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(and if you think it's fine, will you) lay your head next to mine

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When Finn’s ready to be discharged from the infirmary there’s a bit of a question where he’s going to stay. The Resistance base appears to have many more people than rooms, to the point where Rey decided it would be better to sleep on the Falcon. When Finn looks at the bunking situation, which somehow manages to be worse than it was on the Finalizer, he thinks she made a wise choice.

Poe is the most logical person to share rooms with, but it appears that dashing hotshot pilots are incredibly fussy about their sleep.

“I’m an old man, completely stuck in my ways,” He says, genuinely apologetic. “I snore too loud to subject anybody to that. Ask Iolo and Karé sometime. And lately, I haven’t been sleeping so great. I’d probably bother you.” Something passes over his face, and Finn wants to inquire further, but he thinks Poe might not want him to.

He looks like he’s thought of something. “Why not ask Rey if you can have the other room on the Falcon? I’m sure she’d be happy to let you.” That is actually not a terrible idea, and Finn tells him so. “You’ll thank me later,” Poe says with a wink. Before Finn can ask him what he means by that, BB-8 rolls up, whistling and beeping frantically. Poe’s expression becomes alarmed, and he takes off at a run.

“You let them know if they kriff up the modulators, I’m going to find a Sarlacc pit to drop those techs in!” Finn is quite sure he doesn’t want any part of that, not one bit.

--

Rey says yes, of course (why would he be nervous that she’d refuse?), and he packs his sleep clothes into a bag. The ship feels odd, on the ground, without Solo--Han, he corrects himself, chest clenching. He tosses in his bunk, feeling a little bereft without the rumble of the ship in flight and other people around him. He slept alone in the infirmary and found it terribly isolating, with nothing but the occasional medidroid to keep him company. There’s very little he misses about his former life, if one could call it such, but some things about it were comforting: the sound of bodies in the same space, how they shifted around in sleep, the occasional mutter and cough.

It’s too quiet, and he’s tired of staring at the bunk above him. The floor is cold as he pads next door to Rey’s room. He opens the door as softly as he can, seeing a tiny lump on the top bed. He slips into the bunk closest to the ground, trying not to shift around too much. Rey’s breathing, slow and even, is the only sound he can hear in the room, and he listens to it as he drifts off to sleep.

Rey must have set an alarm, because it shrills into his head after what seems like no time at all. He flails and ends up hitting the wall, trying to figure out where the terrible noise is coming from. Finally, mercifully, it stops. He feels more than sees Rey poke her head over the edge of the bunks, and looks up at her. She hasn’t done her hair yet, and it falls around her head in a long curtain. He finds he wants to run his fingers through it, and digs his hands into his blanket instead.

“What are you doing in here?” She asks. “You weren’t in here when I went to bed.” He’s glad she doesn’t seem angry, just confused.

“It’s hard for me to sleep without other people around. I hope you don’t mind? I didn’t want to wake you up last night.” If she says no, he’ll figure something out. But it was nice to have somebody else there with him.

Rey’s expression softens. “Of course not. But wake me up or come in before I fall asleep? It’s just weird to find somebody there when they weren’t before!” She swings down from the bunk to head to the fresher, and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

--

It’s surprising how quickly this becomes a routine for them. He'll catch her eye or she'll catch his, and they'll head off to the ship for a bit of quiet time before actual sleep. Usually they’ll read, or Rey will tinker with some bit of machinery. (On her own bed. They had words about getting grease on Finn’s blankets.) Sometimes she'll lean against him absently, lost in her datapad, and he'll freeze, hoping she’ll forget he’s there. He’s perfectly happy to be furniture, if it means she’ll drape her legs over him or press against his side.

Occasionally, she’ll fall asleep in his bed, or in his bed on him. He resists moving as long as he can, relishing the press and weight of her body. There’s this feeling of rightness with her there: belonging, things settling where they should be. It's a lot like when Poe calls him “buddy” with that smile on his face, but it's also different, in a way he's not quite sure how to explain yet. All he knows for sure is he likes it a lot, and he never wants it to stop.

Eventually his body will protest or nature will intervene, and he’ll ease out whatever limb’s fallen asleep from under her and turn off the datapad. If he thinks he can do it without disturbing her too much, he’ll cover her with the blanket, because he knows she hates being cold. When he’s feeling bold, he’ll kiss her on the forehead, softly, gently. (Sometimes her expression will change, a flicker of a smile crossing her face. He wishes he was bolder more often.) He’ll climb up to her bunk as carefully as he can, slipping under the blankets. Everything smells like her.

--

Not every night’s sleep is peaceful, and sometimes she’ll wake him up, or he’ll do the same to her. He’s realistic about that. But tonight Rey is thrashing in a way he’s never seen, agitated and restless. She's muttering, incoherent at first, but he catches words: no, I'll never, not with you. And then Finn hears his name, said with such feeling and grief and loss he scrambles out of his bed and up the ladder. He shakes her gently, hoping that will be enough to wake her up. Thankfully it is, and she comes to, shaky and unsteady.

“Hey,” he says. “You’re in your bed. You’re safe.” She reaches her hand out and cradles his face, tugging him down until their foreheads touch. He’s glad to hear her breathing even out, until it’s strong and slow again.

“Better?” He asks. She nods, wiping her face. He moves to go down the ladder, but she puts her hand over his.

“Stay, please.” Her voice is soft, imploring, vulnerable. He can refuse her nothing at the best of times, but right now, he’d walk barefoot on Mustafar if she asked. This? This he can do.

He climbs in next to her, mindful of the small space they now share. The bunks are almost adequately sized for a single human, but getting two into a bed takes work. They finally settle with her back tucked against his front, his arm curled around her waist. She laces her fingers into his, and he noses against her skin, right where her neck and shoulder meet. She makes a contented noise and leans back against him, eventually falling back into a dreamless sleep. He thinks he might stay awake tonight, the better to memorize the feeling of her body pressed against his.

Despite his best efforts, he wakes up, still curled around Rey. When she feels him shift, she turns around to face him. Her hair streams everywhere, and he runs his fingers through it, relishing the way she closes her eyes, pleased. In a fit of suddenly-found bravery, he presses a brief kiss to her mouth. He can feel her smile before she pulls him in for another one, slower, deeper. He doesn’t break away until he can feel his head swim a little, and even then he thinks the dizziness might be worth it.

“Sleep all right?” She asks, that mischievous smile still on her face.

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling back. It’s a good morning.