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ajremixThank you, Finn, for being a new outlet for some of my Clone Trooper feels.
Title: The Fear of Endless Possibilities
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: PG
Word Count: 802
Characters: Finn, Poe
Summary: Finn's life took a step to the left and he wasn't quite as ready for it as he thought.
Finn stared at him blankly, prompting Poe to ask again, "What's your size?" When he still didn't get an answer, Poe expanded it to, "Your clothing size."
Having not realized that clothing came in specific sizes- though, in retrospect, it did make sense -Finn told him, "I don't know."
Not half a day later Poe set a pile of folded clothing on the seat next to his bed, apologizing because he had to guess the fit and Finn, still swathed in a medical shift, was afraid to touch them. He thought briefly of Rey, systems away, and wondered if she would feel the same. He knew, logically, that it was stupid thing to be scared of but he was. He never had clothes before. He never had anything before, just fatigues to wear on the rare times he wasn't in armor. And even if the armor had been his, he hadn't owned it, was merely responsible for the maintenance and any part that was too damaged was turned in to be recycled. If he examined a new piece of armor closely, he could make out tiny imperfections, marking it as a refurbished part of someone that had likely died.
And now he had clothes that were his. Specifically his and it was overwhelming. They were simple, almost threadbare, but they weren't the black of his under armor. They were dull but they had colors and patterns, designs that served no other purpose than to simply exist. And he had a jacket that wasn't the one Poe had given to him.
He hadn't thought about it at the time he'd put it on, kept it because it seemed a waste to leave it even as he left a trail of armor to be buried in sand. It was a thing that he'd worn because he had it with him and Poe had let him keep it and now that it was ruined and gone, Finn wanted it back so desperately he couldn't articulate it.
"What's wrong? Not your style?"
Finn looked up at Poe's teasing grin and said, "I don't know what to do."
"Put 'em on and see how they fit." When Finn still made no move, the lightness fell from Poe's expression and he sat next to the other man, hand gentle against the recently healed back. Finn leaned into it. Contact was familiar, close quarters with a dozen other Troopers and the sudden personal space everyone around him had gnawed at him like he'd done something wrong. "Okay, obviously this isn't just about clothes. What is it?"
He didn't know what to say, never had to express his feelings before. His squad- the one he'd grown up with, trained with -had never asked him questions, inquired about his thoughts or emotions. They had known him well enough to read it in his body language and accommodate without words, just as he could for them. Just like he could pick them out in an instant from any other Stormtrooper, the subtleties of their stances and movements overriding the need to know their faces.
Now he was surrounded by faces, by obvious differences in size and shape and races, where languages were spoken he didn't understand and people had their own customs and habits and no two people were the same, were barely similar.
It was like the clothes he didn't know his size for because the First Order had that information already. It was the continually changing foods at the mess hall when all he'd known was rations. It was being asked what he'd like to do when he'd only ever been ordered to do it. It was being treated as a person instead of a number, a tool. It was the tears that suddenly started streaming down his face and the arm around his shoulder and the chest against his cheek, being told he didn't have to say anything if he didn't want to. It was the whole damn universe that was suddenly opened to him, so many options when he'd spent his entire life never having to make a decision. It was the endless possibilities to have and to do, knowing that the wrong choice could get it all taken away and the fear squeezed him so tight Finn thought his heart might stop.
"I'm here for you, you know that, right?" Poe's voice rumbled under Finn's jaw where he could feel the steady beat of his heart. Finn nodded, mouth clenched shut because if it wasn't he might never stop screaming. "We'll take it a day at a time. No matter how long it takes, we'll get through this."
He clung to Poe because right now he was the most constant thing in Finn's life but he knew deep, deep down that he too can be taken away.
Title: The Fear of Endless Possibilities
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: PG
Word Count: 802
Characters: Finn, Poe
Summary: Finn's life took a step to the left and he wasn't quite as ready for it as he thought.
Finn stared at him blankly, prompting Poe to ask again, "What's your size?" When he still didn't get an answer, Poe expanded it to, "Your clothing size."
Having not realized that clothing came in specific sizes- though, in retrospect, it did make sense -Finn told him, "I don't know."
Not half a day later Poe set a pile of folded clothing on the seat next to his bed, apologizing because he had to guess the fit and Finn, still swathed in a medical shift, was afraid to touch them. He thought briefly of Rey, systems away, and wondered if she would feel the same. He knew, logically, that it was stupid thing to be scared of but he was. He never had clothes before. He never had anything before, just fatigues to wear on the rare times he wasn't in armor. And even if the armor had been his, he hadn't owned it, was merely responsible for the maintenance and any part that was too damaged was turned in to be recycled. If he examined a new piece of armor closely, he could make out tiny imperfections, marking it as a refurbished part of someone that had likely died.
And now he had clothes that were his. Specifically his and it was overwhelming. They were simple, almost threadbare, but they weren't the black of his under armor. They were dull but they had colors and patterns, designs that served no other purpose than to simply exist. And he had a jacket that wasn't the one Poe had given to him.
He hadn't thought about it at the time he'd put it on, kept it because it seemed a waste to leave it even as he left a trail of armor to be buried in sand. It was a thing that he'd worn because he had it with him and Poe had let him keep it and now that it was ruined and gone, Finn wanted it back so desperately he couldn't articulate it.
"What's wrong? Not your style?"
Finn looked up at Poe's teasing grin and said, "I don't know what to do."
"Put 'em on and see how they fit." When Finn still made no move, the lightness fell from Poe's expression and he sat next to the other man, hand gentle against the recently healed back. Finn leaned into it. Contact was familiar, close quarters with a dozen other Troopers and the sudden personal space everyone around him had gnawed at him like he'd done something wrong. "Okay, obviously this isn't just about clothes. What is it?"
He didn't know what to say, never had to express his feelings before. His squad- the one he'd grown up with, trained with -had never asked him questions, inquired about his thoughts or emotions. They had known him well enough to read it in his body language and accommodate without words, just as he could for them. Just like he could pick them out in an instant from any other Stormtrooper, the subtleties of their stances and movements overriding the need to know their faces.
Now he was surrounded by faces, by obvious differences in size and shape and races, where languages were spoken he didn't understand and people had their own customs and habits and no two people were the same, were barely similar.
It was like the clothes he didn't know his size for because the First Order had that information already. It was the continually changing foods at the mess hall when all he'd known was rations. It was being asked what he'd like to do when he'd only ever been ordered to do it. It was being treated as a person instead of a number, a tool. It was the tears that suddenly started streaming down his face and the arm around his shoulder and the chest against his cheek, being told he didn't have to say anything if he didn't want to. It was the whole damn universe that was suddenly opened to him, so many options when he'd spent his entire life never having to make a decision. It was the endless possibilities to have and to do, knowing that the wrong choice could get it all taken away and the fear squeezed him so tight Finn thought his heart might stop.
"I'm here for you, you know that, right?" Poe's voice rumbled under Finn's jaw where he could feel the steady beat of his heart. Finn nodded, mouth clenched shut because if it wasn't he might never stop screaming. "We'll take it a day at a time. No matter how long it takes, we'll get through this."
He clung to Poe because right now he was the most constant thing in Finn's life but he knew deep, deep down that he too can be taken away.
