#uwingwriting

*

You’d been dating Poe for a few months the first time he wanted to take you to a med center.

He was nervous. The two of you had been out, strolling around downtown waiting for your table at a local restaurant to be ready—and then you’d tweaked something in your knee and needed to stop and rest. He’d found a park bench and helped you get to it, but you could tell he wanted desperately to fix the situation.

You’d experienced this feeling before—there were men who didn’t know what to do in an emergency other than fix it. If Poe couldn’t handle not having the power to make it all better—well, guys like that usually just ran.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “The pain you’re describing…it’s not normal.”

“It is for me,” you explained. “This happens a lot.”

He ran a hand through his dark curls and let out a long breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t understand why you don’t want me to help you.”

Arsix was at home tonight. If she were here she might offer you one of your tablets, maybe a few other home remedies, but even she understood that some things just took a little bit of time. And a little bit of rest.

“That’s not it,” you said. “If you could help, I would let you. But I need you to trust me when I tell you there’s nothing at the med center that will help me with my knee tonight.”

He took your hand. “I trust you,” he said. “What can I do?”

“Unfortunately,” you said, “I think I need you to take me home.”

He looked a bit stricken before he tried to hide his disappointment, anxiously running a hand through his hair again. “Okay,” he said. “Let me go get the speeder.”

You felt his worry, and a there was a tightness in your chest as you wondered whether this might be it for you and Poe. If maybe he’d hit some kind of mental roadblock, realizing you had real disabilities with real impairments that weren’t cute. Things would go wrong that he couldn’t heroically swoop in to solve.

But when he returned with the speeder, he had a sweet smile on his face, and he took your hand again as you slid into the passenger seat. The ride home was a little quiet, but Poe put music on, caressed your hand with his thumb.

When he finally pulled up to your place he said, “I understand why you don’t want to be with me tonight. I guess…sometimes you just need some space when you’re hurting, huh?”

“Poe,” you said. “When I said I wanted you to take me home, I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave”

“Oh?”

“I was hoping you’d come inside. That maybe you’d want to be with me even though I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“Kriff,” he said. “I’m an idiot. Of course I’ll stay.”

The door to your apartment slid open and Arsix was standing inside, twittering her concern.

“Knee issues,” Poe told the droid. “Is there anything you can do?”

Arsix beeped instructions to get you inside and on the sofa where you could elevate the injury on an ottoman while she got a heat wrap ready.

Gently, Poe eased you onto your sofa, asked if he could hold you. So you rested your head on his chest, letting out a deep breath as he wrapped an arm around you.

“Sorry I kind of ruined our date,” you said. “I know it’s not always easy with me.”

“Look at me,” Poe said, tilting your chin toward him. “Please don’t apologize for this. This wasn’t your choice, and I know that.”

You nodded, trying to hold back tears.

Poe leaned in to kiss you, a sweet, comforting kiss, his plush lips warm and soft. You took his face in your hands and invited the kiss to last a little longer. But you were so overwhelmed with relief that your tears begin to fall.

“Hey, now,” Poe said, brushing away your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I really thought you were going to leave,” you said.

“I know that we haven’t known each other very long,” Poe said. “But the thing is…I’m in love with you. I love you. And that means I’m going to learn how to help you when you’re not well. And how not to help you. I’m going to learn what you need, and to be what you need, okay?”

“Wow,” you said. “That’s, um…that’s a lot.”

“It’s okay if you’re not ready…if you don’t—”

“I’m just a bit overwhelmed. Nobody has ever tried to become an expert in caring for me before.”

He laughed. “The sentiment stands. I can wait.”

“Okay.”

He was about to kiss you again when Arsix came into the room. She had a heat wrap and bacta spray with her, which she applied to your sore knee. As she rolled away she beeped and whistled a phrase that translated to you can kiss the General now.

You laughed and threaded your fingers through Poe’s hair as he bent to capture your mouth with his, his tongue a sweet thrill as it slipped passed your lips, his hand gently running over your shoulder to cradle your neck.

“Thank you for staying,” you said as he pulled away, giving you a moment to search for even the tiniest bit of deception in his warm brown eyes. There was none.

He kissed your forehead and said, “Always.”

Somehow, you believed him.

*

“How’s the finger?” you ask.

You and Arsix have just finished cleaning up the take-out mess in the dining area despite Poe’s protests. You don’t want him to tear any of his stitches, even though the high dose bacta should have him in pretty good shape within a few days.

“I’m fine,” Poe says. “Really. You must be exhausted.”

He comes up behind you as you’re drying off your hands, wraps his arms around your waist, and kisses your neck, his lips soft despite the rough scruff of his face. It’s been a couple of days since he last shaved and you have to admit—you don’t hate it.

You turn in his arms, threading your fingers through his hair, his soft curls wild after tonight’s misadventures. Smoothing his hair away from his face, you look into his eyes before pressing a kiss to his lips. “I need you to be more careful,” you say. “I think I like you best with all ten fingers.”

Poe lets his hands wander to the waistband of your pants and says “I think I know why,” with a cheeky grin.

“Seriously, though,” you say. “As much as I enjoy what you can do with your hands, I also just need you to be safe.”

You aren’t the only one concerned about Poe’s blatant disregard for his own safety. BB-8 had mentioned it more than once over the years. Finn let you know when things started to get serious between you and Poe that it was something you might want to keep an eye on. Because when Poe gets upset or ambitious or excited, safety goes out the window.

“You’re talking like I regularly put myself in danger.”

“Don’t you?” you ask. “Tonight it was a slip of a knife—a vibro-blade for stars’ sake. Tomorrow it could be lightspeed skipping or an insane bar bet you can’t turn down.”

Poe sighs deeply, pulls you close. He smells of his citrus-y soap, of the light, musky cologne he wears. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and he whispers, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You need to think,” you say. “I’m counting on you to think. If anything ever happened to you…they can reattach a finger, an arm even. But one of these days it could be a lot worse than that and I need you to be here with me. To come home to me.”

Poe’s heart rate has started to increase, and you hope you haven’t induced a panic in him.

“Sometimes,” Poe says, “You remind me of Leia. I wish you could have met her.”

“I hope you’re not deflecting,” you say.

“I’m not,” he says. “Let me see your eyes.”

You pull away from his embrace and meet his tired gaze.

“Leia would have loved you for a lot of reasons. You’re strong, and you’re thoughtful, and you speak your mind. But she especially would have loved how you put me in my place,” Poe says. “Just like she used to do. And just like she usually was, you’re right.”

You can’t help but smile a little, taking Poe’s face in your hand, his brown and silver hair flopping forward into his eyes. “I love you,” you say. “Even when I want to stay mad at you, you make it so hard.”

He kisses you then, slowly, his hand on the small of your back, his lips fitting to yours perfectly. You touch your forehead to his and sigh.

“BB-8,” you say, knowing the droid is nearby. “Can you sweep the house for vibro-blades and put them all in the weapons locker in the garage?”

BB-8 chirps in agreement and gets to work.

*

You hadn’t expected for Poe to spend the night that night—you’d hardly expected him to stay after your date went sideways. But he did. And he didn’t seem to mind that, because of your extreme knee pain, it wasn’t a very romantic evening. Arsix was in and out of the bedroom all night, checking on you, bringing you medicine and changing out the heat wraps on your sore knee. Your overprotective tooka-cat was on edge, pacing the room as best as his three legs allowed in between naps at the end of the bed. And while it was hard for you to sleep when you were in this amount of pain, you found being with Poe through a difficult night like this somehow comforting.

It was in the early hours before dawn when you woke to find Poe asking Arsix if there was anything he could do.

“I feel so helpless,” he said.

Arsix warbled and whistled and you made out the phrase safe feelings with you.

“Yeah?”

You bring calm and warmth. Past boyfriends inconsiderate.

You smiled to yourself and rolled over in bed. You hadn’t met many others who talked to droids like Poe did, treating them like the people they were. Especially not in the middle of a sleepless night.

“You’re still here, Poe,” you said.

The moonlight was coming in through the windows, past the curtains that you could have sworn you’d closed before bed, but which your tooka-cat had likely disturbed. Poe put his arms around you and you laid your head on his bare shoulder, his skin warm as you reciprocated the embrace. You ran your hands through his dark curls, resting your palm at the back of his neck.

“Of course I am,” he said. “Did we wake you?”

“No. I’m just…awake again.”

“I’m sorry,” Poe said, his hands at your back, lightly massaging the spot that always ached when you’d been still for too long. Maybe he was more attuned to your needs than you’d realized.

“Not your fault,” you told him, yawning. “Thank you for being here. Nights like this can be hard. Not just because of the pain, but…it’s lonely sometimes.”

“I wish there was more I could do,” he said.

“I know,” you told him. “But what you’re doing right now is enough.”

Arsix twittered that she had tablets and bacta spray for you and you thanked her, sitting up so you could swallow the medicine. The little droid helped you apply the bacta to your knee before she rolled out of the room, telling you to ping her if you needed something.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Poe said as you settled back into the bed. He pulled you into his arms again, letting you get as comfortable as you could.

“This is nice,” you said.

Poe cupped your face, his thumb caressing you cheek, and as you pulled back to see his eyes in the near darkness, there was something there that you hadn’t seen before. A truth so deep and real that it could only be seen in this dim light. And he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips that told you this was the only place he wanted to be.

*

When Poe comes home from work today he’s wearing a blue flight suit with the arms tied around his waist, carrying a heavy duffel bag. You haven’t seen him like this in a long time, and you can’t help but admire how the white tank he’s wearing perfectly compliments his toned physique and the pretty tattoos on his arms and chest.

“What’s in the bag, General?” you ask.

You’d just come out of your office to make yourself a cup of tea—Poe wasn’t expected home for at least another hour.

“One of the kids spilled oil while I was teaching a refresher course on basic vehicle maintenance. Which would have been fine—it happens all the time, you know? But it got everywhere and when I went to shower and change…apparently the upperclassmen put my change of clothes in the freezer last week. In a tub of water.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“This was all I had in the office,” he says, gesturing at his attire. “So.”

“And that’s the block of ice?” you ask, pointing at the bag.

He nods.

“I guess we can just put it in the back yard to thaw,” you said. “Have you considered not telling your students all the stupid shit you did when you were a kid?”

Poe laughs, reaching for you. Taking his hand, you let him pull you into an embrace.

“Don’t lie, though,” Poe says. “You think this look is kinda hot, don’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you say.

You smooth his hair away from his face, his curls a bit more wild than usual, and he tilts your chin toward him to kiss you, letting his tongue tease you just a little as his lips meet yours.

When your front door slides open to reveal BB-8 towing a small shopping bag, Poe pulls away.

“There you are, buddy,” Poe says.

BB-8 chirps a response that translates roughly to flowers acquired.

“For me?” you ask.

Poe gets the bag from BB-8 and pulls out a bouquet full of your favorites. “I’m sorry about last night,” he says. “It was an unnecessary stressor for you, and I shouldn’t have been doing something so reckless. I talked to my therapist on my lunch beak today—she also wasn’t impressed.”

You take the flowers and admire the arrangement, take in their sweet scent before grabbing a vase from the cupboard and filling it with water. “What did she say?” you ask.

“Something about thrill-seeking behavior after spending so many of my formative years in life and death situations.”

“Sounds familiar.” You’re told him the same thing on multiple occasions.

“I know,” he says. “I need some new hobbies.”

“That I can help you with,” you say. “There are ways to feel alive that don’t put you in danger.”

Poe steps close to you again, runs his fingertips down you cheek before softly touching your lower lip with his thumb. And you place your hands at his waist, playing at the hem of his undershirt, which he swiftly removes.

“I can think of one way to feel alive that might be nice right now,” he says.

Poe presses his body flush to yours as you lean back into the kitchen counter, drawing you into a hungry, urgent kiss, cradling your face in his hands. You let your hands wander from his muscular back down to his perfect ass, pulling him even closer.

“Bedroom?” you ask, almost breathless.

“Yeah,” he says. “Bedroom.”

When you’re watching him peel himself out of the ill-fitting flight suit, you laugh—and he retaliates by playfully pushing you into the bed where he climbs on top of you, undressing you, kissing your lips, your nose, your neck, your shoulders.

“Sweetheart,” he says, “let me show you how alive you make me feel.”

As he trails kisses down your chest and abdomen, your mind empties itself of every pain, every stress, every worry. “I love you,” you tell him.

And from under the covers, placing one more kiss to your belly, he replies, “I know.”

★★★★★★★★ Thank you so much for reading! I wanted to write some nice, soft Poe for y'all. I hope this fic makes you feel seen and loved.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.)

He slides his arm around your waist as you leave the caf bar and you think that nothing in the galaxy could make you feel safer than this, the warmth of Brasso’s touch radiating through your body.

Brasso is wearing an oversized cable knit cardigan over a henley, a few of the buttons left open, with a pair of trousers that he must have had tailored—they fit impossibly well. He’d recently taken to leaving his work clothes at work, usually coming home in something more comfortable. And while you did find his overalls sexy, it’s been nice seeing him in the wardrobe of a man who has finally been able to make time for himself. To relax after years and years of uncertainty.

He catches you staring as he gets into the speeder, raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You just look really nice, ” you say. “Very cozy.”

He shrugs, a bit bashful. In the back seat, you note a bag of groceries.

“Thought I might make us something special tonight,” he says. “Had to pick up a few things..”

“You don’t have to cook, Brass. I know it’s been a long day for you.”

A shipment that was supposed to arrive yesterday arrived late today, meaning two shipments had to be unloaded and taken care of almost simultaneously. He’d sent you a message earlier, letting you know not to expect him for lunch. But now he smiles as he starts the speeder, takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“You know I have a full team, right?” he says. “It was a long day, but I’m more than happy to make us dinner. You’ve had a very long week, and you deserve something nice tonight.”

You don’t know what it’s like to live in a body that can do that kind of labor day after day and still have the energy to cook or run errands or take care of things around the house. To take care of you. And your week has been long, starting with straining your back at the market over the weekend, that strain just snowballing until you were panicking over whether you’d be able to finish your holonet orders on time. Brasso ended up sending a droid from the shop to help you—a little C1-unit with a curved, green dome who was more than happy to sit with you in your office and label packages, despite some sniffing and pawing from the two tooka residents of your home.

“Okay,” you say. “I don’t know how you do all of the things you do. Promise me you’ll rest tomorrow.”

“Anything for you, love,” Brasso says, pulling away from the parking space. “Absolutely anything.”

*

This wasn’t how it usually went for you. Usually when the two of you ended up at the med center it was you stuck in bed exhausted and hooked up to an IV. Usually Brasso was pulling up the chair to sit as close to you as possible, holding your hand, fretting as med droids came in and out of the room. But today on his way back from the spaceport Brasso’s speeder had been side-swiped. A hit-and-run. The med center had called you when he was admitted. And when you’d arrived, he’d insisted he was fine. But as soon as a med droid arrived to administer medications, you learned that Brasso had fractured three ribs and had severe bruising on his chest and shoulder.

You’d never seen him like this before, and you held back tears as you dragged that chair from across the room so you could sit next to the bed as you smoothed Brasso’s hair away from his face, revealing a cut he hadn’t mentioned.

“You hit your head,” you say. “Do you have a concussion?”

“It’s minor,” he said, taking your hand and kissing your wrist. “I should be able to get out of here soon.”

“I want to talk to the doctor.”

“I promise, love, I’m fine,” he said. “Nothing a little bacta won’t solve.”

“That’s what you said when you dropped an entire engine on your foot.”

“I should have been wearing better shoes.”

“But you weren’t. And I had to get Vetch to bar you from the yard until you’d healed properly.”

You’d never imagined that Vetch would be a regular part of your life but, after the war, the Urodel had reached out to Brasso, told him he was looking for work and he wasn’t keen to return to Ferrix after how things had ended for him there. He’d always been a bit of an outcast, a strange but sweet individual who—like you—had hoped that things would blow over on Ferrix far before they did. And when he ran, it was self-preservation—the fist of the Empire came down much harder on folks who weren’t human. You’d never been close, but he’d gone missing early on, and was one of the many beings that you thought about on those cold Ferrix nights wondering if you needed to leave before you disappeared too, hoping that every one of those missing beings had left on their own terms.

So you’d offered up your couch to Vetch for a couple of weeks, and Brasso had helped him find salvage work at another scrap yard. Soon he was back on his feet. And when Brasso was starting his own business, he’d asked Vetch to join his small team. Now, the Urodel was family. And when he’d told you that Brasso was trying to walk around on his broken foot just days after the accident, you’d asked him to do you a favor. Vetch was the only person you knew who could outmatch your partner in size and strength, so he was effective in making sure Brasso kept to the work he could do sitting down until the doctor cleared him to do physical labor again.  

Brasso sighed, taking both of your hands in his. “I don’t want you to worry about me. This is not a big deal.”

The tears you’d been holding back began to spill over. “Brass, this is a huge deal. Do you know how lucky you are that this wasn’t worse? If I lost you—”

Brasso tried to sit up in bed and you put a hand on his shoulder to ease him back down. Maybe it was the pain in his ribs, but he didn’t resist. Instead he turned to his side and shuffled over, patting the cot. “I’m here,” he said. “Will you lay down with me? I just need to hold you.”

So you climbed into the bed with him, thanking the stars for its generous size due to the larger species that this med center also served. Brasso started to brush your tears away—but the familiar touch as he caressed your face with his rough hands somehow made you tear up again. And he pulled you close, wrapping his big arms around you, hazel eyes bright as he met your gaze.

“It wasn’t worse,” he says. “After everything, I’m not letting a speeder wreck take me away from you. It isn’t happening, all right?”

You nod, knowing he can’t actually promise this, but trying to believe him anyway.

“Those last few years,” you said. “Before you came back…I’d started to think you were dead. And for a moment when the med center called me—”

“I’m here, darling,” he said, touching his forehead to yours, his dark hair brushing your cheek. “I’m never leaving you again.”

He kissed you and for a split second you could almost believe you weren’t in a stiff cot in a sterile room. Running your hand through his hair, the ends just brushing his collar, you thought about all the silver strands that have come in, how many of your friends from Ferrix had never grown old enough to have a single gray hair. How lucky you were that he was still alive, this beautiful man whose face you’d seen on so many wanted posters for years, every day hoping he was safe.

“Say it again,” you asked.

“I’m never leaving you,” he said, his voice soft. “Ever again. I promise.”

*

It’s after dark when Brasso sends you to the couch to rest with a cup of tea. He’s rinsing dishes and packing up leftovers and rinsing dishes, the tookas pawing at his legs as they wait for him to put down a plate of scraps for them.

“Are you sure you don’t need—” you say.

“Of course I’m sure,” Brasso says. “You hurt yourself this week and you need to take it easy. Let me just finish up here and I’ll bring you something for your back, love.”

You sigh. He’s right. The pain isn’t as bad as the day before, but it’s still there and you know he sees right through you when you say you’re fine. He always has. “I just hate this feeling. Like one day you’ll wake up and it will feel like a burden, how sometimes I can’t help with even the smallest things.”

Immediately, Brasso is at your side, kneeling, one of his big hands resting on your knee. “Look at me,” he says. “I need you to know that that will never happen. I know there are things you can’t do, and that some days that will be worse than others. I knew that back on Ferrix, I knew that when I came to find you after the war, I knew that when I married you and I know that today. Darling, you could never, ever be a burden to me. I need you to believe me.”

“I don’t know what to say, Brass,” you say.

“Just tell me you understand.”

“I do.”

“Okay,” he says, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “What needs doing is done. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. Let me get you the bacta spray. That’s been helping, right?”

“It has.”

He gets up and you can hear him rummaging around one of the drawers in the refresher, cursing under his breath as he nearly trips over the tookas chasing each other down the hallway. When he returns to your side he helps you apply the spray to your neck and shoulders, and then your lower back where the pain has been worst. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you let Brasso pull you toward him.

“You’re too good to me,” you say, resting your head on Brasso’s firm chest as he wraps both arms around you.

“I think I’m just about the right amount of good to you,” he says. “Honestly I could probably do a bit better.”

You reach for his neck, the ends of his shaggy hair soft in your fingers, and he takes in a sharp breath that tells you exactly how he feels about this touch. When you ask him to kiss you, he obliges, his lips meeting yours with an unexpected desire.

“Do you want to go to bed?” you ask.

“It’s still early” he says. “But if—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s some really effective bacta. You sure?”

“I just want to be close to you.”

“All right, love.”

Brasso helps you up from the couch, leading you to the bedroom where he undresses you, his tender hands moving slowly over your body as he bends to kiss your neck, the stubble on his jaw brushing your sensitive skin.

“You tell me if I’m not gentle enough,” he says, easing the both of you into bed, under the covers.

“I would, but I know I’ll never have to.”

A stubborn lock of hair has fallen forward, obscuring his eyes, and you tuck it back behind his ear, eliciting a smile before he captures your lips with his, his deft fingers tracing the lines of your body, touching you in a way only he knows how. Because he knows you, loves you so specifically and completely that it was almost overwhelming.

As his fingers slip softly past your waist, you throw your arms around his neck and you whisper in his ear: “I love you.”

“And I love you,” he says, his hazel eyes catching the moonlight. “Always.”

★★★★★★★★

Some more Brasso comfort for y'all! Thank you for reading! I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

“Did you already eat lunch?” he asks, changing into the soft lounge pants, leaving the tee you brought him slung over the back of the sofa.

“Yeah, after the ramp guys left,” you say. “I should have checked on you. It really has been too hot for this.”

This summer your town on Ralltiir had seen some especially oppressive temperatures, and while it’s cooler today, it apparently isn’t cool enough for outdoor carpentry. But you can see through the window what Cassian has made—a unit that resembles a normal bookshelf on the bottom, but where the top half is divided into little cubes for Arseven’s collection. It might be a little tall for her, but he’s working with something you found at a friend’s garage sale. With Kay around, if she needs a little help, she’ll have it.

“Where did you get these pickles?” Cassian asks.

“Farmer’s market last weekend,” you say. “They’re good, right?”

He nods. It’s been a long day for him. He let you sleep in this morning and re-painted the room by himself—something that you’d planned to do together. But you’d been up the night before with horrible joint pain and he insisted you rest.

Somehow he has the energy to pull you down onto the couch with him, to begin massaging your shoulders. You’ve barely done any real physical labor today, but you are sore. He can always tell.

You check the chrono on the wall—an antique given to you as a wedding gift—and note that it will be a few hours still before Kay and Arseven return.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Much better, my heart,” he says. “Thank you for all of this.”

“I’ve hardly done anything,” you say. “I made you a sandwich and brought you clean clothes.”

Cassian wraps an arm around you, taking you into his embrace. He never did put that shirt on, and you can’t help but enjoy this moment of intimacy on a day that should have been too busy for it. But the heat had slowed both of you to a halt.

He kisses the top of your head as you trace the invisible lines between the stars tattooed on the right side of his chest—a constellation that had shone in the sky above his home planet, one his mother had been fond of. He’d spent a year researching, cross-referencing galactic maps from before the Clone Wars. Memories of his birth mother were faint and few, but this had stuck with him. And you’d been there when he’d finally had it inked into his skin.

“I like to think she would have loved you,” he says. “I wish I could remember her more. But she was kind. And brave.”

It’s rare to hear Cassian talk about his childhood, and this almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I know you lost her too soon, but she must have been a very special woman to have given the galaxy a man like you.”

Cassian catches your hand in his, kisses first your knuckles and then your wrist. You look into his eyes, at every secret he holds there, and when he presses his lips to yours all you can see when you close your eyes is a sky full of stars.

*

The conversation about moving in together was almost a non-event. You’d both had leases ending around the same time, and your lives were already so in synch that when you’d mentioned wanting to find a new place that was on the first floor or had a decent turbolift, Cassian, who had been spending most of his time at your place and was currently in your kitchen going through your refrigerator, had said “Why don’t we just look for a little house, together?”

And you’d been delighted, agreeing immediately, not realizing that he’d already been looking for somewhere for the two of you, somewhere where you would have a home office and not a single worry about whether your knees were too sore to climb the stairs. And while normally you might have been upset that you hadn’t been included in this, when Cassian brought his datapad to show you the properties he’d found, how they were still close enough for you walk to your little caf bar and were all single-floor homes with only a single step outside the front door—you couldn’t be angry. Because you’d never felt more seen.

And today was the big day. Somehow you’d managed to get all your boxes and furniture into the new place, and already you were so tired you didn’t know how you’d find the energy to put everything away. You felt your anxiety spiking when you heard Cassian drop what sounded like a box of tools, cursing at himself. He came into the kitchen looking for an ice pack, but found you.

“My heart, you look worried,” he said. “I know this was fast. If this isn’t what you want…”

He reached to take your hand, but you leaned fully into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hugged you close enough that you could hear his heart beating.

“That’s not it at all,” you said.

“If you want me to get a separate apartment, that’s completely fine but I—”

You interrupted him. “Cassian, no. I want all of this. I just don’t want to deal with…all of this.” You gestured at the boxes and crates surrounding you.

“Unpacking,” he said, audibly relieved.

“Unpacking might be harder for me than packing. I need a break.”

“Well in that case,” he said, “I should tell you that Kay’s little astromech friend is coming by tomorrow. I paid that horrible man she lives with for two days of her time.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said. “But thank you. It will be nice to spend some time with her.”

“She actually volunteered to come help you with the move when Kay mentioned that you had been anxious. But that man. He was a mechanic for the Rebellion, you know? Stars, he was insufferable then, too.”

“You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Cassian pulled away just far enough for him to look into your eyes. “We’re building our life together. Anything I can make less stressful for you, I’m going to.”

He touched his forehead to yours, and you were overwhelmed not with anxiety now but love—a love you always thought couldn’t possibly grow bigger and more beautiful but which always did as Cassian showed you more and more of himself. “I love you so much,” you told him.

He kissed you, soft and sweet, the kiss of a tired man at the end of a long day who still has all the time in the world for you.

“I love you, too, my heart,” he said. “We’re done for today. No more unpacking, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Also, I just ordered dumplings for dinner. I hope that’s all right.”

“Dumplings with you?” you said. “That will always be perfect.”

“Go sit,” he said. “The dining area is still a mess, but I think we’ve got the living room mostly set up. Lots to do, but there should be somewhere comfortable to rest for a while. I’ll bring you some tea in a minute.”

“Where’s Kay?”

“He needed an extension cord and offered to go pick up some groceries while he was out. Things for breakfast tomorrow, mostly.”

You smiled, thinking of breakfast, knowing that every day now you would wake up next to your partner in this house. In some ways, it was a blank slate. A new start. And in other ways, it was the most familiar, comfortable place you could imagine. Earlier you and Cassian had put the new linens on the bed—linens you’d chosen together—and something about that felt solid in a way that your life before Cassian couldn’t have been.

On the couch you wrapped a knitted blanket around your shoulders—this one had come from Cassian’s apartment and it smelled very much like him. When Cassian came in with tea, you offered the blanket to him.

“Do you remember when we got this?” he asked.

“Farmer’s market,” you said. “First time we ever went together, I think.”

“I think it was the first time I’d ever been at all.”

“How are you feeling?” you asked, realizing he must have been sore and tired, too. Maybe a little anxious.

“Honestly? My shoulder hurts a bit but…I’m feeling good.”

He didn’t have to say which shoulder was bothering him. You knew it was the one with the durasteel implant. He never complained about it, making it hard for you to ever tell how much it bothered him. The fact that he'd mentioned it at all let you know it must be pretty bad.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure. I couldn’t be happier to be doing this with you.”

*

You and Cassian are both asleep on the couch when Kay comes through the front door, loud as ever, followed by Arseven, beeping excitedly. You’d meant to have everything ready for her as a surprise by the time she got home, but the shelves were still in the yard and you hadn’t moved any of the things back into the room that Cassian had taken out before he painted—a bright shade of blue that Kay had suggested.

“I guess this is one way to set up a surprise,” Kay says, lumbering down the hall where he begins putting everything back where it had been when he and Arseven left that morning.

Cassian stretches, reaching for the shirt that’s still clean and folded on the back of the sofa. He runs a hand through his hair, now fallen loose. He still looks exhausted.

“We had a little too much sun, Kay,” you call after him. “You know how sensitive organics can be when it gets hot like this.”

Kay steps out of the room into the hallway and just stares at you. You’ve taken the snark right out of his proverbial mouth.

Arseven, though—she’s overjoyed just having seen the ramp in front, beeping and whistling a long string of excited thank yous.

“Go see the patio,” you say.

She hasn’t even opened the transparisteel door when she sees the new ramp and turns her head toward you, then back to the patio, then to you again before letting out a long squeal as she goes outside.

“I think she likes it,” Cassian says.

“I think so,” you say, straightening your clothes a bit. As you open the patio door, you hear Cassian calling down the hall for Kay to come help him with the shelf.

You find Arseven in the yard, out by a spot you had hoped to maybe plant some vegetables someday. You’d never mentioned it to Arseven, but she’s twittering about a garden.

“If you want,” you say. “This is your yard, too. Maybe we can do something together.”

Cassian nearly startles you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. The temperature has cooled significantly since earlier in the day, and as the sun sets, you can hear the insects singing in the trees.

“I guess I’ll just do this myself, then,” Kay says, picking up the shelf and carrying it into the house.

It’s pieced together from at least two different kinds of wood, but Cassian has managed to use a stain to get it all about the same color. It isn’t perfect, but it’s nice. It was made with love, and isn’t that how all the best things are made?”

“Go see your room, Seven,” you say. “We really want you to feel at home here, so we did a little work.”

The little droid makes her way back up the ramp, whistling. As she goes inside, you can hear your tooka-cat howling for dinner, and you remember how, the night you first met Arseven, she had gone to your house during an emergency to pick up a few things for you and to feed the little beast. She's a droid, but her heart is bigger and fuller than so many organic beings you’d known.

“What a strange little family we’ve made,” Cassian says, soft into your ear.

“She wants a garden,” you say.

“Then she’ll have one.”

You turn to face your partner, your heart full with his love. “We are so lucky to have you, Cassian,” you say. “You know that, right?”

“I believe you, my heart,” he says. “But every day I wake up feeling like I’ve won the lottery.”

A breeze comes through, catching his hair and you brush it away from his face, tucking it behind his ears. “But that’s the thing,” you say. “So do I.”

He kisses you then, hungry, drawing your body close, his hands first resting on your hips then traveling up along your back making their way to your cradle your neck and then your face, his lips soft against yours, the tease of his tongue pleasant as you caress his bearded jaw before threading your fingers into his soft hair.

You’re only stopped by the bright patio lights coming on, K-2SO standing just inside the door, staring at you for a moment before saying, “Are you two coming inside or not?”

“Later,” Cassian whispers in your ear, “When they are charging for the night, I’m going to make you feel as lucky as I do every time I get to touch you.”

A thrill runs through you, and then you realize Kay is still staring at you from the porch.

“Let’s not keep them waiting,” you say, covertly running a hand along his inner thigh before stopping and turning to go inside. Behind you, you hear Cassian letting out a slow breath.

Inside, you find Arseven organizing her tooka doll collection into her new shelves. She spins around when she hears you and chirps a thank you.

“I’m so glad you’re happy here,” Cassian says. “We thought you might like somewhere nice to keep your things.”

The droid whistles and whirrs: never allowed belongings before.

You remember when you gave her the first item she’d ever owned—one of these tooka dolls Kay had told you she would like, as a thank you for helping you with your move-in. You couldn’t pay her that day—her owner at the time wouldn’t have let her keep the credits for herself. So you chose a gift that she could keep here, for when she visited. And the collection had grown. She had a few other things—her datapad, a cactus, a paper book with pictures from her favorite holodrama. And she’d arranged these belongings on her new shelves as well.

“Let us know if there’s anything else you need, Seven,” you say. “Anything, okay?”

She coos, and you reach out and gently pat her dome before leaving her and Kay to enjoy their space together.

You’re in the kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water when Cassian asks, “How about dumplings tonight, my heart?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Good,” he says. “It will be, anyway, once I find the bacta spray.”

“It’s on my nightstand,” you say. “From last night. Never did make it back to the ’fresher cabinet.”

“I should have guessed,” he says.

Cassian takes your hand, pulls you close, and kisses first your forehead, and then your lips, gentle.

“You go rest,” you tell him. “I’ll bring you the bacta.”

He doesn’t let go at first, and you look up at him, at his deep brown eyes, how from the day you met he looked at you like no one else ever had, how he still has that look in his eyes tonight, even as your tooka-cat has begun scratching at the cupboard for his kibble.

Cassian kisses you again before taking your glass of water with him into the living room. You feed the tooka, pour another glass of water, and retrieve the bacta spray for your spouse.

When he takes his shirt off so you can apply it for him, he says, “You are more than I ever dared hope for.”

And there’s nothing you can say to that, so you kiss his cheek, help him get his shirt back on, and let him hold you while he orders dinner. This is the closeness he craves, that you know he didn’t have a lot of in his life before you. But it’s also a closeness you never thought you’d find, given your disabilities, knowing how so many people refused to see that part of you, let alone love it. But Cassian chose this life—a life with you.

“Drink your water,” you tell him.

And he pulls you into a kiss so tender and deep and honest that you feel every ache in your body almost fade into the background.

“Anything for you, my heart,” he says, a whisper in your ear.

And while you laugh, you know this is the truth. That the man who has you wrapped in his tired arms can think of nothing he wouldn’t do for you. And sometimes that’s overwhelming. But tonight you let your heart rest in this knowledge, holding that comfort close to you as he holds you close to him, his heartbeat steady, and your favorite dumplings on the way.

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved. Really wanted to get y’all some Cassian fluff this time around. Tagging folks who I think would enjoy! (Taglist sign up forthcoming):

“Should we put on the holonews?” you ask. “So we know when—”

“No,” Poe says. “BB-8 sliced into the police coms. He’s going to tell us when they know something.”

“How did he manage that?”

Poe laughs. “I honestly don’t ask questions anymore.”

“How are you so calm right now?” you ask. “This person out there, somewhere near us…wanting to hurt people like you.”

“Because if I let that fear in, it will control me. And I can’t be in that dark place again. I’d rather be here, with you.”

You reach for Poe’s face, the stubble that’s grown in since he shaved this morning rough against your palm, his hair falling out of place as he leans in to kiss you. You run a hand through his wild curls, his lips soft as he pulls you in deep. You can’t help but smile as his hands start sliding down your back toward your hips.

Arsix rolls into the room beeping about your elevated heart rate, and when you both look up, she warbles something about a false alarm and scoots away.

You can’t help but laugh as Poe strokes your cheek. He’s trailing his fingers down your neck when he notices what you’re wearing.

“Is this my scarf?” he asks. 

“Is it?” you reply, knowing that both of you know it’s not only his but one of his favorites.

“It suits you.”

*

You weren’t sure how many dates you’d been on with Poe—mostly because it took a few outings for you to figure out whether these outings were actually dates. Most of your plans had come about casually, as if on a whim. But tonight he’d asked you ahead of time if he could take you out. And when he picked you up he looked…dressed up. Where you’d usually seen him in some combo of jeans and a t-shirt with his resistance jacket—or occasionally a flight suit—tonight he wore (very) well-tailored brown pants with a collared shirt and a scarf. 

“What’s wrong?” Poe asked, reaching across your front door’s threshold to take your hand, sneaking in a little caress with his thumb over your knuckles.

“Nothing,” you said. “You just look really, really nice.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s about time I tried to impress you a little.”

“I’m impressed,” you told him. “Let me just grab my coat—”

You were interrupted as you almost tripped over your tooka cat, a plump creature you’d taken home with you after seeing him in the window of a shelter soon after coming to Chandrila. He had three legs and one eye, but his heart was as loving and mischievous as any other tooka.

“Hey, little guy,” Poe said, crouching a bit to offer his hand for a sniff.

The tooka hissed and retreated to circle your feet.

“Huh,” he said. “They usually like me.”

You laughed. “He’s protective,” you said. “We’ve both seen some hard times. But if you show him who you are, he’ll probably come around.”

Arsix beeped from down the hall to remind you to take your com. As you grabbed it from the kitchen counter, Poe called into your apartment, “Don’t worry, Arsix. I’ll have her home before dark.”

“You absolutely will not,” you replied. 

He raised an eyebrow, but took your hand again and you walked with him out to his landspeeder.

He was about to open the door for you, but stopped. There was a look of consternation on his face for only a moment before he said, “I know traditionally this is done after I bring you home. But I just…I really want to kiss you. Would it be okay if I—”

“Please.”

Tenderly he took your face in his hands, a playful smile in his eyes as he leaned in, first touching his nose to yours and then capturing your lips with his. It was brief and it was sweet, and you leaned into it, your hands wandering over his muscled chest before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Poe rested his forehead against yours. “Should we go?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. 

Poe kissed you again—a little peck—before opening the speeder door for you. As soon as he slid into the driver’s seat, Poe took your hand. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this safe.

*

It was late when you realized neither of you had eaten since lunch. BB-8 offered to go pick something up, but Poe insisted on cooking. “I need to do something with my hands,” he’d said. You knew at this point that Poe was feeling more than he wanted you to see. That keeping his hands busy was a way he could keep his mind busy. As he went through the cupboards for ingredients, you rolled your thumb over your wedding ring, thinking of all the stories Poe had told you about his mother. 

Poe had learned to cook from both of his parents, but he especially liked making a dish his mother taught him when he was young and which his father continued to make for him on difficult nights into his teens. He’d taken to making this for you on evenings that you needed comfort as well. 

Later, as you and Arsix are cleaning up the kitchen and putting away the leftovers, BB-8 lets out a long chirp—loud enough to wake up Poe, who had fallen asleep on the couch after dinner. He sits straight up from what you know is a heavy sleep, clearly alarmed. 

“BB-8,” he says, “you have news?”

The droid chirps and whistles, unable to contain his own relief as he wobbles in place. Suspect in custody. Threat neutralized. 

“Did anybody get hurt?” you ask.

BB-8 whistles low. Several injuries. No deaths.

“Thanks, buddy,” Poe says. “Now get the hell out of the police coms before you get caught.”

Poe meanders out to the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, gently kissing your forehead. “You didn’t have to clean up,” he says. I know your back hasn’t been great this week, I would have done it when I woke up.”

“I’m feeling better tonight,” you say. “And Arsix did most of it. I didn’t want to wake you. You’ve been trying not to show it, but I know you’re feeling the stress of the day, too.”

“You see right through me, don’t you?” He leans in, touches his nose to yours. 

You run your fingers through Poe’s hair, his curls having grown a bit long in recent months, threaded with silver. 

“I’m sure you get away with a lot just because you’re pretty.”

The truth is Poe isn’t keen on his hair going gray—a point of vanity that you’ve talked him through more than once. How you love the silver that’s come in since you met, back when his hair was mostly dark. Just as you love the way his eyes crinkle in the corners every time he smiles. 

He lets his hand wander down your back toward the hem of your shirt and you think you know where things are headed when your tooka-cat jumps up on the counter, knocking over an empty canteen. You’ve shooed the tooka away when you see the spot on Poe’s shirt

“Poe, you’ve got a bit of sauce there.”

You’re turning to get a stain stick out of the kitchen drawer, but he surprises you when he says, “I guess it has to come off, then.”

He unbuttons his shirt and shrugs out of it, tossing it over a chair, and pulls you toward him. His skin is warm as you touch your hands to his firm chest, his broad shoulders, the tattoo on his left bicep of a tree his mother planted on Yavin IV, the intricate blossoms falling down his arm. Somewhere underneath is a scar he chose to conceal. “To move forward,” he’d told you, years ago.

“So how much better is your back, sweetheart?” he asks.

“It’s good,” you say, leaning into a soft, hungry kiss with one hand on his shoulder and the other at the back of his neck, giving his hair the lightest tug.

*

There were only a few people left in the little restaurant when you and Poe decided to order after-dinner caf. It was late, but it seemed that neither of you wanted to leave yet. Like if you stayed in this spot forever, the night couldn’t end.

Poe had started to seem a little nervous. As if he hadn’t told you intimate details of his life on the day you met. Or kissed you before getting in the speeder tonight. 

“I don’t think you ever told me where you grew up, General,” you said.

This drew a smile from him, a man clearly proud of his service, but not so proud as to not enjoy a little teasing.

“Yavin,” he said. “Yavin IV. My parents settled there after the last war. A bunch of families did.”

“That sounds nice,” you said. “And very warm, if I recall.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Do you think I’m going to need a new jacket for winter?”

“Probably,” you said. “So you’re a new arrival?” 

“I’ve only been here for six months,” Poe said, running his thumb along the edge of his caf cup. “Chandrila, I mean. Hanna City. Just…got offered this teaching job by a friend of a friend and…a new start sounded nice, you know?”

“I came here for that, too,” you said. “Three years ago. And there’s a doctor here, a specialist who has been helping me. And after the war…it was a bit of a perfect storm of reasons to make some big changes. So I did.”

Poe’s face turned a bit serious for a moment. “A good doctor can be hard to come by.”

You noticed he was clutching his left bicep. “Old injury?”

“Healed by a good friend. A very good, very patient friend.” He sighed. “Mostly healed. Some wounds never heal right, you know?”

“I do know, actually,” you said. “If you ever want to tell me about it, I’m happy to listen.”

For a fleeting moment, the look on Poe’s face told you he’d gone somewhere you couldn’t follow. “I swear, Kalonia was ready to kill me herself by the time I left the Navy,” he said. “But that’s another story for another time.” He reached across the table to take your hand. 

You looked up and realized you were the last two in the place. “I think they’re waiting for us to leave.”

“You want me to take you home, huh?” he asked.

“Mostly I just want you to kiss me again.”

The two of you had barely made it to the speeder when Poe pulled you close and pressed a kiss to your lips that was both satisfaction and invitation. An electric feeling ran through your body as you deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his soft, dark curls. And the whole sky felt more open and vast than you had ever known it to be, as you let yourself live in this moment, wondering at the fact that somehow the two of you were alive, that your lips fit so perfectly together, that no matter what you told him about the difficulties of your life he still seemed to see you as a whole person.

You’d brought yourself close to tears when you said, “Now you can take me home, Poe.”

*

You’re surprised to find Poe in the kitchen when you wake—he should be at work. 

“What are you doing at home?” you ask.

“Academy told everyone to stay home today,” he said. “The whole school district, actually. Just in case.”

He's a flight intstructor at one of the public schools. Poe had been offered teaching jobs before at fancy private institutions and more than one of the military academies, but it was a public school that finally lured him in. As he told you soon after you met, “everyone deserves the opportunity to learn to fly.”

You breathe in the aroma of freshly brewed caf, and Poe pours you a cup before you even think to ask. On ice of course, sweetened. 

“What do you say we go out today?” he asks. “Unless you have any work you need to get done. I was just thinking, after last night, it might be nice to just…go do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we could just go downtown, see what’s going on. Maybe hang out in the park for a bit, visit those shops you like down by the water…”

“Slow down, Poe,” you say. “Let me go get dressed. And then we can go anywhere you want.”

“Anywhere?” he asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Within reason.” 

“Okay,” he says. “But first, just one thing.”

He pulls you close, taking the cup of caf out of your hands and placing it on the counter.

“I thought that was mine,” you say.

He tugs at the tie at the waist of your robe, pushing the soft fabric away from your shoulder so he can kiss you there—and then your throat, your jaw, and finally your lips. And you are so happy to be kissed by Poe that you forget the caf, the kitchen, the rest of the galaxy as his strong arms pull you close and he presses his body flush against yours. There is nothing between you but the slightest whisper as he lets one hand linger on your hip.

“Stars, you’re beautiful,” he says. “Did you know that? How beautiful you are?”

“You’ve mentioned it,” you say.

“It’s true.”

“I believe you.”

You could stay in this moment forever, but your elbow bumps the cup of caf on the counter and you’re right back in your kitchen on Chandrila—and there’s caf running down your leg.

“Kriff,” Poe says. “I’m so sorry—I’ll take care of this.”

“We’ve both seen worse things than a caf spill,” you say.

He smiles and says, “We have, haven’t we?”

Poe waves you out of the kitchen and you head back to the bedroom to clean up. You throw on something casual as Arsix comes in to check on you and remind you to take your morning meds. 

“Thanks, I almost forgot,” you say. “It looks like Poe and I are going to be in town today. Do you need anything while we’re out?”

She beeps excitedly about a new paperback she was hoping to find at a local bookshop, and you have her send the info to your datapad. You’re always happy to bring home new books for your odd little droid—everyone needs hobbies, and Arsix has been an invaluable companion. Sometimes you wonder how you coped without her for so long.

Poe is waiting for you in the kitchen with his jacket on. “You look perfect, sweetheart” he says, the smile on his face saying just as much as his words.

You’ve spent so much of your life being told that you’re broken or—perhaps worse—a burden that it’s stunning to see yourself through Poe’s eyes. You kiss his cheek and are about to head out to the garage when he stops you.

“Just a minute. I have…” Poe pauses and pulls a scarf from his pocket—his scarf—and ties it loosely around you neck. “There,” he says. “Now we’re ready to go.”

When he takes your hand you feel a bit of the electricity from the first night he kissed you. Every kiss that night felt both new and familiar and every touch still carries some of that thrill. You spot the speeder bike in the garage—a recent acquisition—and suggest that today might be a good day to take it out. 

Poe is more than happy to entertain this idea, and when you hop on the back of the bike and wrap your arms around his middle, you have no idea what the rest of the day will bring. But pulling out of the garage and away from the driveway, you’re grateful that whatever comes next it will be with Poe. 

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! I hope this fic is a soft landing for you, and that you feel seen and loved. Really just wanted to create something sweet since the last fic I posted was a little intense. Tagging some folks who I think would enjoy: