Work Text:
Finn honestly prefers Organa’s laundromat to First Order Cleaners, when one gets down to it. He should know. He used to work at the latter.
It is, of course, why he can’t go back to First Order. There’s apparently a low-key rivalry between the two, First Order being run by Ben Solo, his possible best friend but also maybe arch nemesis Hux, and their terrifying manager Phasma. Like, supremely terrifying. One commanding look from Phasma, it was said in the ranks of the Order employees, was enough to make one shit themselves.
So Finn left. No amount of money was worth being an Order Trooper, as Phasma called them. He still remembers Phasma roaring “this is mutiny, 2187!” as he left. She liked to number the Troopers instead of giving them names.
Now he’s a barista in a small cafe in his neighborhood and he likes it a lot. He didn’t get to spend a lot of time in his neighborhood thanks to the rigorous hours at First Order, and now he gets to familiarize himself with it a little bit. The coffeehouse is called Jedi Java. No one except the eccentric owner, Luke, knows what it means. Not even Rey, his daughter, second in command, and Finn’s best friend.
“He says someday I’ll learn the ways of the Force,” Rey tells Finn while they’re taking their break. “I don’t even know what that means.”
Finn grins. “Maybe it’s the Force with which you give Ben his coffee.”
Finn’s former boss (who is coincidentally Rey’s cousin) comes in every once in a while to glower at Luke’s office and order a black coffee (“as black and bitter as his soul,” Rey mutters one time). Rey always shoves it at him with the name Kylo Ren because “when he was in his stupid emo band as a teenager that was what his name was god he’s an idiot”.
“Fuckin jackass,” Rey mutters sullenly. Finn knows she loves her cousin. He also knows that it’s buried deep under some weird rivalry for Luke’s affections they have. He’s wary of getting involved in Skywalker politics. “Hey, you have a stain on your shirt.”
Finn glances at it. “Oh, yeah.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I don’t know where else to go for laundry so I’ve just kind of been doing my best.”
Rey narrows her eyes. “What are you doing about underwear?”
“I made sure to wash all my underwear at First Order before I left.” He still has about a week’s worth before he has to worry. He’s very proud.
Rey sighs. “Go to Aunt Leia’s, dummy.”
“Who?”
“Organa’s. It’s the laundromat in the neighborhood, it’s like a block from your apartment.”
“Why’s that name familiar to me?”
“It’s my aunt’s.”
“Ben’s mom?”
“Yes. Leia.”
“Ben’s mother runs a laundromat, too?”
“Yes.”
Finn shakes his head. “What’s holidays like in your family?”
“Shut up.”
So Finn goes to Organa’s. He learns that Leia Organa, the woman who is sometimes commanding behind the counter in a completely different way than Phasma, did something “classified” during some form of war that may even be classified itself. She has a man who might be her husband and is definitely Ben’s father, Han, who stops by sometimes with his extremely large extremely hairy friend who speaks a language Finn doesn’t know but seems friendly. He often claps Finn on the back hard enough for Finn to stumble and barks something in an amused sounding tone.
And then there’s The Guy.
Finn’s never actually had the nerve to go up and talk to him. How would one do that, even? The Guy has great hair and a bright smile when he talks to Leia and a cute little Corgi sometimes and can effortlessly balance his laundry basket on his hip. What does Finn have? Dirty underwear.
So Finn sits in the corner watching his boxers spin and tries not to eavesdrop when The Guy strikes up conversations with Leia about the weather lately or with Han about piloting. Apparently he’s not only a great pilot but his voice is incredible, like a sunset streaked with violet.
“Oh my god,” Rey laughs in the breakroom. “A sunset streaked with violet, you utter sap.”
Finn’s ears burn as he shoves Rey. “Shut up.”
“Just ask for his number, dummy.”
“I will not.”
Finn would be lying if he said he wasn’t coming up with extra laundry, socks he’d only worn once for a few hours, just so he could get in to Organa’s.
Not for The Guy, necessarily.
Just, you know.
Good hygiene.
Fate intervenes one day, when Finn’s regular washing machine is broken.
“When will it be fixed?” Finn asks a little desperately. Leia raises her eyebrow and Finn understands the rumors that she might have commanded armies once.
“Not right now, Finn.” She gestures to the other machines. “Pick any of the other working ones.”
Finn picks one that he thinks is a relative distance from The Guy’s, but it turns out it’s not because he sets up right next to Finn.
Finn gives him an awkward smile and The Guy grins brilliantly back. Finn feels like he might swallow his tongue.
“Uh, hi,” he mumbles.
“Hey.” The Guy’s grin settles into an easy smile, like it was born to be there. Does that even make sense? Finn doesn’t know any more. “I thought usually you had the corner washing machines.”
“Oh, well, uh, it broke, so, y’know.” Something occurs to Finn. “Hang on, you know which washer I use?”
The Guy looks suddenly flummoxed and startled. “Um, oh, see, I just, I notice things, sometimes, I’m a good noticer…” he trails off a little lamely, going a bit pink and rubbing the back of his neck. Finn thinks it’s adorable.
“That’s a good trait to have.”
“Yeah…” He clears his throat and holds his hand out. “I’m Poe.”
“Finn.” Poe’s hand is warm and soft and Finn has to make himself let go of it.
“Finn. Good to meet you, Finn.”
“Good to meet you too, Poe.” Finn wracks his brain for intelligent questions to ask, not so did you know I threw in jeans that weren’t even dirty to the wash today just so I could see you? “So, what do you do?”
“I’m a plane mechanic. You?”
“Barista.” Finn feels a little embarrassed saying he serves coffee to a guy who works on planes, but Poe beams like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.
“That’s awesome! Where, Starbucks?”
“Jedi Java.”
“Oh man, that’s a great place. I know someone who works there, you know Rey?”
Finn brightens. “Yeah!”
“She wants to open-“
“Her own mechanic’s place,” they say in unison.
“Is she, uh…” Poe coughs. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“No! No. She’s my best friend. That’s it.”
This seems to cheer Poe slightly. “She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”
“She’s insane.”
Poe laughs. “That too.”
Finn likes his laugh. He looks down slightly so Poe might not catch the full scope of his grin.
They get to chatting, and towards the end of Finn and Poe’s dryer cycles, Poe says “You know, I haven’t been to Jedi Java in forever. Maybe I should go.”
Finn trips on his own feet on his way back from the vending machine, skitters frantically, and catches his balance. “Yeah! Yes! Sure, that would be great!” He feels his cheeks heat in mortification as he hurriedly shoves his laundry in his basket. “Um, I’d better get going.”
“Sure, of course.” Does Poe sound disappointed or is that in Finn’s head? “It was great to talk to you, Finn.”
Finn grins shyly. “Great to talk to you too, Poe.” He quickly moves for the door.
He thinks he hears Solo say as he leaves “smoothly done, kid” to which Poe mumbles something inarticulately.
It’s the next day and Finn’s at work when Poe comes through the door.
“Don’t look, but The Guy is here,” Finn hisses at Rey in the kitchens, where she’s supervising. “How do I look?”
“Holy shit, The Guy?” Rey wipes her hands on her apron. “THE Guy, The Guy? I gotta meet him.”
“No, Rey, don’t-“
Rey barges past Finn to gape at Poe. Poe waves cheerfully.
“Hi, Rey. Hi, Finn.”
Rey turns slowly to Finn, the look on her face disbelieving.
“This,” she says flatly. “Is The Guy. Mr. His Hair’s So Perfect I Wanna Run My Fingers Through It His Voice is So Great I Wish I Could Talk To Him. Poe Dameron.”
Finn wants to melt into the floor, looking determinedly at the ceiling. “Yep,” he says, voice a little higher pitched than normal.
“And you.” Finn sees out of the corner of his eye Rey jab a finger into Poe’s chest. “Mr. God I Wish I Had Words To Describe His Eyes He’s Built Like a Boulder I Wanna Feel His Arms is Finn?”
Finn’s eyes snap to Poe. Poe is brick red, staring straight ahead and not at Finn at all. “Maybe,” he mumbles.
“Oh my god.” Rey throws her hands up. “I’m so done with both of you.” She storms into the kitchens. Poe glances at Finn, catching his eye and somehow flushing a little deeper.
“So.”
“So.” Finn clears his throat. “I would be amenable. To the arm feeling. After a date. If you wanted.”
Poe stares, then smiles so hard Finn’s surprised it doesn’t split his face. “I would feel similarly about the hair business.”
“Give him your fucking number!” Rey yells from the kitchen. Finn winces and is grateful that there’s nobody else in the shop.
“Why don’t you, uh, come back to the breakroom and I can get some paper for the number thing?”
“Sure.” Poe follows Finn back to the breakroom and Finn catches him in one of the fancy mirrors around checking out his ass as they walk. Finn doesn’t say anything.
“Hey,” Poe observes mildly as Finn scrambles around in the pocket of the hoodie he’d worn to work for a receipt, tugging it on absently as he does. “That’s my hoodie.”
Finn pauses and looks at the hoodie. It’s orange with white stripes. Finn had thought it looked unfamiliar, but he hadn’t been positive. He must have grabbed it when he’d been feeling awkward in Organa’s.
“Sorry,” he says, moving to take it off. Poe waves him off.
“Keep it.” Poe grins. “It suits you.”