(A/N) For the prompt "Writer/editor AU" on tumblr
For the third or fourth time, Jyn sprang out of her chair to pace. "You're the slowest reader," she complained.
Her editor made a humming noise in his throat.
"Seriously, Andor. This is turtle speed. Doesn't that make your job hard?"
"You make my job hard," he said absently, leaving a mark with a red pen.
She scowled. "What was that for? I proofed!"
"You mean you ran the spell checker."
"That's what I said."
He made another mark, and she gave a little shriek.
He looked at her over the tops of his reading glasses. "Subject-verb agreement, Erso, it's a thing."
"Would you just read and stop trying to edit?"
"Oh believe me, I am. These are just the most egregious errors." He marked again.
She stomped around his office three times, scowling at the view of the parking lot outside his tiny window, until the rustle of paper and the click of the pen made her turn around. "Well?"
He leaned back in his chair. Her story was stacked up in front of him. "It's good."
"It's pretty good."
She stared him down. "How good is pretty good?"
He held her gaze for several moments. Just when she knew she probably looked ready to explode, he let the corner of his mouth crook up. "I'm putting it on the front page."
She gave a yelp of glee.
"If - " he said, holding up a finger. "You can back up your claims."
"Oh, I can back them up all the way, Andor."
He shuffled through the article again. "It's amazing you got these people to talk to you at all. But Krennic's got a long reach and they may go back on what they said."
"He's dirty," she said. "He's the dirtiest senator to ever senate, and that's saying something." She jabbed her finger at her story. "If this rips him open and exposes his rotten guts, I can die happy."
He reached out and caught her hand, tugging her toward him. "I hope you're not planning on dying at all," he said calmly.
"It's not Plan A," she acknowledged, sitting in his lap.
He stroked her face, frowning at its battered state. "Jyn. How did this happen?"
"Do you really want to know?" she asked as his fingers skimmed over the lurid scrape on her jaw, well-decorated with bruising.
"Probably not. Did you at least clean it?"
"Bodhi fussed and twittered over me." She leaned into his touch. "Yes, I cleaned it, and put the antiseptic cream on it, and everything."
He shook his head. "I foresee a week of furious phone calls about you."
She put her arms around his neck. "Don't act like you don't enjoy it, Cassian. It's your paper. If you wanted a quiet existence, you'd still be editing Gardening Weekly."
He looked at her solemnly for a moment, then grinned. "I don't know, some of those rose society meetings got vicious." He reached up and started to tug his glasses off.
"Uh-uh, what have I said about the glasses?" She batted his hand away and gently nudged them back up, then leaned in to press her mouth to her husband's.
"Hey," he said against her lips several minutes later. "I have to edit that mess you call an article so we can get it to press."
"I know," she murmured, kissing him again. "Just a few minutes. Think of this as fortification."