izzy

You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.

The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.

Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.

"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."

"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."

Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.

"You're an asshole."

"I'm right."

"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"

"So you know I'm right."

You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."

You were running early.

Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.

One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.

And that's where the luck stopped.

Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.

It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.

And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--

"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"

It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.

But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.

"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."

You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.

He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."

"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."

"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.

"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.

My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.

But never on Joaquin.

You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"

"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.

"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.

Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."

Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.

"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."

"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."

"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.

You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.

"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.

He was nothing if not predictable.

The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.

"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.

"So, what'd I interrupt?"

Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"

"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"

Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.

"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.

"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"

"Nah, it didn't feel right."

"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.

The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.

Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.

"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.

"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.

"I'll buy," he said.

Mothefucker.

This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.

"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.

"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.

"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."

He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."

"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"

"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.

Which was a first.

More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.

"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.

"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.

"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."

"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.

Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."

"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.

"If you can."

They did.

You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.

Until the music kicked up.

Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.

Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.

And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.

You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.

"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.

"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."

"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.

He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.

"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.

"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.

"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.

It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.

The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.

"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.

"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.

You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.

Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.

"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.

As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.

"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"

"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.

"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."

Friday night. The Hard Deck was packed, and you were nursing a beer while Phoenix told a story about Rooster’s latest landing that had gone slightly sideways.

“I’m telling you, he almost clipped the carrier deck. Swears up and down it was textbook, but I was right there—”

“It sounds like Rooster,” you said, grinning. You’d met Natasha—Phoenix—during your first week since you moved bases. She’d shown up at the tower to dispute a training score and you’d liked her immediately: sharp, no-nonsense, with a wicked sense of humor. She’d taken you under her wing, introducing you to the good coffee spots on base and insisting you needed to “actually have a life outside of work.”

Hence the Hard Deck on a Friday night.

“Speak of the devil,” Phoenix said, nodding toward the door where Rooster had just walked in with a few other pilots. “Brace yourself. When the squad’s all here, it gets loud.”

You watched as they made their way to the pool table—Rooster with his ridiculous mustache, Fanboy excitedly explaining something while Bob listened with quiet interest, Payback and Coyote already bantering back and forth about who gets next game, and—

And a blond guy who moved through the bar like he owned it, that easy confidence in every step.

“That’s Hangman,” Phoenix said, following your gaze. Her voice had gone slightly flat. “Total player. Goes through women like he’s collecting trading cards. We fly together, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”

“You work with him?”

“Unfortunately. He’s a good pilot—one of the best, actually—but his ego could fill a hangar.” She took a sip of her beer. “Why? Please tell me you’re not interested.”

“No, I just—” You paused as Hangman laughed at something Rooster said, and that sound.

You knew that sound.

“Oh God,” you said.

“What?”

“That’s Dagger Two.”

Phoenix’s eyes widened. “Wait. That’s your chatty pilot? The one who keeps trying to flirt over comms?”

“I wouldn’t say flirt—”

“You literally told me yesterday, and I quote, ‘if Dagger Two makes one more comment about my voice, I’m going to revoke his radio privileges.’”

“That was— I was exaggerating.”

Phoenix was grinning now, clearly delighted. “Oh, this is perfect. Hangman has no idea he’s been annoying you for two weeks.”

“Nat, don’t—”

But Rooster had spotted Phoenix and was waving her over. Phoenix grabbed your arm, hauling you up. “Come on. This is going to be hilarious.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

The group made room as you approached, Rooster clapping Phoenix on the shoulder. “Took you long enough. We’re already getting destroyed at pool and need backup.”

“That’s because Hangman keeps calling impossible shots,” Bob said with a small smile on his face.

“They’re not impossible if I make them,” the blond guy—Hangman—said. Then his eyes landed on you, and that easy smile appeared. “Hey. I’m Jake. Don’t think we’ve met.”

Phoenix was practically vibrating with suppressed glee. “Jake, this is my friend. She just transferred here a couple weeks ago. Works in the tower.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand.

The moment you spoke, Jake’s expression shifted. His eyes widened, his head tilted slightly, and you watched recognition dawn across his face like sunrise.

“Wait,” he said, his grin spreading slowly as he shook your hand, holding it maybe a second longer than necessary. “‘Your heart will survive.’ Tower. It’s you.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you absolutely do.” He stepped closer, completely ignoring Phoenix’s delighted snort. “That voice. Two weeks I’ve been listening to that voice, and here you are.”

“I told you to focus on flying.”

His laugh was the same one you’d heard over the radio a dozen times, but richer in person, warmer. “This is— I can’t believe this. Here I was thinking Tower was some grizzled veteran who’d seen it all, and instead you’re—” He stopped himself, but his eyes said the rest.

Rooster leaned over to Phoenix. “Is he… blustering?”

“I think he might be,” Phoenix whispered back, looking fascinated.

Coyote sidled up next to Jake with a knowing smirk. “Hangman’s actually speechless. Someone write this down.”

“I’m not speechless,” Jake protested.

“You kind of are, man,” Fanboy added, grinning as he chalked his pool cue.

You studied Jake for a moment. He seemed genuinely surprised, genuinely pleased. But Phoenix had warned you.

Player. Heartbreaker. The kind of guy who knew exactly what to say.

“Well, now you know,” you said. “Mystery solved.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I have one.”

“Another one, then. After that one.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He didn’t push, just settled back against the pool table like he had all the time in the world, though his eyes kept finding their way back to you.

“Fair enough. You any good at pool? We could use someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“She’s terrible at pool,” Phoenix interjected, grinning. “But I’ll play. You and me, Hangman. Let’s see if you can back up all that talk.”

As Phoenix and Jake started setting up, Rooster moved closer to you.

“Fair warning: those two are competitive. This might get ugly.”

“Nat can handle herself.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about Phoenix.”

You glanced at him, confused, but he was already watching Jake, who kept looking over at you between shots, like he was making sure you were still there.

You thought that would be the end of it. One conversation, curiosity satisfied, everyone moves on.

You were wrong.

Jake started showing up. Not in an obvious way—he was too smart for that. He’d just… appear. At the coffee cart you frequented before your shift. At the Hard Deck on Friday nights, always gravitating toward wherever you and Phoenix were sitting. At the O-Club when Nat dragged you to some mandatory fun event.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he’d say, like it was pure coincidence.

“It’s the base coffee cart, Hangman. Not exactly a secret location.”

“Jake. You can call me Jake, you know. When we’re not on comms.”

“I’m aware of your name.”

“Just making sure. You want anything? I’m buying.”

“I can buy my own coffee.”

“I know you can. I’m asking if you want me to.”

You’d usually say no. Sometimes you’d say yes, just to see what he’d do. He never made it weird, never acted like you owed him anything. Just handed you the coffee and asked about your day.

Phoenix noticed immediately.

“He’s like a puppy,” she said one afternoon, watching Jake walk away after delivering your usual order without you even asking. “A very tall, very blond puppy.”

“He’s just being friendly.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why he hasn’t looked at another woman in three weeks?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Hangman—king of the one-night stand, collector of phone numbers—hasn’t so much as glanced at anyone else since he met you.” Phoenix leaned back in her chair. “It’s actually kind of freaking the guys out.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not. Ask Bob. He’s been keeping track.”

You refused to think too hard about what that might mean.

Over the radio, though, nothing changed.

“Tower, Dagger Two. How’s your morning?”

“Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. You’re clear for takeoff, runway two-niner.”

“Copy that, Tower. Runway two-niner. Just saying, hope you liked the coffee earlier.”

“Dagger Two.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

It was Rooster who brought it up first during their next squadron meeting.

They were at the Hard Deck, the usual Friday night crowd, and Jake had barely glanced at the brunette who’d been making eyes at him from the bar for the past twenty minutes.

“Hangman,” Rooster said, setting down his beer. “You feeling okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

“Because that girl over there is definitely interested and you haven’t even looked at her.”

Jake glanced over briefly. “Not my type.”

Phoenix nearly choked on her drink. “Since when do you have a type beyond ‘breathing’?”

“Funny.”

But then the door opened, and Jake’s attention snapped toward it immediately. His whole posture changed—straightened up, ran a hand through his hair.

You walked in, laughing at something on your phone, completely oblivious.

“Oh my god,” Phoenix said, even though she’d seen this exact reaction a dozen times now. “You’ve got it so bad.”

“What?”

“You’re making moon eyes at my friend.”

“I don’t make moon eyes.”

“You absolutely make moon eyes,” Rooster said, grinning now. “How long has this been going on?”

“There’s nothing going on. We’re friends.”

Bob, who’d been quietly watching the exchange, spoke up. “Friends.” There was a knowing quality to his tone, subtle but unmistakable.

Jake shot him a look. “Yes, Bob. Friends. Some of us have those.”

“Some of us don’t turn into golden retrievers every time those friends walk into a room,” Payback added.

Coyote leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with an amused grin. “I’ve known you for years, Hangman. Never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” Jake asked defensively.

“Like you actually care,” Fanboy chimed in, exchanging a look with Coyote. “It’s weird. But also kind of nice?”

“I hate all of you.”

Phoenix was watching him with a calculating expression. “You’re serious. You actually like her.”

“Of course I like her. She’s—” He stopped, seeming to realize he was about to prove their point. “She’s nice.”

“She is nice,” Phoenix agreed. “She’s also one of my best friends, which means if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your callsign gets changed to Grounded.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s… actually terrifying.”

“Good. It should be.” Phoenix leaned forward, her expression serious. “I’m not kidding, Hangman. She’s not one of your usual conquests. She’s—”

“I know,” Jake said, and his voice had gone quiet. Serious. “Trust me, I know. Why do you think I haven’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m trying to do this right.”

Phoenix blinked. In all the years she’d known Jacob Seresin, she’d never heard him sound like that. “Oh. You’re really serious.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” She studied him for a long moment. “Okay. But I’m still watching you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

But he was already up, making his way across the bar to where you stood.

You saw him coming and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Which was becoming a problem, actually—how much you didn’t mind when he showed up.

“Hey,” Jake said, that easy smile in place but something softer in his eyes. “Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

“It’s Friday. I’m here most Fridays with Nat.”

“Right. Yeah. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m about to order one.”

“So that’s a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were fighting a smile. “Sure, Hangman. You can buy me a drink.”

His whole face lit up like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

From across the bar, you caught Phoenix watching with a knowing smirk. You made a mental note to interrogate her later about whatever that look meant.

The thing was, Jake was… different than you’d expected.

Sure, he had the callsign and the reputation and the smile that could probably stop traffic. But when it was just the two of you—usually with Phoenix somewhere nearby, watching like a protective older sister—he wasn’t Hangman.

He was just Jake.

He asked questions—real ones, not the smooth-talking kind meant to impress. He wanted to know about your hometown, your family, why you’d joined the Navy, what you wanted to do after. He listened when you talked, actually listened, his green eyes focused on you like you were the only person in the world.

And he told you things too. About growing up in Texas, about learning to fly, about why he flew the way he did.

“I know what they say about me,” he said one night. You and Phoenix had stayed late at the Hard Deck, and she’d stepped away to take a call, leaving you and Jake alone on the deck overlooking the beach. “Hangman. Like I leave people hanging.”

“Do you?”

“In the air? Yeah. Sometimes. Because I know I’m good enough to get the job done alone.” He picked up a handful of sand that had blown onto the deck railing, let it run through his fingers. “But it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because… if I’m the one taking the risk, then no one else has to.”

You looked at him—really looked at him. At the way his jaw tightened, the way he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“That’s lonely,” you said quietly.

He did look at you then. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Something shifted between you in that moment. Something that made your chest feel tight and your breath catch and oh no, you thought.

Oh no.

Phoenix returned a moment later, taking one look at both of you and raising an eyebrow. But she didn’t say anything, just settled back into her chair and changed the subject.

Later, when Jake had left and it was just the two of you walking to your cars, Phoenix bumped your shoulder.

“So.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Nat.”

“He’s different with you. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s actually trying to be a real person instead of just Hangman.” She paused. “I know I gave you the warning about him. And I meant it—the old Hangman, the one who went through women like they didn’t matter? I’d tell you to run. But this…” She shook her head. “Maybe people can change.”

“You think I should give him a chance?”

“I think you already are. I’m just saying… I wouldn’t hate it. If you two figured things out.” She grinned. “But if he screws it up, I get to kick his ass in training. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“He’s got it bad,” Rooster said two months later, watching Jake watch you from across the rec room. You were completely focused on the tablet in your hands, reviewing flight logs while Phoenix looked over your shoulder and pointed something out. Oblivious.

“It’s kind of painful to witness,” Fanboy agreed, shaking his head. “How long has this been going on?”

After a short pause, Bob spoke. "Three months? Maybe four?"

“And he hasn’t even tried anything?”

Phoenix, who’d joined them, shook her head. “Nope. He just… follows her around like a puppy. Gets her coffee. Listens to her talk about radio frequencies like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Hangman?” Rooster asked.

“Right?” Phoenix settled into a chair, still watching. “I gave him the shovel talk, like, six times. Told him if he hurt her, I’d never forgive him. You know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said he’d never forgive himself either.”

“Damn,” Payback said. “He’s really gone.”

Coyote whistled low. “Never thought I’d see the day. Hangman actually settling down for someone.”

“He’s going to crash and burn,” Rooster said. “She has no idea how he feels.”

“Oh, she knows,” Phoenix said. “She just doesn’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s Hangman. And she’s…” Phoenix paused, trying to find the right words. “She’s careful. She doesn’t trust easy. And Jake’s reputation isn’t exactly helping.”

"I think it's nice. He's actually trying," Bob said, watching as Jake moved closer to you, saying something that made you laugh.

“He better be,” Phoenix said. “Because if he breaks her heart, reputation change or not, I’ll break him.”

You didn’t believe it.

Sure, Jake was… around. A lot. And yes, he’d stopped flirting with other women—Phoenix had confirmed that, even seemed pleased about it. And okay, maybe your heart did this stupid flutter thing every time you heard his voice over the radio or saw him waiting by the coffee cart in the morning.

But Jacob Seresin didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. This was just… friendly. He was being friendly.

The fact that his hand would linger when he handed you your coffee, or that he’d started texting you good morning every day, or that he’d shown up with soup when you’d mentioned feeling under the weather—that was just how he was.

Probably.

“You’re an idiot,” Phoenix said, not for the first time. You were in her apartment, having your weekly movie night, and she’d paused the film just to give you this look.

“I’m realistic.”

“He brought you soup!”

“He’s nice.”

“He’s not nice! He’s Hangman! He’s only nice to you!” Phoenix grabbed your shoulders. “Listen to me. I have known that man for years. Years. I have seen him go through women without learning their last names. I have watched him charm his way out of consequences and into beds without a second thought. And I have never—not once—seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

“Nat, really—”

“I’m serious. He’s different now. With you. And I know his reputation scares you, but people can change. He’s changing. For you.”

You wanted to believe her. God, you wanted to believe her.

But wanting something and trusting it were two very different things.

It was a Wednesday when everything changed.

You were in the tower, middle of a routine training exercise, when the alarm sounded.

“Dagger Two, Dagger Two, this is Tower. We have reports of a bird strike. What’s your status?”

Static.

Your heart stopped.

“Dagger Two, come in.”

More static, then: “Tower, Dagger Two. Confirm bird strike. Engine two is out. Engine one is… not looking great.”

His voice was steady, professional. But you could hear it underneath—the tension.

“Copy, Dagger Two. What’s your altitude?”

“Fifteen thousand and dropping. Trying to restart engine one.”

You pulled up his position, calculated distances, ran through every protocol you knew. Your supervisor was already moving, picking up the direct line to Base Operations.

“Ops, this is Tower. We have an in-flight emergency. Dagger Two, bird strike, dual engine failure. Pilot is attempting emergency landing at auxiliary field two-zero miles northeast. Launch crash crew and medical.”

Phoenix’s voice crackled through on the emergency channel. “Hangman, this is Phoenix. I’ve got Bob with me. We’re tracking you. Talk to us.”

“Phoenix, I’m losing altitude fast. Not gonna make it back to base.”

“Dagger Two, nearest divert is North Island. Can you make it?” you said, keeping your voice level through sheer force of will.

“Negative, Tower. I’m not going to make it to North Island.”

Your breath caught. “Dagger Two, there’s an auxiliary airfield twenty miles northeast of your position. Sending coordinates now.”

“Copy, I see it.”

Your supervisor was coordinating on the other line. “Crash crew is rolling. Ambulance and fire truck en route to auxiliary field. ETA twelve minutes.”

“Jake.” You never used his name over comms. Ever. “You can make it.”

A pause. Then, quieter: “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it.”

The next ten minutes were the longest of your life. You talked him through every step, keeping your voice steady even though your hands were shaking. Phoenix stayed on comms, her voice calm and professional, while Bob fed Jake technical readouts in that steady, measured way of his.

When he finally confirmed wheels down, safe, you had to sit down before your legs gave out.

Your supervisor touched your shoulder. “Good work. Crash crew is on scene. Medical is evaluating him now. They’ll transport him back to North Island by ground.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

Phoenix’s voice came through your headset. “Tower, Dagger Three. Bob and I are RTB. Ground crew has Hangman. They’re bringing him back by ambulance as a precaution.”

“Copy, Dagger Three,” you managed. “Safe flight.”

“Tower?” Phoenix’s voice was gentler now. “He’s okay. He’s safe. And knowing the squad, they’re probably already gathering at the medical building.”

Despite everything, you almost smiled. “Copy that.”

“You should probably be there too.”

You shouldn’t have left your post early. You definitely shouldn’t have been standing outside the base medical building with the entire Dagger Squad all waiting restlessly.

But there you were.

The ambulance pulled up, lights flashing but no siren, and the moment the rear doors opened, Jake climbed out on his own power, waving off the corpsman who tried to help him. He looked exhausted and rattled but whole.

His eyes scanned the group and found yours immediately.

Phoenix nudged Bob, who gave a small nod and stepped back without a word. “Come on. Let’s give them a minute.”

“The rest of you too,” Rooster said, herding the remaining Daggers toward the building entrance. “Move it.”

“But I want to see—” Coyote started.

“Move,” Phoenix said, her tone brooking no argument.

Then they were gone, and it was just you and Jake in the parking lot.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself.”

“Thanks for—”

You closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for half a second, then his arms came around you, tight and sure.

“You scared me,” you said into his shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“If you ever do that again—”

“I won’t.” His hand came up to the back of your head, cradling it gently. “I promise.”

You pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes were so green, so close, and he was looking at you like…

Oh.

Oh.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” he said quietly. “And all I could think was that I never told you—”

“Jake.”

“I’m in love with you.” The words came spilling out in a rush. “I know you probably don’t believe me, and I know I have a reputation, but I swear, I have never felt like this about anyone. You make me want to be better. You make me want to be the guy you see when you look at me. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I just needed you to know—”

You kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was soft and deliberate, your hand coming up to cup his jaw as you rose onto your toes. He made a sound—somewhere between relief and wonder—and pulled you closer, one hand sliding to the small of your back while the other cradled your face like you were something precious. The world narrowed to just this: the warmth of his mouth on yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment, the taste of salt from tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead dropped to rest against yours. His eyes were still closed, and when he opened them, they were bright with something that looked like reverence.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You terrify me.”

“I know.”

“I don’t do casual. I can’t— I’m not built for that.”

“Good. Because there’s nothing casual about the way I feel about you.” His thumb brushed across your cheekbone, gentle and reverent. “I’m all in. Have been for months. Everyone knows it. Phoenix has threatened me at least six times. I don’t care. I’d let her threaten me every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep bringing you coffee and hearing you tell me to maintain radio discipline and just… being around you.”

You laughed, slightly watery. “You’re really in love with me?”

“So much it’s actually embarrassing. Have been since the first time I heard your voice over the radio. When I finally saw you at the Hard Deck and realized the voice I’d been falling for had a face to match…” He shook his head. “I was done for.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m scared,” you said again. “But I— I think I might be in love with you too. Which is terrifying because I didn’t think that was possible four months ago.”

His smile was incandescent, and then he was kissing you again—softer this time, sweeter, like a promise. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to spend every second of it right here with you.

From somewhere behind you, you heard Phoenix’s voice carry across the parking lot: “FINALLY!”

Then Rooster: “Did she just—”

“Yep,” Phoenix said, sounding immensely satisfied. “Called it. Pay up, Bradshaw.”

“I knew it!” Payback’s voice rang out. “Fanboy, you owe me twenty bucks!”

You broke apart, laughing, and Jake tucked you against his side, his lips pressing a kiss to your temple. “Did they all bet on us?”

“Probably,” Jake said, but he was smiling, looking down at you like you were everything he'd been missing. “Don’t care. Totally worth it.”

And looking up at him, at the way he was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered, you had to agree.

It really, really was.

Six Months Later

“Tower, Dagger Two. Radio check.”

You smiled, adjusting your headset. “Dagger Two, Tower. Read you loud and clear.”

“Copy that, Tower. Hey, what are you doing after your shift?”

“Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline.”

“Come on, just tell me.”

“Dagger Two.”

“Is it hanging out with your extremely handsome boyfriend? Because I heard he’s planning something special.”

You could hear Rooster groaning over the comms. “Hangman, some of us are trying to focus here.”

Phoenix cut in, sounding amused. “Hangman, I swear, if you don’t focus on flying, I’m telling her about that time in Lemoore—”

“Phoenix, no—”

“Then focus.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to enjoy the show,” came Coyote’s voice, a laugh in his tone. “This is better than anything on TV.”

“Coyote, you’re not helping,” Bob chimed in, though you could hear the amusement in his voice too.

“Tower, this is Fanboy. For the record, some of us are actually trying to maintain professionalism up here.”

“Thank you, Fanboy,” you said, fighting back a smile.

“He’s lying,” Payback interjected. “He’s got popcorn. Literally eating popcorn in the cockpit.”

“I do not!”

You bit back a laugh. “Dagger Two, you’re clear for takeoff. And yes. Seven is fine.”

“That’s my girl. Dagger Two is airborne.”

Your supervisor gave you a look. You shrugged innocently.

From the tarmac, you heard Phoenix’s voice: “Tower, Dagger Three. Just so you know, your boyfriend is doing barrel rolls. Showing off.”

“Dagger Three, tell him to stop.”

“I tried. He says, and I quote, ‘she likes it when I show off.’”

“Dagger Three, you have permission to knock some sense into him during training.”

“With pleasure, Tower. Phoenix out.”

Some things, you’d learned, were worth breaking protocol for.

“She’s coming here tonight and I wanted you and the crew to meet her,” he glanced at his phone again with a smile. “She should be here in like 5 minutes, you’re going to absolutely love her.”

You followed him as if in a trance as he walked back to the pool table, your drink abandoned on the bar as he continued telling you about her. He stopped abruptly almost causing you to run into him and his hand reached out to steady you.

“Whoa, you ok?”

It was as if someone else was controlling your body as you nodded your head, giving him a weak smile and looking past him so as to not meet his eyes. 

“Sorry, you said you had something to tell me too…” he trailed off expectantly, looking for you to fill him in. 

You gave your head a small shake, forcing the haze from your mind. All those feelings you’d foolishly let yourself nurture were shoved back into a box, locked tight, so you could at least pretend to be normal.

“Nothing,” you croaked and cleared your throat. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I’m excited to meet her, Bob, what’s her name?”

The words were ash on your tongue but you pushed through. This was your own damn fault. Of course someone out there would also see what a catch your best friend was. Of course they would fall in love with his kind soul, sarcastic personality, and sharp wit.

You had waited too long, been too scared to mess everything up, and now it was too late. 

“Who’s name?” Phoenix pipped up from her hightop table next to you. 

“Bob’s new girl!” Your attempt at excitement was passable, but Phoenix’s keen eyes shot to you and yours glanced away, not able to meet them.

You had to do this, you had to be the good best friend, Bob could never know. 

“Bob has a girlfriend?” Hangman blurted, his surprise loud enough to draw a few looks.

“Easy there big guy, don’t need to announce it to the whole bar,” you tried to joke. 

“So he finally made his move huh,” your blood turned to ice as his gaze darted between you and Bob, the assumption clear. You shook your head ever so slightly, begging him not to push it. 

“Yeah,” you forced out a laugh before Bob could respond, chest tightening. “She’s swinging by to meet us all soon, so be on your best behavior, Seresin.”

You wagged a finger at him in mock warning, even as the ache in your chest deepened. The moment Jake realized what you meant, pity flickered across his face, and heat rushed to your cheeks when his gaze caught yours. 

Unable to bear the look, you quickly turned back to Bob.

“Can’t wait to meet her, dude. Brave of you to bring her to meet these idiots though.”

Bob laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well I wanted to make sure she gets along with the team before things got too serious.”

You knew realistically that hearts couldn’t actually break, but you could have sworn you felt yours cleaving in two at the genuinely happy smile on his face. The rest of the squad was pelting him with questions and although you didn’t want to know, you couldn’t help but listen, torturing yourself even further. 

How long had they been dating? What was her name? Where did they meet? The questions didn’t stop coming and you listened in horrible fascination as he answered each one. 

A month, but just made it official last week. Leah. At a coffee place right around the corner from your townhome. 

The following half hour played out like a fever dream, a chorus of cheers going up from the squad when she strolled up to the table and placed a kiss on Bob’s cheek, causing him to flush red at the attention. You weren’t entirely sure what you said when she shook your hand with a genuine smile on her face, but it mustn’t have been anything out of the ordinary based on her genuinely nice reaction. You watched as she met the team, easily joining into the conversation like she was meant to be there. 

You waited until everyone was distracted grilling them both, wanting to know every detail, before slipping quietly out the door. 

The moment your feet hit the deck the pressure inside you threatened to burst. Your chest clenched, tears stung your eyes, and your breath came in short panicked gasps as you gripped the railing for support.

It felt like drowning, like an elephant pressing down on your ribs, every inhale a losing battle. 

You spiraled, thoughts clawing at you, cruel and unrelenting.

Weak. 

A coward. 

If you had told him sooner it could have been different. 

Worthless. 

Even if you had told him, why would he want you? 

Desperate. 

Disappointing. 

Pathetic.

Your vision started to go black around the edges as your body was deprived of oxygen when a pair of arms encircled you, pulling you into a muscled chest and grounding you in reality.

“Whoa, whoa, just breath Fury, deep breaths,” Jake fucking Seresin of all people held you as you fell apart.

You sucked in a ragged breath, barely any of it making its way to your lungs and wrenched yourself away from him, not wanting any of your team members to see you like this.

“I’m,” you rasped out, attempting another breath but getting nothing, your lungs burning, “fine.”

“Sure you are,” the sarcasm in his voice was overshadowed by the concern. “Hey look at me, okay?” 

If you had been in a better mental state you would have balked at the soft concern in his voice. 

“Just try breathing with me, alright? Inhale 4 seconds, hold 7, exhale 4, easy as breath-” he cut himself off, “easy as pie”. Come on, inhale,” you tried desperately to pull air into your lungs but it stuttered and you let it out with a harsh whoosh, your chest tightening even more. 

“You got it,” his palm rested over your sternum, “inhale,” he started counting and you tried again, getting in a little more air this time.

You weren’t sure how long it took for your breathing to even out, but by the time it did you were emotionally and physically drained. You angrily scrubbed the tears that had fallen during your panic attack from your face and wiped your nose on the sleeve of your jacket. 

Embarrassment set in quickly as Jake continued to soothe you, stroking up and down your arm to help you relax. You took a step away from him, hugging your arms to your chest.

“Sorry,” you croaked. “Thanks…thank you for helping with that.” 

You could feel the heat from your cheeks as you evaded eye contact. You could practically hear the taunting now, the harsh remarks about why you weren’t cut out for a cockpit. Instead he just shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“I may have some,” he held his fingers up to gesture to a small amount, “ experience with panic attacks myself.”

At that your gaze snapped to his, waiting for the other shoe to drop but all you saw was raw honesty. You dropped your arms from around yourself, forcing your shoulders back and your head up as you grasped for some semblance of self control. 

“Well like I said, thanks. I understand if you feel obligated to report this to command, but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone on the squad.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“You really do think the worst of me don’t you? Look, I may come off as an asshole pilot that’s the best in the game, because I am, but I’m not an asshole about stuff like this. Your secret is safe with me.”

You sighed and nodded in thanks.

“As is your undeniable love for sweet Baby on Board,” you swung around and landed a hard punch to his bicep.

“Fuck off! That’s not…that wasn’t why…” you trailed off as your cheeks flared again and he let out a warm laugh. 

“Oh come on, man. He is literally the only one who doesn’t know!” 

You forced your face into neutrality though your stomach dropped at the fact that apparently everyone else had seen it. That you had been so embarrassingly obvious.

You glanced back towards the bar.

“Not like it matters now.” 

Jake sighed and leaned his forearms against the railing, looking out at the Pacific. 

“You Roostered It, waited too long to take your shot,” you let out a snort at that and hip checked him as you also leaned against the railing, letting the cooler night breeze dry the sweat that was still clinging to the back of your neck. 

“You’re just happy you can use Rooster as a verb, you loser.” 

He grinned at you and nodded.

“Guilty. So, what are you going to do?” 

You shook your head, watching the waves crash onto the shore as the moonlight reflected off the surface of the water. 

“Nothing. He’s my - he’s my best friend, so I’m going to try and be happy for him.” 

“Oh come on, you sure you don’t want to march in there and just plant one on him?”

Part of you was tempted.

“Did you see how happy he looked? He was so excited to introduce her to us. I can’t stand in the way of that.” “You’re a better man than me then,” you punched him on the arm again.

“Also not a man, asshat,” Jake laughed and put his arm around you, pulling you close to him and giving you a noogie which you swatted away. 

“For what it’s worth, and I’m saying this totally as a friend and NOT in a flirty way, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” 

You smiled and shook your head at him, a gentle understanding and camaraderie forming between the two most unlikely of teammates. 

Neither of you noticed the spectator just inside the deck doors. 

Bob’s gaze fell on Jake’s arm around you, the easy smiles you shared, and a sudden, unfamiliar weight pressed on his chest. His stomach knotted, his heart thudding in a way that made no sense, and a strange heat rose up the back of his neck.

He couldn’t name it, didn’t understand it, but it rooted him in place, eyes fixed on you two. He finally pushed away from the door and turned back to the crowd, and to the woman waiting for him at the bar, a drink in hand and a smile on her face.

_______

As you walked into the training room the following morning your heart skipped a beat as you made eye contact with Bob, zeroing in on your usual seat behind him and Phoenix. You had successfully avoided him since the bar, locking yourself in your room and leaving early this morning to go for a run and grab breakfast before heading straight to base, forgoing the ride he usually gave you. 

He turned around with a narrowed gaze and you cocked your head in response.

“So where’d you disappear to last night?”

You plopped down in your seat with a groan, massaging your head which was pounding with a post-cry migraine. You prayed that he didn’t notice the puffiness around your eyes.

“Good morning to you too, Bobby.” 

You could practically feel Phoenix’s eyes burning a hole through your head which you studiously ignored, pressing down on your temples and willing the ache behind your eyes to dissipate. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” your eyes snapped open at the sharpness in his tone, narrowing your gaze right back at him. 

“Well sorry I didn’t realize I had to run all my movements by you, Mr. Bossman. Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning? Jesus Christ.”

Bob opened his mouth to no doubt snark something back but Phoenix beat him to it, side eyeing her back seater like he’d grown a second head. 

“I think what Bob is very rudely and weirdly trying to say is that we were worried about you. You just Irish exited without saying goodbye.”

“I wasn’t feeling great,” not a lie. “I went outside to get some fresh air and figured I’d call it a night so Jake drove me home.”

Phoenix’s eyebrows flew up at that bit of information and Bob sputtered. 

“Hangman drove you home?” he said, incredulous, like he still couldn’t wrap his head around the guy doing something selfless.

With the most impeccable timing the man himself walked through the door, a toothpick hanging carelessly out of one side of his mouth. 

“You say that like I don’t drive pretty ladies home almost every night, Bob-o.”  

Bob scoffed and you rolled your eyes at the insinuation.

“In your dreams, Seresin,” he winked at you and you gave him an unimpressed stare back.

“You sure are, sweetheart.” 

“Pig,” You threw your pen at him, glaring when he caught it and shoved it behind his ear before taking a seat. 

His ridiculous antics, which normally grated on your last nerve, made you chuckle and Bob’s eyes bugged out of his head at the sound. He looked between you and Hangman like he was trying to compute an impossible equation but before he could ask, Maverick stepped into the room and everyone turned their attention to him. 

The briefing passed in a blur, and before long, the room had emptied out again.

“Dude, did you pay attention to anything that we just covered?”

Bob glanced up from where his gaze was trained on his empty notebook to find Phoenix staring at him. He glanced around and realized the classroom had cleared out while he was daydreaming.

“Hello?” she waved her hand in front of his face and he flushed, scrambling to shove his notebook into his bag and stand up. 

“Sorry, sorry.” 

Phoenix eyed him warily and shook her head.

“Are you ok? You were on a different planet during that briefing.”

Bob felt shame wash through him at the fact that he hadn’t, in fact, paid a lick of attention to Maverick for the entire 30 minutes they were there. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. What’d I miss?” he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck avoiding Phoenix’s gaze.

“Are you sick?” Her hand came up to his forehead to check for a temperature and he swatted it away. “I’ve never seen you miss even a sentence in that room let alone an entire briefing. What gives, man?”

“I’m not sick. I just… had a lot on my mind.” 

“Dude, were you daydreaming about your new girlfriend during briefing? Not cool, Bob.”

He sputtered and blushed, shaking his head in denial as he followed her out of the room. 

“What? No of course not! I just…” he trailed off and Phoenix gestured for him to continue. “Do you think Fury and Hangman hooked up?”

Phoenix bit back a smile and continued walking, shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t know. Would it matter if they did?”

Bob unclenched his jaw and shook his head.

“I suppose not,” he continued walking towards the locker rooms. “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes at her oblivious backseater. 

“She’s a grown ass woman, I think she can handle herself.”

“I know that. Hangman is just an asshole and I’ve seen the way he treats the women he brings home.”

“I don’t know, those girls always come out of his place in the morning looking like they won the lottery.”

Bob sputtered and gaped at her.

“Phoenix!”

She laughed and nudged his shoulder with hers.

“What? All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t be the worst thing for her to get laid! And he seems to know how to treat a lady well, if you know what I mean.” 

Bob followed her into the parking lot, not liking the feeling in his stomach, exactly like the one the previous night. He didn’t bother to think too hard about why his chest felt tight at the thought of Hangman and his best friend together like that.

_______

You had given yourself 24 hours.

One full day to crash out and lose your absolute shit about the fact that Bob had a girlfriend and it wasn’t you. 24 hours to cry, yell, drink, and disassociate before you got your shit together and tried to make things go back to normal like the grown ass adult you were.

You were great at compartmentalization - you’d be fine after you shoved all your Bob-related feelings into a deep deep dark box inside you.

That night you had a date with yourself, a bottle of wine, and the newest superhero movie. You felt like a gremlin as you laid in your nest of blankets on the couch, attempting to take a sip out of a stemmed glass without spilling wine all down your front. 

Bob was out with his new girlfriend and your thoughts flicked to him, regardless of your futile attempts not to. He was probably the type that would show up with flowers and hold open doors, a gentleman through and through. 

You let out a groan and successfully took a sip of wine without spilling a drop, unable to focus on the television in front of you as your thoughts spiraled, running through your friendship like a twisted movie reel. 

You hadn’t been waiting for him, not exactly, but somewhere deep down, you’d always assumed that Bob would be there in your life. When you pictured the future it was always you and him, side by side no matter what.

Looking back, you really couldn’t believe it had taken you so long to understand why.

His presence was a quiet certainty that had shaped your life in ways you’d never questioned, until now.

The wine left a slow warmth in your chest as you leaned back against the pillow at the arm of the couch. Beneath the haze, a sharper truth took hold: the future you’d always pictured wasn’t waiting for you anymore.

You couldn’t rely on him anymore. Not in the way you wanted to. Whatever came next had to be yours. You’d make sure of it.

And as Mr. Fantastic droned on about dimensions and spaceships, something steadier than hope flickered in your chest. Not a dream, not a wish, just… resolve. A path, still forming, that you would walk on your own.

______

The next few weeks were…hard. Hard in a way that you’d never imagined they would be with your best friend. You tried to keep things normal, truly you really did.

You still woke up at the crack of dawn to run along the beach together, carpooled to base with him, picked up his coffee order, joked with the rest of the crew in between learnings, training, and flight time. You still sassed each other over comms and teamed up to make fun of Hangman when he shrieked at the spider that crawled across his nav display. 

You’d even gone to dinner with him and Leah, pretending it was easy, that it didn’t twist something in your chest to watch them side by side. You laughed when you were supposed to, matched her banter, and let the wine do the rest. You played the dutiful best friend flawlessly, while something in you splintered, slow and quiet.

The worst part? You liked Leah. 

She was sweet and funny and clearly head over heels for your best friend. 

She asked insightful questions, remembered small details, and made a real effort to know you. All because she knew you mattered to him.

The squad had taken to her as well, and she was able to hold her own with the best of them like she was meant to be there, carving out a space that you hadn’t realized you were holding for yourself. 

It would’ve been easier if she were some sort of evil villain - self-centered, rude, dismissive. But she wasn’t. And somehow, that made it worse.

So the weeks turned into months and with each forced laugh or kiss goodbye you had to watch you could feel yourself slowly slipping away.

-----

Bob wasn’t stupid. He knew things had been weird between you since he told you about Leah.

It wasn’t obvious, probably only he noticed the changes, but they were there. He watched you laugh at Payback’s joke, your shoulders relaxing just enough to look like your normal self. You joined in the banter, tossed out the occasional playful jab, all perfectly timed, but there was a flicker in your eyes that he couldn’t place. Something nagging at him that he couldn’t put a name to.

He wracked his brain, trying to figure out why you seemed off. He could only think that you were insulted that he didn’t tell you about her sooner. After all you were his best friend and his roommate, you shouldn’t have found out about his newly non-single status at the same time as the rest of your friends.

You had been friends and roommates through plenty of relationships in the past. Back then, things had been easy, your routines together comfortable, predictable, steady. Now, even in ordinary moments, there was a tension to your movements, a carefulness in the way you interacted with him. He noticed the way you hesitated before touching him, the slight pullback when he reached for your shoulder. When you had movie nights, your feet no longer ended up in his lap. You no longer gently woke him up with a brush of his hair off his forehead if he fell asleep on the couch so his neck wouldn’t crick in the morning. 

Something had shifted between you, subtle but undeniable. He could feel it in every silence, every almost. And no matter how he turned it over in his head, he couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong, only that he must have done something. Because the ache in his chest told him he was losing something, and he didn’t even know what it was.

______

It was Thursday and you had just closed the door to the townhouse, calling out as you struggled to balance the pizza boxes and kick off your sneakers.

“They ran out of pepperoni, Bob, pepperoni! What kind of fucking pizza place doesn’t have the most popular pizza topping to ever pizza top!”

You yelled with a smile as you strolled into the kitchen, expecting him to be blending up a batch of his infamous margaritas. It was the first Thursday of the month and neither one of you ever missed your ongoing Thirsty Thursdays tradition. It had survived a decade of cross country moves, Zoom calls, even deployments when possible -using MREs and burnt coffee as stand ins. Nothing stood in the way of tradition when you could help it.

You were met with silence, the house empty as you placed the boxes down on the counter. 

“Bob?”

Silence answered you and you glanced at the clock. Maybe he got held up at work, or needed to run to the liquor store for the good tequila that you insisted on even though it was being mixed. 

You grabbed your phone and sent him a quick text, taking a picture of the pizza boxes, and writing a quick text.

These pizzas are thirsty for some margs, Bob!

The message sent and you pulled open the cabinet, grabbing the blender and hunting for the rest of the margarita ingredients. You whipped up a batch, though they were never as good as his, and poured one for yourself, taking a sip and looking back at your phone. 

The message sat unread. 

You left the pitcher of margs and the pizza on the counter and meandered into the family room, flopping down on the couch and telling yourself that Bob would be here any minute as you turned on the TV. 

He never missed Thirsty Thursdays. 

You tried not to look at your watch as the minutes ticked by, barely paying attention to the Parks and Rec reruns you had put on. You put the melting pitcher in the freezer when he was 15 minutes late, and put the pizza boxes in the oven five minutes later to try and keep them warm.

Your heart sank at the 30 minute mark and you tried to call him, wanting to ensure that he was ok. 

The phone rang twice and went to voicemail and your stomach dropped. He had ignored your call.

Hey dude, are you ok? 

Your text went unanswered again. 

After an hour crawled by, you heated up a slice of pizza and plopped the margarita pitcher in front of you on the coffee table, drowning your sorrows and anger in grease and alcohol.

You had just poured yourself your third drink when your phone lit up, the dumb picture of Bob making a dumb face in the back of your dumb jet from your first go at Top Gun glaring back at you. 

You had half a mind to let it go to voicemail, but there was a small part of you that wanted to ensure that he actually was ok. 

That part won out and you slid your finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Fuck,” his panicked voice came through the phone. “I am so sorry, Fury! Leah and I were at a movie when you called and my phone went off which is why I ignored the call and I totally forgot today was Thursday until I saw your text after we got out…”

He sounded breathless as he rambled and you could picture the horror on his face as he realized that he had missed your monthly tradition. He was probably pacing back and forth in the lobby of the movie theater, running his hand through his hair in frustration at himself. 

You let him ramble, staying silent as he tried to explain. When he finally trailed off with another heartfelt apology you felt a tightening in your chest. You were so angry, so disappointed, not only at him, but at yourself for getting your hopes up. 

You let out a sigh and sunk into the couch. You’d always had trouble staying mad at him, and now was no different.

“It’s fine, Bob,” you wondered if you sounded as tired as you felt.

“No it’s not. I’m so sorry. You bought pizza and everything…” he trailed off, regret threading through his words. “It’s not that late, I can come home and we can-”

“Bob,” you tried not to snap. You took a calming breath and unclenched your jaw. “It’s 9 o’clock, seriously don’t worry about it. And hey, there’s some leftovers for you for tomorrow so…silver linings.”

Your attempt at a joke fell short and you were met with silence. 

“I promise,” he whispered, “I promise I’ll remember next month, Fury.”

“I know you will, dude, don’t stress about it. Go have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

You didn’t let him respond before hanging up the call, blinking back the stinging behind your eyes and eyeing the pitcher once more. 

From that day on, you started distancing yourself as a means of survival. Not all at once - just small things, the kind that could almost be explained away.

You stopped grabbing morning coffee together before work, he went with Leah now most days anyway, and you told yourself you didn’t mind. You started staying a little later at the gym on base, waiting until you knew he’d already gone home so you didn’t have to sit in the car with him. 

He still texted, still struck up conversation, but it was different. You tried to keep things short and light, tried to distance yourself where possible to save yourself the hurt of disappointment. And when he invited you to join them for dinner or drinks, you made excuses. You told yourself it was easier this way, that maybe you could give yourself room to try and get over him.

Bob noticed too. The empty coffee cups in the mornings, the keys missing from the hook by the door. The quiet where there used to be easy chatter. He thought maybe you were still upset over Thirsty Thursday, maybe you were feeling left out. So he tried to include you more, bringing Leah along to movie night, suggesting the three of you grab breakfast after a late night out.

He thought he was helping. 

But each time Leah sat between you on the couch, or laughed at a line you used to quote with him, something in you tightened a little more. You’d smile, because that’s what you did. Because you refused to be the reason he felt guilty for being happy.

And Bob, seeing you laugh, thought things might be getting better. He didn’t see the way your hands fidgeted under the table, or how you avoided his eyes when Leah leaned against his shoulder.

You were both trying, just in completely different directions.

______

Four months after the night at The Hard Deck that changed everything found you standing in Maverick’s office. He grinned as he took the packet from you, eyebrows raising at the recommendation section.

“You do realize if you’re selected you’ll no longer be a part of this squadron? It’s a total transfer.”

You nodded in acknowledgement.

“I do, Mav.”

“I thought you were happy here lieutenant?”

“I was,” you cut yourself off. “I am happy here, Sir. The chances I’ll even make it to the next round are slim to none but I figured I’d throw my hat in the ring. It’s something that I've always wanted to do, and they opened up applications for the first time in 6 years, so I figured why not.”

Maverick leaned back into his seat and steepled his fingers in front of his face, giving you a once over.

“I’d say you have more than a slim chance, Fury. When do you need this back?”

“March 30th, Sir. Does that mean you’ll provide the recommendation?”

“It would be my honor, Lieutenant. Although when you do end up getting shipped off to Houston I think you’ll break poor Bob’s heart,” he joked and it took everything in you not to wince. 

“Something tells me he’ll be just fine.”

______

The months following were…somehow even more difficult. It was like Bob was determined to make up for his oversight, plying you with coffees and sweet treats, cooking for you whenever he could and taking over the responsibility of driving to work every day so you wouldn’t have to put miles on your already unreliable Jeep.

No matter how many times he apologized you reassured him you weren’t mad, and always tried to change the subject to something else. 

He didn’t realize how much it hurt every time he apologized for forgetting about you, how each apology dug the knife in a bit deeper.

You did your best to act normal, to stay steady and supportive, but it was as if, when Bob missed your standing engagement, something shifted. It was the first crack in a dam that had been holding back more than you wanted to admit. And no matter how hard you tried to keep it together, every small thing he did without realizing only deepened the fracture.

It was a rare rainy day on base, the team was grounded and Mav had been pulled into a meeting with his hire ups, leaving the lot of you lounging around, entertaining yourselves while you waited for quitting time. 

“So, my buddy is having people over on Saturday for a pool party. He’s new in town and wants to meet people, so he told me to bring whoever, so I guess I’ll extend the invite to you losers. Feel free to bring any and everyone.”

The group rolled their eyes at Hangman’s poor attempt at humor and the invite acceptances came rolling in. You were just about to tell him you’d be there when Bob spoke up from his seat to your left.

“I think we can be there.” You almost let out a teasing quip - wow, look at you RSVPing to plans for me - before he continued. “I don’t think Leah has anything going on but I’ll double check and let you know.”

We. 

Him and Leah.

Not him and you.

Heat rose to your cheeks, your chest tightening as your stomach dropped. The words you’d almost said stuck in your throat, hollow and useless. The gang kept chatting, unaware, and everything that had finally started to feel normal now seemed impossibly off. 

_____

A week later Rooster was, yet again, at the piano banging out a tune like he had a million times before. He finished up to a cheer from the crowd and the beginning notes of Piano Man floated across the bar. A wide smile split your face and you instinctively looked for Bob. 

This was your song. Your ride or die. Your, no matter what I’m doing, drop everything and belt at the top of your lungs, ballad. There hadn’t been a single time, a single bar, that the song had played that you and Bob hadn’t thrown your arms around each other and belted the words off key at each other. 

You looked over at him, expecting a matching excited grin on his face, but he was turned away from you. Laughing at something that Leah had whispered into his ear, as if he hadn’t registered the change of tunes. You gave it a few seconds more before the smile dropped from your face and you turned back to the piano, squeezing Rooster on the shoulder in thanks for playing your favorite, forcing a smile back to your lips as Phoenix leaned in and started singing along with you and Rooster.

_____

You’d thought you were holding it together, keeping your real feelings tucked neatly out of sight. But when Bob cornered you at home that night, the look in his eyes told you you hadn’t hidden them nearly as well as you’d hoped.

“Are we okay?”

His voice was small, tired and sad in a way that had you clenching your jaw. You nodded, staring past him to a point on the wall so you wouldn’t have to look into his eyes.

“Of course we are,” you lied through your teeth and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Come on, Y/N, I know something’s wrong. Why won’t you talk to me?”

You could hear the frustration bleed through his words as he frantically tried to catch your gaze and your heart pounded against your ribcage.

“Nothing’s wrong, dude. We’re good. Everything is good. It’s fine.”

He narrowed his gaze at you and your throat tightened. You’d recognize that stubborn look anywhere. The one that meant he wasn’t going to stop before he got answers, no matter what.

“You’re my best friend. You mean…so incredibly much to me. And it’s killing me to know that I did something to upset you. We’re best friends, why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!”

Your blood rushed through your veins at his words, at the desperation behind them. They were so, so close to what you desperately wanted to hear. But they’d never be enough, would always stop at ‘best friends’. 

“You didn’t do anything-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off with a bark. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if to calm himself, reigning himself in.

“You’ll always be my best friend.”

You wished the ache those words caused would dull, just once. He parted his lips to say something else, but the door creaked open. Leah entered, weighed down with grocery bags and blissfully blind to the storm she’d just walked into.

You jumped at the chance to flee and quickly scuttled out of the hall, flashing her a smile and grabbing your keys.

“Oh, are you not joining us? I bought enough for three.”

You could cry at how fucking sweet this woman was, and your guilt weighed heavy as you shook your head.

“That’s so sweet, but I promised Phoenix I’d help her put together some new furniture tonight. You two have fun though!”

You didn’t look Bob’s way but you could feel his piercing gaze, knew that he clocked your lie from a mile away. 

____

It was Friday night and the apartment was quiet. Too quiet. You’d been half-expecting Bob to poke his head in, suggest a movie or a late run to the store to cook dinner like he usually did, but the hours stretched and stretched.

Around nine, you finally gave in and scrolled Instagram.

Phoenix’s photo appeared in your stories and you clicked on it, the first photo blurry, flushed with neon lights and laughter. The whole squad at the bowling alley downtown. Rooster flipping the camera off, Hangman doing his best Blue Steele, Fanboy throwing up a peace sign.

And Bob. Right in the middle.

Leah was tucked into his side, his arm draped casually around her as he grinned at the camera, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

Your heart sank.

You clicked through the story. More photos. More laughter. Everyone was there.

Everyone but you.

You knew, logically, they hadn’t meant to exclude you. They’d probably assumed Bob would tell you. He always told you.

You were notoriously bad at checking text messages and that’s how it normally worked. Someone organized, someone else texted Bob, and you got the invite through him. It had always been seamless, automatic. 

But not tonight.

Tonight, he hadn’t thought to mention it.

You turned your phone off and tossed it onto the couch like it burned, staring at the ceiling until your vision blurred. 

It wasn’t that you wanted to bowl, or drink cheap beer, or laugh until your sides hurt. It was that they’d all gone on being them without you, and the one person you trusted to keep you looped in hadn’t even noticed you were missing. 

An hour later, after you had skulked to your room, the front door creaked open. You held your breath, not making a noise as you listened to Bob ease inside before throwing the lock and kicking off his shoes. His soft footsteps trailed down the hallway and you sucked in a breath as they stopped outside of your closed door. He hesitated there for a moment, like he might wake you, then padded off to his room.

You waited until you heard his door click shut before you let the tears spill.

______

“Okay, Fury’s seriously late,” Phoenix said, squinting at her phone for the tenth time. She was perched on the edge of the booth, nursing her beer as the others laughed around her. “Did she text anyone? She saw my insta story so I know she’s not dead.”

“I called twice,” Hangman said, tossing his phone onto the table. “Straight to voicemail. Maybe she bailed?”

“She wouldn’t just bail,” Rooster said firmly. He thumbed at his phone again, firing off another text. Bob sat stiffly, a pit in his stomach growing with each passing second.

“What’d she say when you told her we moved the time?”

Rooster’s question was innocuous, but for Bob it dropped like a bomb.

The look on his face must’ve said it all, because Hangman groaned loudly. 

“You fucking didn’t invite her? Oh my god, Floyd!”

“I thought,” he stammered. “I thought I mentioned it.”

His heart hammered as he scrambled for an explanation.

“She…she usually just-”

“Shows up because you tell her,” Payback snapped, sharper than usual. “Damn it, Bob.”

Phoenix sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Well, call her now.”

“Her phone’s off,” Bob ignored Coyote as he frantically clicked her contact and pressed the call button. Swearing at her voicemail and trying again and again. 

Hangman shook his head in disappointment and Bob felt like the lowest scum of the Earth as the truth settled heavy over the table.

She wasn’t just missing. She wasn’t just late.

She knew.

And she wasn’t coming.

_____

Bob hadn’t slept. Not really.

Leah had dropped him off with a quick kiss to the cheek and a heartfelt reassurance that everything would work out with you in the morning. He’d given her a weak nod but the whole drive home he couldn’t stop replaying the night, the empty space at his side where you should have been. How quickly the night had come to an end after they realized his mistake.

He tossed and turned as Phoenix’s first words when they all arrived at the bowling alley still echoed in his head.

“Where’s Fury? She’s coming, right?”

Bob had blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah. She should be.”

Except you hadn’t walked in ten minutes later, or thirty, or even an hour after that. He’d shrugged it off, thinking maybe you weren’t comfortable after he tried to ask you what was bothering you. But when Phoenix brought up that you were seriously late, and then Hangman and Rooster had tried calling you, the truth had sunk in with a cold, heavy weight.

He never told you.

He hadn’t passed along the invite like he always did. He’d just…forgotten.

And now, the following morning, sitting on the arm of the couch watching you sip the coffee he’d made you as a peace offering, he wanted to kick himself. You looked tired, drawn, like you hadn’t really slept either. 

But worse than that, you looked guarded. Even more so than you had been the previous months.

“I thought I told you,” he started to say, wincing as soon as the words left his mouth. Because deep down, he knew he hadn’t. And the look on your face, the polite, closed-off little smile you gave him in return, felt like a door slamming shut.

What the hell is wrong with me? He thought, guilt gnawing at his gut. You’re my best friend. How could I forget you?

He winced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve… I mean, I just assumed you knew. Everyone else thought you were coming.”

You nodded once, lips pressed tight.

His knee bounced nervously from his perch on the arm of the couch.

“We missed you. Wasn’t the same.”

The words might’ve landed once. Once, you might have given him hell for forgetting to invite you, might’ve held it over his head and demand he do any number of ridiculous things to make it up to you. Once, you would have ribbed him and given him shit while laughing about the fact that you were so bad at checking your phone that Bob was basically your personal assistant. Once, those words would have been the catalyst for friendly apologies and forgiveness. 

But now, they felt like salt in a wound. The pictures you’d seen had told a different story, they looked plenty fine without you.

So you gave him a thin smile, the kind that didn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s fine, Bob. Don’t worry about it.”

He frowned. “Fury -”

“I said it’s fine.”

You sipped the coffee, letting the heat scald down your throat, using it as an excuse not to look at him.

He fell quiet after that, but you could feel his eyes on you, searching, trying to piece together pieces that he broke.

And you hated yourself for how much it hurt, that he could forget you like that. That maybe you weren’t the person he thought to tell anymore. 

But he didn’t press. Didn’t push. Just sat there, staring at his own hands, while the silence between you stretched wider than it had in years.

_____

The following Monday morning had a cheer going up when you walked into the hangar.

“Ayy there she is!” Rooster exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders while you stared at him in bewilderment.

“Are you on drugs?”

He let out a laugh and led you over to the break room.

“She’s a comedian, everyone,” he quipped back sarcastically. “Nah we all just feel like a bunch of fucking assholes for Friday. Not that it was really anyone’s fault besides Floyd’s but still, we should have realized sooner.”

There was a box full of your favorite pastries waiting on the break room table, the ones from the fancy patisserie across town that you rarely splurged for. You bit back a smile and shook your head at the poorly made “We’re sorry” banner sloppy laid out across the front of the table.

“You’re all ridiculous,” you said fondly, grabbing a pasty from the box. “You didn’t need to do this. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Well technically, the pastries were Bob’s idea, but we all chipped in on the sign.”

You snorted and took a bite, relishing the taste of buttery sugar on your tongue. 

“I told him it was fine too.”

“Oh bulllllshit,” Hangman piped up from where he was scrolling on his phone. “That idiot came in here looking like someone kicked his puppy and killed his grandma. He knows he fucked up. And we all have made sure to remind him of it since the moment it happened.”

Phoenix grabbed a pastry and gently hip checked you with a smile.

“Seriously dude, we all feel terrible. We thought you knew.”

You shrugged your shoulders and took another bite to avoid answering.

“Probably my fault anyway, shouldn’t have to rely on someone else for my social calendar.” 

“Oh please, don’t make excuses for him. He knows he messed up. He’s doing all your paperwork for the foreseeable future by the way, as a way of saying sorry.”

She gestured to where Bob was squatting under your bird, glaring at the landing gear like it personally offended him and you rolled your eyes.

“Really, it’s fine… maybe just, text me directly with plans next time, yeah?”

Phoenix’s gaze saw too much but she nodded.

“Yeah, of course. Although something tells me this isn’t something your better half is ever going to do again.”

You sucked in a breath and shook your head.

“He’s not my -” 

You glared at her smirk and flipped her off.

“You’re the worst.”

The rest of the guys cleared out of the room and headed towards their own rigs to do their flight pre-checks. Her smirk softened into something that you wanted no part of.

“Seriously though, are you ok?”

You clenched your jaw against the emotion welling up inside you.

“I’d…like to not talk about this right now. Please.”

You must have sounded pathetic since she immediately nodded with a solemn set to her jaw. Normally she was like a dog with a bone when she wanted information on something so the fact that she just dropped it screamed loads about your current state.

“Alright, but we need a girls night soon. I’m tired of all the dick measuring going on in this squad. Lord knows we all don’t own microscopes.”

You let out a real laugh at that, inhaling powdered sugar and coughing up a storm. She let out a cackle and slapped you on the back. You grinned back at her and let out a deep breath, your feelings about her back seater momentarily falling away as you got to work. 

That night you stayed late to work out at the gym on base, pushing yourself hard in the weight room before showering and heading back to Bob’s townhouse, hoping beyond hope that he’d be in bed or sleeping at Leah’s.

When you silently pushed the door open and heard music coming from the Alexa you bit back a sigh at your bad luck. You toed your boots off and hung up your bag, thinking maybe you could sneak into your room without having to see him. 

As if drawn by your thoughts Bob appeared in the front hall out of nowhere and you swore in surprise.

“Jesus Bob, you scared the shit out of me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sorry. I just wanted to make sure I caught you.”

You took a deep breath and met his gaze.

“What’s up?”

He blinked at you like he couldn’t believe you just asked that.

“Come on,” he gestured over his shoulder to the kitchen and you had no choice but to follow him.

The table was set for two and he gestured for you to sit at one of the chairs, scurrying into the kitchen and grabbing two pizza boxes from the oven, placing them on the table and then grabbing the blender pitcher from the freezer. He poured you each a glass and took a seat across from you, placing your margarita in front of you.

“Bob-”

“Please,” he cut you off, gaze imploring as he looked at you. “Please, just let me say this.”

You nodded at him to continue, pizza and marg sitting untouched in front of you.

“I fucked up. God,” he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I fucked up, so, so, badly. Not just on Friday, which, I really did, but I’ve been fucking up for months.”

His gaze bore into you and you took a drink of your marg to give your hands something to do.

“I am so sorry, Y/N. I know things have been… off with us. Ever since Leah and I started dating, and I haven’t been there for you the way I should be, the way I normally am.”

“Bob, that’s-” 

“No, I haven’t. I haven’t been there and I’m so sorry. You mean, god, you mean everything to me. You’re my best friend and I hate, I absolutely fucking hate, that we’re not ok.”

You stared down at the condensation dripping down your glass, throat tight.

The thing was, you missed him too. Missed the late-night takeout runs, the easy laughter, the quiet comfort of knowing someone always had your back. Things hadn’t felt right in a long time, but hearing him say it out loud made you realize just how bad things had gotten. 

“I don’t want us to be like this either,” you finally said, your voice low. “I hate it. I hate feeling like I lost my best friend.”

He looked up sharply at that, blue eyes searching yours.

“You didn’t. You haven’t. I’m right here.”

You gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Are you though? Because lately it feels like you’re halfway here, halfway somewhere else.”

Bob winced, the truth of that statement hitting him square in the chest.

“I know. And you’re right. I’ve been trying to balance things and…I just keep messing it up. Leah’s amazing, she is, but-” he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck again, “I should’ve made more of an effort with you. I never wanted you to feel like I chose her over you.”

The words made your stomach twist, your breath leaving you like you’d been punched in the gut.

You wanted to say it wasn’t about choosing, that you understood, but that would be a lie. Some selfish terrible part of you had wanted him to choose you, even if you knew he couldn’t.

You swallowed hard.

“I haven’t exactly made it easy either. I’ve been… distant. I’ve been weird and I’m sorry for that.”

Bob’s expression softened. 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“Yes, I do,” you said, shaking your head. “You didn’t deserve the cold shoulder. You’ve always been there for me,” you took a sip of your drink and raised an eyebrow at him. “Friday night and Thirsty Thursday notwithstanding,” you tried for a joke and he winced causing you to smirk.

“And I’ve been acting like you haven’t been there for me for the better part of a decade.” You hesitated, fighting to keep your voice from shaking. “I just… I want things to be okay again. I want us to be okay again.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the low hum of the fridge and the faint music playing from the Alexa. Then Bob reached across the table, his hand hesitating for a brief moment before brushing against yours.

“Then let’s fix it,” he said simply. “Whatever it takes. Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

You felt your throat close up again. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe you could do it too, that you could be around him without that ache in your chest. That you could go back to how easy things used to be. That you could go back to a time where you didn’t wish for something you couldn’t have. 

You managed a small, but genuine, smile. 

“Yeah. Let’s fix it.”

Bob’s shoulders dropped in relief, a smile brightening his face in a way that you hadn’t seen in months, as he grabbed your plate and slapped a slice of pizza onto it. 

“Good. Then we start with pizza and margaritas. I know it’s Monday, but we can pretend it’s Thursday. And you better drink all of your margs cuz I splurged for El Tesoro and the guy at the liquor store about fainted when I told him I was putting it into a margarita.”

You snorted a laugh, causing him to smile wider, the tension finally easing just a little. 

He raised his glass, eyes warm again.

“To fixing it.”

You clinked your glass against his.

“To fixing it.”

You took a sip, the tequila steading you.

As he started talking, about work, about a movie he’d seen, about how much shit the squad had given him for his stupidity in the hangar that morning, you listened. You laughed when he did, smiled when he smiled, and somewhere between the warmth of the margarita and the easy rhythm of his voice, you made a quiet promise to yourself. 

You were going to move on.

You were going to stop wishing for something that could never happen.

You were going to be his best friend again.

Even if it broke your heart to do it.

______

The next few weeks slipped into something that felt almost easy again. Back like your days in LeMoore, before your pesky feelings made themselves known and threw your entire existence into a tailspin.

You and Bob found your rhythm again, morning coffee runs, fighting over the aux on the drive to base, sarcastic banter echoing through the hangar like nothing had ever gone wrong. The squad noticed too, the awkward silences and sidelong looks faded, replaced with the same teasing camaraderie that had always defined you both. You no longer avoided Phoenix’s questioning gaze or Hangman’s knowing glare. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was comfortable. Predictable. Safe.

You started to remember what it felt like to just be with him, without the tension, without the ache. He’d text you memes in the middle of the day, nudged your shoulder when you zoned out during Cyclone's lectures, dragged you to that super sketchy sushi place for lunch that he loved like nothing had changed. And you began to realize maybe that was the point, that nothing had to change. 

Little by little, you let yourself believe it. You stopped overanalyzing every word, every look. You let the soft, familiar rhythm of your friendship fill in the empty spaces where longing used to live.

Some nights you’d still catch yourself watching him when he laughed too hard, or when he pushed his glasses up with that absentminded frown, but you forced yourself to look away. To remind yourself that this was enough.

Because it was enough.

It had to be enough.

He was happy, and you were okay. Better than okay, even. 

You could breathe again around him. You could tease him without feeling like you were breaking your own heart. 

You told yourself you were over it… over him. 

And most days, you gaslit yourself into believing that.

That particular night you were proud of yourself for it. Bob was out with Leah, and for once, the thought didn’t sting. You’d made dinner, showered, folded laundry with music playing low in the background. Just quiet normal ordinary things that didn’t revolve around him.

When you finally climbed into bed the house was quiet around you, and you let yourself revel in the calm. You were getting there. You really were. 

You were just drifting towards sleep when the lock clicked.

The familiar squeak of the front door, the shuffle of shoes on the mat, Bob’s routine, as ingrained in you as your own. But tonight there was another sound layered over it. Light, breathless laughter. Leah’s.

You froze, eyes snapping open in the dark.

The hall light cut a thin strip under your door and you heard the low rumble of Bob’s voice, muffled, followed by a sudden recognizable thump against the wall and a high pitched giggle. You didn’t need to see it to know what it meant.

You throat went dry and you pressed your face into your pillow, clutching it tighter and willing yourself not to listen. But then you heard the unmistakable sound of his bedroom door closing, and a silence that lasted only a few seconds before it filled with soft gasps and broken laughter, escalating into something so much worse. 

You shove the pillow over your head. Not enough.

You jammed your AirPods into your ears, swearing when the beep of a low battery met you. You turned on the noise canceling function anyway. 

Still not enough.

The walls in this townhome had never felt so thin.

Your chest felt like it was being crushed again, breath struggling into your lungs as you desperately tried to not picture what was happening on the other side of your bedroom wall. Your mind betrayed you, images flying behind your eyes like the worst kind of movie. 

You thought you had this under control. Thought you had it on lock down. But this… this was too much. 

Tears stung behind your eyes, but you blinked them away, furious at yourself. You had been doing so well. Taken such strides to draw that line between best friends and what you craved. And in one intimate sound it felt like all your progress had vanished. 

When the rhythm of the sounds next door sharpened, you couldn't take it anymore. You slipped out of bed, pulled on a sweatshirt, and grabbed your keys as quietly as you could, AirPods still jammed into your ears like they could actually block out what your brain had fine tuned into. 

The front door clicked shut behind you, the cool night air biting into your skin. 

For a moment, you stood there on the front stoop, staring up at the sky, and the faint stars you could see beyond the light pollution of the California coast. The few that cut through the haze blinked back at you, mockingly.

You whispered to yourself, to them, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

And then you walked. Anywhere but there. 

_____

Bob found you in the hangar, bent over a maintenance checklist with a grease pencil in hand. You looked collected, hair pulled tight, every line of your body screaming ‘focused professional’. Still, his stomach churned with the knowledge that you had definitely overheard something you shouldn’t have last night, especially when you weren’t in your room this morning, and he couldn’t shake his unease. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, almost tentative. “Got a second?”

You glanced up, brows raised, that familiar grin flicking across your mouth a split second too late.

“For you, Lieutenant? Always. What’s up?”

Bob swallowed. That smile didn’t look quite right, it was there, but didn’t reach like it normally did. He shifted, rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“I, uh… about last night. I didn’t mean to…” he cleared his throat and his face flushed in embarrassment. “It got… louder than I thought.”

“Louder?” you repeated with a laugh, light and breezy. You shoved the pencil into your chest pocket. “Relax, Bob. It’s not like I haven’t heard worse. Two pilots sharing a house - you think that’s the worst thing our walls have ever heard?”

Your tone was teasing, easy. You made it sound ridiculous that he’d even bring it up.

Still the guilt twisted tighter. 

“Shouldn’t have happened,” he said softly.

“Forget about it,” you replied, turning back to your checklist. “It’s already forgotten.”

You made it sound final, like a door closing. Bob hesitated, then nodded, retreating without pressing further. But the unease stuck with him as he walked away, because even if you said it was forgotten it sure as hell didn’t feel that way. 

Neither one of you noticed your teammate, eyes wide, disbelief written across his face as he watched your conversation unfold from behind your aircraft.

The apartment was quiet when you got home, the kind of quiet that vibrated against your skin. Bob’s door was shut, light glowing faint under the crack. You didn’t knock, didn’t pause.

Your own room welcomed you with silence. You tossed your bag on the floor and sat on the bed’s edge, elbows on your knees, palms pressing against your eyes. 

All day you’d worn the mask at work. You’d smiled with Phoenix, tossed jokes back at Rooster, acted like Bob’s apology was more than enough. 

It’s already forgotten, you’d told him - crisp and convicting.

But it wasn’t.

Not when the memory still rang in your ears. The giggle, the thump against the wall, the moans that cut through your pillow, through your dead headphones, through everything you tried. Not when the man that you loved had held another woman only a few feet away, completely unaware that he was tearing you apart. 

And this morning. This morning. His apology. Awkward. Half-formed. Like all he thought you cared about was the god damn noise.

If only it had been that simple.

You curled onto your side, staring at the ceiling. Your chest ached with the effort of holding yourself together, and this time you didn’t fight it. A hot sting welled in your eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth until the urge passed, until your breath steadied again. 

Tomorrow, you’d be Fury again. Smiling, unshaken, sharp-tongued, indestructible. 

But tonight, in the dark, you let yourself break. 

_____

The drive to base the following morning was quiet, the radio softly playing in the background as you stared out of the window of Bob’s truck, hoping that your face didn’t look as puffy as it felt.

You felt your phone vibrate with a notification and you pulled it out, absentmindedly looking at the email notification that appeared on your home screen. Your breath caught at the sender and your thumb hesitated before opening the lockscreen to read it. Your eyes flew over the message, and it took everything in you not to react outwardly at the words on the screen. 

Despite your efforts, you must have made a noise because Bob glanced your way.

“Everything okay?”

You cleared your throat and nodded, pressing the side button to lock your phone with forced nonchalance. 

“Totally, just one of those videos from that guy in Thailand that rescues street dogs. You know they always get me.”

Bob chuckled, the sound easy and unsuspecting, and turned his attention back to the road.

You kept your gaze out the window, heart still racing, the words on your screen looping through your mind. No matter how hard you tried to play it cool, a smile tugged at your lips, small, hopeful, impossible to hide. For the first time in a long time, the road ahead didn’t feel so uncertain.

____

You were in the comms room with Hangman, both of you winding down from your flight and listening to the rest of the team that was up in the air over the radio. He was flipping a pen in between his fingers and looking between you and the comm system. 

“Soooo,” he drawled. “Interesting convo between you and Bob yesterday morning.”

You clenched your jaw and rolled your eyes.

“Was there a question in there that I missed?”

He scoffed and leaned forward, forearms braced on his bent legs, pretty green eyes all too knowing.

“You okay?”

You pasted on a smile and pretended to look at the generic memo in front of you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

His stare let you know unimpressed he was with your answer. 

“I don’t know… If I had to listen to the girl I was in love with get busy with her boyfriend, in my own damn home, I think I’d be a little upset.”

You shot him a glare and looked around the room.

“Would you shut the fuck up please?” you hissed. “We are at work.”

He ignored you and flipped the pen in his hand, his gaze entirely too wise for someone that pretended only to care about himself. 

“You know, you can always crash at my place if-”

You cut him off with a glare. 

“I don’t need… I’m fine, okay? It’s not a big deal. It’s fine. I’m fine everything is-”

“Fine?”

You flipped him off and turned to look out the window onto the tarmac. 

“Look, I get that you’re ‘fine’,” the words were accompanied by air quotes. “But seriously if you need to talk, or you need somewhere to crash to get away from all that,” he gestured to the sky where Bob and Phoenix were flying. “You know where to find me.”

“Careful, Hangman,” you tried to jest through your tight throat, “or people here might actually think you have a heart.”

He stared at you for a beat, blinking in a way that made you feel entirely too exposed. 

“Don’t flatter yourself sweetheart, I’m just trying to get brownie points so you’ll share some of those pastries with me the next time Baby on Board ultimately fucks up.”

You let out a bitter laugh, ready to drop it, but his hand landed on yours and your entire body tensed.

“Seriously,” the weight behind his voice made you pause. “You don’t have to live like this. I… I've been where you are before. And you might think that you need to be strong and push through, but you’re allowed to take care of yourself and do what’s best for you. Even if it means stepping away from him.”

You tried to speak, but the words caught behind the knot in your throat. Swallowing hard, you managed a small nod, eyes fixed on the horizon. On the fading light ahead, and the man who would never be yours.

______

You’d left in a rush the next morning, late for an internal meeting, mail scattered across the kitchen counter. Bob came back from his run, tugging off his hoodie and paused when he saw the NASA letterhead staring up at him from the counter.

He froze.

The envelope was torn open, the single sheet half-tucked back inside. His name wasn’t on it, but it was impossible not to see the words bold at the top:

“We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for a final interview in Houston…”

His chest tightened. He skimmed the first few lines, heart thudding harder with every word, until guilt made him shove the letter back exactly where it had been. He sank onto a stool, running a hand through his damp hair, trying to breathe around the weight settling in his chest. 

When you came home later, still in uniform, you barely noticed him sitting in the kitchen. You dropped your bag with a sigh, reaching for the stack of mail. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bob’s voice was soft, but it cut through the quiet like a blade. 

You froze, fingers brushing the envelope. Slowly, you looked up, reading the expression on his face.

“Oh,” you said. Your throat was dry. “You saw it.”

“I wasn’t trying to-” he gestured helplessly. “It was just there.”

Silence stretched. 

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

Bob’s brow furrowed. 

“Fury, this is… this is huge. Why didn’t you want to tell me? You’ve wanted this forever.”

Your laugh was brittle. “It’s not a big deal, there’s gonna be nothing to tell when I don’t get selected. I wanted… better to keep it quiet you know? Fewer people to disappoint.”

Bob shook his head immediately, earnestness flooding his voice. 

“You wouldn’t disappoint anyone. You’ve got this. I know you do.”

The way he said it, the conviction behind his voice. Certain, steady, like he believed in you more than you believed in yourself, made your throat ache. You had to look away, staring at the envelope instead of his gaze.

“Please don’t tell the others,” you whispered, a rare moment of vulnerability peaking through.

Bob hesitated, then nodded once in agreement.

“Okay. Just me.”

The quiet stretched again, heavier this time, filled with all the things neither of you could say.

_____

It was one of those rare nights when the entire squad had a break, a collective exhale, and somehow everyone ended up crowding into a bar that wasn’t the Hard Deck for once. The noise, the laughter, the haze of neon lights wrapped around you like something familiar and safe as you sipped your drink.

Things with Bob had been… better. Easier. He’d been warm again, attentive in that quiet way that was so him. It almost felt like old times, if you ignored the echo of that one night, buried deep where you refused to touch it.

You were at the bar with Leah, of all people, waiting for another round of drinks while the others fought over the TouchTunes. She flashed you a bright smile, casual and easy. 

“So,” Leah said, leaning in just enough to be heard over the music. “Bob told me about your NASA interview. That’s incredible! I can’t imagine how excited you must be.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, any warmth from your buzz evaporating as your chest hollowed out.

You'd forced a smile to your lips, but your fingers had tightened hard around your glass. 

“Oh. He told you about that?”

Leah nodded, blissfully oblivious to the way your voice cracked. 

“Yeah, he’s so, so proud of you. He said you’d kill it up there. Honestly, it makes sense. You’ve always seemed… bigger than this,” she gestured around you. “You know? Like you’re meant for more.”

She’s sincere, earnest, the kind of woman that means every kind word. 

You'd managed a weak laugh, nodding along, because what else can you do?

But inside, something fractured. 

Because Bob had promised. He’d promised it was just between the two of you. And now, she knows. Leah, of all people, sitting there smiling like it’s nothing, but it feels like everything.

And she wasn't being cruel, not even close. She was being wonderful, the way she always is, and somehow that makes it just so much worse. 

Because how can you be angry at her? She’s being so gracious and supportive and everything you wish you could be. The only person left to blame for the sick feeling in your gut is yourself, for caring too much, for letting it sting, for being the fool who thought something so private could stay between you and your best friend. 

The bartender slammed a tray of drinks down in front of you and Leah squeezed your arm warmly before grabbing it and carrying the tray back to your table. You stayed rooted where you were, staring at the condensation sliding down your glass, trying to swallow the ache rising in your throat.

From across the bar Bob caught your eye and smiled, soft and steady, the way he always did. Unaware of the bomb that had just been dropped.

And you… you couldn't even look at him.

Later, outside the bar, you allowed the night air to cool the heat in your chest. Bob followed you out, concern etched all over his face at the fact that you'd been avoiding him since he saw you at the bar with Leah.

“Hey,” Bob said softly. “Everything okay? You kind of disappeared back there.”

You let out a shaky breath, exhausted from the boomerang of your emotions when it came to your best friend.

“Yeah, just needed some air.”

He didn't buy it, of course he didn't, but he waited patiently like he knows there’s more. And that’s what hurts the most, that he still knows you, still gets you better than anyone, even when you wish he didn’t.

You finally let some of the emotions you've been bottling up slip out when you turned to him.

“Thought it was just supposed to be between us,” you said finally, voice low and bitter. “The NASA thing.”

Bob froze, eyes widening as realization hits.

“Oh…shit. Leah…she said something? Fury, I didn’t-”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you cut in, swallowing against the lump in your throat. “I know. It’s just…” you forced a breath, shaking your head. “It’s my fault for thinking things could just be like they were. You have her, and that’s fine. Really, it is. I just… need some time to get my head around this new normal.”

He stepped forward, and you matched it with a step back.

“Please, Bob,” you try your hardest to keep your voice steady. “Just… give me a little space, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” you held up a hand to stop him and nodded.

“I know. I just… need some time.”

He nodded, stricken, and for a heartbeat you almost take it back. The look on his face made you want to tell him it’s okay, that you’re fine. But you’re not. So you turn and walk away before he can say anything else. 

You don’t tell him you’re going to Houston the following week. You don’t tell anyone except Mav when you drop your leave request on his desk.

It’s easier that way. Easier to pack your bag in silence, board a flight, and keep your phone on Do Not Disturb. Two weeks of training, evaluation, interviews and maybe, if you’re lucky, enough distance to finally breathe again.

Bob gives you 24 hours before he texts, concern evident since he hasn’t seen or heard from you. The text he receives back from you makes his heart drop.

In Houston for eval and training. Will let you know when I book my flight back. 

Bob tells himself not to worry, that you’re chasing your dream and are too busy to answer any of the dozens of follow up texts he sends your way. But the empty chair behind him in the ready room feels wrong. The silence in the car on the way home from base feels worse. 

The squad is hounding him about your whereabouts, Mav only letting them know that you requested leave for two weeks, but not budging on additional details. 

Bob is also silent about where you disappeared to, not stupid enough to make that critical mistake twice. 

He hadn’t been malicious when he told Leah. He’d just been so proud, bursting even. He’d been talking about you, about the two of you sitting on the roof years ago watching a launch on your outdated iPad, you declaring one day you’d be up there.

And he’d told Leah how that same fire was still in you, how the NASA interview was proof of your drive and unlimited gumption. He hadn’t even thought to say don’t mention it. 

Now, as he thinks he might have broken your friendship beyond repair, he wishes he hadn’t said anything. 

You’ve gone dark in Houston, and he feels it in every part of his day. He’s quieter than normal in briefings, slower to joke. When your name comes up in squad chatter, he looks away.

Leah starts to notice the distance too, the late replies, the distracted looks, the almost obsessive checking of his phone. When she lightly teases him about missing you, his face falls just enough to tell her everything she needs to know. 

He doesn’t say it but he feels it deep within his soul, the echo of something critical missing.

At first, it was just the little things.

He’d come home and catch himself calling out your name before remembering you weren’t there. He’d still make two mugs of coffee in the morning without thinking, setting one on the counter before realizing it would stay untouched.

He tried to fill the silence, dates with Leah, music, TV, late nights at work, but none of it helped. The townhouse felt too big, too empty, like it echoed with ghosts of conversations and laughter that used to fill it.

At work, he found himself glancing at your locker every time he walked past. The small sticker you’d put on it, a faded NASA logo, had started to peel at the corner. He almost fixed it once, hand halfway raised before he stopped himself.

Phoenix noticed the way he’d gone quiet. “You good, Bob?” she’d asked one afternoon after a post flight debrief.

He’d nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

It wasn’t a lie exactly. He was tired, but not from flying. From thinking. From missing you in a way that gnawed at the edges of his focus.

He started replaying the last few weeks before you left, before he had fucked up everything more than he knew.

He thought about the sound of your laugh in the car, fighting him for the aux and playing Chumbawumba on repeat much to his dismay. He thought of you sitting on the couch, bathed in the setting sunlight, looking up at him like he hung the moon.

He couldn't stop seeing the moment from that night, when your eyes dropped from his at the bar while Leah walked back with a tray of drinks. The moment that something in you seemed to give up.

And the thing that had hurt the most:

You hadn’t just needed space. You’d needed distance — from him.

And the worst part was, he couldn’t even blame you.

So he threw himself into work. Stayed later. Ran drills he didn’t need to. Anything to keep his hands busy, his mind too full to wander.

But at night, when the world finally went quiet, he’d catch himself scrolling through old photos, your shoulder pressed against his, your smile easy and unguarded, and he’d feel it again.

That sharp, hollow ache of missing something he hadn’t realized he’d already lost.

------

It all came to a head a week and a half after you left.

Bob had gone through the motions, flying, briefing, pretending everything was fine, but the silence in the townhouse grew louder with every passing day. Your coffee mug stayed in the sink. Your jacket hung by the door. He’d stopped even trying to text after the umpteenth unanswered message, but he still found himself unlocking his phone, staring at your name.

Leah noticed. Of course she did.

They had been taking a walk by the beach after dinner, the setting sun bleeding out over the water, when she finally said it.

“You don’t have to keep pretending, Bob.”

He blinked, caught mid-step. “Pretending what?”

She smiled, soft and sad. “That everything’s okay. That you’re okay.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head. 

“I think we both know your heart isn’t in this anymore.”

Bob froze. The words hit like a hundred G's, sudden and crushing, inescapable.

“Leah, what’re you-”

“It’s alright,” she said gently, cutting him off before he could stumble through the question. “You’re a good man, you know that? Too honorable to follow your own heart.”

Her eyes met his, clear and steady. “I’ve seen the way you look when her name comes up. The way you go quiet. I think… maybe you’ve already found the person you’re supposed to be with. And that person isn’t me.”

He swallowed hard, gaze darting away toward the horizon. He knew he should say something, deny her observation and tell her that she didn’t know what she was talking about. He should have fought, insisted that Leah was the one for him.

But he couldn’t.

Her observation froze him, rewiring his brain in a way that made it seem so obvious.

Leah smiled again, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

Bob squeezed his eyes shut in shame, gutted by her kind words. She wasn’t angry, wasn’t cruel, wasn’t even surprised. Just quietly heartbroken and willing to step away gracefully like the best kind of person.

He had walked her to her car, feeling like the world’s biggest ass when she kissed him on the cheek one last time and wished him luck. He had apologized softly, insisting that he did have feelings for Leah during their relationship, wanting her to understand that he never meant to make her feel like he wasn't fully committed. This made her quietly chuckle as she shook her head.

“I know, Bob. I could practically see your head explode with the realization when I brought it up just now.”

He apologized again, feeling like the scum of the earth and watched as she drove away.

He realized he should be feeling a lot more upset for a guy who’s girlfriend of 6 months just dumped him. He should be gutted, wrecked. But when he got home and shut the door behind him, the silence didn’t seem to crush him as much as it had before. 

He kept waiting for the ache to hit, for regret to roll in like a wave. 

It never did.

Instead, something quieter settled over him. A sense of clarity that left him equal parts relieved and terrified all at once.

In the days leading up to your arrival home, he found himself replaying every conversation you’d had before you left. Your lack of physical contact, pulling away, careful tone, the way you’d said you needed time, how you wouldn’t meet his eyes when you said it, but he could still see the hurt and disappointment radiating off you.

At the time he thought you had just been upset at the change in the dynamic, had been hurt because he told a secret that wasn’t his to tell. 

Now, he knew that was partially the case, but he also knew there was something more.

Because the more he thought about it, the clearer it became.

You weren’t just his best friend. You were the measure, the baseline he unconsciously held everything else against. Every laugh, every quiet morning, every woman he’d tried to love since meeting you.

And now that you were gone, he couldn’t unsee it.

He couldn’t unfeel it.

_____

Bob scowled at his phone, the group chat lighting up with a text from Natasha letting everyone know that you were on your flight back and she’d be grabbing you from the airport. That was followed by a threat to be at The Hard Deck at 6pm sharp for a welcome home party. 

Bob knew he had brought it on himself, that he had royally fucked up before you took off to Houston, but it still hurt that you hadn’t deigned to text him your plans or ask him for a ride from the airport. 

The bar was buzzing with energy when you and Natasha walked in. Rooster spotted you first, shooting off his barstool and crushing you into a hug that knocked the wind from your lungs. Hangman followed with a clap to the back and a drawled “Look who decided to grace us with her presence.”

The rest of the team crowded in at once, laughing, easily believing your lie that you were visiting family, but your eyes found Bob almost instantly.

He stood off to the side, beer in hand, posture just shy of stiff. He hadn’t rushed forward like the others, unsure of his place. He just… looked at you, like he wasn’t sure you were real. Like you had hung the sun and the moon in the sky.

And that one look undid all two weeks of mental barriers you had erected around your feelings for Bob Floyd. 

When the noise finally settled and Phoenix dragged the rest of the squad toward the bar, you found yourself walking over before you could second-guess it. 

“Hey,” you said softly.

Bob blinked at you like you were an apparition before nodding back.

“Hey.”

The silence stretched, thick and awkward. This was Bob, the one person you’d never had awkward silences with and now neither one of you knew how to fill it.

He offered you his bottle of beer and you nodded in thanks, taking it from him and swigging a drink to give yourself something to do.

“How was it?” he asked finally. His voice was careful, like he was afraid of the answer.

You shrugged, trying for lightness. 

“Grueling. Long days, lots of testing. I’m pretty sure I won’t want to see another centrifuge for the rest of my life.”

That earned you a small laugh, his gaze open and honest, boring into yours and pinning you where you stood.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said. Quiet, earnest. “I…hated the way that we left things. Hated that I fucked up so bad. That I hurt you-”

“Bob-” you cut him off. “Let’s not do this here okay? I’m happy to be back, we can talk more at home alright?”

He let out a deep sigh but nodded, bringing his arms up and pulling you into a hug before you could second guess it.

His arms were a solid weight around you, pulling you tight to his chest, encompassing you in a way that screamed ‘home’, and had the backs of your eyes burning. You returned the hug, holding him close while you could before pulling back, avoiding his gaze as you took a step away, your body singing from the close contact with him.

You were so fucked. 

The rest of the night passed in a drunken blur as your body settled back into this known routine. You laughed and drank and played pool with your friends, always hyper aware of Bob on the periphery.

You hadn’t conversed with him outside of your conversation leading up to the hug, and when it was the wrong side of midnight he gently helped you into the Uber he called, making sure to grab your bag out of Natasha’s car before sliding into the other side. 

The trip home was quiet, the air thick with something that you couldn’t name. 

You’d followed him into the kitchen, sliding onto your barstool as he poured two glasses of water, sliding one across the counter to you. His face was a little flushed with alcohol, his normally perfect hair mussed in a way that made you want to run your fingers through it.

He took a large drink and met your gaze. There was a pause, the kind that used to be comfortable between you. Now it felt like a minefield.

He took a breath, “Listen, about before you left… about Leah-”

You shook your head before he could finish. “It’s fine, Bob.”

“It’s not,” he said quietly, resolute. “I keep saying sorry to you lately, and I know that’s not fixing anything, but I just-” He stopped, exhaling hard. “I’ve been a shitty friend. I hate that. I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me.”

You looked down at the drink in your hands, throat tight. “You didn’t mean to.”

“No, but I still did it,” he said. “And I keep doing it. And I don’t know how to make it right except-” He stopped himself before he said too much. Except by earning you back.

When you finally met his eyes, he looked raw, open in a way that made it impossible to stay angry. You sighed, the smallest bit of your guard slipping.

“It did hurt,” his jaw clenched and he nodded. “But I get it. I know you didn’t do it to hurt me."

You took another sip of your water. "Look, I had two weeks to…think about things. And we can just call it water under the bridge, okay? I missed you and want things to go back to how they were…before. Can we just try to do that?”

His shoulders eased a little, that quiet hopeful light returning to his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll try.”

You gave him a small smile, the first real one since you’d come home.

He’d take it.

For now, that was enough.

Even if every part of him wanted to tell you everything. That Leah was gone, that he’d meant it when he said you were the person who mattered most, that he finally understood what it felt like to lose you.

That he had definitely been in love with you for the better part of a decade, but was just too damn stupid to see what was right in front of him.

Instead, he just asked if you wanted some more water, and when you said yes, he smiled like maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t ruined everything after all.

_____

After that night, Bob started trying. Really trying.

You could see his regret for his actions, his desperation for normalcy, in a hundred small ways.

Your favorite coffee waiting on the counter before you woke up. The playlist he coordinated for your morning runs. The way he’d start cooking dinner before you got home every night, pretending it was “way easier to cook for two.”

He’d linger longer in conversation, laugh a little louder at your jokes, meet your eyes a little too long when you talked. It was the kind of attention that used to come so easily between you, but now it felt… deliberate. Careful. Like he was trying to prove something to you.

And it was killing you... again.

Because every thoughtful gesture, every quiet kindness, every soft look across the table chipped away at the fragile resolve you’d built in Houston. You’d gone there to remind yourself that your life could be bigger than this, that you could stand on your own without orbiting around Bob Floyd.

But now, he was right there again. Making it so damn hard to breathe.

You told yourself he was just being a good friend. Making amends. Feeling guilty about letting your secret slip to his girlfriend.

Because that’s what it had to be. It wasn’t fair to think otherwise, not when he was still in a relationship.

So you smiled. You thanked him. You laughed when he teased you, and tried to ignore the way your pulse jumped when he brushed past you in the kitchen, large hand on your waist as he gently moved you out of the way so he could get to the fridge. You told yourself to stop reading into it, stop hoping.

But then there were moments that broke your resolve.

Like when you came home late one night and found him asleep on the couch, a movie paused on the screen and your NASA sweatshirt balled up under his head like a pillow. A handwritten note left for you on the counter that dinner was in the fridge and instructions on how long to put it in the microwave. The small smiley face and heart finishing the letter off.

Or when he looked at you across the bar one Friday and smiled, soft, open, like he’d finally found his way home.

You kept telling yourself he was just being Bob. Kind, thoughtful, good to his core.

You kept telling yourself not to read into it.

You kept failing.

Because every laugh, every shared look across the ready room, every casual touch of his hand against your back when he leaned close to point something out, it all felt like more.

You’d lie awake some nights, staring at the ceiling, furious at yourself for hoping. For letting yourself imagine he might look at you the same way you looked at him. Because Leah was still in the picture, at least, as far as you knew. And the guilt over loving another woman's boyfriend only added to your anger.

So every time he showed up with your favorite takeout, or left a Post-it note on your desk that said something stupid like Don’t forget how amazing you are, the ache sharpened.

Because kindness from Bob Floyd always came from love, and as always, the love that he was giving wasn’t the kind you so desperately craved.

And he didn’t know that every time he tried to show you how much he cared, he was breaking your heart all over again.

______

The first thing Bob heard when he opened the door with an armful of groceries was the chime of a FaceTime call, coming from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The name of the caller lit up the screen and Bob’s heart leapt to his throat at the name: Johnson Space Center - Houston, TX. 

The call cut off and he heard your muffled voice from your room where you had answered it from your phone.

He tried his best not to eavesdrop on your conversation, focusing instead on putting away the produce he had bought for tonight’s dinner. 

You emerged from your room a few minutes later, shoulders tight, eyes rimmed red. You stopped dead when you saw him in the kitchen, fully expecting him to be at Leah’s. His heart broke at the rejection written on your face and he watched as you attempted to pull yourself together, to not allow him to see you break.

“You okay?” he spoke softly even if he already knew the answer. He left the question open ended, leaving it up to you to choose whether or not to fill him in.

You forced a nonchalant shrug, and stared at a spot on the countertop, not meeting his gaze. 

“Guess I should’ve known I’m not what they’re looking for.”

His chest ached. You looked so small standing there, fighting to hold yourself together. He wanted to fix it, to make it right, to call up god damn NASA and tell them what a bunch of fucking idiots they had to be to not see your potential.

But all he could offer was the truth.

“They’re wrong,” he said firmly. “You’d have been perfect.”

You shook your head, but before you could argue his palms cupped your shoulders and he forced you to meet his gaze.

“They’re wrong, Fury. And just because you weren’t selected this time doesn’t mean it’s a ‘no forever’. It’s just not right now.”

You froze, the words and the conviction behind them hitting deeper than you wanted them to. 

Bob’s gaze didn’t waver.

“And when the time is right? You’ll be ready. And you’ll show them just how fucking wrong they were for not seeing how incredible you were the first time.”

Something in your chest cracked at that, because you almost believed him.

______

Things with Bob got worse before they got better, though “better” wasn’t the right word anymore.

Bob kept finding new ways to show up for you. The car battery mysteriously replaced before you could even complain about it dying. The oil in your jeep changed. The boots that you’d been meaning to take to get fixed somehow magically appearing in the front hall, looking like new. Fresh flowers waiting for you on the counter at home because 'they reminded him of you'.

He’d act like it was nothing, brushing it off with that shy, easy grin of his.

“Just figured I’d take care of it while I was there.”

“You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“Don’t mention it.”

And you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because every time he did something kind, every time his voice went soft when he said your name, you felt that quiet, impossible hope claw its way back up your throat.

And then you’d see a text light up on his phone, and you knew who it was from, and the air would go out of your lungs.

So once again you attempted to build walls for your own sanity. Little ones at first. You stopped lingering in the kitchen after dinner, started volunteering for more late exercises, more simulator time. You told yourself it was good. You needed distance, discipline, control.

But Bob noticed.

He noticed the way you smiled without really looking at him again. The way you laughed with everyone else just a little louder, a little brighter, like you were trying to prove something. The way you always had somewhere to be.

One night he finally said it, quiet but steady.

“Did I… do something wrong again?”

You looked up from the report you were pretending to read, your pulse jumping at the uncertainty in his voice.

“No, Bob. You didn’t.”

He nodded, but the crease between his brows didn’t ease.

“You just feel… far away lately.”

You forced a small smile, soft but tired. “Sometimes things like that happen in friendships.”

He looked like you’d just punched him.

You couldn’t stand it, the guilt, the ache, so you stood and brushed past him toward the hallway, pretending not to see the hurt in his eyes.

Behind you, you heard him exhale, quiet and shaky.

And later that night, when you passed by the living room, you caught sight of him sitting on the couch. The lights off, a half-drunk beer in front of him, staring at nothing.

It was the first time you’d ever seen Bob Floyd look lost.

And it broke something in you that you’d worked so hard to keep whole.

After that night it was like Bob doubled down on his efforts. Like he was determined to rip down the walls you were frantically trying to build. 

Bob was everywhere.

He’d wait for you after debriefs, walk you to your car, drop off your favorite snacks “just because.” He started remembering the little things again, the brand of protein bars you liked, the playlist you used to play before a mission, the fact that you hated when people talked during takeoff.

It was familiar. It was safe.

And it continued to hurt like hell.

So you laughed when he made jokes. You thanked him when he did something kind. You smiled and deflected, keeping your voice light even when your chest felt too tight.

You built the walls back up one polite sentence at a time.

And Bob...

Bob could feel every brick, and worked valiantly to rip each one back down. 

He didn’t know what else to do. He thought he was showing you, really showing you, how much you meant to him. But every time he reached for you, you seemed to pull just a little further away.

He’d catch you watching him sometimes, quick glances that vanished the second he turned his head. The kind of look that made his heart race, even as doubt started to creep in around the edges.

Maybe he’d waited too long.

Maybe whatever you’d felt for him was gone.

He replayed every conversation, every time he’d seen your smile falter, every time you’d chosen distance over closeness. The thought that he might have missed his chance tore at him. Not because you didn't care, but because he'd unintentionally hurt you too deeply for you to ever let him back in.

His mind tortured him with all the ways he hadn't realized he'd hurt you during his relationship. But the one thing it kept coming back to was the night that you overheard him and Leah having sex, the forced nonchalance in your tone the following morning. The way you looked like you were just holding it together.

And he had thought you'd been upset about the noise.

He started second-guessing everything. Should he say something? Should he tell you that Leah was gone, that it had been over for more than a month, that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since?

But then he’d see you laughing with Hangman or teasing Rooster, that same easy grin on your face, and the words would die in his throat.

You looked happy.

And Bob Floyd had never been good at taking something that wasn’t freely offered.

So he stayed quiet.

And he waited.

______

The ready room was nearly empty, just the hum of the air conditioner and the shuffle of papers. You were perched in one of the jump seats, half out of your flight suit, running through your checklist like it held the answers to life’s mysteries.

Bob hovered nearby, like he always did. He’d been watching you for days now. Watching as you smiled when you should’ve been upset, cracking jokes too quick, and acting fine when something about you screamed otherwise. He could tell you were getting to your breaking point with something… him most likely, he thought. And he wanted to be there to catch you in the fallout. 

“Hey,” he said gently at first.

"Hey," you continued to scan the list in your lap.

"You alright?"

"Just peachy, Bob."

He ignored the sarcasm behind your words.

“It seems like you’ve been off lately.”

You didn’t look up from your checklist, even though he knew damn well it had been completed minutes ago.

“Just tired.”

“You’ve said that a lot.”

“Because it’s true,” you snapped a little too fast, eyes still glued to the page.

Bob shifted closer, frowning. 

“It’s not just that. You’re different with me again.” His voice dropped, almost pleading, sick of this same old song and dance. “Did I do something?”

You sharply exhaled, flipping the clipboard shut.

“Bob, drop it.”

“No,” your gaze snapped to his at the finality in his tone. “You’re my best friend. You think I don’t notice when you’re pulling away from me… again? When you won’t even look at me when I’m trying so hard to make things normal? Tell me what’s going on.”

Your grip tightened on the clipboard.

“It’s nothing.”

His gaze burned into you as he took a step closer. The air seemed to tighten, shrinking the space between you until you could feel the heat of him.

“It’s not nothing,” he said, his voice low but sharp now, that rare edge cutting through the calm he usually clung to. “These past months have been killing me. So just…fucking tell me. Please,” he begged. “Whatever it is, I can take it.”

You froze. His words hit something buried, something you’d worked so hard to keep locked away. For a heartbeat, all you could hear was the rush of your own pulse. The silence between you was heavy, trembling with everything unsaid.

You’d spent months pretending, mastering the smile, the glance away, the practiced silence every time his name was mentioned. It was easier to lie, to carry the ache quietly, than to risk everything by speaking it aloud.

But now, with him standing there, eyes fierce, chest rising and falling like he’d been running, it was all too much. The weight of it cracked something open inside you.

“You want the truth?” Your voice came out sharp, brittle, almost a laugh but not quite.

“Yes!” His frustration boiled over, raw and desperate. “Please, Fury.”

And the dam finally broke.

You shoved to your feet, chest heaving as you threw the clipboard onto your chair and spun towards him.

“The truth is I can’t do this anymore, okay? I can’t sit here pretending everything is fine, holding myself together while I watch you with someone else. While you forget me and then treat me like I mean more to you than just a friend. I can’t fucking stand another night when you bring her home and then act like the only problem is the noise.”

The color drained from Bob’s face. 

“I was never mad about the noise, Bob!” your laugh broke, jagged. “I’m mad because it’s you. Because I’ve been in love with you this whole fucking time, and every day I have to watch you give yourself to someone else, when all I want is to be that person! I have to watch you touch her and kiss her and laugh with her like it’s not fucking killing me. And I have to sit there and just be the best friend because I was a coward and didn’t tell you how I felt after the Uranium mission.”

Just as quickly as the fire had lit within you it sputtered out. The room went silent but for your ragged breathing. Bob just stared, stricken, like the floor had dropped out from under him.

You were shaking, staring at a spot on the floor as your voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You wanted the truth? There it is.”

And before he could speak, you shoved past him and stormed out, the slam of the ready room door echoing in your wake.

______________________

Me, leaving y'all on that cliffhanger:

JK PLEASE DON'T KILL ME I PROMISE IT WILL GET BETTER!!

You always did have the worst timing. For being one of the best fighter pilots in the world, you think you’d be a bit more observant.

You had been friends with Robert Floyd for years, graduating from Top Gun in the same class and placing first overall. You worked like a well oiled machine, him in the backseat and you in the box, and you blew the rest of your class out of the water.

Spending that much time with someone led to a fast friendship forming. One that spanned the years following North Island. It followed you through late night patrols, deployments to separate continents, funerals for fallen comrades, and many a failed relationship on both sides.

Bob Floyd was your best friend, had been your best friend for years, and always would be your best friend. And you were totally content with that.

Until the day that he was selected to go on Maverick’s mission and you weren’t.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, timing absolutely impeccable, as Bob pulled away from giving you a shaky hug, tapping his flight helmet against yours in tradition and looking into your eyes.

It crashed over you like a tidal wave as you watched him climb into the backseat of a plane that was about to take off on what was, for all intents and purposes, a suicide mission.

It drowned you, pulling you under as the cockpit slid closed and he turned towards you, putting his hand up to the window and forcing a watery smile as he looked at you one last time.

You were madly, desperately, hopelessly in love with your best friend.

And there was a very real chance that this was going to be the last time you saw him alive.

You clenched your shaking hands and turned towards your own aircraft, saluting the groundcrew before ascending the ladder to the cockpit, settling in as you watched Dagger squad go through precheck.

“Spare 2, armed and ready,” your voice carried through the radio.

“Spare 1, armed and ready,” Hangman’s voice came through the comms and you took a deep breath as Payback, Phoenix, Rooster, and finally Maverick called in ready. Your gaze was locked onto Bob’s plane, eyes fixed on the white of his flight helmet as if you could project your thoughts directly into his mind just by looking hard enough.

Please, you thought, please come back to me safe.

You and Jake sat idle on the deck watching as each dagger was catapulted off the deck, taking to the sky and fading into the distance, taking part of you with them as they went.

When, miraculously, they had all come back safely at the end of the day, you swore you wouldn’t let another day go by without letting Bob know how you felt.

You always were the best at lying to yourself.

There was always a justification for holding off.

That night on the aircraft carrier was madness, the party that took place among the crew not at all according to regulation but epic nonetheless. Music was blasting through the mess, smuggled alcohol was being purposefully overlooked by the MPs, and the Dagger Squad was in rare form.

Bob was flushed with excitement, his grin hadn’t stopped since pulling Rooster into an embrace after their dramatic landing on the deck.

You had smiled at the absolute joy on his face as he looked around and took in their complete squad, a day full of miracles leaving him breathless with wonder and gratitude.

His gaze had caught yours from across the mess and he wildly gestured you over. You couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across your own face as he pulled you into a bonecrushing hug, pulling you back and shaking you a bit in excitement.

“Fury! Can you believe it!?”

You laughed alongside him and shook your head.

You really couldn’t believe that everything had worked out the way it did, but you were so incredibly thankful that Bob, and the team, were home safe.

The thought flickered through your mind then, about pulling him away and telling him about your newly discovered feelings, but you quickly shook your head against it. He was having so much fun, high on life, a bit drunk, and it wouldn’t be fair to deprive him of that.

No, you thought, there would be a better time.

———

You realized you probably should have told him before you agreed to sign a lease with him.

Against all odds, the higherups had decided to keep Dagger Squad on permanent station at Miramar. While the squad was happy to stay in each others orbit (training and executing a suicide mission will create lifelong friendships, who’d have known), most of them weren’t actually stationed in San Diego.

So followed the month from hell that saw the team packing their homes, shipping cars cross country, and figuring out housing for their new rotation.

You swore as you deleted another listing off your favorites list on Zillow rentals. Most of the pictures had been AI generated and the place was actually a dump. Not to mention $200 a month above your price range, and an hour away from base with traffic.

Bob had graciously allowed you to crash in the sparsely furnished spare room at his townhome. He had somehow finagled his way into the real estate deal of the century and you were extremely jealous as you drove back to his perfect little home.

You kicked the door shut behind you, dropping your keys on the entranceway table and toeing off your sandals.

“Honey, I’m home!”

You called out and were met with a laugh coming from the kitchen.

“In the kitchen, darling!”

You bit back a smile at Bob’s high pitched imitation and slid onto one of the barstools, watching as Bob spread condiments across a few slices of bread.

“How’d the showing go?”

“Oh great,” you smiled as he placed a Diet Coke in front of you and took a sip, heart skipping at the gesture. “It will just be me and me 20 roommates. Only down side is they’re rats and the place was a freakin pit.”

Bob sighed, finishing up the sandwiches in front of him and placing one in front of where you sat on the bar. Your eyebrows flicked up in surprise and you nodded your thanks.

“Anyone tell you that you’re the best?”

He blushed and turned back to his sandwich.

“That bad, huh?”

You sighed through your bite, swallowing and letting out a little moan at how freakin good the sandwich was.

“Worse than you can imagine. It was also way over my budget. I don’t know how anyone lives in this stupid state. Everything is so god damn expensive.”

Bob hummed and took another bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as if mulling something over.

“You know,” he swallowed, “You could always just stay here.”

You sucked in a breath and stared at him, eyes wide. He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“It’s just- it would be nice to split the rent, and most of your stuff is here already. That spare room wasn’t going to be used for anything anyway. Just thought it might make sense, is all.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to softly let him down. It wasn’t fair to the man to have a roommate that was secretly in love with him afterall.

As if he sensed your denial, he shrugged and turned back to his sandwich.

“Just think about it is all. You’re my best friend and we’ve lived together before, I think it’d be easy to pick it back up. But you don’t have to say yes if you want to live somewhere else.”

As it turned out, you were never all that good at saying ‘no’ to Bob Floyd.

———

You hadn’t really accumulated a lot of stuff during your time in the Navy, so your official ‘move’ into Bob’s spare room consisted of Phoenix, Rooster, and Hangman inviting themselves over to ‘help’ move the 6 sad boxes, a dresser, and 1 ikea bookshelf from the UHaul to your room. Helping, of course, consisted of downing the beers they brought over and yelling ‘pivot’ at each other as the guys struggled to get the bookcase up the stairs to your room.

You and Nat were unpacking your boxes, hanging clothes on hangers and organizing the closet as the boys continued to struggle with the stairs.

“Aren’t most of them like, actual engineers? You’d think they’d have figured this out by now,” you joked and Natasha laughed, folding clothes into the dresser at your direction.

“Just cuz they’re engineers doesn’t mean that they’re actually smart, Fury.”

“Touche.”

“So,” Nat changed course, “how are you feeling about living with Bob again?”

You shrugged, a play at nonchelance as you focused on smoothing out one of your shirts, keeping your hands busy and your eyes away from the extremely perceptive pilot in front of you.

“Good, we roomed together back at LeMorre a few years ago so shouldn’t be anything too different. Just gotta remember to clean the lint trap when I do laundry or Bob might actually evict me this time.”

You could feel her gaze boring into you and you reached for another shirt to keep yourself distracted, feeling a tendril of sweat roll down the back of your neck.

“Yeah, the only difference is you didn’t realize you were in love with him back then.”

The flimsy Homegoods hanger snapped in your hands at her words.

Reallllll smooth.

Your gaze narrowed on her knowing one and you opened your mouth in rebuttal but she held up a hand to stop you.

“Save it, I’m not an idiot, dude. I do, in fact, have eyeballs, and it’s plain as day that you’re head over heels for him.”

“Would you keep your voice down,” you hissed at her, lunging like an animal towards the door and slamming it shut so nobody would hear. You turned back to her in indignation.

“I’m not… it’s not like…” you trailed off at her unimpressed look as the fight left your body all at once, and you sunk down to the floor. You flopped dramatically on your back and scrubbed your hands over your face.

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” she snorted at your dramatics and continued placing your clothes onto hangers, cool as a cucumber.

“Was it during the mission?”

You let out a squeak from behind where you were still hiding your face with your hands and nodded your head.

“Hey,” she pulled your hands away from your face. “Why haven’t you told him?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself up on your elbows.

“Oh I don’t know, Nat, maybe because he has been my best friend for over a decade and has never once shown any romantic interest towards me. Not to mention the fact that we now live together so I would be homeless if things were to go tits up!”

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic - you’d never be homeless you’d come stay with us. That just sounds like an excuse to me.”

“That’s because it is, but I don’t appreciate you calling me out on my bullshit like that! So rude.”

She laughed and shook her head. A knock came from the door before it swung open.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything steamy in here, ladies, but if I am, don’t stop on my account.”

You threw the broken hanger at Jake Seresin’s head.

———

Living with Bob was wonderful torture.

You picked up right where you left off, easily falling back into the groove of living in each other’s space. It happened too easily and your traitorous heart screamed that it just showed how effortless it would be to be with him, romantically.

You found yourself on the cusp of blurting out your feelings to him on a few separate occasions, just barely biting back the words before they could spill from your lips.

The one day where your simulation had gone catastrophically wrong, leaving you to be absolutely reamed out by Cyclone, had Bob cooking you an entire feast, plying you with wine and reminiscing about all his most embarrassing stories just to get a smile out of you.

You’d been loose with alcohol, curled onto the couch and drowning in one of his sweatshirts that you’d nabbed from the laundry. Your body had filled with warmth as you watched him animatedly tell you about the time where he and his cousin had played hooky, and ended up trapped on a ride at the local amusement park. When his mother had turned on the news she’d received the shock of her life to see the both of them being helped out of a roller coaster car by the local fire department.

You couldn’t help but smile at the amusement on his face, watching as his eyes lit up with laughter at the story. His hand pushed his glasses back up his nose as they slid down, and everything in you screamed to reach over and plant your lips against his.

You’d beaten back those thoughts with a stick.

He’d have blamed it on the wine if you said or did anything that night.

You’d woken up late one morning, swearing at the fact that your alarm hadn’t gone off. Glaring at your phone you unlocked it only to find the calculator app up, a glaring 0630 staring back at you from the equations bar.

A knock at your door had you scrambling out of bed and you called for him to open the door.

“I tried to let you sleep as long as possible. Your flight suit is washed and on the kitchen table. Coffee is in a to go mug and I made a few breakfast tacos for you to have on the drive to base. Can you be ready in 10?”

You stared at him in awe, one foot frozen in a pair of regulation pants as you balanced on one foot. It would have been so easy to tell him then.

“Bob Floyd, I am in love with you.”

But you bit back the words again, swearing your undying loyalty to him as you scrambled to get ready.

Running late and scrambling to get out the door so you both wouldn’t be late for work definitely wasn’t the time to confess your actual love for the man.

So you waited.

You continued to have movie nights in, your feet in his lap, the both of you red with laughter as you binged old comedies. He had his nights out and you had yours. Girls nights with Nat and nights out with the squad.

Bob came home late every now and again and you assumed he had been out with Rooster or Hangman.

You waited and waited.

Nat pushed you to come clean, tired about hearing all about how her backseater’s eyes were so blue, or how he was so funny. She was definitely tired about hearing you theorize what he’d be like in bed, gagging and shutting your train of thought down as she punched you in the arm.

But no matter how much she pushed you just couldn’t do it.

Because the truth was you were so, incredibly, scared.

The thought of flying into enemy territory, easy peasy.

The thought of telling your best friend that you were in love with him and maybe wanted to have his metaphorical babies one day? Fucking terrifying.

You were a coward, thru and thru, and your cowardice was finally going to come around and bite you in the ass.

———

It was a night at the Hard Deck just like any other. Same old song and dance - Hangman and Phoenix running the pool table, the rest of the guys taking over the dart board, and you and Bob sat at the bar chatting as usual.

You watched with what must have been a lovesick smile as he animatedly told you a story from training the day before and something settled deep in your gut.

You tried to shake the obvious look from your face as he looked down to his phone with a smile and decided that you’d had enough of waiting - it was time to man up (figuratively speaking) and tell him how you were feeling.

If he didn’t feel the same then you would deal with that when it happened.

You took a deep breath and turned towards him fully, willing yourself to meet his gaze.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he nodded his head and let a big smile cross his face.

“Me too!” he looked down at his phone before back up at you, excitement clear in his gaze.

Your heart skipped a beat, surely there was no way… this wasn’t a movie and things like that didn’t happen in real life, but still… the way that he looked at you with that smile he couldn’t tamper down made your pulse beat faster.

You gave him a shaky smile and nodded, watching as he practically bounced on his toes in excitement.

“You go first,” you couldn’t resist one more delay, it would give you an additional minute to get your nerves up.

As if those words were a dam that broke his restraint he blurted out the words that changed everything.

“I have a girlfriend!”

———

Part 2

Beautiful colors of pink and violet were painting the sky, the sun beginning his descent towards the western aerosphere. It had shined brightly throughout the entirety of the squad’s monthly beach day, bathing your skin in warmth and golden light.

“For fuck’s sake, Javy ! You guys can shoot down a target from two hundred feet while flying at Mach one but you can’t aim a volleyball for shit !” You snapped, dusting the thousands of grains of sands from your book and towel.

Next to you Natasha was hiding a laugh behind her own book.

Pointing a finger at her, you warned, “don’t you dare laugh at me, Nat.” You got up to brush off more sand off your legs, “that’s why I hate going to the beach with them, there’s nothing less relaxing on this earth,” you mumbled out, a frown making the lines on your forehead prominent.

“My bad, Lightning !” Jake called out, his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, though his tone was very much not apologetic, and the smirk stretching his lips only fueled the irritation simmering under your skin.

Glaring at him, you debated for a second on yelling back a piece of your mind, indulge into this game he seemed to initiate anytime he could. Riling you up, provoking you and then simply grinning like an idiot when you eventually ended up taking the bait.

But for once, you decided to be the bigger person. So you settled on raising your middle finger high enough that he could very much identify what lovely sign you were throwing his way.

“I love you too, darlin’ !” He yelled back.

You rolled your eyes so hard you feared for a moment that they’d get permanently stuck.

“Careful, you’re blushing,” Natasha snickered, still lying next to you.

Scoffing you flipped her off as well, “which side are you on ?”

“The side of love, darlin’.” She smiled in a perfect imitation of Jake’s Texan drawl.

You couldn’t have contained the laugh that broke out of you even if you tried, “shit, you actually sound just like him.”

“I know,” she cooed, obviously proud of her trick, “is it turning you on ?” She inquired, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

A shocked laugh escaped you, “Geez Nat—“

“OH MY GOD WHAT TIME IS IT ?” Javy’s sudden gasp made you both jump as he came running towards you, where all of the squad’s stuff was and he started abruptly digging through his bag.

“It’s seven.” Bob supplied after a quick look to his watch.

“I was supposed to meet my mom for dinner fifteen minutes ago,” he explained, panicked as he was hastily grabbing all his stuff and throwing it carelessly in his bag. “Jake, can you drive me ?”

Usually, you carpooled to avoid bringing everyone’s car and having to park too far away if the beach was busy that day.

“Let me think about it…” Jake walked over, deliberately slow, pretending to think it over.

Javy groaned, not in the mood to entertain his friend’s antics, “come on, man.”

Jake sped up a bit, raising his arms in mock defense, “alright, alright, don’t throw a fit mama’s boy. I’ll drive you.”

As he was gathering his own stuff, you suddenly saw him frown, and then frantically look around. Lifting his towel, emptying his bag only to pack it again, passing his hands in the sand in visible hope of stumbling upon something…

You were about to throw in a witty remark when you noticed something missing on his wrist.

His watch.

His father’s watch.

In its place was now a tanning line. A ribbon of whiter skin surrounded by his Californian and natural Texan tan.

It didn’t take a genius, nor being Jake’s best friend to know how precious that watch was to him, or to guess that it might have been one of the last few things left from his dad.

He wore it at all times. There weren’t much occasion you had seen him without it ever since you’d met him. It had stayed securely around his wrist all throughout Naval Academy, and then had stayed through every one of his deployment until he got permanently assigned in San Diego. During every flight, every mission, every exam even, every casual outing… You could always see the watch rest proudly on his cuff. Perhaps it was the only thing about him Jake didn’t feel the need to flex, a quiet legacy he carried around with him, feeling the weight of it in his every move, every decision.

The only times he ever took it off was during underwater training and at the beach if he went for a swim. Surely a watch like that was waterproof and even capable of descending a few feet deep, but the fact that Jake was unwilling to bring it with him in an environment it was specifically designed to survive in, was only another proof of its value to him.

He never talked about it. Never ever voiced the words ‘my dad’ out loud, but everyone knew. You knew.

Javy was ready to go, packed bag at his feet as he hastily threw in a t-shirt over his head, “Jake ? Are you good to go ?”

Jake froze for a moment. It was rare to see him display anything other than sheer haughtiness. And it weirdly tugged at your heartstrings to see him look so lost for an instant.

You were about to help him look for his watch — sure you hated him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel empathy for him losing something so precious to him, when—

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He said a bit absentmindedly, his eyes still frantically looking around as he stuffed, slightly violently, all his stuff in his backpack.

He quickly got up, threw the bag over his shoulder as Javy was waving everyone goodbye and starting to make a run for Jake’s truck.

You watched Jake with a shock you hoped wasn’t too visible. Yes, he was the emotionally constipated type, never one to speak about feelings or do so much as even mention or acknowledge them, but surely when he was about to lose, perhaps forever, the one thing that probably meant more to him than the whole world, he would say something, express himself, let it out.

And you knew that if he’d speak up right now, the whole squad would stop everything and help him look for it. Javy would run right back on the warm sand and rampage through the entire beach if he had to.

Surely, he had to know that the squad wouldn’t see him as weak over getting a little panicked upon losing the one item he held so dearly in his heart ?

But you watched, stunned, and for some reason with a weight pressing down on your chest, as Jake looked one last time at the beach, eyes boring into the sand as if the distance would give him some perspective and help him spot the watch in a nanosecond.

“See you on Monday,” he threw to everyone over his shoulder, soundly halfhearted as he turned around and began to walk towards his truck, joining Javy.

The image stuck with you for some reason. it was like seeing him willingly abandon a piece of himself behind, and for what ? Just so he could hold on to his ‘feelings make you weak’ Hangman persona ?

If you had been closer to him, and in any place at all to call him out on this, you would have screamed at him. Yanked him back by the collar and prohibited anyone to leave this beach until the watch wasn’t back on its rightful place, on Jake’s wrist.

“I think I’m gonna head out as well,” Reuben spoke up, “does anyone want me to drop them home ?”

“Me please,” cheered Mickey, dusting some sands off his chest.

“Yes, please. Thanks Reuben,” Bob smiled, gathering his things.

“I’ll ride with Y/N, we’re gonna head back as well, right ?” Natasha turned to you.

If you had been able to say anything other than insults and provocative remarks, you would have reassured him.

If you had been able to consider yourself his friend, you would have helped him look for it.

“Y/N ?”

But you were capable of none nor were you any of those things.

And still—

“Actually I’m gonna stay a bit longer,” you blurted out without really thinking about it.

“You sure ?” Natasha questioned, skeptical.

“Yeah, the sunset is beautiful, it’s still warm and my book is getting really good, I’ll stay for a bit.” You assured, as if trying to convince yourself more than Natasha.

“Alright,” she conceded, still eyeing you a bit suspiciously, “be careful, you text me when you get home and don’t forget that Penny’s right next door if you have any problem,” she pointed to the Hard Deck which was facing the beach.

“Yes mom,” you chuckled as she playfully rolled her eyes at you.

As Reuben’s car drove away, you stood there for a moment. Watching the waves crash on the beach, the soothing sound of it blending with the distant echo of music coming from the Hard Deck. This beach wasn’t an especially popular one, and you marveled for a second at being the only person standing there.

Why had you stayed ?

You kinda had blurted it out without any real thoughts of what you would actually do once left alone.

Because you hadn’t stayed for the sunset or your book, in fact, the book was getting a bit boring if you were honest.

Jake’s expression when being met with the realization he’d lost his watch suddenly flashed into your mind and it made your heart clench. And perhaps it was what prompted you to start digging in the sand where his towel had previously been lying.

“I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” you muttered to yourself while rummaging through the sand, the watch couldn’t be far… right ?

You didn’t even notice when the warm light of the sunset got subsided by the sharp, white one of the moon.

The spot where the squad had previously established its camp was empty. You didn’t find anything apart from a few seashells and a colony of small crabs that you had probably woken up from their slumber.

You probably should have gone home. The watch obviously wasn’t there. But then your gaze drifted out towards the ocean… the guys usually played volleyball closer to the water, perhaps Jake had lost the watch around there ?

The cold breeze coming from the ocean had started to pick up as you searched the grounds of what was previously the volleyball court.

And when you didn’t find anything there, you moved on to other parts of the beach, trying to remember and retrace the entirety of Jake’s steps during the day. Your knees were aching from being constantly on them, hands pruned from the wet sand you’d been digging up, nails completely darkened by the grains. Your phone was slowly dying, using all its battery to shine inside the holes you were digging up, desperate to see a flash of silver. And it was cold, so, so cold. The wind was getting stronger, making you clutch your hoodie tighter around yourself.

The moon had well settled into the sky now, an indicator of just how much time you’d spent there.

You had wanted to give up, oh so many times. But everytime you had wanted to get up and leave, an image of Jake’s face would flash back into your mind. The way he had looked back at the beach, like he was saying goodbye to his dad a second time. And every time, without fail, your brain had conjured images of him getting home, and calling his mom back in Texas, telling her about how he had lost the watch and the image was just too painful for you, enough to bring unwanted and in your opinion, unjustified, tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much.

Anyone could have argued you were being overly dramatic over a guy who you proclaimed your hatred towards from the rooftops. And you would have agreed. But you wouldn’t leave this beach until the watch was secured in your hands.

You were on your hands and knees, near shore where the water was gently lapping up at the sand, bringing new things and taking away some when—

“Y/N ! Is that you ?”

Penny’s voice from the front of the beach made you jumped.

“Jesus Christ, Penny !” You exclaimed, a hand over your racing heart, “you scared the shit out of me !”

Jogging up lightly to meet her, you saw her frown when she took in the state of you, her worried face illuminated by the Hard Deck’s sign.

“What are you doing out there, sweetheart ?” She asked softly, and you could perceive the same tone in her voice she’d use with Amelia sometimes, no doubt that her maternal instinct were kicking in, seeing you all alone, covered in sand and digging up holes in the dark.

“Oh I was— I lost my bracelet earlier, you know we had our beach day with the squad ? Yeah, so the bracelet means a lot to me and I— I couldn’t leave without it.”

You pestered Jake for being emotionally constipated but you couldn’t even admit to Penny, of all people, sweetest woman alive who’d never judge you, that you were doing this solely for him.

“I see,” she said, an empathetic smile pulling at her lips, “I’ll help you.”

“No don’t worry Penny, it’s alright, promise. I’m all good.”

Was there a sick part of you that wanted to be the one to find Jake’s watch ? Maybe, you would deny all of it thought.

“At least I’ll wait for you, I just closed the bar.”

“Don’t worry,” you repeated with the sweetest smile you could mutter out at the moment, “I won’t stay much longer anyway.”

“You sure ?”

“I am, thank you though that’s really nice of you.”

“Could you at least activate your location please ? And also text me when you get home, okay ?”

Saluting her you let out a chuckle, “I will, Penny. Promise.”

“Alright.” She conceded, bregrundly.

She knew this beach was safe, otherwise she would have never left you alone. You parted with a warm hug and watched her drive away, similar to how you’d watched your friends leave a few hours ago now… God, had it been really that much time ?

You were beginning to lose hope, Jake’s watch seemed to have truly vanished, and you tried to ignore the heavy feeling sitting on your chest that came along with this conclusion. Telling yourself to check towards the west side of the beach before leaving, though you knew it was useless, you couldn’t really recall Jake going there, you still crouched, and began to dig, again…

Phone flash blasting in the dark, the light reflected on something then…. Silver !

“Oh my god !”

You rubbed your eyes to make sure the sight in front of you was real and not the fatigue making you hallucinate. But it was real, the small silver circle was still there.

“Oh my god !” You exclaimed again in a laugh, immediately digging in.

And sure enough, the watch was there. Covered in sand, but there. You carefully inspected it for damage, but other than the general dirt, it seemed fine.

Turning the watch over, your eyes caught something. The initials of who you could only guess was his father were delicately engraved in the metal, G.S. Before you could even think about it, your thumb passed, almost tenderly over the gravure.

A small, disbelieving laugh escaped you again, and it was incredibly chocked up. You didn’t even notice you’d been tearing up until you felt something wet roll down your cheeks.

Quickly you wiped the tears off, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck even though you were the sole person standing on this beach, moonlight illuminating your figure.

Forcing your emotions to settle down, it was only a watch for Christ’s Sake, you practically ran all the way back to your car. It felt as if your whole body was buzzing, and you couldn’t explain this weird feeling of excitement and… was it fulfillment ?

A genuine giddiness was coursing through your veins as you drove home, you couldn’t wait for Jake to have his watch again. See him settle, knowing his father’s legacy was in him, like it’s always been and always would be, but the physical representation of it, back on his wrist. The comforting weight of it bringing meaning to every one of his moves.

The excitement kept you awake once you were home, so you took the time to carefully clean the watch. You physically couldn’t give it back to him like that. And soon enough, once you were sure that there was not even the tiniest grain of sand left in any notches, only then, did sleep finally caught up to you.

The sun wasn’t even up yet when you made your way to base the next morning. You had decided that you would just leave the watch in his locker, he didn’t need to know who found it, and maybe he wouldn’t be too happy to see you holding his father’s watch, considering you hated each other…. Right ? At least that’s what you told yourself.

Arriving in front of his locker, you opened his numbered lock, honestly who was stupid enough to put in their birthday as a password ?

But then, anyone could argue that it was weird you knew his birthday, as someone who hated him so much.

Refusing to give this any more thought, you neatly placed the watch in his locker, on a little rag. You made sure one last time that it was perfectly clean, made sure it was not askew, made the sure the rag wasn’t wrinkled…. And for a moment it felt as if you were stalling.

“My god, I need to get a grip,” you mumbled to yourself, finally closing the locker door, a bit more forcefully than you had intended.

“I’m telling you, my mom is obsessed with getting me in a relationship !” Javy complained to Jake on their way to the locker room, “last night she just kept showing me pictures of her friends’ daughters and being like ‘you two would make an adorable couple’ like, oh my god, can’t a man go at his own pace ?”

Jake only hummed, not exactly in the mood to discuss Javy’s mom self proclaimed matrimonial agency.

Each of his step was heavy. Heavy with the lack of sleep and the mass pressing down on his chest. The missing weight on his wrist made him feel strangely stripped bare, like a piece of himself was missing, left where he had abandoned it on the beach the night before.

When Jake had gotten home after dropping Javy off, he had cursed himself. He couldn’t believe he had actually walked away, without even taking the time to look for the watch, no he had just left.

He had to refrain back tears when his mom had called him that night, asking him about his day, and he hadn’t had the courage to tell her what had happened, consumed by sorrow and shame. He felt pathetic. He spent that entire night sulking, thinking about how ashamed his father would be if he saw him like that. It felt like letting him down.

“Like she doesn’t get that I don’t want to settle down, I mean not yet anyway—“

“Yeah, tell her you want to keep bringing girls home from the Hard Deck every weekend for a little while longer, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear it.” Jake finally answered Javy’s rant, trying to give his remark its usual wit.

“You fucking jerk, you’re supposed to be on my side !” Javy whined, opening up his locker.

Jake was abort to retort something but the words died on the tip of his tongue when he opened his own locker.

He froze.

He was met with his watch. Neatly placed on a small rag, looking as new as the day he had received it from his dad, just a few days before losing his battle against cancer.

His heart skipped a beat in his chest. How ?

Jake stayed there for what felt like an eternity to him, but was only a few mere seconds, just staring at the watch. He could faintly hear Javy next to him still talking, now rambling about how his mother compared him to his cousin or whatever, but the sound of his voice was drawn out, an echo in Jake’s ears.

With shaky hands, he gently grabbed the watch and immediately turned it over, eyes fixed on his father’s initials that he traced with a tender pass of his thumb, and his heart clenched, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of emotion.

He had no idea how the watch had gotten there, and perhaps it should have worried him a bit more — whoever this was had cracked the impossible code of his locker for Goodness’s sake ! — but he chose to pay it no mind.

Now Jake wasn’t superstitious or a believer of any kind, far from it, actually. But in this moment, he chose to believe that whatever, whoever had found his watch and brought it back to him, had somehow been missioned by his father, who had probably been very upset about his son being so careless with the precious time teller.

Jake knew it was stupid, truly. His father, from the beyond, somehow orchestrating a whole plan to find the watch left on the beach and leave it in his locker on base, was a stupid theory. But the thought of it made a warmth spread out in his chest and his eyes sting slightly. So he decided that for once, he would let himself believe in a little stupidity.

This weird mix of euphoria and serenity hadn’t left him the entire week. He felt good, more confident now that the watch was back on his wrist. And he would sometimes just stare at it for a few moments, in amazement and incredible gratefulness for having been given a second chance, that’s how he saw it. And he would honor his father in every action he took while securely wearing the watch.

He had found a new vigor, a new desire to win, one that made him better, he thought. Though the squad would probably argue it just made him more insufferable.

So that’s with a pumped up step that Jake walked into the Hard Deck that week end, closely followed by everyone.

“Alright, what do you guys want ?” He cheered, still in an exceptionally good mood.

The squad all gave him their orders before going to find some seats, you merely grumbled a ‘nothing that comes from you’ and somehow, Jake understood it meant a virgin mojito.

He made his way to the bar, patiently waiting for Penny to finish off her conversation with a customer.

“Hey, sailor !” She greeted with a smile when she saw him, “what can I get you and the squad ?”

After he told her, she started to prepare the drinks on front of him, making small talk, asking about training, how life was on base when—

“Oh by the way,” she seemed to remember, momentarily stopping the making of your virgin mojito to look at Jake, “do you know if Y/N found her bracelet ?”

Jake frowned, confused.

“Um, I don’t know. I didn’t know she had lost a bracelet,” he said, head turning slightly to look for you in the crowd and he suddenly frowned more, looking back at Penny, “in fact, I didn’t even know she wore bracelets, her wrists are usually bare.”

“Oh, because I saw her last week, after your guy’s beach day. I closed the bar a little earlier than usual because it was pretty quiet, and she was there, digging in the sand, looking for her bracelet. I proposed to help her but she said she was fine. It was quite late though, so it really must have mean a lot to her, that’s why I was wondering if she’d found it. But I’ll ask her myself later then, thanks Jake.”

Penny’s words had the effect of a sledgehammer hitting Jake right in the chest. The realisation dawned on him and he froze for a moment, not sure what to do with the newfound piece of information.

“You okay ?” Penny asked him, his shock seemingly visible on his features.

Her voice got him out of his trance.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, thank you for the drinks Penny, talk to you later !”

He made a beeline for the spot the squad had settled in, their usual one, next to one the pool tables. He absentmindedly handed the drinks to everyone, keeping your virgin mojito in his hands and making his way over to you. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that it was borderline painful. It seemed as though his vision had zeroed in on you, only you. Images of you on the beach at night, cold, alone, tired but still looking for his watch flashed into his mind and he felt a knot get caught up in his throat.

He barely heard the ‘thank you’s’ the squad threw him.

Leaning over some of the high tables near the windows, you were watching Mickey, Reuben and Bob engage in a heated game of pool.

“No Mickey it’s still my turn,” you watched with a smile as Reuben interjected his friend, “you sinked the cue ball so I get to shoot twice, gosh you’d think that you’d know the rules after playing literally every week end !”

You snorted, amused by their banter. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake walking towards you. Expression unreadable but his step visibly determined.

Arriving in front of you, he practically shoved the drink in your hand.

“I told you I didn’t want anything,” you said, monotonously, nonetheless still grabbing the glass.

Any excuse was good enough to start a fight with him.

You turned your gaze back to the pool game unfolding in front of you, but when the quick wit you were expecting from him never came, you turned back to him, frowning.

His jade green eyes were trained on you. Chest rising up quickly, like he’d ran a marathon before coming here. You didn’t think you had ever seen him so… moved.

“You good ?” You asked, letting your tone convey the tiniest bit of concern.

Jake took a shaky breath, “why didn’t you tell me ?”

The hand that was bringing the glass to your lips froze halfway through.

“Tell you what ?”

“My watch.” Was all he said, eyes still boring into yours, seemingly looking for answers you were absolutely not intent on giving.

Your eyes quickly flicked to the leather band sitting proudly on his wrist.

You had noticed it all week, how it was right back on shining on his cuff. How Jake had seemed to smile even more cockily than before, brighter. And you hadn’t been able to ignore the weird, warmth feeling spreading in your chest every-time you had caught him eyeing his wrist with a flash of pride and cherish.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, forcing yourself to keep an annoyed tone as your eyes flicked back up to meet his.

“There’s no use in lying, I know it was you.” He said, voice firm and steady despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to choke him up, “why ?”

You weren’t known to give up that easily.

“Jesus Seresin, I literally told you I have no idea what you’re talking about, go win at darts or something, leave me alone.”

Swallowing uncomfortably under his prying gaze, you silenced the tiny voice in your head that was telling you just how much similar to Jake you were in terms of showing feelings.

Facing your stubborn resolve in not telling him the truth, Jake let out a small, humorless laugh, “Y/N I just want to thank you properly, so please, for once, just let up.”

Let up. Stop fighting me for a second, was really what he was saying. And looking at him be willing to be honest and open for once did something to you.

“I did it because you looked all pathetic, okay ? And really, I didn’t want you sulking all day on base and mess up every training.” you finally conceded, tone annoyed despite the loud thumping of your heart in your chest, “besides it was just underneath where you had put down your towel, so really you could’ve found it if you had put a bit more effort into it. But I guess that it’s just another thing I’m better at than you, huh ?”

It was a complete lie. And both of you knew it.

Just the fact that you had been the only one to notice he had lost his watch told him everything he needed to know. And he knew from Penny that you had stayed well past midnight looking for it. To see you in front of him, knowing the length you had been to for him — despite what you were saying — made his heart do something inexplicable.

And Jake moved before he could think any more about it. He slightly bent down to wrap his arms around you, slipping under your own and hugging your middle, bringing you into his chest, chin resting on your shoulder, head touching yours.

All your muscles stiffened on instinct. The contact took you by surprise and you stayed frozen like that for a second, letting him hold you without reciprocating the touch.

He was warm, very warm. His arms were tightly wrapped around you, one draped across your shoulder blades and the other one across your waist. His body was firm against yours and for a moment, you almost thought you could feel the thumping of his heart against your chest. Your head was resting just shy of the crook of his neck, on his shoulder, and despite yourself, you caught a whiff of his smell, residue of jet fuel, his expensive cologne, the warmth of his skin and something so undeniably him it almost made your head spin.

“Thank you,” he whispered shakily, a small crack in his Hangman armor.

Those words and his tone felt like a detonator, hearing him sounding so small almost broke your heart. It only took a second after that for your arms to wrap around his neck. And as soon as your arms made contact, you felt his whole body relax and melt into you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered back, rubbing his back comfortingly.

He seemed so small in this moment and it pulled at your heartstrings to know he was letting you be the one to seem him like that.

“You don’t know how much this means to me.” He murmured into your neck.

Oh, but you did. That was the whole reason you had done it.

It seemed as thought the entire bar had gone quiet, leaving only Jake and you, wrapped up in each other. You had no idea how long you stayed like that. But you certainly weren’t complaining, your arms tightening around him was met with the same intensity from Jake.

But the sudden sharp sound of a glass hitting the floor and shattering in pieces took you both out of the peaceful and comfort trance the embrace had took you both in. And you both found yourselves pulling away, reluctantly.

You noticed the slight pink hue dusting Jake’s cheeks, and his green eyes were bright, almost glassed over, shining with unshed tears.

God knew that if you had the courage you would take him into another embrace right here and then, and not let him go until the first rays of sunshine peaked through the windows, or realistically, probably until Penny kicked you out.

But unable to succumb to your deepest desire, no matter how much you wanted to, you instead fell back into your old ways.

“Try not to lose it again, cause I won’t get it for you next time.” You warned, though your tone was missing its usual bite.

You would.

You would do it all over a hundred times if needed.

Jake let out a laugh, a bit choked up, but a genuine one nonetheless.

“I promise.” He said in a smile as bright as a thousand suns.

And you had a scary realization then.

That in fact, there was not a lot you wouldn’t do to see him smile like that again.

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author's note : I have had this fic idea for literally forever and I’m so happy I finally got down to write it.

I really wanted to kinda ‘dig deep’ into Jake’s character here, I hope it worked and that I was able to do him justice. He’s my baby I love him so much.💞

Jake took the long way home, window opened, ocean air greeting his face and the sounds of the crashing waves making a poor attempt at soothing his racing heart.

Back at his place, it was clear to him that he wouldn’t get any sleep. He watched TV, reviewed his flight route sim for Monday, cleaned his apartment… twice. No matter what he did, his heart rate wouldn’t go down, nor the sweat slicking his palms no matter how many times he wiped them on his pants.

Jake didn’t consider himself to be a nervous kinda guy, by any means, but perhaps he had underestimated what the knowledge of the woman he’s been in love with for so long confessing to him in a few hours would do to him. It was a weird mix of excitement and sheer nerves. Had the course of your entire relationship truly changed in one night because of too many drinks you’d had ? Would the night and sobering up change your mind ?

By the time he had turned over these questions endlessly in his mind, he was taken out of his trance by the first rays of sunlight passing through the cracks of his poorly closed blinds. Without a second thought for these endless questions, he got ready to go back to your place.

Jake found himself standing in front of your door for the second time in the span of just a few hours. If earlier that night he’d been hopeful, excited and without any other words to describe it — love sick, the beating of his heart felt more hurtful than love struck now.

Swallowing felt difficult as he raised his hand to knock three times on your door.

The silence that followed somehow felt deafening. God, he should’ve known. You had changed your mind, probably sobered up and realized the mistakes you had made, you were avoiding him, playing dead, probably planning the papers to be transferred—

“Seresin,” your voice boomed, startling him out of his spiral as you opened your door in one swift movement, “you’re late.”

The relief upon seeing you was short lived, as a confused expression distorted his features.

“Late ? How am I late ? The sun’s barely up !” He countered, one arm pointing to the skyline where pretty shades of pink and yellow had began to illuminate the atmosphere.

“It’s actually been up for ten minutes, where has this military punctuality of yours gone ? I said first light, it’s the fourth one at least”

A scoff escaped him, and before any more futile arguing remarks could leave his mouth, he realized something. You were there. You had opened the door and not shooed him away yet. He barely could contain the small smile stretching his lips as he took what he hoped was a discreet, long look at you.

You had already closed shut your door behind you. You had changed clothes, which made Jake feel a bit stupid because his anxiety spiral didn’t even let him make the effort for you. Standing in front of him, arms crossed, looking at him with that frown that never seemed to leave the crease between your brows whenever you looked at him. The first and only time it did was just a few hours ago, he thought. But your usual cold and stern facade was betrayed by the pink hue blooming on your cheeks, a shade that reminded Jake of the one painting the sky above you. And that’s when it truly hit him. You had opened the door. You were there. Which could mean only one thing.

“Well, I’m here now,” he said, trying so hard to repress the giddy smile he could feel forming on his face.

“Yes you are.” You answered, an expression on your face that Jake couldn’t read.

“Is your head okay ?” He questioned a bit sheepishly, “I have ibuprofen in my car if you need.”

“I’m okay, thanks. I took one already, right when I woke up and realized the room was fucking spinning.”

Jake grimaced lightly.

“We can talk another time if you wa—“

“No.” You interrupted him firmly, “we are talking right now.”

Jake chuckled, raising his hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay, can I at least buy you something to drink and eat ? I know a nice place.”

“Is anything even opened right now ?” You asked, obviously dubious.

Jake couldn’t help but find funny the contrast of your behavior right now compared to just a few hours before with a little alcohol flowing in your veins. The stars had replaced the glowing sun of California when at this same place, right in front of your door, you had been ready to confess your love for him. And now you were acting like usual, meaning you were acting like his mere existence was a nuisance. To anyone, it would have looked like you had changed your mind and were ready to send him on his way. But to Jake, who never once missed a cue in your comportment, no matter how small or how imperceptible, it looked like an awkward attempt at keeping things the way they were — if only for a few minutes — before they inevitably changed forever. He had to admit, it was a strange feeling, to stand in front of one another, both aware of the words that you would exchange. And he couldn’t imagined how it felt for you, to have realized, and worse, outed the idea of your feelings when you were obviously not entirely in control of yourself. A control Jake knew you craved and found comfort in.

“Yes, it’s actually not too far from here.” When he saw your non-impressed look, he let out a chuckle, “come on, they even sell those French pastries you like,” he coaxed.

That seemed to do it, and somehow, Jake knew it would.

“Alright,” you conceded, “lead the way, Hangman.”

The drive was rather short. Jake wasn’t able to say if the silence filing the car was uncomfortable or just… charged.

Charged with every word left unsaid, that despite never having been spoken in the open, you both knew the extent of.

By the time Jake parked in front of the small coffee shop, the sun had settled in the eastern sky, casting a golden glow over San Diego. The early morning birds had begun to sing, it was a nice summer morning, Jake thought. It felt even nicer knowing what was to come.

“Ohh it’s cute,” you marveled, taking a look around the shop as you passed the threshold of the door, which Jake was holding open for you.

“I know, right ? And look right there.”

Your gaze followed his finger to the display of various pastries. It was like seeing your eyes light up, and Jake was unable to hide the huge grin stretching his lips at seeing you make a beeline towards the counter, admiring the sweet pastries from up close. He followed close behind you.

“See anything that catches your eye ?”

“Oh I sure I do.” You grinned.

A second after, a woman with a warm smile and kind eyes, came out of the kitchen in the back.

“Good morning, what can I get for you ?”

Jake turned to you, signaling you to go first.

“Hi,” you smiled, “can I get—“

A hot chocolate and a ‘pain au chocolat’, Jake guessed.

“A pain au chocolat and a hot chocolate, please.”

He did his best to hide his proud and fond smile.

“And for you, sir ?”

“Just a coffee, thank you.”

Jake paid for the two of you, promptly ignoring your protests. He led you to the backyard of the shop, where small tables were spread out around the yard. Trees and bushes were hiding it from the streets, giving it the intimate atmosphere Jake thought you would need to be comfortable. Adorned with flowers which colors seemed to come alive with the early morning greeting them, the yard was empty, except for the two of you, standing there.

“That’s really cute,” you remarked, looking around with a small smile on your face, “how did you even discover this place ?”

Jake led you to a small table, holding the trays with your drinks and food.

“Javy actually found it first,” he said, pulling up your chair, “occasionally we come here before or after training.”

“Ohh so you have little dates with Javy, I see,” you teased, sitting down, “what does that make me ? Your dirty mistress ?”

Jake let out a laugh as he sat down across from you, “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

“Our relationship isn’t off to a very great start,” you joked.

Jake’s heart skipped a beat right then and there, and he froze for a second.

“Relationship ?”

He cringed internally at how pathetically hopeful he sounded. But you didn’t seem to perceive his tone as expectant, only hearing slight surprise that your anxiety and nervousness totally misread in the moment. Panic flashed through your eyes as you rushed to explain yourself.

“I mean I thought that that’s what we were— you know because of yesterday ? I just— I mean I thought that was implied— but maybe I misunderstood—“

“No no, you’re good, that’s exactly what this is,” Jake interrupted your panic issued rambling, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible and not let show every bit of the giddy nervousness overwhelming his system.

You visibly couldn’t contain an exhale that perhaps you didn’t even know you were holding, and Jake could see your shoulders drop slightly out of relief. You let out a little embarrassed laugh that translated just how uneasy this whole situation felt.

“Sorry, this is a bit awkward,” you said, heat rushing to your cheeks at addressing implicitly the matter of this encounter between the two of you, “it’s just— I mean you know it’s weird, just like knowing we, um we both, you know.”

“Are in love with each other ?” Jake supplied, a small smile stretching the corner of his lips.

Your breath hitched on an inhale. The words seemed to hang between the two of you, freezing time if only for a second. And for a moment, Jake feared you would deny the word ‘love’, perhaps reduce it to ‘like’, diminish the affection you felt towards him, but—

“Yeah,” you only exhaled, a shy smile making its way onto your face and Jake physically felt himself relax, “so, where, um— where do we start ?”

“Well first I’d like to know how you realized after five mojitos that you were in love with me after spending the last few years hating me like you were paid to.” Jake said, teasing smirk firmly in place in hopes of hiding the way his heart was hammering against his rib cage.

Letting out a laugh you tore your gaze away from him, pointedly looking at the daffodils in bloom on your left, “yeah,” you admitted, stretching out the syllable, “that kinda came out of the blue, didn’t it ? That wasn’t exactly my plan to have it happen like that.”

“I can imagine.” Jake answered, smile reassuring as he tried to catch your eyes.

“I’ll be honest,” you said, straightening up and gaze returning back on him, as if regaining a bit of courage now that the words had finally passed the threshold of being spoken out loud, “I never, ever, not in my fucking wildest dreams, would have thought that I’d end up falling in love with you.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Jake laughed, “we didn’t really hit it off at first, and for the next years after that.”

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed in a laugh as if you remembered something, “do you remember when we met ?”

“I think the proper question would be if I could ever forget it.”

“I fucking hated you.”

“Feelings reciprocated, sweetheart,” Jake winked as you giggled.

It was a hot day in Pensacola, Florida. Which was pretty much the case of everyday in the Sunshine State.

You couldn’t contain the mix of excitement and nerves flowing through your veins as you passed the doors of the Naval Air Station. Today would be your first flight. You wouldn’t be solo, of course not, you’d be safely assisted by an instructor in your back seat, but still. After four grueling years at the Naval Academy and six month in Pensacola, you’d finally get your familiarization flight. It was putting you just a step closer to your dream, and what a step it was.

You had spent literal years visualizing and imagining this very day, and you were certain that nothing could ruin your day.

“Y/NNNN !” The loud shriek of your name startled you on your way to the locker room.

“Jesus Christ, Natasha !” you laughed, turning around to see her, “keep your voice down !”

She totally ignored you, jogging up next to you, falling into your step as you both made your way to your lockers.

“Okay but on a scale from one to ten, how fucking excited are you ?”

Hiding the huge smile stretching your face was impossible now.

“Twelve !” You squealed, putting all your stuff into your locker.

“God I can’t wait,” Natasha sighed, almost dreamily as she was putting her own stuff into her locker. “Did you see ? They sent us the list of our partners last night.”

“Oh did they ?”

While you would be flying with an instructor in the backseat, you would be flying in the same time slot as another student, navigating a small exercise together.

“Yeah, I’m with Kathy. I’m so relieved, I was scared to end up with Javy.” She exhaled as you were making your way to the briefing room.

You let out a laugh, Natasha and you had both met Javy during your first year at the Naval Academy and Natasha and him bickered and fought every time they could.

“Come on,” she laced her arm through yours, making you quicken your step, “they said the list would be hanged in the briefing room.”

You made a beeline for the list once you passed the threshold of the room, Natasha hot on your heels. Scanning the list with focused eyes, you searched for your name.

“I looked for your name last night, and you’re with a guy named um— what was it again… Jaden, I think ?”

“Jake.” You corrected when your gaze landed on your name next to a guy’s one.

“Yeah that’s it. He’s not in our class, I see him around sometimes. Guy’s southern and he has the biggest Texan accent I’ve ever heard, makes me crack up every time I hear him honestly,” Natasha chuckled behind you, before adding, “he’s super hot though.”

Turning around to face her, you raised an inquisitive brow.

“Objectively !” She defended herself, feeling exposed under your prying stare, “I’m just saying, if I liked men, I’d totally go for him.”

You couldn’t have hidden the surprise you felt at her words.

“He must really be something, then.”

“Oh trust me, he is.”

And Natasha was right, he was. But in the worst possible way.

He seemed charming enough when you went up to introduce yourself to him before the flight, when Natasha had pointed him out to you.

“Hey, I’m Y/N,” you said with a polite smile, extending a hand, “we’re flying together for the familiarisation flight.”

You had been doubtful of Natasha’s marvels about his looks. But you had to admit, he was hot. And hot wasn’t even cutting it. He looked like the type of man you fell in love with in dreams, a man so perfect it left your heart empty when you’d wake up knowing that no one even close to that man existed.

“Jake,” he said with a smile so charming it almost left you speechless for a second as his big hand slid into yours, his warmth immediately sipping into your skin.

And you felt your heart do something weird in your chest.

Ever since entering the Naval Academy and more so when entering the Naval Flight School, you had pretty much closed off every romantic relationship, choosing to focus on your career. And Jake was doing something very dangerous to your focus right now.

But his heavenly looks were quickly subdued by his godawful personality. And that was a harsh come back to reality.

“So this flight will consist of a small exercise, the one you’ve been training for on the sim. You’ll be in total control of the plane, we’re just in your backseats to make sure you don’t run us into the ground. Sounds good ?” Both yours and Jake’s instructors had explained in the ready room.

You had trained for this exercise probably harder than everyone else in your class, spending almost a hundred hours on that damn simulation to be sure to get it perfect for the big day. And from what Natasha had told you, Jake had been top of his class at the Academy and he had the highest sim scores out of every recruit on base.

Surely, this would be easy.

Take off went without any problem. And it felt surreal to finally have your hands on the center stick and know you were the one controlling the giant metal bird.

“Alright,” you heard your instructor’s voice behind you and echoing in your comms, “steady altitude, ceiling’s at ten thousand feet, start when you are ready.”

Making a turn right, you officially started the exercise. It was only a matter of placement, teamwork and height control. Nothing tricky or especially hard, nothing you hadn’t been training for.

Keeping a steady pace for the first part of the exercise, a quick look to your left made you frown. Jake’s plane was way too close to yours, more than what was necessary for a formation like that.

“T-6 one reporting to T-6 two” your voice crackled in the comms, “could you back up a little please ? You’re too close.”

“T-6 two reporting to T-6 one, I’m far away enough, staying in position.”

You — barely — contained a surprised and offended scoff. What the hell ?

What did he mean, ‘far away enough’, the guy was practically clipping your wing !

You expected your instructor or his to say something, tell him to actually back up, but they didn’t. You guess that as they had said, if none of you were in active danger of crashing, they wouldn’t intervene.

Swallowing back your pride, you said nothing else, just focused back on the exercise.

But it just got worse from there.

Jake was not even following the formation and exercise course anymore, deciding to show off and toe with the altitude ceiling.

“T-6 two to T-6 one, taking some altitude.” He said, not even a question, his voice sounding commanding.

Without a response from you, he took the initiative, plane rising up a few feet.

“T-6 one to T-6 two, abort, you’re too close to the ceiling.” You retorted, barely hiding your exasperation with his antics now.

“Not even a little, join me.”

The sheer audacity of that man was making your blood boil. You were about to cut his bullshit short when the voice of your instructor carried over from the backseat.

“You need to stick together, pull up.”

Your hand froze on the center stick for a second, what the fuck ?

“With all due respect sir, aren’t we supposed to steer clear of the ceiling ?”

“As long as you aren’t breaching it, it’s all good. Match his altitude.”

Reluctantly, you positioned your airplane next to his, keeping a reasonable and textbook distance from him.

Then out of nowhere, Jake sped up, leaving you behind and fuming under your helmet. What the fuck was this guy doing ?

“T-6 one to T-6 two, you are going too fast, slow down.” You called him out.

“You can never go too fast,” his voice crackled through the comms and somehow you could hear the self satisfied smirk in his voice and even though your eyes weren’t blessed to see it, you decided that this one definitely wasn’t as charming as the one he gave you earlier on the tarmac. “Match my pace.”

“No,” your answer was firm, you had already matched his altitude, and only because of your instructor, otherwise you would have given Jake a piece of your mind. And that was exactly what you were about to do. “You match my pace, end of discussion. I went to your altitude, so you go to my speed.”

Your authoritative tone was met with silence, one that left you squirming in your seat. For a moment, you feared that you’d get reprimanded by your instructor for being too harsh, or too commanding. But the scolding never came, only Jake’s voice resonated in your ears.

“Yes, ma’am,” was simply Jake’s answer, and you hated that you could still so clearly hear the smirk in his voice.

You felt yourself relax, maybe now you would be able to properly enjoy your first flight instead of worrying about his unpredictable next move. But perhaps had you been too quick to let down your guard.

Suddenly you were met with Jake’s radome, coming at full speed towards you. Your body, nor your mind even had the time to react, the only thing that registered was fear. Sheer and unfiltered fear that made your hands freeze on the center sticks. As quickly as he had turned around, Jake deviated, flying past you, almost clipping your right wing. His bird turned around you, closer than comfortable to the rear of your aircraft and finally ended up beside you.

It seemed as though time had frozen.

“Jesus Christ, Seresin !” You heard his instructor exclaim in an incredulous laugh and you wondered what there was to laugh about in this situation.

“That was an unnecessary maneuver, Seresin, very impressive but unnecessary.” Your instructor remarked through the comms and you were fuming over the praise.

Was no one going to firmly condemn his careless behavior ? If he had been one millimeter off, all four of you would be knees deep into the ground !

“Alright I think that’s enough for today, let’s go back to base.”

During the flight back to base, you felt stuck in that fight or flight feeling you got when you saw Jake’s plane coming right onto yours at full speed. Your knuckles were turning white on the center stick, and you did your best to hide your frantic breathing. Adrenaline was still pumping in your veins, your whole body trembling beneath your flight suit. Landing the plane proved to be a challenge, but your instructor seemed to notice none of it when he joyfully praised ‘beautiful landing, Y/N.’

When your boots hit the concrete floor, your instructor only threw you a ‘debrief in five !’ over his shoulder before he left you alone, standing next to your plane with trembling legs.

Behind you, you heard the heavy sound of someone jumping off their jet ladder, and when you turned around, your blood ran cold.

Jake was there. Helmet in hand, self satisfied smirk firmly in place after he had nearly killed you both. The fear left your body in the blink of an eye, only leaving fury boiling in your veins. You were already two meters away from him when you realized that your legs had taken you right up to him.

“Hey, what the fuck was that ?” Your outraged voice echoed against the wing of his plane.

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, and his face contorted in a confused expression that only fueled the rage piling up in your throat.

“Hey, woah calm down.”

There couldn’t have been a worse possible choice of words for him in this instant.

“Calm down ? Calm down ?! You almost fucking killed us both !” You screamed, anger bursting out of you as you took another step towards him.

Jake seemed wildly unimpressed by the fury burning in your eyes, he only raised his brows at you.

“Well, are we dead ? No. So no need to come screaming about it in my face, sweetheart.” He scoffed, turning away from you and walking towards the hangar.

You thought for a second that your ears had deceived you. Who the fuck did he think he was ?

“Hey !” You walked after him, “I’m talking to you, do you realize how insane you fucking sound ? You almost—“

Suddenly he turned back around, and you almost bumped into him.

“No, do you realize how insane you sound ? Yelling at me about something that didn’t happen !” He snapped, “just because I pulled a maneuver that you can’t do doesn’t mean you have to nag my ear off about how it was ‘dangerous’ ! It wasn’t, because I know what I’m fucking doing.” He finished in a breath, his green eyes — that only an hour before you had found so enchanting — were boring straight into yours, and you didn’t like the flash of superiority you saw in them.

Natasha was right. He had a thick Texan drawl, and if you weren’t in such conditions you probably would have found it attractive.

“Oh my god, who the fuck do you even think you are ?” Your voice raised an octave from the sheer anger sizzling under your skin, an incredulous laugh left you, this situation couldn’t be real, “you don’t fucking know me !”

“Oh, I know enough. Do you know any fighter pilots who are afraid to approach the ceiling or go a little fast ?” He spat in your face.

“I’m not afraid I was just respecting the rules of the exercise and If you think playing with orders makes you better than me you’re a fucking idiot !”

That made him let out a humorless chuckle.

“I mean I don’t know. Didn’t hear any of the instructors complain, but I bet they’ll definitely have something to say about your landing.” He scoffed that last part out.

You didn’t think it was possible for your fury to reach new heights, but apparently every single word coming out of Jake’s mouth was making you discover new things about yourself.

“Jesus fucking Christ you are the biggest asshole I’ve ever met, you fucking—“

“Hey what’s going on here ?” Your instructor’s voice resonated behind you.

Freezing, you felt your blood run cold for the nth time that day.

Turning around, you saw his brows furrowed. Clear disappointment on his face that made your heart sink into your stomach.

“What the hell is this screaming match ? We can hear you all the way to the debrief room !”

You half expected to hear Jake’s voice retort something to discredit you, but you were at least relieved to see he knew to shut it in front of a superior.

In front of both of your silence, your instructor’s voice raised again, “not much to say now, huh ? This is not the kind of behavior that flies high here, alright ? Both of you, grounded for a week. Maybe that’ll teach you something.”

“What ?” You heard yourself exclaim along with Jake.

“Sir, with all due respect—“ Jake started.

“I don’t want to hear it, you’re grounded. That’ll leave you some time to think about how a Naval Aviator must behave.”

Your eyes were strained on your boots. This felt so humiliating. And you knew exactly who to blame.

“Now get your asses to the debrief room.”

He turned around, boots angrily hitting the floor and Jake and you wasted no time to follow behind him.

“This is all your fault,” you heard him whisper accusatory next to you.

“Oh my God just shut the fuck up already.” You whispered in an exasperated exhale.

You didn’t think you had truly hated anyone, or even anything, for that matter. Sure, you disliked things. Disliked certain food, disliked the way certain people were too full of themselves, disliked rainy days… but you had never hated anything, especially anyone.

But you knew it then, you hated Jake Seresin. More than anything.

But it would be alright you thought. Jake wasn’t in your class, and after graduation you’d probably be sent on bases on opposite sides of the country. Or he would probably end up joining the Blue Angels, if he liked to play and do aerobatics for people to marvel at so much.

Either way, you’d never seen him again.

“Jesus, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, what an arrogant son of a bitch you were.” You snickered before taking a bite of your pastry.

Jake let out a laugh, slightly shaking his head, “I’ll have to agree with you on that one.”

You feigned to freeze, mouth hanging open around your pain au chocolat.

“Jake ? Is that… is that an acknowledgement of your past mistakes I hear ?” You wondered in a mock, overly amazed tone.

He playfully nudged your foot under the table as he rolled his eyes and you giggled, taking another bite of your sweet treat.

“That looks good.”

“It is.”

“Can I have a bite ?”

Truly, Jake didn’t expect anything when asking. You weren’t particularly fond of sharing your food. Especially if it was one of those French pastries you loved so much. And especially if sharing was with him.

But then Jake got hit back with the context of your meeting in such early lights of the morning. You loved him. Maybe that would make you more inclined to share. The thought had his chest filling with warmth and he hoped that the top of his ears weren’t reflecting the sudden fluster he felt.

You seemed to consider it, if only for a second, before your hand reached out with the pastry still in hand.

“Here.”

Refraining a grin, Jake made a move to grab the pastry but you swatted his hand away.

“Just bite it.”

Unable to contain it any longer, his lips stretched out in a delighted smile.

“Ohh bossy, I like it, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you were powerless to hide the pink hue blooming across your cheeks, “take the damn bite before I change my mind, Seresin.”

Jake leaned in, eyes boring into yours as his teeth sunk into the flakey treat. Warm and rich chocolate instantly filled his mouth.

“Mhm, damn that’s good.” He marveled in a mouthful.

“Of course it is, had you never tasted one ?”

He shook his head. Chewing, his eyes trailed down to your lips, and he wondered if he were to kiss you right now, if you’d taste like the chocolate you were eagerly biting off the pastry.

“You have a flake here,” your voice took him out of his reverie as you were pointing to the right side of your own mouth.

Purposely, Jake wiped the wrong side of his mouth and internally marveled at the rolling of your eyes.

“The other side, idiot.”

He leaned slightly over the table, “get it for me.”

“You are such a baby,” you muttered under your breath, nonetheless reaching out to gently wipe the flake off from the corner of his mouth, and he barely repressed the shiver running along his spine at your finger being so close to his lips. “There, take it.” You said, holding the crumb of pastry out to him.

Refraining a smirk, Jake leaned in, face coming impossibly closer with your held out finger. As delicately as someone like him was able to, his lips touched your skin, closing around the flake, tongue coming in to sweep it off your finger, barely grazing you. All the while his jade green eyes were locked onto yours, and he was able to see the whirlwind of surprise and fluster flash through your gaze. The pink hue on your cheeks took on a darker shade as it spread from your neck all the way to the tip of your ears.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

Jake could have sworn he saw your lips twitch, maybe debating on insulting him or maybe kissing him senseless, making up for lost time.

He prayed it was the second option.

You quickly retracted your hand, busying yourself with a sip of your hot chocolate, while Jake absolutely reveled in the obvious stir up of emotions he was causing in you.

Jake smirked before taking on a mock serious expression, “I mean, thinking about it, all of this could have easily been avoided if you had just matched my pace.”

Watching you realize the implication behind his words might have been the highlight of Jake’s year, an undignified scoff left you. “Fuck you, Jake.”

“We’ll eventually come to that, yes.”

Your eyes widened out before your foot kicked his shin under the table, “you are the worst, I hope you know that.”

He hummed, eyes raking appreciatively over your flustered form, “I do know, now why don’t you stop deflecting and tell me how you realized you loved me ?” He asked, casual smile firmly in place while trying to calm down the frantic beating of his heart against his chest.

Taking a deep breath, you put down your cup of hot chocolate and immediately your fingers went to play with crumbs from the pastry on your plate, looking for a distraction, your eyes followed the movement, not daring to face Jake’s intrusive stare.

You cleaned your throat before speaking, “um… a few months ago, maybe four or five months I don’t really remember, I had this talk with Bob and—“

“Bob ?” Jake interrupted, the ecstasy he felt upon you telling him about your feelings momentarily replaced by sheer confusion upon hearing the name of his teammate in such a context.

“Jake.”

“Sorry, go on.”

“I was talking with Bob at the Hard deck…”

Perched on your stool, you were sipping on your drink, eyes intensely trained on Jake from across the room.

He was leaning against the bar, flashing his dazzling smile at a pretty blonde that had been hanging on his arm ever since he’d set foot in the bar.

Nothing went unnoticed by your focused gaze on the pair.

Not the way the girl’s hand was brushing his forearm everytime he said something that made her laugh, not the occasional wink he’d throw after an overly flirtatious comment, and certainly not the proximity between the two that seemed to shrink with every passing minute they spent together.

To the untrained eye, it might have seemed like envy, desire, jealousy, even.

But you deemed evident that anyone who truly knew you would know that this was just pure resentment for Jake. You hated the way he talked, moved, behaved, breathe…

You just hated him. And perhaps what you hated above all was this mating parade he seemed to throw himself in every time the squad came to the Hard Deck. It’s like he couldn’t help but whore himself around for everyone to see, thinking that every woman on God’s green Earth wanted him.

“What are you doing ?” Bob’s joyful voice suddenly reached your ears, the sudden sound tearing you out of your trance.

“Jesus Christ, Bob !” You exclaimed, jolting and almost dropping half of your drink on your clothes, “where the fuck did you come from ?”

“I’ve been here for quite some time actually,” he smiled, somehow knowingly, at you. “What are you looking at ?” He asked again.

“Nothing,” you lied, “what were you doing just standing there ?”

“I was waiting for you to stop looking at Jake so we could talk.”

You froze, if only for a second, before forcing yourself to act normal.

Scoffing, you let out an undignified laugh, “Jake ? Do you hear yourself ? I wasn’t looking at him, i’d rather crash my plane and be left for dead before I even look at him a second longer than what the United States Navy requires me to do my job correctly. And even then I don’t even look in his direction, his whole existence makes me want to throw up.”

Bob watched your rant with raised eyebrows. “Wow, you must have had a lot on your mind.”

Yeah, perhaps that’d been too much.

Cringing a bit at your outburst, you cleared your throat, “yeah, it seems I did.”

Bob’s gaze turned to Jake, who was still eagerly talking with the blonde at the bar. And Bob hid a smirk when he made eye contact with Jake, the southern man’s eyes drifted towards you, checking to see if you were watching him. Bob saw the clear disappointment in his eyes when Jake noticed that you were too absorbed by swirling your straw into your drink, and he reluctantly directed his attention back to the woman flirtatiously gripping his forearm.

“Is it bothering you ?” Bob asked you in that calm voice of his.

“Is what bothering me ?”

“Jake flirting with that girl.”

Freezing for the second time in the span of three minutes, you looked back at your friend, wondering where the hell was this coming from, and why the fuck was your heart beating so hard against your rib cage.

“Why would that bother me ?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”

“I don’t give a shit what he does.” You tried to say as matter of factly as possible.

Bob hummed, “could’ve fooled me.”

You squinted your eyes at him, “is there something you wanna tell me, Bob ?”

He looked at you for a second, a warm smile on his lips as he seemed to carefully choose his next words.

“Can I ask you for some advice ? I have a friend who’s in a bit of a tricky situation, and I’d like to know what you think.”

A bit surprised by the turn of the conversation, you shrugged, “yeah, go ahead,” you agreed, sipping your drink and sneaking a glance toward Jake, one of his finger was twirling a strand of the girl’s hair and it physically made you want to throw up. He was disgusting.

“She likes this guy,” Bob started, making you tear your eyes away from the repulsive spectacle taking place in front of you, to look at him. “But I think she’s really in denial about it.”

You frowned, “in denial ? So how do you know she likes him if she doesn’t even know it herself ?”

He shrugged with a mischievous smile, “it’s obvious.”

“Hmm, and what’s the problem ?”

“I just don’t like to see her deny herself of something that could make her happy if she would just accept it.”

Your heart clenched at his words and a weird sense of longing filled your chest, almost unconsciously your gaze drifted to Jake again, and when your eyes met his for a brief second, you immediately looked away.

You cleared your throat, “why don’t you just talk to her about it ?”

“it’s just gonna make her clam up if I’m too upfront, I need to be more subtle than that. What do you think I should do ?”

Bob’s eyes were intensely trained on you, and you squirmed lightly under his prying gaze. It was as though his warm and sapphire eyes were stripping you bare, breaking down every one of the careful walls you’d spent years building up and you weren’t sure why the conversation was making you so uncomfortable.

“I mean,” you let out a sigh, taking a second to think it over, “I don’t really know. Maybe just have a conversation about life ?” You tried, “I know it sounds stupid but maybe talking about missed chances, how life is short and all that might make her realise something ? Act on her feelings ? I don’t know, Bob, sorry I’m not a huge help.” Chuckling, somehow sadly, you stirred up your drink with your straw, busying yourself by watching the liquid swirl in your glass.

“No, that’s great advice actually,” he smiled warmly at you, “I guess the guy she likes doesn’t really fit the idea she has of love, you know ? They haven’t always gotten along, so I guess she’s stuck with a vision of him that she refuses to let go of, and also even a version of herself.”

Your breath hitched without knowing why and Bob paused, his voice dropping to a soft and gentle tone.

“And I get her, you know ? It’s scary to challenge and let go of a belief you’ve had for a long time. But it’s a part of life, and I just hope that for herself, she’ll accept her feelings, and know that it doesn’t change who she is as a person.”

Feeling a weird and unexpected — even unwanted — wave of emotions crash over you, you swallowed difficultly. Bob’s words resonated so hard within you it felt like your inner world had shifted on its axis, and even though his wisdom wasn’t directed towards you, you felt so fully understood.

Instinctively, and without anything you could have done to stop it, your gaze searched for Jake in the crowd. He was still at the bar, but the tall blonde was gone. Sitting alone, he was lightly chatting with Penny whenever she came his way to fill up beers. He looked at ease, and your heart clenched at the sigh. The feeling of longing you felt earlier returned in full force, almost taking your breath away.

“Will you tell me if she finally realizes it ?” You asked Bob, eyes still trained on Jake.

Bob hummed, a hand coming up to your shoulder to squeeze it affectionately, “I have a feeling you’ll know.”

“So you’re telling me I owe our relationship to Bob ?” Jake asked incredulously and a tiny bit offended.

“Is that truly the only thing you got out of all this ?”

The side of his lips quirked up, “not at all, sweetheart. Absolutely loved how jealous you were. I’m happy to know it worked.”

Confusion slid his way onto your face, making a crinkle in between your brow apparent as you gazed at Jake, “happy to know what worked ?”

Jake reached out to tear a piece of your pain au chocolat, and was actually surprised you let him.

“You didn’t actually think I went home with every woman I talked to at the Hard Deck, did you ?” He said with a playful grin, throwing the piece of pastry in his mouth.

“I mean I don’t know, you are pretty damn convincing,” you muttered and Jake could hear the clear annoyance in your voice, and it only made him smile brighter.

He knew you were jealous every-time a girl came up to him at the Hard Deck, he could feel your eyes boring into the side of his head whenever he played into it. That was the only reason he did it.

“You know I never engaged with anyone, right ?” He asked, his voice dropping to a gentle tone.

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that ?”

God, he loved seeing you get riled up over him. Seeing you so blatantly show your desire towards him, even more so in a sense of possessiveness made him slightly feral if he were honest. It was the confirmation of every implicit sign you had unconsciously given him over time, the confirmation of every single fantasy he’s had, the confirmation of every ‘what if’s’. And finally having you talk about it in the open was a feeling like no other that Jake wouldn’t be able to describe, even with all the words in the English language.

“I just wanted to make you react,” he tilted his head in an attempt to catch your eyes, “I thought that maybe jealousy would make you realise something, and I mean… I was right.” He smirked teasingly.

You glared at him.

Jake straightened up a bit, “I haven’t really engaged with anyone ever since I fell in love with you.”

He found it surprising how easily the words were slipping away from him.

He saw you visibly tense up a little before speaking, “when did you fall in love with me ?”

He pretended to think for a second, if only in a poor attempt to not look completely head over heels for you, even though he was. Jake knew the exact moment he realized his heart beat to the rhythm of you, he could tell you what day it was, what time surely. The clothes you were wearing, what perfume you had put on, what song was playing in the background… and he would be able to recount it all in the most acute of details even in a hundred years if he were given the chance to.

“At Mav and Penny’s party when Mav moved in,” he finally said after a fake time of reflection.

Jake could see the exact moment the information registered into your brain. Your eyes widened, eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open in the most shell shocked expression he’d ever seen.

“Jesus Christ, Jake !” You exclaimed, “that was…” taking the time to think it over, the number you landed on only made you more astonished, “that was four years ago !”

Feeling the top of his ears redden slightly, he slowly nodded. “Yeah…”

You looked at him with an expression he couldn’t really decipher, shock, that’s for sure, but there was something else. Sadness…? Regret, maybe ?

“Why didn’t you tell me ?” You asked, in a bit of a breathless voice, “we could have had this conversation a long time ago.”

He shook his head with a small smile, “No, I don’t think we could have.” When he saw your offended expression, he was quick to explain himself, “I don’t think you would have been ready, I mean, shit I can’t believe I’m about to say that but Bob was right, you would have clammed up. Would have rejected me if I’d told you then, probably changed squadron to never see my face again. It wasn’t the right time.”

His response obviously surprised you, and he could see the faintest tremble in your fingers where you were cupping your hot chocolate.

“So… you just waited ?”

“I did.”

He saw you sucked in a breath, “why ?”

Jake stared at you for a moment.

The sun had well settled into the sky now, its rays coming down gently to bless your skin, making you look like a fallen angel who had taken the time to come down on earth and chose him, of all people, as a receptacle of all your attention. The sing song of the nearby birds only added to the feeling of serenity filing up Jake’s veins.

He’d always thought that he felt the most at ease in the air.

But perhaps all he needed was you.

Perhaps you expected a longer time of reflexion, but the answer came to him like en evidence, a quiet truth he’d been carrying for so long there was nothing much he could do to hold it back anymore.

“Because I love you.”

Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

“I love you and I knew this wasn’t the right time. I had hope maybe one day you’d feel the same way, you know ? and when I finally started to notice you did, I… I don’t know how to explain it, but it still wasn’t the right time. You were so focused on hating me that my feelings wouldn’t have changed a thing. You weren’t ready, so I waited.”

And he would have waited a million years if that’s what you had needed. He kept it to himself for now, thinking that perhaps it might be too early to be saying such things, but you were it for him, he waited because there was no one else he could ever fathom spend the rest of his life with. For four years, in his mind, it had always been you and him.

The expression on your face was unreadable, and for a second Jake feared that perhaps it’d been too much. And his heart dropped when he noticed the faint, glowing sheen of water in your eyes.

You let out a nervous laugh that was awfully watery, too much for his liking, “Jesus, Jake,” you looked up, obviously intent on trying to avoid any tear running down your cheeks, “who knew you were so romantic ?”

Jake absolutely melted at that. All he wanted was to smuggle you in the affection he had locked up during all these years, but he reigned it in, reminded himself to take it slow.

“Well now you know, and you’ll get to enjoy it plenty,” he said, eyebrows wiggling suggestively in hope of seeing a smile making its way back onto your face.

And it worked. The sound of your laugh blessed his ears, making his own lips stretch out.

“It was a nice night,” you said when your giggle died down.

“You remember it ?” Jake questioned in a hopeful tone, eager to know if perhaps that night had meant as much to you as it had meant to him.

“Yeah, it was nice to not be fighting for once.”

He let out a small snicker, “yeah… I think about that night often.”

“Tell me about it.”

Jake’s brow furrowed in confusion, through a smile remained on his face, “what for ? You just said you remember it.”

“So ? That’s when you fell in love with me, I had to tell you my story, so tell me yours.”

He lightly bit his lip, a poor attempt at refraining himself either from kissing you breathless or just pouring out more of his feelings into the open.

Clearing his throat, he took on an exaggerated storyteller’s voice, “on a nice and warm summer evening…”

Giggling, you leaned in, head resting on your open palms, avidly drinking him in along with his words.

“Goddamn is this thing heavy !” Mickey complained, voice strained with the effort of holding up his corner of the pool table.

“No shit,” Javy retorted, voice just as breathy.

“Did we really have to buy a fucking pool table as a gift ?” Reuben questioned while adjusting his grip.

“Why aren’t you helping ?” Bradley gritted out at Jake, who was right behind, simply watching the four of them struggling to get the large table through the door.

“I don’t know,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth, “you guys seem to be doing just fine.”

“Jesus Christ I’m gonna drop it,” Mickey groaned under his breath, “Penny !” He called out, “where do you want us to put this thing ?”

His question was only met with silence.

“Shit I can’t—“

He didn’t even finish his sentence that he let his corner of the table drop, landing with a loud thud. With Mickey’s abrupt abandon, all the boys dropped their own corner one by one, the table falling heavy on the ground.

Just a second after, Penny came rushing in.

“Hey ! Be careful of my floor ! It’s hard wood !”

“Oh so that’s when you decide to show up ?” Bradley groaned.

“Watch your mouth, Bradshaw,” she warned in a mock serious tone, index finger pointing directly at Bradley, “come on everyone, let’s get outside for drinks, we’ll take care of this later.” She beckoned.

Everyone followed after her, and just as Jake was about to pass the door’s threshold, he heard footsteps coming from downstairs. Turning around, he saw you.

The corner of his lips stretched out automatically.

If there was anything Jake loved as much as winning and flying, it was annoying you.

And you were easy to rile up, always jumped right into it. Sometimes, Jake thought that maybe you liked fighting with him just as much as he liked fighting with you.

“Lightning,” he called out.

Whereas a smile automatically made its way onto Jake’s face whenever he saw you, on your end, it seemed to be your eyes, rolling all the way to the back of your head that worked as a reflex whenever he set foot into your vision.

“What do you want ?” You huffed out, tone dripping with annoyance.

“A game of pool ?” He asked, picking up two cue sticks.

You let out a scoff, as if the idea was down right incongruous.

“What makes you believe I’d ever want to play with an arrogant jerk like you ?”

Jake shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face, “why not ? I thought you liked a challenge.”

You only glared at him for a moment before walking past him, making your way outside to join all the others.

But of course, Jake wasn’t gonna let you leave so easily.

“I mean I get you, I’d flee too if I were you. Really, there’s no shame in being scared to lose.”

Without even turning around, he heard your footsteps stop.

God, it was almost too easy.

There was no possible way Jake would have been able to council the absolute shit eating grin making its way onto his face as you backed up, facing him once again.

Your brows were furrowed in that ever lasting frown that seemed to never leave your face in his presence. But in your eyes was shining a twinkle of provocation. Jake and you fought everyday, in the air and on the ground, and you never let up an occasion to shut him up, much to his pleasure.

“Okay,” you conceded, “I’ll play with you. But darts, not pool.”

Smirking from ear to ear, it was physically impossible for him to smile bigger than that, but had it been possible, he would have.

You were good at darts. Better than good, you were great. Both of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to beat Jake at pool, so naturally you had picked something where you’d have a chance.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“That’s more like it.”

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

Penny had an indoor electronic game of darts that the whole squad absolutely overused every time they came over.

Jake gathered all the darts, handing three of them to you.

“Ladies first,” he made a show of exaggeratedly letting you open the game, “we playing best of three ?”

Scoffing, you took the darts, “what ? You scared you’re gonna lose with just one round ?” You inquired, a teasing smile making its way onto your face.

Was Jake scared to lose ? Never. It thrilled him knowing someone could meet his skills and potentially challenge his never ending winning streak, though it was very unlikely.

But did he fear you’d run away outside after only one round of the game without even glancing twice his way ? Yeah.

The best of three was purely so he could spend more time with you.

“What do I get when I win ?” You asked, settling in front of the board.

“When you win ?” Jake laughed, “that’s a little presumptuous don’t you think, darlin’ ?”

“Look at you using big words, i’m surprised you know the definition. And I already told you to not call me darling.”

He had about a hundred and one witty remarks loaded and ready to go when the loud sound of the electric board reacting to the landing of your first throw cut him off.

Bullseyes.

You turned back to him, a satisfied smirk on your lips.

“As I was saying, what do I get when I win ?”

Your confidence and satisfaction over your abilities made his stomach flip. Gazing down at you, he hummed.

“Whatever you want, winner should get to choose their prize.”

Humming back, you threw your second dart.

The board cheered loudly. Bullseyes.

Shit, perhaps he had underestimated you.

Your third dart landed on the triple ring.

“What about you not talking to me for two weeks ?”

Jake simply raised his eyebrows at you, while pointedly ignoring the tug at his heartstrings.

“Jesus, do you hate me that much ?” He snickered, watching you gather back your darts as he got ready for his turn, hoping his tone came across as teasing disbelief and did not show any bit of the pitt he felt settling down in his stomach.

Turning back around to stand next to him, you didn’t dignify him with an answer.

“I want you to buy my drinks the next four times we are at the Hard Deck,” you simply said.

“I can do that,” he conceded, a genuine smile melting into his usual smirk.

Jake threw his three darts one after another, the projectiles all landing right in the center.

He suppressed a laugh as he heard you sigh in annoyance next to him, “thank you my dear Lightning for asking what I want if I win.” He cooed in an overly nice and touched voice, “Let’s see… I want you to be my wingman on every training for a month.”

That seemed to spark a new desire to win within you.

“Move over,” you mumbled.

Two triple ring and one double ring. Pursing your lips at your score, you let Jake take his turn.

“Okay what the fuck ?” You exclaimed after his first two throw landed on bullseyes. “You have to be cheating, there’s no way.”

“How exactly do you think I might be cheating, sweetheart ?”

“I don’t know yet, but trust that I will get to the bottom of this.”

His heart flipped when you didn’t even reprimanded him over the pet name.

“Okay, Sherlock. Call me when you have a lead.” He chuckled, throwing his last dart, which, obviously, landed on bullseyes.

You scoffed but Jake saw the hint of a smile pulling at your lips, and the warm feeling suddenly taking his whole body hostage felt familiar. He noticed it had been happening more and more around you lately.

“Tell me if you want any advice, you look like you might need some.” He teasingly told you as you got ready.

“For starters, you shutting up might help me so shush.”

“Ma’am, yes Ma’am.” He saluted you.

Jake saw you biting your lip in a vain attempt to repress a smile, “stop that,” you warned.

Two out of your three darts landed right in the middle, and he got this weird sensation of disappointment to know he hadn’t shook you enough to make you lose focus.

When he stepped up to get ready to throw, your hand lifted to cover up his eyes, not close enough to touch him, but close enough that he could feel the warm radiating off your skin.

He burst out laughing, “is that your way of checking I’m not cheating ?”

“Yes,” you replied in all seriousness, “now throw, I’d like to see you try to land a bullseyes like that.”

Gently, Jake grabbed your wrist and positioned your hand so it was now entirely covering his eyes, making direct contact with his skin.

You were so close to him now he could vaguely smell your shampoo, and Jake felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he refrained a shiver.

“That’s better,” he said in a breath.

“Just throw.”

Obediently, and not without feeling a strange flutter in his lower stomach, Jake threw his first dart.

The loud ringing of the board told him everything he needed to know.

“Oh come on you have to be fucking kidding me !” You protested while keeping your hand in front of his eyes.

A laugh bubbled out of him, “what can I say, darlin’ ? Greatness is not stopped by darkness.”

“Yeah right, okay wise man, did you get that quote from fucking Facebook ?” you chuckled and Jake followed along, “back up. I will get you to fail a throw.”

“I admire your life goals, Lightning.”

Your hand was still covering his eyes, and Jake was absolutely reeling from the closeness. He took two steps back and stopped. And he swore he could practically hear your eyebrows shot up.

“No no, cowboy, further back, come on.”

“Okay I feel like you’re the one who’s cheating now.”

You let out a giggle that made his heart skip a beat, “I will refrain from commenting these allegations for now.”

Jake’s cheeks were hurting from how hard he was smiling, but he found it be to a pleasurable ache, made better by the knowledge it was caused by you.

When he took another step back, his foot met the step that was very inconveniently placed in the middle of Penny’s living room.

It was a step that everybody cursed and that caused the literal downfall of a number of people. It was already too late for him when Jake realized it was there, and he felt himself stumble backwards.

“Oh my god, Jake !” Your panicked voice resonated in his ears as your hand finally left his eyes.

He landed hard on his butt with a loud thud.

The first thing he registered was your laugh. He squinted up at you, his eyes slowly getting readjusted to the light. You were doubled hover laughing, laughing so hard in fact that there was barely any sound coming out of you.

The pain Jake felt in his backside immediately dulled at the sight of you.

Pretending to frown, though it was very hard considering the smile that reached his ears, he looked up at you, “wow Lightning, I mean I knew you were vicious but to purposely hurt your opponent in order to win ? I really thought that was below you.”

Your eyes widened out through your laughter, “Seresin, you are not seriously accusing me of sabotage right now ?”

“Oh I very much am.”

Shoulders still shaking with the remains of your laughter, you lightly wiped the tears that had accumulated in your eyes.

And it hit Jake that rarely had he ever seen you like that. He had, of course, but always from afar.

He saw you joke with Natasha, affectionately banter with Bradley, laugh your ass off with Coyote… but never with him.

It did something to him right there and then, like his heart was soaring, similar to the feeling he got whenever he took off into the air.

And he decided he liked it.

“I’m sorry,” you said when the laughter died down a bit, “I didn’t mean to make you fall, I swear. I had forgot about this stupid step.” You explained, still smiling while you held out a hand to help him.

Jake made a show of looking between your hand and your face, which you playfully rolled your eyes at.

“I accept your apology,” he conceded teasingly, accepting your help and purposely letting you do all the work.

“Jesus Christ, you are heavy,” you groaned once you had finally gotten him back up.

Towering back over you, there was only a few inches between you now, and Jake noted how you didn’t immediately back away.

“That’s all muscle weight, darlin’.” He winked at you.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you retorted in a snicker but the red tip of your ears betrayed you. “Alright let’s finish this—“

“There you are ! What the fuck are you guys doing ? We’re about to eat,” Natasha exclaimed, bursting through the door.

Her booming voice made you both jump.

“We were playing darts, we’re almost finished.” Jake replied.

Natasha stared at the two of you, her eyes going from you to Jake.

“Playing ? As in playing together ?” She asked, visibly dubious.

“Yeah,” you answered, shrugging in a poor attempt to look casual.

“What even made you agree to play with him ?”

Jake witnessed the impact of her words on you. You took a step back from him, straightened back up and the smile made a prompt departure from your face.

You scoffed, not in the playful way you did only minutes prior, but more in the annoyed way, the way you usually did whenever you were near him.

“I don’t even know, guess I was bored.”

Natasha only nodded, “alright, come on outside now, both of you. Dinner’s ready.”

With only a brief look back towards him, eyes full of something Jake couldn’t decipher, you made your way outside.

He stayed inside for a moment, alone with the turmoil of feelings sitting heavy in his chest.

Jake considered himself to be an emotionally intelligent and aware man, so the answer came to him easily.

He was in love with you.

There was no hiding it, there was no denying it. The truth was simple and it settled quietly in his chest.

But he did chuckle to himself when he noticed the irony of the predicament he found himself in.

Of all the girls fawning over him, he had to fall for the one who despised him more than anything.

But it was okay, he thought, he could live with that. Sure, it’d hurt sometimes, but he could live with it.

Rubbing his face, he finally made his way outside and when he saw you laugh again with Natasha and Bradley, he realized that he’d be fine simply continuing to exist alongside you, no matter if you returned his feelings one day.

All he needed was you, whether you loved him back or not.

“Wow, you’re a great storyteller,” you marveled, visibly a bit choked up.

Jake only watched you for a second, eyes gently raking over your emotional form.

“Do you want the last piece ?” You suddenly asked, pointing to the last small chunk of pain au chocolat on your plate.

“I’m good, thank you, darlin’. Enjoy it,” he replied in a gentle and enamored voice.

He smiled over how your cheeks seemed to bloom over his tone, and you quickly ate the last piece.

“Do you want to go someplace else ?” Jake questioned, giving you an opportunity to compose yourself on the way.

And you eagerly grabbed the lifeline he threw you.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Getting up, you both made your way to leave, you leading the march. When suddenly you turned around, making Jake almost bumped into you.

“Wait,” you said, “I never actually said it.”

Jake didn’t even need to ask what you were talking about.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, “you don’t have to.”

“I do.”

Your determination silenced him for a moment.

“I told you about that moment with Bob at the Hard deck,” you started to explain, your nervousness made evident by the quick flow of your words, “but that’s not when I actually understood. After that talk, I kept thinking and thinking… and Jesus, to think it took me this much time, gosh I sound stupid,— anyway, I truly realized it yesterday. I know you know that but I need to say it. When you were driving me home I was looking at you, and you had been so nice the whole evening and it felt so good and then in the car it just hit me, that I— I…”

You took in a deep breath.

“I love you, Jake.”

Jake never imagined that words could have such an impact on him. But those three little words alone almost made his knees buckled, and God knew all he asked was to be on his knees for you.

“Do you remember what you said you’d do when I finally tell you ?” You asked, eyes courageously boring into his, voice slightly breathless.

His breath hitched, lips quirking up.

Wordlessly, he leaned down and preened over seeing you meeting him halfway, lightly standing on your toes to avoid him bending down too much.

Finally, his lips met yours, in the most gentle of kisses. And it seemed as if tension left his body altogether at your contact.

Jake made a noise into your mouth, a mix of pure relief and desire for more. Instinctively, his hands came up to cup your face, deepening the kiss. Your lips moved together in a rhythm that felt strangely familiar, and Jake took it as a sign that you were simply meant to be.

Eventually, you both had to reluctantly pull apart, if only to catch your breath. Forehead against yours, thumbs rubbing your cheeks affectionately, Jake felt… fulfilled.

“I love you, Y/N.”

A giggle of pure giddiness escaped you and Jake couldn’t hold back from stealing another quick kiss from you.

“Do you want to go for a swim ?” You asked, smiling up at him, your arms coming up around his waist.

“We don’t have swimsuits.” He answered, the smile and love in his eyes never leaving as he gently brushed a strand of your hair back behind your ear.

“Does that really bother you ?”

Your smirk was downright mischievous and it made his stomach flip.

“Now that I think about it… not really, no.”

Laughing, you pecked him again. Grabbing his hand, you eagerly made your way out of the coffee shop, and to his car.

You both had the whole day ahead of you. Hell, Jake thought, you had the whole life ahead of you. And he couldn’t believe he finally got to share it with the one person he had dreamt about for the past four years. He watched you excitedly jump into this new chapter with him and it made his heart soar.

Yeah, it couldn’t really get much better than this.

Three weeks later, the squad burst through the Hard Deck doors like they owned the place, and at this point, some regulars were actually questioning if you guys owned shares in the bar.

“Alright,” Jake clapped his hands, “who’s up for pool ?”

“Geez can you give us a minute at least ? I don’t know, let us settle down,” Natasha complained.

“Yeah, hell no bro.” Mickey declined, “I’ve had enough of losing.”

“Same here,” Javy agreed.

“Don’t even bother asking me,” Bradley warned.

“Come on, Seresin, I’ll play with you.” You said, throwing a smirk his way that everyone interpreted as sheer arrogance.

“Gladly, sweetheart.”

On his way to the pool table, Jake clapped Bob on the shoulder, shooting him a bright, almost grateful smile.

Everyone felt deeply confused watching the two of you get ready to play.

“Am I fucking hallucinating ?” Reuben questioned.

“I think that time she got drunk permanently altered her brain and now she acts like his… friend ? That’s fucking weird.”

Bradley and Natasha eagerly nodded in agreement.

Bob was the only one harboring a small, knowing smile.

And the whole squad watched in awed disbelief….

As Jake let you win.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Author’s note : okay this was never supposed to be this long😭 I feel like I genuinely talk too much, if that’s the case please let me know I’ll try to post shorter fics😭 I yap and yap and yap and all I do is yap😭

Also so sorry for how much time this took, I’ll definitely try to get back on a more regular posting schedule.

Hope you liked it as much as the first one, thanks again for your patience !💞💞

Tags : @football1921 @clintslittlebird @lilys136 @fandomlovver @fallout-girl219 @inmboeightyfour @i-wish-this-was-me @fortjackson @jackiehollanderr @crying-for-twenty-five-years

Quite quickly after arriving at the bar, all of you had settled in your self proclaimed corner, the one with the biggest pool table which was also not too far from the throwing darts game.

It was later into the evening now, you had let yourself seduced by shots with Natasha and you hadn’t exactly stopped drinking after that. Sipping your mojito happily, you took a moment to take a look at the members of your squad, who were spread out in two groups. Natasha, Bradley and Bob seemed to be having a vigorous debate over by the dart board, while Javy, Reuben, Mickey and Jake were engrossed into a party of pool, which Jake was leading, of course.

Bradley had invited you to their game a little while ago but you had gently refused, opting to just sit for a moment, content to watch your friends have fun while enjoying the warm feeling the alcohol was giving you. It wasn’t very often you drank, not really liking the way you became so emotional and loosed tongue. But so far, you seemed to be doing fine, the liquor in your system making you feel giddy for once and not so mushy like it usually did.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, how the hell are you still winning when there’s three of us against you ?” Mickey complained, which caught your attention.

“This is actually starting to feel unfair,” Reuben agreed, putting his cue stick on the pool table, while Javy was letting out an exasperated grumble.

“I don’t know boys, I’m just that good. There’s nothing you can do about it except maybe just make peace with it,” Jake retorted, a smirk brighter than the sun itself stretching his lips. “Let’s go again, I promise to go easy on you this time.” He winked charmingly at his three friends who were staring at him with infiltrated irritation.

“No way, I’m out.” Javy capitulated, throwing his arms in the air before walking towards the bar.

“Okay,” Jake smiled, letting the last syllable linger, “damn, didn’t know you were such a sore loser Coyote.” He called out after his friend, “come on, Payback, Fanboy, you two against me.”

“Sorry man, honestly it’s not even fun anymore,” Reuben declared.

Jake just waved him off, turning to Mickey expectantly.

“No way.” The man simply said before walking with Payback towards the rest of the group next to the dart board.

Jake was left with an air of incredulity deforming his features.

“What the hell, guys ? So what, you’re just gonna leave me hanging ?”

“Now you know what that feels like,” Bradley called out to him with a smirk, evidently proud of his quick wit.

“Shut the fuck up, chicken.” He then, looked at the rest of the squad while walking over to them, “are you serious ? No one wants to play with me ?”

You had been watching the whole exchange quietly from your barstool, and you didn’t like the way Jake’s tone changed, almost imperceptibly to the normal human ear, but it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Nothing he would ever do would go unnoticed by you, which you considered to be your greatest misfortune.

“Are you really surprised ? Nobody likes playing with you, Hangman.” Natasha retorted harshly.

In any other circumstances you would have agreed with her, threw in a snappy remark of your own, not wasting an opportunity to put him in his place. But in your state, her tone sounded overly cruel in your ears. And the way Jake reacted was not helping the oncoming wave of empathy and emotion you could feel rising in your throat.

He simply looked at them with an unreadable expression for a second and just as he was about to say something, Javy returned to the dart board, carrying a tray full of drinks.

“Alright who’s up for darts ? Jake, don’t even think about it dude, leave us a chance to win.”

Jake cleared his throat, “Yeah, okay. I mean, I thought pilots like you would like some competition but if you like an easy win, have at it,” he conceded with a resigned grimace.

“We’re not in the air, Bagman, let us have fun. Not everything has to be hardcore competition,” Bradley almost snarled at him, while taking off some drinks from Javy’s tray.

Jake let out a bitter chuckle, “yeah, alright. Have fun then.” He said before walking back to the pool table, where he had left his drink.

Despite the bravado he forced himself to put on at all times, it was clear as day he was hurt, and you felt your heart tighten. It wasn’t often you saw him showing any other emotion that wasn’t infuriating cockiness, thinking about it, never had you seen him like that.

Jake loved pool, everyone knew that. Sure, you could say that every respectable fighter pilot liked pool, it was always fun to play. But Jake ? Genuinely loved it, his face would light up when he was playing, especially when he was winning. Which was pretty much all the time. Every time you all went to the Hard Deck together, he would practically rush for the pool table in the left corner, hurrying everyone else, already putting on chalk on his cue. He knew all these strategies, which you had always laughed at, why need strategies ? It was literally a ball sinking game. Jake was also capable of doing these — this you’d admit — insane tricks with the balls, giving them effects as he sunk them, even making the cue ball jump over a striped one so that it could sunk one of his full ones and he was always ecstatic to show off to anyone who would deigned to watch him.

And with no warning, you felt tears rising to your eyes as you stared at Jake sipping his drink all alone. Why would they reject him like that ? He just wanted to play. Your heart lurched at the sight, your squad having fun together, and Jake, reassembling the balls to prepare to break them, so that he could play, by himself.

Without any second thought, drink still in your hand, you got up from your stool, swaying lightly and cursing as your feet hit the ground. If you needed any confirmation that you had too much to drink, this was it.

For a minute you felt dizzy — your blurry vision not helping — you waited a moment to avoid completely falling flat on your face and made your way to your friends by the dart board. Sniffling and keeping your head up high to avoid having tears run down your cheeks.

Bob was the first one to spot you coming, and immediately he seemed alarmed by your expression. A quick touch of your cheek confirmed that you hadn’t done a good job of containing the evidences of your chagrin.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s happening ? Are you alright ?” Bob asked gently, getting up from his stool so he could get to you.

His worried tone made everyone perk up, and all the pilots started to gather around you.

“You okay ? Did someone bother you ?” Bradley asked.

They were all accustomed to how emotional you could get while drunk, but Bradley especially would never put aside the possibility of some weird guy harassing you.

“You guys are—“ you were cut out by a pathetic little sob, “so mean !” You said an accusing finger pointed in their direction.

“Y/N, you’ve had too much to drink, okay ?” He said gently, while going to take the drink from your hand, which you quickly retracted, pulling it against your chest.

“No, you guys are so mean,” you sniffled, “why won’t you play with him ?”

Everyone shared confused glances, in the corner of your eye you saw Javy murmured to Reuben something that sounded like “the fuck is she talking about”.

Natasha got closer to you, features morphing into something gentle, she knew better than anyone how to handle you in that state.

“Y/N, who are you talking about ?”

The fact that none of them even had the smallest idea of who you were referring to was your last straw. They had just dismissed him entirely, someone they flew with every single day. Threw him away with some hurtful remarks, left him all alone and they had the nerve to ask who you were talking about ?

“What do you mean who am I talking about ?” You whined, the emotion felt like it would burst out of your chest from feeling too much of it, “Jake ! I’m talking about Jake ! He wants to play pool but none of you wants to play with him !”

Mickey bursted out laughing then, which got him a stern look from Bradley.

“Don’t worry about him, sweetheart.” Natasha told you, “he’s a grown man, he’s fine. Why does that bother you anyway ?”

“He’s not fine !” You insisted, smalls sobs along with the alcohol making you hiccup, “he’s sad ! Go play with him, right now.”

“We love you, Lightning, we really do,” Reuben started, “but no way in hell.”

“You’re really not helping,” Bob reproached him with a sigh.

Mindlessly wiping the tears running freely on your cheeks with your free hand, you tried to refrain the next sob that was threatening to break out.

“Fine, I’ll go play with him then.” You declared in a very determined tone, already turning around and making your way over to Jake, swaying lightly on your feet.

“Hey Y/N come back—“ Natasha was about to go after you but Bob quickly stopped her.

“It’s okay, she’ll be with Jake, he’ll take great care of her,” he mischievously smiled at her, which only got him a puzzled look.

“What, you seriously don’t know ?” He asked her, visibly incredulous.

The chatter of your friends got more and more distant as you got closer to the pool table where Jake was sinking balls easily with an evident lack of enthusiasm. There was a laziness to his movements, like he was disinterested. The contempt and rejection from the squad seemed to had drain all the excitement of the game for him.

He looked like a kicked golden retriever puppy and your heart couldn’t have possibly handled more.

“Hangman !” You called out, quickly wiping the tears that had ran down during your walk there, “I’m playing with you.”

Jake suddenly stood up straight from sinking a ball upon hearing your voice, and immediately he seemed startle by your expression, similarly to how the rest of the squad had been only minutes ago.

“Hey, Lightning, you good ?” He asked, getting closer to you, his sharp eyes taking you in and inspecting you for any physical hurt.

You waved him off, while trying to ignore how his concern made your whole chest feel warm, when you’d sober up you’d probably blame it on the alcohol.

“Put the balls back in the middle, I’m playing with you.” You declared, words slurring slightly.

Jake only looked at you for a second, his raised brows betraying his surprise.

“You,” he started, pointing a finger towards you, “want to play with me ?” His index now pointed at him.

Taking another sip of your drink, you nodded into your glass.

“Yes, that’s what I said. I’m playing with you.”

“How much have you had to drink ?”

“Jake that is literally not the point, I want to play pool, so let’s play pool !” You insisted in a whine, putting your glass down on a table — not before taking another sip — and going to collect the balls he had already sunken from the pockets.

He stared at you, taking you in. Your urgency felt uncharacteristic, especially if it was related to doing anything with him. Jake never really saw you drunk, it wasn’t often you allowed yourself to reach such a state and when you did, you usually sticked close to Natasha or Bradley. Your behavior was completely new to him and it was taking him aback a bit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the rest of the squad eyeing you both, while whispering things amongst each other. A few seconds passed, the gears were turning in his head, he looked at your drink on the table, your tears streaked cheeks, the way the squad was so very obviously gossiping about the two of you… And then it clicked.

Jake took one long look at you carefully placing all the balls in the middle with the rack.

“You know you don’t have to play with me if you don’t really want to, right ?” He began cautiously, a gentle tone in his voice. “I was fine playing on my own.”

But the words ‘on my own’ seemed to trigger another wave of tears, they ran freely down your cheeks as you sobbed, “no you were not, you were sad.”

Jake’s whole face seemed to melt instantly.

“Aww, sweetheart…” he cooed, taking a step towards you.

But before he could get anything else out, you continued.

“And they are so—“ you began through sniffles, “so mean for treating you like that all because you wanted to play pool. So I am playing with you, I want to play with you.” You finished while weeping the tears from your eyes.

Jake stared at you for a moment, feeling like his heart would burst out of his chest just from looking at you. You were standing in front of him, determined and adorably empathetic — glassy eyes from the alcohol and the tears boring into his. Your cheeks were flushed from all the drinks you’d had, and you were leaning against the pool table, probably in an attempt to stabilize your dizzying vision.

He felt something dangerous happen to him, standing in front of you, having you be so nice to him for perhaps the first time ever since he had met you, he felt dangerous thoughts cross his mind — the ones he only ever allowed himself late at night, in the quiet of his apartment — and travel to the tip of his tongue. But he caught himself before they could become anything more than that, thoughts. Jake forced himself to swallow the words, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was overcome with an emotion he couldn’t possibly had voiced you, but his face showed nothing of it when he looked at you.

Pink lips stretching into a fond smile, jade green eyes soft and staring at you with… was it fondness ? The alcohol might had been blurring your judgement.

“I really appreciate it, darlin’, that’s very nice of you. I’d love for us to play together.” He said in a soft, soothing tone, hoping to calm your meltdown and the state of distress you were in at the sheer idea of him playing pool alone.

You nodded, satisfied by his answer, and Jake helped you put all the balls back in the middle with the rack before taking it off. He handed you a cue stick.

“Break ‘em.”

“No, you do it.”

You knew he loved to break.

Seeing a spark of something you couldn’t decipher flash in his eyes, he let out an almost bashful smile as he looked at you, and you gestured for him to take the shot, not sure you could handle his intense eyes on you any longer.

Jake got in position, upper body getting close to the table and your drunken brain immediately diverted your eyes to the curve of his ass, making a warmth spread out in your chest that you couldn’t blame on the liquor.

“Eyes on the game, darlin’.”

Your heat skipped a beat.

“I was watching the game,” you slurred, hoping your cheeks weren’t any more flushed than they already were because of your many drinks.

He let out a chuckle as he lined up his shot and every ball went bouncing off in every direction. He managed to sink a striped one.

“Alright, you take the full ones.” He told you.

Simply nodding, you watched him take another shot, sinking a ball. And then another successful one. It’s been quite some time since you’d seen him play this close, he was really good. On his third shot, he missed, finally letting you take your turn.

Circling the table and holding on to it, you tried to find the best angle to sink one of your balls, “You know I’m very good,” you stated like it was obvious, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve played.”

Jake caught himself before he could make any remark about how in your state he wasn’t expecting you to be world champion anyway.

“I wouldn’t know,” he settled for instead, “we’ve never played together.”

You abruptly stopped your rounding of the table to look at him, both of you standing perfectly on opposite sides. Your brows frowned in a confused expression and Jake wanted nothing more than to kiss away the crinkle on your forehead.

“Have we really never ?”

“Never,” he confirmed, “you don’t exactly carry me in your heart, remember ? You always say you don’t want to play with an arrogant jerk like me.”

His words seemed to fall on you with the weight of a thousand suns, your heart aching at his depiction of your own words.

“Do I really say that ?”

But Jake didn’t seem to notice the way his — yours — words had affected you, he only laughed as he continued to reminisce.

“Yeah, I tried so many times. Don’t tell me you don’t remember all the nights I literally begged you to do just one game with me ? You normally never even want to be in my vicinity when we come here.”

You shook your head, feeling the emotional overload pile up in your chest, rising in your throat to form a lump that was impossible to swallow.

“Oh…” was the only pathetic sound you managed to get out.

“Anyway, I’m glad to finally see what you are made of, Lightning.” He finished with a small chuckle.

But it had been too much too fast. The crushing realization of your harsh words, the way you had treated him no better than your friends you just yelled at a few minutes earlier, made you sick at yourself.

Still holding your cue stick in one hand, you broke out into sobs. Your head fell into your free hand, shoulders shaking with the force of your inconsolable chagrin.

If you had been able to see Jake’s face you probably would have laughed at the way his eyebrows raised comically fast.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he said in a hurried panic, putting his cue stick down on the pool table to cross the distance that was separating you, “Y/N what’s wrong ?”

He raised his hands in an instinctual move to put them on your shoulders to try and comfort you, but unsure of what his touch could do to you right now, he awkwardly put them back down. Instead he lowered himself slightly, trying to catch your eyes where you had your head bowed down into your hand.

“Y/N ?” Jake called out softly.

“I’m an awful person—“ you said in a huge sniffle, tears cascading down your cheeks with no way of stopping them. You still refused to look at him. “I’m so sorry Jake, so sorry, I’m so mean—“

He managed to get over his temporarily shock, attention now entirely focused on your wellbeing and seeing you smile again. He gently took the cue stick out of your hand to put it on the table, and before you could bring your newly free hand to your face, he took it softly, fingers wrapping around your wrist.

“Y/N ? Could you look at me for a second, sweetheart ?”

You shook your head, sobbing harder now.

“I’m sorry, Jake. So so sorry—“

“Everything is alright, I promise. You did nothing wrong,” Jake soothed, rubbing what he hoped were calming circles onto your wrist. “Could you look at me, please, Y/N ?”

Rubbing your eyes in a clumsy attempt to wipe the tears staining your cheeks, you finally lifted your head, your eyes meeting his. Jake’s heart nearly broke witnessing your lip quiver, signaling that another wave of tears was incoming. Your features were contorted into a chagrin he never witnessed before, an expression he never thought he’d see on your pretty face. And he got the most irrepressible desire to take you into his arms, rock you softly and shush you soothingly until your wet lashes dried.

His brain sent out the signals before he could stop it, his arms lifted open in an instinctual move to bring you into him, but stopped himself at the last second, arms still frozen open.

But your eyes caught the movement, and it was enough for you to launch yourself into him, sending him stumbling backward a bit from the force you had thrown yourself with. You buried your nose in his collarbone, your arms around his waist holding on as tight as your drunken state allowed you to.

It took Jake a second to get over the shock before his arms wrapped around you, one hand holding your head while he put his chin on top of it, gently caressing your hair.

“Shh shh, it’s okay, baby. Let it out. Everything is okay, I promise, everything is fine.”

Like he had imagined it only seconds before, he swayed you gently from left to right. Soothing voice hitting your ears and calming down your distress. You sniffled as you completely melted into his embrace.

“How you feeling, sweetheart ?”

“Better,” you mumbled against his collarbone.

Jake let out a fond chuckle, “i’m glad.”

He continued to rock you gently for a few minutes before he slowly began to pull back so he could look at you, his arms still wrapped around you. Your tears had dried, leaving small stains on your cheeks as you looked up at him.

“I’m really sorry I’m so mean to you all the time, Jake. I don’t know why I act like that.” You confessed in a small voice.

He gently put a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes soft as they gazed down at you.

He hummed softly, “I’ve got a little idea.”

You waited for him to explain further but when he didn’t say anything else, you frowned.

“What are you waiting for ? Tell me.” You whined.

He just smiled knowingly.

“I think that’s something you need to figure out on your own.”

Your bottom lip stuck out as you pouted and Jake playfully tsked you.

“Hey none of that,” he warned jokingly, “what can I do to bring a smile back on your pretty face ?”

Gazing at the table on your right, your voice found a new determined tone.

“I want to play pool.”

“Is that really what you want ?”

“Yes, with you.”

The smile that broke out on Jake’s face almost made you look away from how dazzling it was.

“Alright, let’s play, sweetheart.”

He handed you back your cue stick, signaling for you to take your shot since it was your turn. Aligning yourself with the cue all, tongue between your teeth in deep concentration you took the shot and—

“Oh, well I’m worse than I thought.” You stated with a hint of disappointment as you completely missed the cue ball.

Jake was unable to hide a laugh, “to be fair I don’t think everything you drank is helping you. Want some help ?”

“From the pool king himself ? Yes please.”

Jake was happy to notice some of your wit coming back, he came up behind you, not close enough to touch but close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your neck as he bent down slightly at your level.

“Just get really close to the table, yeah ?” He put a warm hand between your shoulder blades as you went down, “aim for number 5 over there,” he pointed at the ball.

You got low like he told you, chest almost touching the table, hips and ass pushing back as Jake respectfully stepped aside so he wouldn’t collide with you. Focusing really hard on where you wanted it to go, you finally took your shot and the ball went straight into the left corner pocket.

Excitement immediately made you stand up and turn around to see Jake harboring a bright, wide smile.

“Look at that, a true natural.” He praised, flashing his palm for a high five you eagerly participated in.

“What can I say ? I have the world champion player by my side,” you chimed.

You both continued to play pool, Jake very subtly letting you win. And when you had sunk all your balls and hazardously shot the 8-ball in the left middle socket, you squealed as Jake clapped for you.

“You beat me fair and square, sweetheart.”

That was clearly debatable, but you were in no state to question it, your victory seeming totally legitimate in your eyes. You walked around the table to go get your drink.

But right as you were about to take a sip, Jake — who had somehow crossed the distance in three steps — took the glass out of your hand.

“Hey ! That’s my drink !”

“How about you stick to water for now, mmh baby ?”

All the fight left your body as soon as the petname hit your ears, his Texan drawl making it sound so sweet. His voice having rendered you completely pliant, you just nodded.

“Let’s go ask Penny for a glass.” He prompted and you quickly took a hold of his arm as he guided you to the bar.

You were still holding on to Jake and Penny wasn’t able to hide her surprise when she saw the two of you.

“That’s certainly a sight,” she said with a smirk, eyeing the way you were clinging to Jake. “You okay, sweetie ?” She asked you.

“I’m great,” you assured, a tired but bright smile stretching your lips.

Jake chuckled fondly, “could we have a glass of water Penny, please ?”

The older woman nodded and quickly got out a glass that she filled with ice and water before she handed it to you. You thanked her and began downing the drink.

“Well, you definitely needed it.” Jake joked, ruffling your hair affectionately, “when you finish that glass, I’ll drive you home, yeah ?”

You nodded as Penny looked at Jake with squinting eyes.

“How much have you had to drink, sailor ?”

“Don’t worry, I just had one beer a few hours ago.”

“Alright, drive safe.”

Jake saluted Penny as you finished your glass, settling it down in the bar.

“Good night Penny !” You waved at her, the older woman eagerly returned your gesture.

“Alright, let’s say bye to the squad now.”

Making your way over to the squad, still firmly wrapped around Jake’s arm, it was almost comical to see your friends’ look of disbelief when they started to notice you walk over.

“Alright gang,” Jake caught their attention, “I’m driving Lightning home.”

All of them were stunned silent at seeing you two so close, and you so pliant and calm with him. Bob was the only one harboring a small, tender smile.

“Drive safe, we’ll see you guys on Monday.”

“I’m sorry, is no one gonna mention any of this ?” Reuben undignified himself while gesturing wildly to the two of you.

“What is that supposed to mean ?” You inquired, not liking the way he seemed to be referring so hostilely to Jake and you.

“Leave them alone,” Bradley’s voice caught everyone’s attention. “You get her home safe, Hangman.” He looked at Jake straight in the eyes, tone firm and authoritative before he softened and turned to you. “Text us when you’re home, alright ?”

While everyone was expecting Jake to come back with a smug and arrogant remark — like he usually did — his simple, diligent nod raised everyone’s brows. You let go of Jake momentarily to go hug Bradley, he wrapped his arms around you and left a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t do anything you’d regret tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear.

“Me ? You know I could never Bradshaw.” You replied jokingly.

Jake patiently waited for you as you hugged every member of the squad. When you came back to him, you immediately took hold of his arm again while he bid everyone goodnight and led you to the door after your goodbyes.

The fresh air of the summer night was a welcome sensation on your flushed cheeks. “Tonight was so much fun,” you declared.

Jake chuckled, quietly wondering how could it had been fun for you when you spent half of it crying your heart out for him.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, sweetheart.”

“Did you have fun ?” You asked, looking up at him expectantly.

Stopping next to his truck, he looked down at you, feeling the words swell up in his chest — in which his heart was hammering. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm the swirl of emotion billing in his throat.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks to you.” He said in a voice that carried so much fondness it felt like a warm embrace.

A bashful smile made its way onto your face, as Jake refrained the urge to leave the softest kiss on your forehead, instead he just opened the passenger door for you and helped you in.

The drive was rather short, but Jake was struggling to focus on the road as he could sense your intense stare on him. Your eyes never wavered from his face and despite himself he could feel heat slowly coming onto his neck and cheeks.

Parking out in front of the small house you were renting near base, he came to your side to open your door and helped you out. In front of your door, you both stopped.

“Thank you for tonight, darlin’.”

Your hazy eyes bore into his with an intensity that shook him to his core.

“Jake ?”

“Yeah, baby ?”

“I think I figured out why I’m so mean to you all the time.”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat, not sure if it was from excitement of finally hearing the words he longed to hear from you or fear of having you say them while the alcohol was clouding your judgement.

“You did ?” His voice was strained, feeling his palms sweat and wiping them down on his pants.

“Yes. The reason I’m so mean to you all the time is not because I hate you, I think—“

“Y/N, Don’t say anything, please,” he stopped you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

Giving him a confused look, you felt your heart drop, “why…?” You asked, voice small, “you don’t wanna hear what I have to say…?”

Jake let out a sigh, “It’s not that, sweetheart,” he assured, voice gentle, “I just don’t want you to say things you could regret tomorrow.”

“Do you know what I was going to say ?”

He gave you a small smile, one hand sliding from your shoulder to cup your flushed cheek, thumb rubbing gently. The cool temperature of his hand was a welcome sensation as you nuzzled against it.

“I do.”

“But I want to say it, I want you to know.” You whined, putting your hand on top of his that was cupping your cheek.

“Believe me, I already know, darlin’. Have for quite some time now. But when you say it to me, I want it to be because you are ready to say it, not because the alcohol is forcing you to.”

But Jake could still see the disappointment in your eyes and your pouting lip was making a reappearance, completely melting him from the inside.

“How about you tell me tomorrow ? When you’re sober.”

“I won’t have the courage to do it tomorrow ! That’s the whole point of doing it now…”

“Then I’ll wait, it’s okay.”

Feeling the tears starting to come back with the frustration of not being able to express what you had been feeling this whole time, you complained, “I don’t want to wait anymore, Jake. I lo—“

“Baby, please don’t,” Jake put a panicked hand over your mouth.

You frowned and he could see your eyes getting hazy with tears.

“If I take off my hand, will you listen to me for a second ?”

As you nodded, Jake moved his hand from your mouth to your cheek, so both of his hands were holding your face. He hated knowing he was the cause of the small tears that were slipping from your confused and hurt eyes.

“Y/N, I promise that I feel the exact same way you do, I have for years, okay ? And there is nothing on this earth I desire more than to finally hear you admit it, but when you do, I want it to come from you, not the alcohol.” Drowning in his jade green eyes, his words made your heart almost beat out of your chest. “I want you sober when you finally tell me, cause then there won’t be anything else holding me back from kissing you like I’ve been dreaming of, alright ?”

His words stunned you quiet as his thumbs gently wiped the tears on your cheeks. It’s like your breath had been taken away. Nothing had been said, and yet you both knew. The silent truth was lingering in the air, silencing every other noise. In this moment it was only you and him, standing in front of each other, finally on the same wavelength.

Your lips stretched out on their own. Unknowingly to you both, your hearts were beating in synch to the rhythm of your unspoken, and yet certain, feelings.

“You have to promise me something, Jake.” You finally said when you found your words.

“Anything.”

“You need to come find me tomorrow, so I can tell you. Tomorrow morning, first light, I want you right here in front of the door, so I can tell you. If you don’t come to me I’ll never have the courage to go find you myself.”

Jake let out a shaky, relived exhale before a smile broke out onto his face.

“I will, sweetheart. Promise.”

“What time will you be here ?” You eagerly asked, already impatient for the first rays of sunshine to cast a golden glow over his features as you would pour out your entire heart to him.

Jake chuckled, before he bent down slightly, leaving a tender kiss on your cheek that you leaned into the best you could.

“I’ll be here at first light, just like you said. If you think I’m not impatient as well, you’re mistaken, darlin’. Now go to bed, it’s going to be a long day tomorrow, we have a lot to talk about.”

You nodded, embracing him as tight as you could.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake.” you said in a barely contained excited giggle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You opened your door, flashing him one last smile before closing it and disappearing inside of your home.

Jake didn’t know exactly how much time he spent in front of your door after you closed it. His chest felt tight, heart filled with the quiet love he had carried all these years, a love he’d finally be able to express out loud.

He looked up at the moon which was casting an eerie glow over the street, and prayed for the night to fly by fast. He usually loved the stars, but looking up at them he found himself thinking that he’d be fine never seeing another star again if he meant he finally got to be with you. He smiled, feeling giddy like the first time he’d realised he was in love with you. He had waited patiently for years for this moment to come, and somehow it felt impossible to sit tight for another few hours.

Jake couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.

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Author’s note : alright I definitely didn’t planned for this little fic to get that long, but I hoped you liked it, thank you for reading !!

1. starting line — bob floyd x reader drunken miscommunication trope craziness, a ton of angst/yearning, and a lot of squad teasing

2. everything but married — single dad!bob floyd x reader fluff and domesticity overload !! bob is the sweetest dad of two and down BAD

3. tongue tied — bob floyd x reader mutual pining, some spicy scenes, and fake-dating… only you’re not fake-dating each other

4. untitled halloween special — bob floyd x reader a smutty little halloween one shot (unfortunately has to wait to be posted next year)

5. untitled — bob floyd x reader a half-baked piece about fucking bob while wearing his sweatshirt. that’s it, that’s the plot

6. untitled — bob floyd x reader more fake-dating with a twist. tropical destination wedding, yearning, and boundaries that are begging to be crossed (my first idea for him i STILL haven’t gotten to finish yet… soon, i hope)

7. set it up — bob floyd x reader yup… based on the movie set it up !

8. the collector — bob reynolds x reader 5 + 1 vignettes of bob’s personal & romantic growth as he settles into his new life. how each thunderbolts member (and you) helps him find home along the way

9. stirred — bob reynolds x reader friends to lovers, idiots in love, roommates who are basically more… misinterpretations lead to some pent up sexual frustrations neither of you can hold back on

10. untitled — bob reynolds x reader smut based on that video of lew doing pottery… then it spiraled into a full blown plot bc it’s me

11. untitled — bob reynolds x reader half-baked rivals to lovers who are brought together when sam and bucky merge their teams

12. tell august i’m waiting — bob reynolds x team sam reader they have a ton of history and are thrown into a new dynamic together years later

13. untitled — another team bucky bob x team sam reader bob is falling for you fast, but there’s two people standing in his way— himself and joaquin torres

14. start over — vigilante x reader angsty smut based on the 5sos song (go listen to it, you’re missing out if you haven’t)

15. know you naked — adrian chase x reader 5 + 1 childhood friends to lovers. five times he sees you naked, and the one time it’s different

16. untitled — adrian chase x teacher!reader i don’t got much on this one… half-baked with a cool, in-depth plot i lowkey forgot lol

17. untitled — adrian chase x reader childhood friends to lovers but you don’t know he’s vigilante. you’re torn between who you’re in love with and who you’re falling for despite it being the same person

18. colors — mcu peter parker x reader iirc my first EVER fic from years ago. something i think would be nice to revisit and finish

19. untitled — steve harrington x reader “enemies” to lovers with season one steve. you team up together against your will, but you discover more than you’re really willing to accept

20. if i call you mine something i’ll probably never post and probs wanna keep just for me but it’s my BABY fr. currently sitting at 106.8k (yes u read that right) and we’re just hitting the end of the second act

21. in the focus, i’ll be waiting old, abandoned fic from my fexi days. still excited about what i had in store for that plot… maybe one day it’ll be finished or reworked for another character

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Your bad experiences with love had come as a child. You, a mutant child with also mutant parents who were in many ways overprotective. It wasn't their fault, really. You were lucky enough to be able to hide your powers as a teen, and they seemed normal to everyone they knew. But being paranoid meant being safe. Being overprotective meant staying normal.

And normal you stayed. As normal as possible, of course. You never had any boyfriends or girlfriends during school, but you maintained decent grades and stayed quiet enough to not get bullied all too much. College was going the same way. Ordinary, simple, plain. You were headed for a bachelor's degree, something so common in the world. Something so ordinary.

But somehow, as trouble always did, it found someone who didn't need it. Ultron's attack on your hometown had been a quick one, but a terrifying one. Your apartment building collapsed, and without thinking you had used your powers to get people out.

When it hit you, it was a terrifying realization. You're a mutant, people know that now. People don't like mutants, they're treated like subhuman trash. But despite this fear, people cheered. Mothers thanked you, news reporters asked for you, couples praised you for saving their lovers, and you were stunned. People loving a mutant? Cheering them? Thanking the Lord for their protection?

For once, you weren't normal or ordinary. You were extraordinary. And it may be selfish, but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the attention from others, the flowery comments and the feeling of finally sticking out. Eventually, you were scouted by Tony to work alongside the Avengers

But only a year later, the war broke out and Tony passed. And the Avengers' was - obviously - disbanded. You were left to wander, falling back into your past of just blending in. Until Bucky contacted you with the offer. Join "The New Avengers".

And join you did! You were itching to get back out there, put back on that suit of yours and enjoy the feeling of free-falling and living on nothing but a prayer. (a/n: BON JOVI REFERENCE EHE)

You met the team, a much...rougher group then your beloved Avengers, but a team nonetheless. You were a real, bonafide, experienced Avenger ready to get back on the scene! You were ready to enjoy praise and save a few lives. You were enthusiastic, putting your all into the missions.

But Lord, these people SUCKED!

That was a bit of a stretch, but still. Walker was a major asshole who you didn't think even neared Steve's legacy, Yelena and Ava were much too "stabby" for you, and Alexei was a tad bit too obsessed with the marketing side of things. You didn't hate any of them, of course, they were fine people - but they were nothing like your Avengers'. Your team. All except for Bucky, he was the same as always. You loved sharing that same banter with him, the same kind you had with the other Avengers when you were an early-20-something with absolutely nothing to prove for once. But the rest of the team was so...abnormal. Not exactly in the uniquely perfect way.

And then there was Robert. Bob, as you became accustomed to calling him. He was a sweet thing, he really was. He was quiet as a mouse around you, and only raised his presence - merely to that of a house cat's - if certain others were around. He didn't join you guys on most missions, didn't seem to have any control of his powers other than 0% and 100% on that rare occasion a few months ago. He was invincible, but he wasn't the best fighter. You mostly brought him along for smaller things. Gang busts and attempted robberies, that kind of stuff. And slowly, you found yourself admiring him. He was 2 years older than you, so you shared some similar experiences. He enjoyed watching you as you baked - and you learned to enjoy that too. He liked doing the simple things, really. You washed dishes, tidied the living room, folded the heaps of laundry, and did any other mundane chore you were tasked with - all together. He really was a house cat. Soft, quiet, and always finding a way to silently exist in your space. And you adored him.

You found yourself thinking of him when you listened to love songs; songs that you previously had assigned to no one in particular. You started giggling when he did anything slightly silly, started kicking your feet whenever your mind wandered to a possible future. Something so soft, so domestic, and so out-of-reach. You never got to experience a real childhood and with that came a lack of any teenage love story. You never let yourself get close enough to have crushes, and you were 99% sure no one ever yearned for the high school version of you. So Bob, this dork you worked with, was the first person you got to experience love with. It was a nice feeling, really. It was soft, motivating, comforting, and so gentle. You didn't feel the pressure to make him yours, you just enjoyed his presence. Your love was soft.

Bob's love was sick. (a/n: madds buckley reference????) His love was fearful, nausea-inducing, unlucky, and impossible to ignore. While you giggled and kicked your feet, Bob screamed into his pillows and paced his bedroom. You were nice, too damn nice. A kickass actual superhero who was somehow the nicest person he'd ever met. Someone who never complained about his presence or his inability to balance his powers, someone who was gentle and affectionate. You kissed his head as a kind gesture, gave him the first warm bite of all the baked goods you made, and made him feel as if he was on cloud nine.

Until he would fall down again. Crashing face-first into grasslands metaphorically named "reality". You'd achieved so damn much in a lifetime two years shorter than his own. You spent your twenties saving lives and making speeches. He spent his shuffling for drugs and picking up odd obs - just to buy more drugs. Robert Reynolds loved in a fearful manor, one that had him asking "WHY ME?" on some nights. Nights where he would have similar dreams to yours, ones where he was your husband and you were his wife, maybe with some kiddos in the bunch. He'd curse his luck, really. Why him? Why did cupid have to stab his eyes out with arrows and leave him with retinas that only seemed to gravitate to you?

He swatted away at the tugs in his heart at first, he really did. But the universe had its way of magnetically pulling him to you in it's own way. He's mostly accepted it. An odd, shameful sort of acceptance. "My name's Bob Reynolds and I'm in love with a woman that has the full right to treat me like nothing like a slug in her path!" It's sad, really. You're not out of his league - definitely not as much as he thinks you are. You're an angel and he's a puddle left from a mediocre, disappointing rainstorm that didn't accumulate anywhere but the dips in the pavement that never got filled. He's desperately evaporating to you. In slow, unwilling bits.

You loved in old Sinatra songs, he loved like dirt on pavement. His love was a reckless tidal wave, yours was a river bubbling with a soft, flowery aroma. Your giggles on the phone with your mom matched his anxious rambles to his therapist. You were a mirror of Bob's feelings - one of those mirrors in a fun house that makes everything look odd. You were the sheriff with the statue in the middle of town - Robert Reynolds was a wanted man, and love was his accidental crime. Lock him up, throw away the key.

His hesitation is trashed without any hesitation. He's a weak, weak man. He doesn't resist your charms anymore, he's given in. "You wanna go out on a run with me?" You coo, zipping up your athletic jacket and fixing your shorts. It's 6:00am, Bob's only up because the sound of Blondie coming loudly from your speaker had kept him from staying in his already fragile slumber. He didn't mind too much. The sound of "Call Me" playing every morning, mixed with your footsteps, reminded him that he'd be able to see you before you truly got ready for the day. Hair undone, super suit off, and eyes still slightly drowsy from the dim lighting.

"I'll have to pass that up, I'm still tired." Bob mutters, hands fighting the urge to pull you to him. Instead, he grabs a random apple from the kitchen counter. Best to sink his teeth into the sinner's fruit then let his misery slip from his mouth. Love me, tell me you want me too, tell me you're not too good for me.

"Aww, really? I made an extra smoothie! And John is out because today's his custody day. I'd love to have you joi-"

"Actually yeah I think that's a great idea-" He blurts.

You giggle, passing him a bottle with a smoothie just like yours. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, all that good stuff. He swears he saw you out kale in there too, but the color is soft pink so maybe he imagined that in his efforts to distract himself from you.

He's imagined a lot of things when it comes to you, and maybe this run will be another stepping stone to get him closer to pushing that long denied dream into reality. For once in Robert Reynolds' life, he likes being sick. To suffer, sink, and drown in your presence is a demise he'll take every grueling minute of, as long as his heaven is granted to him in the form of your soft arms and even softer words. Hands up, he's surrendered to his untimely demise at your hands.

‎‧₊⚡˚ 💛⚡︎ ꪆৎ⸝💙✶˚‧.

A/N: My first non Pietro/Peter Marvel fic! 😭 I've LOVED Bob's character since I saw thunderbolts, and I started this while watching my 4th rewatch of Thunderbolts and finished it after my 6th rewatch 🧍. I HAVE A PART TWO PLANNED FOR THIS, I SWEAR, but I'm really caught up with college and work gahh 😭 I also have SO MANY drafts. Lots of Peter I haven't finished and a few John Walker fics. Also a huge headcannon post for Peter 😈😈 HERES THE SONG THAT INSPIRED THIS FIC EHEHE👇

Your heartbeat kicks as you wind up the hill— An ornate, tall, ivory building slipping into view between strips of bare branches and amber-glowing antique street lamps.

There’d been a speech, a pep-talk, an inner monologue, all running wild through your head the closer you came to this moment. 

And yet, somehow, nothing could’ve prepared you for the rush of adrenaline and symphony of deafening, conflicting reminders clashing behind your skull when it finally arrives. 

The nerves sit like a lump in your throat— An unshakable, persistent reminder this wasn’t nothing like you tried to tell yourself it was. 

No, of course this wasn’t nothing. This was your best friend’s wedding, for God’s sake. 

But that wasn't the reason your hands were sweaty and restless, twisting around the little trinkets on your keyring incessantly, glittering under the glow of an occasional passing streetlight. 

It wasn’t the reason your pulse was concerningly erratic, your lip caught between your teeth, your stomach in knots so long it forgot any other form. 

Not at all. 

Truthfully, you couldn’t be happier about this: an extended weekend of nothing but ebullience and bliss for the most deserving person you know. A perfect night, perfect weather, perfect venue— Already busting at the seams with warm joy and soft smiles like a heartbeat in the cold. 

But if you were being honest, it didn’t help that her past was tied to yours. It didn’t help that celebrating joining her new life and memories with old was bound to dig up yours. 

And it certainly didn’t help that she was related to the very person you loathe. 

Actually, loathe was putting it nicely. You’d be more than happy to go the rest of your life never seeing Bob Floyd again. 

Or at least you had yourself convinced of that.  

Your Uber pulls to a jerky stop along the covered turnaround at the main doors of the Inn, tires scraping ceremoniously against the cool cobblestone. 

The sleek black of the car is bathed in faint, warm, twinkling lights strung tastefully around every pillar, every perfectly-preened bush, and every window wreath. They mimic the stars glistening above a canvas of pitch black night, moon a subtle sliver slipping through the forest in the distance.

A mantra races through your mind as you force your albeit shaky legs to unfold and slide along the leather, pointed heels coming in handy to push the last notch of the door open. 

It echoes, screams over every other thought as you exhale sharply in the freezing December air, smoothing over your cocktail dress and untucking your hair to shield your ears from the bitter bite. 

Don’t pay him any attention. This weekend isn’t about him, it’s about Abby. Be the bigger person, just avoid him. Don’t even—

Your body careening backward into the solid weight of another pauses your internal rambling. 

Unwavering, warm hands gently find purchase along your elbows to steady you as you stumble, dropping one of your bags from the trunk upon impact. 

You’re gearing up to apologize profusely—laugh at yourself in the arms of this steady stranger for being so caught up in your own shit that you’re not paying much attention—when you turn in their grasp and are met with a familiar face. 

The very person you wanted to avoid was the first you see, standing broader and taller over you compared to the last time you saw him. 

His familiar sandy-brown hair is perfectly combed and gelled into place, glasses gleaming under the moon glow, thin lips stitched into a knowing smile bordering on a smirk as he peers down at you. 

His hands—his presence, his heat—don’t move. He stays, anchoring you until you break free, smoothing down your hair and breaking eye contact to hide the way you were flushed from your misfortune. 

Your plan wasn’t off to a great start. 

Your face shifts into something blatantly unamused and disinterested like second nature, defenses snapping back into place. 

“Still clumsy,” he lilts, head cocked. “Some things never change, I guess.”

You step back, letting a breath of cold air slice between the heat of your bodies getting reacquainted against your will. 

“You ever watch where you’re going, Floyd?”

A deflection. 

You’re being defensive—admittedly wrong—and you know it, but it’s like it’s out of your control. It’s muscle memory around him, a reflex too ingrained in you to shake. 

His eyes flick between yours, smirk widening a fraction like it brought him joy to see you perturbed. You know it did. 

“Wow, did a cold front move through or is that just you?” 

You shoot him a look, turning with a huff to busy yourself with the bags left untouched in the trunk. 

Listen to yourself, you think. Don’t pay him any attention. 

“In my defense,” he adds, moving alongside you, trying to gauge your reaction. “You were the one who backed into me.”

“Well, this is kinda heavy,” you mutter, strained voice evidence of your point as you tug your suitcase free and drop it between you with a hollow thud. “Besides,” you exhale sharply, eyeing him. “You shouldn’t be walking that close to an open trunk.” 

“You’re not the only one carrying heavy things, you know,” he counters, stepping behind you and picking up a stack of cardboard boxes, all overflowing with different decorations and wedding trinkets. 

You blink, quietly trying to shake the feeling he dropped everything just to keep you from falling. 

Of course he would do something like that.

You’d rather take the scrape on your knee or twist of an ankle. 

He doesn’t second guess— Just shifts the stack of boxes to one hand, steady against his side, and pops the handle free on your suitcase with the other. 

“I don’t need you to do that,” you say, trying and failing to grab your bag back as you sling the other across your arm. 

He sends you a smile over his shoulder, already dragging your bag along with him. 

It was a look that bordered on warmth… Or maybe it was condescending— Prideful to a point like this proved you needed him. He thrived on that.

“And risk you taking out another guest? Not a chance.”  

He slips through the main doors already whirling open, muscles flexing a little unfairly—and annoyingly—under the thin stretch of his sleek, crisp white button down.

When did he get that kind of body?

“Stop staring and hurry up before that chill of yours comes inside, too,” he calls back, chuckling under his breath as you thank the driver one last time, slam the trunk shut, and follow him into the warmth. 

The heat of the lobby floods your bones in an instant. 

There’s a faint flicker of a wood-burning fireplace in the corner, casting heat over the lobby adorned with intricate, classically-antique furniture. A fresh-cut tree—at least 16 feet or so—fills the space with the earthy smell of pine, dressed in delicate lights and glistening ornaments, centering a mirrored staircase daintily winding around it. 

A spill of familiar laughter and humble conversation floats through every doorway, the muffled clinks and clatter of toasts and reacquaintance in the distance. 

You’re about to grab your stuff from Bob so you can check in, get away from him, and find the Floyd you’re actually here to see when a pair of tall men saunter up— Champagne flutes full, clothes neatly pressed, neither of them subtle in the way they check you out. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror just past them— Cheeks and nose pink, lips full, makeup still in place, curves of your smooth skin cut from soft shadows, and hair somehow decent, despite the wind whipping just behind you. 

You looked good. At least one thing was still going your way.

“Baby on Board,” one of them calls, clapping a firm hand on Bob’s shoulder and taking the stack of boxes from his hands. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that sharing is caring when it comes to helping a lady?”

The stranger gives you a winning smile, all bright teeth and smug pride. 

He’s the same height as Bob, just broader— Charming to the point of a fault, hair perfectly blonde and coiffed, eyes the kind of green that looked blue the longer you got lost in them. 

Bob’s jaw sets, expression blank and unamused at his friends’ attempts to swoop in. 

“That’s Abby’s,” he points out flatly.

The smug one’s smile falters. “Oh,” he mumbles, setting the stack down on a table behind him and effortlessly shaking off whatever fractured piece of bruised ego threatened to show. 

“Lt. Jake Seresin,” he introduces, voice smooth, shoulders squared, cool and confident as his eyes slowly slip down your body. He shakes your hand firmly, grip impressive and intentional. “Pleasure.” 

Before you could return the gesture, the guy next to him steps in— Hand extended and paired with a similar smirk, standing straight like he has something to prove. 

He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome— Albeit a little shorter than the other two lieutenants. He smelled expensive—looked it too—dressed in a sleek, black button down and leather jacket. 

“Don’t waste your time on a guy whose call sign is Bagman,” he dismisses lightly. “Lt. Javy Machado.” 

“It’s Hangman,” Jake corrects, briefly rolling his eyes and tipping his flute to his lips, attention never leaving you. 

Your eyes flick between the two of them battling it out for your attention like children. A faint smile creeps up, your lips twisted into something that lived between unimpressed and… amused, voice light and coy. 

“And you think I’m spending my weekend with either of you why…?”

Jake purses his lips, head tilted as his eyes darken a tad. “You bite. I can work with that.” 

Bob bulldozes through their attempts— Body stiff, expression rigid, eyes heavy and impatient. You kinda forgot he was still here, all broody and bored. 

“Are you two done embarrassing yourselves yet?” he snaps, shifting his weight, shooting the pilots a look. 

Javy steals a flute off a fresh tray being brought into the dining room behind him where the festivities were unfolding and hands it to you with a grin. 

“Not our fault you missed the boat, Bobby.”

You raise your eyebrows, interest in drowning whatever little time you had to spare this weekend in either of them quickly dwindling. They really weren’t good at this, but they certainly thought they were. 

You couldn’t tell if it was charming or overdone. 

Bob runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes narrowed. “Funny. This is Abby’s maid of honor,” he explains, introducing you and sharing your name. 

Their expressions falter—teasing, flirty nature snapped on cue—so quickly it makes you shift your weight and swallow so uncomfortably you have to convince yourself they didn’t hear it. 

Javy’s eyes dart toward you, taking you in again like you somehow changed since the last time he looked. Jake chokes—literally chokes—on a smug sip of champagne, now anything but assertive and poised. 

Hell, you put together these were Bob’s friends—Rooster’s friends, therefore, Abby’s friends—but based on the way their expressions went cold and the flirty competition was sucked from the room like it never existed in the first place, you’d swear they were introduced to a murderer. 

You figured they knew about you—knew Bob wasn’t your biggest fan, of course—but you were suddenly insecure about the prospect of whatever it could’ve possibly been that Bob told them about you. 

Of course he had somehow already ruined your one opportunity to achieve the much-needed, mindless task of keeping the other side of your bed warm this weekend. 

They were both headstrong—in more ways than one—but they were still options. Attractive ones, at that. 

Guess they were out of the question now. 

You try your best to swallow down your anxiety threatening to come loose and unravel you and plaster on your best clueless expression— Lips parted softly, brows furrowed just so, hint of a smile so you weren’t akin to the bitter monster he had apparently made you out to be. 

“What… You guys know me?”

“Of course,” Javy pipes up, clearing his throat and glancing between you and Bob in a way that was anything but inconspicuous. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Jake gives him a shove, subtle as a freight train.

You bite your nail innocently, hiding the nervous slant in your lips. “You have?”

“Rooster’s girl’s best friend she claims was the sibling she never had?” Jake points out, teasing smile tugging at his lips as he glances at Bob who bristles. “Yeah— We know you.” 

Well, when he puts it like that, duh— Of course they do. But you weren’t stupid. You know that knee-jerk reaction was more than just finally meeting Abby’s best friend. 

You hum sweetly in acknowledgement, mind abruptly cut off from trying to scrape together a way to salvage this encounter by Bob shoving the stack of Abby’s decor at Hangman. 

“Great. Everyone knows each other,” he mumbles, miserably failing at hiding his expression worn thin. “Go make yourselves useful like you promised and give this to Abbs.” 

“I can just take it,” you pipe up. “I should probably help her finish setting up before anyone else gets here, anyways. Y’know… maid of honor duties, or whatever.”

“And make you more of a liability than you already are? No way.”

Bob steers the two pilots toward the room they came from before they could get a word in edgewise, sparing no time for an explanation on what it was they seemingly know about you.

Your lips press together, arms crossed. “Are you ever gonna let that go? I barely even touched you.”

He studies you for a beat, all faux contemplation. “Mmm… I don’t think so. It’s fun to watch you get all worked up.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to ignore the way he managed to make the tension between you pull tighter, managed to spark a live wire with patronizing, prideful glances and smug smiles he tried to pass off as sweet. 

“Your CO’s coming, right? Maybe he’d like to know one of his lieutenants can’t handle a little weight.” You lean closer, voice sharper, adding, “Or pressure.”

His eyes flick between yours. Once, then twice, corner of his mouth upturned and twitching. His shallow blue eyes darken behind the glint of his wire frames, daring, like he was going to push it further— Whatever further meant. 

But he retreats, exhaling sharply and swiveling your suitcase back to you with a tilt of his chin. 

“Get yourself checked in. You’re missing the party.” 

Something unnamed flickers in his expression, eyes trained on you even as he adjusts his sleeve cuff and starts for the room he just sent his squad mates. 

“You were right,” you call after him over the rim of your flute with a smirk, watching him freeze on command at a sentence so seldom said. 

He turns on his heels slowly, confusion a veil over his face: brows lifted gently, hands shoved in his pockets, head slightly cocked like he can’t help but be curious.

It didn’t take much for you to have his full attention. 

You smile effortlessly, shaking your head and grabbing your luggage as you echo,

“Still so bossy— Some things never change.”

A lot of the guests had already arrived by the time you dropped your things off in your room, freshened up, and made your way downstairs again.

It was quaint, quiet, but buzzing and warm in all the perfectly familiar ways that made it feel like you uprooted a slice of home under Montana skies and planted it in the secluded mountains of upstate California.

The party was small, living in between a welcome party and just a makeshift gathering of everyone who just so happened to fly in early and be in the same place at the same time. 

The second description was more fitting. 

A tiny dining room on the north end of the Inn served as home base for old acquaintances reintroduced and the tangled threads of delicate, new beginnings. 

The atmosphere settled like reassurance— Intimate, like old and new memories bent to become one. The gentle lull of easy conversation and laughter swelled like a symphony pouring from the French doors propped open. Beyond it was an array of intricate finger foods, small tablescapes, and mingling bodies all bathed in delicate candlelight— Successfully delivered and set up by Coyote and Hangman, apparently. 

The Floyds were like gravity, quietly possessing this special knack for bringing comfort wherever they were. A loose handful of close friends and relatives existed comfortably in their presence— You included, especially once you finally caught sight of the one person you were actually here to see. 

Abby was always your center, your safe space to land, that one steadfast pillar of support, never wavering. Always there for you, always grounding. Always on your side, your one piece of solidarity— Even now that she came attached to the arm of a new addition.

She spots you immediately, turning when you step into the room like a sixth sense, something only the two of you could feel. And the fracture in your world remembers there's grace in healing when she smiles— Beaming and bright and beholden. Already the perfect bride.

Or, more importantly, your best friend.

A flood of elated sounds close to squeals of glee fall from her lips, immediately slicing through the dots of guests to greet you.

You’re in her embrace instantly, held at arm’s length just enough so she could take you in. She makes you do a stupid little spin in a chorus of giggles like you were 15 again, standing on the edge of her bed in your first homecoming dress or her mother’s clothes playing dress-up.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here!” she gushes, smile never faltering and pulling you into a tight hug. 

Over her shoulder you spot Bob, already watching you two like a magnet— Expression unreadable. Not cold, not distant, just a quiet truth you didn’t have the code to decipher. 

Something you weren't meant to see. Something he didn’t mean to show.

You shake it off, busying your attention back on your friend once you pull out of her knuckle-white grip you missed dearly.

“Of course,” you assure, a little breathless. “It’s the week of your wedding— Where else would I be?”

“Nowhere, or I’d disown you.”

You laugh, hands woven between hers and giving her a tight squeeze that says Duh.

This made it all worth it— All the sideways glances and sharp smile lines and stiff posture. 

This was your family— She was your family.

And nothing would ever change that, not even her brother. She might be his blood, but she was a piece of your soul. 

Even he couldn’t change that. 

“You look stunning,” you gush, voice low and sweet, eyes playfully ogling the bride-to-be in the way she damn well deserves. “I literally couldn’t picture anything more perfect— You weren’t kidding when you said this place was better than your dreams.” 

“Isn’t it?” She sighs blissfully, grabbing some passed finger foods for you both as they drift by. “I knew you’d love it. And so do you! How do you always manage to look so good fresh off a plane?”

You shrug, smile growing, munching on your share of hors d’oeuvres. “Talent.”

“Truly. You’re the only person I know who steps off a flight looking better than when you boarded. It’s unfair.” 

You press your wrist to her forehead, pinching your lips in faux-contemplation. 

“You sure you’re not feverish? Already drunk on…” You steal a glance at the custom signature drink menu making a premature debut past her shoulder. “Bird Strikes? God, who thought of that?”

She swats your hand away. “Don’t even get me started.”

“Whiskey, honey syrup, and a twist,” you read, shrugging. “At least Bradley has taste.”

“Your mom’s favorite.” She goes quiet, pulling you close— That familiar, grounding rub against your skin, something you’d know in any lifetime. “I wish she could be here.”

You study her: the quiet sentiment, the worry for you when it’s her time, and that look— The one that never lets you hang off the edge for too long. 

“She does too,” you say, voice softer. “I just know she’d be obsessing over you— And Rooster’s choice in cocktails.”

The fiancé in question slides up along Abby, arm wrapped firm around her waist, lingering squeeze above her hips that makes you smile— Same gentle confidence and alluring presence.

The mustache too.

“Place your bets now,” he boasts, tugging his wife-to-be closer into his side. “It’s gonna outsell the Abby Road easy.”

You giggle with him, exchanging a polite half-hug with his free arm as Abby rolls her eyes loosely. 

“Says the guy who didn’t even want to do signature drinks.”

You ignore her playful pouting, leaning forward and pretending to examine his mustache with vigor. 

“Damn, I swear that thing gets bigger every time I see you. It’s like you comb it with Miracle-Gro.”

Rooster grins proudly, chuckling under his breath.

“I’m surprised I’ve had the willpower to avoid telling him to shave it,” Abby adds. 

“I’m not— You’ve always had a thing for guys with mustaches.”  

Rooster’s interest is piqued tenfold, brows lifting, smirking at his girl turning red on his arm. “Huh… Is that so?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Um, yes absolutely so,” you counter, smile growing. “Tim Rooney.” 

Her eyes widen, memories rushing back to her as she gapes. “Oh my God— Mr. Rooney, sixth grade gym class! Fuck, you’re right.” 

“Mhm,” you hum, stuffing the last bite of long-forgotten crostini in your mouth with an accomplished nod. “Of course I am.”

Rooster looks delighted, expression intrigued and flirting with mild satisfaction as he brushes over his mustache. 

“Damn, honey, did anyone else ever stand a chance?”

“No,” she teases, leaning closer, voice low and loving. “Only you— Even without the ‘stache.”

“Ew,” you tease, mouth twisting as Abby’s lips brush against his. “Save it for the wedding night, you two.”

“Oh, please— Bold coming from the woman who’s gonna bitch with Bob 24-7.”

Before you could protest, cheeks heating at her subtle dig, Rooster beats you to the punch, thumb brushing over her shoulder with an amused smile. 

“How is that even remotely the same thing, Abbs?”

“Trust me— It’s like their own weird version of foreplay.”

Rooster snorts. “Freaky.”

Your heart stutters, pulse racing. It’s not true—not even close, no matter how much Abby loved to tease—so why did it make your palms sweat, make your body feel tense and heavy, suck the air from the room when you catch a glimpse of him again? 

You bite your lip, trying to brush it off— Failing. “I’ll let that one slide because it’s your wedding.”

Abby smiles, brow lifted. “Or because it’s true.”

The pair stares expectantly, making the room narrow. You suddenly felt really aware of your surroundings, of your body, of what the lines in your forehead and the heat in your cheeks gave away without your permission. 

“Oh, do you hear that?” You hold your hand up to your ear, doing your best to sell your excuse. “I think I hear your mom… She wants to say hi.”

And you beeline to where you spotted Mrs. Floyd before Abby could grab you back, trying to drown out the way Rooster laughed and you could feel her knowing eyes sear into the back of your head—expression still loving—and calling after you, 

“She’ll just tell you the same thing!”

The rest of the night was harder without Abby as a shield. 

It’s not that you didn’t love the Floyd family and all their friends—well, your friends too… Small towns tend to run in all the same circles—but catching up with old ties never really seemed to be that easy in large doses. 

Talking with Mrs. Floyd was, however, always the opposite. She was the epitome of comfort, always somewhere safe to land, just like her daughter. You knew her basically your whole life, and she knew you— Which unfortunately, much like Abby, included knowing your tells. 

Your body language was never well hidden, nor your faux joy or best attempts at pleasantries. That meant you couldn’t really hide the fact that you weren’t particularly enthralled to be in the same room as her son again. 

Or same state, for that matter. 

She gave you some hugs that felt like home and all the things you missed most, a handful of compliments about how far you’ve come— How good you look and how proud she is of the life you’ve created for yourself. How you smelled pretty and how she ‘used to have a dress that cute and tiny when she was young.’

But—same as always—she didn’t miss the opportunity to (lovingly) point out that you should have someone with you or someone to spend the weekend with. 

And that meant a couple teasing comments along the lines of ‘it would be nice to make you an official daughter,’ or ‘you know, Bobby’s always adored you.’

You couldn’t fault her—couldn’t really do anything other than offer a soft smile and flustered dismissal—because she chalked up your history to normal adolescent adrenaline edged with attraction and quiet competition you, of course, age out of. 

She didn’t know it ran deeper. She didn’t need to. 

So, you changed the subject— Talked about how nice the venue was and how lovely she looked. Asked how her book club was going and—after you both had another glass of champagne—if she actually likes her future son-in-law.

She does. 

You mingle your way through the rest of the family: distant relatives you met once or twice at a barbecue growing up, Mrs. Floyd’s best friend who owns the pharmacy in town and gave you your first job, some other familiar faces from home. 

You also got to meet two other members of Rooster’s squadron, Fanboy and Payback, all loudly polite and equally over-confident as the other two from the lobby.  

It was all good and fun until you were referred to as ‘Robby’s pretty high school sweetheart’ a few times by Abby and Bob’s extremely elderly great grandfather to the pilots.

You adored him, knew it didn’t mean anything and was completely harmless—he was nearing 97 for God’s sake—but your brain was starting to melt at constantly hearing yourself referred to in some type of affectionate context in relation to Bob.

Especially when the guys' expressions went wide with amusement, accompanied by raised brows and smooth, teasing echoes of ‘oh really?’ among other boyish laughs. 

So, yeah— You needed a break. 

You find your window shortly after clarifying just how very untrue that was to the guys and make a break for it to the little antique bar in the corner. 

A guy with a handlebar mustache greets you, all warm smiles and crinkly eyes.

“A glass of Chardonnay, Miss?”

You blink, take a look over your shoulder at Bob’s solid frame becoming a landing spot for one of his mother’s friends laughing like he was suddenly Montana’s most charming bachelor, and sigh. 

“Whiskey,” you mutter. “Rocks, please.” 

“Make that two,” an unfamiliar voice adds. 

It was a woman— Lean, tan, ridiculously sleek, black hair and a friendly smile, elbow casually propped against the bar top.

“Nice to finally put a face to the name,” she says, slipping into the open seat next to you. “I’m Natasha— Or Phoenix.”

Realization washes over you, accepting your matching drinks from the bartender with a smile and sliding hers in her direction. 

“Ohhh— The Natasha who Abby keeps threatening to replace me with if I don’t come visit,” you tease. “Got it. Nice to meet you.”

She laughs softly. “I’m surprised you went with that description over ‘Bob’s front-seater’ but, yeah— The one and only.”

You hum, swirling your drink around the large ice cube. “You must have fun putting him in his place all day.” 

If you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure what you meant by that— If it was just a subtle dig at him because you can’t help yourself, if it was inquiring—wondering if he was just as much of a pain in the ass as he was back then—or if it was… sexual? 

You shouldn’t care—you don’t care—but of course you were curious. Natasha was gorgeous, strong-willed, ridiculously accomplished, and confident… He would be kinda stupid not to try to make a move. 

Her brows lift. “Bob? No, he doesn’t need any place-putting. If anything, he’s the only sane one around besides me.” 

“Of course, always so perfect.” You roll your eyes loosely like a reflex, succumbing to the gentle buzz in your bloodstream from a few casual drinks. “God, he was born for the Navy.” 

She shakes her head, giving you a sideways glance. “Bob’s not perfect— Trust me.” 

Your cheeks flush at how ridiculous you sound. Back in his presence for all of two hours and he already had you acting like a child again. You needed to get a grip.

“Sorry,” you sigh, staring at the thin line of amber at the bottom of your glass. “I probably sound like such an asshole right now.”

She nudges your shoulder with hers like you’ve been friends for years, giving you a look that says stop it without saying it. 

“Don’t be. He can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.” 

“That I believe,” you laugh, resting your chin on your hand and swiveling to face her. “It’s just… You didn't grow up with him. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

She studies you for a moment, expression open and patient. All calm and collected— A typical fighter pilot. 

She was cool. Really cool. A bite of something unnamed swims in your stomach at the thought of it— Of him.

“I wouldn’t sweat it,” she says with a shrug. “His biggest competition as a kid was an academic genius a grade below him who also happened to look like a prom queen? The chip on his shoulder shouldn’t get to you, that’s for damn sure.” 

Your skin flushes at the compliment, shifting your cheek into your palm to hide the smile you can’t seem to bite back. 

“I think we need to reassess your definition of both those things.” 

She eyes you— All genuine and knowing, like she had you completely figured out. Like she’s known you forever. 

“I know the stories. And I’ve seen some pictures,” she counters, leaning closer, voice all quiet teasing but still steady. “I don’t lie.” 

Before you could respond, her gaze shifts past you, landing somewhere behind. 

“Besides, he’s still a boy,” she offers, smirk tugging. “Of course you drove him crazy.” 

You turn to look where she is, finding the man in question with his eyes already locked on you across the room. 

His posture was tense, shoulders squared and jaw set, eyes cutting through the dots of people, clearly not paying a shred of attention to whoever was talking to him. 

And when you return the favor, his stare rips free— Busied down at his fingers twisting around his glass, at the spot on the old wood floors the toe of his dress shoes scrubbed at, scratching the back of his neck all innocent and oblivious like you didn’t already catch him looking. 

In some weird, twisted, petty way, your feelings bordered on something reminiscent of relief knowing you weren’t alone in being hung up on adolescent drama tonight. 

Things like this always seemed to stir up old memories, especially when it comes to you and Bob. 

Something about him was impossible to flush out of your system— No matter how many years passed, no matter how much you’d grown. No matter how trivial or insignificant, it didn’t matter. A pathetic sense of pride settles in your chest knowing it was the same for him. 

You shake your head, turning back to Natasha who wore a proud smile and coy tilt of her head.  

“See,” she says, voice low. “I don’t lie.”

You clear your throat, throwing back the rest of your drink and letting the hollow glass hit the bar top unceremoniously. 

“How do you know so much about me already?”

She blinks, expression saying isn’t it obvious as she silently flags down the bartender for a second round. 

“Well, for one, I’m intuitive— So don’t go feeling like you’re too special,” she teases. “And I’ve just… heard a lot about you.” 

Your heart rate rattles a bit in your chest, anxiety flooding your veins at the thought trying to claw free. A repeat of what his other friends heard about you, surely. 

The only difference was her expression didn’t flip to panic mode around you. It was intrigued, interested— Like you were someone worth getting to know. 

Still, your nerves spark all the same. 

“Oh, boy,” you groan, throwing your head back with a lazy smile. “All bad, I’m sure.” 

Her eyes flick between yours— Just once, expression blank, cards close to her chest. 

“No… Why do you say that?”

You blink. “Are you serious?”

She shrugs, stuffing a five in the tip jar when the second round is delivered promptly. “Are you?”

You go quiet, silently weighing how to respond. 

Phoenix seemed like the type of person who would always be straight up with you, but at the same time, you couldn’t shake the feeling you were failing to read the subtext of whatever was lying beneath the heart of your conversation and lined her gaze. 

But, yeah— Bob hated you. Of course you were serious. 

So you nod, not so much as an answer but rather a soft acknowledgement.

“Yeah, I am.”

She studies you for a moment, smile slowly returning— Effortless, like she wasn’t suddenly speaking in riddles. 

“Good. Me too.” 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. The candles burn low, the laughter falls softer. Small groups of guests trickle out, slowly heading back up to their rooms until morning. 

You help Abby and Rooster pack up some of the little decorations they set out—collect bouquets, blow out flickering flames, clean up the little signs and pictures they had displayed—before you’re finally ushered up to your room to turn in for the night. 

Despite putting up a fight—insisting it was your job to make sure the bride was the one getting rest—you were truly no match for Abby Floyd once she made up her mind about something. 

You never were. 

So, begrudgingly, you grab a water bottle from the bar and say your goodbyes to the handful of people still left behind. You needed a shower and some good sleep after your flight, so you weren’t too mad about it. 

Your room was quaint and charming, yet spacious for an old, vintage Inn. It was decorated with elaborate pictures and hushed wallpapers, freshly carpeted and topped off with a set of old mahogany armchairs adjacent to a lavish, king-sized bed.

The bathroom was stocked to the nines with artisan bath salts and imported body washes. They were the kind you’d want to take home with you just from the soft scents of lavender and cedar alone. 

You’re halfway through drying your hair, eyes heavy with the whisper of sleep starting to flood your bones, when your phone buzzes on the vanity and a name you haven’t seen light up your screen in years settles at the top of your text threads. 

You pause, flicking the switch on the hair dryer off and rolling your eyes as you click the thread open.

Bob Floyd

Do you really have to be so loud at quarter to midnight?

You bite your lip, trying to piece together how he even knows that was you. 

You

Are you listening to me?

Some might call that creepy, Robert

Three dots dance across your screen instantly. 

Bob Floyd

Kinda hard not to

Because you’re loud

You

I don’t feel like getting breakage or folliculitis just because you’re a baby about your sleep

The cool granite touches your back as you turn and lean against the counter, smiling as you add,

You

Omg is that why your call sign is Baby on Board? 

You were kidding—clearly—but you’d been waiting for an opportunity to tease him about it all night after Hangman’s comment. Of course you didn’t forget— And of course you weren’t going to let it go. 

Bob Floyd

Very funny

That’s not my call sign

You

Doubt it

What is it then?

The dots flicker again—thinking—then disappear. 

You

By the time you finally type it out my hair’s gonna air dry and we won’t need to worry anymore

That does it. His reply lights up your phone almost immediately.

Bob Floyd

It’s just Bob

And no, it’s no need to worry because you’re not gonna get folliculitis

You’re so dramatic

You unplug the dryer—not because you’re giving into him, but because your hair is basically dry—and plop down onto your bed, lip caught between your teeth as your fingers go to work.

You 

I don’t believe you

And that’s why you only got a 92 in sophomore year microbio, btw. It’s a common infection

Do you really want to be responsible for the maid of honor having horrible hair for the wedding?

Bob Floyd

I got a 93, actually

You

And you could’ve had a 95 like me if you spent more time studying and less time staring at the back of my head 

You click off the screen and sink into the cool, compressed weight of fresh hotel linens, snuggling into your pillow as warm lamp light spills across your tired features. 

A veil of hazy steam from the bathroom floats through the air, mingling with the soothing scents of bath salts and lotion.

It buzzes again moments later. 

Bob Floyd

I was too busy checking for folliculitis ;)

You roll your eyes—loosely, lazily—smiling into your pillowcase. What a pain.

You

Good

Someone’s got to

You reach over and click off the lamp, shifting onto your back as you add,

You

Wait is that what your call sign stands for then? Bad At Bio? 

You could practically feel him roll his eyes through the drywall. It only makes your smile widen.

Bob Floyd

That spells Bab not Bob, you idiot

Heat rushes to your cheeks instantly as your tired eyes blink at the screen. 

Damn it. 

Maybe you should just block his number and pretend that never happened.

You 

I’m tired leave me alone

It sounded really funny in my head

Bob Floyd

Seems like I’m not the only baby who needs sleep after all, huh?

You 

Shut up

Let’s go back to talking about your call sign being Baby On Board

Bob Floyd

You’re so annoying

You 

And you’re a creep 

Bob Floyd 

I’d also remind you that you’re dramatic but then we’d be here all night  

And Baby needs his full 10 hours

A muffled snort escapes before you could stop it. You cover your mouth loosely even though you were completely alone. 

As much as you hated to admit it, sometimes Bob was funny. He always knew how to make you laugh. That was something that would never change.

You 

How could I forget

Sleep well, Baby

You freeze, blinking back at the message.

Shit, you really need to stop and think before you send things because what? 

You didn’t mean it like that. Not at all. Maybe he’ll ignore it… But that wouldn’t be Bob, now would it?

The typing dots appear immediately.

They flicker, stall, but nothing comes through. 

Fuck. 

Your stomach drops.

Then— 

Bob Floyd

Oo did you just call me baby? 

You squinch your eyes shut and groan. 

You could correct him. Shut him down like always. Or, you could double down, throw him for a loop— Something you’re really good at doing.

Jesus Christ— Was Abby right? Was this foreplay?

No. You were tired. You weren’t thinking straight. Your thoughts were starting to sound delirious. 

You

In your dreams, Floyd

A sharp exhale leaves your lungs when you hit send, expression twisting as you toss your phone on the other side of the bed and stare up at the ceiling. 

It buzzes quickly— Too quickly. 

Bob Floyd

Maybe

It could be the lack of sleep, could be the familiarity or the environment—this weird, delicate, snow globe-like atmosphere you were suddenly trapped in despite your best efforts to put distance between you and him—but something in you softens.

The tension in your forehead, the adrenaline running out. The rhythm of your heart as you sit up suddenly, pausing when your knuckles hover over the wall behind you— The only wall that touched another room. 

Slowly, you knock three times.

And you wait.

You wonder if he’s the one you’re bothering. Wonder if he’ll even remember that little secret language you came up with that summer you spent at the lake house together and shared a wall, just like now.

All these years later. 

It didn’t mean much, not then, not now. It was just a quiet acknowledgement you shared when both of you were still awake in the middle of the night.

A simple thing. 

A brush of knuckles that lingered— That recognized. 

Does he still? 

Two brisk knocks echo back against your headboard from the other side, just like always. 

He does. 

You slip back under the covers, smiling with something different now— Something unnamed where he’s concerned. 

Before your eyes lull shut, you pick up your phone again, fingers hovering before you type, 

You 

Night creep

It buzzes against your pillow.

Bob Floyd

Goodnight, annoying neighbor  

And for the first time in years—in lifetimes—you fall asleep feeling something other than irritation simmering under your skin from Bob Floyd.

By the time morning comes, it’s not really morning anymore. 

Maybe it was the bleak, blistering chill of the outside world washed in wistful whites and gentle greys. Maybe it was the plush cocoon of covers wrapped around you, or the fact that you were up later than you damn well should’ve been texting someone you can’t stand, but yeah— You slept in.

It was evident. Your body was heavy as you lazily pushed the door open to Abby and Rooster’s suite, immediately hit with a wall of pure wedding chaos and commotion. 

Your eyes were glazed over, warm sweats still on, hair— Definitely suffering from the lack of styling last night, though, your half-assed efforts to try to kill the bedhead helped a little. 

You skip the pleasantries and flop face first onto the bed with a muffled groan. 

Maybe Bob was right. He wasn’t the only one who got moody without sufficient sleep, apparently

You sense a presence intercepting the window, fighting to fill the room with pale winter light, a small shadow eclipsing you. 

“Well good morning to you, too,” Abby teases, playful lilt in her voice, definitely grinning at your misfortunes. 

You sigh into the comforter, face still buried. “Hi.”

“Long night?”

You nod, reluctantly lifting to rest your chin on your hands and peer up at her. 

“I had this really annoying neighbor. Wouldn’t shut up the whole night. Liked to talk.”

You sneak a brief glance over at Bob sitting in a lounge chair in the corner. There’s the tiniest flicker of an impish smile at the corner of his mouth as he listens, eyes still trained on whatever it was he was folding.

It was a good thing Abby didn’t have access to the room assignments in the hotel block because she just hums, all careless and oblivious— Clearly not aware her older brother was the neighbor in question. 

“Sorry, babes,” she mumbles, fingers gently tracing wisps of hair from your eyes. “Hopefully it doesn’t happen again so you can get some sleep.”

Slowly, you lift yourself off the mattress and take in the scene unfolding around you. 

Everyone was in full-blown work mode— Concentrated on random tasks like their lives depended on it, arguing if the welcome sign was straight or not, inspecting a seemingly-broken box of giant glow sticks for the reception… Everything and anything you can imagine. 

You’d basically walked into a subpar assembly line.

Most of Rooster’s squadron was there, screwing around when Abby wasn’t looking and playing with decorations instead of actually working, but it was still help to a degree. 

Mrs. Floyd and some of Abby’s extended family was there alongside you, Rooster, Abby, and Bob, who sat by himself— All quiet and responsible, per usual.

If he needed the sleep, it didn’t show. He looked completely put together—too put together—all perfectly combed hair and wide-awake eyes as he diligently concentrated on his task. 

You rub your hands over your face and sigh. “Where do you want me?”

Before she could answer, Rooster tosses a stack of something at you, papers all fluttering and fanning out across the bed. “Wanna fold? There’s, like, a million of these damn things.”

Abby shoots him a look for his comment, collecting the papers and placing them neatly.

“Bob’s already working on those. I’ll find something else for you.”

“You sure?” you ask, eyes flicking down to what seemed like a stack of at least 200 sheets. “I don’t mind folding if that’s what you need.”

She nods, passing the stack over to Bob who barely lifts his gaze to grab it. “I think he has a particular system going, anyways. He’s flying through ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Hangman adds from across the room with a grin. “Bobby’s real good with his fingers.”

Your eyes widen slightly, glancing over at Bob who stiffens—imperceptibly so—and keeps his head down. 

But you don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn red under the curve of his glasses and his jaw works.

Fanboy snorts, earning a shove and pointed look from Phoenix. 

“Meanwhile you can’t even put batteries in the right way,” she mutters to Hangman, taking a glow stick, turning the batteries around, and closing the cover with a snap. 

She shoves the glow stick back to the pouting pilot and returns to her area of the room with Abby’s aunt.

“Maybe someone smart should go help the guys,” Abby suggests, brow raised in amusement. 

“You mean babysit,” Nat adds over a rumble of groans and protests.

You give Abby a tight smile, obliging. “On it.”

The afternoon was spent doing whatever was needed: fluffing flower arrangements, helping Abby and Mrs. Floyd finalize their jewelry options, double-checking seating charts or name spellings. 

After helping the guys make sure the glow sticks and bubble wands were all ready to go, you spend your time typing out the thin strips of sticker paper to put over the little welcome pamphlets Abby made and forgot to edit a section of.

Luckily, the wedding was no longer on a Friday in June in Tulsa.

When you were done, you brought them over to their final station, quietly slumping into the chair across from Bob as he finished meticulously laying thin spreads of Wite-Out across the incorrect text on the papers, now all neatly folded. 

Neither of you had said a word to each other since last night—not in person, not over text—and if you were being honest, that felt… confusing. 

Sure, it’s been years since you’ve been around him like this, in this way— For a weekend and change rather than a brief encounter at home for the holidays or something. No matter where it was, you always found each other— Found this weird, familiar rhythm easily. 

And yet, even still, it never sat right with you. 

Maybe it didn’t with him either. 

But the longer you were around him, the harder it was for you to remember exactly why you hated him so much. You had to remind yourself he’s not the lanky, dorky, annoyingly-polite boy you grew up with.

The one who pushed buttons you didn’t even know you had and then left you the last pink Starburst instead of taking it for himself. 

The one who spent every waking hour he had to spare learning the ins and outs of every class, every chapter, every test—not because he wanted to excel, but because he wanted to be better than you—then would slip over his cue card when you blanked during a debate or pushed his homework to the edge of his desk when you forgot to do it, all without even looking.

The one you hated— Who you teased and pushed and dug into until you started feeling something else. Something that apparently meant nothing. 

That was what you had to remind yourself. 

He wasn’t that boy—maybe never was—and he certainly wasn’t someone you could categorize your relationship with anymore.

Because even now—even after all those years of sparring back and forth, and the soft, confusing moments in between—you still don’t know how to be around him. How to pivot, adjust, every time you both threw caution to the wind and let something other than disdain settle between you.

And yet, it always found its way back to what it was.

“Are you sure I’m the one who’s responsible for the maid of honor having a bad hair day?”

He breaks the silence enveloping you two, running a cautious thread of fingers through a strand of your hair that was slightly out of place.

You stop your scissors along a strip of text and glance up at him, already looking at you with that smooth, satisfied smile.

You study him, eyes flicking between his once, then go back to work. “Maybe I would’ve had time to style it if I wasn’t up all night arguing 10th grade science topics with a grown man.”

He shrugs, continuing to drag the corrector across the text. “And whose choice was that?”

You open your mouth to shoot back a response—or insult—but he beats you to it, adding, 

“I always knew I was in for it those days.”

Your brows knit. “What do you mean?”

“You’d come onto the bus in the morning the same way,” he starts, flicker of a softer smile forming. “Hair all ruffled, eyes extra sleepy, more attitude than usual.”

You roll your eyes, trying to shake off the way your nerves gently rattled at the memory. 

“I always knew it was because you were up late studying or something,” he continues, capping the Wite-Out and tossing it on the table between you with a thud. “Always knew you were up working extra hard to kick my ass.”

You raise your eyebrows, setting some cut strips down for him to take. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

“And yet that hair is always evidence of me.”

You pause, watching him through narrowed eyes, lip caught between your teeth as you try to gauge where he’s going with this.

“That too,” he adds, nudging your foot with his and tilting his chin up at you. “Always chewin’ that damn lip when I make you think too hard.”

The rhythm of your heart does some quiet, perfidious, little thing— Fluttering under the iron armour of your ribs, a steady thread loosening, peeling a vulnerable part of you open against your will. Exposing something tender you weren’t entirely ready to face.

You exhale, lip slipping free from your teeth immediately. “How do you always manage to assume so much responsibility yet none at all?”

He smiles, half-laughing under his breath as you both begin carefully applying the strips of sticker paper. 

“Same way you always managed to be up so late studying and still got lower grades than me.”

“You’re extra irritating today.”

“Believe it or not, you’re not the only tired one,” he teases, fingers brushing yours as he reaches over to fix the strip you were about to place. “Some of us are just good at actually hiding it.”

You snatch the strip away and eye him, only making his expression sparkle with satisfaction.

“Are you, though? Because you seem extra fussy.” You press the strip down and toss the finished product onto the completed stack, piling high quickly. “Sure you don’t want me to get you a pacifier?” 

That was, admittedly, extra snarky, but it slips out regardless. Was he right? Were you moody?

He raises an eyebrow, glancing up at you from under his glasses, eyes darkening just slightly. 

“Depends— Are you gonna call me baby again?”

“Only if you keep acting like one.”

He purses his lips, pretending to consider it. “Noted. Whatever you say, Boss.” 

You freeze, expression twisting in confusion as you watch him grin like he has a secret you don’t know. 

“I’m sorry… Did Hell freeze over or did you really just call me boss?”

“It’s your new callsign,” he says offhandedly, organizing the stack and sitting back with an effortless look. “Bad At Spelling— You know, since apparently A’s and O’s are the same thing now.”

Great— Another stupid thing he wasn’t going to let go of. Maybe you needed to stop texting when you were feeling bold and overtired. 

Or, maybe you should just stop texting him.  

As dumb as it was—admittedly embarrassing, too—you were failing to suppress a small smile at just how stupid and weirdly… endearing he made it sound— Even when he was driving you absolutely crazy.

“Bad at spelling sometimes,” you clarify.

“Sure,” he hums. “Sometimes.”

“I hate you.”

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, suddenly a lot closer than before. “Quick— Spell hate. Hint: there’s no O.”  

You roll your eyes, throwing a ball of crumpled sticker backings at him as he chuckles, swatting them away. 

“Yeah— I’m definitely getting that pacifier to shut you up.”

His stare holds yours, gaze suddenly heavy and persistent, somehow stealing your breath. His heat whispers along your skin as he lowers his voice, smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“And if that doesn’t work, then what? You got other plans to keep me quiet?”

“If you two are done eye-fucking, can you please go help Bradley bring the favors up from the car?”

Abby hovers above you: hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, eyes darting between you and her brother suspiciously— But certainly not annoyed. 

No, that was just for show. 

A flustered heat crawls up your neck. Bob clears his throat, quickly leaning back and weakly brushing the spare strips off his clothes, avoiding eye contact completely. 

You move first, quickly getting up and scurrying after her, trying to dismiss what she walked in on.

Or, rather, what she thought she walked in on. 

“If that was eye-fucking to you, I’m incredibly worried about your sex life,” you mumble. 

She looks at you flatly, then glances behind her at Bob, still red-hot in the corner. 

“At least I’m having sex, unlike some people.”

Your pulse hammers in your ear, blood thick with heat and some sort of nervous, restless energy you can’t seem to shake. The cold rush of winter air doesn’t stop your face from flushing as you silently carry boxes up from the car, not daring to say a word.

You don’t challenge her after that.

After a long day of draining, meticulous last-minute tasks, the self-indulgent solitary confinement of chlorine and bubble jets was just what you needed to detox.

Your fingers were sore from tying the world’s tiniest twine bows for the favors with Phoenix. Your bones ached from the cold— Bitter and persistent while your body stayed hunched over paper strips. Your vision was starting to blur the longer you stared at anything that wasn’t a heavy pour of wine and a good book. 

You were more than happy to help—more than happy to lend your hands until they bled—but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good to finally take a break.

Mostly from Bob.

It didn’t help that he lingered— Around every corner, involved, embedded in spaces you’d consider too close even if you were separated by walls. And it certainly didn’t help that you couldn’t read whatever was sitting between you after last night.

It’s been like this for years— This subtle, infuriating ache to dig into each other, every exchange edged with something sharper than irritation. Something that felt too much like want if you let yourself linger on it. 

Something that stirred your heartstrings until they squeezed the inside of your chest and made you dizzy.

It was starting to wear on you, chipping away at your sanity with every glance and word spoken. It was like his voice was trapped between your ears, like his heartbeat was woven with yours without permission. 

Like you hated each other so much that you didn’t.

You couldn’t stand it.

And as fun as it was to push his buttons, you needed a generous stretch of time without his presence— Without his guileful, abrasive attitude he dressed up as courteous, charming chivalry.

So you stepped into the elevator around half-past nine, a plush bath towel wrapped around your body, shivering from the chill that managed to creep into the Inn. 

The lobby hums with quiet life— New families checking in, warm laughter spilling from the bar, children snoring softly against their parents’ shoulders after long drives. Couples whisper as they disappear into their rooms for the night. 

You patter down the hall unnoticed, quickly swiping your key card and slipping into the rec room.

The doors swing shut behind you with a hollow thud, trapping you inside the humid, heavy bloom of steam and chemicals. Chlorine and heat wrap around your lungs as you breathe deep, the weight of the day finally starting to loosen its grip.

It was just you, the roar of hot tub jets, music pouring from your headphones, a glass of wine, and a book begging to have its spine cracked. 

And, most importantly, no—

“Bob?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, voice cracking over the gentle hush of the natatorium as you watch him finish a lap— Slicing through the water so silently you wouldn’t think a soul had stepped foot in there in years.