Imagines Reblogged

The words sat with him. He never imagined that his night was going to turn out sleeping with his best friend just two days before leaving for deployment.

To be fair he was a little tipsy and your legs looked especially good in the dress you decided to wear for his small goodbye get together.

He was still inside you, and your sudden urge to spill your feelings out to him was a little too much to take in at this very moment.

Of course he loved you, not in the way you did but there is something. Something as in he was very attractive to you, physically. He could never bring himself to say that you were a sister to him, he still can’t figure out what it is that he felt for you.

He would be lying if he said that he doesn’t think about you from time to time. And he’ll even admit he got off to that one time you’ve asked him to put some sunscreen on your back. He just could shake the sensation of your skin and that led him to wonder how good it would feel against his own.

Your cheeks and lips were flustered and your chest brushed against his while you were trying to compose your breathing.

He didn’t expect himself to feel nervous at the sight of your impatient eyes staring at him, turning into turmoil of embarrassment.

“Oh god” you push him off and your eyes scan the room as you’re trying to look for your clothes scattered across it.

You are doing your very best not to cry in front of him or even look at him. You had really thought he was on the same page you were. No guy is as attentive and caring as Rooster is with you if they’re not genuinely interested in that way.

He even came onto you, he was the one that made the first move, he was the one saying how beautiful you looked tonight. He kissed you and took you back to his place.

He calls your name but you can’t look at him, you're too busy fighting with the zipper of your dress to pay attention to him. “Hey, no…”.

He heard the elastic of his boxers back on his body, and his hand fell heavy on your shoulder.

“I have to go” you take his hand off you pushing yourself off the bed.

“Come on, let’s just talk about this”.

“No, I’m leaving” There really is no way to read his features. He hates that he made you cry, he hates that he can’t bring himself to reciprocate your feelings.

You look at him, you see how the words get stuck in his throat, you know he’s looking for a way to fix the situation.

“All this time you have led me on.” You choke out. You were significantly younger than him, most of the time he had to remind himself of the ten year age gap between you two. “All this time you made me think that you–”.

You stand in front of him thinking about how you're making this whole situation look. He’s not obligated to love you back but it’s pretty shitty that he made you think he did.

You stop yourself there, the last thing you want is for him to think it's a whim of yours. You take your heels in your hand and walk towards the door.

“Shit, you are important to me” He swallowed.

The palm of his hand slams the door close before you cloud even fully open it. “Just let me go please”

“Jesús” He breathed out “What good am I to you if I’m on the other side of the world” His voice got louder, he wasn’t angry just frustrated “Or what if my plane gets shot down?” You're holding tight to the door knob. “Are you going to cry to an empty casket?”

He saw first hand what his mother went through when he lost his father, he could never commit to a relationship, he promised himself he would never put anybody in that spot, that he would never have somebody worrying and waiting for him when there was a possibility of him not making it back home.

“I can’t control how I feel Bradley” You feel your tears fall down your cheeks and his warm hand resting in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry if I led you on” he whispered “I should’ve done things differently”.

“Different how?” Your voice matched his.

“Shit, I don’t know, you’re so young, you have so much ahead of you”. You turn to face him.

“So that’s the problem? The age difference?” You slightly push him away from you creating some distance.

“No, it’s that you think I’m the best you can do. You– you deserve something better than some military– long distance bullshit”. You’re arguing at this point, and the words are starting to burn in the back of your head.

“I get it Bradley, just stop” He looks at you, he doesn’t say anything, he just stays there staring at you. “I’m not going to beg you to be with me” your tone came out lower– lighter. “It’s your loss not mine”.

He knew he fucked up. You’ve been there for him every day for the past five years and all of that just slipped out of his hands.

Nobody was going to wait for him when he arrived back home, shit, he wasn’t going to have anybody to call when he’s away and tell them how much of a shit day he had or just to hear you talk about how boring life was because he wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry” That’s the best he can come up with.

“Yeah, me too” that’s all you say before leaving his apartment, that was it for you.

Rooster has forgotten about the text less than ten minutes after he’s received it. It’s hard to remember much about anything, when the first thing you do upon waking up is nudge back his jaw and leave sweet, open-mouthed kisses along his neck.

His fingers stroke your hair back off of your shoulders, eyes closing. You hum softly against his collarbone, sliding your hand — which had been innocently resting against his navel — under the covers.

He groans softly and shifts as you wrap your hand around him. You stroke him gently, feeling him begin to harden in your hand. He feels you smile against his neck before you press another kiss to his jaw.

You push yourself up, kissing along each toned inch of his chest, nudging the sheets down out of your way.

Rooster watches you through hooded eyes as you settle between his legs and wrap your lips around him. No, he doesn’t think of Amy once.

Not while your mouth works around him, while your fingertips trail his thigh, while your eyes blink up at him. Not while his hand rests on the nape of your neck as he guides you down on him, or when you let him buck his hips softly into your mouth.

Especially not when fifteen minutes later you’re straddling his hips, bracing yourself on his chest as you roll your hips down onto him. No. When you’re resting your fingers on his jaw, your eyes locked on his as you bounce on his cock, Rooster barely remembers her name.

In fact, he’s still thinking of you even after he’s back in his room on base later that morning. He’s just out of the shower, standing at his dresser with a towel around his waist when his phone rings again.

He curses as Amy’s face appears on the screen. She had text him hours ago. He lifts the phone to his ear and pins it between his shoulder, digging through his top drawer for a shirt that doesn’t look like uniform.

“Hello?”

He realises he’s forgotten to say anything, “Hey... Hey, what’s up?” He stumbles, grabbing a graphic t-shirt from the bottom of the drawer. He sets his phone down on the side and hits speaker.

“Are you okay? - You sound tired.”

Rooster is tired. But he’s gotten good at just giving her the highlights while he’s away on deployment, keeping things light so she doesn’t worry about him.

“Yeah, the guys on base just went for some drinks to get to know each other last night. Got in late.” It’s a half-truth. No more than what she needs to hear. After all, he’s not going to tell her about you.

“So you’re getting on okay with the guys out there? - Mav told me you weren’t going to know anyone this time around. I was worried.”

Rooster stands in his T-shirt and white boxers. He furrows his eyebrows, “Wait, you were talking to Mav? — why were you talking to Mav?”

“Because I’m worried about you, Bradley,” he hears her sigh on the other end of the line. “You’re out there all on your own, and you’re dealing with whatever’s going on with us right now — I just wanted to know you’re gonna be alright.”

Bradley steps into a pair of shorts, “‘Whatever’s going on with us’? — You left, Amy. We broke up.”

“You know I still love you,” He closes his eyes. When he opens them again he notices the hickey on his collarbone and sighs softly. “I just… I think we needed time to figure things out.”

What is it with girls and figuring things out? Bradley asks himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Amy waits through the silence, willing him to say something. Anything.

“So what have you figured out?” Bradley asks finally, his tone dry and unamused. She winces at his tone of voice.

“Bradley,” She sighs softly. “I don’t want to throw it all away like this. I love you. You love me too, right?”

He thinks about it for a moment. Of course he does. He isn’t the one who left. He’s the one who proposed, isn’t he? — The one got down on one knee and promised to love her for the rest of his life?

“Of course I do.” Bradley mutters begrudgingly. He lies down on the twin-sized, navy-issued bed. He’s moved it so that it’s by the window. He’s gotten lucky with the room allocation this time around. He’s got a view out over the ocean. On the opposite side, the guys have a view of the tarmac.

“I just don’t think I can go six months without hearing your voice right now.”

He tucks an arm behind his head and looks out of the window, “What are you trying to say, Amy?”

“I just want us to stay in contact while you’re away. Nothing major, just maybe a call a week, a couple of texts. I want us to talk once you’re back.”

His jaw clenches and unclenches. Amy waits for him to answer her. She’s sitting on their shared bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, flicking through a photo album.

“Please, baby,” He closes his eyes as she pleads with him. She knows exactly what she’s doing when she talks to him like that. He falls for it more often than not. “You know I miss you when you’re away.”

He wonders if she has fucked anyone else. Her boss, maybe. He doesn't like the thought. His tongue presses to his cheek as he thinks it over. This girl broke his heart two weeks ago, and here she is, offering to piece it back together over the next six months - maybe to just break it again once he's home.

But, he doesn't want her slimeball boss anywhere near her and he knows that if there's one thing Amy is, it's loyal. So, if she still loves him, he figures that holding onto her until he's home isn't the worst idea.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, “Yeah. We can talk.”

In the moment, he doesn’t think that he’s making much of a commitment. Only, when he’s answering the phone every evening after twelve hour work days, he realises that he’s made more of a commitment than he realises.

You're having a different morning. After dropping him back to base, you find your roommate in the kitchen. Ella is a waitress and you've known her for a long time. She's sitting on the counter, smiling at you smugly with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"So, where's the lucky guy?" She grins at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

You cover your face with your hands and groan dramatically as you pull out a stool to join her, "I wish you saw him. Seriously."

"Out of 10?"

"10." You answer. You fall forwards and rest your chin on your palm, smiling at her, "He was so fucking hot, you wouldn't believe."

"Oh I believe," She laughs as she pushes herself down from the counter and straightens out her uniform. "I believed you last night and I believed again at the crack of dawn this morning."

Your cheeks heat up at the realisation. It isn't like you've never heard the guys she brings home. The place is small and your rooms aren't very far apart. If anything, it just provides room for the two of you to bond over how shitty the guys you've brought home are. Not this time.

"Are you seeing him again?" She crosses the kitchen to fill up her water bottle in the sink. You purse your lips and sigh longingly before you shake your head.

"Probably not. I brought him back from Abi's."

"Navy?" Ella's eyes widen slightly as she turns to look at you. Abi's bar is crawling with sailors, pilots and everyone in between most days of the week. Ella knows of your flirting, but she also knows of your fear of closing the deal. You can't tell whether she's impressed or shocked. Perhaps both.

"I don't think you're comprehending how hot he really was." You explain.

Your week goes the same way it does most weeks. You work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday - this week you have Friday and Saturday off. You spend your afternoons and evenings flirting and listening to classified information from lonely men. You spend your early mornings with Ella or with other friends.

It's as you're headed into work on Thursday that there's a difference.

Bradley has been bored. Deployment always gets monotonous quickly. Especially when he only gets one day off per week. Even more so when he still doesn't really talk to any of his colleagues after almost two weeks on base.

Amy's on a different time zone. She's six hours ahead of him. With her complicated shift pattern and Bradley's long work days, it's 2am when Bradley talks to her. It's as he's rubbing at his eyes and willing himself to stay awake whilst she tells him about her sister's upcoming wedding that he finds himself thinking of you again.

He’s in that shitty twin-sized bed by the window in a pair of shorts, looking out over the bay. She's talking about centrepieces and color schemes.

He's thinking about your head lulled back, lips parted, morning-sun leaving a golden cast on your skin as you rode him that morning.

"Bradley? - Can you hear me?"

He presses a hand to his lips and closes his eyes. Fuck. He holds the phone away from his ear to let out a breath before he confirms, "Yeah. Sorry, honey. I'm here."

When you show up on Thursday at 4pm for the night shift, Bradley has already been and gone. You're informed by one of the other girls that someone came in asking for you that morning. You let her describe the mystery man to you - just so you can hear how hot she thinks he is - even though you know she's talking about him from the beginning.

By Friday, word has gotten out amongst your friends that you have finally 'closed the deal' with a hot, mysterious pilot.

There's a place known as the Strip in Honolulu, which is where your bar is. Your bar is at the quieter end. Tonight, you're at the other end in a much busier bar. You're giggling with your friends as you finish up some drinks.

This bar is loud and packed. You're only here to pregame before you head to one of the clubs further up the strip. In fact, this bar is so busy on this particular Friday that you don't notice the group of servicemen hanging out near the bar.

Bradley tagged along in the hopes that he would run into you. He had been disappointed when he'd walked by Abi's and seen another girl standing behind the bar.

He's been nursing the same beer for an hour, just thinking of which excuses he hasn't used yet that can get him out of this. It isn't that there's anything wrong with this crew in particular, it's just that Bradley doesn't have the energy to forge new relationships.

He wishes for a moment that Phoenix was here. She always called him out on his self-destructive bullshit. Plus, she loved the beach. She was somewhere on deployment too currently, but he had no idea where.

"How could you not get his number?" You laugh and sit back in the booth as you're chastised by eight girls at once. They're happy for you, but chewing you out currently for not securing yourself a way of seeing this 'too-good-to-be-true' man again.

"If it's meant to be, it'll be." Ella decides as she pulls you into her arms and kisses the top of your head. “Props to her for leaving it up to fate.”

"We're talking about sex, E, not marriage!" Rooster hears that line. He turns his head towards the group of girls in the booth in the corner. They hold his attention for maybe three seconds before he's pretending to listen to the guy in front of him again. They’re just a group of college girls being loud and giggly in the corner.

Berlin's going on about the mission in front of him. He’s leaning on the bar and he reeks of cologne. He's just going over things that are already settled and confirmed, and Bradley would prefer it if they just left work at work. Maybe Bradley’s just being harsh because he’s grumpy.

The group of girls catch his attention once more as they leave, purely because one of the girls is laughing too hard to watch where she's going and bumps Berlin's elbow. They lose his attention as quickly as they gained it, until he finds familiar features in the crowd.

You don't see him at all. You're laughing at the friend who had just tripped. Bradley watches as she catches up to you and drapes herself around you, shaking her head in embarrassment.

Rooster furrows his eyebrows. The lighting isn't good and you're moving further away, people are stepping between you and blocking his view. He isn't sure that it's you. Then, someone steps out of his way and Rooster has a clear view of your side profile. His feet are moving before he even makes the conscious decision to go after you.

“Bradshaw, where ya goin’?” Berlin calls out as he clocks that Bradley is straying from the group. Bradley’s broken from his blind conquest for just a moment as he glances back toward his new ‘friends’.

He’s barely listening. He shakes his head and waves Berlin off casually, “I’ll be right back.” They both know he has no intention of returning.

Rooster weaves through the crowd and steps outside onto the strip. Yep, there you are.

You’re in hysterics, doubled over laughing. You’re with friends, one of them has her arms around your waist and she’s laughing so hard that there are tears on her cheeks.

You’re just about straightening back up when you spot him. He watches your face light up. He’s down the street, stopped just outside of the door and watching you with a smile on his face.

“I’ll catch you guys up.” You tell your friends, giggling as you untangle yourself from one and begin towards him. They begin to whisper excitedly behind you. It's clear to him that they've heard of him by now.

“Is that the guy from the navy?” One whispers.

You walk over to him, smiling. He pushes his hands into his pockets, watching your friends as they giggle and stare from down the street.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” You greet him. He’s impressed that you remember his name, lips quirking as you reach him.

“I like your dress.” He speaks softly, not loud enough for your friends to listen in. His eyes rake over you and take in the garment. It’s pretty, and you just make it look even better. But it’s short enough that he could turn you around and fuck you without hardly having to lift it out of the way.

The look in his eye excites you. Is that… jealousy? Your grin widens as you do a turn for him, letting him see it from every angle, “I wore it for you.” You tease.

“Oh really?” He hums, a smirk toying at his features and he raises his eyebrows at you. “You knew you were gonna run into me, huh?”

“A girl can dream.” You let out a longing sigh, then you’re giggling before him. He grins back at you. You catch him looking past your shoulder again and turn, eyes widening as you realise your friends are suspended in anticipation. They’re right where you left them, watching excitedly.

You turn back to him, scrunching your nose slightly as you try not to admit that they’re embarrassing you in front of him.

“Sorry about them, they think you’re hot.” You explain. He looks you over and takes his lip between his teeth. They’re the last thing on his mind right now. The way he watches you has you pressing your thighs together excitedly.

“Do you, um…” You wonder for a moment how to best phrase this. Please fuck me again doesn’t seem like the best choice, but it’s the only thing your mind will generate.

“Yeah.” Rooster breathes, nodding his head. He’s already on the same page.

“Wait here one second.” You turn back and rush over to your friends. He glances back towards the guys still inside, glad they haven’t really noticed his absence.

“Please give me your keys.” Two of your friends drove tonight. They live together, they don’t need two cars. You hold your hands out expectantly. She laughs as he drops them into your hands, then points a finger toward you,

“Do not fuck this guy in my car.”

You wink just to raise her blood pressure a little, then you’re headed back toward Rooster. Bradley pretends not to hear that last part.

You hit his chest, sliding your hand down into his, not slowing down at all as you pass him and head toward the parking lot at the other end of the strip.

Rooster’s fingers slip between yours, he squeezes your hand as he lets you lead him.

“Heard you were looking for me this week.” You tease him, shooting him a look over your shoulder. Once you’re out of the sight of your friends, he pulls you against him and wraps his arms around you.

“Can you blame me?” His hands skim down the sides of your dress. His long strides interrupt the pattern of your walk, causing you to trip and stumble. His arms steady you against him, keeping you firmly against his chest.

You’re giggling as he uses this newfound power to nudge his jaw against the crook of your jaw and nip at your earlobe. Your poor father would lose it if he could see you now.

You press the button on the keys and the lights of one of the cars parked up front flash. You giggle again as you’re pressed against it, turned to face him and kissed on the lips. Maybe this says something about who he is as a person, but Rooster finds himself turned on about how happy you are to see him.

He presses you between him and the car and slips his tongue into your mouth. He’s always been an affectionate guy, but he’s also a private one. He wouldn’t have dared show off like this back home.

“So you missed me?” You ask sweetly as you pull back and look at him. He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb delicately across your cheekbone, nodding his head. That’s as much of an answer as he’s willing to give, but you know he means it.

There’s no point in trying to convince himself he hasn’t jerked off to the memory of last weekend every single morning this week. Having your pretty face right in front of him again just reinforces the thoughts he’s been having all week.

“Come on,” He takes the keys from your hand, pressing his lips to yours once more, “Been waiting all week to see you.”

Your heart flutters. You feel special to know that you've been on his mind.

He crosses around to the driver’s seat. You move into the passenger seat. He drives you back to your place without need for directions. You watch him drive, shifting in your seat to kick your feet over his lap. He rests one hand on your ankle, skims up to your knee and then back down again.

Downtown is alive and busy tonight. It’s almost the beginning of the rainy season so tourists have been making the most of the time they have left before November hits.

You watch them out of the window as Bradley strokes your legs delicately. You glance back at him and he isn’t paying attention to any of them.

You wonder what it’s like to see him fly. He’s calm now, leaning back in his seat, knees parted. His lip is between his teeth.

“Should I be worried that you remembered the way here?” You joke as he pulls into the driveway behind your bronco. He chuckles as he turns the ignition off, “Kinda part of my job to be good with directions.”

Rooster's hands are on you before you've reached your front porch. He slides his hands around your waist, lowering his mouth to nip gently at your neck. You push your ass back against him as you pause to get the front door open.

His hand slides around your shoulder, cupping your jaw and pulling you back against him, exposing your neck to his lips.

"I have neighbours, you know." He can hear how excited you are even when you're trying to scold him. The thought has him smiling softly against your earlobe.

"Best get that door open then, or they're gonna have one hell of a show." His breath against your ear makes you shiver, excitement pooling between your legs as your body remembers exactly what it's in for. You kick the bottom of the door, twisting the key and sighing in relief as it opens first time around.

Rooster kicks the door shut behind you. You turn quickly and press his back to the front door, pressing your palm to his cock over his jeans. Rooster’s eyes flicker down, then he’s looking at you again.

He brings his hands up to hold your face in his hands. You may have brought this man back here with the sole intention of fucking like rabbits, but it’s now that he’s being so gentle and staring into deep your eyes that he has you blushing.

He strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, lifting your jaw so that you have no choice but to look at him. He’s more sunkissed than the last time you saw him, there’s a slight pink to his cheeks from being up in the air all day. The hardness of his brown eyes in the dark makes you shiver. You close your eyes, palming him over his jeans.

“Feeling shy?” Rooster teases. He trails his thumb over your bottom lip. You don’t respond, but that in itself gives him all the answer that he needs.

It’s stupid. You weren’t shy last time. But now you know how good he is, and how handsome he is, and how nice his cock is — it’s enough to make a girl blush. Your eyes are still closed as you lean forward and rest your head against his chest.

He nudges you back, his eyes studying your features. He brushes his thumb against your mouth, parting your lips. Your lips wrap around the digit obediently.

“Look at me.” He tells you. Your thighs press together. You swallow softly as you open your eyes to look at him. “So fucking pretty, baby.” Your lips quirk softly as you try to reset the power balance here by giving his cock a gentle squeeze through his jeans.

He groans softly and ruts his hips forward against your hand.

It's only midnight and you know for a fact that Ella won't be back for at least 3 hours, but you also know that she would not appreciate you getting railed in one of your communal spaces.

Luckily, Rooster seems to be on the same page. He's entering from a different side of the house this time but he doesn't have any trouble finding your room. You're already unbuttoning his shirt, ditching that before he's gotten you inside of your room.

Rooster takes his lip between his teeth, hands skimming up the sides of your dress as you nip at his chest, fingers working at his belt. It takes minimal effort for his hands to just slip under the hem of it and squeeze your ass.

He thinks of you in that club. All the eyes that would've been on you. All the men who would've wanted to be exactly where he is now. It lights a fire in him. He's filled with the need to prove himself to you. To let you know that he's the only one on this entire island that is worth your time.

You gasp as he skims his hands under the material and pushes it up around your waist, letting you fall back onto the bed with a bounce. It’s the grin on your face as you look up at him, eyes wide and excited, that makes him groan as he parts your legs and kneels between them.

Bradley uses the time that you two have alone tonight effectively to demonstrate exactly how much of a tease he can be.

You whine as he noses at your pubic bone. He presses soft kisses to the insides of your thighs, your hips, brushes his tongue over the fabric of your underwear.

He guides your leg over his shoulder, sucking a soft purple mark into the top of your thigh, groaning softly as he does.

“Rooster.” You complain. He revels in the desperation in your voice.

“Yeah, baby?” He teases from between your legs, kissing over your underwear. You can’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this, enjoying the confident glint in his eye when he glances up at you. He gives in eventually, after a few minutes of letting you beg him.

The sound you make when he finally presses his tongue to your soaking core makes it worth it. The way you curl your fingers in his hair and push against his grip on your hips is an added bonus.

He holds you still, coaxing you toward your orgasm with his mouth alone. It’s only after he’s made you cum the first time that he graces you with his fingers.

But not before he gets you fully out of that dress. You’re naked in his lap, he’s in his boxers and those dog tags that make your mouth water. He’s watching each move you make, each rise and fall of your chest as you whine and moan for him. He’s fucking his fingers in and out of you, kissing your neck, your chest, your tits.

“F-Fuck, Rooster.”

He groans as he curls his fingers inside of you, feeling your fingers tighten around his bicep. He grazes his teeth lightly against your nipple, just enough to make you shiver before he wraps his lips around it and flicks his tongue over the sensitive skin.

You whine desperately at you rock your hips down onto his fingers. You need more. He knows it, you know it. But he still has more to prove.

Your eyes widen when he asks you to sit on his face. But, with as good as he makes you feel, you’d do anything he’d ask. You brace yourself against the headboard, moans spilling past your lips as his mouth works against you. His hands squeeze at your thighs and your hips as he encourages you to rock your hips gently against his mouth.

He groans against your core, earning a soft whimper. Your knuckles whiten as you rest your forehead against the wall. Rooster can’t even pretend that he isn’t pleased with himself after he’s made you cum for a second time.

He brushes your hair back off of your face delicately and just admires that comedown glow.

“God, you’re so fucking sweet.” He murmurs, sitting back on his knees. “Look so pretty.”

You groan softly and sling your arm over your face, hiding against the crook of your elbow, “Stop being such a sweetheart.” You lift your leg and kick his chest playfully, gasping as he catches your ankle and holds it out of his way.

He grinds his hips forward against yours. The only thing keeping you apart is the thin fabric of his boxers, which excites you enough for you to prop yourself up on your elbows and glare at him defiantly.

“How do you want me to be?” He rocks his hips gently forward against you, the friction of his cock against the cotton making him shiver.

Your lip quirks up. Rooster stays there, perched back on his knees, watching you smirk up at him. You adore the fact that you don’t need to say anything. The look in your eye is explanation enough.

Rooster leans behind him and grabs a condom from your top drawer. He pretends not to notice the birth control packet in there, deciding that’s a conversation for another - more pressing - time. He glances up at you as he rolls it down onto his length, stepping out of his boxers and moving between your legs once more.

You part your legs further for him, eyes trained on his as you trail your middle finger along your sternum and between your legs. He watches as you stroke it along your core, gathering excitement on the digit and then stroking it teasingly across your clit.

You then raise it to his lips, watching delightedly as he happily tastes you once more.

“Dirty girl.” He murmurs. He makes the most of the way you’ve parted your legs for him, catching his hands behind your knees and keeping them spread for him. He fucks into you in short thrusts, driving himself deeper each time.

The stretch takes a second to get used to, but you don’t let him know that. He praises you softly, grabbing a hold of your hips as he decides that you’ve had long enough to adjust.

It all goes burning white from there.

He's cradling your head against him, his hand firm on the nape of your neck. It's the only thing keeping you from smacking your head against the trendy but lethal exposed brick wall that your bed is pushed up against. He’s pounding into you relentlessly, a stark contrast to how gentle he’s being with you at the same time.

You're folded into the mattress, moaning desperately against his neck. Rooster groans against your earlobe as you press your fingernails into the nape of his neck. The sound alone makes you clench around him.

“Ohmyfuckinggod.” Rooster grunts out, pressing his lips to your jaw. He fills you over and over until you think you might cry if he ever dares to stop. He has to close his eyes, leaning his head back toward the ceiling. If he takes one more look at your fucked out face, he’s going to bust.

You’re trembling already, but Rooster refuses to give in until you’re too out of breath to even moan his name anymore. Your words are getting caught in your throat, all that you can make yourself do is whimper.

Rooster’s lips are all over your throat. His hips stutter slightly at the sound you make when he leaves an open-mouthed, tactfully placed hickey below your ear. He grunts gently, tucking both arms around you and cradling your body against his as he drives impossibly deep into you. He ruts his hips forward in a few more, short, deep thrusts before he’s spilling into the condom.

He discards it before he lets himself settle with you.

Rooster holds you against his chest, brushing down your hair slightly. It’s messed up from being pressed into a mattress, but Rooster smooths it out sweetly until it’s a little less obvious that you just got fucked.

He kisses the top of your head and then trails his fingertips along the length of your bare spine, stopping at the curve of your ass and trailing back up again. The action makes you shiver. You hum tiredly as you lay against him.

“I have to be on base early tomorrow,” He informs you regretfully. You push yourself up, propping yourself up on his chest and turning to give him your best puppy-dog eyes. You bat your lashes at him. He doesn’t have time to hide the soft smile this makes him reveal. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that.”

“No, I see how it is…” you tease him, rolling off of his chest and retreating to the other side of the bed. You’re smiling, just testing what kind of reaction you can draw.

Rooster snakes an arm across your body, grabbing your jaw between his index and thumb, turning your head to look at him.

“How about you give me your number so I don’t have to chase you out of a bar next time?” He moves forward and kisses you. It’s phrased as a question but you both know you’re going to give it to him.

He already has your address, what more is a phone number?

He hands you his phone and watches as you type your number in. His lips quirk slightly as you end your contact name with a ;). Just in case there’s any confusion as to why he’ll be contacting you.

“I’ll get a cab back to base.” Rooster decides. “Leave you to rest up.”

You offer to drive him back but he insists. His car only takes a while to arrive. You walk him to the front door at 3am.

It’s as you’re crossing the hall toward the front door ahead of him that you clock the sound of hushed giggles coming from your living room. You glance back at him over you shoulder and he smiles.

Your friends all fall silent as you walk past the doorway. They’re scattered around the living room, drunk and eating pizza, laughing about the various mishaps of the night. They fall silent as you pass, but their eyes go wide as Rooster passes.

He has picked up his shirt that had been dropped in the hallway and is buttoning it. The top half of his toned chest is visible for all of maybe three seconds. “Ladies.” He greets softly, pressing his tongue to his cheek to keep from laughing at the stunned looks on their faces.

He gives them a polite nod before you tug him outside to wait for his car on the porch. Rooster kisses you and tells you he’ll call you.

Rooster notices the missed call from Amy at 2am only when he’s halfway back to base. He knows that she wanted to discuss the pianist for her sister’s wedding this morning. But, when he thinks back to what he was doing an hour ago when that call was blocked by his do not disturb feature — he doesn’t regret his actions one bit.

At least, he doesn’t regret them right then.

...

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…

Rooster really thought he was going to marry her.

He sits and thinks about it now, hand curled around a chilled glass beer bottle, biting his cheek and examining the damage to the wood of the bar in front of him. Scratches, stains, dents and ring-marks from cold glasses.

Amy had been the girl of his dreams. She was smart, gorgeous, funny — she loved him for him. Or, she had. They had been together for the past six years. Engaged for the last four months. Living together for the past five years.

It had taken him a long time to feel secure. Rooster was confident in many aspects of his life: he knew he was a good looking guy, he knew he was pretty good at baseball and he knew that his piano party-trick was always a hit. But, in many ways, Rooster was insecure.

He'd never admit it, but he often second-guessed his skills as a pilot. It was easy to when the one man that had been in his corner for his entire life had pulled his application to the Naval Academy for no reason other than Rooster being 'not ready'.

For Rooster, that was just a nice way of saying not good enough.

Something that Amy had said during that last argument was that things always seemed too black and white. He was either good enough or he wasn't. He was either in love or he wasn't. She was either trying to make him jealous, or she wasn't.

"You're being ridiculous! - He's my boss, Rooster." Amy threw her bag down on the side and walked away from him. It was hot, she was pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she walked through into their bedroom.

"Yeah, and he was all fucking over you," Rooster was hot behind her, throwing his keys down onto the same counter as her bag and catching up to her. She had her back to him, standing by her dresser as she unclasped her necklace. "Does he always talk like that around you?"

"Yes, he does," Amy huffed, pretending not to notice him glaring at her through the mirror over the dresser. "Lots of my friends tell me I look nice. It's not a big deal."

Rooster scoffed at her. He shook his head, he rolled his eyes. All the telltale signs of an exasperated idiot standing behind her reflection - she narrowed her eyes at the sight.

"Friends." He muttered, like the word itself had left a bad taste in his mouth. "Come on... that guy doesn't want to be your fucking friend."

Amy seethed. She turned quickly, eyes widening in fury. "So what does he want, Rooster?"

Rooster met her eyes, looking right into the furious glare that she was giving him. Then, he rolled his eyes and turned away - saying more in his silence than he could have with his words.

"Is that the only reason he hired me too?" Amy pressed, watching her fiance drop down to sit at the foot of their bed and begin to take off his cufflinks. "Is that the only reason I am where I am in my career? - Because someone wanted to fuck me?"

He lifted his gaze, features hard and serious. "You tell me."

"Fuck you." She turned away from him again. It was this part of the man that she loved that she hated the most. His ability to be so cutting. Bradley knew everyone that he loved so deeply, he knew exactly how to hurt them. Only, Amy was the same.

"Like you're so much better than me," She shook her head, her lip trembling as she looked at him through the mirror, willing herself not to cry. "We both know the only reason you even went to Top Gun was because Iceman felt bad about getting your dad-"

His eyes on hers made her choke on the words. The hurt in those soft brown eyes, the betrayal. That she could have used the biggest loss in his life against him just because of a stupid argument about her work’s party.

"Say it." Rooster's jaw clenched.

"Bradley." Amy whispered, turning to face him. He pushed himself up, taking a step towards her.

"Say what you were fucking going to say, Amy." He dared her. She put her head in her hands, hiding her face from him. Bradley watched her body shiver as she let out a sob.

He waited, seething, for her to finish her sentence.

"I can't fucking do this." She pulled her hands away from her face, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks, leaving streaks of mascara behind. Bradley's brows furrowed, confused. "This isn't us."

He was silent.

"All we do is argue!" Amy cried, wiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "Every time I see you, it ends in a fight! - I can't do this anymore!"

"What are you saying right now?" Rooster didn't want to believe that this was it. He knew Amy inside and out. She wouldn't do this.

"I can't be with you. - I-I... I can't even fucking look at you right now!"

Deployment came at the perfect time this time around. Normally it was an inconvenience, these longer trips. They had always caused issues between him and Amy. This time, she had left him a day before he found out he would be leaving again.

He was almost relieved. That week before he had shipped out had been awful. Amy was staying with her mother, he was in their home alone. Seeing their photos, her clothes, even their bed. He had slept on the couch all week.

It's been a week since he arrived in Oahu. He knows a couple of people that he's deployed with, but no one that he knows well enough to call a friend. He's been making excuses so far this week to not engage with them. A headache on Monday, sore shoulder on Tuesday, an early start the morning after Wednesday.

But, it's Friday now and he's here. In a beach-side bar in downtown Honolulu. He came with others but he ditched them at a busier bar down the street an hour ago. He found this place and came inside solely because of how quiet it looked.

There's music playing and there are other patrons here, but everyone's minding their business and he's free to think. Rooster doesn’t know how long he has been zoned out, wallowing in self-pity, but when he looks back up he realised that he has been being watched.

You’re behind the bar, eyes focused on him with an element of intrigue dancing across your features. You've been watching him for a while. He's been biting his cheek and staring into space for at least ten minutes now.

You're caught. You should look away hurriedly and pretend that you weren't staring - but you don't. You're just dying to see him without those sunglasses. You know he's going to have pretty eyes. The rest of him is gorgeous, his eyes must be too.

"Hey, sailor."

Rooster's lips part slightly as he looks you over.

You're smiling softly at him, a toothpick between your teeth. He squints behind the dark lenses of his ray-bans, tilting his head slightly to the side. There's a flush to your cheeks, Bradley isn't sure whether it's from the heat or from the way you're looking at him. You're wearing a baseball style t-shirt and the tiniest denim skirt he’s ever seen. You're cute. He reminds himself that he's allowed to think that now.

He's allowed to think you're gorgeous, and he's allowed to think that he wants nothing more than to ruin that tiny scrap of fabric you've has chosen to call a skirt. He's allowed let you flirt with him, even if you does look a little young for him. Flirting never hurt anybody - he still remembered Amy's laugh as he had overheard her saying that to one of her friends.

His eyes linger on your legs for a moment, his lack of discretion luckily concealed by his sunglasses. They look long in the skirt, long and there isn't a tanline in sight. He looks you over from head to toe and does the math silently in his head -- that skirt isn't more than a few inches long, give or take a couple centimetres.

"You are a sailor, right?" You ask, lips curving up to reveal white teeth. Shit. Rooster watches her as you reveal quite possibly the most infectious smile he has ever seen. His lip quirks slightly, then he purses his lips and shakes his head softly. Your smile grows with your intrigue.

"Oh, you're a pilot!" You realise your mistake and then grin so big that Rooster finds himself smiling with you. He picks up his beer and brings it to his lips, taking a sip.

"That obvious, huh?" That he's in the Navy, he means. You know what he means. He isn't in uniform. He's wearing denim shorts and a Hawaiian shirt - he isn't dressed any differently from any regular tourist. But you know that he's Navy. You practically bat your lashes at him when you blink and shrug your shoulders.

"All you Navy boys have a certain look to you."

"Is that right?" He raises an eyebrow, pressing his tongue to his cheek as he sets his beer back down on the bar. He watches you nod your head. "What's our giveaway?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." You tease. He brings his hand up to rest against his jaw, amusement toying at his lips. There's a moment of silence between the two of you where he's just watching you.

"So, someone missing you, sailor?" Your voice is chirpy as you move the conversation along and turn halfway to polish glasses behind the bar. Rooster chuckles at the pet name, choosing to focus on that rather than the fact that he's alone.

He gives a soft shake of his head, "Not anymore."

You look at him through the mirror behind the bar and see the sadness in his features. It's clear that he's hurting. You regret touching a nerve.

"Find that hard to believe," You choose to lighten the mood instead of prying, "I bet there are girls lining up around the block for a shot with you."

You've made him smile again. He's watching you in the mirror, fingers trailing through the condensation the side of his beer bottle.

You aren't entirely wrong. He still gets a fair bit of attention, and before he started dating Amy, sure, he did alright in the dating game. He doesn't know how to be single anymore.

Rooster just takes another drink.

"Sweetie." An older woman puts her hand on your shoulder and gives you a stern look. Abigail, your boss, has warned you before about flirting with navy boys. There's no harm in it from your side - you never do anything and they usually like the attention.

You know what Abigail is saying without her needing to say another word to you. She's protective, and she doesn't like the way these guys look at you sometimes. There was nothing particularly sketchy about the one you were talking to now, but it was routine at this point to shut things down before they thought they actually had a chance with you.

"Why don't you go take your break?" She brushes a hand over your hair softly and turns her head to look at the man on the other side of the bar. You've already taken your break and actually there's only an hour left of your shift, but you know that Abigail knows that.

You nod and shoot him an apologetic look. Once you've stepped past Abigail, you raise your index finger and trail it down your cheek, jutting out your bottom lip slightly - feigning sadness as you walk away. Rooster smiles at the interaction.

Abigail sees him smile and turns to see what you're up to, brows furrowed as she finds that you've already stopped and are walking away like nothing has happened.

Rooster finishes another beer. He listens to the couple behind him that are on their honeymoon as they gush over each other, giggling and sighing happily. That alone prompts him to have another. After that, he notices that the sun has started to go down. He decides he would much rather walk himself down to the beach to be sad there rather than in here, listening to those two.

It's as he leaves that he runs into you. He doesn't notice it's you at first. He notices the ‘73 Ford Bronco that you're throwing your bag into the back of. Rooster remembers spotting it on the way in. It's the same as his back home, only yours is a green colour with a brown leather interior. It's girlier than his, which is what catches his attention.

You’re on your tiptoes, the roof is down and you’re leaning into the car to organise the things that you have on the backseat. Rooster can’t help but notice how short your skirt truly is now you’re not behind that bar. He catches a glimpse of pink fabric between your legs as you reach further into the vehicle.

That’s when it occurs to him that he’s standing in the spot, just staring. He clears his throat and asks, “This is yours?”

He makes you jump. You turn quickly towards him and press your back to the car, eyes flying wide open.

“Shit, don’t sneak up on me like that!” You gasp. He smiles softly in silent apology. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. She’s mine.” You breathe, tapping the car door with your knuckle.

“I’ve got one back home.” Rooster explains.

You smile at him and turn to look over your pride and joy. He’s admiring it too when you look back.

“Wanna go for a ride?” You offer. He furrows his eyebrows slightly as he looks between you and the car. He wonders who raised you and why the never taught you not to talk to strangers. But, he does miss that car.

“You don’t even know my name.” He reminds you.

You roll your eyes playfully, “What? - you don’t like it when I call you Sailor?”

He moves toward the passenger side, “You can call me Rooster.”

You smile as you step up into the driver’s side and slip the keys into the ignition. He settles into the passenger seat and cranes his neck to check out what you have in the backseat.

“Rooster.” You muse, fiddling with the radio, “Like a chicken?”

This time you’ve made him laugh. He’s even more breathtaking up close like this, and his laugh makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah, like a chicken.” He agrees with you, smiling softly as you give up on the radio and push a cassette into the slot instead. “What do I call you?”

You grab your sunglasses from the dash and slip them on, bobbing your head to the soft indie playing. You tell him your name as you pull out of the parking space, he’s checking over his shoulder as you reverse.

“That’s pretty.” He hums, shifting in his seat and pushing his knees further apart.

“So, how long are you here?” You ask, he’s impressed by your driving. He doesn’t even question where you’re taking him. Wherever it is, it’s the opposite direction of base.

“Six more months.”

He looks over at you, watching you drum your fingers against the wheel to the beat of a song he’s never heard of, sung by a band he’ll never remember the name of.

“What are you here for, Flyboy?” He smiles at the new nickname.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Rooster teases, copying back to what you said earlier. You’re impressed at how well he has listened, shooting him an amused look. You’re also wondering why he hasn’t yet asked you where you’re taking him.

You drive for another fifteen minutes, making small talk and listening to deep lyrics and upbeat tunes before he gives in and does ask, “So, where are we headed?”

“Just the beach.” You answer, giving him a soft smile, giving away absolutely nothing. Rooster turns his head to look at the miles of shoreline you’ve already driven past, then raises an eyebrow at you, “Some kind of special beach?”

“Sure.” You’re elusive all of a sudden. It doesn’t take long before you pull up at the side of the coast, parking in front of a cottage.

“You coming?” You tease him, grabbing your backpack from the backseat and hopping down from the truck. He looks around the area first, then follows you.

“So, you live here?” He examines the house as the two of you walk past it and begin down the steps toward the beach. You nod and call back that he’s correct. “With your parents?”

You’re up ahead of him, so he doesn’t see the way you laugh at his question before you shake your head. “With my roommate. Her grandma owns the place, we just rent it.”

Roommate. Rooster can deal with a roommate. That’s not so bad.

“So what do you do?” He calls to you, looking around the empty beach as he continues down the steps. Each wooden plank creaks under him and he’s worried that one is going to snap any minute. You’re walking with much more confidence, almost on the sand already.

“I bartend.” You turn towards him as you step foot in the sand, walking backwards. The smile on your lips is coy, like he’s silly for asking.

“I meant are you in college or something?” He gets closer to you as you’re walking backwards. You shake your head and turn again, lifting your chin toward the sea breeze, “Still figuring things out.”

Rooster slows and lets you walk ahead of him again. He wonders for a moment what that’s like. To not just know. He remembers knowing that he was going to be a fighter pilot since he was a kid, even before his dad had passed away - he had always just known.

He had known he was going to marry a nice girl and probably have a couple of kids, then settle down and become an instructor or maybe an Admiral - something a little more stable.

He’s broken from his crisis of faith by you dropping your backpack in the sand and peeling your shirt over your head. His brows furrow slightly, he stops in place.

Rooster looks over strings tied behind your back and behind your neck that support the pink bikini top.

“You coming?” You ask again, popping open the button on your skirt and the fabric down your legs. His eyes take in what’s before him as he stands there, semi-frozen. He looks between you and the ocean.

“You’re going swimming?”

“Uh-huh. I always swim after work.” You’re already headed toward the water. As you turn fully to step into the waves, Rooster’s eyes trail your body. If the skirt had made him stare earlier, the flimsy bikini that you’d been wearing under it now has his full attention.

He stands on the shore as you walk into the water. You wait until it’s reaching your ribs before you turn back towards him.

“Come on, don’t be a chicken!” You tease. His lips quirk slightly at the challenge — that and the fact you’re making more chicken related jokes.

He hesitates and looks around him.

What the hell, he decides. The beach is empty and even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t know any body here.

You grin as he slips his shirt off of his shoulders and then peels his tank top over his head. You’ve been itching to know what was under that Hawaiian print since you saw him, and you have to say, you’re not disappointed at all.

He’s like an action figure. Unlike him, you aren’t hiding behind dark tinted lenses, so he sees it all as your eyes roam his body. It spurs him on as he almost makes a show of popping open the button on his shorts, then dragging down the zipper.

He kicks his shoes off and pushes the denim down. You wolf whistle at him from the water as he kicks the material off, leaving him in dog tags, black boxers and sunglasses.

His ears redden as he looks around the beach again — still empty — and then walks towards you. You take a couple steps further out, already acclimated to the chill of the water. Rooster groans at the cold, clenching his fists as he moves in up to his waist.

“Come here.” He tells you. You’re further out, not by too much, but out of arm’s reach. He holds his hand out to you for you to grab.

“Come get me.” You challenge.

You push yourself out further and tread water, watching him shiver. Rooster grits his teeth as he steps deeper into the water, taking two strides before he’s close enough to reach you. He curls his fingers around your hand and tugs you toward him until you’re close enough for him to wrap his arms around you.

You reach up and take his sunglasses from his face gently, then set them on top of his head. You were right, he does have pretty eyes. You smile softly and brush your fingers delicately over his cheek.

You let him pull you close, you curl your fingers around the nape of his neck and you push forward and press your lips against his.

“You smell really good.” He murmurs against your lips, lifting your chin as he kisses you again. It’s a simple statement but it makes you shiver, you press your thighs together as he guides you closer against him.

His hands grab at your waist as he pulls you closer to him. You trail your fingers along the chain of his dog tags, looking down to examine them for a moment. He kisses your temple sweetly as he watches you.

“Bradley Bradshaw.” You muse, lifting your head to look at him again. He likes the way you say his name. You kiss his jaw, then his lips, “I like it.”

You let him nudge back your jaw so that he can kiss your neck. His strong hands steady you against him, his lips working a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

You’re practically putty in his hands. The realisation is almost enough to have him rock hard. He’s just in boxers, he knows you can feel his semi pressing against your stomach. He’s still surprised when he feels you push yourself against it.

The talk that Abigail gave you last week rings in your head as his tongue trails your throat. “It’s not just a game to these guys — it’s dangerous to lead them on.” She had told you. You had rolled your eyes. If flirting and wearing short skirts got you better tips, then that was just part of the fun. You were never in any danger when you were telling sailors that they had cute smiles back at the bar.

However, here on the other side of the coast, alone on a beach with a man who’s name you hadn’t discovered until after he had gotten undressed — it occurs to you that this is the kind of danger she’s been referring to.

His hand comes up and curls softly around the base of your neck, just holding you there and finding your lips again. You pull back and blink at him. You look down at each ridge and vein of his muscled frame as his thumb strokes at the column of your throat.

Yeah. This is definitely the kind of danger Abi has been trying to keep you from.

“Hey.” He reminds you that you’re staring at him. Doe-eyed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. You let him guide your legs around his waist. It shouldn’t make him as hard as it does, the way you’ve trusted him so easily.

“Hey.” You smile back at him. You don’t feel like you’re in danger at all. All you feel is fucking horny. You’ve got a good idea at how big he is from what you can feel pressing against you. You drape your arms over his muscled shoulders and grind down against his cock through the thin material between you.

He shifts you into one arm, slipping his hand between your legs to brush the pads of his fingers against your core over the bikini bottoms.

You grab his wrist. His cock twitches at the look in your eye as you still him and shake your head, “What kind of girl do you think I am, Rooster?” You tease as you unwind your legs from his hips and plant your feet up in the sand.

He groans softly as you begin away from him and back towards the dry sand.

“Trouble.” He answers, just loud enough for you to hear as he follows you. You bend over in front of him as you pick up both of your things from the ground.

His breath hitches. He’s too caught up in the thin pink strip of fabric covering your core, your ass all but exposed to him as you lean over to notice that you’re scooping his clothes up with your belongings.

“Keep up, flyboy.”

Rooster’s standing in ankle-deep water, lips parted as he watches you head up the beach without him. He groans, only catching up to you at the top of the wooden steps, once your unlocking the side gate to your place.

“You think that’s funny?” You gasp as he presses his chest to your back and captures you between his body and the gate.

“I do, actually.” You answer back, unlocking the padlock and pushing it open, escaping him. He follows you in and hugs you from behind, leaving kisses along your neck. The next obstacle you reach is the back door. He turns you and presses your back to the wall behind it.

“Oh yeah?” His voice is deep and serious. It makes you press your legs together. You hug what you’re holding and hum happily as he rolls his hips forward against you.

“Mhm.” You double down, slipping out of his arms, grabbing his hand and tugging him inside. You check around for your roommate, squeezing his hand and pulling him down the hall.

It isn’t until he’s in your room that he pauses to look around.

“Mm, wait.” You turn away from him and fiddle with something on your bedside table, dropping your collective items to the floor. The fairy lights around your bed frame come to life, and then weird crystal thing — that Rooster will later learn is a salt lamp — brightens the rest of the room.

Amy preferred to do it in the dark.

He makes the conscious decision to ignore your choice of decorations. He ignores the tapestry tacked to the ceiling, the posters of movies he hasn’t seen and bands he’s never heard on the walls.

“What?” You breathe as you turn back to face him. Rooster shakes his head, a silent ‘nothing’. You swallow. It’s real all of a sudden now that he’s standing in your room, dripping on the wood floors.

You reach behind you, tugging at the strings that secure the bikini behind your neck. Rooster watches the flimsy material fall to the ground, then looks back up at you.

“Fuck.” He breathes, reaching out and resting his hand on the curve of your waist. He skims his fingers along your side and up to your breast. He feels your eyes on him, watching as he strokes your hardened nipple. “Look at you.”

Your cheeks heat, smiling slightly at the confidence his approval gives you.

He lowers his head and kisses at your chest, holding you close with one hand as the other cups your breast. You let your head lull back. You should probably be embarrassed at how easily he coaxes a moan from your lips.

He cups his hands around your breasts, rolling one nipple between his thumb and index as he takes the other into his mouth. You’re so responsive to his touch.

Given that you’ve never been brave enough to take home one of the Navy boys before this, you’re filled with regret all of a sudden. You can’t believe you’ve restricted yourself to shitheads your own age when this is what you’ve been missing out on all along.

You’re reminded of Rooster’s strength as he lifts you and places you delicately onto your bed, covering your body with his. He nips playfully at your skin, glancing up at you with a smirk on his lips as you gasp.

He looks up at you through lust-filled eyes as he drags his teeth gently across your hipbone. You squirm under his gaze and his touch, closing your eyes to save yourself from the intensity of it all.

You wonder how the hell there was no one waiting for him at home — what kind of idiot would give him up?

“Up.” You lift your hips obediently for him to pull your bottoms down, watching as he discards them. He doesn’t look to see where they land, his eyes are unashamedly between your core. Almost subconsciously, he reaches out and runs his index finger along your core.

“Oh, honey,” His voice is gentle, dripping amusement, feigning care, “Look at you, all worked up.”

The statement brings heat to your face again, you wonder if he can tell how he makes your ears burn. His fingers stroke along your core once more. You whimper and push yourself against his hand.

His eyes flicker back up to yours, amused as he teases you, touching you in gentle strokes. Pretending that he’s willing to be compliant, Rooster leans down and kisses you softly.

You voice your frustrations by dragging your fingernails along the ridges of his stomach, soft pink lines decorating the tanned skin in your wake.

His fingers nudge at your pussy in retaliation as he sinks two into you at once. You hiss at the stretch, digging your nails into his hip.

He watches as your lips part, your brows furrow, those big doe-eyes are trying to glare up at him but he knows you’re loving this just as much as he is.

“Got something to say, pretty girl?” He murmurs sweetly, curling his fingers up against your g-spot and making you jolt. You part your legs further for him, shaking your head furiously and rolling your hips down against his hand. Desperate for more. Anything he’s willing to give you.

Rooster holds your hip as he works his fingers in and out of you, twisting and curling them.

“L-Like that. Right there.” You cover his hand with yours as it presses hard against your hipbone. Rooster takes his lip between his teeth, watching in delight as you writhe before him. So responsive to his touch.

He’s enjoying the theatrics of it. Sex with Amy was good, incredible even. Six years with a person really gives you time to learn their intricacies, physical or not. They knew each other’s bodies better than many people could dream. But, six years in, there wasn’t much room for the dramatics present in budding relationships.

They were used to having good sex, and that was that. When the sex was good every time, it wasn’t as mind-blowing as it had once been. Amy was still vocal, she still had a good time. But she wasn’t like you.

No, she wasn’t inexperienced and used to sleeping with frat boys. It had been a long time since she had first experienced Rooster in bed.

Rooster’s enjoying the strokes to his ego with each moan that slips your lips. He’s spurred on as he kisses down your chest and lifts your hips, kissing your thigh first.

His tongue teases at your folds before he settles in and seals his lips around your clit whilst his fingers fuck in and out of you. He’s glad he’s holding your hips as that’s about the only thing keeping you still as your hips buck slightly.

Again, he’s enamoured by just exactly how desperate you are for him. He holds you tight, groaning as he lets you rock your hips against his tongue. Maybe it’s a sixth sense, maybe it’s his expertise, but you swear that Rooster realises you’re close a split second before you do.

He groans, his nose brushing your pubic bone as his tongue caresses you, his fingers curling deep into you. You arch your back, pushing against his mouth, trembling as he holds you through your orgasm.

“Fuck.” He smiles down at you, reaching out and stroking the backs of his fingers against your cheek. You push yourself up and pull him down to you by the back of his neck, parting your legs for him to settle between as you lick into his mouth.

His fingers curl inside you once more, making you whimper against him, all too sensitive. He pulls them back and lifts them, watching as you part your lips for him and take them into your mouth.

You hum softly as you suck them clean. He grinds his hips forward against your bare core, eyes dark as they watch you. You push down the waistband of his still damp boxers, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock.

He isn’t sure what he’d rather look at. His eyes flicker between his fingers in your mouth and your hand around his cock before he cranes his head back to look at the ceiling, fighting a shudder.

Rooster slips his fingers back out of your mouth and places his hand over top of yours, guiding your palm around his length. He squeezes his palm softly around yours.

“You want it?” The gruffness of his voice makes you want to shiver. You nod at him eagerly. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly, stroking his thumb over your knuckles.

“Please.” You agree. It’s only then that it occurs to you that he’s a stranger. The same thought is clearly on his mind. He sits back on his heels, turning toward your bedside table and pulling open the top drawer.

He already knows what he’s looking for and where he’s likely to find it. He passes the foil into your palm. You pinch the top of the foil and tear the packaging open, trying not to screw up with his eyes on you as you roll the latex over his length.

He watches your fingers tremble as you do it.

You gasp as he grabs your hips and pulls you under him with ease. He plants his forearm beside your head and guides his cock between your legs you kiss his lips gently, whining.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take him. You whimper softly, adjusting to the hot, thick stretch of him. He kisses your jaw lazily, fucking into you in short, soft thrusts until he’s buried into you completely.

“So fucking wet for me,” Rooster breathes, his dog tags falling to rest against your own collarbones as he leans forward to kiss your lips. “You doin’ okay, baby?”

You nod hurriedly, grabbing onto the back of his neck to ground yourself as he fucks into you. That’s all the confirmation he needs.

He grunts softly, then leans back on his knees. His dog tags hit against his pecs as he drives himself into you, his hands gripping onto your waist. He holds you tight, keeping you right where he wants you, the veins in his arms bulging as he does.

You’re moaning under him, pressing your fingernails into his thigh. He fills you as deeply as he can, letting out a deep groan before he pulls back slowly. He pulls out almost entirely, revelling in your desperate sounds for just a moment before he ruts himself into you again.

It’s a process of this, filling you up and fucking you hard until you’re a mess under him.

He relents in a moment of weakness, filling you with long, especially deep strokes as he leans down and kisses you.

“Talk to me, baby,” Rooster’s voice is liquid gold spilling from his lips. He’s right over you, watching you expectantly. You push yourself up and capture his kiss desperately, whimpering as he tugs at your roots, “Tell me how you want it.”

You gulp, unsure that you’re capable of forming words at this moment in time. His hips pound into yours, unrelenting.

“F-Fuck, Rooster,” You arch your back away from the bed and up against his chest, mewling under him, “Like this. Please don’t fucking stop, I’m gonna cum.”

He was correct. He knew from the moment he saw you that this was how he’d fuck you. It’s hard and dirty and you’re loving every second of it, just like he knew you would.

He has both of your wrists in one hand, pinned above your head as he strokes deep into you. You’re writhing under him, moaning like a pornstar.

“That’s it, good girl.” He hums, kissing your jaw. “Look so pretty taking it like this.”

The strangled noise that slips your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm is music to his ears. He releases your wrist and pressed his hand to your throat instead, curling his fingers around the sides of your throat, squeezing softly.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted, cheeks warm. He admires the fucked out look on your face, grunting softly as he rutted hard into you. It’s intoxicating. The way you smell, the way you sound, the taste of your tongue, the feeling of your walls clenching around him. Rooster feels drunk off of it.

He loosens his grip from your throat, sliding his fingers around into your hair, cradling the base of your skull as he pulls you in for a kiss. You moan into his mouth and he groans against you.

The look in your eyes when he pulls back to look at you makes his hips stutter, mid-thrust. Your eyes are heavy, needy.

“Want you to cum in my mouth.”

Rooster’s fingers curl in your hair and make you gasp. He nods, rutting himself deep into you. He gives a couple more hard thrusts, kissing your lips, before he pulls back and sits back on his knees.

He grunts softly as he discards the condom. You push yourself up and slide closer to him. He curls his fingers around your jaw, letting out a pant as you part your lips obediently for him.

He holds your jaw steady, his other hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His eyes remain on yours as he strikes himself, his lip between his teeth.

You close your eyes, steadying yourself on his thigh as he coats your mouth. He watches, panting, as you close your mouth and swallow, wiping your lips with your thumb.

“Goddamn.” Rooster breathes, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. He covers your body with his, pushing you onto your back, groaning softly as he brushes your hair back off your face.

“You are trouble, aren’t you?” He mutters, kissing your forehead. You grin, giggling at the insinuation as you snuggle closer against his chest.

He doesn’t ask if he can stay over, and you don’t ask if he’ll stay. It’s just kind of an unspoken agreement. He’s reading one of your comic books when you return from the bathroom, which makes you giggle.

Falling asleep comes easier than you’ve ever found it before, tucked safely against a firm chest. He wakes before you at the sound of buzzing against floorboards. He untangles himself from you and grabs his phone from the back pocket of his shorts, eyes widening as he finds a missed call from Amy on his Home Screen.

He furrows his brows slightly as he types out a text. On base. Emergency?

A: No emergency. Miss you, just call me when you get a sec <3

The action of retrieving his phone has woken you, you’re stirring softly now. He drops his phone back onto the beside table and looks down at you as you rest your head against his chest.

Shit.

Rooster had come waltzing in a few moments ago, his baseball game having cut to a commercial break, and with one look at you buzzing around the kitchen with your hair messily pulled back against your head as you multitasked getting things prepped for tonight's dinner, had announced that he wanted to help.

To which you said absolutely not and he immediatley wanted to know why leading to the converstation you were currently having.

He grabbed at his chest, face twisting in offense, “Excuse you, for your information I am a fantastic cook. Carole Bradshaw insured that.” 

“And I have the utmost absolute faith in Aunt Carole’s abilities. What I don’t have faith in is your ability to pay attention and retain the knowledge of anything that doesn’t have to do with your F-18, Bronco or favorite sports teams.” 

“Are you calling me dumb Y/n Mitchell?” He accused.

“I never said that Bradley Bradshaw, I only meant that your talents and intelligence are more aptly applied in places that aren’t my kitchen.” You countered, putting emphasis on his name the way he did yours.

He stared at you for a moment, eyes playfully narrowed, trying to come up with good enough response to defend himself against your argument. He repeats your list mentally to himself; His F-18, his bronco, his favorite sports teams and...wait a minute-

Rooster's head cocked to the side and a smirk spread across his face as a thought suddenly dawned on him. You rose an eyebrow as he placed his beer down on the kitchen island and took a step forward crossing the distance towards you, “What are you doing?”

“You left something off that list,” he said softly, taking another step forward and pinning you to the counter with his hips. His hands went forward to rest on the edge of the marble on either side of your waist, leaving you with no where to go.

You furrowed your eyebrows and smiled in confusion up at him, “What?” 

His closeness was disarming and you never could think straight in his presence. Especially not with those dark brown eyes locked so intensely on yours, so your earlier argument had already slipped from your mind. 

“The list of things that you said I pay attention to and remember stuff about, you forgot something.” He repeated, breath fanning lightly across your face, “It's my F-18, my bronco, my favorite sports teams and you. I always pay attention and remember anything to do with you baby.” 

Your breath hitched and you instantly became putty in his arms, heart melting right along with the rest of you. 

Your suddenly hit with the rush of an overwhelming amount of love for the man in front of you. Surging forward, you closed the small gap between you and brought your lips together in a passionate kiss. Your arms circled themselves tightly around his neck, spatula dropping forgotten to the floor, as you tried with every fiber in your being to express through your kiss just how much you freaking loved and adored him. 

The pair of you don’t separate until you both desperately need to breathe, gasping lightly as you do for air. Your arms remained in their locked postion around his neck, preventing him from putting any space between you, so he simply lowered his forehead to rest against yours, eyes falling shut. 

It’s silent between you for a few more moments as you basked in one another’s touch, breathing the same breath before you break it by whispering, “I still don’t trust you in my kitchen.” 

Rooster doesn’t react at first but then suddenly he bursts into loud boisterous laughter. His head dropping down to your shoulder, body shaking against yours with the force of it.

He manages to recover a few seconds later and still slightly chuckling, squeezes your waist before lifting his head up and pressing one more soft kiss to your lips.

Rooster then proceeds to back away, freeing you from your postion pinned against the counter, and grabbed his beer off the island to return to his game. 

“What about it?” You question, trying to be as casual as possible, while you pull open one of Penny’s drawers, searching for a bottle opener.

“Is something going on,” she leans against the counter of the kitchen, forcing you to look directly at her. Truth to be told, you and Jake had hid it pretty well. Perhaps not to Penny, Mav, or any other third party who saw you both together, but to the clueless bunch of Naval Aviators who, despite being the few to spend the most time with you both, had not made much of it.

The physical tells were something they hadn’t made much of to begin with, a sure result of having seen Jake flirt his way through too many women and situations over the years. However, the near fight at The Hard Deck where they had seen him at his most protective ever, pure, white hot rage radiating off him - only for you to dispel it so easily, coupled with the subtle, but sure shifts in Jake’s demeanour, had started to arouse suspicion.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” she continues.

In all the years since she had known Jake, Phoenix had never seen him this way - more at ease, more open, happier. It wasn’t to say that his personality with the rest of them had changed drastically, Jake Seresin, was still very much Hangman, boisterous, confident, cocky (particularly in the air), always ready for a challenge, to show and tell that he was better than you, and to say whatever the hell he wanted, but he was also different, somehow happier, with the undercurrent of an unobvious calm and peace to him that they could just feel. It was unnerving to say the least, because it wasn’t something they had seen before, were used to, or had ever known Jake to be.

Bob had noticed it first, the Monday after the week Jake had cancelled fried chicken Friday, after days of sharp but silent observation. It had resulted in Bob telling Phoenix, who then told Rooster, who had went on to relay the message collectively to Coyote, Payback and Fanboy. A group decision was made one afternoon by way of a show of open hands or fists, resulting in Phoenix being the chosen messenger to broad the subject with you.

The difference in Jake had managed to be both outwardly noticeable, and yet not, all at the same time. On the surface, Jake was still Jake, swagger in his step when he walked around TOPGUIN, extolling his own virtues, taking little joking digs at all of them when he could, particularly when they were in the air - “C’mon Rooster, thought the chicken finally learnt to fly.” / “Trace, what does the baby on board in your backseat see?” / “Try to keep up Trace.” / “Aaand, the Relic is off the ground, that ladies and gentleman is called a Pete Mitchell” / “Payback? You mean the thing you can’t dish?” - but come dinner, when they had trooped back home and to you, Jake was somehow different.

The comments were still there - “Sorry boys and girls, I know it must be tough trying to match up to me.” / “Like how Trace and her baby on board fumbled today.” / “Thought Bradshaw was trying to hatch some eggs with the amount of time he was nesting.” / “Garcia and Fitch are always just taking it.” - but at the same time, Jake’s smile was wider, genuinely hitting his eyes and making his greens sparkle; his laugh louder, natural with nothing held back; his body language more open, any tension that he held during the day seemingly having melted away.

More importantly, as they had all come to notice, Jake never left you behind - whether it was purposefully falling behind everyone to bring up the rear just so he could fall in step with you; watching you out of the peripherals of his eyes the moment you left his side at The Hard Deck, right up to the moment you returned just to make sure that you weren’t waylaid by unwanted attention; or even the simplest act of making sure your order never got lost among the barrage of orders of the group; or that you were never cut out, lost or disengaged in the conversation when it dragged on to more Navy-orientated topics which you weren’t as familiar with.

Sure, Pheonix and Bob had caught sight of you and Jake running around the compound one Saturday afternoon, with him sprinting ahead in the last stretch in absolute glee, you yelling at him while trying to catch up, leaving you, quite literally, behind and in his dust - but even then, they had seen with his own eyes, Jake Seresin standing at the finish point, eyes fixed solely on you, waiting for you to meet him, as you yelled and protested your way to the end.

You pull the bottle opener out from the drawer, popping open the caps of the bottles in her hands, and then in yours, before dropping it back, and pushing the drawer shut with a hip. You beckon to Phoenix to exit back out into Penny’s backyard with you to rejoin the group and she follows, her question still hanging in between you both.

You step back out into Penny’s backyard, the cool evening air hitting your skin, your eyes meeting briefly with Jake’s as he looks up in the middle of his conversation with Rooster.

“You’ve only seen Hangman before,” you finally say, you both still out of earshot from the group, before you take a few steps towards the table, “now you get to see Jake.”

She opens her mouth to push her question again, determined to draw out a clear answer or confession from you, only for Jake’s voice to cut in above the chatter, making Rooster turn his neck to glance at the both of you as you return.

“Trace, you got that dog with a bone look on your face,” he starts, “do I have to take you out for harassing my girl?” Jake’s voice is loud enough that it carries across the table, pausing the chatter among the group for a second.

You feel your face heat as you hand a beer bottle off to Bob who receives it with a “thanks”, as he exchanges a look with Fanboy who is seated across the rectangle shaped table, before you settle back into the chair flanked by Jake, and Coyote who is waggling an eyebrow at Payback.

You see a smug, triumphant grin on Phoenix’s face, her question finally answered, as she hands one of the bottles to Rooster before sliding back into her seat beside him.

“Finally,” Penny breaks the moment of silence, throwing up her hands at the confirmation of what she knew, but had been waiting for, for the longest time, Amelia grinning wildly beside her.

“Hear, hear.” Mav raises his beer, to which Bob also does, and the group follows, cheers erupting from Penny’s backyard.

The attention makes you groan, and you hide your face in your hands, turning your body into Jake’s. You had talked about it after the other night at The Hard Deck, and had decided that it was time for the rest to know, directly from you both. You can hear the rumble of his own laughter in his chest, Jake clearly unfazed and not the slightest bit embarrassed at the attention, as he snakes an arm around your shoulders, securing you against him. It only makes the cheers louder, with Coyote sending a loud wolf whistle your way.

-

“Uncle Jake!” The roar of a little voice greets you both as you step through the doors and into the lobby of the hotel. You see a small blonde head sprinting at top speed towards you both, barrelling itself into Jake’s arms which had opened just in time to catch him.

“All this excitement just for me?” Jake exclaims back as he swings his nephew, Kyle, around in the air, before squeezing him tightly against his chest, only for the little boy to squirm in delight.

You see Emma, Jake’s older sister approach, her husband, Nate, and toddler Layla, approach.

“Full attire, really, Jake?” She scoffs taking in Jake’s uniform, but clearly teasing, as she takes reaches out to hug you hello, before coming to a stand in front of her brother.

“Not all of us are on vacation,” Jake shoots back as he sets Kyle down on his feet, before the siblings embrace each other, “some of us still have to work.”

“You only wear it for the looks you get,” Emma retorts with a snort, but being well aware that he had just come from work, as Jake and her Nate thump each other on the back in a hug, before Nate reaches out to hug you hello as well.

“Well you gotta agree, I look good.” Jake smirks, not missing a beat, while bending to pick Layla off the ground, hoisting her in an arm and tickling her belly, the toddler shrieking with glee. “Can’t deprive the world of all this now, can we?” He coos the question at Layla who only giggles, patting her uncle’s cheek with her hand.

“I don’t know how you put up with him,” she looks at you as you ruffle Kyle’s hair in a hello, the boy beaming up at you, before slipping his hand into yours, tugging you around in a circle in his excitement.

“None of us do,” the familiar voice of grandma Doris interjects as she and Grace Seresin née Walton, walk into view.

“She’s too sweet to be putting up with your brother,” Grace chimes in, with a glance to her son, who just shrugs, a lazy, self-assured smirk plastered to his face.

Emma tugs Kyle out of your hands, for grandma Doris and Grace to greet you with hugs of their own, before they move onto Jake, who embraces them each with an arm, Layla still nestled happily in his other, her head resting between the crook of his neck, thumb now in her mouth.

“Thank you,” Emma grabs your hands in an exaggerated fashion, clutching them dramatically as she throws a look to Jake, “for putting up with my brother’s clown ass.”

The words coming out from Emma, a grown woman, with perfectly coiffed hair, and designer clothes and shoes that cut a stylish figure, makes you burst out in laughter.

“Just doing my bit of charity for the world.” You manage to say, before grandma Doris links an arm with yours, pulling you towards the door of the lobby, a signal for the rest to follow.

“I’ll cut him out of my will and put you in,” she tells you in a loud stage whisper. You don’t turn back, but if you did, you would have seen Jake grinning broadly, a fond look in his eyes, his niece still cuddled up against him, as he takes in the sight of you and his grandmother walking arm in arm.

-

“You know,” you turn to face Emma at the sound of her voice, clearly directed at you, “he cares about you.”

You both are seated at the end of a table, in the corner of the hotel lobby’, watching as the other members of your party are crowded around the massive cake display case to a side, Layla in her Grace’s arms, and Kyle in Jake’s, Nate and grandma Doris flanking them, as the children attempt to decide which sweet treat to pick.

“I know,” you say, small smile on your lips, as you focus on Jake, before looking back at her.

You and Jake had been mindful of yourselves around the Seresins, not because it would have been an issue, but because you had insisted on not wanting to overshadow their time together with Jake. He had tried to convince you that there wouldn’t have been any overshadowing involved, but you had, with a little help of your hands and mouth, had managed to capture his undivided attention, and be extremely persuasive, to which Jake relented. You weren’t sure if Emma knew, or suspected at the very least. You had always known her to be astute.

“He would probably kill me if I told you this,” she begins, as she leans back in her seat, folding her hands in her lap, “but slightly over three years ago, when you had told him about Dan, that guy you were seeing, he was noticeably…” she pauses, searching for the right words to use, “worked up.”

“I didn’t know,” you start, as you find your gaze wandering back to Jake who is now squatting beside Kyle, both blondes peering into the bottom layer of the display case. “He never said.”

“We were both home during that period,” she recalls, “and staying with grandma, and I found him in the gym abusing a punching bag. His knuckles were raw, eyes like a man crazed.”

She pauses, as you look back to her before continuing.

“I had Kyle with me, he was still just a toddler at that point, and it took him crying for Jake to stop. He told me, quite angrily I might add, that Dan wasn’t good enough for you”, she says as she unfolds her hands from her lap to reach out to squeeze your forearm, “and you deserved so much more.”

She meets your gaze, squeezing your forearm gently again, before adding after a moment of consideration, “I think he meant himself.”

Her words make your jaw slacken, your lips part slightly, as you remember Jake’s words in the car from the other day when he had only said “less so” since you had started seeing Dan.

“My brother can be a dick to a lot of people,” she starts again, a rueful shake of her head, “but not to you, never to you. He’ll never hurt you.” Emma says as she offers you a final smile, as you hear the voices of the group returning to the table.

“We got chocolate and a red velvet,” Jake says, as he slides back into the chair beside you, Kyle clamouring from his lap into yours. He finds you looking at him curiously, a strange expression on his face and he tilts his head to a side, asking silently if you are ok, before darting his gaze to Emma who immediately turns her attention to Nate.

You nod, with a slight tilt of your ahead, signalling that you are fine before you turn your attention back to Kyle who is describing to you, in vivid detail the chocolate cake that he chose.

-

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” Jake asks you for the tenth time since you had both left the house, “you’re already in the car.”

“I don’t,” you shake your head as you watch him glance out the side mirror, checking for cars, before he makes the turn. “You should spend some time alone with them before they go back.”

It had been a Seresin filled week, with you spending almost all of your time with grandma Doris, Grace, Emma, Nate, Kyle and Layla during the days, with Jake joining the group only in the evening once he had managed to get out of work. He had however, managed to spend an entire full day with the group yesterday, a Saturday, which largely comprise of him and Nate, chasing Kyle and Layla around the beach, while you, Emma, Doris and Grace watched on, chatting idly.

Emma and her family had left earlier in the morning, but his mother and grandmother who had booked themselves into a later flight, scheduled only for the late afternoon, had asked Jake to meet them for breakfast.

Jake opens his mouth to say something as he glances at you, and you shake your head again, pre-empting his response, your tone firm.

“No Jake, they deserve your undivided attention.” You knew you were always welcome with the Seresins, but you had wanted to give grandmother Doris, Grace and Jake the time they deserved together. You hadn’t made mention of it to Jake, but had gathered from their previous trip to see you in New York (sans Jake), that they missed Jake more than they cared to let on. It wasn’t easy having a grandson and son far from you; what more one that was a Naval Aviator who could be deployed for 6 months, to an undisclosed location at the drop of a hat. You had missed Jake yourself, worried about him during his stints of deployment over the years, even if were both already separated by state, so it was easy for you to empathise.

The seriousness to your voice makes him shut his mouth, choosing instead to reach across the center console and place a hand on your thigh, fingers squeezing lightly in understanding.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” You ask, and Jake shakes his head no.

He had sent his truck off to the workshop, only to have it grounded for a couple of days. You had tried to strong arm him into taking your car, seeing that he was due back to TOPGUN for an afternoon of flights, despite having been able to wrangle a few hours off to spend with his mother and grandmother before they left, but Jake Seresin, if anything, was a stubborn man, who had refused, not wanting to leave you inconvenienced. You had both reached a comprise, being that he would drop himself off to meet the Seresins, and grandma Doris would get her car to drop Jake back at TOPGUN before she left. It wasn’t the smartest solution, but it was the most he would budge on it.

He pulls up kerbside, in front of the hotel his grandmother and mother were staying in and shifts the car into park. You both exit, and Jake waits for you beside the door of the driver’s side, holding the door open, while you step in and up into the seat and buckle yourself in.

“See you later?” He asks, a rhetoric question, but you nod anyway and he kisses you swiftly on the corner of your lips before shutting the door on you and jogging over to the kerb. You duck your head to peer out of the window on the passenger’s side and he winks at you. You press a kiss to your fingers, blowing it at him, and it earns you a wide smile, the sides of his eyes crinkling. You let yourself take it in, Jake smiling, with his hair combed back, uniform hugging him in the right places, before you lift a hand in a wave and drive off, thinking to yourself, god was he handsome.

-

“You’re eating too little.” Grandma Doris asks, eyeing the bowl of yogurt, and granola in front of her grandson.

“Don’t want to be throwing up mid flight.” He explains before popping the spoon into his mouth. “I’ll have more for dinner.”

She hums in acknowledgement, settling back into her chair, while taking a sip from her tea cup, eyes studying her grandson.

“So,” she starts casually, almost too casually for her, and it makes Jake drop his spoon as he leans back to take her in, “were you planning on keeping your poor grandmother in the dark forever?”

Jake knows what she is referring to, but opts for raising brow, waiting for her to elaborate.

“That you both finally became more than just friends.” Grandma Doris stretches out the word finally, and Jake raises his glass to his lips, but his smile is barely covered.

“What gave it away?” He asks, after taking a gulp of water and setting his glass down.

“You did be blind not to know,” Grace scoffs, taking a sip of coffee. You both had hid it well, but a mother always knew her son.

The relationship you and Jake had, was something that had always been special - he was more himself around you, more the Jake that Grace had knew, loved and known from the first day she had held him in her arms, and you, well, you somehow managed to tolerate him, during the good and the bad, accepting him for both his good and bad; but this time, this was different.

Grace had always seen a glimpse of something more in her son’s eyes when he looked to you, only when he knew that you weren’t watching, but this time - she had seen it in his eyes, when he had looked directly at you, and had seen you meet his gaze with the exact same look, of equal intensity in your eyes. She had seen the quiet, content, smile that flickered briefly across both your features, and she just knew.

Her suspicions had been confirmed the night before when Grace’s own mother had nudged her and motioned out the window of the hotel lobby, both of them watching, just in time to catch you run a finger over the the sunburn blooming along the bridge of Jake’s nose, laughing about something they couldn’t hear, to which Jake only reached out to pull you towards him, your face colliding with his chest, body shaking with laughter as he planted his lips on the top of your hair, while saying something that caused your shoulders to shake even more.

“Weeks,” he says vaguely, not bothering to count the detailed specifics, not because Jake didn’t care, but because he didn’t need to with you - not when he was sure you were his forever. He had expressed outrightly that you were his girl - because even when you hadn’t been, you had somehow, always been his in one way or another - and Jake hadn’t asked you explicitly, the question of “will you be my girlfriend?”, but it hadn’t mattered to either of you; the question seemingly unimportant and trivial, when you both already just knew.

Grandma Doris observes grandson from her perch across the table, the light in his eyes that she had always saw when he looked at you had finally come to the front, and it was dazzling. She places down her teacup, fingers of her right hand working to slide the ring she had the fourth finger of her right hand off. It was the simplest of the rings which adorned her fingers, a plain band, holding a single jewel, with the words “timeless” scratched onto the inside of the band, the engraving now dulled from years of wear, but still visible. She places it on the table in front of Jake, who looks down at it, and up again at his grandmother in surprise. He had never seen her take it off since he could remember.

“Give it to her,” she says simply, the implication behind her words clear - marry her. To anyone else, it might have been strange, but grandma Doris understood, it was Jake and you - she had watched quietly, as you both danced around each other for years. “There isn’t any reason to wait when you’ve already known something your whole life.” She say simply.

Jake picks up the ring, flipping it in his fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the engraving on the inner band, before reaching into the shirt of his uniform, tugging out the chain with his dog tags, before undoing it and stringing the ring on.

-

“Well, this is me,” Jake bends down and kisses Grace’s cheek while engulfing her in a hug.

“Come back home soon,” Grace orders and Jake raises a hand to his head to giver her a mini salute.

“Yes M’am.”

“Everyone misses you,” his grandmother says as Jake bends in turn to hug her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Your grandfather and father miss you.” His mother says, and Jake meets her gaze in understanding with a small tip of his chin.

Jake stands back, with a last wave, watching as his mother and grandmother enter the car, before the driver shuts the door.

-

Tash: Your man is an idiot.

You swipe open the message from Phoenix to come face to face with a picture of Jake and Rooster’s side view, each man decked out in their flight suit, sunglasses on their face, middle fingers flipped up at each other. It makes you roll your eyes as you shoot back a text.

Is Bradley an idiot as well?

She replies almost instantly.

Tash: The biggest.

You grin, shooting back a reply.

Lies. By the way, do you know what time you’ll be done? My idiot needs a pick up.

Tash: Come now, I’ll get Mav to abuse his “power” and sign you in.

-

“I’m not betting those 200 push ups today,” Fanboy’s voice crackles over the comms as the three planes, him and Payback, Mav and Jake push through the air. It was the last scheduled flight of the day, not entirely necessary because there weren’t any trainees scheduled into the slot, but it hadn’t stopped the four men from jumping into the plans to run the same training simulation of the day. Mav’s time old favourite, dogfighting - two against one.

It earns a laugh from Mav, and Jake snorts.

“C’mon boys, wussing out?” Jake drawls over his comms as he levels his jet with Fanboy and Payback, grinning out the window towards the two. It earns him double middle fingers from the duo.

“I’m not letting you hang us out to dry, Hangman.” Payback says disgruntled. It was undeniable that Jake had proven himself to be a team player from the uranium mission, but it didn’t change the fact that Hangman, being Hangman, still enjoyed blazing his own trail, particularly during simulations such as this where a run was just a run, and nothing was at stake. He would have them eating his dust whenever he could.

“How about a beer instead boys?” Mav asks, grinning lazily out of the window of his jet.

“I could live with that,” Payback jumps and latches onto the lower stakes, before clarifying the safety of his own wallet, “just among us four.”

“Game on,” Jake hooks his mask to his face.

-

True to her word, and you are not entirely sure how, Phoenix gets you signed into TOPGUN, meeting you at the guard house, and jumping into your car, directing you onward. She ends up leading you towards the control room, which she informs you, is filled with themselves and the trainee group today due to the afternoon long simulation flights they had been running. She scans her pass against the electronic lock and holds open the door for you while gesturing you in. You slip into the control room ducking your way past a few trainees, to come to a stand beside Hondo, who is flanked on his other side by Rooster and Bob.

“What did I miss?” Pheonix asks, and Hondo points towards the screen.

“They just bet Mav a round of beers if they beat him.”

“Do we all benefit?” Phoenix asks, hopefully.

“Payback made it very clear that it’s just between them.” Hondo grins, and it earns a dismissive snort from Phoenix

You can’t see the Naval Aviators up in the air, apart from the diagrams of little jets beeping on the radar alongside a counter, and a whole host of numbers you don’t understand; but you can hear them over the speakers in the control room, the sounds of breathing, and chatter.

“Where is he?” Payback asks.

“I can’t see him,” Fanboy.

“Probably hiding beneath us,” you hear Jake, “old man never changes his tactics.” He says, a jab at Mav, and the tone of his voice, makes you shake your head slightly; even you knew, to someone who didn’t know any better or who wasn’t used to him, Jake could very well rub people he didn’t know well the wrong way with his words.

You hear a set of three yells and curses, as Mav’s diagram reappears on radar, a set of numbers alongside the screen rapidly jumping as Mav angles his jet to shoot up between the other two.

“And yet, this old man’s tactics work every time.”

It earns a fist pump from Hondo, and you lean over towards the older man.

“Does he truly do that every time?”

“Works like a charm,” Hondo says, leaning back over to you simultaneously, headset still nestled in his ear, with a nod of his head.

“And they don’t learn?” You ask in slight disbelief at the fact that some of the best Naval Aviators in the country would fall for the same trick more than once.

“Kids,” Hondo laughs with a shrug and a waggle of his brows, and it makes you laugh out loud as you think back to a scene where you had been sitting with the lot, after dinner, watching them argue over which superhero, as portrayed in the movies, would come out on top, because you couldn’t agree more.

-

Jake hears it, clear as day, as he rights his jet, holding back on the acceleration into the planned tactic he was going to go into, even though it was just a soft crackle over the background his comms. He thought he had been dreaming that he had heard your voice, until the point he heard your laugh - he would recognise that laugh anywhere - your laugh.

“Babe?” He says into his comms, and it has Payback and Fanboy looking at each other within the confines of their plane, Mav looking out of the window from above, down towards Jake’s jet, the men all holding in the air, surprised at the sudden call from Jake. All heads in the control room swivel towards you.

Hondo slips the headset off his ear and passes it to you, nodding for you to take it, and you do, slipping it onto your own ear, taking a step forward, closer to the screen even though you can’t see him.

“Jake?” You say, your eyes focused on the mini green outline of his jet on the screen, his call sign flickering beside it.

“Yeah babe?” Jake says again, louder, more sure this time, his face breaking into a wide grin beneath his mask. In that moment, Jake feels like he is at the top of the world, despite having just been spun around in the air by the force of Mav’s jet - he is seated in a jet high above the ground, doing something he had willingly devoted his life to, with your voice in his ear at real-time, knowing that you were watching him.

“Give him hell.” You say, and you hear a roaring laugh of response through the headset in your ear, loud, open, unadulterated, genuine, every note of it being entirely Jake. It is familiar to you, but the heads moving back and forth in the room, eyes coated in surprise, tells you that it isn’t for everyone.

“For you darlin? Anything.”

It earns a whoop from Coyote who is standing to the right of the control room. Jake, who is up in the air grips his center stick, wide grin still on his face. He can feel the ring, dangling from the chain beside his dog tags, a cool circle pressed against his chest. He takes a deep breath.

“Alright boys, hope you’re ready, because Hangman’s coming.”

-

“Tone!” It is a span of mere minutes, where you hear a mix of shouts, grunts and yells coming from the four men in the air, before you hear a loud prolonged beeping sound, and Jake’s voice crackle over the comms, shouting out the single word with a whoop. It earns wide eyes from around the room, and approving nod from Hondo who is behind you, a “yes” from Coyote and a clap from Bob.

“Fucking Hangman,” is what you hear Rooster murmur from behind, clearly impressed.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Tash mumbles as she walks up to you, before clapping her hand on your shoulder. She knew Jake was good, heck - everyone knew, despite having only been selected as Dagger Spare for the uranium mission, he was the only one among them (not counting Mav) who had a count of two confirmed air combat kills, but to get tone on Mav, something none of them had yet to be able to achieve - now that, was impressive.

“Can we get her in the room everytime he flies?” You hear Cyclone mumble to Warlock from his position in the centre of the room, arms still crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the green on screen.

It makes you smile.

-

You make your way down along with the rest of the group, the only civilian amongst the group of Naval Aviators, hanging to a side with Coyote, Bob, Rooster and Phoenix as the jets grind to a slow stop and into a park. You can hear the chatter of the trainees, standing around as you watch while the top of Jake’s jet pops open, before he hoists himself out of the seat, stepping onto the wing to hop down onto the ground.

Jake yanks his helmet off his head, and you see him, grinning widely, from ear to ear, his hair sticking up, a sheen of sweat across his forehead, in his element, euphoria unmatched. It’s infectious and you feel your face break out into a matching grin, as Jake begins striding directly to you, helmet in his hand. He moves like a man with a mission, focused entirely on you, and the smattering of trainees move to a side as he approaches, it being clear that he has no intention to stop for anyone in his way.

You see him unzip the top of his flight suit, and reach beneath the white shirt he has on underneath, fingers pulling his dog tags out before he tugs them over his head.

“Jake?” He is three steps away from you, and the group behind you has involuntarily taken a step back, not sure of where this is going, allowing you both your space, and then, it happens.

Jake drops his helmet to the ground, the object rolling an inch away before it settles on his side. You are forced to look down as Jake drops a knee to the ground. He leans his elbow on his other knee, which is bended, propped up by a boot that is pressed flat to the ground, and raises his hand towards you, fingers holding out a ring, still hanging from the chain of his dog tags, with a single jewel as the centrepiece towards you. You recognised the ring at once, having seen it as a permanent fixture on grandma Doris’ finger.

“Jake what are yo-” You start to say, but he cuts you off, answering your question at the same time.

“Marry me.” He says, a statement, not quite an ask as his eyes search yours, a smile, genuine, excited, earnest on his face. “Marry me, because I don’t want to have to spend another day not being able to call you mine.”

It’s a big ask, after only weeks, you both jumping the step where he had even asked you (officially) to be his girlfriend, but this was Jake, the man you knew better than anyone else; the man who you understood, and who understood you, without having to even use words; the man who you would do anything for, and who would do anything for you; the man you had spent the past few weeks finally getting it right with; the man you would say yes to in a heartbeat.

You search his face, his eyes now fixed on you, watching as you take it in, take him in. Jake has never been so goddamn sure of anything in his life. He had been sure the moment his grandmother had slipped the ring onto the table; sure from the moment he had kissed you at Annie’s wedding; sure from the moment he had asked you to come out to San Diego for 6 months; perhaps even sure from way before; but hearing your voice over comms, just your voice, pulling together his focus, grounding him, both literally and figuratively propelling him to greater heights, made him realise that he had already taken too goddamn long to do this, and that he would be a fool to wait even a second longer.

“I’m already yours.” You breathe out, pushing out the breath of air you hadn’t even been aware you were holding. It is enough for him, and Jake reaches forward to tug your hand towards him before he slips the ring on. It fits your finger like a glove, his dog tags still dangling from the other end of the chain still attached to the ring, like a part of him to you. He stands, holding your hand in his, pulling you close so that your body is flush against his. Jake smells of jet fuel, sweat and soap. He reaches up with his other hand, to cup your jaw in his palm, a thumb running over your cheekbone.

“Jake?” You say, softly, as he leans in an inch.

“Yeah.” It makes him stop, face slightly apart from yours, but so close that you can feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours, and the warmth of his breath on your skin.

“I love you.” You say out loud for the first time, and you see the wide smile break across his face as he presses his lips to yours. You love him, you’ve loved him, just as he love and has loved you.

“I know baby.” Is what Jake says first against your lips, in true Jake Seresin fashion and you can still feel his smile, as he finally says, “I love you too.”

You hear the thunderous sound of cheers in the background, the loudest coming from the group of Naval Aviators you had come to know and love. A plane flies past, roaring overhead in the sky, and you kiss Jake back, one of your hands still gripping his, the other on the back of his head, feeling the damp roots of sweat in his hair, pulling him into you. You feel like your heart is soaring, your flyboy in your arms.

>> EPILOGUE

You were both back visiting family for a week - Jake had just returned from a mission and had been given some time off. You had quickly made the decision to submit your own request for time off, and both of you had made the choice to venture back home. It made sense, as you both had decided, to stay with family while home - him with his, and you, with yours, because it had been a while since you both had been home for more than a week. You and Jake had decided that you both would not stay collectively in one household or the other (because there was just no better way of determining which was the household of choice), and shuffling your belongings back and forth between both houses was just impractical; which was how you ended up, tucked into the bed of your childhood bedroom, and Jake in his.

You had spent nights without Jake in your bed before during the periods of time he was out on a mission, or when he was home and you were off somewhere on business, but this, this felt strange, sleeping apart just after a week since he had been back.

You are just about to shoot off another text to him, to check if he had truly fallen asleep, when a sharp rap of knuckles against your window makes you jump. An audible hiss of your name follows and you push the covers off as you simultaneously scramble out of bed to draw back the curtains to find Jake crouched on the roof by the outside of your window.

“Jake?” You hiss back, as you fumble to unlock the window, the hinges creaking slightly as you tug it open. You step aside, allowing him to somehow, manage to gracefully slide his way in. “What are you-” You begin, only to have him silence you with his lips against yours.

“Hi-” He says against an open-mouthed kiss, while simultaneously sliding his hands around your waist, under your tee and up your back. You kiss him back, throwing your hands around his neck.

“Hi,” he says again as you both pull away, Jake still holding you to him, his fingers now running up and down your lower back. “Haven’t done that in a while,” Jake cocks his head towards the open window, referring to the time he used to slip into your room throughout high school, or when you were both back from college; but not for any lurid reasons.

“You used to come bearing gifts,” you tease, recalling the many a times he would slip in with pizza, fast food, chocolate, or a bottle of something alcoholic, which often paved the way for late night movie binges, or just talking, for the both of you.

“I have come bearing a gift,” he says with a sly grin, “myself.” He can’t help but slide his hands from your lower back down to your hips, grabbing you by the waist and pressing you firmly against the lower half of his body. It makes you roll your eyes, and drop your hands from his neck as you twist out of his reach, walking over to shut the window.

“I think I liked the pizza better,” you say to which he chuckles before flopping down on your bed, propping his head up against a palm anchored by a bent elbow. You settle, seated on the mattress beside him and reach up to run a hand through his hair, which is still slightly damp from his shower. You let your fingers scrape against his scalp, and Jake moves a hand to squeeze your thigh.

“Permission to stay the night?” He asks, and you pretend to think about it, which makes him squeeze your thigh again, more firmly this time.

“Permission granted.” You finally respond, and Jake moves his hand to your shoulder, pulling you down easily into a flat lie beside him, your face pressed up against his chest.

“You’re suffocating me,” you say, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, and Jake plants a kiss to the top of your head before letting you go.

You glare up at him as you let yourself land back on the mattress, only to find him grinning down at you, the sides of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“It’s a good thing I know CPR.”

“Bed.” You say, ignoring his comment, as you reach for the bedside lamp, flicking off the dangling switch, while Jake pulls the covers which you had thrown off earlier over the both of you.

He sits up to tug off his tshirt, balling it up and tossing it towards the chair in your bedroom before settling back into your bed and slinging an arm around your waist, your back pressed to his front.

“I never imagined this is where we would be one day,” you can hear the rumble of his words in your ear, and against your back, his tone both amused and contemplative at the both of tucked into the bed of your teen-hood.

“Well you don’t have to imagine it,” you mumble, your eyes closing, mind settling fast, taking comfort in the weight of his arm around your waist, and the warmth of him against your body, “it’s happening now.” Being with Jake, you have come to realise, always makes it easier for you to fall asleep.

You hear a rumble of words that sound like his voice, feel the light press of lips to the back of your head, but you don’t register what Jake says as sleep claims you.

-

“Morning!” You call out as you enter the kitchen of the Seresin household to find Grace Seresin sitting at her kitchen counter, cup of coffee in hand as she flicks through the tablet in front of her.

“Hi honey,” she greets you with a smile, placing her coffee cup down, “I think Jake is almost done clattering around the bathroom.” She makes a face, before calling out in a stage whisper, “boy has always been vain.”

“Got you and grandma to thank for that,” Jake’s teasing drawl floats down the stairs as he enters the kitchen. You let yourself take him in, his hair is tame, but the movement of it tells you he has 0 product in it, and his jaw slightly scruffy. He bends to kiss his mother on the head, and then on the cheek, before reaching for you, to press a kiss on your lips in a hello.

“Sleep well?” He asks you, a twinkle in his eyes, as if he hadn’t slipped out of your room just an hour ago, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to control the giggle which threatens to force its way out.

“Very,” you confirm and it makes him grin.

“Shall we?” He holds out a hand to you, and you slip your hand into his, both of you calling out your goodbyes to Grace as he tugs you out of the house for breakfast.

Grace Seresin watches you both go with a smile on her face, waiting for the door to click shut before she lets out a laugh while shaking her head. She had, to neither of your knowledge, heard Jake climb out of his room, and across the roof the night before, and again this morning, as she had multiple times before since the fateful day you had moved in next door.

“Yeah uh…” you swallowed, “yeah they’re…they’re great. They’re such a cute couple. They were meant for each other, really,” You sighed, hoping your voice didn’t sound fake as you chugged the last of your drink, “Pete’s really got it for her-”

“And you really got it for Pete,” Harry interrupted quietly.

You froze, before he had a chance to continue, you grabbed his elbow and dragged him to the kitchen.

“Ozbourne what the hell are you talking about,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder to make sure no one else had heard.

“I’m just saying, I’ve kinda picked up on how you look at him, and it bears a very strong resemblance to how Gwen looks at him. Or how he looks at Gwen-”

“-Stop it,” You cut him off, setting your empty can on the counter a little harshly. You paused, “You think anyone else can tell? Is it too obvious?” you started to panic, glancing back out to where the couple had only partially given up playing twister.

“Not obvious to the other parties involved, they’re too busy looking at each other,” he half-chuckled at his own joke before looking back up at you, “Hey… hey I didn’t mean it like that. You know Peter still likes you as a friend.”

“I know,” you bit the inside of your lip, running your hands over your face, “It just…hurts, y’know? Like…That should be me…but it shouldn’t, because I could never make Peter that happy and Gwen is a wonderful girl and that just makes me shitty for wanting to come between them. And I just…I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Harry.” you let out a dry laugh as he reached into the fridge and grabbed two cans of root beer, handing one to you.

“Can’t keep doing what?” he asked, smirk fading from his face as he leaned against the counter next to you.

“Pretending that I’m fine,” you shrugged, opening the can and taking a swig. You swallowed, “Like, maybe things would be better off if I weren’t around? I really think the group would be better without me, so I might just disappear for a while, see how things go.”

“What’s this about you disappearing?” Peter asked, leaning in the doorway.

You nearly snorted root beer out your nose, “Pete! Holy crap, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“What can I say, I’m a sneaky guy,” He winked. God this hurts. You tried to focus on the burning in your nose and not the aching in your heart as Peter and Gwen shared a laugh.

“How long were you standing there?” you asked, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you tried to hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Just long enough to hear you say the group would be better without you – hey, listen. I’m going to walk Gwen home but when I come back,” he pointed at you as he backed out of the room, “we’re playing Garbage and unpacking that statement so be ready, ‘cause that sounds like a load of garbage. We need you here, (y/n)”

Gwen smiled, “yeah, I can’t be the only girl here, I need you.”

“Alright,” you nodded, “I’ll shuffle the cards, ket ready to get thrown out on the curb Parker, it’s collection day.”

“Hey! That’s a good one!” he laughed over his shoulder before closing the front door.

“God, how am I gonna do this,” you groaned as you set down your drink and pressed your head against the side of the fridge, “this is gonna be ugly.”

“I have a feeling it’d be better if I weren’t around for this?” Harry asked, dipping his head to make eye contact.

“Yeah, this’ll be uncomfortable for everyone involved.” You tried to smile, but your mouth only flattened into a line across your face.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, nodding, “Call me when you get home, let me know how things went.”

“Yep,” you agreed, popping the p and patting his hand as he left you in the kitchen alone. You heard the front door close a minute later and sat in silence. May had gone to bed and now it was just you in the kitchen, worn old deck of cards in your pocket. You chugged the last of your root beer and squeezed the can, leaving a dent in the side before you placed it next to the other empty cans on the counter.

You took your place at the kitchen table, clearing crumbs left from someone’s pizza before unboxing the cards. You were never good at shuffling, fumbling with the stacks of cards, and often sending a couple flying on occasion. But Pete? Pete was a master at shuffling cards. He could do the weird card-bending bridge thing, he could do the thing where he drops the cards from one hand to another, he said that Ben had taught him all the tricks he knows, but you swear you saw a tab for card tricks open on his laptop once.

You only knew one card game, and it was garbage. Pete had taught you when the two of you were supposed to be working on a project for chemistry. He claimed it would help you bond as partners and bring your project-making abilities up to the next level, and refused to listen when you tried to remind him you two had already been friends for a while. In the end, you both got an A. You knew it was because Pete was a science genius, but he always insisted it was because you two had dropped everything to play cards instead.

Your phone buzzed,

Sk8r Boy Pete:

omw back. get ready to go down the sink. i’ll be flicking the switch.

ok that was a really bad joke

tried to do something with garbage disposals

i’ll admit, it didn’t work

You couldn’t help but smile, typing out a response:

eyes off your phone when you’re on your board pete.

You remembered the first time he dragged you to the skate park with him. You made him hand over his camera so it would break if he fell off his board, And managed to take a few pictures of him mid-air. You were sure he saw them, after all, they were on his camera, but he never said anything about them. You didn’t want to bring them up now, that was years ago, but you wish you could have gotten them developed. You remember later that night he had you try to skate down the half-pipe, one of the shallower ones, but you still managed to take a tumble that left you scraped up with a scar over your knee. That didn’t stop Pete from cheering you on louder than he should have that late at night, and every time you wore shorts after that, he’d point out the scar on your knee as a “badge of honor for the most epic crash ever” and remind you how he had to practically carry you home.

Any feeling of peace you felt sunk to the bottom of your stomach as you heard the front door open and close. Barely a second passed before Peter slid into the seat across from you.

“Ready to lose, (y/n)?” He smiled.

I already have, Peter. “Oh Pete, I’m afraid you’ve caught me woefully unprepared for defeat, I am however perfectly ready to step away victorious.” you put on your best smile as you started to deal out 10 cards to each of you.

“That’s what I like to hear,” He smirked, cracking his knuckles dramatically.

The two of you arranged your cards in silence before you flipped over the first card in the deck, “I believe you go first, Mr. Parker,” you nodded.

“How kind of you, Miss (y/l/n),” he took the card and began flipping over cards as such, “What’s this I hear about you wanting to disappear for a while?” he motioned for you to take your turn, and you drew a card from the deck putting your cards in place.

“I wish you didn’t have to bring that up,” you sighed, putting a card back in the other pile and ending your turn.

“(y/n) I don’t know why you’d want to leave. Is it Harry? Is he bothering you? I’ll go have a word with him he’s bothering you. You shouldn’t have to leave if he’s being a dick-”

“It’s not Harry, Pete,” you interrupted as he put down his card.

“Oh, ok,” he answered quietly as you took your next turn in silence.

He drew a card again, it was a number he already had down. He tossed it into the other pile.

“Did Gwen have a nice time tonight?” you tried to steer the topic in another direction for a bit as you took the card he discarded.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “yeah she said she had a lot of fun. She told me to tell you thanks for being on her team in Charades, she really enjoyed it. She said she couldn’t have won without you. She thinks you’re pretty neat, did you know that?” He looked up at you, grinning the most you’d ever seen. It was his turn, “Queen!” He smirked, looking up at you before stealing the ace of hearts you had and placing it in his empty ace slot, ending the round.

“It’s nice to know she doesn’t hate me, yeah,” you nodded, gathering up the cards before handing them to Peter to shuffle.

“Of course, she doesn’t hate you!” he laughed, dealing out nine cards for him and ten for you, “Why would she hate you?”

“Uh…well…” you drew a card from the deck and started flipping over your cards in succession, “I don’t know. But it’s nice to know she doesn’t have any bad feelings.”

“(y/n)...does your wanting to leave have anything to do with Gwen?” Peter asked, his smile fading as he started his turn.

“No!” you panicked, “No uh…no not really. No. Gwen is…Gwen is fine. She’s cool. She’s nice. Good on you for dating her…” your voice trailed off as you took the card he discarded, flipping over a card before your turn ended.

“Because I care about Gwen very much, (y/n),” he continued, drawing a new card. He paused, before adding softly, “I think I love her.”

You froze, looking down at the 2 of hearts he had placed in the discard pile.

“So I can’t just make her leave. If you have a problem with Gwen I’m willing to help you two work it out but-”

“I don’t have a problem with Gwen, Peter.” you said, maybe a little harsher than you should have.

He held his hands up in surrender, “Ok! Ok,” he offered a smile “That’s a good thing.”

The two of you went the next few rounds in near total silence, you had both worked your way down to two cards each before you finally had the courage to let out your thoughts.

“I think…I think I have a problem with you.”

He stopped, not even touching his card as he looked to you, “(y/n)...what’s wrong?”

You looked him in his eyes. His big, beautiful brown eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this hurt before, it looked like you had shot him thorugh the chest, “(y/n), talk to me, please.” His voice was soft, and you could have sworn he almost sounded scared.

“It’s nothing actually, Pete. Just forget it,” You said, flippoing over your two cards in one turn.

“No,” he started, gathering the cards and reshuffling, dealing out one card for you and two for him, “(y/n), you’re my best friend. If you say I’m doing something to hurt you I can’t just shrug it off. You’re my best friend-”

“And that’s the problem, Pete,” you sighed, unable to look him in the eye as he turned over the top card It was that stupid fucking ace of hearts again.

“What?”

“I’m your friend. I’m your best friend. I’m the girl you’ve done everything with for the past few years and now you finally have a girlfriend and…” You felt your words choke up in your throat. You weren’t crying, your voice just started to close off.

“(y/n) what are you saying-”

“Peter I’m in love with you,” you finally looked at him again. His face had gone pale, it felt as if he were looking right through you, “And…you’re in love with Gwen. And that’s great because you two make eachother really, really happy and it’s so nice to see you both together it just…kind of hurts sometimes I guess. And-”

“How long have you felt this way,” his voice was still, quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Years,” you mumbled.

“You could have said something.” he swallowed, still not quite looking at you.

“I know,” your voice was nothing more than a whisper, and for a moment the air stood still, “I guess I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

He nodded. Nearly a minute passed before he nodded at the cards. “You go first, remember?” You looked down at the ace of hearts, swapping it out for the face down card you had. The two of hearts.

“It looks like you won,” he tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a wince.

“I should go,” you pushed back your chair and stood up, walking over to the couch to get your coat.

“Wait,” Peter stopped, you, grabbing your wrist before you could pass him. You could never remember his reflexes being as fast as they were in the last few months, but really you just wished you could run out of here, “Let me walk you home, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Peter.” you shrugged off his hand grabbed your coat, not even botheing to put it on as you tried to rush out the door.

“(y/n) wait please,” He turned, getting out of his seat. You tried to ignore the pain in his voice as you jammed your feet into your shoes.

“Pete please, I really need to go.” you tried to smile, but could already feel the heat pricking your eyes, “I had a fun time tonight, really. Tell Gwen I had fun playing with her too.” You nodded, wiping the back of your hand over one of your eyes before opening the door, “G’night, Pete. It’s been fun.”

The second you closed the door, you started running and didn’t turn back.

Thank god it was Friday night, the last thing you wanted was to have to face Peter or Gwen the next morning.

That didn’t stop your phone though. Throughout the day your phone was buzzing with texts from Harry and Gwen;

‘Hey, how did things turn out last night? You never called’

‘Hey (y/n)! Have you heard anything from Peter?’

‘Wth happened Pete’s not texting me either’

‘I haven’t heard from him since he walked me home last night, do you know if he’s ok?’

‘Did you two have a fight?’

You never replied to any of them, and eventually you gave up, wrapping your phone in a sweatshirt to muffle the buzz. The sweatshirt was then shoved into your closet when you remembered Peter had given that to you years ago. Maybe you could burn it. Maybe you could burn your memories. Maybe you could chop off all your hair and move to another city. You all graduated soon, maybe you could apply for some foreign exchange program or go to a college out of state in the middle of nowhere. No, it was too late to apply. You’d be stuck in New York with Peter.

Hours passed, and you had managed to do all your homework in one sitting. It was now a few minutes passed noon. You groaned, you’d never gotten your homework done this quickly, usually Pete showed up and distracted you, or you distracted him. Either way, the fact that you now had nothing to occupy your weekend with was entirely his fault and no one else’s.

Against your best judegement, you checked your phone again. The only new text was from Harry.

Harry:

Peter told me what happened.

That was hours ago. You hadn’t heard anything new from Gwen, and you doubted you’d ever get a text from Peter again.

You cracked open the window to your room and crawled out onto the fire escape. The wind was bitter, but maybe you deserved that. Your street was quiet for a Saturday afternoon, and you figured it’d stay that way all weekend. Maybe that’s what you needed. Just some silence for a little bit. You walked over to the railing and leaned off the side, letting the breeze hit your face.

It wasn’t until you saw Spiderman swinging through the street that you realize you had zoned off. Your finger tips were starting to feel a little numb, and your toes were freezing. Crawling in through your window again, you heard a knock at your bedroom door.

“Hey,” your mom nudged the door open, an envelope in hand, “Peter stopped by and told me to give this to you. Is everything alright between you two? He looked kind of upset- Oh god, shut the window, (y/n) it’s freezing in here.”

“Everything’s fine mom,” you lied, locking the window and taking the envelope from her hand before all but shooing her out the door.

“Ok well if either of you need anything let me know.”

You closed the door as fast as you could without slamming it, holding the envelope in shaking hands. You told yourself you were just cold and nothing else. It’s not like there could be anything significant inside this envelope. It’s not that you were hopeful of anything. He was probably just saying to never speak to him again you thought as you tossed the envelope on your bed.

You ripped it open a second later.

There was no letter. No note promising that he felt the same now, or ever in the past. No apology. Not even a “you’ll mean something to someone someday” note.

Just pictures. Not pictures of you. Thankfully not pictures of Gwen. They were pictures of him. On his skateboard. Late at night. The ones you took.

(y/n) dabbles in photography Peter had scrawled out next to the date you had taken them.

He was giving them back to you.