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“What are you wearing, babe?” Poe laughed, leaning against the door frame of their bedroom.
Armitage had on his best clothes. Well, the best outfit he could scrounge together. Though his white shirt was perfectly starched and pressed, there was a thread pulled in the front. On top, he had on a grey, formal jacket Kes had lent him, sleeves a little short and waist a little loose. His pants were perhaps half a size too small (blame the comfort foods of Yavin 4) and a lighter grey than the jacket.
“I know it’s not exactly, hmm, black tie appropriate,” Armitage replied, embarrassed. “But it’s what I have.”
Armitage had left everything behind when he came to Yavin 4 half standard year earlier, when he had been banished to the Outer Rim. He didn’t want to bring anything from the past, anything that reminded him of his old life. The life he turned his back on when he began to feed information to the Rebellion. So, he’d taken to mostly wearing work pants and hand-woven peasant tunics he’d purchased at the market in town. They were durable and practical, suiting his farm work well. And Poe seemed to like them well enough, constantly swatting at Armitage's ass or pushing his hands up his tunic to touch his bare chest, purring sweet nothings about “his Yavinian farmboy.”
Poe chuckled and approached Armitage, closing the bedroom door behind him, and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You look great, Red. And, much as I love you in these pants,” he said, squeezing Armitage’s ass for a second “this is a little too formal for a Full Moons party.”
Armitage turned and checked himself in the mirror again, frowning.
He looked ridiculous. His pants were too tight, his jacket was too big, and the different shades of grey clashed. This was to be his first Full Moons party on Yavin 4. His first party outside the First Order. He didn’t want to mess it up. And he certainly didn’t want to embarrass Poe. Armitage felt hopeless. When he was in the First Order, there were written rules for everything. But here, on Yavin 4, somehow Poe just knew how to behave.
“Right.” Armitage forced a smile and nodded. “I was just…considering my options.”
Poe raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Let’s get you out of these stuffy clothes and into something more comfortable, yeah?” Kissing the side of his neck, Poe started unbuttoning the jacket then slipping his arms inside, feeling Armitage’s chest and stomach over his shirt.
“Comfortable?” Armitage asked. Comfort was not something he had come to associate with party attire.
“Uh-huh,” Poe was working on the buttons of Armitage’s shirt now, popping each open slowly. “You need to be able to dance, Red.”
“Dance?!”
“Yeah, babe, I plan on dancing with you all night.” Poe grinned up at Armitage and rested his hands on his waist.
Dance?!
Dance!
Oh no.
Poe expected Armitage to dance.
With him.
All night.
“It’s been years since I… I’ve only ever…” Armitage stammered.
The only partner dances he knew were First Order-approved. Which meant stiff, chaste ballroom numbers. The Alderaanian Waltz. The Boxnov Tree-Step. The Emperor’s Trot. Dances drilled into cadets at the academy and reserved for celebratory occasions.
But Poe only hummed and started to rifle through their chest of drawers.
“How about this one? Really brings out your eyes.” Poe handed Armitage a freshly-laundered green tunic. “And, on second thought, if you can move in them, keep the pants.” Poe moved his eyes up and down Armitage mischievously. “Your ass looks great in them.”
Armitage shed the jacket and buttoned down shirt, and pulled on the tunic, still panicking about this apparent dance requirement he'd just been informed of.
“Kriff- you look so danking sexy in green, have I told you that before?” Poe said, already reaching for him again.
“Yes,” Armitage said dismissively, trying to hide his fried nerves. “And what is my pilot going to wear?”
“Eh- I thought I would just wear what I have on.”
“Poe Dameron!” Armitage gasped. Poe's tan shirt and black and white patterned scarf were covered in coarse white and brown tufts. “You have been shearing nerfs all afternoon! You can’t wear your working clothes!”
“Why not? They’re still clean. Smell them-” Poe playfully tried to get Armitage to sniff his armpit. "What's a little nerf wool?"
Shocked, Armitage pushed him away. “You can’t be serious! Were you even going to wash?”
“Thought we’d just head out now, like this? The neighbours have already taken Dad down in their speeder.”
“I am not dancing with an unwashed nerf herder!” Armitage snapped.
“Armie- it’s a festival. It’s just going to be a bunch of unwashed nerf herders drinking, dancing, celebrating under the moons. You’re supposed to let loose, have fun. Not worry about stupid shit that doesn't matter.”
"Stupid shit that doesn't matter?!"
Armitage couldn't believe what he was hearing. Attire was one of the most important aspects of First Order celebrations. Ceremonial uniforms were the absolute standard. Not a hair would be out of place or a boot scuffed in the whole army. And now Poe was suggesting they both trudge over in their work clothes, sweaty from their chores?
Poe massaged small circles on Armitage’s hip. “What’s got you so worked up, Red?”
“Nothing! I’m not worked up!” Armitage retorted.
“Uh-oh- looks like somebody’s getting worked up…”
“I am not worked up. Or getting worked up.”
“Sounds like little Armie’s getting worked up!”
“I am NOT!”
Poe laughed softly and tugged affectionately on the belt loops of Armitage’s pants. “Is it about the dancing?”
Armitage pursed his lips. “I’ve danced before. I know how to dance.”
“I never said you didn’t.” Poe cooed.
“I just…I guess…” Armitage took a deep breath and straightened his back. “I would appreciate knowing what is expected of me.”
“Oh! Of course, babe. You want to do a little practice run?”
Armitage nodded curtly.
“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, Red. Yavinian dancing is easy.” Then Poe grinned alluringly. “And I’ve seen how you can move.” He breathed and pulled Armitage’s by the hips so their groins were flush against each other.
“Well, pilot, I hope you know that if you expect me to dance, I expect you to be a gentleman tonight.” Armitage sighed, swatting away Poe’s greedy hands, now crawling dangerously low.
“I don’t know where you’d get that idea from. What do they say? Past behaviour is the best predictor of future behaviour?” Poe let go of Armitage, opened the bedroom door and called out into the hallways. “Hey! BB! Put on some old music! Something we can do the Yavinian slip-step to!”
BB-8 rolled into their bedroom, chirping pleasantly. Then, the ostentatious sounds of violins and a piano filled the room from her speaker. The music was bold and dripping of melodrama, nothing like the even, mild tones of First Order-approved ballroom music.
“Here-” Before he could protest, Poe put one of Armitage’s hands on his shoulder, and took the other one in his own. “Now, when I step forward, you step back with the opposite leg.”
Poe moved forward, sliding his leg along Armitage’s, gently nudging him.
“And why is it you get to be the leader?” Armitage asked, allowing Poe to guide him backward .
“Because I’m the one who knows the dance, silly.” Poe said, stepping forward again. “Now this next one, we both step to the left.”
“Hm. Seems simple enough.” Armitage huffed.
But that only made Poe chuckle fondly. “Now we put it all together.”
But, when they tried to dance again, their legs bumped and tangled, Armitage outpacing the beat.
“You gotta let me lead, Red!” Poe said. “Here, relax into me, yeah, lean some of your weight against me.”
“I just need to learn the steps. Once I have them memorized, I’ll have no problem.”
Poe adjusted his grip, placing him hand in the centre of Armitage’s lower back, pulling them closer together. “Dancing isn’t about memorizing anything. At least, not Yavian dancing. It’s about doing what you feel, moving with your partner. Come on, lean into me.”
"I see no reason why you must lead. Let me."
"Armie?! How are you going to lead when you don't know the steps?"
"Well, I don't want you pushing me around the dance floor all night." Armitage snipped back.
Poe's eyes widened. "Is that why you want to lead? Because you think being the follower is just about being pushed around?"
"Of course it is. Partner dancing is all about power and control. One leads, the other follows. Dominance and submission. A simple hierarchy of two."
Armitage learned this young, at the Academy. Following was for the weaker, subserviant party, rank determining what role each dancer played.
“Leading isn't about 'pushing' someone around the dance floor. It’s not about power, or dominance or submission-” Poe pressed his forehead into Armitage's. “It's about trust, listening to each other’s bodies, letting the music move you in time, together.”
"Together?"
"Yeah, there's no hierarchy, there's just you and me. And just because I'm initiating, doesn't mean that you aren't calling the shots." Poe winked. "Just try it. For me?"
Exhaling, Armitage allowed some of himself to fall further into Poe. Poe was sturdy; it felt nice to have something strong beneath him.
"Alright. I'll try."
Poe gave his hand a quick squeeze. “There you go- now I can feel you.”
“This is so different from the dancing I learned in the First-Order.” Armitage replied. “There was…not so much, hmm, improvising. Or touching.”
“So you weren’t kidding when you said you’d danced before?” Poe teased, stepping forward again. This time, Armitage stepped back with him. Then another step back. Then a step to the left.
Armitage rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’ve told you, we had celebrations in the First Order too.”
“Here, let’s try a turn-” Poe raised his arm, and Armitage awkwardly ducked under it, making Poe laugh. “We’ll have to work on the whole height-difference thing.”
Whenthey came together again, Armitage relaxed further into Poe and closed his eyes, letting the music and Poe’s subtle nudges and long steps guide him.
Maybe Poe was right.
He certainly didn't feel like he was being pushed around. Or dominated.
It felt more like a playful conversation, separating and meeting again, moving in time with one another.
Back-Back-Left
Back-Back-Left
Back-Back-Turn
Back-Back-Left
“See, Red?” Poe murmured after a few more sets. “You’re a natural. I bet you were the most popular guy at all the First-Order galas.”
“Hardly.” Armitage snorted. But he kept his eyes closed, kept moving with the gentle push-pull of Poe’s arm on his waist, his leg running along Armitage’s. “But a corporal asked me to dance once, at the Empire Day ball. He was a pilot.”
“Oh, so you’ve got a type?”
“Perhaps.” Armitage giggled and nosed at Poe’s cheek for a moment. “My father was livid.”
“I’ll bet, his son cozying up to some lowly juniour officer.”
“There wasn’t anything ‘cozy' about the First-Order approved dances. It certainly wasn’t anything like this lewd business you have me doing, so don’t get jealous, darling.” Armitage teased, leaning away a little so he could look in Poe’s eyes. “But, yes, he was quite clear I was not to fraternize, as he called it, with anyone below second-lieutenant.”
“Fraternizing, huh?” Poe growled. “I like the sound of that. And what would your father have thought about how we’re fraternizing right now?”
“Ugh- mortified wouldn’t even be the tip of the asteroid. He’s probably rolling in his grave now.”
“Good. Let's try a dip.” Sinking low to the ground, Poe tugged Armitage up onto his knee. Their hips slotted perfectly together. “How’s this for fraternizing?”
“Hm. Yes, you learned a new word. Well done.” Armitage said, bending backwards, then letting Poe tug him upright again.
Back-Back-Left
Back-Back-Left
Back-Back-Turn
Back-Back-Left
Back- Back- Dip
It was getting easier.
Their movements becoming fluid, liquid, one.
Things were always easy with Poe. They always had been. Since their first touch. Their first kiss. Their first love making. It was almost as if their bodies had a secret, unspoken understanding. Despite everything, all their differences, their separate pasts, every part of them always fell into place.
Armitage let himself go further, closed the last remaining gap between himself and Poe, cheek to cheek, pressing their chests together.
Dancing together became effortless, the music guiding their bodies through the bedroom, easily weaving around each other, turning, dipping.
"This is what it must feel like to be a force user." Armitage murmured against Poe's cheek.
"Hm?"
"It's almost as if my body knows how yours is going to move, and how to move with it." Armitage said. "Something I can sense, but I don't know how."
"Yeah, I feel it too." Poe whispered, his eyes flickering across Armitage's in the low light.
As the music crescendoed, Poe pulled Armitage up, and dipped him back.
"See, Red? Told you it was easy."
Then, Armitage's hands were in Poe’s dark, curly hair, their mouths were meeting, hard and fast. Breathing one another in and out, kissing, red and raw. Armitage walked backwards towards the bed holding the front of Poe's shirt in his hands, Poe in step with him, still joined at the mouth.
"Oh, so you won't dance with an unwashed nerf herder, but you sure will kiss one-"
"Shut up, pilot."
Armitage fell down onto the bed and pulled Poe on top of him. A calloused hand cupped his face. Their hips rolled together, Armitage arching up to meet Poe. Lips sliding together, shared breathes in each others mouth-
They were interrupted by BB-8's disapproving beeps.
Poe sat up abruptly, hands still wandering all over Armitage, and called over his shoulder. “Oh shit! It's already past eight?! Uh- BB? Why don’t you head to your charging station? And shoot Dad a message. Let him know we’re gonna be a little late.”
Armitage pulled Poe back down and started mouthing at his neck and collar bone.
“Uh- on second thought, BB, more than a little late.” Poe groaned.
“But tell him we’re definitely coming.” Armitage added, wrapping his arms around Poe’s neck, smiling up at him. “A certain pilot promised he’d dance with me all night.”