She's a terrible liar. That knowledge comes and integrates itself into the picture his mind keeps painting of her, and the way her hair always smells faintly like her shampoo, the smoothness of her skin, the spray of summer freckles that will probably start to show soon across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.
He came here to visit Cassian first, but she was the one who started to make him think maybe he could come home.
It's all pouring in at once. The thought of summer nights on backyard blankets and winter evenings watching snow fall down is briefly more real than anything he woke up with, anything BB-8 has told him.
Poe is a flirt. There's no denying that. But at bottom, he's also a romantic. It's one of the things that keeps him away from these kind of relationships. He knows himself well enough to realize that he'll have to leave, that he might not come back, and he tells himself a thousand times over that the risk isn't worth it.
He tries to tell himself now: the risk isn't worth it.
But he's home. Discharged. And he's stepping back onto the porch, sliding one arm around her waist, ghosting the other over the nape of her neck and into her hair, and to his own surprise he's kissing her.
He's kissing her in a slow, practiced way, drawing back just enough to catch her lower lip between his teeth gently before he lets go.
Poe rests his forehead against hers, speaking as reality starts to flood back in and remind him what a terrible idea this is.
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He came here to visit Cassian first, but she was the one who started to make him think maybe he could come home.
It's all pouring in at once. The thought of summer nights on backyard blankets and winter evenings watching snow fall down is briefly more real than anything he woke up with, anything BB-8 has told him.
Poe is a flirt. There's no denying that. But at bottom, he's also a romantic. It's one of the things that keeps him away from these kind of relationships. He knows himself well enough to realize that he'll have to leave, that he might not come back, and he tells himself a thousand times over that the risk isn't worth it.
He tries to tell himself now: the risk isn't worth it.
But he's home. Discharged. And he's stepping back onto the porch, sliding one arm around her waist, ghosting the other over the nape of her neck and into her hair, and to his own surprise he's kissing her.
He's kissing her in a slow, practiced way, drawing back just enough to catch her lower lip between his teeth gently before he lets go.
Poe rests his forehead against hers, speaking as reality starts to flood back in and remind him what a terrible idea this is.
"Please come inside."