[ he can work with this, the narration says as if the possibility of finn not being okay with it was ever a possibility.
he closes his eyes obligingly to try again. squeezes her hands before he forgets to do it, because obviously he has to do it.
not too much harder, from there, to reach a little bit further out. not for long, not far, just enough to be able to go "well, poe and rose are Somewhere and they're not dying" before he commits to reeling it back.
that's the part that's always second-easiest. finding his people. it's because it's the part that sets him at ease.
feeling out rey, though, is practically second nature. easier than anything. he was doing it before he knew that he was doing it, before he knew that he could.
he meets openness with openness. if rey is a warm patch of sunlight, he's one of those flowers that unfolds specifically for the sunlight. the grounding solidity of her callouses, the almost electric hum of power around her, love for love for love for love, reflecting a mirror into a mirror and watching it travel as deep down as it can possibly go, calcified in the center of his bones.
his forehead wrinkles. truly his default state. ]
Poe's dad probably has something to use for bug bites.
[ when you love each other and have the force and also one of you has a really itchy ankle. ]
no subject
he closes his eyes obligingly to try again. squeezes her hands before he forgets to do it, because obviously he has to do it.
not too much harder, from there, to reach a little bit further out. not for long, not far, just enough to be able to go "well, poe and rose are Somewhere and they're not dying" before he commits to reeling it back.
that's the part that's always second-easiest. finding his people. it's because it's the part that sets him at ease.
feeling out rey, though, is practically second nature. easier than anything. he was doing it before he knew that he was doing it, before he knew that he could.
he meets openness with openness. if rey is a warm patch of sunlight, he's one of those flowers that unfolds specifically for the sunlight. the grounding solidity of her callouses, the almost electric hum of power around her, love for love for love for love, reflecting a mirror into a mirror and watching it travel as deep down as it can possibly go, calcified in the center of his bones.
his forehead wrinkles. truly his default state. ]
Poe's dad probably has something to use for bug bites.
[ when you love each other and have the force and also one of you has a really itchy ankle. ]