Ben – Age 8

The "Hero Worship" stage could be traced back a few years. Much later, Poe would wonder why he hadn't taken advantage of it and coached Ben away from his grandfather's legacy. At the time, however, Ben was newly eight and independent and Poe was trying to conquer second year academy exams.

He should have clued in when Ben gallomped into the room wearing a "borrowed" pair of pilot boots, a rickety blast helmet that wasn't fit for the garbage disposal, and a dented blaster that Poe was positive had been thrown against the wall after the last time Ben had been told he couldn't use it without his parents' permission.

The blaster had struck Poe's forehead on the ricochet. He'd narrowly avoided a bolt through the head, had bled a little on the carpet, and spiraled Ben into such a frantic fit that the medics assumed it was the boy who was injured.

The crush helmet and oversized boots warned Poe that this was another headache morning. Unconsciously he rubbed a finger over his eyebrow; a habit that never failed to ignite a response in Ben.

"Stop doing that," Ben stated. It was hard to tell whether the response was a plea or a command – upper gapped teeth had given him a recent lisp. "I said I was sorry. I didn't mean it."

Insecurity, then. No more tiny tantrums today – so Poe hoped. He slung his arm over the chair and quirked a smile. "Where did you get that helmet?" Are those Captain Antilles' boots?

"Found it," Ben said evasively. Poe twisted in the chair and braced both arms across the top. Sulkily Ben looked away and corrected, "I mean, I borrowed it from my uncle. He uses it for training."

"I can't believe you can see through that." Poe rapped his knuckles on the blast shield to demonstrate.

"I can't!" Ben boasted, puffing out his chest. "I'm trained in the Force. I don't need my eyes."

You mean the scuffle outside wasn't you walking into the door frame? Poe rubbed his knuckles over his mouth, muffling a chortle with an ill-timed cough. Ben scowled.

"It isn't funny. I know what I'm doing."

"Of course – mind if I ask, why the pilot's getup?" Poe waved a hand to summarize the tilted vest (which he knew his bunkmate would be missing in the morning), the discarded blaster, and (heaven forbid he forget) the gargantuan boots.

Ben shrugged. "You're a pilot. I want to be one, too."

"You want to be a pilot?" Flattered, and a little perturbed, Poe scratched his nose. "I thought you wanted to be a Jedi like Master Skywalker."

"I am a Jedi," Ben affirmed. "Uncle Luke's a pilot. I can be one, too."

"Hm, you're pretty decisive for your age." Another trait Poe was learning to associate with Ben. The child seemed to know his own future before his parents did.

"Don't laugh at me," Ben growled. "Your stupid bunkmate laughed."

"Hey, he's also my friend," Poe interrupted. "And I'm not laughing."

"Don't lie to me – it's not fair." Ben tilted the helmet visor with both hands and narrowed his eyes at Poe. "Uncle Luke can tell when people are lying to him. Soon I'll be able to, too."

"You make it sound like a threat," Poe said idly. He slouched back, glancing wistfully at his datapad. Seven hours to study, sleep and get to the academy on time….

"Not threatening – just telling," Ben established. "I wouldn't test my powers on you, of course – you're too nice."

"Glad I have that insurance." Poe twitched a smile, unfazed when Ben rolled his eyes.

"See, you're doing it again. You always act like it's funny when I talk."

Poe chuckled low and turned the chair to face Ben, stooping to rest his elbows across his knees. "Have I ever ridiculed you, Ben?"

"Not aloud."

"Did I laugh when you slipped in the dining hall?"

Wavering, Ben glanced away. "I spilled stuff. You cleaned it up."

And what a mess of screaming, milk-drenched child and splatted canron that had been. Ben must have been four at the time, but the memory seemed to serve for numerous hidden insecurities.

"What about when you 'acquired' Master Skywalker's weapon and sliced your cloak in half?"

"You bought me another one so Mother wouldn't find out." Ben's upper teeth jutted over his bottom lip: as close a smile as he could manage when he was embarrassed.

Poe nodded once and lightly punched Ben's shoulder. "So. If I chuckle, it's because I'm fond of you. Okay?"

Ben sighed wearily. "Fine."

"Don't forget to return my bunkmate's vest before tonight," Poe instructed as he stretched to reach his datapad. "I've got studying now. Scoot."

The boy's skidding tromp was quickly followed by a whump and a Corellian oath. "No one heard that!" Ben called from the hall.

Poe whistled low and focused on the longer – but less vulgar – phrases in his text. "Not a word."

Thank you to Begoogled, CrazedFangirl13, La Vik, Nadreth, Rasasvada98, Sayichi, Space Opera Singer, and guests J.B and Guest for reviewing! (And thank you J.B for leaving such a detailed review. It's nice to see that coming from a guest.) :)