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Rey’s hands aren’t smooth. They are dry and callous, skin thickened by years of gruesome work in an arid environment. The skin is tanned but marred with a multitude of pale, nearly invisible scars - scavenging isn’t really a safe profession. But her hands never bothered Rey. She likes them, they’re strong and trained and useful, her grip tight enough around her stick and her fingers flexible enough to work on the tiniest mechanisms. Besides, you wouldn’t encounter one person on Jakku whose hands (if they have any) aren’t as coarse as hers. It’s a necessary survival tool, on this planet.
Finn’s hands aren’t like Rey’s. His palms are slightly callous, hardened by the repeated use of blasters and other Stormtrooper weapons. But the skin of the back of his hands is smooth and soft, preserved by the mandatory gloves of the Stormtrooper suit. His fingers are smooth, too, and gentle where they touch Rey. Finn’s hands are warm and comforting and soft, so unlike the hardness Rey has known her entire life. It’s different, and unsettling at first, but she decides she likes it very much.
Rey loves Finn’s hands. She loves it when he holds her hand, when he presses his fingers gently on her shoulder, when he hugs her and she’s basking in his warmth. For the first time in her life she feels safe, and she knows Finn feels the same about her - even though she herself is more sharp edges and rough skin.
Rey feels special under Finn’s hands : when he rubs her hands softly but firmly, massaging her sore palms with tender fingers, when he gently cups her face and brushes his thumb againt her cheek, when they are fooling around and he has her tackled down, fingers pressed into her wrists - she feels herself melting, softening under his touch. He’s a sunshine and she’s like ice, melting under his light. And she hated it, at first, this new vulnerability, her emotions bared for him to see. And the more terrifying was, it’s not that Finn broke down the walls she built around herself to survive. It’s that he didn’t do anything but help her and care for her, and she herself took down these walls, brick by brick, just to get closer to him.
Rey is not scared anymore. She loves Finn, and he loves her, and she can’t stop marveling at this simple evidence. Before, when she was thinking of home, she would picture imaginary faces and silhouettes coming back for her, taking her away from the desertic wasteland. Now, when she thinks of home, she can feel Finn’s hand in her own, his lips on her skin, his bright and infectious smile, and his eyes always so gentle and loving when looking at her.
Finn is here, real and pulsing and living. Their lives are complicated and dangerous, but they are facing it together, hand in hand, and she won’t ever let go.