The captain's chair aboard the Millennium Falcon squeaked and the cushioning gave way with a hiss beneath Rey. It was roomy and deep. She could reach the controls with ease and yet the feeling of being not-quite-big-enough persisted. She cocked her head, serenely studying the spot where Han's wrists had buffed the steel control panel to sheening, trailing her fingers along the fan-shaped pattern. Something lurched in her chest. Swallowing and blinking, she hurried her hand along to one switch in particular. With a little effort, she flipped it.
A thousand little lights flickered to life around her. An electric hum droned and crescendoed to a volume perfectly suited for fuzzying the turbulent back-and-forth of her brain. Before, on Jakku, it was the sound of sand whipped up and sent swarming against the carapace of her downed AT-AT that lulled her. Kept her from dwelling on the thoughts that hurt or made her afraid to close her eyes. The Falcon was more familiar to her in that way. And more comfortable than the cramped, rows of bunks aboard the larger rebel frigate.
Of late she often found herself stealing away to the hangar to visit the old, light freighter. She could find something to fiddle with until she was so tired, she would nod off in the captain's chair. Only then would she wander back to her bunk, confident she could close her eyes and go right to sleep without a moment to dwell alone in the dark with her thoughts.
Rey let loose a shaky sigh. The warm, dimly lit room wrapped around her and, as promised, it made her feel safe. She slapped her tool roll onto the console, urging the canvas to unfurl and reveal her well-kept, silver instruments. That very day she had noticed the lights behind a button here and there had shorted, leaving them dark. It was the sort of thing that just happened on a ship as old as this and had no effect on day-to-day operation but the thought of those lights staying dark upset her. Disturbed her. She set to work, lifting an access panel between the captain and co-pilot's seats.
Fixing the lights was not complex but rather tedious. Tracing every bulb to its (generally unlabeled) fuse took time. Soldering the connection needed a steady hand. It was gratifying work.
There was a clock on the dashboard, but whether she realized it or not, she was avoiding the minimal face of it, utterly refusing to acknowledge the hour. It did not occur to her how much time she spent tinkering until she heard heavy boot falls down the corridor leading to the cockpit. A jolt of surprise ricocheted up her spine and to her chest. Then sheepishness. She bit her lip, turning around to see a familiar and sleepy looking face.
Poe Dameron who had not even laced up his boots and just barely managed to tug on his pants, hung one arm from the small doorway of the cockpit and stifled a yawn with the other. Rey idly wondered what the graveyard-shift rebel watchmen thought of seeing their commander stumbling about in a tank top. His hair was disheveled; his eyes, bleary. And, after recovering from his yawn, he scratched at the stubbled on his cheek and spoke in a gravelly voice.
"You said-"
"I'd only be a half hour." Rey finished. She looked down at the gutted console and then back at the expectant-looking commander. All she could offer was a shrug. "I let time get away from me. Sorry."
"You're gonna be exhausted tomorrow. We're supposed to be up early, remember?"
"I'll be fine," she said, half-heartedly returning to her work. "I'm used to it."
Rey had been tired since she was five years old, after all.
The boots shuffled closer and closer until he was behind her. He passed a heavy hand over her let-down hair, neatening the exact spot he desired to plant a kiss. When he did so, she had to tamp down on the excitement that electrified her limbs. The sheer happiness that made her want to wiggle just to release the potent energy of it.
"C'mon," he murmured, taking her hand in his and extricating the hydrospanner from her hand with care and placing it on her tool roll where it was sure not to be disturbed. Rey did not fight him but by no means was she thrilled about the long walk back to her bunk. When she turned and sat up from her chair, he slung a lazy arm around her waist and guided her through the round corridor.
When she turned left to exit down the boarding ramp, Poe snagged her by her middle and took her right. She gave him a questioning look as they walked and he replied with his lopsided smile. They both ducked under the shallow doorway and he sat her down on the cushioned sleeping area.
"What is this?" Rey asked. A smile crept across her cheeks. It was suspicious but a smile nonetheless. The room was as comfortably lit as the cockpit. There was no swallowing darkness to rob her of all her senses. Strips of amber light lined the cabinets and below the edge of the bed.
"I know you don't like the barracks," he said as he rifled through the cabinets above the galley until he found a worn, Bantha-fur blanket. He stepped over, examining the heavy covers for soundness and then, satisfied, let it drop around her shoulders. It smelled a little cupboard-stale and dusty, but something about the combination made it comfortable and familiar. The cushioning dipped where Poe sat beside her and wordlessly helped her peel off her outer clothing which he deemed to coarse to sleep in.
She was too distracted by her own turmoil to quip or tease him. He was going to so much trouble.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, "I sometimes find it hard…" Rey was not quite sure she was ready to say why. Or if she even could. It was too strange. Too burdensome to share.
After kicking off his own boots, he took her hand and kissed her palm.
"It's not your fault," he whispered. His eyes captured hers which threatened to glisten with an emotion she could not name.
"We'll figure it out, Sunshine. Now-" he tossed his head, pointing his chin to the head of the bed. She acquiesced as he lay them both down and tossed the blankets over them both, taking extra care to make sure her bare feet were covered.
Rey was flush against his back. His legs fit perfectly behind hers; his warmth was more welcome than she realized. She never noticed how cold her extremities became as she worked late into the night. He inhaled the scent of her hair, taking a deep breath through his nose. A contented groan rumbled in his chest.
"I promise I won't close my eyes until you're asleep," he said in her ear.
"That could take all night," she chuckled, although the challenge was hardly a joke.
"We'll see," he said, unwinding his arms from beneath the blanket. With a feather-light touch he trailed the tips of his calloused fingers down the back of her neck and across her shoulders. The fleeting, tickling sensation made her gasp.
"So, tomorrow," he began, taking a break between words to kiss the nape of her neck, "we have a briefing with engineering re: budgetary issues."
Now he traced the hem of her sweats, across her lower back. He spoke, his volume only just above a whisper. She could feel the edge of his shorn nails as he explored the column of her spine.
"As you know, you are only asked to attend meetings of this nature because they bore me to tears and I hate suffering alone."
She snorted.
"And, for reasons I have yet to understand, you keep saying 'yes' every time I ask you to go."
He was lying, she thought. He knew the reasons. Or rather the reason. He had to know.
His fingers swooped up again, to her shoulders, moving down her arm in unpredictable arcs until his pattern spiraled slowly, slowly inward on the back of her hand.
"Then, we'll be testing the rookie pilots."
Rey felt secure enough to let her eyes flutter to a close. Poe took a break from tickling her skin to wrap a strong arm around her center to tug her closer to him.
"Beginners." Mock exasperation tinged his tone. "They always want to get straight onto barrel rolls. Banking might not be glamorous but it's a crucial skill to master."
He resumed his task, letting his fingers track around the soft tissue of her ear, over the subtle slope of her jawline, and then down the front of her throat until he found the dip at the base of it. The spot where her collarbones took root. The spot which apparently was rather sensitive, making her shiver in response.
"I know, right?" he said at her reaction. Rey wanted to laugh but everything was starting to feel sluggish and farther away. She could hardly spare the effort.
His fingers whispered across her chest, just around the borders of her utilitarian bra. The tingling was overwhelming. She wanted to alleviate the pleasant prickle and let it linger all at once. Rey could hardly remember but she must have done something to amuse Poe. He snickered softly behind her. Maybe it was the slight arch of her back or a sigh.
Either way, she couldn't care less.
"Then you will spend a few hours meditating, like every day. Pore over the Jedi texts. Ponder deeply on the mysterious vagaries of the Force. Maybe have a snack."
He kissed behind her ear and seemingly enjoyed the subtle twitch of her tummy muscles beneath his touch.
"Yeah, it should be a pretty busy day." Poe sighed. "But there'll still be plenty of time for you to get back here and finish up your work in the cockpit."
There was no response. Only heavy, even breathing and the smallest, most adorable snore he had ever heard. Like a baby Ewok. Poe replaced his wandering hand around her waist and pulled her in for the final time that night, delighting in the softness of her form against his. Soon enough, he followed her into a deep and undisturbed sleep.