"You don't remember me, do you?"

The six words blinked at Poe at the bottom of his screen, jarring him from the half-dreamy nod he'd fallen into during the lecture. He'd spent his first week here at the Academy in a dazed rush, hurrying to his classes, hurrying to calisthenics, hurrying to eat, hurrying back to his room to study. Along with his important classes where he learned to calculate hyperjumps manually or his military history classes where he paid attention to the mistakes of the past to lead the New Republic into a brighter future, he was also required to take a series of soft classes. Art History was about as useless a class as he could imagine, but it filled out his course schedule and got it out of the way, and he could relax while pretending to type notes for one period between his real classes.

The message faded after the ten second alert period. Students were discouraged from messaging one another during lectures. Poe didn't recall it to find out the sender or to write back.

He did take advantage of a stretch to peek around the lecture hall. He was still learning faces and names. The only face he recognized was a Gotal in his squad, and she was too focused on the lecturer to have sent it. The rest of the class was a mixture of first year cadets and upperclassmen still knocking out their graduation requirements, more humans than other species, and a few humans trying too hard to look cool like the blue-haired human guy right behind him.

Poe turned back to the lecture, making a stronger effort to stay awake as they walked through the motifs commonly used in third millennium Alderaanian sculpture. He made another visual pass around the room later, not sure what to expect. No one jumped out of their seat to say they'd messaged him, and he wasn't ready to pull up the message again, not yet.

He shrugged it off, made himself sit up straighter, and took notes.

When class ended, he gathered his things. He noticed the blue-haired human was waiting.

"Hi," Poe said. He scratched through his memories of the protocols he was still learning. Did he have to call upperclassmen "sir" yet? He didn't have to salute, he knew that.

"You don't remember, do you?" His mouth was stuck, like he was forcing himself not to grin, and failing. He didn't look familiar.

"Sorry, no." He pulled his bag over his shoulder. "Uh, I've got Tactics next. Gotta go."

The other student waved him off, his own materials gathered for his own next class. As Poe walked by, his voice dropped to where just the two of them could hear as he said, "Maybe you'll remember if I remind you that you were naked at the time."

Poe felt the flush move over his face, but the other guy was already walking away. The Tactics lecture was long and dry, and Poe kept flicking through memories of when he possibly would have met up naked with someone he didn't recognize. The answer hit him as Tactics was ending, bursting up in an unexpected memory.

After classes, he had mandatory exercises, then dinner, then study time. He should have been reviewing his notes. Instead, he pulled up the student directory and found the name he was looking for. With an excuse to his roommates, Poe went to the lift and took himself to the floors where the third year students lived. The hallways and corridors looked the same, with a little more personalization than the plebe dormitory areas were permitted. Poe found the door he was looking for. After he knocked, he stood there, feeling foolish. He could have messaged back. That would have been easier.

The door opened.

Poe said, "I was five."

"So you were." He turned away, leaving the door open, which Poe took as an invitation to come in. Jacen's roommate sat studying at his terminal. Poe had come up during study hours for everyone.

"Your hair was green back then." It was not the most scintillating conversational topic he could think of, but it worried at him. "Right?" His memories of the day were fuzzy, tinged with slanted sunlight and a welcome swimming hole on a hot day. A lot of the old Rebellion types had gotten together after the war, but only a few times. After a while, his mother had told him, you spent too much of the party counting the faces who weren't there with you to celebrate.

"It was. My sister sends me new colors to use every month and tells me to send pictures back. I think she missed out on playing with dolls as a kid and is making up for it now."

His roommate said, "He spent all summer gold. He looked like a protocol droid."

"Hey, the gold looked fantastic!"

His roommate dropped into a chirpy Core accent: "I am fluent in six million forms of irritating you."

"I was going to introduce you," Jacen said, "but never mind."

Poe's memory tossed up another piece of information. "You don't have a sister."

"You do remember," Jacen said with a hint of a smile. "Don't ask for the full explanation, because it's boring, but she's basically my sister. She's the one who talked me into taking that art history class."

"Lucky for me, huh?"

"Sure. You're a plebe, right?"

"It's my second week."

"Okay, first piece of advice: use your study hours. Don't waste them." He sat at his own terminal, frowning. Poe stood there awkwardly. Jacen looked at him. "Did you need something?"

"No. I should go."

"See you in class."

"Yeah. See you." Poe went out of the room and shut the door behind him. Fine. They were only saying hi. As he made his way back to his own room to study, he tried picturing Jacen's short hair all glimmering and golden, and failed. Maybe he'd ask to see a picture later.

The flush hit his face again.

"She's mixing up the Rentaal Period and the Gorish Period."

Poe was used to the occasional notes on his screen now. They never came during exams, or when they weren't supposed to be talking, and his replies were almost never answered. He typed one anyway. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. See the fretwork on the side? Dead giveaway."

"You going to say anything?"

"No. It'll be on the exam. Pay attention to your notes. You want to be able to back up your answers later."

"Thanks."

Jacen sent him comments like this all the time. Poe had learned far more than he wanted to about art history. Apparently the same sister who was responsible for Jacen's hair being vibrant orange with red streaks today had also drilled a working knowledge of half the galaxy's art styles into his head under all the hair dye chemicals. Oh, and she was some big name on Mandalore, but Poe wasn't scheduled for a Politics class until next year. He could ask then. On the other hand, asking now meant he could spend more time with Jacen.

He waited until class was finished. He stretched casually, the same way he did when he was sneaking peeks around, then said, "Hey. We've got a free day tomorrow." He smiled winningly. "Want to grab a caf somewhere?" He'd been practicing this all morning.

Jacen stared at him, at first confused, then dawning into understanding. "Did you just ask me out?"

Poe's smile widened to a grin.

Jacen tugged his arm and started walking out of the classroom, pulling Poe along with him. He wasn't smiling. They got to the door, and Jacen stepped to one side as the rest of the class headed out to their next lectures. He let go of Poe's arm and rubbed his head the moment the room was temporarily vacant.

"You need to read your handbook again."

"I read it."

"You didn't. Plebes aren't permitted to date upperclassmen. Regulations."

Poe wilted inside but refused to be daunted. "It doesn't have to be a date. It could just be caf."

Jacen shook his head. "No. Sorry. You're cute, but you are not cute enough for me to risk disciplinary action. I've got too many demerits already."

"For what?"

He shrugged off the question. "Look, I'm flattered, but you can't ask me again, all right? And since you clearly didn't read your handbook, you can't date anyone in your company either. Your dating pool is sadly limited to five hundred other people in your year and anyone else who isn't active duty in the Republic Navy. You can sow your wild tharma berries as much as you want otherwise."

"You're joking."

Jacen sighed. "Regs are regs. Chain of command gets touchy about this sort of thing. Tell me you understand the words I am saying to you."

Poe frowned at him, formulating all his reasons why the regulations could kiss his ass, but Jacen kept him fixed in a stare. "Fine. I understand."

"Great," he said with a wide, friendly smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Poe stood there alone for a long moment, embarrassment fuming inside his gut. He shouldn't have said anything. He shouldn't have asked. He should have read his stupid handbook again. He made his way to his Tactics class, forcing himself to school his face into something other than disappointment.

A message popped up on his screen: "The handbook doesn't say anything about who second year cadets can date."

Poe stared at the words. A half-smile pulled itself out, not erasing the earlier sting, but appeasing it.

He typed back, "Good to know."

Poe tiptoed around their next conversation, a question about the homework, but he rapidly understood Jacen was pretending nothing had happened. Since nothing really had happened, Poe was just as happy to let things go. Jacen was useful as a resource in class, giving Poe tricks for memorizing the different art styles they were supposed to tell apart, and meeting him in the library to study together for exams. The Gotal from his squad had already washed out, leaving the Academy even before the mid-year break.

"Why do we have to take this class?" Poe groaned. He was still mixing up Kel Dor and Sumitran iconography. "I want to be a pilot, not a painter."

"Understanding a culture's art is an important key to unlocking the way their people think and feel."

"What are you quoting? That sounds like something from the textbook."

Jacen frowned. "Never mind. Look at it another way. Officers are expected to mingle in polite company. The higher you advance in the service, the more boring parties with dignitaries you'll be required to attend. This gives you something to talk about other than your speed record."

"Ugh." Poe rubbed his head. "When do I get to fly?"

"Not until next year."

"That's stupid. I'm going to be a pilot. I should be working on flight lessons now."

"No, you should be studying texture patterns. What are the three basic traits in mainstream Kel Dor icons?"

"Ugh!"

Poe spent the summer serving on a capital ship in the second fleet. He had extensively researched what the Academy handbook said about consorting with other students, and had looked into what the general regulations said about consorting with other officers. After telling his father about his first disappointment in school, he'd taken on as much advice as Dad had been willing to offer. Rules and advice in one pocket, and a flexithin in the other, Poe spent an informative and happy time aboard the Aspire not technically breaking a single reg.

He met a girl, and his soul danced in zero-g whenever he was around her, and she broke his heart.

He met a boy, felt that same swoop in his stomach, and wound up breaking his.

He met another boy, and he was just right.

"Welcome back, Poe." Jacen sat in the common area watching a holo with some of his friends. Poe automatically went towards the lifts before it kicked in that he was no longer a plebe and was allowed to watch holos in the common area, too.

Poe found a seat, and to his delight, no one asked him to move. "Welcome back yourself. Where was your posting this summer?" He inspected Jacen's hair with an amused glance. "Tell me you didn't go with the silver and orange all summer."

"Nah, did that this morning. I had a diplomatic post on Cardota. They made me go back to my natural color."

One of his friends laughed. "Yeah, but you convinced them your natural hair color is green." Two of the others joined him, amused by the deceit. Poe gave Jacen a look, and watched him shrug in response.

They went for caf after. Plebes weren't allowed to spend credits at the canteen, only eat in the regular mess hall. Second year was a brand new experience. Poe wanted to savor it, talking to his fellow student about important things. He thought he would mention his new relationship casually but ended up blurting out halfway to the canteen, "I'm seeing someone."

"That's great. Not a plebe, right?"

"No, he's in my year, and not my company."

He watched, and if part of him had been hoping for any sign of disappointment from the guy he absolutely had not been crushing on for a year, he saw nothing. He hoped his own face didn't give away anything as he said, "His name's Darius. He's studying ship engineering. He can build them, and I can fly them."

"You should think about picking up extra engineering classes. You'll want to know how to put your ship back together when you crash."

"I'm never going to crash."

Jacen laughed at him but didn't disagree.

Poe said, "I didn't say anything back there, but do those other guys not know who you are?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've met your mom."

They reached the canteen, got their drinks, and pulled up a table together. "Barbin knows." That was his roommate from last year. Poe hadn't seen him in the common room. "My mom adopted a lot of people into her family over the years. A lot of people who only know her casually assume I'm another kid she picked up along the way. I don't go around claiming I'm a human. Usually people take one look and assume, and I don't correct them unless it's important."

"Dad told me once you were born on Yavin 4, too."

"Why'd he tell you that?"

"There weren't a lot of other kids in the colony when I was little. I think he was trying to make me feel better."

"Did it work?"

"No."

"Parents are weird," Jacen said, and drank his caf. "There aren't any other kids around to play with but here's a story of some other kid you don't know but might meet once or twice someday. Now go play alone."

"Got it in one." He took a long drink.

"Does your dad know you're seeing Darius?"

"Sure."

"Did he react well?"

Poe opened his mouth to say of course, but reconsidered. "He thinks I should be focusing more on my studies instead of my social life."

"He's right. You've got the rest of your life to get laid. You only get three more years of learning how to do your job before you're expected to be good at it."

"When they finally let me fly, I'm going to be the best they've ever seen."

"Second best," Jacen said with a grin.

"You're on."

Second years and above had daily flight lessons. Poe donned his flight suit with eager glee. This was why he'd applied to the Academy, why he'd worked his ass off in school to get here, and why he'd spent his younger years inside any ship he could finagle his way aboard. Second and third years only had one roommate, rather than two or three, and his was having trouble getting her own flight suit on.

"This is typical," Ket said. "Plenty of sizes for humans, but any other species, you get a choice of too big or too small."

"A human one might fit you."

She gave him a withering look, and he supposed he'd earned it. "Come on." They hurried to the hangar together. Squads from various years rotated through, the younger students craning their necks in interest as the older cadets took the training ships out for maneuvers.

"When do we get to fly?" Poe asked his teacher, who ignored him.

"This is a ship," said the flight instructor, and walked them through the kind of basics Poe had known since he was three.

"Sir," he asked, "with all due respect, most of us have flown before. We know what a throttle is."

Poe had never earned a demerit before. He spent the rest of the class in a mild daze, not sure what it meant, how long it would stay on his record, if he'd just ruined the rest of his career. He kept his mouth shut after that, only offering answers when he was asked directly. This new resolve lasted a total of two weeks, when the instructor was going over emergency procedures.

"At which point, you must shut off your control panel and reboot it."

Poe's hand shot into the air. "Sir, that's not right. When you get that malfunction, the best thing to do is cut the lead to the battery. The control panel is fine."

"Cadet Dameron," said the instructor, "every year half the cadets who walk in here think they know everything they need to about flying. I assure you, that attitude will only guarantee you never do. Demerit."

Fuming, Poe spun on his foot and walked away from the class, earning himself another demerit for leaving without permission. He left the hangar, anger and deep worry fighting for his attention.

"Wait up," said a voice behind him. Jacen joined him in the corridor. "Wait."

"I don't need to hear it. I just washed out. I know."

He heard a snort behind him. "You've got three demerits. You're fine. I've got twenty-six and I'm still here."

That got him to stop walking and turn around. The worry wasn't going away, but it wasn't threatening to overwhelm him now. "Did you get them from mouthing off to your flight instructors?"

"Every single one of them. Too much of the program is holdover from when this place was still Imperial. You can tell. The Empire didn't care about pilot safety, and half of them didn't know how their own ships worked. Of course you cut the battery lead."

"Everyone knows that!" Poe said, grateful for the agreement.

"Right?" Jacen patted him on the shoulder. "Show up tomorrow, remind yourself whenever you're told something wrong that you know better and will do it right in the air, and play along. You'll be allowed out in another month. It's worth shutting up until you get to fly."

"I should go back now."

"You've already lost credit for today by walking out, and you're not missing anything. We can go to the mess and get lunch before the line is too long." He started walking, and Poe went into step beside him.

"How are you walking out early?"

"Okay, twenty-seven demerits now. I'm aiming for an even thirty before I graduate."

Poe's worries mellowed under Jacen's amused smile. Poe wouldn't aim for thirty demerits, of course, but maybe getting a few here and there wasn't so bad. "And you wouldn't spend one on me? I'm hurt."

"Dating a plebe is worth ten demerits. I spent half of those arguing about interstitial transfer coils instead."

"Now I'm really hurt. I'm not as interesting as transfer coils."

"I want you to think about that statement for a minute." They made their way into the mess.

Poe thought about it, and he knew if he had the choice between a pretty face and a tuned-up ship, his own pick was up in the air. "Fine. I'm not as interesting as transfer coils. You don't have to rub it in." He picked up his lunch tray. Early arrival meant that for once, the stuff on the plate looked like it had been prepared sometime today instead of last week.

"How's Darius?" Jacen asked as they found seats, easy to do in this brief lull before the rest of the cadets arrived.

"Fine," Poe said. The truth was, they'd barely seen each other since returning to school. Darius was immersed in his own studies, and Poe felt like he was always playing catch-up on his. "Everything's fine."

The look he got suggested either he wasn't as subtle as he was hoping, or that his dining companion could read his mind. Thinking about that, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He remembered more of that day when they met for the first time. Luke Skywalker had sat and played with the children while keeping an eye on his little nephew to give his sister a break, filling the day with a little extra magic.

"When we were kids, you used to have Force powers. What happened to that?"

"What do you mean?"

"When did they go away?"

"They didn't." Jacen looked around to ensure no one was watching, then at the condiment shaker. He put out his hand and the shaker slid neatly into his palm from a few inches away. He picked it up and sprinkled some on his mash. He winked at Poe. "Don't tell. People get really weird about that kind of thing."

"You're a Jedi?"

Jacen shushed him, but the cadets were starting to arrive, and no one heard them over the sudden roar of hungry voices filing into the mess hall. "No," he said, with a glare.

"But you can," Poe paused, "do that," he finished weakly. "Doesn't that make you one?"

"You can clean a messy 'fresher. That doesn't make you a janitor."

"Different. Very, very different. If I could do that, I wouldn't be here."

"Sure you would. Aren't you the same guy who spent all last year complaining he wasn't allowed to fly yet?"

"Well, yeah."

"Because you want to be the best pilot in the galaxy, right? You know, after me."

"I'm going to be a much better pilot than you," Poe said with a cocky grin.

"Don't let it get you down when you're not," Jacen said back with a wink and a challenge. "I want to fly. I'm not interested in that other stuff. It helps, sure. I can take risks other people shouldn't. I can do a pinpoint 180 faster than Mom can, and nobody outflies her. Most of that is practice, though, and if I'm also practicing how to sense where the wall is going to be, that gives me an extra second to react when it matters."

Poe's imagination filled with everything he knew about Jedi. His mother had known Luke Skywalker back when they'd been in the Rebellion together, and had told him stories when he was little. He pictured himself swinging a lightsaber and saving the day and rescuing princesses of his own who in Poe's case would not turn out to be close family members. But Luke hadn't kept up flying even though by all accounts he was amazing in the sky. As Poe thought about it, he had to admit Jacen was right: in a choice between getting to fly a starship or floating rocks around all day, Jedi sounded like the consolation prize to him, too.

"Anyway, they're not allowed to date at all," Jacen said, following his thoughts. "So that's right out as a career choice."

Never mind consolation prize. That sounded like a punishment. "I see your point."