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your love (will be safe with me)

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Finn is going to die tonight.

He's going to die tonight and he isn't even going to be upset about because he is currently being treated by a literal angel.

A literal angel with curly dark brown hair -- Finn is pretty sure he can see streaks of gray too, which, you know, should not be endearing but it is, it really is -- and a jawline that, if Finn wasn't already so distracted, he would write sonnets about. Finn isn't entirely sure what exactly a sonnet entails, but he's willing to learn for this guy. There's a faint splattering of stubble on his skin, like he was too exhausted to shave this morning. Finn wants to lick it.

Why does Finn want to lick facial hair? He's not sure. What he is sure of, however, is that if he doesn't get a hold of himself in the next couple of moments, he's probably going to be asked to leave. Finn's maybe been staring at him since he walked in. It's pathetic. Even for him.

There's also the fact that this guy is his doctor, and he's been babbling at Finn for the last five minutes, about, what Finn can only assume, is really important stuff. That he isn't listening to; Finn is the worst.

Finn really, seriously wishes he could focus on what he's been saying.

"Hey, bud. You still with me?"

Finn looks up and wants to cry. He didn't need to know just how much this guy's eyes crinkled when he was concerned. Finn doesn't deserve this; he's a good man. He pays his taxes and eats his vegetables and he even recycles. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. I was, uh. What were you saying?" 

Finn thinks that if he makes it out of here alive he's going to throw himself into oncoming traffic. He thinks Rey would be supportive and wouldn't even stop him; he can picture her in his head now, doing that little eyebrow furrow she does whenever she thinks Finn is doing something especially ridiculous. But she would let him do it. That's the important thing. 

He holds onto it.

The doctor, thankfully, looks nothing but amused. "No apology needed. I'm Dr. Dameron."

"Dr. Dameron," Finn repeats, testing the weight of it in his mouth. He likes it. But, going by the fact that so far he's liked everything about Dr. Dameron, that isn't really saying much. "I'm Finn."

Dr. Dameron smiles at him. "I know."

Finn flushes an extremely interesting shade of red. "Oh. Right. Patient."

Dameron's pleased expression fades into something a little more concerned. "Just how hard did you hit your head?"

"Um." That's a good question. Finn wasn't even aware he hit his head. "I'm in here for a broken wrist?"

"Your friend told the nurses you hit your head on the way down," Dameron tells him, stepping in close. Finn can smell his cologne, something woodsy and comforting with an undertone of vanilla. It's definitely the injury talking, he'll tell himself later, but he wants to curl around it forever. 

That's embarrassing. Christ, he's so glad Rey was forced to wait in the waiting room.

"I fell down a flight of stairs," Finn says instead of what he really wants to say, which is something along the lines of 'I am an exemplary member of society and I don't deserve this torture.' "So, yeah. I guess that's possible."

Dameron smiles at him again. He really wishes he would stop doing that. "Uh huh. Well, we're going to have to go take some x-rays of your wrist to see the extent of the damage."

“Alright.” Finn says, and tries not to think about just how close he’ll have to be to him for it.

(He’s not successful.)

 

---

 

 

As it turns out, it's a pretty nasty break.

It's broken in three places and he'll need to get it reset. Dameron looks extremely guilty when he tells Finn they'll have to set it without pumping him full of pain medication.

Finn breathes calmly through his nose. The fact that his nose once again is filled with the doctor's cologne is purely coincidence. He swears. "Oh. Um. Okay."

"This is gonna hurt," Dameron warns him. "Like, a lot."

His eyes are big and brown and wonderful. Finn gets lost in them for a moment. "That's okay. I don't really feel it right now, anyway."

"That's because of the adrenaline running through you," He pauses, stepping closer still. Finn can count his eyelashes. He gets to fifteen before Dameron starts speaking again. "You'll feel this."

Finn resigns himself to this. "I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, buddy," Dameron tells him. "Just promise not to hate me when this is all over, alright?"

Finn doesn't tell him that he's pretty sure at this point that isn't even possible. That's a little too sappy and creepy to pass off as something said in an adrenaline rush. 

"I promise," is what he says.

Dameron smiles at him one last time, before he turns to the nurse that Finn just now notices has been hovering in the back of the room. Finn blushes at this, especially when said nurse turns a thousand watt, shit-eating grin at him, looking entirely too pleased with herself. He doesn't even want to think about how besotted he must look already.

"Jessika," Dameron tells her, "You need to--"

"Hold the arm," Jessika finishes for him, pushing off of the far wall. Finn looks at her and wonders, absently, if everyone in the hospital is this good-looking. If they are, then Finn is totally, seriously screwed. He thought Dameron was bad enough, with his graying temples and easy smiles, but Jessika is something else entirely. 

"Alright, kid," Dameron says. "We're gonn'a set it on three, okay?"

"Try not to scream," Jessika adds, dryly. "Don't want to give the other doctors and patients the wrong idea."

"Jessika." And it might be a trick of the lighting, but Finn's almost positive Dameron blushes at that. 

When Poe turns his back to grab something from the medical tray behind him, Jessika winks at him.

"Oh, gods," Finn mutters to himself.

"What was that?" 

"Oh, uh. Just bracing myself," Finn says, quickly.

Dameron pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. Finn's entire arm lights up at the contact, and it must be obvious because Jessika snorts at him. "You ready?"

No. "Yeah."

"One--"

"Go, boss."

He has one second to feel just how excruciating the pain is before he blacks out. 

 

---

 

 

He wakes up slowly.

There's a phantom pain in his left wrist, throbbing to the beat of his pulse. It's easy to ignore, though, which is good. Finn has never been good at dealing with pain. Rey makes fun of him all the time whenever he whines about a paper cut -- they hurt okay, he doesn't know why something so small hurts so much, it's wrong -- and wonders if maybe she talked his doctor into giving him some pain medication. He sort of feels like he's on pain medication. Well, he would if he had any reference to being on pain medication, but his head feels heavy and fuzzy and like he'd rather pass out for a few more hours than stay conscious.

He blinks against the light once he finally opens his eyes, and is surprised to see someone sitting at the edge of his bed. He's even more surprised to find that it isn't Rey. Well, that it isn't only Rey, that is.

Dr. Dameron and Rey are in the middle of what looks to be a serious conversation. They're speaking in hushed tones that Finn can't even begin to try to decipher, and he's just about to clear his throat pointedly when Dameron looks over and beams at him.

"Ah, ah. Look who's awake." 

Rey grins at him. "Finally." 

"Finally?" Finn asks. He couldn't have been out that long. Right? Right.

"You were out for a while there, man," Dr. Dameron tells him, eyes roaming over Finn's body in concern, like he wasn't the one who put him there. Unless they have orderlies for that kind of thing. Maybe they do. Finn really needs to pay more attention to medical dramas whenever they're on his TV. "How do you feel?"

"Groggy," Finn answers, honestly. "Did I seriously pass out from you setting my bone?"

"It happens," Dameron assures him, though there's a tilt to his mouth that says he's lying.

"Right," Finn says, utterly mortified.

"At least you didn't pass out when you fell down the stairs," Rey chirps, helpfully. He glares at her. As he expected, she's not deterred by this in the slightest. 

Dameron laughs, then. He's pretty sure it's just the pain medication talking, but it sounds like angels singing. "Small miracles," He says, indulgently. It makes Rey laugh, a bright, infectious sound that sends a pang of something warm through Finn's chest. 

"He's going to be okay, though," she says more than asks, fishing for confirmation. 

"He'll be fine." Dr. Dameron tells her. "We're going to keep him for a couple more hours for observation, since his blood sugar levels were a little low."

Rey nods. "Perfect. Then I'm going to go the cafeteria and see if I can scrounge up actual food."

Dameron snorts. "Good luck. Stay away from the mac and cheese."

"Noted," Rey shudders, and squeezes Finn's hand. "I'll be back."

They both watch her leave.

 

---

 

It's quiet for a long while.

"Your girlfriend--" Dameron starts, and Finn just about chokes. "She's something else, isn't she?"

Finn stares at him. "You-- Rey and I are just friends."

He must be imagining the way Dameron's eyes light up at this. "Just friends, huh?"

"We tried the whole dating thing," Finn waves his uninjured arm. "But, uh. Better off as friends. Definitely better off as friends." 

Dameron smiles at him. "Hmmm." He starts, before gesturing to Finn's wrist. It's only now that he realizes that his arm is covered in a neon pink cast. "Sorry about that. It was the only color we had left."

"Neon pink looks great on me so I should be thanking you." Dameron throws his head back and laughs at that, and Finn makes a valiant effort to pretend like it didn't just make his entire week.

"Well. I can't argue with you there."

 Finn blinks at him. 

What.

Dameron clears his throat, like he just realized what he said, and flushes considerably. Finn wants to trace it with his (good) thumb. That, he thinks, is another thought that is going to stay safely in the confines of his own skull. 

It's then that Finn realizes something. "Aren't you supposed to be with your other patients?" 

"Oh. Uh." Dr. Dameron is so red Finn almost feels bad for the guy. Finn instead just thinks it's adorable. "My shift ended about an hour ago. I thought I'd go ahead and check up on you since I'm the one that made you pass out."

Finn's heart warms. "You didn't have to stay with me."

"I wanted to." Dr. Dameron says, before winking shamelessly. "Had to make sure you kept up your end of the deal we made earlier."

"Yeah, well. Sorry to tell you but I totally hate you now."

"Is that so?"

"I'm afraid so, Dr. Dameron." 

"Poe."

Finn blinks.

"Uh. What?"

"My name. It's Poe."

Poe. Finn mouths the words, ducking his head on a smile so Poe can't see him mouthing his name like a loser. "Nice to meet you, Poe. Wish it were under better circumstances," Finn says.

Poe's eyes look especially shiny, at that. "Come get breakfast with me." He blurts out, suddenly.

"Breakfast?" Finn asks, his mind going through a loop. Just how long was he unconscious for? He'd expected an hour, tops, but if it's already time for breakfast that means he's been in here much longer. 

"Breakfast," Poe confirms. "Unless -- unless I've been reading this wrong." 

Finn must still be sleeping. He brings his uninjured hand under the covers to roughly pinch his thigh. He winces. Nope, still awake, then. 

"Do you ask all your patients out for breakfast?"

Poe clears his throat. "Mm, not all of them, no. You're the first one this week."

Finn can't help it, he can't; he laughs, a loud, booming laugh that fills the room and makes his chest expand in the most pleasant way. "I'm honored."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Finn says. "Let's get breakfast, then."