#leave some message there.. sure not every fic will make me wax poetry about it but even just a short comment can be a nice sign

[kocch]

me whenever I put all my effort into that One fic and leave That comment and the author responds selectively to that one comment: omg I've been noticed by senpai - am I, am I better than everyone??

[peppersonironi]

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter Three

Wooo! Chapter Two (not including the prologue) is up now for my @dukethomasbigbang fic! Today's art is by @a-sketchy-character and you can find the glorious piece HERE

thx again to my betas @queerbutstillhere & @theycallme-ook

Today has a special thanks to @batgirls-appreciation who dropped out as a beta, but this chapter couldn't exist without her!

Summary:

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave. But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

Read on Ao3

Duke frowned down at his empty pad of paper, trying to brainstorm. It had been a mere twelve hours since the failed Rick Roll (though, the Rick Roll itself wasn’t a fail. Duke would be daydreaming about the chaos for years to come), and the day shift bat was itching for a way to make up for it.

Alas, the creative juices were not flowing that day. Duke had tried everything - taking a walk, training, meditation, writer’s sprint, and even resorting to watching prank compilations on YouTube. But nothing worked. So, he found himself watching the target Bat - Bruce - in his “natural habitat.”

Also known as the living room, mid lecture.

“But I don’t know what I did!” Tim pleaded desperately, trying to convey to Bruce his confusion.

Bruce shook his head. “No, you do, Tim. Dick told me you all will appeal to my affection to get out of the consequences for your actions -” wow, Duke remembered Dick using that exact tactic just yesterday, and it worked - “So I will not allow you to shirk the punishment.”

Tim groaned. “This is tyranny! I’m an emancipated minor, I don’t need to deal with this.”

“Actually, yes you do. You will be doing chores for Alfred for the next two weeks, and you aren’t allowed to run off to Mount Justice.”

“Then at least tell me what I did wrong!” Tim cried, throwing his hands up in the air. Bruce rubbed his temples, then glanced briefly at Duke.

“You know what you did, and how it affected those around you. And you’re grounded because of it. No room for arguments. Now go work on the sprinklers, Alfred has mentioned they’ve been finicky.”

Tim scoffed and stalked out, soon after followed by Bruce.

Duke considered relocating as well - he couldn’t very well observe Bruce if said wild furry wasn’t present. But something about that conversation that sent a light shiver up Duke’s spine, some small spark of inspiration.

An idea began to form in his mind, and Duke smiled slowly.

*****

“For all Bruce’s waxing poetic on the merits of high tech stuff, this pipe organization is seriously ancient,” Duke muttered under his breath as he glanced from the blueprints he had secured to the mess of pipes and spigots and nozzles in front of him.

Though to be fair, this wasn’t the Batcave. Duke was in the basement of Wayne Manor - yes, he was just as surprised to find they actually had one of those that wasn’t dedicated to the dark and mystique training of Gotham’s Protectors. And impromptu Mario Kart challenges, because as Tim had once told Duke “We all know that’s the real reason Bruce got a giant computer setup.”

Duke cursed softly under his breath when he dropped a wrench that began to clang around in the messy cage of metal. He set the blueprints aside atop the gallons of paint he had chosen, and reached around and down to get the wrench. When he came back up, he found himself face to face with his sister Cassandra.

Oh shit, Duke thought, as he tried to figure out how to cover for what he was doing in the plumbing of the Manor.

Cass squinted at him and, not for the first time, Duke felt like he was an onion trapped beneath her gaze, slowly being peeled back layer by layer till the young woman before him knew every little detail about him. Every thought or plan he ever had.

Duke began to sweat, unable to keep his panic under wraps. Cass was scarier than Bruce, that was just a fact.

Cass tilted her head a fraction of an inch, and Duke thought he was a dead man. But, much to his relief and confusion, Cass shrugged and turned. She walked lightheartedly out of the basement and to the stairs, whistling tunelessly as she went.

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave.

But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

*****

As all members of the Wayne family knew, the Library was one of the best places, period. Aside from the living room which was always a mess of pillows, bean bags, inflatable dinosaurs, spare semi-automatic weaponry and knives, the Library was the most personal room in the expansive home that was the Manor. Sure, it was cleaner and home to fewer surprise nerf gun fights, but It still had an air of warmth about it. It was the place that they would go to to rest after a difficult patrol. Where you could find Jason reading some book in a corner, Tim busy with WE work at the large table, Damian trying to teach Alfred the Cat and Titus to read picture books, Cass and Steph trying to be subtle about making out (though to be fair that was only half the time, other times Cass was working on reading with Steph helpfully giving her guidance). Dick would always be trying to decide what to read and but he would never actually succeed, Bruce would sit in his tall armchair in the corner overlooking every small detail of his children with a not-quick-smile-but-pretty-darn-close on his face.

Duke himself also had his own spot that he would work on writing poetry, or just surf Tumblr. It was a window seat at the far side of the library which was technically big enough for three people, but Duke had a strict policy that it was his and his alone and no he totally wasn’t bullied by Cass that one time to snuggle. Why on Earth would you ever consider such a thing?

It was in this spot now that Duke was situated, though he was not alone. Titus - yes, Damian’s dog - was draped across his lap. Now, Duke didn’t mean to steal his little brother’s pets, but it just happened. Titus was in need of snuggles or belly rubs when Damian was away with Jon or on patrol at night, and Duke just happened to be the only one that said canine could bully into granting him.

Thankfully, like all bats were, Duke was a multi-tasker. He wasn’t put off by having to scratch a dog behind the ears whilst simultaneously checking the twelve blinking dots on his laptop screen that represented his family members.

Duke stared intensely at the diagram of the Manor as all the dots slowed down and finally stayed in their predetermined positions. Huh, Tim was right. Stalking family members did pay off!

The dots suddenly stopped blinking, and Duke snapped out of his self congratulations. It was go time . He switched windows, then quickly pulled out his phone and pressed a button.

There were several screams that echoed throughout the ancient halls, those screams spoke of terror and surprise, and passed along the message that something was very, very wrong in the world. The status quo had been broken, and there was no returning from this.

Duke smirked down at his computer, where a dozen different squares displayed camera footage of the real time happenings of the Manor. Said footage was showing several members of Duke’s family drenched in paint. The same paint that Duke had meticulously divided and poured into the ceiling sprinkling system that the Manor had for some totally-not-plot-related reason. The same paint which had been primed and ready to be sprayed out of the spigots coating each bat with the perfectly calculated, even layer.

The paint had just finished being deployed, and yet several people were for some reason trying to fight it off like it was an attacker. Duke noticed that the swinging of bo staffs, AK-47’s and katanas were altogether unsuccessful. Honestly, the people who were standing completely still in shock, or who were trying to shake off the paint were having much better luck.

But then everyone finally realised that they weren’t being sprayed anymore, and a collective sigh spread out across the Manor. The onslaught was done, and they could finally gather together and grab the pitchforks to hunt down the responsible party.

It was then that the glitter was deployed.

The chaos immediately multiplied tenfold, and the screams sounded up again. The air was filled with the sparkly dust that was way too thin to swat away. (No, Duke totally didn’t spend extra time researching to find the world’s finest glitter)

Duke was outright laughing at this point, so hard that he almost fell off the window seat. Titus barked suddenly, and Duke sobered enough to get back upright and watch the finishing up of the chaos. He had to admit, this felt wonderful. If he had to describe his current state of thrill in two words, he would have admitted that he felt altogether too close to the Hellmo Meme.

Unfortunately, Duke was not Stephanie, and ran out of glitter eventually. The vents stopped blasting the film of fairy dust, and the bats were given a reprieve.

Though the break was short lived, as just then, Bruce’s loud bellow sounded throughout the giant house.

“ALL OF YOU GET IN HERE!”

Duke chuckled as he scooched Titus over and set his laptop to the side so he could get up. This was all working perfectly! He’d arrive at Bruce's interrogation completely free from all paint or glitter, which would immediately prove his guilt. And if that didn’t work, then he supposed he could outright confess. But that wasn’t the point of this. The point was for Bruce to come to the conclusion on his own.

He walked down the hall, completely carefree. So happy and confident in his own abilities that he never even noticed that Cassandra’s paint or glitter didn’t go off. That she wasn’t even present where the tracker he had subtly placed on her earlier that day said she was.

*****

Duke hummed to himself as he skipped along the carpet, past the antique vases and random finger paintings, past the drawing rooms and bathrooms, and towards Bruce. All was quiet.

Though that began to trouble Duke, as he got closer to one of the rooms which was very special. It was where Cass had been situated, playing with Selina’s cat Isis, for the past hour. Now, Cassandra was quiet, sure. But not that quiet. And besides, wouldn’t the cat be screeching right about now? Cass didn’t seem like the person to give a nerve hit to an animal just because it was being loud ( cough Jason cough ).

He slowly entered the room and looked around, but was surprised to find it completely empty. Not just of girl and cat, but of paint and glitter too.

“You were mistaken.”

Duke whirled around to find Cass sitting in an armchair, wrapped in shadows, and stroking Isis in a manner not altogether different from that of an Evil Mastermind™.

“Uh…” Duke replied, “about what?”

Cass smirked, and Duke felt a shiver run up his spine. “Actions have consequences. ”

Duke frowned. Wait, what? He glanced around again, trying to figure out what Cass meant. On a surface level he understood, but there was something about the way Cass was eyeing him that told him something else was up.

The only thing he could find that was out of the ordinary, however, was the camera he had placed just yesterday. Huh, now that he thought about it, he was at just the right angle to see it. Which meant he was in direct view of the camera itself. Pretty darn to close to where he had been planning Cass would stand, actually.

Then a faint spitting noise came from above him.

Oh.

*****

Duke trudged forlornly into the room where the rest of the bats - except Cassandra, who had disappeared after the glitter had deployed onto Duke - had gathered. He was one of the last to arrive, muttering curses under his breath, so all eyes were on him as he opened the door and joined them.

Though that also meant that Duke could see them. He had to admit, that as disappointed as he was, it was still hard to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Boy, he had done a great job with color coordination, hadn’t he?

Bruce was front and center, covered in a dark gray paint which had the sheen of yellow glitter. Dick had black paint completely covering him (much more than Duke planned. Did Dick roll in the stuff?) along with blue glitter. Jason had both red paint and glitter on him. Tim had started off with a lighter colored paint - this time red - and then the look was finished by black glitter. Damian looked like a small Christmas tree in his green paint and red glitter. Harper had blue paint then covered in purple glitter, both of which were the exact shades of her hair. Duke wasn’t a monster ; he knew how to match colors.

The cousins - both honorary and actually - had also been present. Bette had been appropriately targeted with a flaming orange and gold combination. Kate had black paint and, instead of red, Duke had picked a rainbow glitter for her. From the slight glint in her eye, Duke supposed he had chosen correctly. Jean-Paul had been doused in yellow paint and red glitter, and he honestly looked like a very large and human shaped version of his sword. Luke was covered in silver paint and an electric blue glitter.

Bruce, however, didn’t give Duke a second glance, covered in yellow paint and black glitter (which had been meant for Cass, but honestly, it fit Duke quite well), though he was.

“Good, now we just have to wait for Steph,” Tim remarked, rolling his eyes.

Duke frowned. “What about Cass? She’s here too.”

Everyone gave Duke a weird look. “Uh, no she isn’t. She’s been hanging out with Selina and Babs all weekend.”

“Then your intel is wrong,” Duke countered. “She was just here! I planned on her being here!”

The silence in the room was palpable. Before, where there had been bickering and accusations, the quiet had taken over. Everyone stared at Duke with suspicion in their eyes.

Finally, Duke thought, sighing in relief.

Bruce opened his mouth about to question Duke’s statement when the doors to the room banged open.

“What’s up, Bitches? The Waffle Queen has arrived and looks as fabulous as ever!”

Duke stared, completely amazed that she actually seemed to like the purple on purple combo Duke had picked for her. Oh, yeah, now that he thought about it made perfect sense that Steph was the only one to like this.

“Wow, whoever did this really got my colors right!" Steph continued as she waltzed in and posed in front of everyone, her hip cocked and arm thrown up dramatically.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, and he began to growl at her. “This is not funny.”

Steph pouted. “What do you mean? I sure think it is!”

Oh boy, she didn’t notice she was digging her own grave, did she? From the looks of the other bats, they shared Duke’s sentiment.

“Stephanie Brown, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Stephanie smirked. “Yup! I look way better than you, you old fur- hey wait! Are you blaming me ?!”

Bruce glared even harder, and Stephanie started to protest, claiming that she was but an innocent victim of these pain-filled proceedings! It was not her fault! Nor was it her fault that she happened to get colors that she liked better than everyone else.

Bruce refused to hear what she said, and told her to go get changed. “You will be cleaning up this whole mess, and no patrolling until it’s done.”

Bruce turned and stalked out, and Steph was left speechless - for once - in the hall. She backed away, seeing the angry stares from the others. The only one who didn’t seem mad at her, was Duke himself. He opened his eyes wide, conveying pity. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed silently.

Instead of being reassuring, however, Steph squinted in suspicion. Oh shit, that probably hadn’t been the best move.

Just moments after Steph left, Jason threw up his hands. “Okay, who wants to have a water gun fight to clean off?”

There were several cheers of assent, but Duke quickly made his own escape at that time. He honestly wasn’t in the mood to get splashed in the face with water. Now was not the time for fun, as the failed prank still hung over him.

Now was the time for plotting.

*****

“Okay, but why on earth do you have a fully functioning sprinkler system in every room?”

“Yeah, Bruce, even for you that’s paranoid! What caused you to think that was necessary?”

“You.”

[lightsonparkave]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO LIGHTS ON PARK AVE! WE’RE OFFICIALLY A ONE-YEAR-OLD BABY (our birthday was on the 22nd). Join the celebrations by submitting a work! There’s one week left until Round 12 closes on August 31, and you have 80 prompts to choose from. There are no minimum work requirements or limit to how many works you can submit.

Not sure you can finish your work in time? Little messages are great presents too. What has the past year of Lights on Park Ave been like for you? Do you have a favorite prompt or round? A favorite LoPA work? Want to make a rec list of your favorites or wax poetic and show some love for a specific work and/or creator? Go for it. Let the Steve/Tony community know! The LoPA askbox is open or if you want to make your own Tumblr post or tweet, you can mention @lightsonparkave or tag #lightsonparkave. Whatever method you choose, I’ll make sure to share your message/post on here and Twitter.

Or maybe you’re not up to making anything this time. In that case, let’s take a walk down memory lane. Here are all 46 Lights on Park Ave works for previous rounds.

ART

3490 & 616

A comparison between 616 Civil War and universe 3490 where the war was averted by the marriage of Steve Rogers and Natasha Stark - @jarvisuanddumetoo​

ANY UNIVERSE

A framed portrait of a smiling Tony, drawn and signed by Steve - @hundredthousands

Steve steals his husband’s helmet and gives his king a springtime crown - @starksnack

AU

Tin soldier Steve and ballerina Tony dancing - @jarvisuanddumetoo

BATTLEWORLD

Steve watching Tony flying in on the battlefield - @thingexplainer

MCU

Old Steve holding flowers and seeing a blue butterfly after Tony’s death - @hundredthousands

So much of life feels like drowning... but when I’m with you my troubles recede like waves on the shore - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Stranger Things AU where Steve is the one who was experimented on in a lab and doesn’t understand pop culture and Tony is the guy with no powers who is still doing his best to fight these weird new aliens - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Steve and a dandelion that represents him weathering all his hardships over the years - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Tony on fire and Steve’s reaction - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Steve crying while holding Tony’s helmet after Tony’s funeral - @noririna

I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You’re a hero. - @starksnack

ULTIMATES

Steve and Tony leaving marks on each other’s bodies that are only visible in the dark - @sirsapling Ults Steve and Tony are tragically bound to one another. They can always feel the trace of each others hands, it leaves an invisible mark they will cary with them till there is nothing left. Only a ghost of something lost in the chaos of the past.

FIC

1872

Say My Name - @citsiurtlanu Steve reminds Tony that there's more to him than the war his weapons were used in.

616

Snow Day - @captainneverever The Avengers think that Steve and Tony got engaged at the annual holiday party. It’s news to Steve and Tony.

Kiss me rough before you go - erde Tony is dying. His life is slipping away and Steve wants to be better than this, but he can't quite manage the feat. Tony's war has made a bitter man out of him, a lesser man.

Boys, boys, boys - Missy_dee811 (@viudanegraaa) (AU) Steve keeps putting off his oil change. Finally deciding to see the mechanic in town.

Without the rusty music of my machine - Missy_dee811 (@viudanegraaa)  Tony was lying on the hood of his car. He had taken off his leather jacket, gently folded it in half, and draped it across the windshield so he could rest his arms on the supple leather.

Muddy Waters - RossKL (@but-damn-is-he-lovable) (also on Tumblr) Tony bleeds. It's not real.

ANY

(A Dream is) A Wish Your Heart Makes - @helovedyou Cool evenings together and laughing free and all the nice things Tony never thought he’d get

Afternoon Off - Neverever (@captainneverever) Freedom is just another word for getting with your boyfriend on the downlow during a mission.

BULLET POINTS

Those We Were (For A While) - sadisticsparkle The blueprints hadn’t prepared Tony for the light bouncing off the battered metal, for the empty stare of its empty eye sockets or the dim circle in the middle of the chest. He traced its lines with his gaze, remembering every day he had spent hunched over the schematics picking its inner workings and every night he had spent sprawled under its pilot letting him take Tony apart.

MCU

border state - @areiton (also on Tumblr) They exist in the in between.

star crossed - @areiton (also on Tumblr) "The gods made the stars,” you whisper, a lifetime ago, a heartbeat ago, now, “and they were so bright, so beautiful and strong, that they ripped them in two. And half of ‘em fell to earth, and woke from the dust and walked as men.”

this is how - @areiton (also on Tumblr) This is how the world ends: Gaps in the code.

kiss me hard before you go - duckmoles​ & starxreactor (AU) “I love you, you know that?” Tony says just after popping another grape into Steve’s mouth. He watches as Steve’s jaw works, chewing and then swallowing. Steve smiles up at Tony with a bright, toothy grin. “I love you, too.” “I’m going to miss you,” Tony continues. “I’m going to call you everyday, okay? And—and, during the holidays I’ll show up at your house and we can—we can—sit together on the balcony, and—” The last day of summer, and it's time to hold on to what you might lose.

No Winter Lasts Forever - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) Steve stopped, white breath clouding the air around him, to look at the little shoots of green and purple peeking out from the scant layer of snow left on the ground.

snippet of a post-apocalyptic A/B/O AU WIP - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) Steve’s fingers traced the bite, a half-moon of red marks, from in front of the largest mirror he’d ever seen.

the first blush of morning - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) (AU) The sun rises on the Atlantic ocean and Steve isn't alone - or is he?

Santa Paws - @heartsandmuses [I]f there were two things the public couldn’t get enough of, it was cute puppies and shirtless Captain America — and Tony, ever the philanthropist, decided to give the people exactly what they wanted, right on Christmas morning.

Philautia - @helovedyou Tony dies and Steve keeps on living. Well. He doesn’t die. Living might be a bit of a generous term

To the Victor - @helovedyou There are rainbows flying and people hugging and others ranting and raving, spittle flying, he thinks this. We have won this, this tiny victory.

Snippet of a WIP set post-IW - @ishipallthings The numbers keep climbing, for hours, in the aftermath.

Shuffle Off This Mortal Coil - jellybeanforest (@jellybeanforest-a-go-go) (also a Cap-IM Bingo 2020 round 1 fic) Tony hadn’t been a cruel man, but he had been a practical one. Or: In his twilight years, concerned about how his slow-aging possibly-immortal husband will adjust to his death, Tony builds an AI version of himself that he updates nightly, intending for it to keep Steve company after he’s gone. When the inevitable comes to pass, Steve doesn’t know what to make of the AI or whether its presence lessens his grief or makes it significantly worse. He’s leaning towards the latter.

Five Bells - @lazywriter7 (also on Tumblr) After returning the Stones, Steve takes a detour through time.

if we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious - @littlemissstark forgiveness. The salty air was intense enough to wake Steve up completely, snapping any left over drowsiness away. He was alert despite the sky still being a shade of navy that tapered into a purple at the sea’s horizon. The world was still dormant, but Steve couldn’t stay asleep – not when he woke to coldness on the right side of the bed and empty arms.

In My Hands and Gone Again - @nostalgicatsea (also on Tumblr) Memories were like fish, Tony had explained, or the tease of one. A flash of silver, and his hands would plunge down. Sometimes he would catch one; other times, it would dart out of reach. He wouldn’t be sure whether it had been real or just a trick of the light, after.

Leaving You Forward - @nostalgicatsea (AU) It would be easy, staying here like this with Tony. But Steve knew he couldn't—because he had never taken the easy way out and because he loved Tony.

i choose: me, you, us - @onlymorelove (also a Cap-IM Remix Madness 2020 fic) “We, uh. We’ve been together five years, and you’ve never— I’ve never let you see it. I told you I’d let you see it on our wedding night.” In which Tony and Steve marry, but Tony hasn't let Steve see the arc reactor—and the scars around it. Yet.

best of summers gone - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Tony's favorite month has always been August.

when we all fall asleep - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Tony wakes up and questions why Steve loves him. It's a surprisingly complex question for such a simple answer.

you anchor me (back down) - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Steve still loves Tony, no matter what mask he’s wearing. He’ll never tell Tony that, though. He’s read enough books and watched enough movies to know that it only ends well when it’s just a story. Or, everyone needs an anchor sometimes, and Steve and Tony just happen to be each others’.

take me to the feeling - smalltonystark (@theotherwasdeath​) Steve looks gorgeous in the lights. He always looks stunning, but here, late at night, in the faint glow from the streetlamps underneath them and underneath the stars, he looks magnificent.

POETRY

A Toast to Cold, Hard Facts - @onlymorelove (also on Tumblr) The world is brutal and coarse, but...

Love was fading stars - @onlymorelove (also on AO3) Blackout poetry based on “Failing and Flying” by Jack Gilbert on top of an original print.

not married - @onlymorelove (also on Tumblr) Grief works in mysterious ways.

[pingou7]

A car, two cops and a stardust — a RebelCaptain road trip fic

by @pingou7 pingou  for @thestarbirdfromtheashesStarbird

(aka the Road trip fic Diego Luna’s filmography made me write)

Read and enjoy, and please consider leaving me a few words.

Summary:

As the dusty roads criss under Kes Dameron’s old car, Cassian Andor lets the wind mess with his hair through the open window. Dust, sunshine, laughter, its easy to recapture the taste of days long gone.

(…)

At a gas station near Corpus Chirsti, when they climb back after taking a piss, both jump out of their skins as a random brunette, eyes thunderous, hisses dangerously from the backseat:

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

Update: Part 8 is published !

This part is dedicated to the ever kind @imsfire2 because she provided inspiration and support.

Read more on AO3 (or under the cut)

Part 8: Fresnillo, Zacatecas, Day 6.

Walking back, they both try to keep their eyes focused on the path, trying their best to ignore the shift occurring between them. Against her own volition however, several times Jyn catches his eyes slipping to the right, quickly taking a look at her.

She feels like a teenager and she’s sure that somewhere Saw is frowning at her, like that one time when he realized she had a hickey on her neck. She’d been what, fourteen? So far, her interactions with Cassian have been much more tame, but the fact that Kes chose to retreat back early left them unbalanced, in uncharted territory.

She knows Gerrera would be disappointed in her if he knew that she let herself have fun while on the run. Not only she has let herself enjoy the beat and Cassian’s hold, but his chuckle too and his arm still nesting under hers as he guides her back in the busy streets of Fresnillo. She should pry his arm away but she doesn’t want to.

At Saba's house, Kes has been waiting for them, or at least they still find him nursing his drink under the arbor. Their host is already snoring in his hammock and doesn’t stir at all. What an odd duck their friend is, not at all the kind of acquaintance she would picture the two cops to have!

She envies other people’s easiness, it’s been five days since she’d last seen Bodhi, since she has run out of her flat, and while she has slept, she had not rested since. She called Baze before dinner, but as it went straight to voicemail, she didn’t leave a message. No trace back to Mexico just in case.

Kes seems surprised to see them, his gaze plainly showing he had somehow expected Cassian and her to make a beeline for the closest bed. Truthfully, Jyn’s blood is quite heated still, but it’s a gentle warmth, not the scorching blaze his friend had lit earlier this evening. However tempting it would be to discover if Cassian’s prowess included more intimate activities than dancing, she could not permit it.

Come morning they would be back to a runaway and two cops traveling together due to unlikely circumstances. Nothing more. And okay they’re amazingly friendly but while she is willing to risk her safety, she will not yield to the supposed attraction she feels for Captain Andor. Nothing good will come of it, she can let it become enjoyable, perhaps, but never distracting.

“Jyn, won’t you take a seat?” Cassian asks right on point, likely realizing she has zoned out.

“Enjoy yourself, did you kids?” Kes taunts instead, wiggling his eyebrows before stretching in his own chair.

“At least we weren’t drinking alone, cabrón,” Cassian deflects by eyeing the clear content in his friend’s glass.

“Let me drown my loneliness in peace, I did you a favor. Plus, I miss my wife and son and puppy and Sab’s not a great distraction.”

“How much did you have already, you’re turning whiny Dameron.”

“Not much, I would not want to steal your thunder, Mr. I’m brooding unless I can demonstrate my sick moves,” he replies, smirking.

“And what poison exactly is into this glass?”

Despite her current curiosity, Jyn cannot prevent a smile from blooming on her lips at their usual banter — leave it to her to snatch a comedic duo... — but it does make her curious and she doesn’t wish for the night to end yet. She doesn’t doubt that tomorrow they will be back on their insane road trip so she focuses on mundane things and sweet summer nights while they last.

“Mezcal, you didn’t learn about it, through your wanderlust? It’s a liquor made from agave.”

“I don’t think I do, but I’ve heard the name before. It’s something like tequila?”

The Charolastras share a long glance across from her, clearly having a silent conversation or a private joke, then Kes cracks his knuckles, adopting ostensibly a teaching stance. For a second she’s amused by his antics again, as Cassian solemnly pours the clear liquid into two tiny bowls set on the table. Jyn guesses they’re not fooling around like she assumed when Kes states calmly:

“While more known — and thus exported — Tequila is actually only made from blue agave, it’s mostly for tourists.”

“Don’t be snotty Dameron, tequila is still good. One properly made, that is. But I find Mezcal more varied,” Cassian offers.

“Why, there’s different sorts?”

“Of course, around forty to fifty sorts, I think,” Kes frowns, clearly looking at his best mate for confirmation. “You know, it’s actually a refined process, not easy to make and to find. I don’t have the exact ratio but —“

“After a hard acquired harvest, it takes cutting, burning, pressing by feet and several distilling,” Cassian cuts in, “so it takes days — sometimes more than a week — before a single drop ends up in a bottle. Actually the ratio is around ten kg for a single liter of liquor. It’s like... the sweat of Mexico, more precisely it’s the tears of fire of this country.”

“You’re really passionate about it, guys, it’s weird to hear Cass waxing poetry, Kes-adillas I’d understand, but...”

All to their admiration for this Mexican drinkable piece of culture, they don’t pick up the nicknames, despite the little smile that lifts a corner of her mouth. She’s even more intrigued, Cassian can tell, because he pushes his tiny bowl in her direction:

“Have a taste, Jyn.”

“Hey, this is no girlie stuff, let’s get her cheap tequila instead.”

“Excuse me, Sergeant Dameron, but I can probably drink you both under the table and besides, I’m not one for girlie stuff, I told you before.”

Both nod and the clear liquid burns in her mouth, its aroma surprisingly rich and smoky. She sips slowly like Kes does in front of her and she understands how their patriotism can shine through this particular alcohol. It’s great.

“How do you know so much about it anyway? Has it always been your preferred drink?”

“That too,” Cassian answers after a few seconds, “but actually, my father was a producer. Nothing professional, but he made a few bottles for family and friends.”

“So you helped him? I guess that’s why you’re so precise then...”

She’s fishing for information with less discretion than she usually observes, because alcohol effects aside, anything that entails learning facts about Cassian is worth the shot — pun intended. For all their constant nagging about her being closed off, he for one isn’t as forward as Kes. Yet her remark strains his smile further and Dameron stares stubbornly at the table when his friend replies:

“I didn’t get to help him, just saw him about. I was too young then.”

Not missing a beat, Cassian murmurs, as if speaking to himself:

“And I’m too old now.”

She’s startled and even Kes is left agape when he gets up suddenly and bids them a hasty goodnight without even pausing to hear their answer. Not that they could have uttered a single word, that is. Once Cassian disappears, Jyn turns to Kes hoping to make sense of this unexpected behavior, but he just shrugs.

“What the heck happened? What did I do?”

“Don’t worry Jyn, it’s just Cassian being... rudo. It will be better in the morning. It’s not easy for him to go back to Mexico, I think it’s worse for him than for me. I focus on good memories, he gets assaulted by bad ones. It’s not your fault.”

Yet, guilt is marring his handsome features, his flat tone indicating that it is far from the first time Cassian pulled something like this and he couldn’t stop it. She too feels sheepish, though even without Dameron’s reassurance, she realizes she had done nothing wrong. Be as it may, trying to understand things better, she asks:

“I got my past laid bare already, can’t you explain what has gotten into him?”

“It’s not my story to tell. But you might know that we’ve been raised by Gina’s sister before getting to the US?” At her nod he adds: “I’ve been orphaned young too and it’s harsh, but Cassian, he was devastated. He’s still beating himself up over it twenty years later.”

If Jyn Erso understands anything about life, it’s that you’re always carrying your ghosts wherever you go. Some days, it’s a light comforting presence, but more often than not it’s an unavoidable burden.

“I didn’t show it before,” Jyn starts awkwardly, changing the subject, “but as far as cops go, you’ve both been great with me. I’m not easy to be around, but you took in everything like troopers and I gave very little in return.”

“Don’t sweat it, having you around is an unexpected happenstance, designed by our Lord above or destiny if you prefer to put it like that, yet I value your presence. You reach Cassian so you deserve everything we can lend you, because, even including tonight, you’re making him smile Jyn, up to his crinkling eyes.”

“You do too, Kes. Watching you is like witnessing a comedic duo, when you’re not bickering.”

“That’s because I’ve got a lifetime of getting under his skin, I mean, he’s my brother, has been since first grade.”

“So?”

“If you asked around about Captain Andor, people who work with him every day would say he’s dedicated, loyal to a fault, a perfect soldier. But not the kind of guy easy to please, nor overly friendly.”

“He told me he’s circumspect but I understand that, I’m not exactly a Disney princess ether.”

“Can’t fault you here,” Kes snorts good-naturally before adding in a quiet voice she almost doesn’t catch, “but maybe that’s why with you, he lets his guard down, he reaches out, and I see you meeting him halfway.”

An angel passes, Jyn’s heart hammering stupidly in her chest and it takes everything not to raise the bait. Instead, she manages to ask flippantly:

“Cop, singer, romantic poet, therapist, you’re a man of many talents, aren’t you Kes-adillas?”

“I must be, with you two. But still, consider what I said, and now I close this delightful chat, I feel my balls shriveling up already.”

“Can’t have that.”

“My wife would never overcome the loss,” he deadpans while she lets out a giggle.

His sense of humor is clearly devastating but his eyes remain kind and serious. He stands up, has a gesture as if to kiss her on the cheek, but she instinctively squares her shoulders and he opts for squeezing her arm instead.

“Sleep well, Stardust,” he whispers gently, retreating back to the house.

“You too, Kes, and... thanks.”

He smiles and goes in what she had surmised to be Sandro’s room. Nobody had dared waking him up though, so she supposes it’s free for Kes to take. Honestly this particular stop is really weird... she hopes the morning, ridiculously close now, will clear the air because she might need all her might for the rest of the trip.

She debates with herself before entering the other free room — their host had prepared his couch for one of them, after all. But Gina’s bag is in that room so she must disturb Cassian if only to use necessary stuff. A shower before going to sleep sounds heavenly indeed.

She knocks and he bids her to enter instantly. He doesn’t acknowledge her presence beyond that though. His tight expression hardens his whole face and she doesn’t need Kes to tell her that he’s unnecessarily brooding.

But she had this kind of outburst before, she’s no stranger to family issues and she owes Cassian more than anybody. So, copying how Bodhi acts whenever she’s in a funk, she lays down next to him, hands pillowing her head. He ignores her presence and this is just as well because she already has the retort ready even though he won’t like to hear it. When she wanted to be left alone a few days ago, he didn’t let her either. Payback is a bitch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers finally, after twenty breaths — because yes, she keeps count, it gives her something to focus on.

“Don’t mention it Cassian, it happens to everyone.”

Well, not quite everyone, she amends when his lips strain into a bitter smile, but it happens to her on a regular basis. The unpredictable lashing out becomes encompassing and when it cools off, the unease it leaves in its wake is just as painful. No sense in beating a dead horse anyway, right?

“I just got frustrated, you know? And it boiled over. You got in the middle of this and it’s not fair to you.”

The use of the word frustrated irks her for some reason and as Cassian refuses to meet her gaze, it does nothing to abates her awkwardness. Contrary to what Kes had said, maybe she had her part in his outburst earlier. Dancing with him, having fun, flirting a bit... she shouldn’t have done that, music or not. But this side of Cassian was so magnetic she couldn’t resist the pull. She hadn’t wanted to, if she’s honest.

“I enjoyed the night, Jyn,” he says, echoing her thoughts. “I hope we can do it again sometime.”

“It felt great to leave the car, if anything.”

His eyes tighten and his lips expands a bit but he is not quite smiling. She’s somehow said the wrong thing, it sounded like a rebuke she didn’t mean, but further mumblings flee from her mind when his warm hand covers hers.

“I liked to dance with you, you’re not as bad as you seem to think. I’d want to try again,” he repeats, “if you’d let me.”

His tone is too earnest just to be speaking about dance, and she hopes the dimly lit room hides the blush blooming on her fair skin.

“You think you got me figured out then, Cassian?”

“Not quite yet. But I don’t mind so much, I can be patient.”

That she knows, somebody less tenacious would have given up by now. She doesn’t know what to make of his dedication, especially tonight.

“I should go shower and then to sleep,” she replies, “the couch is waiting for me and we’re still far from your destination, right?”

She’s never been to Mexico before and truly their map appeared quite nonsensical to her. Then again, she had quite a lot in mind when she had the opportunity to ponder on it. She hadn’t quite made up her mind to follow them all the way through then.

She wonders every morning if staying with them is the right course of action, but better the devil she knows... and, well, the Charolastras are really easy to be around, their presence are the perfect distraction. She’s even grown to like Dameron’s old mustang, she’s almost disappointed to know it won’t hit the road for much longer.

“We should reach Bernal tomorrow, but... I don’t mind if after preparing for sleep you come back here. I don’t want to chase you away.”

“I know, and you don’t, Cassian. But there’s a perfectly nice sleeping accommodation up for my taking, and... we should use this opportunity to gather our thoughts in private.”

She tried to be reassuring, to be tactful and nice, but he still nods dejectedly. Jyn should probably justify that he seems emotionally raw and she knows how mentally exhausted she is, not a good combo when sharing space, in sharing a bed all the more. But she doesn’t know how to word it without adding gasoline to the fire. Their easiness with bed sharing — not actually sleeping together except in the strictest sense of the word! — feels less and less platonic as days go on. She already can’t even explain how they’ve developed the habit, let alone how to halt it.

At a loss for words, she grabs her bag of things and breathes back a goodnight when Cassian whispers one, eyes even sadder.

It should not taste this bitter to Jyn. Surely it’s just the remnants of Mezcal on her tongue.

Yet, in the shower, curled up on the couch, she still feels his feather-light digits on her hips, and when she closes her eyes, it’s the earlier sight of his carefree smile that accompanies her to sleep.