#sequels imagine

Anxiety bites at the homes of your heart as you watch Black Leader disappear into the doors of the command center — Jessika crosses her arms tightly and chews her lip.

“I bet this is about Hueli.”

You wince. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, rocking back on her heels, “And we could really use you in the air when we go, Punchy.”

Hueli is… a problem. 

Sheltered by a massive debris field and neighbor to a growing cosmic rift, the atmospheric dissonance is enough hide any traces of First Order activity — no body wanted to go near that planet. But, rumors had it that, recently, work had been done to map out hyperlane connecting the sector to the Perlemian trade route.

A route that the First Order was using to transport weaponry developed and manufactured on Hueli. 

Blow after blow had been dealt in the last three weeks — and with the continued growth of the First Order… anxieties surrounding their mounting power had rushed up to the surface and making moves on Hueli had been brought back up as a potential way to level the playing field.

The first problem was getting there.

Poe and Snap had headed out to scout the area. The Unknown Regions were just that: unknown. Getting a lay for the land was important — but it seems like maybe they’d found more than they were bargaining for.

You linger in the hangar. You find yourself puttering over the newly returned Black One — the T-70 X-Wing, as temperamental as it was, had a soft spot in your heart. Maybe because of the man piloting it… but also since losing your ship during the crash on Spira, you’d poured a good number of hours into the black and gold ship. 

Something to busy yourself. 

You’re checking the wing counterbalance readout’s when your hear someone approaching. 

It’s Poe.

He’s got two plates of chow in his hands; his face is soft when he spies you by his ship — and he blinks around the hangar before nearing. 

Everyone has dispersed for now. Early drills tomorrow.

It’s late. Outside, D’Qar has started to grow sleepy and the peepers have begun to sing. Wind rustles through the tall grass, and Poe juts his head towards the hangar doors.

“Hungry?”

You’re smiling at him when you nod.

You both perch yourselves on a supply crate in the mouth of the hangar; you take the plate from Poe as he settles in, huffing slightly as his shoulders brush yours and he rubs his jaw.

He nudges your knee.

“I missed you, Punchy.”

You catch his face in the moonlight. Soft and kind. The look in his eyes is so heavy and grounded you swear it makes your heart feel like it’s going to crawl out of your mouth. 

Both of your eyes dart to the hangar behind you.

Empty.

It’s the first of these moments in your relationship — him, being gone or… vice versa. Being brought back together after one hundred sixty eight hours. 

It’s awkward. Disjointed. Weird.

Until he kisses you.

It’s Poe’s hands that find your jaw. His noodle dinner forgotten on the crate beside him, he laughs when you make a small sound of shock and juggle your own; you lean up, catching his mouth in a greedy little lovebite as he sighs. His stubble tickles and the kiss lasts a few long, wonderful moments. 

Moments you’d missed more than you’d realized.

When he pulls away, he can’t help but press another to your lips. Then one to your cheek. Then to your temple. 

“Gods,” you rumble, trying to hide the prick of something misty and sentimental threatening to spill over from your eyes, “It’s like you haven’t seen me in a week —”

Poe snorts, unashamed of his rekindled affection. “Yeah, well, it was a long time — longer than I’m used to, y’know.”

You waggle your fork his way. “It was quiet here without you.”

“Oh, good,” he chides, “I’m glad my absence brings you inner peace.”

“Shut up,” you laugh lightly, nudging him with your arm. Your chin falls to perch along his left shoulder, “You know what I mean.”

Poe forks a pile of noodles into his mouth. He makes a regretful sound. They’re hot. Really hot. He blows hot air out of his mouth before chewing and swallowing painfully. He rasps out a croak.

“Sure — I get it, use me for my good looks…”

“Oh, the humanity,” you lean back against the crate and blow on your noodles, “You know I like you for more than your good looks.”

He raises a single brow and sucks his teeth at the suggestion. “Oh, yea?”

“Maybe not your flying but —”

Poe guffaws at that jab. He’s chuckling when he drops his head and forks his dinner again. He’s quiet for a bit, smiling as he nods and watches you with an enamored sort of look that has you squirming in the best of ways. 

His lashes kiss his cheeks when he blinks. He speaks softly.

“I did miss you. A lot.”

Your smile melts into something less playful. You turn and let your eyes roam his face. 

“I missed you, too, Poe,” you nearly whisper, “I was worried.”

His eyes fall. When he speaks, his voice is anchored into the deep end of anxiety — the words are ones you don’t want to hear… But coming from Poe, the ever optimist, you know they’re going to shape how the rest of the next few weeks will go.

“Hueli… is worse than we thought.”

You reach for his hand. And you squeeze.