Title: Day 1
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I wish they were mine. I definitely don’t get paid for this.
Summary: There are so many victory celebrations, and so many people who want a piece of Poe's time. But he's not feeling so great.
Notes: Written during my 12 Ficlets in 12 Days in 2022-23 project project for cowboyguy

Leaning against a cool wall, General Poe Dameron looked down the hallway one way and then the other. When he was sure no one was coming in either direction who might see him, he pulled out a small pack of tissues he’d stashed up his sleeve. They weren’t much, but they were thin enough not to be noticed as a suspicious bulge and pointed out to him. That was the most he could do. But if he ever met the person who thought up this celebration attire that had no pockets, he was going to give them a piece of his mind. 

“htttKushhhh!” That is, when he could speak without sounding like a croaking bullfrog. One handedly, he blew his nose while massaging his neck with his other hand. The cough drop he’d taken just before leaving his quarters was already starting to wear off. As long as he didn’t drink anything at the celebration, the thick coating on the roof of his mouth and back of his sore throat that was helping to suppress his need to cough would remain a little longer. Hopefully, 'a little longer' would be long enough. 

Because all he intended to do was make a quick appearance. He would do a quick lap around the reception room, making a point to greet all the people most likely to notice his absence. Then, once he was sure he would not be missed, he would find a way to duck out and go back to his quarters where he could be miserable without spoiling anybody’s mood. The Resistance had fought so hard and so long for this lasting victory, and Poe refused to be the person to ruin anybody’s celebration. 

But, as he blew his nose a second time to make sure his nose was as clear as it could be before he entered the event, he had to admit he was personally getting tired of all these events. But that could also have just been the fatigue brought on by his head cold. 

Poe Dameron was no stranger to sniffles. Space was a cold place, and working with the Resistance didn’t allow him the best sleeping or eating habits over the years. He caught naps and meals whenever he could manage them. And he also usually caught whatever was going around. It seemed like someone was a little sick in the squadrons or on bases. But the bug he had now topped anything he’d felt in recent memory.  

He had held back a few coughs and sneezes during the formal awards ceremony. It had been lengthy but he’d been seated front and center on the dias, so he didn’t want to embarrass himself or distract from any of the worthy Resistance members receiving recognition. After the ceremony had ended, he’d made it through the reception that followed only by ducking out into the adjoining flower garden a few times. He had muffled his sneezes into the crook of his arm until the ticklish feeling in his nose had been sneezed out. If anyone noticed his brief absences, they hadn’t said anything to him. 

That night there had been so many wild parties. His eyes had stung with tiredness, begging him to go back to his quarters and get some sleep. But he’d toughed it out, because he’d been expected to be at every party, and he didn’t want someone to think their celebration wasn’t worth his attendance. And they were all fun, of course. It had been wonderful to be with other members of the Resistance, celebrating instead of strategizing, drinking to the memories of their fallen comrades instead of grieving the losses, telling stories of their victories instead of their failed missions. The delicious snacks and strong drinks, the playful games and uninhibited dancing. Though the best parts of the parties, in his opinion, had been how the darkness allowed him to hide in a dark corner when he needed to rub his itchy nose and the loud, thumping music that completely hid the sounds of his quiet, almost constant sniffling.  

The next day, Poe had wanted to badly to sleep in, but he’d been expected at a public celebration early that morning. Everyone wanted General Poe Dameron at their events, and General Poe Dameron did not want to let anyone down. That celebration had been for kids, hundreds of them who had only known life during some of the darkest times of the First Order. The games at that celebration had been much tamer but sillier than the ones played at the all-night parties: pin the horns on the tauntaun, storm trooper pin bowling, obstacle courses made out of broken ship parts and ribbons instead of laser guns. With all of the kids teaming about him, he had hoped to be able to go unnoticed, but it turned out to be just the opposite. All the little ones wanted to meet him, cling onto his legs, climb on his back, and hear him tell all his stories about being a famous pilot. If he hadn’t felt so awful, he would have basked in all that attention. As it was, he was desperate for some peace and quiet after that event. His head pounded painfully, and his sinuses hurt from all the pressure.

He’d felt so terrible, he had actually trudged over to the medical station to see if he could get some medicine. But one look at it from the outside reminded him of all the heroes who were inside, recovering from wounds and serious injuries. There were so many that needed constant medical attention now after the battles. The last thing anyone needed to be bothered by was someone complaining of a little head cold. It wasn’t like there was a cure, anyway. He would just need to endure it. Eventually, it would pass. 

He told himself this as he hid out in a janitorial closet, doubled almost in half with a sneezing fit. He told himself this as he snuffled into the back of his hand and trudged along to another all-night party. He told himself this as he tried not to nod off during an awards luncheon. He told himself this as he gritted his teeth, trying not to let them chatter during the unveiling of some ice sculptures carved to look like ships, like droids, and even one like General Leia. And he told himself this as he pressed a napkin to his runny nose as casually as possible in-between bites of a virtually flavorless salad during an afternoon reception. At least there had been hot tea at that one; his sore throat had been grateful for that. 

By now, Poe had lost track of the number of events he’d attended. And he was starting to wonder if the celebrations would ever cease. He was as glad for their win and the newfound freedom across the galaxy that came with it as the next person. But he was just so damn tired of pretending to be fine. And happy. And proud. And definitely not sick with the worst cold. 

Balling up the used tissue in his left hand, he squared his shoulders, gave one final sniff, and headed into the latest reception.  

The room was full to bursting already. No one bothered to show up fashionably late to these things, because everyone was still simply so excited to be able to celebrate at all. Poe barely had two feet in the door before he was pulled aside to a group of dignitaries who were all eager to shake his hand. He extended his right one, feeling it squeezed and pumped over and over again with jolly laughter and congratulatory statements. Despite being grateful for them, he barely took them in. The faces and sentiments were all becoming a blur to him, there had been so many in such a short time. 

“Teodore of Paxef,” said one blue-robed man. “It’s an honor to meet you, General.” 

“Congratulations,” said a wizened, gray-haired and green-skinned woman. “My people are grateful for the peace you have helped bring.” 

“Thank you, General,” two identical young beings with horns said. One took his hand and shook it, and then the other did the same. The first grabbed his hand again the second their twin had finished, and the second took over again. This repeated at least half a dozen times until the person standing next to them got jealous and grabbed for Poe's hand. After that shake, Poe was able to step to the side and continue on.

“Greetings. I’m Iggle Bosh from Eadu. It’s an honor, General. We’re looking forward to rebuilding.” Iggle had four hands, and used two of them to grip Poe’s and shake it up and down enthusiastically. 

Before this victory, he thought he had known the names of just about everyone in the Resistance. But most of these events were filled with people he had never before seen. Now that their victory was assured, people from all over the galaxy were coming out in support. Poe knew that it would take more than just this win to bring stability across the galaxy. It would take leaders from all planets. So he shook their hands and tried to commit to memory their faces or names or both, knowing he likely wouldn’t remember. 

He caught a glimpse of what he thought was a familiar face across the room. ‘Finn!’ But a moment later, Finn disappeared behind a group of people helping themselves to the food. If it even had been Finn, that is. Poe couldn’t be sure, because of the pain in his head and the stinging of his eyes and his strong desire for it to have been Finn in the first place.  

Poe had two more hands to shake, then someone in the group began engaging him in conversation. With a skill he hadn’t known he’d possessed until lately, he managed to diplomatically find a way to excuse himself and move away from the group. 

A large buffet table, towering with small plates and small foods, stood in the center of the room. Beside each end of the table was a small trash can, and Poe made straight for one, getting rid of his balled-up tissue finally. The moment he was rid of it, he realized how much he already needed another one. The tickle in his nose was weak but annoyingly present, and he had barely started to make his rounds through the room. He looked around for Finn again, but he didn’t spot the man this time. 

What he did spot was a squadron of pilots who pulled him right into their group. One slung a warm arm around his back, and Poe resisted the instinct to lean into him to steal a few seconds of comfort.

“Come, have a drink with us!” they insisted, passing a brown bottle around their group. 

Poe wanted to share in their celebratory drink, but he knew better for several reasons. “Sorry, I have to keep circulating.” There were so many voices speaking in the reception room, no one could hear him well enough to notice that his voice was a little stuffed-up. Either that or they were already too drunk to notice. “But I’ll see you all at the party tonight.” 

“You’d better!” said one, grabbing the bottle from him and taking a good, long swig from it. 

Poe forced himself to pull away, giving them all a friendly wave before moving onward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Finn again. At least, he thought that’s who it was. He turned and resisted the urge to call out to him from across the room to be sure. For as soon as he caught sight of Finn, the man disappeared, swallowed back up by the crowd once again. 

Fortifying himself to go on, Poe took a deep breath in. The cool indoor circulating air scratched at his throat. The tickle in his nose intensified, and as much as he wanted to blame that on the air, he knew it was only a matter of time before the symptoms of his stupid cold won out. 

But Poe Dameron was a fighter. ‘I’m fine. I can do this,’ he told himself, feeling just a little more capable having thought it. So he rubbed his nose hard and repeated it to himself like a mantra, ‘I’m fine. I can do this. I’m fine. I can do this.’ The refrain was fortifying, but the tickle was too insistent. 

Quickly he fled, gesturing to those who beckoned him when he passed that he would be right back. As he approached the door, he pinched his nose, trying to hold out for a few seconds longer. 

In the hallway, Poe checked both ways again to be sure he was alone, then pulled another tissue out of his sleeve just in time. “Hhhttkshh! H’tchhhhh! Hehh… hehhh… hehh-TShhoo!” Quickly, he blew his nose. 

“General?” 

Poe’s hand snapped down to his side and his head snapped up. He smiled congenially at Commander Larma D’Acy walking arm-in-arm with her wife, pilot Wrobie Tyce. 

“Are you all right?” Wrobie asked. 

“I’b fide,” he replied, hating how stuffy he sounded now. He sniffed hard and rubbed his nose, tissue balled-up and hidden in his left hand again. “I’m fine,” he repeated at seeing their suspicious gazes. “Really. Completely fine. Just needed a breather from the crowd.” At least the last part hadn’t been a lie. 

Wrobie grabbed his arm with her free one and spun him halfway around. They escorted him in with an affectionate laugh and guided him over toward a group of strangers he, luckily, hadn’t already spoken to. But after introductions and congratulations had been made, he moved on while the two women stayed to continue chatting. 

Poe must have met another thirty individuals before he spotted Finn again. This time, he got a clear look and was absolutely sure it was Finn. Finn was turned so his face was visible to Poe, and Poe held a hand up, waving a little in hopes of catching his attention. But Finn didn’t look over at him. He was deep in conversation with some people Poe hadn’t yet met but looked like he was really enjoying himself. He probably was, because he wasn’t dealing with a bad head cold. 

Poe, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to be done here. Done so he could stop keeping up pretenses. Done so he could climb into bed and try to get some sleep. Done so he could sneeze instead of holding it back by rubbing his nose over and over again. He knew about retreating in the strategic sense, but actually making himself do it was something else entirely.

So he moved on to the next group, cheerful smile and hand ready for shaking. He kept the greetings bright, the small talk short, and his eyes always open and searching for Finn. 

But Finn had either left or must have been deep in conversation, hidden from view behind many others, because Poe didn’t catch another glimpse of him. It could also have been because Poe became intensely distracted. In addition to the sore throat that was making talking uncomfortable and the pounding in his head that was making it hard to listen to anything anyone was saying, that need to sneeze was back with vengeance. 

His breath hitched, and he rubbed at his nose. His nostrils flared, and he rubbed more at his nose. He was deep into the room, far from the door now. There were hundreds of people and a buffet between him and the escape he so badly wanted. Even if he excused himself now and fled at full speed, he wasn’t sure he’d make it. And the moment someone saw him sneezing, they’d know he wasn’t fine. They’d be appalled or they’d make a big fuss or…

A hand rested on the back of his shoulder with enough pressure to indicate he should turn. And when he did, pivoting and looking over his shoulder, he found Rey standing there. She was resplendent in a white and blue gown gathered in places so nothing would restrict her movement. “Can I have a moment?” 

He cupped a hand over his nose and mouth, pretending to do so from the surprise, though he was genuinely surprised to see her. He tried to nod, but his eyes also tried to close. The sneezes were imminent. He felt her pull him forward, and he went with her blindly. 

Not moments later, he felt another hand on his back. He turned, confused, and found himself being pulled against Finn’s chest. Arms wrapped around him from both directions, holding him safe and warm and also hiding him from sight. Just in time, too. He tried and failed to fight against the fresh tickle in his nose. “Hhh… htttShoo! Hehhhkshoo! Hehh…” Instead of withdrawing, Rey’s hand stroked his upper arm reassuringly. Instead of flinching, Finn’s cheek rested against the top of his head. Poe relaxed and let the sneezes come. “Hehhh-KEHshhhh! Kshoo!”

Rey’s fingers slid into his sleeve, finding the tissue pack she either knew or sensed was there, and pulling a tissue free. She slid it to him stealthily, and he blew his nose, still held and hidden. “Take all the time you need,” she said so softly no one else could have heard, though the voice was loud in his mind, comforting and reassuring. 

He did just that, rubbing at his nose again until he was sure he didn’t feel like sneezing again. Their arms dropped, and they both stepped back to give him some space. He tried not to shiver at the sudden absence of their warmth, but he wasn’t altogether successful in hiding his misery. 

“You don’t have to stay here if you feel unwell,” said Finn. 

“I sniff I feel fine.”

“No, you don’t,” said Finn.

“No, I don’t.” 

“You can leave,” said Rey.

“I’m trying to put in an appearance.” 

“You have,” said Rey.

“I have.” Poe rubbed his nose again. 

“Leave with us now,” said Finn.

“Leave with us now,” said Rey.

Poe didn’t even need the little Force push Rey used with those last words to convince him. He laughed lightly, nodded, and let the two of them guide him the rest of the way out of the room and all the way back to his quarters.