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If Poe had known that management meant he’d spend all his time in meetings, he’d go back in time and tell his younger self to kill any desire for career advancement.
There was some satisfaction in mentorship, but the rest of it was a mindless hum. There were days he still got to fly and he found himself looking forward to them. The only issue was they were few and far between despite the fact he could see planes take off and land from his office window all day.
Adding to the irritation was the fact that Poe would rather eat toothpaste than fill out paperwork, particularly the most tedious and unnecessary new hire checklist in the world. They were getting a new Aeronautical Engineer. Fantastic. Resume reviewed, degree verified, references checked, and application processed through the crappiest and touchiest HR department known to man. So why the hell did he have to manually transfer the information from this guy’s resume onto this dumb form? It was just going to be filed away for no one to ever look at again.
There was one silver lining though: at least this wasn’t his millionth time looking and/or hearing this information. When he was still Commander Dameron, he would have had to sit in on hiring interviews. Now that he was a Captain (a rank he hated because Captain Dameron sounded like an off-brand breakfast cereal), he could delegate those tasks to various underlings. Well, at least, underlings that wouldn’t fight back because it was technically still his job.
New guy was overqualified was Poe’s first thought. Top school, top grades (God, he’s young, too -- who else would put their GPA on a resume?), and he even worked for a top private ‘defense’ company for a few years. The First Order were state-sanctioned arms dealers and Poe had his doubts about anyone that’d work for them, but they were exclusive and demanded the best so if he’d made it there then he was definitely going to have an easy time working a federal job.
Not that Poe was complaining. The money was good enough for him to buy a house, support the most pampered dog in the tristate area, drive a nice car, and how many people can say they own their own plane? Granted, he bought it from a buddy of his and it was a certified piece of junk before he spent the long grueling hours on it, but it was a real, functioning plane nonetheless. And even after all that, he had money to spare. Not much, of course, because the government doesn’t pay that good.
But it was enough to support his...other hobby.
His...religion.
His ‘religion’ being “FN-2187” -- a cam model that Poe more or less worshiped in all ways. And who knew the God he’d worship was a too-young-for-him college student that could wear the most holy smile while doing the most sinful things? FN himself may not be omnipotent and omnipresent but he controlled Poe in every way. Physically (very physically), mentally (Poe thought about him all the time), and emotionally (‘cause FN canceled a stream once and Poe was in a piss-poor mood the entirety of the next day).
Poe couldn’t help but tithe a portion of each paycheck to him every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Everything FN sent Poe to dizzying new heights. Hell, he spent half of one stream talking about how he wanted to paint his living room and Poe tipped him $10. He was such a fucking tease; FN knew exactly what he was doing wearing that tight crop top and even tighter short-shorts. He did the “innocent college kid who needed a real man to show him how to use a power tool” shtick often for the older crowd pretty often. The build up was tortuous, but the stream ended with FN riding a seven-inch dildo while moaning and begging for the chat to let him come.
‘Please, please, please -- ’ FN always sounded so desperate, like a good little boy, ‘Daddy!’
So in short, FN was wonderful and handsome and very, very addictive and Poe had gone from casual viewer to a teeny tiny bit beyond obsessed in less than two years.
He never missed a single show and one of the reasons why he accepted this job as a manager was for the small pay bump and work from home privileges that came with it. FN would do surprise streams in the middle of day and he couldn’t exactly test pilot a jet and watch FN jack off at the same time. Just one of the things he thought about (again, he thought about FN a lot) when they offered (he didn’t apply, he reminded himself) the job. A small perk, so to speak, along with the money.
Money that he was going to use now to buy something off FN’s wish-list because fuck this new hire paperwork. In terms of satisfaction, the idea of buying FN a new toy or some weird Europop vinyl from the 80s was much more fulfilling. And FN spoiled the hell out of his fans, personally thanking everyone who bought something or tipped or subbed. By now, FN had seen Poe’s screen name so many times that he said it with a warm familiarity. Today, Poe was gonna get him a set of fancy kitchen knives and he got a certain little thrill off not knowing if FN would just use the knives in the kitchen or if they’d make it in front of the camera.
There wasn’t a thing FN wouldn’t do if you had the money (within reason, of course) and Poe felt suddenly irritated as he checked out because he probably didn’t have enough money for knife play. Maybe if he and a few of the other people in the chat pooled their resources they could persuade Finn to team up with that dominatrix he worked with last year for something a little more exciting though.
He could save his money. He could fuck someone offline, obviously. A real, live, breathing living someone -- male, female, none of the above, all the above. And he used to, really. Often. No cash down and they practically threw themselves at him. But gradually being Mr. Good-Looking Perfect Put-Together Pilot (their words), attracting equally Good-Looking Perfect Put-Together People to have Perfect Put-Together Vanilla Sex, got boring as hell. His exploration into the world of kink started off innocently enough with the basics. People were willing to play along with the basics. He was still able to have sex when he was satisfied with the basics.
It was when he got into the ‘too weird for me’ and ‘gross’ and ‘ew, I didn’t know you were like that’ stuff that finding willing and compatible partners became too much of a hassle.
FN was perfect that way. No judgment, barely any limits (no raceplay or weird fringe political stuff though). Just a sweet face and a filthy mind with no strings attached, no awkward morning after, and no delicate dance leading up to the big moment the night before. Just a clear, 4K image of FN’s hole filled with his latest collab’s cum, asking to be licked, lapped, and sucked clean.
Fuck the rest of the day. He can’t think about FN this much and think straight. He needed to get home and get off.
Poe went into the HR portal and without finishing the meaningless paperwork, gave what was entirely a ceremonious approval ahead of the new guy’s start date tomorrow.
Kylo realized that he probably shouldn’t work in customer service if he hated the customers. He came to this conclusion this long before there was a scheduling error that put him on the day shift instead of the graveyard. He was able to handle the kinds of people who came into a twenty-four hour convenience store at two in the morning. They were, more or less, his people: freaks, rejects, on something, and the occasional normie with a legitimate excuse for needing a gallon of milk there and then.
But the kinds of people who came into the store during the day were completely out of his comfort zone. Teenagers, families on road trips, people who smoked Pall Malls. It was barely three in the afternoon and he was exhausted from biting his tongue.
He had to bite it though because he needed the job. Rather, he needed the cash to pay for the room in the crappy house he shared with six other dudes. And the instant ramen cups and occasional Red Bull weren’t going to pay for themselves either. (But one of the upticks about this job is that he got his pick of all the items that had just gone bad and anything that wasn’t sold in the hot case.) And then there was the storage fee for all the artwork and supplies that he didn’t or couldn’t stuff in his measly room.
There were places Kylo knew he could tighten his belt and save so he could really focus on his art career. By all assessments, his work was good and he could already have a career. But the art world wasn’t full of sensitive bohemians like he thought. Instead, most people were rich douchebags, a lot of them living on mommy and daddy’s (or Daddy’s) money, and they all got a rush off thinking they were intellectuals for knowing who fucking Cezanne was. And turns out that if you don’t play ball with them and stroke their ego (‘can you even name a fucking living artist, asshole?’ wasn’t exactly an ego stroking follow-up), it is hard to really make it.
The world, Kylo concluded, was not a fucking meritocracy.
Still, a couple of his pieces were sitting in galleries right now, just with offers he wasn’t willing to accept. And he wouldn’t unless he absolutely needed to. And he’d thought long and hard about what needed really meant.
There were months where he was behind on his rent, but he could avoid the landlord pretty easily until he scounged up the cash or got an advance on his paycheck. There were some months where he spent too much on booze and bagged, store-brand pasta seemed kind of pricey. But he had a lot of things he needed to atone for and he vaguely remembered something about fasting for atonement (or whatever — it’s been a while since he’d been to temple) so he did that.
So if those were two necessities that hadn’t forced his hand just yet, then he could hold out for the day real artists begin to control the scene again.
Speaking of real artists…
‘—i, everyone!’
Capitalism said he got thirty minutes for lunch so he made himself a chili dog, went to the backroom, and pulled out his phone the moment he could, eating quickly while walking so he could hold his phone and free up his other hand.
He figured out in his first week that this particular backroom was quiet and echoed like crazy, but the walls were almost impossibly thick so no one outside could hear. Kylo was sure someone’s been beaten and tortured in here, but right now, the only thing that would be beaten and possibly tortured was his dick.
‘Oh, what I’m wearing?’ two very pretty brown eyes flickered to the chat. ‘It’s my old high school uniform. I can’t believe it still fits so well. Does...does it look weird? I thought maybe you guys would like it...I’m kind of embarrassed now actually.’
Kylo stuffed a hand down his pants immediately (who gives a crap they were still stained with chili?) He’s so fucking cute, it’s insane. Kylo nearly forgot this was just a recording of last week’s stream as the urge to reply in real time hit him. This stream was the one that made Kylo question what necessity really was and while he didn’t approve of recording shows (he respected the live experience), he scrambled to record the moment he saw the way the cream sweater-vest fit over the white dress shirt underneath, the emblem for the school strained resting over FN’s well-defined pec.
About a year ago, Kylo realized he might be a little bit in love with FN. Or a lot in love, who’s to say. He admired FN’s work ethic (three shows a week, excellent marketing), boundaries (self-respect was very attractive), and his customer service skills were top-notch (‘did you like that, baby? I can do it again, just for you, okay?’) He had amazing business acumen for someone his age. So he was hot and smart and kind and fair. Perfect boyfriend.
Not that Kylo thought FN was his boyfriend or anything.
He’s not weird about it or anything.
He just liked him.
A lot.
And wanted to listen to fun stories about his life. Give him little kisses, too. Financially support him. Watch him take off his clothes. Come home to him every night. Touch every part of him. Protect him by regularly beat the hell out of everyone in his chat. Which was normal because FN always attracted demented little freaks. And since he was so nice, he didn't realize they were probably dangerous and shouldn’t be indulged.
But it’s also probably thanks to their excessive deviance that FN and him had a different (special) rapport than he did with other people in the chat.
Kylo knew FN recognized him more by the way he was always the first one to ask how FN’s day was going than his screen name. ‘Cause FN always smiled so brightly when he answered (like he was happy to see a normal person in the mix for once), My day was pretty good, Ren. I was hoping the weather would be better though! How’s your day been? Hopefully the weather’s nicer where you are.
God, Kylo felt a rush of oxytocin every time FN responded in that sweet conversational tone.
been a shit day but its better now that i get to see ur face, baby, was his standard reply. It was always the truth. A good day turned to shit when he compared it to the moment where he saw FN.
‘It was a Catholic school,’ FN laughed softly. ‘I had to go to confession a lot…No, of course not…no, I was a good boy…Well, it was mainly because I thought the priest was so cute...’
Unfortunately, just as FN was shyly and slowly (painfully slow) removing his shirt, a photo of his fucking mom filled the screen.
Kylo nearly screamed, jerking the hand out of his pants and gagging. A wave of anger more than anything made him pick up the phone.
“Hi, Ben --”
“I told you not to call me that,” he snapped. He also told her to not call him at all.
“Right. Yeah. Okay. Uh.” She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Kylo.”
“What the fuck do you even want?”
“All right, I see you’re in a mood, so I’ll get to the point. You remember how you used to help your dad with planes when you were younger?” she began. “Well, we could use all the help we can get around here with the end of the fiscal year coming up.”
“I already have a job.”
She opened her mouth to say something else (probably about the fact his job wasn’t even the one he wanted or went to school for), but course corrected: “Look, we’re understaffed and I’m asking for a favor. We need some clerical work done, but it’s best for it to be done by someone who actually knows a thing or two about planes, so things go where they make sense. I don’t have time to interview a bunch of interns and onboard them and an actual clerical assistant will take a year at government pace. We need this done by the end of the month. I can bring you on as a worker without compensation, but I’ll pay you out of my own pocket.”
“I don’t want your fucking money or your dumb job. Find someone --”
It was just at that moment his phone chimed with the familiar tone of the streaming app FN used. Kylo pulled the phone away from his ear just long enough to catch the banner with FN’s message: hi everyone! :) can’t wait to see you all tonight. picture quality’s gonna be a little bad though since i broke the nice camera you all got me )))): sorry!!
His camera was fine on Monday though. What happened? FN is kind of clumsy, Kylo felt a sudden swell of affection, he probably dropped it or knocked it over. But how bad would the quality be? He really wanted to see FN’s face. Which meant FN needed a new camera. And that meant he needed the extra cash. He pursed his lips in irritation.
“You know what, fine. I’ll do it. Whatever. They were sticking me with too many day shifts here and I was gonna quit anyway. I’ll help you out while I’m finding something new, I guess.”
His mom was silent for a second, trying to figure out what the hell caused this sudden change of heart. “All right,” she said slowly. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, she shrugged. “HR can get you processed by the end of the day if I light a fire under their ass. I know all your info, so you don’t need to come in now, but can you be ready tomorrow morning at 8am sharp for badging and fingerprints?”
“Whatever.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a whatever,” Kylo shrugged. “But before I do anything, I need $597.94 upfront.”
“Why?”
“You want me there at 8am sharp or not?”
“Fine, fine. I don’t need to know. In your words, whatever.”
“Send it today, okay?”
She sighed one last time and Kylo could hear her roll her eyes with the mindless agreement she gave him. The interaction had gone on longer than it needed (this is the longest he’s talked to her in about five years) and Kylo wanted, so without any fanfare he hung up the phone the moment he got the okay that the money was on its way.
Quickly, he opened up the streaming app. A few taps later, he was able to use one of his favorite subscription privileges: messaging FN directly.
15:21
R3N: aw baby ur camera broke?? put it on ur wishlist and i’ll get u a new one ok? ill take care of u
FN-2187: aww you’re always the sweetest <3 thank you, ren! :) i added it
The dusty red color on Kylo’s cheeks matched the ember-like burn he felt consume his face at FN’s response.
This was definitely a necessity.