#flyboy fic

“Everything okay?” The Admiral asks, his gaze steady on Jake’s. It was rare for a last minute absence request to come across his desk, which meant that when they did - it was usually pressing.

“Just something I need to attend to, Sir.” Jake responds, his mask not slipping, but the Admiral hears the weight behind his words. There is a silence pause between the two men, before the Admiral picks up his pen, signing the bottom of the two sheets of paper before him with a flourish. He was never one to refuse these requests as long as he deemed them legitimate, but he made it a point of looking the requestor in the eye to make his own assessment of the situation before approving them. He didn’t need to know the why, unless it was volunteered by the requestor him/herself, but he needed to know that it wasn’t being abused and Jake Seresin, for all his ego and cockiness, was a dedicated solider. He wouldn’t ask, unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Approved,” the Admiral says simply before passing one of the sheets to Jake. Jake’s mask doesn’t crack, but the Admiral sees a twitch of relief as Jake remembers how to breathe, “Godspeed.”

“Thank you Sir.”

-

Jake shifts irritably in his seat as he waits for boarding to be complete. He had reached out to Grandma Doris’ personal assistant once he had gotten off the phone with you, even before he had submitted his flight request, his text to her was just one sentence, twelve words long - I need to be on the next flight to New York, please. He usually would not have bothered her, but this - this was a pressing situation, he just had to get on that plane. She had, the blessing that she was, gotten hold of two flight options for him, the next flight to New York, and the next next as a backup, both in first class no less, with a simple request to let her know when he needed a flight ticket back from New York.

“May I offer you a hot towel, Mr Seresin?” The stewardess stops beside his seat. Jake shakes his head, offering her a polite half smile.

“No thank you.”

“How about some nuts, or maybe a drink?” She tries again.

“How long more do you think it’ll be till take-off?” Jake’s question is abrupt and she is quiet for a second, slightly taken a back. He isn’t rude, but is, obviously antsy.

“I think another twenty minutes Mr Seresin,” she says as she follows his gaze out of the window.

“Thanks,” is all she gets from Jake as he continues to stare out of the window beside him as if willing take-off to come faster.

-

“Anything else?” The cashier of the fried chicken shop just around the corner from your apartment building asks Jake as he rings up the total on the till.

“That’s all, thanks.” Jake says as he slides his card out of his wallet before tapping it against the screen of the payment machine which is proffered to him.

“Here’s your receipt, please wait on the right.” Jake slides his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans before stepping towards the right. The tequila which he had picked up on his way out of the airport is in his backpack, the shape of the bottle pressed against his back, a reminder that he was just that much closer to what he came to New York for.

-

The ride up the elevators to your apartment is excruciatingly slow, and Jake taps his foot against the ground the whole way up. He hadn’t had to buzz you to let him up, managing instead to catch a couple on their way out and slip into the building - something which he made a mental note of in the back of his mind - perhaps it was time to convince you to move to somewhere with a doorman or concierge for increased safety.

The bottle of tequila is now in one of his hands, and the bag of greasy fried chicken and fries in his other - his remedy for your broken heart. Alcohol, fast food, and well, him. His eyes are fixed on the flashing red numbers as if willing the elevator to go faster. It stops with a ding, and Jake all but runs out.

-

He hears you before he sees you, hears faint noises and shuffling, the unlocking of a separate bolt and a lock before you pull open the door an inch to peer out past the safety chain. His eyes meet yours, and sees your eyes, glassy and red rimmed, no doubt from crying meet yours. The doors shuts fully for a second or two as you undo the safety chain before it is pulled open fully.

Jake takes you in the second the open door reveals you - the red tip of your noise, hair on top of your head in a loose, messy up do, body clad in an oversized t shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants and he feels a funny tug in his chest.

“I thought you might need this,” he says as he holds up the items in his hands. You hold his gaze for a second more, and then it happens, the glossiness in your eyes turn into tears which spill over onto your cheeks as you take a step forward, throwing your arms around Jake’s body, burying your face in his chest. Jake hears, but also feels the sobs that wrack your body against his front and he is quite sure that in that moment, the tug in his chest feels like a earth shattering crack.

“I got you,” he says gruffly, bringing both his hands down around you, while still holding onto both items. His words only intensify the sobs coming from you and all Jake can do is draw you closer.

-

“I’ve never liked him,” Jake snorts as he watches you down yet another shot of tequila. You are both sitting around the coffee table in the floor of your living room, greasy chicken and fries demolished, the open bottle of tequila three quarters gone - with more damage having been exacted on the bottle by you than by Jake. Jake isn’t drunk, but he definitely isn’t sober, which means that neither are you.

“He’s an asshole,” you half shout, your words slurring from the alcohol as you let your self sag backwards, leaning against the sofa before you let yourself droop sideways, your head coming to rest on Jake’s shoulder. Jake shifts, moving his arm around you. It allows you to scoot further into his side, your face turning slightly to rest against the side of his chest. You breathe in his scent, the faint smell of soap, laundry detergent and airplane along with his own natural musk, which wraps around you like home, and you feel Jake’s fingers running themselves soothingly along your arm..

“Say the word, I’ll beat him to a pulp,” Jake says, dropping the side of his cheek against the top of your head, his finger squeezing the top of your arm gently. His tone is light, joking almost - but yet not really. Nevertheless, the thought of Dan facing off against Jake makes you chuckle lowly. Dan was no slob himself, he maintained a decent level of fitness - occasional runs, regular visits to the gym, but he might as well have been one compared to Jake. Dan worked out for aesthetics, but next to Jake, who had worked out for functionality all his life, football, the Navy, Dan paled greatly in comparison.

“He’ll never stand a chance,” you say, amused as you close your eyes. Your head has started to get impossibly heavy, your tongue feels thick from the copious amounts of alcohol running through your system, and you let your head rest heavier on Jake’s chest.

“That’s the idea,” is what Jake says and it makes you giggle this time as you sink yourself further into Jake’s hold, seeking out a comforting, physical closeness. Jake can feel yourself pressing into him.

“C’mere,” he mutters, as the arm he has around you tightens. You feel movement, and Jake is reaching across your body, managing to slip an arm under your legs to pull you onto his lap.

“Jake,” your protest is weak because you don’t put up an ounce of a fight, opting instead to shift along with him so that you are comfortably nested on his lap, your ear against his shoulder, tip of your nose just about brushing the side of his neck, “I’m not a child.”

“Mmm,” Jake simply hums in agreement with your words, both his arms coming to form a loose, protective cocoon around you.

You both sit in a comfortable silence, a haze of alcohol enveloping you both. Truth to be told, the break up, the serial cheating - it all hadn’t come as a surprise to you. You had suspected on many occasions, but it had been easier to ignore and live in denial than to face the truth after 3 years of being with the same person. It had broken you for many reasons, and it still hurt like hell to lose a constant presence with which you had spent the past 3 years with, but you weren’t all that sure it had broken your heart, not when your relationship had been fizzling out for a while and you’ve suspected for months.

“He wasn’t good enough for you, you know,” Jake says as he turns his head slightly, managing to plant a half kiss on the side of your temple.

“You say that with every break up,” you laugh dismissively, “that’s what best friends are supposed to say.”

Your words make Jake frown and he moves himself to move you, making you sit up sideways on his lap so that he can look you in the eye. Your are slightly elevated from being seated on his thigh, and you find yourself staring down, holding his gaze. You slide the palms of your hands past his shoulders to steady yourself.

“They were all not good enough for you,” is what he says, unwavering as he holds your gaze. From your sideways position, you can feel one of Jake’s hands sliding around your back, and coming to rest on your waist, and the other coming to rest loosely across your lap.

“Or maybe I wasn’t good enough for them,” you say with a rueful quirk of your lips, letting yourself drown in alcohol induced post break-up self pity. Your words only make Jake’s brows furrow together, a flash of irritating passing through his eyes. It makes him move the arm hanging across your lap up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing the space just below your eye. You let yourself luxuriate in the warm against your cheek, leaning into his hold. You see Jake’s gaze dart from your eyes to your lips, but the fuzziness of your mind doesn’t let you overthink at just how intimate the moment between you both is.

“You are too good for all of them,” is what he says. You see a flash of something in Jake’s eyes, and perhaps if you were sober, it would have been something you could more accurately place, but you can’t.

“I want to go to bed,” you say, your exhaustion suddenly hitting you and you let your eyes close, weight of your head still balancing on Jake’s hand.

“Ok,” is all he says as his thumb continues to move gently across your skin.

“Come with me?” You say, your ask clear, you didn’t want to be alone - it was simple, nothing more, no innuendo and you knew that Jake would understand.

“Ok,” he repeats as he finally drops his arm from your cheek.

-

Jake has a hand behind his head, eyes fixed up on the ceiling of your bedroom. You had fallen asleep the moment your head hit the pillow, no doubt attributable to all the tequila you had ingested, but also a sure sign at just how exhausted you were. He had taken a quick shower, ridding himself of whatever traces of airplane he had left on him, before tugging on the pair of shirt and shorts he had brought along with him and, true to his word - gotten into bed with you. There was no way in hell was he allowing you to wake up alone.

He lets the soft hum of your snores wash over him, and Jake tilts his head down to watch the rise and fall of your body from where it is curled up beside him in a fetal position under the covers. You look at peace, finally - but he can see the sunken skin beneath your eyes, a tell tale sign that not all was well.

“Baby,” he sighs, murmuring to himself, the term of endearment slipping too naturally from his lips, as you shift, your body finding its way a few inches closer to him. He doesn’t hesitate, removing the arm from behind his head to caress the side of your cheek. Your snores stop, turning instead to an sleep exhale of content, and in that moment, it strengthens Jake’s resolve. He feels the gears shift in his brain and chest, feelings that he had kept at bay in the recesses of his mind and heart for months, years, coming to shore. He had spent the past 3 years watching you fumble your way around with Dan, and even more before that with different men that you had dated, but it was enough - fuck that. He was sick of watching them hurt you, breaking your heart when you deserved so, much, more. Jake wasn’t going to let that happen again. The next person you dated was going to be your last, the person you dated, was going to be him.

-

“Text me when you land,” you twist your fingers around, interlocking them with each other as you and Jake stand on the sidewalk outside your apartment, waiting for his car to pull up.

“I will,” he says while watching you twist your fingers together. You weren’t ready for him to leave, and neither was he - ready for himself to leave, but the days since his arrival on Thursday night had blown past, and Sunday had come too soon, “text me whenever you need,” he says as he extends an arm, pulling you sideways into him. His action makes you stumble slightly, and you reach out with a hand, to grab him around his waist.

“I will,” your response is a parrot of his. It had been a great past few days, once you had gotten over the hangover that hit you both, but you harder, on Friday morning. Jake had forced you out of the house for two whole days of everything and nothing - strolls around the city all while forcing you to thread your arm through his, making sure you filled your stomach with an assortment of food, watching bad television together in your apartment. He had filled your space with laughter, familiarity, and physical touch when you needed it most and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, leaning sideways towards you to brush his lips against the top of your head. Jake lets his lips linger for a second or two, and you let your eyes close - letting yourself be vulnerable, enjoying the moment.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” you voice is soft, small almost, the truth of your words both a happy feeling for Jake, but also a stab to his heart.

“I wish I didn’t have to either,” he says gruffly, removing his lips from the top of your head to pull you into a bone crushing full frontal hug. He could see a car approaching from the end of the road, his time with you dwindling now to just mere seconds, “I’ll see you soon,” he says, a statement, not a question as you cling onto him in similar fashion.

“Soon,” you echo, a promise between you both.

-

“So how long are you leaving your girlfriend for?” The driver asks his question conversationally as he pulls away form the sidewalk. Jake’s gaze lingers on you as he raises a hand to wave goodbye. He sees you offer a lopsided smile and a similar wave of your hand.

“I don’t know,” he admits to the driver without much thought, not bothering to correct him. Jake keeps his gaze trained on you until he is no longer able to.

“Hopefully you’ll see her again soon,” is what the driver continues with conversationally, “she looks crushed that you’re leaving.”

“Shall we go for lunch,” you hear Payback call out, as he moves his head from the table, “I’m starving.”

His proclamation earns a round of interest as the group begins to shift, with nodding heads all around.

“Downtown?” Fanboy supplies.

“Gloria’s,” Coyote says, naming the new cafe that had opened not too long ago, and which the group had taken a liking to because of the mean brunch and pasta dishes they had on menu.

“We leave in 30, Hangman and Rooster will drive,” Natasha makes the decision for the group as she stands, her calculations allowing every enough time to get showered and more presentable than they were now. The group begins to move, the clatter of chairs, phones, and the crinkle of plastic bottles filling the air.

“Don’t be late,” Payback calls out in the air as a warning as you hear your front door shut, the noise of the group growing fainter as they make their way further from your house and towards their own.

“So,” Jake looks at you, pushing himself up to a stand, “I should probably shower.” Jake words point to one thing but his hands tell another story as he grabs the sides of the stool you are sitting on, bending at the waist so that his eyes are level with yours.

“I guess you should,” you hum in agreement, as you watch Jake’s gaze dip from your eyes, to your lips.

“Mhmm,” you hums back at you. There is a beat of silence between you both before you move, crashing your lips into his. You can feel Jake smirking against the kiss which he meets, his hands now moving from the sides of the stool creeping under your dress from the sides before hooking themselves onto your waist. He lifts you, too easily, and you wind your arms around his neck and legs around him to help him set you atop the kitchen island.

“Could tell from the moment I walked in,” he says, hands travelling towards the waistband of your underwear, his mouth going to your neck. You lift your hips, legs moving as you help Jake in pulling your underwear down. His fingers find you already slick, and you can’t help the moan which you let you, throwing your head back as his fingers slide along your folds, finding your clit.

“I need you,” you breathe out, hands desperately reaching for Jake’s shorts, fingers finding the waistband. He lets out a guttural groan as you find what you are looking for, fingers going around his girth.

“Babe,” he moves his hands from you to make quick work of pushing both his shorts and underwear down in a swift motion.

Your body bemoans the loss of his fingers against you, but you solider on, both hands now pumping up and down his length. You need to feel him in you. Jake moves his hand up your thigh and back to your heated core, hips lips finding yours once again.

“No,” you groan against the kiss, scooting closer to the edge of the kitchen island, “no prep, just need you,” you manage to pant out, almost desperately against Jake’s lips.

“I love seeing you this way,” Jake says, voice deep and thick with lust as he pulls you closer towards the edge of the island, your arms twisting around his neck, thighs spreading themselves further apart, your dress bunched up around your waist, “so needy for me.”

You can feel him lining the tip of himself against you, your eyes flickering down to watch, forehead against his. Your breathing is ragged from anticipation, but so is Jake’s. He pushes into you, and you exhale both at the stretching sensation that hurts just that little bit but also with relief. You lean your body back slightly, your hands moving to anchor on Jake’s shoulders for support. He thrusts, slowly at first, giving you a chance to full adjust to him, watching as you exhale through the first few thrusts, but picks up the pace as he notices your exhales start to morph into desperate whimpers. Jake feels your hips start to buck forward, seeking more friction, and he can’t help the moan that falls from his own lips.

“You feel so fucking good,” his voice is a growl. Jake doesn’t stop, his hips snapping mercilessly against yours. You spread your legs even wider, the base of your feet hooking themselves behind his body coaxing him deeper. Jake’s hand finds itself on your neck, grasping lightly before he drags it down, pulling the front of your dress down. It exposes you, your breasts escaping their confines. The sight of you, mouth slightly agape, bare breasts and nipples spilling out, skirt bunched around your waist and hips bucking into his is breathtaking.

“I’m not going to last long,” he warns - the sight of you doing him in. His voice is choppy as he moves his hand to your clit, his fingers moving expertly, hips thrusting harder, looking to help you find your release before he found his.

“Right there,” you throw your head back, feeling the familiar sensation in your lower abdomen start to coil - and it explodes. You cum hard, almost with a scream and Jake holds you close, hitting his own orgasm, hips still thrusting in and out of you as he lets himself ride his own high.

“Feel better?” Jake voice cuts the air between you both as you both return from chasing your respective highs. You can feel him softening inside you, but neither of you make to move.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small sigh of relief escaping you, “for now.”

“For now?” You response makes Jake raise a brow as he withdraws from your slowly. You make quick work of pulling your dress over your head, dropping the garment onto the stool you had vacated, fully intending to don the same piece of clothing after you had gotten cleaned up.

“I might need some help again later,” you say, looking at Jake, holding his gaze as you run a hand along your slit, drawing up his cum which had started to leak out of you with a finger before popping it into your mouth. The sight makes Jake’s jaw slacken, his eyes darkening, as he feels himself start to get hard again.

“Can we please skip fucking lunch?” He asks, only to see you smirk, almost wickedly with a shake of your head as you hop off the table.

“No,” you call out as you walk towards to shower. Jake groans, following you, his cock twitching at the side of a glistening trail that had started to run its way down your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” he repeats again more firmly as you both lock gazes in the mirror, “and you smell good.”

You find a slight flush start to creep up the back of your neck as Jake turns his face; you can feel the tip of his nose against your skin, and his forehead and the softness of his hair brushing your cheek. You feel Jake’s gentle inhale as you see his eyes flutter close for a brief second.

“Are you sniffing me,” you blurt out, mildly flustered at the action and the clench it makes you feel in your lower belly, “that could be perceived as creepy”

“Me?” He mock gasps as he straightens to his full height, “how could you.”

You mourn the loss of Jake’s skin against yours, but not for long as he takes a small step forward, your back connecting with the front of his body. Jake can feel the curve of your ass against him and it takes all of him not to let out a desperate groan.

“Maybe I should change,” you say, your gaze tearing away from Jake’s reflection in the mirror to run over the dress hugging each inch of your body. You move to take a step forward only to have Jake reach out to stop you by tugging you back by your arm.

“You will do no such thing,” he says just as you stumble into him, meeting a hard wall of muscle. Jake holds you steady with a hand on your waist as your palms press against his chest for stability. It gives him the chance to observe you both in the mirror, you pressed up against him and he can’t help but think how good you both look together.

You open your mouth to protest just as the doorbell rings - you hear the calls of your friends outside, a sign that you’ve both let them wait below the apartment block for a tad too long.

“Promise you look good,” Jake says his fingers giving your waist a reassuring squeeze before he gently tugs you towards the door and out towards your friends and the night.

two

flyboy!era

Jake glances down at his phone, giving a light tap to the screen to check two things - the time, and if there were any messages from you.

“They’ll be here,” Bradley nudges Jake lightly on the shoulder.

“Not soon enough,” is what Jake grumbles to himself as he takes a swig of his beer. An early Saturday morning tee time with the gang for him, and a late night over at Penny’s house the night before for you meant that he hadn’t seen you proper, since the day before yesterday - Jake wasn’t counting your half awake goodbye yesterday morning as seeing you. He was, admittedly slightly on the crankier side today from not having spent time with you. After all, the point of you being here, in San Diego with him was so that he could see you daily before you both went back to normal life and him to facing the possibility of being shot across the world with little warning for potentially months at the drop of a hat.

“Didn’t peg you as needy,” Payback teases gently, but with no bite, from across the table.

Jake opens his mouth to retort when he sees you step into the bar, laughing shoulder to shoulder with Phoenix. It distracts him to say the least, as he places the beer bottle back on the table, his body twisting in the chair, neck craning so he can get the best view of you from his perch. Jake’s focus is your face, but he lets his gaze drift down your body, over the grey form fitting dress that hugs your curves like a second skin. The dress ends just around your ankles, but the thin material that accentuates your curves, Jake notes is making more than his head turn as you walk in.

Jake catches your eye and the way that your face lights up upon seeing him makes his heart swell. He doesn’t take his gaze off you and watches as you scrunch the side of your in one of your hands and pick your way across the crowd towards him. Jake can’t help but think back to that one time in college when he bad to practically drag you out of the house in a similar, albeit much shorter dress. He marvels at the differences the years have made to your confidence. You’ve always been beautiful to him, a sight for sore eyes, but that confidence now, well Jake thought it made you pretty fucking hot.

“Hi,” he has his feet on the ground and arms open the second before you reach him, so you oblige, stepping into his embrace.

“Hey,” you respond, arms going around Jake but the palm of your hand raised up in a wave at the gang behind you. You can’t see them past Jake’s shoulder, but you hear a chorus of greetings to you, and almost audible eye rolls at Jake.

“You look good,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, while letting one hand drop down to your rest on the curve of your ass, his gaze scanning across the bar. He sees the gaze of some patrons dart away, and meets some disappointed ones. Jake was fine for people to look, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t stake his claim.

“You like?” You say as you pull away. It allows Jake the opportunity to take you in again, from the dip of the neckline which showed just enough cleavage, to the contours of the material which hugged your waist in while rounding your hips out.

“I can’t decide if you look better in the dress or without it,” he says, not soft enough and it earns him a series of loud groans from behind you coupled with crumpled up paper napkin or two chucked at his head. His words make you flush, while you let out a soft embarrassed groan of your own to which Jake squeezes your waist before ducking his head down, lips beside your ears, opting instead to say the comparably more chaste line to you only, “I love it.”

Your lip twists up in amusement as you send out your text, knowing that it would get him fired up. Your phone dings not even a minute later, and you swipe the message open to reveal a close- up picture, taken from top down of nothing but a set of chiseled muscle. The shade of skin tells you that it’s Jake’s, but his next message confirms it for you.

J: He isn’t the only one.

It makes you chortle as you sink down onto a workout bench. You feel your phone ping again, and you unlock it to a text from Pheonix.

Tash: You won’t happen to know why Hangman is lifting his shirt to take a picture of his abs in the middle of the rec room would you?

It makes your nose wrinkle up in amusement, a peel of laughter dropping from your lips.

The past week and a half since you had both returned from New York had been strange, with both you and Jake existing in a kind of limbo. Training had kicked up a notch for him again, with Cyclone and Warlock demanding an increased level of intensity of the programme. They weren’t the ones being trained this time around, but from the faces of the group that filtered into your house each night for dinner, it didn’t matter. It was obvious from their faces that they were all beat from the earlier mornings, ramped up physical exercises, and increased flight time. As much as they loved being airborne, it was an intensely physically demanding activity. Between his increased workload, and you having taken on tutoring Amelia on weeknights for her upcoming exams, you both hardly had a moment alone to yourselves, much less together.

It was not to say that there hadn’t been a shift between you both, because that much was undeniable. You and Jake remained you and Jake, but with an added layer of nuance to your relationship. It was something that you both felt - when his hand brushed against yours in the kitchen while the group was gathering up the dishes for dinner, when your knee bumped into his under the table at dinner and stayed leaning against his leg, the look in his eyes when he bade you goodnight midway through your session with Amelia, dragging himself off to bed in preparation for an early morning - but hadn’t had the chance to figure out.

-

“Sandwiches from Joe’s Deli.” You raise your hand, brown paper bag dangling from your fingers as you saunter up to the picnic benches facing the beach outside of The Hard Deck.

“Which ones?” Penny asks you, as she gathers hair hair into a ponytail behind her.

“Cuban and roast chicken, figured we could take a half of each.” You slide into onto the bench, pushing your shades up onto your head before you pull the contents of the bag out.

“So what’s the beach about, any idea?” You ask as you unwrap your half of sandwich before biting in.

“Dogfight football,” she explains in between bites of her own. “Something Pete had them do the last time around to bond them. You run offense and defense at the same time. It’s hard to explain, but you’ll see.”

You nod slowly, trying to grasp the idea as you brush crumbs off the front of the oversized shirt you had swapped your sweaty gym top for.

“Or, it’s basically a fancy term for bunch of half naked aviators running around getting sweaty and sandy while tossing around a ball.” She throws a wink in your direction.

“Does seeing Mav sweaty and sandy do it for you?” You tease.

“Honey,” she say looks at you point blank, unfazed, with a sly grin on her face “seeing that man in anything does it for me.”

-

The rumble of engines pulling up into the parking lot of The Hard Deck signals the group’s arrival. You have your back facing the parking lot, but the wide smile that breaks across Penny’s face lets you know that they have walked into view, Pete at the helm. You prop your chin up on your palm as the Captain walks up beside Penny, greeting her with a kiss to the lips to a round of whistles from the trainees who are filtering past the bench onto the sand.

“Hey Mav.” You offer a smile as they pull apart, turning their attention to you.

“Joining us for football?” He tilts his head towards the sand. “We’re severely underrepresented on the female front.” He pauses as he sees Jake walk into view, “and Hangman said you’ve got a mean arm.”

“I have brothers,” you explain, “they were really into football growing up. Got forced to pick it up.”

“You have to join,” Phoenix's voice cuts in as she pushes past Jake on their way towards the bench, to come up from behind, sliding into the seat beside you. “I’m sick of being around all these testosterone monkeys.” Her comment makes you eyeball the predominantly male crowd, picking out just another two female trainees.

“Don’t see you being sick of Rooster.” You don’t turn, but you can feel Jake’s presence behind you before he even speaks.

“Fuck off.” Phoenix glares daggers towards Jake.

“You’re the number one testosterone monkey she’s sick off.” Rooster chimes in, coming to join the group surrounding the table. He lowers his shades to look at you. “I don’t know how you live with him.”

“He’s insufferable.” Phoenix agrees. “Doesn’t it get tiring sharing a space with all that?” She gestures towards Jake a mock grimace on her face. “All that male bravado.”

“You’ll get used to it once he forces you to spend enough years tolerating him.” You deadpan, managing to keep the smile that threatens to curl around your lips off your face.

“Ya’ll are just haters.” Jake scoffs, tossing the football in his hands into the crowd on the beach, trusting that someone would catch it, before letting his elbow hang loosely from one your shoulders.

“You’re playing.” Phoenix grabs your arm as she stands and you sigh in defeat.

“There is no way I’m getting out of this am I?”

“None.” The chorus of voices from Phoenix, Rooster, Penny, Mav and Jake ring out in unison and you push yourself to a stand. It makes Jake move his arm off from your shoulder, fingers brushing against your lower back as it drops. “Fine, I’ll join.”

It earns a whoop from Phoenix who slaps Rooster’s hand in a high-five, the two running off towards the sand.

“You’re on my team.” Phoenix calls back to you, just as Maverick squeezes Penny’s shoulder, before following, a chuckle on his lips.

“I’m guessing you aren’t on their team?” You ask as you reach for the bottom of your shirt, tugging it over your head to reveal a sports bra and a pair of sports shorts, not keen on getting your clean shirt wet and sandy. You bend to stuff your shirt and sunglasses into your bag before hoisting it onto the table, your wordless request to Penny to keep on eye on your bag met with a nod from her.

“Any team with me is the winning team sweetheart.” Jake says, letting his gaze drop, trailing along your body, before coming back up lazily to meet your eyes. He is unbothered by Penny’s presence and the curious, yet knowing look she is giving you both. You feel a rush of heat burn it’s way along your core, watching his gaze as it travels over you.

“We’ll see about that,” you reach to put your hair up, throwing him a smirk before walking towards the group, his gaze burning into you as you walk away.

-

“Oh Lieutenant.”

The grating sound of the blonde female trainee, Becca’s voice makes you roll your eyes as you throw a glance towards her. You grit your teeth, causing your jaw to clench down as you see her throw her head back in a laugh, one of her hands coming to rest on Jake’s bare bicep.

You don’t hear what he says in quick response, but Jake doesn’t engage, choosing instead to turn his head towards Coyote, both men steeped in conversation.

“She’s noisy.” You grumble as you flop down on the sand in between Bob and Fanboy.

“She’s…. chatty.” Bob responds, as the three of look over to Becca whose fingers are still resting on Jake’s bicep.

“She’s been trying to get his attention since day one,” Fanboy says, tilting his chin towards both her and Jake.

“Not that he seems to care.” Bob adds, before shooting a subtly timed glance at you.

You make a non-committal grunt as a response, shoulders going upward in a shrug as you tear your gaze away from the blonde pair, focusing it instead on the aviators running around in front of you.

-

“Tash.” You shout, arms outstretched as you duck past two of the trainees on the opposing team. Phoenix looks to you, faking left before tossing the ball right towards you. You catch it in midair, before pivoting on your heels, feet sprinting past Payback towards the touchdown line marked out by a line in the sand. The line is meters within your reach when you feel a body collide with your legs, hands pulling you around your waist down to the sand. The ball rolls out of your hands on impact and you swear, sitting up to dust sand off from your hands to find yourself face to face with twinkling green eyes.

“You’ve always been mouthy on the field.” He says, between short breaths of air, only to have you mumble another curse under your breath.

“Yeah, well at least I’m focused on the game Lieutenant.” You grumble, biting out the last part of your sentence in imitation of what you had heard earlier as you push your hands and feet against the sand, staggering upright.

There is a hint of initial confusion on Jake’s face at the start of your sentence, but it instantly shifts to understanding at the last word.

“Are you,” he says while pushing himself into a more graceful stand so that he towers over you, “jealous?”

You squint upwards only to find his features etched into a smug, wide grin that is barely visible due to the sunlight fanning out from behind him.

“No.” You attempt at nonchalance is thwarted by the hard edge to your voice.

“Darlin,” he starts to say, but you choose to glare at him, mouth opening to cut him off.

“No.” You enunciate the single word clearly, loudly, as you flip yourself around, bending swiftly to pick up the ball before launching it at Jake. “Your ball Seresin.”

You had thrown it hard, but Jake catches it with ease, absorbing the impact in his hands and with his body as he watches you stalk away, the smug grin now a small smile furling out at the corners of his lips.

-

You are running across the sand, your eyes trained on the ball like a hawk, your frustration translating into hyper-focus.

“Pass it,” you yell to one of the trainees on your team. He throws it in your direction while on the run and you stretch out to catch the ball which shoots a bit past your reach, only for a flash of blonde hair and pale skin to lunge past you. Becca catches the ball on the fly and you find swear loudly, your legs picking up speed. You follow as she zips past Fanboy, propelling yourself in a small spin so that you are facing her, before you lunge forward with a jump off the sand. Your hands grab her hips, fingers pushing into her flesh for grip as your shoulder collides into her chest. You push forward and let the weight of your body and momentum slam her into the sand.

The ball rolls out of her hands, and you let yourself roll off her, the force from the sudden burst of energy behind your tackle causing your chest to heave up and down in exertion.

“My god,” you hear Becca’s whine as she clambers into an upright position to glare at you, “did you have to be so brutal?”

“It’s football, get over it.” You say as push yourself up into a seated position, fully intending to right yourself into a stand when you feel her fingers digging into your forearm.

“The force was uncalled for,” she says again, and you look to find her eyes narrowed at you. “Who the heck are you anyway? You aren’t one of us.” Her last question leaves you smarting, as you tear your hand forcefully out of her grip, your legs moving you away from her.

“Hey,” she rushes herself to a stand, following after you, “you just some rando who decided to join our game?”

You exhale loudly, your eyes rolling upwards to the sky in a mixture of both anger and exasperation.

“I-” You brace yourself, turning around to come nose to nose with Becca.

“Williams.” Tash voice breaks in, her tone icy. “Watch your tone.”

“M’am, I-” Becca pales, slipping into a tone of address that showcases her slightly lower rank, and place on the totem pole that is TOPGUN.

“She’s my friend and here at my invitation.” You watch as Tash comes to stand beside you, her feet squaring as she stares Becca down. “I think that makes her as much of one of us as you are, don’t you?”

Your brain fogs with admiration for Tash in the moment, her steely but calm demeanour reminding you just why she is where she is.

“Yes M’am.” Becca stammers, as Tash shoots her a dismissive look, indicating that the conversation had ended.

“You okay?” Tash turns to you, friendly concern on her features. “They get a bit too big for their britches just because they get called here.” She explains, and you offer a tired smile.

“Fine Tash.” You nod, “thanks for that.”

“Just stepping in to save her,” she winks at you, “pretty sure you would have been the more lethal poison.”

“Hey, what happened?” You feel Jake’s fingers touch your elbow lightly, right as he jogs up to both of you, brows knitted slightly, genuine concern on his face. He had been standing on the sidelines, but his eye had been on you the whole time. He had watched the interaction, not thinking much of it, apart from that it was a tackle. But them moment he had seen your body language shift and you tense up, he had started to weave his way towards you. And, the moment he had seen Phoenix cut in, he was jogging across the sand towards you.

“Williams,” Tash explains with a shrug, not delving into detail.

“I’m going to sit out for a while, sub me.” You tell Tash and she nods, jogging back towards the group on the sand.

-

“Something is on your mind.” Jake says pointedly as he follows you back to the picnic bench you had vacated earlier. You see Penny two benches away, phone pressed to her ear in conversation and you and Jake each raise a hand in greeting which she acknowledges with a nod.

“Go back to football Lieutenant.” You say as you pull your phone from your bag, clicking through your notifications.

Jake plans himself down on the bench, his gaze fixed on you as you flick through the notification banners on your phone. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this, uncharacteristically closed off, and uncommunicative.

“What?” You ask, feeling his gaze on you, but refusing to look up at him.

“Talk to me.” He says, the surprising amount of patience in his voice being the thing that finally makes you look at him and straight into greens which implore you to tell him what is on your mind. Perhaps it was the unspoken words, unsorted feelings, and unresolved tension that had been building since the day of Annie’s wedding, but you feel it - a crackle of electricity between you both as he stared straight into your eyes.

“I’m going to get some water.” You mumble, dumping your phone onto the table with a clatter, your eyes shying away from the intensity of the look he has directed at you.

-

Your phone rings, as soon as you step into The Hard Deck. Jake glances down at the unknown number flashing across your screen. He picks it up, swiping across the screen to answer without much thought.

“Hello?” He says, only to hear a voice he recognises calling out your name in confusion.

“Dan.” Jake’s lips press into a firm line, distaste on his voice.

“Jake.” Dan says, tone equally cool. “Look just get her to call me back alright? I’m returning her calls from last night.”

The sentence makes Jake’s mind whirl, an uncomfortable feeling balling in his chest. His stomach feels like it has dropped a million feet below ground. He doesn’t respond to Dan, choosing instead to end the call. He keeps your phone clutched in his hand, knuckles whitening from the force with which he is gripping the device.

He sees you exit The Hard Deck, glass of water in your hand.

“You called Dan?” He spits out, voice loud as he whips his head around to focus on you.

You eye your phone on the table. The heat of his gaze feels like it could burn through you.

“No one asked you to answer my phone.” You shoot back, your own eyes flashing with rage. Normally, Jake answering or even using your phone unsanctioned wouldn’t have bothered you in the slightest, but your irritation from your earlier interaction with Becca rises up, bubbling into an anger.

“You called Dan.” He says again, maintaining his volume, repeating his accusation.

You had called Dan the night before that much was true. However, you had called him solely at the behest of another one of your colleagues, to sort of work related matters which were best and more quickly dealt with over the phone.

“And?” You walk up to the picnic table, placing your glass down with more force than necessary, causing water to slosh out from the side. You tilt your head down slightly to stare straight at Jake, arms folded tightly across your chest, refusing to explain in the moment in the face of his aggression and your original irritation.

“And?” He throws his hands in the air, rising to full height, forcing you to tilt your head upwards instead. “Why the fuck are you still calling Dan?”

You want to wince at his words, his anger, but you steel yourself, your fingers gripping the side of your own arm instead. Jake fights like anyone would expect Jake to fight, he is aggressive, brusque, words harsh and cutting. He would never lay a hand on a woman, much less you, but the lack of physicality manifests itself in waves of anger and extreme hostility that roll off him.

“Why the fuck is that any of your business?” You counter back, seething.

“Why the fuck, is that any of my fucking business?” You see his jaw clench and the vein in his neck strain. You both fall silent, staring at each other for what seems like an uncomfortable eternity, before he throws his hands in the air. “Maybe it’s none of my fucking business.” He finally says, voice thin, dropping back to a normal decibel. You see the intensity in his features falter slightly, doubt flooding his eyes, but his jaw remains clenched tightly.

Jake turns, and you stand, frozen, watch him walk back onto the sand, grabbing up his shirt and shades before heading back towards the parking lots.

“Jake.” You call, your body shifting to face his vanishing back. He doesn’t respond. “Jake.” You try again, louder this time, but he continues walking away. He disappears around the corner, and you hear the faint sounds of a car door slamming and the engine of his truck starting up. He hasn’t said anything more, hasn’t done anything, hasn’t laid a hand on you, but there a pain blistering through your chest.

“Hey,” you feel a gentle hand come to rest on your arm, pulling you back into the now, “are you okay?” Penny asks.

“I don’t know,” you find yourself admitting, as you continue to stare at the corner Jake had disappeared around despite him being long gone by now.

-

You end at at Penny’s that night, tutoring Amelia from Penny’s dining table instead of your own. Penny had invited you over, insisting that you take a shower while she made you dinner, with no obligation on you to help Amelia out with her school work that night. You had accepted the invitation, showered, changed into a set of Penny’s clothes, sat through dinner, letting the conversation between the mother and daughter duo distract you. You had smiled and laughed your way through dinner, but Penny had noticed how your smile didn’t hit your eyes the way it usually did.

“You know, you both could take a day off.” Penny says, as she wipes her hands against a dishcloth as she eyes you and Amelia, both hunched over in the corner of the dining room table, Amelia’s school work spread across the dark mahogany of her table.

“I can handle it myself today.” Amelia offers to you, her eyes glancing up as the tip of her pen pauses over paper.

“Nah, I’m good.” You offer both a small smile before you turn back to the words in front of you. The words on the page blur, as your eyes un-focus, your memory clouding instead with the image of Jake walking away, burning through your mind, playing on repeat. Jake had never, in your years of friendship walked away from you once before - not once. You had both fought, shouted it out at each other before, but he had never walked away from you. Jake had always stuck around, walked you home, you both bristling in anger and silence, even after you both fought tooth and nail, tearing at each others throats. You had never had to call out to him twice, much less watch him walk away.

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” Penny asks you as she walks over to the table, placing a hand on the backs of each yours and Amelia’s chairs.

“Please?” You ask, and she nods, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Not being here, meant being back home with Jake, or worse, without him.

“Of course, I’ll grab some clean sheets for the guest room.” Penny walks towards the back of the house as the doorbell rings. “Can you get that, I think it’s Pete.” She calls out to you.

“Sure.” You push your chair back to a stand and make your way to the front door, pulling it open to reveal two different sets of green eyes staring back at you.

“Found him in the gym at the base abusing a punching bag.” Pete says before either you or Jake can speak.

Pete offers you a smile, clapping you gently on the shoulder before making his way past you and into the house. It leaves you to look at Jake, hair damp from a shower which you assumed Pete must have forced him to take as a literal and figurative cooldown before dragging him over, dressed in a white tee and grey sweatpants. His knuckles are red, the skin on them looking raw and battered.

Jake takes you in, your hand still on the door handle, dressed not too dissimilarly from him in a pair of Penny’s old sweatpants and a dark plain tee. He had regretted walking away from you the moment he did, regretted it even more each time you had called his name, but his legs had kept moving forward, rage masking fear clawing through him. The thought of you calling Dan had sent his thoughts straight into a tailspin. You both hadn’t had the time to tackle the issue properly post Annie’s wedding, but Jake had thought, assumed that it was clear that you both meant more to each other even without words. Hearing Dan’s voice on the phone, hearing that you had called him, and you not providing an explanation immediately, had made him think the worst.

“Can we go,” he speaks first, both your gazes locked firmly onto each other, each assessing the other silently, “home?” he asks, almost afraid to. Jake’s jaw is still tense. His earlier feelings of rage and fear are still stewing in him, circling his belly, running through his veins, but Jake knows that in spite of everything, he doesn’t want to go back alone to a house that doesn’t have you.

-

You both end up driving back separately, you pulling up onto the driveway before him. Neither of you speaks as you walk up to the house, as you unlock the front door and Jake shuts it behind you as you tug your shoes off. He follows suit, tugging his own shoes off before following you as you enter the kitchen.

“I called Dan last night for work.” You finally speak up as you enter the house, dumping your bag down on the table in the dining room. You turn to lean against the table, arms folded defensively across your body to face Jake who stands a short distance away. You watch as he drags his hand across his forehand only to rake it through his hair, before you continue with your explanation, one that you should have given hours ago. “It was at the request of someone who is handling something I was working on, and it was faster to pick up the phone and give him a call.”

You eye Jake as he continues to stare straight at you.

“I didn’t want to send him a text and draw out the conversation,” you shrug, your shoulder lifting slightly, “didn’t want to have to open my work laptop either.”

Jake takes a step towards you, the knot of rage and fear swirling through his veins undoing itself almost instantly.

“I thought…” he starts, and you loosen the fold of your arms across your chest slightly, unknowingly as he nears.

“No.” You cut him off, without needing him to finish his sentence. You knew his question, knew what he thought. “I’ve told you before Jake,” you reference your conversation from the other night, enunciating each word clearly so that your intention is clear, “no.”

He comes to a stop in front of you and you unfold your arms, palms coming to grip the sides of the dining table. He is close enough that you can see the first signs of sunburn which has started to bloom across his face, cheeks, the bridge of his nose, the faint pink mixing in with his tan, standing out against the greens of his eyes. You can hear the sound of his breathing, clear against the silence of the night. He moves, just an inch closer to you, and you hold his gaze.

“No.” He murmurs, and his face moves an inch down, and closer to yours.

“No.” You respond, a sudden, slight rasp to your voice as your eyes flicker to his mouth, remembering the feeling of his lips against yours.

He slots his hands onto the dining table, in the small space between your own palms which are against the wood, and your body, looking at you once more, searching, giving you a chance to move away, but you don’t, the pace of your heartbeat quickening. The tension between you both is thick, heavy, palpable.

“Jake?” You ask, your voice low, soft.

“Yeah.” He says, not a question, and you can feel him stepping in between your legs.

“Just fucking kiss me already.”

It’s all he need, and Jake obliges, his lips come crashing down against yours, both your teeth clinking together. Jake slides his hands around your hips, lifting you onto the edge of the table, and your hands go straight onto the back of his head, gripping his hair, pulling him urgently towards you. It’s messy, desperate, urgent, unlike the first kiss you had shared at Annie’s wedding, weeks, or even years of tension build up between you both exploding at once. You were friends, just best friends, and this shouldn’t have felt so right, but it did.

You feel Jake’s tongue swipe against your bottom lip, asking, and you grant him access. His hands move under your shirt and up your body. You feel his fingers run up your sides, gripping your ribs, and you take it as an invitation to move your hands down and under his shirt, palms placed flat against his abdomen, feeling the lines and ridges of his body. His hand moves up, finger’s finding their way along the curve of your bare breasts.

“You aren’t wearing a bra.” He manages to groan through the kiss.

“Penny didn’t have one for me.” You gasp as he tears away from your, his lips coming to graze your neck instead. His fingers work their way to across the pebbled skin of your nipples, rolling each bud and it makes you grip his waist to press your clothed hips into his. You grab the bottom of his shirt, pushing it upwards. He reads your cue, and pulls away momentarily to yank his tee across his head, tossing it behind him.

“All you had to do was ask.” He tells you. Jake’s eyes are dark with arousal, but the smug, mischievous uptick of his lips let’s you know that despite this, despite the fact that your hips are pressed against his, despite the fact that he had your breast in his hands, lips against your neck moments ago, despite the fact that you can feel the hardening bulge in his sweatpants - he is still Jake, the Jake that you know, your Jake even in this moment.

“Shut up,” you growl, putting your hands on the bottom of your own shirt, pulling it over your head and dropping it onto the table behind you. Jake takes in the sight, the look on his face sending a shot of fire straight down to your core. His hands are on the waistband of your sweatpants almost immediately, tugging them down. “Eager?”

“Very.” He responds, the register of his voice deeper, coated with lust as his lips crash into yours once more.

“She didn’t have underwear for me either.” You mutter against the kiss as you lift your hips, letting him slide the garment off you. It makes him groan again, loudly this time against your mouth. Jake grips each of your thighs with his hands and pulls away, allowing his eyes to travel across your body, to drink you in.

“Like what you see?” You ask in imitation of him from the other morning, clad in nothing but his towel. You had expected yourself to be shy, for there to be an undercurrent of awkwardness between you both, but it was clear that you both wanted, needed each other as much as the other and seeing Jake in front of you, knowing that it was Jake in front of you made you forget any notion of that. He was Jake, and you were you, and you could be you.

“Baby,” he says, unfazed at your imitation, the term from his lips making you weak, as he grips the flesh of your thighs harder, “you have no idea.” Jake punctuates his sentence by trailing his hand up your inner thigh to draw a finger across your already dripping slit. The contact makes you moan as you throw your head backwards, arching your back.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles, as he drops to his knees. He doesn’t give you a chance to think, pulling you to the edge of the table, leaving a track of your arousal on the wood as he pulls you forward, before spreading your knees wider apart.

“Jake,” you breathe and he throws you a smirk before bringing his mouth to your cunt, tongue licking a long flat strip against your slit, before swirling around your clit. His eyes are locked onto yourself, and you find yourself staring at him with his mouth fixed on your cunt. It makes you moan, loud, needy, desperate, and your hands grip into his hair. “Fuck.”

Jake eats you out like a man starved, his lips suckling, tongue moving against you, and all you can do is buck your hips against his mouth, and hook your legs around his shoulders. Jake notices your hips that have begun to circle his tongue and he raises a hand to slide his fingers, one first, and then two, into you, his tongue not stopping it’s work against you. You feel your head begin to cloud, belly start to clench as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the pads of his fingertips massaging in a come hither gesture against your walls. You gather yourself enough through your haze to look down at him, his lips, chin, nose covered in a mixture of your slick and his own saliva.

“Cum for me.” He rasps against you, and as if on command, your body obeys, unfurling itself around his fingers which don’t stop moving, fucking you through the waves of your orgasm. You find yourself reaching for him blindly, as your body comes down from it’s high, your orgasm ebbing away, to pull his face back up towards yours. You kiss him, eager, sloppily, tasting the scent of yourself against his lips.

“Jake,” you say, his name slowly becoming a habit, almost a litany. He is about to respond, but you don’t let him, your hands going straight to his sweatpants, palming his cock through the soft cotton. Your first orgasm should have left you satiated, but instead it leaves you even more desperate, more needing, wanting more, wanting Jake. “Fuck me, please.”

Your ask, Jake decides, is all he has ever needed.

“I’m not fucking you for the first time on the table.” He hoists you up, his arms holding you by the waist, lips crashing against yours to become tangled with yours once again. You find yourself winding your hands around his neck and legs around his body, your cunt, still dripping, pressed up against his abs as he moves you both to his bedroom.

He drops you onto the bed in a seated position. Jake’s hands hands having barely pulled down his sweatpants and boxers before he feels your hands on his cock. He can’t help the hiss that escape him as he observes you take him in visually, your hand moving up and down the sheath of his cock, your thumb swirling around the tip, spreading the pearl of pre-cum around it’s angry red head.

“Do we need a-” He barely manages to gasp, losing focus for a second, as your hands pump against his cock.

“I’m clean and on birth control.” He trusts you.

“I’m clean,” he confirms and you trust him equally.

“Then fuck me.” You drop the please and run your thumb across the head of his cock and he moans, claiming your lips with his once again, pushing your back onto the bed. You spread your legs open, knees bent at an angle and in the sky, and Jake lines his cock up with your entrance before pushing in.

“Oh god.. fuck.” You cry out as your body adjusts to him, around him.

“Not god baby, Jake.” He says, his hands coming to land palms down on the mattress on either side of your head. Jake observes your face, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Move.” You implore him, your legs capturing him around the waist, pulling him closer into you, hands hooking themselves under his arms and on his shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he says, as he begins to thrust in and out of you, each stroke hitting you deeper, harder, than the last. He can feel your nipples, hard and moving against his bare chest as the impact from each thrust of his cock into your causing your body to move in and up down motion together with him. The sounds of your arousal is obscene, wet and slick against him.

He drops his head onto the crook of his neck, his body continuing it’s pace as he fucks into you, his public bone hitting your clit each time he thrusts in. Jake feels your teeth bite down on his shoulder and it shoots straight down to his cock, causing him to shudder.

“I’m close.” You hear his voice in your hear, destabilised, unlike his usual smooth drawl. “Are you..” He begins to ask, not wanting to finish only to leave you hanging.

“Faster.” You demand, your hand moving in between the both of you to rub against your clit. He catches your hand, replacing it with is own as he picks up the pace, slamming into you harder, faster, his fingers rubbing at your clit with a matched pace.

Jake feels your orgasm before you do, from the way your walls clench around him, the same way they had clenched around his fingers earlier, and he thrusts into you, long, pace jerky and off balance, a tell tale sign of his own incoming orgasm. He sees your head roll back, hears the cry that comes from your mouth, feels your finger nails digging into his back, and Jake let’s himself go, hitting his orgasm as loudly as you had met your own.

Jake lets himself sag down on top of you, himself still buried deep in you. It takes you both more than a few moments to reorientate yourself.

“That was,” you start, your words coming out in short, wispy pants, and Jake rolls you both over so that you are on his chest. He takes the sight of you in, hair messy, strands sticking to the side of your face and neck with a sheen of sweat, eyes still slightly glazed in your post orgasm high, lips swollen, He brings a hand up to run through the side of your hair, his fingertips scratching at the top of your scalp gently, before finishing your sentence.

“Amazing.”

-

The clean up is quick, efficient, with you both darting into the shower together. There are touches, kisses, jokes, smiles, but it’s fast, with you both more keen to get out and back into bed. Jake pulls on a clean pair of sweatpants, and you steal one of his tees before you both climb back into his bed.

Neither of you have talked about what happened, but you both know don’t have to, not when you both feel the same, feel like this. You hadn’t spoken about it in the days after Annie’s wedding and the tension build up had caused undeniable friction, but now - this was different, there were no words, no discussion, but even without you were both now clear on each other. He opens his arms, and you tuck yourself into his side, against one of his biceps, both of you laying back against the pillow.

“So Lieutenant,” you shift to prop your head up on the back of your palms which you now have flat on his bare chest, your words light and teasing, but clearly bringing up the earlier events of the day. The transition back to you and Jake being well, you and Jake was easy, seamless, as if nothing had changed despite the fact that he had been balls deep in you, fucking your brains out just minutes ago.

“Jake.” He corrects as he stares down at you, his chin backing into his neck slightly from his position against the pillows of his bed.

“You don’t like Lieutenant?” You ask innocently. “Heard someone else calling you Lieutenant this afternoon.” You mock, as Jake watches you from his position against the pillow.

Jake eyes your for a good second before he flips you over easily in one fluid motion so that you are on your back, his body pressing into yours, chest flattening your breasts which are hidden by his shirt, either arm caging you in onto his bed, Jake’s head just above your own.

“I only ever want to be Jake to you.” There is no witty come back, no sexualised innuendo. His tone of voice is genuine, his features serious, and the simplicity of it, so different from his usual demeanour knocks the wind from your system.

He might not have minded the term Lieutenant with other women, but Jake didn’t care about other women - they were not you. He had known you long before he had become Naval Aviator: Jake “Hangman” Seresin, and he intended to continue to know you long after the day, if ever, he stopped being Naval Aviator: Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Being Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin had become an important part of him, but before that he had just been Jake, the Jake that had met you while running around the block, the Jake you had done high school and college with, the Jake that you dropped a text to when you had something funny to share, the Jake that you called when there is something to celebrate, the Jake that you reached out to when something bad had happened, the Jake that was as much a part of your life as you were in his, your Jake, something he would never stop being.

Your eyes search his, and all you see is Jake. You respond in the best way you know how, by reaching up, tugging him down and letting your lips connect with his.

>> PART 5

“Still on that laptop? I thought you were on sabbatical.” You look up at Penny who is polishing a glass behind the bar.

“People are a pain.” You grumble back in explanation as you roll your eyes.

“Shut it off.” She places the glass on the rack above while slinging the cloth across one of her shoulders. “They’ll figure it out.”

You press send on your last email, before jabbing a thumb down on the power button, watching the device splutter to black, before you push down the screen.

“Done.”

It earns you a cheer from Penny, and her teenage daughter Amelia who looks up from her book with a toothy smile to join her mother in your celebration.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Penny asks you, her hands on her hips. “More decorating?”

“No.” You laugh, slightly sheepish. It was clear to the three of you that Jake and your house was currently, hands down, the most decorated and furnished house in the community of aviators. “They are delivering my car today.” You grin, referring to the rental you had booked.

“The car? What did you pick in the end.” Amelia drops her book onto the counter as she slides a seat down to sidle up next to you. It was something you had been agonising over the past two weeks after it had become clear that renting a car for the next few months would be a necessity. You had gotten by with hailing cabs, booking ubers, and on occasion taking Jake’s truck when he decided to carpool in with someone else, but given the distance between places here, it wasn’t always the easiest thing to do.

“The range.” You respond, and Penny groans, shaking her head.

“What happened to cruising down the beach with your top down and hair flying in the wind.”

“I live in a gated community of largely male aviators,” you say as you cram your laptop back into your bag. “Can you imagine getting a porsche? I would never actually get the chance to drive the car myself.”

“I suppose.” She sighs, defeated by the truth of your words, as you slide off the bar stool.

“I’ll borrow yours if I want an adventure.”

“Not sure you could handle her, she’s got a temper.”

“Just like her owner.” You tease, only to earn a burst of laughter from Amelia.

You hug the teenager sideways, before leaning across the counter to hug Penny before ducking out the door to search for the staff delivering your rental.

-

Jake notices the black beast of a car sitting in the driveway as he drives down the street. It’s hard to miss even in the dark, the shine of the black paint shimmering in the streetlight above. It makes him shake his head and grill as pulls his truck up behind and kills the engine.

It had been a rough two weeks, with Cyclone calling the team back in at the last minute, for an intensive break down of the uranium mission, with hours in the air running practice rounds to see how the mission could have been carried out better in anticipation of the programme that was starting the next week. That coupled with mandated training that the team had to go through before they themselves could become the trainers, had him stumbling into bed in the wee hours, and waking up against at the crack of dawn to drag himself back to TOPGUN. It was hardly the way he intended to start the 6 months, but when duty called, Jake Seresin answered.

He enters the house as quietly as he can, locking the door behind him. He unlaces and yanks off his boots, before entering the living room to find you curled up on the sofa, a heap of fluff, or a throw bunched up around your shoulders, your eyes closed, mouth slightly open, cheek pressed against a cushion with your body splayed across the length of the sofa, the television playing softly in the background.

The sight sends a warmth spreading through his chest, and he hardly realises the soft smile that has flickered onto his face as he watches you sleep, your chest rising and falling in gentle waves. It had been the first day he had come home to find you asleep on the sofa.

He smells like a day of sweat, jet fuel and dust, but he pushes that out of his mind as he bends at the waist, easily slipping a hand beneath your neck and the other under your knees. He manages to hoist you up and into his arms with ease. The movement doesn’t disturb you, which is testament to you being a deep sleeper, and his face splits into a grin as you turn your face to snuggle into his chest, cheek rubbing against the fabric of his shirt. Your nose wrinkles for a moment, as the remnant fumes of jet fuel hits you, but you bring a hand up in your slumber to rib the tip of your nose and the smell is forgotten.

You’ve gotten lighter, he notes, since the last time he has had to carry you like this - 5 months ago, on the day you had told him you and Dan had broken up, when he had plied you with enough tequila to get you crying, drunk and just wanting to go to sleep, which had resulted in him carrying you to your bed. It is he thinks, a combination of being on the mend from heartbreak, and overwork.

He manages to make his way into your bedroom to settle you on the bed before pulling the opposite side of your covers over you, wrapping you in like a human burrito.

“Jakey.” He hears you mumble as he turns to go. It makes him look down at you, only to find you still fast asleep. It puzzles him, why you would say his time old nickname in your sleep, but it also brings him a strange sense of both comfort and joy. He runs a knuckle gently down the side of your face, pushing back wisps of hair that have fanned out on your cheek.

“I miss you too darlin.” He murmurs, the words so soft he isn’t even sure he has said them.

-

Jake steps out of his room three mornings later, the smell of fresh coffee hitting his senses and it makes him pause, his hand on the door knob. Was it a burglary by the world’s friendliest - coffee and ‘hand over the goods’? He treads down the hallway, past the living room, dining area and into the kitchen where he finds you sitting on of one of the barstools, hunched over your own mug of coffee in front of you. Your eyes are hazed with sleep, hair messily piled on top of your head, body swaddled in one of his sweatshirts, paired off with a pair of pyjama shorts.

“Well would you look what the cat dragged out.”

“Good morning to you too Seresin.” You mumble, barely able to muster up the energy to return with a barb of your own. It was still dark out, your coffee yet untouched. You point wordlessly to the filled travel mug and granola bar placed on the small kitchen island beside you.

“That for me?” He asks, and you nod letting out a yawn, while propping your face up on both your palms.

He makes his way over beside you, settling sideways into the barstool on your right, an elbow on the counter of the island, knees facing your side.

“Think this belongs to me.” He tugs lightly on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. It was clear that you had gone rummaging in his closet. He only receives a slight shrug of your shoulder, you still not using words. “Go back to bed.”

“No.” Your protest sounds more like a stubborn whine, and you flap, or attempt to flap, a hand at him. You wouldn’t admit it outrightly even if he asked, but you had taken it upon yourself to drag yourself up a few minutes before he usually left for his day to pull together his coffee, because well, it had been a while since you had seen or spent any time with him.

“You’ve never been a morning person,” he reaches over for the travel mug and flips the lid open to take a sip.

You flip your left palm open to rest the full weight of your cheek on it, turning your face towards him, letting your right hand drop down to the surface of the island.

“And you’re welcome for the coffee.” Your gaze focuses on him, decked out in the khaki of his uniform with his white undershirt peeking out, face clean shaven, hair slicked back. It was hard to deny that the uniform suited him.

“Thanks,” he grins and offers you a belated thank you before taking another sip and popping the lid back on. He reaches over to grab the granola bar, picking up the travel mug along the way, before standing.

“Jake?”

He hums in acknowledgement, looking down to find your face now angled up to him.

“Fly safe.” You mumble, your voice still thick from sleep. You see him stare at you for a full three seconds, before his hand slips around your shoulders to pull you towards him. Your shoulder presses against his abdomen, and your face connects with his sternum as he holds you against him in a hug. Your hand that is at rest on the counter top instinctively moves to wrap itself around his waist, your thumb slotting itself into one of his belt loops. His hug catches you off guard, but at 5.30 in the morning you don’t have the mental facilities to overthink how domestic a morning with Jake Seresin of all people feels.

“Go,” you say against his shirt, and and you can both hear and feel the amusement in his reply as it rumbles through his chest.

“Got to let me go first sweetheart.”

“Gladly,” you want to roll your eyes, but you don’t because it is way too early. You pull yourself away from him, both elbows coming to a rest on the counter, face positioned above your still untouched cup of coffee.

Jake feels the lack of warmth against his body as you pull away, but he lets you and settles instead on flicking the messy up-do on your head before heading out into his day.

-

“It is the first weekend that you guys have been off, and the first thing you decide to do is have a barbecue with each other?” You snort in disbelief as you anchor your sunglasses on the top of your head while stepping into the store.

“Mav.” He states, as if the man’s call sign is explanation enough, and shrugs.

“Decided that he couldn’t go a day without see you lot?” You ask as you pull your phone out from your bag, searching for the message from Tash, listing out the items you both needed to procure.

“Decided that a barbecue would be a good way to meet the trainees before we start the programme next Monday.” He explains in full as he slides his own shades off, anchoring them to the front collar of his tshirt. Jake cranes his neck over your shoulder to peer at your phone. “I still don’t get why Pheonix texted you instead of me.” He grouses.

“Because Tash, knows if she leaves it to you, you’ll not turn up with half the items on the list.”

“Tash?” He raises a brow. “You guys best friends now?” He feigns mock hurt.

“The best.” You say emphasising both words, and he narrows his eyes at you, slinging an arm around your neck, pulling your head against his. Your sunglasses knock against the side of his hair and you stumble slightly, your sandals smacking against the floor.

“I didn’t bring you here to have myself replaced.”

“Then you better up your game Seresin.” You struggle fruitlessly against his hold. “Instead of trying to strangle me in the middle of goddamn public.”

“Shall we, my lady?” He releases his hold on you, and presents you with his arm instead.

“A gentleman?” You question and he sticks his arm an inch more towards you. You sigh loudly in defeat before slipping your hand through the crook his arm creates to hold onto his bicep.

“Lead the way.”

-

“Someone,” Rooster slides onto the bench beside Jake, shades covering his eyes although the sun is fast setting, “is hitting on your girl.”

Jake tears his attention away from his conversation with Payback, both men sticking their heads up like gophers in the sand, eyes searching the aviator crowd, largely comprising of trainees, that dot the beach space just beyond The Hard Deck. Jake doesn’t protest at Rooster’s use of the term “your girl”, but his eyes narrow as he spots you standing in the crowd, red solo cup in hand, your hair glinting in the soft glow of the generous string of lights dotting the space overhead.

He watches as one of the trainees, tall, dark hair, chiseled face, makes you laugh, as he shifts another inch closer to you, watches as you laugh along. The trainee says something else, and his hand reaches out to touch your elbow, and Jake’s fingers tighten around the neck of the beer bottle he has dangling from his grip.

“Aaand she’s passing over her phone,” Payback narrates the scene as it unfolds, the three men watching as the trainee takes the device from your hand and keys in a string of numbers. “And saved.” Payback finishes with a flourish as the trainee returns your phone, and you clutch it back within your grip.

“Must be tough,” Rooster claps Jake on the back and Jake grits his teeth.

“S’ not like we are together.” He mutters as he takes a swig of beer, and Payback and Rooster find themselves exchanging a glance over his head. “We’re friends.” He shrugs.

-

You are talking to Penny when you feel your phone, which is grasped in your hand that is hanging loosely by your side, tugged out.

“Penny.” The familiar drawl hits your ears and you don’t bother turning around. Instead, you raise your hand, palm upturned to ask for the return of your phone.

“Hangman,” she greets him in return before shaking her head, her lips slightly upturned, “I’ll leave you two to it.”

“Asking for something?” Jake’s question rings out from behind you, your palm still upturned.

“You know what I’m asking for.”

You feel fingers sliding over your palm, coming to nestle in the space between your own, bending to settle on the back of your upturned palm, his own palm pressed against yours. It makes you whip your head up to stare at him.

“You weren’t asking for my hand?” He says, wide eyed and innocent as he tugs your combined hands down in between you.

“I was asking for my phone,” you blink as you try to free your hand from his grip, but to no luck.

“I need a drink,” he says and begins to stride towards the coolers, your hand still firmly in his. It forces you to follow along, both of you weaving through the crowd, you just a step behind him.

“You can get a drink without manhandling me.” You grumble as you both come to a stop in front of the coolers.

“This isn’t manhandling darlin,” he says as he scans the coolers before picking a beer. “It’s helping.” He tilts the bottle towards you, and tips his chin towards the bottle opener hanging by the coolers.

“Helping?” You scoff your question out as you pick up the bottle opener with your free hand and pop off the top for him.

“Helping,” he affirms and takes a gulp from the bottle. He shifts you both around to face the crowd. “To ward off unwanted attention.”

His words shift the gears in your mind and understanding dawns on you.

“Nate,” you use the name of the trainee who had slipped his number into your phone earlier on, “is not unwanted attention.”

“Isn’t Nate, a child?”

“Younger by a couple of years I think,” you shrug, you gaze darting lazily across the crowd, but not searching for anyone in particular “would make for good fun, with all the time I have.” You are half joking.

“If you wanted fun, all you had to do was ask.” He drops your hand but slides his arm around your waist, his hand coming to rest on your hip. He pulls you towards him so that your side is pressed against his. The movement makes you place your own hand on the small of his back, your face tilting up to face a lazy smirk.

“Manhandling me for the ten millionth time this trip Jake.” You push your other hand against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. You catch Penny and Mav’s darting a glance at you both from the corner of your eye.

“Darlin, you haven’t seen handling yet.” He drops the man from manhandling, both to emphasise that he means no harm, and also for innuendo. He squeezes your waist causing the fabric of your dress to scrunch up slightly, skimming an inch higher above your thigh. Your hand goes lax against his chest at the gesture. Jake had always been flirty, whether to you, the lady at the corner deli, or even the gas station attendant, it was just a part of him, and something you had gotten used to, but if the fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and beating of your heart in your chest was anything to go by, this - this felt different.

“I’ll take my chances with Nate, thank you very much.” You collect yourself, hand twisting down to the back pocket of his jeans where you pull your stolen phone out from his pocket. “Now, if you’ll let me go before you ruin my chances with any of these men.”

You both hold each others gazes, your hand now clutching your phone, brushing against the back pocket of his jeans, his hand still planted firmly on your waist.

“I’ll let you go,” he brings his face down, closer to yours, and you find yourself staring at his lips, eyes, and the soft flop of his product free hair over his forehead. “But behave.”

True to his word, he lets you go, and you clear your throat, meeting Pheonix’s eyes from across the space, she waggles her brows at you and tilts her head. You clear your throat, avoiding her gaze and a few other glances at both of you, snatching the beer bottle from Jake’s hand, and putting it to your lips. Men.

-

The rest of the night had gone by without much of a hitch, but after Jake Seresin’s little show, which Penny had informed you later that everyone had noticed, you hadn’t been approached or spoken to by anyone else apart from the core team of aviators.

You weren’t entirely sure what angle Jake was playing, but you couldn’t say you were surprised either. He had always had something to say about whatever guy you were dating, or whatever boyfriend you had at the time, but he usually had the sense to keep his opinions and actions more measured. It was strange, you had told him before, that he had any views and opinions on the matter given that Jake himself had been in a grand total of two serious relationships in his life, the last of which ended before he headed off for the Navy. Since then, he had been a casual, no-strings type of guy who settled for casual relationships that spanned weeks to a few months, or a mutually beneficial type of arrangement or understanding with whatever his flavour of the moment was. It wasn’t that he didn’t have his fair share of admirers or girls who tried to lock him in for the long run, it was just, as he had told you, he wasn’t interested in anything long term.

Lacing up your running shoes with a little more force than necessary as you think back to the night before, you follow the action by stuffing your earphones into your ears and flicking on your music from your smart watch.

-

You are on your second round around the compound when he catches up with you, falling into a comfortable pace beside you. You see his lips move, and you can make out the words from the shape of his lips, despite not being able to hear him through the music blaring in your ears - race you, if I win you delete Nate’s number. He holds up 4 fingers, to indicate four rounds around the compound, and takes off with a bound in his step, not waiting for you to follow.

-

You manage to match his pace, but barely and not with the ease at which he is running, something which you aren’t all too surprised by. You aren’t a teenager anymore, and being one of the best pilots requires a certain level of fitness. You both see your house in sight, and he grins at you before sprinting off. You try your best, legs moving, arms pumping, to catch up with him, but he soars easily across the invisible finish line before you and jogs a circle before coming to a halt. You on the other hand, sprint past the line, and collapse onto the driveway.

“Not fair.” You manage to gasp out as you rip your earphones from your ears, your words coming out in short fast pants. “You’re fit, and started two rounds later.”

“You should have just run faster.” He says and tugs his shirt off his head before falling into a seated position, legs spread out in front of him, on the driveway beside you.

“I was running fast.” You shoot daggers at him from your eyes, sweat trickling down the sides of your temples. “Can’t you see my sweat?” You gesture to your face, and he throws you a look and laughs.

“A deal’s a deal.” He grins as he turns his face back up to the sky, shuttering his eyes as he lets the sun bask down on him, causing the sheen of sweat on his face and body to glow.

“I made no deal.” You tug at your shirt which sticks to your body with sweat.

“Hand it over.”

“I don’t have my phone with me.”

He looks back down to you, eyes squinting in the sunlight.

“It’s alright, we’ll get to it later.”

You roll your eyes, and both of you fall silent, basking in the rays of the sun.

-

“You know,” you say as you climb into the passenger’s seat of your car before shutting the door behind you. “You could pass off as a dad with three kids.”

Jake gives you a puzzled look, and you gesture around you. You had both decided to go out for a Sunday brunch after the early morning torture run which your jog had morphed into.

“It’s the car, it’s got the dad with kids vibes going for you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, but ignores your comment, sticking out his palm in front of your face.

“What?” You ask.

“Phone.” He responds, and you shake your head no. “We raced, I won.”

“You’re a bully.” You ignore his hand and buckle yourself into the seat.

“I’ll help myself.” He warns, and you sigh before pulling your phone from your bag and dumping it in his hand.

He makes quick work of unlocking it, and deleting Nate’s number before passing it back to you.

“Done.”

“Bully.” You mumble as he shifts the car out of park and backs out of the driveway.

-

“Honey I’m home.” You hear the voice break through the silence, and you identify it as Rooster.

“Bradley.” You greet, using his actual name, as the moustached man walks in, grinning from ear to ear.

“Always wanted to try that out and see how it sounds.” He says.

It earns him a smack on the back of his head from Jake who walks in after him, Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, Bob and Pheonix following behind. “Then find a wife.”

“Trace is available.” Fanboy smirks as he nudges Phoenix forward, which causes her ears to tinge with pink. You hide your smile as you busy yourself with pulling out plates from the cupboard. Tash’s not so subtle crush on Rooster had been obvious to you and anyone around you from day 1, and if your hunch was anything to go by, Rooster shared the same sentiments.

“Fuck off Fanboy.” Tash pushes him out of her way as she comes up behind you to gather cutlery.

The rest, still joking, fall into line, each gathering the various utensils and dishes off the counter and stove, before filtering into the dining room. With the trainees in, their programme had slowed down considerably, being the ones to help with doling out the train still meant early starts to the day, but it also meant early ends to their day. It had become a routine of sorts that had started with Tash coming over to join you for dinner, which had to include Jake because he lived here, and you were soon joined by Rooster and Bob who had heard from Tash, Coyote who had heard from Jake, Payback who had heard from Rooster and Fanboy who had heard from Payback. Before you knew it, they were wiring you money for grocery expenses and you had somehow become the designated dinner chef of the group. You didn’t mind however, because they chipped in to help clean up, after which majority of the time, you would all pile into a car or two and drive off to The Hard Deck.

“How was the day?” You ask to no one in particular when you are all settled around the table, each passing along the trays of food.

“Your toyboy messed up today.” Coyote says as he passes on a plate of roast potatoes.

“Toyboy?”

“Nate.” Tash explains to you, none of them aware that you never reached out to him because you were made to delete his number from your phone - something that you honestly weren’t too bothered about, despite what you let Jake think.

“Someone here made him hammer out 300 push ups.” Payback scoops up a handful of carrots before passing the tray down the table, his eyes shooting towards Jake.

“That’s mean.” You say as you scoop a spoon of potatoes onto your own plate.

“I’ll say.” Rooster.

“He’ll thank me for better arms and a chest.” Is all Jake offers as he spears a piece of chicken onto your plate, and then his.

-

“See you guys.” You call out, waving a hand up in the arm to the group disappearing down the street, each heading back to their own houses.

“Tomorrow!” You hear Tash shout back and you blow her a kiss before locking the door behind you. The group had made a collective decision to sit out going to The Hard Deck tonight, a combination of being both stuffed and lazy.

You hear your phone ring, the accompanying vibration buzzing in your pocket. You pull it out swiping across to answer and put it to your ear.

“You haven’t forgotten my wedding is next weekend have you.” Annie, one of your closer friends from work’s voice crackles across the line.

“Hello to you too, and no I haven’t forgotten.” You walk back into the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear, to find Jake cracking open a can of soda. He looks at you questioningly before leaning over the counter.

“You are bringing a plus one are you?” She asks, and you frown slightly, you had returned to invite 8 months ago when you and Dan were still together.

“A plus one,” you echo out.

“Please tell me you’ve found one, remember when we talked about this at lunch and you said you would. My mother in law will go insane if I change the seating charts again.”

“I’ll bring one.” You confirm as you eye Jake who is sipping out of the can, still looking at you questioningly.

“Great, you’re the best.” You can hear her sigh of relief, and you chuckle, if the stories she had told were anything to go buy, Annie’s mother in law was the mother in law from hell. “By the way,” she starts up again and you hum in question, “I thought you should know, Dan is coming as Lexi’s plus one.”

“I see…” you trail off as she breaks the news to you.

“I didn’t know they were a thing.”

“Well, as we’ve established, there’s a lot no one knows about Dan.” You grumble out, and you see Jake straighten up, brows knotting into a deep frown at the mention of the name Dan.

“Well alright, I’ll see you next weekend. Please make sure you get me drunk.”

“I’m not sure your mother in law would be too happy about that.” You laugh into the phone as you both bid each other goodbye before hanging up.

“What about Dan?” Jake’s focuses in on you the moment the phone drops from your ear. “Please tell me you aren’t seeing that son of a bitch again.”

“My friend from work, Annie, she’s getting married next weekend. It’s back out in New York. Dan’s going.” You shrug.

“Then I’m going.” He says immediately, his chest puffing out slightly, stance changing to protective.

“Well guess it’s a good thing that I’ve room for a plus one. It’s on Saturday, but I have to be there on Friday to help out at the rehersal.”

“I’ll take the Thursday, Friday and Monday off.” He commits instantly, easily, without a beat, faster than any one of your past boyfriends had ever committed to anything, and you nod, finding yourself thinking thank god for Jake Seresin.

>> PART 3

-

“Mhm.” He makes a non-committal sound and you can almost hear the gears in his mind whirling with ideas.

“I am not letting you take me up in the air.” Your face is a mixture of extreme apprehension and horror and it causes his face to split into a wide grin, amusement clear on his features.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He nudges your side gently with an elbow.

“I’m never getting into a jet with you.” You shudder your stomach lurching at the idea of slipping around in a tiny airborne craft.

-

“So, remind me again, why we are not staying at your apartment?” He asks, staring out of the window of the cab.

“Because Annie has us booked into the hotel she’s having her reception at.” He looks at you, brow raised quizzically. “Her husband to be owns the place.”

“Well hello moneybags.” He lets out a low whistle, both brows raising an inch above his shades.

“You’re one to talk,” you tease, and it earns you a dismissive snort from him. Jake had never shown a hint of it, but an invitation from his mother to your family, along to the family Christmas gathering her side of the family was hosting, the first year you had known Jake, revealed to you that despite the modest home life the Seresin’s kept, Jake’s maternal side of the family came from Texan oil. It was, you figured, part of the upbringing which had pushed out his confidence and extreme self-assuredness came from. His mother, as Jake had told you after that Christmas, had gone the odd route of marrying his father, an average guy, but one whom she was truly, madly in love with, and had kept a more simple life than the one she had been accustomed to growing up - but it didn’t however change the fact that Jake, had generations of old money running through his veins. You had never probed further than what he had volunteered, because money or no money, he would always be just Jake to you. It had however, always made you suspect that apart from loving flying and the thrill of it, Jake’s chosen career path was him fighting against the grain of what his maternal side of the family expected of him, the return to the fold.

“Doris asked about you.” He does however bring up his maternal grandmother, and your eyes light up. She had taken to you like one of her own grandchildren after Jake had introduced you both to each other that first Christmas.

“I miss her,” you admit, smile on your face. “The last time I saw here was when she came down to New York with your mom.”

“She sent pictures,” the smile tugging at his lips matches yours, recalling the day. He had just landed, from being scrambled for a mission with the VFA-151 Vigilantes, that day marking his first confirmed air combat kill. He had flipped open his phone after the adrenaline, congratulations and debrief, finding himself wanting to call you, to tell you about his accomplishment of the day, and also to seek some sort of assurance from you, only to find photos of you, from his grandmother on his phone - her having forced you to model the jewellery of the moment which she was lusting after. The message which had accompanied the photos had read “Isn’t she gorgeous Jake?”. He hadn’t cared for how you looked with his grandmother choice of diamonds and glittering stones that adorned your ears and neck, but he had found himself smiling at the genuine, slightly bashful smile you had on your face, and had saved those photos of you to his photo album.

“Was it Doris and her trinkets?” You groan, using the name Doris herself used to refer to her jewellery.

“Doris’ taste has always a bit… opulent.” He admits, and you sink back in the seat of the cab with a nod of your head.

“It’s a lot of sparkle.”

It makes him barks out a laugh as the cab rolls to a stop in front of your apartment building. You both weren’t staying here, but as you had informed Jake, you had to make a stop to retrieve wedding appropriate dresses for the weekend ahead.

“She calls it her dazzle.”

-

“I don’t see how you left them all here.” He bemuses, leaning against the doorway of your bedroom, arms folded loosely over his chest, watching you rustle through your closet.

“Because I’m sure I would have been entirely needing of a floor length gown or fancy cocktail dress in Fightertown USA.”

“Could always wear one for a run around the compound. Might help you run faster.”

“Black or green?” You ignore his jab at your running and pull two dresses from the rack, holding each in one hand in front of him.

“Black.”

“Jake Seresin going for the more conservative option.” You feign a gasp, as you toss the black gown, plain, long and strapless, which would cut across the front of your chest in a tube like fashion on the bed, heeding his selection, while reaching up to slot the green dress, of the same length but with a plunging neckline back into your closet.

“You don’t need to show skin to look good” he says nonchantly with a shrug of his shoulders, and for some unusual reason, it makes you feel a flutter in the pit of your stomach. You busy yourself for a few seconds more than necessary, flipping through your closet, your figure hidden behind the open door as if to consider more options, as you let the strange feeling settle. It makes you miss the searing look that flickers briefly across the greens of his pupils as he watches you.

“Trinkets?” He asks, eyes meeting yours as you finally shut your closet doors to face him. “Doris would be very disappointed if you didn’t sport any.”

You raise your hands to tuck your hair behind your ears, showing him the modest pair of diamond studs you never took off, they were the one nice piece of jewellery you owned. There had been a few other pieces that you had, once that you were sure Jake had seen on you over the years, but you had donated to goodwill post break up with Dan, dump the guy, dump the jewellery he had given you.

“All I need.” You gesture to your ears.

“No others?”

“Nah,” you shrug, avoiding bringing up the reason behind the lack of your other pieces, knowing that it would cause irritation to colour his face. “Let me grab a pair of heels and we can be on our way.” You busy past him, picking up the gown in hand.

-

“A Queen?” You stare at the receptionist that is sliding the set of keycards across the counter to you.

“It says here that Ms Annie Jacobs has you booked for a queen.” You sigh inwardly, the booking must have been from your original RSVP with Dan.

“Do you have any other available rooms with two singles?” You throw a glance over your shoulder towards Jake who is standing a distance away, phone to his ear and hand in his back pocket.

“I’m afraid not,” she shoots you a genuinely apologetic look, “We are maxed out for the weekend.” She explains and you nod in understanding. The wedding, as you had been told by Annie herself, was going to be a massive affair because of the sheer number of people her future in laws just had to invite, family, society friends, business associates.

“Alright,” you shoot the receptionist a smile as you gather up the keyboards, hoisting your handbag higher up your shoulder, “thanks.”

You see relief flutter across her features, and you shoot her another smile, warm and sympathetic.

“Looks like we’ll be sharing a bed.” You walk up to Jake, hand extended to hand him a keycard, as he drops his phone from his ear.

“Sharing a bed?” He echos, and you see an expression that you’ve never seen before pass his features for a split second, before he breaks back into his trademark smirk. “Well aren’t you lucky.”

“More like unlucky.” You reach out to grab the handle of the suitcase, but Jake’s hand beats you there and your palm lands atop of his. He takes the chance to capture your hand in his, his warm, calloused palm against your skin.

“Can’t keep your hands off me already?” He asks, keeping a hold of your hand. You feel his thumb stroke a line up the back of your fingers, and the simple gesture makes your breath catch in your throat. It has you staring down at your combined hands, wondering if that was a habit from the moves he pulled on women.

“Is that one of your mov-” you start to ask, only to be cut off by a loud voice shrieking out your name.

You rip your hand from his, spinning around just in time to be engulfed in a hug that is all Annie. You stumble backwards slightly at the impact of Annie throwing her arms around you, and you return the gesture, but not missing Jake’s hand which reaches out to anchor you steady by the small of your back, preventing both you and Annie from tumbling back across the hotel lobby.

“Hey,” her excitement is infectious and it makes you laugh as you greet her.

“I was afraid we lost you to San Diego for good.” She gushes as she pulls away from your, her eyes wide. “It’s been forever.”

“It’s only been weeks,” you correct her.

“Reaching two months,” she whines back as she looks behind you, finally picking up on Jake.

“I know you,” she sticks her tongue out the corner of her mouth as she takes him in, appraising him from head to toe. To his credit, Jake doesn’t flinch, his stance casually confident, and unbothered as he lets run through her assessment of him. “You’re picture frame boy.”

“Picture frame boy?” He looks from Annie to you for an explanation.

“You’re in one of the photos she keeps in her office, on the shelf behind her desk.” Annie cuts in, explaining for you before you can open your open. “It’s the photo of you carrying her on your back. You know, the close-up shot with both of you laughing, wind in your hair.”

Jake knows the photo because it’s the same photo he has taped to the inside of his locker back at his home base - something he has never told you about. It surprises him that you have the same photo, out of the many you both have together, put up in your office.

“The interns thought it was adorable,” Annie continues to gush, not allowing either of you a word in, her eyes shining with excitement. “They kept asking her if it was her boyfriend in the photo.”

“Did they now,” Jake sidles closer to you as he throws an arm around your shoulders. You glance up at him, and he simpers down at you, looking an ounce too smug. “We are adorable.”

You both miss the glance Annie throws from you to Jake, and back to you. She notes you scowling, sees your nose wrinkle as you poke your tongue out at him, but she also registers just how at home you both look, you tucked under his arm, and him holding you just the right amount of close against his side, like you were both made for each other. She had never seen you look that way with Dan. It is, she thinks, something neither of you are even aware of. She manages to hide a knowing smile as she clears her throat, causing you to snap back into the present. Jake’s arm continues to hang loosely from your shoulder, and you don’t bother to shrug it away.

“Let’s get your suitcase put away,” Annie announces as she looks around for a member of staff, “and me drunk.” She says, words clearly directed at both you and Jake. “I’m Annie by the way.” She remembers to introduce herself.

“Jake.”

-

“And I told her, that she could shove her opinions up her ass.” Annie roars and you both collapse in a heap of giggles at the table. You’ve lost count of the number of drinks you’ve had, but a look through the floor to ceiling windows that dot the side of the hotel bar tells you that you’ve been drinking for hours. Your insides and skin are overly warm from the flush of alcohol, and the tips of your fingers feel slightly numb.

“Annie?”

“Charles!” Annie calls out as her fiancé comes into view. She attempts to stand, but stumbles, falling back into her chair.

“You’re drunk.” You giggle, as you and Annie lock eyes across the table, and it has both of you gasping with laughter. “Hi Charles.” You raise your hands in a little waggle, and he returns your hello, offering you a smile despite your drunken state.

“He sees you.” Annie hisses and you both burst out into another fit of giggles.

“How long have they been drinking?” Having identified the only non-inebriated person at the table, Charles looks to Jake who is seated beside you, his hand casually slung around the back of your chair.

“Since 6.” He glances down at his watch. “So 4 hours give or take.”

His response makes Charles exhale in a sigh that is both defeated, yet understanding of his fiancé need to let loose.

“Thanks.” Charles takes in Jake’s sober state, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that he had hung around for both your and Annie’s sake and safety.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tips his head in a slight nod, before tilting his chin towards Annie. “Might want to get her to bed though, I hear you both have a final rehearsal tomorrow before the big day.”

“We do.” Charles reaches down, anchoring an arm behind Annie. It isn’t too much of a struggle, as his fiancé willingly throws her arms around his neck, allowing herself to be helped up and supported.

“Byeeeeeee.” Annie calls out to you in a singsong voice as she begins blowing sloppy kisses towards you with her hands. It makes you return the action. “Byeeeeee picture frame boy.” She doesn’t forget to turn her attention to Jake.

“Thanks again.” Charles shoots over his shoulder again as he begins the slow walk with Annie in his arms to the elevator. Jake nods his head lightly again in response to Charles, before watching them both walk away.

“Jakey.”

He feels your head thump down on the portion of flesh below his shoulder your cheek pressing down against the material of his shirt. A glance down reveals you staring up at him, doe eyed. You have pressed yourself against his side, your body teetering at the edge of your chair, your hands spilling into his lap.

“Yes sweetheart?” His gaze searches your face, lips slightly parted, eyes glassy from alcohol, hair slightly mussed. There is something so vulnerable about the way you look, and he can’t help the hand that moves from it’s position on the back of your chair to hold you around your shoulders, fingers clasping at the top of your arm that is further from him.

“I’m tired.” You slur your words, as you let your head loll against him and he finds himself rubbing a thumb up and down your arm in a comforting stroke.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He notices your eyes beginning to droop close.

-

“Okay, up you go.” Jake unwinds your arm from around his neck, and his hand from your side as directs you towards the bed on which you collapse on, your head hitting the pillow, body stretching out on the mattress. He rubs the back of his neck, flexing his shoulder blades slightly in a small stretch.

“Jake,” your voice calls out in a whine, and he can’t help the chuckle that falls from his lips at the sound. It wasn’t something that he typically heard when you were sober.

“Yeah?” He looks to find you staring up at home, pout on your face.

“I need to shower, can’t sleep in these clothes.”

“Darlin,” he starts still amused, “I’m not letting you into the bathroom unattended when you can’t even walk. You can shower tomorrow.”

“But its gross.” You wail as you manage to push yourself to a sit, leaning against the headboard of the bed. “Change? At least?” You tilt your head at him and he relents with a sigh.

“Alright.” He says as he turns to unlock the suitcase which Annie had arrange to have brought up to your room earlier. He scrambles in the code and pulls out the sleep shorts and tshirt you have sitting on top of your half of the suitcase. “Here you-”He turns back to find you tugging your top off your head before throwing it to the ground.

The sight makes him freeze, much to his confusion. He has seen you in equally less before, in two piece swimsuits at the beach, so seeing you in a bra, shouldn’t have been anything new, but the sight of you, glassy eyes, messy hair, sitting in bed against white sheets, in a black bra, trying to shimmy yourself out of your jeans - it knocked the wind out of him. Jake clenches his jaw, as the sight of you makes his blood rush south.

“Here.” He doesn’t take another step towards you, and opts for tossing the garments at you while fighting the urge to let his gaze trail down below your neck. If it had been any other woman, he would have let himself look, it would have been the only reason he would have been sharing a room with another woman anyway, but because it’s you, Jake wants to look, and yet, he doesn’t. He exhales audibly as you tug on the shorts and shirt, both thanking and cursing the heavens that you had decided not to pull off your undergarments in your drunken stupor.

“Bed,” he directs, a gruffness to his voice that hadn’t been that prior.

-

Jake Seresin was just a man, and this - this was killing him.

You smell like a bottle, but all he can think about is how soft you feel pressed up against him, your body curled into a fetal position, your face against his bicep, lips featherlight against his skin, and hands clutching his forearm like you need him. You shift, pulling his forearm closer to your body. It makes the swell of your breasts press against his arm, and Jake exhales loudly. You were his best friend, and he wasn’t supposed to feel the way he felt, but he did, more astutely for months now, and if he were being truthful - for years.

He wasn’t entirely sure you felt the same way, but he had seen your last break up with Dan after waiting a full three years, and it had only strengthened his resolve to try something, anything because he didn’t want to have to wait another three years for his next chance. Jake’s breathe catches as you nuzzle your face against his bicep.

Using his free hand, he pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes looking up to the sky, as if asking for strength as one of your legs hooks over his in your sleep.

-

You wake to the blaring of your phone alarm, the harsh sound drilling through your addled brain. You roll over, burying your face in the pillow as you reach out, hand feeling blindly around the bedside table for your phone. In a fumble, you manage to snooze your alarm. Keeping your face planted in your pillow, you groan as the dull throbbing in your head creeps up on you, faint memories of the number of drinks you and Annie had pounded into your systems floating back through your recollections. Your phone blares again, and you groan again, louder this time as you smack a hand down on the screen, fingers pressing down on the flat surface until silence befalls.

“Are you just going to keep fighting with your phone?”

“Yes.” Your voice is a croak.

“It’s 10.30.”

You sigh deeply, flipping yourself onto your side as you pull the covers up to your chest, groggily tearing your eyes open. You had Annie’s rehearsal at noon - you weren’t part of the bridal party, but you had promised you would be there to help her make sure everything went by without a hitch.

As your eyes open, the blurry figure in front of you sharpens into focus and despite the haze of your hangover, the sight in front of you makes your eyes widen further. Jake stands before you, white towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist, droplets of water dripping from his head of wet hair sliding south down his chest, abs, and adonis belt to meet the edge of the towel clinging to his waist. You let your gaze linger, just for a moment, on the sprinkling of hair that vanishes past the towel, your core clenching. You’ve seen him shirtless multiple times in your life, but never fresh out of the shower, never like this.

He picks tablets and a glass of water up from the table in the room and crosses the space to you.

“Open.” His hands are beside your mouth and you obey, parting your lips. He pushes the tablets in, gently, one by one as, his fingers skimming your bottom lip, before handing you the glass of water. Holding the painkillers between your tongue and the roof of your mouth, you come to a slow sit, before receiving the glass of water from him and sipping to swallow.

“I got you a bagel,” he points to the brown paper bag sitting on the table, “bacon and egg. Figured you wouldn’t have time before the rehearsal.”

“Thanks,” you say between sips of the glass of water. “Did you go for a run?” You eye his pair of running shoes which lie in the corner of the room.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs, still standing in front of you. The shrug of his body causes the towel to slip, just slightly, and your gaze shifts from his face, back to its edge.

Jake doesn’t miss the shift in your gaze, and the subtle but sharp inhale.

“See something you like?” You flexes the muscles in his core, and watches as your head snaps back up to his eyes in a movement that is far too fast for your current hungover state to tolerate.

“Ow.” You raise a hand to the side of your head, eyes closing as you let your brain which feels like its floating around, steady.

“No need to hurt yourself darlin,” his voice is silky smooth as he brings his hand against the other side of your head, his four fingers brushing lightly against your forehead, thumb gently kneading your temple in a soothing motion. “Just gotta ask any time you want to look.”

“Shut up Seresin.” You bring the glass back up to your lips and chug.

-

“Meeting a friend.”

You glance sideways at him, you both standing in the lift as it descends towards the lobby.

“A friend?” You ask, the inflexion in your voice making the right side of his lip go upwards.

“Yup.” He says a bit too loudly, and you can hear the mirth in his voice.

The lift doors slide open with a ding and he allows you to step out into the lobby before following behind you.

“Who?” You opt for asking him outright, finding yourself wanting to know more than you should.

“A friend.” His answer is vague, unlike his usual candid self, and it makes your brows dip into a frown.

“I don’t want to come back to a third person in my room.” The tone of your retort coming out sharper than expected, you fighting against his vague responses with a worded implication.

“I’m not bringing anyone back.” He faces you as you both stop in the middle of the lobby, noticing Annie in a distance engaged in conversation with a group of women. You can’t see his eyes behind his shades. “That bed is far too small for a third person.” He lifts his glasses off the bridge of his nose, giving him enough time to throw you a wink before dropping them back down. “Besides, I think it’s the right size for just you and me.”

The tone of his last sentence is like honey, his words dripping with suggestion and you feel a heat creep up the sides of your neck, tinging across your cheeks.

Jake notices Annie striding forward towards you both, her heels clacking against the marble floors. “Incoming.” He warns and you turn your head, hand raised in a small wave at your approaching friend. “I’ll see you later.” He throws a quick wave at Annie and you feel his lips press against your cheekbone in a kiss so brief and light that you barely have time to register it.

-

The rehearsal the day before had passed in a flurry of activity, with Annie dragging you, along with her bridal party to a celebratory dinner after. You had texted Jake to let him know that you would be late coming in for the night, he had responded with a text that had simply read “Don’t get drunk again. If you do, call me.”, and you had come back to find him fast asleep, his phone half shoved under his pillow.

-

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, a hand clutching the front of your dress to your chest, and the other bent awkwardly behind you as you try to zip yourself into your dress. Throwing your hands up in their air with a huff, your posture slumps slightly in defeat, it was a near impossible task for one person to do alone.

Twisting the handle, you open the bathroom door, venturing out into the room to seek help.

“You need to zip me up, I can’t zip myself up.” You find Jake lounging back in an armchair, the television blaring in the background, as he types on his phone. In the time it takes for him to look up from his phone, you let yourself drink in the sight of him hair gel free and brushed back, face cleanly shaven, bow tie hanging around his neck but still undone against the cloth of the crisp white shirt he had paired with a black suit jacket and pants.

Jake looks up to you standing before him, a light dusting of make up on your face, hair swept up into a loose updo, locks framing your face, both hands clutching the front of your dress to your chest.

“Turn,” he directs as he stands and you feel him anchor his left hand on your waist, fingers splayed out on the material of your dress as his right hand pulls the zip of your dress up. You look up to meet his eyes in the mirror of the dresser. “You’re missing something.” His voice is a murmur in your ear and you tilt your head in question. “Close your eyes.”

“You better not be doing anything weird”

“Trust me.”

You eye him in the mirror in warning, before closing your eyes. There is a rustling, the soft pop of a box being opened, and you feel his hands go around your head. You can feel cool metal against your skin and his fingers brushing the exposed nape of your neck.

“Done.”

You open your eyes to find your reflection, but with an added silver coloured chain holding a single solitaire lying against your collarbone.

“Jake Seresin, you did not.” You lean forward to stare at your reflection, fingers ghosting over the the chain and pendant.

“Met a friend of Doris’ to get it yesterday afternoon.” He offers you his trademark Jake Seresin smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, pearly whites shining, revealing in the process just what he had gotten up to yesterday afternoon. It makes your heart skip a beat and your skin tingle.

“Jake,” you begin your protest as you shuffle around to face him, “it’s beautiful, but I can’t, it’s too expensive. I’ll pay you back.”

“Sweetheart,” he cocks his head to a side, “you’ll do no such thing.”

“But Jake-” he cuts you off with a firm shake of his head.

“What kind of southern gentleman would I be?” He teases, and instead tugs at the corner of his untied bowtie. “Do up my bowtie, and we’ll call it even.”

“That is hardly fair,” you purse your lips with a tut. “And besides, I don’t know how to do up a bowtie.”

“It’s easy, I’ll guide you.”

He moves like lightning, not giving you time to think and takes a few steps backward to sit on the edge of the bed, parting his legs and tugging you forward to stand in between his legs by your fingers. He places his hands over yours and guides you along, both your hands and his doing up his bowtie.

“And done, now you know how to tie a bowtie.” Your fingers are still grasping the edges of the bow around his neck and his hands are over yours. You find yourself staring into his eyes, the greens of his pupils piercing your own.

“Jake,” you breathe out, noticing just how close you both are, you standing between his legs, your head just inches from his. You can feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Yeah?” He holds your gaze steady, and the world around you both quietens, you aren’t sure what you are you feeling, but you feel a fluttering in the pit of your stomach, and the sudden urge to be even closer to him.

You drop a hand from the corners of his bowtie, not thinking, just feeling, and bring it to rest on the corner of his jaw. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, but keeps his gaze slotted onto yours.

“Housekeeping.” The knock on the door makes you jump backwards, your hand dropping from his face. You glance at the clock, seeing the digits flash close to 3:00pm.

“We better go, or we’ll be late.”

-

“I’m pretty sure the entire New York is here.” You hold onto Jake’s elbow as you both tread along the crowd floating from the ceremony towards the reception. The wedding ceremony itself had been beautiful, set in a huge hall in the same hotel, fashioned to look like a church. You hadn’t shed any tears, but they had most definitely gathered in the corners of your eyes as you watched your friend exchange your vows up on the makeshift alter. Jake had placed a hand on your knee, squeezing lightly when you sniffled and you had welcomed the comfort, though the gesture had made your heart beat slightly faster, memories of the earlier incident nagging at the back of your mind.

“I’m pretty sure the entire New York high society is here.” He muses back.

“Moneybags.” You shrug, imitating his initial reaction from the other day. It causes the older couple walking in front of you both to turn and stare, and you duck your head down, stifling your laughter while Jake tips his head at them with a “hello”, in a pronounced drawl. It makes them exchange a look and take two steps further up.

“They must think we’re awful.”

“Too uncouth for the upper echelons of the city.” He winks at you, and it makes you laugh.

“What would Doris say.” You squeeze his elbow in jest.

“Give ‘em hell.” He deadpans, voice sliding into a rich southern accent, reminiscent of his grandmother, causing you to burst into a fit of laughter.

-

“I think this is us.” You stop at a table, squinting at the place cards, one with your name and the other with your name and the word “guest” after.

“That’s me,” Jake picks up the card, holding it in front of himself. “Guest.”

You open your mouth to respond, when a loud voice calling your name breaks through the hum of the crowd filtering into the ballroom.

“Lexi.” You turn, calling out her name, forcing a smile onto your face. Jake picks up on her name, and your conversation with Annie over the phone and drops the place card back onto the table. He eases himself close beside you as Lexi weaves past a group of people to come to a stand in front of you. She grabs you by the arms, air kissing the sides of your face and you oblige her.

“Guess we are the same table,” she gushes, her enthusiasm sky high, “I’m so glad.”

“How wonderful.” You grit out a smile at her words, the implications behind them on your company for the night ringing clear.

“Lexi?” You hear Dan before you see him, the once familiar voice grating across your ears.

“Over here cookie.” You watch Lexi coo back as Dan comes into view. The sight of him makes you grip your hand into a fist by your side and your shoulders go rigid.

“Oh… hey.”

You open your mouth to greet him in return, your shoulders squaring further when you feel a the gentle pressure of Jake’s palm on the small of your back.

“Dan.” Jake greets him, tone firm. You feel Jake step close to you, your back connecting with his chest as his hand travels from the small of your back to rest, relaxed, on your hip. You allow yourself to lean back into his hold, the tension in your shoulders seeping away as your fist relaxes. His fingers rub your hip, letting you know wordlessly that he’s got you.

You see Dan’s gaze flicker from Jake, to judge your proximity, and the hand he has on your hip.

“Jake.” He nods back in greeting.

“I’m Lexi.” Lexi assesses the situation, her eyes taking in Jake. You see her face break into a coy smile, as she extends her hand towards him. You have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from rolling your eyes at the absurdity of the situation, with her knowing that you and Dan had been a couple, outrightly greeting you as if nothing had ever happened, all while deciding that the next best thing to do was to openly leer at Jake.

“Jake.” He offers, but not reaching for her hand. Instead, he chooses to snake his other arm around, letting it come to rest on the front of your body. “You’ll have to excuse me for not shaking your hand Lexi, got my hands full with this one.” He shoots her a patronising, apologetic grin and you watch as Lexi drops her hand immediately looking slightly abashed.

“Are you a couple?” She asks, her eyes widening, mouth dropping into a small o.

“Don’t we look like one?” Jake counters, as you place your hand over his palm that is resting on the front of your body. You interweave your fingers together with him, and he squeezes gently, his cue to tell you to play along. You squeeze back, in understanding.

“It’s not that, it’s just, I thought…” Lexi turns her attention to you, “that you were still single.” She looks back at Dan, slightly puzzled, “Dan said -”

“She is most definitely not single,” Jake’s voice slides across your ear, a low chuckle escaping him as he pulls you closer, pressing you to him. He bends his head slightly, and you feel his lips skimming the side of your jaw.

“Not in the slightest.” You manage to murmur, voice genuinely breathy at the contact of his lips against your jaw, and his body against yours as you look towards Lexi and Dan.

-

“I don’t get why they are still staring.” You arm is hooked under Jake’s arm, fingers resting on the shoulder of his suit jacket, your cheek pressed against his as you both sway to the music, you catching Lexi and Dan’s gaze hyper focused on you and Jake from two couples away. Jake’s hand is on your back, his other interlaced with your hand, leading you through the dulcet tones.

Since the initial interaction with Lexi and Dan, some part of Jake had never left you for the entire night. Whether you were both eating, listening to wedding speeches, drinking, or watching a cheesy video montage that played, Jake was always touching you, playing into the role that you both had sold, a dutiful boyfriend who was absolutely smitten with you. Whether it was his hand on your thigh, palm engulfing yours, hand slung across the back of your chair, fingertips brushing your shoulder blades, he had not once let you out of his sight or touch. It was comforting, nice to have him there to ground you, to make your night bearable.

“I hate them both.” He says, and you hear the hardness to his tone.

“She’s glaring daggers at me.” You groan softly. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to hunt me down and murder me Jake. I mean, she’s pretty much spent the entire night sending bad vibes my way.”

Jake leads you both into a turn, and he catches sight of the couple staring over. It baffled him, if he were to be honest about it, because you were faultless in the entire situation, no matter how he ran the parameters of it. Dan had been a lying, cheating asshole, and by the looks of it, along with a little deduction, Lexi was no better than he was. He catches Dan’s eye, and it makes Jake narrow his gaze.

“If they’re staring, let’s give them something to stare at.” He says quietly into your ear and it makes you pull your head back slightly in a curious questioning. “Trust me?” He asks, and you nod immediately. Despite all the teasing and barbs you exchanged, it didn’t need to be a question, you trusted Jake Seresin with your life.

Jake untangles his leading hand from yours, moving both his hands to cup your face. You keep your arm hooked under his shoulder, fingers pressed firmly down on the shoulder of his suit jacket. He runs his thumb across your cheek, asking you again, his voice almost a whisper as he asks the same question again, face mere inches from yours. “Trust me?”

“Yes.” You breathe back offering him verbal confirmation, and his gaze flickers to your lips, before going back to your eyes. He holds eyes contact with you for what feels like eternity, and then you feel it, his lips against yours. Your eyes flutter close instantly, your lips moving against him like second nature. Jake Seresin’s lips were softer, warmer than you would have ever imagined.

He drops a single hand back down to grip your waist, the other still cupping the side of your face, and you raise your hand that isn’t wrapped under his shoulder, to card through the back of his hair. Jake uses only his lips against yours, but it’s all you need for your knees to go weak. You pull away first, breathless, and you leans his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, breathing heavy.

“I think we gave them something to stare at.” You manage to say, your heart racing in your chest.

Jake opens his eyes to look into yours, his gaze feeling like it is piercing through to your soul, his heart beat matching yours. “I think we did.”

-

You are lying on your side, back facing Jake, your mind racing at a million miles per second. You both hadn’t spoken about the kiss, each of you lost in your own thoughts and feelings that that kiss had brought up, each wondering how to best tackle the after, and just what after meant.

“Jake?” You call out into the silence of the room.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you,” you pause and he lets you continue, “for coming with me to the wedding, for taking days off, for everything.”

“You would do the same for me.”

“Yeah, but thank you.”

You both lie in the dark, in contemplative silence before Jake speaks up again.

“How are you feeling?”

You hum in question and he elaborates.

“You know the whole… Dan thing.” He braces himself, afraid of the answer, of you telling him that you were still in love with Dan.

You let yourself think for a minute, assessing his question against your feelings before you answer.

“Fine.” You say simply.

“Really?”

“Yeah really,” you confirm, “I think,” you pause, selecting your words carefully, “it was over long before it was actually over. I mean I had a hunch months before you know, about the cheating, the lying, maybe even the fact that there were no feelings between us both for a while at that point - but it was easier to believe nothing was going on than to admit your boyfriend is cheating on you.”

“You were really upset.” He recalls the day you had called him, crying.

“Anyone would be if they found out their boyfriend had been cheating on them… serially.” You let out a rueful chuckle. “Kind of a bruise to the ego, don’t you think.”

“Fair point,” he shrugs and you feel the shared covers shift slightly at his action. “So…” he hesitates, “you’re really okay?”

“Yes.”

“No…. residual feelings for Dan?”

“Apart from the fact that I think he’s disgusting - none.” You shake your head hair rustling against your pillow. “There weren’t any feelings left long before the break up.” You find yourself admitting out loud.

Jake doesn’t respond, but you hear the crackle of the crisp hotel sheets as he turns, slides an arm across the space between you, under your ribs, and rolls you easily towards him. It catches you off guard, but you let him tuck you under his chin anyway, his arms hugging you against him in a loose embrace. A pull back of your head and dart of your eyes upwards reveals his eyes are closed. It wasn’t that you both hadn’t been here before - you had, when you were both younger and threw caution to the wind, but since adulthood and the relationships that had woven themselves in and out of both your lives, it had been a while and you had both grown more careful. The act manages to be simple and yet entirely intimate, entirely too intimate for a pair of people who were just friends, but you can’t help thinking to yourself how it just feels so right that you don’t allow yourself to overthink any of it.

“Good.” He finally says, and you shut your eyes as well, letting your breathing steady.

-

“So you and Jake.” Annie asks as you both hover around the side of the coffee shop, waiting for the barista to call our your names.

“Hmm?” You stick your hands into the back pocket of your jeans while rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Anything going on there?” Annie asks as the barista calls your both your names, you both reaching for two cups of coffee each - her for Charles and herself and you for you and Jake. “Saw you both kiss yesterday.”

Her casual add on makes you splutter as you take a sip of your coffee while you both weave your way out of the coffee shop.

“We were just pretending,” you try to say dismissively, your face burning, “you know for Lexi and Dan.”

“Uh-huh,” she hums, not believing.

“What?” You shoot her a glare as you both duck out the doors, making the short walk back to the hotel.

“Pretending,” she waggles her eyebrows at you and she sips from her own coffee cup.

“Pretending.” You affirm, shooting a smile at the doorman who has the door held open for you both.

“He might be in love with you.” Annie says casually as you both cross the threshold of the lobby to find Charles and Jake, a distance away, both engaged in conversation.

“Annie,” you warn, but a glance at you reveals to her the way your eyes light up as your gaze fixates on Jake. “We’re just friends, best friends.”

“Just saying,” she ignores your previous attempts at denial as the two men notice you both and begin walking towards you, “you might not feel so different from him either.”

You don’t have the time to respond with Jake and Charles stopping in front of you before you can get any words out, so you choose to hand Jake his coffee cup instead, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm, as he receives it with a thanks.

“Well,” Annie turns to you, arms outstretched as the doorman waves at the four of you, indicating that the car they had called for you had arrived, “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.” You bend forward to return her hug with a nod. “You don’t see what I do.” She says with a soft smile as you pull away, causing both men to look between you both, clearly confused.

>> PART 4