"So, Mom, did you like it."
"Oh sure," she smiled stiffly.
"Really? The ending wasn't too weird?"
"Nope," she looked awkwardly from side to side, "but… you realize these people are dead, right?"
He was a man of routine. He liked devising schedules and sticking to them. That's why, after injuries had been dealt with and inventory had been taken, he stalked off to the lavatory without thinking.
He stared at his reflection- dark shadows beneath his eyes and a bruise above his left temple. Then he glanced at the razor perched on the edge of the sink until slowly- very slowly- he looked down at his left arm, cradled against his chest in a sling.
"Blasted," he muttered.
Normally this wouldn't be a problem- he's ambidextrous- except his right hand was covered from fingertip to wrist with bandages.
"Blast-"
The door hissed open, making him jump. Jyn stood with her arms crossed over her chest, all sharp edges and grit, except for her eyes. Her eyes were soft and expectant, like she was waiting for permission to come in.
"Need a hand?" she asked frankly because she already knew the answer.
His lips formed around a question but she beat him to it, "You shave every third day." She nodded to his useless hands, "Don't want you mauling yourself."
He blinked at her, mute, and she raised a challenging eyebrow. Heat flooded his cheeks and he wasn't sure if he was embarrassed for being so predictable or flustered because she was paying attention. The silence crept on for a beat too long.
"Alright," he sighed, unable to find a legitimate reason for her to leave.
Because I feel like a child. Because it's embarrassing. Because you have no idea what your touch does to me.
He backed up and perched himself on the edge of the toilet while she slipped into the lavatory. His stomach flipped when the door slid closed, suddenly aware of how small the space was. Jyn appeared unperturbed, fetching a towel and shaving gel from the cupboard beside the washbasin.
Cassian watched every movement, heart racing. He couldn't explain why he felt so nervous, which only made him feel worse. He was annoyed at his own ridiculousness.
"Have you made contact with Zanik, yet?" he asked tightly, desperate for distraction.
His injuries had prevented him from accompanying his team into the city- that is, Jyn refused to let him come, K2 supported her ("Your odds of surviving drop 57% without full use of your hands"), and Baze tipped the majority vote by agreeing with Chirrut. Thus he'd remained on the ship and offered Bodhi what little assistance he could.
"No." Jyn huffed, bringing a wet cloth to his face.
He had to consciously tell his body not to freeze, order his lungs to keep breathing.
"The west side of the city's a waste of time, obviously." she dabbed two fingers into the shaving gel, staring at it briefly with a childlike fascination before spreading it over his jaw, "He wouldn't have made it this long with the level of Imperial activity going on there."
He tried to focus on her words and analyze what they meant, but it was impossible with her face so close to his- her fingers like a gentle flame against his skin.
She wiped the gel from her hands and reached for the razor. A weird sensation spurred in his chest. She'd left his upper lip completely alone.
Does she like the mustache?
He violently shoved the thought away, realizing that she was still speaking.
"Baze and Chirrut didn't have any luck in the south." she held the razor to his cheek, "Neither did I on the east side, but K2 thinks he found-"
"Wait," he said, mind clearing in an instant, "you investigated the east quadrant alone?"
"Hold still!" she griped, leveling him with a fiery glare.
He didn't want to let it drop- he's told K2 a thousand times to have her back if Cassian isn't there himself- but since she was the one with a blade at his throat, he kept quiet.
Jyn's face was tense, now, but her hands were feather-light. It was such a stark contrast to her usual abrasiveness. Cassian knew only the members of Rogue One had ever seen it, maybe because they're the only ones who cared to look.
Eventually he was able to push past his unwound nerves and study her up close. Stars, and he thought she was disarming at a distance.
Her eyes were a color he thought belonged to an ancient world- green and blue with a sheen of gold. They were focused and clear, primal. They told him no matter where she was, no matter what she was doing, she would never be tamed. His wild star.
His wild star?
Where was K2 when he needed a good strike to the head?
He was descending quickly into an ocean of self-loathing when he felt her eyes- her wild, beautiful eyes- lock onto his.
"What is it?" she furrowed her brows at him.
Cassian's stomach leaped into his throat, "What do you mean?"
Jyn rolled her eyes, like he should feel ashamed for thinking she wouldn't be able to read his mind.
"You're thinking about something." she said, wiping the razor on the towel.
"I'm always thinking about something."
Why is she so damn observant?
"You're thinking about something troubling."
"I'm always thinking about something troubling."
Jyn pushed her lips together in a bloodless line, murdering him with her gaze. Cassian steeled his expression and swallowed the tension in his throat.
Her pupils danced back and forth, no doubt absorbing more information than he knew he was giving. Her eyes narrowed. She'd found it, whatever she'd been looking for. Then, much to his surprise, a blush spread over her cheeks.
Without a word, she continued working over his jaw, avoiding his gaze like she was compelled by polarity. He thought maybe he'd been mistaken, but no. The blush was real, bright red creeping down her neck. Jyn Erso was blushing. Because of him?
Don't be daft. She can read you like an open book.
Cassian was always thinking about something. Something troubling. Something with an iron will and exotic eyes. And Jyn knew it, or at least she was starting to.
The smile that spread over his face was unwarranted, but he couldn't help it. He should be mortified, but that blush on her skin filled him with some child-like glee that he hadn't experienced in a long time.
Jyn stopped, stepping back far enough to stare at him apprehensively.
"What?" she demanded.
His grin broadened.
You know exactly what.
Jyn squared her shoulders, receiving his challenge, "Stop smiling at me."
He let his face fall, but his eyes were still wide and teasing. She quickened her pace and Cassian was a little worried she was actually going to cut him.
"There." she huffed, bringing the clean side of the towel to his face.
So flustered, he thought in disbelief. He was enjoying this far too much.
Jyn threw the towel down the laundry shoot and set the razor back on the edge of the sink. She spun on her heal to leave, but Cassian stopped her.
"Jyn." she froze then slowly turned around.
Rising to his feet, the captain offered her his best smile, feeling slightly tipsy with courage.
"How do I look?"
Her expression didn't waver but the heat in her cheeks intensified.
"Hopeless." she muttered and disappeared down the corridor.
Her bashfulness didn't stop her from coming back three days later, and every three days until Cassian's hand was healed. Even then their escapade continued like clockwork. Because Cassian liked routines, and Jyn liked Cassian. It wasn't a hard protocol to follow.
Do spaceships have laundry shoots? These are questions that keep me up at night.
Thank you so much for reading!