Talk to me, Rooster.

…

Rooster’s thumb strokes back and forth over the back of your hand. It’s slow and delicate, he’s got his head leaned back and he’s looking at the ceiling. His chest rises and falls softly.

He seems so calm.

You’ve stopped crying now, but you’re still far from calm. You’ve been staring at the spot on your wall where the paint is a slightly different shade from the rest. It’s from a night that you came in drunk with Kit and she accidentally fell and kicked a hole in the wall.

It wasn’t that long ago.

You’re not ready for a kid. The girl that sat on the floor, laughing hysterically at her friend’s foot stuck in the drywall, she isn’t ready for all of this. You wonder if he is. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’s so much older.

Sure, it’s an easy enough observation that the two of you aren’t the same age, when looking in a mirror. But the way you love him, the way he loves you - it’s easy to forget.

You think of the time he called you childish. You had just been extremely childish, but it had made you feel so small. So much less than him. Maybe it’s easy enough for you to forget that you’re younger. You glance across. Maybe it occurs to him often.

You wonder if he ever made her feel that small, made her feel like she’s worth so much less than he is. Probably not, what kind of woman would plan a future with a man like that?

It would make sense for Rooster to be ready, he was ready for marriage not that long ago. The two of them had probably discussed children.

It makes you nauseous, thinking of their plans for the future, and the grinding halt you put in them. It isn’t your fault, it’s his. You keep telling yourself that, but it just doesn’t feel right.

Somehow, you don’t feel blameless in all of this. Though, realistically, you know that Rooster wouldn’t be blaming himself if he was in your shoes. Your mother always blamed herself too.

Leaning your head back against the bed that you’re sitting against, you follow Rooster’s gaze and look up at the poster on the ceiling. It’s from a music festival he’s never heard of. Something you might never go to again once these six minutes are up.

You swallow softly.

Rooster drapes an arm around your shoulder and presses his lips tenderly to your hair. You hear him sigh softly. He rests his cheek on the top of your head. You aren’t sure how he feels about all of this. You didn’t really take time to ask.

He hasn’t asked how you feel about all of this either, but the sobbing told him exactly what he needed to know. He pulls you closer against his chest. You close your eyes, resting your cheek against the fabric of his shirt.

You’ve never thought about being a mother before right now. Even without a set plan, you hadn’t ever really incorporated kids as an option - why would you, after the upbringing you had?

You’re glad that his cheek is resting against the top of your head, that you can’t see his face - you’re certain that if you could, you would burst into tears again. You’ve been so stupid.

Joe and all of his deployments, all of those women - those separate love stories across three different continents. You had noticed the similarities, but before now, Amy had always played your mother’s role in the story. The woman left behind at home with a broken heart and the pieces of her own great romance, shattered and torn apart but still worth holding onto.

You weren’t playing that part.

You were one of the nameless women worth throwing it all away for. But it hits you now: one of.

You remember the arguments between him and your mother. Him insisting that he loved each one of them. That it wasn’t his fault, that this time was different. That she had to forgive him. - And she always did.

Just like you did. You forgave him.

Not Joe, you’ve made his life difficult pretty consistently for as long as you can remember, and he has always reminded you of that. But Rooster. Anger simmers softly in the pit of your stomach. Not at him, not at your father.

You swallow, refusing to cry.

The way Abigail has been looking at you recently sits in the front of your mind. It’s the exact same way you would look at your mother each time she forgave him. You never understood it.

Even back then, standing at the same height as the kitchen counter, wearing pyjamas with kittens on them, listening to her apologise for not being there like he needed her to be - you understood that she was being walked over. It made you angry, watching her be such a doormat.

You could see right through his lies. Each of them, even back then.

Sitting at the dinner table, your feet dangling below the chair, looking at her like she was so stupid. Wanting to scream ‘I told you so’ in her face when he eventually did leave for good. Hating her when she spent an entire week in bed, crying for him to come back. Watching her resentment towards you grow as you grew up, looking more and more like him.

Thinking that you would never be so stupid.

The timer goes off and your heart sinks. You press your face into his chest, fighting back a heavy sob. He wraps both arms around you, kissing the top of your head softly.

“Baby, can I check them?” He whispers, holding you tight against him. You nod your head, there’s no way that you could bear to check for yourself. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. Rooster takes one hand off of your back, turning over each of the tests silently.

You hold onto him like it will change what’s coming, like if you can just keep him this close for a while longer then you’ll change your mind. You wish for something to change. Your heart aches, wishing things were different. You sniffle into his chest.

You love him, he loves you. He’s willing to stay here with you forever, and build a future together. In your heart, you know that this isn’t right. The puzzle doesn’t fit together quite right.

This isn’t your future. This isn’t yours to share with him. It’s hers. It was theirs. You don’t want it.

“It’s negative,” Rooster says quietly, his eyes firmly on the single pink line on each of the tests, he lifts his gaze to look you in the eye and nods to confirm, “All three. They’re all negative.”

His face doesn’t reveal much about how he feels about this answer.

Yours does. You let out a shaking breath of relief, tears burning your eyes as they rush forwards. You look back up at the ceiling, breathing hard. Rooster squeezes his arm around your shoulder and leans forwards, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your temple. He kisses your hair.

You cover your face with your hands. Rooster’s brows furrow as you shiver, your breath shaking. You try not to, you hate crying in front of people, but you sit at his side and sob.

“Hey, hey,” He wraps his arms around you, sighing softly, “What’s the matter? - I thought-“

Rooster takes your wrists in his hands, pulling them down so that he can see your face, “Are these happy tears?”

You should say yes. You are happy, in a sense, this is the answer you were hoping for. It’s just that now you know. Those six minutes of waiting have made you sit and think of every wrong choice you have made.

Your gaze meets those soft brown eyes and you crumble, throwing yourself into his chest, sobbing. Rooster wraps his arms around you once more. He kisses your temple tenderly and lets you cry for a few moments.

It’s a big thing, it’s scary, he knows that.

It’s just when you’re still sobbing, almost hyperventilating against his chest almost ten minutes later, he shakes his head and squeezes your shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get some air.”

The two of you walk down to the beach behind your house. Rooster lays down first, lifting an arm to shield his eyes from the sun. He jerks his head, motioning for you to join him.

You lay down in the sand at his side and let the remnants of the afternoon pass in silence. He was right, it does help. You stop crying and just keep thinking. You’re trying to find a loophole.

A way out of the course he has set the both of you on.

“You wanna talk about it?” Rooster asks, turning his head to look across at you. You stare at the sky and shake your head softly.

“Can I talk about it?” He asks with the same tenderness.

You turn your head, meeting his gaze, giving a soft nod. You’ve fallen for his words before, maybe you’ll do it again. You want him to fix this. You want to want him to stay.

“I’m happy they were negative,” He declares, turning his chin back towards the orange sky, tucking an arm behind his head. “Call me selfish but I want you to myself for a while longer.”

Your throat tightens and for a moment, you aren’t sure if you’re going to start crying again. He’s getting it wrong. You close your eyes and hold your breath. You’ve never really been one for faith, but you’re laying in the sand and praying for some kind of divine intervention that will make this path the right one.

“It’s too soon to be thinking about all of that stuff.” Rooster muses.

You open your eyes before he turns his head. You have time to erase your pained expression before he sees it. He wants a future with you - that’s what he’s saying. It might be too soon now, but it won’t be one day.

One day he’ll get down on one knee and promise to love you forever, and he’ll hurt you like he hurt her. He’ll hurt you like your father hurt your mother.

He’s looking at you now, his eyes a shimmering caramel with the orange cast of the sky. The faded scars on his cheeks, the slight bump to his nose, the smile lines that seem to have doubled since you met him. You stare at him with an aching heart, wondering if it’s worth it to endure all of the too soon time you have left with him.

You can love him like this. You can let yourself be loved like this.

But one day, it isn’t going to be enough for him.

Fucking in the backseat of a car from the seventies, walking down to the beach and sitting in the sand, being able to see the stars better than he ever has - it’s more fun than Rooster has ever known. But he’s going to want more.

A year, five years, maybe ten - if you’re lucky. Rooster’s going to wake up, forty-something, with a girlfriend who is more than happy to just mix drinks and talk to lonely patrons - and it won’t be enough for him.

“Do you really want kids someday?” You ask him quietly. Your voice is a little hoarse, you’re still trying not to cry, but it can be passed off as a remnant of your breakdown from earlier.

Rooster nods as he slips his hand into yours, his fingers between yours. He lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles tenderly, then rests your hand against his chest. His heartbeat is so steady. Yours is thunderous.

“Yeah, I want a family,” He’s certain about it. He has thought about this before. He hasn’t ever been ready, but his choice has never faltered. He looks across at you once more, sun soaked and smiling softly. “I want us to have a life together.”

“We already have one, this one,” You say quietly, your voice shaking as you speak. Rooster doesn’t seem to follow. This isn’t a life to him. This will never be enough. Still, you tell him what you need from him, “This is what I want. Us, here, together. I don’t want it to change.”

He chuckles softly and rolls onto his side, pushing himself up on his elbow. He leans over you, tenderly brushing his thumb over your warm cheek.

“I like this too, but y’know,” You watch him intently as he speaks, willing him to change his mind, to not finish his sentence. He shrugs his shoulders, “Someday.”

You shake your head softly.

Your heart aches as you realize that this is it. The two of you are never going to make each other happy. Either you give in, and become the paranoid, heartbroken woman that you left behind when you moved here. Or he lives a life that isn’t enough.

Rooster’s brows furrow slightly, he squeezes your hipbone and his features soften as he tries to make this playful.

“What? - You don’t want to marry me one day?” He teases, brushing a strand of hair back off of your face. He’s been thinking about this more and more.

All of the doubts he had with Amy make sense when he’s with you, because she was never the girl that he was supposed to spend his life with. You are, he’s sure of it.

Your lip trembles as you give a soft shake of your head.

Bradley’s smile falters just slightly, he brushes his fingertips across his cheek and shakes his head, “Come on, never?” His tone is soft, he’s still trying to keep things lighthearted.

You shake your head at him.

“Okay.” He says quietly, sitting up. He shrugs his shoulders, “Alright. So, we don’t get married.”

It’s not a big deal. Plenty of couples don’t get married. It’s probably outdated. Here and now, he doesn’t mind. Looking down at you as you’re pushed up onto your elbows and staring at him with such worry in your eyes, he would say anything to make you feel safe again.

But his mind will change.

You know him. You know that he would say anything to make this better. As much as you would like to listen, you know that his word means nothing. You need him to understand.

“I don’t think I’ll ever trust you enough to want to marry you.”

Bradley’s brows knit together.

All of the arguments, the screaming matches and hurtful words with Amy - never hit him quite as hard as that. He watches you for a few moments. It’s clear that you mean what you said.

He frowns slightly as you sit up and rest your hand over his.

“I love you.” He tells you. It’s sincere, his chest heaves as he speaks, he reaches out and cups your jaw with his hand, keeping your eyes on him. “I want to spend my life with you. I’m never gonna hurt you again.”

You don’t make an effort to pull away, even though looking him in the eye right now feels like holding your palm over an open flame.

“You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Amy once.” You say quietly.

Rooster shakes his head again, more urgently this time, “This is different. I’ve never been as sure about anything as I am about my feelings for you.”

You sigh softly and shift forwards, he opens his arms. You press your face into the crook of his neck, his arms squeeze tight around your middle. You breath him in and kiss the skin of his throat once softly.

Rooster’s palm presses to your back, firm and strong as is trails from the tip of your spine to the base.

“I love you so much,” He tells you gently. You close your eyes and rest your cheek against his shoulder, looking at the waves rolling onto the sand. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. It’s gonna be okay.”

You wish you believed him now as easily as you did before.

His heart beats steadily against yours, your fingers curl gently around the nape of his neck as you hold yourself close to him. You sit in silence for a few moments, letting yourself be held by him, just for a little longer.

Rooster frowns as you pull back to look at him finally. The look on your face says it all.

“I’m never going to give you the future that you want.” You say softly.

He shakes his head, his hands finding your hips, holding you like it’ll keep you there forever.

“Doesn’t matter,” He breathes out, “I’d take any future you would give me.”

You swallow, running your fingertips across his shoulders and down his arms. Your lip trembles slightly.

“I can’t do it,” You say quietly, willing your voice not to shake. A muscle in his jaw ticks. You shake your head again, “This isn’t - this isn’t fair.”

You look at him and anger bubbles inside of you. This is his fault in every sense of the word. It didn’t have to be like this.

He didn’t have to lie to her, to you - he didn’t have to trail his fingers along your spine, or kiss your temple, or hold you tight against him as he slept. He didn’t have to make you fall in love with him. He didn’t have to ruin everything.

But he did, and now you’re here, tearing your hearts out and leaving them in the sand. It’s not like they’ll be any use to either of you after this anyway.

“Please,” His hands squeeze around your hips, he raises his brows and wills you to give him another chance. “Please don’t.”

Watching the hurt in his eyes, you want to scream at him. To tell him that this is all his fault, to call him every name you can think of. Instead, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your body into his. He hugs you.

“It’s been a really confusing day,” Bradley murmurs, his hand resting against the base of your skull as he holds you against him, “Let’s talk about this another time, okay?”

You kiss his jaw tenderly, he turns his head and you kiss his lips.

He looks into your eyes when you pull back and knows that that was the last time. He glances down, letting out a heavy breath, cursing himself for being such an idiot. Rooster feels the weight of this settle down and take its place on his chest, he takes another heavy breath and swallows, knowing that it’s going to be there for a long time.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him quietly, blinking as you fight back tears.

Rooster looks up at you, eyes shining. He won’t let himself cry in front of you. He brushes your hair back tenderly off of your shoulders and gives a small nod.

“Me too.”

You push away from him and sit in the sand, pulling your knees up to your chest, turning your attention to the sea so that he doesn’t have to see you break down again today.

Rooster pushes himself to his feet and hesitates for a moment. He racks his brain, thinking of anything he could say to make this better. He opens his mouth, searching for the right word.

You wipe at your eyes, then turn your head away from him.

He closes his mouth then leans down and presses his lips delicately to the top of your head, “I love you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes stinging with tears. You force yourself not to turn around. He walks away. You watch the sun disappear behind the tide, your throat burning - you don’t cry.

Rooster has twenty-seven days left on the island.

Jake doesn’t know the specifics of how or why, but he does know that Rooster is gone twenty-four days earlier than he’s supposed to and that it’s something to do with you.

It’s not a coincidence when Jake runs into you a week later. He stops by the liquor store that Kit works at on purpose, you’re there like he wanted you to be.

Jake’s intention was to push his luck and ask, but when he sees you sitting on the counter with Kit wiping your tears and telling you that it’s going to be okay, he knows not to. He leaves without buying anything.

Amy’s stuff is gone from the apartment when Rooster gets back. It’s what he expected but it doesn’t feel like any less of a punch to the gut. He sits on the floor in the entryway and leans his head back against the wall.

This is his punishment, he knows that. He accepts it.

He knows that reaching out to you would just hurt you more. It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. Even after two weeks, it’s the only thing that gets him to sleep at night. After three weeks, when he’s back at work, it’s the only thing that gets him through his work day.

Rooster’s certain in his belief he’s going to be holding onto what it felt like to be loved by you, perhaps for the rest of his life.

…

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…

“She said she’s not coming out while you’re here.” Allen explains, adjusting his tie as he steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him. Jake keeps a straight face, then shrugs his shoulders. He wants to laugh. You’ve spent two weeks trying to get under his skin and he managed to get under yours in six minutes.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Jake asks.

“How about you two head downstairs, check out the hall, I’ll bring her in with me in a couple of minutes.”

“That isn’t what the briefing said-“

“I know that, but whatever you said to her this afternoon has her pissed off. This is the new plan.” Allen interrupts, his tone stern. It’s the first time he’s shown a sign of actually being a leader since Jake got here. Jake nods his head.

“Fine.”

He turns and abandons his post outside of her door. Manny trails along after him.

“What did you say to her to have her this mad?” Manny asks, glancing behind them to make sure you aren’t within earshot.

“Told her to stop flirting with me.” Jake answers calmly. It isn’t a lie, but Jake chooses to leave out the part where he had her pinned to her bed and begging for his cock.

Manny chuckles, pushing his hands into his pockets, “So she was still trying to get you fired, then?”

“Think so,” Jake agrees, adjusting the wire behind his ear as he leads the way into the event hall. It’s already teeming with security, which is good. It means that Jake’s job should be a little easier tonight. “I don’t know how you put up with her for this long. She’s driving me crazy.”

Manny hums amusedly, then shakes his head, taking in the tasteful decor around him, “Well, you aren’t exactly doing yourself any favours by being such a dick to her.”

Jake stops at the top of the stairs, turning to face his colleague seriously.

“We aren’t here to be her friends.” He reminds him.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe she could do with some real friends more than security?” Manny replies calmly, pushing one hand into his pocket as he heads down the stairs towards the event. There are a couple of low tier guests here already, a lot of people without their own details. The higher tier guests always arrive later on.

Jake follows this time.

“She has friends,” Jake answers. He doesn’t dare put his hands in his pockets because he remembers his training. “Did you forget the dozen or so kids she had over the first day I showed up?”

Manny scoffs.

“What?” Jake urges him to continue with what he was going to say. Manny grabs a non-alcoholic champagne and turns, taking a sip from the glass. He gives Jake a look. Like Jake’s so out of the loop, like there’s something that he just doesn’t get yet. Manny has been waiting for him to figure it out, but he figures that if he waits any longer then the two of you might actually kill each other.

“Those aren’t real friends.” Manny takes another long drink from the glass.

Jake stands at his side, considering what this statement means. He thinks about it for a while. He’s been at your side all day, every day for about three weeks now. He hasn’t heard you getting a lot of texts, no phone calls. He wonders if any of those friends have checked up on you since he got here.

He opens his mouth to question Manny further, then spots the head of security heading straight for them.

“Gomez - enjoying the refreshments?” Don calls out.

Manny’s eyes widen as he hides the glass behind his back like he hasn’t already been caught.

“Yes, sir. - No. No, Sir.” Manny answers.

Jake’s gaze lifts. He notices the security at the top of the stairs first. The president enters the room, arm in arm with his wife. You look most like your mother. She’s a beautiful woman, she looks elegant as she stops at the top of the stairs. He glances down at his watch, you’re supposed to be here before they are.

He shakes his head, lifting his sleeve, speaking into his cuff, “Update on Apollo, please.”

The President and the First Lady move down the stairs together and immediately get to greeting their guests.

“On our way, asshole.” Your voice comes through Jake and Manny’s earpieces after speaking into Allen’s cuff. Manny glances across at Jake. Jake sighs and leans his head back, staring at the twinkling lights covering the ceiling.

Jake waits patiently, checking periodically as the president makes his way around the room while Don scolds Manny at his side.

“Manny. It’s been a while.” Matthew interrupts Don’s lecture to reach out and shake Manny’s hand. Manny smiles at him, the two of them make small talk about their personal lives and how long it has been since they last crossed paths. Matthew then turns his attention towards the taller agent at Manny’s side. “And you must be the one causing all the trouble.”

It’s a playful comment, and the President smiles as he says it. He extends an open palm out towards Jake.

“I’m sure that’s what you’ve heard.” Jake agrees as he places his palm in Matthew’s and shakes his hand with a firm grip. Matthew chuckles.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Seresin,” Matthew smiles, Jake catches a glimpse of you in his features, but you still look most like your mother. “Allen has been telling Sara and I that you’ve been doing a great job taking care of our little girl.”

Jake thinks back to this afternoon. He did a great job of making her want to fuck him, then murder him in the space of a couple of minutes. Still, Jake smiles and nods his head.

“Just doing my job, sir.” Jake says calmly. He feels a little bit like a pilot again when he says it. Maybe it’s trying to hold back the smugness in his tone.

“Keep it up, kid. - It’s not an easy placement, I know. I want you to know that I appreciate you being so patient with her.” Matthew says.

Jake nods his head.

He probably could have done with this pep talk before the events of this afternoon, but he smiles and nods nonetheless.

Jake glances up, catching a glimpse of colour in his peripheral.

Your hand is resting in Allen’s, you’re at the top of the stairs, there’s an almost nervous smile on your face as you glance down at the steps. You’re worried about tripping in these shoes, but Allen’s got you and you’re secure in that knowledge.

Jake’s gaze starts off at your heels. A simple pair of classy heels, not too high, you walk confidently in them - you’re worried inside but Jake can’t tell. The dress ends around your calf, not floor length, not short. It’s elegant, mid-length and its colour lands somewhere between pearl and champagne. It compliments your skin tone, your figure.

The straps are dainty, the structure of your collarbones catches Jake’s attention. The supple curve of your shoulders, the way the satin sits on your skin. It doesn’t expose much, you’re still plenty covered up - it’s a charity event after all, but Jake’s in awe.

It’s a straight neckline, draping slightly in the centre. It’s flawless and almost posed, even when you’re moving. There’s a dainty gold necklace - a birthday present from a few years ago - dangling between your collarbones, the twinkling lights overhead make it glint with each step that you take. Jake’s eyes take a while to find your face.

You’re looking at him when he finally does.

It’s his turn to be searching for words. He watches you take your first step, your hand in Allen’s palm as he walks with you.

He doesn’t know where the doe-eyed deer in headlights from this afternoon went, but the beautiful girl in that incredible dress walking towards him now, she would never fall for such a thing. There’s a confidence to the way you hold your chin high, a grace to the way that you step down into the room. An effortlessness that gives away how much practice you’ve had at doing this kind of thing.

Your eyes are on Jake’s each step of the way. A softness in the green of his eyes. Maybe regret, even, for the way he treated you earlier.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and squeeze Allen’s hand gently. Jake’s lips part slightly, you’re staring right at him, headed straight for him. He closes his mouth and stands up a little straighter, swallowing. It makes him feel like he’s in middle school again, the way his heartbeat picks up with each step that brings you closer.

His eyes briefly flicker upward, to the twinkling lights overhead, then he looks over at the live band. Then, back to you. He holds his breath as you reach him, worried that a trembling inhale will give him away.

“Daddy.”

Jake’s brows furrow tightly together. Your eyes are on him when you say it. There’s a split-second where Jake worries he’s about to explode with embarrassment, then your attention turns.

“Princess!” Your father returns your greeting as he turns his body to face you. He opens his arms and hugs you tenderly. Jake lets out a breath, then brings a hand up to loosen his collar. It’s extremely warm in here all of a sudden.

Jake adjusts his earpiece and keeps his eyes on everyone else. Anyone but you. Your mother when you hug her, Allen as he’s greeted by both of your parents. Manny just so that he doesn’t have to pay attention to the way your eyes haven’t faltered from burning into his side.

It’s an observation that Jake cant help but make: there’s a formality and structure to the way that you greet your parents that isn’t all that different from how you have greeted everyone else earlier today. The media training takes precedent over familial ties. Your smiles and soft touches look good on camera. That’s what matters.

“I have someone for you to meet.” Your mother takes your hand and squeezes it, smiling widely like this is something for you to be excited about. It isn’t. This has happened at every event since you turned eighteen. She has been trying to find you a husband for a very long time. She was married at your age and she reminds you of that constantly.

“Oh, I-“ You look to your father for help, for an out. Jake catches the look. He looks over at Manny.

Manny quirks an eyebrow knowingly, Jake thinks back to their conversation about friends. He wonders how many of your friends were carefully picked out for you by your parents or their staff.

“You’ll love him. His mother is the…”

Jake’s eyes are firmly on your back as you’re led into the crowd. The dress isn’t entirely backless, but the top half of your spine is exposed to him as your mother leads you away. He cranes his neck to keep an eye on you in the crowd.

“Well, it was great catching up with you boys,” Matthew smiles politely, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few more hands to shake.”

The three of them are left there, watching intently. They should split up for better viewpoints, but they remain for a moment.

Allen leans in close to Jake, his expression calm and friendly as he does. His tone is anything but.

“I don’t know what you did, but I swear to god, if you hurt her - I’ll end your career.” Allen says calmly. Jake keeps his head straight, his eyes on you. He nods his head in silent understanding. Honestly, he’s surprised that you didn’t tell Allen everything. Jake knows that he was out of line and could be fired for what he did. But he doesn’t regret doing it.

Jake keeps an eye on you. You’re introduced to a boy around about your age. He’s the son of one of Matthew’s friends from law school, he’ll be a lawyer himself soon. Tom. Average height, short, dark hair, skinny.

The two of you chat for a while, talk over some drinks, and then move towards the dance floor. Jake doesn’t know how long he watches, but he knows that he’s pulling a face. He just can’t help it. He doesn’t like the way this kid touches you.

“Hey, Jake, mind doing me a quick favour?” Matthew’s hand comes up to rest against Jake’s shoulder, squeezing platonically over the fabric of Jake’s tux. Jake turns his head and raises his eyebrows. Surprised by the gesture and Matthew’s presence simultaneously. He nods his head quickly, anything, he agrees.

“Break that mess up, for me, would you?” Matthew nods his head, gesturing to the centre of the dance floor. Jake follows his gaze, already knowing exactly what your father is talking about. The boy’s hand is a little low on your back, his fingertips are white at the tops, and leaving indents in your skin, he’s trying to hold you closer and closer to him.

You’re leaned back slightly to put some distance between your faces. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not comfortable.

“What should I tell her?” Jake asks. Matthew shakes his head and sips his scotch.

“No, no, I don’t want to ruin her fun completely. Just dance with her for a bit, until that little shit takes the hint.” Matthew decides.

“Oh. I don’t - I think she would be more comfortable if I asked Allen to do that, Sir.” Jake shakes his head slightly.

Matthew nods his head, tapping at the edge of his glass, his eyes on you.

“Yeah, but you’re the only one here who looks as pissed off about those two as I do,” Matthew smiles at Jake. “And even if she doesn’t like you, I’m sure she would much rather be seen with the guy every woman in here keeps looking at as opposed to someone old enough to be her father.”

“I don’t kno-“

“One dance. Don’t make me ask twice, son.” Matthew chuckles, like it’s a joke, then nudges Jake towards the dance floor. Jake swallows.

He straightens up and sighs as he makes his way over. You see him coming first, narrowing your eyes at him. He places his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Jake asks, though it’s clearly not a question. If Tom wasn’t so repulsive, you would have objected yourself. Jake waits until Tom’s gone before he takes your hand in his and wraps one arm around your waist softly.

You look past Jake and find your father smiling. He nods in head in acknowledgement, thinking that he just saved you from that creep, and then turns away. You scowl at Jake.

“I’m not thrilled about this either,” Jake announces, before you can say anything. He leads your body with the arm around your waist, swaying to the music. He looks you in the eye, his face softens. “You look… nice.”

“Nice.” You muse over the compliment.

Jake’s lips quirk slightly, “What was I supposed to say?”

“No, nice is fine. Maybe worth it might have been more appropriate, but I’ll let it go.” You answer him. Jake smirks. His hand rests safely on the middle of your back, thumb stroking tenderly over the exposed skin for a moment. You hold his shoulder, letting him bring you closer. He leans in so that he can talk quietly.

“Well, if you’re still wearing those cute blue panties then I might reconsider.” He isn’t serious, his tone tells you clearly that he’s making fun of you. You pull back and look up at him, tilting your head.

“Actually, I’m not wearing any.” You tell him. You watch his nose scrunch just slightly. He shakes his head.

“There’s no way you’d show up here with no underwear on.” Jake answers.

“Shame that you won’t get to find out.” You give a soft shrug of your shoulders. Jake smiles at you. He hums in agreement.

Sara sets her glass down and leans into her husband’s side, brows furrowed slightly as she leans into her husband’s side, “Matthew, why is she dancing with the staff?”

Matthew chuckles, “Because the staff are the only guys here that I can trust not to try something with her.”

Sara frowns, watching the way he looks at you with a soft smile toying on his lips, the way your hand rests on his shoulder. She’s too far away to hear you quietly threatening each other. The two of you look good together. The way you move together is swift, dynamic, it makes sense.

“How can you be so sure that they won’t? - I mean, look at him, I wouldn’t blame her if she had a little crush on him.”

Matthew frowns at his wife’s opinion of the agent. Still, he finishes his scotch and kisses her temple, “Because if any of the staff are stupid enough to try that, then I get to personally set them straight, sweetheart. That’s why they behave.”

“If you want, I can go get that little slimeball to come back here and finish the dance.” Jake says it tenderly so that no one around you will catch on to the nature of your conversation. You narrow your eyes at him.

“What happened to you to make you such an asshole?” You ask.

Jake shrugs his shoulders, “I’d ask what happened to make you such an entitled bitch, but - I think I have an idea.”

He gestures around him. At all this.

You step forwards, pressing your heel purposely into his shoe. Jake narrows his eyes at you.

“I’m not an entitled bitch. I’m mean to you because you’re a miserable dickhead.” You tell him.

“Smile!”

You turn your head and Jake tucks you in against his side. You both smile politely for the camera. The photographer moves on and Jake turns to face you again. He wraps an arm around your waist, then pulls you flush against his body. You open your mouth to protest, caught off guard as he dips you back slightly, his hand finding the back of your thigh to guide it along his.

Jake’s got you, secure in his arms, his eyes on yours. He’s only a couple of inches from your face, and the lights overhead bring out the shimmer on your eyelids. Jake’s been through years of training. He considers himself to be a disciplined person. Yet, there’s a split second where he does consider just doing it. It would be so easy for him to lean forwards and press his lips to yours.

He stands you upright and takes your hand in his.

It’s clear that the two of you could do this all night. The last thing Jake wants is for you to run out of the event, screaming about how much you hate him. In fact, he’s quite enjoying having you exactly where you are. He leads the dance, swaying you against him. You narrow your eyes as Jake’s features soften.

“I’m sorry.” Jake says softly.

Your brows furrow for a moment, then raise in surprise. The music is loud, you aren’t sure if you heard that right.

“I’ve been being a little hard on you, and what I did this afternoon was out of line. I’m sorry.” Jake’s fingertips trail over your exposed spine tenderly.

You shake your head softly.

“I could have you fired for what you did today.” You tell him.

Jake nods, his lips quirking up into a soft smirk, “Sure. If you wanted to tell your dad about how you needed it so bad.”

You stop moving and scowl at him, Jake pulls you back in against him and continues to guide your bodies to the music.

“That’s what I thought. I said I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I think we just need to respect each other a little more.” Jake murmurs.

You let out a heavy breath. It won’t happen again. You’ve been thinking about Jake’s deep voice, strong muscles and the things that he said to you all afternoon. Sure, you’re upset with him for what he did - but you’re more upset at the idea that he won’t do it again.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t-“

“Stop talking,” Jake sighs. He looks back at you and smiles, “I love this song.”

Your scrunch your nose at him, not recognising the melody. He guides your body to each note, letting out a contented breath. You frown slightly, surprised by this behaviour.

“Wow. So, you don’t hate everything.” You comment teasingly.

Jake chuckles. He lifts your arm and turns you, spinning you away from him and guiding you around until your back is to his chest. He sways the two of you to the music, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“Just you, sweetheart.” Jake jokes.

You drive your elbow backwards into his abdomen, feeling him flinch. He laughs at the action, then spins you back around and turns you to face him. He’s a good dancer. You wonder if he has ever been married, you know that some men take dance lessons before their weddings.

“I need a drink.” You tell him.

Jake squeezes your hip playfully, “Stay until the end of the song. For me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, then lean closer. Jake realises what you’re trying to do and leans down slightly, turning his head so that you can whisper to him. Your hand slides around to cup the nape of his neck, holding him close.

Jake closes his eyes as your lips graze his earlobe.

“You’re not worth it.”

His lips quirk up into a smirk as you pull back and slip out of his grasp. You step around him and head for the refreshments. Jake watches, you glance back over your shoulder once and smirk to yourself as you grab a glass of champagne. He’s seen you wandering around the house in a bikini a couple of times now. He hasn’t ever given you a second look.

But, the low back on the dress and the soft smirk on your lips as you turn away from him, sipping the champagne - that has his full attention.

Jake stands idle on the dance floor for a few seconds, watching you walk away from him.

Somehow, Jake has always dated women that have had an attitude. Even his first girlfriend in middle school had had plenty to say. His girlfriend in freshman year never let him have the last word. Even Dani, she spent more time making fun of him than she did making out with him.

He stands there under the lights, his eyes unashamedly on your ass, and realises that he has a type.

Jake moves from the centre of the dance floor and picks a point where he can see you, but not where the two of you will run into each other. Manny’s closest to you, Allen’s standing by the exit.

Jake glances around the room. It isn’t dissimilar to all of the Navy balls he has been to. Only, at those, it wasn’t so bad that his date was mean to him, because he spent the entire night secure in the knowledge that he was going to take her home. Dani wasn’t ever officially his date. She wasn’t ever officially his girlfriend. Or his anything - except for his wingman.

It was an unspoken rule that they would be each other’s dates to every event, without anyone ever questioning what they were.

Jake does his best to not think about Dani these days.

She would love the way you push Jake’s buttons. Jake bites his cheek, he imagines that Dani would be in fits of laughter at how pissed off Jake has been these last few weeks. She always thought he was cute when he was mad, which usually just made him more mad. Jake glances over at you periodically.

You have a fresh glass in your hand each time, but it isn’t his job to stop you from drinking. Allen or Manny can hold up that end of the bargain. Jake stands by the steps and watches an hour pass. There are plenty of people who want your attention, you’re polite and friendly with each one.

It grows boring to watch quickly. Jake moves to count the lights on the ceiling instead. 111… 112… 113.

“Um, does anyone have eyes on Apollo?”

Jake frowns, brows furrowing. He took his eyes off of her for a couple of minutes. He presses his earpiece closer to his ear and raises his cuff, “Manny, she was right next to you. What happened?”

“Someone got in my way and she was just gone! - Can either of you see her?”

“Fuck.” Jake mutters, he cranes his neck to look around the crowd.

“Alright, she’s not in here. Jake, you take the north wing, check her room. I’ll take East, Manny you take west.”

Jake takes off without need for further instruction. It’s part of the job to not take off running. Not cause a scene. Not let your father know that he lost you already. His heart thuds a beat harder with each room he checks that you aren’t in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jake mutters under his breath. He checks his watch. He has been searching for eight minutes now, he doesn’t know how long you were missing before that. There’s a maximum window of twelve minutes. A lot can happen in twelve minutes.

He hears giggling and comes to an abrupt stop. Jake grabs the door handle and slams his shoulder into the wood, swinging it open.

It’s Tom. That’s the first thing he notices. The second thing Jake notices is Tom’s slacks around his ankles, and the surprising lack of hair on his legs. Finally, Jake’s eyes land on the bare ass, belonging to the girl bent over an admin desk.

“What the fuck, man?” Tom pants, eyes blown wide. He struggles to grab for his underwear, making no effort to hide the girl. Jake has already averted his gaze. The girl rushes up and drops her dress, Jake frowns. It’s not you.

“Jake! Have you- oh my god.” There’s a hand on Jake’s shoulder. His head whips around, lips parting to find you looking equally shocked at his side.

This is bad. Jake’s hands find your hips and he’s shoving you out of the small office. The last thing he needs is for someone to come across the four of you. Tomorrow morning your picture in the papers with a headline about an orgy. He swings the door to the office shut behind him, his other hand still pushing you back into the hall.

You stumble, your back hitting a portrait so hard that it almost falls off of the wall.

Jake’s brows furrow, he steadies you with one hand and the portrait with the other.

“Where the fuck have you been? - You can’t just take off and not tell anyone!” Jake demands, his tone stern and scathing. He glances down and notices the open bottle of gin in your hand, then looks back up to your face. “Are you drunk?”

“I needed to pee!” You defend yourself, pushing off of the wall and standing upright. “I walked by Daddy’s office on the way back and found this.”

Jake sighs in frustration, lifting his wrist, “Found her, Apollo secure. Moving to home ground.”

“Apollo, homeground…” You shake your head disapprovingly as you lean back against the wall, looking at him through heavy lashes. “Can’t you just say my name? - And that we’re going to my room?”

Jake shakes his head as he waits for confirmation that his team just heard what he said.

“Did you see his dick?” You giggle. Jake shoots you a look. He did see Tom’s did, unfortunately. “That thing was weird looking.”

“Heard. Moving to position A, standing by.” Allen confirms.

“Heard, I’ll go to B.” Manny agrees.

Jake catches movement in his peripheral and turns his head. His lips part as you take a gulp straight from the bottle.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He grabs the bottom of the bottle and tears it away from your mouth. You frown and grab the neck of the bottle tight. Jake narrows his eyes at you, “Let go.”

Your lips quirk up into a smirk.

“Make me.”

Jake shakes his head, “I’m not playing with you, drop the bottle.”

“Make me.” You answer again.

Jake tugs hard at the bottle, making your hands slip from its neck. You frown as he sets it on the hallway table behind him and grabs your hand in his. He begins to try to drag you along the hall.

“How is Tom getting laid and I’m not?” You complain, trailing sadly behind Jake, dragging your heels.

“Stop.” Jake checks around and shushes you.

You dig your heels into the carpet and stop walking, folding your arms over you.

“Move.” Jake gestures his head. You stare at him defiantly. It’s been a long day, he has been up for almost twenty-four hours straight. He doesn’t have the patience left to put up with this.

“Make-“

Jake leans forwards and grabs the back of your thighs. He lifts, tossing you over his shoulder and grabbing your legs to steady you. You yelp, pressing your palms to his back. You bite your cheek to keep from grinning as he carries you through the hall.

He opens the door to your room, then swings it shut behind you. He flicks on the light and sets you on your feet. You wobble slightly from the head rush, Jake grabs your waist and steadies you. You lean into him, lifting your chin, your eyes locked on his.

“Don’t.” He tells you again, his voice soft. You slip out of his arms and turn to face him.

He watches as you stand before him, at the bottom edge of your bed, then pull at the tie fastening the back of your dress. You stare at Jake, waiting for him to leave. His eyes fall down to the tie in your hands, then he glances back up to your face. He takes a step further in and away from the door.

Jake stands up straight and loosens his tie slightly.

You let out a soft breath, sliding the strap off of your shoulder. Jake watches silently. Your heart thuds in your chest, liquid courage in your veins. Jake’s eyes follow the second strap as it slides down to your elbow. His gaze flickers back up to meet yours.

You wait for him to stop you, or to head for the door. He stays where he is.

The straps fall past your elbows as you straighten your arms. Jake watches as the champagne coloured fabric slips, exposing your chest to him. His eyes linger on your breasts for a moment, before he looks back up at you.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

You swallow, pushing the fabric past your hips. Jake’s eyes widen for a split second. Your lips quirk at his reaction.

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, eyes raking over your body. He clears his throat, then meets your gaze once more.

“I did tell you.” You say gently, heat rising to your cheeks as you cross your ankles, standing before him in nothing but a pair of heels. Jake almost smiles. He stops himself. You did warn him. He just didn’t think you were brave enough to actually go commando in a room full of some of the biggest names in politics.

Jake reaches out, skimming your side softly with his fingertips. A soft trail from your hip to the edge of your ribs, your skin soft under his fingertips. He’s distracted, looking down at your body, watching the course his fingertips take. He looks back up, finding you to be staring at him. There’s a nervousness to the way that you look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? - A-Am… Am I-“ You’re just tipsy, it’s just that he treats you like such a burden. You just need to know that he didn’t mean what he said.

Jake knows what you’re asking. He feels guilty for this afternoon. He bites his cheek.

He glances down between your body and his, sliding his fingers between yours, squeezing your hand softly.

Jake’s eyes find yours, searching over your features for a moment. He lets out a soft breath and guides your hand forwards, pressing it over his crotch. Your lips part, you look down at your hand over the fabric. His cock is hard and straining against the black fabric. You press your palm against his length and lean into him.

Jake brushes your hair tenderly off of your shoulders.

“You’d better get ready for bed.” He tells you gently. You look up at him, unsure whether he means for you to put pyjamas on or bend over. Jake clarifies for you by turning and picking up your neatly folded pyjamas from the chair in the corner of the room.

“Wha- Jake.” You frown at him.

“Do me a favour and don’t argue with me for once.” Jake tells you, unfolding the pyjama top. He takes your arms and pulls the shirt over your shoulders first, then pushes the matching shorts into your hands. You frown up at him as you step into them. “We can’t.”

You whine softly, watching as Jake’s capable hands button the sleep shirt.

“You don’t want to?” Your fingers skim over the fabric of his suit jacket as you look up at him. Jake fixes the collar on the sleep shirt and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter if I want to.” Jake tells you. Fuck, he wants to.

You sit on the edge of your bed and lean back on your palms. It makes sense that he doesn’t want to. You’re in your childhood bedroom, the entire house is teeming with security at all times, and Jake’s career is on the line. You nod your head.

“Good girl,” Jake tells you. You stare up at him. He has to get out of this fucking room. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him. You lay back against the white sheets and close your eyes. A breath slips your lips. You already know that you’re going to regret all of that in the morning, but right now, breathing softly as you rest for a moment, you don’t.

…

Tag List:

“No way,” You comment, sitting forwards in your seat slightly to squint at the agent sitting in front of you. “You’re afraid of flying.”

Jake pries his hands off of his armrests and unclenches them. He blinks at you dully. It’s five in the morning and your flight just took off. It’s a private jet on route to D.C.

You’re sitting right in front of him, Allen and Manny are sitting more towards the back. Jake had been hoping you would sit with them so that he could pass out, but then you had waltzed over and stuck yourself down right in front of him.

“I am not afraid of flying,” He tells you calmly, a hint of defensiveness to his tone as he talks. “But it’s hard to relax when you know you’re a better pilot than they guy doing the job.”

You tilt your head.

“So you were a pilot in the Navy,” You realise, “Was starting to wonder when you would tell me what you used to do.”

Jake nods his head and shifts in his seat. He glances around, checking towards the cockpit uncomfortably. You observe each of his movements. Jake has a fear of flying. He’s a pilot with a fear of flying.

“Did you go to Top Gun?” You ask him.

Jake fiddles with his hands, nodding his head softly, “Twice.”

“Twice?” You question.

“Can we talk about something else?” Jake breathes.

You raise an eyebrow at him. Jake knows he has just given you more information than is good for him. He leans his head back against the seat and sighs, then checks his watch. You’re still ascending. Four more hours of this shit.

“Anything I can do to take your mind off of your fear of flying?” You offer, lips quirking suggestively as you tilt your head at him. Jake’s growing tired of you teasing him. You push your foot out and nudge your ankle against his. Jake narrows his eyes seriously at you.

“I don’t have a fear of flying.” He bites back.

“So you’re sweating like that because you love flying so much?” You answer back immediately.

Jake doesn’t move. He can feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, and he knows that you can see them, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of seeing him wipe them away. A muscle in his jaw ticks.

“I’m happy to take your mind off of it,” You tell him sweetly. Jake glances down, watching as you rub your ankle against his. He looks back up to your face, completely serious. “I’ve got a couple of ideas of how I’d do it, too.”

Jake shakes his head and turns to look out of the window. Four more hours.

You sit back in the seat, trailing your foot just slightly up his calf.

“Stop.” Jake demands.

You cross your legs and rest your fist against your chin, squinting at him across the small distance between you.

“Why are you so grumpy all the time?” You frown. “Were you ever fun?”

“No.” Jake answers dully.

You roll your eyes at him and pull your bag closer to you. Jake glances across as you pull a book from it. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“You read about the French Revolution on your summer break for fun?” Jake scoffs. “Now who’s dull.”

You lift your gaze and look at him over the top of the book, “It’s a commentary on modern foreign policy in relation to the French Revolution, and it isn’t for fun. It’s for my postgrad.”

Jake hums. There’s a few moments of quiet between the two of you.

“Foreign policy,” He comments finally. “Politics.”

“Aren’t you clever.” You bite, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

“Gonna be president someday?” Jake asks you, raising an eyebrow. He watches the immediate distaste in your reaction. You shrug your shoulders and keep your attention on the book.

The two of you spend the next four hours very carefully ignoring each other. Taking care not to make eye contact or strike up conversation.

Jake hasn’t been through this before. His last client was a little less high profile. Landing and getting you to the White House is a carefully orchestrated event. Allen takes the lead — he has done this a million times — Jake and Manny follow his lead.

It’s remarkable how well behaved you are.

The entire time. From landing, getting in the car, arriving, going to your room. Then, you’re called downstairs for the conference. You step out into the hallway, in your pretty dress, picked out for you by your father’s assistant.

Jake, Manny and Allen are waiting for you. Jake’s adjusting his cuff links. You look him up and down while he’s distracted. He looks good in a suit. You look down to smooth out your dress. You look good when you aren’t running your mouth.

“Ready, angel?” Allen smiles as he nudges you with his elbow. Jake almost rolls his eyes. Angel isn’t exactly the word he would pick to describe you.

“Yes, Sir.” You grin and lean into his side. Allen squeezes your shoulder softly and the two of you walk off ahead.

Jake wonders how long it took for the two of you to become this close. If you ever bothered Allen like you bother him. He walks silently at Manny’s side and observes the way that you trust Allen. Implicitly. He clearly trusts you just as much.

Jake knows better.

It’s a big day. Your father is extremely busy. In fact, Jake doesn’t see him once. The conference is full of people. It’s easy to tell who is important by looking around and seeing who has someone in a black suit watching their every move.

You surprise him. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the graceful young woman, smiling and shaking hands, striking up intelligent confirmation with individuals who would have intimidated Jake beyond reproach when he was your age.

Jake has never responded well to intimidation. He always responds with anger or bravado. You don’t seem to falter in the slightest. The conference lasts a couple of hours — it’s lots of schmoozing and snobbery, but you’re charming and witty throughout.

Jake is impressed by this side of you. A couple of years ago, he knows he would’ve been enamoured by you. If the two of you had met in a bar, he would’ve pursued you for however long it took. But that was then, and this is now.

He knows better.

Your schedule is packed. Immediately after the conference, you’re called to the head of security’s office. Allen is welcomed warmly with grins and hugs — he’s a familiar face around here. Jake and Manny are greeted with friendly faces, but not the same warmth. They’re new, it’s expected.

You take a seat opposite the desk, Allen sits at your side. Jake leans against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. Manny stands by the door with his hands neatly in front of him.

“We’re moving her threat level down to green.”

There are two exceptionally different reactions to that information. Your eyebrows raise, lips parting slightly, you sit up a little straighter - feeling like there is a physical weight off of your shoulders.

Jake is significantly less pleased with the information. So much so that he doesn’t take time to look at either Manny or Allen’s reactions. He doesn’t care what they think, this is wrong and he knows it.

“So you found the original threat?” Jake checks. All eyes are on him the moment he asks. He has his answer before anyone speaks.

“The threat is far less great than we originally thought.” The head of security answers Jake calmly, with a coldness to his tone that lets Jake know he’s in trouble for even asking.

Jake shuts his mouth. Far less great than they originally thought. He glances across at you, the soft smile on your face. He knows that you aren’t supposed to know. He knows that you’re going to think this is a free pass to be as reckless as you’d like. He knows it isn’t safe.

You are all dismissed together. The moment you’re out in the hallway, Jake storms off ahead. You begin after him, hurrying to catch up.

Manny starts to follow, Allen touches his forearm and shakes his head, “Leave them. I’m going to start pulling my hair out if I have to listen to them keep bickering.”

It would be easier if he just told you why he’s here. Maybe then you would comply, make his job a little easier. He’s under direct orders to make sure that you don’t find out.

As you reach your room, Jake turns to keep walking. He could do with some air.

“Jake.”

He turns to look at you, serious and stone-faced. You stop walking quickly, deciding that the distance between the two of you currently is probably a good thing. You lift your hands up in defence, trying to keep this lighthearted without setting him off.

“Hey,” You say gently. Growing up in rural Texas, Jake doesn’t appreciate the way that you’re beginning towards him like he’s a startled horse. “Look, I know you’re pissed off about this, but can we just talk about what this means?”

He has to admit that he’s surprised to hear the words leave your mouth. He wasn’t expecting such a diplomatic approach from you.

“I think this will be a lot less painful for us both if we set some ground rules.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He’s still half-considering starting an argument.

“Come in. We can talk.” You rest your hand on the door handle, then gesture for him to follow you. Jake hasn’t forgotten how much of a tease you’ve been for the past week. He glances up, looking directly into the security camera on the ceiling, and then back at you.

It seems like a bad idea to follow you into your room, but Jake does it anyway.

He watches you move to sit in the centre of your bed. It’s probably the girliest room he has ever been in. Everything is white and peach. You can see the judgement on his face as he looks around.

“I didn’t pick it.” You explain quickly.

He takes a seat in the white arm chair in the corner of the room, parting his knees and sitting back.

“It looks like a six year old picked it.” Jake answers you dryly.

“If you keep being mean to me then I’ll drag you to every club in D.C. this weekend.” You answer back, tucking your knees up to your chest and staring over at him sternly. You’re serious about this. Jake is a real grouch and you aren’t looking forwards to him making your life harder than it needs to be for the next year.

Jake shuts his mouth, letting out a soft sigh. He folds his arms over his chest.

“Okay. My first rule is that I can have my friends over again and you can’t say anything about it.” You announce.

Jake knows that starting a fight this early into the conversation wouldn’t be smart. He presses his lips together and nods his head.

“Fine. But they sign in at the front gate. That’s my rule.”

You give a slow nod of your head.

“Okay. I want to start going out again. Normal security rules, me doing what I want, you guys behind - no interference unless necessary,” Jake opens his mouth to start arguing. You raise a finger to stop him. “I’ll give you plenty of advance notice. You can call ahead, do whatever you want to make yourself feel better about it. But I’m twenty-two - I refuse to live like a recluse.”

Jake closes his mouth, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Fine. But if I tell you that somewhere isn’t safe: that’s it. My word goes.” He answers you.

You narrow your eyes at him. That seems like a rule that’s too easy to abuse.

“We should have a safe word.” You decide.

Jake’s brows furrow slightly, “Excuse me?”

“Not a safe word. More of a code word. Like code red, absolute emergency that voids every other rule because I’m in danger. Deal?” You explain.

That doesn’t sound like the worst idea you’ve had. Jake hums, folding his arms over his chest.

“Okay. What word?” He agrees.

“I don’t know.” You shrug your shoulders. Jake glares at you for a moment, then cranes his neck back to stare at the ceiling. He considers it for a moment, then lets out a breath and turns his head back to you. It makes sense that a song Bradley Bradshaw used to sing is the only thing in his head right now.

An annoying, bouncy tune that makes Jake turn the radio off every time he hears it. He begrudgingly picks his answer.

“Renegade.”

“Why renegade?”

Jake shrugs those stupid, broad shoulders of his, “It’s a song. Doesn’t come up in conversation much. It works.”

“Okay. Renegade. Deal.”

“Another rule: you have to stop flirting with me.” Jake leans forwards to let you know that he’s serious. His face his stern, brow furrowed, lips together. His shoulders look even broader than usual when he’s sitting like this in that fitted black t-shirt. He’s impossibly handsome.

You lean back on your palms. You know that he means it, but something in you tells you to push harder to irritate him. Just once more.

“Maybe we should fuck right now, then - so I can get it out of my system.”

Jake stares at you. That smug look on your face as you lean back against your crisp, white sheets. Your neatly styled hair, pretty dress still on from this afternoon’s conference. He parts his knees a little further, his face serious.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” Jake says calmly. He watches your lips part in surprise, then pushes himself up from the chair. He seems taller when he stands this time. Stronger as he reaches the end of the bed, leans forward and curls his fingertips around your ankle.

You falter. A split second where the confidence is gone, you’re a deer in headlights, blinking up at him.

Then, you’re composed again - trained. A real politician. Confident. Jake watches as you open your mouth, ready to talk back - to challenge him again. He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything.

Jake tugs hard at your ankle. You fall back on your palms, grabbing at the sheets for leverage as Jake’s fingers find your other ankle. He drags you to the edge of the bed and parts your legs for him to stand between. You stare up at him.

Your dress rides up slightly, caught at the midway point of your thighs, giving Jake just a slight glimpse of the pale blue fabric between your legs. He pulls you closer and presses his crotch against your clothed core, making you gasp softly.

He grinds himself against you just slightly, making your eyes widen.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Jake’s hands skim along your thighs, stopping periodically to squeeze at the soft flesh, until his hands are under your dress and holding your hips. “Don’t go all shy on me now.”

You close your mouth, suddenly very aware of the way it was just hanging open. Jake’s strong hands squeeze at your hips.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” His voice is low and serious, those sharp green eyes are locked on yours and he’s waiting for an answer. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

You stare at him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Jake rocks his hips forwards, grinding himself against the thin fabric separating your core from the rough fabric of his jeans. “Wanna hear it. You’ve always got so much to say, I know you’ve thought about this. Let me hear how bad you want my cock.”

You swallow, your chest rising and falling as you try not to gasp for air under him.

Jake has to stop looking at your face. That flushed look, lips parted as you stumble for words, so caught up in him that you can’t find anything to say. His cock twitches in his jeans.

Jake cups your jaw in his hand, curling his fingers around it as he turns your head. His body presses to yours. Firm muscles under the fabric of his t-shirt.

You’re scared for him to touch you — you know you’ll never live down how wet you are already. Your eyes close, head leaning back against the bedsheets as you let him turn your head, exposing your neck to him.

Jake’s lips graze your earlobe. You can feel that he’s smirking. “Say something, princess. Not doing anything until you do, better make it pretty convincing.”

You whine, swallowing as you rack your brain for the right words.

“Please.” It’s pathetic, and you’re furious at yourself the moment it slips your lips. His lips graze your neck but he doesn’t kiss your skin, you can feel that he’s still smirking. You push yourself against him. “Jake. Please fuck me.”

Jake hums sympathetically. He nods his head, brushing your jaw with his nose. “Aw, honey. You need it that bad?”

“So bad.” You breathe out, eyes screwed shut as you reach up and curl your fingers around his bicep.

His hand slides up into your hair, cradling the base of your skull as he rocks his hips forwards against your core, nosing softly at your cheek, “Tryin’ to get me in trouble? — hm? — Don’t think your dad would be offering me a promotion if he could see me now.”

“Won’t tell.” You choke out quickly, squeezing your fingers around his thick bicep. “I won’t say anything. Please.”

Jake pulls back just slightly, hooking his index finger around your jaw, turning your face until you’re looking at him. His lips quirk up as he caresses your cheek tenderly.

He leans in close. You think he’s finally going to kiss you, your heart’s beating so fast that he must be able to feel it. Jake swipes his thumb softly over your bottom lip, admires that pretty face.

“You’re not worth it.” Jake whispers.

His eyes train in on yours. There’s a tenderness to his expression, as if he didn’t just humiliate you. Your brows furrow. His hand squeezes softly around your hip. “My rule stands. I’ll see you tonight.”

He stands up, turns and heads for the door. Your jaw hangs open.

“Fucking asshole!” You shout after him. Jake closes the door to your room behind him and heads for his room.

He walks calmly, fixing his tie as he walks. His intention was just to teach you a lesson, but he can’t pretend that the semi he’s sporting currently doesn’t throw him off a little.

Still, it did what it was supposed to do. After embarrassing you like that, he figures you’ll be too ashamed to keep flirting with him.

And after the way you just begged him to fuck you, certainly too ashamed to tell your father about what just happened.

Jake closes his door and checks his watch. Two hours until the beginning of the charity gala, where he’ll meet your parents for the first time. Jake knows that you’re going to be furious at him all evening.

An added bonus: if you hate him, you’ll hopefully avoid him and he’ll be able to do his job without distraction.

…

Tag List:

…

“I said: I think Mom is seeing somebody.” Dylan explains, playing with his phone in the passenger seat of Beau’s car. It’s late, Beau has just picked Taylor up from gymnastics and he’s driving the two of them to your place. Taylor’s knocked out in her booster seat, her forehead resting against the car window as she snuggles her stuffed rabbit.

Beau looks across at his son, who’s starting to look more and more like him every day, and scrunches his brows. The car passes under the illumination of a street light and catches a glimpse of you in your son’s eyes. He turns his head back to the road.

He always thought that if the two of you were ever to get divorced, you would both do the right thing and leave the kids out of it. But here he is, talking through the ruins of his marriage with his pre-teen.

“What makes you think that?” Beau asks calmly, shifting in his seat. Dylan shrugs as he sips at the milkshake he isn’t supposed to be having an hour before his bedtime.

“Heard her talking about it with Grandma.”

Beau hums softly. He should leave it at that. It would be wrong to drag Dylan into this, he’s already caught in the middle enough. Beau taps his fingers softly on the steering wheel and thinks of his wife. You’re working constantly - even tonight, that’s why he’s on pick up duty - where would you have even met someone?

“What did she say?” Beau asks, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“That there’s some guy that wants to take her on a date,” Dylan explains. He enjoys having his dad’s full attention. He rarely gets it these days. Both of his parents are weird at the moment; his dad is always angry and his mom is happier than she has seemed in years. “And there was a truck in the driveway when grandma drove us home last Sunday - but I didn’t see anyone.”

“There was a-“ Beau’s voice is raised. He catches himself and stops, checking that he hadn’t woken up Taylor.

He sighs softly.

“It wasn’t one of your mom’s friends?” Beau tries his best to sound calm.

“Could’ve been. I didn’t see anyone.”

Beau drives silently the rest of the way to the house. Dylan sits in silent regret. He’s too young to have any experience with relationships beyond the crush on the girl in his second period, but he knows that he just caused a big problem. For maybe two minutes of undivided attention.

He stands awkwardly, biting his cheek as Beau knocks at your front door.

“Hey! How was practice?” You smile as you open the door to them. Beau’s carrying Taylor, she’s asleep in his arms, her head lulling back in a way that cannot possibly be comfortable. You only got in from work a couple of minutes ago, you’re exhausted but you’re happy to see them.

Today ran over. One of the recruits is in trouble for borderline subordination so you were held back late with paperwork.

Beau shifts his daughter in his arms and looks down to Dylan.

“Take her up to bed, alright? - Your mom and I need to talk.” Beau says coldly. Your brows furrow as Dylan takes his little sister, struggling to carry her in his arms. Your mouth opens to protest as Beau moves to step past you.

“Woah, woah - Dyl, baby - I can take her.” You hold a hand out to keep Beau where he is as you move to help your son.

“I’ve got her. You should talk.”

Your eyes widen slightly. You weren’t expecting for your eleven year old to be giving you relationship advice tonight.

“What’s going on?” You frown at your soon-to-be ex-husband.

“Go to bed, Dylan.” Beau isn’t willing to have this conversation whilst his son is in ear-shot. Your brows furrow at him, you step into his way to stop him from coming inside.

The only thing stopping you from arguing with him is the fact that the kids are still there. The two of you wait for the sound of Dylan reaching the top of the stairs. Beau’s shoulder hits yours as he steps into the house past you.

“What is your problem?” You challenge him.

“You had a man here with the kids here?” Beau hisses, rounding on you, eyes dark as he steps into your space. You step back instinctively as you swing the front door shut behind you.

“What?”

“Dylan told me there was a car in the driveway on Sunday!” Beau snaps.

You stare at him, knowing that you aren’t going to be able to lie. You shoot a quick glance towards the stairs.

“He left the moment the kids got home, they never saw him - you were supposed to have them until four.” You answer as calmly as you can. Your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest. This is the last thing you need after the day you’ve had.

Beau’s face falls. He presses his lips together calmly.

“Who is he?” He demands.

“No one.” You answer him. His eyes narrow on you.

“How long?”

“A couple of weeks. It’s nothing.” You tell him.

“Is that a fucking joke?” Beau steps closer, standing over you. Your eyes widen, furious that after fifteen years of marriage, he thinks he’s capable of intimidating you. He holds up his hand, your eyes land on the ring still on his finger. “Do I need to remind you that we’re still married?”

It’s almost laughable. You thought he was a grumpy asshole before you married him, he’s just gotten worse since you told him you were leaving.

“Only because of the assets! If you pulled your head out of your ass and agreed to the settlement then we would be divorced by now!” You answer back, standing firm in front of him. He has never scared you before and he isn’t going to now.

“It’s still adultery, Hyde.” He speaks softly, more calm. He only ever calls you Hyde at work. Always by your name at home. You’re standing in front of him with plenty of space, but he knows that he just backed you into a corner.

“You and I both know that this is over,” You breathe. Your face softens as you look at him. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting - empathy, perhaps? “We should be moving on. Both of us, Beau.”

“I don’t want to move on. I told you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you and I meant it.” There’s a coldness to his tone. You shake your head softly and step around him. You can’t keep having this conversation.

It’s been eight weeks since you left him. Two months.

“We deserve to be happy.” You answer him, turning to tidy the toys from the couch just so that you don’t have to look at him. You can feel him watching your every move.

“You don’t get to be happy with someone else while you’re still married to me. You owe me that.” Beau hisses. Your jaw drops. You turn towards him, eyes widening. You’re filled with the urge to shove him. Beau notices the way your hands clench at your sides.

“I don’t owe you anything! We’re over.” You remind him coldly.

“Are we over in the eyes of the Navy?”

You stare at him, brows furrowed slightly. You know exactly what he means. With you both still being legally married, you’re married in the eyes of the Navy. Your actions with Bradley would be absolutely considered adultery - it could end your career. You know that. Beau certainly knows that.

Even worse: he doesn’t even know that it’s Rooster. Not only is it adultery, but it could also be an abuse of your power with you being his senior officer.

“That’s what I thought.” Beau spits. He clenches his jaw and straightens up. “Keep your hook-ups away from my kids. Commander.”

He turns towards the door. It takes you a few seconds, long enough for him to reach the handle, for you to process what just happened. Your heartbeat’s in your ears, you’re furious.

“Did you just threaten me?” You snap at him.

He doesn’t answer you. The gold band on his left hand catches the light as he yanks the front door open.

“Some way to treat your fucking wife, Beau.” He’s the one who made such a big deal about you still being his wife in the eyes of the law. If he wants a wife so badly, the least he could do is learn how to treat her.

Beau turns.

“I’d never threaten my wife.” He tells you calmly, then shrugs his shoulders. “But my ex-wife. Different story.”

“Fuck you.” You snap. The door slams behind him.

“Mommy?”

Your head turns to find Taylor looking at you through the gaps in the railings on the stairs. Dylan’s sitting behind her, his face is stone-cold and furious, eyes brimming with tears. He looks so much like Beau.

“Oh, baby…” You sigh.

You move through the paces of wiping her tears, kissing her forehead, reading her a bedtime story and telling her that you and her dad love her more than anything. Dylan retreats to his room without a word. Taylor falls asleep in your arms. You have to wiggle your way out of her bed, stepping over her and crossing the hall.

You knock twice on your son’s door.

“Come in.” He mumbles sheepishly.

You push open the door. He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, freckled cheeks blotchy and tear-stained. He’s always been sweet and sensitive. Not like you, or Beau. Kinder than both of you.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpers quietly.

You step inside and move to sit beside him on his bed, pulling him into your arms. He sniffles against your shoulder.

“I didn’t mean for him to talk to you like that.” Dylan’s voice is half muffled by your shirt and half broken from his crying, but you know what he’s saying. You rub your palm over his back soothingly.

“It’s not your fault.” You tell him. It’s true, Beau would have found out either way. You just didn’t need that to happen tonight.

Dylan sits back and wipes hurriedly at his tears. “Do you love someone else?”

“No,” You brush his hair back gently off of his forehead, shaking your head softly. “No. But your dad and I aren’t getting back together. Ever.”

Dylan sighs, trying to catch his breath after crying.

“He’s so sad without you. You’re all he talks about.” Dylan admits.

You brush the tears off of his cheeks tenderly.

“Look, I’m going to talk to your dad and make sure he’s on the same page - but he shouldn’t be talking to you about him and I.” You explain quietly.

Dylan nods softly, ashamed of himself for causing such an argument.

You sit with him, leaning back against his alien poster as you turn the conversation away from your ruined marriage. You don’t want this to be on his mind while he’s trying to sleep. Yet, the moment there’s a lull in conversation, Dylan circles back.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?”

You sigh softly, leaning your head back against the wall. You look at him. You smile softly.

“I’m seeing someone.” You admit.

Dylan’s lips quirk softly. He leans into you. “Would he yell at you like that?”

You almost laugh at the idea. You shake your head at him.

“He wouldn’t dream of it. I’d kick his ass.” You nudge Dylan playfully with your elbow and he laughs softly. He lifts his gaze to look you in the eye.

There’s a moment where you sit in silence with your firstborn. You feel like he’s slipping through your fingers these days. All these crazy hours at work, everything happening with Beau, just him growing up. Moments of silence like this make it feel like time isn’t getting the better of you.

“If you want to keep dating him, I won’t tell Dad.” He wants you to be happy.

You chuckle softly and lean across to kiss the top of his head, then push yourself to stand.

“Not for you to worry about, honey. But thank you, I appreciate that.”

You tell him goodnight and walk back to your room. You shower and take your time getting ready for bed. Going through the processes of fixing your hair, doing your skincare, taking time for yourself.

Pretending that Beau didn’t just suggest that he’s willing to end your career.

It’s been one of those days that makes your bed feel especially soft by the time that you’re in it. There’s only one thing that could make it better, and he’s in a shitty apartment near the beach, playing video games with his roommates. You wonder if it’s worth it.

If you could guarantee that Beau would never find out, it would be absolutely worth it. The sex, the intimacy, that smile. So worth it. So, so worth it. But not worth your career.

You’re certain that Rooster would understand that.

Rooster can tell that you’re avoiding him the next morning. All through flight exercises. All the way through post-flight. You won’t meet his gaze. He catches you finally as you’re headed back to your office. You sigh softly as he nudges your elbow with his.

“You mad at me or something?” He asks softly.

“No.” You deadpan.

Rooster follows you into your office and shuts the door behind the two of you.

“Talk to me.” He says softly, reaching out to graze his fingertips against yours. You pull your hand away from his and weigh up your options.

Your instinct is to be mean to him - to scare him away and hope that he’ll finally get you out of his head. But, you’re half worried that being mean to him might make him like you even more. The truth it is.

“I had an argument with Beau last night after he dropped the kids off.” You sigh, turning to sit back against the corner of your desk. Rooster’s brows furrow slightly but he doesn’t interrupt. “He… Found out that I had someone over and kind of freaked out.”

“Oh.”

“Look, Bradley-“

“Fuck, please don’t.” Bradley grumbles, already knowing what the beginning of that sentence means.

“While I’m still married to him, it’s adultery. He could ruin my career over this.”

“He wouldn’t, right?” Bradley frowns.

A soft sigh slips your lips as you lean back on your palms. You wouldn’t have expected him to either.

“Fine. We’ll be careful until your divorce is final.” Bradley decides.

“Rooster.” You warn him, folding your arms over your chest.

“Look, I really like you.” Rooster stands up straight and slips his hand into yours. Once again, you’re suckered by those pretty brown eyes. “I want to make this work, whatever that takes.”

You groan and lean your head back, trying to muster a sense of restraint. Just enough to tell him no.

Rooster moves to stand between your knees. You stare at him sternly. His lips quirk up into a smile. He leans in and presses his lips tenderly to yours.

“Let me prove that we can do this.” He murmurs, thumbs stroking softly over the fabric of your khakis. You glance down at your uniform and chuckle. It’s ridiculous that he finds you just as attractive in uniform as he does in nothing at all.

You shake your head, “You’re done in four weeks. After that, you’ll be gone. This isn’t a risk that I can take right now.”

Bradley lifts your chin.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses you tenderly once more. He squeezes at your hips. “Friday. Take a chance, I won’t let you down.”

You watch as he turns and leaves, closing the door to your office behind you. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. Fuck.

…

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