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astromechs · 1 month

Note

can I get washing their hair for rebelcaptain? 🥺

fun fact, i received these two asks within about an hour of one another, so great minds really do think alike. anyway, since the other two were heavier, went with something really, really stupid for this one 💕 from this list; still accepting! (and this is now also available on ao3, just like the other fills)

“He does this on purpose,” Jyn grumbles, because she’s too fucking furious for more than a grumble. Well, that and she can’t exactly manage anything else in her current position, head tipped with water-soaked hair obscuring most of her field of vision, palm pressed flat against the shower wall to keep her steady after having to remain like that for so long, but her point still stands.

Could anyone really blame her for being furious? She knows fucking intent when she sees it. There’s no way that a droid with a self-professed “specialty” of strategic analysis hadn’t mapped out what her route around base would likely be today, and there’s no way that he hadn’t been ready with a whole fucking vat of oil in his stupid fucking mechanical hands to drop it over her at just the right fucking moment.

It’d been completely uncalled for, too. So what if she’d cut the power to Kay’s favorite docking port last week and forced him to spend an entire night cycle trapped next to that astromech he hates so much? That had hardly been worth this much torture — and she’ll probably never be able to wear that shirt or vest ever again; they’d practically had to be sliced off of her.

No, there’s a difference between justified retaliation and crossing a line, and Kay had passed that line by a fucking parsec, so he’s the one who’s clearly in the wrong here. That’s her position, and she’s sticking to it.

It’s a position that any reasonable person with sense would agree to, so it’s one that Cassian, logically, will.

But when the hands that have been messaging her scalp still and his response comes, it isn’t an agreement. No, instead, it’s, “He doesn’t mean it,” said in the tone she absolutely hates the most: the one that’s mildly neutral, that comes with the mask he puts on when she knows he doesn’t want to engage with something.

Fuck. For a brief amount of time, she’d actually managed to forget that the person who’s been standing in the shower with her for the past standard hour at least, helping her wash her hair, is the one who’d be the least fucking objective possible on this issue.

If she could turn around, she’d raise an eyebrow and give Cassian her best are you fucking kidding me stare, but since she can’t, she resigns herself to heaving a long, frustrated sigh, one she makes sure can be heard over the running water.

He doesn’t respond for a while, opting instead to continue with his task of rubbing another round of shampoo into her hair. If he were doing this for any other reason, it might feel nice — part of her has been halfway to thinking it at least three times over the past standard hour before she’s stopped herself, because even with the difficulty of what he he’s had to work with, he’s never been too harsh with his touch — but he’s not here for those reasons, and so his silence is annoying. HIs silence leaves her no choice except to try for the sigh again, and really mean it this time.

Eventually, after that, he speaks up again, with a sigh that’s almost as heavy as hers. “I’ll tell him to call it off.”

Finally. Had that been so fucking hard?

To her credit, and she really tries for this, she does her best to leave out that sentiment when she tells him: “That’s all I’m asking —”

“ — If you also call it off.”

Seriously? Her first instinct is to roll her eyes, which she does, and then her next is to open her mouth for a counterargument, which she also does, only nothing comes out of it. Because maybe, just maybe, she can concede that she’d crossed a line, too, and had provoked something that hadn’t really been worth provoking. It’s just been so quiet, and when things are too quiet, she turns twitchy and restless, and —

She can swallow her pride, even if it means doing so while gritting her teeth.

“Fine.” She guesses she should probably sound less like she’s gritting her teeth, though, so before she elaborates, she takes a beat. “I’ll leave his stupid docking port alone. Will that make him happy?”

Pressed against her, she can feel Cassian lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Happy enough.”

Because she knows him, Jyn can tell, just from his voice, that the beginnings of that stupid smug smirk he likes to flash at her sometimes are there, forming.

Only the shower wall will see, but she scrunches her face and glowers at it with everything she has.

“Fuck you,” she says, though, despite her efforts, she doesn’t manage to inject any real heat into it. “I heard that.”

“Heard what?”

She thinks: she should be annoyed; she should curl her free hand into a fist so that it’ll be ready to give him a nice, solid punch when her position allows. But the thought is gone almost as soon as it surfaces, because — suddenly, in spite of everything, a laugh bursts out of her. A genuine, full-bodied laugh that has her hand shaking against the wall while still trying to hold flat for support, her side stitching, and her breath wheezing.

Behind her, she can hear Cassian joining in earnest, his composure crumbling alongside his current attempt to massage her scalp. His laugh is softer than hers, still trying to find its footing after what has to be years of rust, but it’s undeniable.

Understandably undeniable, because this whole situation really is fucking absurd, isn’t it?

They don’t get many moments like this, but even so, they’ve had more of them together than Jyn can remember having for most of her life before they’d ever met — and it’s a good feeling when they happen. Warm, easy. Safe. The last of the tension she’d been carrying washes away with the water.

And after her laughter subsides and she’s blinked the tears from her eyes, she closes them, relaxing, for the moment, into what she can.

#rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #* fic #* prompt fic #simple acts between lovers prompts #asks #andorerso #anonymous #i'm so tired tonight but i still wanted to write something fdjskj

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rebelrainfall · 1 year

Text

to break open a heart

Hello from your Secret Santa, @andorerso! It’s been so much fun writing for you, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜

ao3 link

If Jyn were a more positive person, she might think that all things considered, they’re lucky. They’re lucky it wasn’t the stormtroopers at the end of the street that hauled Cassian away. Lucky the woman who processed him wore kelly green to match her hair, not Imperial grey. Lucky there likely won’t be a match for his biometrics in this database.

Looking up at the decaying black building in front of her, nothing at her side but a single knife at the small of her back, Jyn doesn’t feel very lucky.

Still, there’s no hesitation in her stride on the way to the front desk of the building, praying to whatever power might be listening that the being behind it, the same green-haired human who took Cassian away, won’t recognize her. Yesterday when they’d met Jyn was a redhead, thick glasses obscuring part of her face, and she can only hope the change is enough. She would have preferred an entirely different disguise, to be sure. But desperate times, and all that shit.

Those desperate times, of course, being this: the Alligare Syndicate has at least two dozen containment cells in this building they disguise as a hotel. Cassian is in one of them.

Jyn has no idea how long she has. As lucky as she may be it isn’t the Empire she’s up against at the moment, the Imperials at least follow measurable and predictable protocol. She’d have some concept of a timeline, some awareness of how long the bastards would be delayed by the paper trail up and down before someone with the authority to wield the knife made their way to him.

The Alligare Syndicate, though, who ran Cassian’s forged papers just slightly more thoroughly than they could hold up against…

They don’t have nearly the resources the Empire would, and even if they discover his real identity, they aren’t likely to have any prior knowledge of Cassian Andor, threat to the Empire. But they do have near-total control over the city, a network the size of which is unknown to Jyn, and from what she’s seen of them, they’re far more efficient than most criminal syndicates she’s ever seen. She has no idea what they’re capable of, or what they might do to a prisoner.

And Cassian is in their hands.

It could be too late already, a traitorous voice in her head whispers, and she shakes it away, because there’s no time for that, but it nags at her all the same. Took you nearly half a day to be back here. Pathetic, Erso, he could be dead a dozen times over.

“How can I help you?” The woman at the desk asks as she approaches. Her words are polite, but she does a poor job hiding her hostility. “Just a single room for you tonight?”

“I’m here for a visit, actually,” Jyn says pleasantly, adopting the Corellian accent Cassian taught her on the way home from their first mission together. “My husband was brought here, could you direct me to him? His name is - “

“We don’t allow visitors,” the woman says flatly.

“Please, ma’am. I brought his medication. He’s a human man, you brought him in early this morning and he needs - “

The woman rolls her eyes. “Give it here, I’ll make sure he gets it.”

She leans over the low desk to reach for the bottle in Jyn’s hand, and it’s the mistake Jyn was hoping for. Not giving her time to realize what’s happening, she jumps over the desk, her knife to the woman’s throat and her arms twisted behind her back before she can even think of hitting whatever panic button Jyn suspects is hidden under her desk.

“Human man. You brought him in this morning. Take me to him, now.”

“This isn’t going to work. You’ll never get out of the building,” the woman promises, shockingly defiant for a being held at knife point.

“Do you know how many bones are in the human hand?” Jyn asks, almost pleasantly.

“Can’t say I do,” the woman growls.

“Twenty-seven,” Jyn says, squeezing one of the woman’s trapped hands meaningfully. “And if you don’t take me to him right now I swear on his life I will break every single one of yours.”

To her credit, the woman still appears mostly unshaken. After a loaded moment, though, she gives in with a nod, still glaring daggers at Jyn but showing no sign of trying to fight back.

“No need for that,” she grumbles. “The keys are in my desk, gonna kill me when I reach for them?”

“Tell me where they are.”

With a bit of tricky manoeuvring she keeps the knife at the woman’s throat while she fishes in the indicated drawer, coming up with not only a set of keys (analog keys, for deadbolt locks. Another thing the Empire doesn’t use), but, to her delight, a small blaster.

“You should really keep weapons like this locked up,” she says flatly, checking it’s unloaded before slipping it into the waistband of her trousers. “Now. Let’s go.”

Jyn doesn’t know what to expect when the woman unlocks the door, the blaster still pressed to her side, but somehow what she finds disturbs her more than she’d prepared for anyway. It’s a well-lit room, the fluorescent light spilling into the much darker hallway. There’s no visible system of restraint nor sign of violence, no evidence of any of the many methods of interrogation she’s known used. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost want to believe Cassian hadn’t been hurt at all.

Which is why it’s more than a little disturbing to see him on the far side from the door, crowded into the corner of the bright room like he wants to disappear into it, giving no indication he’s even noticed the door opening.

“Cass?” She ventures, only realizing she’s slipped up calling him by his real name after the word has left her mouth. It’s fine, she thinks, they’re fine. Lots of names could have the nickname Cass.

His eyes are wide and hazy, staring straight ahead, but he blinks at her voice. Slowly, like it takes great effort, he drags his gaze to the doorway, only to flinch away, eyes returning to the floor, when he sees the woman beside Jyn.

“I’m not strong enough,” he breathes, so quiet Jyn can hardly hear him even in the stillness of the cell block. “Make her -- make her go away. I’ll break. It - it hurts…”

In that single moment Jyn realizes two things. One: Alligare has done something terrible to Cassian, something that has reduced her restrained, ever stoic partner to stuttering pleas. And two: the woman in green, the one she holds at gunpoint, has to have been the one to do it.

She’ll make her go away, alright. And she won’t regret it.

The blaster fires in a flash of green light to match her hair. Jyn hardly spares a glance as she falls to the hallway floor.

She’s kneeling before Cassian in a moment, reaching out until he shies away from her hand.

“Cassian,” She whispers, to no response except a slightly louder, gasping breath. “Hey, Cass, it’s alright, it’s me. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.”

“I - I knew you’d come,” he rasps, though he still cringes from her touch when she reaches out again. “I was… You shouldn’t have - you shouldn’t have come but I - fuck, Jyn, I’m so happy you’re here…”

Something is so wrong here. This isn’t the first time she’s had to come back for him, not the first time she’s dragged him from a cell. She’s found him half-dead and incoherent and drugged out of his mind. No matter how beat up he is he’s never so… honest. She’s seen him bleeding out on the floor still insisting he can handle it himself. Something about the sentimental simplicity of his words is jarring. What could they have done to him, to break him open so plainly?

“Of course I’m here,” she murmurs, “Can you walk?”

“I don’t know,” he says, but he allows her to help him up, leaning heavily against the wall. “Jyn, Stars, I’m so - so happy you came back… You should have left…”

“We don’t leave each other.”

Cassian is still rambling, repeating the same few sentences over and over again as she drapes his arm over her back to take on some of his weight.

“I know, I know. You’re happy I’m here, you think I shouldn’t be. Save some breath for walking, ok?” As far as Jyn knows there aren’t many guards in the cell block itself, most of them stationed around it as a more visible display of power, but they can’t risk calling attention to themselves either way. At her request he goes quiet as they make their way slowly to the doorway. His breathing is laboured and uneven, hitching at the top of every inhale, but they can’t afford to pause long enough for her to understand what it is that’s hurting him.

He’s under the effects of some kind of drug, that she’s sure of. Something that’s left him disoriented and afraid, an effect common enough in psychoactive interrogation methods. Whether whatever pain he’s feeling comes from it as well or from something else she can’t be sure, but it isn’t impossible. The syndicate must have access to better resources than she’d expected, at least in this department. She’ll have to be sure the Alliance knows they’re a genuine threat.

To her relief they don’t seem to have triggered any kind of alarm and the corridor outside is empty, their shuffling footsteps and Cassian’s pained breathing echoing unnervingly in the silence. Of the cells they pass most are similarly empty, doors left ajar to reveal bare and windowless rooms like Cassian’s. The hall feels unfathomably long, but once they’ve left his cell he seems to regain some strength, carrying more of his own weight and allowing them to pick up the pace enough that they’re nearly at the end of it before the next shock to hit Jyn.

“I love you,” Cassian declares suddenly, like that’s something they say to each other. It hits Jyn like a blaster bolt through the heart, but she forces herself not to react. He isn’t himself right now, and as much as she wants to stop, to beg to know what he means, how he could use a word like love for her, they can’t afford to stop. All of this can wait, it has to wait.

She’s ripped from her spiralling thoughts after less than a moment, her attention snapping back to Cassian when he whimpers almost as soon as the words have left his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t want to say that, I shouldn’t - I’m sorry…” He’s struggling in her loose hold, fighting weakly to get away from her, but she’s too afraid of what he’d do to himself if he succeeded. “You should go, you should leave me here…”

Alright, maybe she was wrong. Maybe this can’t wait. Jyn steers Cassian inside the next open door, casting a glance around to be sure the cell is empty before she guides him to lean against the wall beside the doorway. Whatever this is, she needs to know how to deal with it or neither of them are getting out of here.

“What did they do to you?” She murmurs, holding him upright against the wall. He only whines, turning away from her. “C’mon, Cass, you have to tell me so I can help you.”

The noise he makes almost sounds like a sob, and he still won’t look at her. She can’t see much of his face in the scarce light of the cell, not nearly enough to read his expression, but there’s fear in his posture. Because of her? Force, she prays it isn’t because of her.

“What did they do?” She asks again, gentler, tucking his hair back just for an excuse to touch him. He sways, like he isn’t sure whether to lean into it or run. He’s silent for another long moment, dilated eyes flitting around her face, wide like he’s fighting himself behind them.

“They - I - I can’t lie,” he finally gasps like it hurts him to say, flinching away from the words themselves.

“You don’t have to,” she soothes. Cassian shudders, whimpering. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“No - you don’t - I can’t lie, they gave me something, some kind of drug and I can’t - I’m compromised.” He’s still trying to pull away from her again, though he can’t get far without her there to hold him up and he seems present enough to realize that, at least. “I - I didn’t give them anything important, I swear, I didn’t tell them about - but I need -”

Footsteps at the end of the corridor. Jyn frees one hand to cover his mouth, dread rising in her chest despite her efforts to tamp it down.

This is… this is bad. This is very, very bad.

The footsteps pass them without hesitation, fading back into silence as their owner makes their way down the hall, but Jyn’s horror doesn’t fade with them.

The Empire has many, many methods of interrogation, but there’s something they don’t have that she knows they desperately want. How many times, reading through Imperial memos searching for something important, has she found mention of a hypothetical drug just like this? An interrogation method that would require no physical torture at all.

A psychoactive drug that would compel its victim to answer every question posed truthfully, no torture necessary.

The Alligare Syndicate, it would appear, has beat the Empire at this game.

This is a spy’s greatest fear, the nightmare scenario. And here is Cassian facing it.

By some unknowable luck they make it out of the building without incident, and Jyn can send a message to the rest of their crew to be ready for takeoff. By the time they stumble onto the ship Cassian’s carrying most of his own weight, but his eyes are still dilated and glassy and Jyn isn’t naive enough to think the worst has passed.

“How long ago did they give you that drug?”

“I don’t… I don’t know? I don’t know how long I was there. But Jyn -”

“Shh, it’s ok. Not your fault.” She stops him before he can say anymore. Just because he’s telling the truth doesn’t mean he wants her to hear it.

“No, Jyn, it’s - I can’t stay out here, someone will hear something, I need somewhere… the cargo hold. Lock me in the cargo hold.”

Of course. They may be out of public earshot, but Cassian hardly knows their pilot or the other man on the crew. Jyn doesn’t even know their names, and he certainly doesn’t trust them with whatever truths Cassian’s on the verge of spilling. Jyn kneels to dig a medpack and an emergency blanket from under the bench where he’s sitting.

“I’m not going to lock you anywhere alone right now,” she argues, raising a hand to stop him when he opens his mouth to protest. “I don’t know what else this drug did. We’ll go to the cargo bay, and once I make sure you aren’t dying, then we’ll talk.”

“But-”

“Don’t argue, it won’t work.” Don’t tell me something you’ll regret.

He hardly looks pleased about it but he nods, and when she slips into the cargo hand he follows, closing and locking the door after him.

“Tell me where it hurts,” Jyn orders.

“Head, leg, lower ribs,” Cassian says, radiating discomfort as he watches her lay the emergency blanket out on the floor. She wishes she could appreciate his honesty, that it were born of anything but torture. This is a sort of nightmare so specifically cruel to Cassian that she struggles to even comprehend it, a hell specially built of his very worst fears. Any question feels like taking advantage of him, helpless against them as he is, but she has no choice, not if she’s going to help him. All she can do is keep her queries as simple and specific as possible.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No, I think that’s the drug.”

“Leg?”

“The Scarif leg, wrenched something while I was blindfolded on the way in.”

“Lie down on the blanket. Ribs?”

He winces as he lowers himself to the floor. “When they caught me, I think. Someone kicked me. It hurts to breathe.”

“Well, keep breathing for me anyway,” She says, rummaging through the medpack, though for what she’s not yet entirely sure.

“It’s always for you,” He mumbles, settling on his back on the blanket with a groan.

Jyn pretends not to have heard that.

There’s half a dozen painkillers to choose from, and Jyn spends longer than may be necessary considering them. What she needs is something unlikely to react with whatever’s already in his system, so she picks the most basic. Next she fishes out a heat pack like the one he uses on base sometimes, laying it over his bad knee. She’s stalling, she recognizes that, but she’s hardly looking forward to the next logical step. Cassian’s exposed enough as it is.

“I need you to unbutton your shirt,” she finally says, not quite meeting his eyes, “Just so I can see what’s wrong. Ok?”

She can tell he’s not in love with the idea, not that she can blame him in the slightest, but he reaches obediently to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“This isn’t how I pictured this happening,” he mutters, and she won’t ask what he means by that but stars, she wants to. Then he lets his shirt fall open, baring his chest, and she forgets to ask entirely.

“Cass,” she hisses, eyes fixed on the mess of green and purple bruising spread across his mid torso, surrounding a shallow but worrying gash just above his navel. In her head she can hear him protesting - it’s not as bad as it looks, I’m fine - and in every other circumstance he’d be saying it. His silence freezes her blood far more effectively than the sight of his injury.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking up at her with wide, vulnerable eyes. She wants to lie. She wants to say it’s been a long day, I’m tired, I twinged my back on the way here. But if Cassian can’t lie to her, how cruel would it be to lie to him?

“I’m worried about you,” she says, honestly.

He only looks more distressed at this admission, and a little bit confused. “You should go, I can take care of it myself. This shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you’re patched up.” Jyn says. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I care about you.”

“I - You shouldn’t.”

“Cassian - “

“No. You deserve better than this, Jyn. I get you hurt. You know I’ll let you down.”

“You haven’t yet.”

He chuckles, humourless. “Give it time.”

Clearly he wants to leave it there, but Jyn can’t. She wants to kill whoever it was that taught him to think of himself this way, but for now the truth will have to do.

“You haven’t yet,” she repeats, because it’s true. “But maybe you will, and even if you do. You’re only human, Cass. You’d never hurt me on purpose. We care about each other, right?”

“I love you,” Cassian whimpers again, looking so miserable she’d burn the galaxy away to fix this.

“Cassian -”

“You should go.”

He’s scared, and helpless, and she can’t hold any of this against him. Still, it hurts. Jyn wants to shake him or burst into tears or break something. She wants, more than anything, to make him look into her eyes and say the first thing again. Can he mean it the way it sounds? Does he mean it the way she wants it? For a man forced to be honest, he’s certainly finding ways to mix his messages.

Suddenly the ship jerks violently with the jump to hyperspace. Cassian gives a pained moan.

Right. Yes. Patching him up, that’s what she’s meant to be doing. Her own stupid feelings can wait, even if they’re tearing her apart. Even if he has just shaken her to the core.

“Just let me help you, and then I’ll go.”

Cassian doesn’t answer, staring up at the ceiling. She takes it as acquiescence and reaches for the painkiller again and a bacta patch that will cover the wound and the worst of his bruising.

It shouldn’t surprise her that he refuses the painkiller, muttering shouldn’t waste it on me as if he isn’t the most important person on this ship both to her and to the rebellion. She doesn't push the issue, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to.

Cassian whimpers when she sprays the disinfectant onto his wound and the area around, but says nothing. His breathing becomes even more shallow with the pain and force of others she just wants him to stop hurting.

“I’m almost done,” she soothes, “and then I’ll go if you still want me to, ok?”

He’s just so achingly vulnerable, hurting and trembling and spread half-naked in front of her, his very mind cracked open. Dual instincts are warring in her chest, to be here to protect him, to stroke his hair and promise he’s safe, or to leave him alone before he can admit something he’ll hate her for knowing when all of this is over.

“I… I don’t want you to leave,” Cassian says, fear still written across his face.

“Then I won’t,” she promises, “I’ll stay if you want me here,” but then he’s shaking his head frantically.

“No, I’ll say something to upset you, you should go. I - I’m sorry.”

“You want me to go?” She asks again, as lost as he looks.

“No, I want you to stay. I want you here so badly, Jyn, but you should… you shouldn’t stay. You shouldn’t have to deal with me. I’ll upset you.”

“You won’t.”

“I will, I know I will. Go.”

Force. She’d love to respect his wishes, if only she could understand what they were. It seems even he doesn’t know what he wants from her, so she picks the safer option. “Ok. I’ll go.”

But then Cassian whimpers, breath catching like a sob. Is there a right answer here? She swears she sees tears in his eyes, but what can she do?

“What do you need from me, Cassian? Tell me what you need. Please. You know I would do anything for you.” And there are tears in his eyes, spilling silently from the corners as he looks up at her with such distress she feels her heart shatter.

“I need you.”

“Cassian…”

“Stay,” he begs, and she’d love it if he would settle on one or the other, but he doesn’t seem to understand it himself. “You - you make me feel safe, and it’s so cold, and your hands are warm…” His voice is thick. “I don’t want you to go.”

And the things he’s doing to her heart now, gazing up at her so desperate and defenceless and handing her confessions that could so easily be turned to weapons.

“Alright.”

Jyn returns everything to the medpack, feeling Cassian’s eyes on her back as she does. When there’s nothing else to occupy herself with she finds herself at a loss, casting her eyes around the room for anything that might give her some idea but finding only Cassian, Cassian and his helpless, fervent eyes.

She ends up with his head in her lap, fingers stroking gently through his hair in hopes of chasing away the pain wrinkling his brow. She wishes he would fall asleep for whatever escape it might grant him, but he seems far too unsettled for that. Still, she can feel him beginning to relax under her touch.

“That feels nice,” He says a few minutes into the silence.

“I’m glad. Do you need anything else right now? How are you feeling?”

It takes him a moment to answer. “Better, I think. Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” she promises again.

“You always make me feel better,” he says before he goes quiet again for a time, eyes flitting around the room, until they settle suddenly again on her. “Can I hold your hand?”

She offers him her free hand wordlessly in answer. Cassian pulls it to his sternum and Jyn measures her breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“None of this is your fault.”

“I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No, you aren’t. You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“You - I keep saying things, and I can’t make it stop, and it’s going to scare you away.”

“Cass - “

“I don’t want you to leave, Jyn. I don’t want to make you leave but I can’t - I keep saying things - “

“Cassian.”

She has his attention, finally, though he still looks so afraid she wants to cry.

“I know you can’t lie to me right now, and I promise that I’m not going to lie to you either now. Tell me you understand.”

He nods, and she’d prefer a verbal confirmation but this will do.

“I’m worried about you. I don’t like seeing you so upset. But there’s nothing you’ve said to make me uncomfortable. I promise.”

“But I said - “

“You said you loved me.” It has to be what he’s getting at. It’s been driving her to distraction. There’s nothing to be gained from avoiding it any longer.

“I. Yes.” And he looks so defeated. Breaking her own rule, Jyn caves and asks him a question she doesn’t strictly need the answer to.

“Did you mean it the way I think you meant it?”

(No. She needs the answer.)

Cassian takes a shaky breath and squeezes her hand, bracing against whatever he thinks is about to happen.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Something in Jyn’s chest loosens at the same time her heart stutters. She can’t help the small smile that crosses into her expression, even at Cassian’s obvious confusion.

“Don’t be sorry. I…” She promised to tell him the truth. “Cassian. I love you, too.”

She can see him wanting to protest. It’s not difficult to imagine what he wants to say. He’ll argue that she doesn’t know all the terrible things he’s done (maybe she doesn’t, but she also doesn’t care), that he’ll let her down (he will, sometimes, but he’s only human. She’ll let him down sometimes, too). That he somehow isn’t worthy of her, like he’s any more damaged, any more imperfect than she is. Like she’s the one of them who deserves better.

It’s absurd. She can’t bear to hear him say any of it.

“I love you,” she repeats. “And I’d rather you didn’t try to talk me out of it. You’re so important to me. Ok?”

For a long, weighted moment, Cassian says nothing. Jyn doesn’t try to fill the silence, waiting on his response. Finally, Cassian meets her eyes again, biting his lip and taking a deep breath.

“I want to kiss you,” he says. “Please.”

“You can,” she says, and finds great pleasure in the way his eyes light up at that. “But only once you’ve taken the painkiller.”

His attempt at a glare is a little ruined by the stars in his eyes when he gazes up at her.

“Fine.”

As he takes the pill without further complaint, Jyn can’t help but wonder if this particular brand of bribery will continue to work.

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