Author's Note: This story is set after The Trading of Valuable Information and it is basically just Jyn and Cassian banging and being in love and being broken. This wasn't initially planned and I wrote it in a hurry so I apologise for how shitty it turned out to be, guys.

guineapiggie - Your comment that there should be a transition piece gave me this. You said that you're a "prude" so this story starts out with a badly written, mildly smutty scene because I am evil. :)

Reviews are (almost) better than the Rogue One Blu-Ray with deleted scenes. So please leave one if you can. Happy reading!

What did my arms do before they held you?

Sylvia Plath

Jyn is (almost) embarrassed by how easily she gets turned on by him.

It can take the simplest things - the brush of a hand, a look from across a crowded room, the shape of his lips when they quirk up into a smile whenever he sees her. It is intoxicating, the way he can just read her with only a touch or a glance. The way his eyes roam her face and her body like he can never, ever get enough.

It is almost too much sometimes. The want. The need. The way her heart and her whole body gravitate to him as though they are magnets.

What's worse is the ache inside her chest every time he looks at her. It is not just lust. It is something tender, stranger, warmer. Like home and happiness and a life that she doesn't dare let herself believe she deserves.

She could live with it if it were only either lust or comfort. One, not both together. But now it has turned into everything. Everything that she could ever feel. All wrapped up in him.

A bloody inconvenience, she calls the situation. An unexpected, infuriating bloody inconvenience.

"I don't think this is healthy," she says, looking up at him, biting her lips to keep herself from panting aloud. He is above her, twisting his hands into the fabric of his shirt and pulling it off and over his head. There is a wry, teasing smile on his lips, and she can't help but grind up to him wantonly. "Hurry up, detective."

"I thought you wanted me to take my time," he quips. He brings his mouth to her neck and sucks at the soft flesh there, making her moan. "I think 'taking it slow' were the words you used."

"I was - I was trying to be good."

"Well, you're being good to me now."

He smirks against her skin. She feels the scratchiness of his beard as he trails his lips down to her breasts and then swirls his tongue around a nipple. She bucks up to him, practically keening out his name.

He is not just a bloody inconvenience anymore, but a bloody inconvenience that she can't quite quit.

"Cassian, I swear to god - "

"Let's not bring god into this." He brings his lips back up to nip at hers. His hand is travelling down to her naked stomach, making her shiver. "I'm in enough trouble with him as it is."

"Why are your trousers still on?" she pants through choked back laughter. She wraps her legs around his middle and try to use her feet to push down the abominable piece of clothing. "Off. Now."

He smiles down at her, his eyes shining with amusement.

"Jyn, honey, I'm trying to make it good for you."

Honey.

She has never been anyone's 'honey' before. At least, not in this way. The word makes her pulse quicken and she presses a quick, harsh kiss to his lips.

"What's good for me is to have you inside me," she says, reaching down and grabbing him through the fabric. He bucks into her hand, making her grin. "Come on. Don't be shy."

"Shy?" He nearly laughs at her. "You're not the only one with games, Jyn."

His hand finds hers and lifts it above her head. Then his fingers come back down pass her neck, between her breasts and to the apex of her thighs. He finds her already wet for him and he wastes no time in pressing circles to her clit, drawing out a long, luscious moan from her lips.

Fuck.

"You're so beautiful, Jyn," he whispers, his voice husky and rough.

She shivers even more. It is not only because his fingers are slipping inside her or because his other hand is kneading at her breast. It is the way he is looking down at her, his usually hard, dark eyes now soft with want. He doesn't look at anyone else like this. Just her. The knowledge makes her afraid, but it also makes her heart close to bursting.

There are tears stinging her eyes. But she would rather have him think that they are tears of want - of needing him closer somehow - rather than have him know the truth.

"Cassian, I take it back," she says and brings a hand to cup his flushed cheek. "I don't want to wait any longer. I want you. Now."

Her words make him groan and the teasing spark in his eyes is immediately extinguished, replaced by a desperate look that sends tingles down her spine. She feels the loss of his fingers when he pulls them out. Both of them are half-panting, half-kissing as they rid him of his trousers and his underwear, and then it is she who takes his hardness in hand and lines it at her entrance.

His mouth is on hers when he whispers: "Jyn, wait - "

"Are you serious?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this now."

"Then don't," she says, pulling on his bottom lip with her teeth. "Save it for later." Or not at all.

"I just…" He holds her gaze, the second seeming to drag on forever even though they are both tethering on the edge. "I need you to know that these last few months have been the happiest of my life."

Her breath hitches in her throat. "Cassian, I - "

"I'm not expecting you to - "

"They have been the happiest of my life too," she says, and a broken, horrible laugh escapes her.

She shouldn't have said it, but he has said it first, and now it is out there, floating and twisting and existing in the air between them.

She winds a hand through his hair, pulling him closer. (But it is not enough. Not nearly enough.)

"I'm sorry," she says. Her fingers come back down to his lips and linger there. He kisses them. And the way he does it - like it is out of habit and familiarity - makes holding back her tears even harder.

"Jyn," he asks softly, frowning, "what do you have to be sorry for?"

"For meeting you. For being here, at home, when they came to arrest me and take me to the precinct. If I had run faster or if I hadn't been home at all, then we wouldn't have met."

His eyes cloud over a little, but he doesn't look away. "You wish we hadn't met?"

"I wish…" Her hand moves to caress his cheek and he leans into her touch, making her heart ache terribly. "I don't know what I wish. We are not good at this. Well, we are good at fucking, I can give us that…" He laughs a little and she can't help but smile along. Her thumb begins rubbing circles on his skin. "But I think we are pretty rubbish at everything else."

"Jyn, we don't have to figure everything out today," he whispers kindly. Sadly. He turns his head to kiss her wrist. "We have time."

She is not particularly good at catching out his lies, but she suspects that he might be telling one right now. But of course, she is too much of a coward to contradict him and she doesn't want to. Not with this lie. Not at this moment.

Again. An infuriating inconvenience.

She forces herself to shake her head and smile. She drops her hand to his naked back and pulls him up closer to her.

"Then let's get on with it, detective."

His smile returns and he pushes into her, making her gasp and claw at his back. He doesn't look away, his eyes never leaving hers, and she can only moan out his name as he pushes in deeper and deeper until a scream is on the edge of her tongue.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Then, suddenly, as if from very far away, she hears the sound of a key turning in the lock. Then -

"Jyn? Are you home?"

Fuck.

Cassian stops moving inside her immediately. His lips thin into a hard line, the colour draining from his face as he whispers with a hint of panic in his voice: "I thought you said he's at work."

"He's supposed to be," she hisses back. "I didn't know - "

"Jyn?" Bodhi calls out again. They hear the sound of keys hitting the dining table. "You here?"

Jyn bites down on her bottom lip and curses under her breath. She sends Cassian an apologetic look before shouting out in the most normal voice that she can muster: "I'm in my room!"

"Sorry I'm intruding on your alone time and all." Bodhi is shuffling to the kitchen now. They hear him putting the kettle on. "But there's this new bloke at work. Messed up the circuits and fucked up the gig. So they sent us home."

"That - that's good."

"Yeah, well, I didn't realise - " A pause. The sound of cupboards opening and closing ceases altogether. Then - "Jyn, do you have a man in your room, by any chance?"

Jyn glances down at Cassian who is still trapped between her thighs, but glaring up at her furiously.

"Um…yes," she says, her lips twitching despite of the situation. "A man in my room and in me, so to speak."

Cassian groans in despair and there is a clanging from outside which suggests Bodhi has dropped the cup that he's been holding.

"For fuck's sake, Jyn," says Bodhi loudly. "I didn't need all the details!"

"Well, you asked!"

"I didn't ask - "

"Well, you said - "

"It's not bloody Han Solo, is it? Please tell me that it's not Han Solo."

Jyn feels the blood rush to her face. Cassian's eyes narrow and he whispers bitingly: "Han Solo? The smuggler?"

"We know each other from work," she hisses back. "You know, back when I was not a respectable bookseller? Us criminals had to stick together."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you had to fuck him."

"Who said I fucked him? I am trying to fuck you, in case you haven't been noticing."

"Jyn!" Bodhi yells out again, interrupting her and Cassian's hushed conversation. "I'm never one to pry, but if it's Han Solo, you can start finding a new flat mate right away."

"It is not Han Solo!" Jyn yells at the door. Her eyes return to Cassian's face and she hesitates. Her voice is softer, more serious, when she says: "It's Cassian."

They hear Bodhi pause in the kitchen. Then -

"Cassian? The detective who interrogated you for six hours a few months ago?"

"Um, yes. We…uh…we got on."

Bodhi scoffs. He is muttering to himself but they can still hear every word. "Got off, more like," he says.

Cassian groans again and rolls off of her before burying his face in her pillow.

"Well, I'm sorry to have interrupted…whatever you were doing," says Bodhi, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "I'm - I'm just glad that it's not Han Solo - "

"Can you stop bringing up that - "

"I'm just glad that it's not Han Solo," repeats Bodhi in a raised voice. "And now I am going to take my cup of tea, go into my room and read a book. With the music on. Very loud music."

She has to smother her laughter with her hand as Bodhi's footsteps retreat. Cassian only looks helplessly up at her, shaking his head with only a trace of a twinkle in his eyes.

A few hours later, Jyn strolls into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea and finds Bodhi sitting at the counter, idly flipping through a newspaper with a fresh cup of hot drink in his hand. He almost jumps when he sees her approaching.

"Bodhi - "

"Is it safe for me to be out here?"

"Of course it is," she answers, rolling her eyes. She opens a cupboard and takes out her usual cup. "This is our place, Bodhi."

"Not when you're using it to sleep with a detective," says Bodhi. He points to the stove. "And there's still hot water left in the kettle."

"You were supposed to be at work," says Jyn, grabbing the kettle and pouring water into her cup. "I only bring him around when you're not here. He lives alone so we go to his place most of the time."

"Jyn, is this…" She hears him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. When she turns around, he is looking at her carefully. "Jyn, is this serious?"

"Not at all," she replies quickly.

Bodhi's eyebrows lifted. "You may want to take a look at what you're wearing."

"What do you mean -" Her gaze slips down and she almost drops her tea. "Oh, bugger!"

Bodhi smirks into his cup. "Exactly."

In her haze and in the dim light of her room, she has climbed out of bed and pulled on the first thing that she found. Somehow, out of (quickly developed) habit, it was not her own shirt that she slipped into. It was his.

She glares down at the item of clothing as though it has deeply offended her.

"I didn't realise," she tells Bodhi, her voice strained. She does not dare meet her friend's eye - just takes another sip of tea. "It was dark and I was…well, I was…" But her brain cannot come up with a passable excuse. She gestures helplessly at the shirt and sighs. "Bodhi, I don't know what I'm doing."

"Well," says Bodhi slowly, his index finger tapping on his mug, "what's he like?"

To her surprise, she feels herself smiling when she answers: "He's a very good guy."

She sees astonishment flashes across Bodhi's expression. She knows that, for her, 'a very good guy' means more than what it means to most people. She could never thank Bodhi enough for not voicing the fact.

She tucks on the hem of Cassian's shirt. It smells like him, she thinks fleetingly, and the thought prods her to continue.

"He has a past though. Back in Mexico. Even here," she says carefully. "But I have a past too so I tell myself that it doesn't matter that he doesn't talk about his. And he seems to like me, for some mad reason."

"You are pretty likeable."

"I am not likeable," she scoffs. "I leave an impression, yes, but I am certainly not likeable."

"Jyn, please don't - "

"Jyn? Have you seen my shirt?"

They both turn to see Cassian standing in the door of Jyn's bedroom, his hair mussed, his eyes sleepy, wearing his jeans and a loose white undershirt. Right away, when he spots her, his eyes grow wide and she has to stop herself from gulping at the expression on his face.

Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

"I'm sorry, it was dark and I didn't…" She is blushing. She is pretty sure that she is blushing. "I'll go change."

"No," he says immediately. He, too, has a blush creeping up his cheeks. "No, I don't mind. Wear it."

It takes an awkward cough from Bodhi to break their eye contact.

"Hi," says Bodhi lamely, waving a hand at Cassian. "I'm Bodhi."

"Cassian."

He reaches over and they shake hands. Jyn can see Bodhi wincing at Cassian's strong grip.

"Yes. We've met. At the precinct the night you interrogated Jyn."

"Well, I'm sorry for intruding," says Cassian. His eyes dart awkwardly around their small kitchen and living room. "You have a nice place. I'll just get out of your hair and let you enjoy it."

"No, you should stay," says Bodhi quickly. He spares a glance at Jyn who is mouthing no while glaring at him. "We can order pizza and hang out."

"I don't think that's a good idea," says Cassian.

"It's a horrible idea," says Jyn.

"Come on. Let's not pretend that both of you don't have an appetite."

"Bodhi - "

"Jyn, I'm inviting Cassian. Not you. You already live here."

Jyn glowers at her friend. But there is a small smile tugging at Cassian's lips. He steps closer to her, and before she can prepare herself, plants a quick kiss on her lips. His hand lingers on her waist as he turns back to Bodhi and says: "Alright. Why not? I'll stay."

Now that Bodhi knows, Jyn feels as though everyone knows. Her neighbour whom she passes in the hallway. The man whom she sits next to on the bus on her way to work. Her colleagues at work. Even the woman selling hot dogs around the corner.

Chirrut and Baze, however, know for certain.

Baze, being Baze, hardly comments on the matter. When Jyn comes into their restaurant for her usual cup of coffee on a Thusrday morning, he simply smiles at her affectionately. Still, the sight is enough to make her grimace.

"Baze, please. I only want my coffee."

"I thought you'd be coming in on Saturdays now, Jyn," says Chirrut pleasantly. He is sitting in his usual seat, flipping through a newspaper despite his eyes. "Now that you and the detective are back together."

"We are not back together," says Jyn pointedly. "We have never been together."

"Ah. A young person's way of explaining 'casual dating'."

Jyn rolls her eyes. "Baze, help me out."

"I just take your orders and serve your food, little sister," says the Chinese man, his eyes twinkling. "I have no control over what that fool does or doesn't do."

"Can you at least tell him to keep that smug look off his face?"

"It is not a smug look, Jyn Erso," says Chirrut, smiling infuriatingly. "I am simply a happy man. And speaking of happiness, Baze and I have been talking."

"You have been talking," grumbles Baze.

"We have been talking and we would like to invite you and the detective over for a meal at this restaurant. All on the house."

"A meal?"

"Yes. Food, Jyn. Chinese food, which is the best food in the world. Peking duck. Dim sum. Noodles. Spare ribs. You and the detective are welcome to invite your friends."

"Is this a trick?"

"It is a friendly gesture. Tell her, Baze."

The bearded man sighs and says tonelessly: "It is a friendly gesture."

Jyn pauses. She has never had friends before. (The ones she had she'd lost so they do not count.) She has Bodhi, but that is just Bodhi. The idea of sitting down at a restaurant with Chirrut, Baze and Cassian…

"It is like we are a couple," she blurts out. "It is a couple's dinner."

"It is a friendly dinner," says Chirrut. "Tell her, Baze."

Again, Baze sighs and repeats tonelessly: "It is a friendly dinner."

"Well…"

"Speak to the detective," suggests Chirrut. "Then get back to us."

"Okay, well, I suppose…"

"Remember. A friendly dinner."

"It is not a friendly dinner," says Cassian, rolling his eyes. They are walking through the park, their arms around each other in a way that makes Jyn's heart clench. It is nice, she decides, but uncomfortable. They are still not used to being not serious. Or serious. Or whatever the hell they are. "It is definitely a couple's dinner."

"We are allowed to bring friends."

He smiles ironically. "Yes. Friends. Both of us have those in abundance."

"We should say no, shouldn't we? It's weird. What we are…doing…" His eyebrows lift up amusingly at her choice of word and she swats his arm lightly. "What we are doing together is none of their business."

"True." His hand moves from her shoulder to the curve of her waist. "But the food is good though."

"So good."

"And it's free."

She chuckles into the front of his shirt. "That's what Chirrut said. All free."

They walk in silence for a bit. The tired, sleepy Saturday morning swirls up a soft breeze which blows and tangles her hair. Gently, he brushes a lock away from her face and tugs her scarf more securely around her neck. Then, a soft peck of his lips on hers, and she finds herself whispering: "Maybe we should consider it."

"Maybe we should," he mutters and fails to sound miserable at the prospect. But then she sees a realisation dawning on his face and he curses under his breath in Spanish. "I'll have to be the one who invites Kay, won't I?"

"Oh yes, he'll be thrilled," says Jyn, smirking a little. "Having dinner with the ex-criminal whom he warned you against sleeping with? His idea of a perfect evening."

"Well, he likes that you're British. That's something, at least."

"My greatest accomplishment in life," she says dryly. "Being British."

He chuckles and pulls her in closer and she lets him.

He is, she is starting to realise, becoming indispensable to her. Although she does not know what to do with this piece of information just yet, she knows that she is at least passed the point of regarding him as an inconvenience.

Surprisingly, the dinner does not turn out as awkward as Jyn feared it would. Kay even manages to be pleasant; despite a slight jab at her shady past, he pours her tea and does not address her directly again.

To both her and Cassian's enormous relief, he gets on swimmingly with Chirrut, Baze and Bodhi.

"Let me guess," says Bodhi, frowning at Kay half-way through the meal. "Oxford."

"I'm insulted," says Kay, feigning offence. "Cambridge. Obviously."

"Ah. But I bet my right arm you're an Etonian."

Jyn sees Cassian smiling next to her. Kay, however, looks pointedly down the bridge of his nose at Bodhi.

"Should I be insulted by your tone?"

"Oh no, you shouldn't," says Bodhi hurriedly. "I was simply stating the obvious."

"Speaking of the obvious. Are you a Londoner then?"

"Born and bred. From the end of the Piccadilly Line."

"I do not like London. I find it too busy. Too chaotic."

"Huh. Interesting," says Bodhi, his meal all but forgotten for now. "I personally love it. The culture. The noise. The people. There's no place on earth quite like it."

The thinly-veiled pride in Bodhi's voice makes Jyn sad for a moment, thinking of all the different jobs Bodhi takes to save up for flight school. She misses England sometimes, but she knows that Bodhi misses it more. To her, England means loss and a broken family. But to Bodhi, despite everything that has happened, England is still home.

Jyn feels a slight touch on her hand. When she glances down, she sees Cassian lacing his fingers through hers. He is still looking straight ahead, smiling at Bodhi and Kay's conversation while Baze brings over another platter of peking duck.

He doesn't even need to look at her properly. It is like he already knows.

She smiles to herself, squeezes his hand back, and they end up holding hands under the table until Chirrut announces dessert.

Afterward, when she has said thank you to Baze and Chirrut for the dinner, Bodhi strolls over to her as she waits outside the restaurant. Cassian and Kay are still inside, with the latter engaging Chirrut in a lengthy conversation about his copy of The Art of War.

"We should do this again sometime," Bodhi tells Jyn as he leans against the traffic light by her side. "This was fun. It makes it seem as though I have more than one friend."

Bodhi's words make her wince and she wraps an arm around his shoulder. "I'm sorry things are hard here sometimes," she says.

"It's fine," he replies, shrugging nonchalantly. "I have you."

She snorts. "You have half of me. I'm a rubbish friend."

"You are my best friend," says Bodhi matter-of-factly, without any hint of sentiment. "It does not matter whether you're half or whole."

"That's very nice of you to say, Bodhi. Thank you."

She wants to pull him into an embrace to let him know how much she appreciates his unexplainable faith in her. But they are British after all. So she settles for a firm pat on his shoulder instead.

"Now, though," says Bodhi, "I think you're more whole than half."

"What do you mean?"

He smiles coyly. "Cassian."

She frowns. "Don't be a bastard, Bodhi."

"I'm not," he says and puts his arm around her shoulder in return. His gaze strays to the four figures inside the restaurant. "I think it's nice. Don't you?"

"Yes," she admits quietly. "I suppose it is."

She wakes up to his lips on her shoulder and his hand running up her thigh.

"Hey, you," he whispers, his breath hot against her skin.

"What time is it?" she mutters.

"Almost midnight."

"I fell asleep?"

"Well," he smirks, moving his mouth to her neck, "to be fair to you, we were very tired."

"What have you been doing in the mean time?"

"Reading. Researching. Making calls."

"For a case?"

"No." His fingers trail across her hip bone, his eyes gleaming up at her in the yellow light. "I have something to give you."

"Cassian, you don't have to give me anything."

"Oh, I do. The most romantic thing I have."

She scoffs, rolls her eyes, her own hand begins a path down his chest. "I can't tell if you're being sincere or if you're being dirty."

He chuckles. "Can't I be both?"

"That is extremely unfair," she almost whines.

His hand comes back up to caress her face and he leans in to capture her mouth with his. The kiss sends goosebumps up and down her body, makes her skin tingle like it has been lit on fire. She presses herself into him, wanting more, needing more. It doesn't matter that only a few hours ago she already had him, begging and pleading beneath her before they both found release.

"What's this romantic thing you have to give me?" she asks in-between their kisses.

She feels him smiling against her lips. "My vacation days."

"What?" She pulls away and levels him with her eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Four months from now, I am allowed to use my vacation days. I never do, most years, but I figured…with, you know, us…" The word is spoken quietly, carefully, as though he is afraid that it might break, and it makes her gasp for air in a way that has nothing to do with which part of her body his hand is resting on. "I thought…we might want to do something."

"Like what?"

He shrugs and a strand of hair falls into his eyes. "I don't know. Travel? Like normal people do."

"Like a road trip?"

"Maybe like a road trip," he says, smiling. "I have a car. We can just drive. End up wherever we end up."

"But it's four months from now. How can you be sure that we're still going to be…"

"Together?"

She closes her eyes briefly, the word twisting into her like a knife. When she opens them again, she sees him nodding sadly.

"It is the only time I can make it work. What do you say?"

He looks uncertain, careful, and a great of rush of affection rises in her chest at the sight of him. She finds his hand, brings it up to her lips. She wants to give him more than this pathetic little gesture but she doesn't know what else she can possibly do. He has already taken (almost) everything she had left to give.

"Yes," she says. "Let's do it. Let's make it work."

There is no teasing in his expression when he pulls her in for another kiss. This time, it is all needy and intimate between them, as though they are letting the world chase them for once and not the other way around.

She has been running all her life. But she thinks that now might be a good time to stop.

I want to tell you so before the sun goes dark

How to hold my heart

'Cause I don't want to let go, let go, let go of you

.

.

.

Author's Note: A bit shitty, I know. Sorry, guys. The quality of my writing will definitely improve in the next few instalments because of all the upcoming ANGST. (I'm also fully aware that the series' timeline is all over the place. Please forgive me!)

Thank you to Greg Laswell's "This Woman's Work" and Sara Bareilles' "Hold My Heart" (lyrics at the end) for the inspiration.

Please let me know what you thought!