Fic: All the Young Dudes (Finn/Poe, PG)
So first I posted on tumblr that there should totally be a Stormpilot fic fest based on Bowie songs, and then somehow it became a series. And this is part the first!
Title: All the Young Dudes
“I know how old I am - the year, I mean. I just don’t know the date.”
“You could pick one,” Poe suggested, his face brightening.
Finn hangs out at a pilot party and reveals he's never actually had a birthday; Poe is determined to fix this.
Author: Dala
Fandom: Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Pairing: Finn/Poe
Rating: PG/General
Words: 2163
Notes:Title from David Bowie
AO3 link here
Finn didn’t realize that he had not actually been invited to Temmin Wexley’s birthday thing (“It’s not a party, not a big deal, it’s just a...a thing with some of the guys”) until he set foot in the pilots’ lounge. Nobody said anything, but there were some sidelong glances from people Finn didn’t know (which was pretty much the whole base outside of Poe and Medical) who were hugging the walls in small groups. Only Poe’s arm slung over his shoulders kept him from turning around and walking back out.
“Hey, there they are,” he said, gesturing to a table in the corner where his friends were clustered.
“Poe, I really don’t think -”
Any hopes that he might not have noticed the collective reaction to Finn were quashed by a squeeze of Finn’s bicep and his aggressive cheerfulness. “C’mon, I’ve been talking you up the whole time you’ve been cooped up in Medical, they all want to meet the hero who brought down Starkiller’s shields for us.”
He steered Finn through the crowd while ignoring Finn’s protests about his creative retelling. ‘Lounge’ was really a strong word for this place; it was just an alcove carved out of the Resistance bunker, with a few pieces of furniture and cushions scattered around. But there was a bar of sorts, tended by a grumpy-looking tech who’d been treated for chemical burns during Finn’s recovery. Someone had even strung up a few ragged streamers over the main table.
“Everyone, this is Finn,” Poe announced, keeping hold of Finn’s arm as they slid onto a bench. “Finn, everyone.” He waved his hand with a flourish. Expecting a welcome similar to what he’d gotten at the door, Finn clenched his jaw and wondered if he was healed enough to lose the inevitable pursuit when he bailed.
The dark-haired woman Poe had nudged over rolled her eyes. “Very descriptive, boss.” She stretched over him to shake Finn’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Jess - Jessika Pava, Blue Squadron.” Her elbow caught Poe in the ribs on the way back and he pulled a pout at her. “This idiot’s been raving about your TIE gunnery skills for the past two weeks, so it’s about time we get the story from the source.”
“No, I want to hear about the Rathtars,” someone piped up from the other end.
A stout bearded man whom Finn tentatively identified as Wexley snapped his fingers and said, “Finn, you want a drink? We got Corellian ale, whiskey, some Beldaronian palm-nectar that’s only slightly past expiration, and I make a mean Corusca sunset -”
Everyone at the table groaned.
“Not a good idea,” Poe stage-whispered, his breath puffing against Finn’s ear. “You’ll be on the floor before you see the bottom of the glass.”
Finn laughed and let his hands relax from where they’d been folded in his lap, accepting the glass Wexley handed him. Maybe his fears of being tossed out on his ex-Order ass were overblown; maybe this would actually be okay.
It was okay, right up until it wasn’t. After Finn had offered his version of their epic escape (with Poe’s colorful commentary being shouted down by his fellow pilots), talk turned to Snap’s plans for tomorrow (“I’m gonna sleep until noon and then make the recruits run laps around the base, it’ll be awesome”) and birthdays past. It seemed they’d all been flying together for years and had therefore racked up quite a few celebrations. Finn was especially fond of the tale of Poe’s last birthday, when the Resistance had just moved to D’Qar and they decided to throw their commander in the lake.
“Excuse me, I jumped of my own accord,” Poe said, lifting his nose in the air.
“Bullshit. It took four of us to hold you and you shrieked like a newborn Hutt when you hit the water.” Iolo raised his eyebrows and held up the pitcher of ale. Finn shook his head, still trying to adjust to the feeling of being tipsy. He was enjoying the warmth in the pit of his stomach and the easy laughter, but he was still a little off-balance to begin with and didn’t think any additional impairment would help.
Poe tossed back the last of his whiskey, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “And I wasn’t about to admit I was freezing my balls off, so I said the temperature was great and splashed around until they all waded in after me. Which was no one’s fault but your own,” he added to Jess, who grimaced and snapped her teeth at the finger he was pointing in her face.
Something Poe had mentioned during their tour of the base after Finn was finally discharged pinged in his memory. “Wait, isn’t there some kind of parasite in that lake?”
“Yeah, we figured that out when we all woke up the next morning covered in big purple sores,” Snap said with a sigh. He had procured a pointed paper hat from somewhere and it drooped over one ear. “Right before a formal inspection of the new hangar.”
“The general’s face,” Poe moaned, smacking his hand down on the table. It slipped off and landed on Finn’s knee.
Poe laughed along with the rest of them, though he was acutely aware of Poe’s warm, broad palm resting on his knee. Poe was a tactile sort of person and Finn didn’t usually mind his constant casual touches - liked them a lot, to tell the truth - but it was a little weird in front of so many people. He told himself it was the unfamiliar buzz of alcohol making his pulse speed up and his skin prickle.
“What about you, Finn? Got any embarrassing birthday stories to share?” Karé had her feet propped up on the corner of the table.
The words were falling out before he had a chance to think. “Oh, we didn’t have birthdays.”
“You mean -” Glancing at Poe, she let her chair drop back on four legs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Finn traced a watermark on the table with his fingertip. “No, it’s fine,” he said, his voice too loud in the sudden press of silence.
Poe picked his hand up at last, though he shifted so his leg was flush with Finn’s from thigh to ankle. “What about the time we were stranded on Lothal and that Aqualish granny put the moves on Snap?
“Oh, that was the best!” Jess exclaimed, shooting Finn a quick smile.
The discussion rambled back to their exploits over the years but it wasn’t quite the same, at least not for Finn. He was relieved when the party broke up soon after. Snap made Finn promise to take a look at his modified blaster and Jess hugged him, then slugged Poe on the arm. He was still rubbing it absently as he and Finn headed back in the direction of their rooms.
“Sorry,” Poe said, looking over at Finn. His hair had finally given up after a long day and he kept pushing it back. “I know they can be a bit much.”
“No, they’re nice.” Finn scuffed his boot over a loose stone. They walked in silence for a few moments before he said quietly, “I know how old I am - the year, I mean. I just don’t know the date.”
Poe tucked his hands into his pockets, his mouth twisting in thought. This jacket was a darker brown with a blue stripe down the seams, but it was otherwise similar to the one stashed on a shelf in Finn’s closet. Or what was left of it, anyway. It was stupid to keep it (impracticable, his CO would have said) because the leather was damaged beyond Finn’s ability to patch it, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.
“You could pick one,” he suggested, his face brightening.
“Really?”
Poe knocked against his shoulder, laughing as they both stumbled. “Sure, why not? It’s an arbitrary date, if you think about it. Just an excuse for a little extra fun once a year. Or really stupid pranks, if you’re unlucky enough to know certain people,” he added darkly.
He deposited Finn at his door with a one-armed hug, his shoulders hunched against the deepening chill. Finn bid him a distracted goodnight, still thinking about the idea of choosing his own birthday. He commed Rey when he couldn’t nod off, hoping she was neither asleep nor meditating nor chasing Master Skywalker’s metaphors all over her island.
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” she said, cocking her head on the little blue screen. “I don’t know my birthday, either.”
That was half the reason Finn had wanted to talk to her. Not for the first time, he wished she could shift her training back to the base so he wouldn’t be the only misfit around - and so he wouldn’t miss her so much.
“Okay, so you pick your day and I’ll pick mine.”
“Deal,” she said with a smile.
They chatted for a bit longer (she’d had to climb a bluff to observe the nesting behavior of some rare bird that day, the point of which exercise was not entirely clear to her or to Finn).
“You ever need a rescue, just let me know,” Finn said before breaking the connection, like he always did, even though she was the one with the legendary ship at her disposal. The image faded out on the annoyed face Rey made at him.
His door chimed at a far too early hour. Yawning, Finn opened it to find Poe standing there with a plastic container full of something pink and fluffy, wearing his jacket over sweatpants and a sheepish expression.
“I couldn’t sleep, thinking about you never having had a proper birthday,” he explained, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “So I got up early and snuck into the kitchen to make you this.” He held up the package. “Cake. Traditional birthday fare. The frosting is Iolo’s recipe and he insists it has to be this violent pink or it doesn’t taste right.”
Finn stared at him for a moment. There was a swipe of flour on his cheek and the urge to reach up and wipe it off was almost unbearable.
“I did pick a day,” was all he could think to say.
The faint anxiety on Poe’s face faded into a grin. “Yeah?”
Finn nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on that pale smear and not on Poe’s eyes. “The day I decided to defect.” The day I met you - but he couldn’t say it aloud, not when Poe was standing there at his door at 06:00 with his first birthday present in twenty-three years.
“So I’m just a little late, then, or else really early for next year,” Poe said, shouldering past him to deposit the cake on his tiny desk.
He’d brought a knife but no forks, so they cut big wedges and ate with their hands, sitting on the floor with their backs to the bed. Finn’s eyes shuttered closed when he took his first bite. He’d had dessert with some of his meals, but everything in Medical tended toward the bland. This was so sugary it made his teeth ache.
“It’s good,” he said, crumbs dropping into his lap. Poe beamed at him, icing clinging to his day-old stubble.
His computer console pinged while Poe was cutting them second slices. Finn pulled himself up, careful of the stretch in his back muscles, to read the incoming text comm.
“It’s from Rey,” he said, smiling down at Poe. “She decided to make the day she got off Jakku her official birthday.”
Poe gave him a thumbs-up. “So that gives me almost a year to plan for both of you. I can work with that.”
“And we’ll all be together next year,” Finn said, unable to stop the catch in his throat. He couldn’t quite say what caused it, either. Having a birthday and people to share it with, or the knowledge that they were living out a war and there was no guarantee they’d all make it to next year; or maybe it was a bit of both.
Poe handed over another piece of cake, his hand lingering on Finn’s wrist.
“Count on it,” he said, his voice low and warm.
Finn was caught between his touch and the depth of sincerity in his eyes. For a long moment he forgot to breathe.
Oh shit, he thought with something close to despair.
To stop himself saying something he was bound to regret (You’re so pretty or I might be in love with you or Can I lick that icing off your lip?), he stuffed cake in his mouth. It was a little hard to swallow, but it worked.
Poe held his piece up and gazed at it thoughtfully, apparently none the wiser on Finn’s complete internal breakdown. “You think it’d go stale if we did a drive-by to Planet Jedi Training Camp?”
Title: All the Young Dudes
“I know how old I am - the year, I mean. I just don’t know the date.”
“You could pick one,” Poe suggested, his face brightening.
Finn hangs out at a pilot party and reveals he's never actually had a birthday; Poe is determined to fix this.
Author: Dala
Fandom: Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Pairing: Finn/Poe
Rating: PG/General
Words: 2163
Notes:Title from David Bowie
AO3 link here
Finn didn’t realize that he had not actually been invited to Temmin Wexley’s birthday thing (“It’s not a party, not a big deal, it’s just a...a thing with some of the guys”) until he set foot in the pilots’ lounge. Nobody said anything, but there were some sidelong glances from people Finn didn’t know (which was pretty much the whole base outside of Poe and Medical) who were hugging the walls in small groups. Only Poe’s arm slung over his shoulders kept him from turning around and walking back out.
“Hey, there they are,” he said, gesturing to a table in the corner where his friends were clustered.
“Poe, I really don’t think -”
Any hopes that he might not have noticed the collective reaction to Finn were quashed by a squeeze of Finn’s bicep and his aggressive cheerfulness. “C’mon, I’ve been talking you up the whole time you’ve been cooped up in Medical, they all want to meet the hero who brought down Starkiller’s shields for us.”
He steered Finn through the crowd while ignoring Finn’s protests about his creative retelling. ‘Lounge’ was really a strong word for this place; it was just an alcove carved out of the Resistance bunker, with a few pieces of furniture and cushions scattered around. But there was a bar of sorts, tended by a grumpy-looking tech who’d been treated for chemical burns during Finn’s recovery. Someone had even strung up a few ragged streamers over the main table.
“Everyone, this is Finn,” Poe announced, keeping hold of Finn’s arm as they slid onto a bench. “Finn, everyone.” He waved his hand with a flourish. Expecting a welcome similar to what he’d gotten at the door, Finn clenched his jaw and wondered if he was healed enough to lose the inevitable pursuit when he bailed.
The dark-haired woman Poe had nudged over rolled her eyes. “Very descriptive, boss.” She stretched over him to shake Finn’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Jess - Jessika Pava, Blue Squadron.” Her elbow caught Poe in the ribs on the way back and he pulled a pout at her. “This idiot’s been raving about your TIE gunnery skills for the past two weeks, so it’s about time we get the story from the source.”
“No, I want to hear about the Rathtars,” someone piped up from the other end.
A stout bearded man whom Finn tentatively identified as Wexley snapped his fingers and said, “Finn, you want a drink? We got Corellian ale, whiskey, some Beldaronian palm-nectar that’s only slightly past expiration, and I make a mean Corusca sunset -”
Everyone at the table groaned.
“Not a good idea,” Poe stage-whispered, his breath puffing against Finn’s ear. “You’ll be on the floor before you see the bottom of the glass.”
Finn laughed and let his hands relax from where they’d been folded in his lap, accepting the glass Wexley handed him. Maybe his fears of being tossed out on his ex-Order ass were overblown; maybe this would actually be okay.
It was okay, right up until it wasn’t. After Finn had offered his version of their epic escape (with Poe’s colorful commentary being shouted down by his fellow pilots), talk turned to Snap’s plans for tomorrow (“I’m gonna sleep until noon and then make the recruits run laps around the base, it’ll be awesome”) and birthdays past. It seemed they’d all been flying together for years and had therefore racked up quite a few celebrations. Finn was especially fond of the tale of Poe’s last birthday, when the Resistance had just moved to D’Qar and they decided to throw their commander in the lake.
“Excuse me, I jumped of my own accord,” Poe said, lifting his nose in the air.
“Bullshit. It took four of us to hold you and you shrieked like a newborn Hutt when you hit the water.” Iolo raised his eyebrows and held up the pitcher of ale. Finn shook his head, still trying to adjust to the feeling of being tipsy. He was enjoying the warmth in the pit of his stomach and the easy laughter, but he was still a little off-balance to begin with and didn’t think any additional impairment would help.
Poe tossed back the last of his whiskey, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “And I wasn’t about to admit I was freezing my balls off, so I said the temperature was great and splashed around until they all waded in after me. Which was no one’s fault but your own,” he added to Jess, who grimaced and snapped her teeth at the finger he was pointing in her face.
Something Poe had mentioned during their tour of the base after Finn was finally discharged pinged in his memory. “Wait, isn’t there some kind of parasite in that lake?”
“Yeah, we figured that out when we all woke up the next morning covered in big purple sores,” Snap said with a sigh. He had procured a pointed paper hat from somewhere and it drooped over one ear. “Right before a formal inspection of the new hangar.”
“The general’s face,” Poe moaned, smacking his hand down on the table. It slipped off and landed on Finn’s knee.
Poe laughed along with the rest of them, though he was acutely aware of Poe’s warm, broad palm resting on his knee. Poe was a tactile sort of person and Finn didn’t usually mind his constant casual touches - liked them a lot, to tell the truth - but it was a little weird in front of so many people. He told himself it was the unfamiliar buzz of alcohol making his pulse speed up and his skin prickle.
“What about you, Finn? Got any embarrassing birthday stories to share?” Karé had her feet propped up on the corner of the table.
The words were falling out before he had a chance to think. “Oh, we didn’t have birthdays.”
“You mean -” Glancing at Poe, she let her chair drop back on four legs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Finn traced a watermark on the table with his fingertip. “No, it’s fine,” he said, his voice too loud in the sudden press of silence.
Poe picked his hand up at last, though he shifted so his leg was flush with Finn’s from thigh to ankle. “What about the time we were stranded on Lothal and that Aqualish granny put the moves on Snap?
“Oh, that was the best!” Jess exclaimed, shooting Finn a quick smile.
The discussion rambled back to their exploits over the years but it wasn’t quite the same, at least not for Finn. He was relieved when the party broke up soon after. Snap made Finn promise to take a look at his modified blaster and Jess hugged him, then slugged Poe on the arm. He was still rubbing it absently as he and Finn headed back in the direction of their rooms.
“Sorry,” Poe said, looking over at Finn. His hair had finally given up after a long day and he kept pushing it back. “I know they can be a bit much.”
“No, they’re nice.” Finn scuffed his boot over a loose stone. They walked in silence for a few moments before he said quietly, “I know how old I am - the year, I mean. I just don’t know the date.”
Poe tucked his hands into his pockets, his mouth twisting in thought. This jacket was a darker brown with a blue stripe down the seams, but it was otherwise similar to the one stashed on a shelf in Finn’s closet. Or what was left of it, anyway. It was stupid to keep it (impracticable, his CO would have said) because the leather was damaged beyond Finn’s ability to patch it, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.
“You could pick one,” he suggested, his face brightening.
“Really?”
Poe knocked against his shoulder, laughing as they both stumbled. “Sure, why not? It’s an arbitrary date, if you think about it. Just an excuse for a little extra fun once a year. Or really stupid pranks, if you’re unlucky enough to know certain people,” he added darkly.
He deposited Finn at his door with a one-armed hug, his shoulders hunched against the deepening chill. Finn bid him a distracted goodnight, still thinking about the idea of choosing his own birthday. He commed Rey when he couldn’t nod off, hoping she was neither asleep nor meditating nor chasing Master Skywalker’s metaphors all over her island.
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” she said, cocking her head on the little blue screen. “I don’t know my birthday, either.”
That was half the reason Finn had wanted to talk to her. Not for the first time, he wished she could shift her training back to the base so he wouldn’t be the only misfit around - and so he wouldn’t miss her so much.
“Okay, so you pick your day and I’ll pick mine.”
“Deal,” she said with a smile.
They chatted for a bit longer (she’d had to climb a bluff to observe the nesting behavior of some rare bird that day, the point of which exercise was not entirely clear to her or to Finn).
“You ever need a rescue, just let me know,” Finn said before breaking the connection, like he always did, even though she was the one with the legendary ship at her disposal. The image faded out on the annoyed face Rey made at him.
His door chimed at a far too early hour. Yawning, Finn opened it to find Poe standing there with a plastic container full of something pink and fluffy, wearing his jacket over sweatpants and a sheepish expression.
“I couldn’t sleep, thinking about you never having had a proper birthday,” he explained, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “So I got up early and snuck into the kitchen to make you this.” He held up the package. “Cake. Traditional birthday fare. The frosting is Iolo’s recipe and he insists it has to be this violent pink or it doesn’t taste right.”
Finn stared at him for a moment. There was a swipe of flour on his cheek and the urge to reach up and wipe it off was almost unbearable.
“I did pick a day,” was all he could think to say.
The faint anxiety on Poe’s face faded into a grin. “Yeah?”
Finn nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on that pale smear and not on Poe’s eyes. “The day I decided to defect.” The day I met you - but he couldn’t say it aloud, not when Poe was standing there at his door at 06:00 with his first birthday present in twenty-three years.
“So I’m just a little late, then, or else really early for next year,” Poe said, shouldering past him to deposit the cake on his tiny desk.
He’d brought a knife but no forks, so they cut big wedges and ate with their hands, sitting on the floor with their backs to the bed. Finn’s eyes shuttered closed when he took his first bite. He’d had dessert with some of his meals, but everything in Medical tended toward the bland. This was so sugary it made his teeth ache.
“It’s good,” he said, crumbs dropping into his lap. Poe beamed at him, icing clinging to his day-old stubble.
His computer console pinged while Poe was cutting them second slices. Finn pulled himself up, careful of the stretch in his back muscles, to read the incoming text comm.
“It’s from Rey,” he said, smiling down at Poe. “She decided to make the day she got off Jakku her official birthday.”
Poe gave him a thumbs-up. “So that gives me almost a year to plan for both of you. I can work with that.”
“And we’ll all be together next year,” Finn said, unable to stop the catch in his throat. He couldn’t quite say what caused it, either. Having a birthday and people to share it with, or the knowledge that they were living out a war and there was no guarantee they’d all make it to next year; or maybe it was a bit of both.
Poe handed over another piece of cake, his hand lingering on Finn’s wrist.
“Count on it,” he said, his voice low and warm.
Finn was caught between his touch and the depth of sincerity in his eyes. For a long moment he forgot to breathe.
Oh shit, he thought with something close to despair.
To stop himself saying something he was bound to regret (You’re so pretty or I might be in love with you or Can I lick that icing off your lip?), he stuffed cake in his mouth. It was a little hard to swallow, but it worked.
Poe held his piece up and gazed at it thoughtfully, apparently none the wiser on Finn’s complete internal breakdown. “You think it’d go stale if we did a drive-by to Planet Jedi Training Camp?”