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ready for my close up, mr. dameron

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“For the last time, Rey, I’m not seeing the new Aviator Chronicles movie with you,” Finn says, ducking closer to the table so he doesn’t come across like a rude jackass in a crowded restaurant (even if he is on his phone and possibly disturbing a few people’s dinners). He’s still setting up for his blind date with someone he only knows by his screen name (Huxter66) and hasn’t put out the copy of Frankenstein on the table to be recognized by, but Rey has had priority in his life for nearly a decade now and that’s not changing because of a blind date.

He rolls his eyes when Rey instantly airs her displeasure on the other end of the line, asking him why he doesn’t want to go see it, given the stellar reviews for both the film and its cast. “Because I’m not a movie kind of guy. You know that. Besides, I prefer shoot ‘em up westerns when I do go see something…” he goes on, getting his book on the edge of the table as he leans over to dig through his bag so he can zip it closed and get it out of the way.

He trails off, his gaze sliding to the commotion at the door of the nice Italian restaurant they’re in, where a redheaded man is currently reaming out the poor hostess for accidentally bumping into him.

“…and for that matter, where’s your manager so I can inform him about the disgraceful manner his staff behaves in.”

The redheaded man is wearing a black rose on his lapel, the signal for Finn to recognize him by.

“Oh, shit,” Finn manages, accidentally hanging up on Rey and bumping his head on the table at the same time in his shock. He comes away from it a little dizzy, rubbing his head with his palm while fighting off the distinct impression that nearly everyone in the restaurant must be staring at him right now.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?”

Finn’s vision is currently seeing three of everything, which is a problem. He blinks and manages to get it down to double and after a few more seconds, he’s only seeing one of anything. That includes the guy kneeling in between his legs, too handsome for his own good and wearing a look of concern to go with all those perfect features. Fuck, did he pass out or something? People this good-looking don’t usually show up in Finn’s reality.

“What happened?” Handsome asks, sliding his hand up to Finn’s head to look for a potential bump.

Momentarily stunned (and a little bit knocked around), Finn struggles to explain what happened when he sees Huxter start to scan the restaurant.


“I need you to be my date,” Finn says frantically, because even a few minutes spent with that blowhard will be too much. Better for him to think he’s been blown off and then later, Finn can delete all their conversations on his computer. What the hell had he been thinking? (No, he knows what he’s been thinking and most of it goes along the lines of his right hand being way too tired to keep up the hard work without a little backup)

Handsome grins at him, his gaze sliding over Finn’s face. “Do you proposition all the nice men who come to help you out with your head wounds?”

Finn manages not to reply with ‘only the handsome ones’. Barely. “That guy? That guy right there?” Finn says, nodding frantically. “He’s my blind date, only I just watched him ream out the nice hostess and he looks a little like he’s just waiting for the opportunity to do it again.”

Handsome glances over Finn’s shoulder, makes a ‘you’re probably right’ face, and then looks back at Finn with an ever-softening smile. “What’ll you give me for it?” he asks teasingly.

Finn doesn’t think ‘a kiss’ is an appropriate response this soon into meeting someone, so he gestures to the little two-person table with the romantic candlelight and the breadsticks. “Free dinner?”

Handsome looks over his shoulder, like he’s trying to check with someone whether he should do this, but he uses Finn’s knee to lever himself upwards, standing and taking the opposite seat from Finn. “How about your name and dinner? Maybe your number, too,” Handsome goes on. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Now that Finn’s got a prince charming to rescue him from the toad, Finn shoves the potentially damning book back into his bag, grateful he’d never used a picture online. “Finn,” he introduces himself, once he’s sure Huxter can’t hear them. “I’m Finn.”

“Finn, huh? I’m Poe,” he replies, reaching out to shake Finn’s hand. He holds onto it for a weirdly long time, studying Finn like he’s waiting for something.

Not sure what that’s about, but Finn’s just happy that he’s managed to eke out a last minute rescue. “Good to meet you,” he says. Finally, Poe gives up on whatever he’s looking for and relinquishes Finn’s hand (which is sort of unfortunate and Finn kind of regrets thinking that the too-long handshake had been awkward). Handsome becomes Poe, but as they order wine, Finn figures out that he could’ve nicknamed him Witty or Charming or Funny, because they all apply.

“So what were you doing here before I knocked my head like an idiot?” Finn asks, having trouble taking his eyes off of Poe to look at the menu.

“I have a friend who recommended the place to me. I’m in town for a while, so I figured I’d check it out,” Poe replies, dipping some bread in the olive oil. It requires him to stretch forward and reach closer to Finn and gives Finn the opportunity to observe how damn good Poe smells. Between that and his perfectly tousled hair, not to mention the sleek suit, Finn’s starting to feel out of his league.

“What’re you doing in town, then?” Their little sea-side town didn’t have much claim to fame, but they had a few decent industries coming through and their proximity to the major cities on the east coast helped people make the decision to settle down. It’s quaint. In the history of descriptions, no one’s come up with something better than quaint, but that’s usually because it is. It’s the people that Finn’s come to love, not the place.

Poe narrows his eyes and stares at Finn with that look again.

“You really want to know?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Finn says. Is this a flaw? Maybe this is the first flaw and he finally has something to go against all the good things he’s put in Poe’s ‘pros’ column. “I mean, we can start with me. I work on the army base.” He leaves out the part where he’s just managed to get out of sanitation and into the reserves, because none of that is really flattering, even for a fake-date.

“I’m here on a job,” Poe replies. “Couple of weeks, and then I head back home until the next business trip.”

Finn tries not to look too disappointed. Sure, it’s probably only a fake-date and yeah, it’s not like Poe’s anything more than a solid guy doing him a favour, but only a couple of weeks in town means that he’s going to leave eventually and Finn’s going to be left on his own.


Well, not completely alone. He’s got Rey, but Rey’s always busy with her shop and her second job running the martial-arts studio downtown with one of the Skywalkers. Still, he’s been so desperate for someone else that he agreed to a blind date online and look where that’s left him.

He has to avoid feeling bad about this. It’s not like Poe’s even interested in him. He could just be a really good guy intent on saving Finn from a potential catastrophe. Finn tells himself that the best thing he can do is just make the best of it. That means enjoying the evening and not getting overly pessimistic about the future, which he’s got a bad habit of doing.

He’s at dinner with a gorgeous guy who’s funny and clever and doesn’t want to be anywhere else. That’s better than Finn’s done in years.

“You should get the lasagna,” Finn recommends, finally prying his gaze away from Poe to order. He licks his lips and tries not to go back to staring at Poe, which is when he realizes that if he’s been staring at Poe this whole time and they haven’t broken eye contact, Poe’s been staring back.

Staring back and biting his lip, in fact, but Finn’s working on some delayed reaction time in his disbelief that anyone half as handsome as Poe would want anything to do with him.

“I’ll take it, then,” he says to the waiter, handing off the menu. The waiter is gaping at Poe a lot longer than he probably needs to. This should be a red flag to Finn, but at the moment, all he can think about is how he doesn’t blame the guy for looking at Poe for so long.

(Later, this will be one of the exhibits in the lengthy mental trial of ‘How On Earth Did You Not Figure This Out Sooner, Finn?’ as narrated by Rey)

They spend dinner exchanging facts about themselves and Finn forgets reality. It’s there, he knows it, but at this point the restaurant could explode and all he’d manage to do is note the golden flecks of warmth that color Poe’s brown eyes. Finn ignores his ringing phone, ignores the other staring patrons, and is pretty sure his heart skips a beat when Poe reaches across the table for a fork and ends up twining their fingers together briefly.

“Do you want to go out with me?” Finn asks, when he can’t take it anymore. The worst that can happen is Poe leaves in a few weeks’ time and Finn nurses his humiliation while avoiding the guy in the meantime.

He honestly can’t take another minute of this dinner without finding out whether he’s got a shot.

Poe grins at him and in the candlelight of the table, Finn’s completely sure that he’s never seen anyone more handsome. Oh god, please let him be gay, single, and willing to settle for a guy like him. Poe leans across the table, brows knit together as he coaxes for Finn to come closer. He does, elbows on the table rumpling the tablecloth as he finds himself a hair’s breadth away from Poe’s lips.

“I thought we were on a date,” Poe says, laughter lines crinkling up around his eyes.

“No, no, I mean a real date,” Finn clarifies. “One where you’re not just saving me from an asshole.”

“Finn, buddy,” Poe says. “I thought we were on a real date.” While that sinks in, Finn leans back and grins, laughing when he figures out that he’s not about to get publically dumped.

If he weren’t in a public place, he’d be running victory laps right about now, screaming joyfully at his good luck.

“In that case, don’t get the lasagna,” Finn quips, heart racing as he pushes his luck.

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Onions,” is all Finn says. “And garlic.”

Poe waits a moment before lifting his hand to signal for the waiter while never taking his eyes off of Finn. “Waiter,” he calls, biting his lip again as his gaze slides lasciviously over Finn’s body. “I’m gonna need to change my order.”

Finn sighs happily for the fourth time that morning. It’s only been twelve hours since he’d last seen Poe and he’s already in the midst of withdrawal.

It’s apparently too much because Rey slides out from under the vintage car she’s been taking apart for parts, pointing at him with the wrench. “You need to stop that,” she warns. “I mean it. First of all, I’m still mad at you for hanging up on me and not calling back. Second of all, I’m even more upset that you didn’t take a picture of this supposedly gorgeous man…”

“Hey, supposedly?”

“Because you and I both know you’re prone to exaggeration.” She wheels herself the rest of the way out and grabs a cloth to wipe the oil off her hands, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead as she heads to the small mini-fridge she keeps in the shop. “He can’t have been that good looking.”

“Rey, trust me,” Finn promises, chasing after her and wishing he had taken a picture. “He’s gorgeous. He’s got these warm brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you and I swear to god, his hair looks like he’s got someone following him around fluffing it up.”

He doesn’t go into the lovelorn monologue about what it’d been like kissing Poe in the alleyway behind the restaurant and how that perfectly tousled hair had felt gripped in Finn’s hand, not because he doesn’t want to share, but because he’s pretty sure Rey will actually throw something at him to get him to stop.

She drags a bottle of water from out of the fridge and sips it, not taking her eyes off of him once. He recognizes her expression as the one she wears when she’s still figuring out how she feels about something.

“This isn’t like Ben?” she checks.

Finn makes a face, hating to be reminded of the time he went and fell half in love with the Mayor’s son, who’d been on the base while he was working there, only to end up enlisting in the Navy and pretending he’d never met Finn at all. He’d managed to get his heart broken and now he ends up seeing Ben at Thanksgiving dinners when the group of them show up to dinner, nursing awkward old wounds.

He refuses to answer to his given name, lately, only going by his call sign. He seems eager to forget anything about his time in the army, citing his new division to be superior to anything he’s done before.

Finn’s pretty sure he dodged a bullet, there.

“He’s only in town for a little,” Finn admits, “but we’ve already arranged for a second date. He says he’s going to surprise me. We’re meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

“Finn, you romantic,” she accuses. “Just remember, safe sex is good sex.”

Finn makes a face because the prospect of sex with Poe is definitely a good one, but now he’s got images of Rey watching it, in his head. And that’s just a level of weird he’s not ready to cope with today.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s his choice,” Finn admits, leaning back in his chair and reliving every glorious moment of last night’s dinner.

“So what happened with your original date?” Rey asks.

“Huxter? As far as I know, he went on to be rude to the manager and half the guests in the restaurant before he left. I was a little too busy to pay much attention,” he confesses. “I swear, it was actually hard to look away from him, he’s so handsome.”

She gives him a dubious look. “Pictures,” she says firmly. “Or I’m not going to believe he’s real.”

There’s a very selfish part of Finn that doesn’t want to share his new kind-of-boyfriend with anyone, not even his best friend.

“He paid for dinner, too,” Finn says, unable to let another minute pass without sharing more news from the night before. “Even after I promised that I’d pay. He just whipped out this platinum credit card and paid, then wrote his number on the back of the check.”

“So he’s rich and good-looking and only in town for a few weeks,” Rey says, giving Finn a sympathetic shoulder squeeze. “You always did have nasty luck.”

“Tell me about it.”

Finn’s already made a resolution to enjoy himself, though, and no amount of reminders about how this is all temporary is going to ruin it for him. He’s fidgeting in his chair when another long span of silence passes. “Fine,” she sighs. “Tell me more about him, but you owe me. You’re coming to class to help the kids next week during their yellow belt ceremony.”

He agrees quickly before launching into a long description of how Poe had taken his hand through the dinner, tracing the lifelines on Finn’s palm, like he’d been searching for a future or trying to wish one there with just the trace of his warm fingers.

Rey’s the one sighing by mid-morning, but hers are definitely a lot less lovelorn and a lot more frustrated. She knows as well as Finn, though, that his luck in love has been pretty hit and miss over the years, so she lets it go.

This time, at least.

Poe shows up for their date wearing sunglasses despite the slightly grey skies and a gorgeous dark-green turtleneck that hugs his torso in an appallingly appealing way. The jeans give him a casual look and don’t make Finn feel entirely overdressed. He’s wearing this vintage-looking leather jacket and Finn can’t help but feel like he’s staring at a 1920’s movie star.

(This, incidentally, is exhibit two in the case of ‘Finn, You’re An Idiot’, with appendices by Mr. Solo, the smuggler turned police chief and Rey’s uncle)

His heart still skips a beat at the sight of him, his hearing vanishing for just a moment before he remembers that he should say something or risk looking like a concussed drooling idiot.

“So where are we going?” Finn asks, deciding not to probe Poe about his fashion choices (or ask how he finds clothes that fit him so perfectly that Finn can almost see the definition of his abs).

“You afraid of heights?”

“Never had a good reason to find out,” Finn replies. He’s flown a few times, sure, but if Poe has arranged for something crazy like skydiving or bungee-jumping he might have to start stacking up the ‘things that are wrong with Poe No-Last-Name-Given’ column.

Poe grabs hold of Finn’s hand, tugging him along through the town past the little shops on main street and past the pylons and trucks where they’re shooting a movie, ducking in a few back-alleys until Finn, who’s lived here all his life, doesn’t even know where they are. Eventually, though, they come out on an air-field, with Poe gesturing over his shoulder at the vintage biplane looming over him. “Well?” he asks excitedly. “What do you think?”

“You’re a pilot?” Finn asks, eyes brightening. “That’s what you do?”

“Not exactly,” Poe replies. “This is more of a hobby.” He sprints over to the plane and rubs his hand over it affectionately. “I’ve nicknamed her the Blackbird X,” he says, leaning inside to get the engine going while Finn appreciates the design-work that’s been done to it over the years.

Poe is definitely, definitely rich.

“What’s RY?” Finn asks on his second round about the plane, having found the initials painted alongside a small drawing of an old spitfire.

Poe stares at him with that look of disbelief that’s starting to become commonplace and ducks his head to hide his fond grin. “Not important,” he says, handing a pair of goggles to Finn. “C’mon,” he says. “This place looks amazing from the sky.”

Finn hesitates at the edge of the plane, knowing that half the reason for his nerves is the gorgeous man in front of him, but the other half belong to a very reasonable fear he feels he needs to air.

“Do you have a pilot’s license?”

Poe fishes around the plane and digs out a laminated copy of just that, setting Finn’s heart at ease from the near-panic palpitations he’s just avoided. He climbs into the little plane, trying to figure out how he went from cleaning floors at the army base and signing his time away to the reserves to flying around in planes with rich men.

The minute they hit their cruising altitude, all of Finn’s disbelief melts away and the only thing he thinks about is the rush of crisp air on his skin, the dots below that make up their little seaside town by the ocean, and how safe he feels in Poe’s hands.

They fly around for another thirty minutes and by the time they land, Finn is filled with exuberant glee; the kind that leaves him shaking and so happy that he could weep. This is the sort of experience he’s always wanted to have and he’s just managed to knock it off on a second date like it’s nothing.

“Hey,” Poe says worriedly, helping Finn down from the plane once everything is off. “You’re shaking.”

It could be the proximity to the man he’s got a furious crush on, but given that Finn had worn his tight black t-shirt today (it’s the hotter days of summer and the t-shirt shows off all the hard work he’s been putting into his arms at the gym), he thinks maybe it has more to do with the chill in the air so high up. He opens his mouth to say he’ll warm up soon enough, but Poe’s already prying his jacket off and sliding Finn’s arms into it.

“There,” he murmurs, brushing off some dust from the arm. “Look at that, it fits you perfectly, like it was meant to be.”

The shaking is definitely not the weather’s fault at this point.

“You look really, really good in my jacket,” Poe says.

The next thing Finn knows, he’s backed up against the side of Poe’s plane, being kissed so well that Finn actually has to grab hold of the plane to keep his knees from buckling. He refuses to be shown up, tangling his fingers into Poe’s wavy locks, turning them so it’s Poe’s turn to get pinned to the plane, while Finn slides his knee in between Poe’s thighs to try and get the upper hand. It works for about ten glorious seconds in which he’s got Poe at his mercy, groaning and begging under his breath for more.

The spell breaks when Poe eases back and realizes what they’re doing. “Shit,” Poe gets out, a dazed look on his face. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I kind of beg to differ,” Finn replies, leaning in for round two when Poe pulls away. Finn’s face falls, but Poe reaches for him so quickly that he holds back the worry of rejection. “Was that not okay?”

“Oh, trust me, that was more than okay. I’d even go so far as to call it a whole new kind of amazing,” Poe promises, glancing warily over his shoulder. “I’m just not usually a PDA kind of guy.” They’re far away, but in the distance, Finn can see some of the airport staff milling around.

Finn can kind of understand that, but he’s also pretty convinced that you’d have to be made of stone not to kiss Poe after being given his jacket like that. He runs his fingers over the lapel of the jacket, staring at it reverently. When he looks up to thank Poe, he finds that Poe’s staring at Finn’s hands, the tip of his tongue pressed to his upper lip as he breathes out slowly.

“I brought lunch,” Poe says suddenly, as aware as Finn that if they don’t move from this bubble of a moment they’re trapped in that they’re going to fall right back to making out against the plane. “Over there?” he suggests, gesturing to the nearby willow tree with his thumb.

Finn nods frantically, trying to process all the things his mind has skipped over while absorbing that kiss, like the fact that Poe’s hand has been under his t-shirt at the small of his back this whole time and the warmth of that hand is radiating through him, or the way one of Poe’s tendrils of hair is curling over his forehead.

“I’ve never had a second date like this before,” Finn admits, dragging himself away from the plane. He’s never had any dates before where the guy showed up and flew him over their town like he’s got his own personal magic carpet, but he thinks that one goes without saying.

Poe gives a disappointed sound at losing contact with Finn’s skin (even though it’d been his idea to stop) and follows along after him like an eager puppy. “Yeah? Is that because you haven’t had many second dates or am I just that good?”

“Buy me a drink and I’ll tell,” Finn flirts incorrigibly, stopping in front of a picnic basket and checkered tablecloth right out of a movie.

(He doesn’t even think he needs to talk about how this is Exhibit Three. He’ll just leave that in his memory and walk away)

Poe leans down and unearths a bottle of champagne, popping it open and pouring Finn a fizzy, full plastic glass of the stuff while patting the space beside him. Finn gets comfortable, silently lamenting the fact that he isn’t getting to sit in Poe’s lap. Then he can only fixate on the champagne and the incredible little finger-foods that Poe’s packed away for them.

“I haven’t been on as many second dates as I’d like people to think,” Finn admits, after being bribed with a salmon pinwheel.

“People are insane for not wanting to take you out.”

Finn shrugs, staring at the bubbles evaporating in his glass. “I don’t think it’s them. My best friend, Rey? She’d say I’m really picky, but that’s not it, either. Most of the people I’ve dated end up being better friendship material than anything else. Actually, that’s how Rey and I met. We were set up and I swear, I’ve never clicked so naturally with someone, but we both realized really quickly that we were better friends than lovers.”

“We’re on a second date,” Poe says, wearing hope on his face like a mask.

“Yeah, we are,” Finn agrees.

“And are we better off friends?”

Finn glances off to the plane in the distance and thinks about the jacket hanging off his shoulders and that intense kiss and how he feels completely alive when he’s around Poe. “How about this?” he suggests. “For our third date, I’ll take you to the best coffee shop in town and you can tell me how friendly we are. They make a caramel latte so good, it’s managed to get me through a few dry spells.”

“I like it,” Poe grins. “I like that plan a lot.”

“Good, me too,” Finn confirms, popping another salmon bite in his mouth. “So when did you learn to fly?” he asks, his mouth still half-full.

“My mother flew planes when I was a kid. Not commercial or anything, but Dad had enough pull with the right people to get her flying lessons. I don’t remember a single time in my childhood when Mom wasn’t trying to get up there again. She took me up for the first time when I was six,” Poe shares, wistful and fond, “and let me hang onto the controls. It couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds, not really, but those thirty seconds proved to me that I’d be just like her, someday.”

“So flying’s in your blood?” Finn asks, to Poe’s nod. “And your Dad? What’d he do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that, once he got out of the army,” Poe says. “What about you? What did your parents do?”

“I don’t know about my birth parents,” Finn admits. “I’m an orphan. I was raised by one of the locals. Nice enough woman, but a bit stern,” he says, thinking of Mrs. P. “She just wanted me to grow up respecting her rules. When I turned eighteen, I went to the base and asked for a job. All they had for me was janitorial, but I took it knowing I could save money and go to school. After figuring out that maybe joining up wasn’t the worst thing, I’m kind of dipping my toes in with the reserves to see how I like it.”

“Do you have a uniform?” Poe asks, sounding very interested in a uniform that Finn’s never really seen the big deal about before today.

“That’s fifth date kind of wear.”

“Well, hopefully I’m not just your friend by then.”

“We’ll play it by ear,” Finn replies, reaching over to twine his fingers with Poe’s, squeezing their joined hands to reassure him that he really doesn’t see this being anything platonic anytime soon.

If only he got to keep Poe longer than a few more weeks.

“I really wish you weren’t just here visiting,” Finn says, unable to keep to himself why the bucket of cold water’s been thrown over him. “In two dates, I already like you more than my whole back catalogue of high school hookups.”

“Lot of screwing in cars?” Poe asks, sounding a little jealous (which is kind of new to Finn, who’s not used to being the object of someone’s jealous worry).

“What kind of teenaged years did you have,” Finn asks, feeling a frisson of a thrill for having this much power over Poe already. “It was more awkward groping in bathroom stalls. Besides, you must have had your whole school panting over you.”

“Believe it or not, I was an extremely awkward teenager.” He doesn’t exactly give Finn an answer about whether he’d been a hot commodity, though.

“I demand pictures.”

Again, that strange look on Poe’s face, like he just can’t believe Finn. It’s almost as if he expects Finn to already know these things. That look fades away as easily as it’d come and he tops up Finn’s glass of champagne, glancing at the airport staff before leaning in and kissing Finn slowly, sweetly, cupping his cheek and leaning in until Finn has to tighten his grip on his glass or lose it.

“I thought you didn’t like PDA?” Finn asks breathlessly, the sweet hint of champagne on his lips now forever twined with the taste of Poe’s kiss.

“Sometimes, you just look so gorgeous that I have to make exceptions,” Poe confesses. “Come on. Eat up. We’re going up again after lunch.”

Finn could argue and tell Poe that he’s completely charmed already and he doesn’t need more proof of Poe’s ability, but he’s kind of completely overwhelmed with the sinking sensation that he’d do anything on earth just to get some more time with Poe.

Curled up in his jacket, drinking champagne that will always remind him of Poe, Finn doesn’t know of a better place to be. Up in the sky with Poe? Yeah. That’s not something he’s going to argue.

Finn has his head buried in his hands.

It’s been a week of picnic dates, afternoon flights, and fumbled groping with Poe whenever the other man can find time, which has left him starting to fall down a terrifying rabbit hole he’s pretty sure leads to something a lot deeper than puppy love. Poe’s busy today with his job, so Finn’s at Rey’s because he doesn’t really think he can hang around the base anymore on his days off. His buddies are starting to give him a hard time about not having a life. Even the weather seems to be against him, drizzling in fits and starts outside and only contributing to Finn’s miserable mood.

Time apart from Poe, however, is starting to highlight some of the strange eccentricities that Finn’s noticed over the last few dates this week. “He hasn’t told me his last name,” Finn realizes, handing Rey a can of oil. “And every time I ask him what he does, he replies with ‘it really depends on the day’.”

“He’s only here a few weeks, maybe he doesn’t want to get attached,” Rey reasons.

“That’s the worst part,” Finn complains. “If he’s only here temporarily and doesn’t want to get attached, then why am I bothering? He’s gorgeous and funny and beautiful and he owns planes and wears scarves when we go flying like some kind of movie star right out of a World War One film…”

Something he’s said has set Rey off. She sits very, very still, ignoring the oil can. “Finn,” she says calmly, in that way she always leads with when she’s about to have one of her scary genius moments. “What did you say his name was?”

“Poe,” he says, giving her an accusatory look because he’s only said it about a dozen times when they’re talking.

“And he’s only in town for a few weeks,” she repeats, wheeling herself and her chair over to the little fridge. “My God, I’m best friends with an idiot.”

“Hey!” Finn objects sharply. “…Why am I an idiot?”

The thing is, Rey’s usually right about this kind of thing.

She drags her way through her leftovers and the bottles of pop to dig out that weird yogurt in a tube stuff that she eats for breakfast. Finn refuses to call it by its actual name because he’s a grown-ass man. He refuses to even look at it in the store because yogurt does not and should not come in disposable tubes.

“Poe Dameron, maybe?”

She turns the package around and points to the little figure on the yogurt, which bears a really, really striking resemblance to the guy that Finn’s been dating.

“Is this him?”

“Why is Poe on a pack of yogurt?”

Rey covers her mouth with her hand, but it’s useless because Finn can see her laughing at him. He glares at her, because this kind of thing isn’t funny, not at all.

“You know what’s actually hilarious to me,” Rey informs him, “is that I was trying to get you to come and see his latest movie with me the night you met him!” She very neatly tears open the top of the yogurt and begins to methodically suck out yogurt from Poe’s head without breaking eye contact. Finn’s trying really hard not to be childish, but sometimes Rey makes maturity near-impossible. She uses her thumb to wipe away a stray bit of the yogurt. “He plays Romeo Yavin in the Aviator Chronicles,” she explains. “And he’s been in at least two blockbusters this year along with a few very moving indie flicks. He’s gorgeous, insanely talented, rich, and can sing in a way that might have another girl’s knees weak.”

“But not yours?”

“Maybe a little bit mine,” Rey admits with a shrug. “You’re dating a movie star,” she realizes, grinning so wide that her eyes are practically closed with glee. “Okay, very seriously now,” she says, taking a few breaths to compose herself. “Finn, how did you not know?”

“I told you! I’m not really the kind of guy who follows that sort of thing. Why was I supposed to know?”

“His face is on yogurt,” she deadpans. “It’s sort of hard to miss.”

“I’m dating a movie star?” Finn says the words out loud to try and get a sense of them. “I’m dating a movie star.”

Lots of little clues start to come together. The way that people had stared at Poe in the restaurant, the money, the casual way he owns planes, not to mention Poe’s displeasure with public displays of affection like he’s worried someone’s going to see them.

Holy shit, he’s dating a movie star.

The only problem is that regardless of what Poe does for a living, he’s still leaving town, soon.

“He’s here shooting a movie,” Finn realizes, thinking back to all those catering trucks and the cordoned off areas of downtown. He thinks of how Poe’s always exhausted on the mornings when he meets Finn for coffee, citing a long night of work. “The movie that wraps up this week,” he goes on, heart sinking down into his stomach.

“Oh, Finn,” Rey says softly, curling him in close to her, letting him rest his cheek on her shoulder. They stay like this for a long moment, long enough that Finn actually starts to feel better because Rey’s good at taking him when he’s at his most broken and building him up by patching up the insecurities that make him feel worn. “What are you going to do?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” Finn confesses.

Does he confront Poe? It’s not like Poe’s ever lied to him about what he does. Is this why Poe likes Finn so much? He’s been completely in the dark about Poe’s career, which means he hasn’t really been blinded by rumors or gossip. He’s just taken the opportunity to get to know Poe and he’s discovered that they really, really work well together.

Does he go after Poe and beg him to stay? It’s only been ten days and despite how well they click, it’s a little early for something like that, even if Finn would argue that the very first night with Poe had been the moment that he’d known things felt so comfortable and right between them.

“I have to tell him I know,” Finn says, knowing that much.

“I heard they’re wrapping up shooting on Main Street in about an hour,” Rey says helpfully. “Finn?”


“Don’t screw this up,” she says. “Do you want a yogurt to go?” she suggests, wiggling one of the closed packs with a mischievous grin on her face. “Or have you already sucked his…”

“You need to stop,” Finn interrupts her, snatching the yogurt out of her hand, waving it in her face before he realizes what this could look like, before throwing it in the nearby trash. He grabs his jacket (no, not his jacket, Poe’s jacket that he’d insisted on Finn keeping) and tries to come to grips with this news.

He’s dating a movie star.

It’s worse than that. Finn is pretty sure he’s falling in love with a movie star.