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Ordinarily, Jyn really does like Christmas. Maybe that makes her shallow, or basic, or whatever it’s called these days to sincerely enjoy something for the sake of it, but she does. She has good memories as a child of having Christmas in her parents’ little house in Copenhagen, stringing up dried orange slices and evergreen garlands with her mother. Playing in the snow with her father. Godfather Saw taught her how to throw the perfect snowball, build the perfect fort. In the enchanted kingdom of childhood.
She’s been out of that enchanted kingdom for years, and to her present self, Christmas is flavored with bittersweet nostalgia, echoes of what once was, but is now gone. Her parents have both been gone for years, and she’s not in contact with Saw anymore. Her dearest friend Bodhi is currently in London, visiting his family, and Leia is in DC, currently doing whatever the youngest ever elected Senators do in the height of holiday fever. Jyn suspects lots of parties and schmoozing, something she had no patience for even when she lived in that world.
She sighs, eyeing the door of the shop distrustfully. Baze and Chirrut run Jedha Treasures, the quirky little boutique that Chirrut inherited from his mother, and convince Baze to run with him, in addition to their martial arts dojo. Jyn works at both places, mostly because she refuses to use the trust fund her father set up for her, and secondly, because she likes Baze and Chirrut and doesn’t mind working for them in this capacity. Admittedly Jedha Treasures is a thousand times more preferable than working in a big box store during the holidays, and Jyn really does like restoring the cozy, cluttered chaos of the shop back to order at the end of the day.
But not today. Today it’s five pm on Christmas Eve, and they close at six. No one is in the shop at the moment, the streets outside are empty, save for falling snow. Jyn’s plans are to go home, warm up the roast she prepared that morning, and have the most alcoholic eggnog she can reasonably conjure up. She still has that Bermudan rum that Kes Dameron sent her. Christmas Day plans are…well, she’s going to be at home, and watch A Muppet Christmas Carol, because she’s not a heathen, thank you very much.
It’s only forty-five more minutes until the shop closes. In the next fifteen minutes, she could sweep the floor, make sure the displays are tidy for Boxing Day sales, and leave the incandescent Christmas lights softly glowing until closing. Then she’ll need to close up the cash register, take the day’s earnings to the safe, write down the earnings—
The delicate little gold bell over the door chimes merrily as it opens.
Biting back a growl, Jyn turns to face this interloper, this complete and utter layabout of a customer, coming at the eleventh hour on Christmas Eve—
“Oh,” she says flatly. “It’s you.”
Cassian Andor brushes the remains of snow out of his hair; damp strands falling across his forehead should make anyone look bedraggled. Instead, he looks like he emerged from being lightly misted by affectionate nymphs. Or something.
“Yes, it’s me,” he says, though he doesn’t sound as composed as always. “How are you, Jyn?”
Jyn sucks her teeth, eyeing him.
Cassian Andor has known Baze and Chirrut since infancy, practically. There are photos of Cassain and his younger sister Kerri lining the walls of Baze and Chirrut’s cozy little apartment, the walls of their dojo. Kerri’s up to a green belt now; Cassian has brown. Jyn has a black belt, not that she’s ever going to let him forget it.
Maybe she’d be a little less opposed to Cassian Andor if it wasn’t blatantly obvious that Chirrut seems to have entered into some kind of unholy alliance with Cassian’s mother trying to set Jyn and Cassian up. Maybe she’d immediately want to stomp on his toes a little less if he wasn’t a complete and total tight ass, when she knows that he used to raise hell when he was a teenager. Noemi Andor has the pictures to prove it.
“I’d be better,” she says instead, “if someone didn’t walk into my shop not a half an hour before closing. On Christmas Eve .”
Cassian has the grace to look chagrined, but only for a moment, as he shifts into defensive. “If I had time to go out sooner, I would have. But there’s a massive case that I’m trying to settle before the office closes for the holidays—”
Jyn waves a hand. “Yes, yes. Did you forget to get Kerri a gift?” she asks and the very tips of Cassian’s ears glow red. Jyn lets out a dramatic gasp of mock outrage. “Cassian Jeron Andor.”
“I haven’t had time!” he splutters and Jyn assumes her best expression of judgmental boutique employee.
“I can’t believe you forgot to get your own sister a gift,” Jyn says, shaking her head condemningly. “What kind of a big brother are you?”
A really good one, actually. Cassian might be the most irritating person in the entire world, but even Jyn admits that he adores his little sister. Kerri in turn adores him back, though if you were to ask her, her older brother is in desperate need of a girlfriend. This is usually said while staring pointedly at Jyn, who will just roll her eyes and teach Kerri a new way for getting out of a hold.
Cassian drags a hand through his hair, looking more hassled than Jyn’s ever seen him. “She—Kerri gave me a list, and I just kept putting it off. The shop is my only hope. Can you please just help me out for once, and give me an iota of less grief than you usually do?”
As intriguing as it is to be his only hope, that is not necessarily a promise Jyn can keep. “Alright, alright,” Jyn says. “Don’t beg—you’ll just embarrass the both of us.” The satisfying scrunch of Cassian’s eyebrows appear. “Let’s see this list.”
Cassian reaches into the pocket of his overcoat, and pulls out an extremely battered looking piece of paper, very creased from being folded and unfolded numerous times. It’s written on pale purple paper, with a border of little flowers and stars around the edges. Jyn can’t quite suppress a smile at the mental image of Cassian perusing the list as seriously as he does his case files. But the actual writing on the page makes her eyebrows go up automatically.
The title of the list is in elaborate cursive: Gifts For Kerri, clearly denoting its importance. The rest is written in Kerri's usual slapdash print.
-Chanel lipstick, in shade 857, Midnight Red
-any of the following titles, you’ve seen these on my TikTok, at least two of them are the second book in the series
-a vinyl record player
-one of those Polaroid camera things
-a glass coffee cup, a cute one preferably
And at the very bottom of the page, as if in an afterthought:
-for my brother to get a life (and potentially a girlfriend, it’s the season for miracles, after all)
Jyn absorbs the list and looks up at Cassian. “You realize we have none of those things here.” She is not even going to address the last one.
“The other stores didn’t have anything either,” Cassian says wearily. “And I’m not buying my fifteen year old sister a Chanel lipstick, for god’s sake. Our mother doesn’t even wear that.”
“None of the books are appropriate either,” Jyn observes. “Though that last title is pretty good. Maybe when she’s older.” She puts down the list and studies him. The warmth of the shop has dried his hair, curling over his forehead gently. His features really shouldn’t work when she looks at them separately; sharp jaw, thin lips, slightly sticking out ears, crooked nose. But put them together, and it truly is tragic, how he’s one of the most attractive men she’s ever met. Jyn sighs and hands the list back to him. “Okay, okay. Look, we’ve got nothing in the shop that meets Kerri’s exacting standards—” he opens his mouth and Jyn raises a hand, “ But— I can help you put together a nice selection of gifts, things that will probably serve her better than a…” Jyn peers at the list again. “That badly written fae book. Okay?”
Cassian’s whole face seems to glow with cautious, wary hope. “Will you?”
Jyn eyes the clock on the wall. “We close in forty minutes. It’s gonna cost you.”
“I’ll risk it,” Cassian says immediately.
Jedha Treasures is laid out a bit like a maze in a children’s book, full of funny corners and little nooks designed to catch your eye, make the viewer see something they simply can’t live without. Jyn, however, is not to be distracted with shiny treasures, and proceeds to march Cassian through the shop with military ruthlessness. Cassian is not wholly clueless after all; he has a fairly good sense of what Kerri likes. On his own, he finds a lovely and delicate reproduction of a 1920s makeup compact, the lid cunningly enameled into the shape of a sharp-featured fox.
As they comb the aisles of the shop, looking for gifts, Cassian says abruptly, “Where will you be, tomorrow? Are you…” he seems to be picking his next words carefully. “Is anyone having you over?”
“Baze and Chirrut invited me over to their place,” Jyn says, pursuing their selection of scarves. Are fashion scarves still a thing? Maybe. “But I didn’t want them to feel obligated. I have plans of my own.” Those plans are focused around staying in her pajamas all day, but Cassian doesn’t need to know that.
Cassian frowns at the shelves. “They like you. And I know Baze isn’t one to suffer in anyone's company just out of obligation.”
Jyn bristles automatically. “Maybe I just don’t like Christmas.”
He turns to look at her, his face surprised. “Of course you like Christmas.”
Jyn narrows her eyes at him as he fumbles, “I mean, I’ve seen you around Christmas time, in the past. You decorate your apartment, you participate in charity drives. You’ve been humming ‘Good King Wenceslas’ for the last three minutes.” Jyn feels heat wash up her neck, wondering when Cassian Andor started paying this much attention to her. Or maybe he has been all along and she simply hasn’t noticed.
Either option leads her down a road she has no interest in traversing.
She lets the silence stretch as she unthinkingly pulls down the one item Kerri did want, a glass coffee cup with a lid and matching straw. “I just think,” Cassian says, even more carefully, laying down each word like they might cut each other unless they’re placed down exactly the right way, “That Christmas is a time for…family. For friends and loved ones. No one should be alone at Christmas. The very idea is indecent.”
Jyn looks at the collection of things they’ve amassed and then looks back up at Cassian. That serious, earnest look he has, the look that wins people over to his side. Whatever she might say next dies as the old fashioned grandfather clock in the far corner solemnly, gravely, chimes the quarter hour.
“Come on,” she tells him. “Let’s see how much of a commission I can make off you.”
Cassian ends up buying the makeup compact, the glass coffee cup. He hands over his credit card without a wince, even though Jyn did actually end up giving him the official-unofficial friends and family discount—not that either of them acknowledge it.
Jyn wraps up the gifts in tissue paper, deftly tying a ribbon around each one, just a pretty little touch. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
When the gifts are purchased and wrapped, it’s already five to six. Cassian accepts the paper bag Jyn gives him, but doesn’t automatically turn to go. He glances at the clock, and then back at Jyn. “You know…we usually have an all day dinner at my family’s house. It starts at around noon and people just drop in, whenever. Sometimes we carol, when the sun sets.”
“That sounds nice,” says Jyn evenly.
Cassian purses his lips, doing that thing where his cheekbones stand out unfairly, it means he’s taking his time, choosing his words. It always annoys her, how careful he is, when she knows he used to be reckless. As reckless as she is. Now she wonders if it’s because he’s learned the value of taking his time.
“You’d be welcome,” he says. “Any time. Everyone would be happy to have you.”
They would, is the thing. Noemi would fuss over her and pile food on her plate, Joaquin, Cassian’s father, would very seriously ask her opinion on the Mexican football team’s chances, Kerri and the younger Andor cousins would beg for her to teach them new judo tricks—
Jyn used to think that she had enough pride not to go begging for scraps from any table, kindly meant or not. She’s worked hard to achieve that self-reliance. But…she’s been alone for so long. First out of necessity, and then by choice. It mattered because it’s her choice, she kept telling herself.
“Maybe,” is all Jyn says. “Maybe.”
Cassian looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself. Nods and says very seriously, “Thank you, Jyn. Merry Christmas.” Then he carefully gathers up the gift bag she prepared for him and heads back out into the snowy night.
“Merry Christmas,” Jyn echoes to the chime of the bell.
*
A dozen times the next morning, Jyn tells herself she’s not going. She doesn’t have to go. She doesn’t need to put on her nicest hunter green jumper, her good jeans and best weatherproof boots. She doesn’t need to let her hair out of its usual bun and carefully pull it halfway back, adding a red ribbon hair clip. The overall style makes her look softer than she’s accustomed to, but it fits the holiday. She puts on her little gold hoop earrings and stares at herself in the mirror.
She never said she would go, did she? It’s only noon. Would it look desperate or worse, pitiable, if she’s the first person to arrive?
After another five minutes of internal arguing, Jyn gets so sick of herself, she digs out the bottle of red wine she’s been saving, puts it in a big cloth tote bag, and adds about four oranges, some cloves, star anise and decides against adding her cinnamon sticks—there’ll be plenty where she’s going. She puts the bag on her shoulder, grabs her wallet, keys and phone, and heads out.
The Andors live in a nice little suburb about twenty minutes from the downtown area where Jyn lives. It’s the house that Joaquin and Carmen first purchased when they and Cassian became naturalized citizens; Kerri was born in this house. They take a fierce pride in tending to it, and Carmen’s sunflowers and marigolds are the talk of the block, in the summer and fall months. In the depths of December though, the porch is strung with cheery incandescent Christmas lights, gold and silver tinsel garlands wrapped around the columns. Someone has placed big pots of poinsettia on the steps.
There are already cars parked in front of the house, so Jyn parks across the street. She’s not the first one here, which is a relief, though now she wonders if she should’ve come earlier, if only to offer to help. She automatically checks her reflection in the rearview mirror and mutters, “Just go already,” to her reflection. She grabs the tote bag she brought with her and gets out of the car.
Even across the street she can hear cheerful Christmas music being played from inside the house. The windows glow cozily against the gray snowy sky. Jyn adjusts the bag on her shoulder and makes her way across the street, the wine bottle clinking gently. Maybe she should’ve brought cookies? But no, Jyn can’t bake to save her life; and there will be plenty of food, God only knows—
She climbs the porch steps, wondering why this nice little house should make her so nervous, and knocks. From inside someone yells, “Coming!” and fast footsteps approach before Jyn can settle her nerves.
The door swings open and there’s Kerri, looking adorable in a soft, snug white jumper, and a sparkly gold skirt and boots. “You’re here!” she squeals and drags Jyn in for a hug. “I told Cassian you’d make it! Did he really get me the last thing on my list?”
“Uh—” is the most intelligent response Jyn can come up with as she hugs Kerri back.
“Well, it’s sort of okay if he didn’t, because what he did get me was really cute!” Kerri goes on, dragging Jyn inside. Greetings are called from the living room as Jyn takes off her coat as Kerri chatters on, “He says you helped him pick them out, which is actually very smart of him, he’s got good taste, but it’s guy taste, you know? It’s giving ‘single guy’ energy, but we love that for him.”
“Carina Andor,” says Noemi’s voice from the kitchen, exasperatedly amused. “Let that poor girl get into the kitchen and get a word in.”
Kerri rolls her eyes and tows Jyn along to the kitchen. Noemi is at the stove, every burner going, as the other Andor tias all talk as a single body, the long counters of the kitchen covered with every kind of platter and pot and dish of food imaginable. In the midst of all this chaos, Cassian sits at the long kitchen island, as steady as a cornerstone, carefully peeling potatoes. He’s wearing a raspberry red sweater and dark jeans, and looks so good it hurts. Jyn does not think about how well their outfits coordinate. He looks up, so at home in this cozy kitchen with his mother and sister. His brows rise ever so slightly, but he nods in greeting. “Feliz Navidad, Jyn.”
“Joyeux Noël,” she says automatically, because her mother taught her French until she was nine. And then hurries on, “I brought—well, you all probably have enough to drink here, but I brought some things to make my father’s mulled wine. He—he used to make it around Christmas time, and New Year’s, and it can just go all day, and it doesn’t need tending or anything—”
“How very thoughtful,” says Noemi, gracefully cutting across Jyn’s rambling. “Kassa, can you find Jyn a pot to put it in?”
“A slow cooker will work fine too,” Jyn says, placing her bag on the kitchen island as Cassian gets up. “What are all these potatoes for, Noemi?”
“Mashed potatoes, as Tia Lupe requested,” says Noemi. “We’re having Salvadoreño style turkey, and Kerri got me a good recipe. From the Gaines lady.”
“Joanna Gaines, mami,” says Kerri, rifling through Jyn’s bag shamelessly. “Ooh, red wine! Can I have some?”
Jyn shoots Noemi a questioning look as Noemi rolls her eyes. “Are you eighteen? No? Then there’s your answer.”
Kerri pouts and Jyn leans in to whisper, “You can have a sip from my cup. Only a sip, though.”
Cassian places a slow cooker on the island next to Jyn as he says, “Will this do?”
Jyn feels herself flushing at his proximity, even as she tries to maintain her composure. “It should be fine.” She busies herself getting the rest of the ingredients out of her bag. “Do you have any cinnamon sticks? I didn’t bring my own, but—”
“I’ll get them,” says Kerri as she darts off to one of the cabinets.
Cassian doesn’t automatically move back to the pile of potatoes he was peeling. “Can I do anything?” he asks quietly, as the kitchen continues to move around them.
Jyn glances up at him. She’s not entirely sure when they’ve reached this detente, but for the sake of holiday goodwill, she’ll accept it. Or so she tells herself. It’s the season for well-meaning lies, after all. “Don’t you need to finish those potatoes?”
“Kerri can do it,” he says as his sister comes back with the cinnamon sticks. “Can I help?”
Jyn takes a breath, and hands him an orange. “Cut this in slices for me, please.”
*
Kerri ends up not liking the mulled wine. It’s not sweet enough, or so she says, though Jyn did add about a half a cup of honey. It’s a hit with the Tias and Tios and older cousins who are Jyn and Cassian’s age, so Jyn’s glad she ended up using the whole bottle.
It simmers in the crockpot as the day wears on. There’s the turkey, tamales, endless platters of rice, beans, tortillas, chips and salsa, and a host of other sides. Jyn loses track of all the times her plate is filled and refilled again. The older generation gossips and eats, and all the young adults Cassian and Jyn’s age play a variety of party games—lotería, Spoons, Apples to Apples, even Uno, though Uno usually ends in bloodshed around the Andors. The younger cousins and Kerri beg Jyn to teach them some judo moves, which she does, and somehow that becomes an impromptu self-defense lesson with the older ladies and Cassian steps in to be her partner.
“Don’t break him,” yells one of the guy cousins, Anselm, she thinks.
Jyn cocks an eyebrow at Cassian who raises his own back. “Don’t get blood on the floor,” is all he says. “Papi and I refinished it just this last summer.”
She doesn’t make him bleed—it’s Christmas, after all—but she does a fairly impressive take down which makes all the onlookers scream and yell, as she pins Cassian to the floor. Despite the hoots and hollering from the rest of the family, he looks far too comfortable pinned beneath her. “Should I tell them that’s one of the easier moves?” he asks, under the cover of the noise.
“No, let them think I’m more impressive than I really am,” Jyn says and Cassian— looks at her. She doesn’t have a better word for it than that.
“You’re always impressive, Jyn.”
Jyn can only stare at him, the break knocked clean out of her, before Kerri says loudly from the background, “Hey, is that mistletoe? ”
Jyn jumps off of Cassian like she’s been electrified, forgetting to hold out her hand to help him up, even as the Tias scold Kerri for causing trouble.
Cassian levers himself to his feet without Jyn’s help muttering in Kerri’s direction, “Thanks for nothing,” as Jyn makes her escape to the kitchen.
She’s helping herself to another cup of mulled wine, as Cassian reenters the kitchen, getting out the bags and bags of pan dulce. “Help me with the coffee?” he asks and Jyn swallows what’s in her cup. Cinnamon, honey, cloves and oranges, all in a smooth tide of red wine. It makes her more reckless than she should ever be.
“Sure.”
She sets a carafe of coffee brewing as Cassian puts the sweets in a serving dish. There is a weird tension in the kitchen, as normally as Jyn tries to move, tries not to think about how Cassian had felt under her, wiry and solid, but warm. The glimmer of amused satisfaction in his eyes when she’d pinned him. Like he’d expected nothing less.
Jyn’s not going to be weird about this. She’s not. True, this is the longest they’ve ever gone without sniping at each other, and some of that can be chalked up to the holiday, but also—
“Why are you being so nice?” she says, because Jyn Erso never met a situation she couldn’t bulldoze her way into, and because her luck is categorically terrible, Cassian says at the exact same time, “Do you want to get the creamer?” Their sentences resemble a three car pile up.
Cassian regathers his wits first and asks in a startled voice, “What?”
Jyn grits her teeth. “I said —why are you being so nice?”
Cassian stares at her, before getting the coffee creamer out himself. “Maybe I’m always like this. You just never noticed.”
“I think I would’ve noticed,” Jyn persists stubbornly. “
“Maybe,” Cassian says with the faintest hint of forced patience, the exact same time he uses with Kerri when she’s being particularly intractable, “I have been, but you seem more interested in throwing my words back in my face—”
“Maybe if you weren’t such a—” Jyn starts to hiss.
“Kassa? Jyn?” Noemi’s voice calls from the living room. “Are you bringing out the pan?”
Cassian’s face is wiped clean of emotion like water across a slate. “Yes, Mami.” He takes up the platter and goes out, leaving Jyn following behind him, fuming inwardly, even as she sets the carafe on the folding table with the rest of the desserts.
Suddenly this warm and cozy house doesn’t feel like the place for her, full of laughter and jokes and a family that she doesn’t belong to. Her eyes burn momentarily, and she breathes out, letting it go. Serves coffee with a pleasant expression—or as pleasant as she can manage. And then slips out again, out into the porch this time, the cold air a knife in the throat. It almost feels good.
Jyn can’t think of anything sadder or more pathetic than standing out on a cold, empty porch on Christmas Day—alone. She can see her car, across the street. She could just go. Leave the Andors to their happy celebration, their assured and confident love for each other. Back to her quiet apartment with it’s garlands of green and orange slices, the one thing she and her mother used to do before Lyra died. Before Galen disappeared into his work, and Saw tried to take over Jyn’s care and taught her all the wrong lessons. Leaving her independent and self-reliant and competent but so alone.
Jyn presses her lips together, lets out a breath, a plume of fog in the cold night.
The front door behind her opens and closes.
“Jyn,” Cassian’s voice, soft, tenative. “Jyn. Are you leaving?”
She doesn’t turn. “I’m just getting some air.”
Another pause. “Don’t go,” he says. “Not yet. We haven’t even caroled yet.” His voice is gently coaxing.
“Oh,” she says with a hint of mockery, “Don’t want to miss that.”
“Definitely not,” he agrees, entirely serious. “You’d miss Tio Clem yowling ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas.’ The neighbors complain every year.”
A snort escapes Jyn before she can stop it. A soft chuckle from Cassian as he comes to stand by her side. The soft glow of the Christmas lights make him look so gentle and cozy it makes Jyn want to curl up in his arms.
They stand there in careful silence for a moment. “I really am quite nice,” Cassian says, almost lightly. “Ask anyone. Bodhi. Kay. Brasso. Bix.”
“If I wanted to know who you were hanging with when I’m not around, I would’ve asked you,” Jyn shoots back, and glares as Cassian’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles.
“Jealous, Jyn?” his voice is carefully teasing.
“No,” she scoffs, and then scowls. “Not exactly. If you’re so nice to them, then why aren’t you nice to me? ” It comes out more combative than she intends, but better than sounding pathetic.
“Because me being ‘nice’ seems to make you uncomfortable,” Cassian says, so quietly and matter-of-fact it knocks the words right out of Jyn. “You bristle at me like you think I’m trying to put one over on you.”
She doesn’t —does she? God, maybe she does. Jyn sighs, her breath wreathing around them. “It’s odd to me—you being grown up and…and mature, when…when—”
“When I used to cause trouble, be a rebel and cause my parents heartache,” Cassian finishes, level. “I understand that. Sometimes I miss that.”
Jyn looks at him in surprise and he shrugs. “Sometimes, not all the time. You know when I changed? When Kerri was born. She was so…small. And full of hope and potential. She looked up at me with those big eyes like I knew everything. That’s when I decided I wanted to be worthy of that trust.”
Jyn looks away, back out into the streetlit neighborhood. “You’ve earned Kerri’s trust too, you know,” Cassian adds gently. “Just by being yourself. She looks up to you, adores you.”
“Can’t understand why,” Jyn says, more meanly than she intends and Cassian frowns at her.
“You really don’t know?” he says. “Jyn, come on.”
It’s the gentle way he says it that makes her look at him. Almost adominishingly. He’s giving her that look again, exasperated and gentle and knowing, that look that Jyn’s afraid to put a name to, because if she’s wrong, then it’s going to devastate her. But Cassian—he doesn’t play games with people like that. If he decides he’s in, then he’s in, all the way . It’s one of the things they have in common. Which is a mildly terrifying thought.
“If I’m not ‘nice’ to you, then you dish it right back,” Cassian murmurs. “You give as good as you get.” The way his voice curls around the words…as though he likes it. Something he appreciates about her.
Jyn isn’t sure at what point in the conversation they started drifting closer and closer. The warm glow bathing them both makes the whole porch feel slightly unreal. Nothing has any consequences in this gentle light. Jyn shifts a little closer, gives into the temptation that’s been plaguing her all night and lays a careful hand on his chest. The weave of his jumper is wonderfully soft, and he is so warm and solid under it. Cassian keeps his hands at his sides. His face is very still as she gets closer; the only indication of any kind of tension in him is the way he keeps his lips pressed together like he’s afraid to taste something. Until he’s given permission.
Jyn is reckless. But she likes to think she can be reckless for a good cause. Mainly, getting her mouth on Cassian’s. He feels like that first cup of mulled wine, warmth and spice and comfort, swirling in her mouth.
It doesn’t last for very long. Only a few moments. Then she eases back down on the flat of her feet, watching his face. Holding her breath, just a little.
Cassian blinks once, and looks at her like his brain needs rebooting. “Jyn.”
“Yes?” she says, matching his slightly questioning tone.
“Let’s go inside,” he says. “It’s getting late, and you shouldn’t drive home in the snow.”
Jyn blinks, and is about to open her mouth to tell him exactly what she thinks of that idea, Cassian goes on, “If you do end up staying the night, the guest room is just across from my old room.”
Jyn closes her mouth with a snap and eyes him. He meets her gaze steadily. “We can talk some more,” he says, more softly now. “When half the family isn’t pressing their faces against the windows.”
Ah. Yes, they have been out here for some time. Jyn doesn’t dare look over. “You promise?” she says before she can stop herself and oh, his face. You could build a future on a look like that.
“I promise,” Cassian says. He bends his head, very gently presses his lips to hers again. It’s outwardly soft, almost chaste, but Jyn gets the impression of great power being held in check by sheer force of will. She’s looking forward to getting him to let it off the leash. “I promise,” he murmurs.
Kerri is grinning like a little loon when they finally come back inside the house, Cassian and Jyn’s cheeks perhaps redder than the cold night air might account for. With a complete lack of subtlety, she starts playing “(Christmas) Baby, Please Come Home,” on the piano with great glee and just enough musicality to let everyone know what she’s playing.
Cassian sighs loudly and Jyn smiles, going to the piano to sing along. Letting it envelope her, carry her forward. Seeing Cassian over Kerri’s head and his tiny, impossibly fond smile at them both.