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The cockpit was shrouded in shadows, albeit for the feeble pale blue light sifting through the transparinsteel. Jyn entered with stealthy steps, treading lightly, trying to keep the durasteel from clanking beneath her weight. A plate clung underneath her boot. She sucked in a breath, biting the rim of her tongue.
"Jyn, I already know you're here," Cassian's voice shattered the silence, seemed to echo within the quiet room, "I heard you when you came in."
A frustrated sigh escaped from her lips. Striding, she covered the remaining meters keeping her from the pilot's seat.
Evidently, it was high time she dropped it altogether, there was no use. To try to catch a spy by surprise was complicated enough, to catch Cassian by surprise was virtually impossible —even for her. Although, technically, she had indeed managed to surprise him once.
She'd caught him off guard, that much was true, and probably Jyn planting a kiss right on his mouth would have never crossed his mind. He'd not seen it coming. Being honest, she hadn't either. The only thing she distinctively remembered from that moment in the cargo hold was the mixture of anxiety, unease, dread—
Fear.
Fear that something might happen during the mission, to him, or to herself. Fear of yet another chance slipping by, fear of having thrown away another opportunity of telling him how she felt, fear of having wasted another chance of being honest about her feelings when the future may not hold another one. Fear of not seeing him again. Fear of losing him.
She'd never been good with words. Neither gab nor eloquence had ever been her strongest suits. On the contrary, more than once she'd put her foot in her mouth —or even, without intending to, rubbed salt in a very painful wound— trying to explain herself.
Speaking through acts had always been easier. So when Cassian's worried gaze had met hers, of wide open green eyes glistening with unshed tears, trembling lips, she'd yielded to the impulse beating in her chest.
She remembered having stepped on her toes, having fisted his jacket, having caught a glimpse of his eyes snapping open, the paralysis of his stupefaction. She remembered the breeze of his breath warm on her face before it sank all the way down to her lungs, tickling in its wake. She remembered having leant backwards almost immediately after pressing her lips to his, of having felt the soft yet rough of his chapped lips. She remembers trembling, fear betraying her again, a strange mixture between a heave and a frightened whimper sliding out her mouth—
All of a sudden, heart had beating in her ears, and the spasms of dread, the thought of having ruined everything, made her recoil.
She also remembers how the withdrawing of her body had met a force impelling her in the opposite direction. Cassian's palm was suddenly cradling the base of her neck, hand nestling in her hair, pushing her forward with shaky fingers.
Less roughness in that next convergence of lips, but not less wavering nor tremulous. Insecurity and hesitation had faded away little by little, with each brush and each slight movement—
A lot of things had changed since then. Cassian no longer looked at her out of the corner of his eye, he gazed at her, openly... and she allowed herself to be seen like that, without even pretending she'd not take notice of his eyes staring. She allowed a sincere, bright —sometimes even teasing— smile to curve her lips.
They no longer hid from each other. Maybe they didn't display any affection openly when there was a crowd around, neither Cassian nor her liked being the centre of attention, looks or whispers —even though she was absolutely certain that the rebels had the most imaginative minds in the whole galaxy, she was sure than more than a diverse collection of gossips had been spread since their mission to Scarif.
"How long 'til Coruscant?" she asked, resting her arm on the back of the pilot's seat.
"Six hours, maybe less," he replied, gaze fixed on the control board.
"I thought we were flying on auto-pilot," she prompted.
It didn't make much sense for Cassian to be at the controls, if that were the case. It didn't seem like he'd any intention of dropping out of hyperspace and make another jump to cover their tracks on the navi-computer system —besides, he'd done so less than two standard hours ago.
The seat screeched and the back moved beneath her arm. She looked down and she found Cassian staring at her, one eyebrow slightly arched and a curious glint shimmering in his eyes. She had a feeling he was biting down a smile.
"Indeed," was his short answer, "is something wrong? I mean... I thought you were busy with the arrangements—"
He trailed off. Jyn posited it was only natural he was worried, after all this would be her first undercover mission. Cassian didn't seem so convinced that a mission to the heart of the Empire was a proper, not to mention sensible, move for a litmust test. He paid no mind to her arguments that her baptism had been months on Scarif, that such a precedent left her in a good place and he shouldn't be nitpicking. Cassian insisted there was no point of comparison between one context and the other —they were going to infiltrate social gatherings, galas, social events... situations in utter opposition to military rigidity and rectitude, where to go unnoticed one needed nothing but being one more of the bunch and camouflaging within the grey monotony, following protocols.
According to Cassian, she lacked the background necessary for the mission. The little she could recall of her childhood was completely irrelevant. For starters, Jyn didn't exactly had what could be qualified as extensive experience on rules of formality, propriety and decorum... much less those of Coruscanti high society —such kind of social conventions tended to become utterly superfluous when one grew up amidst a war and trying to survive.
Or maybe what worried him and made him nervous at the same time was what the mission entailed: posing as newlyweds. He, a fresh newly promoted Imperial officer assigned to the Outer Rim territories; she, a citizen of the Imperial Center, whom the officer in question had sweep off her feet.
"It won't be difficult," she retorted, shrugging, "pretend I am spoilt and naive, that I don't understand politics... I'll only have to nod and smile like a fool all the time and it'll suffice."
"The accent, you got it, right?"
She would have snorted, but understood where his concern was coming from. If she used an unusual word or pronounced incorrectly... that would be enough to raise suspicions.
"Yeah, stop worrying already."
They had to go unnoticed, be alert and watchful to catch any information of value that the imperials could let slide by accident, be witty to worm out information without them realising what they were up to. Usually, all it took was flattery and a few praises here and there to the Empire and its remarkable military forces, its brave soldiers, and a tipsy high ranking officer —or a newly graduated cadet eager to impress— to get confidential information.
To investigate without anyone realising there was more to their seemingly casual and innocent questions was the difficult part.
"Remember that you've to be careful with—" Cassian started again.
Jyn let out a frustrated growl.
"The words, I know. I heard you the first twenty times that—"
"We both know that the fact you've heard me doesn't mean you've actually listened to me, Jyn," there was an unmistakable tone of reproach and accusation in his voice. "We're going to be surrounded by Imperials, you've to—"
Whatever he was going to say next got choked halfway. Jyn smiled a wicked grin against his neck.
"Be careful," she whispered against his skin. "I did listen."
Maybe pressing a kiss, sweeping the curve of his neck with her tongue, had been a too mischievous and shameless move for her to pull, given the circumstances. Or maybe, more shameless on her part had been sliding her hand underneath the folds of his shirt.
Whichever the case, she glanced at the blue swirls outside the cockpit before adding in a rustle of breath, "the ship's on auto-pilot, right?" her hand taking a cheeky leave and roaming freely, "for another... six hours, maybe less."
"Jyn..."
"I mean, we could make better use of that time..."
She bit her lips, pressing them tight, in a rather futile attempt to hide the smile that tensed her cheeks. With the tips of her fingers, she drew without a fixed pattern on his skin, felt the hardness of his sternum. The beating pulsed on her palm.
She curled up against his chest, letting the warmth of his body on hers, the tickling of his sighing, the rhythmic sway of his even breathing, cradle her sleep.
Hours later, he would break the drowsy foggy spell of sleep with his lips tickling her neck. And she would choke on her laughter, the tingling feeling sweeping on her entire body, she would pretend to drift away but would flinch looking for him, looking to lenghten the brush of his lips, his hands, of the warmness of his skin on hers.
She would loop her arms around his neck, to afterwards search for his lips and let him take her breath away, breaking into giggles amidst her own heaved breathing, nuzzling his cheek with the tip of her nose.
"We're going to impersonate newlyweds, and then you say I am the one who isn't taking this seriously."
She wouldn't pay attention to his retort, too busy laughing at the way all his face would contort in a grimace of disbelief. Something would give her the hunch that he'd get back at her for it, but for the time being, she would take on relishing her little victory.