#flyjacket

“Hi! Hi! Can you hear me? Hang on, these’re new----” Galya paused on the sidewalk just outside the stage door, balancing the two bags’ worth of deli orders in her arms to raise a hand up to the refurbished-secondhand-off-brand airpod on her right ear and give it a few good taps. Hands-free, as if! “---Okay, there we go. Wait--shit, hang on. Thanks, Danny!” Danny, her favorite security guard (they’re all her favorite) had seen her struggling with her key card and let her in. “Poe, I really hope you’re enjoying this glam audio tour of backstage life on Broadway,” Galya continued, finally depositing the bags on the kitchenette counter just off the hallway leading down to the dressing rooms and pulling out her phone send out an all caps message that said FOOD IN KITCHEN to the crew group text. “But, I’m calling the show tonight, I literally just found out, and they’re giving me one of the tickets for the courtesy seats! Can you make it!?”

     “ did my mother invite you over ? ”   suspicion underlines his otherwise neutral tone . his pointed expression gives away everything else though ; he doesn’t trust dameron in his home . especially with mistle toe still hanging in the halls and the sneaking , niggling feeling in his own gut that somehow poe is even more sultry than the last time they saw each other . [ is this what happens when you leave for a long while ? when you go off to study & he to fly ? ]  “because i strictly forbid you from touching my SUGAR cookies while you’re here. they’re mine.”

“This is called celebrating, Flyboy. Welcome to the after party.” Tony tapped his glass against’s Poe’s, but despite his cheery tone and smirk, it was hardly the drinking party of the happy and excited. “You ever saved a city before on live TV?” he asked. “I think you’re trending on Twitter.” 

“ remember when i pulled up,  and said get in the car? ”     ,     @flyjacket​.

        CURLED FINGERS GRIP AT HIS SPOON,  poking and prodding at the broth in front of him, sniffling a bit. he could understand why poe was being this insistent, having not kept any solid food down in a few days, but he didn’t know if simple broth would be any better, either.  ❝ fine....but if i throw up, you’re cleaning it up. ❞

          DOOR SLIDES OPEN AND SHUT,  the faint sound of feet shuffling closer before he feels the bed dip ever so slightly on poe’s side, sheets ruffling as the pilot crawled close. the blond waits patiently for the rustling to cease, a sign poe had gotten comfortable, before scooching over close, curling his lithe form against his partner’s, using his chest as a pillow and his warmth as an extra blanket.

         THEIR HANDS BRUSH TOGETHER, a quick touch, but then garr goes back, hand grabbing at poe’s.  ❝ if you want to hold my hand, you could’ve just said so. ❞