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Eventually, Poe gets to wear the jacket again. Sometimes.
After Rey leaves, Finn starts coming over more often. Visiting, that’s what they call it whenever the topic comes up. He has his own room in the G sector and Poe’s been living in his small flat in the pilot quarters ever since his last promotion; so, technically, when Finn’s holed up in his flat, he’s just away from his actual home.
A week after his first visit, Poe spends some of his emergency allowance on an extra blanket. It might be easier to ask Finn to bring his own and blame it on sleepovers, but he finds it safest not to address the issue. Finn does his best to act like he’s not struggling at all, like his over-the-top sunny demeanour is less of a coping mechanism and more of a natural state. When Poe first wakes up to find him writhing on his couch, sees him sit up panic-stricken and covered in sweat, he joins in on the pretending. But his own bed now gets abandoned more nights than not, and his back develops a serious cramp, and Finn has someone to share his nightmares with, if not talk about them.
“Here, Pava was cleaning out her room,” he says, a white, see-through lie, as he hands Finn the blanket one evening. Finn thanks him, with a look that says more, and Poe bids him a good night, knowing that he’ll be back there, on the couch, with his own blanket, in a matter of hours.
He’s still there when Finn wakes up in the morning. Not fully conscious, he gives Poe a smile and closes his eyes.
“Thanks for the blanket,” he says, lazy, drawing out each word. Poe expects him to burrow deeper into the cocoon he’s created out of the fabric, but instead Finn sticks out his arms and reaches for Poe’s own, throwing one across his waist. Poe lets him. Body stiff after hours of holding back, maintaining a respectable distance on the tiny surface, careful to comfort not overwhelm, he melts into the couch.
BB-8 takes longer to adjust to Finn’s continual presence. At first she tries to block the door whenever Finn knocks on it, then attempts to lock it with a password. She doesn’t have a problem with Finn, they never fight when out and about at the base. However, it’s been just them, her and Poe, for years. She sees Finn as an intruder, a nuisance, but, ultimately, she changes her mind. She goes from trying to scare him away to ignoring him to grudgingly warming up to his company.
One night when Poe comes back after a late meeting he catches BB-8 spinning by the couch, beeping out an improvised lullaby to a trembling Finn. The sight makes his heart flutter.
It takes a while to get there, but in time the nightmares settle down. They don’t disappear completely, but thin out enough for Finn to put on a front and spend a few nights of the week in his own room. Poe’s happy for him, he wouldn’t wish the nightmares on anyone. But now his bed feels like it belongs to a stranger, too-soft, covered in dust.
“When are you leaving today?” Finn asks one morning. They’ve had a few drinks the night before, talked, played a few games of cards. Then it was simply too late and too comfortable for Finn to put on a fight and leave.
They’re sitting on the couch now, on the two edges, careful space between their bodies as if they hadn’t been tangled up together just a few minutes earlier. Poe looks at the watch on the wall, groans, and struggles not to yawn simultaneously, covering his mouth.
“In an hour, actually,” he says, voice muffled and sluggish.
By the time he has to leave, Finn’s also standing by the door, freshly washed. He was the one wearing Poe’s jacket yesterday, arrived in it and threw it across one of the chairs. Poe notices it’s still there, Finn passing it back like he’s done before, only to somehow find himself wearing it again next time he visits. He picks it up and hands it to Finn on their way out of the flat.
“Keep an eye on it for me,” he winks at him before they have to separate and pats him on the shoulder.
Later, long after Poe’s X-wing has left the base, Finn accidentally reaches into its pockets and fishes out a small note.
Dear Finn. BB-8 can’t come with me to Talus. She’s been sulking for days and I think she could really benefit from having someone else around. Feel free to take the bed and bring your own things! I couldn’t wish for a better roommate. Poe.
It becomes a tradition, the jacket-sharing. It’s not entirely conscious, on either side, yet sometimes they’re both too-aware of it, realising it smells different, there’s an unfamiliar stain on the collar, or one of them has, disappointingly, cleaned it after last wearing it.
Two months after Rey’s departure, Finn comes knocking on Poe’s door, energy and excitement making him throw the jacket at Poe as he takes off his shoes, then starts pacing around the flat.
“I signed up for Healer training,” he says at last, facing Poe. “Couldn’t deal with this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Poe, dressed in a simple white tee and a pair of shorts, asks as he hangs the jacket on a hook on the wall.
“I haven’t done anything since we came back. Rey’s away on her quest, you have your missions, and I’m just – brooding, sitting around,” Finn says, continuing his trek across the room.
“You’ve done plenty, Finn,” Poe says, trailing after him, but Finn shakes his head.
“Maybe, but I can do more. Things that can actually help.”
And so he starts his training. For a while, Poe barely sees him anymore. Their lunch breaks are not synchronised as they used to be, Finn either too tired after a day of simulations and lectures to come over, or too tired to do anything but come over and immediately fall asleep on the couch. Nevertheless, it seems to make Finn happier than he’s been in weeks. He shares tidbits of the things he’s learning, informs Poe of all the techniques he’s going to have to master before he can start his practical training. It makes sense, Poe thinks, that someone who’s been trained all his life to maim finds solace and comfort in learning how to heal.
Because Finn’s training starts early in the morning, Poe cleans up some space in his wardrobe and bathroom, presenting him with his own drawer and a toothbrush. At first, Finn seems overwhelmed, continuously struggling to believe that Poe doesn’t see him as a burden. Every time he tries to articulate those doubts Poe nudges his shoulder good-heartedly and leaves the room.
Poe spends the weekend before Finn’s first exam on a short surveillance mission. It’s Primeday by the time he and BB-8 make it back to his flat, both worn out and hurrying to get home as quickly as possible. Poe’s surprised to see there’s light coming from his bedroom. He peeks in to find Finn curled up on the bed, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes. Poe smiles and backpedals into the living room, settling down on the couch.
He has to leave early to report back to general Organa, but when Finn wakes up in the morning, he sees the jacket, their jacket, thrown across the arm of the couch. He skims through his notes one last time, gets ready, puts on the jacket. Before he leaves, he recovers another note from the left pocket.
Dear Finn. Good luck with your exam today, I’m sure you’ll do a great job. If the questions are tricky just trust your instincts – you’re a natural. Mission went alright. Will you come to dinner tonight? Poe.
It’s almost five months after the destruction of the Starkiller Base that Rey returns to the D’Qar headquarters. She brings Luke Skywalker with her, which results in an eruption of excitement and activity all around the base. Everyone wants to meet the man, everyone’s hoping for a chance to talk to him. Everyone except Finn, who, upon their arrival, envelops Rey in a massive hug and ignores the masses rushing past them towards Luke. Poe, for a bit, feels like he understands BB-8’s former flare-ups of jealousy. He quickly pushes the thought away when Finn turns around, face split in a brilliant smile, and looks for him in the crowd to wave him over.
While the matter remains formally not addressed, Finn has now more-or-less moved in. After his training picked up on intensity, it became too much of a hindrance for Finn to pretend he might stop sleeping over at Poe’s. The few clothes he has fit into Poe’s wardrobe seamlessly, they share most of them anyway. There’s a new coffee mug for him in the kitchen, a razor on the sink, and a do-it-yourself bed in the living room, which was meant to replace the couch.
Somehow, though, they seem to have migrated onto sleeping in Poe’s bed these days. Although it’s under the pretence of guarding Finn from nightmares, of course, Poe no longer minds the softness and there’s no time for dust to settle on it.
Rey does disturb their routine. Finn spends a lot of time talking to her in the evenings, coming back late to find Poe already asleep. She starts coming over, too, making their dinners seem a lot less like dates – Poe flushes at the thought – and more like family gatherings. BB-8 gets an honorary spot at the dinner table and seems almost as excited about Rey’s visits as Finn. Poe can no longer find it in himself to be jealous, though.
Finn smiles more. Hugs him more. Seems more comfortable in his own skin. The nightmares become, at most, a biweekly occurrence.
“So are you coming over tonight? Poe got some cake from the canteen,” Finn says to Rey as they spot the headquarters, returning from a walk in the fresh air. “Got it in exchange for a favour – apparently he takes the head cook’s kids on rides when he has time. Don’t ask me when that is.”
Rey slows down a bit, smiles at Finn with a question in her eyes.
“Between his missions and simulation training and ship check-ups I wonder when – what?” he starts when he notices her face.
“Oh, nothing,” Rey says, teasing. “Just that I’ve heard some rumours floating around the base.”
“What?” Finn chuckles, forcedly. It comes out sounding like he’s choking on his laugh, not at all like the careless snicker he was aiming for. He speeds up a little, feigning ignorance. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s the pilot thing, isn’t it?” Rey nudges his side, revelling in his discomfort. “I get it, I do. I mean, Jessika Pava? Even I go weak in the knees when she smiles my way.”
Finn decides to ignore Rey’s playful digs, but he turns to her just before they reach the base. There’s a crowd of pilots gathered near the entrance to the docks and several X-wings seem to be getting ready to take off. Despite the commotion, he lowers his voice.
“Look, Rey, he’s just my friend. We’re friends – good friends. Roommates. He’s helped me a lot while you were away. Slept with me –“ he catches himself, swears, feels his checks colour. Rey looks like she wants to laugh at his struggle. “I mean, kept me company when I had the – the nightmares, you know? He’s just a good guy. He’s –“
“—coming over at the moment,” Rey says, her eyes momentarily focused on something behind Finn’s shoulders.
Poe comes striding towards them, wearing his orange jumpsuit, a helmet in his hand. He greets them with a small smile, obviously in a hurry. BB-8 rolls after him and circles around the group excitedly.
“There’s been an attack on the Aracara base,” Poe says in explanation. “I have to leave immediately.”
He gives Rey a quick hug, then envelopes Finn in a tight embrace. Although his body is rigid, he lets him head fall into the crook between Finn’s neck and shoulder for a few seconds, breathing in. Finn’s fingers knot into the fabric on his back. Before he lets go, he slips a note into Finn’s pocket, squeezing his shoulder with his other hand. Finn notices and tries to catch his hand, but fails, watching as Poe steps back, gives them a tentative smile, and runs towards the ships, BB-8 at his heels.
Rey doesn’t say anything, and Finn’s thankful for her thoughtfulness. Something in Poe’s demeanour alarms him. When he reads the note, it doesn’t settle any of his questions.
Dear Finn. There’s an emergency at Aracara, but we’re unsure whether it’s the First Order or an inside job. I don’t know when I’ll be coming back, but could you please clean up the kitchen? Had to leave in a rush. Your old blanket is under my cadet uniforms, if Rey wants it. Take care, Poe.
Aracara turns out to be only the beginning. Soon there’s an attack on Arbra, Talus, and the new base on Pkihantri. They settle into a new routine. They have to.
Poe’s missions get more frequent, and a lot more dangerous. It’s no low-risk surveillance and diplomatic tasks anymore, but base defence and espionage. With two of their bases destroyed and hundreds of civilians transported to D’Qar, the practical parts of Finn’s healing training arrive a lot sooner than expected. And Luke decides to speed up Rey’s training as well, Leia’s commands stopping them from getting engaged in combat until she deems Rey qualified to undergo the risks.
The bed in the living room now belongs to Rey. Finn and Poe share the bedroom. Technically. It’s rare that they’re both there to sleep in it at the same time. Likewise, dinner, when they have the time and appetite, becomes a solitary affair. They take turns returning to the flat when no one else is there, collapsing in sheer exhaustion, leaving each other vague messages spelled in dirty dishes and empty laundry baskets.
Finn manages to bump into Poe on his way to training one day, when the other man has just come back to have a quick rest and re-supply his ship. He’s startled to realise Poe’s hair has grown longer, long enough for him to notice the change. There’s also stubble on his face, more prominent than his occasional five-o’clock shadow. He catches himself wanting to reach out and touch it, quickly stomps the feeling down.
“I’ll be back in a few hours, are you free?” Poe asks once their brief chat gets interrupted by Poe’s transmitter.
Not really, Finn thinks, but he can make up some time.
He hurries back to the pilot quarters during his lunch break, trying to curb his excitement at the prospect of talking to, honest-to-god, properly talking to Poe again. He knows something must have come up when he sees Poe’s jacket hanging on the doorknob, the flat still locked. The pocket holds another note, the letters a rough scribble, so different from Poe’s usual neat handwriting.
Dear Finn. Another attack, on Dalastine. Kylo Ren’s there, Snoke as well. Pava says to give Rey her regards. Just in case, know that I’ve never had a friend like you, never even met anyone like you. Always yours, Poe.
Finn stares at the words, dumbfounded, then breaks into a run. Countless corridors and three sets of stairs fly by him. It isn’t until he’s in Sector A that he starts slowing down and his breathing becomes ragged. He powers through it, though, gulping down the fresh air once he gets outside.
“Poe!” he yells, racing through the numerous X-wings in the take-off area. There’s pilots all around and he curses the damn orange uniforms, giving him false hope whenever he catches sight of one. “Poe!”
Then there’s a blob of orange running directly towards him, Poe’s overgrown curls windswept and his cheeks burning. Finn meets him in the middle, wrapping their bodies in a tight hug, clasping his shoulders, his neck, the curls at its nape. Poe breathes against his ear, a familiar comfort, one of Finn’s favourite signs of affection, one of the earliest that’s ever been shown to him.
He disentangles himself from Poe after a while, grabbing his face the way he’s wanted to do since the afternoon and kissing him on the cheek.
“For good luck,” he explains at Poe’s gaping expression. The other man brings his hand up to his cheek impulsively, rubbing at the spot as if Finn’s lips left an imprint. Finn takes the hand and squeezes it for good measure.
Poe finally composes himself when an X-wing flies over their heads. He squeezes back, then starts withdrawing towards his own ship. “See you at home,” he winks at Finn, stumbling slightly.
“You better,” says Finn.
He watches Poe hop into his cockpit, watches him fly away and leave his heart beating out in painful cacophony against his chest. The pilots start leaving, one by one, and he watches them, too. He’s late for training, but that’s the least of his worries.
Getting injured in combat comes with a set of consequences, Poe finds out.
First, no missions. General Organa made him swear to keep away from the docks until he gets her express permission.
Second, the illusion of free time is just that – instead of missions, his time is now taken up by rehabilitation. The slow, frustrating process drives him up the wall, but at least he likes his live-in physician and doesn’t have to move into the medical wing. And his arm is getting better, he’s starting to write again.
Third, his feelings of incompetence lead him to making some horrible decisions. Like getting drunk with his live-in physician, whom he likes a bit too much. Then cuddling with him in what constitutes his hospital bed. And kissing him when he tries to leave in the morning.
Currently, he’s still lying in the bed. It’s what he does most days, and all he can do while his right leg refuses to cooperate and there’s no one around to help him stand up. Finn’s left the jacket on the bedside table when he went away, and Poe’s currently got it thrown over his face. He’s moping, cursing his impulsivity, frightened at the possibility of ruining everything. Yet it’s Finn’s scent that attacks his senses, his own aftershave mixed with something unique, a zesty scent that makes him groan aloud.
Rey comes around on her lunch break. Finn’s employed her as his personal housekeeper slash psychologist, making sure he doesn’t try to repeat the falling-on-face incident from a week ago. It’s unnecessary since he’s also taken his crutches out of the room, and without them, Poe can’t even try.
“Brought you soup,” she says, surprising him while he’s still hiding underneath the jacket. When he scrambles to yank it down, she just raises her eyebrows and rolls her eyes.
She stays silent as she sets a bowl down on the table and pulls a chair close to the bed. She sits down, levels an unimpressed stare at the miserable state of his being.
“Finn will tell you,” he says, trying to disappear into the pillows.
“I’m sure he will,” Rey says, and reaches out to help him sit up and eat his soup.
After she leaves, he’s left with his terrible thoughts again. His brain exhausts itself quickly, making him fall asleep against his own volition. He wakes up three hours later, startles to see Finn sitting in the chair. It takes all of his efforts not to groan again.
“Had a good day?” Finn asks, his face unreadable. Poe’s convinced he’s bidding his time, trying to come up with a way to soften the blow. He doesn’t bother answering.
Finn sizes him up, his face, the lump of fabric that constitutes his body, the empty bowl on the table. His sight catches on the jacket, lying over Poe as an extra blanket, now covering his chest and belly. The silence stretches between them and Finn decides to break it again. “Got my message?”
“I – sorry?” Poe’s confusion must show, because Finn suddenly chuckles and shakes his head, as if in disbelief.
“God, Poe, you’re useless,” he says, pointing at the jacket. “Left you a note.”
Poe’s fingers are wary as they reach into the jacket; all the theories, scenarios, thoughts he’s occupied himself with throughout the day attack his brain at once. He reads the note and –
Poe. Really enjoyed last night. Care for a repeat? If so, please cancel your plans for the evening. XO, Finn.
He stares at it for a bit, evaluates and re-evaluates, looks to Finn for help. His smile is fond, amused, almost pitying at the corners.
“So?” Finn asks.
“Yes,” Poe says, stutters out, really. “Yes, definitely up for it.”
They both laugh as their lips meet halfway, an imperfect kiss with teeth in the way, a lopsided touch, too-short yet just right. Finn starts chuckling to himself, obviously still entertained by Poe’s former misery, but he’s quick to shut him up with another kiss. And another. And another…
Rey stops turning up at random after that, always makes sure she knocks. BB-8 moves out of the bedroom. Poe’s legs get better. He blames his physician and beams proudly when he gets his Healer certificate. Finn recalls the story of his bed-bound, wretched self anytime Poe’s bravery gets brought up in his presence. He always makes sure to give him a kiss afterwards, though, so Poe’s content to play along. They share the jacket, and the bed, all the tiny nooks of the flat, all the corners and edges and peculiarities of each other. It’s not always perfect, but it’s more than enough.