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The First Cut is The Deepest

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Finn stops dead in his tracks, mouth falling comically open as his brain finally catches up with the image in front of him. He must look ridiculous to everyone present, frozen a foot or two away from the table that Rey, Jess and Poe are sitting at, tray of food in his hands and apparently no intention of sitting down to eat it. Only they don’t notice him straight away, it’s not until he lets out a noise that sounds a lot like a cross between a sharp intake of breath and some kind of Wookie screech that all three pairs of eyes fall on him.

“Finn…” Rey begins, eyebrow arched as if she’s almost afraid to ask, “Are you alright?”

NO! How could I be alright? Are you seeing this? “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” Clearing his throat, or attempting to at least, Finn shakes his head softly to himself before gesturing for her to squeeze over so he doesn’t have to walk all the way around the table. And it’s only a bit because he doesn’t want to have to stare right at this- this catastrophe for the duration of his lunch. What the fuck happened since breakfast this morning??

“Hey buddy,” Poe grins at him, casual as you like, before biting into a bread roll.

Hey buddy, he says… Hey buddy. His appetite diminishing by the second, Finn risks another look at the older man, head titled slightly as he observes him curiously. “You… you, uh, look different.”

Poe looks confused for a moment before putting two and two together and chuckling as he ran his hand over the very short covering of stubble that used to be his hair. “Oh, yeah.”

Oh, yeah.                                                                                                                               

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Jessika leans into her fellow pilot’s side, rubbing his head very enthusiastically, while wearing an expression that could only be described as pride, “I did it. Looks great, right?”

Great isn’t exactly the first word he would use to describe it… Opening his mouth to say something, Finn closes it just as quick when he realises that he physically cannot find the words. The churning in his stomach and the dull ache in his chest is a feeling he’s experienced before, if on a larger scale. After contemplating it briefly, he decides that the most accurate description of this feeling is mourning. And he suddenly wants to kill the raven haired woman because what the fuck?? What did she do to Poe and his beautiful, angelic, hot curls?

“Right,” he finally manages to choke out, his lunch suddenly incredibly interesting as he tries his best to avoid looking at his best friend for the duration of the meal for fear of breaking into tears like a complete weirdo. Because, really, a grown man shouldn’t feel the loss of his best friend’s (also a grown man) hair so deeply. But he does and he feels personally offended by Jessica’s actions. If only he had been there at the time, he could have convinced Poe that shaving his head was, like, the worst idea he’d heard in the entirety of his existence. And suddenly it hits him: he was with Rey all morning… This… monstrosity was all her fault.

He can’t help but risk a glance every now and then, however. It’s like some kind of horrible accident, when you know you should really look away but you just can’t.

“Is everything okay, buddy?” Poe wonders, words coming slowly but playfully, one corner of his mouth tugging upwards as he catches his best friend staring one too many times.

Damn… Finn starts, cheeks beginning to burn as he sits up straighter, trying to look as unaffected by the question as is humanly possible. “Yeah! Uh, yeah. Everything’s… yeah.”

“Eloquent…” Jess teases, finding herself on the end of two very reproachful looks from the men at the table.

Despite his suspicion, Poe smiles. “Just checking.”  



Ignoring her best friend’s pleas of ‘don’t’, Rey folds her arm across her chest, smirk firmly fixed on her face as she leans against the door of his room to prevent any escape attempts. “I have to say, I’ve never seen a reaction like that to a haircut before…”

“Did you see what she did to him?? She- she…”

“Shaved his head?” she offered, eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Murdered his curls! She murdered his curls!”

Murdered his… “They’ll grow back! It’s not the end of the world!”

She’s right, it really isn’t but little good it does him. Finn just pouts like a child that’s had his favourite toy taken from him and Rey takes it as permission to continue.  “You know… maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have done it if he knew how strongly you felt about it… About him. You really can’t blame the guy when he hasn’t got a clue.”

Damn you and your rationale. “Yeah, but…”

Can’t wait to hear this one. “But?”

“…Shut up.”


“Hey, Finn.”

By the time dinner comes around Finn at least likes to think that he can act like a normal human being around Poe. And by normal he means not completely, obviously and pathetically in love with him. And his hair. Or lack thereof as it now seemed, not that he wanted to dwell on that for too long.

It’s just the three of them; him, Poe and Snap for the time being so he takes the free seat next to his best friend this time, more than willing to reciprocate when Poe leans in and gives him a brief side hug, their shared height meaning that Poe’s head brushes against his temple. It feels weird, scratchy stubble feeling harsh against his skin instead of soft, bouncy curls and it only serves to ratify Finn’s dislike for his friend’s new haircut. He has to stop himself when his mind starts to wonder what it would feel like in the throes of passion; against his neck, his stomach…

His thighs.

“Hey,” he replies as if he wasn’t just thinking about them in a compromising position (again), and despite being disgruntled, Finn can’t help the smile that threatens to cut his face in half. His ‘Poe smile’ as Rey had (probably accurately) dubbed it, the one he is always powerless to control. “Can’t believe you’re actually at dinner before me for once, it must have been a quiet day.”

“Pff,” Snap scoffs, spooning some rice into his mouth, “it’s because he has no reason to spend copious amounts of time in front of the mirror anymore.”

Nudging his fellow pilot with his foot beneath the table, Poe grimaces at the man sitting across from them but cannot deny the veracity of the statement. “Showering took like two minutes. I think I could get used to this,” Poe smiles, running his hand over his head once again.

Groaning internally, Finn blushes when Snap notices his reaction and arches an eyebrow, wry smile creeping over his face. No, please don’t.

“You like it, don’t you?”

The question is directed at Finn and he finds himself lost for words. No, I hate it. Why would you ruin a masterpiece?? Not that Poe wasn’t still a masterpiece, because he was; a 12/10, the picture- and probably dictionary definition- of rugged good looks. But his lovely, dark, tousled curls were the cherry on top, the icing on the cake… What was the question again?

“Yeah, sure… I mean, not that I spend much time thinking about your hair but yeah, it looks… good.”

Ah, yes. The perfect answer. Smooth as fuck, he thinks sarcastically. It’s not clear if Poe registers his monumental failed attempt at being blasé but the other pilot certainly does, looking all too amused as he bites into a loaf of bread.

Shut the fuck up. Why is everyone around here so evil?


BB-8’s chirping stops the minute he rolls into Poe’s room, Finn automatically looking up from where he’d been sitting on the bed next to Poe, book in his hands and holopad in the pilot’s.

[I go off planet for less than a day… What the hell happened to you?]

Eyebrows raised in amusement, Poe chuckles, the sound warming Finn to the very core. “Good to see you too, BeeBee-Ate. What do you mean what happened to me?”

The droid inches closer to the bed, beeping like crazy and Finn decides that he really needs to learn binary. [Isn’t it obvious? You have been injured.]

“Injured? Buddy, I’m fine.”

[Do not lie to me, my lense has catalogued the change. You have sustained an injury to your head.]

Ahhh. Relieved that he’s not, unbeknownst to himself, dying, Poe places his hand over his heart momentarily before shuffling to the edge of the bed so he can embrace the droid. Crouching down, he looks BB-8 right in its lens. “It’s just a haircut,” he laughs, “nothing to be worried about.”

A quick search of its internal memory confirms that Friend-Poe is in fact telling the truth. [Why would you do that to yourself?]

“It’s just hair, buddy, it doesn’t hurt.”

[It’s not aesthetically pleasing.]

Finn watches the exchange, eyebrows raised, Poe’s reactions the only indication of what is being said between the two. What BB-8 has just said seems to offend his master. “Are you calling me ugly??”

[No, you are not ugly. You have just dramatically decreased you chances of successfully mating, that is all.]

Poe gasps, lost for words, and his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. Now (metaphorically) hanging on the edge of his seat, Finn decides he would give his left hand to hear what had caused such a reaction from his best friend. “Dramatically decreased my chance of- what? It’s not that bad! Everyone else likes it!”

Well… not everyone. The ex-Stormtrooper decides that he would shake the droid’s hand if it had any and instead settles for a discreet thumbs up with both hands behind Poe’s back. BB-8 evidently holds the same opinion as he on the matter of Poe’s new hair and he certainly isn’t above letting the droid do his dirty work.

[You are mistaken. Friend-Finn agrees with me.]

Poe’s head turns around so quickly that he’s surprised his neck doesn’t crack, jaw now hanging open and Finn puts on his best poker-face (which isn’t that great to begin with) because he doesn’t know what BB-8 has just said but knows for sure that the droid has just incriminated him in some way “Is this true?”

“Uh… I don’t speak binary?”

Oh yeah. “BeeBee says you hate my hair.”

If he could have gotten away with it without looking completely guilty, Finn would have given the droid the evil eyes. Traitor. “Uhm… hate is a very strong word?”

“Great,” Poe pouts, brow now furrowed, “Great, so the two most important people in my life think I look awful. This is all Jessika’s fault.”

“You’re Poe Dameron, I don’t think you ever need to worry about looking awful, trust me. It’s… I don’t know, I preferred it the way it was before.” BB-8 seems to chirp his agreement at that.

Arching an eyebrow, having remembered that it was just hair and it would grow back, Poe smirks. “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird today? Did my haircut upset you that much?”

“I was not upset. I was… surprised.”

“Hmm, now that I think of it, you looked pretty upset to me. We’re you mourning the loss of my curls?”

Despite his best efforts, Finn can’t stop the blush from creeping over his cheeks as he struggles to think of a good answer to that. The whole thing reminds him of Rey’s words from earlier on, how she urged him to just get over himself and tell Poe how he felt, but he just really doesn’t think he’s capable of putting himself out there like that- not when Poe is as important to him as he is.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have time to come to a conclusion, his silence obviously telling the other man all he needed to know. Poe’s eyes widen alarmingly, so much so that they’re practically all Finn can see, one corner of his mouth tugging higher than the other. “You were.”

“I was not,” Finn insists, wanting nothing more than to just smother himself with the pillow, “I definitely was not.”

“Okay then, look me in the eye and say that again.” He actually contemplates it for a moment before deciding it was futile, letting out a defeated huff instead. Poe does a little jump at that, the sudden movement startling the younger man and almost causes him to fall off the bed. “You do miss my curls!”

“I liked your curls, okay, yes, I’ll admit it.”

He must be absolutely raving mad but Finn reaches out slowly and brushes his thumb over the short covering of hair on the other man’s head, his curiosity getting the better of him. It doesn’t feel as unpleasant as he expects, a curious mixture of soft and prickly that causes something to tighten in the pit of his stomach.

The symbolism of the gesture stuns Poe into silence, smile replaced by a truly shocked expression, and Finn swallows hard, knowing he has definitely given everything away. He continues nonetheless. “But you’re still you. It’s only a minor thing, I know so I can probably get over it.” Giving Poe a timid smile, he retracts his hand for fear that he let it linger for that bit too long.

Poe snaps out of his trance grabbing Finn’s hand before it can get too far away, heart thudding violently in his chest as he slowly entangles their fingers. Finn swallows once again, the realisation hitting him like a speeding train: Poe wants this too. Mustering up the courage to rest his palm against the pilot’s cheek, he’s all too relieved when Poe’s hand comes to rest on top of his. “You’re beautiful, either way,” he promises and means it, he really means it.

BB-8 trills at the sight. [It appears I was wrong, perhaps your chances of mating with Friend-Finn have dramatically increased. I don’t think I will ever understand organics.]

Pulled from the beautiful, tender moment that he had been sharing with Finn by his droid’s sass, Poe chuckles, reaching over for a nearby pillow that he can throw at it. BB-8 manages to avoid it and rolls closer to them, extending its electroprod so that it can shock its master.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

[Why are you throwing objects at me? You should be mating. Which, might I add, is my doing. You should be expressing gratitude.]

“If you say the ‘m’ word one more time…”

[Mating? Is this the word of which you speak?]

Shuddering at the inhumanity of it all, Poe guides Finn’s hand away from his face, using the other to point towards the doors. “Go! Go harass someone else. Rey maybe. Or General Organa,” he smirks before realising that, no, that would be a terrible idea. The thought of BB-8 happily informing the General that he and Poe were mating… “I take that back! Rey only! And remember not to use that word…”

BB-8 dismisses that with two simple beeps, the door whooshing open then closing as soon as the droid had disappeared.

“Do I want to know?”

Poe shakes his head at that, wrapping his arms around the back of Finn’s neck. The intensity of his gaze makes the younger man blushing, fighting the urge to look away from those big brown eyes that now seemed so much bigger without the curls framing his face. And you’re biting you’re lip again, gods.

“So, do tell me… what was it you liked the most about my hair? Huh? Did you think about how it would feel beneath your fingers if we kissed?” Raking his teeth across his bottom lip tantalisingly slow, Poe grins wickedly before pressing his lips against Finn’s, relishing the sharp intake of breath from the younger man. They kiss for a minute or two (who’s keeping track of time?) and it’s better than anything Finn’s ever experienced in his life. He just takes it all in, getting drunk off the taste of Poe’s lips and tongue, breath tickling his cheek and sending a shiver down his spine. Too soon, the pilot pulls away, licking away the excess moisture from his lips like the tease he is.

“Or maybe you were thinking about burying your hands in it and pulling while I suck-“

Fuck. Finn doesn’t even try to stifle the groan that escapes him at that, low and wanton, and it’s only then that he realises just how dangerous Poe fucking Dameron is. “Poe…”

“Gotcha,” the pilot winks, “Don’t worry, I won’t be cutting my hair any time soon but until then… well, I’m sure that we can get in a bit of practice…”

Losing control of his brain for a moment, thrown into sensory overload just by the mere inference, Finn just blinks, mouth opening and closing like a fish as Poe hooks his thumbs in the loops of his pants, making short work of them. “Poe, I really think we should-“

Shuddering at the very pleasant contact, eyes rolling back into his head, Finn orders his brain to just shut up. Talking could wait because, really, what’s the hurry?