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by any other name

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It doesn’t take very long for Finn to feel out of the place on the rebel base.

It’s not that people aren’t accepting and welcoming of his presence. Sure, there’s a few wary looks he gets for the whole ‘First Order from birth’ thing, but his key role in taking down the Starkiller has pretty much convinced everyone that he’s on their side, not to mention it’s given him some pretty good hero credibility. It also helps that Rey and Poe don’t tolerate anyone treating Finn like crap.

It’s not that other people are making him feel out of place, though.

It’s Finn, finally exposed to the real world and realizing the iron curtain the First Order had kept them drawn behind had hidden him from wonderful, incredible, amazing things. He watches as the young children on the rebel base play with their hobbies, fascination on his face as he watches a young girl turn normal pieces of paper into art so beautiful that Finn wants to steal them away and pin them to his wall.

They have friendships with each other the same as Finn had in the First Order, but they’re allowed to fumble and fall. When someone makes a mistake, they learn and grow, and no one’s commander has to have a private talk with their fellow officers about leaving them behind because friendship falls secondary to duty. That doesn’t happen here.

Here, on the rebel base, they don’t just have names -- they have last names.

“Pava!” Snap greets cheerfully after they’ve touched down from their morning flight runs and the crews are getting out of their X-wings to reconvene on the tarmac. Finn’s lingering by the crates, munching the last of breakfast and doing what he’s come to love best – observing from afar. “What the hell were you thinking with that last shot?”

“Shut up, Wexley. Like you could’ve hit it from ten feet!”

“Hey, hey,” Poe gets in between them, spinning between the two to share his attention. “Let’s just admit that you’re both pieces of shit next to me in the sky.” He’s grinning in that broad, easy way that makes Finn’s heart beat faster. Wexley and Pava just laugh and head off, charmed in that easy way Poe seems uniquely talented in. Pava hugs Poe before leaving, and Snap and Poe go through an elaborate handshake that leaves Finn dizzy.

This is another thing that Finn’s getting used to. Affection isn’t a forbidden thing. The touch of a hand is normal, a kiss is commonplace, and a crush on Poe Dameron is practically expected.

Poe looks across the airfield and catches Finn’s gaze, waving and making his way over to join him, while Finn tidies up after himself and wonders if now is the best time to broach any of this. And where does he start? Does he start with the part where he feels awkward around Poe because of things unsaid or does he bring up the part where staring at Poe makes his whole body become subject to uncontrollable shivering thoughts and leaves him with about six too many fantasies that he hasn’t got time to work through (his hand is good, but it’s not that good).

“Hey, you didn’t want to come up with us? I could’ve used a gunner,” Poe says warmly.

“I like watching,” Finn promises, constantly split between wanting to watch Poe from the ground and be with him in the sky. “Hey, can I talk to you about something?”


I think I’m into you. No, that’s not a good idea, not yet. Not now. Are you seeing anyone? Definitely a good question, but he can figure that out with enough watching and listening.

“Everyone around here calls you Dameron,” he says, scratching a hand over his arm as the discomfort about the topic starts to overwhelm him and Finn starts to wish he had gone with the, ‘hey, wanna grab a drink sometime?’ line of questioning. “Is that a Resistance thing?”

“I think it’s more of a pilot thing,” Poe says, staring at Finn curiously. “Did the First Order let you…” He trails off, like he’s just realized that he’s answered his own question. “Hey,” he says, reaching over and drawing Finn into a half-hug, draping his arm over Finn’s shoulders as he walks them down the tarmac. “We can think up a last name for you.”

Finn isn’t an idiot. He knows that anyone in the Resistance would gladly offer their last name to him, but there’s one he wants in particular.

Unfortunately, this kind of goes hand in hand with that earlier I think I’m into you thought. Worse than that, Finn’s pretty new to the romance thing, but he also knows taking someone’s name this early might be overstepping his bounds.

“It’d just be nice to fit in, you know?”

Poe stares at Finn for a long moment, his brows knit together as if he’s trying to figure out some complex problem and not just Finn’s social anxieties.

“Yeah,” Poe agrees. “You could have my name, you know.”

He puts it out there with such gentle ease that it takes someone accustomed to watching to see it, but Finn’s become an expert and can easily read the worry in his voice. “Poe, don’t take this the wrong way, because trust me, I’d love to be Finn Dameron, but…not yet?”

“Not yet?” Poe echoes with a laugh.

“No,” he goes on, feeling a burst of inspiration and confidence. “I’m a big believer in dating, first.” He thinks. He hasn’t really seen many successful relationships in the ranks of the First Order. He thinks dating comes before ‘let me take your name forevermore’.

“You still deserve a last name,” Poe points out.

“I’ll think of one,” Finn assures, heart beating wildly as he realizes that Poe hasn’t shot him down.

Here comes that look on Poe’s face again, but it fades away to something relaxed and bright within seconds. “Yeah,” he agrees. “We’ll think of a perfect one. Together.”

“Finn, can I talk to you for a second?”

Finn glances up from where he’s helping to clean the blasters, doing a double-take when he sees Poe standing alongside General Organa. He snaps to attention, wincing when he realizes he probably didn’t need to do that, but serving under Phasma sort of gets under your skin. General Organa gives him an amused smile and nods towards her ready room.

Poe lingers to wink flirtatiously at Finn, waiting patiently with a hand held out for Finn to take. Finn lets Poe lead him inside, directing him to the chair in the center of the room. From there, Poe settles him in with both hands on his shoulders before easing back to perch on the table in the corner of the room, splayed artfully and ridiculously attractively out of the way.

For a while, no one says anything and Finn starts going through the last few days to try and figure out if he’s done something to piss the General off. Poe keeps staring at him in that aggressively kind way, as if he can solve all of the galaxy’s problems with one earnest look. Finn’s actually starting to think that maybe he can, if he works hard enough.

Finally, all the silence is too much. He breaks first.

“What?” Finn asks warily, feeling a little on display with both the General and Poe staring at him. “Why is no one talking? What did I do?”

“Commander Dameron mentioned to me that you were feeling a little out of place,” she explains. “That you were looking for the right last name to take?”

Finn flushes, feeling a little embarrassed that this has somehow made it up the ranks so quickly. He wishes he could be more like Rey, who’s steady and secure in knowing that she has her share of names to choose from and that she’s, “waiting to see what the right one will be,” she’s told him cryptically. He’s not a gambling man, but he thinks that in a few weeks’ time, she’s going to be a Solo. She keeps insisting she doesn’t know, but Finn feels like he knows her better than that by now.

And as for Finn, there is a name that he wants. God, does he want it, but it feels too soon and too much. Poe’s already given him Finn and a jacket and a mission that managed to give him a new lease on life. Taking his last name is something he could do – he knows he could, he’d just have to look at Poe and ask one more time – but it still feels like something that comes later.

He needs to earn that particular name and Poe knows that.

Now, sitting in front of the General and being probed about names, Finn feels like a child in his early days of training, being scolded for stupid mistakes and being greedy. He kicks himself for being so vocal about this search, knowing it’s a problem he should’ve kept to himself.

“I’m really happy to have a first name, don’t get me wrong,” Finn hurries to explain. “But everyone here goes by their last. Dameron, Pava…” he offers his examples, even recalling ‘Solo’ tripping off his tongue. “If my home is going to end up being here,” he says, as though he hasn’t already decided, “I want to fit in. I want to feel like I’m part of the team.”

Poe finally nudges himself forward from his artful splay to lean an elbow to his knee, a tender smile on his face. “I told you, you can have Dameron.”

He wants it. God, does Finn want to take Poe’s name and wrap it around himself as if he can strike at the world and tell them that he belongs to this man, but he’ll get there. He’s already promised himself that he’ll get Poe Dameron’s last name, but not yet.

“If I could suggest an alternative, boys?”

Finn bristles at the idea of being called a ‘boy’, but if anyone’s got permission, he supposes the General’s earned it. His gaze slides to Poe, who’s grinning like an idiot and clearly knows what’s about to happen.

Oh, stars, what the hell is about to happen?

“I don’t know if you’d want it because it’s old and a little battered, but if you were looking for a name, I would be honored if you considered taking Organa as your last name.”

This … is not even close to what he’d expected.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, gaping at the General. “You’re in charge of everyone,” he says.

“Yes,” she agrees with a press-lipped smile, hardly hiding her mirth.

“And you’re a hero.”

“So are you,” Poe interjects.

“I don’t deserve your name, ma’am.”

“You’re just about the one person on this base apart from Rey who does, and she’s already told me that she’s ‘got something in mind’,” the General says. “Don’t do this because you feel you need to, Finn. This is an offer made in gratitude for your actions, but also because I think you’re an excellent young man. You’re an Organa at heart, I think,” she says. “As strong as my father, as clever as my mother, even a battle-axe like me.” She reaches out to take Finn by the hand, squeezing it and holding tight. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

He’s never had something offered to him so freely before.

“Think about it,” Poe encourages. “Finn Organa’s got a nice ring to it.”

“General, are you sure?” Finn asks, one more time, even though his heart’s already set on it.

“You should listen to Poe,” she says, squeezing his hand again. “He’s a clever man.”

Flushed, Finn ducks his head down but doesn’t manage to avoid the intent way Poe is staring at him, like he’s already named and claimed Finn and plans to shout it to the universe at large.

“It’d be my honor, General.”

“It’s Leia,” she introduces herself, offering her first name to him as freely as Poe had named him. “We’re family, now, you’d better call me by my first name.”

“Leia,” Finn echoes, choked up with warm acceptance and belonging. “I promise, I’ll do you proud. I’ll do your name proud.”

“I have no doubt.”

Later on, when Finn has managed to seduce his way through the first date (even if Poe protests that he’d been the one doing the seducing) and didn’t fumble the second date, when they’re lying in bed together and the sweat is drying from their sticky bodies, Poe leans over and brushes his nose slowly against Finn’s neck. He starts to slowly press a line of kisses against the stretch of Finn’s tendon. “Were you serious earlier? About wanting to earn my name? Because, you know, that’s the kind of thing that happens when you commit to a life with somebody.”

“I know,” Finn agrees, suave and cool and collected, like he hasn’t been practicing this in the mirror.

Poe hesitates before the next kiss, propping himself up on his elbow as he looks down at Finn with this adorably hopeful look on his face, like a kid waiting for a treat. “So, if we were going to settle down…”


“And if we were in the business of taking names….”


“Right,” Poe agrees. “Then, hypothetically, if we were settling down and taking names, then I’m afraid Dameron’s not even close to on the table,” he informs Finn, bearing in for a kiss on the lips. “Because, Finn, I’m taking your name.”

“Commander Organa?”

“Poe Dameron-Organa,” Poe tries. “No, I think I like the Commander Organa.”

“Are we gonna reminisce about your idol crush on the General or are we going to try for round three?”

“Just say it once,” Poe suggests. “C’mon, once.”

Finn sighs and accepts that maybe he’s managed to bag himself a dud. An accomplished, handsome, well-rounded, popular, heroic dud, but definitely a dud with some weird hang-ups. “Poe Organa,” he sighs, but he’s grinning because this time, he’s the one naming Poe and not the other way around.

Maybe Finn should be a little worried at the vehemence they do it during round three, but hey, it’s not like Finn can protest. He knows all-too-well what being named can do to your heart and soul.