#and he got a nice chute of champagne to go with it so who is he to complain really | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hollyhark · 8 years ago

Note

What's everybody getting up to for Valentine's Day in the galaxy far, far away? Kylux? Finnrey? Techienician? I want to hear about these great celebrations.

ANON, I’m so glad you sent this, thank you! Yesterday I started this little modern AU Valentine’s Day ficlet and wasn’t sure I’d finish it, and your ask inspired me to finish & post it :33

It’s not the galaxy far, far away version, but it does feature all three of those couples! Happy Valentine’s Dayyyy~~!

I call this: ALWAYS SOMEHOW REHEATING FISH, as it was inspired by the new Girls episode and me laughing at that quote re: meaty near-naked Kylo and his naked partner being awful to their roommate.

Finn smirks as he passes the long line at the flower stand in his building’s lobby. They ran out of red roses around lunchtime and are now selling the dregs to desperate people who didn’t plan as well as he has. He got an email confirmation that the custom bouquet he ordered for Rey arrived at her apartment two hours ago, and her creepy cousin actually responded to his text about placing it in her room. Whether or not Ben actually did so is still uncertain, as it’s hard to predict what he’ll do, regardless of what he says, but Finn has tried to come up with some reason why Ben might want to sabotage Rey’s Valentine’s Day flowers, and he hasn’t landed on anything yet. As obnoxious as Ben can be, he does seem to genuinely care about Rey. Finn would love it if this affection for Rey would translate into Ben maybe attempting to find his own place and letting Rey live her life without her codependent cousin haunting her steps, but he’s not going to hold his breath waiting for that to happen. Not yet, anyway: eventually he’s going to ask Rey to marry him. Maybe next year. At that point, Ben will hopefully take his cue to move out.

If Rey says yes, that is.

It’s a gray and rainy Tuesday, just a little after six o’clock in the evening. Finn thinks about texting Rey, though she likely won’t have time to look at her phone until her shift ends in five hours. She’s a waitress at Jakku, one of the trendiest restaurants in town, and today will be hell at work for her: the restaurant is fully booked, packed with couples who will expect her to cater to them and their special day while she juggles ten other tables who all demand the same level of doting attention in exchange for Jakku’s insane prices. Rey has been dreading Valentine’s Day all week for this reason, just like she dreaded it last year, when she and Finn were still only friends. Last year all he did was send her supportive messages when she griped about the work day she faced and then about how gruelling it was. He’d offered to bring her some ice cream at midnight, when she finally got home, but she’d said she just wanted to sleep.

This year they’re not just dating but getting pretty serious after seven giddy months. Rey has given him a key to her apartment, where he sleeps more often than not, though he has his own place and it’s pretty nice, definitely quieter. But Ben is not there, and if Ben wasn’t inventing nonstop excuses to need Rey’s “energy” nearby in order to stay sane, he wouldn’t be Ben.

Finn has a modest plan for this year, knowing that Rey will be exhausted when she finally gets home: he’ll surprise her by being there waiting in her room, which feels more and more like their room these days. He’ll have the flowers and a big plate of her favorite cookies, fresh-baked. It’s a recipe they’ve made together before, a kind of nascent tradition. He’s got all the ingredients in his car, except for eggs and milk, and when he was over at the apartment on Sunday there were plenty of both in the fridge. Once Rey gets home they’ll cuddle up together to get crumbs in the bed and watch a movie on her laptop. She’ll probably be too tired for sex, but Finn will offer to rub her back and shoulders, and maybe one thing will lead to another. Whatever happens, he wants to make her feel cozy and appreciated after a long day.

The first thing he notices upon approaching the apartment is that two trash bags are sitting in the hallway by the door. The super has specifically asked them not to do this, and Rey has been stressing about getting fined if Ben keeps ignoring this rule. Finn feels his temperature rising already as he sets down his grocery bag and takes the trash bags to the chute at the end of the hall. It’s really not so difficult, and especially shouldn’t be for someone who is home all day ‘pursuing his art,’ or whatever term Ben is using to describe his freeloading lately. Normally Finn would ask Ben to do it, with a varying degree of firmness that depends on Ben’s mood, but he doesn’t want to get into a thing with him tonight and cause drama that might linger until Rey gets home. Better to just take care of it so Rey doesn’t have to worry about this on a day when she’ll already be drained.

Trash disposed of and grocery bag in hand, he lets himself into the apartment and immediately winces. Despite the removal of the trash, the place stinks of fish and eggs and some other kind of food that he can’t place, something that doesn’t compliment either smell. Finn sighs when he walks in and sees the state of the kitchen: dirty mixing bowls all over the place, flour splattered on the counter and spilled on the floor, what looks like a fish carcass on a plate in the sink. In the middle of the clutter of dirty dishes piled on the kitchen island there’s an empty champagne bottle that stands there like a flag Ben has planted, claiming territory. Great.

Finn surveys the mess, wondering if it wouldn’t just be easier to go home to his place, make the cookies there, then bring them back here to surprise Rey. His apartment is on the other side of town and traffic was bad, some wreck on the highway backing everything in the city up. He puts his bag of ingredients down among the detritus, considering that some poor bastard was in a wreck on Valentine’s Day, and that having to clean up after Ben isn’t the worst thing he might spend this day doing. Just last year he’d been stewing in misery on Valentine’s Day, already in love with Rey and imagining they’d never end up together. Washing dishes in preparation for spending the evening with the woman he loves is no big deal. At least the apartment is quiet. Ben probably went out to get trashed with his friends in some kind of anti-Valentine’s Day protest. He’s weirdly bitter about being single, for someone who seems to have a lot of sex, based on the guys who come and go at all hours and his candid, uninvited commentary on his Grindr adventures.

Finn picks up a pan with what looks like omelet residue in it and curses under his breath. When he checks the fridge, his suspicions are confirmed: Ben has used all the eggs. The milk is gone, too, only the empty carton remaining on the counter, behind a pile of mixing bowls.

“Who even has this many mixing bowls?” Finn mutters, surveying all the ones that need to be washed as he weighs whether he should go down to the bodega for milk and eggs now or just get this mess cleaned up first so he won’t have to come back to the discouraging sight of it.

He rolls up his sleeves and turns on the water, trying to swallow his feelings of resentment. Rey is his dream girl, perfect for him in every way, except for the anchor around her neck that is Ben, and Finn wouldn’t mind so much if he could envision an exit strategy for Ben easing out of her life at least somewhat. As he stands washing Ben’s dishes, nightmarish scenarios where Ben is still living with him and Rey after they’re married with kids begin to enter his mind, and he’s picturing himself washing sixty-year-old Ben’s breakfast dishes when he hears Ben’s bedroom door open down the hall.

So Ben is here after all, just having a rare quiet evening. Good: Ben can help him clean up this mess, or at least run to the bodega for more milk and eggs.

Finn turns from the sink and sees not Ben but a naked man with red hair who seems equally startled to see him, freezing in his tracks just before entering the kitchen.

“What the fuck!” Finn says, at the same time as the man, who smacks both his pasty hands over his crotch.

“Who are you?” the man asks, scowling. He has a British accent.

“I’m– What do you mean, who am I? I live here! Sort of. Are you with Ben?”

“Who’s Ben?”

Finn feels a chill racing down the back of his neck. There’s a nude lunatic in Rey’s apartment, and apparently Ben didn’t let him in.

“Hux!”

But that’s Ben, and he’s racing out toward the naked man as if he does know him. Ben is at least wearing underwear, though they’re tight enough to leave little to the imagination. He sort of stumbles to a halt, bracing himself on Hux’s shoulders. Hux allows himself to be jostled, hands still over his crotch.

“Who is this man?” Hux asks, turning his scowl on Ben. “I thought you lived with your cousin.”

“I do– This is her boyfriend. What the hell are you doing?” Ben asks, as if he’s so unfamiliar with the practice of washing dishes that he doesn’t recognize it when he sees it.

“I’m surprising Rey for Valentine’s Day,” Finn says. “Trying to, anyway. What did you do in here, cook a twelve course meal?”

“We worked up an appetite,” Ben says, stepping in front of Hux in some kind of belated, gentlemanly gesture. Finn returns his eyes to the dishes, scrubbing with renewed vigor and increasing annoyance.

“Kylo, just get me a fucking glass of water,” Hux says, and he stomps back toward the bedroom. “You people are all too old for roommates,” he calls before slamming Ben’s door.

“Who is that prick?” Finn asks when Ben stands there scratching at his stomach. “And why is he calling you Kyle?”

“Kylo.” Ben goes for the cabinet near the sink, glowering when he sees that there are no clean glasses. “It’s my pen name.”

Finn opens his mouth to ask what Ben is penning these days, then decides he doesn’t want to know. “Help me with this, whatever your name is,” he says. “I’m trying to make something for Rey, for when she gets off work. You guys totally wrecked the place. Who makes fish in the middle of the day?”

“Hux has a refined palate,” Ben says, lowering his voice. He moves over to the next cabinet, grabs a coffee mug and shoulders Finn out of the way to fill it with water. “Fuck,” he says. “He probably only drinks filtered.”

“Who is he? Some guy you picked up?”

“Obviously. He’s incredible. Best sex of my life. We’ve been–”

“I don’t care what you’ve been doing! You used the last of the eggs, man, and all the milk. I need you to go to the store and get more, please.”

“Not likely.” Ben drinks from the mug of water and makes a face. “Does this water always taste so shitty? Hey, if you go to the store, get some bottled water, all right? I’ll owe you one. Fiji, or one of those other fancy kinds. Not Deer Park or Crystal Geyser. Or Dasani.”

“Why don’t you get your own bottled water, and my eggs and milk in the meantime?”

“I’m naked.”

“You could get dressed!”

“Also it’s raining, and this is, like– This is special,” he says, whispering. “I can’t mess this up.”

“What, your hookup with some snob who thinks people in their mid-twenties can’t have roommates? What the hell world does he come from?”

“England. Wealth. Power.”

“Gross.”

“I know,” Ben says, and he smiles dreamily. “He’s all uptight. And then, in the bedroom, he’s like an animal, fuck, he was so ready for it, overdue–”

“Stop!” Finn turns the faucet on Ben, who stands there and lets himself be soaked, unimpressed. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life, just do me a favor and go to the store while I clean up your mess.”

“You don’t have to clean my mess.”

“I do if I want to cook for Rey. I can’t work around this disaster.”

“Sorry man,” Ben says, slapping Finn on the shoulder. “I can’t walk away from what’s going on in my bedroom right now. This is once in a lifetime shit. I have to play my cards right.”

“Hey– No! Fine, I’ll go to the store, but you have to clean up this crap while I’m gone.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Ben says, darkening. “This isn’t even your place. It’s mine.”

“It’s Rey’s, and since she’s busting her ass working on Valentine’s Day, maybe you could be nice enough not to let her come home to a trashed sex den that she’s paying for and you’re residing in?”

“I contribute. You don’t know about our financial data.”

“I have a vague idea.” Finn smacks off the water and reels himself in while he dries his hands on a dish towel. Pointing out that Ben’s contributions to the rent are minimal compared to Rey’s is not the way to get what he wants right now. “Look,” he says, holding up his hands. “I love Rey, you love Rey. Let’s both do something nice for Rey. I’ll even get bottled water for your guy while I’m at the store, okay? Let him sleep it off for ten minutes while you clean up in here. No big deal, right?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” Ben says. His eyes are narrowed, but the fact that he hasn’t stormed off yet is a good sign. “I’ll clean this shit up. Fine. For Rey. And remember, Fiji water. Or something of Fiji caliber.”

“Great,” Finn says, wanting to punch the snotty look off Ben’s face. Unfortunately, Ben is enormous and most of the money he does bring in comes not from his flighty stabs at art but from cage fighting, something he is disturbingly good at. “I’ll be right back,” Finn says, already dashing for the door.

The rain is still coming down, soaking the mostly empty sidewalk as Finn hurries toward the bodega on the corner, his jacket pulled over his head. He has an umbrella, but it’s in his car, which is parked in the garage of Rey’s building, and fetching it would take longer than dashing to the bodega without it. He can deal with some rain for a block and a half. Or, he normally can: right now it’s making him grit his teeth as it seeps into his shoes and makes his socks damp while he thinks about Ben up there in his underwear, refusing to replace what he’s consumed. Typical. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, ha. Then don’t act like one, asshole! Finn pushes his low-boiling rage aside and jogs the rest of the way to the store, telling himself that at least Ben is doing dishes now, as he should be.

The usual clerk is behind the counter. His name is Matt and he’s been working here for as long as Finn has been hanging out at Rey’s apartment. He’s a big fan of Ben’s and in awe of Ben’s reputation as a cage fighter, which is apparently noteworthy in certain circles. Matt and Ben train at the same gym; Rey thinks Matt is in love with Ben, but Ben insists that Matt just appreciates his fighting style, which is a combination of eerie grace and beserker mania. Finn nods to Matt as he approaches the counter with his hastily collected milk, eggs and two-liter bottle of Fiji. He gets the usual blank-faced stare from behind Matt’s unfashionable glasses. Matt only ever lights up if Ben comes here with them.

“You okay?” Finn asks when he notices that Matt’s face is very red.

“Yeah.” Matt keeps his eyes on Finn as he drags his purchases mindlessly across the scanner. “Why.”

“Nothing, just. You look kinda feverish or something.”

“My lover got caught in the storm.”

Finn cocks his head. “Sorry?” That sounds like a euphemism.

“My lover. He’s on his way here. Because I’m stuck at fucking work, in this shit hole, on Valentine’s Day. But he’s afraid of thunder. I’m managing my fury by breathing deeply.”

“You–”

The bell on the door jangles violently, and the man who runs inside seems to bring the rain with him, arriving like a kind of human splash. His approach is so swift and panicked that Finn braces himself to confront an attempted robbery. Then he notices that this man is behaving more like he’s fleeing robbers than aiming to act as one, dashing toward Matt and flinging himself behind the counter as if seeking shelter. He’s tall but willowy, his clothes and lank red hair plastered to his body. He throws himself into Matt’s arms, where he is received with a satisfied grunt from Matt, who lifts him nearly off the floor in a crushing hug. So this is the lover Matt was anticipating. Finn averts his eyes when they start making out with audible moaning relief, acting like the red-haired man just came home from war.

“Uh,” Finn says, after this has gone on for longer than he’s willing to abide. “Can I pay?”

Matt goes on mouthing at the other man’s neck. Finn begins to worry that he’s going to throw his boyfriend onto the counter and have him right here, breaking the eggs in the process. This was the last carton on the shelf. The boyfriend at least seems to notice Finn’s irritation, squirming and poking at Matt until he does, too.

“Sorry,” Matt says. His glasses are crooked. “I was just. I was worried about him.”

“I’m fine,” the boyfriend says, in a near whisper. He’s still pressed to Matt’s chest, his skinny shoulders lifting when Finn holds out a twenty.

“Valentine’s Day should be a national holiday,” Matt says. He sounds and looks angry, as if Finn is the one keeping this from being so. “Anyway. This is Techie. Today’s our one-year anniversary.”

“Congratulations,” Finn says. “Can you take my money, please?”

“Are you making a cake?” Techie asks, surveying Finn’s purchases.

“Cookies,” Finn says, tightly.

“For someone special?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“The hell kind of cookies do you make with milk and eggs and overpriced water?” Matt asks.

“These are– There’s other stuff, back at my place.” Finn holds his hand out. Matt gives him a look while surrendering his change. “I know your pain, okay?” Finn says. “My girlfriend won’t finish her shift until midnight.”

“That’s rough, buddy,” Matt says. Finn can’t tell if he’s being sincere or not. “You want a bag?”

Finn does. He stands there, dripping and cold and harnessing all the patience he can as Techie elects to lend a hand, bagging Finn’s three items with weirdly deliberate care and beaming at Matt between each one, as if looking for approval. Matt rubs Techie’s back and stares at him in a way that is itself pretty lewd. They’re making out again before Finn has reached the door.

The rain is relentless, and Finn wants to run for it, but he’s afraid he’ll slip and break the eggs, especially considering he’s still wearing his shoes from work, which are the nicest ones he owns but not known for their great traction on slippery surfaces. He hurries along as fast as he can without risking a fall, glad that he keeps some spare clothes at Rey’s place. That interlude in the bodega took longer than it needed to, but hopefully this means Ben is finished or at least almost finished cleaning the kitchen. Finn can throw on some dry clothes and get started on the cookies. He smiles to himself when he reaches the apartment’s street entrance, thinking of how Rey will be charmed by his story about Matt’s delicate boyfriend. Just the thought of her curling up with delighted laughter as he relates this anecdote in bed gets him up the three flights to her place in a pretty good mood.

He reaches the door and realizes he didn’t think to lock it behind him when he left, too preoccupied with his mission or annoyed with Ben. He tries the handle, not surprised to see that Ben hasn’t bothered locking it since. He considers himself a walking security system, of course. Finn strides inside, reminding himself not to lose his cool if Ben has taken his sweet time with the cleaning.

Only when he sees what’s actually going on inside the apartment does he realize what a naive, best-case-scenario fantasy the idea of Ben taking a long time to clean the kitchen was. Instead, there is some manner of shameless sex going on right there on the living room couch, in full view of the front door, limbs and balls still in fervent motion when Finn whirls away from this scene in an indignant panic, slamming his bag against the doorframe in the process. He can just hear the eggs breaking over the sound of Ben grunting and Hux cursing him for not noticing that they have company.

“Are you deaf?” Hux shouts. “Stop thrusting, the boyfriend is back!”

“Wah? Oh– Fuck, Finn, sorry, hey–”

Finn is torn between wanting to run and wanting to throw his shoe at Ben. It’s not the first time he’s seen Ben’s balls from this vantage point, but usually Rey is beside him to shout oi! and share in his exasperation. And the fucking eggs. He slams the apartment’s door shut and steps out into the hallway to check the carton. The eggs met the doorframe hard, taking the brunt of the impact and then getting crushed with the heavy milk and water bottles. Every one of them is broken.

He’s still standing in the hallway in a kind of defeated, shivering stupor when Ben emerges wearing sweatpants. The waistband on them is worn out, and they hang low enough to be obscene, but Finn can’t work up his usual indignation about Ben’s lack of modesty. Not after what he just saw. Usually when he and Rey walk in on something the lights are off, at least.

“What the fuck, man,” Finn says, lifting his dripping bag. “My eggs.”

“Your eggs?” Ben hikes up the pants and frowns.

“You have a room. With a functioning door. Why, just– Why?”

“Sorry, shit, I didn’t mean to– I started to do those dishes, and he came out to see what was taking me so long, and he’s, he’s insatiable, Finn, it’s fucking amazing. We ended up on the couch–”

“You started to do the dishes. Started. How far did you get?”

“I guess I washed, like, a spoon.”

“Okay. Right.”

“I wanted to do it, don’t give me that look. It was him, he has no patience! He came out sniffing for more dick like a–”

“Do not finish that metaphor. Please. Just– Get out of my way, all right? I’m going to hide in Rey’s room until she gets home.” So much for making her a treat; Finn gives up. He’ll text her about ordering a pizza, since she might not get a chance to even stuff down a snack during her shift. At least he has the flowers, an arrangement that cost almost two hundred bucks and looked really beautiful in the preview image, unique and luscious. “Here,” Finn says, thrusting the bag at Ben. “Your Fiji. Enjoy the milk, too, what do I care. Is he– Can I walk in there, or is he going to be splayed and waiting for you?”

“You’re good, he ran back into my room.” Ben peers down into the bag. “Oh, shit. Your eggs.”

“Yeah.”

Finn pushes into the apartment, still bracing himself to see Hux’s ass or dick or worse, but it’s true that he’s fled, and Ben’s bedroom door is mercifully closed at the end of the hall. Walking into Rey’s room is an instant relief: lately it smells not just like Rey but like home, moreso even than Finn’s own place and despite all the Ben-related annoyances that come with spending so much time here. He’s digging out his phone to ask Rey her thoughts on ordering pizza when he notices the flowers he ordered for her, sitting on top of her dresser and looking conspicuously diminished.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

He hurries over to the flowers, trying not to lose it just yet, but there’s no mistaking it: the bouquet he carefully designed on an interactive website, checking for flower meanings in another tab every time he added a new variety, only retains a measly quarter of what he paid for, and what remains is mostly filler in neutral colors. The vibrant peonies and hybrid tea roses are gone. There’s no enormous sunflower, no coral orchids spilling down the sides of the vase. Even the little yellow peanut flowers that he had to special order, to represent their nickname for each other, are missing.

No, not missing: this flower delivery service is top-class, with page after page of flawless customer reviews. He did thorough research.

Stolen. That’s what happened here. Fucking bald-faced thievery.

“You know, I knew you were low!” Finn says when he’s standing outside Ben’s bedroom door, pounding on it with his fist and hesitating to barge inside only to spare himself another eyeful of Ben fucking his random nympho ginger. “But this– Even after all the bullshit you’ve pulled, all the stories Rey has told me, I never thought you’d mess with her fucking Valentine’s Day flowers!”

Ben opens the door and sticks his head out, and if Finn wasn’t ready to kill him he might think Ben actually looks a little remorseful.

Then Ben says: “What stories Rey told you?”

“You’re a monster!” Finn shouts.

“Okay– Okay, I’m sorry, I know, all right.” Ben ducks down to pick something up off the floor and slips out into the hall, leaving the door cracked open as he holds a crumpled black t-shirt over his dick. “Sorry, that was– That was bad, I know, we got kind of drunk earlier, and I thought I could make Hux a flower crown and then just put all the flowers back, you know, I didn’t think they’d get kind of, like, wrecked, by what happened after he was wearing the–”

“Flower crown? Fucking– flower crown, what– What is wrong with you?”

“I thought it was stupid, too!” Hux calls from within the room. “For the record!”

“Fuck you!” Ben shouts, whirling around to poke his head back into his room. “You liked it, I have pictures!”

“I can’t handle this,” Finn says, feeling the words take on a kind of damning weight in his chest, because maybe he means more than this day, this one ruined evening. Rey is worth it, of course she is, but he also feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

Ben opens his mouth to respond, probably to make things worse, but before he can they both hear someone fling the apartment’s door open.

“Rey?” Ben calls, and Finn thinks it can’t be her, she’s going to be at Jakku for at least another four hours, but when they both hurry into the living room they find her at the door, wearing her rain slicker and sniffling, her eyes puffy and red.

“Finn!” she says, with surprise and also with such pure, voice-cracking and instant relief that he feels like he could spend an eternity sharing a cardboard box with three Bens, as long as Rey was there, too.

“Peanut,” Finn says, not caring now if Ben holds hearing this over them at a later time. He rushes across the room as she hurries toward him, and when she crumples into his arms and releases a kind of full-body sob he silently vows to kill whoever hurt her, but only after he holds her like this for as long as she’ll let him. She smells like rain and like the grubby reality of even the finest restaurant kitchen, where things have been frying and butter hangs thick in the air.

“I quit,” she says, holding on tight, her chin on Finn’s shoulder. Only then does he remember that he’s still very damp himself. “I threw my apron in Unkar’s face.”

“Yes!” Ben says. “Finally! Fuck that guy.”

Finn can’t help agree with this, based on all the horror stories Rey has told him about Jakku’s owner-manager, though he understands why she’s upset, too.

“I feel terrible,” she says when Finn pulls back to sweep his thumbs over her cheeks, not sure if he’s brushing away tears or rainwater. “I left– I left in the middle of Valentine’s Day! Poe and Jessika will have to pick up my slack, they’ll hate me–”

“They won’t,” Finn promises, and he kisses her nose. “I’m proud of you, it’s okay, don’t worry. If you walked out, Unkar must have really screwed up.”

“He’s screwed up plenty of times before,” Ben says, before Rey can even begin to describe what put her over the edge. He comes forward and touches Rey’s shoulder, trying to insinuate himself into the hug. “You deserve better,” Ben says. “And now you can be serious about cooking school.”

“With what money?” Rey asks. “Unkar says I’m on the server blacklist now, that no one will hire someone who couldn’t cut it in his kitchen–”

“What bullshit!”

That’s Hux, peering at them from the hallway and wrapped in Ben’s checked flannel bedsheet.

“I work in the industry,” Hux says, straightening his posture with snobbish authority. “I know Unkar, and he’s infamously difficult. I’ve worked with every restaurant developer in this town who means anything, if you need a real recommendation. I designed Starkiller.”

“What’s Starkiller?” Finn asks, wanting him to get lost.

“A really big restaurant.” Rey sniffles again and presses her hair down. It’s wild and damp, pulling out of her bun. “Uh. Who is that?” she asks Ben, pointing to Hux.

“The love of my life,” Ben says.

“Oh, fuck off!” Hux says, but he’s grinning.

“We’ll figure it out,” Finn says, speaking softly and attempting to ignore the other two. “You must be– Are you hungry? Do you want a drink, want me to run out and get ice cream? Anything you want–”

“I just want to get in bed,” Rey says. “With you,” she adds more quietly, and she leans up to kiss Finn on the lips. It’s sweet, chaste, but sends a thrill all the way down to his heels, maybe because of the way she swooned into it. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, smiling a little, her lips still pressed to his. “How did you know I’d need you this much?”

“I don’t know, just. It’s Valentine’s Day. I just wanted you to know how much I–”

“Look, if you really need the money,” Ben says, interrupting this moment, because of course he is, “I could ask my mother to, uh. To help us with the rent for a while.”

“You haven’t spoken to Leia in years!” Rey says, peering at Ben from over Finn’s shoulder.

“Right, but I could. To help you realize your dreams. Because you’ve helped me realize mine.”

Ben turns to look at Hux, who makes a face like Ben has just thrown a live octopus at him.

“We’ll be in my room,” Rey says, grabbing Finn’s hand. “Don’t disturb unless you want an ass kicking.”

After they’ve both changed into clean, dry clothes, and then almost instantly shed those clothes in the process of having quiet but intense sex that rolls over both of them like an unplanned-for summer storm, Finn tells Rey about his disaster of a day, including the bit about Matt and his thunder-averse boyfriend, which makes Rey laugh even harder than he’d dreamed it would. She tells him about her day, and he’s all sympathy and cuddling when it turns out hers well outpaces his for horribleness. The telling of it seems to unburden her, and she reaches over Finn’s shoulder to grab one of the remaining flowers from the sadly deconstructed bouquet, tucking it behind his ear.

“Well, it’s something to tell the grandchildren,” she says, stroking the back of one finger along the line of Finn’s jaw. “Our first Valentine’s Day together.”

Finn kisses her and tries not to interpret that as a lowkey marriage proposal. Maybe she was just joking around, being lighthearted. But something about the way she said grandchildren makes him highkey wonder if she’s been thinking about their future pretty seriously, too.

Feeling pretty sure that she has been really helps around three in the morning, when Finn is half-awake and sharing a pair of headphones with Rey as they blearily watch another old X-Files episode on her laptop in an attempt to drown out the sounds that are again coming from the bedroom across the hall. Attempting to frame this in the most generous way possible, mostly out of sheer exhaustion, Finn hopes that Ben really has found the love of his life, and that the trajectory of this love will take Ben far, far away from here.

#finnrey #kylux #a smidge of matt & techie #valentine's day #fic post

139 notes · View notes