summary: it was all by design, because you're a mastermind.
word count: 1,406
warnings?: implied smut, fluff, not proofread
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The first night he saw you, he knew nothing was going to stop you. The first time you walked into the room, he could tell you decided that he were going to be yours. He saw it in your eyes, the way you looked him up and down, a twinkle in your eyes. And, he didn't mind. He didn't mind, because it was you. There was a warmth to you, a sort of kindness, that he hadn't experienced in so long. Cassian Andor had become accustomed to coldness and distance and being kept at arm's length. It was the nature of his profession. One doesn't become a spy for the Rebellion by cozying up to people. Though, he mused, it had worked well enough for you.
He remembered you tripping over your feet as you walked by the booth he was sat at. He remembered practically jumping out of his seat, reaching out, steadying you, stopping you from falling flat on your face. He remembered your quiet gasp at the feeling of his hands on your waist. (He remembered wanting you to make that sound again and again and again.) He remembered offering you a seat at his booth, the way you smiled appreciatively at him.
"Do I get to know the name of the kind gentleman who's helped me?" you asked as you settled in your seat, your eyes practically twinkling as you peered over at him.
"I don't know how much of a gentleman I am," he said. That much was true. He had seen too many things, done too many things, to be called a gentleman. That part of him wanted to run the other way, if only to preserve you. You didn't deserve to be tainted by him.
"Perhaps because you don't see yourself the way others see you."
"Perhaps because I know how others see me," he said.
"Let me convince you otherwise," you practically purred, leaning in closer to him.
He swallowed hard, realizing how close you were to him. He had been sitting alone in a booth before you came over, his arm slung over the back of it, his legs spread out, taking up more room than perhaps was necessary. He had resumed that position after he helped you, finding it more comfortable than any other way he could have sat. Now, you were mere inches away, practically tucked under his arm. You were close enough that he could smell the soap you used. He could smell how you were clean and fresh. Did you really want to be dirtied by him?
"Cassian," he said. Would he regret this? Perhaps. But, Maker, he wanted to feel something good for once. "My name is Cassian."
"Well, Cassian, I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together."
He wanted to laugh at the thought. Fun? During times like these? It seemed more like a far flung hope than anything that could become reality. But as he looked at you, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to have a life that was simple, carefree, fun. He wanted it all.
"Then lead the way."
You became a near permanent fixture in his life after that. It wasn't uncommon for you to appear when he was least expecting it, presenting him with a gift you'd found for him on a mission, or telling him a story about a mistake a rookie made, or struggling to tell a joke to him because you can't stop giggling your way through it. It made him wonder where you had been before. It made him wonder what life had been like before you.
Being around you was nice. Cassian was used to slipping into the background. He was used to going unnoticed. He used to prefer it. But then you came around. And you saw him. You heard him. You remembered him. When he mentioned that he was going on a mission with someone he hated, you always offered him something nice when he got back. When he could barely keep his eyes open but still needed to work, you would bring him caf with cream because you knew he couldn't stand the bitter taste of the drink but still enjoyed the energy it would bring him. When the nights were quiet and he found himself in your bunk, desperately seeking comfort, you would let him lay on your chest, card your fingers through his hair, and let him talk about the life he used to have, the life he long since left behind.
Now that you were a part of his life, Cassian wasn't quite sure he could ever live without you. He didn't want to.
Sometimes, he wondered what he should call what he had with you. Was it a relationship? Were the two of you just friends? It certainly felt like something more. Should he ask you for clarification? Or should he let it be? Why kick a gift horse in the mouth, after all?
The answer became clear, however, when after months of dancing through his feelings, the two of you were assigned to a mission together. As excited as Cassian was to have a reason to spend time with you, he nevertheless dreaded the mission. It was relatively simple. An Imperial ball was to be held. You would go in as the entertainment, he would go in as a member of the waitstaff. If you remained as the entertainment, it wouldn't be so bad. But Cassian knew that you would have to sidle up to an Imperial officer, look at the bastard with the sweet eyes you reserved for him, so you could retrieve invaluable information.
Worse, perhaps, was how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. You giggled and laughed and smiled at the officer. You leaned into his side, ran your fingers along his jaw. You leaned in close, whispered into his ear. Worse, you climbed onto the officer's lap, locking eyes with Cassian, It took everything in him not to blow his cover right then and there.
That night, you didn't leave his bunk as he told you over and over and over again that he was yours, that you were his.
In the morning, he woke before you. You had stolen the sheets in the middle of the night, leaving Cassian with only a corner of the blanket covering him below the waist. He didn't mind. He would give anything for you. He shuffled closer to you, pulling your body against his. You let a contented noise, smiling in your sleep. Oh. He liked that.
Cassian lifted his hand, caressing your face. He ran his thumb over the swell of your cheek. A rare smile, a smile that became more common in your presence, settled on his face. He liked how soft you were. He liked knowing that you trusted him with that softness. It made him feel like he was a good man.
As he admired you, you slowly opened your eyes, your smile growing as you realized he was still there. "Good morning, handsome," you said, your voice thick with tiredness.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, leaning his forehead against yours.
"Mhm," you hummed. You nuzzled your face into the spot where his neck met his shoulder. His breath hitched at the feeling of your breath tickling him. "Can I tell you something?"
"Of course," he said without missing a beat. "You can tell me anything."
"When we first met...none of it was accidental." You lifted your head, watching closely for his reaction. "When I first saw you, I decided that nothing was going to stop me until you were mine. Everything from that point forward was a carefully laid plan."
Cassian huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. A smirk settled on his face as he said, "You think I don't know? You had my heart at the first step in your plan. Or, perhaps, at the first trip in your plan."
"You knew? And...you didn't mind?" you asked.
"I've known this entire time you were a mastermind," he confirmed. "And I love that most about you."
A smile stretched across your face. "You know, I recall saying that you and I were going to have a lot of fun."
"Oh? I think you should live up to that promise, don't you?"
And, Maker, you did. Because you were a mastermind, and he was happily yours.
