a rogue fam thanksgiving

[nextchance]

Whatever Thanksgiving is, Jyn doesn't actually have a clue. For that matter, if anyone were to ask her, she'd say it's a stupid name for a holiday, more than a little self-explanatory and unrelated to everything she's actually seen and heard about it thus far. Darrow as a whole doesn't seem to celebrate it, but there are plenty of people who do, and sales in stores and something called Black Friday don't seem to have anything to do with some sort of gathering over a meal or whatever else is supposed to be going on here.

Still, like more than a few traditions in Darrow, she's decided to try to embrace it. She may not be much of a cook, but Cassian is, and any occasion that revolves around food is one she can't say she's not interested in giving a try. If there's something that, even now, feels a little strange about it, when a good deal else of what she's heard seems to revolve around family and togetherness and whatever other nonsense like that — it's no wonder, really, that she'd never heard of it before showing up here — then she's fully intent on ignoring that.

She called this place home, and she meant it. As frightening as the very idea of it may be, Jyn is tired of running from that, of keeping it at arm's length so she won't lose it. Cassian and Bodhi, they're her family now, and the apartment she shares with the former, that's the first home she's had since she was a child.

Which makes it, perhaps, somewhat counterintuitive that, in her spare time, when no one else is around, she's started idly searching her laptop for houses to rent. On one hand, there's no way in hell they could really need more space than they have now, as sparse as her own possessions are. On the other, Bodhi spends enough time here that there's really no reason he shouldn't just live with them, too, and pragmatically speaking, it would save a lot of trouble. A lot of the properties she's come across are out by the university campus, and therefore close to where Cassian works. Sprinkles — who's presently darting around her ankles while she tries to piece together some haphazard dessert that she's read about — would have more room.

And frightening or not, maybe she likes it, the idea of actually being settled somewhere — not some small apartment to which one of them was assigned, but a house of their own choosing, a real home.

Mostly, though, she hasn't meant for it to be much more than a simple fantasy, if only because she doubts she would ever actually work up the nerve to say something about it to them. There's no reason to change what they have now; she wouldn't want to risk getting shot down.

None of that is very much on her mind, though, as they attempt — or, well, mostly Cassian attempts — to put dinner together, some baking competition show left on TV in the background. She has, in fact, entirely forgotten about the several tabs of possible houses she's left open in her internet browser when she tells Cassian just to use her computer to check something he needs to for one of the dishes, already having it on hand from when she'd looked up her own recipe, barely glancing up as she pushes it across the counter in his direction.

She couldn't ever actually need any more than this — the three of them together, the smell of food in the air, everything warm and peaceful and nice. It's already more than she's had in so many years.

Comments

[likeahundred]

It's more picturesque than Cassian has ever hoped for in a gathering. It's not the first time he's sat down to meals with people–it had been a staple of Alliance life–but this is still different. It's more celebratory than he thinks any of them have typically enjoyed and certainly with better food. Ever since the chilaquiles, Cassian has let himself cook more, learn more of the art of it. He's calling all of that to mind now as he tries to recreate what the magazines and websites all say is a traditional meal.

He's fairly certain that the turkey needs another hour but he wants to check the ratios he saw before (and convert from pounds to the more familiar and sensible kilograms). The quandary is what sent him to Jyn's computer but the last tab she left open has him pausing, eyes roving over the listing for a house with hardwood floors and marble countertops. His eyes flick between the descriptions, the price point, and then Jyn herself and he's not sure what to say or ask. The picture is easy enough to put together; a two or three-bedroom house is one meant for all of them. It'd be an adjustment but...

"Almost ready," he says, realizing Bodhi asked a question. "I need the turkey to go a little longer. And you may have to fight Sprinkles for tasting rights." It's honestly a fight he'd be interested in watching.

Uncertain of how to proceed with the information on the page, Cassian returns to his preferred subterfuge. "Jyn, can you check something?"

[nextchance]

If there were a way to capture this feeling, to bottle it up and save it somehow, Jyn thinks she would do absolutely anything it took to be able to hold onto it. This sort of contentment, this warmth, she hasn't felt since she was a child, and she thinks, standing in the kitchen, mixing what (she hopes) will eventually be batter for cookies, everything smelling good already just like Bodhi's said, that she understands the point of the holiday now. She still thinks Thanksgiving is a stupid name for it, but there really is nothing for which she could possibly be more thankful. They may all always be damaged in their own ways — she'd even been a little surprised when Cassian had agreed to cook, though he's been doing so a little more often since the first time he made her dinner — but at least they have this. At least they have each other.

It's exactly why she'd tried, months ago, to run from it, and she knows all the same that it was crazy to think doing so would make a difference.

"I don't know why you both keep talking like I don't already have tasting rights," she says, shooting each of them a slightly dubious look in turn, brow raised. "Fight me if you want, I can take you. And the dog." As if to prove as much, she temporarily abandons her mixing bowl, crossing to the stove so she can eat a spoonful of the potatoes simmering in a pot. Leaning back against the counter, then, she glances at Cassian. "'Course. What do you need?"

[iamthepilot]

Bodhi wrinkles his nose at Sprinkles, shifting so he can bend his knees to hide his ankles away from teeth that haven't hesitated to nip at him in the past. It's a wonder he hasn't scarred, really. "We all know I'm the one with the best puppy dog eyes in this room," he says, "so it's no use for any of you to fight me on this. It's my best and only weapon, I'm not afraid to use it."

It hadn't been of much use on Scarif, of course, but it's worked a handful of times on a number of stingy people here in Darrow. Bodhi doesn't take advantage of that, necessarily, it just happens to be a nice little trick to have when he needs it.

As soon as Jyn leaves her bowl, Bodhi pushes himself off the couch and wanders into the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder as he does to find Jyn tasting the potatoes and Cassian's attention still on the laptop. With a satisfied smile, he dips a finger into the concoction Jyn had been stirring up and tastes it, humming approval she hasn't yet asked for, then takes another swipe of it. "This is good already, Jyn," he says, sucking the mix off his finger. "You're sure you need to bake it? Because it seems perfectly edible as is."

[likeahundred]

Sprinkles, for her part, looks up at Bodhi. Her mouth is closed but a tiny edge of fang protrudes, giving her a bit of a scrappy look. She seems poised to jump on Bodhi's lap and gives a disappointed whine when he gets up. Cassian tries not to smile. There are more serious matters at hand.

While Bodhi tastes, Cassian tilts the laptop screen slightly toward Jyn, his eyebrows raised. He's careful to keep his face neutral, not to give her any reason to think that he's looking at her in any kind of accusation. The idea of moving to a house does actually have its appeal but he's also curious as to why Jyn's been doing this search on her own. They keep so few secrets anymore that whenever someone does, it becomes a point of discussion.

"Supposedly if you eat too much of that raw, you'll get sick," he adds when Bodhi goes poking into Jyn's batter.

[nextchance]

"Hey, hands out of the cookie dough, or you don't get cookies," Jyn says, casting a teasingly admonishing look towards Bodhi as she dips her index finger into the pot of mashed potatoes so she can flick some in his direction. For all she knows, they won't come out well at all anyway, no matter how simple the recipe and how carefully she's followed it. Still, it feels good to be contributing, more so than she would have expected, like this is how things are supposed to be. The cookies could wind up half-burnt and she wouldn't really care. It wouldn't do anything to change this warm feeling that she wants so desperately to hold onto with both hands.

It's what she's been missing since she was a little girl, she thinks, what she lost the day the man in white and his 'troopers came for her father. She doesn't want to think too hard on that, not now, not today, but little experience with one as she might have, Jyn is fairly certain that this is what having a family is supposed to be like.

She licks the remnants of potato off her fingertip as she turns towards Cassian and the computer he's angled towards her. Then, abruptly, she goes still, her eyes widening slightly. She'd forgotten, of course, that she left the tabs with the houses she was looking at open when she offered to let him use her computer; it hadn't once occurred to her that he would see them. How to explain it, though, she doesn't have a clue. Her instinct is to downplay it, to say it's nothing, or that he wasn't supposed to see it, but she swallows those words back, suspecting that they would do more harm than good. It wouldn't be strictly true, anyway. She wouldn't have been looking if it were nothing, and clearly she hasn't been doing so only for herself. Either she'd have had to give the idea up, or figure out how to mention it to them. She just thought the former was more likely, and that if it was the latter, she'd be doing so on her own terms, not put on the spot like this because of her own thoughtlessness.

"Right," she says, realizing that she ought to say something, and clears her throat. "That. I was just... looking. You know, curious to see what might be around."

She steals a quick glance at Bodhi, wondering how much he might have seen or caught onto yet, and then turns to Cassian again, trying not to look nervous as she studies his expression. The neutrality in his face makes it impossible to tell how he might feel about this, which is less than helpful. She wants to know sooner rather than later if she's misstepped here so she can try to fix it as quickly as possible, not wanting to have a shadow cast over such a nice night all because she got some crazy idea in her head.

[iamthepilot]

With a pout meant solely for Jyn, Bodhi steals one last swipe of cookie dough then holds his hands up in mock surrender. "No more, I promise," he says, following Jyn with his eyes as she joins Cassian at the laptop. He watches them speak to each other without even really speaking, catches the glance they exchange and the brief few seconds of tension before Jyn speaks up again. It isn't until she looks back at him that Bodhi's curiosity wins out, and he goes to peek over her shoulder, his brows practically lifting to his hairline when he sees the selection of houses listed in the browser.

"Those are houses," he says. Never mind the fact that he's stated the obvious, that's hardly his biggest concern at the moment. Bodhi looks from Jyn to Cassian to the screen then back to Jyn. "Are you two looking for a bigger place? I didn't know that."

It makes sense, he supposes, the apartments Darrow assigns to its residents do leave something to be desired and anyway, it'd be nice for them to have the space, even if neither of them are really the sort to run up clutter. If he could afford it himself, Bodhi thinks he might like to do the same thing: be a bit more removed from the madness, to enjoy what peace would come with living farther from the city. One of the things he'd love most about his delivery flights was the quiet, the chance to look out at the stars without having to spare a thought for anything else.

He'd stopped doing that toward the end, of course. It'd be nice, he thinks, to get that back.

"That one's nice," he says, pointing at one of the images on the screen, then another. "Oh, but that one is, too. You're in for a tough decision, looks like."

[likeahundred]

He's sort of grateful for Bodhi's confusion because it allows Cassian a moment to process what this isn't. These houses are all too big for two people and a little dog. Not too big, but they'd be cozier with three people instead of two. "We weren't looking," he says slowly. "Jyn's been." He lets himself have a moment to smile, trying out the idea of having a house. It's not something he ever remembers having, even before the war and the Separatists.

"And...these houses are definitely big enough for three people."

Cassian glances between Jyn and Bodhi, thinking and hoping he has some measure of the situation. A home. A family. That's what Jyn is offering. That's what Jyn is trying to create.

And all the ones on the screen promise marble counter tops and hardwood floors. He's not going to comment on it, but Cassian does smile again.

[nextchance]

Jyn tries not to look nervous as first Bodhi and then Cassian comments on what's been left open on her computer, her hands curling into themselves at her sides, fingernails pressing into her palms. It's stupid, she wants to say. It doesn't matter. As she'd told Bodhi once, well back before she had any idea what she and Cassian would become to each other, there's no sense in disrupting what already works, no need to change any of this when things have all been fine as they are. Cassian is smiling, though, and she tries to hold onto that, to let it give her something resembling courage. It feels foolish to need it at all, but being outnumbered in a fight seems easier than addressing this now. That would be familiar territory, where this is quite the opposite, something she has no experience in whatsoever.

Her home and her family were taken from her when she was so young, and for years, she's tried to avoid any sort of similar attachment, making this uncharted territory.

"They all have two bedrooms," she adds, confirming what Cassian has already said, hating how quiet she sounds, how young. "And they're near the university, so you'd be close to work, Cassian. With a fence, Sprinkles could play outside." It all seems too committed, like she's trying to talk them into it; instinctively, immediately, she has to try to backtrack. "Like I said, I was just curious."

She wonders if Cassian has noticed what else they all have in common, but she's gone too far already without mentioning that. The last thing she needs is to dig any deeper a hole for herself.