ETA: This is like, 1/8 of a fill, and I'm tired now bordering on Actually Sleep-Typing, but feel free to add on? Also: I may return. I'm bookmarking this thread. Do not hold your breath. That would be dangerous. You would pass out.
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I'm only doing this because I'm drunk, baking bread, listening to oldies, and I've HAD A WEEK
aka Poe in this scenario sort of = me
(ps it's bad to operate any machinery while drunk, this includes ovens and stereos AND COMPUTERS, do what I say not what I do kids)
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All Poe can see is the glare of hyperspace scrolling past him. Like, sure, he's managing to navigate the halls of the base down to his bunk, but it's all relegated to some lower level of his brain, closer to the brain stem. The main thing is the afterimage - streaks of stars elongated by lightspeed travel into bright lines, the blurry scratches of brightness in the dark of space. He's barely aware as he leans his palm against the door, practically falling inside when it swishes open.
Kriff, what he'd do for some decent booze. Or a sedative. Or even just, a nice blunt impact to the head. He's so tired. But so wired. Can't focus for shit, but his brain and nerves are alight. He stumbles over to bed, stripping as he goes.
Aaaand lands on someone else - elbow first. Finn yelps, which snaps Poe out of his daze. Oh, shit. "Fu - sorry, I - "
"Poe?" asks a wide-eyed Finn, rubbing his (probably bruised) side absently. "What the hell happened to you?"
Poe laughs. Or tries to. It comes out a little hoarse. Finn just looks more concerned. "Nothing, buddy, just go back to sleep."
"Buddy?" Finn frowns. "You don't call me that unless - Poe, hey. Come here."
Poe opens his mouth to say something dismissive, about how it was just a long trip, it's fine, we're all fine here, now, thank you, how are you? But Finn frowns and says, more insistently, "Come here." Poe goes.
this wants to be a fill: Finn/Poe: taking charge
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I'm only doing this because I'm drunk, baking bread, listening to oldies, and I've HAD A WEEK
aka Poe in this scenario sort of = me
(ps it's bad to operate any machinery while drunk, this includes ovens and stereos AND COMPUTERS, do what I say not what I do kids)
-
All Poe can see is the glare of hyperspace scrolling past him. Like, sure, he's managing to navigate the halls of the base down to his bunk, but it's all relegated to some lower level of his brain, closer to the brain stem. The main thing is the afterimage - streaks of stars elongated by lightspeed travel into bright lines, the blurry scratches of brightness in the dark of space. He's barely aware as he leans his palm against the door, practically falling inside when it swishes open.
Kriff, what he'd do for some decent booze. Or a sedative. Or even just, a nice blunt impact to the head. He's so tired. But so wired. Can't focus for shit, but his brain and nerves are alight. He stumbles over to bed, stripping as he goes.
Aaaand lands on someone else - elbow first. Finn yelps, which snaps Poe out of his daze. Oh, shit. "Fu - sorry, I - "
"Poe?" asks a wide-eyed Finn, rubbing his (probably bruised) side absently. "What the hell happened to you?"
Poe laughs. Or tries to. It comes out a little hoarse. Finn just looks more concerned. "Nothing, buddy, just go back to sleep."
"Buddy?" Finn frowns. "You don't call me that unless - Poe, hey. Come here."
Poe opens his mouth to say something dismissive, about how it was just a long trip, it's fine, we're all fine here, now, thank you, how are you? But Finn frowns and says, more insistently, "Come here." Poe goes.
...