight to the other leg. “I mean, when can the Resistance expect your return?”
Behind Finn, Poe can hear Jessika laugh. “The Prince of Yavin never arrives on time, Finn, and never with announcement. The best rider in all the kingdoms, his loyal steed will take him wherever he wants in Godspeed. Don’t you know the stories?” The group of Resistance Fighters join her laughter and Poe can’t help but preen at the reminder of the stories adorning him. But he feels bad at the frown of shame and embarrassment forming on Finn’s face.
On a whim, the memory of last night still fresh on his mind, he slides out of the saddle graciously and steps toward Finn. Let them have another story they can tell about him! Taking Finn’s hands in his own, Poe smiles.
“The Prince of Yavin,” he begins, “can make an exception. I cannot promise you when we can meet again, as I fear the stars have plans for us we cannot foresee. But you shall see me again before the new moon begins.” He squeezes Finn’s hands and searches his eyes. “Remember, I made a promise. I intend to keep it, and the stars know that. I will see you again, Finn. Not another three years will have to pass this time, I hope. And then I will show you my kingdom. My word does not expire.” To a gasp of the crowd, Poe leans forward and raises Finn’s hand to his lips. “Nor do my feelings.”
A smile blooms on Finn’s lips, almost as bright as the flush rising to his cheeks. Poe cannot help but grin, ecstasy flooding his body.
“I have to give you something,” Finn says after a moment’s hesitation as soon as Poe’s lips leave his hand. Curious, Poe stands back as Finn lifts his hands behind his head and underneath the tunic he is wearing. He reveals a necklace with a ring, nothing more than a delicate silver band.
Poe gasps when he recognises it. He thought it had been lost! “How did you—?”
“You lost it when I first met you. I believe it is time you are reunited with it.” He holds it out to Poe who lets it fall into his hand.
“You kept it?”
“It brought me luck,” Finn smiles. “It belongs to you, though. Keeping it would be selfish. And around you, I believe I am already selfish enough.”
Poe’s blood rises hot to his cheeks and he ducks his head, too cowardly to meet Finn’s eyes and the expression in them now. Instead, his eyes are fixed on the ring. And idea forming in his head.
“Keep it,” he murmurs. “As a motivation. So that I have a reason to return to you.” He grins with a wink, a jest to lighten the mood. His heart would beg to differ. There are plenty reasons for him to return to Finn with or without the ring.
“I cannot possibly keep it,” Finn shakes his head, but Poe only smiles at him.
“It rested above your heart to this very moment. I think it should like to return to its place.” He raises his hands, the necklace hanging between them, and steps closer to Finn. Delicately, he closes the necklace behind his neck, eyes on Finn’s, the air between them sizzling like cackling fire – and just as hot.
“Let it guide me to you, like it has twice before,” he murmurs, eyes moving down to Finn’s lips.
“I doubt that the Prince of Yavin could be kept from his quest once he sets his mind to it,” Finn returns in the same manner. Hushed. Private. Promising.
“You would be right,” Poe whispers. “If given enough motivation.” He dares yet to hope.
Finn’s lips quirk upward for a brief second, before he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to Poe’s cheek, distantly aware that a gasping crowd is still around them. “Would this suffice as motivation?”
Poe hums and raises his hand to Finn’s cheek. “A possibility, then?”
“A promise,” Finn corrects and Poe can’t hear anything over the beating of his heart fluttering in his chest. Finn leans forward once more and leans his forehead against Poe’s. “Come back to me.”
Briefly, allowing himself this moment, Poe closes his eyes and tries not to think about the things that want to come between them. “I will.”
He would get to have Finn in his bed again, and until them keep him in his heart. He would make sure of that.
Reluctantly he parts from Finn, mounts his horse once more and does not even try to keep the grin of love and ecstasy from his lips. The last thing he hears as he rides East into the rising sun is Jessika’s voice, exclaiming, “Well, fuck me! He has tamed the damned Prince of Yavin!”, followed by roars and cheers of the Resistance Fighters.
Poe laughs as he spurs Bee-Bee on, ready to take on a whole First Order base on his own. The strength Finn has given him flooding his veins, and the determination to end this war victoriously so he could finally take Finn to Yavin the only thing on his mind as the cool breeze blows in his face.