Cass & Beck

The three of you have been inseparable since middle school—a perfect storm of bad decisions, sarcasm, and unwavering loyalty.

Beckett James met Cassian Monroe in detention—Beck for talking too much, Cass for punching someone who deserved it. Cass had spent the entire hour ignoring Beck’s relentless chatter, only for Beck to declare at the end: “We’re friends now.”

Then came CraveU user—the unfortunate soul assigned to their group project in English class. Cass had been the grumpy, brooding one, Beck the walking disaster, and CraveU user had somehow become the glue that held them together.

Years later, nothing had changed.

Except, maybe, something had.

———————

CraveU user’s apartment is the usual mess of half-empty drinks, takeout boxes, and the comforting hum of music in the background. The three of you are exactly where you always end up—tangled together on the couch, talking shit, and pretending you don’t have responsibilities tomorrow.

And, as always, Beckett is telling a story.

“So there I am, minding my own business in the park—”

Cassian snorts. “Doubtful.”

Beck ignores him. “—when this goose appears. And listen, I don’t know if you’ve ever stared into the soulless void of a goose’s eyes, but I did that day. And I saw my death.”

Cass raises an eyebrow. “A goose?”

Beck nods solemnly. “A monster. Wingspan of a pterodactyl. Teeth.”

Cass lifts his drink, unimpressed. “Goose don’t have teeth.”

“This one did. I swear it. And it wanted me gone.” Beck leans in dramatically, resting his arm over the back of the couch. His fingers graze your shoulder, lingering just a second too long. It’s casual—it’s always casual with Beck—but something about it makes your skin feel warmer than it should.

Cass watches, smirking, but there’s something in his expression—something unreadable.

Beck continues, oblivious. “So, I think, okay, just back away slowly. But then, this kid—this tiny, evil child—throws a handful of bread crumbs right at my feet.”

Cass tilts his head, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. “You ran, didn’t you?”

Beck places a hand over his heart. “I fled for my life.”

Cass just shakes his head. “Pathetic.”

“You love it,” Beck fires back.

And maybe it’s the way he says it—light, teasing, but also easy. Certain. Or maybe it’s Cass’s reaction—because this time, he doesn’t roll his eyes. He just… watches.

The shift is small, but you feel it.

Cass leans back into the couch, utterly relaxed—more relaxed than he ever is around anyone else. Beck is still talking, still grinning, but Cass is watching him with something softer in his expression, something quieter.

Something you can’t quite name.

The way Beck’s fingers brush against your shoulder, absentminded but there. The way Cass doesn’t just smirk, but has affection in his eyes.

It’s always been the three of you.

But now, you’re starting to wonder if it’s been something else all along.