@bakingstreetsarah asked for this. Feel better my dear!
A sad little moan came from the lump underneath the covers.
“Finn? Buddy, you all right?” Poe’d knocked, a lot, when Finn hadn’t played that night. They’d agreed not to meet that night because Poe has been working with Rosie, but Finn had also assured him that he was going to play tonight, and Finn didn’t lie to him, not ever. Not when it came to keeping Poe’s schedule. He /knew/ not to do that.
So he’d brought BB-8 up with him and knocked. When he’d heard a faint moan, and his name, he’d- well, he’d broken down the door and he would pay for it and he would stay with Finn to keep Finn safe but he’d /had/ to.
He peeled back the thin blanket, trying to see what shape Finn was in. He was lying on his side, clutching a heating pad to his stomach, eyes squeezed shut.
Poe’s mind was trying to diagnose when Finn opened his sad eyes and shook his head at Poe, then rolled away from him.
Stomach flu?
“What can I do? Finn, you gotta tell me what to do.” Poe fidgeted. He hated feeling useless. When he felt useless, it was like, why even-
BB-8’s head butted against his hand and he whined, distracting Poe.
“Would- would BB-8 make you feel better?
Finn nodded, and his little "Yes” broke Poe’s heart.
Poe signaled for BB to jump up and she did, snuggling into Finn’s side. Finn wrapped one arm around the dog, the other arm still holding the heating pad.
Poe sat on the bed hesitantly, happy when Finn didn’t balk. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Poe asked. He wanted to wring his hands but knew he’d hate himself later if he made this about him.
“Cramps.” The word was mumbled into the German Shepard’s fur.
“Cramps?”
“You know, like women get. And some men,” Finn practically whispered.
“Oh? Oh. /Oh!/”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. What can I do to help?”
“You’re not like…mad or disgusted or something?
Poe’s fingers brushed over Finn’s as they petted BB-8 together. "Nope,” he said, simply.
“You don’t regret kissing me?”
“That an invitation to do it again?”
Finn let out a teary laugh. “Not right now, thanks.”
“Offer stands. Have you taken any ibuprofen?”
“Yeah. Waiting for it to kick in. Sorry about not playing.
"S'okay. Sorry about your front door.”
“Wait, what?”
