#dad!poe

Poe’s not entirely certain what his earliest memory of his mom is; he’s pretty sure it was the first time Shara took him past atmo into space, but it’s hard to trust a toddler’s memory. Regardless, he knows his favorite.

He was four, and Shara had taken him up in her beloved RZ-1 A-wing interceptor. It wasn’t anywhere near the first time he’d flown with her, perched on her lap, her helmet completely swallowing his head but loving every second of ‘piloting’ the fighter. They flew together most days. Just keeping an eye on the neighborhood, Shara would say, with a wink for her son and a laugh as she pressed a kiss to Kes’ cheek as they clomped back into the house, breathless and euphoric from being airborne.

But that time was special. That time, Shara had woken him up before the dawn and bundled him in her worn green flight jacket, whispering that she had a surprise for him. He remembers waving to his dad, silhouetted by the porch light as the A-wing took flight, rising into the pre-dawn sky.

That was the first morning Poe had ever watched the sun rise from the air. He remembers every detail; from the condensation on the canopy of the ship, to the way the sunlight had slowly filtered over the mountains surrounding the Dameron homestead. It was breathtaking. To a four-year-old, it was life altering. And Poe would never, ever forget how his mom had squeezed him ever so slightly tighter, dropped a kiss to his messy curls, and sighed, almost to herself, “This is what makes it all worth it.”

Now, on the other side of his own war, his own child snuggled securely on his lap, Poe gets it.

Beka Dameron squeals with delight as the X-Wing bursts through the cloud cover, those same mountains still steadfast guardians around her grandfather’s ranch. Poe can’t help his grin. His daughter’s glee is infectious.

“What do you think, babygirl?” he asks the two-year-old, leaning forward and blowing a raspberry on her cheek. She giggles and he beams. “Should we chase the sunrise and bring it home to Mama?”

“Woop, Daddy!” Beka smacks the flight stick with a chubby fist. “Go woop-woop!”

“Alright, princess, one loop-loop comin’ right up.” Poe flicks a switch and drops a kiss on Beka’s curly mop. “Beebee, you heard the lady!”

From the astromech socket, BB-8 chirps their approval of this plan. Granted, there’s very little the droid wouldn’t do for any of the Damerons, but Beka’s wishes are BB’s commands.

It’s a split second, as his daughter laughs and the sunrise hits the mountain ridge just right, in the stillness before he spins the fighter into motion, that Poe is struck by the strongest sense of deja vu. His throat is suddenly tight and he has to blink rapidly because his eyes are abruptly watery.

This is what makes it all worth it.

Yeah, he definitely gets it.

Tightening his arm around his daughter, Poe whoops. Beka echoes his joyful cry, and the fighter leaps towards the dawn.

__

On the ground, you watch the X-wing formerly known as Black One as it dips in and out of view through the clouds. You’re positive you can hear your daughter’s giggles from where you stand, as well as her father’s throaty laugh.

Behind you, the kitchen door opens.

“How long have they been up there?” Kes asks, joining you on the porch.

“Not long.” You smile at your father-in-law. “Poe wanted to see the sunrise.”

“He’s his mother’s son, that’s for sure,” he says with an affectionate chuckle, handing you a steaming cup of nysillim tea. “Always in a better mood after starting the day in the air.”

You accept the mug with murmured thanks, both of you watching contentedly as the fighter appears once more below the morning haze.

It’s barely a moment before Poe is expertly landing the fighter in the clearing behind the house. Kes takes your mug before he helps you off the porch, and you both stroll to the makeshift flight pad. The first streams of morning light start to break through the clouds as the ship powers down.

“Mama!” Beka hollers the second the canopy lifts. “Mama, Bee bwaught you sunshine!”

“Yeah, Mama,” Poe echos, carefully tossing the toddler down into Kes’ waiting arms. Beka’s joyful shriek makes everyone smile even bigger. “Had to chase some of those clouds off.”

You laugh as Beka flops backwards in Kes’ arms, her curls dangling as she hangs upside down. You bend to kiss her forehead. “You did great, honey. Did you fly Daddy’s ship for him?”

“Yeah!” Beka giggles. “We did woop-woops!”

You turn to your husband as he scrambles down the flight ladder. “Is that so?”

“Princess, we talked about this.” Poe tickles Beka with one hand, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders. “What happens in the cockpit stays in the cockpit.”

“Oh really?” you murmur quietly.

Poe winks at you. “All woop-woops were conducted under the strictest of safety procedures, Lieutenant. General’s honor.”

BB-8, now freed from the fighter, whistles knowingly.

You raise an eyebrow.

Poe glares at the droid. “Traitor.”

“How about some Iktotch toast for breakfast?” Kes asks Beka, smoothly changing the topic before you and Poe can get going. “Pop’s got zoochberry syrup!”

Beka nearly leaps out of her grandfather’s arms. “ZOOBURYS.”

Laughing, Kes leads the way back to the farmhouse, BB-8 trailing the pair of them like a puppy. As you go to follow, Poe tugs gently on your hand, holding you back.  

“You know I’d never put her in danger, right?” he asks quietly.

“Oh, Poe.” You bring a hand up to card your fingers through his hair, and he leans into your palm with a contented sigh. “Of course I know that.”

“Just making sure.” He smiles, that half smirk that is your absolute favorite. “How are you feeling?”

You take his hand and position it carefully on the swollen rise of your belly. “She’s been dancing this morning.”

“Yeah?” It only takes a moment before his eyes widen and he lets out a bark of laughter as a foot connects soundly with his palm. “She’s so strong!”

“I’m aware,” you intone wryly. “This one’s got your sass already.”

He laughs again, wisely not arguing (because it’s not like you’re wrong), instead pulling you into his arms and kissing you soundly. You stand as the sky glows from pink to blue, wrapped in each other in the early morning air, until something small hits your legs.

“DADDY. MAMA.” Beka makes the universal toddler sign for ‘up’. “Eye-tot toast! Papa says now!”

“Okay, okay, princess!” Releasing you with one last kiss to your temple, Poe scoops up your daughter, tossing her into the air before settling her on his shoulders. Grinning at you, he wraps his arm back around your shoulders, tugging you securely into his side. “Team Dameron is on the move.”

Beka’s giggles echo through the clearing as you make your way up the gentle rise towards the house. And with his wife and his daughter in his arms, and another kid on the way, Poe can’t help that tightness in his throat again. He’s not even aware of the smile on his face.

This is what makes it all worth it.

“I love you too, Poe, but if you knock me while I’m painting, I’m gonna have to kill you.”

You can tell that the goofball freezes then, as if he’s taking you completely literally. If you could see his expression as he perched his head on your shoulder you just know he would be emphatically statuesque.

“When you commit, you commit.” you smile.

“I’m sure you’re thankful that your husband has that quality, no?” he teases.

You’ll give him that one.

You chuckle at the thought of him, frozen there, trying to keep your brush steady as you do so. But then he’s still frozen and the wobble of your shoulders becomes more pronounced as you shake with gentle laughter. You hear him scoff by your ear, in return.

“Stop it, Poe!” You scold good-naturedly as your giggles intensify, the sound chiming musically around the empty-ish, in-progress room.

“I’m not doing a thing, sweetheart, it’s you who’s moving!” His voice has that wonderful playful edge, and you can hear the smile in it, can imagine that slight crinkle in his nose.

You get a handle on yourself for just about long enough to finish off the detail of the mural section you’d been working on. You have added incentive to get it done now, as you are desperate to turn around and get yourself a good look at that handsome face for the first time today. You down your tools and twirl towards Poe, his broad, gentle hands never breaking contact with your belly. His body navigates your bump to lean in for a sweet and loving kiss to your lips.

“Hmm. Morning, handsome.” You purr, blissed out from that kiss as your hand winds into his thick, dishevelled curls, his Sunday stubble grazing your skin.

His eyes glow as he looks back at you. “Morning, sweetheart.” As is tradition, he dips to plant a sweet kiss to your midsection. “Morning, Kiddo.” 

He gives you the once-over with his eyes, checking for any sign of new symptoms or discomfort. “You couldn’t lie-in, huh? You should have woken me.”

“I’m fine, Poe.” You dismiss -he does tend to fuss, for which you are thankful- and you nod back towards your progress with the mural, excitement flashing in your eyes. “What do you think of my progress?”

You both turn to regard it, and he resumes his original position, warm and sturdy at your back once again.

“Don’t tell me. It’s an... elephant?”

You’d been bouncing around ideas for the mural for weeks now. Since you’d officially stopped working, it had become a rather consuming passion project of yours. You’d suggested cute little airplanes and clouds to reflect Poe and his career as a pilot. But he’d said he hadn’t wanted to push his dreams on to the kid, and had proceeded to go down rabbit hole about how he just wanted them to be happy. You’d fallen even more in love with him, and then asked him to pick something that made him happy. Predictably, he’d said you. Of course. And Beebs. Then, out of nowhere, he’d gone straight to: “Monkeys. Monkeys make me happy. The one I saw on my last humanitarian mission - did I tell you about that one yet?”. So, here you were, with a beautiful jungle scene beginning to snake its way across the wall.

With a soft smile at the corners of your lips, you glance back at what is quite evidently a tiger. It’s a good job you’re secure in your abilities, and therefore confident that he’s teasing. “An elephant, you say? Poe, you’ll have to get much better at deciphering paintings before Kiddo learns how to hold crayons.” You lean your head back against him, resting your hands over his atop the globe of your belly. “Also, please don’t offend Sir Growlington; he’s a very sensitive tiger.”, you pout.

Poe peppers a few loving kisses on to your cheek and hairline and really, wherever his mouth can reach. “It’s amazing, sweetie, you’re so fucking talented.” He says genuinely. “But… don’t think I’m just going to brush past this... You named the tiger?”

“I did name the tiger.” you intone, hinting that maybe that’s not all.

He twirls you back to him so he can look you in the face again.

“Wait. Did you name all the animals?”

“No. Of course not. Would I be so silly?” you singsong sarcastically as you lean yourself up against the edge of the painting table. 

“Oh ok.” he says plainly with a nod of his head, a brush of his hand over his stubbled jaw. You love when he pretends to be serious and when he’s just so damn bad at pretending. “So you won’t mind if I call this bird... Sandra then?”

You suck in air through your teeth. “Sorry, that’s Porg. But that’s the only other one I named, honest.”

He folds his arms and raises his eyebrows to you, an easy smirk on his lips as he mirrors your position and leans against the pair of wooden ladders behind him. “Come on, let me have them all; monkey, giraffe, sloth - hit me.”

He makes a “bring it on” gesture with his fingers, and you blurt them out. “Peanut, Jungle Gump, and Mademoiselle Sleepyhead.”

He smiles in amusement and pads towards you, settling himself into your side, his eyes soft as they wander over the familiar details of your face. His voice is low in his throat. “Goddamn, you’re adorable.” You shrug and flutter your eyelashes in casual agreement. “Unless... Honey, should I be concerned?” He juts his hip and you can’t wait to hear what he’s going to come out with next. “Is this a subtle way of telling me you want to name our baby Jungle Gump?”

 “No!” You burst into laughter and bat him playfully on the chest. “But… now that you mention it? Jungle Dameron does sound kinda cool.” You’re actually only half-joking.

He sighs in mock defeat, waving his hand around in the air. “Fine, Jungle if they’re a girl, Sir Growlington if they’re a boy, and Peanut as a gender-neutral option.”

“Shake on it. Deal done.”

You place your hands on his chest, nodding back towards the wall again. “Did you see I left a space? I think you should paint something, Poe.”

“Honey, you know I can’t paint.” he argues, massaging little circles into your shoulder, your hip, your elbows. Anywhere you’ve complained of being sore. You love this man.

“You can paint. Everyone can paint.”

“Why would you want me to ruin your great work?”

You throw your arms around his shoulders, twining your fingers together at the back of his neck. “Because it’s our mural for our baby, and it’s about making something happy, yes? Well, I’m having fun creating this but you’re not in the room with me. And that’s the fun memory I want us to think about when we put our baby-”

“Jungle” he interjects.

“-Jungle,“ you nod, “to sleep. So, stay with me. Paint a crappy, fantastical animal of your choosing.” You gesture towards the paint selection on the table behind you with a sweep of your arm.

“You sure?” he asks, even though he’s already started to rifle through the supplies.

“I’m sure. I can’t wait to see how it turns out!”

A perfect, broad smile works its way across his face. His pretty, dark eyes flick over to yours, his voice deepening and becoming even richer and more robust as it infuses with meaning. “You’re incredible. I can’t wait to do this with you.”

You know he’s talking about far more than the mural. And you couldn’t agree more.

“First though...” he begins, that playfulness immediately back again. “Paint fight!” He picks up the nearest brush and dips it in your paint pot, before swiping a black streak across your cheek. 

You squeal in shock and he adopts a fighting stance, primed for your reaction. Before you can do a thing he manages to paint another stripe to your forearm with a quick, targeted swipe of his brush. You think he’s probably trying to make you look like Lady Growlington.

He torments you like this until you grab for your own brush, which you load, preparing to coat him. You assess the status of his sleep shirt. It’s old, you decide, and you land a splash of sky blue down his neck with a dramatic “A-ha”, a sound not unlike a swashbuckling pirate.

“Oh, you’re in for it now.” he warns with a grin, planting his whole palm in a pot of green and -gently, ever so gently, and avoiding your belly- chasing you around the room until he has covered your face and arms in his handprints. Then, when he’s had his fun he pulls you in for a giggly, breathless kiss.

“Are you trying to ruin my clothes, Poe Dameron?”

“Honestly? I’m trying to get you in the shower, gorgeous.” He pumps his eyebrows suggestively. “What do you say, wanna make love to me?”

He smiles, grabbing you hand with his own, paint-smeared one and giving you a light tug.

“If you think we can both still fit in the cubicle!”

“We’ll just have to get super close; that doesn’t sound like the worst thing, honey” 

All morning should start this way, you think. How could anything be better?

***

Months later, you are settling your precious baby for sleep. Poe is already passed out and lightly snoring on the couch, an array of blankets and bottles strewn around him. You allow yourself a moment to take him in. He looks so Goddamn beautiful when he’s sleeping. You feel so much love for him, for your new baby. More than you could have ever thought possible. It’s hard and it’s scary, but you are so happy you are doing this with him. Already, he is the most wonderful husband and father you could have dreamed of. 

Careful not to wake either him or the tiny sleeping bundle in your arms, you tread softly upstairs, Beebs -who rarely ever leaves your side since the new arrival- padding quietly along with you. When you get to the nursery you rock your baby in your arms a few moments more, humming lullabies softly into the cool night air.

Your eyes sweeping the room, the wonderful, perfect mural on the wall catches your attention. The mural with one animal that doesn’t look quite like the rest. Honestly, it doesn’t really look like any existing animal, so Poe has named it a “blurrg” instead. It makes you chuckle every single time, without fail. You wouldn’t change it for a thing. You wouldn’t change any of this.

You set your baby down in their basket before your laughter wakes them. Then, of course, you linger a moment longer to just stare at that adorable little face before clasping the door shut behind you.

Returning downstairs you smile at Poe. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah, I am.” You move to meet him on the couch and he drags you down into his lap. “And I heard you on the baby monitor, laughing at my blurrg! Again!”

You caress his curls, even though you know he’s not genuinely offended.

You smile so broadly your cheeks hurt. “I love it Poe. It makes me so happy every time. I’m so glad we created it together.”

His eyes meet yours, soft and warm, like the rest of him. “I sure as hell know that feeling.”

Oh boy. How does he make happiness swell in your chest like this? How is it possible to be this happy?

“Let’s... keep creating together, ok?”

He looks up at you in shock as he catches the full meaning of your words. “Are you... are you asking me to have another baby with you? Already?”

“Jungle’s gonna need a sibling.” you bite your lip, slightly nervous of how he might react. “Also, we really need to stop calling her that and settle on an actual name.”, you deflect.

“Baby,” he says gently, taking your hand in his. “I’d like Jungle to have siblings. I’m not sure she needs one just yet...” his tone switches, and it’s subtle but you know him too well to miss it. “...but as soon as you feel ready I’m very willing to start practising again.”

“You know, I think… I think I’m ready to start… practising.”

He swallows thickly, and you can see he’s holding himself back a little, for your benefit. He even backtracks a little. “You know I would never want to rush you, baby.”

“I know, Poe. So, what do you say, wanna make love?”

With unfortunate timing, the baby monitor crackles, transmitting a light cry from your daughter’s room.

“I’ll go check her.” Poe offers, patting your thighs for you to stand up and let him out from under you.

“You just want to smell her head again.”

“It’s the best smell, can you blame me?”

You smile to yourself. You love how soft and goofy and wonderful this man is. Every night should be like this, you think. How could anything be better?

***

When Poe does come back down to the living room you are already fast asleep, an open sketching pad nestled on to your chest. He thinks his heart might burst as he lifts it up for safe-keeping and notices you’ve drawn an adorable blurrg in there.

He casts his eyes over your sleeping form with nothing but love. He thinks you look so beautiful when you’re sleeping. He knows he couldn’t paint a prettier picture if he tried. No really, not with his skills. You’d agree; you’ve seen that blurrg, after all.  

He stoops, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. He could swear that, impossibly, that he loves you even more than he did yesterday.

He stoops to pet Beebs as the corgi presses up against his ankles, giving him some well-deserved belly scritches. “Come on then big bro,” he whispers. “Let’s clear this mess up for Mama.”

Before he scoots around to collect up all the bottles and paraphernalia, he sets your sketchpad safely down on the coffee table. He can’t help but smile again. He knows what makes him happy. Happier than he ever thought he could be.

God knows why he said “monkeys”.

THE END

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