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The most ridiculous part of the entire situation was that Cassian turned out to be a fantastic kisser.
Jyn liked to imagine that was at least in part because his kissing partner rose to the occasion to meet him in the middle, but in all honesty, she was somewhat lacking in real experience there. Cassian had that in spades. He slotted their mouths together precisely, pressure enough to send Jyn’s nerves reeling, gentle and tender enough to make her melt, just a hint of wet and no tongue.
Jyn found it cosmically ironic that the man who could kiss like that had no actual interest in kissing people. It was seriously tragic. Like a master chef who excelled at spiced dishes but happened to have a preference for plain toast. Or the perfect dance partner who only ever danced alone.
The kiss got a cheer, of course, because they were in the middle of the cantina. Jyn even distinctly heard a pleased whisper of ‘it’s just like a holovid’ as she felt the heat of Cassian’s body pressed in close, their lips locked together. Jyn tried to hold down the smirk, to enjoy the moment, only to feel Cassian’s smile through their kiss.
They slotted together perfectly because they were Cassian and Jyn, and nothing they did together as a couple could be wrong. Jyn knew that from the start, or she would not have done it in the first place.
Later, the story would be told by many witnesses, how Jyn had strode into the cantina with clear purpose in her steps, her sights set upon the handsome captain settled quietly in a corner. The heroes’ corner, some called it, because it was by this point more or less reserved for a select group. Rogue One, of course, but also the princess and her crew, and whatever privileged person had caught any of their attention. Not just the flashy heroes, either, some would sigh, but medics and mechanics, because these were down to earth heroes who one could have a drink with, who refused the pedestal. Some because they hated the attention, some because they clearly were so pure and good they didn’t even notice they’d done something to set themselves apart.
Which slot Captain Cassian Andor fell into was debated. On the one hand, he was one of Draven’s people, and Draven’s people avoided the spotlight as if it burned. On the other hand, he was also one of Sergeant Jyn Erso’s people, and Sergeant Jyn Erso’s people shone by association whether they wanted to, or not.
What everyone agreed upon was that Captain Andor and Sergeant Erso were fated soulmates who would, eventually, figure this out and fall together with the inevitable certainty of a collision between two meteors drawn into crossing orbits, with the surety of gravity itself. The only question was when and where and how. So absolutely no one was truly surprised when Jyn marched up to the captain, who was reportedly relaxed in his corner, in between the pilot Bhodi Rook and Princess Leia Organa. Reportedly, he had been mysterious and broody in that corner, but had visibly lit up the moment he’d noticed Erso’s approach.
Others would say he’d been relaxed all evening, whispering with his friends, his lips quirking upwards with amusement, but that didn’t fit the narrative as well, so it was quietly replaced by the more familiar image everyone was well used to.
Just about everyone agreed that the only reason he hadn’t leapt to his feet to greet her was because of his healing spine, the brace still visible around his waist, metal crutches casually leaned against the table alongside the Guardian’s staff. This narrative made little sense, considering the point of the brace was it allowed for his normal and natural movement, but people loved their image of a wounded hero. And perhaps there was some truth there; it had to hurt still, right? He still needed crutches, right? And Andor had been drinking, and anyway, he didn’t leap up, so there must have been a good reason the very much in love man had not leapt to his feet as the love of his life approached, just sat lounging and relaxed, a smile lighting up his usually stoic features.
“Cassian,” Jyn had declared, and so many people around them quietly turned towards them with an expression of ‘oh, it’s happening, she’s actually going to say it’ that she might as well have had a magnet attached. It was still shocking when, after all that build up, their silent expectations were actually fulfilled. “Cassian, I can’t hold it in any longer. I love you. I have always loved you. Ten percent above and beyond. Please, be mine.
For a moment, Captain Andor looked uncharacteristically startled, his eyes darting from her face to the room at large, as if this was one occasion the man who was prepared for anything had never prepared for. But of course, any man so confronted would be shocked, and Cassian Andor was not heartless.
And Cassian, still smiling, had finally looked up at her, taken her hand in his, and said, “I feel fifty times the man when you look at me like that. But… our jobs…” He sounded so tragic, so heroic, fighting their feelings even as he held her hand that several sighs were heard throughout the room.
“We’ve given twenty years to this job between us,” Jyn objected. “Please, tell me you love me, too.”
She was practically in his lap, her eyes boring into his, all passion and heat and light to his shadow and mystery, and his eyes met hers passion for passion. Their fingers were intwined, their foreheads practically touching.
“Feels like thirty-five, at least,” he answered with a grin, and then they were kissing.
A cheer went up, whooping and hollering, and some swore there were literal sparks and all was perfect as the law of gravity asserted itself over two lovers destined to be.
The kiss ended, but they remained intwined, smiling and bright and perfect. And if that were all, people would sigh with contentment and then consult the bookies to figure out who had won the jackpot or the lesser wagers concerning when and how and who would proposition who and where it would happen… and then continue on with their lives and forget the drama in a week. But this was a day for drama, and the drama just kept unfolding.
“How could you!” the pilot Bodhi Rook wailed, true betrayal on his face, and Captain Andor, from his chosen position that allowed him to watch the entire room but also allowed the entire room a view of his face, gave a clear look of pure guilt as he pulled away from Jyn to look at the companion seated at his side.
“Oh, Bhodi, I am so sorry,” he was heard to say, soft spoken, but there were those close enough to hear and to pass on his words later, “I didn’t think… I mean, Jyn was just here and… it’s Jyn, and…”
“Y-you promised,” the pilot stuttered out, clearly on the verge of tears, “Y-you promised me tomorrow.”
And then he fled the cantina, betrayal and sorrow marring his handsome features, and horrified faces stared at the newly formed couple in shock and confusion. Some with sympathy, some with accusation, because how anyone could do whatever Andor had done to such a sweet man they could not fathom.
“Cassian?” Jyn asked, and those closest swore she sounded on the verge of tears herself, her heart clearly breaking. “Are you and Bhodi… are you…”
“Shut it,” the captain answered with such callousness and cruelty that it had half those watching this unfold frowning. But then the captain sighed and actually looked so distressed that most immediately rewrote the story of the drama in their minds into something kinder. Perhaps the Captain’s heart was torn between the two of them. Or, as most would decide, the Captain had thought Sergeant Erso beyond his grasp and had turned towards another companion in his sorrow. The pilot had likely done the same. After all, everyone with eyes could see that Rook and Skywalker were meant to be, two bright, pure flames in the darkness of this everlasting war. In fact, Luke Skywalker had almost immediately followed Rook out, though this tidbit had gone unnoticed by most due to Jyn and Cassian stealing everyone’s attention. So of course Bhodi Rook would also get his happy ending… eventually (bets were still ongoing for that couple), and everyone could fully enjoy the becoming of Jyn and Cassian without the taint of a jilted lover.
“I’ll talk to him,” Cassian had decided. “My forty-five… years of waiting. He’ll understand.”
“If it helps, it was all for a good cause,” Jyn murmured, almost in his ear, and then, even softer, ‘And it’s thirty-five.’ The Captain’s answer was so low, and made so little sense, that those who did hear and repeated it after could not themselves agree on what was said and probably everyone misheard. It sounded something like ‘well, I do hear the Hutts can be vicious.’ Or perhaps ‘I do fear the cuts can be suspicious.’ It was probably actually something like, ‘My love for you cannot be contained, not even to save my friends’ or something sweet like that. That fit the narrative much better. And in fact, eventually, that was what everyone decided must have been said.
Of course ‘forty-five years of waiting’ or even ‘thirty-five’ did not make much more sense, considering the Captain was not yet thirty, but everyone assumed it was a continuation of the romantic mumblings that had started everything and Cassian was combining his and Jyn’s years together. Which still didn’t add up, but who wants to spoil romance with proper math?
Han Solo, the rugged smuggler who was too roguish to not be one of Jyn Erso’s people sidled up to their table to clap them both on the back and congratulate them. Erso was, by this point, sitting sideways in Andor’s lap, and Andor did not seem pained by this development, one arm still holding her to him, one of her arms around his shoulders.
“It’s about time!” Solo said. “I think this calls for more drinks!”
That got another cheer, that partly drowned out Solo’s follow-up of “Now, I have to see a guy about my winnings.”
“Our win,” Jyn reportedly whispered, leaning into Cassian and smiling with pure joy. Well, some said she said ‘our winnings’ but she clearly meant that her coming together with Captain Andor was a win.