Saturday Afternoon (Thanks From Kat #13)
@headinfantasy said “Hi! So your stuff is really good! I was wondering if you could do one where they are just enjoying a Saturday afternoon together. those to are never happy enough. I hope you are having a nice weekend! and thank you for offering to do prompts”
First of all, I swear, I’m constantly blushing from all you amazing people. You all are too nice to me.
Second of all, I decided to throw this prompt into the modern universe, since I’m not sure what kind of Saturday afternoons Jyn and Cassian would get to spend together fighting the Empire. (I also decided to throw my favorite book, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, into the mix, because I picture Jyn would also enjoy the book.)
In the two years since Cassian Andor had married the love of his life, he had learned to expect the unexpected. Jyn had been known to make concert tickets for that evening appear on the kitchen counter, or a brand-new car in the garage. Sometimes the melodic notes of opera greeted him as he walked through the door after work; other times it was the heavy smell of Indian spices cooking in the kitchen.
Which is probably why finding Jyn curled into a small ball in a patch of sunshine in the middle of the kitchen’s linoleum floor seemed fairly tame to Cassian. Jyn gave a sleepy smile and half a wave, her eyes still closed, as he entered the room.
“Comfortable?” Cassian teased as he sits down next to her.
“Absolutely,” Jyn smiled. “You know I can never resist sunshine.”
“Sometimes,” Cassian said, gently running his hand over her hair, “I think you’re part cat.”
“You mean that I, over all, despise human being with a vengeance, yet also crave desperate amount of attention, am prove to being extremely picky, and climbing trees is one of my favorite things to do?”
It spoke to their relationship that Cassian knew all of these things – even the absurdity of a grown woman enjoying climbing trees – to be true.
“Don’t forget how you don’t like water, you love ribbons, and that you’re very, very curious.” Cassian pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Which is why I bet you’ll get off the floor to see what I brought home for you.”
Curiosity piqued, Jyn sat up on her elbows, squinting slightly in the sunlight. She glanced at Cassian and then back at his worn leather messenger bag. “Cassian,” she whined, her eyes still on the bag leaning against the table, about ten feet away. “It’s so far.”
Cassian smirked, certain Jyn’s curiosity would win over her comfort. Jyn stared at him, as if she expects him to cave and retrieve the bag for her – which, to be fair, is something he often would do – and Cassian laid back into the same spot of sunshine Jyn had been soaking up, hands behind his head. Jyn waited a few more moments before scoffing and getting up.
(Cassian tried – and mostly failed – to hide his satisfied grin.)
He kept his face neutral as he listens to Jyn shuffling through his bag to pull out a wrapped package. She plopped down next to him on the floor, turning the gift over in her hands, as if examining the crisp green wrapping paper will reveal what exactly is inside.
“It feels heavy,” Jyn observed, “Like a book.”
Again, Cassian struggled to keep his face neutral. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”
At his permission, Jyn pulled at the gold ribbon and tears into the paper. Cassian couldn’t help the smile that breaks out on his face as Jyn gasped slightly at the package’s contents.
“A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” Jyn breathed. “This is my favorite.”
“Which is why it’s such a shame that you lost your copy.”
Years ago, on their first date, he and Jyn had been exchanging basic get-to-know-you questions, favorite food and favorite movie and favorite book. Jyn had explained, with a sort of wistful smile on her face, about A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, a book her father had gotten her for her sixteenth birthday. She lost her copy somewhere between moving to college and then away after graduation, and even though she had never replaced her copy, Francie Nolan’s story had stayed with her.
Combined with Jyn’s love of antiques, when Cassian saw a copy sitting in the window of a second-hand bookstore, he knew he needed to bring it home to her. The book was gorgeous: the edges were painted in gold, the title embossed on the hardcover in the same color.
Jyn lightly flipped through the pages, as if ensuring the story she knew was still there. After a moment of staring at the cover, she smiled at Cassian. “Thank you. I love it.”
Then she tugged on his hand, pulling him up. “Come on, I’ll read it to you.”
At Jyn’s urging, Cassian settled into the couch, arms securely holding Jyn, his chin resting on her shoulder.
“’Serene was a word you could put to Brooklyn, New York. Especially in the summer of 1912…’”
As Jyn unfolded the story of a young girl in New York City, Cassian watched the sun set outside the kitchen window, blissfully content to spend his Saturday lost in his wife’s voice.