It's a hospitality he knows well. Stay perceptive, watch for needs, serve them without thinking. There used to be exams back in the Dameron estate - someone would pretend to shiver, or breathe out like they were frustrated, or look at something before looking away, and it was Owain's duty to zero in on each reflex, figure out what someone needed and offer it to them before they had a chance to ask for it. He should have known Kiron would treat him like this, but it's deflating. He shouldn't have to.
"No, man. C'mon." He could say he's just a Pledge and that Kiron can relax around him, but the word doesn't sit right in his chest anymore, and he knows Kiron wouldn't take to that anyway. He runs his hand through his hair, breathing out mist before rolling his sleeves down over his wrists to keep his fingers warm.
"Capital, yeah. Dameron estate, born and raised. Or, well. Not born. Basically born? Born, like, a house away. But. Born. And raised. So." Haha. Haaah... this is harder than he thought it would be. He tucks his balled fists into his pockets and looks at Kiron, suddenly nervous.
"You're-- I mean," it's too soon to ask this, too soon, but--
"You're-- Reeve's? Are you-- ah." He swallows, flicks his eyes up and stares at the sky, so much wider, grey with oncoming snow, than home's ever was. "Are you-- happy?"
---
Reeve is tense as Poe shrugs off his jacket, steeling his fists and raising his arms, ready for a fight. They're best friends - but with Poe as he is, with Reeve as he is, they wouldn't have been able to hit this point without sharing a few blows. So to speak. If they're going to sort this out with a fight, fine - he hadn't thought he'd pushed Poe that far yet, but if that's where this is, that's where this is.
He's startled, then, by the cut on his hand.
He has too many thoughts to be able to react in any way other than flight or fight, and he picks fight. He grabs Poe's wrist, far too tightly, twisting the Captain's arm to get a better look.
"Are you--" He actually laughs, and it's designed to be spiteful. Bitter, maybe. "Are you serious? That poor fuckin' kid. Your idealism was fine when it was your own, Dameron, but you're gonna mess him up with this."
"I'm his Pledge, yes." Kiron says, like it's the most natural thing in the world. He had started frowning after No, man. C'mon, too confused by it to know how to reply to it properly, but at lest the last question he could field easily.
"I am completely content." He offered a smile, one obviously not utilised often. It wasn't that it was fake, exactly, but it was tempered. He was not used to showing his emotions. At least not when specifically requested to.
But the smile faded.
"I... was not aware that Captain Dameron was intending to take a Pledge," He admitted, quietly. "I'm glad he changed his mind."
~ * ~
"I'm not going to let someone swear away their life to me if I'm not willing to do the same." He doesn't struggle against the grip, though he tenses.
"Treating someone like a person isn't going to mess them up, Reeve."
He sees the smile for what he is, and it's not like he expected anything else, but--
If he'd asked that to the girl at the bookstore, the Pledge obviously so afraid of just being in her own skin, she would have winced and her smile would have died before it was there. This, at least, is even. Owain breathes out and stretches his arms, popping his elbows and shoulders before tucking his hands away again.
"Okay." He leaves it at that. "I'm not really--"
There's hesitation. He knows what he said - that he was going to stifle this, pretend to be something worse to Poe than what he is, but Reeve's a good friend even if Owain just doesn't like him by default of his envy. So...
"I'm not... really... his Pledge." He laughs, sheepish, kicking at the ground. "I mean - it's what I was assigned to him as - but it's not the word we use. So... yeah. He's still a disappointment. Sorry."
---
Reeve feels that tension. He has it himself, locking up his arms. He stares at the scar longer than he needs to, then pulls Poe forward to get a better look at the tattoo. He says nothing for far too long, then finally breathes out, letting go. He needs a smoke, and he heads across the tent to his pack to find one.
He lights up his pipe and leans back, breathing in, plumes of grey coiling from his nostrils as he leans over the single cot they have. Fine. Fine, he'll listen.
"What makes him so special, then?" He taps out his pipe, cotton taste on his tongue. "Got assigned to you so you think you can just - screw with his head? That's fucked up."
Kiron just watched him, brow ever so slightly furrowed, for a long moment.
"... I don't understand," he said finally, glancing down at Owain's hand, then at the crest on his uniform, then back up to his face. "You took the oath, correct?"
He unconsciously rubbed at his own hand, the scar far older and faded but still visible. "You wear his brand?"
---
"I'm not screwing with hi-- Look. He's Lon'qu's son, alright?"
He let the name sit for a moment, because Reeve would know it. Was probably one of the only people who knew what it meant, to Poe, because he had been the crux of so many arguments about it.
But last time they had argued about it, Poe had thought that the man was alive.
So as he rolled his sleeve back down his eyes cast to the floor, glaring at the rug that covered the trampled grass.
"... Lon'qu's dead. I didn't know. So my father's been raising Owain as - as my Pledge for a fucking decade. I couldn't just leave him there. He wanted to come and didn't understand why I didn't want him to. So I gave him the choice, and the rest just sort of..." He trailed off. His eyes hadn't raised, mostly because despite his words, his mind was still stuck on one of the first things he'd said.
Owain lights up at the mention of Poe's brand, and he doesn't roll his sleeve back, far too cold for that, but he holds up his hand. The cut was too deep to have scabbed over, and he still needs to change his bandage every so often - fuck, there's drops of red already leaking through, he'll need to do that when he's back in with Poe - but it's there, and he's proud.
Unlike Poe, though, he's not willing to share what happened at the ceremony. Not yet. That's still just his.
"We're-- there for each other," he says, and his excitement gets the best of him, too willing to share this, too willing to see if the first Pledge he's ever spoken to alone will be able to light up the way he has. "We're equal. To each other. He's-- everything. To me. But I'm everything to him? I don't know."
Owain laughs, shy, but still so god damn nervous. He looks at Kiron a little sideways. "It's-- new. What we're doing. He doesn't give me orders, and he lets me ask for things. Tell him things I need. That I'm allowed to need. You could be like that with Reeve, if you wanted to."
---
Reeve's eyes widen, and the grip he has on his pipe slackens. He breathes out again, smoke circling the ceiling of the tent before dissipating.
So that's what this is about.
"I'm sorry, kid." There's obvious sympathy in his tone, but he says it the way he'd say it if someone lost a pet. He taps his pipe into an ashtray and moves closer to Poe, clapping his free hand on his shoulder. "That must be hard."
That's all he says, for a moment, and it looks like it's where he'll end it. Offering a chance for Poe to talk about this, if he wants to, or else extending a sympathy he doesn't fully command. But the silence doesn't last, and though he tries to be careful, there's a dominating, chastising tone to his voice when he finds it again.
Kiron watched him with a deep level of uncertainty, almost shrinking a little under the harsh light of Owain's excitement. Something clicked, though. Oh, he thought, with little to no feeling about it, He's in love with him.
"Captain Dameron has... always attempted to extend similar privileges to me," He admits quietly, after a moment. "But I... no. Master Reeve would not appreciate such a... liberal relationship. I serve him, and that secures his happiness. He is not blind to my needs. I need not speak them."
---
Poe turns his head, rolling his eyes, again, at the 'kid', but again not complaining.
"It was either bring him with me or leave him there - probably to be assigned to someone else. I'm not - look. I owe it to Lon'qu, to look after his son." He turned his gaze back to Reeve's, looking at him from under dark brows.
It's not surprising, really. Poe needed to fucking tear apart decades of tradition for Owain to even consider what they were doing - had to ruin himself with scars and tattoos just to show Owain how serious he was about this. With a decade of conditioning, he barely managed to pull away. Kiron might be older. Might have started learning when he was younger, even. He's a fool to try to tackle this so openly, and he lowers his head.
"It's not... like that, though." He bites his teeth. "The Pledge system is-- fucked up, man. You shouldn't surrender yourself when you don't even... get it. You don't even know what you're saying."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Reeve-- is sympathetic, but again, unconvinced.
It's too easy to wrap this up in a neat little package labelled Poe's Idealism Running Away With Him Again and leaving it at that. He lost someone he loved, someone whose rights he tried so hard to fight for, and his son was left in his care in a system he wanted to tear down. His arguments are only making that line of thought more believable, and he doesn't say it, but it's right their in his expression - probably to be assigned to someone else, really? So this is how you repay an obligation?
"I think," Reeve says, and it's careful, too careful to be good. He pointedly keeps his eyes trained on Poe, letting him see how serious he is about this. How concerned he is about this.
"I think you would be willing to do a lot of things if you thought it was right. You charge into things full speed, damning safety for the sake of it." He gestures to the cut, to the tattoo. "You're taking this too far."
Kiron smiles, and it's somewhat sympathetic, but it does not reach his eyes.
"I've known Captain Dameron for a while now," he points out, calmly. "I know how he views the Pledge system. And it sounds like you are... a good match for him. But I am happy, where I am. I have not surrendered. I took my post gladly."
Poe lets out a hard breath from his nose, but the way his eyes shift away and how a slight heat rises under his collar are telling enough. He knows he's going into this too fast and too hard.
But it was too late to pull back.
Even if he wanted to.
"Equality isn't 'too far', Reeve, it's basically the bare fucking minimum of what I should be trying to do." He grabbed his jacket again, shrugging it over his shoulders. "I'm fine. I'm not going to parade it around."
Sympathy isn't what he needs. Owain had thought-- for sure, for sure-- if he could just talk to a Pledge, explain what things are like for him, something would change. Something would shift. Especially a Pledge belonging to someone Poe is friends with, right? Was he wrong to try this?
"I'm not a good match for him," he mumbles, just to be contrary, even though he doesn't believe it. "Not as a Pledge, at least. Not like you're implying. That first little while kind of sucked because I kept trying to do things and kowtow and he just--"
He drags his hands down his face. Thinks of Kes, out of nowhere, and remembers the fears of disappointing him.
"Okay," he starts. "Okay. Let's try this - is there anything you like to do? Reading? Writing? Things like that?"
"This isn't equality, though," Reeve argues, chewing the inside of his cheek. "You've taken his life away. His purpose. You're a military man, and you still get to be that even with a cut on your hand and a crest in your arm. He's a Pledge - and you're stripping him of that, taking away his identity, letting him drift aimlessly in a world that doesn't give him the choice to be more than what he is."
How many times has he made an argument like this to Poe over the years? The same argument Kes used - that placement is provided to Pledges. Security. A good thing.
"This feels like the bare minimum to you, because you're not--" He trips over the word, but says it anyway.
"--livestock. They're treated like animals, kid. Not by us, but by everyone else. They can't take things for themselves. Even the freedom you think he has is a gift you've given him as his better."
"I think it makes a lot of sense for the Captain to have somehow found a pledge who isn't a Pledge. He's needed someone, for a long time, and refused to admit it."
He dipped his head, raising a hand to gently rub at the back of his neck. An action he would have never taken, in Reeve's presence.
"I sing," He said, simply, in response to the question. "And I am fortunate that my Master enjoys it, also."
*~ ^o^ ~*
"I'm not expecting it to work overnight, Reeve, but I'm not going to - Gods--"
He sighed heavily and strode over to the other man, placing a hand firmly on either side of his face and forcing him to look straight at him. "I'm not having this argument again. I gave him my vow, and I took the brand to prove it, and if takes another ten years for the reality to sink in, so be it. But things aren't always going to be this way, and when they finally change, he's going to be ready for it."
Again, Owain wants to argue. He gets that it's a compliment, he gets that saying Poe has needed someone like him is seen as something kind in Kiron's eyes, but it's not. He's not-- just a Pledge who isn't a Pledge, he's not explaining this right--
Fuck. He rushes past it, tries another tactic.
"That's great! I love writing, and Poe got me this journal-- I'm gonna teach him how to write stuff-- I could write you a song? Or you could write a song with me!" Self-expression, things disallowed, straws to clutch at. "Have you ever wanted to-- do that? Write something? Make art of your own?"
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ♥*♡:*(*´￫ܫ￩｀*)*:♡*♥･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Reeve's skin is so much less smoother than Owain's - scars under his jawline from battle, stubble from an old beard shaved away too roughly and too quickly. He looks at Poe, and it's so, so clear he thinks Poe is doing something wrong, but he understands that this is the end of the argument and drops it. They never get anywhere after stalemates like these.
"Just don't ruin him," he says, soft and gentle. "He's just a kid. He looks like he's barely eighteen. He's gonna idolize you if you keep making all these promises to him you know you're not gonna be able to keep."
Kiron watches him warily for another moment, before turning his head and looking somewhere else. Considering.
In the end, getting along with Owain was more important that any arguments or qualms about his values. So after another half a minute he slowly nodded.
"I already... Sort of have. Written songs before. Only in my head, of course, but..."
~ ~~~~**** I don't know how to do fancy things ****~~~~ -
Poe deflates, a little, because almost by accident Reeve managed to step right on the thing that was worrying him most. He scrubs his thumbs over Reeve's rough cheeks for a moment - almost thoughtlessly - then drops his hands to rest on the man's shoulders as he sighs.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know." His brows furrow and his eyes drop, looking at Reeve's feet instead of his face. "I'm trying to do good by him, Starstuff." He didn't bring that pet name out often - especially lately. But it was almost habit, when he had his hands on him, like this. "But I'm not sure there's anything I could do that wouldn't mess with his life in some measure. So I'm just... Trying to do what's right."
Edited (Wearily and warily have different meanings) 2018-02-15 14:08 (UTC)
Owain gets swept up in his excitement, caught too easily by the winds of this. He lunges forward and grabs Kiron's hands, holding both of them far too tightly. There's far too much intimacy in this, far too much closeness for two Pledges acting without orders - before Poe, Owain had let himself be starved of touch, becoming his slave while desperate for any kind of contact with another human being that wasn't disciplinary or guiding; it comes so easily now, seeing the opportunity to comfort or to admire or to just respond purely physically and affectionately, and to then just-- take the chance.
He doesn't even mind that Kiron isn't looking at him. The grin and the intensity as he watches Kiron are both more than bright enough for the two of them.
"We'll play together," he rushes. "Or-- no, wait, I should just let you perform. Would you do that? Perform for me? One of your own pieces? We, ah - don't have to let anyone else know about it."
~*~ sparkle sparkle thats right we're doing that not my lazy dashes
Starstuff.
Reeve stops, and whatever he was about to say next dies on his lips. Ah, unfair. It shows in the way he eyes Poe that he doesn't have any defenses in the light of Starstuff and he's damn sure Poe knows it. He pulls back, breaking contact, and he runs runs his fingers through his hair a few times, combing it up into even waves. He looks at Poe, and his shoulders droop. God damn it.
"Good luck changing the world, I guess. Just - you can't make promises like that to a kid and not follow through," he says, one last protest before letting this die.
But, well.
It always comes back to this. It was always gonna come back to this. He grins, and it's lecherous and disrespectful, but-- that's how he's always been with Poe. It's an easy mood to slip into, when they're not arguing or talking shit. He folds his arms over his chest and says so, letting the word hang for a minute.
The flush that filled Kiron's pale skin was only partially intentional - after all, even Reeve didn't touch him like this, and the driving need for physical affection was something that he felt deeply, as well. But while normally he would try to recover from it quickly, push the feeling away... He didn't this time. He let it happen, his the blush spreading down his throat and under his collar, before he forced his eyes away. He didn't try to pull his hands back, though he swallowed.
"... I... that's...."
~ * ~
"I don't promise him anything lightly. Don't worry." The tenseness in his own shoulders relaxed as Reeve's drooped, and he let the rest out with a long breath. Fight over. Okay. Now they could just talk about normal thi--
It was probably for the best, that he wasn't in the middle of drinking or eating anything, but even without that, Poe still looked like he got caught in the middle of a spit take. Fuck. He should have known, with Reeve of all people, that the first fucking question--
"I'm not answering that." He said, rubbing his face roughly as he turned away to find something to busy himself with. Where was his backpack? He needed to unpack it. The last thing he wanted was for Reeve to witness the heat that was rising up his throat.
Owain takes this as a victory - he knows that blush. It's self-consciousness, it's warmth; it's what he felt when Poe bought him clothes, when he bought him a journal, when he gave him a chance to be himself and be alive.
"C'mon." He wants more of this, wants to pull Kiron into a hug or something, but he settles on just lacing their fingers together a little tighter and squeezing reassuringly with his uninjured hand. He can feel the scar break open on his other, and he quietly pulls it back, hiding that hand away in his pocket - it stings, but he doesn't stop smiling, doesn't let go.
"What if we consider it - practice? If Reeve lets you sing, that means he must like it, right? So." He tugs Kiron forward, just a little, lowering his voice to keep them from being overheard. "Be at your best for him."
~ * ~
Poe's not really one to be shy, and it stirs something in Reeve. An assumption, maybe, that Poe's taking this as seriously as he says he is. An assumption that he's already crossed a line, and that's why he can't pull back.
A good friend might back down from this, give Poe his space and his privacy, but that's never really how things have been between them. The only thing off limits between them is... how they've spoken about Kiron - how Poe's reacted to Reeve's offers, some of the things he's said - and that's something they can navigate. This, though? Uncharted waters.
"Huh."
He seeks out that heat staining Poe red and he finds it. He's quiet, looking out towards the entrance of the tent - he could go and get Kiron and the other kid, if he wanted to, cut this short and blow away all the tension he's suddenly feeling. Again - that'd be what a good friend might do.
"How far have you gone?" Reeve's closing in on Poe, leaning over him, pretending to look for his backpack to help even as he slides one arm around Poe's waist to keep him there. His tone's - unreadable, light but dark, and he's breathing silently, like he's barely there.
"He sucked your dick?" He squeezes his arm around Poe a little tighter. It doesn't sound like he's judging Poe, but it sounds like something close.
"You make him swallow your cum or do you like it more when you shoot on his face?"
Kiron turned his eyes away, still flushed, his freckles almost disappearing into the red of his cheeks.
"... You want me to practice singing for my Master by singing for you. Is that what you're asking?" He turned his eyes back to Owain's, then, though they didn't stay long, instead falling sheepishly to the floor.
"... Perhaps. But I... I am not sure why you wish this of me. The songs I write... They're nothing more than silly turns of phrase to pass the time. It is no art."
~ * ~
He doesn't need to sound like he's judging Poe for Poe to hear it - the guilt a hot lance right into his chest, twisting at the base of his throat and making a sour taste rise to the back of his mouth.
He shoves Reeve off him - not a strong, violent push, but the sort of almost aimless brotherly rough housing that highlights most of their relationship. And when he speaks, he sounds mostly exasperated, though there is a hint of honest frustration in it.
"Will you fucking stop? It's not like that."
He almost wanted to kick himself, for saying it. It's not like that implied a hell of a lot more than he meant to. He grabbed his backpack and started pulling it open.
"Right. Right. Right right right." He swings his hand in Kiron's, leaning forward, eyes bright. "We don't have to call it art, yet. Art's kind of intimidating, because it's - above us. Yeah? So."
There's no hiding the excitement in Owain - even the ice cold touch of his skin is starting to warm like this, palm against palm - and it only gets worse when Kiron looks up at him. Fuck, this is going to be great.
"We should do it now. Before your nerve runs out. Poe and Reeve'll probably be at it for a while, so. We can slip away." He pauses. "I don't wanna go too far away, but, like - I'm sure there's somewhere quiet nearby where we can be alone."
~ * ~
Reeve laughs, stumbling back, holding his arms out in surrender. It doesn't reach his eyes, which are still hitting Poe pretty hard, but he goes quiet for a second or two as he... considers. Almost asks tell me what it's like, then but opts not to.
He sits on the edge of his bed and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and watching Poe unpack. It's the lack of a hard refusal that really gets to him and keeps him asking - he takes a different tactic, but his tone is still there. Something just below judgmental.
"Last I saw you," he starts, drawling. "Would've been - man - a few weeks ago. Not too long."
He lets the words hang there, the silent assertion clear. He can't have been your Pledge for very long, and already you're acting like he's the center of the world.
"He's either a fucking exceptional human being," Reeve says, putting all the respect he can into the words human being, so Poe knows he means it, "or-- you've found the perfect Pledge. Someone who validates you, drinks up your values like a sponge. Fits you the way a Pledge is supposed to."
"Right now?" That definitely makes the flush drain from Kiron's face, and he immediately looks back to the tent.
"I... I shouldn't be that far from Master Starling. I don't want to be out of calling distance. I don't - I'm not sure this is a good idea. Perhaps I should go back--"
~ * ~
Reeve has always known exactly how to get under Poe's defences. And while usually that was a good thing - getting him to open up about his Father, for example, or making him actually address his grief when a mutual friend died - this time, all it does is impound the guilt already in him. His grip on a shirt tightens, his knuckles going white, staring down at the clothes rather than turning his head, because the implication alone is enough to stain the last few days, turning the pure and honest joy into something darker and tainted.
He'd known, somewhere in the back of his head, that it would end up that way. Drinks up your values like a sponge--
He felt very queasy, suddenly.
"He is a fucking exceptional human being," he replies, his voice a little tight as he tossed the shirt down onto the cot. "Don't fucking do this, man, I don't need it. Anything you could possibly give me shit about, I guarantee, I'm already giving myself shit for it."
Owain deflates, visibly disappointed. Had he ever made Poe feel like this? You could be so happy if you would just trust me. There's a moment or two where he looks at Kiron with an almost unrelenting sadness, seeing so much of himself in the way he pulls back. He thinks of Kes, about how quickly he was willing to ruin things he'd been building at the ball, and even now, when he's actively set on helping someone the way Poe helped him, there's a stab of guilt when he thinks he's disappointing the man who raised him. A cut of fear reminding him he's getting carried away, putting Poe at risk.
He breathes out.
"Okay." He nods. "Okay. Okay, we don't have to go anywhere. What if you just - hum a little something for me here? Quietly? Or-- or tell me some of your lyrics, or-- or anything. Anything at all."
~ * ~
Reeve almost laughs, full of bitter disbelief, but he doesn't. He stays quiet, chewing over his words before he says them.
"It's just--" Reeve puts his forehead in his hand. "You've never gone this far before. I'm scared. For him, yeah, but for you, too. Do you know how easy it would be for this to go wrong? Either of you could fucking die for this and it's--"
One slip up, one wrong word, one enemy made, and an attempt will be taken on Owain's life and barely investigated. Reeve scratches at his forearm and says nothing, but Poe's rebellion... this is too much, he should have tried to stop it all when they were younger. Fuck.
"Sorry."
His lips twist into a sour smile and he looks at Poe, relenting. He'll stop.
Well, sort of.
"... You like him." It's slow and careful, like he's scared Poe might run. "Right?"
Kiron glances back nervously at the tent again, before wringing his hands, nervously. There's a long pause while he obviously considers, but when he finally looks back to Owain, there's a sadness in his gaze that wasn't there before.
"Why is this... Why is this important to you? Why does my singing something mean anything to you?
~ * ~
"Anyone who wants to hurt him will have to go through me, first. And there's a lot worse things out there than dying for something I believe in, Reeve." He knew it wasn't something the man would want to hear, but that didn't make it less true. Poe had never considered his own life to be of primary importance.
At the last question, however, he pauses. His shoulders droop, heading bowing with a small sigh, before he finally turned to meet Reeve's gaze. He'd never been good at lying to the man.
Why start now.
"This would be a hell of a lot easier if I only liked him, Reeve."
A week ago, he wouldn't know how to answer that question. Fuck, a week ago, he wouldn't have even gotten to this point - he would have stared at the floor, anxious and dead eyed, as Poe introduced him as Owain of the House of Dameron to Reeve, who he would only watch long enough to remember everything about his appearance and then immediately look away. Now, though -
He grins, tilting his head to the side like it's the easiest thing in the world.
"You're an important person." He nudges Kiron on the shoulder, just lightly. "I want to know what you love, what makes you happy. I want to know the kind of man you are."
~ * ~
"If you die, he's going to die, too." Reeve isn't looking at Poe anymore. "Sacrificing yourself for his safety sounds all well and good, if you're willing to leave him alone in a world where he's seen as an error. A mistake in an otherwise perfect system."
He watches the ground and he thinks of something. Of home, of his sister. An otherwise perfect system.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Okay." He looks back up, away from the shoes he'd been staring at. "Okay. You're in love with him?" There's a moment or two where the question hangs there, and it looks like Reeve's about to dive into something again - something darker, angrier, it flashes behind his eyes and it's there - but then it's gone, and he cracks a grin.
"Uncool, Dameron. To think I was gonna ask you to dress up like a woman and become my wife tonight." He rolls his shoulders and stands to his feet, coming over to bring Poe into a hug. He's not gonna fight about this. "Don't let him hurt you either, yeah? Kinda weird to imagine you in love."
The uncertainty doesn't leave Kiron's expression as he watches him quietly. But after a long moment it fades, a soft smile rising in its place.
"You are a... Very strange man," he murmured, thoughtfully. "But I... Will hum you a short song, as long as you never repeat it."
He paused, cleared his throat, and then began to hum a somber, quiet melody, barely loud enough for even Owain to make out.
~ * ~
He rubbed his face. Reeve was right. Owain would be fucked if he died-- "Fuck. Yeah. I'll- I'll think of something. I'll make sure that something is set up, in case anything happens to me. I don't-- I'm not going to fail him."
Then Reeve asks something that Poe had been so carefully avoiding saying aloud or putting into words, and it felt like something suddenly solidified in his chest, making it far harder to ignore. His mouth went a little dry and he turned his head. Fuck. Fuck, yeah, he was.
He doesn't smile, as the joke, barely reacts to the hug for the first few seconds, before sighing and slumping into it. "... Not something I feel I can... Really put on him. Everyrhing is already... Too much."
Strange is good. He likes strange. Deviating from the way he's been raised, being acknowledged for that - it sets off a warmth in his stomach that wouldn't have been there, if Poe hadn't taught him how to be proud of himself.
He nods as hard and as fast as he can, drawing a line over his lips with his fingertips and throwing away the imaginary key. Kiron's secret is safe with him.
The song hits hard. The tone, the melody, every part of it rings hard in Owain's ear and he shuts his eyes to drown out the noise of the encampment, straining to catch as much of that quiet song as clearly as he can. When it's done, Owain slowly opens his eyes, looking at Kiron in-- shock, more than anything. That was fucking beautiful, and Kiron is doing the world a disservice by not being known for his voice, the songs he writes.
"Woah." He pushes Kiron's shoulder, light and affectionate. "Woah."
~ * ~
"Or," Reeve says, voice dripping with sarcasm, as this is he most obvious thing in the world. "You could just - you know - not let anything happen to you? I've been telling you to take care of yourself better for years. Maybe now you'll actually listen."
He's still hugging Poe, tight enough to offset any of the negativity his sarcastic bullshit might cause, but he lets go soon enough. Kid's in love. Hard to wrap his head around.
"... but yeah, I get that."
He shifts away from Poe to sit down against the bed, leaning back. He props himself up on one hand and scratches at his chest, uncomfortable in his uniform as he's always been.
Kiron smiles, and for a few seconds it is too honest, too genuine. Then he seems to realise what he's doing and the smile is tempered back into something small, something careful. Something almost worried.
He rolls with the push, eyes falling to the ground.
"... That is Master Starling's favourite," he admits lowly. He looks back up, and the smile is softer, fonder. "I should probably - return to his side. He does not like me being gone for long, even when he requests it."
~ * ~
Poe gave a low snort. Take care of himself. Yeah. Like that was ever going to happen. 'Take care of yourself' tended to be code for 'stop taking risks'. And that wasn't something he was prepared to do.
Risks were where Victory lay.
Poe doesn't sit down when Reeve does. Instead he stands there, casting his eyes down to the floor, putting his hands on his hips. He can't meet Reeve's gaze while he talks. He feels a bit like an idiot - like he's the one who's eighteen and just finding his feet.
"... From less than a day after I met him," Poe mumbles to the floor. "I don't know. Fuck. Less than a week? Don't - I'm well aware how insane it sounds, alright, but it was like- like suddenly every other moment made sense, and it was all leading to that one. Like I've actually been there for half my life, just... waiting."
It's enough, for now. He's sure he must have been the same when Poe first started dealing with him - honest smiles that broke through a facade, only for Owain to remember where he was and what he is and pull back. He'll drown this kid with affection until he's ready to embrace the kind of life he's been steadily climbing towards, and... and he'll see where they go from there.
"... Okay." He pats Kiron on the shoulder again, grinning. Proud of himself. Doing good in the world, making a difference. It hits him how easy it is to make a Pledge smile like that, and how fucking sad it is that it's such a rarity. "Lead the way, then."
~ * ~
Reeve doesn't respond to the snort, but his shoulders tense and he looks away. There's a difference, he feels, in avoiding risks and procuring your own safety, especially now that someone else is in Poe's charge, but. He's given his warning and it's the most he can do - he's not sure why he expected Poe to reign himself in now when he's been a thorn in Holdo's side for years.
Besides, he's a hypocrite. There's a reason Reeve and Poe get along so well, and it's because they both set the same kind of fires.
He bites his tongue again. Less than a day. That isn't love, not to Reeve. It's sweet, everything Poe is saying, but it sounds so fucking naive, words too familiar to things he believed in growing up. He runs his hand over his cheek and feels his mood starting to break, and when Owain busts through the door with Kiron at his heels, his expression darkens.
"You were out there for a while," Reeve says, and it's not a threat, it's not even an admonishment, but it's aimlessly stern as he pats the bed beside him to call Kiron over.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's a hospitality he knows well. Stay perceptive, watch for needs, serve them without thinking. There used to be exams back in the Dameron estate - someone would pretend to shiver, or breathe out like they were frustrated, or look at something before looking away, and it was Owain's duty to zero in on each reflex, figure out what someone needed and offer it to them before they had a chance to ask for it. He should have known Kiron would treat him like this, but it's deflating. He shouldn't have to.
"No, man. C'mon." He could say he's just a Pledge and that Kiron can relax around him, but the word doesn't sit right in his chest anymore, and he knows Kiron wouldn't take to that anyway. He runs his hand through his hair, breathing out mist before rolling his sleeves down over his wrists to keep his fingers warm.
"Capital, yeah. Dameron estate, born and raised. Or, well. Not born. Basically born? Born, like, a house away. But. Born. And raised. So." Haha. Haaah... this is harder than he thought it would be. He tucks his balled fists into his pockets and looks at Kiron, suddenly nervous.
"You're-- I mean," it's too soon to ask this, too soon, but--
"You're-- Reeve's? Are you-- ah." He swallows, flicks his eyes up and stares at the sky, so much wider, grey with oncoming snow, than home's ever was. "Are you-- happy?"
---
Reeve is tense as Poe shrugs off his jacket, steeling his fists and raising his arms, ready for a fight. They're best friends - but with Poe as he is, with Reeve as he is, they wouldn't have been able to hit this point without sharing a few blows. So to speak. If they're going to sort this out with a fight, fine - he hadn't thought he'd pushed Poe that far yet, but if that's where this is, that's where this is.
He's startled, then, by the cut on his hand.
He has too many thoughts to be able to react in any way other than flight or fight, and he picks fight. He grabs Poe's wrist, far too tightly, twisting the Captain's arm to get a better look.
"Are you--" He actually laughs, and it's designed to be spiteful. Bitter, maybe. "Are you serious? That poor fuckin' kid. Your idealism was fine when it was your own, Dameron, but you're gonna mess him up with this."
no subject
"I am completely content." He offered a smile, one obviously not utilised often. It wasn't that it was fake, exactly, but it was tempered. He was not used to showing his emotions. At least not when specifically requested to.
But the smile faded.
"I... was not aware that Captain Dameron was intending to take a Pledge," He admitted, quietly. "I'm glad he changed his mind."
~ * ~
"I'm not going to let someone swear away their life to me if I'm not willing to do the same." He doesn't struggle against the grip, though he tenses.
"Treating someone like a person isn't going to mess them up, Reeve."
no subject
If he'd asked that to the girl at the bookstore, the Pledge obviously so afraid of just being in her own skin, she would have winced and her smile would have died before it was there. This, at least, is even. Owain breathes out and stretches his arms, popping his elbows and shoulders before tucking his hands away again.
"Okay." He leaves it at that. "I'm not really--"
There's hesitation. He knows what he said - that he was going to stifle this, pretend to be something worse to Poe than what he is, but Reeve's a good friend even if Owain just doesn't like him by default of his envy. So...
"I'm not... really... his Pledge." He laughs, sheepish, kicking at the ground. "I mean - it's what I was assigned to him as - but it's not the word we use. So... yeah. He's still a disappointment. Sorry."
---
Reeve feels that tension. He has it himself, locking up his arms. He stares at the scar longer than he needs to, then pulls Poe forward to get a better look at the tattoo. He says nothing for far too long, then finally breathes out, letting go. He needs a smoke, and he heads across the tent to his pack to find one.
He lights up his pipe and leans back, breathing in, plumes of grey coiling from his nostrils as he leans over the single cot they have. Fine. Fine, he'll listen.
"What makes him so special, then?" He taps out his pipe, cotton taste on his tongue. "Got assigned to you so you think you can just - screw with his head? That's fucked up."
no subject
"... I don't understand," he said finally, glancing down at Owain's hand, then at the crest on his uniform, then back up to his face. "You took the oath, correct?"
He unconsciously rubbed at his own hand, the scar far older and faded but still visible. "You wear his brand?"
---
"I'm not screwing with hi-- Look. He's Lon'qu's son, alright?"
He let the name sit for a moment, because Reeve would know it. Was probably one of the only people who knew what it meant, to Poe, because he had been the crux of so many arguments about it.
But last time they had argued about it, Poe had thought that the man was alive.
So as he rolled his sleeve back down his eyes cast to the floor, glaring at the rug that covered the trampled grass.
"... Lon'qu's dead. I didn't know. So my father's been raising Owain as - as my Pledge for a fucking decade. I couldn't just leave him there. He wanted to come and didn't understand why I didn't want him to. So I gave him the choice, and the rest just sort of..." He trailed off. His eyes hadn't raised, mostly because despite his words, his mind was still stuck on one of the first things he'd said.
Lon'qu was dead.
no subject
Unlike Poe, though, he's not willing to share what happened at the ceremony. Not yet. That's still just his.
"We're-- there for each other," he says, and his excitement gets the best of him, too willing to share this, too willing to see if the first Pledge he's ever spoken to alone will be able to light up the way he has. "We're equal. To each other. He's-- everything. To me. But I'm everything to him? I don't know."
Owain laughs, shy, but still so god damn nervous. He looks at Kiron a little sideways. "It's-- new. What we're doing. He doesn't give me orders, and he lets me ask for things. Tell him things I need. That I'm allowed to need. You could be like that with Reeve, if you wanted to."
---
Reeve's eyes widen, and the grip he has on his pipe slackens. He breathes out again, smoke circling the ceiling of the tent before dissipating.
So that's what this is about.
"I'm sorry, kid." There's obvious sympathy in his tone, but he says it the way he'd say it if someone lost a pet. He taps his pipe into an ashtray and moves closer to Poe, clapping his free hand on his shoulder. "That must be hard."
That's all he says, for a moment, and it looks like it's where he'll end it. Offering a chance for Poe to talk about this, if he wants to, or else extending a sympathy he doesn't fully command. But the silence doesn't last, and though he tries to be careful, there's a dominating, chastising tone to his voice when he finds it again.
"... Can't use his kid to grieve, Poe."
no subject
"Captain Dameron has... always attempted to extend similar privileges to me," He admits quietly, after a moment. "But I... no. Master Reeve would not appreciate such a... liberal relationship. I serve him, and that secures his happiness. He is not blind to my needs. I need not speak them."
---
Poe turns his head, rolling his eyes, again, at the 'kid', but again not complaining.
"It was either bring him with me or leave him there - probably to be assigned to someone else. I'm not - look. I owe it to Lon'qu, to look after his son." He turned his gaze back to Reeve's, looking at him from under dark brows.
"You think I would go into this fucking lightly?"
no subject
It's not surprising, really. Poe needed to fucking tear apart decades of tradition for Owain to even consider what they were doing - had to ruin himself with scars and tattoos just to show Owain how serious he was about this. With a decade of conditioning, he barely managed to pull away. Kiron might be older. Might have started learning when he was younger, even. He's a fool to try to tackle this so openly, and he lowers his head.
"It's not... like that, though." He bites his teeth. "The Pledge system is-- fucked up, man. You shouldn't surrender yourself when you don't even... get it. You don't even know what you're saying."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Reeve-- is sympathetic, but again, unconvinced.
It's too easy to wrap this up in a neat little package labelled Poe's Idealism Running Away With Him Again and leaving it at that. He lost someone he loved, someone whose rights he tried so hard to fight for, and his son was left in his care in a system he wanted to tear down. His arguments are only making that line of thought more believable, and he doesn't say it, but it's right their in his expression - probably to be assigned to someone else, really? So this is how you repay an obligation?
"I think," Reeve says, and it's careful, too careful to be good. He pointedly keeps his eyes trained on Poe, letting him see how serious he is about this. How concerned he is about this.
"I think you would be willing to do a lot of things if you thought it was right. You charge into things full speed, damning safety for the sake of it." He gestures to the cut, to the tattoo. "You're taking this too far."
no subject
"I've known Captain Dameron for a while now," he points out, calmly. "I know how he views the Pledge system. And it sounds like you are... a good match for him. But I am happy, where I am. I have not surrendered. I took my post gladly."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * SPARKLES * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Poe lets out a hard breath from his nose, but the way his eyes shift away and how a slight heat rises under his collar are telling enough. He knows he's going into this too fast and too hard.
But it was too late to pull back.
Even if he wanted to.
"Equality isn't 'too far', Reeve, it's basically the bare fucking minimum of what I should be trying to do." He grabbed his jacket again, shrugging it over his shoulders. "I'm fine. I'm not going to parade it around."
no subject
"I'm not a good match for him," he mumbles, just to be contrary, even though he doesn't believe it. "Not as a Pledge, at least. Not like you're implying. That first little while kind of sucked because I kept trying to do things and kowtow and he just--"
He drags his hands down his face. Thinks of Kes, out of nowhere, and remembers the fears of disappointing him.
"Okay," he starts. "Okay. Let's try this - is there anything you like to do? Reading? Writing? Things like that?"
"This isn't equality, though," Reeve argues, chewing the inside of his cheek. "You've taken his life away. His purpose. You're a military man, and you still get to be that even with a cut on your hand and a crest in your arm. He's a Pledge - and you're stripping him of that, taking away his identity, letting him drift aimlessly in a world that doesn't give him the choice to be more than what he is."
How many times has he made an argument like this to Poe over the years? The same argument Kes used - that placement is provided to Pledges. Security. A good thing.
"This feels like the bare minimum to you, because you're not--" He trips over the word, but says it anyway.
"--livestock. They're treated like animals, kid. Not by us, but by everyone else. They can't take things for themselves. Even the freedom you think he has is a gift you've given him as his better."
no subject
He dipped his head, raising a hand to gently rub at the back of his neck. An action he would have never taken, in Reeve's presence.
"I sing," He said, simply, in response to the question. "And I am fortunate that my Master enjoys it, also."
*~ ^o^ ~*
"I'm not expecting it to work overnight, Reeve, but I'm not going to - Gods--"
He sighed heavily and strode over to the other man, placing a hand firmly on either side of his face and forcing him to look straight at him. "I'm not having this argument again. I gave him my vow, and I took the brand to prove it, and if takes another ten years for the reality to sink in, so be it. But things aren't always going to be this way, and when they finally change, he's going to be ready for it."
no subject
Fuck. He rushes past it, tries another tactic.
"That's great! I love writing, and Poe got me this journal-- I'm gonna teach him how to write stuff-- I could write you a song? Or you could write a song with me!" Self-expression, things disallowed, straws to clutch at. "Have you ever wanted to-- do that? Write something? Make art of your own?"
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ♥*♡:*(*´￫ܫ￩｀*)*:♡*♥･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Reeve's skin is so much less smoother than Owain's - scars under his jawline from battle, stubble from an old beard shaved away too roughly and too quickly. He looks at Poe, and it's so, so clear he thinks Poe is doing something wrong, but he understands that this is the end of the argument and drops it. They never get anywhere after stalemates like these.
"Just don't ruin him," he says, soft and gentle. "He's just a kid. He looks like he's barely eighteen. He's gonna idolize you if you keep making all these promises to him you know you're not gonna be able to keep."
no subject
In the end, getting along with Owain was more important that any arguments or qualms about his values. So after another half a minute he slowly nodded.
"I already... Sort of have. Written songs before. Only in my head, of course, but..."
~ ~~~~**** I don't know how to do fancy things ****~~~~ -
Poe deflates, a little, because almost by accident Reeve managed to step right on the thing that was worrying him most. He scrubs his thumbs over Reeve's rough cheeks for a moment - almost thoughtlessly - then drops his hands to rest on the man's shoulders as he sighs.
"Yeah. Yeah, I know." His brows furrow and his eyes drop, looking at Reeve's feet instead of his face. "I'm trying to do good by him, Starstuff." He didn't bring that pet name out often - especially lately. But it was almost habit, when he had his hands on him, like this. "But I'm not sure there's anything I could do that wouldn't mess with his life in some measure. So I'm just... Trying to do what's right."
no subject
Owain gets swept up in his excitement, caught too easily by the winds of this. He lunges forward and grabs Kiron's hands, holding both of them far too tightly. There's far too much intimacy in this, far too much closeness for two Pledges acting without orders - before Poe, Owain had let himself be starved of touch, becoming his slave while desperate for any kind of contact with another human being that wasn't disciplinary or guiding; it comes so easily now, seeing the opportunity to comfort or to admire or to just respond purely physically and affectionately, and to then just-- take the chance.
He doesn't even mind that Kiron isn't looking at him. The grin and the intensity as he watches Kiron are both more than bright enough for the two of them.
"We'll play together," he rushes. "Or-- no, wait, I should just let you perform. Would you do that? Perform for me? One of your own pieces? We, ah - don't have to let anyone else know about it."
~*~ sparkle sparkle thats right we're doing that not my lazy dashes
Starstuff.
Reeve stops, and whatever he was about to say next dies on his lips. Ah, unfair. It shows in the way he eyes Poe that he doesn't have any defenses in the light of Starstuff and he's damn sure Poe knows it. He pulls back, breaking contact, and he runs runs his fingers through his hair a few times, combing it up into even waves. He looks at Poe, and his shoulders droop. God damn it.
"Good luck changing the world, I guess. Just - you can't make promises like that to a kid and not follow through," he says, one last protest before letting this die.
But, well.
It always comes back to this. It was always gonna come back to this. He grins, and it's lecherous and disrespectful, but-- that's how he's always been with Poe. It's an easy mood to slip into, when they're not arguing or talking shit. He folds his arms over his chest and says so, letting the word hang for a minute.
"You fuck him yet?"
no subject
"... I... that's...."
~ * ~
"I don't promise him anything lightly. Don't worry." The tenseness in his own shoulders relaxed as Reeve's drooped, and he let the rest out with a long breath. Fight over. Okay. Now they could just talk about normal thi--
It was probably for the best, that he wasn't in the middle of drinking or eating anything, but even without that, Poe still looked like he got caught in the middle of a spit take. Fuck. He should have known, with Reeve of all people, that the first fucking question--
"I'm not answering that." He said, rubbing his face roughly as he turned away to find something to busy himself with. Where was his backpack? He needed to unpack it. The last thing he wanted was for Reeve to witness the heat that was rising up his throat.
no subject
"C'mon." He wants more of this, wants to pull Kiron into a hug or something, but he settles on just lacing their fingers together a little tighter and squeezing reassuringly with his uninjured hand. He can feel the scar break open on his other, and he quietly pulls it back, hiding that hand away in his pocket - it stings, but he doesn't stop smiling, doesn't let go.
"What if we consider it - practice? If Reeve lets you sing, that means he must like it, right? So." He tugs Kiron forward, just a little, lowering his voice to keep them from being overheard. "Be at your best for him."
~ * ~
Poe's not really one to be shy, and it stirs something in Reeve. An assumption, maybe, that Poe's taking this as seriously as he says he is. An assumption that he's already crossed a line, and that's why he can't pull back.
A good friend might back down from this, give Poe his space and his privacy, but that's never really how things have been between them. The only thing off limits between them is... how they've spoken about Kiron - how Poe's reacted to Reeve's offers, some of the things he's said - and that's something they can navigate. This, though? Uncharted waters.
"Huh."
He seeks out that heat staining Poe red and he finds it. He's quiet, looking out towards the entrance of the tent - he could go and get Kiron and the other kid, if he wanted to, cut this short and blow away all the tension he's suddenly feeling. Again - that'd be what a good friend might do.
"How far have you gone?" Reeve's closing in on Poe, leaning over him, pretending to look for his backpack to help even as he slides one arm around Poe's waist to keep him there. His tone's - unreadable, light but dark, and he's breathing silently, like he's barely there.
"He sucked your dick?" He squeezes his arm around Poe a little tighter. It doesn't sound like he's judging Poe, but it sounds like something close.
"You make him swallow your cum or do you like it more when you shoot on his face?"
no subject
"... You want me to practice singing for my Master by singing for you. Is that what you're asking?" He turned his eyes back to Owain's, then, though they didn't stay long, instead falling sheepishly to the floor.
"... Perhaps. But I... I am not sure why you wish this of me. The songs I write... They're nothing more than silly turns of phrase to pass the time. It is no art."
~ * ~
He doesn't need to sound like he's judging Poe for Poe to hear it - the guilt a hot lance right into his chest, twisting at the base of his throat and making a sour taste rise to the back of his mouth.
He shoves Reeve off him - not a strong, violent push, but the sort of almost aimless brotherly rough housing that highlights most of their relationship. And when he speaks, he sounds mostly exasperated, though there is a hint of honest frustration in it.
"Will you fucking stop? It's not like that."
He almost wanted to kick himself, for saying it. It's not like that implied a hell of a lot more than he meant to. He grabbed his backpack and started pulling it open.
no subject
There's no hiding the excitement in Owain - even the ice cold touch of his skin is starting to warm like this, palm against palm - and it only gets worse when Kiron looks up at him. Fuck, this is going to be great.
"We should do it now. Before your nerve runs out. Poe and Reeve'll probably be at it for a while, so. We can slip away." He pauses. "I don't wanna go too far away, but, like - I'm sure there's somewhere quiet nearby where we can be alone."
~ * ~
Reeve laughs, stumbling back, holding his arms out in surrender. It doesn't reach his eyes, which are still hitting Poe pretty hard, but he goes quiet for a second or two as he... considers. Almost asks tell me what it's like, then but opts not to.
He sits on the edge of his bed and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and watching Poe unpack. It's the lack of a hard refusal that really gets to him and keeps him asking - he takes a different tactic, but his tone is still there. Something just below judgmental.
"Last I saw you," he starts, drawling. "Would've been - man - a few weeks ago. Not too long."
He lets the words hang there, the silent assertion clear. He can't have been your Pledge for very long, and already you're acting like he's the center of the world.
"He's either a fucking exceptional human being," Reeve says, putting all the respect he can into the words human being, so Poe knows he means it, "or-- you've found the perfect Pledge. Someone who validates you, drinks up your values like a sponge. Fits you the way a Pledge is supposed to."
no subject
"I... I shouldn't be that far from Master Starling. I don't want to be out of calling distance. I don't - I'm not sure this is a good idea. Perhaps I should go back--"
~ * ~
Reeve has always known exactly how to get under Poe's defences. And while usually that was a good thing - getting him to open up about his Father, for example, or making him actually address his grief when a mutual friend died - this time, all it does is impound the guilt already in him. His grip on a shirt tightens, his knuckles going white, staring down at the clothes rather than turning his head, because the implication alone is enough to stain the last few days, turning the pure and honest joy into something darker and tainted.
He'd known, somewhere in the back of his head, that it would end up that way. Drinks up your values like a sponge--
He felt very queasy, suddenly.
"He is a fucking exceptional human being," he replies, his voice a little tight as he tossed the shirt down onto the cot. "Don't fucking do this, man, I don't need it. Anything you could possibly give me shit about, I guarantee, I'm already giving myself shit for it."
no subject
Owain deflates, visibly disappointed. Had he ever made Poe feel like this? You could be so happy if you would just trust me. There's a moment or two where he looks at Kiron with an almost unrelenting sadness, seeing so much of himself in the way he pulls back. He thinks of Kes, about how quickly he was willing to ruin things he'd been building at the ball, and even now, when he's actively set on helping someone the way Poe helped him, there's a stab of guilt when he thinks he's disappointing the man who raised him. A cut of fear reminding him he's getting carried away, putting Poe at risk.
He breathes out.
"Okay." He nods. "Okay. Okay, we don't have to go anywhere. What if you just - hum a little something for me here? Quietly? Or-- or tell me some of your lyrics, or-- or anything. Anything at all."
~ * ~
Reeve almost laughs, full of bitter disbelief, but he doesn't. He stays quiet, chewing over his words before he says them.
"It's just--" Reeve puts his forehead in his hand. "You've never gone this far before. I'm scared. For him, yeah, but for you, too. Do you know how easy it would be for this to go wrong? Either of you could fucking die for this and it's--"
One slip up, one wrong word, one enemy made, and an attempt will be taken on Owain's life and barely investigated. Reeve scratches at his forearm and says nothing, but Poe's rebellion... this is too much, he should have tried to stop it all when they were younger. Fuck.
"Sorry."
His lips twist into a sour smile and he looks at Poe, relenting. He'll stop.
Well, sort of.
"... You like him." It's slow and careful, like he's scared Poe might run. "Right?"
no subject
"Why is this... Why is this important to you? Why does my singing something mean anything to you?
~ * ~
"Anyone who wants to hurt him will have to go through me, first. And there's a lot worse things out there than dying for something I believe in, Reeve." He knew it wasn't something the man would want to hear, but that didn't make it less true. Poe had never considered his own life to be of primary importance.
At the last question, however, he pauses. His shoulders droop, heading bowing with a small sigh, before he finally turned to meet Reeve's gaze. He'd never been good at lying to the man.
Why start now.
"This would be a hell of a lot easier if I only liked him, Reeve."
no subject
He grins, tilting his head to the side like it's the easiest thing in the world.
"You're an important person." He nudges Kiron on the shoulder, just lightly. "I want to know what you love, what makes you happy. I want to know the kind of man you are."
~ * ~
"If you die, he's going to die, too." Reeve isn't looking at Poe anymore. "Sacrificing yourself for his safety sounds all well and good, if you're willing to leave him alone in a world where he's seen as an error. A mistake in an otherwise perfect system."
He watches the ground and he thinks of something. Of home, of his sister. An otherwise perfect system.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Okay." He looks back up, away from the shoes he'd been staring at. "Okay. You're in love with him?" There's a moment or two where the question hangs there, and it looks like Reeve's about to dive into something again - something darker, angrier, it flashes behind his eyes and it's there - but then it's gone, and he cracks a grin.
"Uncool, Dameron. To think I was gonna ask you to dress up like a woman and become my wife tonight." He rolls his shoulders and stands to his feet, coming over to bring Poe into a hug. He's not gonna fight about this. "Don't let him hurt you either, yeah? Kinda weird to imagine you in love."
no subject
"You are a... Very strange man," he murmured, thoughtfully. "But I... Will hum you a short song, as long as you never repeat it."
He paused, cleared his throat, and then began to hum a somber, quiet melody, barely loud enough for even Owain to make out.
~ * ~
He rubbed his face. Reeve was right. Owain would be fucked if he died-- "Fuck. Yeah. I'll- I'll think of something. I'll make sure that something is set up, in case anything happens to me. I don't-- I'm not going to fail him."
Then Reeve asks something that Poe had been so carefully avoiding saying aloud or putting into words, and it felt like something suddenly solidified in his chest, making it far harder to ignore. His mouth went a little dry and he turned his head. Fuck. Fuck, yeah, he was.
He doesn't smile, as the joke, barely reacts to the hug for the first few seconds, before sighing and slumping into it. "... Not something I feel I can... Really put on him. Everyrhing is already... Too much."
no subject
He nods as hard and as fast as he can, drawing a line over his lips with his fingertips and throwing away the imaginary key. Kiron's secret is safe with him.
The song hits hard. The tone, the melody, every part of it rings hard in Owain's ear and he shuts his eyes to drown out the noise of the encampment, straining to catch as much of that quiet song as clearly as he can. When it's done, Owain slowly opens his eyes, looking at Kiron in-- shock, more than anything. That was fucking beautiful, and Kiron is doing the world a disservice by not being known for his voice, the songs he writes.
"Woah." He pushes Kiron's shoulder, light and affectionate. "Woah."
~ * ~
"Or," Reeve says, voice dripping with sarcasm, as this is he most obvious thing in the world. "You could just - you know - not let anything happen to you? I've been telling you to take care of yourself better for years. Maybe now you'll actually listen."
He's still hugging Poe, tight enough to offset any of the negativity his sarcastic bullshit might cause, but he lets go soon enough. Kid's in love. Hard to wrap his head around.
"... but yeah, I get that."
He shifts away from Poe to sit down against the bed, leaning back. He props himself up on one hand and scratches at his chest, uncomfortable in his uniform as he's always been.
"How long've you known?"
no subject
He rolls with the push, eyes falling to the ground.
"... That is Master Starling's favourite," he admits lowly. He looks back up, and the smile is softer, fonder. "I should probably - return to his side. He does not like me being gone for long, even when he requests it."
~ * ~
Poe gave a low snort. Take care of himself. Yeah. Like that was ever going to happen. 'Take care of yourself' tended to be code for 'stop taking risks'. And that wasn't something he was prepared to do.
Risks were where Victory lay.
Poe doesn't sit down when Reeve does. Instead he stands there, casting his eyes down to the floor, putting his hands on his hips. He can't meet Reeve's gaze while he talks. He feels a bit like an idiot - like he's the one who's eighteen and just finding his feet.
"... From less than a day after I met him," Poe mumbles to the floor. "I don't know. Fuck. Less than a week? Don't - I'm well aware how insane it sounds, alright, but it was like- like suddenly every other moment made sense, and it was all leading to that one. Like I've actually been there for half my life, just... waiting."
no subject
"... Okay." He pats Kiron on the shoulder again, grinning. Proud of himself. Doing good in the world, making a difference. It hits him how easy it is to make a Pledge smile like that, and how fucking sad it is that it's such a rarity. "Lead the way, then."
~ * ~
Reeve doesn't respond to the snort, but his shoulders tense and he looks away. There's a difference, he feels, in avoiding risks and procuring your own safety, especially now that someone else is in Poe's charge, but. He's given his warning and it's the most he can do - he's not sure why he expected Poe to reign himself in now when he's been a thorn in Holdo's side for years.
Besides, he's a hypocrite. There's a reason Reeve and Poe get along so well, and it's because they both set the same kind of fires.
He bites his tongue again. Less than a day. That isn't love, not to Reeve. It's sweet, everything Poe is saying, but it sounds so fucking naive, words too familiar to things he believed in growing up. He runs his hand over his cheek and feels his mood starting to break, and when Owain busts through the door with Kiron at his heels, his expression darkens.
"You were out there for a while," Reeve says, and it's not a threat, it's not even an admonishment, but it's aimlessly stern as he pats the bed beside him to call Kiron over.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)