"You are so frustrating!" I yelled at him. I think I even stomped my foot a little I was so frazzled. We stood facing each other in a doorway, close enough he could have felt my breath puffing out of my mouth as I continued to berate him. "Why won't you see-"

Poe closed the distance between us and paused my tirade with his lips over mine. Stunned beyond belief, I felt a click in my brain as I ceased to think and kissed him back fiercely, pushing him against the door frame. He pushed back, pressing his whole body against mine until we were against the opposite side of the frame. He stopped his assault on my lips for a moment, pulled his head back, and cupped my face with his hands. His eyes met mine, and he kissed me again, but softly. That was nice. But not what my body wanted right then. I threw myself into the kiss, threading my fingers into his hair and pressing my hips into his. There shouldn't be any doubt to him what I was getting at.

Without breaking contact, we turned into the workshop, Poe guiding me to walk backwards until I felt a table hit my thigh. I put an arm down and hopped up onto it. He followed me, swiping empty containers away as he descended on me. I gasped for air as he broke off our kiss to nibble my neck…

Before-

"I'm invincible!" I proclaimed, punching my fists upward into the air. No one saw or heard. As usual, my victories over the broken machines were only witnessed by the small rodents that I'm sure are holed up somewhere in this repair bay. I would die of embarrassment if anyone ever saw me celebrate anyway.

Still smiling, I cleaned up the workbench and carried the transformer out into the next room. I laid it on my boss's desk and drew a smiley face on the metal housing with a yellow grease pencil so he would know it was fixed. Hitting all the lights, I walked out of the shop and into the cool night air. It was late, and I had worked way past my shift. But I headed for the makeshift cantina instead of my bunk. I was in a good mood, and I wanted to enjoy the feeling a bit longer.

As I sidled up to the mostly empty bar, the giant - whatever being he was - bartender growled out a greeting. "Nice to see you too sunshine," I responded. He rolled his eyes and set my usual ale in front of me. Despite his grumpy demeanor, Rogg really liked me. I fixed his kitchen gadgets whenever they broke, and he knew what I was in the mood to drink without asking.

"So Rogg, which one is the 'virgin who's gonna die tomorrow'?" I said with a sigh. Rogg grunted and gestured his chin towards a very loud group. " Skinny blonde one." This was a common game we played. Inevitably, the most drunk person left in the bar at night would hit on me, their last chance before going to bed alone. I got the virgin line once, and Rogg thought it was the funniest pickup phrase he'd ever heard. It was funny, but sad too-not only was it very possible they could die the next day, but it was the only time anyone tried to hit on me. I always worked the late shift, so I was pretty much the only choice left in the bar at night. My self esteem usually swirled down a dark hole afterwards.

I rolled my eyes at Rogg. "Yay, pilots, my favorite."

"Don't worry, you know I won't let them do anything to you," Rogg said.

"Thanks Rogg. I know. Pilots are just so damn cocky and persistent. They can't imagine someone wouldn't want their drunk ass." I watched the table out of the corner of my eye, hoping tonight they would leave me alone.

As luck would have it, I got my wish. Just when it seemed the group couldn't get any louder, a guy I assumed was their commander walked in. He walked over to their table, said a few words and stood there with his arms crossed. For whatever reason, this shut them up immediately and they all got up and left. He sighed and shook his head slightly, then came over to sit at the far end of the bar. Rogg slid a bottle towards the man, who caught it with his hand and nodded thanks to Rogg. Apparently they knew each other.

"Who's the eye candy?" I quietly murmured to Rogg. I tried to look, but not be obvious about it. I'm never sure how successful I am at this. Either I'm very good or nobody cares I'm staring. But this guy couldn't possibly go anywhere without being checked out. He was wearing a brown leather jacket with an unshaven face, just enough to give the impression he was a little rough but not enough to look like he was attempting a beard. And the aura of confidence rolled off him so thick I felt I could almost choke on it. Definitely a flyboy.

Rogg smiled evilly. "Just your type-high ranking pilot, and one of the best. That there is the one and only Poe Dameron."

Here's where your bartender knows you so much better than you know yourself. I roll my eyes at pilots, say they're full of themselves, and way too overconfident for me to deal with. At the same time, I'm working my butt off every day to make sure not a single thing fails on their fighters, whether it's an x-wing or bomber. I put my smiley face signature on everything I fix so they know who took responsibility for their aircraft to work when they need it most. So for all my tough talk about being annoyed at them, I secretly love every single one. And Rogg somehow knows this.

The infamous pilot sat and sipped his ale silently. It didn't take long for him to turn his gaze my way, the only customer left in the bar. "So you're Smiley." He said it matter of factly, not a question.

I glared at Rogg, who sheepishly bowed his head and averted his eyes from mine as he pretended to be very busy drying a glass. I never intended it to be a secret, but I did not like to advertise I was one of the better repair grunts on the base. I could smell a setup.

"Yeah," I responded after swallowing my ale. I could play this cool even through my irritation with Rogg for exposing me intentionally. To a pilot.

"I need your help."

I raised one eyebrow at him. Poe Dameron did not need me. He was well-known for doing all his own repairs, not trusting anyone but his droid to help.

"With what?"

He slid off his chair and moved to the stool next to me. "I need you to work on my x-wing. There's a delay, like a hesitation in the firing mechanism. And I need it done before I get back."

"Ok. I need you to file a work order with my boss. No one is going to believe little old me if they see me messing with your ride." I paused and sipped my drink. "Why aren't you doing it?"

"It just started to malfunction, and I have to leave. I already put in the work order. I just wanted to make sure you would be the one to fix it. And I wanted to meet you so I could feel better about putting her in your hands."

"Well, this little interaction can't be enough. So far you're trusting your life to a girl drinking in a bar. What do you want to know?" I understood this was his baby. They were all my babies, and I'd never gotten to hold this beautiful black and orange baby in my hands. Black One was to die for. Literally.

His face was so serious. "Tell me about your family."

This was weird, I was being interviewed for a job I already had. "Ooooo-kayyyy. I have the same sob story most of us here have. My family's gone, and I don't want to talk about it. Is that what you wanted?" I pounded a big gulp of ale back.

"Not really."

"How about this then," I said, trying a different angle for him. "I die a little inside every time one of my ships don't come back from a run. You may be attached to Black One, but I've touched the guts of most all the other ships. I have as much attachment as you do." I leaned back and took another sip. "Don't worry about her. I'll personally show you everything I did when you get back."

Poe stood up. "I'm going to have to trust you, even if it bothers me."

"Are you taking your droid with you?" I hoped this would make him relax about the whole thing. "She can help me and you'll know directly from her any changes that are made."

Tilting his head to the side, he gave me a twitch of a smile out of the corner of his mouth. "Ok, but you may regret that. BB-8 can be a handful."

He left the remainder of his drink on the bar and walked out. I swiveled in my chair to watch, feeling a mixture of dismay at someone not trusting me and the spark of what was probably inappropriate lust as he swaggered out the door. Yeah, I said swaggered, I'm not proud I was turned on by that.

I turned back to Rogg, who was still drying glasses with a towel and a smile on his big ugly face. "Shut up Rogg." I don't think I've ever seen him smile bigger.