Sweet-Sand Cookies
It's late, practically the middle of the night, and Finn can't sleep. He keeps thinking about the supply run with Chewbacca and Rey he'd returned from that afternoon, how little they'd managed to secure, how desperate the Resistance is for more. It's been months since the Battle of Crait, and they've been forced to move many times, the First Order relentlessly pursuing them wherever they find sanctuary. It feels like every time they move, they leave something behind, and they need to find more of everything—fuel, weapons, food— if they're going to continue their fight.
Their allies are suffering for it as well. Ryloth, Tah'Nuha, Mon Cala. They've spent the last month in a run-down barracks building on some obscure and completely abandoned forest moon, and Finn is holding out hope that maybe they'll be able to stay there, to grow. Constantly moving their set-up—as meager as it is—makes rebuilding the Resistance even harder. He doesn't mind spending time in a ship, out on missions, but he wants to feel like they are making progress rather than always trying to catch up. And a regular base to return to after missions would be nice, too.
Poe had gone out with Snap and Jess to meet a contact on Ord Mantell. He'd told Finn about Black Squadron and their search for Lor San Tekka, and had sounded excited to be back up in a new X-wing (repainted, of course) with his old team. They are supposed to return the next day, but Finn wishes they were already back so he could talk to Poe, even if it is the middle of the night.
Rey is his best friend, but half the time her mind is somewhere else as she spends more and more time with General Organa learning about the Force. Chewbacca is a good company, but better at games than talking. And sometimes Rose is so optimistic, so confident in what they're doing, that Finn feels bad going to her and complaining even the slightest bit. He feels like he brings her spirit down if he says anything negative, and the Resistance needs more people like her to keep them going.
Poe, on the other hand—Poe gets it. Poe understands Finn's worries, his fears, and doesn't try to talk him out of them. He has his own fears, and sometimes he shares them, and together in private they acknowledge how difficult their fight truly is. Finn tries to stay positive, but he knows he can always count on Poe to listen, to be honest. And for some reason, he needs that after yet another failed supply run.
His feet lead him through the corridors of the old building, automatically taking him to the small mess hall where they eat. It's late and he isn't even hungry, yet something draws him there. When he walks into the dark room, he sees a light in the back kitchen. Something smells good, so Finn follows the light, curious about who else might be up in the middle of the night, and what they are doing that smells so delicious.
He is utterly dumbfounded to find Poe in the kitchen, talking quietly to BB-8 as he stirs something, sets it aside, moves to an old oven and pulls out a tray, then grins to himself as he closes his eyes and sniffs.
"Oh, BB-8, I wish you could try one. They are amazing, my friend, sweet and light and I—" He turns and sees Finn standing in the doorway with his mouth hanging open. "—I can't believe you're standing there. Watching." He wipes his hands on a pair of sleeping pants before running them through his hair and messing it up even more than it was already, his voice slightly more cheerful than normal. "Hey, buddy, what're you doing up in the middle of the night?"
"Not nearly as much as you," Finn replies. "What are you doing up in the middle of the night? In the kitchen?"
Poe turns around, and Finn can tell he's embarrassed at being caught, though whether it's because he's been found in the kitchen in the middle of the night, or for some other reason, he's not sure. When Poe turns back, he's somehow put on that mask of easy-going confidence he wears most the time, dashing grin and all. Only it looks slightly forced, and Finn can sense something lurking behind it this time. Something off.
"Couldn't sleep," Poe says. "So…" He gestures grandly at the rather large mess he's made on the counter, then grimaces as if it hurts to move his arms that way. BB-8 beeps sadly, and Finn thinks it's probably something about the mess. Still, whatever Poe's taken out of the oven smells amazing.
"So you cook?" Finn finishes, going for skeptical teasing with a smile. "The best pilot in the galaxy cures insomnia by moonlighting as a chef?"
Poe laughs, an honest open laugh, which is better than an embarrassed one, because Finn doesn't want him to be embarrassed. Frankly, it's fascinating, seeing his friend and Resistance leader doing something so…normal. At least normal for people who don't live in secret rebel bases, fighting for their lives.
"I'm definitely not a chef," Poe tells him. "I can make three different things, and this is one of them."
He gestures at the tray he's taken from the oven, and Finn takes it as an invitation to come closer and see what Poe is doing. It's some sort of dessert, small pastries that look lumpy and misshapen, but smell sweet and delicious. "What are they?" he asks.
BB-8 whistles at Poe, who scrambles to start taking them off the tray. He grimaces again, rolling his shoulder. "Thanks, pal. Almost forgot." He sets them on a plate and puts them on the table behind him, then picks one up and hands it to Finn. "Careful, they're hot. They're sweet-sand cookies, with my own secret ingredient."
Finn can't help but give Poe a look. "You know I hate sand, right?"
Poe laughs lightly through his nose and starts making more, taking what is apparently the raw cookie mix from a bowl and placing them on trays in small clumps. Something tells Finn they should probably all be the same size and the same distance apart; Poe's cookies are all over the place, as messy as the kitchen, yet somehow that seems right, at least for Poe. Finn takes a generous bite, and looks at Poe in amazement.
"It's fantastic!" he exclaims, and finishes the rest in one bite before taking a second one without asking. Poe seems pleased and gestures at him to take more, which is good, because Finn could eat a whole tray of them. "Where did you learn to make them?"
"My parents," Poe says as he continues to work. "I remember my mom making them, back when I was a kid. I'd stand and watch and wait until they were cool enough. Apparently, I had patience back then." He laughs again, then stops with a small sigh. "After she died, though, my dad and I didn't make them for a long time. Then one day we decided to give it a try, but we couldn't find the recipe. She'd done it all from her head! So we spent a whole year trying to make them as close to hers as we could. And that's what you're eating." He pauses and smirks as Finn takes another. "Again."
"Sorry," Finn tells him, though he's not. "It might be the best thing I've had since…well, since I joined the Resistance!"
Poe's eyes crinkle into a genuine smile, not the cocky one, or the tired one, or the one he uses when he doesn't want to smile but has to. Finn likes this smile the best because it feels the most real, and because, more importantly, Poe trusts him with this smile. He tries to offer the same in return.
"I'm glad you like them," Poe murmurs. "Just be sure to leave a few for…well, the rest of us."
"I'll try," Finn says, forgetting his mouth is full and dribbling crumbs down his chin "Sorry. What's the secret ingredient?"
"Secret," Poe answers with a wink.
"Of course," Finn replies, rolling his eyes. "Okay, then why are you baking in the middle of the night?"
"Already told you, couldn't sleep." Poe shrugs.
"And when was the last time you made cookies when you couldn't sleep?" Finn asks. He doesn't expect a real answer.
"Probably about a year or two ago," Poe replies. "Back on D'Qar." He doesn't offer anything else, and Finn is starting to sense there is more to this unexpected hobby than anyone knows. He decides to tackle it from another angle.
"When did you get back?" he asks.
Poe slips another tray into the oven and leans against the counter. Finn notices him wince, one arm hugging his middle. "Couple of hours ago."
"And how did it go?" He draws it out, because he can tell Poe is keeping something from him now. An injury, if his behavior is anything to go by.
"Fine." Poe waves his hand in the air, like an X-wing flying through space. "Got into a bit of a thing with some people, but we're all good."
"Right." Finn dusts off his hands and leans against the table opposite Poe. "And that's why you can't sleep and came to the kitchen to bake?"
"Yep." BB-8 bleeps beside him, and Poe rolls his eyes, smiles down at his droid.
"Thanks a lot, pal," he says. "You're just jealous you can't have one."
"What'd he say?" Finn asks. "Or are you going to keep that from me too?"
"I'm not keeping anything from you, buddy," Poe says with a shrug. "BB thinks it's a weird coping thing." His face scrunches up as he realizes what he admitted.
"What're you coping with then?" Finn asks, but the other man stays silent. "Poe, come on, what's going on? This is great—" he grabs another cookie from the plate behind him "—but also kind of weird. Most people cope by…I don't know. Overworking, or drinking, or, you know, talking to someone about it."
Poe's smile is brittle now, and Finn feels like he's about to lose him. He's surprised when he gets half an honest answer. "I'm fine, really. I'm just going to be around a lot more the next few days."
Finn frowns, tries to puzzle it out. Poe sighs. "I'm grounded," he tells Finn, his voice quiet. Finn can tell Poe is upset, but isn't sure whether the other man is angry, or sad, or something else. Finn is confused.
"Grounded? What the hell for?" Poe shrugs again. "Seriously, you're our best pilot, we need you up there, not baking cookies."
"Kind of hard to fly with cracked ribs," he says, and Finn realizes he was right, that's why Poe is moving gingerly, wincing every time he bends down or moves too fast. Finn narrows his eyes and studies Poe, but doesn't see any other major injuries.
"How come you're not in the medical area?" he asks. "Doesn't it hurt?"
"Kalonia wrapped me in bacta patches and gave me the good drugs," Poe tells him. "Told me to sleep for a few days and I'll be fine." He pauses. "Plus she needed to get back to Snap, he kind of broke his hand."
"What?" Finn exclaims. "Wexley broke his hand?"
"And his nose," Poe murmurs.
"Jess?"
"She's mad at us for getting in trouble. Again."
"Is it from the thing you got into with some people?" Finn asks.
Poe stands up straighter and winces again. Finn can see him growing defensive. "We were supposed to get some intel on the shipyards at Fondor from our contact, only the First Order knew we were coming. They had agents there. So we got into a thing."
"What kind of thing?"
There is a long pause. "Bar fight?" Poe says, pitching it like a question. "I mean, it's not our fault the entire place exploded into chaos. It was a sketchy cantina, ready to blow, and I guess we lit the fuse when we refused to let the First Order pick us off."
"You don't look half bad for getting into a bar fight," Finn points out. Looking closer, he can see a small cut on Poe's face, a bruise by his chin, but honestly…that's not unusual for them after a mission. Either of them.
"Yeah, well, that's because I was stuck under a Gamorrean for most of it," he grumbles. Finn can't help but grin at the image.
"Hence the cracked ribs," he murmurs.
"Hence the cracked ribs."
Poe takes a cookie, checks on the ones in the oven. Finn idly wonders how he'd come by the ingredients, the bowl and spoon and tray, but figures it's not the point. Poe got into a bar fight with the First Order on Ord Mantell and made cookies to cope. It still doesn't make sense to Finn, but then, he's only known Poe for a few months. There are probably a lot of things he doesn't know about Poe Dameron.
"Did you get the intel before it all went to hell?" he asks, and Poe shakes his head.
"Nope, and we lost our contact," he says. "First Order agent shot him in the head."
"Sounds like you got off easy," says Finn.
"It's still bantha shit," Poe says very matter-of-factly, throwing down a towel and swearing again. His shoulders sag. "Sorry, it's just that I…that we can't keep hitting these walls, racking up failure after failure. We can't afford it."
Finn can tell Poe is taking it personally, like he has ever since they left D'Qar. He'd found the map to Luke Skywalker and blown up Starkiller base, yet he's doubted himself every day since then. Yes, Poe had made some mistakes during the evacuation—though it all sounded logical to Finn, when he pieced together the story from others—but they had all made mistakes. Finn had completely failed on his mission with Rose. Maybe if they hadn't trusted that splicer who'd sold them out, they could have stopped the First Order tracking the evacuation fleet. Finn still feels bad about that, but he doesn't let the doubt follow him everywhere. He'd done what he thought was right, and he is going to keep doing that.
And he knows Poe will as well, but sometimes Poe puts himself down too much too hard. Finn can tell how much Leia is looking to Poe for support, and feels like sometimes it's a lot of pressure to put on one man. Poe had once said Leia wanted him to be more than a pilot, and Finn can tell Poe struggles with that. Finn believes in him, but Poe needs to believe in himself.
"It's not your fault," Finn tells him. "You can't predict a double cross. Been there, done that."
Poe gives him a grateful smile. "Logically, I know that, pal. But I can't keep messing up. Otherwise what's the point of even sticking around? Especially if I'm going to keep getting grounded?"
"Whoa, hang on," says Finn. "First of all, no more talk of not sticking around, got it? You know you couldn't leave, so don't even put it out there." Poe sort of glares at him, but doesn't respond, so Finn continues. "And second of all, what do you mean, keep getting grounded? This is the first time I've seen—and you're kriffing hurt! Again—not your fault!"
"It's the third time Leia's grounded me," Poe tells him, his voice small. "And every time, it's like getting kicked in the face."
"Poe, you're injured," Finn insists. "Isn't it standard protocol? Would you let someone in your squadron fly in your condition?"
Poe shakes his head, clearly reluctant to agree. "Not the point, pal. She told me to take a week when she knows damn well I'll be ready in three days, tops. I need to be up there."
Finn thinks he is starting to see what's really going on. He swipes another cookie when Poe turns to take a fresh batch out of the oven. Poe catches him and wags a finger at him.
"If you're going to eat them all, you should do the next batch," he says, taking the new ones from the tray. Finn protests, but Poe is already showing him what to do, and then leaves him to it. He pulls up a chair at the table and sinks into it, and Finn can see how tired and sore he is.
"You know," Finn says, placing the cookies on the tray. He's not much better than Poe at shaping them, but at least he can make straight lines of them. "It seems to me that if you need to be up there so badly, maybe that's why the General's giving you a break. Why you should to be down here."
"Huh?" asks Poe. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it," says Finn.
"Yes, think about it," says a voice from the doorway. "Because he's figured it out before you, and he's not the one with the cracked ribs." General Organa is standing there, wrapped in a robe with her hair half down. It's the middle of the night, but she doesn't look like she was sleeping; she still looks regal and commanding. "I thought I smelled sweet-sand cookies."
Finn watches as Poe's face go through several expressions: wide-eyed surprise, a flash of fear, subtle anger, and finally resignation. Finn doesn't like seeing that last one again, but Poe covers quickly and turns toward the General.
"There should be plenty," he tells her. "As long as Finn left some." He gestures to another chair, inviting her over, and she sits down opposite from him.
"Hey!" Finn exclaims, but Poe is smiling at him, and Finn knows he's only teasing. So he goes with it, moves the plate of cookies toward Leia and takes another for himself. "I've never had them before," he tells her. "They're amazing."
"I know," she says, taking a bite and savoring it. "I get them whenever he wants something."
"That was one time!" Poe exclaims.
"And that time after Jinata," Leia murmurs. Poe points a finger at her.
"Fine. Two. But it worked both times."
"It did not," she says. "You just happened to be ready by the time I got them."
"Oh," says Finn, figuring it out. "So he's making you cookies to get back in the air?" Finn shakes his head, hoping the light teasing will do Poe some good. "The Resistance sure has a funny way of doing things."
"But an exceptionally tasty way of doing things," Leia says, and they laugh as they take another bite. Poe watches them with a long suffering look on his face, before shaking his head. BB-8 beeps he and stands up to go back to his project, sliding the tray Finn has completed into the oven and thanking BB-8 for his help.
"I should give these to my squadron," he says. "They're actually nice to me."
"No, they're not," Finn points out as he sits next to Leia. "I'm not sure who's worse, Jess or Snap."
"Wexley," says Leia. "The kid is a menace." Which makes Finn and Poe grin because Snap is well into his forties and no kid by any means.
"Well, Rey would love them," Poe says.
"She still won't let you fly the Falcon, buddy," Finn reminds him. He wonders if it bothers Poe as much as it bothers Finn.
"Really?" asks Leia, sounding surprised. "Rey won't let you pilot Falcon? That's a shame. I think you'd handle that ship exceptionally well."
Poe slides her the entire plate of cookies with a huge grin. "Put in a good word for me then?"
Leia takes another and nods. "Actually, I think I will."
Poe looks surprised. He glances at Finn, narrows he eyes, then pushes forward. "Does that mean you're ungrounding me?"
"Of course not," Leia says. "And it's only been a few hours, Poe, what is your problem?"
Poe bristles at that, and Finn suddenly wishes he could leave and give them their privacy, because he can feel the tension and doesn't want to be pulled into it, or make it worse. On the one hand, they need Poe more than any of their other pilots; but on the other, if Leia feels like Poe needs a break, then he probably needs that break. Finn doesn't want to have to take sides. Apparently neither does BB-8, because he whistles low and rolls under the table.
Poe sets down the towel he was using to take the trays out of the oven. He puts his hands on his hips. His voice is both vulnerable and strong; Finn admires that about him.
"My problem is the First Order, General. They're not going to stop and wait for any one of us to get better, to take a break, to be ready. They are going to keep taking over, planet by planet. They are going to keep intimidating anyone who doubts them, killing anyone who disagrees with them." He takes a deep breath. "I can fly, and I can help stop them by flying."
Leia is silent for so long that Finn can feel his own heart start to pound, like he's the one about to get the dress down. Poe does not back away, waits as patiently as Finn has ever seen him. Finally Leia looks at Finn, her eyes sad.
"Would you like to be excused, Finn?"
"It's fine." Poe answers before he can escape. "He likes the cookies."
"I can leave," Finn tries, but Poe shakes his head, and somehow Finn senses that Poe wants him there. Why, he can't begin to imagine.
"Poe." Leia says the name like a weary parent. In any other situation, it might make Finn smile, but now it only makes him uncomfortable and sad. They've clearly had this conversation before, maybe a few hours ago. And they are clearly both tired of it.
"When was the last time you sat down for more than a few hours? Outside of your cockpit? The last time you took more than ten minutes to eat?" Poe is silent. "What about the last time you slept in? Watched a holo? Walked in the rain?"
"It's always raining here," Poe murmurs, and she smiles.
"Then take a few days to enjoy it," she says. "There's more to living than fighting, Poe." She holds up a hand as he opens his mouth, ready to protest. "And I know we're fighting to live, but what use is that if we forget how? What does it matter, in the end, if we're too lost to claim victory and enjoy the life we're fighting for?"
Poe narrows his eyes; Finn doesn't quite understand that last bit, but suspects Poe does. "With all due respect, General," Poe says, his voice clipped short, too formal for what Finn knows is often an informal relationship. "I'm not lost. And I'm not going to lose it for want of a vacation."
"Poe, you need a break," she says, her voice desperate. "I can feel it! You haven't stopped since Jakku, and that was almost three months ago. You put yourself out there every chance you get and you come back a little more damaged every time. I want you whole. I need you whole."
Poe nods slowly, but it's not in agreement. Finn can feel the spike in tension. "Right. You need me to be more." His voice is bitter, and Finn glances up in surprise, because bitterness does not sound right on Poe. "I can only be what I am, General. And I'm a pilot. I fly. Occasionally, I sneak around on the ground," he adds. "But I can make the biggest difference up there. You send me off on some mental health retreat, and that difference is lost. And then I'm lost."
"Oh Poe," she sighs, leaning on the table as if needing the support. "I wish I could make you understand."
"What I don't understand is why I have to take a break when no one else does!" Poe exclaims. "We were double crossed, got into a fight, broke some bones. It's happened before and it will probably happen again. We can't stop and lick our wounds now. We need another contact, you know that. We need to know what's going on in those shipyards. I shouldn't be here, I should be looking for another contact."
"I've got nothing," Leia says. "No more contacts, no leads, nothing. Take the time, Poe. Let your ribs heal. And your head, and your heart."
"Three days," says Poe, sounding desperate.
"Six days," she says.
"Four, and I won't read a single intelligence report."
"Four, and you get the hell off my base for at least half of it."
Poe goes from determined negotiating to confused. "Wait, what? Where do I go?"
Leia turns to Finn. "Do you like camping? Take him camping. There's a lake a few miles away. Go with him and make sure he's careful, that he eats and sleeps and doesn't say one thing about his ship or contacts or basically anything."
"Uh," says Finn.
"I don't need a babysitter," Poe tells her. "Especially since I'm not going camping."
"Fine," says Leia. "Go back to Ephemera. See Maz. Get a facial."
"Maz does facials?" Finn asks.
"I'll go camping," Poe grumbles.
"Good," says Leia, and she stands. "And maybe when you come back, I'll have something for you to throw yourself at."
"I'll bring you flowers if you do," Poe says.
"Bring me flowers anyway," she tells him. "I like white." She takes another cookie, stops in front of Poe and touches his arm. "And when you're ready, we need to talk about our next move. We won't be here much longer, I suspect."
Poe groans, and Finn joins him. Leia rolls her eyes. "Big babies," she murmurs. "Enjoy your trip."
She leaves them, and Poe takes the last tray of cookies from the oven. BB-8 rolls out from under the table with a low whistle, but Poe does not talk, and Finn finally breaks the silence.
"So, um…"
"You don't have to go," Poe says. "Hell, I don't have to go."
"Yes, you do."
"Yes, I do." Poe sighs. "It's not a half bad idea," he admits. "I used to go camping when I was a kid. But you still don't have to go," he adds.
"Oh," says Finn. The thing is, he wants to go. Someone needs to look after Poe, and Finn feels like he could use the break as well. Poe's not the only one struggling with the state of things, after all. "Thing is, she did sort of order me to go with you."
Poe glances down, smiling, and when he looks up, his grin is even bigger. "Yeah, I guess she did. So let's do this. You, me, and a tent by the lake."
"We have tents?" Finn asks. Poe laughs and starts cleaning up his mess. Finn stands to help him, seeing as Poe is starting to move slower and looks tired. He helps bring everything over to the sink, where Poe washes and Finn dries.
"We've got tents. Blankets, a fusion lamp, some food."
"Cookies?" asks Finn.
"Definitely," Poe replies. "Maybe some spicebrew, or I have a good Regellian draught I can bring. And we can try fishing, I cooked a fresh fish once with my dad."
"Sounds brilliant," Finn tells him. He is silent for a moment as he dries off the tray. "You have to admit it will be good to get away."
Poe nods. "Yeah, it will. I admit it. Doesn't mean I won't stop worrying about everything else."
"Well, the General says you're not allowed to talk about it," Finn says. "Think you can not talk for two days?"
"Probably not," Poe laughs. "We'll have to tell stories. You can tell me about growing up in the First Order, I'll tell you about growing up on Yavin 4. Deal?"
"Deal," says Finn. "But your stories are going to be much more interesting, you know."
"I doubt it," says Poe. "Because I know this guy who grew up in the First Order, but he was never one of them. He was smart, and kind, and brave, and he saved so many lives, including the life of a certain Resistance pilot." He bumps Finn with his shoulder. "That kind of man doesn't come from nothing. That kind of man has a story."
Finn is too embarrassed to reply right away and bumps him back. "You're insane."
"You're going camping with me," laughs Poe. He glances around the kitchen, but everything is clean, so he gestures toward the door and they walk out together, Poe grabbing the plate of cookies as they leave. "Who's the insane one?"
"You said you've been camping before," Finn reminds him. "I'm trusting we'll survive."
Poe is walking close, like he always seems to do. Or maybe Finn is walking too close to him. Either way, he likes it. Poe is quiet as they walk, until they get to the area they've assigned as quarters. He stops outside his door and smiles, the genuine one Finn appreciates most, and pats his shoulder. "We'll survive," he says. "It'll be fun." His voice is warm, like he's genuinely looking forward to it.
"Thanks for taking me, then," Finn replies.
"Technically, you're under orders to take me," Poe points out. He barely makes it to the end of the sentence before yawning.
"Get some rest," says Finn. "And don't forget the cookies."
"Yes, sir." Poe yawns again, and then unexpectedly gives Finn a quick embrace. "Thanks for going with me."
"As long as we survive," Finn laughs.
"We've got cookies, it'll be brilliant." Poe enters his quarters, but turns before the door shuts. "Good night, Finn."
"Good night, Poe," Finn tells him, and wanders down the hall to his own room. He can't help but smile. A beep and a whistle calls him from behind, and he turns to find BB-8 rolling toward him. He's holding out two sweet-sand cookies, and a series of trills tells Finn they are for him.
He pats the droid on the head and thanks him, and goes to bed content. He may not have found the supplies they needed for the Resistance, but he did find some peace of mind, as well as something better: a night he can tuck away in his memories, and a trip to look forward to that doesn't involve anything more dangerous than camping out on a lake with the best pilot in the Resistance.
Who happens to make the best cookies in the galaxy as well.
Author's Note:
I was struck by the ridiculous image of Poe making cookies in the base kitchen, and so naturally there had to be a story to go with it. Hopefully it wasn't too saccharine, as I wanted it to be less about the image of Poe baking and more about why, about him and Finn and Leia and the difficult months after Crait. Hopefully I succeeded. Thank you for reading!