Stuck With Me: A Cad Bane Novel

Chapter 9

A/N: i love cad bane floof sm

Warnings: nightmares, epiphanies, a dash of pain and possible swearing

Word count: 1186

 You're used to it now, waking up from nerve wracking nightmares and immediately searching for the sound of his breathing in his small bedroom. Maybe that's why you notice its absence so sorely when you wake up. Trembling all over, you throw the blanket off, as you always do, and squint into the darkness of the room. Sure enough, you can't make out his dark shape on the floor.

You choke down his name before it leaves your lips. Tears prick at your eyes, panic stabs at your heart, and you scrub desperately at your face, trying to take a steadying breath, but all you can think of is that nightmare, of what might happen if he's not here. Where is he? Where is he? Where is he where is he where is he -

Leaping to your feet, you stumble to the door and stagger unsteadily through the corridor, your heart thundering in your ears, an accelerating drumbeat which pounds terror deep into you. Maker, where is he? Where is the man whose breathing you need to hear to fall asleep again? Where is the man that you should be scared of?

The realisation slaps you in the face, and you almost trip over your own feet in shock. Stars, why is it that the one person who you should be most scared of, most threatened by, is the one which you're trying to find because he will ease your fear? You can clearly remember thinking that his voice was the voice of the devil when he first spoke to you on Uveth, and yet here you are anyway, taking turns with him on the bed. Needing him to feel safe. Your first instinct: to find him, to make sure your only way of surviving in the galaxy is still alive and breathing.

You start crying again, desperately gasping for air between sobs, hands balled into fists. How is it that by day, you flinch away from his touch, even when you don't want to, but by night, you let the sound of his breathing lull you to sleep?

The cockpit door slides open at your touch, and through your haze of tears, you see him, slumped in the pilot's seat, without his hat for once, as he stares out through the glass. He's fiddling with the bandage around his stab wound, tugging at the ends until they flutter like innocent white banners in the slight draft. At the sound of the door opening, he turns, red eyes widening slightly as he sees you. You can imagine what you look like right now: eyes red, cheeks wet with tears, rumpled hair, mouth a wobbling line, trembling all over... You wouldn't be surprised if he turned back around in the chair, uncaring, but instead, you see his face soften. Or maybe it's just the moonlight.

But then he opens his arms, not a word spoken, and you choke on a sob and collapse onto his lap. He rubs a hand down your back, and you feel its coolness through the thin cotton of your shirt. It's surreal, like a dream, and yet it's shockingly clear, complete with his musky scent, with the soft rise and fall of his chest. You sniffle, clinging onto him, letting the feeling of his body ground you, pull you out of your world of nightmares and settle you in this single moment - in the arms of the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy, yet the safest you ever remember feeling.

It's as if the night has unlocked a part of him that doesn't come out during the day - a softer part, a gentler part, a part that doesn't have to always be tough, a part that will hold someone like you in its arms and comfort you without words, just the rise and fall of a chest and that familiar musky scent which you've realised too late has been associated with safety. Associated with him, with the side of him that spares you a glance, the side of him that makes you wonder why you were scared of him, the side of him that makes you feel things that you wish you didn't feel.

Another sob wracks your body, more relieved this time, tremors running down your spine, and you bury your face into his shoulder, resting one hand flat against his chest so you can feel his heartbeat pressing steadily against your palm. You close your eyes, and only sweet black meets you - black and the security of being in Cad Bane's arms, as crazy as it sounds.

It's okay, now, you tell yourself. He's alive, he's here, and he's going to protect you.

You stiffen at that thought. Will he really? And yet, something about the way he held out his arms, wordless, and just let you collapse against him... It tells you all you need to know. Lifting your head, you sniffle, not quite daring to look up at him, not quite daring to meet his red eyes which you know will be glowing in the semi - darkness. It feels as if you just bared your soul to him, although you're pretty sure he knows of the nightmares that plague you already. There's no way a bounty hunter like him sleeps deeply enough to miss you abruptly cut off half gasp upon waking that any of Gavinc Russ' clients would have slept right through.

He's quiet and still, his breathing steady, one hand braced on your lower back, the other on the back of your head. Dipping your head again, you rest your cheek on his shoulder, your flushed face momentarily brushing against his cool skin. A sudden, hissing rattle emerges from his chest, and you grimace, but don't flinch.

'Sorry,' you whisper, afraid to break the calm silence that had settled through the cockpit.
'Don't ya dare apologise,' he replies gruffly. 'Ya ain't got nothin' to be sorry about, li'l lady.'
You close your eyes. 'I got your shirt wet.'
He chuckles a bit, and a smile tickles the corners of your mouth as he pats your back. 'Shirt can dry.'
'I guess,' you hum.

The two of you fall into another silence, and it occurs to you that you're literally slumped on his lap, straddling him. And he's not any him, he's him, he's the fucking infamous Cad Bane, the one who they tell stories about, the red eyed reptile, the cold blooded killer - in more than one way. Yet, you don't find any fear in you, and maybe that's what makes you go still. He notices and shifts you on his lap a little, trying to catch a glimpse of your expression.

'I... I should probably go, right?' You ask timidly.
He cocks his head as you look up at him. 'Only if ya want to, li'l lady. I don't mind. Yer like a radiator.'
You smile a little, amazed at how quickly he put you at ease. 'Then I'll stay here, as long as it doesn't bother you.'
'It's okay,' he assures you. 'Yer stuck with me, now.'