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ninsletamain · 3 months

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Fluffbruary Day 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

My contribution to RebelCaptain Fluffbruary PLUS @quarantineddreamer's super ultra amazing fic addition below the cut!!!

The lines of code on the screen were no longer making sense. Somewhere between coffees 4 and 5 of the day they had slipped from Jyn’s grasp, gone from familiar symbols to something more akin to ancient hieroglyphics–as sure a sign as any that it was long-past time for her to take a break from her assignment.

Reaching her arms skyward–tight knots in the muscles of her shoulders and along her spine protesting–Jyn glanced blearily at the alarm clock that perched neatly on the corner of the desk.

Shit. Was that really the time? She scrambled to her feet, socks slipping on the linoleum floor, and threw her hair quickly into a bun. (Or what she hoped would pass for one anyways.)

Pants. I need pants. Jyn cast about the room, throwing the covers of the bed back, checking over the back of the roller-chair she’d spent the day–no, longer than that apparently–glued to, but found nothing.

She could have sworn she had at least dropped a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed at some point…

Cassian must have tidied up before he left (the neat freak); she hadn’t even noticed. That happened sometimes: the computer consuming her when she was locked onto a particular idea. But it shouldn’t have happened today. Today she had planned to wrap up her coursework early, surprise him…

Okay screw the pants, Jyn decided, marching from the room towards the kitchen with all the determination of a soldier approaching the battlefield.

(If a soldier’s uniform was your boyfriend’s oversized, university sweatshirt and the fight ahead was the arduous task of preparing a meal.)

It took her more than a few tries to find everything–despite how organized Cassian kept his kitchen cabinets–but before too long Jyn was staring down at the black, glinting surface of a flawlessly seasoned cast iron pan and the looming depths of a large pot, a box of spaghetti, its matching jar of sauce, and an assortment of meat and vegetables thrown on the counter beside them.

“I’ve got this,” Jyn muttered to herself, eyeing the recipe she’d taped to the fridge like it might grow fangs and snap at her. (Or catch fire and nearly burn the place down as had happened on her most recent foray into chefdom). “You’ve hacked into government systems before,” she continued. “This will be easy compared to that. A piece of cake, or a pot of pasta.” Hopefully anyways.

She checked the oven clock. If she stood any chance of getting this done before Cassian (Impossibly-Punctual) Andor came home she had to start now.

The empty apartment should have been quiet, peaceful. Instead, it suddenly seemed impossibly loud, noises swelling in her ears the longer she stood staring at the array of ingredients and tools––footsteps from the neighbor above, the distant rumble of a washing machine next door, the clicking of the fridge beside her, all clamoring in some insane harmony.

The longer she stood there waiting (for what, she had no idea) the more power the sounds seemed to hold, quick to dredge up each and every anxious thought she had been so diligently shoving to the furthest corners of her mind since Cassian had told her of his plans to travel to Yavin…

When he cooked, Cassian always had music playing. Maybe that would help. Drown out the worry and the fear.

Jyn pulled her phone from the pocket of the red hoodie and tapped a playlist at random. Something upbeat began playing, muffled through the fabric as she tucked the phone back into the pocket, rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt, and drew a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing…”

Turning down the hallway that led to his apartment, Cassian smelled something…interesting.

He tried to pin down what it was. Starch, yes. Tomatoes, yes. Onions and garlic, most likely. But then there were other unexpected notes, the heat of what might have been chili powder tickling at his nostrils, growing stronger with each step closer he got to his door, and maybe the cheese he was smelling was parmesan or pecorino? The combination wasn’t exactly bad, just off–out of balance.

He thought for sure it was one of the neighbors; maybe Mrs. McCleod experimenting again–after all, she had stopped him just last week to ask him about his favorite market for finding fresh produce.

But as he passed by Mrs. McCleod’s apartment, he noticed the crack under the door was dark, a small pile of mail collecting beneath her welcome mat. She was probably away visiting her niece again. Which meant that the smell was most likely emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

His door.

Cassian tugged his tie looser, a warmth kindling in his stomach, a smile slowly spreading across his face; Jyn.

He’d insisted she should stay at his apartment while he was gone–enjoy some solitude away from distracting roommates and loud neighbors–but he hadn’t been entirely certain she would take him up on it. She’d given him a strange look at the suggestion (despite the fact that after nearly a year of dating, she seemed to spend more time in his apartment than her own) and returned to her keyboard, completely absorbed in the endless numbers and symbols flashing wildly across the computer screen at her command.

The reaction hadn’t been a total shock to him. Jyn had been unusually quiet ever since he’d first mentioned his job interview in Yavin. He’d tried to tell himself she was just preoccupied with the workload associated with the final semester before she earned her degree, but deep down he knew that she was likely asking herself the same questions as he was: If I get this job, what happens to us?

Cassian reached into his suit pocket for his key, twisted it in the lock, and slowly opened the door, his eyes tearing up at the overwhelming burn of capsaicin in the air. Dropping his backpack by the door, he followed the sound of hissing steam, music, and occasional cursing into the kitchen.

It had been just over a day since he’d seen her, but even so, Cassian had spent the plane ride home longing for the moment when he could wrap his arms tight around her again, kiss her until they were both oxygen deprived and gasping for air.

He’d envisioned a quick, eager reunion. Unable to hold himself back from rushing towards her; clumsy, grabbing hands and awkward clashing of teeth.

But then he saw her: standing in his kitchen with her hair wild atop her head, dancing from the stovetop to a nearby drawer; humming along to the song playing faintly in the background as she poked uncertainly at a pan of sauteed vegetables and shot a quick glance at a boiling pot of water–and all he could think to do was lean his shoulder into the doorframe and stare, his breath catching in his chest with a fierce and sudden ache.

Cassian knew he was helplessly, hopelessly lost–had known it for a while–but it had never been more apparent to him than in that moment, hovering at the threshold. He was certain that if he did nothing else for the rest of life but watch her, he’d still die the happiest man on earth.

She’d decided to borrow his favorite sweatshirt while he was away–red, well-worn, with Ferrix University emblazoned across the front. As she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the spice cabinet, the bottom of the sweatshirt rose too, revealing the faintest glimpse of black panties, serving in sharp contrast to the perfect, pale curve of her ass.

The sight inspired a different kind of ache. Cassian made his way across the kitchen, and placed his hands on Jyn’s shoulders. Somehow, the only words he could seem to find were, “You’re cooking.”

A string of swear words fell out of her mouth in quick succession. “I could’ve stabbed you,” she grumbled, even as she set down the knife she was holding to lean backwards into him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m surprised I managed to.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. “I was distracted.”

“I can see that,” he mused. “You’re cooking. You hate cooking.”

He could just make out the faint flush that rose in Jyn’s cheeks as she glanced back at him, her hair tickling his chin. “I do hate it,” she agreed, “but I figured you’d be hungry and…well, I don’t hate you.”

A soft laugh escaped him, “What a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“No really,” he said, pulling her closer. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Do you want food or not?” Her scowl was made significantly less believable by the smile catching quickly at the corners of her mouth.

Cassian gave a considerate hum. His stomach had been rumbling as he stepped off the plane, but now a different kind of hunger was taking hold. His skin was hot beneath his suit where Jyn’s body pressed against his own; all he could seem to think of was her in his sweatshirt–in only his sweatshirt.

But Jyn seized his brief lapse of silence as an opportunity to change subjects. “So…How’d the interview go?” she asked lightly, though her muscles went tight as she dipped a wooden spoon in the red liquid that bubbled on the stove in front of her.

He watched as she blew steam away from the spoon before bringing it to her mouth to taste and wincing. “The interview was fine,” he murmured, pressing (what he hoped she would as) a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

The smile had already vanished from Jyn’s face. “You think you got the job then?”

Cassian moved his hand slowly up and down her arm, earlier ideas already forgotten. “They made me an offer,” he admitted quietly.

“They did…” The energy seemed to have drained straight out of her–the dancing, humming, swearing woman from moments ago turned to shadow.

Like she didn’t know. Like she couldn’t feel the frantic stuttering of his heart where his chest pressed between her shoulders blades. Like she couldn’t sense him, standing right here beside her on the knife’s edge.

“I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet,” he told her. Of course I did. As though there had been anything else he could do…

“You did what?” Jyn twisted in his arms. “That is your dream job. You know you want to go, so just go. Why would you–”

“Jyn,” he cut in, and she went still–let him hold her in place for at least a moment longer while he continued. “I said yet. I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet.”

Her knuckles were white, wrapped tight around the wooden spoon. He reached past her and switched off the burners before anything could start smoking or boil over.

Cassian’s own nerves were starting to take hold. He gave a hard swallow, trying to clear the tightness from his throat. “I don’t want to go to Yavin. Not without you… I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me. After you graduate in the spring, come with me.”

“Cass…”

He was about to tell her she didn’t have to answer right now–to delay whatever pain he sensed was coming from inevitable rejection–when she closed her hand around his tie and tugged him closer, tilting her head back to press her lips to his.

Beneath his mouth, he could feel her smile forming, but it still took his breath away to see it when they broke apart. “Is that a yes, then?”

Jyn wound his tie tighter around her hand. “I like this suit,” she commented, eyes sweeping across the blue fabric and back to the black silk of the tie.

“I’m taking that as a yes…” Cassian told her, his attention splitting as she began to playfully undo the top buttons of his shirt.

“I cooked for you…” Her lips passed over his throat, her voice muffled.

Heat was racing up Cassian’s spine, his thoughts going increasingly hazy. “You did…” he replied, inhaling sharply as the hand not wrapped in his tie found the back of his head, fingers tugging lightly at his hair.

“I’m a terrible cook, but I cooked. For you.”

She still hadn’t answered him. Not really. He wanted an answer, a definitive answer. “What does this have to do with–”

“Are you still hungry?”

“Jyn–” he pleaded.

“Because I was thinking we should forget about the food,” she continued, her mouth brushing over his ear–words like sparks to his skin. “I changed my mind. There’s something else I want to do for you instead. Something I’m much, much better at…”

He relented slightly, instinct shoving reason aside as he tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt, her skin soft against his fingertips. “What did you have in mind?”

“You mean, aside from moving to Yavin?” she murmured with a teasing grin, pressing even closer, tips of their noses brushing, her breath warm against his cheeks.

“So that was a yes earlier…”

Jyn rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed, wrapping her legs tight around his torso. “I think you’re coming to Yavin with me,” he said, slightly breathless, not quite daring to believe it.

“I’m coming to Yavin with you,” she echoed, delivering a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home, Cassian.”

#myworks #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #modern au

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sesamestreep · 1 year

Note

Taylor Swift prompts: Jyn/Cassian, 35

35. love me like I’m brand new (from this prompt list) Note: completely independent of Zainab's prompt fill from this week expanding her sambucky teachers AU, I was busy writing her a teachers AU for this prompt! Same hat, as usual! I meant to get it finished and published by our friendiversary (this past tuesday) but that didn't quite work out. Still, within a week ain't bad. Cross posted to AO3, if that's more your jam.

“Okay, I’m proposing a new drinking game,” Jyn’s voice crackles over the walkie-talkie. “Drink every time the DJ plays a song Cassian doesn’t know.”

Cassian whips his head around, looking for her but doesn’t see her anywhere in the crowded room. It is dark, though. And full of high schoolers who are mostly taller than her. She could be anywhere.

“Where are you?” he asks, into his own walkie-talkie. “I don’t even see you.”

“I am the night,” she replies, in her best Batman impression, which is not very good, honestly.

“We can’t play that drinking game,” Bodhi interjects. “We’ll be dead in under an hour.”

“Hey!”

“No drinking at prom,” Baze replies, bored.

“Wait, when did we make that rule?” Jyn asks.

“You better be joking.”

“I am, don’t worry. I take the safety and security of this event very seriously,” she says. “And I can’t think of anything worse than being drunk around high schoolers.”

“Drunk in front of your parents?” Bodhi suggests.

“That’s me every Christmas, baby!”

“Is this what we’re supposed to be using the walkie-talkies for?” Cassian asks.

“Wow, did you just tattle on me?”

“Chirrut, we’re gonna need a ruling,” Bodhi interjects.

“Ten-four,” Chirrut replies. “Definitely tattling.”

Jyn blows a raspberry directly into her walkie, and Cassian sighs. “I think he meant about the proper use of the radios, Chirrut.”

“Oh, then yes, this is exactly how I envisioned us using them,” he says.

“Best prom ever,” Bodhi says, dryly.

“Speaking of which, who’s in the lead in the flask count?”

“That would be my beloved, with a grand total of 12 so far,” Chirrut says, and Baze makes a point of groaning into the radio because he hates when Chirrut calls him pet names at work. “Followed by Cassian, with 8, and Jyn with 5. Bodhi and I are tied for last with 2 apiece.”

“Actually, Kay is in last place, with negative four thousand because he’s a little bitch who called out sick from chaperone duty at the last minute,” Jyn replies.

“Yes, let the record show Kay is in last place forever,” Chirrut says.

“Amen,” Cassian replies. “What are you doing with all these flasks, anyway?”

“Jyn, don’t you dare say Jungle Juice,” Bodhi says, immediately.

“JUNGLE J—hey!”

“Jungle Juice is never the solution to any problem!”

“You’re right about that,” she says. “Jungle juice is, at best, always just a neat way to go from having one problem to two problems.”

“To actually answer Cassian’s question, we generally just give them over to the central office,” Baze says. “With our report for the night. The administrative team decides what to do with that information afterwards.”

“We’re not really going to nerf these kids for getting rowdy at prom, are we?” Jyn asks. “We’re not even on school grounds.”

“I didn’t realize you were so tender-hearted, Erso.”

“Bite me, Andor! Just for that, I’m taking your second place spot in the Flask Olympics.”

“Flask-Off,” Chirrut replies.

“The Flasked Singer,” Bodhi suggests.

“Flask and you shall receive,” Jyn adds.

“Everyone shut the flask up and get off the walkies,” Baze interrupts. “You’re all giving me a migraine.”

Cassian tucks the radio back in his pocket and returns to his actual job of chaperoning. The students are all dancing to a song that he absolutely does not recognize, though it would require advanced forms of torture to get him to ever admit that to Jyn now. In the middle of the crowd, he spots Rey and Finn, still wearing their cheap plastic crowns from the prom court ceremony and doing some dance that involves windmilling their arms a lot. He shakes his head, and continues his sweep of the room, spotting Bodhi in a far corner and giving him a salute, which Bodhi returns.

“Flask-athalon,” Jyn says, at his elbow and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” he asks, not sure how she managed to sneak up on him.

“Bathroom,” she says. “Did you hear my flask joke? I thought of it on the way over, but I don’t want to get on Baze’s bad side.”

“So you chose to instead inflict it on me? What did I ever do?”

“Mean,” she says. “You’re so mean. And now you’re on my bad side. Was it worth it?”

“I’m not scared of your bad side,” he says, and it comes out all stupid and tender by accident. There was meant to be some bravado in there somewhere but he forgot, or he misplaced it, or something.

“They all say that,” Jyn replies, crossing her arms. Hers comes out tender too, probably also by accident. There’s a not-so-hidden but they don’t really mean it at the center of it. He means it, though.

“Everything alright?” he asks, and she frowns, confused. “On your patrol,” he clarifies.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just had to comfort Rose Tico in the ladies’ room.”

“Poor Rose,” Cassian says. She had been in his office a handful of times last semester. Her sister is away at college this year, and she was having trouble adjusting. It seemed like she’d been doing better lately, though. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

“Well, Finn asked her to prom ages ago, as friends, but now he and Rey are kind of an item, but he still honored his promise to go with her and then he and Rey got voted prom king and queen and Rose had a meltdown that he only went with her as his date out of pity and that he’d rather be here with Rey and…it was a whole thing. Then, Jannah and Kaydel showed up to check on her and I gave them some space to work it all out.”

As if on cue, Rose re-enters the room at that moment, with Jannah grasping one hand and Kaydel holding the other. Cassian watches as they rejoin everyone on the dance floor and as Rey shrieks in delight at seeing them and throws her arms around Rose’s neck. Rose returns the hug, letting go of the other girls, and they sway like that, fully out of time with the music, for a good thirty seconds. Over their shoulders, Jannah and Finn are doing the robot while Kaydel pretends not to know any of them.

“Looks like they smoothed things over,” Cassian says, and Jyn nods, looking pleased.

“Every day. Every single day, I am so glad to not be a teenager anymore,” she says, while surveying the room.

“You’re preaching to the choir,” he replies. “I was such a pain in the ass back then.”

“You’re still a pain in the ass.”

Cassian laughs. “I was a different kind of pain in the ass, then. The worst kind.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she says, softly.

“Good,” he says, smiling. “That means I grew up into the sort of man my mother wanted me to be.”

Jyn doesn’t say anything to that, just watches the crowd of students with an inscrutable expression on her face. It was probably a weird thing to say, here, at prom, but it had just jumped out. She has that effect on him, strangely enough. He has this very stupid urge to be honest with her all the time, to just spit out whatever he’s thinking and feeling and pray that she finds it interesting or at least that it doesn’t scare her away. He’s still not sure what to do with that instinct.

Before he can decide, Bodhi’s voice crackles over the walkie-talkies, in stereo, since Jyn and Cassian are standing next to one another. “‘Look on my works, ye mighty and despair,’ suckers,” he says. “Chirrut, please bring my flask count up to four!”

“Four?” Jyn replies, unbelievably quick on the draw with her radio. “You got two off of one kid?!”

“I’m coming for your spot, baby!”

“Oh, it’s on now,” Jyn says, exclusively to Cassian. “I cannot let this kind of insult stand.”

Cassian pulls out his walkie-talkie. “Chirrut, does he get extra points for quoting Percy Shelley while confiscating flasks? Because I feel like maybe he should.”

“Traitor,” Jyn whispers, and then, into her radio, adds, “That’s not in the rules!”

“Agreed. This is purely a numbers game,” Baze replies.

“And Percy Shelley sucks!” Jyn says.

“Hey! Don’t make me come over there!”

“Bodhi doesn’t get extra points for style,” Chirrut interjects, over the radio, “but I am contemplating adding a ‘Best in Show’ category, with this in mind.”

“Wow,” Cassian says, mildly, to Jyn. “Now you can lose twice!”

“That invitation to bite me still stands, you know.”

“Oh, believe me, I do.”

Jyn stretches her arms out wide. “I should be on the move. I’m never going to take Baze’s spot if I stand here fucking around with you.”

“You’ll have to take mine first.”

“Oh, honey,” she says, patronizingly. “That won’t be a problem.”

“Y’all,” Bodhi’s voice crackles over the radio again, “I swear these kids are just drinking paint thinner.”

“Ew, did you try the flask?” Jyn asks into her walkie immediately. “If Bodhi gets to drink, we all do.”

“No, you absolute child, I just sniffed it.”

“And?”

“And I think it’s the last thing I’ll ever smell.”

Jyn sticks her tongue out at Cassian in disgust, making him laugh. “Easily half of mine have just been Fireball Whiskey,” he says, to the group.

“Ah, to be young,” Baze says, wistfully.

“You couldn’t pay me to drink that now,” Jyn says, just to him. “Actually, who am I kidding? I’m a public school teacher with student loans. You could pay me to do just about anything.”

“That is good to know,” Cassian says, raising an eyebrow at her suggestively, and she smacks his arm. “What? I have this fence at my place that needs painting and I–”

“First, Percy Shelley and now Mark Twain? Can’t I get a goddamn break around here?”

That is, of course, the moment two students choose to approach them and, naturally, they’re both on his caseload. They laugh nervously at hearing one of the teachers swear, but ultimately just ask Cassian if it’s okay for them to take a photo with him.

“Of course,” he says, straightening his jacket a little awkwardly.

“I’ll take it, if you like,” Jyn offers, holding out a hand. “I can work wonders with an iPhone.”

The two girls hand over their phones, and Jyn diligently takes a few shots with each of them. After a moment, she says, “Last chance to give Mr. Andor devil horns or bunny ears. Going once…”

“Okay, I think we’re good,” he says, stepping back to let the girls collect their phones from Jyn.

“Thanks, Mr. Andor,” one of them, Leida, says, brightly. “And you, Ms. Erso.”

“No problem,” Jyn says, looking amused.

“I really like your dress, by the way,” the other girl, Maia, adds.

“Oh, thank you,” Jyn replies, looking down at it self-consciously, as they head off. She returns her gaze to Cassian, looking ready to pounce. “What’s it like to have such ardent admirers?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says, rolling his eyes, even though he can feel his face warming up at her teasing. “Both of them are going off to ivy league schools with my help. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it has nothing to do with how handsome you are.”

“You think I’m handsome?” he asks, delighted. “Jyn, I had no idea!”

“Then you’re as blind as Chirrut,” she grumbles, holding her radio up to her mouth. Before he can ask any follow-up questions, she presses the button and asks the group, “Are we tracking how many photos with students we take? Because I hate to admit this, but Cassian might be in the lead.”

“No way,” Bodhi responds. “I’ve taken so many!”

“Were we counting those?” Baze asks. “Chirrut, as master of ceremonies…”

“They’re going to have to start paying me extra to keep track of all these different competitions!”

“I was kidding!” Jyn exclaims. “Your students have seriously been asking for photos all night?”

There’s overlapping sounds of agreement from everyone, making Jyn frown.

“Those bastards,” she grumbles. “I let them eat lunch in my classroom so they don’t get bullied and they don’t even want a photo with me?”

“You see, this is where being a guidance counselor pays off,” Cassian says. “Sure, you need an advanced degree and you don’t make any more money, and you mostly deal with kids having breakdowns about FAFSA in your office all day, but sometimes, at prom, students will ask for a photo with you. That’s why Baze and I are crushing it.”

Jyn snorts. “Yeah, because I never deal with kids crying in the art room,” she says. “And besides, Bodhi is a teacher, just like me, and everyone likes him!”

“He’s an English teacher,” Cassian points out. “He pulls that Dead Poets Society crap with them and lets them recite poems while standing on their desks, or whatever. Of course they like him.”

“And I just teach them how to express themselves through art! Boring!”

“So boring,” he says, even though he sometimes thinks Jyn has the hardest teaching job in the whole school. She’s a photographer by training, but she has to teach every artistic discipline that the school can afford the supplies for. He’s been to her classroom when she’s doing her Senior Project Seminar, which functions like an independent study for the students to choose what they want to make for the semester, and she’ll be critiquing photos with one student, while helping another with a sculpture, and ordering supplies for the kids drawing with charcoal and pastels or painting with oils and watercolors. It makes his head spin just to watch.

“It’s not the dress, is it?” she suddenly asks, anxiously. “I know Maia said it was cute, but she wasn’t being sarcastic, right?”

“No, she—the dress is fine. You look nice.”

Jyn blinks at him, a little surprised, and really, it’s not like he never compliments her. Of course, caught wrong-footed like that, he immediately tries to backtrack. “I mean, it’s a little 90s, but that’s in again, apparently, so you’re good.”

“90s?” she asks, looking slightly insulted. “How is it 90s?”

“I don’t know, it’s just…black and plain. The neckline is kind of…you know…”

“I clearly do not! Didn’t you just say it was fine?”

“It is! There’s nothing wrong with the 90s! It’s not your actual prom dress, is it?”

Jyn gives him a withering look. “No, Cassian, it is not. I didn’t go to prom in the 90s, for one thing. I was in high school in the 2000s.”

“Close enough.”

“And I didn’t go to prom at all for what it’s worth.”

“You didn’t go to prom?”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t look at him. “Does that really surprise you?”

“Did no one ask you?”

She turns on him then. “Why is that your first thought?!”

“Because you said—I meant, because that would surprise me!”

“Sure!”

“I’m serious. I would be shocked, if that was the reason.”

“The reason was I thought dances were stupid and my uncle would have told me it was stupid and my boyfriend was older, so—”

“Ah, makes sense.”

“Don’t—it wasn’t like that.”

“Sounds like it was exactly like that.”

“It wasn’t—he was a nice guy. He would have gone, if I’d asked.”

“But you wanted to smoke weed and pretend to like the movie Fight Club in his basement instead.”

Jyn rolls her eyes again, but he can see she’s also fighting off a smile. “Something like that. Anyway, that was junior year and then…well, I dropped out, so I obviously couldn’t go to my senior prom.”

“I didn’t know that,” Cassian says. “You got your GED instead?”

“Yeah, after a year or two of fucking around and doing nothing with my life, I decided having a high school diploma and maybe a college education might be useful.”

“And boy were you wrong.”

She laughs. “Don’t tell the kids.”

“It’s part of my oath as their guidance counselor, don’t worry.”

“What about you? Did you do the whole prom thing when you were in school?”

Cassian shifts uncomfortably, checking to make sure none of their students are in earshot. “Uh, yeah, you could say that,” he says, once he’s satisfied they won’t be overheard. “I had kind of the typical prom experience, I guess.”

“I genuinely have no idea what that means.”

“It means, I was eighteen when I went to my prom, so I did the whole ‘rent a hotel room afterwards and get laid’ thing with my…girlfriend.”

Jyn covers her mouth with her hands, clearly hiding a laugh. “You did not!”

“I did,” he replies, cringing. “I’m not proud.”

“Is that where the healthy pause before ‘girlfriend’ came from? Shame?”

“It’s…we…” Cassian laughs. It’s been almost twenty years and he still doesn’t know how to explain his relationship with Bix to other people. It would almost be easier if they weren’t still friends, because then he could call her an ex and be done with it. He’s glad they’re still friends, for what it’s worth, it’s just so much more complicated to explain. “She wasn’t exactly my girlfriend.”

“Oh, no…”

“She was my best friend. She still is—one of them, at least.”

“Oh.”

“We went to prom together because, well, no one else asked either of us. And we decided to get a hotel room after because we were eighteen and no one could stop us and we wanted to…”

“Yeah, uh, I know what you wanted to do,” Jyn says, amused.

“It was one of those ‘let’s just get it over with, together’ kind of deals,” he says, feeling hot with embarrassment over his younger self’s antics. Everything feels so urgent and intense when you’re young, but that somehow fades with age. And he admits that even as an adult who’s still frequently urgent and intense. “It seemed like the best way to handle it, at the time.”

“So, you’re telling me that this was…your first time?”

Cassian nods.

“At prom?!”

“After prom! It’s not as bad!”

“By a very slim margin,” Jyn says, clearly taking pity on him. After a moment, she adds, “You said you and this girl are still close?”

“Yeah, we’re still friends. We tried to date afterwards, because it turned out we liked hooking up, but it wasn’t—we worked better as friends, ultimately. We’re still friends. I went to her wedding last year. I mean, I was in it, but that’s because I know her husband too.”

“Wait, Brasso’s wedding?” Jyn asks. He’d shown her and some of the staff pictures after he came back, he’s just now remembering. “You dated Brasso’s wife in high school?!”

“It was obviously before they knew each other. I mean, I introduced them, so…”

“That’s so weird.”

“It’s not that weird.”

“I just don’t have any exes I’m close with still,” she says, shaking her head. “Not close enough to be in their wedding. I mean, goddamn.”

“Bix is barely an ex-girlfriend, at this point. She’s like family.”

“Wow.”

“I’m guessing things didn’t end well with Fight Club guy?” Cassian asks.

“Technically, I think I was the Fight Club guy in that relationship,” she says, with a laugh. “And no, things didn’t end well.”

“Not something you like talking about, I gather.”

“Not really,” she says, looking far-off and sad. It’s possible there are tears in her eyes, or maybe it’s just a trick of the strobing lights coming from the DJ’s booth. “Not at prom, at least,” she adds, with a weak smile.

He smiles back. “Well, I’d offer to dance with you, to help give you the prom experience you never had, but all of these kids have cell phones and a video of us would for sure end up on the internet, which we should probably avoid.”

“Scared of going viral on TikTok with me?” she asks.

“Deeply, deeply scared, yes,” he says, putting his hand on his heart. “My worst nightmare is ending up on Good Morning America being interviewed about a heartwarming video of me that I didn’t know was being taken.”

“But maybe if we got famous, random people would buy supplies for our classrooms,” Jyn says, her enthusiasm clearly faked if the devilish glint in her eye is any indication.

“I’m a guidance counselor,” he says. “I don’t need supplies. I need someone to burn the College Board to the ground.”

“With enough followers on TikTok, we could probably make that happen.”

“Sounds like someone really wants to dance with me,” he quips.

“Well, it might be my last chance.”

The song changes then, to a chorus of coos from a group of students at the edge of the dance floor nearby, and Jyn laughs. Cassian, meanwhile, is sweating. He suspected that a few people knew he was interviewing at another school, but he didn’t want to bring it up to anyone until he was sure of his plans, one way or another. But, apparently, Jyn knows.

“Tell me you at least know who this is,” she says, pointing up to indicate she means the song that’s playing.

“I’ve never heard this song in my life,” he admits, a little breathlessly.

“But you recognize the singer?” she asks. Cassian shakes his head, and she laughs again. “How do you work in a high school and not know who Taylor Swift is?”

“I know who she is,” he objects. “I just don’t recognize her singing voice immediately, I guess.”

“I forgot. You sit in your windowless office and listen to Creed all day.”

“You caught me listening to Creed one time! It is not a habit.”

“Well,” Jyn starts to say, before pausing abruptly as two students pass in front of them. “Hold on, was that—?”

“Hey, guys,” Cassian calls, immediately, and the two boys stop in their tracks. “You’re not allowed to have that here. Hand it over.”

The students clearly take a moment to debate the merits of complying with this order, before one of them reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a flask. He hands it to Cassian with a mumbled apology, which he accepts with a nod and waves them back to the dance. Cassian flips the top open, and tips it in Jyn’s direction.

She sniffs it. “Peach schnapps,” she says. “Classic.”

Cassian retrieves his walkie-talkie. “Got another flask for the count,” he says. “Not sure if it goes to me or Jyn, though.”

“A group effort?” Bodhi asks. “Unheard of.”

“Half a point each?” Jyn suggests.

“I’ll give you each a full point for it,” Chirrut replies. “But please know your spirit of bipartisanship disgusts me to my core.”

“Noted,” Jyn says into her radio. To him, she says, “We should probably spread out. For actual security reasons, but mostly because I refuse to share a medal with you at the end of this thing.”

“Firstly, it’s a secondhand karate trophy for the top prize—”

“Okay, well, now I want it even more, so…”

“Secondly, you’re never going to tie me, let alone beat me—”

“Your confidence will be your downfall, Andor.”

“And lastly, who, uh…who told you I was interviewing for another job?”

She pauses at that, and looks him over. “Mon let it slip,” she says, after much consideration. “It was an accident, she didn’t mean to—”

Cassian waves away her explanation. “I’m sure,” he says. “I’m not upset.”

“She was ranting to me and Bodhi about something to do with the school board and—”

“So, you and Bodhi both know?”

Jyn winces. “Uh, yeah.”

“And Baze knows because I thought it was only fair that I told him I was looking for other jobs…”

“Which means Chirrut knows,” she says, and he laughs. “And I’m sure you told Kay.”

“Yeah, so that….is a lot of people,” Cassian says, weakly.

“It’s not like we’re going to judge you if you don’t get it.”

“I—why would you assume I won’t get the job?”

She blinks, caught off guard. “I don’t! That’s not what I meant. You probably will, but on the off chance you don’t.”

“They made me an offer,” he admits, and watches her deflate.

“Oh,” she says. “Well, then, congratulations?”

“I haven’t accepted yet,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous tic. “They’re going to call me on Monday, so I have until then to decide.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say?”

“Not yet. I’m still…thinking.”

“That’s not like you,” she says, crossing her arms. “You usually have your mind made up on stuff right away. You’re not a ‘last minute’ kind of guy.”

“Well, I’m glad you know what kind of guy I am,” he replies, feeling oddly adversarial. She doesn’t mean anything by it, but still. He doesn’t like hearing himself described as though he’s so predictable.

“Okay,” Jyn says, putting her hands up in surrender. “You don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t know me like that.”

She blinks for a moment at that before she schools her expression into something more neutral. “You’re right,” she says. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’re going to do, and you probably won’t even tell me once you decide. You’ll let Mon, or Baze, or whoever, do that, instead.”

“That’s not—!”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” she says. “I’m just your co-worker, not your friend, I guess.”

“Jyn…”

“We need to split up, cover more ground.”

He thinks about trying to stop her, but then it would just be a big scene involving two chaperones at prom, which the students would find endlessly intriguing. He doesn’t want to draw that kind of attention, so he nods, solemnly, like this is all very important, and lets her go. Still, he can’t help it that he spends the rest of the night trying to spot her in the crowd as much as he does any actual chaperoning.

“The winner of the 3rd Annual Yavin High Senior Prom Flask-athalon–”

“I knew that would catch on,” Jyn interrupts, smugly.

“It’s the only choice,” Bodhi says, grinning.

“Please shut up so we can all go home,” Baze grumbles.

“Yes, listen to your undefeated flask hunting champion, Baze Malbus!” Chirrut announces, with great flair, as he hands over the trophy, which, even in the dim lighting of the parking lot, Cassian can clearly read that the inscription says 'Under 12 Judo Champion'. “Congratulations, my dear!”

“Thank you so much,” Baze says, drily, as he accepts his prize unenthusiastically.

“This is so rigged,” Jyn puts in from the other side of the group. “Baze wins every year.”

“Baze is good at catching teens drinking illegally, I don’t know what to tell you!”

“It’s true,” Baze adds. “It’s on my resume.”

“You know, that would be so weird for any other job,” Bodhi replies.

“Well, I wish I could give you all trophies for your hard work this evening, but then you wouldn’t learn any important lessons about teamwork or whatever it is that conservatives get mad about when the topic of participation trophies comes up,” Chirrut says, mildly.

“Kids these days,” Jyn says, mockingly shaking her fist. “Not enough of them hate themselves!”

“It’s important to experience as much crushing disappointment and embarrassment as possible before you get out into the real world,” Cassian agrees.

“And experience even more disappointment and embarrassment!” Bodhi adds. “While also paying taxes!”

“Also, there are only so many leftover trophies I can steal from the dojo before they’d notice and fire me,” Chirrut says.

“On that bright note,” Baze interjects, “let’s all go home. It’s been a long night and absolutely none of us are getting paid any extra to spend more time together.”

“Beautiful sentiment as always, Baze,” Jyn says.

“Thank you again for all your hard work!” Chirrut says, even as Baze grabs him by the elbow and starts gently towing him away in the direction of their car. “Our students are very lucky to have such dedicated teachers and counselors!”

“Thank you, Chirrut!” Bodhi calls after them.

“Drive safe, everybody!” Baze calls over his shoulder once Chirrut stops fighting him and laces their fingers together instead for the short walk.

“Night, guys,” Bodhi says to Jyn and Cassian before he starts to head off towards his own car.

“Goodnight, Bodhi,” Jyn replies, while Cassian waves him off.

The parking lot is empty except for their cars at this hour. They’d all met at the school and made the ride to the venue together, that way no one could call out of chaperone duty with car trouble or anything last minute like that. Probably there was some team-building aspect, too, but Cassian suspects the former was the primary motivation. Now, it’s creeping up to midnight and all the students have moved on to their afterparties and bonfires and whatever else, while the venue staff has streamers to clean up and tables to clear, and the chaperones are all heading home after a very long day.

It had rained briefly while the prom was going on, though it had thankfully waited until everyone was already at the venue to do so, which means no one’s photos or hair was likely ruined by it. The hazy humidity that had hung around all day was now replaced by a damp chill and a light breeze. The condensation glitters like jewels on the few cars in the lot and their dewy windows glow green as the streetlights reflect off of them. The wet ground blares with streaks of red light as Baze’s car starts up and his brake lights come on.

“Where’d you park?” Cassian asks Jyn, who’s still standing there, rooting around in her bag for her car keys.

“Oh,” she says, as if she wasn’t expecting him to address her. “Over there, by the auditorium.”

“Me too,” he says, nodding. “I’ll walk you.”

Having successfully retrieved her keys, Jyn brushes this off. “You don’t have to.”

“It’ll give me a chance to apologize.”

“It’s not that long of a walk.”

“I’ll talk fast,” Cassian replies, and holds out his arm as if to say, after you.

Jyn takes the hint and starts walking, allowing him to fall into step next to her.

“I’m sorry about what I said before, about you not knowing me very well. I didn’t mean to imply we aren’t friends, or that I don’t value your opinions, or anything like that,” he says, letting it all go like an exhale, because otherwise he won’t get the words out at all. “The problem is that I think you know me a little too well sometimes, and it honestly freaks me out. And tonight, you said the exact thing I was already worried about out loud, so I just panicked and tried to push you away.”

“The thing I said about waiting until the last minute really upset you that much?” Jyn asks, arms crossed over her chest. It takes him a second to realize it’s probably because she’s cold, and not because she’s mad at him. He starts to take off his suit jacket, but she stops him with a glare. “God, don’t.”

“You look cold.”

“I am cold, but my car is twenty yards away. I’ll live.”

“Fine.”

“Answer my question.”

Cassian stuffs his hands in his pockets just to have something to do with them. “Yes, it did upset me to hear that. I’ve been annoyed with myself about the same thing and I hated that it was obvious to you too.”

“Well, then, I guess I’m sorry too,” she says, earnestly. “I wasn’t judging you or anything, and I wasn’t trying to make you upset.”

“I know that. And thank you. I just—I can’t make up my mind what I want to do, and it’s very frustrating.”

“Do you think talking about it would help?”

“I’m not sure. The logical part of my brain is telling me to go, to take the new job. It’s more money, I’d be the head of the department in a better funded school. And while I love it here, unless Baze retires—”

“Which he won’t. At least, not for a long time.”

“Exactly, but still, that’s the only way I can move up and make more money. Unless I go to another school.”

“I get it,” Jyn says, and it sounds like she means it. “Those are valid considerations.”

“But I really do love it here,” Cassian objects. “I love the students, and I love the staff. I love working with all of you.”

“Yeah, and I bet all the teachers at that new school fucking suck,” she adds, with a malicious glint in her eye.

“I mean, what are the chances they do a yearly Flask-athalon at their prom?”

“It’s extremely unlikely,” Jyn says, somber now, “and if they do, they owe me and Chirrut royalties.”

“So, you see my dilemma?”

“I do. And I accept your apology, for what it’s worth. I didn’t know I’d be bringing up such a fraught subject for you. I would have been more careful, if I’d known.”

They arrive at Jyn’s car then and Cassian has to laugh at finding it parked one spot away from his own. The parking lot had been full when he got here, with a lot of underclassmen still around for extracurriculars and team practices and faculty staying late to do work, so he just picked the first spot he found. He hadn’t even noticed her car there, because someone had been parked between them. Now there’s just an empty space, where they stop to finish their conversation.

“It’s really fine,” he says, as he looks over at her. “I overreacted.”

Jyn shrugs one shoulder up to her ear, still looking cold in a way he finds provoking. He really wishes she’d just take his jacket. “It’s a big decision.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You know you won’t get rid of us just by going to another school, right?”

“Yes, but we’ll all see each other a lot less,” he says. “And you know how these things go. We’ll promise to stay in touch, or to get drinks, or just to see each other regularly, but we won’t. We’ll drift apart, sooner or later.”

“So, don’t take the job,” Jyn says, watching him carefully.

“What about all that other stuff–the money and the promotion and everything?”

“Who cares?” she says and he laughs, hopelessly. “I’m serious! If you were actually that motivated by money, you wouldn’t work in a public school. You wouldn’t have even gone to school for counseling, for that matter. So, turn it down.”

“But doesn’t that make me…kind of…?”

“Kind of what?”

“I don’t know! Ridiculous? Sentimental? Turning down more money to stay with my friends?”

“Again, I ask you: who cares?”

“Well, I fancy myself a very cool, detached person.”

Jyn snorts. “You?”

He frowns at her. “Yes, me! You don’t think I’m cool and detached?”

“No,” she says, “not at all. Are you crazy? You’re the least cool person I know!”

“Wow, thank you.”

“I mean, not that you’re not cool like—I’m saying you’re not too cool for anything, you know? Like, you care so much about everything! Even dumb bullshit that no one else can be bothered to even pay attention to, you care about it! I don’t know how you do it. I’m an art teacher, I’m supposed to be all passionate all the time, and I still feel like a robot compared to you. It must be exhausting to care so much.”

“That’s your impression of me?” Cassian asks, a little bowled over.

“I meant all of that as a compliment,” Jyn says, looking nervous. “And I didn’t mean to go on and on about it, I just—you assume everyone is like you, that they’re as good as you and they care as much, and I sometimes think you don’t see that you’re special. It’s the best thing about you, how much you care.”

“And I thought the best thing about me was my eyes,” he responds, weakly.

“Well, you do have nice eyes, that’s true,” she says, looking down at her shoes.

“I do have another reason—a selfish one—for thinking of accepting the new job.”

“What’s that?”

“I think that if there was someone here—someone on the faculty here, I mean—that I maybe wanted to date, it would possibly be less weird for us if I worked at a different school,” he answers, with his heart in his throat.

“Oh,” Jyn says, still not meeting his eye. Her foot scuffs back and forth on the pavement anxiously. “I guess, in that case, you would probably want to be sure that this person is actually interested in you before you make any huge life decisions with her—I mean, them—in mind.”

“I’m pretty sure she is interested in me too.”

“How do you know?”

“She just told me I have nice eyes,” he says.

Jyn looks at him then, her gaze lifting to his face suddenly as she narrows her eyes. “Seriously? How long have you—?”

It doesn’t take much effort—two steps, really—to get close enough to draw her into his arms and kiss her like he’s been wanting to basically since the day she started at the school. She makes a surprised noise that’s immediately muffled by their mouths coming together and then it’s just them kissing. Finally. And it’s every bit as good as he imagined it would be, with her kissing back with as much intensity as he’d expect from the person who loves to give him hell on a daily basis. Her arms come to wrap around his neck, dragging him down to her level, and his clasp around her lower back, desperately trying to afford them some stability in this position.

“The others are gone, right?” she asks, more or less against his mouth.

“Uh…” He turns his head, peering across the parking lot, which gives Jyn access to his jaw and his neck and he’s not mad about it, though it does make thinking straight more difficult than usual. He doesn’t see any other cars left. “I think it’s just us.”

“Good,” Jyn says, and pulls him with her by his shirt until her back hits the side of her car. Once settled there, she leans up for another kiss, and he has to brace himself against the door to stay standing. The condensation from the window wets his palm and makes him shiver, which makes Jyn laugh. He doesn’t bother explaining, since he’s not sure he could convince her that it has nothing to do with kissing her.

They make out like idiots, in the parking lot of the school they work at, where anyone could see them, for an inadvisably long time. By the time they come up for air, he has thoroughly ruined Jyn’s hair, the straps of her dress are hanging loosely off her shoulders, and anyone who looked at her would know she’d been doing some very serious kissing. Cassian is sure he’s looking equally disarrayed. Despite them being pressed closely together, he can feel the goosebumps rising on her skin and chafes her arms with his hands to warm them.

“How long?” she asks, softly, wearing an amused smile that might be at his attempt at gallantry or something else entirely. When he gives her a questioning look in response, she adds. “How long have you wanted to do that?”

Cassian pretends to think about it. “How long have you worked here?”

“Two years.”

“There’s your answer.”

“Really?” Jyn asks, astonished somehow. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”

“You made me nervous,” he says, still caressing her arms. “You still make me nervous.”

She loops her arms around his middle now, pressing them together in a way that feels very dangerous in a school parking lot. He clears his throat in the most obvious fashion imaginable and she gives him a knowing smile.

“That’s not the only thing you make me, for what it’s worth,” he points out.

“I gathered as much,” she says, pleased with herself.

He raises a hand to cup her cheek, drawing his thumb gently over the corner of her mouth. “You know, a nice person would say something about how I make them feel, at this point in the conversation.”

“You already got a whole speech about how passionate and sexy you are,” she objects. “Don’t be greedy.”

“I don’t think the word ‘sexy’ came up in that little speech of yours, actually. Could you maybe elaborate on that?”

Jyn shakes her head before she leans in to kiss him again, this time trading their earlier desperation for a slower pace. “Not here,” she says, once she’s drawn him in again. “Not to be corny, but my place or yours?”

“Whichever’s closer,” he says, immediately.

She laughs and bites her lip to try to hide it, which is very distracting. “Good answer. I think that’s me, then.”

“I’ll follow you,” Cassian replies, with a nod towards his own car.

“You don’t want to just ride over with me?”

“I don’t want to park here overnight, and I do not trust myself in a car alone with you right now.”

“It’s a five minute drive,” she says, unimpressed.

“I could get into a lot of trouble in five minutes.”

“Okay, then,” she says, with a gusty sigh. “You might have to put your money where your mouth is on that one.”

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to put my mouth lots of places.”

“Idiot,” she laughs, swatting his arm. “Let’s go, then. I’m freezing and I’m wet.”

“You’re—well, that’s—oh, from the car! And the condensation…from the rain.”

“Wow,” Jyn says. “That was so smooth.”

Cassian laughs, and hangs his head. “In my defense, I—”

“Yes?”

He looks down at her, looking a little flushed and mussed up and still utterly defiant and perfect. “I just can’t believe it took me this long to get here,” he admits, even though it’s a stupid and besotted thing to say.

Jyn gives him an endearingly sweet smile. “And I can’t believe I’m going to hook up with you after prom. I mean, what a cliché!”

“I did offer to give you the prom experience you never had,” he says, with a laugh. “Besides, some things are cliché for a reason.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, gazing up at him. “Why’s that?”

He thinks about all the stories he’s heard about love at first sight. He thinks about all the couples he’s heard say they’re in love with their best friend. He thinks about everyone who’s said that, when you’re with The One, you just know. He thinks about every piece of dating advice that told him to find someone who makes him laugh. And he thinks about happily ever after.

“Because they seem stupid until they happen to you,” he says, simply.

Jyn doesn’t bother saying she agrees. She just pulls him in for another kiss.

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