Work Text:
There are only three reasons why Brasso would get up in the middle of the night. The first is the block being on fire, the second is Corpos banging down his door, and the third is currently leaning in his doorway, one arm above his head both to make himself appear larger than he is and to hide the fact that he's so drunk he can barely stand up. But Brasso has seen those heavy eyes and that crooked smile enough times that the façade doesn't work on him anymore.
Cassian doesn't wait for an invitation, swaying his way inside before Brasso can even say hello.
"Bad night?" he says, gently nudging Cassian towards a chair at his kitchen table. Only after he gets under a light does Brasso see the gash under his eye. He pulls a clean rag from under the sink and presses it to Cassian's cheek.
"'m fine," Cassian slurs in a way that sounds anything but fine and makes a half-hearted attempt to swat Brasso's hand away.
"You're bleeding." He takes hold of Cassian's wrist and places his hand on the bit of cloth. "Hold that."
Cassian whines wordlessly, but does as he's told, while Brasso silently curses himself for not putting his med pack in a more convenient place than on a high shelf behind some bandages. He lays it out on the table and pulls a chair over so he can rummage around for some antiseptic.
"So what happened this time?" Brasso asks, moving Cassian's hand out of the way and dabbing at the cut.
Cassian winces. "I lost. Again," he confesses.
"You've got to stop gambling with other people's money," Brasso says as he applies a bandage.
Cassian makes a displeased noise. "If I wanted a lecture, I would've gone home."
On most nights, Brasso would pick Cassian up, throw him over his shoulder, and bring him back to Maarva anyway. But she probably doesn't want to see her son like this--especially not right now. And Cass is safe here, isn't he? It certainly wouldn't be the first time he woke up in someone else's bed after drinking too much. So Brasso puts the med pack away, gets a cup of water, and sets it in front of Cassian.
Cassian takes a few sips and then starts gulping the water down like he's dying of thirst. And before Brasso can tell him to slow down, he's dropped the cup on the ground and is dashing with surprising speed towards the 'fresher.
Brasso barely even notices when he walks through the puddle of water on the floor to get to him, arriving just as he vomits into the sink. There's not much he can do except make sure Cassian doesn't collapse, and it's thankfully over quickly.
Cassian runs the water and splashes some on the back of his neck while he catches his breath and Brasso rubs his back. He rinses out his mouth and stands up as straight as he can, stumbling a little.
Brasso catches him, steadying him with an arm around his waist. "Think you could make it to my bedroom?"
"Trying to get me in your bed? I see how it is, Brass."
Brasso turns to see Cassian smiling, a little bit mischievous and a little bit delirious, and rolls his eyes. "C'mon."
When they get to the bed, Cassian sits and leans back on his elbows, and Brasso kneels in front of him to start taking off his boots.
Cassian chuckles drunkenly. "You know I thought you'd be the type to make me dinner before you stripped me down and had your way with me."
Brasso very pointedly does not look up at him. He's been pushing some feelings aside for the last few minutes because Cassian needs him to be the sober one, and as much as he'd like to ask him what exactly he means by that, now is definitely not the time. "In your dreams, Andor," he says instead.
Cassian audibly pouts, and when Brasso starts helping him out of his jacket, he grabs at the fabric of Brasso's shirt and pulls him halfway into a kiss. Brasso blocks him with an arm on his chest.
"Absolutely not, Cass!" he shouts, and pushes him away, a bit more forcefully than he intends. The mere thought of kissing Cassian now nearly makes him gag, and he suddenly finds it very easy to ignore whatever feelings came up a few minutes ago. "Sleep in your jacket, then," he snaps, and leaves the room. He paces for a few seconds while his heart stops racing, and then drags his armchair into the bedroom.
When he gets back, Cassian has taken his jacket off and is curled up on his side, looking very small and vulnerable.
Something in the center of Brasso's chest aches. He picks up the jacket, drapes it over the back of his chair, and pulls the covers up over Cassian. He leans in and brushes his hair off of his forehead, smoothing it over his ear and cheek. "I'm sorry I yelled."
"I'm sorry I ruined your night," Cassian mumbles sleepily, and then he's out.
Brasso sighs, kisses his temple, and sits back in his armchair.
--
He dozes off a few times during the night, but he mostly watches over Cassian as he sleeps: the rise and fall of his chest, the way his face twists up in pain or nausea or both and then relaxes when it passes, the way his leg twitches just before he rolls over.
Cassian can usually take care of himself, even when he stumbles through Brasso's front door at all hours of the night, but he's been having a particularly hard go of things recently: Bix is seeing someone new, Maarva's health has been getting worse, and, of course, this week is the anniversary of Clem's death. It's enough to drive anyone to self-destructive behavior, but gambling on credit and getting hurt because of it (not to mention drinking enough to make himself sick) tells Brasso that Cassian is starting to spiral out of control.
And who better than Brasso to steer him back on course? He's been looking out for Cassian since he came home with Maarva and Clem. They of course got into plenty of trouble together as kids (often with Bix) but he was always happy to clean up messes and provide alibis, no matter how small the infraction. He helped Cass ease back into the community after his stint in juvie, and even got him a job at the yard a few years ago.
Cassian, in return, has been a devoted and loyal friend. He's defended Brasso against childhood bullies, helped him negotiate disagreements with fellow workers, and buoyed his spirits so often that just seeing him smile or hearing him laugh is enough to make even the worst day worth seeing through to the end. Cassian loves fiercely and completely, and he isn't shy about saying it or showing it or acting on it. He'd quite literally go to the edge of the galaxy and back for the people he loves.
So it came as no surprise when Brasso realized he had a little bit of a crush on him. Not a devastating, all-consuming infatuation that people could write odes about, just a pleasant lightness in his chest whenever they were together, and sometimes when they were apart. But Cassian has never really expressed any interest in Brasso, so he mostly keeps it to himself. Sure, he gets a little jealous when Cassian hops from relationship to relationship, but so what? Cassian is his best friend, and that's better in a lot of ways--deeper, more consistent, more likely to weather whatever life throws at them.
Which is why Cassian trying to kiss him threw him off--not only because of the timing, but also because it's never happened before. If he was so drunk that he tried to kiss Brasso, he must be really going through something. And if he needs someone to hold him steady for the duration? Well, then, Brasso is more than willing to do that.
He's about to nod off again when Cassian stirs and groans. He fetches a damp cloth and places it gently on Cassian's forehead. "Morning."
Cassian groans again, a bit more pathetically.
"Feeling better?"
"What do you think?" Cassian says without opening his eyes. He sounds miserable but much more coherent than several hours ago.
"I think," Brasso says, reaching for the cup on the bedside table, "that you should try to drink some water again."
Cassian hums affirmatively and starts to sit up, before swearing and immediately flopping back down again.
Almost without thinking, Brasso helps Cassian up, one hand cradling his neck and the other on his side. "Easy," he murmurs, and hands the cup to Cassian, who takes a few slow, shaky sips before Brasso starts putting on his work clothes.
Cassian watches him, concerned. "Did you sleep?"
"I'll be fine," he says off-handedly. Now that Cass is awake and looking mostly okay, he feels dead tired, but he's still got a shift to work and somehow he thinks "I was up all night with Cassian" isn't going to fly as an excuse with the boss. He's got the day off tomorrow: he'll sleep then. "You know the crew will look out for me."
Cassian suddenly looks very embarrassed. "If you could just not tell them everything that happened last night."
Brasso shrugs. "You were drunk, that's all they need to know."
Cassian finishes the water and carefully swings his feet onto the floor, taking a moment to reorient himself. He gets up, puts his jacket on, and slowly follows Brasso into the kitchen a minute later.
"Do you think you could eat?" Brasso says, already pulling a pan and a few ingredients out of his pantry.
"I dunno, I'm not--" Cassian starts, but is cut off by a loud gurgle from his stomach.
Brasso holds back a chuckle, focusing intently on the flour and eggs and grease in the pan in front of him. "Was that a yes or a no?"
"A yes." Cassian gingerly presses a hand against his belly as he sits down. "I think."
"Well," Brasso says, giving the pan a stir and then going back to the pantry to get a meal bar for himself, "I'm making you the best hangover cure in the galaxy. Guaranteed or your money back."
"Well that sounds ominous," Cassian says, but his tone is playful, almost teasing.
Brasso comes back to the stove and the contents of the pan have mostly solidified. He scrapes everything into a bowl, then places it on the table with a spoon.
Cassian peers, sniffs, and then grimaces. "Smells like engine grease."
"Doesn't taste much better but that's not really the point, is it?"
"Why is it green?" Cassian says as he pokes at it with the spoon.
"The eggs were green," he says quickly. "Look, Cass, I'm telling you, this stuff really works."
Cassian scoffs, but winces as his stomach sounds off again. "I guess that's what I get for drinking my dinner last night."
Brasso wants to scold Cassian for not taking care of himself, and to stay here all day to help him do just that, but the anvil is about to sound so he'll have to settle for getting a glass of water and a few bites of food in him.
Cassian sighs, resigned, looks at the bowl again, and takes a bite. His expression is unreadable, but a moment later he swallows and goes in for another.
Brasso sighs in relief. "Good. Finish that, and then drink some more water. You can let yourself out and lock up when you're done."
"Wait, you're seriously going to work on no sleep?"
"I said I'll be fine," he says as he pulls on his work boots. "It's one shift and tomorrow's my day off."
Cassian looks at him skeptically, and puts another spoonful of breakfast in his mouth instead of saying anything.
"Fine, I'll let you know when I get home. So you know I made it through the day." He puts his hand firmly on Cassian's shoulder. "Okay?"
Cassian nods, swallows. "Okay."
The anvil sounds. He grabs his stuff and heads for the door.
"Hey!" Cassian calls after him. "The code on the door hasn't changed, has it?"
"You know it hasn't!" he calls back, and then he's outside, the door sliding shut behind him.
--
The day seems to drag on forever for two reasons: because all he wants to do is sit down and rest his eyes, and because he has the easy but boring job of pushing buttons for most of the day. The crew understood, of course; they know he and Cassian are close. They ask after him and Maarva, and then make sure Brasso stays awake throughout the morning, lunch, and afternoon, no matter how much he complains.
When the second anvil sounds, he decides to head over to Cassian and Maarva's and check in on the both of them. But when he gets there, Maarva says Cass is out but she doesn't know where. There's something in her tone that makes Brasso doubt the truth of that second part, but he's not about to question her. He stays for a little while, chatting with her and Bee. She brings up Clem and he lets her just talk at him, paying attention to the story of how they escaped from a small squad of TIE fighters as if it wasn't the twentieth time he's heard it. He feels a bit more awake by the time she's done, and after she reassures him that the Daughters are bringing dinner over for her, he says he should get going.
He walks home, planning to change and then to try and get Cassian on the comms, but when he opens the door, he's greeted by the smells and sounds of someone cooking.
"You came back?" Brasso says as he sits down to take his boots off.
Cassian turns from the pot on the stove to see him, his face lighting up like the moon on a clear night. "Hey!"
"Stopped by your mother's house," Brasso continues, setting his boots aside and starting on his coveralls. "She said you went out."
"Was she wrong?" Cassian says cheekily, replaces the pot lid and wipes his hands on a towel on the counter. He's wearing different clothes, his hair is damp, there's color in his face and a fresh bandage on his cheek. He almost looks like a completely different person than whoever barely made it out of bed this morning. He opens the cupboard, takes out two bowls, and sets them on the counter.
"You two conspiring against me again?" Brasso says with a chuckle as he hangs up his work clothes and sits at the kitchen table, genuinely and pleasantly surprised. Cassian has shown up drunk on his doorstep many times and has never once come back so soon and made him dinner. It even looks like he cleaned up from the previous night, the armchair back in its usual place and a towel over the spot where he dropped the cup and spilled some water.
Cassian scoffs, feigning offense. "Against you? And here I thought I was doing something nice for a friend who took care of me last night."
Brasso smiles, too tired to keep up the charade. Coming home to a hot meal is worlds better than his original dinner plans (heating up leftovers, date of origin unknown), and he gets to spend more time with Cassian. "You're right, Cass, it is very nice. Thanks."
Cassian beams at him, his non-injured cheek going slightly pink as he sets a timer. "It's got a half-hour left, if you wanted to lay down for a few minutes."
"If I go horizontal right now, I think I'll be out until morning." The energy he got from talking to Maarva is waning, but he's not going to let Cassian's effort go to waste. "Could keep you company while you wait, though."
"Yeah, okay," Cassian says, sounding very pleased, and sits.
They chat about this and that--a new shop that opened up by the hotel, the spoils of Bix's latest shipment, a bit of gossip about two guys from the yard that just started seeing each other and think they're being subtle about it--and Brasso thinks he hasn't seen Cassian this happy and relaxed in weeks. It's a good look on him, and Brasso is very happy he gets to see it.
A few minutes before the timer goes off, Cassian gets up to check on whatever is in the pot, declares that it's done, turns off the heat and ladles out generous portions. Brasso gets some spoons as Cassian sets a bowl of fruit-and-vegetable stew at each of their places. It smells heavenly, and tastes even better, and Brasso says so.
Cassian shrugs. "Happened to be a fresh delivery at the grocer's today. I just bought whatever I thought would go together and threw it into a pot."
"Well, whatever you did, it's amazing," Brasso says, not letting Cassian get away with being humble this time.
Cassian smiles proudly. "Glad you like it."
They finish eating and chat idly for a few more minutes, and then Brasso gets hit with another wave of exhaustion, no doubt triggered by the warmth in his belly. He zones out for a bit, but comes back to reality when Cassian speaks.
"So we're just not gonna talk about it, I guess."
Well, that woke him up. "What?"
Cassian rolls his eyes. "I tried to kiss you last night."
"Oh." Brasso waves a hand dismissively. "You were drunk. Already forgiven and practically forgotten."
Cassian stares at him for a moment, opens his mouth, closes it again.
"Is that the wrong answer?" Brasso asks. He feels like the room is off-kilter and he's pretty sure it's not just the exhaustion.
Cassian pushes back and starts to stand up, one hand on the table to steady himself. "I should go, let you get some rest."
"Hey hey," Brasso says as he instinctively puts his hand over Cassian's. Cassian is very good at running away from tough conversations, but this is one he clearly needs to have.
Cassian, frozen part-way out of his chair, looks at their hands, then at Brasso. "Who said I wanted to be forgiven?"
Oh. The possibility that Cassian actually wanted to kiss him had been so far from his mind that he hadn't even considered it. He finds himself speechless as Cassian settles back into his seat.
"You really thought it was just because I was drunk?"
"I mean, yeah, you get flirty when you drink," he says after a moment of recalling all the times he had to apologize to some poor tourist who didn't understand that Cassian was harmless (except maybe the pickpocketing, in their younger years). "And--and you'll kiss anyone who says okay, even if they don't have a compatible mouth."
Cassian laughs, relaxing a bit. "Hey, that was one time," he says, holding up a finger to emphasize. "And it was a dare."
"Yeah, for the Calamari girl," Brasso says smugly, pointing at him. "You volunteered."
"Fine, okay, that's not the point." Cassian inhales like he's slowly winding himself up. "Sometimes being drunk helps you find the courage to do things you're too scared to do sober."
Brasso takes a moment to process the words, and then starts laughing, half in relief and half at the absurdity of it all.
"What's so funny?" Cassian says, bemused.
Brasso gathers himself, but just barely. "And how long have you been...trying to find that courage?"
Cassian shakes his head and shrugs. "I dunno. A while?"
Well that's unexpected. Now Brasso is intensely curious. "Are we talking weeks? Months? Years?"
"Years, I guess." Then, after a beat, "It's not-- it's just a crush, okay? Nothing serious."
"Stone and Sky, Cassian, why didn't you say something?"
"I thought it might be weird," Cassian says, sounding more and more uncertain by the word. "We're sort of brothers, you know?"
"But we're not," Brasso says patiently. "Not by blood or by name."
"Look, I--I didn't want to mess this up," Cassian says, gesturing back and forth between them. "You've been the most solid thing in my life for a long time. You're my stone, and I don't know if I could bear losing you."
Brasso feels like he's had the wind knocked out of him. Caring for Cassian has always felt like second nature and he's a little embarrassed that he never really thought about how that feels for Cassian.
"But you pushed me away, so," Cassian says, as if that's the conclusion to the conversation.
"Cassian," Brasso says gently, realizing that Cassian was, in fact, that drunk, "you do remember that not even five minutes before that, you threw up in my sink, right?"
Cassian looks mortified. He chuckles nervously, then points to his head. "Timeline is a little fuzzy. Sorry."
Brasso laughs again, because of course Cassian only recalls the one thing and not the other. He suddenly remembers his hand is still on Cassian's, and he squeezes Cassian's fingers just a little.
Cassian smiles along with him, but still seems slightly bewildered. "So, wait, what is happening right now?"
Brasso is smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. He shifts his chair so their knees are almost touching. He laces his fingers together with Cassian's on the table. "I think maybe you should try to kiss me again and see if the outcome is any different."
He watches Cassian's face relax as he starts to understand, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open into a soft O. Cassian wordlessly scoots his chair forward a little, puts a hand on Brasso's knee, and then surges forward to kiss him.
He's imagined this so many times, but his imagination pales in comparison to the real thing. Cassian smells like soap and rain, and he makes the most adorable sound when Brasso gently pushes back against his mouth. It's incredibly charged, but chaste and brief, Cassian pulling away after just a few seconds.
"So?" Brasso asks after a moment.
Cassian smiles in a way that Brasso hasn't seen him smile in months, possibly years, and then he tries to look serious but the smile is just too strong and he ends up looking a bit silly (albeit very cute). "I think I should double check the results. You know, just to be sure."
Brasso chuckles affectionately. "Maybe triple or quadruple check, even."
"Not sure I could stop at just four, though."
Brasso leans in so that their lips are almost touching and says, against his mouth, "I think I'll manage."
Cassian kisses him again, softly, and again, deeper and more intensely, and again, and again, and again. It feels exciting and fresh and new, and also so easy, like they've been doing it their whole lives. Cassian moves from his chair, trying to get into Brasso's lap but can't quite find his balance. He keeps kissing him through several attempts, and Brasso can't even get him to stop by talking to him.
"Why don't we--move--somewhere--with a little more--room?"
Cassian finally relents. "You trying to get me in your bed again?"
"No," Brasso says, and kisses him again. "I'm flat out telling you to get into my bed again."
Cassian pulls back and smirks, but then his face grows concerned. "But won't you fall asleep?"
Sleep is tugging at Brasso, wearing him down slowly, but he also wants to kiss Cassian as many times as he can before he crashes. He leans into Cassian's ear, as if there was anyone else around to hear them. "You'll just have to keep me awake, then."
Cassian laughs a nervous but excited laugh, kisses his cheek, and then stands back, allowing Brasso to get up and use their still-linked hands to lead him.
They kiss again before they get to the bed, kiss as Brasso sits, kiss as Cassian easily straddles him and sits in his lap. His arms go around the back of Brasso's neck, the gentle pressure from his crossed wrists helping keep his head up. Brasso's hands come to rest on Cassian's ribcage, and he lets the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing carry him along, all the while drawing their bodies closer and closer together.
It's not long before Cassian starts to rock his hips along with his breaths. Brasso can feel the heat between his legs and any other time, he would happily keep going, but the adrenaline has worn off and he's fading fast. He turns away from Cassian when they break apart, and places a hand on his chest.
"Sorry, Cass," he says, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.
"It's okay," Cassian says, leaning his forehead against Brasso's temple.
"I want to, it's just--"
"I said it's okay, Brasso," Cassian says gently, and then extricates himself, revealing the obvious bulge in his trousers.
"D'you want help with that, at least?"
"I'm a big boy," Cassian says, a little sheepishly, "I can take care of it myself."
Brasso hums affirmatively, definitely not imagining what Cassian "taking care of it" might look like.
"And I'll clean up from dinner, okay?" Cassian leans over and kisses his forehead. "You get some sleep."
Brasso nods, starts taking off his shirt as Cassian walks away, and then, without even really realizing it, blurts out, "When you're done, come to bed."
Cassian turns around and smiles so sweetly and softly at him, like he's about to burst into a million pieces or melt into the floor, and it might be the most handsome he's ever looked. He nods. "Okay."
Brasso smiles, lays down, and is almost immediately asleep.
--
He wakes up with Cassian in his arms. It's been a while since he slept next to someone in this bed, and he never ever thought that "someone" would include Cassian. But here he is, warm and solid, his dark hair tickling Brasso's nose, one of his ankles between both of Brasso's, his rough hand over Brasso's on his belly, their fingers laced. Brasso sighs and settles in, lightly nuzzling Cassian's neck.
Cassian glances back at him. "Morning. I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Mm-mm," Brasso hums.
"How did you sleep?"
"Like I was dead."
Cassian giggles, a light, buoyant sound that Brasso's pretty sure he could never get tired of hearing. "That good, huh?"
"Mm-hmm, Don't even remember you getting in bed."
"Good."
Brasso tries to roll over, to check the chrono, but Cassian pins his arm with his own. "C'mon, Cass, I just want to see what time it is."
Cassian makes a defiant sound. "I'm keeping you here all day. We have a lot of catching up to do."
While he'd love to spend the whole day, the whole week, the whole rest of his life in bed with Cassian-- "I have things to do today."
"It's your day off."
"Yes, but I have errands." He tries to tug his arm out from under Cassian's but it's held firmly in place. "You know, those things people do when they don't have to work?"
"Sounds fake," Cassian says, and starts gently rubbing his foot on Brasso's leg.
Brasso rolls his eyes, not wanting to admit that the foot rubbing is, in fact, working on him. "Fine, but just a few more minutes."
Except that it's not even 30 seconds before Cassian's stomach growls so loudly that it vibrates against Brasso's palm. Cassian groans and presses his face into the pillow.
"Felt that," Brasso teases.
"Shut up," Cassian says, voice muffled by the pillow.
"You talking to me or your stomach?"
"Both."
Brasso laughs fondly, then presses a kiss to the nape of Cassian's neck. "How about this," he says right next to Cassian's ear, "how about we get up, and I make us something to eat, way better than yesterday's breakfast; then I go on my errands, you can come if you want; and after that, we come back here and pick up where we left off last night."
Cassian turns his head away from the pillow. "That does sound like a pretty good day."
"I thought so," Brasso says, and then starts peppering kisses on Cassian's neck and shoulders until--
"Okay, okay!" Cassian says playfully, releasing his grip on Brasso's arm. "I'm getting up, I'm getting up!"
Brasso finally sees the time and no wonder Cassian's hungry, it's almost midday. He puts the shirt he was wearing last night back on and walks around the bed so he can go to the kitchen. By the time he comes around the other side, Cassian has sat up. This is the first time he's properly seen him this morning and he takes a moment to drink in the sight of him: his big brown eyes are still a little sleepy, his hair is mussed just on one side, his unbandaged cheek is rosy and lined with creases from the bedclothes, and Brasso's undershirt hangs slightly too low on his shoulders. Cassian reaches out a hand and Brasso almost automatically takes it, thinking he's going to help him up, but Cassian just squeezes it and smiles.
"I don't say it enough," Cassian says, his voice soft but steady, "but thank you. For everything. Especially this week."
Brasso squeezes his hand back, then crouches down and presses their foreheads together. "I've got you," he says, and means it in every sense.
They stay there for a few seconds and then, with its seemingly impeccable comedic timing, Cassian's stomach growls again.
Brasso tries desperately not to laugh, but fails almost instantly.
"Seriously?" Cassian says, also unable to contain his laughter. "We're having a moment here!"
Brasso stands up, Cassian with him, and then they pull each other into a strong hug. He gives Cassian a peck on the cheek and says, "Let's see about that breakfast, yeah?"
"Probably a good idea," he says as he steps back, takes Brasso's hand, and pulls him into the kitchen.
And as Brasso allows himself to be led, he notices that the feeling he gets around Cassian--that pleasant lightness in his chest--has changed ever so slightly, and in the most delightful way.