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The thing about Poe is that he’s a stubborn son of a mynock. Both figuratively and literally – Shara Bey’s fearsome reputation in the Rebel Alliance – and Poe’s determination in all matters of the heart and mind.
Sure, he had a wild period, and he took off to run spice. He thought he had found his match in Zorii, sharp-tongued and wily, but that hadn’t worked out. That had ended in blaster beams, frostbite, harsh words, and hurt feelings, and it’s a bad memory that he tries to forget.
Rebellion is in his blood, and, of course, he joins the New Republic just as serious rumors of the First Order begin to surface, and, later, the Resistance.
But this isn’t about that. Not really.
This is about how he has a persistent kriffing crush on Finn, former stormtrooper turned ally turned friend turned co-general.
He doesn’t know how to explain it.
For example: Poe thinks that Finn’s one of the bravest people he’s ever met.
Which is saying something, because they live in a galaxy full of heroes, but Poe’s never felt more happier that Finn’s by his side.
They’ve been raised on war, but in different ways. Poe has this entire legacy behind him, stories of the Empire falling, stories about honor and flight, while Finn learned to shoot a blaster around the same time he learned how to walk.
Yet still, Finn fights. Finn smiles, genuine and happy, when seeing Poe emerge from the latest mission alive – Finn hugs him warmly and closely – Finn banters with Poe when he ribs at him – Finn looks damn good in his jacket.
And this is what Poe does – he looks. It’s just watching, anyway, since Finn seems to have his own thing going on with Rey – with Rose – with Jannah – with other people –
“Buddy,” Snap says, patting Poe on the shoulder, “you’ve got it bad.”
“What?” Poe says, blinking.
Rey and Finn are sitting together. Finn makes animated gestures, his voice too far away to make out, and Rey responds. Rey’s about to leave for a Jedi-related mission, and they’re both clearly absorbed in conversation about that.
Snap clears his throat. “I know you’re the new general now. But, kid, since I first met you trying to talk up your baby pilot knowledge to my mom, you haven’t changed in a lot of ways.”
“I was eight,” Poe says, with a groan. “It was my ma’s funeral and I was… out of it.”
Even though he was mourning, he had wanted to impress the pilot who had flown beside Shara Bey to attack the Death Star during the Battle of Endor.
Norra Wexley. Alongside Wedge Antilles, she had been one of his instructors at flight academy. He had been mortified, until one day she told him that he flew like his mother.
“What’s your point, Snap?” Poe says.
Snap sighs. “Look. The war is over. We’ve just been cleaning up, picking up scattered stormtroopers and collaborators across the galaxy, and you can relax! That means wiping that pathetic porg look off your face, inviting—friends—for private games of dejarik—”
“Are you telling me to get laid?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not talking about this,” Poe says.
It isn’t like he hasn’t tried, with Zorii still crashing with the Resistance and accompanying them on missions. Of course, she wants nothing to do with him, except maybe the occasional platonic drink while reminiscing about the old days. It always ends in some sort of quarrel, even if it isn’t as bad as the time on Kijimi.
It’s all futile, he knows. He knows that trying to reconnect with Zorii is an attempt to convince himself that she’s the one he’s cared about all along, first real love of the past catching up to him.
That doesn’t change the fact that someone else had swooped into Poe’s life, freed him from death onboard a star destroyer, and continually amazes him.
Snap is giving Poe a pitying look. It’s the kind of look Snap gives droids that are malfunctioning.
“Communication is an essential part of being a general and leader,” Snap says. “Tell him.” With that, he pats Poe on the shoulder again and walks away.
“Am I really being that obvious?” Poe wonders out loud.
BB-8, who had rolled in during the middle of conversation, chirps.
“Not you, too,” Poe says.
More beeps.
“I’m sure it’ll go away. It’s ridiculous and—”
BB-8 interrupts.
“Absolutely not.”
After the latest mission, Finn and Jannah race orbaks outside the base.
Going by the cheering and shouting by enthusiastic Resistance members, it’s clear that bets have been placed. Poe wonders if, as general, he should technically enforce the anti-gambling statutes in the handbook.
To be fair, those are old rules inherited from the Rebel Alliance, trying to clamp down on the high stakes sabacc ring Han Solo started once he joined.
“Mon Mothma has no sense of humor,” Wedge once confided to Poe, wryly.
Anyways, what are rules to the Resistance?
The orbaks gallop full speed ahead, manes nearly brushing as the creatures are neck and neck. Hooves thudding, they kick up a storm of dust and leaves, while their tusks tear across overhanging leaves and branches.
Finn’s got his eyes narrowed in determination. Poe takes a second to take in the sight, Finn clinging onto white fur and charging forward.
They’re almost to the finish line, but suddenly, Jannah’s orbak leaps, vaulting ahead, and Jannah lets out a gleeful yip, her hair streaming behind her.
She’s won. The crowd of Resistance members roar, while Finn slows his orbak to a trot, then a stop. He’s grinning good-naturedly as he dismounts and says something to Jannah that makes her smile.
“I lost fifteen credits,” a voice says, and Rose sidles up next to him, a rueful expression on her face. “Even though Jannah’s an experienced rider, you’d think he’d have a leg up with those newly discovered Force powers. How much did you lose?”
“I didn’t bet at all,” Poe says.
He doesn’t even bother to challenge her assumption that he would bet on Finn.
“You don’t want to play favorites, General?”
“He’s my co-general,” Poe says, with a shrug.
“I know it’s hard.”
Poe starts. “Sorry?”
Rose says, “He’s kind and brave and smart. I couldn’t look away, either.”
Poe lets out a cough. “Rose, I don’t understand—"
“He turned me down, by the way,” Rose says. “But, hey, that’s life. We live in a big, wide galaxy.”
Rose turns sobers and continues, “Sometimes things work out one way. Sometimes they go in a different direction entirely. My sister – when we watched holodramas as kids, she loved the dramatic romances and adventures, and she wanted to live an exciting life like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Poe says.
“And an exciting life sucks,” Rose says, with a short laugh. “Me, I’m blasting at the bad guys with a cute Resistance fighter by my side one day, then crying when I hear which of my friends died in the last mission the next day.”
Yeah, Poe thinks. The reality is different. It’s not all grandstanding legends. He knows his parents had fallen for each other during wartime, but they had barely been able to see each other, and every day they had worried about the other’s safety.
Even if the war seems over, even if the main fighting’s calmed down, that doesn’t mean that the danger is entirely gone.
“All you can do,” Poe says, “is just keep going and watch their backs when you can.”
Rose nods. “Drink grog with your friends who are living, play a game of sabacc—” ha, of course, the sabacc ring is still thriving –“and occasionally appreciate when they look like a handsome kriffing holodrama warrior riding into battle and saving the day.”
Poe can’t help but laugh, then, and say, “You’re right.”
“It’s artistic appreciation,” Rose says, nodding sagely.
“Very artistic.”
When Rey returns with a newly crafted yellow lightsaber, Poe joins Finn in examining it while onboard the recently landed Millennium Falcon. She had made it with the help of old Jedi texts and the Force, using fragments of her quarterstaff and other scavenged mechanisms.
“Nice,” Finn says, turning it over in his hands. “You didn’t use a button like the other one. It’s got a gear.”
Rey inclines her head. “I thought it would be a neat modification.”
“Does the color mean anything special?” Finn says, igniting it, and waving it around. “Does it change the weight or the speed or the power?”
“I don’t think so,” Rey says. “Going by the old texts, it has to do with the kyber crystal bonding with Force users. Every person gets their own color.”
Finn nods thoughtfully and extinguishes the saber.
“So,” Poe says, nudging Finn with his shoulder, “what color do you think yours is going to be? You going on a lightsaber building journey next?”
Finn blinks. “Me? A lightsaber?”
“Since you’re Force sensitive.”
Poe knows that Finn has been doing some Force trainings with Rey, the both of them going off to the forest alone. Sometimes he wants to follow them, but he holds himself back.
“We’ve been mostly meditating so far,” Finn says. “Not exactly full-fledged Jedi training.”
Rey says, “Finn—”
He shakes his head. “We’ve talked about this, Rey.”
They’re staring intensely at each other, Finn’s brow furrowed, tight, while Rey gazes at him, sincere and steady.
Poe looks back and forth between them. “Is anyone going to clue me in about what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” Finn says. He hands back Rey her saber. “Your new lightsaber is great, Rey. I’ve got some, uh, business to attend to, being general and all. See you later.” He ducks outside the ship, leaving Rey and Poe alone.
“Well?” Poe demands to Rey.
Rey sighs, runs a hand across her forehead. “It’s…it’s like he said, nothing. Long story.”
“You two can’t keep doing this,” Poe says, quietly. “I know you’re our last important Jedi hero, and I know he’s your first friend. But I’m here, too.”
He will never understand Finn like Rey does, sharing a familiarity with experiencing loneliness and overcoming struggles and suffering that Poe cannot fathom. He will never understand Rey like Finn does, holding an unshaking spiritual connection to duty and goodness that Poe cannot attain.
Poe might be a brilliant pilot, but at the end of the day, these two can reach the stars in a way that Poe never can.
It should be okay, except when it isn’t, and sometimes, Poe feels like his metaphorical ship is crashing to earth, farther from the sky than ever before.
“It’s all right,” Rey says. “It’s nothing—big. We’re not really angry with each other. This is a matter that just needs some time.” She musters a smile, and says, “I actually placed a bet on the last round of orbak races. How did Finn do?”
Poe decides to let the serious moment slide and accept the change of subject. “A gambling Jedi,” he teases. “What would the old masters say? Is this what has become of the noble Jedi Order?”
“I’m no saint,” Rey retorts. “As if Luke wouldn’t pass along Han’s wagers through the Force, if he wanted to.”
“If you use the Force to determine the odds, I’m pretty sure that’s cheating.”
“It’s not.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not wrong that Jannah won, though, am I?”
“…She did.”
“I knew it!”
“Anyways, how’d it go? Crystal caves full of wonders, rampaging beasts that blocked your path, spiritual visions of dead people, new creature friends, and all that wild journey stuff?”
“All of that,” Rey says, letting out an exasperated noise. “The Jedi have always had a flair for dramatic, and of course, the quest to build a lightsaber is no different. I’m glad to be back. Does Zorii still have casks of pirate brew left?”
Poe wrinkles his nose. “Why do you even drink that bantha shit? It’s foul.”
“I grew up on Jakku, Poe,” Rey says. “I drank the same stuff that passing traders and criminals did. Resistance grog is like water to me.”
“I don’t miss it at all.”
“She’s got some good ale stashed, too,” Rey says, with a shrug. “Want to go grab a glass or two with me?”
Poe smiles. “Of course.” He pauses, adds, “I’m glad you’re back, too.”
The next morning, Poe wakes up with a raging hangover, which he admits is probably deeply unprofessional and something General Organa never would have done.
There’s a blinding pain in his forehead, as if someone had tried to carve out his brains with a vibroknife. It hurts to open his eyes.
“What the pfassk did you guys drink?”
Finn.
Dimly, Poe thinks, I wanted to wake up to Finn in the morning, but not like this.
He’s still in Zorii’s quarters onboard her ship, but it looks like he had passed out on the ground, a pillow stuck behind his head.
Rey and Zorii are both sleeping on Zorii’s bunk together – Rey, snoring, her lightsaber on the adjacent table, buns undone, her hair splayed above her like a halo; Zorii, helmet off, curled against her.
It’s a rare moment of vulnerability that Poe would be charmed by, if he wasn’t dismayed by the state of the room. Everything’s in disarray: chairs upturned, empty glasses and casks and sabacc cards littering the floor.
“I think Zorii talked me into drinking the pirate brew,” Poe says, running a hand through his mussed-up hair. “That was a bad idea.”
“And?” Finn says.
“We might have had a tussle over something or other,” Poe confesses. It was an argument about—about sabacc? about a past smuggling run gone wrong? he can’t remember—but he’s pretty sure that Rey had stepped in, defused the situation, and they had toasted to happier times.
“The entire base thought you got kidnapped,” Finn says, crossing his arms. “It was your turn to lead the morning briefing today.”
Poe winces. Deeply, deeply unprofessional indeed.
“Let’s let them sleep,” Finn says, tilting his head toward Rey and Zorii. “Come on. I’ll get you some breakfast.”
He offers his hand. Poe stares for a moment, then reaches up and grabs it, allowing Finn to help him to his feet.
Poe somehow manages to sonic shower and change clothes, his headache slowly receding to a dull ache. He exits the refresher to find Finn waiting in his quarters, bearing a bowl of porridge and a glass of water.
“Thanks,” Poe says, grateful. “Sorry for skipping out on the briefing.” He sits on his cot, setting the bowl next to him. He downs the glass of water before placing it on a nearby table.
“If you need to take a day off, you can take a day off,” Finn says. “You’ve been working hard, and everyone understands. Just, you know, let us know ahead of time.”
“Right, yeah.”
Finn takes a seat next to him on the cot. “Is there anything wrong?”
“What?” Poe says. “No, nothing.” He pauses. “What were you and Rey talking about last night that got you so worked up? About Jedi training?”
“You really want to know?”
“Of course I do,” Poe says. “I guess I feel out of the loop sometimes, you and Rey with Force stuff, you…” His lets the sentence trail off.
You and Rey. You and Jannah. You and Rose, even though that didn’t work out in the end, but still, didn’t she get to kiss you?
Whenever you’re close to everyone else who isn’t me.
Kriff, he’s so pathetically jealous.
“It’s stupid,” Finn says, letting out a deep breath. “Rey’s been offering to properly train me as a Jedi. Lightsaber training and everything.”
“And you…don’t want to?”
Finn nods. “Yeah. I can sense when there’s trouble - I know when to duck in time when getting blasted at - and the Force is helpful for finding things during missions. But I don’t know if I want to become an actual Jedi. They’re cool, the stuff of legends, but I don’t think I fit into it.
“Poe, I used to be an stormtrooper.”
“So? Rey’s background isn’t exactly all sunshine and blueblossoms, either.”
"She's much more comfortable with the Force than I am,” Finn points out. “And more importantly, Luke and Leia recognized her. Helped her along the way. She’s Rey Skywalker now. I come from nothing, and I can’t imagine putting on robes, making my own lightsaber, training the next generation of Force users, and doing all these important things that I have no right to do.”
“Okay,” Poe says. “This is nonsense. You’re talking bantha shit.”
“Yeah?” Finn scoffs.
“Finn, you’re co-general of the Resistance. You’re far from nothing, and if you want to do Jedi things, you can do Jedi things. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, too, because you’re always welcome by my side anyway. Leia didn’t become a Jedi in the end, remember?”
“Leia’s Leia,” Finn says. “I’m just Finn.”
“You’re one of the bravest and strongest people that I’ve ever met,” Poe says.
He means it, more than anything. Finn would make an amazing Jedi if he wanted to. Who cares about upholding a perfect, accurate Jedi legacy when they’re all dead?
Finn’s courageous and good, no matter what he chooses. He’s still the man who saved Poe’s life, not once, but several times over. He’s got a warm smile and a loyal heart, and Poe will always, always be watching him in the periphery.
So close, but not close enough.
On the cot, his fingers digging into the bedsheets, Poe tilts his head forward, barely breathing, hopeful, parting his lips, about to narrow the small space in between them.
Just a kiss, just one, just—
Then he registers the look on Finn’s face. A flare of shock, like he’s been struck by an ion cannon, his dark eyes wide, and oh, gods.
Immediately, Poe draws back. He makes himself breathe, biting his lip, and he lets out a shaking, shuddering laugh.
“Would you believe me if I said I was still drunk?” Poe says, his voice uneven and hoarse.
“No,” Finn says, quietly. He’s staring at Poe like he’s never seen him before.
“Yeah,” Poe says, “I don’t believe me, either.”
He stands up from his cot, and he leaves the room – leaves the base – and finds a quiet spot in the forest to silently yell at himself.
“I’m guessing by your sulking, near-catatonic state that you fucked up and that Finn guy knows you’ve been madly crushing on him.”
Near daybreak, Zorii approaches him in the forest. She’s restored to her usual, non-drunk demeanor and outfit, her helmet and modulated voice intact. A patch of red amongst the forest green.
“Hey, Zorii,” Poe says.
“Hey, Dameron,” she says.
“Why does everyone seem to know?” Poe says. He’s standing against a tree, leaves in his hair, staring aimlessly in front of him. “This is—a private matter.”
“The whole planet knows,” Zorii says, with a metallic snort. “You remember when you were pursuing me? The moonlight serenades and the—”
“Okay, okay,” Poe cuts in. “I was young and stupid. But that was Kijimi, and this is now.”
He just wants to forget it, but he knows that Zorii won’t let him.
She says, “I hated you a lot back then, you know.”
“I know.”
“You dropped out of flight academy to have an adventure. You, Poe Dameron, descended from Rebellion heroes, mentored by Rebellion bigshots. You wanted to be an outlaw and a thief, because it was glamorous, not because you grew up in the life and it was the only way you knew how to survive, find your people, and make a living.”
She’s not wrong.
He was an outsider on Kijimi, trying to talk big game about his flight skills that could outrun New Republic security forces. Even though he was basically a product of the New Republic itself, one of its beloved sons, but he’d wanted to run from the responsibilities and the legacies, from the names that hung over its head.
He felt like it was his time to run.
The first time they met, Zorii had taken one look at him and sneered, “This kid’s going back home.”
And, eventually, he did. He told himself that he was defending the world he grew up in, fighting the evil forces that his parents once fought.
But the Rebellion is in his blood, and he knows he shouldn’t have even touched ground on Kijimi in the first place, leaving broken promises in his wake.
“I know,” Poe says, his fists clenched. “I know, Zorii. I was such a stupid kid.”
“You’re still stupid now,” Zorii says. “Though I don’t hate you as much as back then. You’re not wrong about the First Order being evil murdering bastards, and I’m glad most of them are gone. That’s why I’m still lending a hand so we can eliminate them once and for all. It’s just that — you’re thick-headed, narrow-minded, and stubborn in the worst ways.”
“Thanks.”
Zorii lets out a tinny laugh. “I don’t care about you anymore, your private business, or whatever. But my advice to you as a fellow Resistance member is that we’re stronger when you keep doing what you’re doing. Leading and planning.”
She says, “You just have to be better to yourself and remove yourself from the equation.”
He makes the announcement the next morning.
The Resistance will seek to establish a new headquarters on Chandrila, asserting its presence in the Core Worlds. They’ve got to help put the galaxy back together again, and there’s no need to gather all their members and resources on a remote base any longer.
It’s time to look past wartime and into peacetime. Diplomacy, universe-building, treaties, and the like. Poe’s no politician, but as general, what else can he do? It’s time to stop acting as a rogue militia and start acting as a democracy.
“I’m in charge of the delegation,” Poe says. “General Finn will stay in command here on Ajan Kloss, rounding up remaining First Order stragglers trying to flee to the Outer Rim. On Chandrila, I’ll start reviving New Republic alliances and drafting up agreements.
“We’ve got to do whatever it takes so the First Order will never rise again.”
Poe asks the Resistance members who wish to accompany the delegation or stay on Ajan Kloss to nominate themselves. He’s already got a list in mind, but he wants to get a better idea of their preferences and abilities. He wants to know which ones will help him build up the Republic again, and which ones are ready to finish the fight and go home.
It’s a sweeping speech with a call to action.
The entire time, he doesn’t bother to look Finn in the eye.
Later, nighttime, Finn enters his quarters, bristling. “You didn’t tell me about the Chandrila delegation. We’re both generals, Poe. You can’t make decisions without consulting me.”
Poe, who’s nursing a glass of ale, puts it aside. “It’s not a bad idea, though, is it?”
Finn pauses. “No. You’re right, it’s a good idea. But if this is about—”
“It’s not.”
He’s had the plan for a while, based on advice from Wedge, Snap, Commander D’Acy, Nien Nunb, and other older officers and allies, who have been saying: It’s time for the Republic to reform.
He had been pushing back, saying, Let’s make sure we wipe out the First Order for good. Before we start knocking on the doors of all these capital cities, we’ve got prove to the galaxy that we’re not misfit rebels.
It was a selfish, hesitant delay. Poe’s grown used to the life of a guerilla fighter, his friends by his side and them against the universe. He didn’t want to venture out to confront these cowards in glass towers, who have collaborated with or passively tolerated the First Order, and he knows it’s going to be a long, hard road to democracy.
But there are good people out there. He knows that many people hailing from the Core Worlds had come during the Battle of Exegol. He just has to find them.
Besides, he’s ruined everything with Finn already, and fine, maybe this is about that, just a little.
“How long?” Finn says, abruptly. “And I’m not asking about Chandrila.”
Poe turns his face towards the shadows. “I don’t know. Probably since - the Finalizer.”
Since the Finalizer at the earliest, but the little things after that, too.
Ever since I named you, and you bear your name like Rey bears the Skywalker name. Ever since I gave you my jacket, and you wear it nearly every day now. Ever since you decided to fight in the Resistance and not run away, even though I’m running, I’m always running, still that stupid stubborn kid who ditched flight academy to become a smuggler.
I’m running away from you now.
“Kriff,” Finn says. “Poe, you’re my friend. One of my best friends. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Say whatever you told Rose when you turned her down.”
“That’s different. She kissed me and told me straight on. You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
“I was trying to send some signals early on,” Poe says. “But you didn’t notice.”
“I grew up as a stormtrooper. I wasn’t exactly taught by relationship experts about any of this.”
Poe snorts. “Yeah, imagine General Hux delivering rousing speeches about dating and romance… you know, I still can’t believe he was the traitor.”
Finn lets out a low laugh. “I can respect that. At least he died on the side of the good guys, no matter how petty his reasons were for defecting.”
“We’ll still never issue any medals or memorials in his name, though.”
“Definitely not,” Finn agrees, firmly.
There’s a stretch of silence between them. Finn is the one who moves first, and he reaches out and takes Poe’s hand in his.
“I don’t feel like you do,” he says.
“I know you don’t,” Poe begins.
“Hey, shut up,” Finn says. “Let me finish.”
Poe nods. He lets himself feel Finn’s hand in his, warm and certain.
“I’m going to stay here on on Ajan Kloss,” Finn says. “I don’t think I’ll be picking up a lightsaber anytime soon, but I think I’m fine with Rey giving me more Force training, pushes and pulls and floating stuff. And you’re not wrong, it makes sense for me to be in charge, and we’ll do it – we’ll get rid of the First Order around the Outer Rim.
“Once we’re done, I’ll meet you on Chandrila. I don’t know if I can feel like you do, at least not yet, but maybe I could. I’m not promising you anything, but, Poe Dameron, you’re my first friend, and you can’t run away from me forever, all right?”
Poe exhales and smiles. It’s not a declaration of love; it’s not a perfect scene out of a holodrama, like Rose said.
Yet Finn is still Finn, and whatever happens, he’s still his, no matter what will happen in the future.
“I’ll see you on Chandrila,” Poe says. They clasp their hands together tighter, sealing the promise.
One day, he’ll be waiting for the Millennium Falcon to touch down, and they’ll run and embrace underneath the violet sky of Chandrila.
But it’s not that day, not yet.