Chapter Text
“What if it’s not for multiple units?”
The question came from Cassian: the first thing he’d said since slipping into the briefing room where Melshi and Kay were holding their final strategy session before Melshi was redeployed to Lothal. Melshi was careful not to register surprise. Cassian had been quiet since the confrontation in the kitchens two nights earlier - not distant, exactly, but inward. Concentrated.
Melshi had tried to give him space. It was what he’d promised to do: let Cassian decide whether he could keep his commitments to the Rebellion and have Melshi close at the same time. Melshi was ready to accept the judgment either way, he told himself. He’d always been better at tolerating a clear privation than a false comfort, and not having Cassian would be easier to live with than having a part of him that wasn’t there by choice.
But when Cassian had appeared at the door a half hour before Melshi was due to leave, Melshi’s heart had still stretched out to greet him, recalcitrant as ever.
“Not for multiple units?” he repeated Cassian’s words now, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he considered the possibility. “Just one build. That would have to be all nine hells of a project. A military base of some kind? It’s not the right manufacturing profile for anything administrative.”
“Something that large would be hard to conceal,” Kay reasoned, “which might explain the inefficient use of space. They’ve diverted substantial resources to building labor camps but made no attempt to centralize mining and manufacturing.”
“No, and they wouldn’t, would they?” Melshi mused, scrolling through the projections Kay had pulled up on the data pad. “They’d spread it out.”
“Compartmentalize the records,” Kay agreed, “which would reduce the danger of security leaks at the lower levels by eighteen to twenty-five percent.”
“And make them less vulnerable to sabotage or labor disruptions at any one location,” Melshi added. “They’ve learned from experience there, no doubt.”
He looked over to catch Cassian’s eye - readying a wry smile as proof he was sticking to his story about Cassian’s role on Narkina - but he stalled when he realized Cassian was already staring at him: an expression on his face that made Melshi feel like he’d missed a step going up the stairs.
“I’ll run a new batch of simulations,” Kay offered. “It will give me something to do when Cassian’s in a bad mood while you’re away.”
Cassian looked over to scowl at him.
“Well, that certainly proves me wrong,” Kay observed, managing to create the effect of rolling his photosensors without moving them at all.
“Just save some of the fun numbers for me,” Melshi said, getting to his feet and stretching to retrieve his pack. “Or at least make a good show of pretending not to have put the whole thing together by the time I get back.”
“I’ll simulate my best gasp of surprise when you figure it out,” Kay promised. “And Ruescott Melshi -”
He paused to let Melshi groan his protest at the first name.
“- I will consider your favor repaid if you manage to return with all your organs intact this time.”
“I’ll do my best to make us even then,” Melshi agreed. “Take care, Kay.”
He finally gathered the courage to look back at Cassian, who had moved on to staring at the floor.
“I’ll walk with you to the hangar,” he said, rising from his perch on the edge of a holotable and falling in at Melshi’s side.
They walked in silence through the halls, Cassian’s arms crossed over his chest and Melshi gripping the strap of the pack over his shoulder. Melshi risked a glance at Cassian’s profile as they rounded a corner, remembering, suddenly, how Cassian had turned toward him on the platform on Narkina - how Melshi had never since been able to disentangle the look he’d seen on Cassian’s face from the sensation of feeling the sun on his own again.
It wasn’t until they arrived at the edge of the hangar that Cassian stalled, Melshi hovering with him as their eyes met again.
“You’ll be careful,” Cassian said, half command and half question, and Melshi nodded.
“I won’t take any drinks from Imperial agents without asking what’s in them first.”
Cassian scowled again.
“I’ll be careful,” Melshi said. “Sounds like a bit of a blue-milk run anyway, to be honest. I think they’re easing me back in.” He paused. “I could - ah, I could send an encrypted signal when we arrive?”
It was an effort to keep the hopeful uncurling of his heart from registering on his face, and he wasn’t entirely sure he succeeded in the end, but Cassian nodded, his expression clearing.
“Good,” he said. “That’s good. And you’ll be back soon.”
There was a flicker of something in his eyes - an intensity like the one Melshi had seen in the briefing room - and Melshi missed another step, taking Cassian’s hand in his before he’d had time to register the impulse.
Well…in for a credit, he reasoned, and then he pulled Cassian’s hand up until he could press it to his heart.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said. “And hey: just think of all the things that had to go terribly wrong for our paths to cross this many times. We can probably count on a few more disasters, given the state of our luck.”
“Very comforting,” Cassian observed, but his eyes crinkled at the sides, and he pressed his hand more firmly against Melshi’s breast. “Come back. Soon. In one piece.”
“Aye, Captain. Until we meet again.”
**
It turned out to be two standard weeks until they did meet again.
What had been designed as a non-combat mission had picked up some combat after all, as one of the teams sabotaging vehicles at an Imperial armory complex had been detected by perimeter security during their exit.
Melshi had hardly been involved in the action - beyond helping to lay down some cover fire and then needing to spend a solid hour in his cot that night breathing through the snarled loop of a dead man’s voice yelling “get down” before a hundred phantom grenades went off against his back - but the Empire’s response had been swift and vindictive, and Melshi’s team had had to wait around an extra five days before risking the trip off planet.
They’d stopped on Akiva to resupply en route: enough time to send a delayed “all clear” code to Cassian, though Melshi knew that if he weren’t off base himself he would likely have heard the news already from someone else.
When Melshi finally stepped off the transport ship on Yavin IV, he discovered the former was true. Both Kay and Cassian had been gone for just under four days on a mission to Jedha. It was more of a blow than he wanted to look at too closely, but Sefla assured him Captain Andor was due to return that night, so Melshi joined his team for a drink before heading back to his bunk room to change out of the rest of his gear.
He’d just finished unpacking his bag and had turned to shove his jacket into the storage unit when he heard the door panel slide open again.
“You’re back early,” he said, waiting a moment before he turned around to confirm it was indeed Cassian, looking a little mussed and tired but not too much worse for wear.
“How did you know it was me?” he asked, his lips curling slightly as he tipped his head to one side.
“Didn’t,” Melshi replied seriously. “I’ve said that to the last three lads who walked in here, actually - just hoping to get lucky eventually -”
“Oh shut up,” Cassian muttered, his smile widening enough to reach his dimples. He looked Melshi up and down, his eyes lingering over his lower torso before returning to his face. “You look good.”
“In one piece, as promised,” Melshi said.
He turned away before Cassian could see the heat that had risen to his cheeks, busying himself with his tac boots while Cassian gave him the run-down on what he’d missed.
“Kay and I were tracking down a new lead on Jedha. A fresh demand for raw materials, just like we talked about: kyber crystals - stripped from the old Jedi temple - though we’re still figuring out why. It could be unrelated, but the timing fits too well with the quadanium. Might be worth getting another insider in Guerrera’s camp to keep an eye on things. Kay said maybe -”
And Melshi had thought he was following the progress of Cassian’s thoughts, but he must have been more distracted than he thought, because it wasn’t until he finished shucking off his vest that he realized Cassian had trailed off mid-sentence.
“Cassian?”
He turned around to see Cassian standing by his storage unit, staring at the small clay pot Melshi had set there for safekeeping, an inscrutable look on his face as he traced the edges of a green serrated leaf.
“Oh,” Melshi said. “That.”
It had felt like a risk, buying it, and not just because of the impracticalities involved in shepherding a potted herb across hyperspace. It felt showy: a gesture too singular and deliberate to be disguised as a friendly press of hands or even a tipsy punch in a bar.
But it had been three standard years, three months, and thirteen days since Melshi had made himself walk away from the man he’d known as Keef Girgo. And Cassian wasn’t the only one tired of always walking away. If there was a chance Melshi could mark his time with something other than the days left to fight or the distance from his desire, he didn’t want to wait any longer to find out.
“I saw it at a market when we stopped for supplies,” he explained, tipping his head toward the herb. “It looked a little bit like the ones you talked about - the ones that did okay with more shade - and the gent at the stall said it would travel well. I know you’ve been looking for things to try with the tatties. If it’s not the thing, of course -”
But he didn’t finish the sentence, the words dying in his throat when Cassian twisted toward him, one hand coming up to cup Melshi’s jaw.
“Melshi,” he said, his voice so full it felt like a physical weight tipping onto Melshi’s chest, and Melshi curled an arm around him on instinct, holding the sensation close where it couldn’t fall to the ground.
“Aye,” he managed. “It’s yours, Cass - all of it. It’s been yours from the start.”
Cassian made a sound that might have been a growl, and then he had his fist in Melshi’s shirt, pulling Melshi in and kissing him fiercely enough that Melshi stumbled back a pace, catching himself against the bunk so he could keep them both upright.
Melshi wasn’t even sure what noise he made in response, too busy getting his hand wrapped around Cassian’s waist, raising the other to tangle it in Cassian’s hair - letting himself be kissed breathless as Cassian crowded him against the bed.
The first time Melshi had fallen into step with Cassian, it had been like discovering the use of a reflex that had always seemed vestigial - the appearance of the right stimulus finally revealing some unfocused restlessness inside him as a purposeful response. Cassian had tipped his chin up across the table, Melshi’s shoulders had leaned toward him automatically, and it had felt just like kissing him felt now. Like a hammer hitting the patellar tendon, like limbs leaping back in an action they’d always known: oh.
That was what the movement inside of him was for.
“Small gods,” Melshi panted, his head falling back against the durasteel bunk frame when Cassian shifted his attention to his throat. “That’s - fuck, Cass.”
He swayed suddenly, and then Cassian had an arm around his back, taking some of his weight and pulling back to scan his face.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice tight with concern, and Melshi nodded, a small laugh escaping over the buzzing of his lips.
“Great. I’m fucking grand. I’m just - a little lightheaded.” He pulled in a slower breath, pausing to brush a strand of hair out of Cassian’s eyes and smooth his thumb over the furrow in his brows. “Sorry. Just. Got overwhelmed there for a moment. Holding you like that.”
Something happened on Cassian’s face that was too fast for Melshi to track, and then he was curling forward onto Melshi’s chest, pulling the hand Melshi had at his hip around to circle his lower back.
“You have me,” he said. “And we have time. We can take as long as we want tonight.”
Melshi let his forehead drop forward to rest on Cassian’s, nestling his fingers deeper into Cassian’s curls.
“Luaidh mo chèile,” he whispered.
Cassian shivered, and then he craned his head up to kiss Melshi again, working his mouth open with long, searching drags of his tongue, until they were both panting against each other’s lips and hard against each other’s hips.
“Maybe we should find a spot with a little more privacy?” Melshi offered. “I’ve, ah, got some ideas. About that time you mentioned taking. And they don’t happen to involve my bunk mates getting back from dinner and finding me sucking you off.”
Cassian’s gaze dropped to Melshi’s lips.
“That’s a good idea,” he said. “Those are two very good ideas. Let’s go to my quarters.”
“And I can suck you off there?” Melshi asked. “Just to clarify.”
Cassian kissed him once, fierce and hungry, sliding a palm over Melshi’s cock and swallowing the groan he let out in response.
“You can do whatever you want to me,” he promised. “As long as you fuck me at the end.”
He kissed Melshi again, softer this time.
“Because I missed you.”
Another kiss, a hint of teeth.
“And now I want to feel you for days.”
**
Melshi woke up the next morning to the tip of Cassian’s nose burrowing against the crook between his neck and shoulder, and the sensation sent such an ache of pleasure arching through him that he might have thought he was dreaming - except that it was also cold. Too cold, given how warm and slow everything else around him felt. So he made a noise of protest, looping his hand around Cassian’s wrist and pulling his arm tighter, where it could tuck up against Melshi’s chest.
Cassian made an answering noise, much more content, and then he nestled his knees behind Melshi’s, pressing their legs together under the blanket.
“You leeching my body heat, Girgo?” Melshi asked sleepily, and he felt Cassian smile against his skin.
A thought occurred to Melshi then, and he rolled over to face Cassian across the pillow.
“Has anyone ever called you ‘Keef’ while in the throes of passion?” he asked solemnly.
Cassian grimaced.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” Melshi decided, and then he made a vague sound of disappointment. “Guess I’ll have to wait to find a pet name of my own to whisper to you amorously when the occasion calls for it.”
Cassian hummed, brushing a finger almost tentatively over Melshi’s cheekbone
“What you called me last night,” he said. “In your room. I liked that.”
“Luaidh mo chèile,” Melshi repeated, a soft smile blooming on his face when Cassian shivered at the sound again. “Aye, that’s you to me.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means ‘love of my life,’” Melshi explained, settling deeper into the pillow as Cassian traced the line of his jaw. “Someone very dear - a source of light. It means you found me in a place where 'day' was just a name for the shifts they stole, and you led me out. You still lead me out, all the time - you show me where things can grow.”
Cassian stroked Melshi’s cheek again.
“A source of light,” he repeated, turning it over.
“It’s okay?” Melshi asked, and he rested a hand inquiringly on Cassian’s hip, because he meant more than just the name.
Cassian slipped deeper into his hold, tangling their knees and ankes like roots.
“It’s good,” he assured him. “It means we can do more than just survive.”