Rainstorms and Starships

The rain had been falling on D'Qar for three straight days, a persistent, drumming curtain that blurred the jungle canopy into a watercolor of greens and grays. It was the kind of weather that seeped into the bones and made the metallic corridors of the Resistance base feel both like a refuge and a cage. Finn found it soothing. He was tracing a bead of condensation on a viewport when a familiar voice cut through his reverie.

“You’re going to stare a hole right through the transparisteel, Finn,” Rose Tico said, bumping his shoulder with her own. “What’s on your mind? Or should I say, *who*?”

Finn pulled back, a flush creeping up his neck. “Nothing. Just… thinking about training schedules.” It was a weak lie and they both knew it. His gaze had been fixed, not on the jungle, but on the reflection of the hallway behind him, watching for a specific figure: a confident stride, a worn leather jacket, a cascade of dark curls. Just as he turned from the window, destiny, or perhaps just the base’s circulation system, delivered. Poe Dameron came around the corner, his head down as he fiddled with a datapad, nearly colliding with them.

“Oh—sorry,” Poe said, looking up with that smile that always seemed to take up his entire face. It was effortless, disarming, and it made Finn’s throat go dry. “Didn’t see you there. Finn. Rose.”

“No problem, Commander,” Rose chirped, her eyes darting from Poe to Finn with undisguised mischief. “We were just talking about how boring tonight is going to be.” She nudged Finn, hard. “Weren’t we, Finn?”

Finn’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. It was now or never. “I—uh, we,” he stammered, feeling clumsy and exposed under Poe’s attentive gaze. “A few of us are getting together in the lower lounge. To watch a holomovie. An old classic, *A Handmaiden’s Courage*. There’s snacks.” He cringed internally. *There’s snacks?* That was his brilliant pitch?

Poe’s smile didn’t falter. It seemed to soften, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Snacks, huh? Sounds serious.” He slid his datapad into a pocket of his flight trousers. “What time?”

Finn’s mind went blank for a full second. “Uh, right after the evening meal shift. Around twenty-hundred.”

“Then I’ll be there,” Poe said, his gaze lingering on Finn for a moment longer than necessary. It felt like a small, private promise. “Count on it. See you both later.” He gave them a final nod and continued down the corridor, leaving a silence charged with unspoken energy.

Rose waited until he was out of earshot before she turned on Finn, her grin wide and triumphant. “See? Was that so hard? You owe me half your dessert ration tonight.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Finn mumbled, though he couldn’t suppress the stupid, hopeful smile spreading across his own face.

The lower lounge was a cozy, cluttered space, filled with mismatched sofas and the low hum of the base’s life support systems. When Poe arrived, a small wave of interest rippled through the dozen or so off-duty mechanics and pilots gathered there. He was, after all, *the* Poe Dameron, the Republic's best pilot, a living legend whispered about in recruitment centers and enemy comm channels. Yet, he moved with an easy grace, grabbing a handful of crunchy, salted grist-worms from a communal bowl and settling onto the arm of the sofa where Finn was sitting.

“Did I miss anything important?” Poe asked, his voice a low murmur meant only for Finn.

“Just the opening scroll,” Finn replied, his skin prickling with awareness of how close the pilot was. “It’s about a queen’s decoy who falls for a Jedi Knight. Lots of political intrigue.”

“My favorite,” Poe deadpanned, popping a grist-worm into his mouth. The gesture was so casual, so utterly normal, that it instantly broke the mystique. He wasn’t just a commander or a hero; he was just a guy, here to watch a movie. The thought relaxed Finn immensely.

The atmosphere was light and convivial. Laughter erupted during the film’s more stilted dramatic scenes, and a friendly debate broke out over whether the Gungan sidekick was comic relief or simply unbearable. Poe fit in seamlessly, swapping stories about disastrous training flights with a rookie pilot named Jaycris and promising Rose he’d take her out in his X-wing to see the planet’s rings up close. “You too, Finn,” he added, turning to him. “We’ll make a day of it, once this rain finally lets up.”

Finn just nodded, a warm feeling spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the lounge’s heating. He felt a sense of belonging that was still new to him, a simple joy in sharing a mundane evening surrounded by friends, with Poe Dameron close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed.

As the holomovie progressed into its second hour, a comfortable lethargy settled over the room. The flickering blue light of the projector cast long shadows on the walls. Finn found his attention drifting from the screen to the man beside him. In the dim light, Poe’s profile was sharp and defined, the strong line of his jaw softened by a day’s worth of stubble. He was completely absorbed in the film, a small, focused frown on his lips as the plot thickened. Finn watched the way the light caught the dark strands of his hair, the slow, even rhythm of his breathing. It was a stupid, pointless observation, but it felt intensely important.

A soft poke to his ribs startled him. He glanced over to see Rose, curled up on a floor cushion, giving him a knowing look. She mouthed the word, *Staring*, and waggled her eyebrows. Finn’s face burned, and he quickly jerked his attention back to the screen, hoping the darkness hid his blush. But he couldn’t stop. A few minutes later, his eyes were drawn back to Poe, as if pulled by an irresistible gravity.

The film’s climax unwound in a flurry of blaster fire and dramatic confessions, but the energy in the lounge was winding down. On the sofa opposite, Jaycris was already fast asleep, his head lolling against a pile of cushions. Rose’s eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even. One by one, the small audience succumbed to exhaustion, lulled by the warmth of the room and the drone of the film’s score. Eventually, even Poe’s focused posture relaxed. His head dipped once, then twice, before finally coming to rest against the back of the sofa, his lips slightly parted in sleep. Finn stayed awake the longest, watching them all, a quiet protector of this small, temporary peace.

He must have drifted off too, because the next thing he knew, the holoscreen was dark and the only light came from the dim emergency strips along the floor. A crick in his neck made him groan as he sat up. The room was a landscape of sleeping bodies, a tangle of limbs and blankets. The air felt thick, stuffy. He needed to breathe.

Quietly, so as not to wake anyone, Finn extricated himself from the sofa and slipped out of the lounge. He made his way through the hushed corridors to the hangar’s upper observation deck, a small, railed platform that offered an unobstructed view of the sky. He slid the heavy door open and stepped out into the night. The air was cool and clean, heavy with the scent of wet earth and jungle flora—petrichor, he’d learned the word was. The torrential downpour had subsided, replaced by a fine, misty drizzle that glittered in the faint light of D’Qar’s moons. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the damp air wash over him. This was his sanctuary.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

The voice, so close behind him, made Finn jump, his heart lurching into his throat. He spun around to see Poe standing in the doorway, his leather jacket draped over one arm, his shirt rumpled from sleep.

“You scared me,” Finn breathed, his pulse still racing.

“Sorry,” Poe said, his voice a low apology. He stepped onto the deck, coming to stand beside Finn at the railing, his presence a solid warmth in the cool night. “It was getting a little stuffy in there. Figured I’d find some air.” He looked out at the veil of rain and then up at the dark, clouded sky. “It’s starting again.”

Finn nodded, watching the fine droplets begin to bead on the metal railing. “We can go back inside. You’ll get wet.”

Poe didn’t move. He simply tilted his head back, letting the fine mist settle on his face, his eyes closing in an expression of pure, quiet contentment. “I don’t mind,” he said, his voice soft but clear over the gentle hiss of the rain. “Actually… I like it.” He opened his eyes and looked at Finn, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. “I like the rain.”