[ closed/open ] Highway to the danger zone

[volitaunt]

who: Poe + CR + ALSO YOU, MAYBE??
what: Catch-all with closed and open prompts
when: April/May
where: ALL AROUND LE TOWN, more prompts to come i'm sure
warnings: Poe attempting to babysit ten thousand tiny Star Warses and then self-destructing when he doesn't have that distraction any more???

Comments

[volitaunt]

[ The Hosnian System.

Poe makes an involuntary noise, a twisted gasp of grief, and there's no way Ren can avoid feeling it: the marrow-deep wash of despair that rises in him. It's a different tenor of the same feeling Ren has gotten from him once before, this time so much worse, so much worse.

Poe doesn't care about being called pathetic. It's the other parts that cut. Even then, it's like a stone thrown against a tidal surge.

Hosnian Prime. Home. It's not Yavin 4, but it's still home. The statue of Bail Organa, the sun sailor races, the frozen winters in the north and the thousand little bars and cafes he learned to love along with the friends he had stationed there.

God, all the friends he had stationed there.

Poe grits his teeth, even as tears he's been denying for months start to flow. ]

The next time I put my hands on you, Hux, I'm going to fucking kill you.

[winscenario]

[ A lot seems to fly over his head, right now. There's a history here, he's sure— he was sure of that much even before, when they were just punching each other, rather than insulting each other. Now, it's made a little clearer.

Because while it is blatantly clear that Jim is missing bits and pieces, he's also smart enough to put what pieces he does have together. Hux's words alone paint a good portion of that picture for him, and they settle heavily at the pit of his stomach. Like poison.

Jim almost wants to throw up. He's not sure if it's because of the hit against the table or something else entirely, but his head is spinning nonetheless. His gaze leaves Hux as though he can't even bear to look at him, and his glazed eyes settle on Ren for the brief moment he's talking to him.

Then he turns to Poe. He's the one who matters right now. The only one he really cares about getting out of here. ]

Poe... please. [ He leans in, hands clinging tight to the pilot's arms. ] Let's just go. It's not worth it, please... come with me.

[fhux]

[ He refuses to let it show on his face when anger falters under Jim's accusatory stare, an internal hiccup that has his grip around Ren's wrist twitching. Hux watches as Jim tries to coax any degree of common-sense into Dameron, his gaze sliding to fix on the pilot as though he expected nothing less than the threat he gets. Unruffled. Hating him more, somehow for turning Kirk against him like this.

But he still has Ren at his side, solid and powerful, so Hux holds his ground and pretends it's the high kind. ]

[volitaunt]

It's worth it.

[ His eyes are still on Hux, Ren forgotten for the moment. Roiling hate mixes with Poe's grief.

Still. He doesn't want to pull Jim into it. He doesn't want to put someone else he cares about at risk. He lets Jim pull him away, feels his muscles unlock as he does it.

He doesn't stop watching Hux. What was it John had said, months ago now? 'I've made bigger people disappear from smaller places.'

It would be worth it. If he had any right to ask John for something so big, if he had any right to ask John for anything at all, it would be worth it. ]

[killthepast]

[ Ren casts a brief look at Hux, trying not to let his confusion show too plainly when fingers twitch against his wrist. There's conflict. He doesn't think he's ever felt conflict in the general before.

And beyond that... There's hatred all around him, and grief, and disgust, a cocktail of misery that Ren has to shut out of the Force before it overwhelms his senses. The Dark is so strong, the impulse to go against his word and eliminate Poe, and Jim, and everyone else in the bar (not Hux, though, who's chosen him and given him strength, trusted in him and the Force)...

But there's an ember of Light buried beneath it all, and that, too, he tries to shut out. Memories sneak through the Darkness to strip away at his resolve. Memories of Ben meeting Poe, who was at first strained and tense, but... showed him kindness, despite knowing what the boy would become. Memories of being shown the A-wing that belonged to the pilot's mother. Memories of torture, experienced through the wrong perspective...

The corners of Ren's mouth twitch a little, pulling into a brief wince, as he releases Dameron from the Force's grip. Tensions are high around him, but his own anger begins to deflate, replaced with something he can't quite place. ]

For all your rage... You will never bring those lives back. You can never really avenge them. [ Those are his parting words, voice deceptively soft, despite the inherent cruelty. But, there's something else there, an odd strain of what might be empathy as he adds: ] The helplessness must be maddening.

[ ANYWAY. Go away now so he can dramatically exit with Hux!! ]

[winscenario]

[ Jim's right there to catch Poe's weight as Ren releases him, his arms wrapping around the pilot's frame and holding him close. He's not entirely sure how well Poe can stand on his own two feet, but until he's completely sure he can walk on his own, he puts an arm around his back, hoisting his weight up and keeping him upright.

That would've been it. He was ready to turn around and leave without so much as a glance over his shoulder, but of course the other guy just couldn't let go without having the last word in.

Honestly, Jim couldn't care less if the words come from a place of empathy, or sadness, or grief. All he hears is the poison in them, and it makes him sick. ]

Go fuck yourself! [ He barks out as he points a finger at Ren, gritting his teeth. Hux is practically nonexistent in his field of vision when he's purposefully ignoring him. ] We're leaving. Just... shut your mouth already.

[ Adjusting Poe's weight a little, he finally turns both their backs on the pair for good, then gently carries Poe out the door, the fresh air offering a semblance of relief as it hits his face. ]

[fhux]

[ Jim doesn't address Hux, not directly. It's a small mercy and allows a small grain of hope to fester in between his ribs where all the most useless and embarrassing secrets hide, out of sight. He can't say he's sorry to seem Dameron hauled out like the trash he is, a sigh leaving Armitage once the door closes on their heels and he's left alone with a bleeding nose, Ren, and a bar full of liquor. He doesn't mind two out of three, for once. ]

You did well, not letting him get to you at the end. Thank you for getting him off me.

[ Turning toward the bar, which also happens to have Hux face Ren, his grip eases on a wrist and his fingers trail down the inside of a palm, uncertain whether Ren will want to be released or keep his connection to the Force awhile longer. Armitage isn't as averse to the contact as he would usually be and not only because, moments ago, Ren became a living weapon on his behalf. ]

Would you ... care for a drink? Perhaps some ice for our faces.

[killthepast]

( AND SO THEIR ADVENTURES CONTINUE HERE. Carry on, Jim and Poe. )

[volitaunt]

[ Poe closes his eyes and lets Kirk lead him out. He only knows they've made it by the change in sound, the cool of fresh air washing away the smells of fresh booze and vomit.

He's still crying. He can feel it on his face, his eyes, the tickle of his nose running and the trace of tears down the side of his neck and the point of his chin.

If he could stop doing that, at least. That would be something. If he could stop doing that--but Kirk already saw him break. The entire bar saw him break. Even if he stops crying now, there's no coming back from it. ]

[winscenario]

[ Jim can't speak for everyone else in that bar, but as far as he's concerned, this in no way changes how he sees Poe. If anything he understands the reason why he's crying. He would understand all the more were he aware of all the people he knew in that system. ]

I've never been to your place. [ He says quietly, seemingly apropos of nothing. But then he adds. ] I'll take you there, but you've gotta tell me the way.

[volitaunt]

[ Poe swallows. Sniffs. Clears his throat. Tries to sound like he's okay even though his throat is still squeezed tight, like he could be strangled if he lets his guard down.

He gives Kirk his address--a fair distance away, far enough that people from the bar couldn't easily follow him home.]

Kind of a hike.

[winscenario]

[ Jim's probably the last person that Poe needs to worry about keeping a stiff upper lip in front of, especially after what he's seen and heard back at the bar. He has questions— a lot of them, actually. But Poe's a mess, practically crumbling against him, and right now he just wants to focus on getting him to safety, patching him up, and calming him down a little.

They can talk later. ]

Been through worse. [ He offers with a vague smile, then they get going. He has to keep Poe's state in mind so the walk isn't too hard on him, so it might take them a little longer than usual before they make it there. ]

[volitaunt]

[ Poe doesn't have much to say in the mean time. He just keeps going over the fight and the aftermath in his head, over and over, until Kylo's words in particular are ground into his brain like a chisel taken to stone.

When they get close to his place, he straightens up, tries to walk on his own, mostly manages. It takes a couple of tries to get the key into the lock before he lets Jim in.

The place is still clean, still comfortable, still a little sterile. The blanket bed in the middle of the living room floor is more official now, the mattresses there too instead of just blankets. He gestures, asking Jim to enter without saying anything. He's not sure what he can say. ]

[winscenario]

[ He lets Poe try to walk unaided, if only because he knows the pilot would likely fight him on it, but he sticks close anyway, just in case he needs to catch him. Finally they make it inside, and after a brief look around, he nods towards one of the mattresses. ]

Take a seat. I'm fetching some things to clean you up.

[ Not open to discussion. Jim shrugs off his jacket, then unceremoniously makes his way to the bathroom so he can dig around for whatever might help. ]

[volitaunt]

[ There’s a first aid kit there, not hard to find, thanks mostly to Finn Nolastname’s stint with the evil Boy Scouts.

Poe doesn’t even have it in him to fight Jim’s order. He goes to his half of the bed nest, sits down, and puts his head in his hands. ]

[winscenario]

[ Perfect. He grabs that, fills a bowl with warm water, flings a towel over his shoulder and takes it all back with him to where Poe's sitting. He sets everything down on the floor, minus the towel, then kneels in front of Poe, gingerly reaching for one of his hands. ]

Let me see your face.

[volitaunt]

[ Poe lets his hands fall. What's behind them isn't pretty. He can feel blood and snot crusting along the bottom of his face, still more blood drying against his temple and part of one cheek. He already has a fresh black eye flowering over the top of a discolored yellow one. ]

Am I holo-ready? [ He can't even put energy into the joke. ]

[winscenario]

[ Luckily it's not the first time Jim's seen ugly wounds like that. Hell, he's had his fair share during his bar-brawling years. Granted, he's not especially used to cleaning them up on other people, but he knows what to do.

He manages a weak chuckle, nudging very lightly against Poe's arm. ] Shut up.

[ Pressing the towel to Poe's nose, ] Blow your nose. Hard as you can.

[volitaunt]

[ Poe obeys, blasting snot and blood and going half-blind with pain all at the same glorious time.

A pause. ]

Ow.

[winscenario]

[ Jim catches most of the mess of snot and blood and wipes it all up, dabbing the other end of the towel and clearing up some of the blood so he can have a better look at Poe's nose. It's a little swollen, and he feels carefully along the bridge with his fingertips.

Good news, he's still able to blow out through it. Bad news, though— ]

I think it's crooked. Not broken, hopefully. I can set it for you, but it's gonna hurt like hell.

[volitaunt]

Great. Kinda figured.

[ He braces himself and nods. ]

[winscenario]

[ He presses a palm to Poe's forehead, pinching the top of his nose lightly and keeping him in place. Carefully he holds the bridge with his other hand. ]

Okay, on one. Three, two—

[ But he moves on two instead. Best to catch Poe by surprise, and lessen the chance that he flinches or moves too much. There's a hard tug, then he pulls to the side until the cartilage aligns. He lets go, some blood spilling from the nostrils almost immediately, and he mostly ignores Poe's reaction while he feels along the bridge and makes sure it's all in place again. ]

[volitaunt]

[ His reaction mostly involves swearing in several different alien languages, very loudly. He can feel the blood trailing down across his upper lip, tasting one stream of it in his mouth as the other slowly works its way toward the corner of his mouth and his chin. ]

You said three. [ Not that he particularly minds, really. It would have hurt either way. But it's something to complain about, and something to keep Jim from talking to him about... other things. ]

[winscenario]

Yeah, well— I lied. Suck it up. [ It worked, though. He managed to set the nose without much of a fuss, and since Poe wasn't expecting it he didn't wince or tense up as much when he did it. The pain's easier to handle when it comes unexpectedly too. Probably. He thinks.

Wiping the blood off of Poe's lips and chin, he dips the towel in water to wash it off, then repeats the process, pressing the towel lightly to the nostrils every so often until finally the bleeding stops. His free hand feels along the bridge, until he's satisfied that the nose has been put into place again. ]

Can I ask you something?

[volitaunt]

[ Poe fingers the length of his own nose gingerly, more for something to do with his hands than because he doesn't trust Jim's nose job.

He closes his eyes. ]

Yeah.

[ There are any number of things Jim might ask about all of this. Poe doesn't want to answer any of those things. He owes Jim an answer for all of them. ]