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Poe jogs off-stage, grabbing a water bottle off the table and swallowing down half of it before he’s even stopped moving. A wild kind of electricity thrums in his veins, that even long months on tour hasn’t dulled.
The rest of The Resistance is right behind him, sweaty and exuberant, running on no sleep and pure adrenaline.
Rey crashes into him first, somehow the fastest off-stage despite having to get out from behind the drums. She hugs him briefly but tightly, drumsticks digging into his back a little. He doesn’t mind though, just hands her some water.
Rose is next, shiny electric guitar swinging from her neck, still catching her breath from her big solo. She killed it, and Poe lets her know as he pulls her into a hug, a little awkward with her prized Les Paul in the way, but no less warm.
Finn comes off last, bass guitar slung across his back and grinning, all smudged eyeliner and rock ‘n’ roll swagger, deeply sexy. The hug he gets is the last, but it’s by far the longest, more than just congratulations on a job well done.
Poe reluctantly pulls back from it, knowing that with all the crewmembers backstage, it’s best to play it safe. Who knows who’ll talk?
He takes another sip of water, trying to focus on their manager praising their performance, but Poe doesn’t need to listen to know that it’s the best show they’ve ever done. He could feel it from the moment they stepped on stage. Now all that’s left is the encore.
They’re covering something new tonight—Dress.
The song was Finn’s idea—he suggested it before the show, sitting in the green room, eyes closed as Poe carefully lined his eyes in gold. With only thirty minutes before call time, it was a little late to be changing the setlist, but they once rewrote a song in only fifteen, so this was no sweat.
“Are you sure?” Poe asked, putting the brush down for a second.
Finn opened his eyes and smiled wide. “Fuck yeah, the crowd’ll love it,” he said, and he was probably right, but Poe knew that Finn wasn’t just thinking of their fans.
Finn was thinking of that morning last week in a hotel room in Philly (or Atlanta maybe, or was it Charlotte? It all starts to blur a little, six months into an eight month tour) when he woke up to hear Poe singing the chorus in the shower, voice low and raspy with sleep. Finn hadn’t thought twice before joining him, and although the city hadn’t been memorable, that morning sure was.
They showed up ten minutes late to rehearsal that day with kiss-swollen lips and the excuse that they’d been working on something new.
Rose and Rey had exchanged a look, not buying it for a second, but then Finn had improvised a bassline so good that they had to let it go. You can’t argue with talent.
“If you change your mind we can still do Don’t Start Now,” Poe offered. “You rocked that bassline in rehearsal.”
“We’ll play it tomorrow.” Finn shrugged. “I want to do Dress tonight.”
Rey and Rose easily got on board, and that was that.
The crowd’s even louder now than when they ran off-stage, chanting their name, begging for an encore.
Their manager gives them the go-ahead signal and Poe looks over to Finn, searching for any sign that he’s rethinking the song choice. Finn just smiles and playfully sticks out his tongue before walking onstage.
Like always, Poe goes out last, buying the instrumentalists a little time to adjust their equipment. He’s only got the one microphone to deal with, after all.
He steps onto the bright stage to the roar of the crowd, settling behind the mic stand. With a peak behind him to make sure everyone’s ready, he says into the microphone, “We’ve got a new cover for you tonight.” The crowd cheers in excitement, and they don’t even know yet what’s coming. “Hope you like it.”
The cover starts out with electric guitar and bass, replacing the soft synth of the original. They’d tried it a few different ways in rehearsal before settling on a heavier version. It’s anguished and emotional, and it feels so much more like them.
Poe sings the opening words, “Our secret moments in your crowded room. They got no idea about me and you…” The crowd goes loud as they recognize the lyrics, and of course Finn was right—they love it.
Poe usually likes to move around the stage, interact with the rest of the band, feed off their energy. But he sings this track straight to the crowd, afraid that if he catches more than a glimpse of Finn in his peripherals, he’ll give something away, some longing look that’ll be all over the internet before they even make it to the afterparty.
He sings the chorus, rougher and an octave lower than the original, “Carve your name into my bedpost. 'Cause I don't want you like a best friend…”
They’ve been careful, always going out in groups, keeping the PDA to a minimum. Poe’s let Finn set the pace, supporting his decision to keep their relationship out of the public eye. He gets it—the paparazzi can be cruel.
And one near-miss in over a year isn’t bad—Finn photographed on a coffee run wearing the same jacket Poe had worn onstage the night before. Finn had worried, but then the band started swapping clothes after each show (Rey’s idea), taking the heat off them, and spreading rumors about ‘The Resistance Polycule’ instead. God, Poe loves his bandmates.
After tonight, the gossip mill is sure to go into overdrive—no doubt about it. But Dress was Finn’s idea, and they’re now cruising through the second verse, so it’s too late to change course anyway.
Poe sings, “Everyone thinks that they know us. But they know nothing about all of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation. My hands are shaking from holding back from you…” The crowd sings along, and Poe can’t help but smile back at them thinking, if only they knew.
If only they knew that he intentionally stands apart from Finn at parties, holds himself back from grabbing his hand on the street, that half their songs are written about each other.
If only they knew that all the rumors are true.
Poe breezes through the bridge, trying not to think about Finn standing just out of his line of vision—the love of his fucking life—so close and yet immeasurably far away.
The frustration leaks into his voice, and the words come out with a passion that just enlivens the crowd. He’s putting his all into the performance, because although he’s facing the crowd, it’s Finn that he’s singing to.
Poe reaches the final chorus. “Say my name and everything just stops.”
On the last word, the song stops and Poe drops his chin to his chest for the customary beat of silence. It lasts just a few seconds, but the air still hangs heavy with anticipation.
Cutting through the silence, he hears his own name, “Poe Dameron,” picked up by a microphone and amplified by the speakers.
It’s Finn.
Poe’s head shoots up in surprise, and Finn’s grinning, eyes sparkling in the stage lights, looking proud of himself, and it takes every second of Poe’s fifteen years experience to not fumble the next lyric. “I don’t want you like a best friend,” he sings, eyes glued to Finn’s, grinning because of course this is what Finn was planning.
With their eyes locked, the lyrics are all the more intimate, words maybe not written by them, but that are certainly theirs.
The crowd catches on a split second later, going wild with the subtle but not-so-subtle announcement. Poe has to drag his eyes back to the crowd to close out the song.
He gets through it, finishing the last line to the loudest cheers of the night. When the applause dies down a little, he turns to face Finn and says into the microphone, “I guess they’ve got an idea about me and you.”
Finn just winks and blows him a kiss, cheekily smiling as he plucks the chords of the next song, and fuck, Poe really wants to kiss him. They’ve still got two more to play, and Poe should really wait until they get off-stage, but he’s been good for a year now, and he’s thinking it’s time to do something bad.