Hope is like the Sun

The Gloves

It had been a few weeks since you'd joined the Resistance. You'd flown a couple missions which had all gone well despite your nerves. Even so, you weren't sure you were completely used to this new life. You often felt out of place and unsure of yourself, but you'd made a few friends besides Snap and Poe.

Sometimes you just needed a minute to yourself. When you weren't flying a mission or training, you often found yourself in the hangar. Usually, you'd have mission reports to read but didn't want to miss out on any of the action in the hangar, so you'd tuck yourself away in a corner to be near the hustle and bustle while still faithfully doing your work.

One day, you were settled in between two crates near Poe's ship, Black One. No one had been around when you snuck in, but now, unaware of your presence, Poe clambered up and down from his cockpit, making frantic circles around his ship.

"BB-8, have you seen my right-hand glove?" Poe finally asked.

You'd picked up enough binary in your short time with Threecee to understand BB-8 when he replied that he had not, but that he knew where the left-hand glove was.

"I know where the left one is, buddy." Poe raised his glove-clad left hand. "I need the other one."

In a bit of an offended tone, BB-8 replied that maybe Poe should be more careful with where he tossed his things when he landed. You bit back a laugh. The little droid was right. You'd seen how Poe scattered his things when he landed, tossing a glove here, a flight vest there. The only thing he consistently put in one place was his helmet in the seat of the cockpit.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Poe replied. "I usually can find everything back. But why did I only put the one glove here...?" He trailed off as he continued looking around his ship.

It was then that you noticed something small and lumpy in between the crates with you. You pried it out, feeling the leathery texture. It was a right-hand flight glove.

A small smirk worked its way across your face. Poe stood with his back to you, hands on his hips, staring at his ship in disgust. The glove had some heft, so it wasn't difficult to whip it at him, hitting him squarely in the back of the head.

"What--?" Poe exclaimed, whirling to locate what just hit him. He quickly spotted the glove. "Hey! My glove!"

As he bent to pick it up, you couldn't hold in your laughter any longer. Poe met your eyes as he straightened back up. He gave you an unamused look, but you could tell it was mostly an act.

"What?" you asked, feigning innocence. "You wanted your glove back, didn't you?"

His stern expression melted, and you laughed some more.

"I can't believe you would just brutally attack me like that. You could get in serious trouble for attacking your superior," he said, trying to keep up the act but failing.

"Whatever, Dameron," you laughed back.

"What are you even doing back there? Stealing everyone's gloves?"

Faking indignance but still smiling, you replied, "I did not steal your stinky, sweaty glove! Somebody must have tossed it back here when he got out of his ship. You're lucky that I decided to work on reading reports back here," you said as you held up your datapad, "or else you'd still be searching!"

Holding up his hands in surrender, Poe smiled at you. "Alright, alright. You got me. Thank you for finding my glove."

Shortly after that, Poe, BB-8, and Black One left for a mission. They returned late that night. As you made your way through the hangar the next morning, you discovered the trail Poe left behind. One glove here on a workbench. One glove on a supply crate. His vest hung haphazardly on a ladder. You sighed. There was no way all of this wouldn't get lost in the shuffle of the never-ending work of the Resistance.

Stooping, you picked up one glove and then the other. You grabbed the flight vest off the ladder and shook it straight, hanging it over your arm. Making your way slowly to Black One, you followed the trail, gathering all of Poe's belongings.

The Resistance provided their pilots with lockers, and Poe's was in his corner of the hangar where Black One always rested when she wasn't in the skies. You made your way there now. Really, you could just dump the armload of gear into the locker and shove it closed, but instead, you carefully folded and stashed Poe's things neatly in his locker. You matched up and straightened his gloves, laying them on top of the pile.

A whir from beside you made you jump. It was BB-8, asking what you were doing. Poe was nowhere in sight.

"Taking care of Poe because Poe can't take care of himself, apparently," you responded, shutting the locker.

BB-8 found that amusing, agreeing heartily with you that Poe definitely required some looking after.

"Don't tell him I did this, okay?" you said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about what you'd done.

The little droid agreed, promising that he wouldn't tell.

Later that day, you saw Poe open his locker to find all of his gear neatly stashed inside. Poe looked around as if to find whoever had done this, asking BB-8 if he'd picked up all of the gear. You made yourself look just as busy as everyone else in the hangar as Poe's eyes reached you. BB-8 quickly responded that he had not stored the gear and had no idea who had. When you glanced back up, Poe was no longer looking your way. You were safe for now.

It became a bit of a ritual. Usually, Poe didn't scatter too many of his belongings, but his gloves usually ended up in odd places. Whenever he returned from a mission, you went on a hunt for his gloves, placing them safely inside his locker. You kept this up for a while, never getting caught.

Some time later, you had just gotten back from a mission of your own. You let out a yawn. Poe had gotten back late from a mission the night before, so you'd gotten up early to track down his gloves. You didn't really mind missing the few extra minutes of sleep, but you were absolutely ready to fall into bed now.

You opened your locker to tuck your flight gloves in when you stop mid-reach. A single flower sat on the top shelf where you usually keep your gloves. Carefully, you took the flower out, bringing it to your nose to smell it. You glanced around to see if you could spot whoever put it there. There were plenty of people in the hangar, but you didn't spot your main suspect. Still, in your heart, you knew there was only one person it could be.

Smiling to yourself, you make your way out of the hangar, not spotting a certain dark-haired pilot hiding behind a stack of boxes near your locker. He mirrored your smile before turning to his little droid companion.

"Now tell me again, buddy. What did she say about taking care of me?"