Star Wars - Poe/Finn/Rey (Lonely & Zealous)
Quarters are standard, so there’s not much room, not even for high-ranking officers or Jedi. It means the three of them have to squish in pretty tightly. It should be a bit claustrophobic, Rey supposes, and the boys sometimes do grumble, but they always work it out.
Rey doesn’t mind. It’s probably embarrassing how much that simple pleasure means to her, sharing space and warmth and touch at night. She has been lonely all her life; from when she was little, it sank into her bones and seared her marrow with its chill. It’s hard to chase out, even now.
*
A part of Poe’s brain is always alert, half-waiting for orders in the middle of the night. There’s something of a lull just now, as they wait for the higher-ups to get organised, so they get, for a change, almost enough sleep.
Or Finn and Rey do, anyway. Poe guards their sleep closely, with near-zealous focus. Finn is a warm, solid bulk in his arms, his back radiating heat. He snores sometimes, but will shut up when nudged. When Poe stretches out his arm, he can gather Rey in too, slender and curled neatly like a cat against Finn’s chest.
*
Finn’s never slept as peacefully or warmly as these days, even though Rey has cold feet and Poe’s legs are too restless. The privacy could be better – their bunk is protected only by a glorified tarp, velcroed down at the edges – but in here, nothing else penetrates.
Just their breathing, and when they drift towards each other in the pre-dawn darkness, their skins and hungry mouths. Held between them, Finn feels like he’s been starving all his life for this, and now can’t get enough.
This bunk, this close air, these two specific people, among the stars: this is home.