#but the drop for the Starbird was insane before this update and I’ve been running it for years every now and then

[14kuponuts]

After the update to increased drop rates in certain dungeons, I decided to try Dead Ends to see if the freaking Starbird would drop. I’ve done it SO MANY FREAKING times so I’m not expecting anything. I’m numb to it at this point

LO AND BEHOLD.

FIRST TRY AND WITH TRUSTS.

THERE IT IS. WTF 😳 I. Am. Shocked.

[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.