In the hurly-burly of the morning when Rey returning with Luke Skywalker was not the most surprising and exciting thing to happen all day, because Finn came out of the coma and General Organa smiled twice (twice!), Poe considered his options very carefully before making any kind of decision.
Which is to say that when Jess said, “Are you sure you want to move the kid into your room, Poe?” he’d stared at her as if she were insane, because clearly she was.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “Where else would he go?”
“Anywhere,” Jess said. “His best-ever friend Rey is probably looking for a roomie. I can’t imagine the terrifyingly craggy war hero is much fun to make hot chocolate and watch holovids with.”
Poe is kind enough to ignore Jess’ irrational fear of Luke Skywalker’s attempt at a smile, which had somehow managed to appear even more unpractised than the General’s, and focuses on the important part, which is to say, “She’s only his best-ever friend because he’s never had a friend before! He’ll see that I’m a better friend than she is. Especially when I give him a place to stay!”
“This is a bad idea,” Jess tells him.
“This is a great idea,” Poe tells her fervently. “I bet he’s never even slept anywhere that wasn’t a dormitory.”
“Never had a friend, never had his own space, never had his own Poe Dameron,” Jess says sadly. “I can’t see any way that this could possibly go horribly, disastrously wrong, boss.”
“Exactly,” he says triumphantly, because he hasn’t yet remembered how utterly, unfortunately, annoyingly correct Jess always is about everything ever. “This is going to be amazing. He’s going to love it. I’m going to love it.”
Jess smiles. “I know, boss,” she says.
Before actually asking Finn to share his room, Poe takes himself firmly in hand (not literally, although in retrospect he probably should have) and gives himself a stern talking-to in the mirror. Jess had done it earlier, once she’d realised she wasn’t going to be able to talk him out of it, but Poe feels he needs the reinforcement.
“Don’t be a creep,” he tells himself firmly. He looks back at himself earnestly. He looks quite charming. He doesn’t look like a creep at all. “You’re going to be friends,” he says hopefully. “You’re going to be best friends. Because sure, Rey’s cool and all, but you are too, and he’s totally going to understand that, and Jess doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” His face looks doubtful. “Jess doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You just need to spend more time together, and then everybody will realise how amazing everybody is, and everything will be wonderful. This is a great plan.”
His hair is curling oddly at his forehead, and he can’t ask Finn to share his quarters looking like that, so he ducks away from his reflection for a moment to grab his pomade and fix it.
“And even if the plan doesn’t work out, that’s cool too,” he tells himself, trying not to fuss with the rest of his hair and ruin everything out of anxiety. There’s no reason to be anxious. “Because you’ll still be friends, and that’s going to be awesome. Everything is going to be awesome. Like your hair.”
There, that’s better.
“Maybe you should hide the pomade,” he tells himself. “Finn doesn’t look like he uses pomade. Although, Finn probably doesn’t know what pomade is, so maybe you shouldn’t bother.” He puts the pomade back on the counter, in plain view. “And Finn can borrow your pomade if he wants to,” he decides. “That’s how committed you are to making this work.”
Glancing around the bathroom, he reminds himself, “Also, this place is pretty bare. Don’t forget to pick up a spare toothbrush for Finn on the way back. Obviously you’d let him borrow yours, but nobody ever actually wants to do that, because that’s disgusting.” He considers. “Maybe Finn doesn’t know that sharing a toothbrush is disgusting. Finn probably doesn’t know a lot of things yet. You should tell him.”
He considers that maybe Finn doesn’t know how to brush his teeth, but then he remembers how white they are, and gets lost in the memory of Finn’s smile for a little while.
He shakes himself back out of it. “Don’t stare at his smile,” he instructs himself sternly. He can totally do stern, he doesn’t know what Jess is on about. This is a very effective talk. “He’s going to notice. He’s not in a coma anymore. Or distracted by impending death. He’s going to notice if you’re weird. So don’t stare, and don’t—sneak glances when he’s changing his shirt and stuff. That isn’t okay. Sure, you’re using the personal shower as a selling point, but make sure to teach him to shut the door when he’s in here.”
He nods decisively.
“Good talk,” he tells himself, and nods again, approvingly this time. “Glad we got all that sorted out.”
He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to look at his nervous face, and leaves the room so that he can go and ask Finn to move in with him.
“Sure!” Finn says brightly, then checks in with Rey, who nods supportively. “Sounds good. You cleared it with the quartermasters?”
“Quartermasters?” Rey asks.
“Yeah, you know—“ Finn says, though she clearly doesn’t.
“They don’t interest themselves in whom I share my—“ Poe starts, and changes course even before he catches the cautious look Rey throws him. “—room with. They’ll be glad not to have to worry where you’re going.”
“Where am I going?” Rey asks, having dumped the war hero on the General and hightailed it for the infirmary without a backward glance, or, apparently, any idea where she’s staying tonight.
“I’m sure Luke Skywalker won’t see his apprentice stuck,” Poe says, and watches Rey’s face blanch before it smoothes quickly back out. Looks like Jess was right about Terrifyingly Craggy, although Poe obviously isn’t ever going to tell her that.
“Although,” he says, “my friend Jess does have a rollaway cot.”
She doesn’t, but she will by the time Poe’s done with her.
“That sounds amazing!” Rey says, as Poe watches Finn’s face glow with relief, and Poe knew there was a reason everybody liked her.
He doesn’t realise how wrong she was—how wrong they both were—until later that evening, when Finn has brushed his teeth and run curious fingers over the surface of Poe’s offered pomade before grimacing and wiping them clean on the facecloth, until he has Finn settled warm and snug in his spare bed and has taken his own turn in the bathroom.
Until he walks back into the dark hush of the bedroom and gropes his way to his own bed, and the silence is broken with a low moan that Poe recognises immediately as pleasure, until the moan is followed with ragged gasps and pants and the restless creak of bedsprings, and finally, incredibly, the sound of Finn coming.
Poe stays frozen where he’d been when he’d heard the first sound, one foot still on the floor, one knee on the mattress, until Finn’s breathing eases into the smooth rhythms of sleep, and then he collapses into his own bed as if his strings have been cut, and stares up at the ceiling in blank disbelief.
God damn it, Jess.
Poe isn’t sure how it possibly could be, but he knows this is all her fault.
The next morning, Poe plays it cool, and act as if everything is totally normal.
This works out well, because Finn does too, and Poe doesn’t want to be the one to make things weird.
“So,” Poe says, totally casually and naturally, “Good night?”
Finn blinks. “Uh—“ he says.
Poe waits, but nothing more seems to be forthcoming, so he presses, “Did you sleep well?”
Finn’s face clears and brightens, and Poe’s heart thumps painfully. “Oh, yeah!” he says. “Your bed is really comfortable.”
“Right, right,” Poe says hurriedly, because obviously, that wasn’t what he’d been asking at all, and also he really doesn’t need to be thinking about Finn in his bed right now. “Did Esmail—“ Finn’s face clouds, so Poe clarifies, “You know, the medic who released you yesterday—“ and watches the sun come back out. “—give you any instructions about rehab?”
She had, and Finn details the exercises he’s supposed to do and the appointments he’s supposed to keep, and complains about the fact that Rey has already refused to do them all with him and keep him company, and obviously Poe gets distracted by volunteering to do that as much as his duties allow, but that hadn’t really been what he’d been asking either, so eventually he forces his focus away from the flash of Finn’s smile and asks, “But nothing about strenuous activity? I mean—“
He hadn’t really thought through to the end of that question, and he can’t exactly say what he’s thinking, which is, “But nothing about how involuntary hip movements while you’re jerking off might affect your recovery?” so instead he says, “You’re supposed to be moving carefully until you regain your full range of motion, right? You don’t want to overdo things.”
“Right,” Finn says, and grins as they round the corner into the mess and grab the first available seats. “So you should get me some pancakes and bring them to me. I need breakfast, but I can’t carry that whole plate. Because I want a lot of pancakes, Poe, and I’m not supposed to overdo things.”
Poe feels as if he should argue, if only for form’s sake, but instead he gets up and uses Chef Kahlara’s weakness for his shoulders to skip the line and get extra pancakes.
“Syrup!” Finn calls, and Poe smoulders at Kahlara to get that too.
Poe regrets letting Finn talk him into having extra pancakes himself when he’s doing Finn’s physical therapy by his side, but Finn insists it was worth it, and looking at Finn’s happiness as he recalls the small pleasure, Poe kind of thinks it was.
Things continue in this totally normal fashion all day, and when Rey joins them for dinner Poe barely even thinks about just asking her, right at the table, whether Finn has ever jerked off in front of her. She smiles at him after he drags Finn up to introduce him to Chef Kahlara so that he can finagle his own extra portions in the future, and rolls her eyes when Finn suggests that she join them for his physical therapy tomorrow, and Poe is pretty pleased with the day, all told, and thoroughly impressed with his own ability to play it cool.
Later, Poe gets ready for bed first, carefully not thinking about why, and when he comes back into the bedroom Finn puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “Thanks for today, Poe. It’s great having you around to help out with stuff,” and Poe doesn’t blush too much, and if he does Finn doesn’t notice, because he’s already gone into the refresher to get cleaned up.
And nothing is weird, and nobody is weird, and everything is totally normal right up until Finn comes back out and walks past Poe’s bed to climb into the spare he had hastily set up in the corner yesterday morning, says, “Night, Poe,” in a low, smoky voice that does things to Poe’s insides, and then immediately reaches inside his shorts and starts tugging on his cock.
Poe can hear the blankets shake as Finn’s hand rises and falls purposefully beneath them. He knows he wouldn’t be able to see them move if he looked over, but he stares blindly at the ceiling anyway. He can hear the sound of skin on skin as Finn’s cock moves through his fist, and thinks, crazily, about offering something to ease the glide. Finn’s breath stutters as his hand picks up speed, resumes with a rougher rhythm. He could help Finn out, take him back to see Esmail; medics always have the best lube. Or he could offer—
“Oh,” Finn breathes, too low, too far away, and Poe turns his head on his pillow.
Finn’s hand stops moving, and so does Poe’s heart, briefly, before he remembers that Finn knows he’s here, knows he’s awake, and he isn’t doing anything wrong.
Still, when he takes a breath and his heart starts up again, it’s beating faster, like he’s getting away with something.
Finn starts up again too, his hand urgent on himself, and Poe’s heart thumps as he imagines offering to help, reaching over and putting his hand on Finn’s, slowing his quick, rough pulls and teasing, teasing, until he teases his orgasm right out of him and uses it to slick the slide of their joined hands on Finn’s cock.
Finn is gasping, trying to be quiet, Poe thinks, though it’s thunder in the room, in his ears.
Or he could lick his hand, or Finn’s, or maybe just Finn’s cock, get it so nice and wet that Finn’s hand slips in Poe’s spit and he has to tighten his grip while Poe lays his head on Finn’s thigh and watches, because obviously Poe would leave the lights on, would want to see, and he could stare and stare until Finn came, until Poe could move back in to lick his come off his belly.
Finn’s hand speeds, stops, and he groans, shudders out a last panting breath, and then grabs a tissue from the packet on the locker beside his bed, cleans up, turns onto his side, and drops easily into sleep.
Poe closes his mouth, swallows.
Eventually, he gives up, gets out of bed, goes back into the refresher, and fucks his fist. He doesn’t let himself think of anything beyond Finn’s face, his mouth, his gorgeous smile, but he still comes faster than he has in years, and when he climbs back into his bed Finn’s easy breaths are a lullaby, though he knows they’d sound better if he’d climbed into Finn’s bed instead, laid his head on Finn’s chest so he could feel the rise and fall along with the rush of Finn’s breath through his hair. Still, he sleeps like a baby.
In the morning, he leaves his favourite lotion on Finn’s bedside locker, just in case.