Poe does, indeed, nearly collapse on the way to their room. But only once. Small victories, right? When he's finally inside their threshold, he stops short for a moment to look around the familiar-yet-unfamiliar quarters. His stomach flips as his eyes pass over the desk, where his helmet sits, framed by holos of him, a small candle flickering in front. "I'll— I'll take it down now," Finn coughs.

Poe turns and catches Finn's face in his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Finn snorts. "For what?"

"For being dead." Poe's not really kidding. He pulls Finn towards him, nests his face in Finn's neck. "I'll try not to do that again," he murmurs, voice muffled against Finn's warm ebony skin.

"Nerfherder," Finn laughs, but his voice catches in his throat. He pushes Poe into the room, shuts the door behind them, and leans against it for a moment, breathing.

Poe blocks Finn before his lover moves to dismantle the small shrine. "Has to be the one who's not actually dead." Poe blows the candle out with a soft puff of air, flicks off the holos—Force, this is so weird—and slides the helmet onto a shelf in the closet to take out to his hangar locker later. His clothes still hang in the closet, as disorganized as the day he left for that rathtarfucked mission. Is that little box still hidden in the furthest corner? He hopes so.

Poe turns back to Finn. Their eyes meet for one smouldering second before his hands are on the buttons of Finn's dress uniform, navigating their quick way down. Finn's hands grab Poe's waist, tug at the hem of his shirt. He knocks Poe's hands aside for a moment so he can pull the pale medbay linen up and over Poe's head, baring his chest to the dim light of their bunk.

Hands on flies. Drawstrings untied. Clothes thrown over shoulders. Shoes kicked into corners. Poe grinds against Finn, rocking his hips into the warm flush between their bodies. Finn presses forward until the backs of Poe's knees hit the edge of the mattress. Poe tumbles down onto the bed and rolls to face Finn, hands tucked behind his head, one knee propped up suggestively.

Finn stops short. His gut clenches as he takes in his lover's familiar-yet-unfamiliar naked body—battered and bandaged and shrunken and pale, but well-formed and graceful as ever, and—and—and just fucking Finn's, no matter what happens, anchored to him in a way he's not sure he'll ever really understand. Finn wants to blast the First Order to the ground for what they did to Poe. He wants to wrap Poe up in his arms and flee to a distant planet where they can live in safety and peace for the rest of their lives. He wants to fuck Poe, hard, now.

Poe's eyes flicker as Finn's gaze passes over him, seeing himself through Finn's eyes, suddenly self-conscious and horribly afraid. "I—"

"Don't." Finn interrupts. "Whatever you were going to say. It was bad. The look in your eyes now, also bad. Poe." His throat is tight. Finn blinks fast, trying to ward off his tears. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful, Poe. Always. I—"

"Fucking. Now. Why are you standing all the way over there?" Poe stretches a weary hand towards Finn.

"Right," Finn gulps. "Right. Fucking. Ok. Right. Yeah." Force, he's hard. Poe's glance slips downward. He bites his lip.

And oh, the lip bite.

Finn tackles Poe so he won't cry for real, because once he starts he's not sure he's ever going to stop and that would really ruin the mood, which would be really bad because Poe's right here beneath him, beside him. Finn's hands pass lightly over Poe's sides, not wanting to grip too hard, to hurt. Poe growls and shoves against Finn. "Fuck me hard, Finn. I'm not going to break. Tell me I'm here. Tell me this is real," and the hitch in his voice tells Finn he's not the only one fighting back tears.

"This is real, Poe. You're here," and Finn's eyes are burning now with the need to cry, but he can't cry now, he's going to ruin the moment. Finn takes Poe's shoulders in his hands, horribly conscious of the bones beneath his grasp, far closer to the skin than they should be. "This is real," he repeats, pulling their bodies together into a thrumming blaze. "This is real."


Poe stretches out on their bed, eyes already flickering shut. Finn nuzzles into Poe's shoulder, lays a hand on his lover's chest to feel his heartbeat. They lie there together, still, breathing, settling back into a life with each other.

Poe is, for the moment, completely at peace. He loves this moment, when they're separate again, but not really— he's still as aware of Finn's body as he is of his own. The safety he feels, in Finn's arms—like nowhere else in the galaxy. "Love you, Finn." His breath puffs warmly across Finn's hand.

Poe can hardly hear his own words, but Finn must catch them, because his hand presses against Poe's chest for a moment. "Love you too, Poe."

"Thank you," Poe whispers. "For rescuing me. Thank you."

"Poe." Finn picks his head up from the pillow. "Of course. Of course, are you crazy? There is no way, no way in any galaxy in the universe, that I wouldn't come after you to haul your sorry, skinny ass out of those sadistic psychopaths' clutches."

"I think that might the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Poe says, a little dazed.

"Nerfherder." Finn nudges Poe's shoulder with his nose.

"Except for that crack about my ass. It's a nice ass, it's a very nice ass, you've admired it many times—"

"I didn't say it wasn't a nice ass. It's a lovely ass. However, it is, at the moment, along with the rest of you, ridiculously skinny. We're going to start working on that tomorrow. I can count your ribs."

"Yeah," Poe sighs. "Really not a great look for me. Shit, I was supposed to go back to the medbay. You don't think they're going to come after me, are they?"

Finn sighs. "I hope not. I don't plan on moving anytime soon. General Organa put me on on-base training duty, no combat missions, for two weeks, can you believe it?"

"Huh. Two weeks. Any plans?"

"Number one: stare at your face. Number two: kiss you any time you want me to. Number three: make sure you eat and drink and sleep and walk around and take whatever medicine they want you to take and see whatever psytechs they want you to see. Number four—" Finn stops. Tell you I love you as many times as I possibly can without sounding crazy. Ok, maybe a little crazy. But not too crazy.

"Yeah." Poe turns to stroke his cheek, large dark eyes startlingly close to Finn's. "Whatever number four was. I like it."

Finn grins. "Good. Me too. I love you. Now go to sleep before Dr. Kalonia bashes down the door."


"Iolo. Iolo! No, no, no! IOLO!"

"Poe! Wake up, Poe. Poe!"


Poe's shaking Finn awake. "Tell me this is real. Tell me this is real. Finn!" He beats his fists on Finn's shoulder.

Finn catches his hands, kisses them blearily. "This is real, Poe." His voice drags against his throat. "This is real. You're here. You're safe. You're free. I've got you." Poe closes his eyes, shudders against Finn's broad chest. "I've got you, Poe. This is real."