#rookie and Poe are my safe space

[storyarcscribe]

I wrote another 700 words for Lighten Up and it was so CATHARTIC.

Writing for Lighten Up feels like coming home when I write Poe and Rookie🧡

[soap-brain]

a stormpilot under the cut. it’s cold and poe isn’t happy

thanks to @insane-sociopath for beta’ing, and @sauwuron for telling me that i didn’t fuck canon up too badly!

Poe wakes up because he’s shaking so badly he can barely control it.

The room is dark except for Beeb’s charging station and the little sleeping blinks the astromech makes, and it’s cold beyond words.

Poe is curled up in a tiny ball, shaking and so frozen he can barely feel his toes, fingers, nose, and pulling the single blanket closer around him isn’t helping.

There’s only one thing to do, and that’s crossing the entire room on bare feet to get to the storage closet, and pull out every single blanket that he owns, put on eleven pairs of socks and wear every item he owns.

Oh, stars, the floor is cold. Coldcoldcoldcoldcold until he reaches the closet, the opening mechanism near icy too, and unwieldy in Poe’s numb fingers.

He has to rummage a bit before he finds the set of heavy throws and tosses them onto his bunk (or close enough at least) before going to look for socks as well. There are only regular ones to be had, but three pairs of those should be fine, right?

He gets another warm shirt before hurrying back and heaping the blankets onto his bed, slips under them and curls up.

He doesn’t know what time it is.

And it’s still really cold.

He fluffs the pillow up and tucks himself in as best as he can, drawing his knees so close it’s uncomfortable. He could really use a Finn to cuddle right now, but Finn’s on a mission and not expected back for the next few days.

When BB-8 beeps at him to wake up what feels like only minutes later, there’s no light flooding the room. Instead, the droid turned on the lights, but only a bit so Poe’s eyes aren’t immediately assaulted by bright light.

Poe feels chilled to the bone, frozen in the fetal position he curled himself in.

He groans, and Beeb thunks against the bed, twittering at him to get up, he’s got a patrol this morning.

He does, and usually he likes those casual patrols, time for some relaxed maneuvers and drills while he and his squadron take the piss out of each other, but he already knows that it’ll be too cold out to be anything but miserable today.

BB-8’s beeps turn a little more shrill, complaining that he isn’t up yet, that he was hard to wake, that he shouldn’t take too long in the ‘fresher because he’ll run late otherwise.

    “Shut up,” he mutters, trying to snuggle back into his pillow for a last minute of relative bliss.

The droid’s offended screech stabs just as much as the cold, so Poe groans some more and finally sits up, dragging a tired hand over his frozen face.

    “Force, it’s cold,” he complains, ignoring Beeb’s pointed tittering about how if he got a move on he’d be less cold.

The room sucks out what little warmth was left in him, and for a moment he squints at the completely blacked out window, but his brain refuses to understand what that’s supposed to mean, so he stumbles off into the ‘fresher instead.

The water beating down on him is cold, and it doesn’t get any better, and his skin is riddled with goosebumps and he’s completely and miserably awake.

He pulls on his flight suit and adds a jacket and an extra pair of socks for good measure, before being herded out towards the mess hall by his ridiculous ball of a droid.

     “Morning, sleepyhead!” Jess greets him.

Poe glares and wraps his fingers closer around his cup of steaming hot tea, hoping it’ll thaw him a little.

Black squadron is still all there, chatting and having breakfast. Poe sits hunched in on himself a little, because the mess hall is big and drafty and he’s rapidly losing all higher brain function because it’s so damn cold.

Snap raises his cup towards him in greeting. Poe holds on closely to his, reluctant to let go of the warmth.

    “So, the kids are currently clearing the snow off our fighters, and then we should be good to go just a little behind schedule,” Jess says, ripping large chunks of her bread off to dip in whatever oddly flavored jam she’s favouring this week.

    “Snow?” Something about that registers in Poe’s frozen brain.

    “White frozen water. Fell from the sky like all hell tonight. And the heating is busted - I heard that the main generator might be gone for good now.”

    “The whole generator?”

    “Mhm. Don’t tell me you’re the one lucky ass in the whole base who’s important parts didn’t freeze off tonight.”

    “Oh, no, don’t worry, I’m properly unable to procreate now. Kriff, it’s cold.”

    “Good thing we’re pilots though, huh? Imagine clearing X-Wings in this storm.”

Poe sips his tea, tongue numb with the sudden heat.

    “There’s a storm?”

    “Yeah? A snow storm?”

Poe shudders and digs into his breakfast. “Good damn thing we’re not rookies anymore, huh? I don’t think I even own a jacket warm enough.”

When they finish up in the mess and head out and Poe sees the hangar, he is admittedly stunned. A narrow path, about two boots wide, leads out to the fighters, and on both sides there’s snow piled higher than he is tall. Some thoughtful soul has filled the makeshift path with gravel, so its not as much a slippery death trap as it undoubtedly was before.

Cold seeps through the toes of Poe’s boots, and he trails a finger along the wall of snow that’s surely hiding anything that isn’t a fighter.

Disgusting. Cold. Wet. Yikes.

They leave the small overhang and suddenly the wind is howling overhead, messing with Poe’s hair and freezing his ears. Snowflakes barely make it to the ground before being whisked away again, and the sky is grey and cloudy.

Out here, the snow isn’t quite as high, and someone has cleared a larger space right in the center of the outside hangar, with individual paths to what Poe can only assume are the squadron docking pads.

BB-8 beeps something at him, but the wind in Poe’s ears tears the sounds away.

A couple of rookies are standing at parade rest, guarding the paths, shaking and quivering with the biting cold, and hell, Poe gets it, he really does - he was a rookie too, once, and he would’ve done anything to impress the pilots - but this is a little to far.

    “Get inside, all of you,” he shouts, getting a mouthful of snowflakes for his trouble. “Go get a hot drink and stay inside until it’s an emergency. It’s too cold out here!”

He can see them sighing in relief, breath puffing out, and he shakes his head a little.

The X-Wings are mostly free of snow, but BB-8 has difficulties getting settled, so Poe spends more time outside than he would’ve liked to.

Thankfully his cockpit greets him with - well, not with warmth, because that’s not a concept that exists anymore, but at least the storm and the howling wind cuts out.

Poe shakes the snow out of his hair and puts his helmet on, pressing ice cold ears flat to his skull.

Karé mutters some swears about the cold, and even though Poe usually doesn’t approve of swearing in tower range, he can’t help but quietly agree.

Liftoff is one hell of a gamble, and Poe hasn’t felt his baby shake this dramatically for a while, wobbling and tilting until he’s got her back under control.

Hours later, they land, one by one, like they usually would never do, Poe circling above, trying to see that they all make it down safely before descending himself. Tower is issuing all kinds of warnings, and so’s BB-8, but he would like a hot drink and to spend the night in his bed and not circling a planet, thanks very much.

There’s just enough space for his fighter down there - not a problem at all usually, but with the wind and the snow he can barely see where he’s going, much less feel in control of the situation.

But he’s the best pilot in the Resistance, thank you very much, and he’s hungry, so he’s going to manage. And he does.

The landing struts screech and probably throw up sparks, but he fits perfectly between the other X-Wings.

Dinner is spent in company, and just as he’s about to retire because his eyes are falling shut, one of the techies darts up to him.

    “Commander Dameron, there’s a caller waiting for you in comm suite five.”

Poe needs a moment to connect the dots before a wide grin spreads over his face.

Finn!

He jogs to the comm suite wing, the short distance failing to rack up his circulation at all, but at least his toes get some feeling back into them.

Beeb trails behind him, chattering delightedly about Finn, and yeah, Poe can’t wait to see his boyfriend’s face either. Beautiful, cuddly Finn, who still doesn’t manage to sleep a full eight hours at once and would’ve kissed him awake this morning, just to make Poe grump at him.

Poe slides into the comm suite, leaving the door open just long enough for the astromech to follow him in, and falls into the chair, fingers dancing over the buttons to initiate the call.

Finn’s image flickers into view, tinged blue and a bit staticky, but he’s smiling brighter than any sun.

    “Finn!” Poe exclaims, his fingers instinctively reaching out to touch the image in front of him.

    “Poe. I missed you!”

    “Missed you too. How’s the mission?”

Finn rolls his eyes, still grinning broadly. “Do you have nothing but talking shop on your mind, Poe Dameron? If that’s so, then I’d rather talk to Beeb.”

BB-8 trills happily, the snide remark towards Poe an afterthought, and Poe can’t help but laugh with Finn.

    “Sorry. How are you doing, buddy?”

    “Gecht-lar was amazing. Pretty. So pretty, and so diverse. The cities! They were so colourful, and - ha, there were so many parties. Plenty of cliffs too - our pilot had a field day. You would’ve liked it. Really bad booze, too.”

    “Hey!”

    “Oh, come one, Poe. Your taste in alcohol is terrible.”

    “But my taste in men however, is great.” Poe winks, and it makes Finn giggle.

    “Saw some pretty nice places where we could’ve… had some fun, too. Watch the stars, drink a little, and then I’d lay you out.” Finn’s voice drops just a hint, and there’s a smirk lingering in the corner of his smile.

Poe slides down his chair a little. “Oh yeah? What’d you do to me?”

    “Kiss you.”

    “That’s it?”

    “What’d you do to me, Poe? Or am I the only one who’s feeling a little lonely?”

    “I’d kiss you too. And then I’d do a lot of other things once we kicked BB-8 off the cliff.”

The droid shrieks in offence and sends a bolt of lightning up Poe’s leg, making him jump and squeak.

Finn throws his head back and laughs again, clearly enjoying Poe’s abject misery at his droid getting revenge.

    “Okay, okay, we love you, Beeb, and we’d never kick you off a cliff!” Poe amends, patting BB-8’s dome. “But I think I’m allowed to miss my boyfriend, aren’t I?”

There’s that smile Poe’d wanted to see on Finn’s face, the one that comes out when he calls Finn his boyfriend. Or any other pet name really. Poe’s body prefers to blush, but Finn gets this delightfully bashfully happy smile.

    “Just three more days, Poe. You’ll live.”

    “Are you sure? Because we’re sitting in the middle of a horrid snowstorm, and the generator is broken. They haven’t even gotten through to the generator yet, that’s how bad it’s snowing. I need someone to cuddle me and keep me warm at night.”

    “You’ve got BB-8.”

    “She isn’t as cuddly as you are.” Yup, that makes his cheeks heat up.

There’s a small commotion somewhere to Finn’s left and he frowns.

    “Poe, I gotta -”

    “Go?”

    “Yeah,” Finn breathes. “I’m sorry. Hey, Poe, you be careful, okay? Don’t - I don’t want to come back to have them tell me you got squished between an X-Wing and a wall of snow, okay?”

Beeb trills a goodbye and an agreement that makes Finn’s lips quirk up.

Poe blows him a kiss. “Will do, buddy. You be careful too.” Come back to me, he wants to say.

Finn catches the kiss and presses it to his chest and Poe blushes some more and then the connection cuts out and the room is quiet again.

     “Only three more days, Beeb,” Poe says, getting up and stretching. “Come on, let’s head to bed.”

Another miserable night, but this time he wakes early enough to catch what must be the last drops of barely lukewarm water.

He also gets to spend three hours inside the general’s office, which might just be the warmest room in the entire base, if only because it’s the deepest underground and closest to the center of the base. Thank the Force for geothermal gradients, Poe thinks.

That evening, he discovers that someone had the bright idea to light a bunch of Meeswood trunks on fire in the mess hall, so Poe doesn’t even taste his dinner, and even BB-8 complains about him smelling of smoke. Worse, he ends up having to take a freezing shower before bed to rinse the stench off.

Day Finn minus two has a minor firefight that leaves Black One in need of mild repairs, and Poe has to try really hard to not stick his fingers under the welding beam because it looks so nicely warm.

He distracts himself with fantasizing about sticking his nose into Finn’s armpit while Finn pets his hair.

Day Finn minus one starts with Poe’s eyelashes sticking together because it’s so cold, and Beeb trills at him in worry while he slugs through his morning routine. He almost considers growing a beard to help keep him warm, or  never showering again so that he eventually builds up a layer of dirt to insulate him from the cold.

The kitchen is out of tea, so he drinks soup for breakfast and thinks of listening to Finn’s heartbeat.

Day Finn minus zero makes him wake up without Finn, go on his patrol without Finn, come back from his patrol without Finn, banter with BB-8 without Finn, try to stitch the rip in his only pair of gloves without Finn (and with cold-numb fingers), eat dinner without Finn, down some Vantan Fire without Finn (it makes his eyes water and he coughs for about ten minutes while his throat and stomach and tongue burn like a young sun, but it does warm him a little), and finally slip into bed without Finn, because of course his ship is late, having had to take a detour to potentially avoid a small fleet of First Order ships.

Beeb rolls to her charging station chattering sadly about the unfairness of the universe, because why isn’t Finn here to tell her a bedtime story? And Poe has to agree with that - he too could definitely make use of his boyfriend. No, not like that. All he wants are some cuddles to warm his frozen body.

He curls up under his mountain of blankets again, burrowing a mound into the pillow so his head is comfortable, closes his eyes and waits for himself to drift off and escape the permeating cold for a few blissful hours.

He wakes up what feels like half a year later to hissed curses in a dozen languages as someone stumbles around the dark room.

    “Finn?” Poe whispers roughly, voice breaking for a short moment.

    “Kriff, did I wake you up?” The mattress dips down and a warm hand finds Poe’s face.

    “Finn, hey, buddy, it is you!” Poe squawks and shoves the blankets aside to wrap himself around Finn, nevermind the cold air.

    “Yeah, it is. You gonna let me join you?”

    “Sure, sure!”

There’s a fair bit of shuffling, and then finally Poe’s wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms again, finally breathing in Finn’s smell again and feeling his heartbeat strong and steady in his chest and there are fingers in Poe’s hair.

    “Force, I missed you, buddy.” He squeezes Finn close, feeling his laugh in his bones.

    “Missed you too.” Finn presses his face into Poe’s hair and inhales deeply. “Mmh.”

    “How’s your scar?”

    “I’m back for five minutes and you already offer back scratches? You must’ve really missed me.”

    “Anything for you, Finn.” Poe slips his fingers under the back hem of Finn’s shirt. “You just gotta say the word.”

    “Please,” Finn sighs, and Poe’s fingers get to work.

Finn is out like a light within minutes, and Poe manages to stick his nose right where it’s supposed to go (aka the exact center of Finn’s chest), and then he too, is gone, finally warm.

BB-8 wakes them with shrieks and whirls and a song that has beeps more quickly than Poe can handle in the morning, but it’s about Finn being back, that much is clear, so Finn extracts himself from their embrace and rolls out of bed to greet the astromech cheerily.

Poe lets his head fall onto a pillow that finally smells like Finn again and smiles.