#bobfloyd

Mal I know this was from the last sleepover list but I couldn’t pass up on writing something for Bobby!

Bob has a habit of never being able to sleep in. It's a Navy thing he's sure, needing to be up at 0500 hours every day to start the day with basic fitness training, logging into doing his checks for the day and then going to fly by 0730.

He can't sleep in ever.

It's why he's up now, but this is a much nicer reason to be awake at 0600. You're lying beside him, still asleep, with your face squished into your pillow.

Bob could watch you sleep for the rest of his life- he plans to honestly. But right now, he wants your company, and he wants to see your eyes.

He starts kindly enough with his wake-up protocol. "Darling," he whispers against your cheek, one of his hands falling on your neck and stroking the skin there softly.

"I miss you, wake up so I can see your face." he smears a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, a short path all the way to your ear.

You groan when you feel him press a kiss just under your ear, shifting slightly so your body is closer to him.

"Are you awake, darling?" he whispers, and you hum.

"No," it's all garbled and sleep laden that Bob can't help but lay another kiss on you.

"Oh okay, m'sorry love, but I miss your face." you shift so you're on your back and he can see your face more clearly, but you don't open your eyes.

Bob chuckles at the dramatics of it all- even half asleep you still manage it.

"I wanna see your eyes, darling." it's a little whiny but the man had been gone for a year, so sue him if he wanted a little bit of your attention at 0620 on a Sunday.

"Bobby," you whine, peeling your eyes open to find his baby blues already on you. "I love you, but I'm so tired."

He leans up on his elbow and presses a kiss to your lips. "Just missed your eyes." He cups your face, stroking your cheek as you shut your eyes again.

"Two more hours, Bobby then I'll be fully awake." you roll over, pressing your face into his chest. Bob's hand falls to the back of your head, scratching at the base of your neck as your breathing evens out.

Aw baby I hope you feel better! In the meantime, here’s Bob helping you feel just a smidge better

Cw: nausea, vomit (mentioned), general feelings of being ill

“Darling you’re pale.” Bob’s all worry as he finds you in the bathroom, kneeling before the toilet with a sweaty hand on your forehead.

You’ve been sick for the past week, your flu turning into a chesty cough, turning into nausea that has given you chills. You’ve not eaten anything for the last two days, past a couple spoonfuls of soup because Bob refused to let you go to bed hungry.

Now, you’re paying the price.

“Robby,” your voice is hoarse, eyes tired with dried tear tracks on your cheeks. “Feel horrible.”

You don’t want to throw up again, you don’t like this sweaty, head throbbing feeling and you just want to be better.

“I know angel,” he strokes your back, feeling the heat beaming off you. He doesn’t like that your fever is back. “Lean back baby, have some water.” You struggle to take a sip, hands shaking as they shadow Bob’s.

“I don’t like this,” you grumble, wiping at your face as more tears start falling. “I just want to be better.” Your voice is all choked up, face turning into Bob’s chest as your body shakes.

“We’re doing everything right darling,” he rubs your back, kissing your forehead as you begin to calm down. “How’s your stomach feeling? Settled?”

You nod, pitiful and ready for a shower. “I’m gonna fill up the tub and you’re gonna stay in there to break that fever, yeah?” You nod again.

Bob helps you in, letting you sit in the tepid water while he takes another go at making dinner for you.

He comes back just as the water goes freezing and finds you asleep on the lip of the tub. If you weren’t so sick he’d find you even more adorable. “Darling,” his palm cups water and watches it flow down your shoulder. “Wake up baby.”

Your eyes blink slowly and focus on the bowl in Bob’s other hand.

“I don’t think I can stomach it.” Your eyes water and you’re two seconds away from balling but Bob shushes you.

“It’s just fruit baby, they’re supposed to help with the nausea. You don’t have to eat all, just some.” He feeds you two wedges of pear and a couple banana coins before you’re ready to step out of the tub and get ready for bed.

So sorry this took so long to get to mal! But I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

You’re frustrated, you can’t seem to get your thoughts together or get them out and you feel like Bob is going to get irritated with you.

It’s an irrational thought, Bob could never be irritated with you.

“Bob I’m sorry,” you mumble, laying your head in your hands as you try to even your breathing.

“Sorry for what, darling?” Bob rubs his hands up and down your arms.

“I’m no good at being with your friends. I’m not good at conversation with them and it’s always so weird.”

Bob’s knees click as he stoops down, wanting to catch your eyes as you hide your face on your work table.

“Hey,” his voice is soft and sweet, hands warm as they coax your face from your hands. “You’re plenty good at talking to them.”

You shake your head, nibbling on your lip as you look at Bob. “Everyone’s so fun and not shy and then there’s me who can’t even look them in the eyes for more than five seconds.”

Bob tuts, leaning into your space with a frown. “Doesn’t matter to them, darling. Don’t forget I don’t talk much to them either.”

You groan, “You’re their teammate it’s acceptable if you don’t talk to them. I’m the newbie.”

Bob chuckles, hands tugging you out from behind your table.

He pins you to the table with his hips, his hands on the table. “You’re not a newbie, you’re my girl. If you don’t talk to them while we’re all out it doesn’t bother them. Hangman does plenty chatter for everyone there.”

Bob’s blue eyes are hard to dismiss, clear and intense as he stares at you. “You can be as shy as you like, you can sit in silence the whole time we’re out and they wouldn’t care. Know why?”

You shake your head, Bob’s good at talking you down ledges you find yourself on. “Cause when you do talk, you’re always asking them about what they’re doing and what they like. So, if you have days where you don’t wanna chat, they’ll understand. Yeah?”

He’s finally home from deployment and in your arms after almost a year and a half of being away.

It’s hard to let him go now that he’s laying on you.

Bob never likes leaving- especially for that long and so when he’s back he just likes being up under you. Not that you mind.

Right now, his nose is pressed to your neck as you scroll on your phone. “I missed that smell,” he mumbles, lips brushing along your skin.

“What?” You laugh, switching apps and opening your camera.

“Your smell. You smell like vanilla and caramel and home,” he explains, taking a big sniff of your neck. “Haven’t smelt this in months, darling.”

He can’t see that you’re recording, but you find yourself smiling and tearing up at the same time.

“I’ll send you a bottle of my perfume next time.” You promise, using your other hand to comb through his hair.

“I really missed you,” he confesses, and you can feel the tears dripping down your neck. “I can’t go away for that long again.”

You stop the video then, using both your hands to hold Bob to you.

“You don’t have to Robby,” he really doesn’t. Pete had given them all two years off to start and if nothing comes up, they get another two. “Not for a long time.”

You stroke his neck and rub his back, all while pressing kisses into his hair.

“I love you, sweet boy.” You whisper, wrapping your arms a little tighter around his shoulders.

“I love you too darling.” He lifts his face finally, and you get to hold his red cheeks and pepper them with kisses.

Bob is an observer. He’s good at being quiet and listening and that’s why he’s such a good lover.

He’s always been attentive to you, even when you were just friends and now that you’re together, it’s easy for him to spot the differences in your moods and dispositions with ease.

You’ve been baking all afternoon, bread, blueberry muffins, a breakfast cake and Bob can tell it’s coming from more than just needing to bake.

Your method in baking is following each recipe with meticulous caution and to the T because it de-stresses you, and it gives you control.

Right now, you’re deep in setting all your bakes to cool and Bob can tell you’re going to find something else for yourself to do if he doesn’t intervene.

“Hey, darling?” He’s right at the kitchen island, sitting on one of the nook chairs fresh from his shower.

“Yeah, Robby?” You turn to him and he can see the exhaustion.

“Come here a sec, my love,” he pats his lap and you want to refuse, but he looks warm in his long sleeved sweater and his sweatpants.

Plus, he calls you so softly and with such fondness that it’s hard to resist him.

The second you’re in his reach, he’s pulling you into his lap and locking his hands behind your back.

“What’s going on in your head?” His blue eyes are piercing- almost like he can see right through you and into your core.

“Nothing,” you shrug, shoulders touching your ears in a way that’s so normal, but feels so clunky and disjointed. “Just feeling to bake.”

He’d believe you and drop the conversation if you’d look him in the eyes at least for a second.

Bob rubs your back and presses his cheek to yours, his lips marking a path along your jaw to your ear.

“Honest?” It’s a question you both ack each other from time to time when you’re having hard times expressing yourself and the other needs the absolute truth to help.

Your sigh is relieving and worrying to Bob as you slump into him. “I dunno what’s wrong with my brain,” you start honestly. “I was fine and then, just like that, for no reason, I can feel every thought and hear every single sound in the world and everything is too much and it feels like I’m close to doing something but I don’t know what.”

Bob listens silently, the slow movement of him stroking your back the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I feel like if I just bake everything I want to I’ll feel sane again.”

You sound so small and defeated and Bob hates it.

“And what if it doesn’t help?” He asks not to be mean, but to offer another solution.

“Then I don’t know, I probably cry or scream or have a meltdown.”

The fact that you’re moving through your thoughts so logically lets Bob know that you’re not on the verge of ultimate catastrophe in your mind.

“How abouts, we let all your bakes cool down and in the mean time you can go have a shower?” It helps most the time, the hot water and the eucalyptus hanging in your bathroom.

“A quick one?” You ask and Bob hums.

“If that’s what you can manage, baby.” You nod, Bob smiles. “Then we can come back down and we can eat some of the muffins or the bread- whichever you prefer and I can read you a book.”

“Will you read, ‘The Iliad’?” You press your chin to Bob’s shoulder and unknowingly to you, you feel less stressed and overwhelmed.

“Course, darling. I’ll even carry you up, don’t gotta do a thing for the rest of the night, yeah?”

IM SWOONING RN

Bob’s got you in his lap, sitting all pretty in your skirt and top with his hands on your thighs.

It’s under the guise of you being a little tipsy, but really, you’re not that tipsy.

You like that he’s getting a little bolder about holding you in front of his friends though.

“Bobby?” You turn your cheek against his, lips moving against his jaw and Bob’s sure that some of your lip stick is smeared there too.

“Yeah, angel?” You use the noise caused by Hangman winning another game of pool to turn completely in his lap.

In doing so you knock your fingers against his glasses lens and gasp. “Sorry, Robby,” he’s halfway to saying ‘it’s fine, angel’ when you pluck them off his face.

“I’ll clean ‘em up.” You promise, pulling his glasses case from your purse and spraying the cleaner on them.

“Thank you angel,” Bob kisses your wrist as you fit his round glasses back on his face. You stamp your lips to his cheek on purpose before setting your forehead to his collarbone.

“What did you want, baby?” He jostles you on his knee a little to get you raising your head again.

He’s sure Phoenix and the others can hear, but he’s more concerned with your halfbaked sentence.