Rey may not have had the usual upbringing, may not have been surrounded by a rose-colored environment, but she is not dense towards tender affairs. Especially when it concerns the matters of her two beloved (painfully obvious) friends. She sees it, alright. She would see it miles away. The looks. The split-second glances. It makes her want to scream at the pair to just get on with it.
"Tell me about it," Rey drawls to BB-8, the droid circling around her in frustration. It had just finished exasperatedly relaying another occurrence. Apparently, Poe Dameron had accidentally spilt a drink on himself at lunch. Which, okay, shouldn't be too bad. But—the pilot was wearing a white shirt. A very translucent-when-wet white shirt. Finn, of course, choked on his own spit and looked as if he were to pass out if it weren't for the droid's blatant interruption.
It's embarrassing, even for her.
"BB-8, I know I know. But look, we shouldn't meddle with it," says Rey, giving the droid a disapproving look. "They're smart—or at least one of them is, sooner or later they'll come to their senses." BB-8 makes a doubtful sound, almost like a scoff. She knows the feeling.
Rey has to admit, the past few days have been nothing short of both mortifying and endearing for both parties. And this is coming from her, a spectator. She can confidently speak on behalf of the resistance when she says it would relieve everyone of their frustrations if someone just finally did something about the two.
The droid looks at her expectantly.
"BB-8, come on, I—"
The door bolts open, and Finn's expression is ghastly. "Is Rey in here?" He's breathing heavily. Rey is going to assume that he had just ran away, from Poe, most likely.
"What troubles you, my dear friend?" She says calmly, her eyes glittering roguishly.
"It's, uh, nothing," says Finn, and he should know by now that he is terrible at lying.
Rey gives him a pointed look. "Right. Because you'd run to my room soaking in your sweat for absolutely no reason." Finn's brows crinkle together guiltily.
"Okay," Finn drags it unnecessarily long, "the medics are discharging me tomorrow."
"That's great, Finn. What does this have to do with—"
"Do you think I could room with you?" He looks painfully earnestly at her, and she's confused. Why the big fuss over a petty—oh. Oh. An idea brews in her head. Finn needs a roommate. This is all too convenient.
BB-8 is on the same page, it drones impishly.
"Why yes, BB-8, you have a valid point." She looks proudly at it, she knew refusing to sell the drone for sixty portions was the right choice.
"What'd the drone say, Rey?" Finn's eyes narrow at it, cautious. BB-8 repeats, Master Poe doesn't have a roommate.
"It says that it's master, Poe," he winces at her mention of the name, "doesn't have a roommate. Yet, at least."
"And that's the goddamn problem." Finn looks tormented, just a step short of clawing his own eyes out.
"How is that a problem?"
"I just, I can't."
"Finn. You're running away from something." Rey so badly wants to point it out, to spell it out letter by letter for him like a toddler.
Finn's shoulders hunch up. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," and he's sincere about this because he sounds utterly confused.
"What's wrong with rooming with the greatest pilot in the resistance, Finn?" asks Rey, implications in her tone that he will most likely never catch.
"Nothing," he pauses, "and everything at the same time." Finn starts to gesture wildly with his hands. "Poe is the greatest pilot in the resistance, wait, scratch that--in the Galaxy, probably. And me? I don't even have a last name for fuck's sake."
"Finn," Rey has given him this talk before, every once in a while he'd break into a little existential crisis. Considering what he had gone through, this is completely understandable. It just had the habit of hitting him during the worst possible times, ("Could you pass my spoon, Finn?" "What's my favorite color, Rey? I've never even stopped to think about it. How can someone not have a favorite color? What am I supposed to say if someone asks?") Rey gives him a steady look, "You're a hero, that's what." And possibly really gay for Poe Dameron, she wants to add.
"No, you're a hero. I'm just—just, me. Wookie shit. And Poe? Fuck, don't get me started on that guy, he's practically famous." The crease on Finn's forehead tightens and Rey wants nothing more than to kiss it and tell him everything with Poe will be alright.
On second thought, she wants nothing more than to have Poe kiss it.
Finn does have a point, even Rey can see how everyone kisses the ground their cherished Poe Dameron walks on. He's the Resistance's own celebrity, and someone awfully good at it. Rey has seen the way Poe handles himself, confident but not cocky, and Rey has also seen the way Finn watches him, eyes zeroed in into his every minor move. Honestly, does Finn even try to hide it? She doesn't think so.
"You know," starts Rey, "the first thing he did after blowing up Starkiller base was follow the medics and watch over you. General Organa had to extract him from your side, quite literally. He wanted to be there when you woke up, while I was with Luke Skywalker."
"He was there when I woke up, actually.”
“Exactly.” Rey rummages through her head for a way to say this without being too direct, “Poe—he cares about you, a lot, you know that Finn.”
Finn looks dazed. “Cares,” he mumbles under his breath, his face spacing out.
This, Rey thinks, is going to take a considerable amount of effort.
The mess hall during dinner time is always vibrant with everyone’s restless energy, which is odd, seeing as everyone’s usually exhausted by the end of the day. But something about this particular dinner is more spirited, as if someone spiked the water with caffeine.
“What’s their deal?” Jessika Pava, still in her orange pilot suit, toys with the food on her plate across from Rey.
Rey gives her a confused look. "Deal?"
"You know who I'm talking about, our little prodigy pilot and his ex-stormtrooper hero. What the hell is their deal?" Pava has a knack for sounding absolutely intimidating even when she doesn't mean to be. Ah, her dear friends.
"That's anyone's guess, really."
"Poe has been miserable. He won't tell anyone why." Snap Wexley, the other pilot, sounds partly amused, the other part is the recognizable brand of frustration of anything that concerned the two.
"—And we don't have to ask. A blind man would be able to tell," Jessika snarks, Snap laughs at this. "Plus, it's not like Dameron's been able to shut up about Finn, either."
Snap clears his throat. "'Do you think he'll wake up soon?' 'I have to get back, I wanna be there when he wakes up.'" He mimics, in a high voice so ironically far from Poe’s that Rey cannot help the laugh that escapes her lips. Jessika loses it.
So even Poe's own fellow pilots can tell, which proves her theory right. Finn, former First Order Stormtrooper, and Poe Dameron, prized commander of the Resistance Starfighter Corps, are the most obvious beings in the entire galaxy.
“Having a jolly evening, I see.” Speak of the devil. Poe Dameron looks amused to see them—and completely oblivious to their discussion—he sets his tray of food beside her’s.
They shrug at him.
“So, Rey,” starts Poe, casually, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for quite some time now.”
“We saw each other this afternoon?” She says pointedly.
“—Without Finn’s presence.”
The certain two other X-Wing pilots sitting across the table audibly attempt to contain their snorts. Poe glares at them, though a hint of embarrassment is evident.
“Okay,” he continues anyway, “so, um, has he, has Finn, well—ever mentioned me?” Poe looks vaguely nervous, an odd expression on someone usually so sure of himself. Rey is tempted to laugh.
“Of course he has,” which is Rey’s toned down way of saying that all Finn’s been able to talk about for many, many days is him.
Poe’s eyes light up, and Rey can swear, that it’s almost like there are literal hearts bubbling inside them. “He has?”
Rey nods. “Why do you ask?” She asks, mostly out of courtesy. It’s not as if she doesn’t already know the answer.
“—What did he say?” Poe continues, probably not hearing her question. And, okay—Poe Dameron has got it equally as bad as Finn does. They’re both so fucked.
“Nothing bad, that’s for sure,” Rey can almost feel him swoon, “haven’t you asked BB-8?”
“I can't trust that droid on this.” Poe narrows his eyes. “That little fucker keeps trying to—never mind, irrelevant.”
“Well, Finn says you're the best pilot he’s ever known.”
Poe’s entire face is lit up by this point. “The best pilot he’s ever known,” he repeats dazedly.
Snap rolls his eyes. “That’s because you formally are the best pilot in the Resistance, dumbass.” Pipes Snap.
For all the flattering comments Poe constantly gets about how terribly cool he is, he sure isn’t keeping his composure well at the moment.
“—And that you’re pretty attractive when you’re in your X-Wing,” says Rey. Fine, she might be exaggerating, but she’s not exactly lying, she’s sure Finn thinks it in his head anyway. There’s also that small chance that this might bite her in the ass later on, but she’s willing to take it.
“And that I’m—I’m, what?” coughs Poe, embarrassingly discomposed.
“Don’t make her say it again, Dameron,” says Jessika, amusement masked in her teasing tone. She looks at Rey, knowing. Snap gives her a discreet thumbs up.
“You’re kidding. You have to be.” Poe looks at Rey with an exceptional display of disbelief.
“I can assure you, dear friend, that I’m being serious. Why would I joke?”
“Because you know—don’t you?” Poe says quietly, carefully measuring his words. “I—I can’t keep hoping, I’m aware of that. But god, he drives me nuts.” His face contorts, pained. He runs his hands through it.
“How long have you known of your feelings, yourself?” Snap asks, sounding surprised. “I mean, you’ve been denying it every single time anyone from the squadron asked you. ‘What? Ha. Finn’s cool is all,’ or the classic uncomfortable laughter.”
“Realistically? Last night. But theoretically speaking, I’ve had them from the moment we got into the TIE fighter on the Star Destroyer Finalizer.”
Rey recalls Finn’s retelling of the events, if she remembered correctly, this was when Finn had helped him escape the First Order and right before their aircraft had crashed into Jakku, where both believed the other to be dead. It’s safe to say that they had gone through a lot together in such little time, emotionally and physically.
“Not surprised. At all. Totally called this,” says Jessika, smug.
“Called what?” Finn blinks at them, gripping onto a tray in a way similarly to how Poe was just moments ago.
They all go quiet.
“Hey buddy,“ Poe instantly says, face brightening, attempting not to be awkward. He’s failing. There’s a sudden urge to claw her face off.
"Sit with us," beckons Rey, trying her best to be natural. He obeys, sitting across from Poe. Oh boy.
They all sit in this heavy silence for a while, and Rey wonders to herself if Finn had sorted out his roommate problem yet, because if he had, he sure didn't ask Poe. She contemplates on her current options, she could just walk away from this excruciating silence and leave the two in an endless cycle of pining. Or the better one, she can bring it up herself.
Finn clears his throat. Okay, here it is. "So, Poe," he says nonchalantly, but Rey knows him well enough to hear the inner panic, "I, uh, I just came from the medical bay—"
Poe's eyes widen, dropping his utensils. "—Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Wait, did someone hurt you? Does it—"
"He's obviously fine, ace," Rey says, "calm down." Poe chuckles nervously.
"Right." Poe fumbles with his hands, and Rey can sense Finn's longing to hold them even from her seat.
"Anyway," starts Finn after a few beats, "so I was talking to the medical droids, and they were telling me that my vitals are doing well, and besides letting the scar on my back heal and all, they're ready to discharge me." Finn takes an audible gulp. "They told me to, um, look for someone to room with, and well, and I was maybe wondering—I mean, if you want, cause BB-8 told me you weren't rooming with anyone and, uh, yeah like, I need a roommate and—"
Poe slams a hand on the table. “We can be roommates," he says quickly. Jessika and Snap snort, trying to be discreet by coughing.
"Really?" Finn exclaims, the horrified delight on his face is clear. Rey thinks all his previous doubts just flew out the window. "I mean, like, if that's okay. If you, if you'd like."
"Of course it is." Poe beams, practically shameless, and the coughing intensifies. “Come on, you’re my buddy, you didn’t even need to ask.” It’s subtle, just a ghost of an expression, but Rey can see the agony on his face. Buddy. Sure.
There’s something to be said about plausible deniability, and how these two absolutely cannot, in any sense, use it. How are you supposed to deny knowledge of each other’s feelings when they are (almost literally) displayed in a window for everyone to see? Rey hasn’t witnessed a lot of romance in her days but she has an idea, and they just seem to match every ounce of criteria. Watching them feels like she’s intruding something intimate.
Somehow, maybe it agonizes Finn just as much. No matter how dense he is, because his face for a very short second, crumples. “Thanks, I was ‘kinda worried it might've be too short-notice.”
“I’d do anything for my buddy,” says Poe, eyes glimmering, and come on—he’s not even being subtle anymore. BB-8 rolls in at this moment, going straight to Poe and tells him he’s being summoned by the general. The droid, as if realizing it had just interrupted something, cautiously backs away. Poe puffs. “Come on, there’s no need to wait. I’m already done.”
The rest of the table watches as the pilot tromps away, other heads turning as he passes by, the droid circling around him in enthusiasm, seemingly teasing him.
Rey catches enough to hear Poe reply, "I'm not blushing, BB-8. Oh shut up.” She makes a mental note to praise the droid when she sees it.
With Poe gone, Rey’s attention turns to the boy in front of her, who is currently chomping down a loaf of bread, eyes careful not to meet her’s.
“Still don’t want to room with him, Finn?” she simply says, sly.
“I suppose it makes sense that we room together, he’s my closest friend besides you, after all.” Finn stabs into his food. She cannot believe how deeply set into renouncing his own feelings this boy is.
“Friend, huh? Are you sure you want to put me on the same tier as Poe?” Rey smiles wryly.
“Poe’s probably on a spotlit golden pedestal,” whispers Jessika, under her breath. Snap high-fives her under the table.
Finn says nothing, but looks fervently at his plate, chewing like there’s no tomorrow. If he thinks that he can easily escape this, his life is going to be utter hell. When has suffocating your own feelings ever worked?
Rey isn’t going to let them tip toe around each other any longer.
It’s been three remarkable days since the two have began rooming with each other, and Rey is certain of these three things:
One, she was right to suppose that they’d only ache for each other more, now that they’re nearer. Because Finn has been equally as mopey when the pilot isn’t around as he is elated when Poe is.
Two, their interactions have gone further in the physical regard. (Exhibit A: Poe undeniably took Finn’s hand on purpose the other day, she saw it with her own eyes.) Sure, it may be understated, and you’d have to look really closely to notice, but Rey’s being real here. The whole resistance have started watching them, and they’re just as confused.
Three—Finn has definitely, surely, a hundred percent started wearing Poe’s clothes. He’s even starting to smell like Poe, something Rey would’ve never even noticed if it weren’t for the fact that one certain smell effuses from them both when she’s with them. Isn’t this a couple thing? It is, isn’t it?
There’s palpable progress being made, just enough to satisfy Rey for the time being. But BB-8? That droid is on another level of intervention. Shameless, even. Rey was fortunate to witness the most recent one.
Poe and Finn had both just landed from a practice session, Poe had been not-so-secretly gaping at the other boy from behind, and like the bold droid it is, BB-8 comes straight at him, tangling his legs and tripping the pilot.
“BB-8, what the hell—“
Poe, with almost perfect precision, landed straight on top of Finn. It was classic. Finn, already sweaty from practice, had looked even more flustered. Yet, they merely stared at one another, Rey felt like she had to look away.
“Sorry, pal,” said Poe, his breathing short and face mortifyingly flushed. “Don’t know what’s gotten into that droid.”
“It’s good—I meant okay, it’s fine, not good. I mean, it’s no problem, is what I mean.” Finn said this all from beneath the pilot, his lack of tact is forgivable.
General Organa had seen this as well, the knowing smirk on her face is not something Rey will forget any time soon. “Someone should do something about that,” she said to one of the other pilots, almost snickering.
“Believe me, general. We’re all trying,” the pilot replied, just as amused.
Rey, without much thought, finds herself scurrying towards their shared room. She had a taxing time getting back to sleep the night prior after she chanced on what Finn would call, a new ‘wacko Jedi trick.’ Rey figured that she’d show it to him first thing in the morning, and amidst all this restlessness, failed to remember that they’re roommates now. How could she forget?
When Rey gets there, she doesn’t remember until her knuckles are mid-way through hitting the door in a knock and she hears Finn’s voice.
“—And I keep forgetting to ask the medics, how did my—sorry—your jacket get all patched up? I thought it was done for good after what happened, but I woke up and it was just, there,” Finn sounds confused, even through the door.
“Oh, about that,” says Poe, quiet shaky laughter follows, “I kinda…mended it myself.” Rey assumes that he’s bashfully scratching his head. “Also, it’s your’s now, don’t forget.”
The thought of Poe, a busy, very demanded pilot, making the time to rigorously sew up an old leather jacket for the sake of Finn’s happiness is very warming.
“You—oh. Alright, now I feel bad. You gave it to me and I just, just went ahead and tore it up.”
“Hey hey, buddy,” croons Poe. “Have you already forgotten? You completed my mission.” His tone is mild, weighing every word on his tongue carefully. “Fixing it up was the least I could’ve done. I still owe you. And besides, what was I supposed to do while I waited for you to wake up?”
“You waited for me?”
“Well. Yeah. I wasn’t just there when you woke up by chance, you know.”
“But, why?” Finn asks, mystified.
Poe laughs. “That will take a fairly long time to answer. Maybe another time. Soon, hopefully.”
“That’s pretty suspicious,” says Finn, jokingly.
“So is the way you have a hard time meeting my eyes when I’m topless at night,” teases Poe, and Finn discernibly starts coughing. “Relax bud,” says Poe, sounding highly amused, “I’m kidding I’m kidding.” But somehow, Rey knows he isn’t.
Okay, Rey muses, maybe I should come back later.
After the eavesdropping (by accident, Rey insists) incident, she makes it a point to simply meet both men elsewhere instead of coming for them in their room. That usually meant meeting them at the mess hall for breakfast, but it’s way past call time and Finn still hasn’t arrived. Rey doesn’t worry much, she’s aware of the boy’s inability to be easily stirred. Though she knows that Poe, on the other hand, had to be awake much earlier for an important meeting with the Blue Squadron.
BB-8 keeps her company on the grass outside, going on about what it’s noticed from the past days. They’re predominantly on the same track.
“Yes, I did see what you did to Poe a few days ago, and yes, it was good. Well done, BB-8.” Rey tells the orange droid, it reacts happily.
What should we do now? BB-8 asks after a while.
“I don’t think there’s much left for us to do, if you can see, our plan’s working pretty damn well. It’s all up to them now,” Rey squints at her surroundings, even in the morning, the base is bustling with life. A stark comparison to the island with her master, Luke Skywalker. She’s set to return not too long from now, but Rey was fortunate enough to be granted this little break to check up on Finn and the rest. She missed them dearly. Not that she cannot communicate with them when she’s off training, technology truly is a blessing.
The droid agrees, purely delighted. BB-8 suddenly whisks around, and Rey follows where it’s looking at—she hadn’t realized that the pilots were out flying, it was probably some part of their meeting. Poe isn’t currently using his iconic Black One X-Wing, but even then, anyone can tell that it’s him on the wheel. (“When Poe flies, you just can’t help but watch him. It’s mesmerizing. He’s like some bird or something. He’s in his element,” Finn had told Rey once, unaware of his own ridiculous gushing.)
Poe likes showing off when Finn’s around, says BB-8.
“Oh I bet he does, that sounds just like him,” says Rey. The aircrafts fly nearer, gradually landing one by one in disturbingly perfect precision. The final one lands, and Rey isn’t sure if it’s Poe until he skilfully exists the craft, clearly adept at what he’s doing, even from where they’re standing.
“Poe’s hair…I’ve never realized how nice it is.” Finn materializes beside them, so suddenly that Rey almost jumps. His voice is still groggy. He stares off into the distance to where the pilots are, and without a doubt, looking at a certain one. “I mean, I’ve always known it was nice—just, not this, um, never mind.” Poe had just taken of his helmet, his entire being obnoxiously gleaming under the sun like some kind of poster boy of perfection. This is probably too much for Finn to handle.
“It’s the first thing you see in the morning, Finn. How could you not?”
“His lips are just as nice to look at,” he says this so quietly under his breath that even Rey isn’t sure if she was meant to hear it. She meekly grins. Does he finally get it?
“Finn, you understand now, don’t you?” Rey asks.
He looks at her, and she can see the sense of comprehension in his expression. “Understand that I’m completely, painfully, so hopelessly into Poe Dameron? Why yes, Rey, yes I do.”
“—And let me tell you, Rey. It sucks. So much,” groans Finn. “Do you know how hard it is, to share a room with someone as beautiful as Poe Dameron? So goddamn hard. I mean, he literally walks around the room shirtless after eight, and I’m expected not to stare at him? Rey, I’m only human. There’s only so much I can take.” Rey has been waiting for this moment for a very long time.
She should probably comfort him like any proper friend would do, but to be fair, this is a victory she deserves to bask in.
“It must be such a nuisance,” she says, sarcasm dripping off her tone.
“Don’t even get me started on his eyes, they look through your soul. And his lips? I’ve never been good with words, but I can go on talking for hours about his lips.” He’s on a roll, he’d go for days if she’d let him.
“Are you going to do something about it?”
“What? God no. Never.” He tenses his shoulders, cringing at the thought.
“Finn, you’re ridiculous. Please.”
“I’d rather get sliced by a lightsaber again.” The way he says this with pure sobriety concerns her.
“You need to tell him, Finn,” pleads Rey, she’d use the force if she could, “I promise you that there’s nothing to fear.” Because there isn’t, there genuinely isn’t.
“Rey, you’re practically asking me to jump off a cliff. Which, by the way, I would actually prefer to do.”
“And then get excruciatingly rejected? I’m looking forward to that.” Finn cups his face in a hand, probably wishing to be swallowed up in a hole. “Come on Rey, let’s be honest, the best case scenario is that he won’t hate me and avoid me for the rest of our lives. Which would be terrible. Poe cannot possibly feel the same way.”
“Finn,” she says with severe firmness, “you cannot know that.”
Rey leaves him with that, and hopes to God that he considers it. His stubbornness is definitely a battle to be won over, she wasn’t sure how effective she was in terms of persuasion until she sees his introspective expression.
The evening arrives quicker that day, Rey had passed the afternoon going over specific plans with most of the Resistance tactic officers concerning the future of the New Republic, especially with Hosnian Prime, the republic’s capital, just recently destroyed by the First Order. It’s all draining to think about, but every once in a while someone would mention how useful having a former First Order Stormtrooper now is, and Rey makes it a mental note to tell Finn of these praises.
During the end of the week, dinner at the mess hall is always prepared grander, sometimes they even threw in a little wine, which made for particularly interesting nights.
Rey is in the same table along with Jessika Pava and Snap Wexley, but two notable figures are missing. Points go to anyone who can guess who. She doesn’t mind it at for a while, but then she goes through half of her dessert without either of them popping up and now she’s curious.
"Where are they?” Rey asks, an eyebrow quirked.
"I, hm, I’m actually not sure.” Jessika looks similarly puzzled. “We were out for a practice session, but we've ended ages ago.”
“I don’t remember them following us out of the aircraft apron. Do you?” Snap asks the other pilot, who shakes her head in reply.
“I should go check on them,” mumbles Rey.
“We’ll come with you. They can be a handful,” says Jessika, stuffing her mouth with jello.
“No no, it’s alright. I’m sure I can can handle those two by myself,” Rey insists, but they’re already out of their seats waving her off.
The three slip out of the hall and quietly trek to the aircrafts. It’s dark, if they are in-fact here, what the hell are they doing?
“That’s the one Poe was using.” Snap points, and it’s too far and dark for Rey to see well enough to tell.
“I’ll go see if he’s there,” she says.
It may be eerily dark, but the stars absolutely compensate with their prominent twinkling. Rey thinks that this is exactly the kind of night Finn and Poe would adore and—wait. Next to Poe’s aircraft, there are two figures sitting on the floor, and okay—they’re close. Really close. Legs practically intertwined close. Rey knows its them, she could distinguish their voices, though hushed. One figure (Poe?) suddenly turns to the other, and wow, she didn’t think they could get any closer than that.
“Finn, there’s something I should tell you,” he says, and yep, it’s Poe alright. “When you came back, you didn’t just complete my mission, you completed me—and god, that sounds terrible, disgusting even, but fuck, it’s true.” There’s so much longing in his voice, the kind that’s been waiting to be released. Finn gapes. “You wanted to know why I waited for you to wake up right? Well let me tell you, those few days of you unconscious were killing me. Actually in fact, you kill me, like, you drive me crazy just by existing. And it’s been worse now that we’re roommates ‘cause I want nothing more than to just hold you and—” Finn leans in, shutting him up, tenderly, but evidently relieved. He grabs Poe’s hair, taking them in his hands carefully. Poe wraps his arms around the other’s back. It all starts out rather innocently, but after a few minutes it gets—well, passionate, until they’re just full-on making out on the pavement. That probably has to hurt somehow. Okay, Rey should look away, she should definitely look away—why is it so hard to look away?
“Hey, is everything alri—holy shit.” Jessika and Snap’s jaws might as well have dropped to the floor. They’re borderline shocked. And then, they just start uncontrollably snickering. Rey shushes them, which fails miserably.
“Shut up, they’ll hear you,” Rey turns around, and fuck, too late.
The two wrench apart as quickly as humanly possible, completely and utterly, disheveled. Poe’s immaculate hair is wrecked beyond repair, strands sticking to parts of his heated face. And Finn—god, Finn. There are no words. But the best part is their expressions, the perfect deer in the headlights exhibition. Only, Poe looks more annoyed for being interrupted than ashamed.
“We swear we didn’t see anything,” the two pilots say quickly before backing away in fear. Snap and Jessika are dead to Poe.
Rey rolls on her heels. “So,” she starts, painfully awkward, “I was just going to check if you guys were alright.”
“We are,” says Finn, a breathless quality still in his voice.
“I can see that.” Rey can’t help the giddiness in her tone.
“I can’t come up with a half-assed explanation. This is what it looks like,” says Poe.
“And what exactly is ‘this?’” asks Rey, only because she wants to hear them say it.
“Two boyfriends making out with each other, need I say more?” Finn says, attempting to be firm and only managing to sound vaguely nervous, still, Poe is practically swooning.
“So, I’m going to leave. But before that—you’re welcome,” says Rey.
They both flush further. She’s enjoying this.
BB-8 is going to love this.