[ sometimes, when she's at her most irrational, being shut up with a kiss only fuels the fire. like having a hand clamped over her mouth or a hissed threat shot in her direction, being kissed into silence can make her dig her heels in harder, break away with vicious outrage that kills any attempt at romance.
now is not one of those times. now, with the blinders of irrational fury set aside, with guilt expelled via blurted apologies, all rey has left is a sorrow that's easily swept away, a sadness that simply melts into unearned forgiveness as he gathers her up in hands much kinder than she deserves. all that there is between them now is the warmth and resilience of choice — that they choose to come back to each other despite all the hard moments, that he chooses to love her despite how horribly she flies off the handle sometimes, that she chooses to stay despite how easy it would be to run.
so he kisses her, and rey lets him. her body goes slack with the relief of it, stunned into stillness for a brief moment until her hands release their grip on his shirt in order to reach up and wrap around his neck, one of them sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck in a cradle that's reserved for the moments when she wants to pull herself as close as she can without sliding under his skin. it's an embrace that's, at first, breathless gratitude, but it doesn't take long for warmth to sneak in, set aside by his early departure this morning and the fact that she has missed him, despite how cruel she'd been.
when they break, when his mouth pulls apart from hers just enough to take in a breath, she's quick to fill the silence (like always) with a few words no one asked for. ]
Be with me, [ a demand and a question both, a familiar set of words now — but they are shorthand for rey's most fervently held insecurities, her most crippling fears. be with me, she asks, because she needs the confirmation: that he'll stay, now and always. ]
[ That sort of warmth tends to work its way into their kisses whenever they linger in them long enough, whatever mood they happen to be in, but even that is a reassuring undercurrent to their embraces, a passion that runs deep regardless of whether or not they're at odds. They can, and have, gotten carried away right here under the trees.
Right now though he's searching for her eyes once he can resist the pull he feels toward her mouth. If anything's going to settle her and assuage those fears and regrets that are still clinging to her, it may be the unwavering confidence and acceptance that she sees in those dark, serious eyes, one that's equally matched by the gentle brush of his thumbs across her jawline, soft and affectionate and subtly possessive at the same time. ]
I am with you. [ He drops one hand to settle on her chest, fingers splayed over her heart. ] Always. I need you, Rey, more than anyone. I'm never going to forget that, and you don't have to prove that you're worth it. I already know that you are.
[ He can't promise that he won't be protective. He won't say that his ego won't get the better of him at times and his temper won't rise, especially when his patience is worn thin, but the truth of the matter remains, unchanged and unaffected. He needs Finn. He needs her in ways he's only starting to fully understand, a little more every day he's with her. ]
I'm sorry too. I should have just gone with that.
[ He knows better, and though he doesn't always admit it in so many words, apologizing demands a certain swallowing of his pride, her vulnerability deserves some soul-bearing of his own in turn. ]
[ she doesn't reply. not in words, anyway, not immediately; for a long moment, rey is quiet, content to simply peer up at him, to soak in the sincerity of his words and the reassurance in his gaze. he talks, and for now, she does not interrupt him, simply letting her eyes close once he finishes with a small nod before leaning in, curling into an embrace that lets her cheek settle against his chest, his hand trapped between them.
it's only once she can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath his skin that she lets out a long-held breath, a little shaky for the adrenaline still racing in her veins. ]
Sometimes I hate having to share you. [ not like this, but. with the resistance, with the people that depend on him, with the fight they all have to pitch in to keep alive. there may not be massive battles on the horizon or death tolls to bury them, but there were dangers still ever-present, and no one rested simply because one enemy was gone. there was always something. ] I — I've never had anything that was just mine.
[ and waking up alone, sometimes, reminds her of that sharing, the temporary loss sharp in her chest. ]
[ At times Poe thinks about his parents, how soon after the war was over that they ended up retiring, and about the fact that he doesn't see any such end in sight for himself. The way things turned out after that war is a big part of it, even though he wasn't thinking about that when he swore he would see things through to the end this time. It's not really over, and he's not sure if it ever will be, in some ways. At the very least he can't even consider stepping back until he's confident that he's passing his title off to someone he can trust with it, and someone he could leave to it, and that's just not possible yet.
But that doesn't mean he hasn't thought about it, what things would be like if neither of them had to be a part of this. No emergency meetings, no dangerous missions, no pacing and waiting for the other to come back when they're half a galaxy apart. Just them, and something like a normal life. It's what his mother would have wanted for him. What his father thinks he'll have, eventually, and he barely knows what it would look like. Just that he's considered what shape it would take. With Rey.
He's comfortable with her in his arms, leaning into his chest, where his free hand easily settles on the back of her neck, his arm resting against her back. They may not be able to stay out here forever, but the way he holds her implies that he wants to. Even as things stand now, he won't pry her away before she's ready to let go. ]
You don't share everything. [ He has to remind her, his fingertips circling through the strands of loose hair that are too short to have been caught up in her knots. ] I'm still yours, even when I have to go be General Dameron.
[ As if he ever stops, but she knows what he means. ]
[ it's a correction, but not an unkind one. it's hard to be snappish or curt when his fingertips are tracing gentle patterns in her hair, his palm warm against her skin. it's hard to do anything but let her own hand pry his from between them, bringing it up to her mouth for a soft press of lips against skin before she releases it. ]
I don't — I don't want to own you. [ she has seen that. slavery is not so eradicated from the galaxy as some people might want to think. she has seen it on jakku, seen it even now as she continues her work amongst planets, rooting out the last traces of the sith or the first order or any that might want to pick up their work. the darkest corners of humanity still thrive in the shadows. ] I just miss you when you're gone.
[ and, in return, when she's away and he's on base, she misses him still. he's become such a part of her that it's impossible not to miss him, even with holofeeds and communicators and all the technology between them. she just misses him. his warmth, his smile, the weight of his body pressing against her own in sleep... being alone is hard to readjust to. ]
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no subject
now is not one of those times. now, with the blinders of irrational fury set aside, with guilt expelled via blurted apologies, all rey has left is a sorrow that's easily swept away, a sadness that simply melts into unearned forgiveness as he gathers her up in hands much kinder than she deserves. all that there is between them now is the warmth and resilience of choice — that they choose to come back to each other despite all the hard moments, that he chooses to love her despite how horribly she flies off the handle sometimes, that she chooses to stay despite how easy it would be to run.
so he kisses her, and rey lets him. her body goes slack with the relief of it, stunned into stillness for a brief moment until her hands release their grip on his shirt in order to reach up and wrap around his neck, one of them sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck in a cradle that's reserved for the moments when she wants to pull herself as close as she can without sliding under his skin. it's an embrace that's, at first, breathless gratitude, but it doesn't take long for warmth to sneak in, set aside by his early departure this morning and the fact that she has missed him, despite how cruel she'd been.
when they break, when his mouth pulls apart from hers just enough to take in a breath, she's quick to fill the silence (like always) with a few words no one asked for. ]
Be with me, [ a demand and a question both, a familiar set of words now — but they are shorthand for rey's most fervently held insecurities, her most crippling fears. be with me, she asks, because she needs the confirmation: that he'll stay, now and always. ]
no subject
Right now though he's searching for her eyes once he can resist the pull he feels toward her mouth. If anything's going to settle her and assuage those fears and regrets that are still clinging to her, it may be the unwavering confidence and acceptance that she sees in those dark, serious eyes, one that's equally matched by the gentle brush of his thumbs across her jawline, soft and affectionate and subtly possessive at the same time. ]
I am with you. [ He drops one hand to settle on her chest, fingers splayed over her heart. ] Always. I need you, Rey, more than anyone. I'm never going to forget that, and you don't have to prove that you're worth it. I already know that you are.
[ He can't promise that he won't be protective. He won't say that his ego won't get the better of him at times and his temper won't rise, especially when his patience is worn thin, but the truth of the matter remains, unchanged and unaffected. He needs Finn. He needs her in ways he's only starting to fully understand, a little more every day he's with her. ]
I'm sorry too. I should have just gone with that.
[ He knows better, and though he doesn't always admit it in so many words, apologizing demands a certain swallowing of his pride, her vulnerability deserves some soul-bearing of his own in turn. ]
no subject
it's only once she can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath his skin that she lets out a long-held breath, a little shaky for the adrenaline still racing in her veins. ]
Sometimes I hate having to share you. [ not like this, but. with the resistance, with the people that depend on him, with the fight they all have to pitch in to keep alive. there may not be massive battles on the horizon or death tolls to bury them, but there were dangers still ever-present, and no one rested simply because one enemy was gone. there was always something. ] I — I've never had anything that was just mine.
[ and waking up alone, sometimes, reminds her of that sharing, the temporary loss sharp in her chest. ]
no subject
But that doesn't mean he hasn't thought about it, what things would be like if neither of them had to be a part of this. No emergency meetings, no dangerous missions, no pacing and waiting for the other to come back when they're half a galaxy apart. Just them, and something like a normal life. It's what his mother would have wanted for him. What his father thinks he'll have, eventually, and he barely knows what it would look like. Just that he's considered what shape it would take. With Rey.
He's comfortable with her in his arms, leaning into his chest, where his free hand easily settles on the back of her neck, his arm resting against her back. They may not be able to stay out here forever, but the way he holds her implies that he wants to. Even as things stand now, he won't pry her away before she's ready to let go. ]
You don't share everything. [ He has to remind her, his fingertips circling through the strands of loose hair that are too short to have been caught up in her knots. ] I'm still yours, even when I have to go be General Dameron.
[ As if he ever stops, but she knows what he means. ]
no subject
[ it's a correction, but not an unkind one. it's hard to be snappish or curt when his fingertips are tracing gentle patterns in her hair, his palm warm against her skin. it's hard to do anything but let her own hand pry his from between them, bringing it up to her mouth for a soft press of lips against skin before she releases it. ]
I don't — I don't want to own you. [ she has seen that. slavery is not so eradicated from the galaxy as some people might want to think. she has seen it on jakku, seen it even now as she continues her work amongst planets, rooting out the last traces of the sith or the first order or any that might want to pick up their work. the darkest corners of humanity still thrive in the shadows. ] I just miss you when you're gone.
[ and, in return, when she's away and he's on base, she misses him still. he's become such a part of her that it's impossible not to miss him, even with holofeeds and communicators and all the technology between them. she just misses him. his warmth, his smile, the weight of his body pressing against her own in sleep... being alone is hard to readjust to. ]