FLYBOY_ POE DAMERON IMAGINES

- imagine #41 //

Poe stood with his hands on his hips facing the mouth of the cave, even though it was impossible to see much through the sheet of rain outside. My clothes stuck to me like a second skin and the dampness inside our tiny shelter definitely didn't help. I was in a foul mood to say the least...rightfully so considering everything that had happened within the last six hours.

Poe, of course, was still as optimistic as ever. My eyes flickered from the torrential downpour back to him. All broad shoulders and narrow, tapered hips. His curly hair looked more wild than usual, damp from the rain and untidy from his fingers combing through it every few minutes. It was the only indication that he was at all anxious about our predicament. Everything else about his mannerisms could've fooled me.

"So now what?" I asked, having to shout over the rain pounding against the rocks overhead. I pulled my knees into my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to huddle in on myself to preserve what warmth I could. "Our ship is completely useless, we're stranded on this god forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere, and we have no way of contacting anyone. And it's cold. And rainy."

"Rainy? Really?" Poe said with feigned surprise, turning over his shoulder to look at me with raised eyebrows. "I hadn't noticed."

I gave him a look that I hoped indicated I wasn't in the mood for his humor. "We're stranded. You could look a little more concerned."

He let out a sigh, shoulders lifting then dropping again before he turned away from the cave entrance and came toward me. He dropped into a crouch. "We're not stranded," he said very matter-of-factly, rummaging through the single pack we'd salvaged from the wreck. "We've just hit a minor detour."

I scoffed, pushing my damp hair off my forehead and Poe's lips lifted at one side. "Detour," I muttered.

"Yes, detour." He pulled out a canteen and took a swig, offering it to me but I shook my head. "As soon as the rain lets up, we keep going. We gotta hit a trading outpost or some type of settlement eventually. We can signal for help, or maybe find a ship that can get us outta here. This is not the worst thing that could've possibly happened."

Debatable. That was what I wanted to say, but I bit my cheek to stop myself. He wasn't totally wrong...we could've died in the landing. One or both of us could've been seriously hurt, unable to walk away and even attempt to find help. So yes, maybe we were lucky that this was the worst so far. But it didn't change the fact that we were stuck.

"If you could magic us some dry clothes out of that bag, that would be a good start," I said sarcastically as Poe sat with his back against the wall of the cave. He had to be just as uncomfortable as I was. He'd shrugged off his jacket and had draped it over a rock in the back of the cave to dry. His t-shirt had still managed to get soaked all the way through and I hated that my eyes couldn't seem to stop looking at him. More specifically, the way the shirt clung to him and outlined every muscle on his torso.

"If I could, I would. Or at least some dry wood or kindling so we could get a fire going. As it stands, this is what we got." He pulled out a thin square of fabric packaged in protective sealant. Survival blanket, but just one.

I groaned and closed my eyes, resting my cheek against the top of my knees as a shiver wracked my entire body. "C-Can't rain forever. Or maybe it can." I waited for Poe to let out a 'psh' or contradict me with more of his positivity. Instead, he was quiet. I made myself glance up at him, clenching my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. I wasn't made for the cold, I'd grown up with dry deserts and heat. Lots of heat.

The look of concern on his face made me pause, and my cheeks flush. Well, as much as they could for me being as freezing cold as I was. I could tell the gears in his head were turning— he had that stern, resolved expression on. A contrast to his usual, easygoing grin. Before I could ask what he was thinking about, his mouth set into a hard line and his hands went to the hem of his t-shirt.