flightforfreedom | A stupid post for stupid threads

Everything had gone to hell, and fast.

The attacks had obviously been well coordinated. Every single one of the Porters were hit, at exactly the same time. The Government housing in both Nonah and Heropa had been hit as well - the bomb levelling what until then had been Finn and Poe's home.

Poe had been scrambled for active duty the second the first bomb had gone off, at Heropa's porter. It was pure luck that he happened to drag Finn and Beth out of the house and down to the muster station before the bomb had gone off in the housing.

After that, Poe had simply refused to be parted from them. Beth had been a problem - they were pulling Poe to an aircraft carrier and she was very much a civilian - so he'd been talked down and she had been taken somewhere safe. But Poe had argued very effectively for Finn to stay. He was a soldier. They were veterans together.

In the end, Command had allowed it simply to appease Poe and keep him in the air.

But the missions were going south. His first one had already been dangerous - he and two others had been the only ones to return from the squadron alive. The Russians had launched a full scale offensive, in the aftermath, and they had been running skirmishes non-stop around the clock.

So when Poe came back from the second one - having lost his plane, this time, and survived the crash - he did not have a particularly hopeful outlook.

He'd keep fighting. Until the very last.

But he was also pretty damn sure this was the very last.

So as soon as he was debriefed he was heading straight for the tiny two-bunk cabin that he and Finn had shared since being on this ship.

There were a few things he needed to say.

Even Finn had to, however grudgingly, admit there was something to be said for the sheer simplicity of war. There was never a question of where to go or what to do, how to occupy time or what the point of your life was. There were only orders and movement. The painful minutes between tasks and the mindless certainty of purpose while watching the radar, calling out tactics, or even maintaining the ship. It wasn't the life he'd have chosen, but it still fit like a glove.

He wasn't involved in monitoring Poe's missions or planning the next airstrikes. But that didn't mean he wasn't keeping obsessive tabs on the information. The sea-faring boats of Earth were nothing compared to the size of First Order cruisers, and even on those the flow of gossip among the rank and file had been impossible to plug. So he knew. Every detail of it.

He was sitting on the lower bunk, cleaning and reassembling his side arm without really seeing the tool, when Poe entered.

"We're down to five jets," was the first thing out of his mouth as he pushed open the door and then let it slam closed behind him. He - didn't look great. His jacket was torn, and though he was dry (now) the cut on his forehead had started seeping blood again. The nanites unable to keep up with the demand, with the imPorts dying in droves. His hand went to his collar, pulling the first few buttons of his shirt open to free his throat. There was blood on it. His blood. Not much, but enough.

"I'll be on the first flight out tomorrow."

"I know."

What else was there to say? To either of those. Too small a force, too few people to do it. No General Organa to lead them to hope now. He left the pistol pieces where they were- still laid out to be assembled, but not his focus now. Instead Finn grabbed a clean rag and made his way over to Poe to push it against the slowly seeping wound. He staid there, hand keeping pressure on the rag and looming in the other man's space.

"You- Poe. It doesn't have to be our fight."

"Yes, it does." His voice was firm, though he held still as Finn tended to the cut.

"Finn, there's no where for us to run. They're not going to just let us go. It's fight, or wait for the firing squad, and I'm not going down without a fight." He raised a hand to grasp Finn's - not to pull it away - but just to hold it there against his own head.

"Every one of those bastards I take down gives us a better chance of some of us coming out of this alive." He paused there, his eyes hard as they met Finn's. Utterly determined.

"But. It's not - going to be me, Finn. Not this time."

"It's just one planet, but it's more than two countries."

He tugged his hand out from under Poe's, leaving the pilot to hold his own damn bandage in place as he stepped back, using the small confines of their room to pace. It wasn't the first time they'd had this talk, but it was increasingly feeling like the last. No matter what platitudes Poe might offer.

"There's place we could go. Hole's they'll never look in- we didn't ask to be here."

"But we are here." He held the bandage for approximately thirty seconds before he couldn't be bothered to, anymore, and let his hand drop.

"And it doesn't matter where we go, they'll be able to track us down with our blood."

He stepped forward, to reach out and grasp the man's sleeve.

"Finn. Listen. Even if I we did get out - find a hole - where would that leave everyone else? Where would that leave Beth?" He let the question hang for a second, before his grip tightened.

"I have to do this, Finn. You know that."

"With us, Poe. She'd be with us. Sometimes winning is just making out alive."

It's an old argument- older for Finn than even being in this world. He'd never directly said it back in the galaxy, not to Poe, but he had to Rey, to Han. He wasn't looking for a cause. He was looking to get away from what was trying to kill him and his friends.

"What are you fighting for? Here, now."

"Making it out alive for what? A week? Maybe two?"

"We are marked, Finn, and I am not going to let these marks be what brings us to the slaughter."

This wasn't the point - it wasn't what he wanted to say. He didn't want to argue with him, but he couldn't help it. He needed Finn to understand, and then he -

And then he needed to say goodbye.

"I'm fighting for you, Finn." His voice had lowered several decibles, something almost like a growl in his tone. "I would take down every single one of these bastards that ever had the intention of hurting you. The less of them in the sky - the fewer shooting at you. That's all I care about, right now.

But running isn't going to save either of us."

"But you can't, Poe. You can't make a bargain, you can't trade. You go out there and you- you die and we all die anyway. That's how it works. We're marked, but we don't have to sit and wait for them to kill us. We don't have to run towards them."

He was yelling. This wasn't a good thing to be yelling about, here, in a metal ship with vents and echos. But there was no way to make Poe see. There never had been. So all he was left with was trying to force it down into the other man's skull through volume alone.

He could feel his own pulse hard and hot in his throat, his jaw clenched far tighter than it should be. This was not how he wanted to go. It wasn't. This was not the last conversation he wanted to have with Finn, but he couldn't help himself.

"I'm not running, Finn!" He wasn't quite yelling, but it came out very sharp. "I'm not stepping aside and letting other people take the bullets for me, and I'm --" He cut off sharply, sucking in a hard breath.

"Just - listen, okay? I just need you to listen. Then you can go right back to yelling at me if you want, but I am not - I am not getting into that plane without telling you something."

Poe was going to say more. From the volume, the look, and, yes, the very obvious fact his mouth was opening again after he cut himself off from and I'm. But let him be pissed about that, too. What was a little more fuel on the fire. In his own anger and worry, Finn was beyond caring.

Poe barely go just out before Finn was shoving forward. He wasn't bigger than Poe, that they lived in one another's clothes was proof of that. But Poe was a pilot and Finn was a foot soldier. It wasn't much to plant both hands on Poe's shoulders and shove him against the closed door, never minding the now neglected head wound. To step forward and cage him from shoving back in the split second it took to plant his mouth over Poe's.

He'd have to hear the rest of the argument later.

His adrenaline was already up, reflexes working before his brain could, and the second that Finn's hands were on him he was grabbing at the man's shirt, fully intending to shove him back - but he hit the door with enough force to push the breath from his lungs. It gave Finn all the time he needed to close the gap, Poe's hands still clutched tight into his shirt but with absolutely no leverage, and he was about to yell at him, really yell at him, when suddenly Finn's mouth was on his and his brain completely short circuited.

It was about a half second of surprise, his heart stopping, and then he was kissing back - hard.

It wasn't going to solve anything. Wouldn't change the argument that was still waiting to finish, wouldn't change the fact that no matter what he said, Poe was still getting into a cockpit in the morning. But that didn't change the fact Finn kissed him like he could force Poe to stay, to understand, through that alone.

Poe was grasping at his shirt, but didn't seem to have much inclination to move, so Finn released his shoulders. One hand moved to the back of his neck, grabbing hard enough to pull hair and bruise, while the other went to the bottom of Poe's bloodstained shirt, tugging it aside enough for his (still freezing cold, from handling steel in a cold, metal room only a minute before) hand to press against Poe's abdomen.

Part of him still wanted to shove him. Just throw all his weight very suddenly forward, push Finn right back several feet, grip his shirt and kiss him hard. Part of him wanted to make this a fight.

But the majority of him was still trying to recover from the fact that Finn was kissing him at all, let alone kissing him like this, and he knew he'd have marks on the back of his neck - could almost feel them being dug into his skin, the sharp tug on his hair making him grunt into Finn's mouth.

His body was reacting far faster than his mind, his hands pulling hard at Finn's undershirt, the fabric tearing as he pressed hard into the kiss, trying to force the kiss deeper. Finn's cold hand made the muscles of Poe's torso to spasm under his touch, and he threw whatever remnants there were of the shirt onto the cold steel floor below.

Finn groaned at the sound of the shirt ripping. He didn't notice its absence much, the thing close to useless next to the living furnace he was currently pinning to the door.

The hand on Poe's neck stayed in place, stopping Poe from following him as he pulled back enough to shift kissing to his jaw, along his neck, as the hand under Poe's shirt worked on dragging it even upwards.

"I want..."

He wanted fifty things at once. Poe naked, on the bed, against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist. To knock Poe out cold and physically drag him to an escape boat, to defect without the other man's consent. To go back to screaming until they were angry enough Finn could pretend for an hour he wouldn't care Poe was leaving in the morning.

Instead he growled and leaned enough to press a hard kiss to Poe's chest, the shirt awkwardly forced up and away by one hand.

He did try to follow, naturally, straining against the grip, but Finn's hand kept him firmly in place. He didn't always appreciate just how strong Finn was, unless they were sparring. But he definitely noticed it now.

He sucked a hard breath into his lungs to catch as much air as he could, fingers dragging across Finn's chest until they found purchase in his sides, nails digging hard into flesh. His head twisted, bearing more of his throat without any thought behind it - just need.

"Want what?" He demanded, even though his breath caught when Finn's lips found his chest, one of his hands moving to grip fingers into the other man's hair, nails dragging against his scalp.

"Want what Finn--"

"Everything."

He let go of Poe's neck, at last. There was a small chance he may actually have blood under his finger nails, but he wasn't stopping to check. Getting the damn shirt off all the way, making it so he could mimic what Poe was doing to his ribs, that was the priority.

He dropped to one knee in the process, still high enough Poe's hand could be on his scalp, that he could press fingers across the other man's chest, and press hard kisses against the skin around Poe's navel.

But for all the aggression and desire, the sheer want of it all, it was still uncharted territory. He bit at Poe's stomach, but stayed there. Caught in limbo.

That single word made his pulse thump so hard he could hear it in his ears, his blood rushing straight south.

A very small part of his mind was pretty sure that this hadn't been exactly what he'd been angling for, either, but it was very, very quickly overwhelmed. (There was something warm and wet on the back of his neck and he couldn't bring himself to care.)

His fingers tightened in Finn's hair, the other hand joining the first now that he couldn't reach anywhere else, and he was pushing Finn's head down because fuck it, he didn't want this - he needed it. The bite made him hiss, just as it made his blood throb through him, his pants getting incredibly tight, but-

Finn wasn't moving.

For a few second Poe wasn't sure what he was doing - was he messing with him?

If he was messing with him, it was fucking working.

"Get up," he said roughly, pulling him up by the base of his skull, taking a fierce kiss as he did so. And then he shoved Finn back toward the bed.

A stupid post for stupid threads

MoM-verse Everything Is Going To Shit and it's Time To Make Out

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