#cello writes stuff

ch.11

Cassian met her gaze, and she froze – every cell, even her heartbeat; yet instead of offering a perfunctory wave goodbye, he broke away from the crowd and strode purposefully toward them, struggling to smooth the limp out of his gait. She saw the effort manifest in the tightness of his jaw, a muscle there flickering desperately, and felt a surge of irritation at him, mingled with unwelcome tenderness. That idiot was pushing himself too hard. “Good, you’re both here,” he said when he reached them, a little winded. “I don’t have to track you down.”

“Of course,” she heard herself retort, as if from across a great distance. “Anything to make your life easier.”

But, impossibly, he smiled, and it knocked the breath out of her, like he’d sunk a fist in her stomach. He only had to look at her and it felt physical; a smile was nearly an invasion. “We’re shipping out ASAP,” he said around that stupid smile, damn him. “Grab your gear and meet me back here in an hour.”

The dreaded we – but this time it was exactly what she wanted to hear, so naturally it made her suspicious. “What do you mean, we?”

ao3

"Cassian," she said coolly.

Foreboding soured his stomach. "Hey, Jyn."

She let him stew until finally a sly grin curved her lips. "So ... I'm an advantage, huh?"

Gods. Dismay nearly choked him. "You heard us?"

"You mean you didn't notice me?"

He had somehow noticed everything in the room but Jyn. Awe mingled with irritation; he was supposed to be better at this -- a professional, each experience hard-won - but he couldn't deny that she impressed him.  If she could evade his active observation, she'd be more than an asset on the field. The thought was dangerous, and intoxicating ... "I was preoccupied."

"Mhm. Of course. If you'd rather I leave you to your preoccupation --"

"I'd rather be distracted from it, honestly."

"I'm game." Her grin lost its cunning edge, left an expression sweet as summer. "So, you do that with everyone. Even your boss! I'm impressed."

"What."

"Your leading questions thing."

It was his turn to smile. "Who do you think I learned it from?"

"Oh, I don't know. I thought it might be a character defect."

"Are you always so charming?"

"Only when the mood strikes."

There was a parade of awkward shuffling as three people negotiated a space designed for one. Bodhi folded himself in the space between the cot and the doorway; as Jyn attempted to step around him, her foot caught on the corner of the wardrobe, and she stumbled, hands shooting out to catch herself against Cassian’s chest. He staggered back, hissing in pain as the two of them crashed against the wall.

“I’m sorry – shit, I’m so sorry –” she managed, and struggled to extricate herself, her cheeks stained crimson. It took him a concussed moment to realize he’d grabbed her waist to steady her, and he released his hold before the sensation could register. But it was too late, he had been too slow to withdraw: her hands were warm, her waist soft yet somehow solid with muscle won from a hard life, and her eyes – green flecked with light, deep enough to drown in. She was too close, yet still not close enough, and shorter than she seemed from a distance; enough that he could rest his chin on top of her head if he wanted, if she’d allow it. He wasn’t sure of either.  

“You’re fine,” he said, breathless. “It’s fine.”

Jyn groped absently at her neck; only when she caught him looking did she drop her hand. There was no need for explanation. When he first noticed the crystal glittering at her neck during his interrogation, he’d first assumed it was a weapon, or part of one; why else would she take such pains to smuggle it into an Imperial labor camp? The obvious answer came a moment later; it could have sentimental value. On the way to Scarif, he’d seen her twisting the crystal between her fingers, a wordless prayer in the face of uncertainty and fear, ritual formed by many lean years, and known for certain that it was important to her. That she’d deemed Bodhi’s need greater than hers, at least in that impulsive second –

She took his silent regard as enquiring. “It’s … it’s Jedha, you know? Part of it.”  She turned away. “I don’t know.”

But she did, it seemed to Cassian. There was a rough, sharp-elbowed kindness to her sometimes, like she’d never grown comfortable expressing it, or never had the chance to soften it with the knowledge that she wouldn’t be spurned or taken for granted. Tenderness stole his breath, a rush of affection both protective and fierce. Not for the first time, he wished he knew her better.

He was about to speak when she cut him off. “It was probably a bad idea,” she said, shoulders hitching. “A bad reminder. Last time he saw Jedha the Death Star blasted to atoms.”

She would continue to retreat if he didn’t meet her halfway. “I don’t think so,” he told her. “Home is still home.”  

“So where did you come from?” Luke asked.

Bodhi blinked. He had forgotten about that patient curiosity. “J-jedha.”

“I don’t know that one.”                              

“It’s … it’s a desert moon, orbits NaJedha. A cold desert. In the Mid Rim?”

For some reason, Luke was delighted by this. “You came from a desert too! Mine was hot though. Too hot. I think I might have liked a cold desert.”

Bodhi bit his lip. “I always felt the other way. Or I used to, before I went to the Academy. Cold gets in your bones.”

Luke nodded sympathetically. “Yeah. It’s easy to get sick of what you know. I sure did.”

Bodhi shrugged and turned back to the row of ships, tugging nervously at the collar of his flightsuit.

“I might just tell the instructors I know what Cassian knows, only better.”

Bodhi could imagine the look on his face. “Do you?”

“No, definitely not. Not all of it anyway. All that procedure …” She made a dismissive gesture. “I bet he has the whole handbook memorized. And I’ll never do the spy face. You know the one, right?” She tried to stifle all the emotion in her features and failed. “I know about the good stuff, though. I could pick his pocket without him noticing, even if he was watching out for it, and I’m better at hotwiring, slicing … hearing about it would annoy him so much.”

“Uh huh.” Bodhi wasn’t so sure. He’d seen the way Cassian looked at her.

send me a ship and one of these and i’ll write a mini fic

5. things you didn’t say at all

if it was going to happen, it would happen like this:

They’d argued about something small, but it feels more important than it is, fanned by frustration neither understands; their faces are flushed and too close, chests heaving, breathless from other’s compromise. She cranes up, near enough that he could count her eyelashes if he cared to. By now he’s wary, but it makes no difference to see the need coming. Suddenly it’s easy to picture her arched beneath him, her breath hot on his ear; it’s easy to imagine that familiar look of challenge searing him to the bone when he pins her hard. It’s easy, and he’s weak. 

There’s no coming back from the image. Her gaze drifts to his mouth, lingers, lingers … they are caught as the space between them shrinks and shivers, as they circle and close. She touches him first; her hands burn around his wrists, fingers trailing fire. His heart is aflame. 

It’s a mess, he’d said – that’s what argument was about. She leaves her garbage everywhere. It seems ridiculous, now; like an excuse to get in each other’s faces. Why do they need an excuse?

He knows you’re supposed to say something in these situations; choking on the same need in darkened corners, hesitating on the threshold. He knows enough to know that it’s futile, but there’s no accounting for dumb animal instinct. He knows enough to know the fall will hurt. 

If it was going to happen, she would break first; grabbing him by the shirt and shoving him back against the bulkhead. He would gasp before her mouth crashed against his, and her need would revive him, consume him; he would cup her neck, feel her pulse racing against his palms. She would bite his lip with a feral grin, and he would plunge his hands up her shirt, fingertips dancing over her ribcage, smiling as she trembled in his arms. He would groan when she pulled at the waist of his pants. 

INTERCEPTED TRANSMISSION 2F-834A //partial decryption// are you saying it’s gone? the entire planet?    there’s barely any dust left. ZZZZZZn just told me and the ZZZZZZZ.      guess they goZ ZZZZ ZZZZZZZZ how are they going to play that one with the senate?    he said it’s not going to be a problem. whatever the hell that means.