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So he took off his helmet and maybe you'd known that you were a goner.
//
How does it work when someone saves your life? Do you double back, put your foot down, say you're grateful?
Or become reckless with your thanks, his graciousness?
//
You think it’s something in the thrums of your fingers, like when you’re flying and you’ve finally found a place to land, maybe, after the initial thrill wears off and it’s just contentment. Maybe falling in love was supposed to be this way, too.
Like the quick decision of his name, or something else just as potent. Like gravity disagreeing with you and you assenting to let yourself go, or his swift grin pulling up at his features, face unbelievably bright; a turn of the head here, a footstep there, or him, just him; right in front of you.
Like the slow unfurling of his lips to do something as casual as calling for your name.
You’re thinking, shit, I’m in trouble, but the corners of your lips won’t stay down. Everything is as exhilarating as inertia hurling you forwards with acceleration, with your belts holding you down to safety.
//
Maybe it’s when BB-8 told you, [FRIEND-POE! I had not thought that you would survive, for Coat-Thi – Friend-Finn had stolen your possessions, but he has helped Friend-Rey and I locate your whereabouts!]
“Wait,” you’d said, the adrenaline flooding your head with too much hope, “what?”
But you looked up and understood that miracles could tie themselves around your arms and offer you your way out, a designation.
“Finn,” you’d called out, and your name his tongue sounded a bit too much like relief.
But perhaps you were just projecting.
//
You’re sitting by his bedside with your eyes shutting down because you can’t remember when you haven’t spent every free waking moment you had by his beside. Like there was anything else to do, really, because somehow General Organa saw and she understood.
Told him to be careful but here you are, with your heart open, because what else was there to do?
“Poe,” Finn’s saying, it’s like you blinked and suddenly he is awake, like that precious time he lifted off that bloodied helmet to look you in the eye. As if everything is alright again, and you’re thinking – how am I so lucky, because Finn is awake.
And at first your mind doesn’t function anymore, of course it isn’t, so you stand up because it’s too much to take in and Finn and you slide on the ground and land up with your ass on the chair because Finn is awake and maybe it grounds everything a little better, because there’s laughter in Finn’s eyes even though he’s not doing it out loud and a slight bit of worry, and everything feels real, like Finn has ceased to be a dream, that Kylo Ren’s not back in your head.
“Poe,” he says, and the words are a bit hoarse but you don’t think you care at all, “are you alright?”
For a moment you’re startled, because it’s been one entire month and he’s asking about you and – “am I – am I alright? Finn. Finn, you’re the one that’s been unconscious for an entire month and you’re asking if I’m alright?”
“You did just fall,” Finn explains, and you can feel your chest tightening because it’s really kriffing stupid but you’ve missed his voice, missed knowing that he was alive for sure.
His eyes fall down to the rest of your body, then to his surroundings and you let him take it in, let him have all the time in the world he wants. It’s the least he deserves, you’re thinking, because what courage did he have to break out of all of that conditioning? With all those intentions that they had but this person came out, impossibly brave and stupidly handsome and—
“We’re with… the Resistance,” Finn says, after a stretched out silence and a few seconds of his eyes on yours, “am I correct?”
“Yeah,” you say, “yeah we are,” because of all the words you’d fantasised saying, only the simplest managed to filter through. You think this is fine; you won’t mind being simple if it means Finn’s restored health.
And you’re almost staring at him now, at this relaxed state of his, and you’re wondering why you could never have kept him this way in the first place. If sacrificing for someone once wasn’t enough for Finn, where does this leave you?
“Hey,” he’s calling out, and of course you’re looking back at him, how couldn’t you—“I’m alright.”
You’re nodding your head and his fingers have somehow found their way to yours. You’re wondering what you have to do to hold on.
“Yeah,” you respond finally, after his dark eyes latch onto you for a few seconds too long, and you’re afraid you might do something rash, “we’re alright, Finn. We’re alright.”
//
General Organa catches on, just because.
“You’re attached,” she says, and you don’t avert your gaze because there’s no point in hiding, especially not from her.
You shrug, and it feels like you’re a decade younger again, insistent on a future you weren’t sure you were going to have until General Organa came along. All that time melted away in a wash of strategising and fighting and flying.
“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid to accept any of it,” she says, right out in the open; but it’s barely cryptic enough for anyone not to understand what all this is about. You’re thinking: just as well, if Finn could have taken off that helmet, surely you could take apart your own defences too. Even if it’s just for yourself.
“I’m not afraid,” you say after everyone has left and it’s just the both of you in the conference room. She’s stated everyone’s dismissal but you have never forgone gratitude in the face of good advice. “But thank you.”
“Thank me,” she says, and you’re seeing Poe Dameron at twelve again, hell-bent on becoming someone like her, “after you’ve thanked Finn. Some things are meant to be said aloud, Poe.”
And you’re thinking: what if all of this isn’t? What if silence was the only thing that wouldn’t push him away?
//
Finn is so grateful to finally be able to communicate with Rey, that he sits on his cot every evening beside you, his energy depleting once he’s somehow managed to finish three conversations (one with you; one with Rey; and one with BB-8, though you think the latter may be debatable). You don’t know what Finn actually talks to Rey about, but you don’t listen in on their discussions, and don’t comment on their mutual giggling.
This doesn’t make you upset, not necessarily, but BB-8 manages to suggest ways to make ‘Friend-Poe stop longing after Friend-Finn’, which, admittedly, did make you smile – which had caught Finn’s attention.
Just like how everything you do around him does, really, but never in the way you wanted.
You want to tell him that you think that being with Rey is a good idea, you really do, but it’s only been two months and he already has a piece of your heart. Rey is – your friend, the best ally that anyone could ask for, but Finn is Finn and you don’t think you could ever bear to let him go.
So it goes.
//
It’s not a big surprise when Finn recovers, because good things happen to good people and what is Finn if not good?
//
You can’t argue when he asks if he could room with you, of course you say yes. You don’t miss the affirmation in General Organa’s eyes, or that small sliver of reassurance.
“Don’t see why not,” you’re saying before you could stop yourself, because there are a million kriffing ways that everything could go wrong and you’re not ready to lose his trust so soon. “Just get your belongings, I’ve got space for that.”
His face is lighting up but the words that come after aren’t necessarily bright: “I don’t have anything.”
You stagger back, because this was never a problem you had to deal with; not even familiar with the notion of having anything less than plenty.
“That’s,” you start, and you try your hardest to stop yourself from hugging him because that’s not what Finn needs.
“We’ll get you some stuff, yeah,” you sling your arm around his shoulders, and he’s leaning into your touch and you don’t want to admit it but you might have fallen a little bit deeper.
“Don’t need any,” Finn grins, and he’s watching you with those dark eyes of his and something about them tell you that honesty is what he needs now, plain and raw, so you stay silent and let your fingers do the talking. Allow them to dig deeper into Finn’s body as a sign of – something. Loyalty, appreciation, fondness, desire, something. Or at least everything you’re too wary to describe in words.
“We’ll find all the things you want eventually,” you’re saying at last, because the fact is that you adore him and sometimes you manage to pluck up the courage to tell Finn what you think. Mostly in small increments. You don’t remember being this careful with anyone else and truthfully, you don’t think there’s a need to even bother.
Finn’s curling an arm around your waist and you pretend like you are steady. Pretend that this was a friendship forged in war with nothing else.
Finn says, “we’ve got time for better things, don’t we,” and he’s grinning at you with his hands empty, with his hands full of you – and you think you’re willing to give him too much.
//
“Sometimes people fall hard,” comes the voice beside you when you return to the hangar, because Jessika knows you too well and she has perfectly good vision to see what’s grating at you inside. You’re not supposed to be here but Finn’s talking to Rey and you don’t want to interrupt, there’s a time and place for you to be included but it can hardly be now.
You shrug at her. “And maybe it’s a dumb thing to do—”
“—no one said it was dumb, Poe,” she says, because Pava can be nice when she wants to be, and you forget about that all too often. You’re thinking that you never should, because there’s no trace of ridicule in her eyes and you can’t stop thinking about Finn, Finn, Finn.
“So. What is it, then,” you’re asking, because everyone runs around you in circles whenever they’re talking about Finn and you can’t exactly forget about him, either, not the way his mouth falls slightly open when he sleeps, or the slight raise of his eyebrows whenever something pleases him. Or the warmth in his voice, really, when the both of you can’t sleep and he has to talk you down from a nightmare.
“Sometimes people fall hard,” Jessika repeats herself, and you’re blinking at her because since when did she become so reassured? Since when had everything you’d known for years slip away and get replaced with something better?
“—and they’re too frightened of falling further. What about you?”
You stare at her and she looks right back at you. “Scared? I guess,” you admit, and watch BB-8 roll over to you, beeping in sympathy.
“Aren’t you a pilot, Poe Dameron,” she’s sighing out, and you’re slightly at a loss, because that one word that keeps on lingering by your name is fearless and with Finn you’re anything but.
“Not in this situation,” you mutter, and there’s a quick shove at your head, and Jessika’s rolling her eyes.
“If I tell him. And it changes things,” you bite out, with a startled response from BB-8 which you ignore.
Jessika clucks her tongue, and she’s opening her mouth before you can do so much as berate her. “You can deal with it. He saved your life, Poe. Feelings are bound to get involved.”
You groan, and press a hand against your face because no one can seem to leave you alone with the fact that you’re deeply in love with this ex-stormtrooper.
“Why do I even ask you for advice.”
Jessika laughs. “You didn’t. I offered it.”
You raise your eyebrows at that. “Thanks,” you offer, and nudge her by the shoulder a little because it’s been a long time since you’d sat down and thought about what you already had.
“You’re welcome. Now go and chat about your feelings with Finn, before I drag you there myself.”
Your lungs fill up with horror but you breathe it out, talk yourself down. Sneak a glance at BB-8 and it's giving you a thumbs up, accompanied by some happy whirring.
"You're not going to get any if you keep on dragging your feet like this," Jessika says, and you grin.
"Does it matter? I'm patient."
She rolls her eyes, and stands up from where the two of you have been sitting down with your helmets in your hands.
“Well. I’m leaving,” she parts with a wave, and you’re muttering “suit yourself” under your breath, but you go and find Finn anyway.
///
“What if I told you that I really liked you,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth when Finn raises his gaze from the holopad to look at you, because you’ve always been kind of an idiot and if you crashed you’d rather it be quick, “as in, really liked you?”
Finn’s staring at you like he can’t believe what you’re saying but to be fair. You can’t either, too, not really.
“Poe Dameron. Are you serious about this,” he says, the distance between the both of you shortening. You think your heart is about to burst out of your chest but you’ve got a glimmer of hope that you think this could mean something good. That all this blood pounding in your veins wouldn’t be this energetic over nothing.
You nod sharply, trying to ignore that there’s a blush forming high on your cheeks and it’s surely visible to Finn right now, who’s standing right in front of you.
“I am very,” you confirm for him, and you’re about the same height but you feel unbelievably small, until, until—
Until Finn pulls you in and presses his lips to yours, unbearably innocent, but the understanding is there all the same. You think about all the times you’ve been this happy and they’re all about flying. About hovering a long way from ground with the engines vibrating through your bones, your flesh, your body. But this closeness to Finn comes in the same form of exhilaration. The exact lurch in your chest when you take off. When you return back to the air because it’s where this world will accommodate you. You don’t want to presume too fast, but.
But this could be the same with Finn.
He’s breaking apart but his hand’s still on your face, and you’ve fallen so deep that you’re not sure if you can still keep breathing from all of this. From all of this relief and adrenaline and excitement.
“So… You’re. Serious, too,” you mutter, and Finn’s eyes are impossibly warm. You think you can find all the answers you need there. The questions have to be said aloud but not necessarily the answers, you’re realising, and Finn’s grinning something fierce when you lean back in.
Kissing Finn isn’t exactly the same as flying, you’d argue, but.
It’s pretty damned close.