BB-8 had a mission. Never in its short operation span had the droid ever focused such a high percentage of internal resources to solving a single task, but now was the time to compile the data and implement its new subroutine:

The mimicry of human body language.

Less than a dozen bio-organisms on base could understand 27th generation Droidspeak. Any viewscreen with a data port could display BB-8's conversation in text, but lacked nuance. Any droid with a high-tech vocabulator could translate, but none were available for its 'ridiculous nonsense', as the General's cantankerous protocol droid put it. Nor could they keep up with the new model astromech's fast-rolling design.

So BB-8 had decided to establish communications without assistance. Poe understood at least the general essence of the droid's language. Poe was not the problem. The problem was Finn.

The lack of understanding between Finn and BB-8 on the Millennium Falcon (and the ship's outdated systems which didn't accept modernized input jacks) curtailed any communication. Thankfully, Rey had at least a working knowledge of Droidspeak and prevented them from defaulting to a deadly game of charades.

When Finn convinced it to give the coordinates to the Resistance base (BB-8 lowered its cranial dome in shame), he had given what BB-8's data banks described as a 'thumbs up'. It was fascinated with the implications of the simple movement. 'Good job', it meant. Or 'I agree', 'approval'.

But BB-8 had no 'thumbs'. Space had no 'ups'. So it had made do with the butane lighter Poe had installed in one of the droid's swappable circular tool bays, mimicking Finn as best it could.

To BB-8's amazement, it had worked. An in-depth communication had occurred with instant understanding on both sides, without a word spoken by either being.

The droid had logged the event in its memory banks, to be wiped if the information wasn't used within its specified time frame. But as soon as they landed back in the Illenium system–as soon as it found its owner was alive–its compositional matrix systems started running in overdrive.

BB-8 had never, ever seen Poe as happy as he had been when reunited with Finn. It was obvious to BB-8 that whatever happened between them on that Star Destroyer had caused a drastic change in its master's programming.

The droid had witnessed Poe having human companions before, but they never interfered with his work or his upkeep of the droid, so BB-8 had written them off as irrelevant. Finn's presence, however, caused a marked difference in its master's behavior, increasing both his productivity and positive behavior patterns. Poe had always been a gentle mechanic, even with the toughest repair jobs, but his voice sounded different to the droid's audioreceptors now—both relaxed and excited, though BB-8's neural net had difficulty processing the oxymoronic nature. The pilot had also picked up a new, flowing language that was not logged in the standard databanks. He spoke it only whenever he was alone with BB-8. Concerned that it was missing out on vital information, the droid asked the base's most linguistically fluent member for advice.

"Flowing language? I have no idea what you're talking about."

BB-8 played an audio clip from its master's previous conversation.

"He is humming you useless round lump." The protocol droid mumbled as he shuffled away through the base corridor back towards General Organa's meeting room. "Honestly, I don't know what they're programming into new droids these days. 'Flowing language', why if R2 were here…"

With the drastic improvements in its master's quality of life, BB-8 had decided that the best course of action was to keep Finn actively engaged in Poe's everyday activities. The more time they spent together, the better. For this, BB-8 needed to be able to communicate with Finn, and had no delusions of Finn learning Droidspeak of any generation, much less the compressed shorthand of its current iteration. Thus, the body language project had begun.

BB-8 liked Finn and enjoyed copying his movements to the best of its ability. The thumbs up had become a staple in BB-8's physical vocabulary. Bowing had only resulted in Poe attempting to repair the droid's lower-orb gyroscopes, but the head shake for 'no' was coming along well. Nodding was an absolute failure that irrevocably ended with BB-8's primary photoreceptor lens cracked or embedded in the flooring.

BB-8 displayed his approving 'thumbs up' lighter whenever Finn and Poe showed encouraging behavior. Conversations with each other? Lighter up. Brushing against one another on the way to an assignment? Lighter up. Hands clasped with each other's during a briefing? Lighter up.

Neither human became aware of BB-8's encouraging flame until the first time they kissed. BB-8, desperate to be noticed, rolled too closely to Finn's trouser leg and set his pants on fire by accident.

He didn't take it very well.

"Droid, what is your problem?" Finn yelled in surprise as he jumped back from Poe.

Poe opened his eyes, confused, trying to focus on the abrupt change in the room's atmosphere. "What'd he do?" Poe looked down.

BB-8 froze as his processors analyzed the situation, lighter still blazing as Finn smacked at the flames near his knee. This was not going as planned.

Poe knelt next to the droid "BB-8, he's not doing anything I don't want him to do." Poe gave BB-8's cranial dome a pat and gave it a reassuring smile. "Finn and me, we're together now, ok? You can't light him on fire."

"Or shock me with his taser array," Finn insisted.

"Or shock him with your taser array," Poe repeated to BB-8. He turned abruptly back to Finn. "Wait, when did he–?"

"Jakku, three times!" Finn had located a First Aid medcase in a nearby cabinet, and was dabbing burn cream on his leg through a charred hole near the knee. "I don't think he likes me," he sighed, sounding genuinely upset.

BB-8 shifted back and forth in frustration. It rolled towards Finn, attempting to communicate. Approval, the droid beeped. That's what this meant, why didn't Finn understand?

Finn caught sight of BB-8 barreling towards him with its lighter up; he jumped over the chair he had been sitting in, knocking it, and himself, over. BB-8 halted.

Poe stood, taken aback at BB-8's apparent attempt to light his boyfriend on fire. Again. "'Approval'?" He walked over to his droid. "Finn's not here to take your place, buddy." Poe righted the chair and held out a hand to pull Finn up from where he'd fallen. He continued to encourage his droid. "We're a team, me and you, but I want Finn to be a part of that now. You understand?"

BB-8 trilled a low growl in frustration, and shook his cranial dome as fast as possible. No! No, no, no, this isn't working!

The tips of Poe's ears were turning red, as he became more and more frustrated at his droid's insistent lack of cooperation. "Now listen, BB-8, I don't know what's come over you, but–"

"No, no, hang on Poe." Finn put a hand on Poe's arm to calm him, and stepped out towards the droid. "I think we may have read this wrong." Finn approached BB-8 slowly, and stooped down, hands on his knees, to match the droid's eye-level. "Are you trying to talk to me?"

BB-8 rolled backwards a few feet and slowly, un-threateningly, put its lighter up. It beeped.

"What'd he say?" Finn asked Poe.

"'Approval' again." Poe crouched down, one hand on his mouth, taking in the situation.

Approval, BB-8 beeped again, swinging its lighter toward Poe.

"But what's with the lighter?" Poe asked, stumped. "I installed it a few missions back, did I cross some wires by accident, buddy?"

BB-8 shook its head.

Poe pursed his lips and said to Finn, "I think there's a servo out too, under the magnet casters. He keeps twitching like that."

"Nah, he's saying 'no'. Right? Uh… buddy?" Finn asked BB-8.

Lighter up. Approval.

"And the lighter is a thumbs up?" Finn confirmed.

Approval, BB-8 beeped. Finally.

Poe spread his arms wide, delight brightening his face. He laughed. "Look at you, you brilliant little droid! How smart are you! Did you write this subroutine by yourself?"

BB-8 raised its lighter and waggled back and forth in its closest replica of a dance.

"And you," Poe continued, placing a hand on Finn's shoulder and squeezing gently, "how'd you figure that out? I never would have guessed body language coming off a droid, even one as clever as BB-8."

Finn opened his mouth to answer and closed it again. He took a deep breath.

Poe realized the answer. "Ah. Stormtrooper training." Finn nodded; Poe continued. "Well, I won't pry if you're not comfortable, but I will admit I'm curious."

"It's a complicated thing to talk about," Finn admitted after a few seconds.

Poe leaned in toward the taller man, smiling, "Take all the time you need."

The instant before their lips made contact, Finn pulled away again. "Can he put that thing away first?" he asked, pointing towards BB-8's still-displayed lighter.

The droid glanced back and forth between the two men, anticipating its victory in securing Finn as a permanent fixture in Poe's life.

Poe pointed towards its lighter. "Do you mind, buddy? It's going to get hot enough in here without that around."

"He's not staying in here, is he?" Finn asked Poe in a whisper, almost too faint for the droid's aural receptors to process.

BB-8 returned the lighter to its tool bay, and rolled behind its master, bumping gently into Poe's knees and knocking him into Finn's arms.

"Thanks, BB-8." Finn called over the top of Poe's head, as the droid rolled out of the room, closing the access door behind him and trilling in its best approximation of Finn's flowing language.