It'll be easy, Finn had said, and a week later Poe thought he'd never heard a more wrong sentence in his life. He'd managed to put the breaks on, sure, and like he suspected, it was easier to do that once they weren't alone anymore. Back on base he had plenty of opportunity to be near Finn without Finn being the only one in the room, and he was starting to relax.

At least part of him was.

But a lot of him was longing for Finn. Being near him but unable to touch him was far more unbearable now that he knew what taking Finn felt like than he had when it was a slow baking fantasy. And seeing anyone near him was driving Poe crazy. It didn't help that even if he wanted a minute alone with Finn, he didn't seem able to get it. Or that if he could get a minute alone he was almost too scared to take it.

It was driving him mad.

Which is why when they were working in the hangar - both stripped down to greasy tank-tops and rolled up pants, Poe could barely keep his eyes off of Finn. The slight sheen of sweat, the mark of grease across his brow from where he'd rubbed the back of his hand over it... Poe felt like he was going to explode.

So if he was staring openly and hungrily, who cared?

"I think you might have an admirer," one of the techs working with Finn said under her breath, leaning in with a smirk. "I think he's done more watching you than watching his own work in the last four hours. You want me to throw a wrench at him?"