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[ Poe Dameron always imagined that when he took his mother's ring from the chain around his neck, it would mean that he had finally found his person. It would mean that he had promised himself to someone, and that person had promised their self in return. They would belong to each other.
When his ring catches the light, a perfect fit on Rey's finger, he doesn't feel that sense of belonging he always imagined. What he feels instead is bittersweet; unfulfilled yearning. It's exactly what he wanted, what he's fantasized about more often than he'd ever admit, but it isn't real. Of course it isn't. He and Rey— she doesn't see him that way, and his incredibly mature response to that has been to proverbially pull on her pigtails like a kid with a playground crush.
This night has been an ongoing test of Poe's willpower. He hasn't been in the best mood; it's all he can do to keep the illusion of being happily married amidst a nosy crowd, but it's been a drain on his interpersonal skills. He's been crotchety and gruff and altogether unfair to Rey, who doesn't owe him anything. He really needs to get it together.
He's been sulking into his drink, not giving Rey very much to work with at all, and she must have grown impatient because when he next looks up she's begun to drift away from him. He watches her weave herself into the crowd around one of the blackjack tables, instantly drawing eyes her way— she's always a sight to behold, but tonight— in that dress...
It's not a remarkable dress on its own; a simple gown, in a classic cut, solid black. The kind of dress meant to be just flashy enough for Canto Bight without truly standing out. It's also backless.
It's backless, and Poe is an idiot, and when he finally gathers himself enough to join Rey at the blackjack table he thoughtlessly moves a hand to the small of her back. The palm of his hand is met with the warmth of her skin. How can someone raised in a desert feel so soft?
Damn it. He should have begged Finn to take this mission instead. ]
When his ring catches the light, a perfect fit on Rey's finger, he doesn't feel that sense of belonging he always imagined. What he feels instead is bittersweet; unfulfilled yearning. It's exactly what he wanted, what he's fantasized about more often than he'd ever admit, but it isn't real. Of course it isn't. He and Rey— she doesn't see him that way, and his incredibly mature response to that has been to proverbially pull on her pigtails like a kid with a playground crush.
This night has been an ongoing test of Poe's willpower. He hasn't been in the best mood; it's all he can do to keep the illusion of being happily married amidst a nosy crowd, but it's been a drain on his interpersonal skills. He's been crotchety and gruff and altogether unfair to Rey, who doesn't owe him anything. He really needs to get it together.
He's been sulking into his drink, not giving Rey very much to work with at all, and she must have grown impatient because when he next looks up she's begun to drift away from him. He watches her weave herself into the crowd around one of the blackjack tables, instantly drawing eyes her way— she's always a sight to behold, but tonight— in that dress...
It's not a remarkable dress on its own; a simple gown, in a classic cut, solid black. The kind of dress meant to be just flashy enough for Canto Bight without truly standing out. It's also backless.
It's backless, and Poe is an idiot, and when he finally gathers himself enough to join Rey at the blackjack table he thoughtlessly moves a hand to the small of her back. The palm of his hand is met with the warmth of her skin. How can someone raised in a desert feel so soft?
Damn it. He should have begged Finn to take this mission instead. ]
[ she is not inherently unused to poe dameron being mad at her. it's an unfortunate reality of their close quarters, only exacerbated by the fact that they both have easily riled tempers and strong opinions, and given the regularly life-or-death nature of their crises, it's honestly a little surprising that it hasn't come to blows yet. though, admittedly, that's usually finn's credit to take. it's only his mediation between them (and the fact that the rest of the resistance would probably be crippled by the loss of their in-house jedi master and/or newly named general) that manages to keep things at a simmer.
this mission is different. they're alone, for one thing; for another, they aren't on ajan kloss. they're on canto bight, surrounded by the one percenter galactic neutrals that make their money on slave trades and questionable mines, planted here to hopefully curry favors from a pair of abednedo siblings. a jealous pair, they don't take kindly to individual approaches, rather interpreting it as romantic manipulation to split them apart.
thus, the married pair. thus, rey and poe, competent enough to handle whatever canto bight may throw at them — at least, that had been finn's reasoning as he and rose had pushed them into the small carrier ship that took them across the galaxy, offering neither freedom nor escape in an x-wing or the falcon. they'd be on canto bight until extraction came, scheduled a few days from now; until then, they'd have to make the most of things.
their appointment with the abednedos is the next evening. this evening is about keeping up appearances, playing the part. they're well aware they're being watched, so despite poe's sulking fit at having to be seen with her, rey plays the game. she smiles, even when it makes her face hurt, and sips at tall flute glasses of who knows what, and tosses money around at the tables until —
until someone's hand presses against her back, familiar and possessive in its placement, and she turns in to find herself tucked up against the man himself, surprise all too evident on her face before she even has a chance to school her expression. ]
Hello.
[ there's a faint flush to her cheeks that might be surprise. it might also be the two and a half glasses of whatever she's drunk, or the sudden awareness of just how warm his hand is against her back. ]
You came back.
[ he has been sulking all night. ]
this mission is different. they're alone, for one thing; for another, they aren't on ajan kloss. they're on canto bight, surrounded by the one percenter galactic neutrals that make their money on slave trades and questionable mines, planted here to hopefully curry favors from a pair of abednedo siblings. a jealous pair, they don't take kindly to individual approaches, rather interpreting it as romantic manipulation to split them apart.
thus, the married pair. thus, rey and poe, competent enough to handle whatever canto bight may throw at them — at least, that had been finn's reasoning as he and rose had pushed them into the small carrier ship that took them across the galaxy, offering neither freedom nor escape in an x-wing or the falcon. they'd be on canto bight until extraction came, scheduled a few days from now; until then, they'd have to make the most of things.
their appointment with the abednedos is the next evening. this evening is about keeping up appearances, playing the part. they're well aware they're being watched, so despite poe's sulking fit at having to be seen with her, rey plays the game. she smiles, even when it makes her face hurt, and sips at tall flute glasses of who knows what, and tosses money around at the tables until —
until someone's hand presses against her back, familiar and possessive in its placement, and she turns in to find herself tucked up against the man himself, surprise all too evident on her face before she even has a chance to school her expression. ]
Hello.
[ there's a faint flush to her cheeks that might be surprise. it might also be the two and a half glasses of whatever she's drunk, or the sudden awareness of just how warm his hand is against her back. ]
You came back.
[ he has been sulking all night. ]
... Fine. If I'm the one who breaks first.
[ this is a terrible idea why are they doing it ]
[ this is a terrible idea why are they doing it ]
[ committing to a bad idea because neither of them will swallow their pride and back down ftl ]
We'll see about that.
Just so we're clear, it won't count if you cheat.
We'll see about that.
Just so we're clear, it won't count if you cheat.
Why is your first thought always the brain washing thing? Are you just thinking about that all the time?
[ should he be concerned? ]
[ should he be concerned? ]
[ he's not actually worried about that. even if he thought she might, he knows from experience that it takes more than a casual handwave to get in his head. thanks for that kylo ]
Look, you're the Jedi, not me, all I know is that you use the Force to do all kinds of things. None of that.
Look, you're the Jedi, not me, all I know is that you use the Force to do all kinds of things. None of that.
[ he's normally a fan of that convenience, yes ]
Yeah, but this isn't 'usually.'
Are you still working on the Falcon or what?
Yeah, but this isn't 'usually.'
Are you still working on the Falcon or what?
That's fine, I'll be there before you can finish without me.
[ not that it would count, obviously ]
[ not that it would count, obviously ]
I'm about to step on the boarding ramp, so you tell me.
[ of course she wouldn't have assumed that he was sitting around in his office texting her all this ]
[ of course she wouldn't have assumed that he was sitting around in his office texting her all this ]
Probably carbon scoring or burns from re-entering atmo but I’ll take a look. It’s been awhile since I played mechanic but I’m sure x-wings haven’t changed much in 20 years.
[ does he know the game she’s playing? obviously. could he also be doing starship maintenance shirtless? if asked to. ]
[ does he know the game she’s playing? obviously. could he also be doing starship maintenance shirtless? if asked to. ]
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