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melanoradrood · 3 years

Note

"Wanna bet?" for rebelcaptain, if it catches your fancy? Congratulations on 1111!

in honor of 1111 Followers

“Wanna bet?” the Princess asked, her eyebrow raised.

Jyn sat back, whistling, waiting to see what the smuggler’s response would be. Everyone in the Rebellion knew that those words were fighting words - either you agreed to the bet, or you would never leave it down. Never make a statement, or a judgment, or a guess… at least, not with the coin or tradeable goods to back it up.

Or their reputation. More than one loud-mouthed cocky pilot had ended up running around in nothing but their boots after getting a bit too mouthy.

Bodhi, sitting beside her, set down his mug, both hands slamming down on the table - he was more than a little intoxicated after only just scraping his way back into the stronghold, nearly losing his ship and his life. No one was going to stop him drinking double the others, but within seconds, the next thing hitting the table was his forehead, slamming down hard.

“Come on, Solo, answer the girl before we’re all out cold like Bodhi,” Cassian drawled, his arms crossed over his chest a few steps back from the table. His empty tanker sat beside him on top of a stack of crates, needing a refill from one of the bottles going around the room.

It seemed as though a little goading from the Major was what it took to get Han Solo moving, and he waved off his hand at his friend, Chewbacca, who was telling him off in the background.

“Alright, alright, tuck your regulation underpants back into your britches. Honestly, officers. Fine then, Princess, yeah, I’ll take that bet.”

There was an evil grin on Princess Leia’s face, which made Han Solo’s smirk drop, and then the pair of them trotted off to see it through, a group of recruits and pilots following after them laughing.

“What were they even betting about?” Jyn asked, laughing as she watched more than one person stumble in the group, one person in the back nearly taking out ten others.

“Something else about that blasted ship of his,” Cassian said with a grin, moving forward to sit down beside Jyn on her bench, grabbing a bottle from off the floor beside her foot. He didn’t bother with his cup, drinking straight from the bottle.

A snore came from Bodhi beside her, and both Jyn and Cassian looked at one another before laughing at their friend, who was thankfully asleep and looked to not be moving or thrashing.

“Idiot,” Jyn muttered, and Cassian gave a nod, taking another swig of the bottle before handing it over. Jyn finished the last of it, then let out a sigh.

“When will those two ever figure it out,” Cassian said, his head still turned in the direction that the rest of their group had headed.

“Figure what out?” Jyn asked, her brow wrinkled as she tried to see what it was she had missed.

“The obvious attraction between them.”

Jyn blinked, her eyes still lost on where the group had disappeared, and then shifting back towards him, trying to understand what Cassian had just said. Attraction… between… WHAT.

“They’ll probably figure it out before the pair of you two karking idiots,” Bodhi muttered, his head turning as he moved to brace himself on his forearm, only just barely lifting his head enough to set it on a more comfortable rest.

Jyn really did stiffen at that, wondering how she could be so obvious - how they could be so obvious. Yes, she was more soldier than spy, but Jyn had been undercover hundreds of times when her life was on the line. Surely her own emotions were not that obvious.

“Wanna bet?” Cassian asked, a grin on his lips. “Why don’t you get yourself to bed, Bodhi. You’re too drunk to really answer that offer. Come and find Jyn in my bed in the morning if you still think you’re so right.”

Jyn giggled, an absurd sound from her lips, and she clapped her hand over her mouth - it had to be the alcohol, some frilly crap that had come out of an admin private’s stash from an inner planet. Yes, that was it - it was alcohol that made her giggle.

“You’re no fun anymore, Major,” Bodhi said with a grunt as he pushed himself up, staggering a few steps towards his room.

Jyn almost went to help him, but Cassian’s hand had moved to cover hers on the bench, and her hand flipped over, interlocking their fingers. She smiled a tiny smile for herself before turning to look at him, brow raised.

“I thought we agreed to keep it quiet. We have to wait two more weeks if we want to split the pot with Shara,” Jyn said with a tease, leaning into her partner’s embrace, pleased to finally be alone. They had been keeping this thing between them quiet for weeks, partially because they were private people, but also because the fact that their friends and coworkers were betting on them was annoying.

“Bodhi was too drunk to remember,” Cassian said with a shrug, and he leaned forward, rubbing his nose against her temple.

“Wanna bet?” she teased, the words curling off her tongue easily, the same way they had the night that they had both confessed their feelings for one another, an absurd amount of bets and threats and dares between them to draw out the truth somehow leading to them being together, in a relationship.

Cassian gave her a grin in response, releasing her hand as he did so, before tugging Jyn up and over into his lap.

“Mmm… if I win, we take the coin from the wager and go on vacation. You, me, nothing at all to do.”

“We’re a broke rebellion. I doubt the pot has actual coin in it,” Jyn said with a laugh.

Cassian just gave her a shrug, and waited for Jyn to make her offer on the wager.

“If I win… you let me kiss you in front of everyone,” Jyn murmured against his lips.

His lips caught hers in a soft kiss, just savoring the moment. They released after a few breaths, neither opening their eyes, simply enjoying the feel of the other.

“I’ll take that bet…”

#rebelcaptain #swfic #ficlet fridays #1111 Follower PromptAThon #[ thank you!!! ]#Anonymous #Answered Ask

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moonprincess92 · 5 years

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One, two, three...

Jyn is terrible at Salsa. Cassian teaches dance for a living. Bodhi ships it.

(AKA: the Salsa AU that I am 100% going to regret posting but #yolo).

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

If she’d had her way, Jyn would be at home wrapped up in a blanket burrito with tea and three seasons of Victoria.

As it was, her feet were involuntarily tapping to the beat of the music that she couldn’t understand, too hot and too tired to even try and stop it. The Muddy Farmer was always a pulsing mass on a Friday night, a wave of heat that managed to sit low over the dance floor even if it was blowing a gale outside. She still didn’t understand why an Irish pub hosted a Latin dance night of all things, but there were stranger things in the world, she supposed.

“Come onnnnn,” Bodhi had practically whined earlier that evening, attempting to forcibly unroll her from her blanket burrito. “I need a partner to dance with!”

“You know I’m shite at Salsa and half the bloody class goes out to Muddy Farmer every week,” Jyn had argued right on back. “There will be someone you know there.”

“Look,” Bodhi had huffed. “You and I both know that as soon as Luke arrives you can go home.”

“Oh no,” Jyn had shaken her head. “You said that last time, only I was forced to stay because you were too chicken to ask him out for the tenth time!”

“It’s HARD, ok?”

“He literally told you he had a crush on you.”

“…still.”

Yes, still. She still somehow ended up here, on the edges of the crowd and watching Bodhi and Luke tear up a storm across the floor. Luke Skywalker’s perfect blond hair whipped around as he span, almost blurring as Bodhi led him through the crowd. Some heads still turned at the sight, but most of the social scene was used to the two dancing by this point, not to mention that the well known masters, Baze and Chirrut, still came out every once in a while as well. The couple had been the original ones to get Bodhi into Salsa in the first place, Jyn naturally being reluctantly dragged along behind him as the dutiful best friend/roommate.

(Sometimes life just threw you curveballs).

She took another gulp of her beer, watching the steps, turns and dips. There was everything from beginners just learning to cross-body, to seasoned veterans who could spin no less than five times in a row. She could barely hear herself think over the live music, it thumping and rattling in her eardrums. The scent of greasy pub food hit her as the guy next to her at the bar ordered a basket of chips and she debated the merits of getting some herself versus just going home. She’d been here long enough now that she could probably get away with it, and Bodhi barely noticed anything when he was dancing.

Though the chips really did smell good…

In the end, the decision was made for her when someone accidentally stepped too close and shoved into another dancer. Chips went flying as they stumbled right into Chip Guy, nearly throwing him off his stool. Jyn debated the morality of eating the chip that had landed on her chest for a hot second or two, before deciding to go with the conscience and toss it aside so that she could offer to help him up.

“I’m so sorry!” the dancers exclaimed several times over.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Chip Guy insisted, somehow taking the battering with a smile. “Not the first time I’ve been danced into.”

“You all right, mate?” Jyn asked him.

He glanced over at her as the dancers went back to their partners. “I’m fine,” he insisted once more. “although I might need some help eating these now, my friend is weird about eating things off the floor.”

“Just don’t tell him, who has to know?”

He thankfully laughed a little, offering the basket up to her. Figuring it would be rude not to take one at this point, she quickly shoved a chip into her mouth, suddenly wishing that she’d actually made an effort to look decent that night, rather than stubbornly remain in her dirty jeans and t-shirt combo. The guy looked vaguely familiar, which was confirmed when he then asked her,

“I think I’ve seen you around, what’s your name again?”

“Jyn,” she said around her chips. “I’ve seen you too, I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m Cassian,” he replied. “Sorry if I’ve told you before, I’m pretty bad with names and there’s a lot of people–”

“Oh god, don’t even worry about it,” Jyn insisted. “You don’t need a name to dance so I forget everyone pretty much as soon as they introduce themselves.”

He smiled in solidarity. “I know a lot of faces, and I know a lot of names, but I’m at the point where I don’t know which name goes with which face.”

“That’s exactly it.”

“You don’t come out often, right?”

“Nah, only when the flatmate drags me,” Jyn gestured across the dance floor. “Do you know Bodhi?”

“Oh, THAT’S Bodhi!” Cassian said, face lighting up in recognition. “I’ve actually spoken to him several times! Good guy, although I had no idea what his name was until now.”

Jyn found herself wanting to laugh a little, which was clearly the strangest sensation she could ever feel on a Friday night when she should be at home alone with her historical dramas. She certainly knew of Cassian before now, even if she hadn’t ever properly spoken to him before. He was apparently from Mexico, he was pretty damn cute and he was insanely good at Salsa. She had danced with him a couple times as they’d all switched partners during the classes that Bodhi had forced her to do with him, and she could remember the way he had shaken her hands, claiming that she was way too tense, and how he had taught her how to switch the tension to her arms so that her frame stayed locked and easy to lead. He had been easy to chat to and easily her favourite to dance with…

But the thing with favourites is that she wasn’t the only one. Cassian insisted on her continuing to help him eat the contaminated chips and she noticed the eyes from across the pub, people wondering and craning heads, trying to figure out who she was and why she was the one who got to sit and eat with Cassian the Infamously Amazing Dancer. She tried to focus on what she was saying, answering her question of what she did as a job, instead of acknowledging Bodhi who was practically hollering at Luke at the sight.

“It’s not that interesting,” she tore her eyes away. “but I’ve got good work colleagues so it’s not too bad.”

“Are you kidding? It’s so cool you work in a police station!”

“Admin doesn’t solve murders, remember?” she said.

“Still,” Cassian pointed out. “You’re Gina from Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

Jyn nearly choked on her chip.

“I don’t – I don’t think I’m quite like Gina,” she coughed. “Although to be fair, she is an inspiration to all.”

“I love that show.”

“Me too,” Damn it, she was smiling too much. Their basket of chips was nearly empty now as she asked, “So what’s your job?”

“I teach dance.”

“Never would have guessed that,” Jyn said, dryly.

Cassian laughed (god, he was cute when he laughed). “Not just Salsa, other styles too,” he added. “I actually mostly teach kids classes, although sometimes I help out with the adult ones if there’s an instructor away or an uneven amount of people or something.”

“I bet there are kids even better at dancing than I am.”

“There are some kids better than me,” Cassian pointed out. “Still… I think we demolished these chips, by the way.”

She glanced down at them. “Oh, definitely. Your friend won’t be pissed we ate them all?”

“He’ll be pissed, he’ll get over it. Want to dance?”

“Oh–” Fucking shit. He was holding out his hand and jumping down from his bar stool and suddenly she wished she hadn’t eaten quite so much. “but we just ate–”

“We’ll burn off the calories.”

“I’m honestly shit at Salsa, like I could barely keep up with the beginners class–”

“If I do my job and lead you properly, then you’ll be fine I promise.”

Jyn reluctantly slid off her stool. “And if you fuck up?”

Cassian smiled.

“I’ll buy you a drink to go with the chips.”

She… couldn’t argue that.

So despite her better judgement, she ended up taking his hand and following him to a relatively spare space within the dance floor. She hoped to god that Bodhi wasn’t still witnessing this because she would no doubt never hear the end of it, although it was kind of the least of her worries. There were too many things cycling through her head to pay attention to much else. She prayed that she didn’t fuck up her ankles in these heels, she hoped that no one accidentally stood on her or that she didn’t crash into anyone. Hell, she begged to all the primordial forces out there that she didn’t just fuck up in general.

At least the basic step she could do.

Cassian held her hands as she concentrated on getting the beat right – 1-2-3, 5,6,7 – and she could feel the sweat starting to gather at her hairline already. She practically held her breath during the first turn and he shook his head once she was back facing him once more.

“I can practically feel the anxiety coming off you,” he pointed out.

It was always hard to talk on the dance floor, what with the cacophony of the live band, people talking, glasses clinking and bar stools scraping. However, Cassian had made the effort to yell over it all and so she felt compelled to reply.

“That is a skill I am proud of, I’ll have you know,” she yelled back.

He just snorted. Instead of stepping forward he stepped back on the next bar, moving them through an open break turn and not even pausing before swapping their hands and leading her through a cross-body turn. “See?” he pointed out once she had thankfully not keeled over. “It comes naturally, you can do it!”

Ok, maybe a part of her knew it.

She knew she wasn’t absolutely completely fucking terrible, as she was determined to make it seem. She wasn't great either, but after a few of the beginners classes she had found herself picking up the rhythm. She struggled with anything fast, but eventually learned how to make her steps smaller and tighter. She wasn't bad…it was just hard to not compare herself when she was fully aware of the fact that she was currently partnered with an actual goddamn dance teacher. He moved into a close hold, hand curving up to rest between her shoulder blades as he swept her around and she tried to ignore the heartbeat currently slamming in her throat. This was supposed to be fun. She was supposed to be swept up into the music, uncaring of those around her, just moving and feeling. She could be fun, goddamn it! She supposed the tension in her arms was good at least for something as he continued to lead her this way and then that, changing the line depending on the crowd. With so many people, it was impossible to not stand on someone occasionally. She ended up half gasping, half laughing when Cassian lead her in a cross-body turn and she ended up slamming right into someone she recognised from Bodhi’s dance classes.

“Oh, shit!” she mouthed to Cassian once the initial apologies were over.

“You ok?”

“I am,” she answered. “I don’t think my shoes are. Shit, do I actually have a dent in it?”

They took a moment to pause and glance down at where the other woman had literally stomped down on the back of her heel. Sure enough, running her fingers over the dance shoes that she had bought second hand online she could feel a dip. She grabbed his hand without thinking to ensure that he could feel it too, and she gripped his arm to keep her balance as she stood up on one foot.

“You have battle wounds now,” he teased.

“I guess so–”

She hastily cut herself off as the latest song apparently finished and her yelling was suddenly much louder as the music faded. The crowd cheered and they both clapped politely, several people leaving the dance floor, others coming to join. It was a mass of movement and Jyn hovered awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what she was supposed to do now. Etiquette said that they should thank each other for the dance before going and finding someone else, but some weird part of her knew a fucking vibe when it saw it, and wasn’t denying that it wanted to stay. For a wild moment it looked like he wanted to stay too, but unfortunately the next song that was strung up sounded off, and it took her several moments to click.

“Oh,” she screwed up her face. “this isn’t Salsa anymore, is it?”

“No, this is Bachata,” Cassian nodded.

“Christ,” she sighed. “I don’t know how to Bachata at all.”

“Do you know the basic step?”

Jyn cringed at the memory of the one Bachata dance she had attempted, the last time she had been dragged out social dancing alongside Bodhi. Thank god it had been with him. If it had been with anyone else she might have died of mortification, but remembering how she had awkwardly attempted to move her hips the right way made her want to throw up a little.

“It’s 1-2-3-hip or something, right? Or is it a tap, I can’t remember–”

“It just depends on which style you’re using, but honestly,” Cassian shrugged, tugging on her hands once more. “Just move your body, and you’ll be great.”

He started moving then as if to prove his point in the basic side to side motion that Jyn had to actively think about in order not to mess up. All around them, couples were already pressing up against each other’s bodies, rolling and grinding. Jyn was pretty sure that wasn’t the traditional Bachata, but then again much of her internal meltdown was probably because she was certain her hips just simply didn’t not move that way. She didn’t even realise how much she was glancing around anxiously until she caught Bodhi’s eye only several couples away. Now dancing with a girl that she recognised from classes with long brown braids, he mouthed at her in astonishment,

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

“I DON’T KNOW.”

“THAT’S CASSIAN!”

Thanks, mate. She had no idea.

She was pulled away from the non-verbal conversation when Cassian lead her into what was probably one of the most simplest turns she’d ever had to do and yet she still somehow managed to botch it. Stepping with the wrong foot, she ended up on the wrong timing and exclaimed in frustration,

“Sorry! I told you I don’t know what I’m doing!”

He stopped them. For a moment her heart pounded, sure he was about to politely call it quits and send her packing across the dance floor so that he could sweep up some other woman into his arms… except instead, he steadied her with his hands sliding down to her hips.

“You think you’re terrible, fine,” he started to grin. “Crash course in Bachata.”

He started counting. His hands moved her hips with the beat of the song and shit, if she had blood, it was currently rushing to her face. Was anyone watching this? Another quick glance around however showed her that Bodhi had apparently already moved on and was now totally absorbed in having fun dancing with his friend and that literally no one else gave a shit. While a little disappointing to know no one cared, it was also admittedly… liberating to know that she could thrust her hips as awkwardly as she liked and no one would make fun of her for it. It took a while, but soon they were adding in the footwork and then her hands were being picked up again, the two of them finally having found their rhythm.

“That’s it!” he said, happily.

She wasn’t quite sure how the knot in her throat managed to dissipate (and to be honest, she didn’t think it was going to entirely go away) but she did feel a hell of a lot better than when she had first stepped out onto the dance floor, and that said something. This time when Cassian led her in a turn, her feet automatically kept up the rhythm and she found herself with her back to him, arms crossed in front of her as he kept a hold of her hands. 1-2-3-tap, 1-2-3-tap…

It was slower than Salsa, which helped, not to mention less spinning like a top and more turning within his arms. When she was eventually brought back around to face him, he span himself before moving in and bringing her into a close hold. Jesus Christ. This close, their legs overlapped to avoid their knees banging into each other, and it may or may not have been causing a slight heart attack, she still wasn’t sure. They moved in a 360, around and around until she was let go and allowed to breathe again.

Maybe it was her mind just wrecking havoc inside her, but it almost felt lighter inside the pub now. She supposed it was the atmosphere of connecting with the person in front of you and tuning out the rest, or at least it was certainly hard to concentrate on anything else. She could imagine that drink Cassian had promised her, imagine that they danced together every weekend, that his hands sliding against her hips were familiar to her and that the chest she was pressed against was always warm and solid. She felt like she could let go and just fucking dance, and she wondered whether maybe he could feel it too. She was pulled into his body once more, his arms lifting hers up before his fingertips traced back down her sides. She slung her arms around his neck, her body settled firmly on his thigh. After a moment he bent her back so that she swung around, Jyn letting her head tilt back so that she could see the ceiling of the pub and the ends of her hair brushed against his arms. Pulled back up, she smiled into his shoulder.

He must have recognised the song enough to know when the end was coming. After feeling his leg sliding between hers, after swinging her hips in time with his, he eventually turned her around and with her back pressed to this chest, brought each of her arms up and over his head. Leaning to the side to see her, Jyn realised that he had ended their dance with perfect timing, left standing with their noses inches from each other, hands still clutched in his behind his head as they struggled to breathe. Jyn might have ignored all the polite claps and cheers for the band, might have even had the guts to say a giant fuck it in her head before closing the distance between them –

– when suddenly, her phone started buzzing in her pocket.

“Oh – shit, I’m sorry–” She pulled away and he hastily snatched back his hands, taking a step back. One glance at the caller made her stomach sink. “Fuck – I have to answer this – but thank you for the dance and the chips, it was really good! The dance, I mean, the chips too but the dance was – fuckity fuck–”

She made for the exit before she could glance back and see what was no doubt utter bemusement left on Cassian’s face. She hit answer on the way, finally speaking once she was outside the pub and out on the cold city street.

“Hey, Papa,” she said, wrapping her spare arm around her like it could retain the heat of the dance floor. “what’s up?”

“Jyn! My darling daughter–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Despite her slight disappointment, she smiled a little at hearing her father’s voice. She also heard rustling and clicking, along with Galen cursing under his breath every now and then.

“You aren’t busy, are you?” he asked. “I know it's kind of late, I can call back later or tomorrow even–”

“Nah, it’s fine, I’m just out with Bodhi,” Jyn immediately said. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m grand – got the new T.V. finally!”

“The T.V. you’ve been meaning to buy ever since it went on sale two months ago, you mean?” Jyn teased.

“Har, har, you know how I am with crowds,” her dad scoffed. “I’m just trying to connect it now, but turns out it’s harder than I thought. There’s so many damn cords and – shite – I’m no good at this sort of thing at all! Technology was all your mother’s territory–”

She just knew what it must be like, her dad sat in the middle of a pile of cables, pretending to be ok with the fact that he didn’t have a wife to help him with this kind of thing anymore. He had been doing reasonably ok since the funeral – or rather as ok as anyone would have expected him to be – but he still called every day and there were still moments Jyn knew he was really only calling because he needed to have her near, rather than because he actually needed her help. She closed her eyes a moment, making the decision before her mind could consciously think about it.

“You’re terrible, Papa. Need me to come help?”

“You wouldn’t help an old man, would you?”

“I’ll be there soon,” she told him.

She hung up quickly so that she could give Bodhi a call to explain. He eventually picked up in the bathroom, still not entirely quiet, but at least able to hear what he was saying. “I gotta go help my dad,” she explained. “You all right if I leave?”

“I’m totally fine – are you, though?”

“Oh, you know,” she let out a long breath. “I think I might have to take up Bachata lessons again, mate.”

“I fucking saw you dancing with Cassian, SHIT, Jyn!” She could just imagine Bodhi practically hopping up and down in glee.

She smiled despite herself.

“Shit sounds about right.”

#rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fanfic #dailyrebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #rogue one #rogue one fanfic #ro fanfic #my fanfiction #the salsa au #that yall all know exactly what it is based off #DON'T JUDGE ME #i hope you all like it!!!#pls reblog me 😄

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shu-of-the-wind · 7 years

Text

foster parent au pt iii

pt i pt ii pt iii

CW: some implied racist BS, some major assholery, and K telling someone to fuck their mother in Mandarin.

“You are acting strange,” says Kei.

Cassian doesn’t look up from his coffee. Two sugars, milk, and all the essays from his eighth grade world history class, and he still apparently does not have enough of a shield to keep Kei from commenting. Then again, nothing keeps Kei from commenting. It’d be like trying to stop a tsunami with a plastic spork. “I’m tired. It’s been a long week.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

Cassian lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and uncaps his red pen. “Long week.”

Kei scoffs. “That is fallacious.”

He scratches out a misspelled word, and says, “Sure.”

“You are humoring me,” says Kei. “Do you not want to discuss what is making you act so strange?”

“I’m at work,” says Cassian. “So not really at the moment, no.”

“I see.” Kei sips at his tea. “I hope you are aware that no matter how unpalatable I may find hearing about your romantic escapades, if there are issues, I would be obliged to listen.”

Cassian can’t decide if he wants to laugh or choke. How does one say the one person I never thought I’d see again in my lifetime is apparently the mother of two of my favorite students? “There are no romantic escapades.”

“Of course.” Kei peers down his long straight nose. “You’ll note that I used the word obliged because I have no desire to listen to your romantic escapades—”

“There are no escapades—”

“—I have a duty as your friend to listen to your problems and tell you how to fix them. Out of the two of us, I have more common sense, after all.” He sips his tea, and then adds, “Indubitably.”

“Indubitably,” says Cassian, and writes clunky sentence—rephrase in the margin of the paper he’s working on.

“Hey,” says Lumiya, over by the refrigerator. “Kei, I swear, if you took my lunch again—”

“Why would I ever steal your lunch?” says Kei. “They almost always smell terrible. Besides, even if I did, you avail yourself of my tea without my consent. It would be fair game.”

“That tea’s communal.”

“Cao ni ma,” says Kei, and does not smile. Lumiya huffs, and wanders off.

“Do I want to know what that means?” Cassian flips the page on the essay.

“Is that a rhetorical question? I do not know what you may or may not want, Cassian. You are aware of this.”

“It was rhetorical.” He taps his pen to his mouth. Rose Tico can usually write something much more sophisticated than this. Late night or bad week? “Forget it.”

“I shall not, but if I must change topics.” Kei thieves a fry out of Cassian’s bag of fast food. “Mothma is displeased today.”

“I’m trying to grade, you realize.”

“You are more than capable of listening and grading at once.” He takes another fry. “There was an incident with a parent yesterday morning. Apparently a boy in Lumiya’s homeroom accused one of the foster children of theft.”

Cassian nearly puts his pen through the paper. “Don’t call them that, Kei.”

“It’s a logical descriptor. And I do not have classes with them. Neither of them have any inclination to take Mandarin.” Kei sniffs. “Besides, I do not know their names. I do not bother to remember students I do not teach.”

“Finn and Rey Erso.” Both of them have been absent from school for two days. Tuesday and today. And Jyn had shown up to see Mothma on Tuesday, for some reason. “I haven’t heard anything.”

“Apparently there was a fight. The foster mother spent two hours in Mothma’s office and emerged very displeased. I observed it personally. I had to use the photocopier in the administration office, and I could hear the shouting through the wall.” Kei steals a third fry, and then a fourth, and finally Cassian shoves the bag over to him. He’s not hungry anymore, anyway. “Both of the foster children were involved, as well as Armitage Hux and a handful of ninth graders.”

“I should have been informed. Rey is in my homeroom class.” And she’s bright and sweet and with just enough of a stubborn streak that it….doesn’t surprise him that she threw herself into a fight alongside Finn. “Why didn’t anyone inform me?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” asks Kei, quite seriously.

Cassian does not answer. He leaves the staff room.

Mon Mothma’s been the principal of Yavin Prep for almost ten years, and from what he’s gleaned from old yearbooks, her office has never changed in all that time. Same books, same globe, same broad windows. Mothma looks the same as she has in every photograph, short red hair and lines around her mouth. She lifts one finger when he comes in, and says, “I’ll call you back,” in to the phone before settling it back in its cradle.

“I was going to call you in during the lunch hour,” she says, before Cassian can open his mouth. “So get off your high horse, if you please.”

He deflates. He can’t help it. People don’t just tell Mon Mothma no. “I only just heard about it. But Rey is in my homeroom, and Finn Erso is in my world history class, I should have been told—”

“It’s complicated,” says Mothma, and rubs at her temples. “Honestly, I assumed you would have heard about it before now. It’s all over the school, and you’re usually the teacher I can trust to have his ear to the ground.”

Cassian opens his mouth, and closes it again. He sits down. “I’ve—been distracted. Lately.”

“Does this have anything to do with why you were late yesterday?”

“Not in the least.” Just—why he hadn’t been able to focus much in class afterwards. “What happened?”

Mothma sweeps her thumbs over the marks beneath her eyes. “Depends on who you ask.”

“Mon—”

“Apparently a group of high school boys led by Armitage Hux jumped the Ersos on their way home from school on Monday. Ms. Erso claims it was an incident of bullying. Mrs. Hux says that Finn Erso stole her son’s laptop, and he and his friends came to ask Finn to give it back when he and Rey attacked.”

“Bullshit,” says Cassian.

Mothma frowns. “Cassian.”

“I know those kids.” He curls his hands around his kneecaps, digging his nails into his jeans. “The Ersos—they’re good kids. Good students. They’re not thieves, and they’re certainly not stupid enough to pick a fight with high schoolers twice their size.”

“I know that, but you have to admit, Cassian, they’ve not assimilated well. They’re rowdy, they’re disruptive in class, they both come from—fairly unique circumstances—”

“Are you saying that because they’re foster kids--” He stops, before he can add and minority students. He knows Mothma better than that. She might be oblivious sometimes, but she’d never say something that outwardly bigoted. “They’ve been burned by other schools. They have reasons.”

“But those reasons aren’t helping them at all at the moment. They both have histories of violence, and in a he said she said situation there’s going to be enormous pressure from the board to examine this in a manner that falls in line with what the PTA wants.”

Cassian shifts his hands off his knees.

“Don’t make that face at me, Andor.” Mothma sighs. “There’s going to be a meeting tomorrow with Armitage Hux and his mother and the Ersos. Ten AM. I’d like you to be there.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” She rubs at her eyes. “Hopefully this doesn’t end in an expulsion.”

That’s it, apparently. He’s not going to get anything more. Cassian stands, and turns to go.

“If it helps,” says Mothma. “I’m inclined to believe Ms. Erso about the circumstances.”

“Good,” says Cassian. His teeth hurt. “Because those kids need all the support they can get.”

There’s an accident on the main street leading into the school, which means they’re almost—but not quite—late when Jyn finally puts the truck into park and says, “I know this is a good school, but it looks a little like juvie.”

Rey snorts hard through her nose. She’s been quiet all morning, clicking away at her fidget cube instead of talking, the way she does when she’s worried and not wanting to admit it. Finn, between them in the front seat, says, “And you’d know, Black Cat.”

“Don’t test me, monster. I went in once, I can do it again.” She turns off the engine. “Any nasty surprises either of you have forgotten to mention?”

Finn and Rey look at each other. Rey rocks back and forth once, and then says, “No?”

Of course it’s a question. She really doesn’t like that it’s a question. Jyn “Fine. Out of the car. And fix your tie, Finn. If you don’t make a good impression then I’m going to have to punch somebody in the administration to make sure they don’t notice and I already jammed my knuckles in a motor once this week.”

Her pick-up’s old and shitty, and she feels….grimy, in comparison to the other cars around. Yavin Prep might look like a juvenile detention center from the outside, but it’s an expensive school, and all the cars in the lot are pricey. There’s a reason she works two jobs, and it’s to make sure both Finn and Rey can stay here and hopefully get a decent chance at maybe, someday, going to college if they want to.

Bodhi would say she’s being stubborn. Bodhi has said she’s being stubborn, for not accessing the trust her father left her. Jyn would rather light herself on fire than have anything to do with her father, though, so even if she’s being stubborn, she’ll take bone-deep exhaustion and too much coffee over touching Galen Erso’s money before she has no other choice.

The administration office is a step up from all the admin offices she’d had to slink into, during her school years. There are actual paintings on the wall, not prints. A nice carpet. The fax machine isn’t trashed. The chairs aren’t cheap. Jyn can’t sit. She stays standing, and taps at the edge of her phone with a stubby fingernail until Rey nudges the side of her shoe and hisses for her to stop. Which makes it worse, because she should be the one calm, right now, not Rey and Finn. She catches the secretary watching them, and stares at the woman until Mrs. Naberrie (at least, according to her nameplate) has to drop her gaze to the desktop.

“Jyn,” says Finn, and tips his head to the wall. “Chill.”

“I’m chill,” says Jyn.

Finn rolls his eyes, and starts tapping his foot on the floor.

“Mrs. Erso?” It’s Mrs. Naberrie. She’s half on her feet, now, tucking gray, curling hair behind her ear. “If you want, I can take you and Finn in to the office, now.”

“It’s Miss,” says Jyn. She shoves her phone into her jacket pocket. “Thanks.”

Rey tucks her hand into Jyn’s pocket, too, just for a second, and hums.

Mon Mothma must be in her late forties, a small, slim woman with bright red hair and dips around her mouth that seem more like frown lines than dimples. Her handshake’s firm, without ceremony. There’s already a mother and child in the principal’s office (and she never, ever, ever thought she’d be back in a principal’s office again, but that’s how it goes, apparently): a redheaded, freckled woman and a redheaded, freckled boy, both with sour-milk skin and tilted mouths like they’ve smelled something off. There’s a vile dark bruise on Armie’s jaw, and his lip is split, but—and she feels vicious when she thinks this, still cold inside—not nearly so bad as Finn’s injuries. Because Armie Hux hadn’t been attacked by eight boys at once.

Jyn does not offer her hand. Neither does Armie Hux’s mother. Jyn puts her hand on Finn’s shoulder, instead.

She notices Cassian last, somehow. Maybe because he’s lurking near the window, staring out of them with his hands locked behind his back, strict as a soldier. Jyn focuses hard on Mothma, and refuses to pay attention.

“Thank you for coming in, both of you.” Mothma drops back into her seat, and folds her hands on the table. “I understand that the situation is complicated—”

“Nothing is complicated about this,” says Armie’s mother. Her lip curls. “I want that boy expelled for attacking my son.”

Finn does not flinch. He doesn’t look up. It’s only because Jyn has her hand on his shoulder that she can tell he’s shaking, just a little.

“That’s not the purpose of this meeting, Mrs. Hux.” Mothma taps her forefinger to her desk. “The goal here is to come to an understanding. Considering the circumstances—”

“There is no considering of anything, Ms. Mothma.” Mrs. Hux shakes her hair back out of her face, and tucks one leg over the other. “That boy is a thief who attacked my son, and I want him out of this school. Armitage deserves a school where he feels safe to attend class instead of being harassed by some juvie reject—”

“Excuse me,” Jyn says, and Finn goes stiff under her palm. “Don’t you dare—”

“Mrs. Hux, I understand that you’re upset about what happened, but this isn’t helping anybody—”

“Finn,” says Cassian, and Mothma goes abruptly quiet. “Did you take Armitage’s laptop?”

“Of course he did,” says Mrs. Hux. “The boy’s a criminal, from what I’ve heard—”

“You shut your mouth about my son,” says Jyn, low and cold. “Right now.”

“Finn,” says Cassian again. He’s softer, this time, somehow. “Did you take Armitage’s laptop?”

Finn looks at Jyn. Jyn looks at Finn.

“I didn’t,” says Finn, quietly. “Sir.”

“Of course he did,” says Mrs. Hux, “to sell it, most likely—”

“I didn’t.” Finn digs his fingers into her wrist, hard enough to sting. “Me and Rey were just walking home, we didn’t do anything—”

“I saw you take it,” says Armie Hux. He lisps, just a little. “You jimmied my locker open and you took it—”

“I wouldn’t want your stupid laptop, I have one at home—”

“That boy,” says Mrs. Hux, “took my son’s laptop out of spite, and I want him expelled, and I want his mother to compensate the cost of the machine—”

“Like hell,” says Jyn.

“Armitage,” says Cassian, but Mrs. Hux shouts over him.

“That boy is a criminal and a thug and I want him removed from this campus immediately, Miss Mothma—”

“This is an exploratory meeting,” says Mothma. She doesn’t raise her voice at all, but something in it—Jyn’s not sure. Mrs. Hux snaps her jaw shut so fast there’s almost a click. “Nothing is going to be decided here. If you aren’t comfortable with that, Mrs. Hux, you can leave, and we will continue exploring options without you present. Is that understood?”

Mrs. Hux says nothing. She huffs, and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Mr. Andor,” says Mothma. “You had a question, I believe.”

“I wanted to know what time Armitage saw Finn bust open his locker.” Cassian leans back against the windowsill, and does not smile. “That’s all.”

“What does that matter? He saw it, that’s the proof you need—”

“Humor me,” says Mothma, and smiles, thin-lipped. “Armitage?”

Armie Hux looks at his mother, and then at Cassian, and says, “I don’t remember.”

“You were in the hallway, clearly,” says Cassian,. “Your locker’s a few yards down from the chemistry lab, isn’t it? Was it morning? Afternoon?”

Armie looks at his mother again. He shrugs. Jyn curls her hand back around Finn’s shoulder, and holds on.

“I don’t see the point of this,” says Mrs. Hux.

“Armitage,” says Cassian. “You saw Finn taking your laptop out of your locker. Were you on your way to class?”

“I guess.”

“Which class?”

Armie shrugs again.

“Why didn’t you tell a teacher?”

“Dunno.”

“You saw Finn break open your locker and steal your laptop and you didn’t tell a teacher?” Cassian cocks his head. “Seems counter-intuitive to me.”

Mrs. Hux bristles. Color flushes up her throat, like she’s being filled with boiling water. “I don’t like what you’re implying, whoever you are—”

“Mr. Andor is one of our history teachers,” says Mothma. Jyn could swear the woman is preening, just a little. “Like I mentioned before, Mrs. Hux, I requested he attend this meeting on behalf of the student disciplinary committee.”

“Why is Armitage the one being interrogated here? That boy is the criminal—”

“If you don’t mind,” says Cassian, “I’d like him to finish his story. Surely you won’t object to that?”

Mrs. Hux snaps her mouth shut again.

“Art,” says Armie. “Third period. Before lunch.”

“Monday morning, third period. That’s when you saw him take it?”

“Yeah.” Armie shifts, and sniffs. “Yeah.”

“And when did you talk to your friends?”

“I talked to Ben in art class. Told him what happened.” The kid shrugs. “He talked to some guys in the high school division. Y’know. They wanted to make sure I’d be okay. Talking to him.”

“I wouldn’t have done anything,” Finn bursts out, and Jyn digs her nails into his shoulder. “I didn’t go near your stupid locker—”

“You’re sure it was third period,” says Cassian again. “Absolutely sure.”

“Yes,” says Armitage. He looks at his mother, and then at Finn. “He took it out of my locker, third period, on his way to chemistry class or something, I don’t know. Maybe he ditched. I don’t know what kids like him do during school, but it was definitely Finn.”

“Finn was in class with me during third period on Monday,” says Cassian, without inflection. “World history. Third period, Monday morning. We were talking about the Ottoman Empire. Finn turned in a paper on its fall during and after the First World War. I have him marked in my attendance book.”

Armitage Hux says nothing. Mrs. Hux is scarlet. Finn looks like all the holidays in the world have just smashed together into a piñata.

“Thank you, Miss Erso,” says Mothma. The corner of her mouth ticks up. “If you and Finn will wait outside for a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

There should be something to say, she thinks. She should hvae something to say. When she stands up, though, there’s nothing. Jyn nods, and in spite of herself her eyes flick to Cassian, where he’s still skulking by the window, his head down, hair kind of draping in front of his eyes. He’s watching her, she thinks. Without blinking.

Jyn dips her head to him, just once, and pretends her heart isn’t twisting in her chest.

#rebelcaptain #my writing #foster care au #neither pity nor pragmatism

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