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Hopeless Romantic

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“So, you’re in love with the ex-Stormtrooper,” Jessika says, leaning on Poe’s shoulder.

“He broke his conditioning, saved my life, learned gunnery literally on the fly, completed my mission, helped take out Starkiller – oh, and he looks really damn good in my jacket,” Poe says, cheeks pink.

“I didn’t say it was a bad choice,” Jessika laughs. “Just wondering when you’re going to tell him.”

“Well, he’s currently unconscious,” Poe points out.

“Uh-huh,” Jessika says, and gives Poe a long dubious look. “And when he wakes up?”

“We’ll see,” Poe says, and ignores the way she sighs.


The thing is, Poe is sort of a hopeless romantic. You don’t become the best pilot in the Resistance, much less one of General Organa’s most trusted subordinates, without being willing to throw your whole heart into the fight. For years, Poe’s devotion has been given to the cause, to the General, to his X-wing and his fellow pilots, and he thought his heart was full.

Now he finds there is still room in it – far too much room, terrifying amounts of room – for an ex-Stormtrooper hero with wide gorgeous eyes and a smile that lights up the room, or would if Finn was awake. And Poe has never actually tried to not love something once he’d fallen, so, well, he’s in love and that’s the end of it.

But in love or not, he’s not going to pressure Finn into anything, because Force knows the poor fellow has not gotten to make all that many real choices in his life, so when Finn does wake up – and Poe is right there next to him, because he’s been spending a really astonishing amount of time in the chair next to Finn’s bed – Poe does not immediately kiss the other man senseless or declare his undying love or anything like that.

He says, “Hey, buddy! We were starting to think you’d sleep all year.”

Finn blinks at him for a moment, and then his face creases into the most beautiful smile Poe has ever seen. Wow. “Hey,” Finn says quietly. “Nice flying.”

“Best pilot in the Resistance,” Poe preens, and is immensely proud of himself when that makes Finn chuckle, soft and sweet. “But hey – you’ve got questions, I’ve got answers!”

“Rey?” Finn asks first.

“Just fine, apparently a Jedi, and has gone off to find Luke Skywalker and talk him into training her. We don’t know when she’ll be back, but she’s got Chewbacca and the Millennium Falcon and a lightsaber, so she’ll be fine.”

“Rey’s strong,” Finn says, and nods a little to himself. “Jedi, huh?”

“Yeah – apparently she beat the everloving bantha shit out of Kylo Ren while you were unconscious, too.”

Finn beams. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

“We all do,” Poe tells him.

Finn is quiet a moment, looking up at Poe with a soft smile on his face, and then he shifts a little, and grimaces, and asks, “How bad am I hurt?”

Poe winces. “Three millimeters to the right and you woulda been dead on the spot,” he admits. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly three months. The med droids say you’ll be up and about eventually, but it’s going to take a while and a lot of physiotherapy. In the meantime, you’re not supposed to move much until they say you’re good to go.”

“Huh,” says Finn, and thinks about that for a while. Then he says, “You know, back – before. I woulda been dumped in a bacta tank, and if I died, well, pull someone else out of training and that’s an end to it.”

“Shit,” says Poe helplessly. “Well, we don’t – we don’t give up on our people. And you’re our people now, hero of the Resistance.”

“Huh,” Finn says quietly. “Your people. I like that.” A med droid bustles in and kicks Poe out before he can say that that’s not quite what he meant, before he can really process the incredible thrill of having Finn say yours.


The med droids apparently decide that if Poe is going to be hanging around Finn whenever he’s not actually off running missions, they’re going to make use of him, which is how Poe finds himself standing as sturdy as he can while Finn takes cautious, tiny steps around his bed, one hand latched firmly onto Poe’s arm. Finn’s forehead is creased in pain, but he’s clearly not going to stop until he’s literally collapsing, so after three circuits of the bed Poe pushes Finn very gently back to sit on it.

“The medics said one round today,” he points out when Finn pouts at him. “You’re already ahead of the game, buddy.”

Finn sighs. “I suppose,” he says. “I don’t like feeling useless.”

Poe grimaces. “Don’t think like that,” he tells Finn. “You’re not useless. You’re injured, but that happens to all of us. There’s a war on, after all.” He gets a sudden bolt of inspiration. “And even if you can’t walk yet, that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything. Look, if you want me to, I’ll talk to the analysts, see if some of them want to come in and ask you nosy questions about the First Order.”

Finn lights up. Damn, Poe would do a lot to see that smile. “Yeah, do that,” Finn says. “Please.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Poe says, and claps Finn on the shoulder and goes off to do just that.


(“Have you told him yet?” Jessika demands.

“Not yet, woman – he’s still recuperating!” Poe says desperately.

“If he falls for one of the analysts, I’m not going to let you cry on my shoulder, you know,” she tells him heartlessly.

“Augh,” says Poe.

Finn does not fall for any of the analysts, though most of the analysts do appear to think that Finn is the best thing since hot caf.)


Finn needs a roommate. Admittedly there are plenty of empty rooms on base – the attack on Starkiller was pricier than anyone likes – but sticking Finn all by himself in a dead man’s room seems deeply, horribly wrong. And also Poe apparently likes torturing himself.

“So, buddy,” he says as Finn makes his sixth circuit of the bed today. “Once the medics let you out, you want to room with me?”

Finn looks up and grins, the smile lighting up the whole room. “That’d be great,” he enthuses. “I keep waking up in here, wondering why I can’t hear anyone else breathing.”

“…Stormtroopers didn’t get private rooms, I take it,” Poe says slowly.

“Nah, four to a stack, five stacks to a room,” Finn says casually. “Hard to fall asleep without hearing twenty people snore.”

“I…really can’t imagine,” Poe admits. “But if you want to come listen to me snore, buddy, the spare bunk in my room is yours when you’re healed.”

“Thanks,” Finn says. “I’d like that.”


(“Oh, wow, I don’t even know what to do with you sometimes,” Jessika says.

“Look, he needed a bunk, I have a spare bunk, he likes having company, it made sense,” Poe says. “Also, mission, can we keep the chatter to a minimum?”

“Come on, you can fly and be mocked,” Jessika says.

“For fuck’s sake,” Poe says, and tilts his plane into a steep dive, aiming for the First Order base which is their current target. “I hate you sometimes.”

“But you loooove Finn!” Jessika chirps, and Poe blows the base up with rather more vigor than is really called for.)


Finn is baffled and delighted by the mess hall food. “What is all this?” he asks Poe the first day he’s allowed to leave the med bay for lunch.

Poe glances over the line. Today’s offerings are breadroot patties, brogy stew, and blumfruit muffins – nothing terribly unusual or exotic. The cooks at the mess hall are perfectly decent, but it’s still mess hall food, nothing to write home about. Still, Poe tells Finn what everything is, helps him load a tray and find a table, and watches with wonder and dismay as Finn apparently discovers food.

“What the hell did they feed you?” Poe asks at last, as Finn goes into quiet raptures over a muffin.

Finn shrugs. “Protein shakes and patties with all necessary nutrients, supplements, and roughage,” he says, clearly quoting something. “They mostly tasted like nothing.”

“Kriffing hell,” Poe says faintly. “You know, buddy, every time I think I’ve learned all the awful things about the First Order, you come out with something new that I never even thought to be worried about.”

“Sorry,” Finn says, a little awkwardly.

“No, no!” Poe flails a little. “Not your fault they’re all bastards. And – I want to know. I want you to have all the good things you never got, and I can’t do that unless I know what you missed.”

Finn beams. “Thanks,” he says, tone full of quiet sincerity, and then he takes his very first sip of hot chocolate and makes a truly pornographic sound of pleasure. “Oh my gosh, what is this?”

“Hot chocolate with tang bark,” Poe says, trying not to stare as Finn licks his lips, and hoping desperately that Finn won’t keep making such truly delectable noises, because otherwise Poe is going to have a hard time getting up from the table.

“This is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth,” Finn says fervently.

Poe does not whimper. He does not.

He does, however, start bringing mugs of hot chocolate to the med bay as often as he can, and then tries not to stare hungrily while Finn makes happy noises and savors every sip.

“You’re the best,” Finn informs Poe the third time Poe arrives with hot chocolate.

“Accept no substitutes, buddy,” Poe says, and absolutely does not moan a little at the expression of bliss on Finn’s face as he takes his first sip.


(“For the love of stars and little green planets, Poe Dameron,” Jessika hisses. “Will you just tell the boy?”

“He’s still finding his feet,” Poe replies weakly. “I don’t want to pressure him.”

“Ugh,” says Jessika. “I can’t decide if you’re being ridiculously virtuous or a complete coward.”

Poe shrugs helplessly. “A little of column A, a little of column B?”

“You’re impossible,” Jessika proclaims. “I don’t know why I’m rooting for you.”

“You could always just let me screw up my love life without any commentary at all,” Poe suggests.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”)


Finally, Finn is released from the med bay, and Poe decides that the only proper welcome-home for his new roommate is a home-cooked meal. Poe is a decent cook, if the food is simple; a nice steak and some fresh fruit and bread is easy enough to do. Finn likes fruit, though not as much as he likes hot chocolate, and Poe defies anyone to find fault with his grandfather’s special steak sauce.

Jessika helps Poe chase everyone out of the pilots’ rec room for the evening, because she is Poe’s best friend despite the teasing. And Poe quietly panics, because he wants this to be perfect, and what if something goes wrong? What if the steak burns or the sauce boils over or the fruit isn’t good?

“You are such a mess,” Jessika sighs at him. “Go collect your boy, I’ll guard the food.”

“I owe you one,” Poe tells her gratefully.

“Yeah, you do, and one of these days I’ll collect,” she promises.

Finn is delighted by Poe’s room – “So much space!” he says wonderingly, gazing around at the two bunks and tiny closet and even tinier refresher – and flabbergasted by dinner. “This is amazing,” he breathes. “You made this?”

“Sure did, buddy,” Poe says, grinning.

Finn shakes his head. “They didn’t teach cooking in basic training,” he says with a lopsided smile. “Maybe I’ll learn, one of these days. That could be fun.”

“Well, I can certainly teach you the basics,” Poe says. “It’s not hard – you’ll pick it up in no time.”

“Thanks!” says Finn, and then he takes a bite of steak and his eyes fall shut, an expression of incredulous pleasure on his face. “Oh,” he says after a long moment, opening his eyes and giving Poe an incredible smile. “Oh, wow. These are absolutely wonderful.”

Poe can feel his ears going pink, but he smiles back. “Good,” he says. “I’m glad.”


(“So, didya tell him? Nice romantic dinner, bring him back to your rooms and seduce him?”


“I swear by the eight thousand household gods of my ancestors, Poe Dameron…!”

“I know, I know, I just…”

“Wussed out?”

“Yeah. That. He was so…so happy, and he’s learning so much, and…”

“Look, hotshot. You destroyed Starkiller Base. You can tell your boy you love him.”

“Yeah, see, the worst thing that could have happened at Starkiller was me dying horribly.”

“I seriously do not know how to deal with you. Wuss.”

“Yeah, yeah. Target acquired. All squadrons, form on me.”)


The analysts talk to the General, and the General talks to Major Ematt, and Finn is asked to come in and talk to the ground-combat troops about what they can expect from First Order Stormtroopers. He agrees instantly, eager to help in any way he can.

Poe tags along on the first day of Finn’s impromptu seminars, just to make sure no one gives Finn any trouble. It turns out he needn’t have worried: the ground troops are more than a little in awe of Finn (as well they should be, Poe thinks) and spend the first hour or so demanding the details of his escape from the First Order, his infiltration of Starkiller, and his fight with Kylo Ren. When Finn says he’s better with a blaster than a lightsaber, half a dozen troopers offer to let him use theirs.

Finn is…really quite good with a blaster, Poe realizes. He’s quick and accurate and unhesitating, and though he does miss by a few inches now and again, every one of the targets which pops up goes down again with scorched holes through simulated heads or torsos. No wonder he picked up the TIE fighter’s gunnery controls so quickly.

Poe realizes he’s been watching with his mouth hanging open when BB-8 bumps against his leg and beeps admonishment. “Thanks, little buddy,” he mutters. BB-8 burbles the mechanical equivalent of a laugh. “Oh, don’t you start: one Jess is enough, thanks ever so.”

Then Finn takes his jacket off, draping it carefully over a bench. What in hell? – oh, fuck. Somehow, in the thirty seconds Poe was distracted, Finn agreed to give a demonstration of Stormtrooper strength and agility, by which Poe means run an obstacle course.

Watching Finn duck and dodge and leap, hitting every target on the course, even at half speed in deference to his back, is…Poe thinks this is completely unfair. He has to watch without drooling, for pity’s sake!

And then Finn comes over, sweat-damp and smiling with the rush of endorphins, and strips off his shirt and takes the towel BB-8 is holding out with a quiet word of thanks. Oh, kriffing hell.

“Looking good out there, buddy,” Poe says hoarsely. Finn looks up and grins.

“Thanks,” he says brightly. “It’s so much easier to shoot without the helmet – eye holes were too high. And it’s good to move again!” He drapes the towel around his shoulders. Poe does not ogle his chest. Nope. No ogling here. “D’you mind if I go take over the shower in our room for a while?”

“Not at all,” Poe replies weakly. Naked, wet, soapy Finn. In Poe’s rooms. By all the stars and little green planets, what has Poe done to deserve this sort of temptation?


(“You didn’t volunteer to wash his back?”


“Don’t you ‘Jessika’ me, Poe Dameron. You need to tell that boy you love him before someone else gets to him. You know he likes you. He lights up when you come into a room. He watches you all the time. When you’re not around, he talks about you constantly…well, you and Rey, but still. You’ve been putting on a mating dance that a lantern bird would envy. Will you just kriffing tell him already?

“…After this mission.”

“Oh, thank all the household gods!”)


Poe invites Finn out to his favorite lake. Finn is ecstatic at the chance to ride in Poe’s X-wing, and delighted in seemingly equal measure by the lake, the picnic (Poe has, of course, included a thermos of hot chocolate), and the opportunity to lie around on a blanket in the sun and talk about nothing in particular. “Not a lot of down-time back before,” he tells Poe. “And no picnics. Though I could do without the bugs.”

“Authentic picnic experience, buddy,” Poe tells him, and earns a delighted laugh. “You’ve settled in pretty well,” Poe adds.

Finn sprawls out on his front, touching a flower with gentle curiosity. “Yeah,” he says. “I like it here. Everyone’s nice – and I’m helping, really doing something meaningful. And the food!” He rolls over and smiles up at Poe. “And you.” His smile is sweet and utterly endearing, and Poe’s heart turns over in his chest.

Oh, hell. Poe’s never going to get a better opening than that. Kriffing hell: he’s mouthed off to Kylo Ren, why can’t he find the right words now? Well, if he can’t be eloquent then he can at least be blunt. “I love you,” Poe says, to that sweet smile and those lovely eyes.

Finn blinks, and sits up. The smile is gone, replaced by puzzlement. “Poe – what - ?”

Poe flinches. “Never mind,” he says faintly, and tries to turn away, just for a moment, to regain his composure. But there is a warm hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Finn staring at him in clear confusion and worry.

“Poe,” Finn says quietly. “You know I…I don’t really know a lot about how people do things in the real world. I know the dictionary definition of love, but I don’t know what it means. But I know I want to spend all my time with you. I’m sick with worry when you go on a mission. I, um,” he ducks his head shyly, “I really like it when you walk around our room in nothing but a towel.” Poe can feel himself blushing. Finn takes a deep breath. “I thought maybe that was just – just buddies. Is it – I don’t know what the difference is, but you, you mean more than buddies, yeah? When you say love?”

Poe can’t decide whether to be elated or terrified. “Okay,” he says, and has to swallow and try again when no sound comes from his dry throat. “Love is – is like buddies, but then you, you want to spend your life next to them. You want to protect them and make them laugh and know what their favorite food is and how they look in the morning with ridiculous bedhead and how to wake them up out of nightmares. And also you want to have sex with them. Usually. Unless it’s family, in which case it’s a whole other thing – oh, hell, I’ve really screwed this up, haven’t I?”

Finn leans in and presses their lips together in a clumsy kiss. “If that’s love,” he says quietly, “then, Poe, you must know I love you too.”

Poe blinks, stunned. “I – hoped,” he admits, then leans forward to kiss Finn back. They overbalance, and Poe ends up sprawled on top of Finn, with Finn’s warm arms wrapped snugly around him and Finn’s lips soft and sweet beneath his. Finn chuckles, the sound reverberating beneath Poe’s chest, and Poe pulls back just far enough to give him a quizzical look.

“It’s just – you keep giving me things before I know I need them,” Finn says. “A name. Your jacket. My freedom. Hot chocolate, and steak, and a picnic. A room. Love.”

“I like giving you things,” Poe says helplessly. “And you gave me my life back, you know.” He thinks of something, and grins. “There’s a tradition, some places, that if you save someone’s life you’re bound together forever.”

“Bound together forever,” Finn muses. “I like the sound of that.” He gives Poe a wide-eyed, plaintive look. “Does forever have more kisses in it?”

Poe gulps. “Yeah, buddy,” he says, voice a little shaky. “Forever has a lot more kisses in it. As many as you want.” Then Poe does his level best to kiss Finn senseless. From the little happy moans Finn is making, he doesn’t mind at all.


“The gods of my ancestors be praised,” Jessika says when she sees Poe helping Finn out of the X-wing, back at base, and Finn thanking him with a quick kiss. “It took you kriffing long enough!”

Finn gives Poe a baffled look. Poe blushes. “She’s been after me to tell you for a while.”

“How long a while?” Finn asks. Poe blushes harder; Jessika bursts into delighted laughter.

“Since Starkiller,” Poe admits sheepishly. “Though I think I should get a pass on the months you were unconscious.”

“You mean we could have been doing this for months?” Finn says, incredulously. Jessika’s laughter chokes off into a coughing fit.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Poe promises, and gives Finn his best leer.

“My eyes,” Jessika says despairingly. “Get a room, you two!”

“Thank you, we’ve already got one,” Poe retorts, and tugs Finn after him down the corridor.


“So when Jess said, ‘Get a room’,” Finn says as they turn the corner, “she meant…?”

“Go to a private place to have sex,” Poe explains. “But – ah – we don’t have to do anything, you know. I was just teasing her. No pressure at all, buddy – we go at your pace.”

“Is sex as nice as kissing?” Finn asks, with the air of someone who wants all the information before making a decision.

“Well, yes. Or nicer, sometimes,” Poe admits.

Finn is silent and thoughtful until they get to their rooms and the door is closed behind them. Then he says, “I know the dictionary definition of sex. We had to be told what not to do, after all; no point saying ‘Don’t have sex’ if we haven’t the slightest idea what that means. But I don’t know what you mean by it. Would you tell me?”

Poe’s mouth goes dry. “Oh, hell,” he says faintly. Tell Finn what he wants to do to and with him? Describe the many ways he wants to touch his gorgeous lover? “Sure, buddy,” he says, voice unsteady. “I could do that. But you gotta tell me what sounds good, okay?”

“Okay,” Finn agrees easily, and sits down on Poe’s bed, pulling Poe down beside him. Well, that’s a good start. Okay. Just like planning a mission, Poe tells himself: plenty of detail but leave room for improvisation, and keep your eye on the main goal. Which in this case is finding out how hard he can make Finn come, not blowing up an enemy installation, but surely the basics of strategy are the same. Right?


“So,” Poe says after a few minutes of thought. “You like kissing.”

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, and kisses him, like punctuation.

“So I bet you’d like kissing naked,” Poe says, and is rewarded when Finn sucks in a sharp breath and tugs Poe a little closer.

“Naked?” Finn asks, and oooh, there’s even a little heat in his voice.

“A lot of good sex starts with naked,” Poe confirms.

Finn considers this. “That…sounds good,” he says. Poe shifts around a little, pushing Finn until Finn is propped up against the wall and Poe can straddle his legs. This sort of conversation is probably best face-to-face, after all; and also Finn’s hands are big and warm on Poe’s hips, and his legs are strong and warm beneath Poe’s ass, and if Poe needed inspiration for this little exercise in dirty talk, well, now he’s got it.

“So, naked kissing,” Finn says, like he’s making a checklist in his head.

“Definitely naked kissing. And then – oh, I want to get my hands on you,” Poe says. “Your chest, your back, your legs, your cock. Touch you everywhere.”

Finn’s eyes are huge and dark and beautiful, and he bites his lip and shivers beneath Poe. “Yeah?” he says, shakily.

“Hell yes,” Poe says. “Find out if you’re ticklish. Find out if you like a little scratching – some people do. See what sounds you make when I’ve got my hands on you – gonna make you feel so good, buddy, make you moan for me.”

Finn does moan, and Poe bites back a whimper at the sound. Finn’s hands have tightened on Poe’s hips, and that’s very encouraging, that is, and then Finn leans forward to brush his lips over Poe’s and asks, “Do I get to touch you too?”

Poe makes a very embarrassing noise and blushes red as Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. “Please,” he says before he can censor himself, and Finn gulps, shivers, moans again. They are both silent for a minute, trying desperately to catch their breaths; Poe tucks his head into the curve of Finn’s shoulder, which doesn’t actually help too much, because now he can smell Finn, all heat and maleness and leather from the ever-present jacket.

“So,” Finn says shakily. “Naked touching. Sounds good.”

“Yeah,” Poe agrees, takes a deep breath, sits up again. His trousers are going to have to come off at some point soon, because otherwise he might lose blood flow to an important part of his body. But this is important, he’s going to do this right, Finn asked to be told what Poe wanted and Poe’s going to tell him, and then, if Jessika’s eight thousand gods are good, Poe’s going to get to do it.

Soon, hopefully. Very soon. Poe’s not honestly sure how much longer his self-control is going to last. But for Finn, he can do this. For Finn, he can do anything.

“Nothing too complicated,” he says at last, thinking it over. “Not for your first time. But I want to get my mouth on you, kiss you everywhere, see what you taste like. Want to get my mouth on your cock, bet it’s as beautiful as the rest of you, bet you taste so good.”

Finn whimpers. It’s a glorious sound, Poe wants to hear it as often as possible. “That’s…that’s a thing?” Finn asks, and oh, his voice, he sounds wrecked just by what Poe is saying. That’s…really, really hot. Oh dear.

“Yeah, that’s a thing,” Poe confirms. “Sound good to you?”

Yes,” says Finn, and then he lets go of Poe’s hips and tugs at the hem of Poe’s shirt. “Okay, you’ve told me what sex is, please let’s do it.”

Poe’s brain shorts out briefly. Then he shakes himself back into coherency and pulls his shirt off, half-falls off of the bed to get his pants off. Finn is stripping with just as much haste and clumsiness, which is somewhat reassuring. They tumble together back onto the bed, and Finn pulls Poe down and kisses him, and oh wow skin. Finn is warm and sleek and absolutely perfect against Poe, and Poe shivers and can’t quite help rocking against him, which earns him a heartfelt groan. So he does it again. Yep, that works.

On impulse, he sets his teeth against Finn’s throat, not so much a bite as the bare suggestion of one, and Finn puts his head back and moans like a dying thing. “Do…that…again,” he gasps, and Poe reaches down between them to wrap a hand around Finn’s cock and sets his teeth against Finn’s throat again –

And Finn comes with a keening cry, the sound and feeling of his pleasure dragging Poe over the edge right behind him.

They lie there for a while in sticky, panting silence. Once he’s caught his breath, Poe raises his head to look Finn over. The other man is smiling broad and sweet, and pulls Poe down into a kiss with gentle hands. “That was…wow. That was better than hot chocolate,” Finn says, and Poe grins at the compliment. “Can we do that again tomorrow?”

Poe kisses Finn again. “Buddy, sweetheart, love – we can do that as often as you like,” he promises. Finn shivers, and pulls Poe closer, arranging them in a more comfortable mutual sprawl.

“Good,” he says, and then, “Stay here with me?”

“Always,” Poe promises, and falls asleep with Finn’s broad smile lighting his dreams.