FLYBOY_ POE DAMERON IMAGINES

- imagine #42 //

You wake up with a pounding headache and the inability to breathe. The room around you was pitch black, but that did nothing to ease the pressure pushing against the back of your skull. A faint beeping coming from beside your bunk is the sole reason that you're awake at all. What an unfortunate set of circumstances. The chronometer tells you that there's only an hour left before you have to report to your station for a whopping 9-hour shift.

You roll onto your stomach and weakly push yourself out of your cozy blankets. The humid air of the Resistance base does little to make up for the loss of heat. As much as your body was urging you to stay in bed and go back to sleep you had a duty. So, you drag yourself out of the bed and try to make yourself presentable. Your hair is brushed and your clothes are mostly wrinkle free.

By the time you're ready you have ten minutes to get to the operations center of the base and relieve your partner. You press your forehead against the cool metal of your room door and take a deep breath, steeling yourself to walk into the light.

You move quickly through the base, giving curt nods to anyone you pass. The scowl on your face and the coughs that rack your body turn all eyes in the operations base to you. There's one set of eyes in particular you wish would stay away from your pallid skin. Poe Dameron catches your eye and for a brief moment you can see concern etch itself on his face. Before the pilot can question you, you weave between the consoles and people to say hello to your partner, Shehish. Shehish gathers her holopad and other equipment before giving you the space. She squeezes past Poe to leave.

"Good morning, commander." You intone, hoping the pilot would ignore the bags under your eyes and your nasally voice.

"(Y/N), it doesn't sound like you're having a very good morning to me."

Obviously, you wouldn't be getting away with your cold.

"Oh, its just have a cold -- nothing too bad." You turn away from Poe and flip a few switches on your console to work on the coded message Shehish started.

Suddenly, you find your chair spinning away from the console to face Poe once more.

"I have work to do, flyboy."

Poe rolls his eyes. "Come on, I know the sass is supposed to distract me from the fact that you look like the living dead." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? Aren't you working a longer shift today?"

You duck away from his hand and turn your chair back around once more. "I told you! I'm fine, but thank you for worrying. You've watched me suffer through colds for years and this isn't that much different." You look over your shoulder to catch a look at your boyfriend's worried face. "Stop worrying. Go do your Wing Commander duties and say hello to BB-8 for me."

Poe finally relents and leaves you to your work after making you promise to take it easy. As soon as he is out of sight your press the heels of your palms into your eyes. Your headache has only gotten worse from the lights and you are officially a mouth breather. You move closer to your console and release one more rattling cough before getting to work. No use moping about your condition. The Resistance needed your work to be done.

Despite your resolve, you feel exhausted by the time three hours have passed. The words on the screen start blurring together and it's getting harder and harder to concentrate. You let your eyes drift shut for a few seconds to ease their burning. A nice fuzzy haze creeps across your brain and you're powerless to stop the gentle dropping of your head.

A loud screech shakes your roughly from your doze. You jolt in your seat and whip your head around to find what was screaming. BB-8 sat next to your desk with his visual receptor.