Poe woke to find himself sunk back in a chair and wrapped beneath a thick white blanket. He blinked a few times, wondering where he was and why on earth his back felt so stiff. He heard soft voices and looked up; Finn was sitting upright on his own, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed as he talked lowly with Kalonia. He was dressed still in a loose white shirt and pants. Poe watched for a few seconds, dog tired and wanting to be in his bed and stretched flat against the mattress instead of kinked up in this chair, but he made no move to get up.

Kalonia's eyes missed nothing and she turned marginally from Finn with a smile. "Good morning, Colonel."

Poe nodded mutely, eyes still half-closed. Finn was grinning from ear to ear.

"Dr. Kalonia say's I can leave."

Poe sat up, wincing, the blanket falling coolly into his lap. "Hey, that's great." He tried to sound as excited as Finn looked, but it was hard to do; his wretchedly uncomfortable sleep had left him feeling drained and in a rather foul mood.

"Now, you'll have to use the repulsorchair for at least one week, unless your therapy sessions go exceedingly well." Kalonia stressed as she turned back to Finn. "You are forbidden from lifting anything more than 10 pounds, you are not to stand for more than a few seconds at a time, no operating machinery; no bending, squatting, twisting,"

"I got it." Finn nearly laughed. "No anything that will mess up my back."

"That's right." Kalonia agreed sternly, though her eyes landed solidly on Poe as she said it.

Poe felt himself flush as he stared her down. What, does she think I'm going to wheel him upstairs and bend him over? Kalonia broke eye contact and he stood, stretching and grimacing slightly as his back caught. BB-8 warbled up at him and he smiled softly at the droid in surprise—he'd forgotten entirely that it'd followed him down to medbay. Picturing the loyal little droid hunkered down all night between his chair and Finn's bed sent a rush of warmth through him.

"Well, I'm assuming that you're claiming responsibility for him, Poe?" Kalonia asked.

"Uh…" He swallowed, eyes darting to Finn's hopeful and confused face. "Yeah, of course."

"His bandages can be removed at the end of the day, and he'll need this bacta-ointment applied to his scar in the evenings for the rest of the week." She held up a clear bottle of slightly pinkish looking gel and placed it into a bag. "Pain killers," she stated, taking a bottle from her wheeled tray and holding it up for his inspection. "One pill in the morning, one in the evening, with food. I want him back here in two days at 1200 to begin physical therapy."

"Right," Poe nodded as she plunked the bag of Finn's supplies and instructions down on the bedside. His stomach swam, pulse quickening at the thought of applying anything directly to Finn's bare flesh. He felt aroused for a moment before a wave of gruesome scenarios involving him ruining Finn's treatment and managing to cripple him for life took over. Don't mess this up. He told himself solidly.

Finn's brows knitted as a thought occurred to him. He had no bed, no room, no clothes, no…anything. He was practically a stranger on base. "Where will I stay?"

Poe listened in mild horror as he heard himself answer, "You can bunk with me. I'll have a cot brought up."

Finn met his eyes gratefully. "Thanks, Poe."

Poe nodded, afraid to open his mouth for fear of what he might invite Finn to do next. Kalonia smirked not unkindly and brought the repulsorchair to the edge of Finn's bed and level with the mattress. Finn eyed it as if it were a wild animal that might buck him off at the slightest provocation. He shifted his weight, mouth tight as he tried to scoot over to it. He looked up at Poe for help and the pilot melted at the lost expression on his face. He took Finn under the left arm, Kalonia hurrying to do the same with the right. Together they gently nudged him onto the repulsorchairs cushion. It dipped under his weight and Finn tensed, trying to save himself from a fall that didn't come. The motion sent a spasm of pain shooting up his back. He cried out softly, his forehead beading with sweat. Poe's hands tightened on his shoulder and chest.

"You okay?" Poe breathed.

"Nnn. Yeah. Just…don't want to do that again."

Kalonia stood. "The painkiller will take effect soon, Finn. Until then, move as slowly as you can."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Finn grunted. Poe handed him the bag of his supplies and the trooper sat it in his lap. "Well, think you can handle a repulsorchair, best pilot in the galaxy?" Finn asked, gamely trying to recover his sense of humor.

Poe laughed through his nose. "I got you, buddy."

"So, where to first?" Poe asked as he wheeled Finn towards the nearest lift. BB-8 rolled along after them, humming a mindless tune to itself.

"How about the mess hall?" Finn answered. "I'm starving."

"Me too." Poe smiled. "Mess hall it is."

Finn sat in silence as the pilot keyed a lift and wheeled them inside. BB-8 barely had room to squeeze against Poe's calves as the door slid shut. They rattled slowly upwards in the half darkness of the cramped compartment.

"Hey Poe…" Finn's voice was soft, hard to hear over the noise of the rickety lift. Poe was afraid for his voice to be that soft. "You don't…have to take care of me, you know? I could probably just stay in medbay if you wanted. The nurses would do it. I shouldn't intrude on you."

"It's no problem, Finn. Compared to sleeping in the barracks, this is nothing. Besides, you said it yourself: Medbay is boring."

"Well, yeah, but," Finn protested.

"You're my friend, Finn. You saved my life. If you need a place to lie up for a while, I'm happy to provide for you. Also, that chair down there is really uncomfortable. At least this way I can get some sleep."

BB-8 made a sarcastic chuckling sound. [Yeah right.]

"What'd he say?"

"That he wants to be deactivated." Poe glared down at the droid, eternally grateful that Finn couldn't understand him. The lift opened and Poe guided the chair out into the broad hall that led past the main hangers and around to mess.

"Thanks for staying last night." Finn said as he was pushed past crates and boxes. "I…never had something like that happen. I can't believe I snapped like that."

Poe's face softened. "It happens to the best of us. It's called shell-shock. You see enough horrible things, you'll get it."

"Has it happened to you?" Finn asked, turning his head slightly to peer up at Poe.

Poe's lips thinned. "Yeah."

"What…do you see?"

Poe halted and was silent for a beat too long. Finn worried that perhaps he'd pushed past some unknown boundary. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that,"

"Usually I see my friends. My pilots. It's almost always the same dogfight—but I see everything more clearly than when it happened. No matter what I do, I can't get to them fast enough, can't guard their flanks. It's always just before I reach them when it happens. I hear them screaming over my headset."

Finn wished to the depths of his heart that he hadn't asked. "I'm sorry, Poe."

Poe quirked a brow and started walking again. "It's okay. It comes with the territory. Actually, I don't know many people who haven't gone through what you did last night. I'm just kind of shocked it hadn't happened to you before now."

Finn had considered this himself. "I don't think it did before because…well, it was all simulations before—it had all been fake. Jakku was my first mission."

That brought Poe up short. "Jakku was your first mission?"

"Yeah," Finn laughed sadly.

"How old are you, Finn?" He asked cautiously.

"I don't know exactly. But we were moved to different training regimens when we reached certain ages; physical combat starting at 7, weapons training at 10, simulation training started at 12…so that should make me 23?" He counted idly on his fingers. Poe's heart broke at the question in Finn's voice. Of course birthdays would've been considered superfluous to First Order operations. Who cared about the birth date of some kid you'd stolen from its parents?

"Oh." Was all Poe could bring himself to say. 9 years…I'm 9 years older than him. That's not really too much is it? Stop it, Dameron! He was spared further thoughts as they entered the mess hall. It was crowded with the breakfast rush. The line for the buffet stretched halfway down the broad isle at the middle. Idle chatter filled the low-ceilinged hall but it faltered slightly as Poe wheeled Finn inside. Some people craned their necks to get a better look at Finn. They'd all heard of him, of course, but few had seen him. The news that Colonel Dameron was spending most of his free time at Finn's bedside had traveled like wildfire through the base, and Poe saw knowing smiles break out across faces, and hurried whispers exchanged. Normally he could care less what people regurgitated back and forth about his storied private life, but this time he found it infuriating. Finn was a total innocent—it wasn't right for him to be painted with the same brush.

He glanced down at Finn as he angled them towards his usual table. Finn looked overwhelmed at the attention he was getting. He'd expected something of the sort, but this was worse. In the First Order, he'd been anonymous to a disposable degree. There had always his helmet to hide him and even with it off, there had always been the distance of knowing that no one truly cared. Not only did complete strangers seem to care, but they seemed positively excited to gossip and stare. He swallowed.

"Just ignore it," Poe said above him.

Jess Pava glanced up from her morning caff, grinned and slapped Snap on his shoulder. "Look who it is!" Bastian and Zolo Ziff looked up from their bowls of porridge.

Poe smiled as he brought Finn to a stop before their bench.

"You're Finn!" Jess stood from her seat, reaching out a hand. She was tall, with angled eyes and long dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense tail. Her face broke into an easy smile.

"Uh, yeah. Hi." Finn said lamely, taking her hand and shaking it.

"Yep, this is Finn." Poe smiled. "Finn, this is Jessika Pava, Temmin 'Snap' Wexley,"

"We met briefly," Snap grinned, reaching across Jess and also shaking Finn's hand, "good to see you, man." Finn recognized the bearded, heavy-set man from the strategy meeting the senior officers had held prior to the battle at Starkiller. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Hey," Finn nodded with an honest smile.

"This is Zolo Ziff, and this is Bastian." Ziff was pale and clean cut with dark hair and eyes. Bastian was wiry and a shade darker than Finn. They shook his hand as well, Bastian glancing at Ziff with a wry look. Finn caught it and wondered what it meant, like the two men had shared some private joke. "I'll get us some grub." Poe patted Finn on the shoulder. "Go easy on him, guys." Poe said sternly to his small crew as he left to join the line.

"He always did like the dark-skinned ones," Bastian snorted and Ziff cracked up, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Finn's heart tripped a beat as a flush of anxious confusion swept through him. Like? Like as in what? He felt woefully ignorant and exposed.

"All but one, apparently," Jess said with an icy look at Bastian who sobered quickly. Ziff elbowed him in the ribs with a grin.

"Ooo, good burn Jess!" Ziff nodded approval.

"So Finn, what do you think of our little Resistance?" Jess asked, dutifully ignoring Ziff and Bastian.

"Well, I haven't got to see much of it yet. But after what you guys pulled off, I'd say I'm pretty impressed." He wished Poe would hurry back.

"There's not really much to see," Jess shrugged, taking a swig of her caff and pulling a face. "God this shit's bitter. I hope we wrangle another shipment of sugar soon."

Snap moaned. "I told Poe I would risk every blockade in the galaxy to go lift us some. Who needs ship parts? I want sugar."

"And beer." Ziff lamented.

"There's that stuff they've been brewing up in the civilian wing. Drift they call it." Bastian offered helpfully.

"That shit will burn a hole through your throat. And I'm pretty sure they brew it in old refresher units." Jess shuddered. "It's like…refined battery acid. Finn, if these guys offer you a drink, just say no."

"Right." He laughed nervously. He didn't bother to say that he'd never had a drink of anything alcoholic in his life. He felt different enough at the moment.

"So how long before you're out of the chair?" Snap asked.

"Kalonia say's I've got a week. Maybe a little less if rehab goes well."

Ziff couldn't help himself. "Was it really from a lightsaber? Word around base was you fought a Sith."

"Sith aren't real." Bastian rolled his eyes.

"I don't know about any of that, but it was definitely a lightsaber." Finn shrugged.

"That is badass, man." Snap nodded.

Finn averted his eyes. It hurt to think of Kylo Ren. It made him angry and made his pulse race. For the millionth time he saw in his mind's eye Solo, run through with his son's blade, falling limply into the abyss. He was grateful when Poe returned to his side, setting a bowl of greyish porridge and a cup of black caff in front of him. "It's gonna be pretty bland," Poe explained apologetically as he sat down next to him. "We ran out of dairy and sugar a few days ago."

"So I heard." Finn tucked in ravenously despite that fact that the gluey slop tasted like wet cardboard. He ate in silence, marveling at the contrasting atmospheres between the First Order and Resistance mess halls. People here talked freely, animatedly. They got up when they wanted to, refilled their drinks if they desired more, slapped each other on the back, hugged, and some even kissed each other as they met or got up to leave. He blushed slightly, watching this. Contact between troopers had been strictly forbidden; he could count the number of kisses he'd seen on half of a hand. A strange tightness clenched his stomach as he became uncomfortably aware of how close Poe's leg was to his chair. He shifted slightly.

He watched Poe talk with his friends, his manner easy but tired, cracking jokes, each treading a well-known course around the other. It's like verbal dancing Finn mused warmly, his chin in his palm. He took note of the empty seats at their table. But some of the dancers are missing. He felt sad then and rather hazy, his stomach tight. It threatened to lurch, suddenly.

"Hey Poe," he said touching his arm, "I'm not feeling too great…I think it's the meds."

Poe turned to him in concern. Finn looked sweaty and exhausted. "You've been up too long." Poe stated and stood, taking the handles of Finn's chair.

"It was good meeting you," he heard Jess say as he was steered away from the table.

"Yeah, feel better, Finn." Snap's voice.

Finn waved in a half-dead motion, and let his arm fall limp against the armrest.


Poe keyed open the door to his room, pressed on the lights, and saw that a cot had been brought up. It had been shoved against the partitioning wall of the refresher unit. A narrow path two feet wide was all that separated Poe's bed from Finn's. Poe bit his lip. This was a terrible idea. But Finn was half out of it and needed his help. He backed awkwardly into the room, swiveling Finn towards the cot. He brought the chair parallel to the edge of the bed and raised its armrest.

"Okay buddy. Can you move to the left a little?"

Finn tried to lift himself with his arms and swivel his lower body to the cot. He groaned, his face tight. Poe leaned in, wrapping his arms under Finn's armpits, their chests flush. Poe felt the light brush of Finn's nipples through the thin white shirt and he set his jaw. Finn held him tightly, his hands clasped together just under his shoulder blades. Poe caught a whiff of sweat and something distinctly Finn's own. His nostrils flared as he breathed him in. It reminded him of tree bark, or sunlight—either way he found it delicious.

"Okay," Poe gasped in a strained voice as he levered Finn desperately onto the cot. If he touched him for one more second he would lose his mind entirely. Damn it, this was an absolutely terrible idea. Flustered, he lifted first Finn's left leg and then his right onto the mattress. The muscle was firm beneath his fingers. He tried not to feel how easily his legs had separated at the thighs, and he tried not to look at the gentle bulge beneath the thin white fabric. He was about to do something stupid. He could feel it. Fuck.

"BB-8, stay with him." He bit out. "If he needs help, comm me, but otherwise just keep quiet." He had a few hours before his next recon run. He turned and left the room, heading towards the tech wing.


"Fuck fuck fuck FUCK ME! Yeah!" Poe yelled throatily as Tal Amir plowed dryly into him. The astro tech had hardly prepped him at all, and that was fine with Poe. His ass clenched painfully, deliciously at each jerky thrust. He'd wanted it rough, wanted to feel him bucking in him hard enough to push every thought of Finn out of his body. He knew it would hurt, that his already sore back would probably go out, that he'd probably bleed, but at the moment he could care less.

Tal had taken him up on his offer for a quick fuck immediately. He knew an old storage compartment a level down that was hardly used, expect perhaps for brief meetings like this. Poe stood with his legs wide, bent over an old crate of broken down servomotors.

"Ah, fuck, you are so hot, Poe Dameron." Tal grunted reaching around Poe's hips and wrapping a hand around his cock. He jerked lazily, his grip half-focused and slippery and apparently unable to put pressure on any one spot for long. Poe regretted the mindless touch, though he was hard as duracreet regardless. Tal didn't fill him as fully as he'd hoped, but the urgent thrusts were enough to get him going.

"Shit," Poe breathed, his head hanging between his arms and his hair lying in damp waves over his forehead. It was nothing he hadn't done before but a new and creeping sense of shame hovered at the edge of his mind. "Harderahn!" he groaned as if he could force it away, and Tal's body slammed into him, his balls smacking into Poe's ass. Tal's voice was strangely high and nasal as his pleasure peaked.

"Ah—ah—ah yeah, man."

Poe tried to ignore it. He brought a hand to his cock, batting Tal's weak grip out of the way. He squeezed, the pad of his thumb tracing the vein on the underside and slipping up over his slit the way he liked it. His brows drew together, body tensing as Tal continued his hard fucking. He angled his hips so the other man's cock hit him just right. Ah, god it was good. He bit his lip, legs shaking as he was spilled over.

"Fffuck! Ahhn!" Poe's voice strangled from him, his asshole clenching hard around Tal as he came, and his seed flying thickly to the scuffed, dusty floor. Tal's hands tightened on his hip and across the back of his neck and the sound of him coming a second later threatened to take Poe wholly from the moment. The other man's voice was comically high in his orgasm—almost like he was going to cry. Poe spared him one disbelieving look over his shoulder. Well…he was nice to look at anyways. Tal finished inside him, as Poe had requested.

"Shit," Tal breathed, pulling out and grinning. He wiped himself off with a rag that he'd stuffed into his discarded work coveralls, and then he passed it to Poe.

"Thanks," Poe panted, wiping gently down his sore ass. Crimson blots of blood came away, smeared with Tal's cum. He strained, pushing out the load. He tossed the soiled rag into a likely looking heap of forgotten junk and then started to clothe. Tal did the same, still grinning as if this had been the best sex he'd ever had. Poe however, felt dirty, shameful in a way he'd never experienced. Instead of relief, he felt horribly tired and small.

"That was good. That was really good. You ever want to do that again, I'm game."

"Yeah, this was a one-time thing." Poe shrugged his shirt over his head and ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh…yeah. Of course." Tal said, failing to keep his voice absolutely casual.

"Thanks, though. I fucking needed that." Poe opened the door to the claustrophobic room. "See you," he said with every intention of never crossing paths with Tal again if he could help it. He stalked back to his quarters with a slight limp, pain blooming in his ass with every step, but he didn't slow his stride. Embarrassment tightened his chest, worried that somehow Finn would infer where he'd been and what he'd been doing. Shame made him sweat. He pictured Finn, laying half out of his mind on pain meds, trusting that Poe would be there for him. What if he'd woken, alone and disoriented? What if he'd cried out for him? What if he'd needed something, and BB-8 hadn't been able to help? What kind of jerk left a wounded friend alone to go have random sex?

Poe squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing as the lift rattled him darkly upwards. You are a fucking asshole, Poe Dameron.


He keyed open his door, his stomach swimming with trepidation. BB-8 had lowered the lights in the small room and had parked itself at Finn's bedside, just below his head, tirelessly watchful and loyal. Poe suddenly wanted to cry. Finn didn't seem to have moved, but that didn't ease the guilt that wormed through his chest. He knelt painfully at the bedside and whispered to BB-8. "Hey buddy…thanks for keeping an eye on him."

BB-8 looked him up and down, and made no answer as it swiveled it's head away from Poe in the closest approximation of a cold shoulder he'd ever gotten from the droid. Poe nodded to himself as he stood. Okay. I deserved that. He glanced hesitantly at Finn's peaceful, open face and then entered the refresher unit. He met his reflection's eyes and looked away, disgusted. He stripped and hurriedly showered, scrubbing more forcefully than was needed.

Okay, Dameron. Why do you feel so fucked up about this one? It's not like I haven't done that plenty of times before.

It's because of Finn.

So what do I feel for him then? He paused, letting the hot water beat down upon his aching back. I think I fucking care for him more than I have for anyone in a long time and it scares the shit out of me. And…look at me! I'm fucking strangers in storage closets! He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't know anything. He deserves someone clean and pure. An image of Rey flashed through his mind and he swallowed, nodding sadly. Yeah…someone like that.

His back straightened. He turned off the water, resolved to leave Finn alone for his own good.


AN: Poe dun fucked up. Also, I want Kalonia to be my doctor-she knows what's up. Imagine all the crazy cases she's seen! -Bluestem