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“People suck.” Poe slides onto the barstool next to Snap and signals for the bartender.
Snap cuts his eyes at Poe, takes another sip of his sashin-leaf mead, sets the glass back down on the bar with a quiet thunk, looks back at Poe, loses his straight face, and collapses in a pile of laughter over the bar. “Are you fucking serious, man?” he laughs. “You’re fucking serious. I don’t believe it. Dameron. Master-of-all-smiles Dameron. What the fuck happened to you tonight, man?”
“Date got handsy,” Poe mutters. He nods his thanks to the bartender, downs his glass of Yavinese cider in one gulp, holds it out for another.
“Whoa, there. You don’t even drink, man. What’s up with you? I know for a fact that’s not the first time that’s happened.”
“It’s not,” Poe bites. “It’s fucking not. I am so fucking tired of this shit.”
“Ah, shit. That Ho Dameron stuff again?”
Poe knocks back his glass in answer.
“Thought you didn’t mind anymore? I mean, I trained it out of the pilots, at least. Haven’t heard anyone say it in a while.”
“That’s ‘cause they know what you’ll do if they start in on it.” Poe’s hand clenches into a fist on the bar. “But you’re right. I don’t even give a fuck about that anymore. Not worth a punch. If people are stupid, it’s not my fucking problem.”
“Then why—”
“Because he was so nice!” Poe explodes. “We had a fantastic conversation, and he was interesting, and kind, and funny, and gorgeous, and then he fucking tries to push me down like I owe him a blow job for talking to him. Because apparently I do everybody. And you know, it's partly true, I do some people. I enjoy it. They enjoy it. Because I do it because I fucking want to, not because he wanted a blow job and I was the first warm mouth available. You know? If he’d fucking asked, the answer might have been yes. But he didn’t. Just tries to shove me down. Fuck that. Fuck them all.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Snap pats him on the back. “That does suck. Want me to pound him?”
Poe snorts. “I can pound my own, thanks. Gave him a consent lecture, as though it’ll stick. I’ll report him tomorrow. I do it now, I’m just going to go back and punch him one. Or ten. I’ll file the rep once I'm sober.” He sighs and puts his head in his hands. “It’s just that—I always thought—”
“You’re not going to start in about your mother’s stories again.”
“I am. Not quite drunk enough yet, though.” Poe finishes the effervescent crimson cider with one giant gulp and lifts a finger for a refill. “I’m off tomorrow. Jakku’s going to be a long mission. General gave me a day of rest before it starts. Was hoping to spend the day with the fair gentleman I was talking to. Now I’ve got a better plan.”
“Be hungover.”
“Got it in one.”
“Dameron. Seriously—”
“Seriously.” Poe closes his eyes to appreciate the spicy-sweet scent of kibo and blueleaf wafting up from the cider. “My mother.” He tips the glass back and downs half of it.
Snap sighs and takes another sip.
Poe wipes his lips and continues: “Told me stories. Beautiful stories.”
“About a princess," Snap supplies, "and a—”
“Shut the fuck up, man. Let me tell my own story. It’s my own fucking mother, and she’s—”
“I am never letting you drink this much again.” Snap steals the glass from Poe the moment he sets it down on the bar again.
“Hey, hey!” Poe grabs for it.
“No, man, seriously. You’re maudlin enough as it is. Get some water, go home, sleep it off.”
“Stories,” Poe repeats. “Princess. Jedi. Smuggler. And I just—I always thought there’d be one waiting for me, you know? My own rescuer, in shining Stormtrooper armor.”
“You know that didn’t even work out for Leia and Han. And definitely not for her and Luke.”
“Yeah, well,” Poe snorts. “Pretty sure I don’t have a long-lost twin waiting somewhere out in the galaxy, so not much risk of that. And, the General, I mean—things were ok, weren’t they? I remember them being really happy, the first few times they visited.”
“You were a kid, man. What would you know?”
“Don’t knock my story! Ok?” Poe leans his head down to the bar. “It worked, for them, at least for a while, and it was such a beautiful story. And I always thought I’d find one of my own, someday. You know?”
“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.”
“You’re making fun of me, but I’m serious. I am so done with this. I’m going to join your team. From now on, I’m celibate. Not doing anything. Not even interested. Paint a lovely orange ace on the side of Black One. ”
“Dameron—” Snap shakes his head. “I’m not even going to bother getting offended, because I know you know better when you’re not trying to get wasted. At any rate, you know that’s not going to solve all your problems.”
“I know, I know.” Poe heaves a sigh. “You keep telling me it creates just as many. I just—I’m so fucking done with it all. You know? I mean—you found Zari, in the end. You fit together, just like—like I’ve always dreamed about.”
Snap nods. “She’s pretty amazing, isn’t she.”
“Got that right.” Poe lunges around Snap for his glass, reclaims it with a whoop, finishes it before Snap can grab it back, and slams it down on the bar.
“You’ll find your own someday, Poe. You gotta believe it.”
Poe shakes his head. “You and my parents. Only ones who believe that. You know that, right? Oh, wait. They’re fucking dead. So you’re the only one left in the galaxy who believes that.” Poe claps Snap on the shoulder and stands, wobbling only slightly. “And now I really am getting disgustingly maudlin. I’m going to go hide in my bunk. Might raid my own stash once I get back. Don’t wake me up tomorrow morning.”
“Poe—”
“You’re a good friend, Snap. You know that, right? The best. I don’t deserve you. Zari does. She joining you?”
“In a few minutes, yeah.”
“Good. Enjoy your drink. Enjoy your talk. Good night. If you see that fucker, tell him—tell him—” Poe pauses, weaving a little. “Tell him I’m going to find someone to love, someday. Someone nice. Funny. Fucking respectful. With a better ass than his.” He shakes his head. “My own fucking rescuer, ok? In shining Stormtrooper armor.” He wends his way out of the bar, one hand on the back of the chairs for balance, cursing under his breath in Yavinese.
“The galaxy knows, Snap.”
“Knows what?”
“My dreams.” Poe shakes his head slowly, wincing as the motion sends another ripple through his still-concussed brain. “The good news: I found my rescuer in shining Stormtrooper armor. Literally, can you believe it? An actual fucking Stormtrooper. Who defected. When does that even happen? The bad news—” He punches Black One’s nose. “He’s fucking dead. I killed him. I crashed us and he’s dead and I killed him and he’s—”
“Poe—” Snap reaches a hand out toward Poe’s arm, then rethinks it. Jess is still sitting on Blue Three’s ladder with a wad of tissues up her nose from grabbing Poe’s wrist to get his attention. Snap retracts the arm and settles for a soothing tone instead. “I’m so sorry.”
Poe shakes his head. “We’re going to get BB-8 back. That’s what matters. Only thing that matters, now.” He turns to Snap, Commander face welded back on with uneven rivets. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to kill those fucking thugs. Let’s go. I’ve got a rescuer to avenge.”
“It gets better and better, Snap.” Poe still sounds dazed.
“Uh-oh.”
“No, really. It does. Good news: My rescuer in shining Stormtrooper armor? He’s alive. Alive, Snap! Fucking alive! Made it off Jakku, ran into BB-8, ran into Han fucking Solo, can you believe it? He’s joining the Resistance, at least for now. Alive.” Poe shakes his head and falls silent.
Snap waits. Waits some more. Poe stares into Black One’s right engine cluster, lost in thought. “But,” Snap supplies at last.
“But.” Poe nods and turns back to his friend. “But he’s in love with that girl from Jakku. The one who flew them offplanet.” He tries for a smile, fails miserably. “It’s ok, though. He’s alive. That’s what matters. Fucking miracle.”
“You know that he’s wearing your mother’s jacket?”
“Yeah.”
“You…want me to ask for it back? I thought it meant a lot to you—”
“It does. He means more. Told him to keep it.”
Snap’s silent for a moment. “You’re really gone on this guy, aren’t you,” he says at last.
”Doesn’t matter.” Poe runs a hand through his hair. “He’s in love with the girl. It’s ok. It’s just—I owe him, you know? I owe him everything. And—and more than that, I—”
“Poe—”
“No.” Poe cuts him off. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. It’s ok. I’ll—” Just get myself captured again, his exhausted brain supplies, but the thought skips across his brain, far too close for comfort, before his tongue can get a hold on it. Poe shudders. “I’ll just—be friends with him. If he wants.” And not look at his ass. Or his smile. That smile—
Poe’s not looking at Finn’s ass. Or his smile, for that matter. Because Finn lies on his back, resting on a thick layer of bacta gel in a restorative cot. Because his eyes are closed, face still, chest slowly rising and falling, brainwaves coasting gently up and down in the calm signature of a coma.
The good news, Snap? He’s not dead yet.
The bad news? Yet.
When Poe tells Finn about a princess and a Jedi and a smuggler, one dark night when pain and trauma yank them both from sleep, he makes light of it. “It’s just—you know, a thing, now. A phrase. A joke. It’s not like anyone takes it seriously. Rescues—” Poe smiles, despite his shaking hands. “Rescues don’t happen anymore, you know? Certainly not by actual Stormtroopers.”
Finn smiles back. The light in his eyes steals Poe’s breath for a moment. “Well,” Finn smirks. “Now you’ve got one of your own. What do you want to do with me? I’m not—” Finn blinks heavily as the painkillers kick in again in a sudden rush. “Not putting the—the armor. Back on. But maybe—bu’ maybe you ca’—” His words start to slur together.
Poe can see Finn struggling hard to stay awake, but the meds work fast—thank the Force, Poe thinks, watching the tense lines of pain around Finn’s mouth slowly smooth out again. “Maybe—” Finn’s head sinks back against the pillow.
“It’s ok, buddy.” Poe leans over him, takes his hand. “It’s ok. I’ll still be here in the morning.” Finn nods vaguely as his eyes slip shut. His hand tightens around Poe’s for a moment, then falls open on the bed. Poe stares down at him, eyes prickling. “It’s ok, buddy,” he whispers again. “It’s ok.”
He’s not going to call Finn that when Snap’s around. Buddy is, after all, a nickname Poe reserves exclusively for BB-8. And Snap—well, all the pilots—know how he feels about his astro. He doesn’t want to pressure Finn. Make him uncomfortable. He knows they’re a lost cause, he and his rescuer in shining Stormtrooper armor. The moment the Jedi girl gets back, the moment Finn gets out of that bed—that’s the end of Finn and Poe. Friends, sure. But not—not buddies.
“First time I heard Dameron call Finn buddy, he swore up and down it was an accident. Fortunately, Finn understood. Any other man would have been offended at sharing a nickname with a droid, but—we all know Poe would have married BB, eventually, if he’d never met you. Fortunately for BB-8,” Snap grins down at them. Poe buries his face in his hands. “He did meet you. In typically dramatic Dameron style, of course. So.”
Snap raises his glass. “Here’s to Poe’s rescuer in shining Stormtrooper armor. And here’s, of course, to your marriage. May you enjoy many happy years together.”
Finn grins at Poe and raises his glass. “If I said I never want to rescue you ever again, you’d understand, right?”
Poe tips his head back in a full laugh. “I’d rather never need rescuing again, so we’re in agreement there, buddy.” He clinks his glass against Finn’s, takes a sip. “Anyway,” Poe continues. His grin tilts into a leer. “You look a hell of a lot better out of that armor. You know that?”
Finn smirks. “I do know that.”
“Well. In that case. Think you can pull off a rescue without the armor?”
Finn raises a brow. “At this rate, I’ve got enough practice that I could do it with my eyes shut.”
“Good.” Poe takes Finn’s hand. “Because I think it’s time to make our escape.”
“Huh.” Finn looks around. “Is that so.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Poe nods. “Because as good as you look out of the armor, you look even better out of the clothes, too. Even a suit as sharp as that.”
“Well.” Finn considers this for a moment, lips quivering with the effort of keeping a straight face. “You make an interesting point.”
“Thank you. I try.”
“Time for a rescue, you think?”
“Definitely.”
“Huh.” Finn takes a moment to admire the hammered gold curve of his ring, glinting warmly in the low evening light. When he looks back at Poe at last, his eyes are dark and hooded with desire. “That might be a good idea. I’m going to have to think about that for a bit—”
Patience is overrated. Poe yanks Finn up from his seat, knocking their chairs back to the ground. “Took too long. I’m rescuing you, this time.”
Finn cracks into laughter. “‘Bout time you returned the favor.”
“Damn straight.” Poe leans in and dips Finn into a kiss for the ages, prompting a round of catcalls from his highly disrespectful fellow pilots. Not just the pilots—he’s pretty sure he hears an approving whistle from a little orange astro, rocking back and forth on the edge of the dance floor. When he tips them back upright at last, he’s a little dazed from lack of air and the heat of Finn’s hand on the small of his back.
Poe leans his forehead against Finn’s. “Been waiting for you my whole life,” he murmurs. “You know that?”
“Well.” Finn laughs softly. “You’ve got me. And I’m pretty sure there was something in those vows about the rest of our lives together, so—"
“There was,” Poe whispers into his lover’s—nope, husband’s— ear. “There definitely was. Starts now, if I remember correctly.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Finn’s hand slides down to Poe’s ass.
Poe bites his lip. “Rescuing, right?” he asks, still dazed.
“That was the plan.”
“Well, then. Good night, everyone!” Poe waves a benevolent hand at the crowd. “Jess, don’t get too drunk. Snap, stick to your post. Anyone comes up the lake trail, I will come hunt you down later.” Poe takes one look at Finn’s crooked grin and turns back to the crowd. “Much later.”
Sweeping Finn’s hand up in his, he leads them off down the lake trail, towards the well-cushioned tent that awaits them at the far shore, across from the base. “How’s that for a rescue?” he asks, nudging Finn’s shoulder as they walk.
Finn tilts his head, pretending to consider this. “Not bad. Not bad at all. 9 marks out of ten, I’d say. Points off for dawdling, but bonus for looking damn fucking sexy in that suit.”
“Ok,” Poe laughs. “I’ll take it. And right back at you, you know. Much better than armor, but—I’m still pretty sure you’d look better out of the suit, too.”
“Well, if you’re very good, you might get a chance to see.”
“Huh. Well, then. What, exactly, do I have to do to be good?”
Finn looks over at him with wine-dark eyes.
Poe bites his lip.
Finn cups a hand around his cheek and kisses him. Poe wraps his arms around Finn, pulls him in tight, and kisses him back with everything he’s got.
Mamá, he thinks. Papá. I found him. My own rescuer in shining Stormtrooper armor. I love him. And he loves me. You’d be so happy.
I know we are.