STAR WARS FIC: Lost
May. 4th, 2019 04:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgalI sat down to write a ficlet for May the 4th, and it turned out WAY more melancholy than intended. Also, no actual sneezing (though a slight reference to it, 'cause it's me writing).
Title: Lost
Fandom: Star Wars (can’t imagine how this would fit into canon, but that’s not important)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Finn/Poe
Summary: Finn has lost his pilot and goes looking for him on board the star cruiser.
Notes: Written for May the 4th (be with you), 2019
“Hey, there you are!” He was slightly out of breath from the tall ladder, but relieved the climb had paid off.
Poe Dameron sat up on a maintenance catwalk that ran the width of the hanger, overlooking what few ships were left in it. His legs hung down, swinging freely. One of his arms was raised, hand clasped around the metal railing for stability. The other was tucked against his torso in a firm sling. If they still had the medical ship, maybe he’d be mended already. Maybe he’d be out there with the rest of the pilots. Maybe he wouldn’t be coming back.
From the way the man stared at the fighters and didn’t even acknowledge his presence, Finn knew he must be filled with emotions. But emotions had never really been Finn’s strong suit. His switch had exactly two settings: reckless and terrified. Occasionally the switch was stuck in the middle and he was reckless because he was terrified. But, generally, he was one or the other. And it was the recklessness now that had made him start searching the ship for his lost pilot. Finn had no clue how long Poe had been up here, but the fact that his shoulders were still tense and his legs didn’t pause in their swinging probably wasn’t a good sign.
“I’m guessing you… ah… probably don’t want company right now, but—“
“Oh, you think?”
Finn bristled. Poe’s words were heavy with emotion, and Finn had absolutely no idea what he should say or do now. His brain was empty, confused, conflicted, but his instincts told him to flee.
But instead of running, leaving, abandoning his pilot, Finn recklessly sat down instead. He held onto the raising post to his side and above him, not as comfortable as Poe up here at this height. He left a few inches of space between the two of them, but he was still close enough that Poe could reach out for him if he wanted to. “You want to talk about it?” Finn asked, already knowing the answer would almost certainly be no.
“No.”
Well, there it was then. As they sat in silence, Finn rolled more words around in his head, considering each as it rotated to the front. None of them felt right. Poe sounded angry. He sounded frustrated. But there was something else there. Something with intense pain. Something like longing. Or maybe grief. Or both.
Finn wasn’t good at emotions, but today was supposed to be a celebration. Everywhere else on the star cruiser, people were making jovial toasts and singing songs everyone knew but Finn. Finn understood how important the celebration was to everyone. In these dark times, victories were hard won, and remembering those of the past had a reassuring and comforting effect on everybody.
Everybody but Poe and Finn sitting in a silent, deserted hanger.
“When I was little, I loved this day every year,” Poe said, out of nowhere. Finn tried not to look startled by the sudden noise or surprised by the personal confession Poe was spilling. “I am proud of all my mother accomplished, proud of her sacrifice, even. But the day wasn’t the same after she died. I could never separate it from the loss. There are so many who I wish were here who can’t be here, who I’ll never see again, who saw us fight but will never see us finish this battle. I…” He trailed off and shook his head. A sharp inhale came as a wet sniffle, and Finn turned his head to the side to see the harsh lights shining against the paths tears had taken on their way down his cheeks.
Recklessly, Finn took his hands off the railing and fumbled around inside his jacket, pulling out a handkerchief. Intending to dry Poe’s face, he jumped and nearly slipped off the catwalk when Poe abruptly pulled back. “What?” Finn steadied himself, clinging to the railing with one hand now.
“Did you clean that after your cold?”
Finn frowned at the cloth. “Of course. I’m not going to walk around with a dirty handkerchief then offer it to you.”
Poe relaxed and leaned forward again, allowing Finn to dry his face and dab at his eyes. “Well, I don’t know. You were sneezing so much. Maybe you forgot. Or maybe the First Order never cared about hygiene.”
“Oh, they were all about hygiene.” Finn ran the handkerchief along Poe’s jawline, the man’s stubble providing resistance against the soft fibers. “This would never be allowed.”
“What, my facial hair, or…” Poe took his hand off the railing and curled it loosely around Finn’s wrist. His thumb circled the base of Finn’s hand, making Finn calm a little.
“This, too.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on Poe’s cheek. Then his lips slid over, pecking once ever so softly, then a second time with a little more pressure. Poe’s lips parted and his head tilted and then they were kissing. They kept each other balanced and steady as the kiss deepened.
It seemed to go on forever, but Finn pulled away when he felt tears squeeze between their cheeks again, and he worked the handkerchief again.
“Sorry,” Poe whispered with another sniffle. “If not for all this, we never would have met. But…”
“Moments of joy don’t lessen the losses.” Finn didn’t know where that had come from, but out it had come and Poe was nodding along in agreement. He inched over, scooting right up alongside Poe. “We can stay here as long as you want to.”
Poe took in a deep breath and let it out loudly. “I don’t want to. What I want is to be able to take you to the mess hall, fill a mug up with whatever’s on tap, and teach you every victory song I can remember.”
Finn smiled at the idea. But he didn’t move. And neither did Poe. They sat there, looking down at the hanger stretched out before them, lost only in thought.
Title: Lost
Fandom: Star Wars (can’t imagine how this would fit into canon, but that’s not important)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Finn/Poe
Summary: Finn has lost his pilot and goes looking for him on board the star cruiser.
Notes: Written for May the 4th (be with you), 2019
Lost
Finn had lost his pilot. He’d looked absolutely everywhere. Twice. BB-8 hadn’t seen him; it seemed no one had seen him. Finn had searched the better part of a day, having visited the hanger three times but not thinking once to look up let alone climb up.“Hey, there you are!” He was slightly out of breath from the tall ladder, but relieved the climb had paid off.
Poe Dameron sat up on a maintenance catwalk that ran the width of the hanger, overlooking what few ships were left in it. His legs hung down, swinging freely. One of his arms was raised, hand clasped around the metal railing for stability. The other was tucked against his torso in a firm sling. If they still had the medical ship, maybe he’d be mended already. Maybe he’d be out there with the rest of the pilots. Maybe he wouldn’t be coming back.
From the way the man stared at the fighters and didn’t even acknowledge his presence, Finn knew he must be filled with emotions. But emotions had never really been Finn’s strong suit. His switch had exactly two settings: reckless and terrified. Occasionally the switch was stuck in the middle and he was reckless because he was terrified. But, generally, he was one or the other. And it was the recklessness now that had made him start searching the ship for his lost pilot. Finn had no clue how long Poe had been up here, but the fact that his shoulders were still tense and his legs didn’t pause in their swinging probably wasn’t a good sign.
“I’m guessing you… ah… probably don’t want company right now, but—“
“Oh, you think?”
Finn bristled. Poe’s words were heavy with emotion, and Finn had absolutely no idea what he should say or do now. His brain was empty, confused, conflicted, but his instincts told him to flee.
But instead of running, leaving, abandoning his pilot, Finn recklessly sat down instead. He held onto the raising post to his side and above him, not as comfortable as Poe up here at this height. He left a few inches of space between the two of them, but he was still close enough that Poe could reach out for him if he wanted to. “You want to talk about it?” Finn asked, already knowing the answer would almost certainly be no.
“No.”
Well, there it was then. As they sat in silence, Finn rolled more words around in his head, considering each as it rotated to the front. None of them felt right. Poe sounded angry. He sounded frustrated. But there was something else there. Something with intense pain. Something like longing. Or maybe grief. Or both.
Finn wasn’t good at emotions, but today was supposed to be a celebration. Everywhere else on the star cruiser, people were making jovial toasts and singing songs everyone knew but Finn. Finn understood how important the celebration was to everyone. In these dark times, victories were hard won, and remembering those of the past had a reassuring and comforting effect on everybody.
Everybody but Poe and Finn sitting in a silent, deserted hanger.
“When I was little, I loved this day every year,” Poe said, out of nowhere. Finn tried not to look startled by the sudden noise or surprised by the personal confession Poe was spilling. “I am proud of all my mother accomplished, proud of her sacrifice, even. But the day wasn’t the same after she died. I could never separate it from the loss. There are so many who I wish were here who can’t be here, who I’ll never see again, who saw us fight but will never see us finish this battle. I…” He trailed off and shook his head. A sharp inhale came as a wet sniffle, and Finn turned his head to the side to see the harsh lights shining against the paths tears had taken on their way down his cheeks.
Recklessly, Finn took his hands off the railing and fumbled around inside his jacket, pulling out a handkerchief. Intending to dry Poe’s face, he jumped and nearly slipped off the catwalk when Poe abruptly pulled back. “What?” Finn steadied himself, clinging to the railing with one hand now.
“Did you clean that after your cold?”
Finn frowned at the cloth. “Of course. I’m not going to walk around with a dirty handkerchief then offer it to you.”
Poe relaxed and leaned forward again, allowing Finn to dry his face and dab at his eyes. “Well, I don’t know. You were sneezing so much. Maybe you forgot. Or maybe the First Order never cared about hygiene.”
“Oh, they were all about hygiene.” Finn ran the handkerchief along Poe’s jawline, the man’s stubble providing resistance against the soft fibers. “This would never be allowed.”
“What, my facial hair, or…” Poe took his hand off the railing and curled it loosely around Finn’s wrist. His thumb circled the base of Finn’s hand, making Finn calm a little.
“This, too.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on Poe’s cheek. Then his lips slid over, pecking once ever so softly, then a second time with a little more pressure. Poe’s lips parted and his head tilted and then they were kissing. They kept each other balanced and steady as the kiss deepened.
It seemed to go on forever, but Finn pulled away when he felt tears squeeze between their cheeks again, and he worked the handkerchief again.
“Sorry,” Poe whispered with another sniffle. “If not for all this, we never would have met. But…”
“Moments of joy don’t lessen the losses.” Finn didn’t know where that had come from, but out it had come and Poe was nodding along in agreement. He inched over, scooting right up alongside Poe. “We can stay here as long as you want to.”
Poe took in a deep breath and let it out loudly. “I don’t want to. What I want is to be able to take you to the mess hall, fill a mug up with whatever’s on tap, and teach you every victory song I can remember.”
Finn smiled at the idea. But he didn’t move. And neither did Poe. They sat there, looking down at the hanger stretched out before them, lost only in thought.
