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Pretty Simple

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It’s a long time before Finn associates the way he feels about Poe with love. As far back as he can remember, he’s had nothing and no one to love – obey, sure; fear, yes; tolerate, definitely. But love? Finn doesn’t immediately know what that means.

He knows it means more than fucking. He’s done that before – there are lot of stormtroopers, of all kinds of genders, and he’s messed around with a lot of people – but it isn’t fucking that’s on his mind. It’s something less tangible – wanting to hear Poe’s thoughts on intel; liking how Poe looks when he laughs; worrying about Poe when he’s on a mission; missing him when the mission takes a long time. He likes Poe, more than he’s ever liked anything. He’d bet that Poe likes him, too – Poe’s always bringing him things from worlds Finn hasn’t been to, and he seeks him out after he’s done with briefings, and he answers all Finn’s questions without batting an eye.

So he tells Poe.

“I don’t want to have sex with you,” Poe says in response, direct as ever, though the flush high on his cheekbones is new.

Finn nods. “Okay.” It’s not the response he was expecting, but he’s learned since arriving at the base to think carefully about what people say. Nothing here works like it does in the Order, and since the Order is fucked, each new discovery warrants some thought, some careful consideration before he decides how he feels about it. “Okay,” he says. “I just thought . . .”

“The stories, huh?” said Poe, one side of his mouth tilting into a smile. “A partner on every base.”

“I’ve heard those.” It doesn’t make a difference. He can’t see why it would.

“I let ‘em talk.”

“But that wasn’t why I . . .”

“I know, buddy,” Poe says. “I’m not saying you thought I was easy. I’m saying you thought I liked sex.”

Finn nods. “Doesn’t everyone like sex?”

Poe quirks an eyebrow. “Most people do.”

“But you don’t?”

“I . . .” Poe scratches the back of his neck and looks like he’s thinking of how to explain. “I’m not attracted to people. It’s not part of who I am.”

Finn thinks about this. It’s pretty simple. He came here to tell Poe he loves him, and that hasn’t changed. “So, what do you like?” he asks.

Poe looks confused. “Like?”

“You don’t like sex. What do you like?” When Poe just looks at him he presses on. “No touch at all?”

“I like touch,” says Poe. “I like companionship. I like being close to . . . It’s just not going to lead to – “

“I get it,” said Finn solemnly. “I understand. I just . . . if you were interested, whatever you wanted to do is . . .” He hitches a shoulder. “Or not. If not doing is . . .”

Poe tilts his head a fraction. “Are you still coming on to me?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t mind the – “

“I want to give a try.”

“Finn.” Poe looks a hell of a lot younger all of a sudden.

Finn nods firmly. “Yeah. I want this. I told you.”

Poe looks at him for a long moment, studying his face so intently Finn wants to scrub his hand over his chin, check he doesn’t have food stuck there. After a long minute he reaches for Finn’s hand, twines their fingers. “Yeah. Me too.” He blinks and shakes his head. “You, too. I mean – “

Finn grins. “I’m pretty fucking happy right now,” he blurts.

Poe laughs and tugs him in, steps close and hugs him. “Me too, man. Me too.”