Work Text:
Finn wouldn't exactly consider himself a lightweight. He didn’t do it often, sure, but he didn't need Poe to urgently warn him not to drink with Anais. He could handle her.
Or so he thought.
“Come on,” she laughed, slamming her glass down and gesturing wildly. “Another!”
Finn groaned, dropping his head on his arms. He didn’t know how much they'd drank already. Too much, probably. How was she still going? Why hadn’t anyone warned him she was like this? At this point he just hoped he made it out of here alive, or at least without getting roped into one of her schemes.
A hand dropped on his shoulder and he looked up gratefully at Poe as he smiled down at him before turning to pry Anais away from the bar.
“That's enough,” he said, pulling Finn after them. “You two are done.”
“No,” Anais whined, drawing it out. “I'm fine!”
“Finn is not,” Poe scolded. He held her to his side with a firm arm around her waist.
Finn scoffed, walking in front of them wobbly. “I'm good.”
“Sure you are, buddy.”
“I am!”
“I believe you.”
Poe did probably believe Finn. He always believed him. If there was one person in the galaxy who never had anything but unwavering faith in him, it was Poe.
It was gratifying in ways Finn was too drunk to think about right now.
They made it back to the Dameron siblings’ quarters. Anais collapsed onto her bunk immediately. Poe sighed and wrestled her boots off, hitting her with her pillow when she kicked him.
“You good?” He said to Finn.
“Yeah,” Finn said, wishing not for the first time he had that. But sitting here in their rooms, instinctively taken home with them, he realized he maybe already did. “I'm great.”