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So Quite a New Thing

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It started with a nightmare.

Poe had drifted into a half-sleep he’d perfected over the last few days that left him still conscious to the sounds of Finn’s monitors and vital readings, and when he heard a tiny, breathless whimper, he’d jerked awake. Finn had been in and out of consciousness over the past several hours, barely coherent, but the whimper was something else. It sounded scared.

Poe leaned over the bed and laid a tentative hand on Finn’s arm. “Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, buddy. You’re okay, yeah?”

Finn gasped, eyes squeezed shut, and the whimper became a choked moan. He turned his head on the pillow, away from Poe.

Then he whispered the first words Poe had heard him speak in days: “Please, no.”

Fuck. Poe stood up and leaned over the bed, put both hands on Finn’s shoulders, careful of the wires and tubes running all over his body. “Finn. Finn. Listen to my voice—it’s Poe, I’m right here. You’re fine.”

Finn let out a thick, raspy sigh. “No, no, stop. Please. I won’t.”

“Finn, wake up, buddy. I need you to wake up. Can you hear me?” His heart was racing.

“Can’t...won’t do it…won’t...Poe...” Tears started streaming down his cheeks as Finn’s shoulders began to shake. He tried to turn on his side, curl into a tiny little ball like it was his only defense against the horrors of his memories.

Finn didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’d done for them, for him.

Poe hated being helpless. His mother had always taught him to find a way, to fix what was broken, use your head, kid, nothing’s ever hopeless.

So he did what he could to fix a broken situation. He kissed Finn on the mouth with just the barest pressure.

Finn went very still, though his breathing still came in sharp bursts. But soon Poe felt him sag back against the sheets, shoulders limp beneath Poe’s hands. He sighed against Poe’s lips.

“You’re all right,” Poe whispered before kissing him again, soft and gentle, fingertips tracing the sweat-dampened column of Finn’s neck. When he finally pulled back, Finn was calm, mouth slack. His long lashes, wet from his tears, fanned out over his cheeks.

Poe let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He collapsed into his chair and laid his forehead against the edge of the bed.


A day later, Finn woke up for real. He smiled at Poe like a guy seeing the sun for the first time in ages.

“Hey,” he croaked. “You look terrible.”

Poe burst out laughing and leaned in close to bury his face against Finn’s shoulder. “I’ll get prettied up for you later, smart guy,” he mumbled, hoping Finn wouldn’t hear the wet catch in his voice.


Two weeks went by before Finn tried walking. Physical therapy wasn’t something he’d ever heard of.

“Most of us didn’t...make it that far,” he said to Poe with a sheepish shrug. “Y’know, stormtroopers get injured and that’s that. End of story.”

Poe wanted to single-handedly burn the First Order to the fucking ground. “Well, that’s not how we do things around here. We kinda want to keep you around.”

“Yeah, I’ve figured that out.” Finn stretched his legs out and winced. “Just wish I didn’t feel so useless. I need to be doing things. Rey—”

“Would want you to take care of yourself.” Poe didn’t know her well, but anyone with eyes could tell she cared about Finn. Hell, you couldn’t be around the guy for two minutes and not. “You’re no good to anyone if you push yourself too hard.”

Finn huffed out a loud breath and slumped in his chair. “Have you ever been laid up like this?”

Poe snorted. “Sure. Last time was a couple years ago. Got a blaster shot in my elbow, had to write right-handed for like six months.” He left out the part where he still flew a dozen missions against his doctor’s orders.

“You’re left-handed?” Finn asked, eyebrows raised like Poe had made some deep confession.

“Fortunately, yes. The best pilots are all left-handed.” It was a joke his mother had liked to tell.

Finn shook his head. “I’ve...never known anyone left-handed. They, uh, condition that out of you pretty early. Hurts your weapon handling.”

Poe held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “I can safely say my weapon handling is top-notch,” he said with a grin, but moments after he bit the inside of his lip and blushed.

Seriously, Dameron? He didn’t mean—he wasn’t flirting, not like that, it was just a joke—

Finn just laughed easily, like Poe hadn’t made some stupid, inadvertent reference to his dick. “Nah, it’s good. Different. Like you.”

Poe rolled his eyes to keep himself from blushing a deeper shade of red. “Okay, enough talk about my special snowflake status. Let’s go another round and see how you do.” He held his hand out and Finn took it after a long, put-upon sigh. He slung his arm tightly around Poe’s shoulders as Poe took the majority of Finn’s weight, and together they made another slow loop around Finn’s room.


“So, can I ask you something?”

Poe sat down his mug of dark ale. “I get it, you’re not used to drinking. You don’t have to humor me.”

Finn shook his head. “No, no, it’s good! I like it! Although—” His smile grew a little sloppy. “—I’m guessing I should probably stop soon.” The smile dissolved into a giggle, and fuck, Finn was an adorable drunk. He also licked his lips a lot, which was a problem.

“We just finished what’s left of my current stash, so you’re already cut off.” Poe wasn’t exactly sober himself, and because of that he rationalized that it was okay to let his foot bump against Finn’s beneath the table in Poe’s room. And besides, they were celebrating; Finn was walking on his own now, and might even be cleared for training soon. “Anyway, what’d you want to ask me?”

“I…” Finn twisted his mouth to one side, staring down into his drink. “I mean, I know I was out of it and everything, but…”

A flutter settled deep in Poe’s belly. “But?”

“But...I keep having these memories of you…” Finn laughed weakly. “Did you, maybe, I don’t know...kiss me while I was in medic?” He glanced up at Poe from under those ridiculous lashes, and for a moment Poe couldn’t breathe.

He could deny it. Finn had already admitted to being mostly unconscious, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to blame it all on drug-induced hallucinations. But Poe couldn’t lie to him.

“You were having a nightmare,” Poe said. “So I...calmed you down.” He didn’t look at him.

“Oh.” Finn took a long drink. Licked those damn lips again. “Did it work?”

“Yeah, it did.”

“So is that how you normally, um. Calm people down?”

Poe blinked at him. “What?”

“Kissing them. Do you kiss people to calm them down?”

Everything seemed to grind to a halt in Poe’s brain. Finn had never been kissed, had never even been taught what kissing was. Why would he? Stormtroopers had no use for physical affection.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling a lot more drunk. “I wanted you to feel—I don’t know—grounded?” Fuck, he didn’t know what he was saying.

Finn nodded, but his face said he had no clue what Poe meant. “Okay.”

“It was just a, a spur of the moment thing.”

“Because people don’t plan kissing...right?”

“Right.” Poe nodded back dumbly. “Right. You just—do it.”

“Well, if it helped in the end, I guess…” The corner of Finn’s mouth crooked up on one side, and it took a mammoth effort on Poe’s part not to fall into him and pull that shiny lower lip between his teeth and suck. “Thanks?”

Poe forced a laugh he hoped sounded light and easy. He clinked his cup against Finn’s. “You’re welcome, buddy.”


They didn’t talk about the kiss again after that, and Poe was grateful. Finn, in a matter of months, had become his dearest friend; rehashing Poe’s stupid lapses in judgement only confused things. Finn had had enough complicated shit in his life.

So they carried on. Poe led Finn through training drills and a few simulation flights—more or less showing off the kid’s natural talents. He knew, just like the General, that Finn didn’t need much training. The First Order could rain hellfire on their base tomorrow and Poe wouldn’t think twice about throwing Finn into his best X-wing.

“I tested to be a pilot,” Finn told him after a long day of simulations. He’d only made a handful of errors, all of them minor. Poe had seen seasoned veterans do worse. “When I was sixteen, I think. They told me I was ‘insufficient’.”

“What, did you blow the test or something?” Poe asked.

Finn shrugged. “The captain in charge made the call. Whatever it was, he didn’t like what he saw in me. Not many made it through the test drills, though, so I didn’t take it too hard.” The wistful tone in his voice suggested otherwise.

“If you’d made pilot, you wouldn’t have needed me to make your big escape.” Poe meant it as a joke, but his stomach dipped as he said the words. Had things been different, they might not have ever met.

“I’d’ve rescued you regardless. Never doubt that.” Finn laid a strong, warm hand on Poe’s shoulder. His smile grew playful. “Besides, a mediocre First Order pilot against the best pilot of the Resistance? Still not a fair fight.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego.” Poe’s blush was helpless.

“Your ego doesn’t need it, from what I hear.”

“Lies, all lies.”

“Are you calling General Organa a liar?” Finn laughed.

“No, I—” What else does she tell you about me? he wanted to ask. He’d caught the few narrowed-eyed, knowing glances from the General, who’d known Poe from the time he was just a tiny kid sitting in his mother’s cockpit. If she suspected that he....that Finn was maybe, kind of, special to Poe… “She just knows me pretty well, is all.”

“Everyone knows you pretty well, compared to me,” Finn said softly, almost as if the words weren’t meant for Poe.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, one more practice run? If you get a perfect score, I’ll let you fly for real tomorrow.”

Finn’s eyes lit up, and Poe told himself the heavy thump of his heart was just pride.


He liked to think he was stronger than the average guy when it came to torture, having been through the rigors of First Order shit tactics more than a few times. His parents had seen worse, after all. But when it came down to it, Poe was really just a human being like all the others, and sometimes human beings developed cracks.

His cracks were small, and most of the time he didn’t think about them. But during sleep...yeah, that was a different story. Poe’s unconscious brain never liked to take orders from him.

It stayed with him, the idea of an alternate reality where Finn did make pilot, and was high-ranking, powerful, an equal to Phasma instead of a subordinate. A reality where he’d just as soon incinerate Poe on sight rather than rescue him. The image sunk its claws into Poe’s thoughts to the point where he began to dream about it. A lot.

At first there were only flashes of Finn’s face smirking at Poe from the end of a long, smoke-filled halfway. Poe would call out to him, and Finn would shake his head and walk away. Gradually, Poe tasted blood in his mouth, could feel the deep, wrenching throb of a head wound, and Finn’s smirk melted into a laugh. The flashes began to stretch out, until Poe chanted desperately to himself wake up, wake the fuck up, Dameron, do it even as Finn’s nasty laugh accompanied a raised blaster and a half dozen other stormtroopers.

Sometimes Kylo Ren was there, looking on as Finn fired straight at Poe’s head.

Poe didn’t talk about his nightmares. What would he even say? Hey, Finn, I keep dreaming about you being evil and killing me with pleasure—like Finn needed more guilt on top of everything else. No, Poe kept his mouth shut and took in Finn’s growing confidence in his fighting skills and the smooth, capable way he handled a cockpit.

This was the real Finn, who threw glancing smiles over his shoulder at Poe every time he did something commendable, who breathed a sigh of relief every time Rey and The Falcon came back one piece. The real Finn still ran around in Poe’s flight jacket and blushed sweetly whenever Poe slung an arm around his shoulders and murmured, “Great job today, hotshot.”

The Finn in Poe’s nightmares was exactly that—a phantom, a ghost. And Poe didn’t believe in ghosts.


He had a bad run a few weeks later; a rogue battalion of First Order troops had attacked a Resistance base without any warning, and Poe’s tiny fleet were the first on the scene. The fighting lasted for six hours, until Poe’s fighters were forced to retreat. Finn’s voice had been in his ear the whole time, telling him it was best to get everyone out and stay alive.

Finn’s fighter was undamaged, but Poe’s was another story. He climbed down and yelled, “Fuck,” as he saw the charred, blackened mess that was the back navigation panel. It would take weeks to fix.

He didn’t realize he was bleeding until Finn appeared at his side and said in a low voice, “You’re hurt.”

“Huh?” Poe glanced down at his right arm and saw the singed hole in his flight suit. Like an afterthought, a dull pulse of pain made itself known. “Oh. Whatever, this—” he motioned to his fighter “—is the main problem. I’m out of comission for a while.”

“There are other X-wings,” Finn said, “but there’s only one of you. And your arm looks worse than your fighter.”

Poe rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Finn glared. “What if it were me? Would you take ‘fine’?”

They both knew the answer to that. Poe was caught. “All right, all right, I’ll go to medic. But the General needs to be briefed—”

“I’m on it. Go.” Finn nudged him away from the wreck of his fighter.


Poe’s injuries weren’t serious, and he was out of medic in under an hour, a handful of pain meds in his system and suddenly craving his bed something fierce. He hadn’t slept in twenty-six hours, give or take from the moment word of the attack on the Resistance base made it to him. Adrenaline and sheer will, he’d learned, lasted for about twenty-four hours until human necessity took over.

When he arrived at his quarters to find Finn curled up on his bed, Poe half-expected it to be a sleep-deprived hallucination. “You lost?” he asked with a weak laugh he didn’t feel. The meds were already making him woozy.

Finn said, “I wanted to be sure you made it back okay.”

“Thanks, but all they did was jack me up on pills and tell me to sleep it off.”

“And there was a good chance you would’ve gone straight back to your fighter to start maintenance,” Finn said with a rueful smile. “If you weren’t back here in another few hours, I was gonna drag you to your bed.”

“Shit, at least let me buy you dinner first,” Poe said with a snort, and it was distantly that his fuzzy, drug-blurred brain registered that, no, that was not the thing he’d meant to say. He paused, bit his lip, and added, “That is, don’t have to, like, force me into bed.” Fuck, talking was bad right now. He needed to stop.

But Finn just pursed his lips and frowned at Poe like a harried mother. “You’re not even making sense, so obviously being vertical is not agreeing with you. C’mon.” He manhandled Poe onto the bed, although his hands were gentle against Poe’s arms as he stripped the burned, ruined flight jacket off his shoulders.

I’ve thought about this forever, Poe thought dizzily as Finn’s warm, smooth hands pulled buttons free and slid inside Poe’s shirt, pushing the filthy material down his arms until Poe was left in just his ratty undershirt and uniform pants.

“You gonna stay?” Poe asked. His eyelids were very heavy as he pressed his cheek into the softness of his pillow.

He thought, maybe, that he felt that same warm palm skim over the top of his hair. “Really don’t have anywhere else to be at the moment,” he heard Finn say quietly.

Poe smiled. “Good. You’re so good, Finn. The best.”

He drifted into unconsciousness not long after that, imagining the lovely, heavy weight of Finn’s hand on his chest.


In the nightmare, Poe was back in Kylo’s torture chair, only Kylo was nowhere to be seen. Poe jerked at his restraints, shook the sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes, and screamed, “Kill me this time, I’m not telling you anything!”

He heard a laugh, low and horribly familiar, and out of the shadows came another dark, hooded figure. For a moment Poe figured Kylo had sent one of his minions to finish the job.

Then the hood was lowered, and Finn’s smile greeted him like a stab to the gut.

“I’ll still kill you, but you’ll tell me everything first,” Finn said in a slow, arrogant drawl. He drew a gloved finger down Poe’s cheek. “You already want to give me everything, don’t you, Poe?”

He screamed.


Somehow, his mind decided to rescue him.

The dark horror of the chair and Finn’s cruel smile faded into nothing, until he was surrounded by warmth, and a gentle hand was against his neck as a voice whispered, “Please wake up.” The voice was...sad, shaky, heavy with hurt.

Poe licked his lips and tried to say something, but he couldn’t, because he was being kissed.

It was a kiss different from any he’d had before: tentative, a little awkward and uneven, closed-mouthed and simple. Like a kiss he’d had a lifetime ago, when he was fourteen and hiding behind junk ships with Holden Gall, the first boy he’d ever loved. Holden’s kiss had been messy, and they’d giggled about it afterward; a first for both of them. Holden had been beautiful, dark skin and pale blue eyes and a smile that had made Poe’s heart skip.

Like a younger, prettier version of Finn.

Fingertips swept across Poe’s cheeks, and Poe realized he was crying. He opened his mouth and deepened the kiss slightly, letting his tongue slip over a soft, lush lower lip.

Finn, he thought, desperately clinging to the warmth pressing down on him.

The kiss broke abruptly, and that same shaky voice said, “I’m here. Everything’s okay.”

Poe sucked in a breath and forced his eyes open.


He was in his bed, not a chair. And braced above him, looking startled and confused and more than a little flushed, was Finn.

Poe swallowed. He could feel blood pounding in his lips. “What...”

“You were...crying. In your sleep. You kept calling for me and I didn’t—” Finn grimaced and slowly sat back on his heels, knees bracketing Poe’s thighs. “I was trying to calm you down. Like you did with me.”

“You kissed me,” Poe whispered. His eyelashes still felt damp.

“I’m not sure if it worked. You seemed really upset.” The sudden look of anguish on Finn’s face made Poe’s stomach drop. “Was I—was I doing something to you? Did I—”

“No,” Poe said, “it wasn’t you. It was…” He cupped a hand over his eyes. “It was just a nightmare.”

“Do you have nightmares a lot?”

He wanted to lie. “Sometimes,” he said.

“About Jakku and Kylo?”

“You don’t need to hear about this. You’ve got other stuff to worry about than being stupid.”

Finn’s eyebrows knotted together, and he looked so damn lost and conflicted Poe wanted to wrap his arms around him.

He wasn’t expecting Finn to suddenly lean forward again, head tilted and lips parted.

“Wait!” Poe cried, one hand splayed against Finn’s chest. “What are you doing?”

“You’re upset,” Finn said again, like it was obvious. “I want to help you.”

“By...kissing me?”

His face fell. “I’m doing it wrong, aren’t I?”

“No, fuck, you don’t—” Poe struggled to sit up, the last remnants of pain meds still floating around in his system. He blinked hard to clear his head. “I don’t want you to kiss me just because you feel like you should.”

Finn worried the corner of his lip for a moment. Poe tried not to stare, or wish that this was happening under different circumstances and not when he’d just woken up crying.

“Why else do you kiss someone, though?” Finn asked softly.

The room felt very hot. Poe couldn’t look away from Finn’s wide, lovely eyes.

Finn honestly didn’t know. The thought made Poe’s throat tighten.

“You kiss someone because it’s all you can think about,” Poe said, “because your heart hurts without them, and you just want to be a part of them, breathe them in, feel their skin under your hands and hear that little catch of breath when you touch them just right, and—” He stopped, blushing all the way down his neck. Finn was staring at him like he’d started speaking Wookie.

“That’s...a lot of reasons,” he finally said.

Poe shoved a hand through his hair. “And there are so many more,” he murmured.

Finn’s expression remained unreadable for several long, painful moments. Poe sighed and leaned his shoulder against the wall by the bed. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with my shit, kid. You should’ve just—”

“Will you show me?”

Poe blinked at him. “Show you?”

“The reasons. All of them.” Finn looked slightly terrified, but Poe also saw the way his eyes were rapidly darkening, his mouth a little slack. The inside of his lower lip looked very wet and shiny. Poe couldn’t breathe.


“I want to know what it’s like. Not just to kiss, but—to kiss you. To really kiss you.”

Poe sat up slowly, until they were mere inches apart, Finn still on his knees and hovering above him. He raised his hand, carefully, giving Finn ample time to pull away if he wished to; there was a slight chance Poe was still dreaming, after all. When his fingers touched Finn’s cheek, Finn sucked in a small breath and shivered.

“You’re sure?” Poe whispered. “Because...I might do more than just kiss you.”

“Such as?” Fuck, his voice. Poe had never heard Finn sound so wrecked, and they had barely touched.

“Such as—this.” Poe trailed his fingertips over Finn’s chin, down his neck to skim over the fine, solid lines of his chest, then lower still to barely graze the front of Finn’s pants. There was a stark outline there, bold as anything, and Poe’s heart nearly clawed its way out of his chest.

“I…” Finn watched the journey of Poe’s hand, and Poe listened to the way his breathing changed, thinned out, until he was panting. “I’m okay with that. I just didn’t think—shit.” He laughed, breathless. Poe had only ever heard him swear once before. “I didn’t think you did...that...and kissed.”

Poe didn’t want to think about the fucking nonsense concerning sex and intimacy the First Order put into the heads of teenage Troopers. None of that mattered now. Finn was asking him and only him. Fuck everything that had come before.

“C’mere,” Poe said, and curled his hand around the back of Finn’s neck, just the barest pressure. Finn’s eyes fluttered shut immediately, and he moved toward Poe like gravity had simply sucked him in. He kept himself braced above Poe but let his body angle just enough so that their chests pressed together as Poe laid back on the bed.

Hovering over him, lips parted and panting softly, Finn looked devastating. Poe lost his train of thought.

“Should I touch you?” Finn asked, a catch in the last word.

“You can, but.” He couldn’t do everything at once, but they could get back to the kissing, namely the one thing Poe had craved since the beginning. He slid his palm over the warm skin of Finn’s jaw and sunk his teeth gently into the lushness of Finn’s lower lip.

Finn jerked abruptly, a tiny, muffled whimper caught somewhere deep in his throat. His arm gave out, and suddenly Finn was on top of Poe, chest to groin.

The next whimper was possibly Poe’s.

“S-sorry,” Finn gasped. “I wasn’t expecting teeth.”

Poe was doing everything in his power not to fill his hands with Finn’s ass and let the whole thing devolve into filthy grinding. That wasn’t what this was about, and Finn deserved better. He laughed shakily and tried to subtly shift his hips away. “It’s okay, I should’ve warned you.”

But Finn lifted his head and stared straight at Poe and said in a low voice, “Oh,” and pressed up.

Poe bit his tongue to keep from yelling all sorts of obscene things in about five different languages. Fuck, how was he this hard? He was still doped up on pain meds and recovering from a stupid nightmare. There was no reason he should be so desperate.

“Poe,” Finn said, his mouth sliding over Poe’s jaw, “you feel really good.”

“Ditto,” Poe said through clenched teeth, his heartbeat like frantic laser fire.

“I could stay like this forever, with or without kissing.” His moved against Poe, and whether or not it was an intentional grind was irrelevant. It set fireworks off in Poe, making him shiver and fight the urge to flip Finn over and rut into him like a teenager.

Kissing, we’re supposed to be kissing. Poe leaned up to swipe his mouth over Finn’s, inelegant, sloppy. He tried for a little more finesse, but Finn seemed to have other ideas, namely the inadvertent rhythm he’d started on his own. Poe moaned, loud and open-mouthed, against Finn’s chin.

“Fuck, that’s—you have to—” Poe grabbed onto Finn’s bicep, helpless to the way his hips were now rolling up into Finn’s.

“‘s good, Poe. Feels so good.” Finn’s right hand, the one not braced on the bed, landed against Poe’s collarbone and slid up to cup the side of his neck. He could feel Finn’s thumb tucked into the hollow at his throat.

Not a nightmare. This is real. He’s real. Poe arched into the touch and cried out, wanting Finn to know he wanted this, all of it, and would never take it for granted.

“You’re gonna need to stop,” he panted.

Finn nuzzled at Poe’s temple, a move both sweet and startlingly sexy. “Why?”

“‘Cause—because I haven’t shown you a damn thing yet, and I’m—”

“Close?” Finn leaned back, and the smile he gave him was blinding.

The wind left Poe’s lungs. “Yeah. Very.”

“And I did that,” Finn whispered. He sounded as if he’d just discovered light speed.

Then he ground his hips harder into Poe, whose voice promptly cracked on a very unmanly groan.

“Never came with someone before,” Finn said, right against Poe’s ear, and that was all she wrote. Poe broke apart in one shivering, brutal, gorgeous mess, hands clinging to Finn as he swore a blue streak loud enough to make his throat raw.

Finn never stopped grinning, even as Poe felt his body convulse and go stiff for a moment before melting into Poe with one long, satisfied sigh.

“I hope you feel better,” Finn said against the curve of Poe’s neck. He slowly petted over Poe’s shoulders, fingers skimming over patches of bare skin.

Poe couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a life-shattering orgasm. “I am fucking amazing,” he slurred, and turned his head enough to kiss the first thing his mouth came into contact with, which was Finn’s eyelid.

Finn huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you are.” Tap tap went his fingertips against Poe’s chest.

“Pants are gonna be gross in like five seconds.”

“Uh, this part I know. Probably too well.” Finn kissed the edge of Poe’s lower lip. “But it can wait. You’re falling asleep.”

“No, ‘m not,” Poe yawned. Maybe orgasms and pain meds didn’t mix so well.

He heard another soft, affectionate laugh. “Go dream of something happy for a change. Maybe I’ll join you.”

Poe breathed out and felt himself dip into smooth, liquid unconsciousness. “Want you to stay,” he mumbled right before sleep took him.

He was pretty sure he heard Finn say, “Me, too.”


Poe didn’t have another nightmare. Instead, he dreamed of flying, spinning through the stars at unimaginable speeds until he thought his heart would burst from joy.

Finn was laughing in his ear, telling him to go faster, higher.


He woke in the morning to find Finn curled around him, face buried in Poe’s pillow. He looked peaceful, content, lips slightly parted and his long lashes a delicate smudge against his cheeks. Finn sighed in his sleep, and his hand curled tighter into the front of Poe’s tank.

Poe closed his eyes and went back to sleep.